This Christmas by J. M. Snyder Page 3

  Suddenly the flashlight dims. "Whoa," Bobby says, hitting the bottom of the flashlight against his palm. "The batteries must be low. So are you going to come over?"

  Ned wants to say no. What happened to not getting close to anyone else? Taking a perverse pleasure in his loneliness, blaming Jake for ruining his holiday? Picking at whatever scabs have formed over his heart just to poke at the wounds and watch them bleed?

  That was before the power went out. Sitting alone in the dark feeling sorry for himself is one thing; not being able to turn the lights on when he wants to push back the darkness and freezing his ass off is entirely different, and not the least bit appealing. The flashlight dims again, the light browning down to a faint glow. When Bobby shakes it to get another few minutes out of the batteries, Ned surprises them both by saying, "Let me get some stuff together."

  Bobby's grin outshines the flashlight. "I was so sure you'd say forget it," he admits.

  For the first time all evening, all season even, Ned laughs. "Me too."

  With his pillow under his coat to keep it dry and his toothbrush in his back pocket, Ned follows Bobby out into the storm. Wind whips through the buildings in their complex, sheering across the sidewalks, flinging ice into Ned's eyes. Pulling his hood close around his face, he struggles to get his key into the lock on his door, his bare fingers frigid with the wind and ice. Just as he's about to say fuck it -- who's going to steal anything in weather like this? There's no one else on campus anyway -- the key turns and he hears the lock click. "Damn," he mutters. The word is ripped from his throat and tossed away by the wind.

  Bobby waits a little ways off. As Ned approaches, stepping cautiously on the thin sheet of ice that's formed over the sidewalk, Bobby shouts to be heard over the storm. "Be careful. It's slick."

  "I know -- " Ned's foot skids over the ice, slipping out from under him, and he feels a sickening lurch in his stomach as he starts to fall.

  A strong hand catches his arm. "Careful," Bobby says again, helping him stand.

  In his chest, Ned's heart beats like a machine gun, rapid fire, adrenaline like bullets ricocheting through him. Bobby holds onto his elbow, then his hand takes Ned's, the glove Bobby wears coarse against his palm. Ned's body warms as if his blood has been ignited, liquid trails of kerosene running up his arms and legs to create a fiery blaze that burns in his groin. He's just being nice, he tries to tell himself, but coming out in this storm and holding his hand as they cross the commons is more than being neighborly. Ned's been so wrapped up in Jake for so long, he doesn't remember what it's like to flirt or tease or come onto someone. But he's fairly sure Bobby's pass the point of just being nice. The thought is intoxicating. Ned has to keep his gaze on the icy sidewalk to make sure his feet stay on the ground.

  When they reach Bobby's door, Ned stands closer to him than he should. He wishes he didn't have the pillow beneath his coat so he could feel Bobby against him, but maybe that's a good thing. With each minute, he changes his mind about this whole situation. Bobby's helping him out; Bobby's hitting on him. Ned wants this attention, he craves it, but he doesn't want to be wrong again. Better to keep Bobby at bay, stay locked inside himself. But it feels so good to hold another's hand, and he wants to see that smile again. He wonders what that crooked eyetooth would feel like if they kissed.

  Inside, the kitchen's as dark as Ned's own. Bobby lets go of his hand to lock the door behind them, then strips off his gloves and jacket. Ned follows suit, dropping his coat in a wet heap on the floor. "Jesus," Ned mutters, running his cold hands through his hair. His fingertips feel like icicles. "I need to get some gloves."

  "Here." In the darkness Bobby touches Ned's chest, then feels his way out to Ned's shoulders, down his arms, until he finds Ned's hands. Taking them between his own, he rubs at them briskly, raises them to his mouth, blows hot breath over the frozen skin. When he does it a second time, Ned dares to brush the tip of his middle finger across Bobby's soft lips. They close over his finger with a damp kiss.

  Ned pulls away. "I'm sorry," Bobby says, reaching for him again. But Ned crosses his arms and fists his hands, shoving them beneath his arms for warmth. Bobby sighs. "I didn't mean to -- "

  "It's cool." Ned takes a step away from Bobby and ignores the ghost of those lips on his skin.

  Bobby tries again. "Look Ned, I wasn't -- "

  Ned doesn't want to hear it. "You said you had candles?" he asks sharply.

  "Stay here."

  Ned hears Bobby's tentative footsteps as he crosses the kitchen. They disappear when he steps onto the living room carpet. Staring around him at the darkness, Ned tries not to think of that little peck and fails miserably. Where did that come from? Why? And, more importantly, what now?

  Ned has no clue.

  What happens next? What's he want to happen? Maybe he's been going about this shit with Jake all wrong -- maybe he should revel in his newfound freedom instead of mope around like he'll never find another guy again. Or have one find him.

  A faint spark in the living room pushes back the night and spills into the kitchen. There's just enough light for Ned to see his way into the other room, which he recognizes from his dream -- the cards above the TV, the tree hiding in one shadowy corner, the now-empty mug still on the coffee table amid a dozen flickering candles. Bobby's already seated on the couch, wearing the same clothes Ned remembers --

  That can't be possible. It can't.

  Yeah, he saw Bobby earlier but at the store it was just in his coat and jeans. Without the coat, Ned recognizes the shirt he wears -- a white T-shirt with long black sleeves, STATE written across the front in collegiate block lettering -- Ned dreamed about it, and this room, that mug, all of this. And Bobby, too, sitting on the couch alone. So I'm not the only one.

  When he raises his gaze to look at Bobby's dark eyes, Ned sees in them a familiar longing, a hunger, something he hasn't dared believe in since Jake. Softly Bobby says, "I know he hurt you, and I'm so sorry, Ned."

  His words are a brand on Ned's skin. They burn and sear his flesh, bringing tears to his eyes. "Who told you?"

  "Your roommate." Before Ned can speak, Bobby adds, "I asked. You've always been so nice to me. Always saying hi, smiling at me, stopping to talk when you had a chance. I thought it was just because we went to high school together, you know? I didn't think anything of it. Then a few weeks ago, you stopped looking at me. Stopped talking to me, stopped ... I don't know, stopped flirting with me."

  "I never -- "

  Bobby laughs. "Maybe you don't think so, but that's the way I took it. And suddenly that was gone. I never realized how much I looked forward to seeing you every day until it seemed like you were going out of your way to avoid me."

  Wiping a cold hand across his cheek, Ned mutters, "It wasn't you."

  "I know." Bobby pats the cushion beside him, an invitation to sit. "So what happened exactly? Unless you don't want to talk about it -- "

  Ned stares at the sofa and can't bring himself to cross the room to sit down. "I don't."

  Suddenly it becomes too much. Jake, and his betrayal. This evening, those dreams he had, the memories of Christmases he shared with someone he used to trust, used to love. Now, this moment, Bobby looking at him with such sympathy and feeling that Ned wants to just disappear. He can't hold this all in anymore, it's tearing him up inside, eating him alive. Covering his face with his hands, he gives into the frenzy of emotions swirling around in his heart and sinks to his knees with a half-choked sob.

  Warm arms wrap around him -- Bobby. "Shh," he murmurs, smoothing down Ned's bedraggled hair. Ned finds himself in a strong embrace, hands petting his back and arms to calm him down. Cool lips touch his fevered skin, kissing his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, kissing away the pain and the ache and the hurt. When they find his mouth, Ned opens to Bobby like a battered rose. He lets those soft lips and firm hands remind him what it's like to be with another, to be held by another.

  To be loved.

  Outside the storm lets up, and
the icy rain turns to snow.

  THE END

  Copyright © 2006 by J. M. Snyder

  Please do not copy or reprint without permission.

  Author: jms@jmsnyder.net

  Website: http://jmsnyder.net