Shirohebi

You descend the stairs one at a time, almost rolling down them, a perpetual, almost cyclical motion carrying your feet down the flight in your anticipation. Before conscious decision, purely unconscious compulsion, your eyes flick from figure to figure, searching for her.

Ah. There she is. You force yourself to straighten out the smile which comes to you, unbidden. It would be creepy to just have a guy stare at you and grin. A strong gust of wind blows her white hair, and her big body sways slightly in her coils. Your heart stills for a moment, and then relaxes into a steady, homely, warm pace, as though the exercise of walking to the station had never been. Instead you find yourself half smiling as you lean against one of the metal poles holding up the shelter upon the station platform, stealing occasional glances at her.

Ever since you’d moved here and caught this train into the city, your eyes have been drawn to her in your silent, private adulation. Her long, silky white hair, which floats about her in a divine breeze, playful ruby eyes which sit below a delicate brow and above a cute little upturned nose. Her full, pink lips, when even shut naturally, seem to smile. She looks at you, and your eyes dart away from her.

Inevitably, they are drawn back, back to her almost translucent, brilliant porcelain scales which clad her long, supple, streamlined tail as it rises to meet her womanly, human hips, the scales rising no further than her bellybutton in uneven patches of scales meeting skin, the only abnormality a diamond of white, even and centred upon her belly, the button pierced with an actual diamond stud that glistens in the sunlight.

Warmer days would see her slim, toned waist rising up to meet a pair of perky, palmable breasts each tipped with a bright pink rosebud of sensitivity. Well, you imagine so at least. You’ve never seen her in anything more revealing than a shirt which shows off her midriff. Today however, is different. A long sweater covers her, the sleeves so lengthy that they drape over her hands, and the bottom hem reaches far down enough to cover even a portion of her tail, clinging tight to the curve of her hips. You’d almost assume that she weren’t wearing anything else if not for the tip of her dress peeking out from under the giant woollen not-blanket.

You curse yourself as you finally realise that she’s actually shivering. Of course she is. She’s a snake, its winter. And here you are concerned with only getting your eyeful. But what do you do about it, exactly? Do you even do anything? The station is almost always deserted this time of morning. The particularly biting cold of this morning serving as added deterrent, and aside from a few silhouettes up the other end of the platform, it’s just you and she. Your breath catches at the thought.

Your own bulky jacket now feels uncomfortably hot. Your body goes through the motions of taking it off before you even register the thought, and you’re left awkwardly suspended in mid step as you consider what you’re doing, a million thoughts crossing your mind before the next foot even lands. You’ve never spoken to her. Caught the same train for months but never spoken. Isn’t it weird to give her your jacket? But she’s also cold. Is it asshole-y to just stand there and watch her snivel and shiver, trapped in your own warmth? You walk to her any way.

“U-uhm, e-excuse me.”

“Hiii!” She jumps and twists in her seat of coils to look at you, “O-oh. You s-startled m-me” Her eyes flick hungrily to your jacket, “-can I help you?” Each second word is jilted by the clattering of her jaw as she shakes like a dead leaf in the wind.

“I w-want to give you my jacket” Fuck, “I-I mean I don’t WANT to give it to you,” Fuck, “I-I mean It’s NOT like I don’t want to give it to you, I-I mean, it’s just that you look…cold.” Nice. She’s giggling at you now.

“S-sure.” Oh, but her smile is so cute. She’s holding her hand out now. It’s really delicate and pretty looking. You imagine she’d play something, like a harp, or- Oh, right. It’s held out for the jacket you said you’d give her, you flush in embarrassment, “O-Ah, s-sorry. Here.” Smiling happily, she twists in her coils and turns her back on you, holing her arms out for you to slide your jacket onto her. Your heart clenches as your hands run down the lengths of her supple limbs. You spoke to her. She’s letting you touch her. O-obviously not like THAT or anything, but still.

“Mmm, it’s much warmer. You’re very…” she grins mischievously and leans closer, “Hot, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve always been like that, heh. It’s great really, I’ve never needed to spend money on heaters.”

“O-Oh, yeah I guess that must be nice.” She looks sad. Oh fuck. She was hitting on you just then wasn’t she? You basically just dismissed her without even realising it. Fuck. You get even hotter as the searing shame rises to your skin. You do the one thing that makes sense to you.

“W-well, I guess I’ll go stand over there…” you begin to trundle off when she calls back to you,

“A-ah, h-hold on!” You turn to her and see she’s blushing, fidgeting. She must be uncomfortable. Sick? She really must have been cold. “I was wondering if… if you could…stand? Like, with me, I mean. To conserve body heat, I-I mean you must be cold now, right?”

“O-oh, no I,” You pause. I’m really not that cold, it’s alright. Is that really what you’re going to say here, after already turning down her flirting? You swallow hard, “Uh…” you manage a weak grin, “Sure.”

She smiles and slithers over to you. It’s criminal how sensuously she sways. And it’s cute how she slides up to you absolutely wreathed in layers of clothing, now dressed in her thick sweater and your bulky jacket. Before you know it, she’s coiled around you, and is leaning into your side, blushing profusely. You go rigid, and plaster your hands to your sides as not to touch anything strange. You stutter at her, facing dead ahead, “A-Are you okay? Y-you’re r-really red. A-Are you sick?” You wince as the words tumble and collapse from your mouth.

“I’m fine, just a little embarrassed I guess.” Oh.

“Y-yeah, it must be embarrassing… sorry. B-but it’s better than freezing right? A-And there was no one else, so I thought I…”

“N-no! I didn’t mean it was embarrassing to be with you or anything, just like, embarrassing in general. Sorry, I, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Ah, no it’s my bad for jumping to conclusions.”

The two of you stand together in an awkward silence. At least she isn’t shivering anymore. She unwinds from around you, and slides up to the edge of the platform. Moments later, the rumbling of the oncoming train sounds around the platform. She must have felt it coming. The doors slide open, and the two of you find a seat, taking up a whole row with her long tail. It curls around to rest in your lap as she leans into you, hugging herself, trying in vain to trap the heat within her.

You put your hands in your lap, and sit, straight as a board. But for how awkward you’re being, you can’t deny that it feels…nice. You can’t help but want the moment to last forever, but you know that she gets off on the stop before yours. So you memorize as much as you can. The soft scales of her tail. The weight of it in your lap. The softness of her pressed up to your chest. The faint vanilla scent of her conditioner lingering in her silky hair.

She talks to you, about many things. Things you can’t really respond that well to, heart hammering so fast, nerves screaming at you. Things like the weather, peculiar things about life with a tail three times as long as your torso. You want to respond, but the best you can do is nod and say “Yeah.” The talks grow shorter and further in between as your responses become worse. Before long she’d stopped talking to you entirely.

Well, what did you expect? You’re boring. Uninteresting. She tried to engage you, but you just clammed up, afraid of saying something which will push her away. Her stop comes. She takes your jacket off, silently gets up, and slithers away.


*	*	*	*


Moron. Idiot. I berate myself as I slither down the staircase leading to the platform, shivering, holding my arms to myself. Seriously, what kind of lamia gets so distracted thinking about a guy that she forgets to dress warmer? In the dead of winter? I cry out as a particularly vicious tongue of wind licks at my face, and sink further into my frozen self pity. Even as I think this, my eyes search for him. I’m eager to descend this flight as soon as possible, but refrain from a more… non-conventional use of the stairs, no matter how easy it would be for my body. Most girls grow out of it.

Except for those spiders, they never lose that little bit of eighth grade syndrome that always seems to go with walking on ceilings and the entering of parlours.

Finally upon the cool, hard, unforgiving concrete of the platform, I can see he isn’t here. Yet? Surely. He’s always here. Nothing much else to do now except wait for the train. The cold cuts to my bones and I begin to shake. I coil around myself and rest in the centre, sacrificing my tail to preserve the warmth of my core.

Minutes pass in near silence with the odd passing of a thunderous train when I hear his footfall coming down the stairs. Oh god. Would he think I was creepy for knowing what his foots steps sound like? It’s his fault, he’s the only one who walks like that. I look behind me and watch him descend, half obscured by the roof of the shelter. The lower he steps, the more of him becomes visible, and I avert my eyes from him as his chin comes into view.

My heart beats a little harder. He’s looking at me. I can feel it. Does he think I look weird? I guess it’s unusual to see my kind around here. Especially in winter. Another dumb thing I did, I should have just stayed in my homeland. It was never so cold there. But then I’d never have seen him either.

I look back, a little stiffer and much more jittery than I’d like, only to see him staring resolutely ahead. Strange. Maybe he wasn’t looking at me? Maybe it was just my imagination? I sigh, and turn back. My sister used to like that kind of stuff. Psychology. Was I just projecting my loneliness onto the only constant male figure in my life? The cute stranger at the station? It wouldn’t be the first time, but I also feel… it’s genuine. I think.

I curse myself as my nose begins to glow red. He dressed warm. He dressed warm and here’s me freezing my tits off.

“U-uhm, e-excuse me.”

“Hiii!” I jump, startled at the sound of his voice, and twist in my coils to look at him.

“O-oh. You s-startled m-me” I eye his big, thick, warm jacket somewhat hungrily “-can I help you?” I struggle to force the words out in any coherent fashion, the beginnings and ends and middles being cut off by the jitter of my incessantly clattering jaw. I wish I had bigger boobs. Maybe they’d entice him with their swaying. Gods know I’m shaking enough to make it happen.

“I w-want to give you my jacket. I-I mean I don’t WANT to give it to you, I-I mean It’s NOT like I don’t want to give it to you, I-I mean, it’s just that you look…cold.” I giggle, he’s flustered and blushing. He’s not nearly as cold as me and yet his words are more broken. Makes me feel a little less self-conscious, and it’s really cute.

“S-sure.” I hold my hand out, and he seems to be distracted looking at me. I start to feel a little embarrassed. Maybe I do look weird? He remembers himself,
“O-Ah, s-sorry. Here.” And goes to hand me the jacket, when I twist around and holy my arms out for him, sighing at his touch.

“Mmm, it’s much warmer. You’re very…” I put on a grin, and do my best to mimic what I’d seen my sisters doing. Her words burn in my mind even now. It’s up to the girl to lure in the man. It may be sudden, but this is the first time we’ve really spoken, and I want to make the most of it. “Hot, aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve always been like that, heh. It’s great really, I’ve never needed to spend money on heaters.”

“O-Oh, yeah I guess that must be nice.” Dismal failure. It didn’t even register. Is it because I don’t usually do this? What if he already has some one and was just being polite? Is that it? I mean, he’s pretty cute, but I’ve never seen him on his phone, or with any one.

“W-well, I guess I’ll go stand over there…” He’s leaving? Maybe he does have some one else? Or he’s just not interested in me? I’m weird, aren’t I?

“A-ah, h-hold on!” I call out to him in a panic, before I even understand why. Already half of me is screaming and calling me an idiot for it, but I’ve already come this far. “I was wondering if… if you could…stand? Like, with me, I mean. To conserve body heat, I-I mean you must be cold now, right?” Smooth.

“O-oh, no I, Uh… Sure.” Set for rejection, I jump a little when he says yes. Maybe he is interested? I mean, it’s jumping to a conclusion, he might still be just being nice. I don’t think he has anyone else, but he simply mightn’t be interested in me. And I don’t… smell “that” on him, so I’m pretty confident he swings for my team, so to speak.

I smile, genuinely happy, and wiggle up to him, leaning against his side and wrapping my tail around and around him, sapping as much of his heat as I can. The shivering has stopped, and I have to consciously stop the goofy smile which comes to my lips, unbidden.

“A-Are you okay? Y-you’re r-really red. A-Are you sick?” A little dense. But that can be worked on.

“I’m fine, just a little embarrassed I guess.”

“Y-yeah, it must be embarrassing… sorry. B-but it’s better than freezing right? A-And there was no one else, so I thought I…” Shit, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant I was cuddling up to a cute guy I’ve never spoken to before, only looked at. But I can’t say that, that’s weird.

“N-no! I didn’t mean it was embarrassing to be with you or anything, just like, embarrassing in general. Sorry, I, I didn’t mean it that way.” An awkward silence fills the space after my words, and carries on through his next.

“Ah, no it’s my bad for jumping to conclusions.”

…I want to say something, but nothing comes. And now the ground is shaking. Slowly, I release him. I’m probably only a bother anyway. So it surprises me when he follows me to a seat, and lets me snuggle up to him to preserve the warmth. I allow myself to think for the briefest moment that he’s still interested, but his conversation is limited to distracted “Yeah”s, and he’s utterly stiff, and not in the way I’d like him to be.

I shut up.

My stop comes, I return his jacket, and quietly leave, determined not to bother him any further.


*	*	*	*


The two continued to gaze at each other, without the other knowing. There were two trains in the morning, one three minutes after the other. The first would go directly to the city, the other would take them by the university before reaching the city. Both got their passengers to their destinations on time. He took one, and she took the other. At times they would feel lonely, and catch the other train in a vain hope to catch a glance at the other. They would both have this idea on the same day and, unfortunately, miss each other once again.

Time came that they had enough. Self-pity gave way to self-hate which gave way to a desire to do something. Both knew that the other would never be theirs if they never did anything, an so upon a stormy and dark morning the pair prayed on the same fate that saw the both of them on a day off, and asked of the clouded sky of only one thing.

That the other simply be there.

The rain hammered heavily against her window, and in a moment of irrationality she knows she must leave now. Her tail wraps around the handle of the umbrella resting by the door as she passes the threshold and closes the door behind her in one motion. The wet pavement steals the warmth from her and yet she braves the lashing cold none the less.

He has only his jacket, and icy rain sluices down his back as he half walks half jogs towards the station, where he can only hope she’ll be, umbrella forgotten in some dark corner of his home, the chilling of his bones a measly penance. He slips on a puddle, and falls into a frozen disk of water, shattering the film of ice, and soaking him thoroughly. He picks himself up, driven by an unknown force from within.

They meet before the station, surprised and not. They smile, for they each trusted the other to be there. They come together.

“You’re cold.”
“You’re wet.”

Their words come at the same time, and in the brief silence which comes after, they fill the gaps with laughter. He rubs at the back of his damp neck, “It’s uh… been a while huh. Not since that day.”

She smiles, “Yeah…” The conversation dies, but neither want to leave just yet. She musters up the words she wants to say, but looking at his soaked form decides that ultimately, they can wait for a better moment than just now. “Do you… want to come and dry up at my place?”

He looks up at her face, and into her eyes, maintaining a non-skittish contact for the first time, and smiles, “Yeah. I do.”

The white snake grins back at the boy, and gestures for him to join her under her umbrella, using the excuse to bring the two of them closer. As they head off in a single direction, the man’s hand finds its way to hers, and his cold fingers intertwine with hers, as he does his best to offer his warmth.

They arrived at the station thenceforth at the same time. They caught the same train, the same carriage and sat together in the same row of seats. And when it came time to return, they returned to the same home. Together.