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Chill by psijay

Chill

psijay

Carson frowned, examining Aaron's thin sweater. "You sure you're dressed warm enough?"

"Please," Aaron sneered. "I'm not like you. I enjoy the cold."

Carson eyed him, concerned, as he shrugged on his favorite leather jacket: the old brown one with the orange and white stripes. "Whatever you say."

...

The very moment Aaron began to shiver, Carson noticed. "Chilly?" he asked.

Aaron didn't look at him. "No," he said flatly.

Carson raised his eyebrows, but let it go, instead pausing to shoot a picture of a clump of colorful leaves on the dirt path. Aaron continued forward, and Carson saw him wrap his arms around himself out of the corner of his eye. A full bodied shiver ran through Aaron, but he said nothing and kept walking.

Carson sighed. God forbid Aaron admit he was wrong. Hell would freeze over before Aaron uttered the words 'Carson, you were right'.

Carson tucked his camera in close and jogged back up to his companion, falling into step beside him. "Not as cold as I expected," he fibbed, unzipping his jacket. For a few more steps he was silent, but he soon tugged his jacket off, instead draping it over Aaron's shoulders. "Hold this for me."

Aaron rolled his eyes theatrically, but put the coat on anyway. It was huge on him; the sleeves reached well past his fingers, and it hung from his small frame like a wrinkled rag, bunching awkwardly around his shoulders, but Aaron didn't seem to mind. He kept on walking.

Carson fell back, snapping a few pictures of falling leaves, and tightening his scarf while Aaron couldn't see him.

He could just barely see Aaron glancing back at him with a smile.

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