Kris threaded his finger through the white plastic hanger, lifting the child’s t-shirt from the rack. He held it up in the air, squinting across the aisle to compare it to the tiny person it was meant for. It seemed like the right size… His object of study glanced up, catching him in the act, and Kris hastily stuffed the shirt back onto a nearby shelf. Minseok marched across the aisle, picked up the crumpled shirt, and held the ridiculously small scrap of cloth against his chest with wordless disdain.

“It might fit,” Kris said defensively. They’d swapped clothing again for this outing, and Minseok was wearing his dress shirt now, the sleeves rolled above his elbows in bulky folds, the tail hanging to the middle of his thighs. He was practically drowning in all that fabric, so Kris didn’t think it was unreasonable that he had slightly underestimated the little man’s size.

Shaking his head, Minseok neatly resettled the t-shirt on its hanger and placed it back with its kin. Then he took Kris’ elbow in his surprisingly firm grip and towed him across the aisle, where the cartoon-emblazoned t-shirts and bright patterned shorts gave way to stylish cuts and sensible collars. He stationed him in front of a rack of hooded shirts.

“These seem like Yixing’s style,” Minseok suggested, holding out a couple of comfy-looking shirts.

Kris tossed the garments over his arm, sulking. “I could do this myself,” he grumbled as Minseok browsed through the other styles. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Minseok blinked up at him, only his eyes visible above the rack of clothes. “Babysitter?”

“Joonmyeon made you come, right? If I try anything, you’re supposed to freeze me in a block of ice or something.”

Minseok rose to his tiptoes, frowning as he surveyed Kris’ height. “I’d need about eighty liters of water,” he said thoughtfully, “and a six-foot container. You’d also have to hold really still.”

“You can’t just…?” Kris wiggled his fingers in the air, trying to mimic the graceful, swirling gestures Joonmyeon used to summon his liquid minion. Minseok copied his motion, a gummy grin flashing across his face when Kris flinched away.

“Relax,” the shorter man chuckled. “I’m not a sorcerer, and Joonmyeon didn’t send me with any secret mission.”

Kris straightened from his protective crouch, surprised. “Why did you come then?” He’d dumped Minseok on the side of the highway without a second thought. There was no reason he’d want to hang out with him unless… Kris ducked down again, protecting his internal organs. “ Are you here for revenge?”

“I came because this was a really nice suit,” Minseok said, caressing the sleeve of his shirt. “It must have been tough to see it treated this way.”

“It’s just cloth,” Kris shrugged, feigning nonchalance. The suit had been a reward for eradicating an upstart mobster-wannabe trying to usurp the boss’ gambling business. Like everything Yong gave him, it had instantly become the most expensive thing Kris had ever owned. He’d kept it wrapped in silk, and had only ever worn it once. Giving up the jacket, and then the shirt to Minseok had been one of the hardest sacrifices he’d ever had to make. That his benevolence had been Yixing-mandated and tooth-enforced made it even harder to bear. My poor suit, Kris mourned silently. I couldn’t protect you.

Minseok studied him for a moment, his head tilted to one side, dark eyes intent. “Thank you.” He made it sound like Kris had saved his firstborn.

“It’s not a big deal.” Kris pulled his jacket tighter over his thin undershirt, turning away to hide his rapidly heating face.

“I’ll give back your shirt now.” Minseok pointed his chin towards a sign for the dressing room. “Just give me a minute.” He disappeared into the forest of clothing racks, and Kris thumped his chest as he watched him go, trying to calm the wiggly feeling in his heart.

After waiting what felt like hours, Kris circled the men’s department for the fifth time, searching for his small companion. He was beginning to wonder if he’d been ditched when something soft thwacked against the back of his head. Kris whirled to find a package of socks at his feet, and his gaze shot up to find Minseok standing behind him, hands on his hips, foot tapping.

“You’ve walked past me twice,” Minseok informed him drily as Kris stared at him in astonishment. He was barely recognizable, transformed from head to toe by a beanie, plaid shirt, and—

“Those are really tight jeans,” Kris blurted, eyeing Minseok’s impressive thighs. He could crack walnuts with those quads.

Minseok followed his gaze downward and dusted a speck of lint from the black fabric. “They’re a bit loose actually.” He pointed to the pile of clothes and shoes Kris was hugging to his chest. “Are those all for Yixing?”

“I thought he’d need more than one change,” Kris admitted. That he’d gotten carried away while color-coordinating the outfits was a secret he’d take to his grave.

Minseok tugged one of the shirts from Kris’ grip, nearly unseating the whole pile in the process. He glanced at the price tag and drew in a scandalized breath. “Fifty dollars!?”

Kris snatched it back, swiveling away so Minseok couldn’t see the price tags on anything else. “It’s my credit card,” he said testily.

“I won’t say anything.” Minseok held up his hands in surrender, his cheek dimpling with a repressed smile. “What should we buy for Joonmyeon?”

“A priest,” Kris suggested, and Minseok snickered.

“I think he’d prefer a casual shirt and oxfords.” He turned to look back the way he’d come. “I saw some nice stuff near the dressing rooms.”

Kris’ followed him, thinking of the sudden temperature drops during Yixing’s healing session, the branching patterns of frost that had blanketed the inside of their SUV.

“What are you, though? I’ve seen you control the weather,” Kris pressed when Minseok held up a pair of jeans for inspection. “You made it snow in the middle of the desert.” He lowered his voice as a shopping family wandered by. “If you’re not a fairy or a demon, then how do you explain what you can do?”

“Adaptive dysautonomia,” Minseok said, briskly flicking through a rack of cardigans. “It’s a fancy way of saying I soak up heat like a sponge, especially when I’m cold. The doctor who came up with it could never get his paper published, though.”

“So, other people knew about you?” Kris huddled closer as Minseok drifted between stacks of clothing. “Aren’t you supposed to keep your powers a secret?”

“My village was too small for anyone to have secrets. When the mayor went to the doctor for warts, within an hour everyone knew it was from his affair with the schoolteacher’s husband.” Minseok threw a pair of shirts over his shoulder before heading for the shoes.

Kris chased after him. “So you can turn things into ice and nobody cared?” His outburst earned more than a few curious looks, and he lowered his voice again. “If they didn’t think you were weird, why’d they send you to a doctor?”

“When I was four, my kindergarten went out to watch the aurora borealis. Everyone says I must have wandered away, but the only thing I remember is sitting in the snow, staring up at the sky.” Minseok’s eyes unfocused, his gaze turning inward at the memory. “I felt like I was the only thing in the whole universe. The stars went on forever in every direction, and if I held my breath, I could hear them whispering to me.” Minseok shook his head sharply, leaving the moment behind. “Anyway, I must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember was my foster mom on her knees, hugging me. The whole village was with her, and everyone was crying.”

Kris sat on a nearby bench, fascinated. “How long had you been missing?”

“Three days,” Minseok corrected, holding a pair of sneakers against his foot. “The newspaper clippings said the temperature was 30 below zero that whole week.”

Kris’ jaw dropped. “And you were fine?” He leaned over, trying to see Minseok’s feet. “Your toes didn’t turn black and fall off?”

“According to my mom, when they found me, I was so warm that everything inside my coat was damp from sweat. She thought it was a miracle, but a big hospital in Vancouver convinced her to let them study me,” Minseok explained. “I lived there for a year until their funding was cut off. The study was never published, but Mom kept a copy in her photo album.”

“So you never get cold? Ever?” Kris asked in awe. So useful. “But how do you make it snow?”

“The heat has to come from somewhere.” Minseok held out his hand. “Try it.”

Kris shifted his pile of clothes so he could reach out, hesitantly touching his index finger to Minseok’s open palm. Faster than he could react, before he could register cold!, Minseok interlaced their fingers.

Goosebumps shivered down Kris’ spine, his muscles locking, limbs jerking involuntary, his chest squeezing painfully as a bitter chill settled into his bones.

“W-what are you d-doing to me,” Kris forced the words through his clenched, chattering teeth.

“Stealing your body heat,” Minseok said cheerfully. “Just two degrees though.” He released his hand, and Kris tumbled to the ground, clothes scattering around him, heart hammering in shock.

“You could have killed me!” Kris tucked his hands into his armpits, trying to squeeze warmth back into his numbed limbs.

“Probably,” Minseok winced, gingerly shaking out his hand, which was a bright, sunburned red. “But that wouldn’t have been fun for either of us.”

“You're a vampire!” Kris realized.

“No.” Minseok paused in blowing on his reddened fingers, offended.

“A heat vampire,” Kris continued, undeterred. “Siphoning the warmth from your victims.”

“I am not—”

“You're very pale,” Kris pointed out. “You probably don’t go outside much.”

“I’m a park ranger,” Minseok retorted.

“Perfect! Who would notice a few missing hikers?” Kris concluded. The pieces were all coming together.

“Fine,” Minseok rolled his eyes in exasperation. “If I'm a wilderness vampire, and Joonmyeon's a British water demon, what does that make Yixing?”

“A cannibal werewolf,” Kris answered instantly. He'd given this one a lot of thought. Dozens of reputable medical websites supported his theory. “Why are you laughing?”

Minseok wasn't even laughing properly; he had just folded over with a prolonged wheeze of mockery. Kris climbed to his feet, waiting for him to pull himself together, but Minseok just pointed at him helplessly, tears of unbridled hilarity gathering in the corner of his eyes. Kris coughed uncomfortably, trying to dislodge the tickle in his chest, but a chuckle slipped free instead. That set Minseok off into a full blown episode, and Kris fled for the checkout counter, Minseok’s whooping cackles echoing behind him.

"You remind me of someone," Minseok told him, wiping tears as they waited in line. "A pen pal when I was in the hospital. He said the sky was blue because it was actually an ocean, and clouds were countries full of white-haired people living upside down.”

Kris didn’t see how that infantile nonsense related to his perfectly logical diagnosis, but kept that to himself. “What was his name?” he asked instead.

“We went by nicknames,” Minseok said. “He was Ghost, and I was Snowbunny.”

Kris brayed out a laugh, attracting irritated glances from the other shoppers in line.“SNOWBUNNY!!”

“I was four.” Minseok raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t your parents ever give you a cute nickname?”

“Boss lets his kids choose their own names. If they call themselves something like Bloodfist or Snake-Eyes, he knows they’re morons and will die of stupidity in a few months.” Except Butcher. Sadly, he’d made it all the way to adulthood. Despite Kris’ best efforts.

The soccer mom behind them switched checkout lanes with a muttered Oh dear, and Minseok waved to her apologetically.

“So, is Yixing one of your boss’ …kids?” he asked, handing their purchases to the cashier, one by one. “He calls you his brother, but you don’t look alike at all.”

Kris snorted derisively. “I sprang him from the nuthouse less than a week ago.”

“Ah!” Minseok snapped his fingers in revelation, as if a vexing mystery had finally been solved. “I wondered why he liked you so much.”

“Likes me?” Kris scoffed bitterly. “Likes me with soy sauce, you mean.” The way Yixing his teeth that first time was still vivid in Kris’ memory.

“Biting is an instinctive way of expressing difficult feelings.” Minseok said knowingly. “Maybe he’s just trying to let you know when he’s unhappy.”

“Unhappy?” Kris held out his hands, but Yixing’s repeated tooth mangling hadn’t left even the faintest trace of a scar. “What about me? He could eat half of me every night, and no-one would ever know. He’s a nightmare.”

“The full moon is coming soon,” Minseok’s lips wobbled as he tried to keep a straight face. “You should make nice before he decides he likes your taste more than your personality. Your literal taste, not your taste in clothes. Hey, wait-”

Kris grabbed the bag of clothes from the cashier and hurried away, Minseok jogging at his side to keep up with his long strides. They made it all the way back to the car before Minseok couldn’t contain himself anymore. “What would you say if Yixing appeared in front of you right now?”

Kris could sense it coming, but was powerless to stop it. “Don’t.”

“There-wolf!” Minseok dissolved into another fit of giggles, and Kris shoved him into the side of a nearby truck, setting off its alarm. They both scrambled frantically into the car, Minseok laughing hysterically as Kris peeled out of the parking lot. “What if Yixing is a Zen Buddhist?”

It was a weird feeling, having someone laugh at him and not immediately stabbing them in the throat. “Stop it.”

“Aware-wolf!”

Weird, Kris thought to himself, but not horrible.