Chapter Text
I thought of dying
because a black-tailed gull cried at the pier
Peck at my past floating and disappearing amid the waves
and fly away
Clive swore under his breath when a gust of wind hit his umbrella and he had to struggle to not let it dip to the side. The downpour had continued for the entirety of his walk home and despite his efforts to shield the bag of groceries that he was hauling in his other hand, he fully expected to find a small puddle of water inside by the time he made it to his kitchen.
Even though spring was already far along, the night sky was an unforgiving black and only the predictable line of the yellow street lights ensured Clive stayed on the right path. Terrible weather, indeed. At least there wasn't a long way to go—just over the bridge, and he would be a couple blocks away from home.
Trying to keep his neck tucked inside the raised collar of his red and black trench coat, he almost missed the stranger standing on the bridge. It was only because a bolt of lightning fell on the other side of the city that he noticed the silhouette of a person right next to him. Startled,Clive made a little sidestep, but the stranger paid him no mind, continuing to stare at the water below the stone railing. Clive walked a handful of steps ahead and then came to a halt. He looked over his shoulder at the stranger still standing there—no bag, no umbrella, just letting themself be completely soaked alone in the night.
That couldn't be good.
The bridge wasn't that high, but the water below was pretty deep at this part, and it would be freezing. Not many people around to spot a person in this weather, either. Jill always said Clive had a bad habit of getting himself involved in situations, but…it wasn't like he could just leave it be.
He turned around and approached the stranger.
"Sorry…could you tell me what time it is?"
He had to speak up to be heard from the rain, and luckily he got the stranger's attention on the first try. The man, or at least Clive thought so, blinked rapidly as if awakened from a trance and looked at Clive in confusion.
"Uh…"
"Do you have the time? My phone is in my pocket, but…" Clive gestured with his head at the grocery bag and the umbrella.
"Oh. Sure…" The stranger dug a phone from his pocket and lit up the screen. "It's about twenty past ten."
"Great, thanks."
Clive waited for a moment to see what would happen next, but the stranger made no move to leave. At least, he seemed to be aware of Clive's presence, turning to look at him with a puzzled frown.
"Did…did you need anything else…?"
"Just wondering. Are you waiting for someone?"
The stranger seemed startled, although it may have been just from another flash of lightning.
"Uh…yeah… Yeah, I am."
It was hardly convincing, but Clive could work with that.
"Want me to wait with you? We could share this," he angled his umbrella towards the other.
"No, I'm okay. And I think…they might be late, anyway."
"They're probably waiting out the rain," Clive continued to indulge in the fiction of this person who may or may not be coming as he subtly observed the stranger next to him. He seemed sober and generally coherent and aware of his surroundings. This was about something else.
"Maybe you should wait inside, too," Clive tested the waters further. "I live right around here, you'd be welcome to come and dry yourself off."
Now, there was a twinge of irritation on the stranger's face as he turned to face Clive fully.
"Excuse me, but who are you?"
Clive counted the shift in attitude as a win—people rarely went through with the worst kinds of plans when they were annoyed. And when it came to being helpfully annoying, Clive had learned from the best.
"Right. Hm…hold this for me, would you?"
He didn't wait for an answer before pushing the umbrella into the stranger's hand, noting that the other immediately leaned closer so as to not expose him to the rain. Clive extended his newly vacated right hand.
"Clive."
It seemed the social script overrode any hesitation the stranger had about the situation, for he shook Clive's hand with nary a pause in between. The hand was wet and cold, but the shake was firm.
"…Joshua."
"Well, Joshua," Clive tried out the name in his mouth. He liked it. "You coming over?"
He expected to be turned down again, but it seemed like Joshua was actually considering it.
"I…I wouldn't want to impose."
Maybe he have a safe place to spend the night?
"I asked you, didn't I? Come on, it's right there."
Clive took a step in the right direction and to his delight, Joshua followed, awkwardly trying to match Clive's position with the umbrella.
The first thing Clive did when they got inside was push a towel in Joshua's hands and point him towards the shower. As the sound of running water came on, he raided his closet in search of something for Joshua to wear. He was about the same height as Clive, but with a completely different body type—Clive's shirts would look comically large on him, but it was better than nothing. At least the bottom half was easier: just an old pair of sweatpants with a string that Joshua could adjust to his liking. Clive left the clothes outside the bathroom door and informed Joshua of that fact through the door.
Next, it was time for him to change into something more comfortable and unpack his groceries.
When Joshua arrived in the kitchen, Clive was making them tea and sandwiches. He glanced up at the figure approaching the table and nearly cut his finger.
Joshua was definitely younger than him, though it was hard to say how much as his face had an ephemeral quality to it that seemed resistant to age. Clive's shirt showed the dip of his pale throat and the shape of his clavicles but obscured the rest of his figure. Clive found himself wondering about the exact shade of the hair that seemed to tint into a reddish brown, but would likely be lighter when properly dry.
"Thank you…for all this," Joshua said, gesturing at the clothes he was wearing.
Clive noticed a stray bit of butter on his finger and quickly licked it off.
"Anyone would've done the same."
"That's not true at all."
Considering it for a moment, Clive decided Joshua was probably right, so he left it at that. He urged his guest to help himself to the sandwich while he rinsed the cutting board.
"I'll put your clothes in the drier," he said. "It's not ideal, but that way they'll be ready to wear in the morning. The neighbours make a fuss if I do laundry at night."
"That's alright."
When Clive returned to the living room after doing good on his promise, he found Joshua examining a cardboard box next to the bookshelf. The box was half-full of copies of the same book, one of which Joshua was holding in his hands—The Ice Queen and the Frost Wolf.
"I didn't mean to snoop," he said, looking a bit sheepish even as he continued to leaf through the book.
"It's fine. Wasn't exactly hidden."
The box was usually open so he could pick out a copy or a few whenever he needed them for an event or to hand out as a promotional giveaway.
"So…Clive Rosfield?"
"Yeah, that's me," Clive nodded. "And what's at least trying to be my day job."
"Wow. A real published author."
Joshua sounded impressed, and Clive felt the need to hedge.
"It's not as glamorous as it sounds. Barely anyone knows me."
"It's still a big achievement," Joshua insisted as he turned the book over to take a better look at the cover. "I need to look for this somewhere."
"You can have that one," Clive nodded at the copy. "I'll even sign it for you if you like."
"…Really?"
Clive had meant the last bit mostly as a joke, but Joshua's expectant look made it clear he would have to do it. He located his good pen and signed the title page with ease that belied the hours of practice he had put into it.
"Here you go."
But when he turned the book around and handed it back to Joshua, for some reason his hand wouldn't let go. They stood motionless as they stared at the point of connection between them, and Clive had a strange feeling that he was so close to grasping something important, something he would lose forever if he let go of the book.
He sucked in a breath, perhaps to say something, when he felt something warm and soft against his lips. He could faintly detect the taste of the cheap peppermint tea, and was overcome by the need to learn what flavours lay underneath it. One of Joshua's hands was sliding up the side of the book, a heartbeat away from touching Clive's finger.
At that moment, Clive realised that this was a terrible idea.
He pulled away from the kiss and all but wrenched his hand off the book to free himself from the daze. He felt out of breath, and reminded himself of the situation at hand: he had picked up a vulnerable young person off the streets and offered a warm place for the night—this definitely wasn't the time to act on his sudden infatuation, unprecedented as it was. Whether Joshua had come with him at all due to being out of any good options or being woefully lacking in the self-preservation department…Clive would have to do the responsible thing.
"You don't need to… I mean, I don't want you to think it's…erm… You don't owe me anything."
Joshua stared at him dumbly for a moment until his storm blue eyes went wide as he caught up with Clive's words.
"Oh. That's not what I— I don't know why I did that, I swear, I didn't mean to…oh flames."
He slipped from Clive's reach like a greased eel and escaped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Clive was left standing alone, unsure what to do next. He picked up the book that Joshua had dropped in his haste, and placed it on the coffee table with a weary sigh. The magic was probably gone for good, so the best thing to do was to be practical: make a place for Joshua to sleep in, specifically on the couch. The bed could fit two and would be somewhat more comfortable, but Clive definitely didn't need to invite any further misunderstandings.
After he had finished that task and cleared the kitchen table, he turned his attention to the bathroom. Joshua showed no signs of ending his self-imposed exile, so Clive knocked on the door.
"Hey, uh…don't worry about it, okay? We'll just forget about the whole thing. There's a spot for you on the couch, so…"
Clive heard some kind of sound from the other side that could be interpreted as approval, but it was hard to say for sure. He waited for about twenty seconds more, but when there were no signs of anything happening, he continued.
"Also…my toothbrush is inside there."
Finally, there was sound of movement and the door opened to reveal a deeply red-faced Joshua.
"….Sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Clive repeated, and let Joshua pass him and make his way back to the living room.
When Clive got back to the living room, he found the other settled in, facing the backrest with the comforter tucked all the way up to his ears. Clive stopped at the bedroom door to give one last glance at the shape on the couch.
"Good night. See you in the morning."
"…night."
Clive woke up to the sound of the front door opening and closing. He checked the time—5:46 in the morning. He got out of bed and found the living room devoid of any guests, as expected. The bedclothes were messily folded on the couch, and a handwritten note was placed next to them.
Thank you
& I'm sorry
- J
Clive made no attempt to chase his flighty guest. If Joshua wanted to go, he was of course free to do so. A cursory check of his wallet and other valuables confirmed that Clive hadn't been robbed, which he hadn't seriously suspected anyway. The book on the coffee table, however, was gone.
He made himself coffee and stepped out to the balcony with a mug in hand. As he watched the sun climb up above the city's skyline after the rain, he tried to contend with the sudden emptiness that had come over him.