The second time Aster saw him, it was a coincidence.

Aster hadn't thought about the boy who filled his every waking moment with desire, or who had become his latest muse. No. Of course not. Why would he? He was safely tucked away in his dreams, where he could always be found. With little or no clothing. Always smiling and begging. Worshiping Aster to no end. Yes. He stayed in his dreams. Stayed where he could always be found, bound, and kept a secret.

Aster was in the studio, finishing one of the last pet portraits for the showing tomorrow. His clip-on desk lamp was attached to his easel, casting just the right amount of light to find the shadows. His paint palette had snowdrops of every color that swirled together to create colors that he needed with this animal's fur. It was a blue-grey. More azure in the right light and more grey in the shadows. And that wasn't the hardest part. It was making the exact same color every time he came back to it. Too much blue or not enough changed the outcome of the color. But, Aster knew what he was doing. After all, he was nicknamed the "Bunny" for a reason. He could always tell what colors concocted to make the end game. And he would help the creator naming the color.

He, himself, made colors from scratch. He was working on a few, mostly spring colors. Aster would use his new colors to paint decorations on the eggs for Easter. All of the children's delight when they would show an egg to their parents and explain why they chose this egg over another one.

Because, it's pretty, exclaimed a cute little girl. It remembers me of snow and fun and family. Being wiff 'em. Holding 'em and being holded in return. She paused, looking up at him. It remembers me of my mommy. She cares for me and my broffer and she's pretty and nice. Best. Mommy. Ever.

The little girl had bright green eyes and blonde hair. Her brother, brown eyes and hair. They were twins and raiser by a single parent. Their mother. Aster had met the women only once. It had been that Easter. As the girl had run up to her and she was in sunglasses and had a scarf wrapped around her neck and hair. She had been in a royal blue, long sleeved T-shirt, white skinny jeans, and a pair of those slip-on shoes that were named after cartoon characters. She scooped her little girl up and tucked her into her side. The blonde girl babbled about the egg and gave it to her mother with a slobbery kiss on the check. The mother just smiled.

The children were rounded up to tell a story or something and the vanished into the building. The yard was littered with trash and candy wrappers. The volunteers started to pick up the trash with metal stake things in one hand and garbage bags in the other. Gloves donned each worker's hand. Aster helped to. He made this mess. He might as well help with the cleanup. The mother of the twins came over and kneeled down to the painter, collecting pieces near her and putting them in his bag.

Thank you. Was what she said. It was all she said. They continued to clean, silence between them. It was a calm silence. Nothing awkward about it. The gentle breeze brought over the scent that seem to waif off of her. It was a mix of evergreen and winter. That was probably what Aster remembered more than anything. Her scent.

Every time he got a whiff of Pine Sol, his mind would go back to that scene. Them picking up trash on the lawn of the church. It had been a different time. He was trying to please his parents by being something he wasn't. If things had been different, he would have asked the women out to coffee with him. But, things weren't. If anything, things were way worse.

Being all out and proud. It had destroyed so many things. Anytime of relation that ended in a 'ship'. Parents, friends, even his job. He lost it all because he came clean and told the truth. The ugly truth.

Aster sighed and put down his paintbrush. The animal before him was the largest domestic cat, a Maine Coon. It was spread out like a tiger, on its side and head in the air. The tip of its bushy tail was raised from where it was tapping it against the ground. The cat had given him an uninterested look when he went about painting the feline. It had taken some work, but Aster made it look as though the cat was looking off, into the distance. Like, something had caught its attention away from the painter.

It was one of his best works, considering he happened to like this animal. It was beautiful and majestic. The largest kitten and a fur ball filled with fury. And, all he had to left was sign it. Aster picked up his detailed paintbrush and dipped the bristles into, what he called, Evergreen Pine. It was a blend of Forest and normal Green. He spelled out his name in curled calligraphy.

E. Aster Bunnymund

Aster stood up and backed away from the painting. It was beautiful. Stunning, really. The bounder made the portrait look like it was an old, tin type. Except, it was in color. The cat was displayed on a giant pillow, on a pedestal. The painting held bright colors and captured the feline perfectly. And, his signature don't take away from the masterpiece.

He was done. He was, finally, done! Aster put away his paints and brushes. He smiled. What he cared for more than the money was the satisfaction that came with finishing a commission. He took the portrait off of his easel, placing it gently against the wall. He turned out the desk lamp and grabbed his coat, glancing one last time at the room over his shoulder. Feeling content, he turned his head and headed out of his studio, closing the door behind him. He walked past other little cubicles made of glass with wooden frames.

As Aster left the main studio, weaving his way through, many wished him a goodnight; stating it verbally or with a handshake or nod of the head. He made his way to his companion. He knocked on the door, before letting himself in. North was bent over his easel, painting with the finest detail onto a tiny painting and sat upon an even tinnier stool. Aster had often wondered how a big man like North never seemed to have back pain from being in a bent position for a long time.

North didn't seem to have heard Aster at the door, too engrossed with his work. So, Aster did what he always did. Scare the Russian by making a loud noise. So, quiet as a mouse, the Australian painter shut the door behind him and snuck up on the unsuspecting painter. Aster waited for the right opportunity. He didn't want to ruin what North was working on.

So, Aster waited. And waited. And waited.

What was the painter working on that needed all of his attention? Aster tried to think. Birthday? Not by a long shot. Holiday? It did seem Christmassy with all of that white. So, it was a present. But, who? Aster mulled it over. It wouldn't be for Aster. North knew that the Australian liked spring scenes better. So, who-

North turned from the easel and dipped his paintbrush into the murky water to rinse it of that color of paint. He dabbed the brush onto a cloth and went about choosing his next color. Good, he's away from the painting. Aster got a better look at it, even though it was shadowed by North's giant body.

It was a winter scene. Aster was right about that. Snow softly fell onto the street, blanketing cars, buildings, and the street. Two individuals stood in the middle of the road. They were silhouettes; black outlined them in the shadows. It wasn't until North chose his next paint did he realize who they were.

North picked up a color he had made himself. A mix of aquamarine, teal, seafoam green, and blue. This specific color, however, was named after his dear girlfriend. It was called Tatiana Teal, or what he called it more affectionately, Teal Is The Color Of My True Love's Hair. Which was a spoof off of a song Tooth liked.

Aster looked back at the painting. He looked at the detail, taking in each brush stroke. Something looked familiar about the scene that Aster couldn't name. North shifted, casting some light on a part of the painting Aster hadn't seen well before. And, that's when it clicked.

With a smile, Aster slapped his hand on the Russian's shoulder. "Ya bloody wanker! T'is is how ya got Tooth ta say 'Yes.' to ya."

To say North was surprised was an understatement. The Russian jerked up in horror and spun around so fast that his little work stool toppled over and threw him into the ground. He groaned from where he landed on his back. Aster winced. That had to hurt.

The younger painter knelt by his fallen colleague. North was, well, North. He wasn't hurt too badly to need medical attention, but he needed to take it easy on the way home and lay down for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, with Tooth robbing peppermint oil on his tense back. Feeling back because he indirectly caused his friend harm, Aster helped North off of the floor and out of the studio. With one arm wrapped around the cussing Russian and the other fetching his phone out of his pocket, Aster looked at his fellow painter with a look of 'move out of the way or become my prison bitch.' It worked, to say the least. The other painters spread like the Red Sea, making way for them to make a swift exit.

Once outside of studio, Aster rested his cursing friend against the brick wall and fished out his phone. He sent a quick text to Tooth. He hoped she wouldn't be mad at him.

Come pick up, North.

He looked at the little thought bubble. The three circles flashed as if Tooth wanted to text back, but kept changing her mind on how to respond. Eventually, she decided on one because Aster's phone made the sound that indicate that Tooth replied - birds singing some unknown tune.

On my way!

Aster smiled at her enthusiasm. She knew that Aster only texted her to come pick up her hubby - her words, not his - when he was drunk, passed out, or both. He looked over his shoulder at the Russian in question. He leaned the wall of the front of the shop, donned in his warm but badass coat. His head pointed to the sky as he took deep breaths. He looked like a hibernating bear.

Aster knew he shouldn't poke a sleeping bear, but this time it was different. He felt like he intruded into something that was not meant to for his eyes. Or, anyone's eyes, for that matter. It was just for Tooth and North to see. Anyone else would think it is a beautiful sentiment. A painting of two teenagers kissing in the middle of the street with snow falling in the background. But Aster knew better. He knew that that was the moment that they became Tooth and North. And, it made him feel like he stumbled onto something that was meant to be kept a secret.

He looked at North again and swallowed. He was going to man up. He was going to shove his pride aside. He was going to defeat this, David and Goliath style. He cleared his throat as he stepped up the plate.

"'m sorry, mate. I-"

Aster brought his hands up to defend himself as North's eyes opened. The apologetic one coward in fear of the other. Don't get Aster wrong. He was big in his country, but North was small in his country. And he was bigger than Aster. So, David and Goliath. With no sling, pebbles, nor battle. Just, them.

North sighed. He wasn't angry at the Aussie. Not in the slightest. It's just; there was nothing truly magical about that night. Nothing special. It just happened. And, it had been a train wreck.

He looked at his friend. The poor painter looked like he was expecting to be hit. Well, he was going to be hit. Might as well put that fear to use.

Aster waited. He knew that the Russian was weighing his options. Would he hit Aster before Tooth came? Would he hit Aster after Tooth showed herself? The world will never know.

Aster flinched at the impact of the hand on his sore shoulder. He winced. Okay, not what he expected. He looked up at the laughing Russian.

"If this t'was all it took to look like little kid caught in the sweets container, I would have spilled the peas early!"

North let out a joyous laugh that made his belly jiggle like Jell-o. He slapped Aster repeatedly. The Russian still had no concept of American idioms. But, he was getting there. And, it was pretty funny to hear what he thought Americans were saying.

"Yeah, whatever ya say, mate."

And Aster wasn't going to correct the Russian because that was Tooth's job. She had a special joy of teasing her husband when he missed up an American saying. Aster didn't know what she did, but he preferred to not know about this. Because whatever she did, made the Russian happy and he would be able to say the idiom correctly. So, whatever floats their boat.

The sound of screeching tires alerted Aster that a mad woman was at the wheel of a car. Why no police has ever stopped her was beyond him. Whenever Aster goes two miles per hour over the speed limit, he gets pulled over. When she goes ten over, she let off with a warning. Someone really needed to teach her how to drive or tell him the secret of how to get away with no tickets.

She slammed on the breaks and the sports car jerked to a stop. Maybe that was a reason why Aster never liked their car. The red speed demon was built from scratch. North got a car kit from his father with a model of this car for a birthday when he was young. He built it and made improvements to the vehicle. And, when the Russian was sixteen, his father took him to the junkyard and told him that he could have any spare parts to build his dream car and thus the birth of the Sleigh.

Tooth smiled up from underneath her sunglasses. Why she was wearing them, he didn't know. It was already dark. Maybe it was a new fashion thing that she ran across on the internet or she was just making it her statement of the year. Whatever it was, it was dangerous, and should not happen. Ever.

She hopped out of the driver's side and made her way over to the Russian. He gave her a greeting kiss and wrapped his arms around her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed and mumbled to themselves, in their own moment. They were cute, Aster could not lie. However, he had a bed to get home to and an imagination that needed exploring. So, he did what anyone would do. He ruined the moment.

Aster cleared his throat. "As much as I would like seein' two o' ma straight friends makin' out, leave befor' ya get carded."

The couple separated. Tooth rolled her eyes and North put his arm around her shoulders.

"Like anyone is watching, Bunny. You just don't want to see us make out because you don't have a boytoy-"

"Boyfriend."

"to hang off of your dick-"

"Arm."

"and fuck into your mattress."

When she didn't meet a correction, she looked up from helping North into the passenger seat. Aster had a light blush on his cheeks that was not from the chilly temperatures. His nose buried into the fur lining of the hood of his coat. His arms crossed over his chest. He looked utterly adorable.

"Alright, who is it?"

Aster pouted, still blushing.

"Not tellin'."

Tooth raised a brow, amused.

"Really?"

Aster faced away from the car.

"Not on your Nelly."

Tooth laughed. She hopped back into the front seat, placing a hand on the stick shift. She saluted with two fingers then, placed her hand onto the steering wheel. In a blazed of glory, Tooth kicked up a cloud of burned rubber fumes as she slingshot the car away from the curb.

Aster waved a hand away from his face to clear the air. The couple squealed along with the wheels as they went around a corner. They were a match made in heaven. Like, two peas in a pod.

Aster laughed under his breath as he went to the bus stop. Those two were crazy. In every sense of the word. And, for each other. Which was adorable because their level of crazy could have had one or both of their soulmates in the looney bin. But, they were just enough crazy to still pass as a normal citizen.

Aster stopped at the edge of the street. He looked down one side then the other. The bus was late again. Why was the bus so late? It was usually punctual. What happened to its reliability?

Behind Aster, something moved around in the alley and hit something else that was metallic. Aster thought it was a cat, but then he heard the first something cuss about stubbing their toe. It hopped on one foot out of the alleyway.

It was the boy. The one that Aster kept locked up tight in his bedroom. Away from the harsh cold of the winter nights. Away from anyone else's eyes, but here he stood. Out in the open.

He wore that white fur coat that haunted Aster's dreams. Where it touch nothing but his soft, pale skin. His icy blue eyes held anger as he gazed at his injured foot. As if it had a mind of its own and run into whatever metallic object it hit in the alleyway. His worried his plump bottom lip with his perfect, pearly teeth. He donned a silver sequined cocktail dress that barely came to the edge of hips. His legs were covered in neutral blue fishnet leggings. His anklet on his injured foot was silver with a rabbit and a blue ribbon bow. They jiggled as he jumped on one foot. And, even though he was in a dress, Aster knew it was a boy. Every time he hopped, the dress slide up his leg and unveiled his white lacy panties that held his cock. He could see the outline of the poor thing being held captive.

There was no mistake. He was a boy. A beautiful boy. And, what was he doing dressed like that, on this side of town. Aster had a few ideas. None of them he liked. However, 'Hooker for Hire' was one of his favorite fantasies with his fake fur boy. So, acting like the pimp from that one black TV show that's always on, Aster swaged over to the petite boy.

The boy looked up from his spot on the cold concrete. He was massaged his foot and rolled his ankle. He hissed.

He must have tripped over something in the alley and caught his ankle. Poor thing.

Poor thing, indeed. When Aster crunched snow within a few feet of him, he looked up. He had a deer in the headlights look. And, as the painter got closer, fear filled those aquamarine irises. He looked like a cornered rabbit. No pun intended.

Every step Aster took, the more frantic the beauty became. He was going to hurt himself. Aster held his hands up in surrender. He wanted to be as non-threatening as possible.

"Sh. Frostbite. Everythin' t'is goin' to be alrigh'. Everythin' will be fine; just fine."

Aster repeated himself over and over again, laying his accent on thick. He wanted to prove he wasn't a treat. He just wanted - he didn't know what he wanted. One minute it was runting this beauty down deep into his mattress, but with the big, crocodile tears threatening to fall, Aster just wanted to hold the boy until he calmed down.

He squatted down next to the boy and gently reached out a hand to the boy. The boy looked at his hand as it invaded his space. Aquamarine tracked the tanned hand until the boy was cross-eyed. Aster patted his head.

"Good boy, Frostbite. Such a good boy."

Aster's hand caressed the top of the boy's head. The boy closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. He sighed contently.

Aster smiled. He touched his ghost. His muse. His greatest fantasy. His latest conquest. And, his hair was soft. The white bob of hair was real and not a wig. He loved running his hand through the thin silk. He could imagine running his hand through this hair after a runt into the mattress. No. He wouldn't treat his ghost with such disrespect. It would be slow, leisurely love making. He would explore and map out all of the spot that made the boy squirm.

Then, Aster would spread those lean, long legs and blow the boy's mind. Literally and figuratively. He would give the boy the best pleasure he had ever received and the boy would emit the beautiful sound of a siren.

Aster could picture it now. The boy all laid out for him and begging to be filled to the brim with Aster. The painter would tease and go at a torturing slow pace. The boy would demand and thrash, pleading for release and after he orgasmed, his tight walls would tighten even more and Aster would release deep within the boy.

Aster sighed and picked up his hand to pet the boy one more time. He placed his hand where he thought the boy's head was. All he got was air. Frustrated, he tried again. Same result. He opened his eyes to find the boy gone. He disappeared without a trace.

Aster looked up and down the street. He wasn't making this up. He had touched the boy. He was real, wasn't he?

Aster groaned a little as he stood. His erection was there, loud and proud. His cock really liked the idea of being inside that tight, warm cavern. He lowly moaned. Aster was definitely jacking off when he got home. Not that that was away from his daily routine in the least. Ever since he saw the boy he had be using the boy for pleasure.

Aster exhaled slowly as he turned to the bus stop. Something shiny in the snow caught his attention. He bent down with some difficulty and looked at the snow. Before him, lay the rabbit charm from the boy's anklet. A little white rabbit with an Evergreen ribbon tied in a bow around its neck.

In awe, Aster picked up the charm. The rabbit wore a ribbon of a green that Aster made up. In the center of the bow on the side of animal's neck, an aster flower bloomed. Coincidence? Aster turned the charm over in his hand. On the back in a curved calligraphy, was one word. One that would haunt him until he was able to speak to the boy.

Friends

This must be one of those Best Friends charm bracelet things, where the two objects fit together and read Best Friends. Aster hummed. This must be pretty important for the boy to wear it all of the time. The paint was slightly chipping and the silver coating was rubbing off to show the brass and bronze layers. It was cheap, but it held memories that made up for the price.

Beep, Beep!

Aster jumped from where he knelt in the snow. The bus was here and he didn't even notice. Aster smiled, a twitch of his lips. This boy just kept getting more and more mysterious.

And, it was a mystery that Aster will solve, gladly.

Author's Note: So, instead of updating this and TDF, I read a story by ma aime, Takara Phoenix. It was a really good story. I was on the edge of my seat til the very end. Go check her out! She mainly does Nicercy, but will do anything where Percy is a bottom. Have fun exploring! C: Hope you enjoyed this as much as I had fun writing this! See you later! *waves*

P.S.: Brownie points to people who review!