@editorinlxve It was cold. It was downright freezing. Winter had reached its peak, and although there was no snow on the ground, Takano was so cold that he seriously thought that if he moved his fingers, they'd break off, like an icicle. Winter was the worse. It always seemed to go on for ages with no end to its vicious coldness. And Takano hated being cold. The editor was on the bus on the way home from work, sitting side by side with none other than Ritsu Onodera, the man whom he loved. Takano's cold hand moved so that it was holding Onodera's. He didn't say a word about why he had done that. Takano was sure the reason was obvious: he was cold and required some sort of heat before he froze to death, because he was sure it was cold enough to do so. Any source of contact with the other filled him with an internal warmth- and although he didn't know if Onodera knew that last part of it, it was easy to figure out the reason of Takano's holding his hand.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯