Cold

It was a cold winter season, on a Friday eve, when Tsurara was happily getting ready to leave her house to visit Yukari, only to come upon the zombie form of Kurosaki, blocking her way out, standing still in front of her apartment door. 

Just his mere presence made her happy expression turn sour.

Rolling her eyes, Tsurara clicks her tongue and crosses her arms, tapping her feet impatiently, “What is it this time? You want money for rent? Here to tease me? You want your cat back? What?”

He simply stares blankly at her, breathing in and out unevenly, and slowly, plops his forehead against the cool surface of the wall.

Kurosaki could barely stand, looking deadbeat tired, as if he didn’t catch of a wink of sleep at all last night. It was quite evident from the dark circles under his eyes and by the looks of it, Kurosaki was dealing with a serious cold, a runny nose, hacking coughs and a bad headache that made him very disoriented.

Tsurara snaps a finger at his face, “What do you need from me? Hurry up and tell me, I’m already running late!” She spits, tapping her watch.

The so-called perfect swindler, who was losing the battle with a mere cold, tilts his head against the wall, blinking in bafflement before narrowing his already lazy eyes at her.

“Wh-what are you doing in my house? Wh-who in the hell let you in?” His words slurred at the tip of his tongue, as he pokes at her puny chest. He dizzily steps away from the wall to lean against the railing, but trips over his own feet and stumbles backward instead, nearly falling over.

If Tsurara didn’t react so quickly, Kurosaki would have ended up diving down head first to the cement with a cracked skull.

Fearful for his life, she swiftly shoots her arms out and takes hold of his shoulders, swinging him back around and slammed against her door.

“You fool! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” She shrieks in between pants, wide eyed and fingers digging deep into his skin, “And no, this is my house. Mine.”

He could barely stand by himself, let alone make it into his apartment without stumbling, the one on the right.

Tsurara notices his lack of winter wear, the usual black leather jacket, white dress shirt, dark jeans, red suspenders and black toe-pointed boots. It was no surprise how he caught this cold.

Compared to her thick dark green Russ-k winter jacket, thin black wool gloves and a matching scarf, she was practically ready for an ice storm. Oh and she had a black cat-ear beanie hat to keep her head warm as well.

Kurosaki unenthusiastically points to her hat, and slides his hands over her head to pinch and rub at the thin, flat cat ears, “Th-this looks…f-foolish on you…” He mumbles, cracking a stupid, drunk smile. He even started giggling, almost like an amused child playing with his brand new Nintendo DS.

Tsurara pouts, swats Kurosaki’s hand away and readjusts her favorite beanie hat, pulling it down over her now human frost bitten ears, “It was a gift from my mother.” She mutters.

He snorts and attempts to pull the hat off her head, to toy with her as usual so that he can move his day forward with a happy grin on his face, but instead, comes spiraling down towards her.

Tsurara immediately becomes rigid when Kurosaki suddenly slumps his arms over her shoulders, buries his face into the crook of her neck and begins shivering frenziedly.

“Ku-kurosaki-kun? Wh-what are you…”

He answers her with a few sneezes and simply collapses against her, pulling her down with his heavy weight. They danced a short tango, before tumbling backward into her small apartment.

After the sudden crash landing, Tsurara wakes up to find herself trapped—rather, crushed—under him, and feeling more than she shouldn’t have.

Kurosaki moans and presses his blue chapped lips against Tsurara’s soft skin, between the right side of her jaw line and upper neck area, “Mmm…”

Tsurara squirms when she feels his breath fall upon her sensitive skin. It was enough to tickle her whole body, until she was in a moment of euphoria, quivering from his foreign touch and sudden closure. Her heart skipped a few too many beats than usual. Her face reddens, almost a scarlet shade.

With an expression so priceless and a pathetic shriek so quiet, Tsurara was now nestled in between Kurosaki’s legs, and his arms wrapped around her body like glue, preventing her from escaping.

She could barely speak, or breathe correctly, especially when Kurosaki’s hands start to roam around her body, searching for warmth, anything to keep his cold hands from freezing. Only little whimpers could be heard from her now. 

Tsurara squeaks when Kurosaki’s hand worms its way under her jacket and on top of her stomach, very close to her too. It was colder than ice, sending the tiniest shivers down her back.

“Ku-ku…Ahh…not there…” She gasps and pulls his hand away. He moans, takes a deep breath and then rests his right hand on her shoulder.

This was as embarrassing as public display of affection. Tsurara couldn’t believe that she was laying on the floor, in the cold, with her landlord smoogling her, practically knocked out, and calling out for his mother, “Oka-san…”

She made a mental note to herself to never stay around when Kurosaki was either drunk, half-asleep or on prescribed drugs that made him run through la-la land.

They stayed like that in silence, for almost ten minutes straight, maybe more. She lost count. Tsurara was as stiff as a wooden plank, as she watched him suffer from the cold, shivering, vulnerable, small, and burying his face closer to her shoulder, clinging, needing, like a child snuggling within the warmth of his/her mother.

What was she, his pillow? His childhood teddy bear was more like it, because now, he tangles his legs with hers and squeezes her tightly against him.

“Baka.” Tsurara mumbles as she found herself gazing at him, watching him sleep peacefully, almost with a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Unconsciously, her hand slides up to the side of his cheeks and gracefully, she traces her fingers across his face. She traces every perfect aspect of it, from his beautiful nose to his succulent, slightly chapped blue lips (which was usually glimmering red and still chapped), his cute eyelids, and his silky short hair.

His quiet snores, incoherent phrases, half-smile, and the way his chest moved as he breathed in and out deeply, drew out a gentle smile and an adoring look from Tsurara.

As their faces drew closer to each other, her heart began thumping rapidly again and she had that same feeling, of fluttering butterflies in her stomach and slight nervousness, sweating.

Tsurara slowly inches in, until her lips barely brushed against his and noses touching. He smelled like heaven, maybe a little bit like a mixture of raspberry rain and melon. It was very intoxicating, so entrancing that she would have tackled him down on sight, and attack every part of his body until she lost breath if she could.

It was a forbidden kiss, with a man who made her world turn upside down.

Her lips start to tremble against his, as tears begin welling at the corner of her eyes. Deep at the back of her mind and somewhere in her heart, guilt emerged. She shouldn’t take advantage of him, even if it was just a small peck on the lips.

But damnit, Kurosaki was right there, waiting for his lips to be covered by hers. It was fate and it wouldn’t hurt to try, just this once, or so she believed.

Just as Tsurara’s eyelids slid halfway down, their fateful moment was shattered, by the loud looping ringtone of DBSK’s “Rising Sun” echoing from her cellular phone.

Yukari was calling.

Tsurara turned her head at a weird angle and ended up giving Kurosaki a small peck on his smooth cheek instead, and slightly, part of his lips, but she didn’t notice. 

She just couldn’t bring herself to do it. She would rather have a more special one with him still conscious.

The second time her phone rings, she miraculously scrambles out of Kurosaki’s embrace and pick it up on the chorus, trembling and stuttering with her replies, “Yukari?”

Tsurara hears a bunch of shuffling from the other line, before an obnoxious, “Where are you?!”

Tsurara bites down on her lip to stop from the excessive trembling, and gulps down that guilty lump in , “Uhh…I’m still home.”

“Eh? Hurry up. We’re going to be late for the party!” Yukari whines. 

Tsurara glances over at Kurosaki’s vulnerable form, before taking a deep breath. She couldn’t just leave him there, “I’m not f-feeling too w-well right now, Yukari. I think I’ve caught the cold.” She quickly lies, faking a few coughs here and there. 

“Ohh, but there will be so many cute boys there! There’s this cute guy named Aizawa Ko...Ko-something there! And I hear he’s a doctor-in-training, just your type!”

Tsurara rolls her eyes, and sighs, “Yukari, I’ll meet up with you later alright? Bye bye.”

Quickly, she closes her phone and places it back into her purse before sauntering over to the stupid swindler who crashed her apartment.

Even though he never asked for it, she couldn’t help but like him. Or care or feel concerned about his well-being.

He was a lonely man looking for his light in a dark path. A lonely sick man in need of warmth. And hell, she was right there right now to give him all of that. And she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

Tsurara runs her fingers through his hair once more and lets out a defeated sigh, “Even in your sleep, you still drive me crazy.”

“Is that so…?”

She pauses at the weak voice that just answered her and smiles nervously, “Feeling better?”

Kurosaki narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue in annoyance, slapping her hand away, “Don’t touch me, your fingernails really aren’t that soothing.”

He sits up and rubs his temple, “What did you do to me?” He groans, shooting a glare towards her direction. He twitches before adding with apprehension, “Don’t tell me you…took advantage of me..?”

“No!! N-nothing like that! Nothing at all!” Tsurara squeaks, fiddling with zipper of her jacket.

“You kind of passed out on top of me though…” She adds, pursing her lips and squeezing her eyes shut, looking away in embarrassment.

“Pfft, I don’t have time to play your little games Yoshida. I’m leaving.”

“Eh?”

She listens to Kurosaki shuffle to his feet. He wobbles halfway to his apartment, only to end up collapsing to his knees right by the stairway.

Chuckling, she chases after him and places a hand on his back.

“You know, sometimes, it doesn’t hurt to ask for help.” Tsurara tells him as she extends her other hand towards him, “Would you like some home-cooked clam chowder and warm soymilk?”

“Didn’t I tell you? I said I don’t need—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You don’t need love, sympathy and all that. But you’re sick and you aren’t going to get any better, not without my help anyway.” Tsurara gestures her hand at him again, smiling a bit this time, “So…?”

Slowly but surely, Kurosaki eventually takes her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers and giving it a tight squeeze.

“The chowder better be damn good.”

Tsurara wants to squeal happily right about now, because this was definitely a first step for Kurosaki. He was finally learning to trust her.

“Don’t worry, it is. And no, I didn’t poison it if that’s what you’re thinking.”

~owari~