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Melting Snow	By : BookMaggot Category: Bleach > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1224 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: None of Bleach do I own, nor do I make any money, I cannot reap what I not sown, so please do not sue me!

Chapter List
- 1-Melting Snow
- 1
A/N: For those of you reading my other stories. I will update them by tomorrow! Yayness! For those of your reading this one; please keep in mind I wrote this years ago. I gave it a general read through but don't expect anything too spectacular. I'm basically just sharing :)
Hope it's at least somewhat enjoyable!
Warnings: Light Yaoi
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Melting Snow
Winter kills.
That is the way it is, the ice consumes life, swallowing the small flecks of being into its maw, stealing breath away from hungry mouths and snuffing out their small flickering lives. Winter in itself is a murderer, a cold blooded killer that takes no prisoners, and shows no mercy to those foolish enough to beg for it.
And yet winter was his.
It walked with him, the icy breath caressing him in puffs of white, holding him greedily close by soul and heart. Hitsugaya knew that no matter what he did, winter would be his constant, and the ice would be his solitary companion for eternity. His soul was too… consumed in it, too captured by its magic that he could ever imagine life without it. He loved the snow, the ice, and the cold glades that howled in the bare branches of dead trees. It was his wonderland.
But winter was still a killer, and he had stood by countless times to watch the flames of his friends and family alike be snuffed out by his cold spirit. They would dwindle, their own souls slowly consumed by ice, frozen by the breath of his dragon. No one ever lasted. They would leave him, their spirits freezing and flames barely flickering in life as they walked out the door time and time again.
He had cause to be bitter, and to keep people away from him.
There were days when the wonderland had become his hell. Many times he wished fires could be stronger, or winds could be softer. But time and time again he was left alone in the freezing winds, talons holding him close and greedily keeping anyone brave or foolish enough away with wintry glades.
No flame would survive the wind. No fire could survive the endless ice.
He knew he would forever be alone, lost in a snow storm that sought to keep him safe. Held safe in a block of ice, where no flame could reach through the howling winds pounding relentlessly against his outside.
Winter was his curse as much as it was his companion.
He sat quietly in his office listening to the winter glades as he worked. The window was open letting in the small flecks of snow drift in with the wind. Rangiku had left hours before, and he was grateful for the peace. She had begged him to come out drinking but there was much to do, and he had let her go early seeing as she had actually finished her reports.
Which in itself was a miracle.
The wind howled outside, he relaxed and let the voice of winter soothe him. It was a very cold snow this year, almost biting and a few Shinnigami had simply refused to leave their homes. Some even barricaded themselves in but Toshiro was content with the snowy wonderland, he revelled in its cold and angry voice.
The window panes rattled ominously. The glades were picking up. His papers were carefully weighed down with an assortment of mugs, books and a few rocks. But the pages flipped back as the wind ruffled through them. Hitsugaya enjoyed the breath of winter but he was in no mood to resort through all his reports.
He stood up and went to close the window. Outside it was dark, the lantern above the window swinging in the wind, the golden glow shifting erratically. He eyed it for a moment and without another thought snuffed it out. The world turned dark and he blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden dip in light. The cold wind bit into his skin but he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of snow, which smelled crisp and dead.
Just like heaven.
He opened his eyes and blinked.
Coming towards the barracks was a strange hobbled figure. It was hard to see through the glade but he could see the figure’s destination was the front door. He frowned and turning back he shut the window and tied his sword to his back. He didn’t take a coat, he never did.
The wind outside was freezing even for him but he didn’t stop. He ploughed through the thick snow, aiming straight for the late night intruder.
“Who goes there?” he said in a booming voice above the roaring winds.
“Hitsugaya-taichou,” he knew that voice but it was muffled, “I am sorry for intruding so late but I fear your lieutenant needed a hand getting back,”
He blinked again. The shapes were making more sense now. He recognized the limp form of his drunken lieutenant barely hanging onto the shoulder of the man. Said man was dressed in a thick black coat, his head was hooded, his hands were gloved, his neck and lower face was wrapped up in a scarf and he wore big heavy boots that sunk into the snow. If he hadn’t heard the voice he would never have recognized him, “Ukitake-taichou?” he asked, keeping the hope out of his voice.
“Yes,” there was humour in his voice, “I suppose you didn’t recognize me in this attire,” he chuckled, “but Shunsui and the others were in no state to take her back, and I was not comfortable leaving her there with an amorous Ikkaku,”
“I…” he hesitated and shook his head, “You shouldn’t be out in this cold!” he scolded, helping to carry the drunken girl into the offices, “It will be the death of you,”
It was true. Winter was a killer, and he knew how cold it could be. Jushiro Ukitake was a prime example of a weakling in the eyes of that cold beast. It would show no mercy to him, no matter how warm and bright his flame shone.
But the man just chuckled happily, “I never go out in winter,” he conceded, “But I am not a fragile porcelain doll, Shiro-chan,”
Hitsugaya grit his teeth, just barely stopping himself from snapping at the man, but he could feel a faint blush rise up in his cheeks. He was right, he wasn’t a weakling but in the eyes of winter he was. Still it must be tiresome to have people constantly worry over you. He could sympathize with that at least.
They moved inside and he quickly heaved Matsumoto into one of the spare rooms. She was wrapped up in her coat and scarf and Hitsugaya only removed her shoes before pulling a blanket over her. He didn’t envy her the hangover tomorrow.
Lieutenant settled he headed out to find Ukitake standing in the entrance hall, staring up at the ceiling.
Hitsugaya stalked closer, “Thank you,” he said, “For bringing her back,”
“It’s no problem,” Ukitake said, but did not look at him.
He frowned, “What are you looking at?”
Jushiro didn’t answer immediately, his face took on a vaguely sad expression and when he did speak he still stared at the ceiling, “At memories,” he said softly. Hitsugaya’s frowned deepened but before he could inquire Jushiro continued, “There was a time when this Division was the centre for art and culture,” he smiled sadly, “It was many, many years ago but here on the ceiling the Captain had would always paint the four seasons,”
Hitsugaya looked up at the blank ceiling. The wood polished beautifully.
“Every year,” Ukitake continued, “Every year he repainted it, in a different style, or in different colours, or in different cultural backgrounds or themes. And every year it was a master piece,”
“What happened?”
Ukitake’s face saddened further, “Times changed,” he said softly, “The captain died, and people forgot, and soon no one could remember the beautiful ceiling of the tenth division,”
Hitsugaya stared at the ceiling for a moment, “Where was winter?”
Jushiro smiled and pointed to the bottom right, “Usually there. But he did get very creative. One year the winter just… melted into spring,”
He stared solemnly at the ceiling. Yes, he thought winter did melt but no flame or ray of sun has ever penetrated the ice around me.
“Well,” Ukitake said pulling him from his thoughts, “I should be off,” he turned and bowed to Hitsugaya, “A good night to you, and I hope Rangiku-san feels better tomorrow,”
Hitsugaya hastily bowed back but hesitated before answering. The man had just ploughed through three divisions worth of snow to bring back his lieutenant and to save her dignity. Not that she had much but he couldn’t fault him for being a gentleman no matter who he was carrying.
“Would you like to stay?”
Jushiro blinked.
“For a cup of tea!” Hitsugaya spluttered at the expression on his fellow Captain’s face.
Jushiro smiled, humour sparkled in his eyes, “I would be delighted,”
He nodded and led him up to his office. The room was freezing but he knelt down by the fire place and quickly lit a few logs. He rarely used it but Rangiku insisted he at least keep a few logs close by for an emergency. Tonight he was grateful he had listened to her for once.
Jushiro settled on the coach, and pulled down his hood and scarf, revealing a red nose and pink cheeks. He looked at the smiling captain and could help but offer one back. The man was infectious to a fault. He turned around and started the tea. It was silent as he worked, and it was slowly making him nervous. Why had he invited him? He thought feeling very self aware and foolish. It wasn’t as if he had a reputation of amiability to uphold, quite the contrary actually. Jushiro was an annoying old Captain who kept giving him sweets (no matter how delicious those damned things were it was still annoying!)
Yet now he had invited him into his office for tea, and he had no idea what to say to him.
Part of him said it was good to extend pleasantries from time to time. It solidified comradeship and it helped in battles to understand one another. But another part, a sneaky hidden part told him that was bullshit and he had to start accepting the fact that he had a small (big) crush on the handsome and kind Captain.
He stole a glance at the snow white hair pooling around thin shoulders, and swallowed stiffly.
Jushiro Ukitake was a handsome kind and beautiful man. Hitsugaya had been watching him since long before he ever became Captain, and every time he saw him his heart would jump in his throat. He didn’t know why it was or when it started. But he knew he would never react on his need. Jushiro was a snowflake, he moved and spoke like one too, elegant, soft yet erratic. Always kept you guessing.
But snowflakes got lost in storms, they were swallowed by glades. As beautiful as Jushiro was he had no chance against the impending ice glacier that was Hitsugaya’s spirit. The cold was not kind to Jushiro, it was bitter to him, harsh as proven by the layers of clothing he wore against it. Toshiro was terrified that should he ever get too close his own cold would smother out the beautiful flame of Ukitake.
He could never live with it.
Jushiro took the steaming cup gratefully. “Thank you. This is most welcome,”
He nodded and settled down next to him, taking what little he could get away with.
They sat in silence, both starring off into space and neither saying a word. Perhaps words weren’t necessary, he thought, he’d always been a quiet man himself and Jushiro had never struck him as a man to babble endlessly for no reason. So they sat, each lost to their own thoughts enjoying tea in the company of someone they admired or at least liked.
Then he felt it.
The smallest tingle of heat that whispered just beyond his spirit. It pressed in from the outside, against the glades and block of ice that kept him locked in place. Just a whisper, a gently caress of warmth in the raging storms. Toshiro frowned and turned to look at Jushiro who was studiously watching the opposite wall, his hand holding his tea limply in his hand and occasionally taking a sip.
But the whisper of heat was still there, just at the edges gently brushing the storms, never pressing just whispering.
“Toshiro?”
He looked up at strange thick voice, filled with an emotion he couldn’t place, “Yes?” he asked watching him intently.
“May I hold your hand?”
His heart leapt into his throat, and he could barely swallow. He should say no. He must say no, if he acquiesced then he would surely destroy the beautiful snowflake. Toshiro eyed him for a moment but he wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t even looking at him. There was an expression of resolve on his face, as if he had already decided his request would be denied.
Toshiro had never been one to play by the rules.
“Yes,” he said softly taking great pleasure in the disbelieving expression on the man’s face. There was a moment of tense silence then Jushiro reached out and gently took his hand. Entwining their fingers tightly.
Toshiro swallowed. His hand was warm, calloused and comfortable.
The comforting warmth of the other spread gently through him, it enveloped him in ways he never thought possible. But he also knew it wouldn’t last, the flame cannot stand against the cold. He should pull away now while he still could but the warmth felt different. There was no heat, just the definite spread of it… it was strange like running tap water slowly heating up by means of an old geyser.
Toshiro sat shivering, gripping the strong hand that held him close. And the warmth spread, through his back it started, and slowly seeped into his legs, drifting downwards and claimed his feet. They tingled as the heat captured them. He closed his eyes and waited.
Further it spread, thawing the ice and Toshiro felt amazement wash over him.
Soon he was enveloped in a cocoon of warmth, Jushiro’s steady hot breath pooling against his neck. He sat very still, almost waiting for his soul to suck the life out of him, but it never happened. It wasn’t like flame or fire or burning embers. The heat was constant, patient and slow, carefully breaking away the ice and calming the raging glades.
Rain, it was the only thing that could chase away a bitter winter. And he knew now Jushiro was nothing like a snow flake, he was too warm for it he was a shower of rain patiently thawing out the frozen lily one drop at a time.
A hot mouth kissed his neck, melting away the final drops of ice, and leaving Toshiro shuddering in strong arms. His body reacting eagerly to the welcomed affections.
He bit back a needy gasp when the mouth returned, trailing feather kisses up his neck and sucking gently on his jawbone before pulling away.
He turned his head just, and stared at open green eyes that melted into his own, quietly asking permission. Toshiro leaned his head closer, hesitated, and then closed the distance tentatively.
Jushiro hummed into the kissed, pressing his body closer to the smaller one, and Toshiro felt the last of winter melt away into the waiting arms of spring.
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There we go! Shared for all to read! Because this paring needs more attention :D
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Melting Snow