#shut.

but it doesn’t really help when all he does is smile and shake his head, like you were a child caught stealing cookies at midnight out of bed.

doesn’t really help when all you do is accept it all wordlessly anyway— letting his fingers linger on your icy skin as he softly coos the frost away, warmth seeping into your shivering bones so easily that you wonder if you’re that cold or it’s just his warmth.

(probably the latter, but you don’t exactly want to acknowledge it.)

especially right now.

“silly thing,” suguru murmurs.

(you silently bottle up his voice in your head so you could gulp it down whenever he’s not home.)

“you should’ve worn a scarf, at least,” he huffs, but there’s no malice behind it. just an endless need to take care of you. “wear mine— ah, ah— ” his eyes narrow when he hears your protests, and you go quiet immediately, “no buts. i’m afraid you’re in no position to speak right now, baby.”

(so much for feeling like a kicked puppy.)

you don’t want to throw a tantrum, don’t want to kick about aimlessly and make a fuss out of nothing— you really don’t. it’s just that a little part of you hesitates when you see you’re wearing a scarf and he isn’t.

“but— but you’ll be cold too,” you find yourself stammer, despite yourself.

suguru actually feels his heart stop for a good second.

(what did you say?)

he doesn’t say anything.

he just stares.

you feel your heartbeat pick up its pace a little more, cowering and running away like a deer frightened by just a clatter of stones.

(but then again, his stare seems much more than a stone or two.)

did you say something wrong? is he mad at you for spilling out words that you don’t even know you shouldn’t have said? surely not, suguru isn’t mad at you, no matter what you do. it’s really hard to actually get on his nerves when it came to you. did— did you even say any such thing? or perhaps—

you barely register being pulled forward by your arms, and your face squishes against something.

(warm, you think, your eyes fluttering close against suguru’s chest. grounding.)

you breathe in his scent, marvelling at how blank your mind goes from just catching a whiff of it. like that raging inferno of the trembling voices in your head just now was a distant, fever dream.

(you stick to the thought that it might have been.)

“you’re just so. . . precious, you know that?” you blink, staying still for a moment, not quite registering the crack in his voice as he says it. “silly, silly thing.”

(his silly thing.)

you hum against his chest, idly smoothening out the creases in his overcoat— trying not to think about the way his hands seem to pull you closer, closer, closer still— even if you aren’t looking at him.

“tell you what,” you tilt your head upwards, and suguru’s eyes catch you before you fall into them, “we’ll share.”

(share? that’s a first.)

you probably might’ve said that out loud, because that teasing grin is back on his face— golden cheshire eyes catching the misty sunlight and reflecting it all back on the doubtful little shadows that your moon created.

“don’t sweat it. i’m only saying it because i don’t want to hear you whine—”

“i don’t whine,” you huff out, arms crossing over your chest in childlike petulance, and oh the way your heart stutters when he laughs. laughs such a hearty laugh that you can’t help but succumb to its irresistable pull as well, a muffled giggle escaping you despite yourself.

“of course you don’t,” suguru hums, and you feel him wrapping one end of the cozy wool round your neck, “of course you don’t, darling.”

(he wraps his presence round your ribs while he’s at it too.)

(and you’ve never felt so warm.)