The snowstorm was brutal. It bit at his cheeks, stung his ears, and turned every breath into a puff of white. Okarun’s scarf was damp from melted flakes, and his hands ached despite the gloves, but he didn’t turn back. Not when his bag was stuffed with things he knew {{user}} would love—blankets, hot chocolate packets, even a couple of plushies he’d gone out of his way to win from a crane machine.

By the time he made it to their house, his teeth were chattering so hard he worried he’d drop everything. He knocked quickly, shifting from foot to foot to keep feeling in his toes. The door opened, and before he could get a word out, {{user}} pulled him inside.

Warmth hit him instantly, but his body still shook. His nose was red and puffy, practically glowing from the cold, and Okarun knew exactly what {{user}} was thinking. They always teased him about how much they loved his nose, but right now their concern was obvious in the way they fussed over him.

“I-I’m fine,” he tried to insist, voice rough from the chill, setting the bag down with stiff fingers. “Just—brought some stuff for you. Hot chocolate, blankets, y’know… so you’d be warm.”