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“Yakumo!” Edmond’s shout is quickly drowned by the howling gust passing them that Yakumo has to strain his hearing to hear Edmond’s next words. “Over here! Hurry!”
While unsure whether or not Edmond could hear his answer, Yakumo still yells out his answer through the sweater muffling his nose and mouth. “Y-yes!” He coughs and sputters when doing so irritating his already dry throat. “I’m—I’ll be… t-there!”
His vision is temporarily blocked by another heavy wind blinding him; he can barely make out the shape of Edmond standing several meters away from him. Yakumo rubs his eyes, trying to clear out the white snowflakes clinging to his lashes and hair, and staggers towards the blurry light blue hair. They’re heading to the mansion on the streets they’re familiar with, but in this adverse weather, it’s easy to lose track of Edmond.
Neither he nor Edmond expected the Light Territory to suddenly get hit by a heavy blizzard, especially when the winter at his grandparents’ village was rather bearable even for Yakumo’s constitution. Were they knew this would happen, they would’ve decided to stay overnight until it recedes, or at least brought thicker winter clothes to withstand the cold.
They might end up missing the Kleinmas party, but Yakumo is quite sure the others are also unable to return to the mansion. This morning, before he and Edmond left for Yakumo’s grandparents, Eiden mentioned he was going to the orphanage with Olivine, Garu, Blade, and Quincy. Dante and Aster should be still at one of Aster’s newly-opened café, and Yakumo thinks Kuya and Rei won’t be in the mansion as well.
Yakumo shivers, feeling the chill deep in his bones, making the step he takes to reach Edmond heavier. Then, a gloved hand grabs his forearm, and Edmond’s face comes into sight. The fur lining on his coat covers most of his face, but Yakumo can spot the flush on his cheeks and the worry on the creases between his brows, on top of the nearly inaudible ragged breath. “S-Sir Edmond… a-apologies, I—”
“Hush. Save your apology for later. We need to return swiftly as to avoid being trapped.” Edmond cuts him off, a slight tremble in his voice, as he drapes half of his coat across Yakumo’s shoulders. Yakumo’s waist is tugged over, pressing his body flush against Edmond’s side. He’s freezing, and if not for Edmond’s firm grip, Yakumo would’ve put some distance between them to prevent Edmond from getting even colder. “Hold tight and do not release your grip.”
“O-okay!”
Huddled together under one coat, they braced the blizzard and trudged through the snow-covered ground a step at a time. In this situation, even with his sweater and half of Edmond’s coat covering him, Yakumo feels naked. Any kind of covering he wears does nothing to fend off the chill. He knows Edmond endures worse than he does, considering he merely wears the coat outside his usual uniform and now he has to share it with Yakumo.
Apologies would mean nothing; it won’t give them warmth, stop the blizzard, or carry them home faster, so Yakumo keeps his lips pressed and increases the pace of his feet as much as he can. Every small distance they cross is agonizing, and several times Yakumo almost trips on rocks and paving hidden by the snow. The low temperature also awakens Yakumo’s instinct to brumate, causing him to grow sluggish as time passes on.
“Stay alert, Yakumo.” Edmond whispers through chattering teeth. And with his dwindling strength, Yakumo almost fully relies on him to navigate through the blizzard. He hates to be Edmond’s burden, yet there’s nothing else he can do except be obedient and not add further trouble for him. “We are nearly there.”
After what seems to be hours of walking, the gate to the mansion appears before their eyes. Yakumo exhales a shaky breath in relief for finally arriving without any of them collapsing. He and Edmond exchange a silent glance; though panting and shivering, Edmond’s eyes gleam with similar relief, and with a nod, they jog to the main door. Edmond opens it, pulls Yakumo inside, then kicks it close.
The sudden rush of heat greeting them has Yakumo slumping against Edmond, held upright by Edmond supporting his armpits. All the snow sticking to their clothes and hair is melting, leaving them uncomfortably damp and obviously cold, but Yakumo couldn’t be happier to be home. Despite the gradual diminishing of his previous drowsiness, Yakumo finds himself lethargic, his mind processing a bit slower than usual.
“Sir Edmond! Master Yakumo!” A young maid by the name of Emme who just passed by the hallway, yelps in surprise upon seeing Yakumo and Edmond’s condition. She rushes over to take the drenched coat out of Edmond’s hand, then helps Yakumo slip off his soaked sweater before handing it to her as well. “I will find towels and blankets for you, please wait! Anything else I can be of assistance?”
“May I trouble you with the task of preparing warm drinks for us?”
While Yakumo’s mind is still reeling, Edmond already takes charge and voices out the one thing Yakumo had repeatedly thought about on their way to the mansion. Yakumo snaps his head towards Edmond and for a moment his vision spins. “S-Sir Edmond, I-I can do it myself! There’s n-no need to bother Miss Emme!”
“Absolutely not. I can’t allow you to be exposed further to the risk of illness.” Edmond scolds him. His next sentence is gentler, spoken softly with a slight smile and a careful squeeze on Yakumo’s shoulder. “Yakumo, I can feel your freezing skin. You must warm yourself. If you were to fall sick, Eiden would endlessly worry over your well-being. Do you want that to happen?”
“No, I… I’m s-sorry, Sir Edmond…” Yakumo feels tears gathering in his eyes—he never likes being scolded, and even though he understands Edmond’s reasoning, he can’t help but feel useless. Edmond dabs at the corner of his eyes with the heels of his palms, and he bites on his lower lip to stop himself from crying in front of Edmond and Emme.
“Miss Emme, please deliver the necessities to my room. We will be staying there.”
“Certainly, Sir Edmond. I won’t take long!”
Yakumo doesn’t see Emme’s retreating form as he keeps his head hanging low, and when Edmond pulls him in the direction of his room, Yakumo merely lets himself be dragged along. Edmond doesn’t say anything else, the silence between them is equally comforting and suffocating that Yakumo is rendered too confused to react to it. At least Edmond continues holding his hand and keeps himself stuck by Yakumo’s side.
Edmond’s room comes into his view, and only then does the fatigue truly hit him. The sheer familiarity of it, then the cozy warmth coming from the lit fireplace immediately takes his mind off the guilt and frustration coiling in his chest that Yakumo feels like he can breathe easier again and not on the edge of sobbing. A few moments after they enter, there are three knocks on the door and the muffled sound of Emme’s voice.
“Sir Edmond, I bring fresh sets of towels and blankets for you and Master Yakumo.”
“Come on in.” Edmond allows her and another inside with stacks of towels and blankets, pointing to the round desk where he usually keeps his work. “Please set them over there. Thank you for the troubles, Miss Emme, Miss Rachel.”
“It is no trouble at all, Sir Edmond. We will come here later with the drinks.”
They exchange brief pleasantries and soon enough, the room is quiet again with only the crisp snap and pop of the fire and Edmond’s footsteps caught by Yakumo’s ears. Edmond brings two towels from the stack, wrapping one around Yakumo’s shoulders and draping the other over his hair. “Dry yourself first. I will see if I can find more suitable clothes for you to change into.”
Muttering a soft ‘thank you’, Yakumo turns away so his back is facing Edmond, giving them both privacy to take off their clothes. Curiosity temporarily blooms in Yakumo, an insistent tickle urging him to move. He slowly peeks over his shoulders to see the expanse of Edmond’s fair skin and the alluring curve of his back and buttocks. Yakumo stifles the embarrassed squeak and hurriedly averts his eyes, mentally berating himself for being shameless.
As stunning as Edmond is, Yakumo has no right to observe him changing clothes without permission. He bashfully smacks his hot cheeks and starts peeling off each layer of wet fabric glued to his skin. Then he pats himself dry using the towels and bundles himself with it, settling down on the rug in front of the fireplace. He gets a bit sleepy like this, warm and dry and secure. And he would’ve fallen asleep right there and then if not for Edmond’s call.
“Yakumo, I’ve placed your change of clothes here. Let me know once you’re dressed.”
The timing is just right. Oh, Edmond also has his head turned away. Oh, Edmond’s ears are red to the tips. Is he not the only one affected by this rather intimate situation? They had seen each other naked countless times, had taken off each other’s clothes in the midst of passion, had pressed their sweaty, bare skin together—and somehow, this occasion flusters them. “T-thank you, Sir Edmond…”
A thick sweater, no doubt made of the finest wool, and a pair of loose pants. The pants are a bit too big around his waist, hips, and legs, but they stop short just above his ankles. On the other hand, the sweater is a perfect fit, as if it were specifically customized for his body. Its soft material surrounds Yakumo like a very pleasant swaddle, and Yakumo sighs as he wraps his arms around his torso. He will never get cold if he wears this every day during winter.
“Are you done?”
“Ah—yes!”
“Alright. I’m coming over.”
Edmond, now dressed in a similar outfit of sweater and pants, sits next to Yakumo with a pile of blankets on his arms. He observes Yakumo from top to bottom, and when his gaze lands on Yakumo’s hair, he frowns. Fingers reach out to take a pinch of his hair, rolling it between his fingers, and dollops of water slide on them. “You didn’t properly dry your hair, it’s still damp. You risk falling ill like this. Here, allow me.”
Then he retrieves one of the discarded towels and carefully wrings out any excess water, careful and attentive. Meanwhile, with Edmond sitting so close to him, enough for Yakumo to smell the fragrant aroma of his essence, Yakumo’s throat is blocked with a heavy lump he can’t swallow. Yakumo’s stare is zeroed on the focused furrow and the downturned angle of his pursed lips, on the similarly damp bangs falling across his forehead.
He doesn’t stop there. His fingers act as a comb that smooths out the knots in Yakumo’s hair until it’s no more of a mess. How Yakumo wishes he could do the same to Edmond; to brush his fingers through Edmond’s long hair and feel each soft strand passing between his fingers, all while admiring the fickle play of the shadow on the right side of Edmond’s face. He can put Edmond’s hair into a braid, or he can let them splay out on his back.
“Yakumo?” Edmond pats the back of his hand all over Yakumo’s face, concern vividly clear. “You spaced out. Are you feeling unwell, or is the cold affecting you?”
“N-nothing, Sir Edmond.” Yakumo shakes his head and fidgets with the hem of his sweater to compose the sudden nerves frazzling him. Something about this situation; of them sitting this close together in front of the fireplace, trading words with whispers, stirs a familiar sensation in his stomach. “Thank you f-for the clothes, Sir Edmond.”
“Is… the sweater to your liking?” Those fingers that previously were touching Yakumo’s hair and face, now fiddle with the edges of the blankets. And Yakumo wonders if it was just him and his imagination, or was Edmond appears to be as nervous as Yakumo does. Is he only imagining the faint dust of rosy on his cheeks? Are those twitching and hesitation merely the byproducts of his mind?
“It is! I have never touched a sweater as soft and warm as this. I will c-carefully wash it first then return it to you as soon as possible!”
“There is no need to return it, uh—ahem…” Yakumo wasn’t only imagining it, for the flush darkens and spreads down to Edmond’s slender neck hidden by the sweater. Edmond tilts his head to the side, though every few seconds his eyes will flit and lock with Yakumo’s. “It’s meant to be for you. Your Kleinmas gift. I had intended to present it to you later during the party, however… I figured it would be more of use right now. My apologies.”
No wonder the sweater is the perfect fit for both his size and his preferences. Edmond bought it for him, possibly from the best shop and using only the best materials. Yakumo brings it to his nose, and he thinks he can recognize Edmond’s scent mingling in it. “N-no need to a-apologize, Sir Edmond…” His voice cracks, but he manages a wide smile. “…t-thank you for g-giving me this sweater… I love it so much and I w-will take care of it forever! I promise!”
Edmond coughs and sputters, hastily casting a glance at the fireplace. “You always prepare the most exquisite meals and desserts for us, it is only fitting for… me to reciprocate in kind.”
“But, Sir Edmond… I don’t have your gift yet.” The rabbit plushie along with a selection of outfits Yakumo had meticulously sewn and knitted for a month are waiting in a box tucked inside his wardrobe. “Do you mind waiting a little?”
“I do not mind. We have enough time.” Edmond scratches the bridge of his nose, then leans sideways until the distance between them is reduced to almost nothing. Thick silence washes over them, syrupy and delicious. Their shoulders mere centimeters away; hands so close they will be touching with the barest movement, their lips taste the misty exhale of each other’s breath.
Everything becomes muted and fades into them when their lips erase the remaining space. Yakumo grows bolder, tentatively touching the sharp angle of Edmond’s jaw and caressing the smooth skin. Edmond gasps, but Yakumo receives no resistance from Edmond beyond the pursed lips that captivate him, driving him to press his own lips against them and feel their softness. Instead, he feels an arm around his waist, trailing on the length of his spine.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“Sir Edmond, Master Yakumo, pardon the intrusion. I have the warm drinks you requested.”
They shoot backward as if scalded, both eyes wide and mouths agape, the crimson shades on their faces mimic each other. If the knocks didn’t startle them, they would already be locking lips by now, all over each other and unable to stop. Who knows what else they would do after that, especially with the intimate air lingering around them.
“A-a-apologies, Sir Edmond… I w-went overboard…”
“Ahem… it wasn’t your fault. I was partially guilty of it as well.” Edmond awkwardly gestures at the door. “I shall… get our drinks. Please wait here a moment.” He wordlessly unfolds one of the blankets, bundling Yakumo within the warm softness, even tucking Yakumo’s hands and feet so they’d be properly covered by it. “Continue staying warm in the meantime.”
Yakumo watches Edmond accept a tray of two steaming mugs smelling like sweet chocolate, conversing about preparing other hot drinks in advance in case Eiden and the others return to the mansion. His sight momentarily blurs, which he tiredly rubs with the blanket. Weird, he’s supposed to be fine now. Was suddenly being exposed to the cold temperature kickstarting the instinct to brumate he hadn’t experienced in years?
Maybe he actually drifts off during that time, because the next time he opens his eyes, the tray is set aside on the floor while Edmond hauls all the pillows on his bed and arranges them on the rug. Yakumo blearily blinks his heavy eyes, the view of pillows surrounding him makes him sleepier. “Sir Edmond…?” A yawn Yakumo can’t suppress breaks through his jaws. “…did I fall asleep?”
“Only briefly. You need it.” Edmond takes a seat next to him and passes the mug to him, making sure the mug is steady within Yakumo’s hold. “Drink this first to warm your body. I will fetch some soup from the kitchen—Yakumo?”
Although his mind has turned into a mush, Yakumo is conscious enough to note the frosty fingertips brushing against his untouched mug. Edmond hasn’t been warming himself up despite also experiencing the same blizzard. And before Edmond can launch himself into more tasks when he’s supposed to be warming himself up here, Yakumo’s hand shoots up to hold the sleeve of his sweater then gives it a light tug.
“Stay…?” Yakumo quickly adds upon seeing the hesitation flicker across Edmond’s expression, tugging the sweater a bit more persistently. Topper (and to some extent, Eiden) taught him a trick of pleading not even Dante could resist that he used to acquire more dried meat, and Yakumo assumes this will be the perfect occasion to try it out. “…I-I’m cold, Sir Edmond… please s-stay here with me…?”
How does Topper manage to do this almost every day? Yakumo almost combusts from the inside out just doing it once! Still, anything to get Edmond resting, even if he had to widen his eyes to make them look bigger, stare straight at Edmond, and ask with the softest voice he could muster. Tears are optional, but quoting Eiden, Yakumo wouldn’t have any difficulties with that. In fact, Yakumo is currently tearing up from embarrassment.
“…I understand.” Edmond clears his throat, masking any emotions or thoughts with the back of his hand. “In that case, I shall accompany you. Are, uh… are the blankets sufficient, or should I obtain more from Miss Emme?”
It surprisingly worked! “N-no, Sir Edmond, these are more than e-enough for me…!” Then… this next step should work as well. Yakumo spreads the blanket tucked around his shoulders, giving Edmond a place to huddle near him. “…t-these are enough for… u-us too? We can… s-share the blanket and warm up… t-together…”
Silence. An obscured expression Yakumo can’t read.
“Sir Edmond?” Did he accidentally annoy Edmond with his request? The tears that threaten to roll off his cheeks are those of fear and worry. He had burdened Edmond multiple times since they visited Yakumo’s grandparents, and he ended up adding more load on him by making unnecessary requests. “F-f-forgive me… I wa-wasn’t trying to…”
Against the worst scenario playing out in Yakumo’s head, Edmond sits on the rug and scoots further until they are shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. He gently takes the corner of the blankets Yakumo has been holding, wrapping them both in it, and spreads another blanket across their laps. Eyes glued to Edmond’s side profile, strong and stunning. Nose can’t stop taking a whiff of Edmond’s delightful scent he’s fond and familiar with.
And as Edmond sips on his hot chocolate Yakumo is drawn to the spread of his lips, to the bobbing of his Adam’s Apple, to the sigh as the sweetness makes its way from his tongue to his throat. “Such an impeccable balance of taste. The subtle bitterness didn’t overshadow the taste nor it dominated the palate. It enhances its flavor. Miss Emme mentioned using your hot chocolate recipe for this…”
Edmond only says the truth when it comes to Yakumo’s creations; if he thinks it’s perfect, then it’s perfect, and if he thinks there are aspects Yakumo can improve, then he’d list each of them in as much detail as he can. But he’s also never stingy with his praises, even when the food or desserts Yakumo prepares are less than satisfactory. There will always be something good in what Yakumo does or creates.
“You f-flatter me…” Yakumo nervously, and excitedly, traces the rim of his mug with his thumb. “I’m not… t-that great, Sir Edmond, you shouldn’t p-praise me too much.”
“No flattery.” Edmond leans in, piercing blue eyes fixed on Yakumo. Something in it sends a shiver throughout Yakumo’s body that isn’t the result of the cold. “I merely stated the truth, and if the truth is praise, then you deserve it.”
This time, nothing prevents their lips from meeting. A chaste kiss, a simple press of their slightly parted lips; lacking involvements of their tongues, yet they both refuse to separate too soon. Unbeknownst to who prompts it first, they move their lips in tiny smacks and languid licks. Yakumo sighs in contentment, vaguely sensing Edmond putting their mugs away in a safe place then lays his left hand on top of Yakumo’s right one.
Any other day, the noises Edmond makes in his throat, the weight crawling to his lap, and the sheer heat and essence enveloping them would’ve turned Yakumo on. Yakumo would’ve slipped his hands beneath Edmond’s sweater and roamed them on his warm skin, gauging each little gasp and choked moan coming from Edmond’s throat. And he wouldn’t stop there, wouldn’t stop touching and kissing and moving until satisfaction melts into their nerves.
Rather than the buzz of arousal boiling in his stomach, weariness overwhelms Yakumo so much that his eyelids droop mid-kissing. Perhaps it’s Edmond rubbing his side, perhaps it’s Edmond’s scent, or perhaps it’s the dizziness from kissing, but the sleepiness is becoming more and more difficult to ignore—to the point that Edmond releases his teeth from Yakumo’s lower lip and cups his cheek.
“We should stop.” Edmond’s voice is a bit breathy and hoarse, lips a bit swollen and face flushed. Even his pupils are fully blown, with only a thin sliver of blue remaining in his eyes. “You are exhausted, you must rest.”
“I’m f-fine, I still can…” Yakumo can’t leave Edmond like this! At the very least he will give Edmond some release before he rest. “J-just give m-me a moment, I surely will—”
“Yakumo. That is enough.” The tone gives no room for refusal, and Yakumo knows nothing will deter Edmond or make him change his mind. “You have to sleep. I promise on my honor that I will stay with you, but you must sleep, and…t-there will be an, uh, another occasion for this…”
Another time. Yakumo leans his cheek on Edmond’s palm, searing the embarrassed frown and lovely blush he witnesses through his eyelashes in his mind. Another time, when the weather is less cold and he’s less sleepy. “Yes, Sir Edmond…”
Edmond climbs down his lap and several changes to their position later, they now lie on their sides facing each other; heads supported by the plush pillows, blankets snug and warm around them. By that time, Yakumo is more or less already half-asleep, any sensation he perceives solely resolves around this little bubble of Edmond and him. He’s aware of Edmond’s tender peering on him, and the shy arm sneaking around his side.
Yakumo tucks his hands to his chest, idly rubbing the wool on Edmond’s sweater with his fingertips, mind threading on a fine line between wakefulness and the dream world. Tonight they should be having a Kleinmas party with Eiden and the others. Decorating the room with ribbons and colored papers, exchanging presents, feasting on a hefty amount of food, playing games all night… Yakumo was looking forward to them.
However, the snowstorm likely won’t cease until tomorrow morning at the earliest. The Kleinmas party will have to be delayed until then, when the others are home. Yakumo can’t deny that he’s a bit upset at this; after all, he had spent the entire yesterday preparing for the Kleinmas party feast and a total of two months carefully crafting each gift for everyone.
“It will be fine.” Edmond’s reassurance comes swiftly as though Edmond had read his mind. “They will return home soon.”
And Yakumo believes in it. Easily and wholeheartedly, for he knows Edmond won’t deceive him or leave him in the wintry cold. Yakumo smiles and nuzzles the exquisite sweater. “Sir Edmond… please look forward to my gift…? I made something… special, so I hope you will like it…”
He drifts off before he can hear Edmond’s reply; knowing soon, the plain white snow will have his companions’ footprints scattered on it. Soon, the bellowing howl of the blizzard will be replaced with his companions’ voices and laughter. Soon, the cold won’t freeze his limbs as he will be among the people he dearly cares about. Soon.
Soon won’t be too long with Edmond accompanying him.