Not Another Love Story

A quasi-Daiken Quickie

Dedicated to the fine men and women of the MBTA, if they'll only tell me what the fuck the "wrong kind of snow" is.


It was not a moment that changed everything.

It could have been one, quite easily. If, say, it was bitterly cold out, if snow had fallen recently enough to still be white rather than dirty grey and frost was painted in delicate patterns over the car windows, if their breaths had fogged in tiny clouds as they ran from the station and the very tip of Ken's nose turned pink as his cheeks went red and blotchy from the cold. If Daisuke had tired himself out throwing snowballs and kicking at snowdrifts so the snow fell back down in tiny glittering crystals, and had fallen asleep as soon as he sat down in the warm car.

Then, undoubtably, when the car turned so suddenly and Daisuke had slumped in a snoring heap on Ken's shoulder, Ken would have realized how warm Daisuke was, and it's possible that he would have moved the slightest bit closer. It's also probable that Daisuke, without waking or thinking, would have reached out for him as the nearest heat source, simple and gentle. Ken would have fought back his own answering urge, of course, but he wouldn't have been able to deny that it was more comfortable with his arm around Daisuke's shoulders, rather than caught between their bodies and slowly going to sleep. And when Daisuke awoke, face buried in Ken's sweater, Ken's arm around his shoulder, his around Ken's waist, then he might have blushed and pulled back, stuttering all the while like he always did when something embarrassed him, or it's entirely possible that he might have reached up all sleep-blurred and touched hesitant fingers to the dark fringe of Ken's hair, still marked with shining constellations of melted snow, and Ken would have reached up and put his fingers over Daisuke's as they looked into each others eyes.

And everything would have been changed.

However, it was a warm day in late spring rather than a cold day in the deep of winter. Ken's face was slightly red, but from sun rather than cold, and Daisuke did fall asleep in the car, almost as soon as his mother started the engine, but he was tired from playing soccer, rather than kicking snow and throwing snowballs. Daisuke did still slump against Ken's shoulder as the car turned, but felt no particular need to pull the heat source close in hopes of warmth and Ken, for his part, did not shake Daisuke awake, but neither did he feel any particular need to pull the other boy closer or notice his warmth, and when the car hit a sharp turn in the other direction Daisuke slumped away from Ken, waking with a start and a quickly smothered swear as his head hit the window.

And the moment was over before it even began.