Disclaimer: TT I KNOW!!! They belong to a very mean man named Kishimoto who won't admit that his two main characters are gay.

AN: OO people reviewed! ::faintspasmtwitter:: arigatou ::bows and nods::

Everyone, thank you for your positive reviews...they were really helpful hehe

Miffy: yes, I know that Sasuke was a whore by having sex with whores...that's why I said it that way, thanks for catching it

Yaoilover S: thank you for the cake, it was AWESOME

And now I'll shut up...

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Chapter Two

It felt wrong. Something felt wrong, nothing felt wrong, everything felt wrong. It all felt i wrong /i . He pressed his fingers to his lips, arching his back languidly, curving his spine, stretching his tense muscles. His feet padded to the window, and he slipped the curtains aside, flicking the latch-lock, and slipping his head out the open glass. He bit his lips as he braced for the cold winter chill, the onslaught of dead iciness that smashed into his face and flooded down his spine.

The moon was full. He hadn't expected her to be full so soon; a month had slid by him swiftly, flown by on wings he hadn't heard. Something was wrong. Something about the celestial orb floating above him, basking the world in an ethereal cream. Something about the light was distant and unfamiliar. He felt this pit drop out of his stomach, and clenched his fists tightly. Something felt wrong.

He slammed the glass shut as hard as possible, rattling his teeth as it shook against the pane. Slowly his body moved away from the window, away from the alien feeling, and towards the fire blazing in the hearth. He plopped down in a high-backed chair, staring into the wavy flames, trying to push the urgent, nagging feeling from his mind.

Something was calling him. Something out there, in the cold, in the moonlight, in the snow. He shut his eyes, attempting to silence the call he felt in his heart, but was unable to quiet himself.

Breath slipped out of his lips quickly as he bent over, gripping his jacket and slipping it onto his shoulders. Boots were filled with warm toes and laced by quivering hands as his mind tried to sort out the confusion broiling inside. A big dog barked at him as quietly as it could manage; he turned around and winked at the canine before clicking the porch light on and thrusting open the door.

The snow crunched loudly under his feet, the cold air bit his cheeks and nose, the moonlight cloaked him in a milky calm. Everything so familiar, so well known, seemed as though he was experiencing the snow and the moon and the cold for the first time. As though he was a seasoned soldier afraid of his next kill, as one is of their first.

He shook his head of such thoughts, the thoughts of a madman. He would be returning to the city soon enough, he knew, but it did not feel like it. Out there, in the frozen woods, under the moonlight, time stood still. He was alone, in a way he had never experienced, and it frightened him, made him want to scream and claw and run for safety that could not be found.

He silently wondered if he would be able to find his way home, casting a cautious glance behind him; he noticed the light from his deck shining like a beacon. The light would guide him home, he knew, guide him back. But back from where. He was going somewhere, he registered dimly, but he didn't know where, and that bothered him.

He walked in silence, shooting the occasional surreptitious look behind him, wondering if he was truly alone. He felt another's presence with him, heard another's voice calling out to him; he attributed this to madness. He would have chosen madness over the possibility of being followed or being watched.

He wondered, not for the first time, why he had chosen to leave the sanctity of his cabin, and traverse the frozen wasteland. To quench the need to follow some path his body knew, but would not share with him.

He weaved his way through trees spit in the middle, as though they had been struck by frozen lightning. He knew it was because of the cold, because the sap had expanded, causing it to explode. But on tonight, when the world was hushed, and even the breeze was silent, he could imagine icy fire streaking from the sky, splitting the wooden trunk.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of such thoughts, only to be grasped by a pounding need and agony. He felt a tug at his stomach, and began to run. He didn't know why he ran, didn't know why he had to run. But he had to. So he did.

It was just a little ball in the distance, a tiny lump of black on the white snow. He at first assumed it to be a rock, or thick tangle of winter plants, but he knew it was neither. He could see the figure clearly, as if it was at his feet and the sun was shining. He knew what it was, knew it was why he had felt so compelled to endure the cold beyond the warmth of his home, knew it was important to him.

It was a body.

He staggered towards it, cupping pale blue cheeks in his hands, staring down at shut eyes. The body belonged to a young man, not much older than he was, 23 at oldest. His hair was as dark as a raven's wing, and his lips, though blue with cold, were rimmed by a light rose tint.

He looked like a fallen angel. Though the body was stiff, the blonde man was able to lift him onto his shoulders with minimal exertion. The man's cold cheek rested against his, the frosty contact sending an ironically smoldering feeling through him.

The man's breathing was labored, ragged; he was dying. The mobile of the two men started back towards his cabin, the light glimmering in the distance like a tiny diamond in a bed of dark coal. It was well past midnight, he assumed, and the world had become increasingly cooler, the nipping chill becoming a biting frost.

His breath was a shroud, a thin veil, and as he walked, he wondered if he had any resemblance to a bride. He had begun panting, the thick drifts of snow making each step increasingly more laborious. The heavy body on his back did not help; though it was not dead weight, he still weighed more than a man of such a petite figure should.

With agonizing slowness, one that would make molasses antsy, they eased closer to the large cabin. The dog began to bark as his master approached, waiting by the door as it was flung open. He sniffed his master and the strange thing on his back, growling momentarily before trotting off to gnaw on a bone.

He staggered into his room, the weight on his back seeming to ease as he neared the bed, turning his back to the downy coverlet. Gingerly, he eased the cold body onto the sheets, hastily scurrying to a cupboard for thick blankets, draping them over the shivering man. He was satisfied when the man looked nearly twice his weight, sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb him.

His hand reached out, tentatively stroking the pale blue cheek nearest him. "Don't be afraid," he muttered softly, unsure whether his words were heard or not by the unconscious male. "I won't leave you." He lay down next to the boy, blonde hair brushing against icy cheeks, praying the warmth of the blankets and fire would be enough to open eyes he knew, though he had never seen, were far more beautiful than gemstones.

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okay, I swear to you ALL there WILL BE dialogue in the next update...I had a little bit too much fun describing stuff though X3 you understand...again, hope it wasn't too confusing