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Fairies, cloaked in milky dresses, delicately danced through the skies, laughter growing more apparent with every inch they descended from the heavens. One of the winter nymphs landed on a cheek reddened by the cruel wind of the north. The man huffed, tan skin and the irritable expression on his face proving he hailed from lands farther south. His friend, walking by his side, was much paler and had a smile spread across his lips, seemingly to be at home in the freezing temperatures.
“Oh come on, Ro,” the fairer of the two spoke with a grin, “it’s not that bad. The cold doesn’t hurt.”
“But it bites,” the other replied, left hand moving to tighten the scarf around his neck, “or is that not how the expression goes.”
And then after a moment, “Virgil . . . I really don’t know how you talked me into this. It’s warm in Florida, that’s why I wanted to go to school there in the first place - that and because of in-state tuition. It takes a suicidal man to actively want to go to school in fucking Vermont. Don’t even get me started on the people that live here . . . serial killers, I swear.”
Virgil, in turn, laughed. He had missed the fresh air and the comforting chill he had grown up with in his hometown. Florida was beautiful, but it hardly felt like Christmas when he was there. And Roman, his roommate, would have stayed in the state, content with the multi-colored lights wrapped around palm trees. But Virgil had somehow managed to talk him into spending a few days up north, promising to show him the sights.
After first asking what the hell is there to even do in Vermont , he reluctantly agreed. But all they had done so far was sit around the fire and play with Virgil’s many, many younger sisters. So Virgil asked him to take a walk, Roman oblivious to the walk Virgil was simultaneously taking down memory lane.
“What is it that we’re even doing?” Roman asked after a moment, “And why couldn’t we have driven there?”
“Walking’s good for you, you need to keep that figure of yours during the holidays, no?”
The taller of the two knew that the response was evasive, but he decided against calling Virgil out because he wasn’t entirely wrong. Christmas dinner always resulted in him losing the definition in his abdomen, his most recent ex-boyfriend having told him as much.
“Besides, it’s not far now and I didn’t want the girls to tag along.”
Roman raised a brow, “Liar . . . you’re going to kill me and you don’t want any witnesses, isn’t that it?”
“You got me.”
They left it at that, continuing down the dirt road that was completely abandoned. Aside from them, of course. Virgil had spent his childhood running back and forth from his house to the-
“Pond?” Roman asked after a moment, seeing the large body of water just beyond the thicket but not understand what exactly the other’s intent was. They had ponds in Florida too; in fact, they had both the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean, so he wasn’t sure what the significance of a small pond was. Why this was a sight to see.
“Lake,” Virgil corrected, waiting until they emerged from the woods and were both standing in the clearing before coming to a stop. He dropped to his knees, Roman’s gaze following him as he removed his backpack and unzipped it to reveal two pairs of skates. He looked up then, watching Roman’s face visibly pale. “Up for the challenge, Your Majesty?”
The teasing nickname made Roman bury his doubt and put on his confident facade. There was determination in his eyes, a desire to prove himself and impress Virgil. But he had never skated a day in his life, he had told Virgil that once, not even roller skates.
It wouldn’t end well, that was for sure.
Virgil found himself smirking, shimmying out of his ski pants to reveal his jeans. He then exchanged his wool socks for a much lighter pair, lacing up his skates with a hum. Roman was still looming over him, studying his movements calculatedly in order to mimic him when it came time to do so. Virgil looked up once he finished, raising a brow as he pulled himself to his feet and motioned, with a hand, for Roman to sit down and help himself.
Roman lowered himself onto Virgil’s ski pants, taking his time as he pulled off his boots, followed by his own pants. He pulled his skates on, Virgil noting that they were laced far too loosely.
Southerners , he thought, holding back an eye roll while he offered him his hand. “Come on, I’ll help you up. Then I’ll leave you to it.”
Roman took his hand, surprised by the smaller man’s strength as he pulled him to his feet. He let go but thankfully said nothing when Roman kept his hand on Virgil’s shoulder so the other could guide him to the lake. It was exclusively for stability purposes, of course, so neither said anything when Roman didn’t let go. Refused to, really.
The northern wind divided them as the ice beckoned Virgil closer. And he complied, smiling at the sound of his skates brushing the solid beneath his feet. He pushed away from Roman then, a grin across his lips as he freely skated across the pond. “Come on, Ro, it’s like riding a bike. Once you get it, you don’t un-get it.”
But learning involves a lot of tears and falling on your ass before you get it, although Virgil decidedly left that part out.
He pretended not to look as Roman took a hesitant step onto the ice, bracing himself for his inevitable fall. His other foot was still on land, most of his weight on the heel, so he seemed to trust himself to push off and he stretched his arms out to act as a counter-balance. He lasted hardly even three seconds before face planting in a far from graceful manner.
Virgil couldn’t help but laugh as Roman groaned, his movements effortless when he skated over to Roman’s side.
“Need help?”
Roman - cheeks more reddened than before proving it was not just the wind that gave him the pigment - shook his head. He braced his palm on the ice while attempting to pull himself to his feet. His head was level with Virgil’s chest before he was stumbling forward once more, grabbing onto Virgil for support but instead, taking him down with him.
Virgil lay on his back, pinned beneath Roman’s weight and groaning as he tried to move. Roman’s face was buried into his chest, Virgil watching as the other slowly lifted his chin to make eye contact. Virgil was smirking, trying so damn hard to hold back his laughter and Roman could tell and it only made him more embarrassed - cheeks an obnoxious shade of red that outshined his scarf. So instead of allowing Virgil to untangle them from the mess, he tried to do so himself.
Of course, Roman did nothing but move himself up a few inches on Virgil’s body, now able to hide his face into the crook of Virgil’s neck as the Vermont native howled with laughter.
He was nearly choking, grinning like a madman as he subconsciously reached a hand up to run his fingers through Roman’s hair in order to soothe him. As if his laughter wasn’t the core reason for his humiliation, and he was instead physically injured.
After he settled down a bit, he sighed and said with a grin, “All you have to do is ask, baby.”
His words were teasing but he felt Roman’s body stiffen in his embrace, Virgil’s mind shattering as he realized the pet name he had tagged on at the end of his sentence. It was unintentional, of course. It had felt so natural that he hadn’t even realized it. But Roman had, and he seemed to have acknowledged it in every inch of his skin.
Roman said nothing at first, and Virgil was ready to push away in favor of cutting open a bit of the ice to drown himself. But after a moment, he nodded, breaths still falling heavy against the bit of Virgil’s skin exposed to the elements, at just a nip of his jaw above his scarf. The skin was warmed by the other’s heavy breaths.
It was the best answer Virgil was going to get.
He slid out from beneath Roman’s form, pulling the other into a sitting position and tightening his laces before retying them silently. He hummed as he work, aware that the storm was picking up and that the beautiful snowflakes were falling in a much heavier rate. The world was also darkening, Virgil aware that all of the above would make teaching Roman difficult. But Roman’s gaze was fixed on him, seeming oblivious to the elements.
Virgil pulled himself to his feet and offered Roman his hand, “I’ll teach you, come on.”
To Virgil’s slight surprise, Roman swallowed his pride in favor of grasping his hand, allowing the other to pull him up. He stumbled but Virgil was ready, wrapping his arm around his roommate’s waist and pulling him close so that their bodies were pressed together. Chest to chest, faces inches apart and separated by their own respective clouds of breaths.
“How about a kiss for luck?” Roman whispered, voice dangerously quiet. As if anyone in the small, liberal state would care. Or even find them, for the matter.
“How about a kiss if you skate from one side of the lake to the other without falling,” Virgil offered, staring into Roman’s eyes and ignoring the shiver that went down his spine when he noted that Roman licked his bottom lip.
“You’re on, baby.”
Roman squeezed his hand as they began, eyes on his feet and allowing for Virgil to lead them. The scraping of the ice beneath their weight sang and filled Virgil’s ears. It was the most beautiful song he had ever heard.