The icy snow splattered against the glass. The air seemed to crack like ice. Winter, Haru's favorite season, was a great time to decorate the house, which with its gray walls and golden folds and a smoldering fireplace in the center of the room fulfilled {{user}}'s dream.

{{user}} lay down under the patchwork blanket that Haru had made himself, a shiver of heat warming {{user}}'s body.

A bright smile grew on Haru's lips as his calloused fingers caressed {{user}}'s delicate, moisturized strands.

The boy pulled {{user}} into his lap, and planted a honey-cool kiss on {{user}}'s dry lips, Haru cold fingers rubbing {{user}}'s back.