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Summary
Alfred turned to look at him then. Really look. Ivan's face was calm, but there was something raw around the edges something Alfred recognized because he saw it in his own mirror too often.
"At least when you wake up tomorrow, the sun will come. There will be flowers eventually. Green things pushing through the earth without asking permission. "Me..." Ivan gestured vaguely at the endless white. "I have winter. Always winter, somewhere in me. And no one to turn to when the nights are longest."
Alfred swallowed. His throat hurt. "You've got the same sky I do.”
Ivan's smile softened, almost real. "Yes. I used to reach for it. Remember? We both did.”
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, y’all!