Winter
takanori shakes his head, smiling.
Akira clutches Takanori for dear life, burying his face in the latter's chest as he kisses the skin through cloth.
“You know,” Takanori begins, his eyes focused on the digital clock sitting on their bedside table, “this time last year, you were asking me out and kissing me for the first time.”
Akira smiles, wondering how he'd gotten this lucky. And the snow piles up outside their home, blocking the windows and nearly obstructing the door, and he leans down to pull the blanket back up and over them. He whispers, “This time last year I was confessing everything I still feel for you.”
“This time last year,” Takanori murmurs as Akira kisses him again and again, “my heart was beating just as quick as it is now.”
“This time last year I was telling you how much I love you.”
“This time last year I was telling you that I love you too.”
“We haven't changed much have we?”
Takanori shakes his head, smiling.
“You know,” Takanori begins, his eyes focused on the digital clock sitting on their bedside table, “this time last year, you were asking me out and kissing me for the first time.”
Akira smiles, wondering how he'd gotten this lucky. And the snow piles up outside their home, blocking the windows and nearly obstructing the door, and he leans down to pull the blanket back up and over them. He whispers, “This time last year I was confessing everything I still feel for you.”
“This time last year,” Takanori murmurs as Akira kisses him again and again, “my heart was beating just as quick as it is now.”
“This time last year I was telling you how much I love you.”
“This time last year I was telling you that I love you too.”
“We haven't changed much have we?”
Takanori shakes his head, smiling.