Well, what fresh Hell is this, then? It seems I've decided to do some shorts in honor of the season. I've always felt that shorts are a good writing excercise for getting into the mood to write, and I just realized that it's the middle of Channukah, Christmas is bearing down on us, and a whole host of other winter celebrations are in full swing or very close.

These shorts will (hopefully) be between one hundred and one thousand words. I've settled on no one category for them, and they'll run the gammut from tender romantic slush to thoughtful introspection. They won't all be for Christmas, just that revolting 'holiday special' sort of theme.

Update: 12/24/07: Greetings on this most frigid of evenings. If the newest short hasn't been uploaded yet, it will be shortly.

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Holiday Snapshots, story 1: Ice Crystals

The wind whipped a lone wind chime outside a small convenience store into a frenzy of tinkling and ringing as a huddled figure stepped hesitantly out of the automatic doors and into the chilly night air outside. Bakura Ryou wondered why the shopkeeper had even bothered to leave the chime outside. Its frantic jingling was alarming, and it would probably be knocked off of its hook and shattered on the pavement before the wind let up.

He wrapped his scarf snugly around his neck as he walked, performing an amusing balancing act with his groceries as he did so. For the past week, the forecast for Christmas Eve had been rain, rain, and more rain, much to the dismay of children and young couples around Tokyo. As he trudged through the cold, biting air on the street back to his apartment, however, the rumors of a Christmas blanketed in snow became more and more believable.

Bakura was no longer amazed by snow. Living on his own as he did, he saw it as more of a hinderance to his everyday routine than a beautiful spectacle. Delicate snowflakes were randomized ice crystals at best and mounds of bone-chilling slush at worst. He muttered an uncharacteristic curse as he felt a few tiny flecks of cold hit his face, pulling his jacket around himself and broke into a sprint.

Christmas was to fall on a Sunday that year, he thought to himself, trying to take his mind off of the snow. Trying to convince himself that his day wouldn't be ruined. There would be no school, no school clubs. No company, either, but... He shook his head. What did it matter? He didn't have a girlfriend, his family was scattered all over, and he had studying to do anyway. It didn't matter if-

His feet slipped out from under him as he ran across a tiny patch of ice, sending him crashing onto his back and his groceries flying out of the bag and onto the pavement. He sprawled on the cold, wet pavement and let out a soft sob of pain, unshed tears rolling down his cold, red cheeks.

"He said he would come," the boy murmured, clenching his gloved hands as he slowly sat up. His father's flight had been due for hours, and the realization that he had been forgotten again was just dawning on him. He sobbed again and groped for his things, only to find that his bag had gone missing.

"Bakura-kun?" a baffled voice said beside him. Bakura looked up at the voice, Yuugi's cheerful face smiling down at him. The smaller boy offered him his bag, freshly refilled. "Are you all right?"

Two fresh streams of tears rolled down Bakura's face as he took the bag and murmured his thanks. "I'm fine, Yuugi-kun," he said with a sniff. "I just fell, that's all."

Yuugi gasped and scrambled to pull Bakura up, nearly falling flat on the pavement himself. "Are you hurt?" he asked, looking him over. "You got all wet."

"I'm fine," Bakura repeated, wiping his damp face with the sleeve of his jacket. He turned away from Yuugi, skidding on the ice slightly as he walked off. "I'll just hurry home to change and I'll be okay."

A small hand gripping his own stopped him cold, pulling him back gently. He cast a curious glance over his shoulder as Yuugi beamed up at him.

"It's not far to my house," Yuugi offered, a light blush spreading over his face as he spoke. "You can wear my jacket, if you want."

"I said I'm fine," Bakura said stubbornly. He had to bite his lip to keep more tears from forming in his eyes. "I don't want to be a bother."

"Don't be stupid," Yuugi said, hurriedly slipping out of his oversized jacket and throwing it over Bakura's shoulders. "You're always alone, even on holidays. It's not fair. C'mon, it's not much farther than your building."

Bakura finally nodded, a soft sob escaping him in the form of a pitiful squeak. "Fine," he murmured. "But I'm paying you back later; you know that."

"Don't worry about it," Yuugi said with a soft laugh as he grasped Bakura's hand. Bakura could feel him trembling slightly, even then. He was freezing without his coat, but he had happily given it up. Bakura tightened his hand around Yuugi's and returned the smile, allowing himself to be guided along.

Soon, Bakura was huddled on the couch in Yuugi's living room, wearing one of Yuugi's larger sets of pajamas. He had been fawned and fussed over from the moment Yuugi brought him in the door, and had even been treated to a hot shower. It was all so much from these people who didn't even know him that well...

Yuugi smiled at him from the other end of the couch, moving closer. "Your father was supposed to be here this year, wasn't he?" the smaller boy asked. Bakura stiffened as a hand discreetly grasped his own. The expression on Yuugi's face made it painfully obvious that he had figured out why Bakura had been so upset.

"He was," Bakura said with a sad smile. "But he's always so busy."

"I'm not busy," Yuugi said brightly, looking away sheepishly. Bakura felt his face grow hot as Yuugi's hand tightened around his. "Are you hungry?"

Bakura nodded and was promptly pulled off of the couch and led into the kitchen. He stared out the small window as Yuugi foraged for snacks, watching the rooftops and streets as they gained a soft, white covering.

"It's pretty, huh?" Yuugi asked, pressing a cup of hot tea into Bakura's hand and sidling close to him to enjoy the view.

Bakura shrugged, unconsciously leaning closer to his friend. "It's just ice crystals, not anything special," he said, smiling warmly dispite his unaffected statement.

"Sometimes those are the prettiest things," Yuugi countered. "It may be simple, but it's still beautiful."

"It is," Bakura admitted after a moment, suddenly feeling as if the heat from the ceramic cup in his hands had spread to his entire body, forcing him to relax and smile wider. "Thank you, Yuugi-kun."

The two boys stood there for the better part of an hour, watching the ice crystals collect on the concrete slabs and metal plates that made up the city, seeing a better vew of the city in the small kitchen than any couple in Tokyo could ask for from a reserved window seat in an overpriced restaurant.