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There's a place I’d often go. It's dark. A set of eyes pierce the veil staring back. He isn't real. He can't be. I'm me. But he is too. He almost laughs, a joke that should be obvious, obscured. A riddle written lacking humor. A jester, presented as an emperor. Ill fitting clothes. Much too big shoes half dangling from my heels. Walking a line I was never meant to take. Following where I was never meant to follow. Smiles that never broaden past polite set upon me. They walk beside, then in front, then I can barely make out their silhouettes in the distance. The air is thick. Though I don't need to breathe, I nearly suffocate. Limbs lock into place. Legs won't move forward while my mind runs in circles. No one is around, yet the whispers are constant. They grow. A new voice joins, adding to the extending chorus. Before long my own thoughts drown in the sea of mockery.
Touch that soothed, that stole me from my present now burned. Catching my body alight. Turning every piece of mine they come into contact with to ash. The smell of the sweetest flower, now acrid in my nose. Coughing, I try to escape, hopeful for clear air. But the scent surrounds me. Cloying and clawing as it etches and imprints against me. Marking me. Letting everyone else know I am rotten. Unclean. Sullied. Not... Worthy. Their taste, my lifeline is no more. Flavor on my tongue is absent, as if it never was there. A concept. An idea. A wish that never became a reality. A sample, and nothing more. The memory dissolves into nothingness but the dream from which it stood. A seed that would be planted, left unnurtured. A plant unformed, left to whither and die. My hands, not gentle enough to toil the ground. To aid their growth.
Burdens become too great to bear. Unable to go further, I collapse. Letting fate claim what it will of me. A brush. A whisper. A plea. A cooling on my skin. Lips part, and my mouth is filled, parched no longer. Water floods me, suffusing my cells with life once more. It's a temporary salvation. A kindness not requested. And anger makes me ungrateful. Patience grasps tight to the final string. Unfurled, but not yet unraveled. A softness blankets the fire. Careful words part through the cacophony of voices, carrying my focus to them. A honeyed scent, light but no less tempting calls me to seek out more of it.
My eyes open, and I find you. Curious. Wrapped and bound by circumstance. But on your own journey, you saw fit to stop and help another. When that other barely knew if he wished to help himself. Hand extended. Not to drag me from the ground, but in offering. To choose of fate an option that had never been presented before. With no assurances, I grasped tight to what you provided. And though I was hardly smooth, jagged and piercing against your already bruised skin, you didn't let go. Held on tighter as I poked and prodded. Biting and barking as a wounded animal would. A new toy. A fresh meal within arms length, presented on a silver platter. But... So much more.
To this day, I look back and wonder if I had changed course. If I didn't seek out sustenance in human convenience. Would I have met you? No. Why would we? What path would be so cruel to drag you down into the muck? When you were always meant for more. But fate, I suppose, makes fools of us all. And sin, a tempting proposition. Hunger, a full bellied beast. And you fell right into its waiting trap. Lust caught you, but I was the one who became entangled in your embrace. You claimed me before I knew I wanted to be. And for that, I will be forever grateful. Love in its whole expanse is the greatest feeling, and you offer it in abundance. You are the reason I live. It would make sense that my life in turn is yours. Use it as you see fit. As long as you allow me to continue to travel by your side. Walking this road called life together. And always.
“Gavin?”
“Hm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Just watching the snow. Did you need me?”
“Not for anything in particular. Just wondering where you'd run off. I'm finished studying.”
“Very good, my love. Then, would you like to join me?”
Their steps drew closer, his tether to them growing stronger as he felt them at his back. Freelancer's hand slips into Gavin's, giving it a soft squeeze.
“Are you okay?”
“I am. I suppose you’ve just caught me thinking. May I?”
The question has barely left his mouth. Their nod immediate, Gavin maneuvers them in front of himself, hands curving around them. His chin rests on their shoulder and Freelancer leans back into his chest. Their hand reaches up to gently caress Gavin's cheek, before it settles on top of his forearm, their stare fixed like Gavin's on the quiet night sky.
The snow falls silently. Blanketing and building upon the streets below. It hadn't been predicted. People hurry inside. Window units from neighboring apartments click on, providing warmth to its residents. Their own apartment begins to warm as the smell of what Gavin knew to be hot chocolate cools on the table behind them.
“Do you remember our snowball fight last year?” Freelancer's voice rose above the din.
“Mhm.” He holds them closer, sharing what he could to keep the cold at bay. “I seem to recall our two vs two vs two ended in a tie.”
“Well, mostly because when it got down to you and Damien, he got so frustrated trying to hit you, the snow melted around him.”
“There weren't any rules about rifting. Usually Wildfire’s good about anticipating any possibility.”
They laughed, the sound rich and crisp in his ear. “And can't really finish a snowball fight without the stuff. So instead, we went home and had a Mario Kart fight instead.”
“In which Lasko's partner was the one to give our fiery friend a trouncing. Oh the look on his face. If Huxley hadn't taken him into the kitchen, I was sure he would have torched the couch with how much he was trying to be a good sport. Lasko couldn't keep the grin off his face which didn't help. But by the time Huxley and his man returned, it was obvious they found another way to burn off that extra energy. But you didn't hear that from me.” Gavin chuckled, releasing a satisfied sigh.
“It was fun.” Freelancer hummed. “We should plan a get together sometime this weekend.”
“Can't say I'm surprised you're already wanting to play host again so soon.”
“What can I say, I like our friends.”
“I do too.”
He didn't mean for the words to come out so longingly. His tone yearning for their company from just a thought. But this home that he'd found had a way of tearing down all forms of indifference, leaving only genuine feeling in its wake.
He knew that it was because of them, carving out the insecurity that was so synonymous with his being. Encouraging more. Accepting him, and in turn, him accepting himself.
Freelancer shivered, a telltale sign that their time at the window was done. But neither one moved right away. Their body molded against his. The space theirs, as if it was always meant to be. The missing piece to his puzzle, nestled comfortably in his arms. And at times like these, the quiet, and the darkness, didn't seem so daunting.