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Charlie stood under the glow of orange lamplight as flakes of soft snow fell around him in random patterns. He scanned the park for signs of his friend, who had asked to meet him there in the first place, but who was running disappointingly late. Well, Charlie could be patient. At least it was peacefully silent here at dusk, when the gaggles of families and dog-walkers had gone home for the night. Silent as the grave, he thought, suppressing a chuckle at his own gallows humor. Being an undead man himself, he figured he was permitted a little of that.
He was busy absentmindedly digging a pit in the snow with his boot when he finally heard Guile’s voice.
“Hey, Charlie, sorry I’m late,” he panted, “traffic was kinda... Uh, aren’t you cold in that?”
Charlie glanced up at Guile, who was dressed in a cozy winter army jacket and thick wool gloves, then back at himself. Sleeveless coat, unzipped with nothing but his bare chest underneath, exposed hands subjected to the elements... One hand was a sickly gray-green, of no consequence of the cold, but the peachy flesh of his left hand was turning a bit red at the fingertips, now that he looked at it.
“Eh, I’m alright. I don’t really notice the cold anymore.”
Guile shook his head, scattering bits of snow that had piled on the flat surface of his haircut.
“You really should take care of yourself before you end up looking half-blue like that Gill guy.”
In an attempt to change the subject, Charlie gestured to the red box under Guile’s arm.
“What’s that?”
Guile glanced curiously at the object, apparently having forgotten that he’d brought it. With a hearty laugh, he pulled it into view beneath the street lamp.
“You know what today is?” he asked, presenting the heart-shaped package to Charlie, who eyed it expressionlessly over the rim of his glasses.
“February 14th, I think.”
“Yeah, and you know what THAT means!” Guile encouraged, pushing the box closer to Charlie’s own heart.
Charlie was silent for an uncomfortable minute before looking Guile straight in the eyes.
“Ken’s birthday.”
Guile blinked with the realization. “Uhh... Oh! Not untrue... But also, it’s Valentine’s Day! So I got you some chocolate to express my feelings. Remember how we used to spend the day eating chocolates over a few glasses of scotch?”
“Watching old Westerns until we fell asleep on the couch,” Charlie added, allowing a smile to cross his face until he realized it was there. He then frowned, pushing the candy box away. “Thanks anyway, but you know I can’t taste food anymore. There’s no point in this.”
Guile’s brow furrowed over his reddened face. He was visibly upset, though its cause was less the rejection and more the embarrassment of having forgotten this important detail of Charlie’s resurrection. He tucked the box back under his arm and slipped his hands into his coat pockets. It seemed like he had a lot on his mind, but a sheepish, “I’m sorry,” was all he could manage.
Charlie kicked at the pile of snow to fill the hole at his feet, sighing a long cloud of vapor that faded into the lamplight.
“Hey, listen... I can’t feel cold anymore, and I can’t taste food, but I can still feel... enjoy... some things.”
Guile perked up at this. “Y-Yeah? Like what?”
Charlie took a step forward and pressed his mouth firmly against Guile’s. The kiss was warm... tingling... Maybe it was just psychological, the memory of all the times they’d kissed in the past, manifesting with a familiar sensation... but he wasn’t going to question it. He kissed his lips, and then his cheeks, and then he nuzzled into his neck where the fur collar of his coat met his goosebumped skin. They held each other for a long moment as the stars emerged and falling snow swirled around them.
When Charlie looked up again, the sight of Guile was blurred, and he was frustrated by the possibility of losing his vision on top of everything else, until he noticed Guile’s hand wiping the tears from his cheeks.
“Your face is so cold,” Guile said, cupping it in both palms. Charlie thought he might have felt a bit of his warmth in the touch. If not physical heat, there was something there that comforted him when their foreheads pressed together. The gem between his eyes flickered aglow and pulsed with his heartbeat, casting their features in a soft aquamarine.
“We should go inside before I end up with ice stuck to my face, then,” Charlie said at last, wiping his eyes along his arm, “Any good movies come out while I was dead?”
Guile’s expression lit up at the question. “Oh, god, so many...!”
“Well, maybe we can get through a few of them before we fall asleep tonight,” Charlie replied with a smile to match.
Guile took Charlie’s hand and began to lead him back to his car, when he remembered the box under his arm as it nearly slipped free.
“Ah... What should we do with the chocolates?”
“Well, you obviously forgot to get something for your friend’s birthday.”
Guile laughed again. “Yeah, that’ll work! We’ll stop by Ken’s place on the way home! He won’t even care if it’s in a heart box as long as it tastes good, I’m sure.” He then tensed at the realization that alluding to delicious flavor was a rather insensitive comment to make to a man who specifically misses being able to enjoy the taste of food.
“It’s alright,” Charlie assured, “really. Not being able to taste chocolate just means I’m less tempted to indulge in junk food. Besides...” he paused to lock his mouth with Guile’s again,
“...your kisses are plenty sweet enough.”