Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket, but I do own a bunch of manga and an overactive imagination!
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He doesn't like the cold.
He doesn't like the way the harsh, frosty breeze gets tangled in fine hair, hair so silver it almost matches the glistening snow.
He doesn't like the cold.
He doesn't like the stinging sensation that reddens his ivory skin as snowflakes and ice whips past, carried by hard winds.
He doesn't like the cold.
He doesn't like how his amber-gold eyes water as cold strips the moisture away, how the tear tracks freeze as they trail down once-alabaster cheeks.
He doesn't like the cold.
He doesn't like having to wear all those layers to prevent him from changing, as he inevitably will anyway.
He doesn't like the cold.
"You're so cold, 'Tori-san!" he teases when I turn away, or refuse to let my mask crack open to let a smile through.
But he doesn't like the cold.
He tells me so himself. He hates the cold, and I am reminded of how much he despises it every time I step outside.
He doesn't like the cold.
But Ayame…could you possibly love me?
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I got this as a flash a few weeks ago and had to write it down.
My first attempt at an angst and a yaoi… although originally, it was supposed to be an Aya/Mine… but who else could fit, honestly? Thanks for reading!
