Heat
It is far too warm out, he thinks, and the sun seems determined to get in his face. Fierce daggers of sunlight—and smoke, smoke from the neighbor's grill. He coughs and makes a frustrated face, wondering why the world has skipped spring and gone directly to summer.
He is also hot because Yukito's arms are twined around his, keeping him from escaping into the shade. His neck is moist and sticky where Yukito's thick hair covers it, holding the sweat in.
It is far too warm out, he thinks, but he wouldn't have it any other way.