"Snow Angels"
by: Beth Gulla
"Aya, Yohji! Come here!"
Ken burst through the back door of the shop, grinning like a fool and nearly bouncing with excitement. Yohji had a cup of coffee in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and the account books for the shop open on the counter in front of him. Aya had been sweeping up some dead flowers that had fallen to the floor while the arrangements were being made. Omi was at school.
His fellow assassins glanced up, the former curious, the latter with his usual scowl. This time, though, Ken wasn't going to be put off by Aya's aloofness or Yohji's laziness. When neither moved, he ran forward and grabbed their hands then began dragging them towards the entrance he had just rushed through. He failed to notice Aya's narrowed eyes--a sign that he wasn't happy about being touched--and Yohji's worried glance at the redhead; he didn't want to be anywhere near the man if he went psycho.
"Ta da!" Ken cried, releasing them as he pushed open the door.
He was pleased by the surprised looks on both assassins' faces. Obviously neither had noticed the snow that was gathering outside the shop, but he had been watching it steadily for an hour. Here in the back of the shop, the pots and bags of fertilizer were disguised as the hills and valleys of a winter landscape. Everything was covered in a soft white blanket and still the flakes continued to fall.
Ken was practically beaming as he stepped out from under the awning and twirled around, lifting his face to the sky. Watching him, Aya's scowl actually softened into an almost smile that did not go unnoticed by Yohji. The taller man's eyes suddenly sparked with mischief.
"Ken, why don't you make snow angels?" he suggested and smiled when childish glee brightened in the soccer-player's eyes.
"Great idea!" He looked around, frowning thoughtfully. "But there's not much room here. Wait, I know! The park up the street would be great!" He stepped forward, grabbing Aya's hand again. "Why don't you guys come with me?"
Aya's mind went blank abruptly and he found himself fumbling for an excuse, but when he glanced at Yohji, the older man just shrugged.
"Someone has to stay here to mind the shop. You guys go on and have fun."
"But what if customers come?" Aya finally managed but Yohji just grinned reassuringly.
"I doubt we'll have a rush in this kind of weather, and besides, Omi will be home soon." He gave Aya a little nudge in the direction of the gate that Ken was already tugging him towards. "Go on."
"Thanks Yohji!" Ken called over his shoulder as he dragged the sputtering Aya out of the shop's backyard.
Once Aya had reluctantly started walking without having to be led, Ken released his hand and shoved his own in his coat pockets. His eyes were bright and alive and his cheeks were pink from the cold. Aya surreptitiously watched him from the corner of his eyes, secretly surprised and delighted at the change the weather had wrought in him. True, Ken was almost always cheerful and upbeat but the truth of what they did always seemed to lurk in the background, casting a shadow over them all. The snow, however, seemed to have wiped those memories clean, at least for the moment.
"Oh man, the kids have trashed the place with all their walking!" Ken exclaimed in dismay. "Let's see if we can find a clear spot." He took off running without warning and after a moment, Aya jogged after him. He caught up with him as the brunette was inspecting a relatively untouched section of snow. Once he had deemed it usable, he turned to Aya and grabbed his hand, beaming once again.
"Aya, make a snow angel with me!"
Unbidden, a voice intruded on Aya's thoughts, overlapping Ken's statement.
"Ran-niisan, make a snow angel with me!"
The redhead balked, suddenly overcome by a wash of memories, images of his precious younger sister, laughing as she ran through the drifts, hiding a grin behind her mittens when her older brother toppled into the snow, beaming up from a freshly made snow angel. Aya suddenly wanted nothing more than to turn around and head back to the shop, go upstairs to their apartments and lock himself in his own and not come out for several days. Or maybe go to the hospital and sit in silence by the bed where his sister lay trapped in an endless dream. However, Ken failed to notice any of this and only yanked his arm harder, sending him swinging around and straight at the younger assassin. Aya had a moment to catch the startled look on Ken's face when he realized they were going to collide, only moments before they actually did. The ground seemed to tilt under them before white fluff rushed up to soften their fall.
Aya's first observation once they had landed was that he was pinning Ken to the ground quite well with his body draped over the soccer-player's. His second was that, somewhere along the fall, their mouths had met. Faintly, he wondered at the softness of Ken's lips, such a contrast to his calloused, worn hands and his rough, clumsy nature. Almost curiously, he deepened the kiss, surprised and pleased when Ken's mouth opened under his. Ken tasted of honey and melted chocolate, poured over a spark of mint. As the younger boy moaned softly, his hands creeping up around Aya's waist slowly, reason came charging back to the forefront of the redhead's mind.
He jerked himself away from Ken as if burned, breathless from the kiss but shocked speechless at his actions. Ken himself looked adorably puzzled as he sat up, the rosyness of his cheeks now not totally because of the cold air. One hand rose to touch his lips but he seemed more bewildered than upset.
"Aya--"
"I'm sorry," the redhead blurted out. Ken's eyes widened more. An apology from their fearless leader? It was time to start looking for the signs of the apocalypse, then. They continued to sit in silence, violet eyes locked with blue, until Ken's expression softened with a smile. He leaned forward and touched Aya's cheek.
"Don't apologize," he said and crossed the distance between them slowly, covering Aya's mouth with another sweet, slow kiss. This time, it was Ken who pulled away but he was still beaming like a little kid and eventually, Aya felt his own lips twitch upwards in response. It was impossible not to smile back when the soccer-player had such infectious cheer and looked so adorable with that little bit of snow on his head that he hadn't seemed to notice.
Without warning, Ken flopped sideways onto his back, still grinning up at Aya, but waiting expectantly now. The brunette spread out his arms and legs and Aya seemed to get the idea, laying back against the snow and doing the same. Fingers roughened by time enclosed Aya's hand and he glanced at Ken, who smiled back and moved his arm down, leading Aya in the same action. It wasn't long before they were both flapping their arms and legs with childish grins.
A little ways a way, a little girl stopped and tugged on her mother's coat hem, peering up with innocent curiosity.
"Mommy, what are those two men doing?" she asked, pointing at the pair who were now laughing and scattering snow everywhere with their overzealous flapping. The girl's mother smiled softly, as if remembering a similar moment in life, then turned to her daughter.
"They're making snow angels, sweetie. Let's go see if Daddy will help us make our own." Her daughter brightened at the thought and grabbed her mother's hand, bouncing excitedly.
"Can we? Can we?" Chuckling, the woman allowed herself to be pulled back towards home, her daughter babbling happily the entire way.
With their snow angels now more mess than actual angel, the two lay there, their breaths making little puffs of fog as they gazed up at the cloudless sky. After a moment, Aya sat up and looked down at Ken, who grinned back, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. And well he should be since their normally scowling leader was smiling now, a nameless, soft emotion behind his eyes as he gazed at the brunette. It was reflected in Ken's own eyes, glittering even more when the redhead leaned down again and their lips brushed. Hands rose to wrap around Aya's waist and draw him closer as Ken murmured encouragingly against his mouth. Neither seemed aware of the cold snow they lay on or the chill air around them. All they knew was the warmth of each other's arms and the peace that lay curled around them like a thick, comforting blanket.