Warmth of another being beside you. Warm shoulder to lean on. A smile that is directed only towards you and bares no ill intent. 

The fire was burning in the fireplace. It was snowing outside and snow piled up behind the windows and covered their garden. But they did not care one bit. Half eaten cake on the table, two classes and an empty bottle of wine. Wrappers from the presents they had exchanged. But they were not there. Their celebration was already moved from gentle evening infront of the live fire to the bedroom.

They already knew every inch of anothers skin, every place that there was. They knew eatch others expressions and voices they made. They already knew everything. They knew how to please and be pleased. How to let go and how to hold on. They knew it all.

It had already been years from that other winter night, the night they had met again. The big city and painful memories, and strenght to let past go. It had not been easy, not at all. But are things that are easy to get worth more than the things you worked hard for? Who knows. It all depends on the person, on their life. 

These two did not care about the outside world. They did not think about the outside, they only yearned for each other and what was inside themselves - love, lot of love. 

Their little house on the mountainside far from the city, far from everyone, was surrounded by forest and snow. But inside it was warm, and it was warmer under the blankets.

A Christmas tree was lit and stood alone in the livingroom where fire in the fireplace shone more light on it. The house smelled like gingerbread cookies they had baked before, now those stood decorated in the kitchen, ready to be eaten for breakfast alongside coffee and kisses.