Work Text:
When London shares unusual sunshine with its townsfolk, it's snowing in Bernard's flat.
He can barely see Brett through the snow wall. There are corridor and kitchen between them. He sits in the corner of the kitchen, next to the open window, covered in pale snowflakes. He's smoking and drinking his probably frozen tea. It seems to Bernard that he can never reach over this distance. He's tired from wading through snowdrifts, while Brett doesn't seek to help him at all, doesn't see accumulated precipitation.
It’s surprising how much snow can fall per one single night. Anderson came yesterday; Butler just showed Lisa and the kids to the door and they left him alone with this natural anomaly and with Brett.
There are barricades of crumpled and ripped papers next to Anderson. He darted out in the middle of his work on new stuff. Brett never let see the harvest of his creative martyrdom before.
Straightening one of the sheets, Butler finds a small text. He freezes as he reads it and he can't take his eyes off Anderson, who drops "good morning”, but doesn't even look at Bernard, devoting more attention to the view outside than him. How it can be so sunny around, while they are just on the point of being snowed?
Bernard thought before that's only him who notices snow vortex surrounding them. Now he understands that he didn't notice warm heater, which Brett turns on every time he wakes up before him and disappears into the kitchen.
It's seems like snowflakes on Brett's shoulders has melted away, and Bernard has wet his feet.
Fell in love at nineteen - he hadn’t thought that the world would be interested in their love - just the two of them was good enough.
It seemed to him that love lives five years. Bernard didn't expect that love would live in his thirty five and would be still interesting to the world.
And he completely doesn’t understand how it is possible that his love turned up on his kitchen and filled everything after another ten years.
If Bernard had had enough courage, they wouldn’t have to wait. He always thought he was stronger.
If Bernard had had enough tenderness, melting snow wouldn't surround them. He always thought he unraveled everything Brett wanted to tell him long long ago.
Bernard doesn’t have to tell that he will change. Bernard has to tell.
And he tells like he always wanted to learn - without words.
When London brings back the familiar rain and grey clouds to its townsfolk, everything lights up and brings colour in Bernard's flat.