Disclaimer: Don't own them. Ayame would be gay if I did.
Summary: Things are changing. Can Hatori keep up? Slash Ayame/Hatori. Dark and Angsty.
WARNING: Ayame OOC. But hey he will be out of character because this is the whole point of this fic.
Purifying fire. Beautiful fire. Powerful fire. Hot fire.
Its smoke melted the snow even before it touched the flames. Ayame took another swig from his bottle of whiskey. He concluded in his hazed brain, 3 o'clock in the morning in the middle of a deserted frozen public park, gazing at a pyre of his own, once most loved, possessions, that he liked the fire. Liked the fire because it burned everything in the same way. Because it destroyed all things alike. Because the fire kept the cold of the winter at bay. Of course, he barely felt cold with so much alcohol in his blood vessels; he barely felt anything at all, in fact; but he didn't care.
The fire was burning the last remains of his old life and he loved the fire even more for that.