The icy night that never let us go again

It's just after midnight, the temperature is minus 14 degrees Celsius. The snow is falling in thick, silent flakes. I put on my thick down jacket, pull my hat down low over my face, wear two pairs of gloves, snow pants, and sturdy winter boots. My friend does the same. We hardly say a word. We leave the town, following the old forest road until the last streetlights disappear behind us. Only the crunch of our footsteps and the soft hiss of the flakes on my jacket.

Eventually, as the forest thickens and no light penetrates, we stop. We glance at each other. Then we both pull off our jackets at the same time. The cold hits us instantly, brutally so. We grin at each other because it hurts. Tops, undershirts, everything off. The icy air burns our skin. We stamp our feet, laughing softly, almost hysterically. Then our pants down. Completely naked. The snow continues to fall on us, melting instantly on our heated skin, trickling in small, icy streams down our chests and stomachs. We just stand there. Two idiots in the deepest winter forest, stark naked at minus 14 degrees Celsius, grinning like silly children. Eventually, we can't stand it any longer, frantically put everything back on, and almost run back to the warmth. No kiss. No touching. Just the crazy feeling of having been completely exposed to the cold for a few minutes.

The same forest path. The same darkness. The same icy night. This time we linger longer after taking off our jackets. He looks at me and whispers, "You're really crazy." I just grin. "So are you." We continue undressing. Slowly. When the last piece of clothing lies on the snow, he comes closer. Our noses almost touch, our breath mingling. A kiss. Very brief. Cool, dry lips that feel almost foreign in the cold. Then we just stand there, chest to chest, arms around each other, looking into each other's eyes, while the snow settles on our shoulders and hair. We laugh softly. Not mockingly. Simply because it's absurdly beautiful. Eventually it gets too cold, we kiss again, longer this time, then we hastily get dressed and hurry back. Love is there. So delicate. Like the first flakes that barely settle.

We know this spot by now. A small clearing where the snow lies particularly evenly. Tonight it's especially still. No wind. Just flakes and our footsteps. Jackets fall. Sweaters. Shirts. The cold immediately bites into my nipples, which contract painfully. He comes closer. Our bare stomachs touch. A shiver runs through my entire body—and not just from the cold. His hand rests on my lower back, gently pulling me closer. I can feel his heartbeat through my skin. Fast. Excited. We kiss. This time longer. Deeper. Our tongues are cold, but warm up quickly. My fingers run through his hair, snow falling from his strands onto my face. We break apart. Look at each other. Both of us are breathing rapidly. Both of us have goosebumps all over. A small, knowing smile. Then we get dressed again—this time more slowly, with many small touches that don't have to mean anything, but mean everything.

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