draw and cry

Jyushimatsu had always loved winter—there was never any doubt about that.

The moment the first snowflake touched the frozen ground, he was already dashing outside like a child, racing back and forth, trying to catch the drifting white flakes on his tongue. He loved it when the dark, frostbitten earth was blanketed in pristine snow, forming the first drifts he could dive into endlessly, leaving behind snow angels in the powder.

He loved the way snow gathered on tree branches, parked cars, and the fences of nearby houses. Scooping up a handful, he would quickly pack it into a snowball, in the very next second, send it flying toward one of his brothers. That inevitably led to an impromptu snowball fight, filling the air with laughter and excitement.

Even the quiet winter evenings at home held a special charm for him. Mesmerized, he would watch the snow fall beyond the window, glittering in the glow of the streetlamps, while the house was filled with the comforting scent of tea and mandarins.

And then there were the holidays. Without a doubt, Jyushimatsu loved the winter holidays—from Christmas to New Year's. The twinkling lights, the presents, and, of course, the anticipation of Santa Claus, in whom he still believed, even if he'd stopped being a kid a long time ago.

Yes, Jyushimatsu undoubtedly loved winter.

However, there was one problem...

As the day edged toward evening, the front door suddenly swung open with a sharp force, followed by Jyushimatsu's loud, cheerful greeting as he returned from his walk. Unlike his brothers, who seemed to grow even lazier in winter—reluctantly crawling out from beneath the warm kotatsu and the comfort of home—he loved wandering through the winter city. He would admire the scenery, build snowmen and other sometimes rather strange creations out of snow, and in general occupy himself with all kinds of winter (and not-so-winter) activities, letting the frost nip at his cheeks and nose until they turned an adorable shade of red.

From the living room came Osomatsu's lazy reply. He peeked out from behind the half-open shoji doors to greet his brother, then promptly returned to his own idle pastimes. Jyushimatsu shook himself like a dog, brushing off the remaining snow, kicked off his shoes, and stepped into the living room.

Only three of his brothers were there: Osomatsu, mindlessly flicking through TV channels; Choromatsu, absorbed in reading something; and Ichimatsu, who seemed to have dozed off. Sitting down beside them, Jyushimatsu immediately grabbed an empty cup and poured himself some tea from a thermos. The hot liquid warmed him instantly, sending a pleasant tingling through his fingers.

Glancing around the room again, he finally noticed that two of his brothers were missing.

"Where's Totty and Karamatsu?"

"Todomatsu's out doing whatever, and Karamatsu's upstairs," Osomatsu replied, still switching channels, staring at the television with a bored expression, sampling one program after another for a few minutes before losing interest again.

The moment he heard that, Jyushimatsu downed the hot tea in one gulp—so fast it was a wonder steam didn't come pouring out of his ears—jumped to his feet, and headed for the second floor, quietly swiping one of Choromatsu’s peeled mandarins along the way.

"Karamatsu-niisan!" Jyushimatsu cried joyfully as he burst into the room.

Karamatsu was sitting on the sofa with a guitar in his hands. Startled, he flinched slightly, his fingers brushing the strings by accident. He turned toward the doorway and immediately smiled.

"Ah, my dear Jyushimatsu, you're just in time. It's such a beautiful snowy day outside. It inspired me to write a new song. Would you like to be my first listener?" Without waiting for an answer, his fingers began moving across the strings again, picking out a melody.

Jyushimatsu stepped into the room and, climbing onto the windowsill with his legs, slowly began eating the stolen mandarin while watching the winter dusk settle outside. The soft sound of the guitar seemed to make the atmosphere even more peaceful. He liked listening to his brother play sometimes—either quietly, simply taking it in, or singing along when the mood struck him. And Jyushimatsu's mood always allowed it… but not right now. This wasn't the moment.

After finishing the mandarin, he began tracing the frost patterns on the windowpane—intricate, delicate designs left by the cold— rying to find recognizable shapes within the chaos. At first, it didn't work very well, but then, catching a familiar outline, he breathed onto the glass and started drawing something with his finger.

It was hard to say what it was. A dog? A giraffe? Or something only Jyushimatsu could understand? In any case, he was satisfied with it. Hugging his knees, he finally looked at Karamatsu.

His older brother seemed completely absorbed in his music now, looking focused, almost serious, as his nimble fingers formed chords and moved across the strings. Watching him, Jyushimatsu brought his sleeve-covered hand to his face—the way he usually did when he was thinking or intrigued by something—but then, unexpectedly, he felt a familiar chill run down his spine, making him flinch and tense up.

That was the "problem".

Despite his boundless love for winter, Jyushimatsu absolutely hated the cold—and yet that was precisely what winter brought with it.

It seemed almost contradictory: how could someone like Jyushimatsu, who never stayed still for even a second and was like a wind-up toy overflowing with energy, possibly feel cold at all? And yet, on those quiet evenings at home, when the temperature dropped noticeably, he would become unbearably chilled.

In those moments, he tried every possible trick he could think of: sleeping while hugging a heater, or gathering nearly all of his and his brothers' clothes into a pile and burying himself inside it like a soft, warm cocoon. Sometimes he would even try clinging to his brothers just to steal a bit of their warmth. This usually earned him embarrassed or irritated protests—some simply disliked physical closeness, others were already comfortable enough and didn't want extra warmth, and some just didn't want to be disturbed at the moment.

And then there was Karamatsu.

Interrupting his musical session, Karamatsu finally lifted his eyes, seemingly expecting a verdict—perhaps even applause—but instead met Jyushimatsu's meaningful gaze.

He immediately understood. Without a word, he set his guitar aside, then smiled and, with a slightly theatrical flourish, opened his arms in invitation.

Seeing this, Jyushimatsu shot forward like a bullet, nearly knocking him off balance as he threw himself into his brother's embrace, wrapping around him with all his limbs like an octopus clinging to its prey. Karamatsu swayed but managed to stay seated by bracing one hand behind him. Then he smiled gently and returned the hug.

"Cold?" the older brother asked with care.

Jyushimatsu responded with an energetic nod, tightening his grip as if unwilling to let go of his source of warmth anytime soon.

Karamatsu let out a quiet chuckle and shifted slightly so they could sit more comfortably, enduring the firm hold of his younger brother. It caused only the slightest discomfort—just a little—but he couldn't bring himself to scold Jyushimatsu for it, especially seeing the faint shiver running through him. Instead, his arms instinctively pulled him closer, trying to warm him.

It had become their little winter ritual—something like their shared rooftop moments, only more private, more intimate.

At first, Karamatsu considered this his duty—a kind of brotherly responsibility. After all, he was the older one, and he took pride in being able to support and help one of his brothers, especially during moments like these, when it was most needed.

But with every passing winter evening, when Jyushimatsu would come to him—sometimes not even saying a word—Karamatsu began to truly cherish those moments. It was no longer just an opportunity to play the role of the caring older brother; it had become something else, something difficult to define. Perhaps it was simply affection… or something more. Something softer, deeper, existing on a strange, indescribable level. Or maybe he was simply overthinking it, and there was nothing unusual about these feelings at all.

Karamatsu frowned slightly, losing himself in thought, lowering his chin onto Jyushimatsu's head. He could feel his brother's soft hair tickling his cheek, the sensation just as warm and pleasant as the embrace itself.

By now, Jyushimatsu had begun to warm up. His grip loosened a little, and he became noticeably more lively, though he still showed no intention of letting go. Karamatsu felt the movement and lifted his head again, looking down at him.

" Warmer now?" Karamatsu asked, gently stroking his brother's back, his voice softer than usual.

"Yep! Thanks, Karamatsu-niisan!" Jyushimatsu replied brightly, flashing a wide smile that made an involuntary gentle smile appear on Karamatsu's lips. He couldn't help noticing how cute his brother looked at that moment.

Then he gave a small hum, and a familiar smug grin spread across his face.

"Hah, it's nothing. You know you can always rely on your older brother in moments like this. I assure you, this body is capable not only of melting hearts—but also of warming those in need."

The last part sounded, as always, overly dramatic, matching the way Karamatsu tossed his head to the side and theatrically touched his forehead with the tips of two fingers, in classic Karamatsu fashion.

Jyushimatsu said nothing, only letting out a quiet giggle as he pressed his cheek against his brother's shoulder. To be honest, he had always found those overly exaggerated, out-of-place lines more amusing than annoying. There was a certain charm in them—odd, certainly, but charm nonetheless. After all, it probably wasn't for nothing that Karamatsu had joined the drama club back in school.

A short pause settled between them, filling the room with silence broken only by the occasional creak of the settling house and the faint murmur of the television from downstairs.

Then, suddenly, Jyushimatsu perked up again, his voice returning with its usual burst of energy.

"I heard on the news that it's going to snow all day tomorrow."

"Hm? Really? In that case, I suppose it'll be even colder than today…” Karamatsu replied thoughtfully, shifting slightly while still keeping a hand resting almost absentmindedly on Jyushimatsu's shoulder. Then he paused, raising an eyebrow as if realizing what his younger brother was hinting at, and a faint smirk tugged at his lips. "You're not planning to go out in that snowstorm tomorrow, are you?"

"Well, maybe I'll play a little baseball. But who knows~?" Jyushimatsu answered evasively with a smile, rocking slightly back and forth, his gaze playfully drifting away.

Karamatsu's smirk widened as he tightened his hold on his younger brother just a little.

"Tch. Challenging the cold, are we? Quite brave—but I can't have one of my dear brothers turning into an ice statue out there." He shook his head in mock disappointment, lowering his voice dramatically, though the same self-satisfied grin remained on his face. "Even I would have a hard time thawing you out."

Jyushimatsu's eyes immediately widened at the vivid image that formed in his mind.

"Wow! What if I turn into an ice statue while hitting a home run?!" he exclaimed, striking an overly comical pose as if holding a baseball bat. "Do you think I'll thaw out by spring?"

Karamatsu couldn't hold back his laughter, gently ruffling his brother's hair.

"You truly are beyond saving, Jyushimatsu. Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't have to stand like that until spring. I'll come and free you… even if it takes considerable effort," he declared proudly, though his tone carried unmistakable warmth and concern.

Jyushimatsu giggled, and then his wide smile softened, becoming more restrained. The laughter faded, giving way once again to a cozy silence as they continued sitting side by side, feeling each other's warmth—though now it seemed to be something more than just physical.

For a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them—a quiet understanding, a realization that wasn't voiced but was nevertheless felt. They exchanged glances, still smiling, still silent, in a kind of wordless conversation. No words were needed to express what was happening between them, what had given their winter ritual a new depth.

And then, without any warning at all, Jyushimatsu leaned forward casually and brushed a fleeting kiss against Karamatsu's cheek—so close it nearly touched the corner of his lips, separated by only a couple of millimeters.

It was soft, transient, and so natural it felt as though it had always been meant to happen.

Karamatsu froze instantly. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes widened in shock. He had clearly not expected it—and yet, at the same time, he didn't seem to reject it. Somehow, it felt… right. As though this simple, tender moment was the culmination of everything that had been building between them all along.

A faint blush crept across his face. Perhaps this was that same unnameable feeling.

"Jyushimatsu…" Karamatsu's voice was quiet, almost inaudible, as he looked at his brother with a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. He wanted to say something, but the words slipped away before he could shape them.

Noticing the quiet acceptance in his older brother's eyes, Jyushimatsu only smiled wider, letting out an involuntary sigh of relief. To be honest, he had been a little nervous about how Karamatsu might react to all of this. He, too, had been troubled by uncertainty about these feelings—but what he saw now was more than reassuring. It told him he was doing the right thing.

After holding the gaze for a few more seconds, Jyushimatsu casually pulled away and jumped down from the sofa. Turning back to Karamatsu, he flashed him one more radiant smile and held out his hand.

"Let's go! Mom brought mandarins today—if we don't hurry, they'll be gone before we get there!"

Karamatsu blinked a few times, still slightly dazed by the sudden turn of events. But seeing Jyushimatsu's bright smile, a warm, genuine smile appeared on his own lips, and something in his chest felt lighter, warmer.

Without hesitation, he took his brother's hand and stood up from the sofa.

"Let's go," he replied.

Hand in hand, they walked down to the first floor, toward the others, still carrying the lingering warmth of each other's presence.

A faint blush still lingered on Karamatsu's cheeks, and Jyushimatsu had to summon every ounce of self-control he had not to casually press another kiss to his brother's cheek in front of everyone.

Because, in truth, this had already become something more than simple brotherly affection—and they both understood it perfectly well.

And even if they still had to learn and make sense of this strange, yet already undeniable feeling, Jyushimatsu now knew for certain one thing: