First Frost (ONC 2023 Novella, MxM Paranormal)

3: Cold Bed

The bed is cold. My hand pats the empty space behind me as I wake from dreams of whirling snow, frosty kisses, and impossible romance. There's an immediate sense of something missing; of something having recently occupied the spot next to me. An imprint of a warm body nestled next to mine still lingers.

Anton.

He was here. But now he's gone.

As I come to, my head throbs, and memories from the night before blur together. Still, the sensation of his lips against mine stands out like footprints on newly fallen snow: irreversible and groundbreaking. Whatever happens now, I know things won't be the same again, for better or worse.

But where is he?

Tangling myself in the blankets, I roll over onto my back to look up at the ceiling. The familiar tiles ground me and make my head stop spinning. The headache is unfortunately still there. But the world standing still does improve my cognitive abilities somewhat at least.

Maybe Anton is just in the bathroom? Which means he should soon return to fill the empty spot beside me. Together, we will figure out what comes next.

As the minutes go by, allowing me to settle into the reality of the events of last night, a ball of dread starts forming in my stomach, consisting of fear and alcohol. Bitterness rises in my throat, forcing me to evacuate the cozy nest between the sheets and run toward the bathroom.

Anton isn't here. That much I have time to note before my stomach contents spill into the toilet bowl, coloring the porcelain blue like the drinks we had last night. I linger in self-pity on the cold tiles as I ponder the situation.

I've been in love with Anton for as long as I can remember. Since long before I even knew what love was or that boys could harbor such feelings for other boys. But it was always one-sided, at least I thought so. What Anton thought I was never privy to, but it's not like I ever even told him I'm gay.

In fact, I had intended to tell him this weekend, as the secret was hardly hidden anymore, considering I decided to be out from the moment I started at university. I never came out to my new friends, I simply stepped out of the closet on my way to Stockholm and remained there. Coming out to my family was hardly a challenge either, and barely met with more than "Yeah, Joakim, we've kind of known that since you were a kid, now, can should we go have dinner?". My twin sister Frida and I are the youngest of five, so all kinds of disasters and crises had already been dealt with once we became teens. Their youngest son liking boys barely registered on the scale of teenage angst to my parents.

But Anton was the last obstacle. Because with him it mattered in a way it didn't with anyone else. Speaking the words would suddenly put our relationship into a whole other context. It would redefine all those moments where our eyes met for a few milliseconds longer than necessary, all those smiles that were meant just for each other, and all those awkward touches that may have seemed like teenage banter but were perhaps instead an exploration of boundaries. It had all been all part of a flirty game we played, right on the edge of the impossible.

It was just a game, we both silently had agreed on that. And Anton always had girlfriends, shields to prevent him from falling off that edge. At least that's how it appeared now.

It appears we jumped over that edge last night, hand in hand in a flurry of snow.

But today isn't last night and Anton isn't here. Perhaps he regrets it all. Perhaps he wants to undo the leap of fate we embarked upon. Perhaps he's already back home with his girlfriend, enjoying straight bliss far away from gay disasters.

I need to see him. I need to talk to him. I need to figure out where this leap puts us.

Perhaps this is the end. We went out in one last blast of glory and now we will go on our own paths. We leaped together and we landed in different places.

As my nausea subsides, I rise from the floor, grabbing a fluffy robe from the hangers on the door on my way. It will suffice to warm my chilled limbs for now.

A rattling sound catches my attention when I return to the bedroom/living room/kitchen area. The old windows of my attic apartment are shaking in the wind. While I'm eternally grateful that my grandfather is letting me live in his old apartment, because the rental situation in Stockholm would make it impossible for me to find a place here otherwise, the standard isn't exactly modern. The radiators rarely work, the windows let through cold winds, and the floors are like walking on an ice sheet most of the time.

Whirling white winds rise from the slanted roof outside. The fog fills the air, making it impossible for me to see anything through the glass. It's as if everything that exists out there is eternal whiteness. Considering my penchant for wild weather, I should be ecstatic about getting to observe this kind of phenomenon from within, but all I can think of is Anton.

Anton has disappeared into the pale mist. That's all I can gather. And now, the substance is forming a wall between us, wherever he is.

I put my hand on the window. A chill goes through my body from the sensation of the cold glass. I let my hand slide over the surface as if it were smooth ice.

A trail of rimfrost forms beneath my fingers. Frosty beautiful roses of mystery. I can see it but I can't quite believe it. Because what was uncertain yesterday is now so clear to me.

The frost is coming from within me.

I tap on the window and the storm outside roars. Confused and heartbroken, I tap again. Everything is in turmoil: the world outside and the world inside of me. Nothing makes sense and all I want is Anton.

The glass breaks and suddenly, the storm is everywhere. Outside and inside.

Author's Note: And the rush toward 8k begins... please excuse any mistakes made as I speed-write this.