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Yuichiro had always been warm.
Not just in the way he smiled, or in the way he always reached out for Mikaela without hesitation. But physically warm—like a furnace, like a fire that never went out. It was something Mikaela found himself gravitating toward, despite never admitting it outright.
Not that he had to.
“Jeez, Mika, you’re freezing.” Yuichiro huffed, pulling Mikaela closer as they lay curled up on the couch together. The house was quiet, the war long over, and the two of them finally had a space to call their own. Mikaela had claimed he didn't feel the cold anymore, that being a full vampire meant he had no real need for warmth. But Yuichiro knew better.
Mikaela wasn’t just cold. He was dead cold.
“You say that every time,” Mikaela murmured, his voice muffled against Yuichiro’s chest. His long blond hair tickled Yuichiro’s neck as he nestled in, reluctant but clearly giving in.
“Because you are cold every time,” Yuichiro shot back, shifting slightly to wrap both arms securely around him. “Honestly, how do you even survive like this? It’s like hugging an ice cube.”
Mikaela let out a soft huff. “I’m already dead, Yuu-Chan. I don’t need to ‘survive.’”
Yuichiro scowled at that, nudging Mikaela’s forehead with his own. “Yeah, yeah, but you still like being warm, don’t you?”
A beat of silence. Mikaela stubbornly refused to answer, which was answer enough.
Yuichiro smirked. “Thought so.”
Mikaela groaned and tried to burrow further into Yuichiro’s embrace, which only encouraged Yuichiro to tighten his hold. It was unfair, really—Mikaela may have had all the supernatural strength of a full-fledged vampire, but against Yuichiro’s stubbornness? He never stood a chance.
“Here,” Yuichiro muttered, shifting to pull the oversized hoodie he was wearing over his head. “Wear this.”
Mikaela blinked up at him. “What?”
“You heard me.” Yuichiro wadded up the hoodie and shoved it against Mikaela’s chest. “Put it on. You always complain about being cold, so I might as well lend you my clothes.”
“I don’t complain about it,” Mikaela muttered, but he was already pulling the hoodie on.
It was too big on him, swallowing his frame completely. The sleeves were ridiculously long, his hands disappearing in the fabric, and the scent of Yuichiro—something warm, something alive—lingered in the cotton.
Yuichiro grinned. “Looks better on you than on me.”
Mikaela rolled his eyes, though his face was a little pink. He tugged the hoodie’s collar up, burying half his face in it. “…It’s warm.”
“Told you.”
Another beat of silence. Then, much softer—
“…Thank you.”
Yuichiro’s grin softened. He pulled Mikaela close again, one hand resting on the small of his back, the other absently running through his golden hair.
Mikaela may have been cold, but Yuichiro would always be warm enough for the both of them.
Mikaela didn’t say anything for a long time after that. He just sat there, curled up in Yuichiro’s hoodie, letting the warmth sink into him as if it would somehow seep past his cold, dead skin.
Yuichiro, as always, didn’t mind filling the silence.
“You look like a little kid in that thing,” he teased, tugging playfully at the hoodie’s oversized sleeves. “Bet you could fit both hands in just one.”
Mikaela let out a soft huff. “I don’t think that’s how sleeves work, Yuu-Chan.”
“Try it,” Yuichiro insisted, grinning. “I wanna see.”
Mikaela gave him an unimpressed stare, but after a moment, he actually did it—pulling his hands into one sleeve, leaving the other empty and floppy at his side. Yuichiro snickered.
“That’s ridiculous,” Mikaela muttered, his tone exasperated, but the corners of his lips twitched just slightly. “Why are you like this?”
Yuichiro shrugged. “Keeps you distracted, doesn’t it?”
Mikaela blinked at him, his small almost-smile faltering.
Yuichiro hadn’t meant anything deep by it—he was just saying things, the way he always did. But something about it must’ve struck a chord because Mikaela let out a soft sigh and leaned into him fully, resting his forehead against Yuichiro’s shoulder.
“…You’re right,” Mikaela admitted, voice quieter. “It does.”
Yuichiro’s teasing expression softened. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Mikaela again, rubbing slow circles into his back.
He didn’t have to say why Mikaela needed the distraction.
Even now, after everything, there were nights when the cold felt unbearable. It wasn’t just a physical thing—it was the weight of what he’d lost, the aching emptiness that never quite faded. He had Yuichiro now, and the war was over, and they had a home, but some things… some things lingered.
Yuichiro knew that.
So if warmth was what Mikaela needed, he’d give it to him.
“Let’s just stay like this for a while,” Yuichiro murmured, resting his chin atop Mikaela’s head.
Mikaela hummed softly in agreement, shifting so he could wrap his arms around Yuichiro’s neck. His fingers, cold as always, clung to the back of Yuichiro’s shirt, like he was grounding himself.
For a while, neither of them moved.
The room was quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the rhythmic sound of Yuichiro’s breathing. Mikaela listened to it, let the steady rise and fall lull him into something dangerously close to sleep.
“Still cold?” Yuichiro asked after a while, voice gentle.
“…Less than before.”
Yuichiro smirked. “See? I knew my body heat was good for something.”
Mikaela let out a soft laugh—small, but real.
“You’re so stupid,” he murmured fondly.
“Yeah, yeah,” Yuichiro said, shifting slightly so they were even more tangled together. “But at least I’m warm.”
Mikaela sighed, exasperated but not unkind, and nuzzled his face into Yuichiro’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” he admitted, closing his eyes. “You are.”
And for the first time in a long time, the cold didn’t feel quite so unbearable.
Mikaela wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, tangled up together on the couch. The weight of Yuichiro’s arms around him, the slow, steady thud of his heartbeat, the warmth that seemed to radiate from every inch of his body—it was grounding. Comforting.
Yuichiro always felt alive.
Mikaela wasn’t sure if he could say the same about himself.
“Hey,” Yuichiro murmured after a while, his fingers absently running through Mikaela’s hair. “You awake?”
Mikaela hummed, cracking one eye open. “Barely.”
Yuichiro chuckled, the vibrations rumbling in his chest. “You know, you could just take a nap. I won’t complain.”
Mikaela scoffed, though he didn’t pull away. “I don’t sleep, Yuu-Chan.”
Yuichiro’s hand stilled for a moment before he sighed. “…Right.”
Mikaela glanced up at him, catching the small frown on his face.
“It’s not a big deal,” Mikaela said softly, reaching up to poke Yuichiro’s cheek. “You’re worrying again.”
Yuichiro scowled. “Of course I’m worrying. It’s weird, Mika. You just… never sleep?”
Mikaela hesitated. “Not in the way humans do. I can rest, but it’s not the same.”
Yuichiro’s grip tightened slightly, like the thought of Mikaela never truly resting bothered him more than it should. Mikaela, sensing the mood shift, sighed and poked him again—harder this time.
Yuichiro flinched. “Ow—hey!”
“If you keep sulking, I’ll go back to being cold,” Mikaela warned. “Then you’ll really have something to complain about.”
Yuichiro groaned dramatically. “Ugh, fine. I’ll stop.”
Mikaela smirked. “Good.”
Yuichiro rolled his eyes but pulled him closer anyway, his chin resting atop Mikaela’s soft head once more. “You’re such a brat.”
Mikaela merely closed his eyes again, exhaling softly. “And yet, you still put up with me.”
Yuichiro huffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he adjusted the blanket draped over them, making sure Mikaela was completely wrapped up in warmth.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he grumbled.
Mikaela’s breath hitched just slightly at the words, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet—fond.
“…I know, I love you too.”
Yuichiro didn’t say anything after that, just held him tighter, as if that alone could chase away the cold forever.
And for now, Mikaela let himself believe it could.