Chapter Text
Boucheron awoke slowly to all but the realization that the power had gone out in the night.
The angry red lights of his alarm clock weren’t on to tell him whether or not he’d even woken at a socially acceptable time. Even his nightlight, always illuminating the corner of his room right in front of the door, lay plugged into the obsolete outlet, drained of power. The sharp, bright orange of the street lights didn’t pierce through the sliver of window that he kept unobstructed by the blinds like it normally did. This darkness was uncomfortable, like the abnormal cold that permeated his blankets and seeped into his frigid bones. He shivered under his layers of plush coverings, mourning the loss of extra warmth from his heating blanket.
His teeth chattered as he sat up, pulling the top blanket around his shoulders. His breath was shaky, poofing up in front of him like a malevolent cloud of cold, taunting him, reminding him that he was powerless to stop the infectious freeze from outside.
He grabbed his phone from his nightstand. It was about 6:30, but more importantly, his phone was sitting at a comfortable 26%. Hopefully the power would come back on soon, and he could charge it.
Countless notifications illuminated the screen. Most of them were texts from his friends. Alfred and Etie mourned their now impossible gym trip in the group chat. Chloe lamented her lamp going out in the night as she was reading. Celine cried over being unable to make tea on her useless electric stove.
Boucheron scrolled through tearful texts and disconsolate DMs. He delayed the inevitable ambush of cold right outside his bed by taking time to weep with his friends over the day’s canceled plans. He eventually landed on a text from Kagetsu, which was an abnormality on its own.
Kagetsu: Has your electricity gone out?
yeah, unfortunately
He watched the three dots appear and disappear out of the corner of the screen as Kagetsu scrambled to place his thoughts. After a solid few minutes, he finally replied.
Kagetsu: Oh, that is good!
Boucheron’s brow furrowed as he studied the message. He typed his response slowly. His pale hands shivered from being exposed to the air, causing him to double back and fix more than his usual number of typos.
how is that good
Kagetsu: We have electricity where I am, and Zelkov is going out. Would you like to stay with Ivy and me until your power returns?
Boucheron stared at his phone screen, pondering the text in stagnant confusion. He and Kagetsu hadn’t spoken since they graduated college and left their shared apartment to become part of the inner workings of the world.
They’d since grown apart, but Boucheron could not so soon forget someone so friendly, welcoming and wonderfully strange as Kagetsu. Still, Boucheron wasn’t sure what to think of such a forward suggestion. It certainly wasn’t unappreciated. He imagined sleeping in a house with the commodities he was used to as a modern human, and he felt tears well up in his eyes. A nice cup of coffee with an old, unforgettable friend would fix all his problems.
“Sure,” he replied.
“How is it you find that position comfortable?” Zelkov wondered aloud as he eyed Ivy lounging on a plush armchair in their shared living room. Her back rested on the seat cushion as her hair cascaded over the edge and onto the floor like loose ribbons. Her feet were planted firmly on the wall. At least she had the decency to wear socks.
“Well.” She tilted her head back, straining to meet Zelkov’s eyes. “It’s not.”
“Then why do you insist on sitting like that?” he scoffed.
Ivy shifted, letting her legs fall from the back of the chair and dangle over an armrest. Her back was shoved against the other. Her gaze drifted back to her phone.
“Whenever I open tumblr,” Ivy began, “I quickly find myself not caring about anything else until I remember my responsibilities.” She trailed her fingers along the cord connecting her earbuds to her phone, straightening it out, only for it to twirl back into knots the second she removed the tension. “Physical comfort is immaterial when you're infinitely scrolling. You should try it yourself sometime.”
Zelkov sighed and left her to fumble with her earbuds. He took it upon himself to feed her bearded dragon. He marveled at the beast’s vibrant orange scales, almost glittering in the morning light that filtered in through the windows. It always upset Zelkov knowing that the creature was yet nameless, and that its mistress was taking no suggestions. Such a stunning specimen deserved a name just as breathtaking, so he’d taken it upon himself to name him in secret. Or, at least, he’d tried to name him in secret, but somehow Ivy kept finding out about it. Consequently, the creature has become a man of many names.
The door to Kagetsu’s room clicked open, and Kagetsu emerged. His oversized sleeping shirt exposed his pale shoulder and crinkled as he walked. His comforter trailed behind him as he clutched the edges together at his chest.
“May Boucheron use your bedroom while you are gone, Zelkov?” Kagetsu yawned loudly.
Zelkov huffed, crossing his arms and turning to Kagetsu, “I don’t see why not, but in this state …” he gestured to Kagetsu’s pajamas, then to Ivy’s unsightly misuse of a chair, “we are not having any guests.”
“We’re having guests?” Ivy asked, her brow furrowed as she turned to Zelkov.
“ Apparently ,” he answered.
“Shit,” she mumbled, swinging her legs over the armrest and sprinting into her room to get herself ready. Her footsteps, muffled by her wool socks, thundered across the wooden floorboards until she closed her door.
“Kagetsu,” Zelkov remarked, his expression stern as always, “you cannot expect to have guests when your house looks like the residence of a gaggle of unsupervised toddlers .”
Aside from the lack of toys, his observation wasn’t far off. Every corner had something set up weeks ago that was never put away. Empty snacks bags and dirty dishes surrounded the couch like a sacrifice to the gods of sloth. Unfolded throw blankets were draped over furniture and across the floor. Zelkov wasn’t entirely blameless, leaving a few unfinished projects laying around to collect dust. He sighed, setting a surely ruined paint brush at the kitchen sink in his designated “intense paint brush cleaning” area that he insisted on establishing after Kagetsu accidentally cleaned his oil brushes with water and dish soap.
“Is that truly what a group of large babies is called? You have such odd names for groups of things,” Kagetsu pondered aloud. “In any case, it is just Boucheron. I am sure our good friend will not mind the mess.”
“My choice of words is immaterial,” Zelkov retorted, sounding almost amused. “I have packing to do, and now you have cleaning to do.”
Kagetsu groaned dramatically as he bent down to pick up an empty bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, his comforter landing in a heap at his feet. “Could you assist me, at least?”
“I need to begin my packing, but perhaps Ivy will help you once she comes back,” Zelkov said, disappearing into his bedroom.
Kagetsu pouted, but begrudgingly carried on.
Boucheron's block looked like a bonfire snuffed out by sudden rain. Felled branches littered the road and sidewalks, which were taped off in the wake of downed power lines. Countless unlucky people sat outside, mourning cars crushed by broken boughs. What trees did remain could not sway in the breeze. They were preoccupied with trying not to crumble under the weight of a thick coat of ice that shackled them in position.
Just as he was crossing the street back onto his block, Boucheron was met by a familiar vehicle pulling up to the crosswalk.
“Oh! Boucheron!” Kagetsu boomed, “I have arrived to pick you up!” He finished the phrase before his window was completely rolled down, stretching to peek over the top of the glass with an elated grin. Ivy sat in the passenger seat, bobbing her head to the Florence + The Machine song playing over the sound system. She waved politely before she was eclipsed by Kagetsu’s smiling visage.
“I’ll get my things, then,” Boucheron beamed, starting on his way back to his house. Kagetsu followed, parking in Boucheron’s driveway and stepping out of the car. It was Ivy’s car, or at least she was the one who picked it out. A Subaru Outback in purple, though that wasn’t the color it came with. Ivy kept talking about how she wanted a purple car, and Zelkov took it upon himself to paint it for her. As always, the result was beyond professional. It was artistic. He turned a single, flat color into an elaborate painting, and on a car. In the sun, her car housed the universe: the surface glittered like stars. In the moonlight, it scintillated, burning fierce like mesmerizing purple fire lighting up the driveway.
Kagetsu stepped into the dark, frigid house. He stood at the doorway, passively clenching and unclenching his fists, eyes wandering the walls in awe. “May I assist you in packing your things?” He asked, finally fixing his gaze on Boucheron’s luggage.
“Yes, please,” Boucheron sighed. He really didn’t want to return to this place if he forgot to pack something important. He imagined it would be almost cave-like at night, even colder and darker than any living space ought to be. He pictured himself returning home, a rope tied around his waist and a flashlight in his hand, walking past his fossilized houseplants and ducking to avoid the stalactites forming above him. Boucheron was never interested in the prospect of spelunking, and certainly not in his own home.
Ivy strolled past Boucheron swiftly. “You two have fun,” she said before disappearing into the bathroom.
Kagetsu found himself in the most comfortable looking living room he'd ever seen. The colors of the walls were calming, suggesting he cuddle up in a blanket with a good book, despite his dislike of reading. The furniture only enticed him further. He imagined throwing himself onto the couch and falling through clouds. They’d slow his fall until he was weightless, books flying through the air above him, shedding their words and scattering knowledge to the wind.
All of it was saturated in the faint but inviting scent of Boucheron. Kagetsu imagined a Boucheron-scented candle would sell quite well. The comfort of the room would be nothing without the constant presence of the man who'd shaped it into such a welcoming space; it was a perfect reflection of its designer.
“Kagetsu?” Boucheron called, “you coming?”
Kagetsu jumped. “O-OH! Yes!” He darted after Boucheron into the kitchen.
The impossible elegance of the kitchen was nearly as distracting as the living room. Its walls were the color of pine needles, making the whole space feel like a fairy’s residence in a forest clearing. He imagined opening a drawer or cabinet to be greeted by a family of friendly gnomes, or watching rose petals scatter across the floor. Herbs were hung on strings around the room, dangling from the cabinets and filling the space with the smell of a garden.
The food cooked here must be a delicacy, Kagetsu thought. Sacred, even, like it came from the gods themselves. It was a shame Boucheron lived alone, though he supposed such legendary cuisine would be coveted. But oh, how Kagetsu wished he could taste it every day. Wake up every morning to it. The idea warmed him from the inside.
Suddenly, Kagetsu shivered. The longer he stood in the room, the deeper the cold dug into his skin, reaching for his bones. It should not be this cold in here, he thought. It bothered him more than he liked to admit. The space that Boucheron had made here would have felt so warm and comforting, but frost had claimed it. Frost is merciless in its claiming of things. It saps the life from them, freezing it in time, making it uninhabitable. Like an abandoned city.
The thought… was not comforting. Kagetsu tried his best to brush it aside as he collected the contents of Boucheron’s refrigerator.
He shivered again, placing a carton of milk into a bag. Looking at the contents of the fridge, he didn’t know if there would be enough bags to carry everything.
He shivered a third time, a wave of cold rushing through his veins. He didn’t want to be here anymore.
“Kagetsu? Are you ready to leave yet?” Boucheron asked as he walked through the arch that led into the kitchen. He was wearing a large backpack, stuffed full of necessities. It would have been able to hold half the contents of Ivy’s closet, but it barely seemed like a bookbag on Boucheron. The straps dug into Boucheron’s broad shoulders, which only served to amplify Boucheron’s muscular form.
There was only a five-inch height difference between the two of them, but to Kagetsu, Boucheron was nothing short of mountainous. He wasn’t a merciless mountain like the ones Ivy described in her hometown, deadly to all those who tried to scale their icy cliffs. He was a generous mountain, lush and green, a home to all the little creatures who found solace on his peaks. The kind of mountain who had more than enough room in his arms to keep them safe while they hibernated through a bitter winter.
The kind of mountain who could provide warmth in a cold place.
“U-Uh…” Kagetsu stammered, remembering he was asked a direct question, “not yet. I do not think I can fit everything in the bags you have.”
“Eh,” Boucheron shrugged, “it’s not the end of the world. What we have already is more than enough.”
Suddenly, Boucheron hoisted Kagetsu into the air, embracing him tightly. Kagetsu yelped in surprise.
“Thank you so so so much,” Boucheron gushed, giving Kagetsu a big squeeze that would have knocked the air out of him, if only the feeling of being in Boucheron’s strong arms hadn’t already rendered him breathless. Boucheron hugged him forcefully, yet with an undeniable amount of care, like he was protecting something fragile and precious.
Kagetsu tucked his head into the crook of Boucheron’s neck – his best attempt at reciprocating while his arms were pinned. He sighed, catching the faint scent of new books on Boucheron’s fleece jacket.
“You are welcome, my friend,” Kagetsu said.
A virus of downed power lines was infecting the streets, spreading road closures across the city. Every turn was met with branches strewn across the pavement, barricaded with yellow caution tape. The group was forced to take a much longer route home on the return trip, with miles of irritated, exhausted drivers drumming their fingers on their steering wheels, forced to accommodate the nosy people up front who slowed down to catch a fleeting glimpse of the unfortunate souls who’d lost more than just their time.
As they inched along the undefined two lane residential district road lined with parked vehicles in various conditions of disrepair, Boucheron involuntarily became an audience to a vast array of misfortune. His heart ached as his gaze fell on a family shivering on their driveway with mouths agape and a car crushed by the unforgiving ice blanketing the city.
The scene was eclipsed as Kagetsu made the final turn onto their street. The car miraculously sustained minimal damage, especially considering the precarious nature of the journey. As Kagetsu turned carefully onto their driveway, Ivy gripped her armrests with white knuckles and a ferocity that revealed the sinews along her forearms.
“Impressive driving, Kagetsu,” Ivy shuddered, “however terrifying, experiencing it from the passenger seat.”
“Oh, my apologies,” Kagetsu fretted, “would you like to drive next time?”
“Absolutely not,” she protested, “I trust you more than I trust myself to drive in this weather.”
The group stepped out of the vehicle and onto the slippery driveway. While Kagetsu and Ivy crossed the icy surface with no difficulty, Boucheron slipped as soon as his feet made contact with the ground. He tumbled into the ice, sliding down the slope of their much-too-steep driveway until he hit the road. He groaned in pain, attempting to pull himself back up, only for his hand to slide out from under him. He yelped in surprise, landing back on the frozen pavement with a thump.
Kagetsu rushed to his side, offering his hand “Are you all right, my friend?” His voice was playful, like a cool breeze ruffling his hair, delighting in the way it curled.
“Thank you,” Boucheron bumbled, taking Kagetsu’s outstretched hand in his. He didn’t let go until they’d reached the front door. It was definitely because he knew Kagetsu was used to walking on ice, and not because of its warmth and the feeling of security that came from holding on. Nothing like that at all.
Boucheron sighed in relief as he stepped into the house, closing the door quickly behind him. He shrugged off his coat, the tension falling off his shoulders as he finally thawed. He breathed in one last shaky breath before exhaling the cold from his body. Thank goodness for heaters and kind people.
“Zelkov will be departing soon. He wants to be gone by the end of dinner,” Kagetsu huffed, bouncing into the plush cushions of the living room couch. It was clear the place was only cleaned recently, judging from the vacuum sitting idle near the front door, forgotten and still plugged into the wall. The yellowish oak floors were decorated with the occasional scratch or scuff mark, with most of them congregating around the feet of the couch. Paintings and embroidery adorned the sea green walls, each a different style, all signed with the same “Zelkov” in sharp red font.
Kagetsu propped his feet on the antique coffee table, “We should depart soon as well,” he said, “to give Zelkov the time to prepare.”
“Seems odd to leave after I just got here,” Boucheron protested, “and the sky only just darkened.”
“Perhaps,” Kagetsu said, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He opened his mouth to speak, before quickly closing it again, lost in thought as he typed and scrolled. “Oh, my apologies,” Kagetsu laughed upon realizing he’d failed to complete his thought, “I am simply looking for a place for us to eat together. I am joining you, by the way.”
Boucheron wasn’t opposed. He was too busy caught up in the way Kagetsu's laugh made his heart flutter. It had the energy of a child, one who looked at him like he was the world. It tickled him, pulling him towards Kagetsu by his heartstrings. And then it laced in his words, pulling the string taut.
Boucheron was tied up in him.
“We are both in our heads a bit today, it seems,” Kagetsu chuckled. All it took was a chuckle for Boucheron to explode with warmth.
“That does seem to be the case,” Boucheron pushed the words out of his unwilling mouth, which was too busy being slack-jawed. Kagetsu was enchanting him, locking up his words, which refused to sing anything but his praise.
“How does this place sound?” Kagetsu suggested, showing Boucheron the website for a local diner. Boucheron was more or less familiar with it, passing it every day on his way to work, but the food was never something he was interested in eating. Especially considering it was surrounded by other places he happened to be a regular at.
But they’d all be closed at this hour.
“Sounds good,” Boucheron asserted.
Kagetsu grunted in affirmation and walked over to the front door. He threaded his arms (which were somewhat muscular, even under the thick fabric of his hoodie) through his jacket. He didn’t pause before he attempted to shove his foot into his unwilling, floppy boot. It looked like a really badly performed interpretive dance, but Boucheron found it endearing, adorable, even.
Boucheron chuckled, inadvertently catching Kagetsu’s attention. “Are you coming?” he inquired, an eyebrow raised.
“Yeah,” Boucheron said, pulling his jacket back on slowly, savoring his last few moments in the heated house.
Boucheron pried the door open and his face froze off immediately. He stepped out of the door, already shivering, despite his plentiful layers.
He took a step off the front porch, and his foot slid across the sidewalk upon contact. Boucheron found himself, with one step, covering the distance of three. His palm hit the icy ground, still freezing through his gloves.
He heard Kagetsu laugh from behind him. It was the kind of laugh Boucheron would normally consider terrible or cruel. But it warmed him up better than any jacket he’d ever owned.
“My friend, you must be more cautious!” Kagetsu breathed through hearty guffaws. “Thank goodness I am here to assist you. You are not very good at walking on icy surfaces.” Kagetsu offered his hand, which Boucheron took gladly and pulled himself up.
Kagetsu did not retract his hand as Boucheron held onto it like it was the only thing saving him from falling to his demise, which he supposed wasn’t too far from the truth.
Kagetsu let go of Boucheron’s hand as soon as they reached the car. Boucheron almost fell over again as his hand followed the warmth of Kagetsu longingly. He grunted as he stumbled, and Kagetsu turned to him, a worried expression on his face.
“My, this really is a weakness of yours,” he stated. “My apologies for laughing at you earlier.”
“No, it’s alright, really,” Boucheron assured. Don’t apologize for something so beautiful, he thought.
Kagetsu smiled and nodded in assent, and Boucheron almost lost his footing again.