Snow

It wasn't like it was with Alec. He wasn't aware of anything but what was freezing over inside him, a rising dark tide. Henry's mouth was hot and that was all he thought of, wanting more and more and now. He sank both hands into Henry's hair, holding him tightly, and felt it crunch brittle under his hands. He watched ice bloom on the walls as Henry sucked, heard it crackle as he pushed, pushed. Inside him he knew he could do more, whatever he wanted. He pulled Henry's hair hard as he came, and the dark shadow inside him stretched, pushed forth. He twisted his fingers into Henry's scalp hard and groaned, body shuddering again as he saw the tears that came to Henry's eyes roll crystal sharp down his face to plink shatter on the floor. He was so cold he was burning with it. It didn't hurt at all anymore. He shoved Henry backwards, watched him sprawl on the floor and felt a smile shape his face.

"Get out," he said and his voice was empty, dismissive. Henry's mouth was open, the pink of his lips tinged blue-white and his eyes were shocked, dazed. Lost. He nodded dumbly, standing up and backing toward the door, staring at David as if he couldn't look away.

"Don't forget your cloak," David said, and he was laughing, watching Henry fumble for it, watching the fear and want in his eyes and seeing his mouth still frosted with cold. He could call him back right now and Henry would come, do whatever he want, stare at him like that forever and ever. He thought of the guide, Joseph, suddenly, of the way he'd looked at his brother and sister, and shuddered, clamping his mouth shut. He could still hear his laughter echoing though, could still feel cold commanding words welling up inside him, see things he could do and wanted to, not caring who he hurt, what he did. He looked around then, desperate and terrified of himself, and saw Alec staring at him. He wasn't looking at him like Henry was, wasn't staring at him with dazed eyes. Alec was just looking at him, and David knew the expression in his gaze was mirrored in his own, saw pain and regret and grief. The ice on the walls split, shattering, falling just like snow. He turned and stumbled blindly to the loft, fumbling.

"You need to go," he heard Alec tell Henry. He lay down on the bed and pulled the blankets up around himself. He didn't feel any warmer. His pants were still open. He closed them with shaking hands.

After the door closed he heard Alec cross the room, heard him climb up and felt him slide down under the blankets next to him. David turned his head and Alec was looking at him. "Don't,"

David said, and squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see what was in Alec's gaze. He didn't want to see anything.

Alec moved toward him then, pulled him into his arms. "You're safe," he said. "I shouldn't have--

I'm sorry." David shuddered, once, twice, and then pressed his face into Alec's neck, breathing in his scent, his warmth.

"You just--you have to understand," Alec said as the sun was starting to rise, light testing the corners of David's closed eyes. They'd lain together all night, nothing but silence between them.

"I can't forget that you won't always be here. I had to--I can't let you--you and I can't be everything for me."

"I know that," David said, weary voiced. "You've told me. Shown me. And now I just--I have to know--do you want me to leave? I…" and he had to pause then, force the words out. "I will, if you want."

"No," Alec said and his voice was sharp, pained. "That's just it. I don't. But you will one day.

That's what you have to understand. What I won't forget. You and I aren't forever. The world doesn't work that way. This--" he touched David gently, a hand curving over his ear, fingers tangling in his hair, "--this is just now. It isn't anything more." He kissed him softly. "I won't forget that. You can't forget it either."

"But I--I like now. I want you. I don't care about anything else."

"You should."

"Maybe," David said and finally opened his eyes, looked directly at Alec. "But I don't."

Chapter Nine

She heard the rumors first. A miner, they went, gone away and returned again, a careful pause on every word. A miner, they went, living with someone different. Someone who wandered through the city looking as if he'd never seen anything like it before. Not lost, she was told, but like it was all brand new. She didn't care about that; country-bred souls always saw the city that way. But the miner and those pauses--she asked discreetly, delicately, and the miner's name was one she knew, the place where he lived familiar. She steepled her fingers together when she heard that and then nodded once, decision made. "Wait," she told the person standing in front of her.

"Watch." She didn't ask if she was understood.

When she spoke, people listened.

***

Alec came home from the mines, face drawn tight with exhaustion and something else. He kept his head bowed as he shrugged off his coat, shook his head when David asked if he wanted to eat.