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Where there is love, there is danger.
In the depths of his skin where frost creeps in and punishes him, Zayne understands that everything he does comes at a price. He walks through life like every decision is dealt with the devil close by, like his life was never truly his. Pursuing medicine came at the cost of friendship, possessing his Evol came at the cost of his loved ones’ lives, and falling in love…
Well, that was the most tragic of all.
To heal hearts, Zayne gives his own away. To heal yours, specifically, Zayne gives his life away. Luckily for him, the passage of time feels painless when you are who he lives for.
The night is quiet — a deathly superstition in hospital settings but a blessing in Linkon City. Zayne passes by cafés full of people, smiles on their faces as the warmth of coffee and conversations hits them. He also passes by boutiques, restaurants, and bakeries, where the people inside live their lives with no hesitation.
It must be nice to be able to make decisions without second guessing himself. Perhaps he would have some more fun.
Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize someone is calling his name out from afar.
“Zayne, Zayne, Zayne!”
Zayne blinks, his attention falling from the bakery’s snacks to you. He finds his heart beating faster the closer you walk up to him, excitement flaring beneath his stoic exterior. The usual passerby would never guess there was happiness lingering on his face.
But you are not any usual passerby. You are…
“I never would’ve guessed Akso’s dearest doctor would be walking around this late at night. Did you get lost?”
Zayne shakes his head. “Not at all. I just needed some fresh air, and I had an off day.”
“Ah, a rare thing for you.” Boldly, you walk side-by-side, and underneath his winter gloves is a desire to cherish the warmth of your hand. With every step you take, he finds himself more fond of your existence. Now that you’re here, alive, in his life, there is nowhere else he would rather be.
“Did you have an off-day, too?” he asks, even when he knows your schedule by heart.
“Yeah. Spent it on getting ice cream and coffee. Fulfilling, right?”
Zayne chuckles. He has different answers to that depending on who you ask. Doctor Zayne would frown at the thought of you consuming more caffeine despite your heart condition, whereas the Zayne you’ve befriended after years of absence isn’t a stranger to sweets and warm beverages.
But the Zayne whose love has fueled every little decision he’s made in his life would’ve joined in on the fun just to spend more time with you.
“Anyway,” you continue, “Did you hear the Christmas music playing in the café over there? They even sell their coffees in cups that look like snowmen!”
Looking at where you’re pointing, Zayne notices it: his favorite holiday song bundled up with the warmth of Christmas spirit. The café ahead has a sign with an arrow pointing to its entrance, a loud “Warm Christmas Coffees Here!” to really entice any passerby.
But of course, you aren’t just some passerby. You are…
“It reminded me so much of you, Zayne.”
“So, you believe I’m the type to play Christmas music in early September?” he jokes.
Your smile makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. “I mean, who doesn’t play Christmas music whenever they want?”
And in a move he totally wasn’t anticipating, you drag him inside of this coffee shop. Greeted by jolly baristas and the sound of companionship, Zayne finds himself in slight disarray. The sound of machines and critical situations have never sounded so… calm.
“Hello, lovebirds!” The barista says as soon as it’s your turn to order. “What would you like to order today?”
“Lovebirds?” Zayne hears you shriek. “Oh, I, uh…”
“My love and I would like two of your hot cups of cocoa.”
Barely containing his grin as he watches you squirm in the corner of his eye, he pulls out his wallet to pay for the drinks. He ignores your pleas to pay, instead acknowledging your excitement as the two of you walk over to some chairs nearby to wait for your orders.
“How did you know I wanted hot cocoa?” you ask, still grinning.
“I didn’t. I just figured you had enough caffeine and thought you should get a healthier alternative.”
“Hmph.” You cross your arms. “Marshmallows and chocolates aren't healthy either, Doctor Zayne.”
Yet, when the orders finally come to your table with a barista in a snowman costume, your excitement flares up again. Zayne has seen you happy multiple times before, both in your childhood and in his dreams, but he’s never grown tired of it. If anything, he has always craved more of it — more of you, you, you.
“My love,” you tease, “You haven’t tasted your drink yet.”
Zayne blinks, feeling a blush creep in his cheeks as he looks at your mischievous smile, and then decides to take a sip to cool his burning tongue. The taste of hot cocoa does the trick for a few moments, but the heat of flattery doesn’t subside so easily.
“My love,” he remarks, “You are enjoying this way too much.”
You grin, and it looks the same as it did when the world was kinder to the both of you. “Well, I’m with you, my love. Why wouldn’t I enjoy it?”
Zayne only responds with another sip of his cocoa, not trusting himself to utter any more words. If left unattended, the love he’s been harboring for years might spill out, and that is another tragedy he’s unwilling to fix.
While there isn’t any snow, the breeze outside catches the passersby off guard. Swaying trees stay still, unlike those who have the life to move around from one place to another. It catches their scarves, covering their eyes and making them laugh. Small leaves even fly in people’s hair, like decorations being added to already-beautiful Christmas trees. Life is worthy of observation, and the love in all the interactions doesn’t necessarily warrant danger.
“Love?”
Zayne turns his attention to you, where your hand that’s in a snapping position is inches away from his face. “Hm?”
“Almost lost you there,” you say with a giggle. “I like that love works on you though. I should call you that more often.”
If Zayne wasn’t paying close attention, he would’ve missed the pink hue creeping up on your face, coating your cheeks and ears. He would’ve missed your words too, how perfect they sound from you.
His gloved hand reaches for yours, gently holding it the way he’s always dreamed of doing. The frost doesn’t creep in, the cold doesn’t trap him. You are alive and well.
“I would like that,” he says. “... My love.”