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The Heart Makes a Fool of the Mind

Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;

Exploring hands encounter no defense;

His vanity requires no response,

And makes a welcome of indifference.

• Eliot

_ _

1. Prologue

Winter was always a slow season; no one wanted to ski anymore. Everyone wanted to go somewhere warm and sunny; the prospect of sliding down a mountain at terrifying speeds, balanced upon one or two small slats of plastic... well now that was just out of the question when you could be lying on a beach, feet warmed by the sun baked sand instead of stuffed into tight, clumsy ski boots.

The resort still received enough visitors - mostly older couples or families that couldn't quite afford the drive south to a warmer, more pleasant climate, but who could easily drive four hours to Western Portdam for an enjoyable week surrounded by silent, peaceful snow. The resort was called the Icechest, and rightly so.

Keurin had moved to Western Portdam after college to pursue a career in writing, and during his down time (which seemed to be lasting a dishearteningly long time) he either bused tables or waited in the Icechest's extravagant dining hall. He would have skied, if he wasn't terrified of doing so; when he wasn't on duty, he liked to retire to the sitting room and watch, through the large, wide windows, the few others who did ski, or he would simply gaze out onto the mountain face. It was so peaceful.

He actually lived in the city proper, on Hearthglow Avenue, in a beautiful stone and wood cabin that his grandmother, the previous owner who had long since stopped vacationing period, let alone in Western Portdam, had given to him for both his graduating college as Valedictorian, and his twenty-fifth birthday. It was a beautiful house with a view that opened right onto those mountains to the west that he would gaze upon in the sitting room at the Icechest, but here, at home, they were more beautiful. Especially at sunset, when the sun would slink behind them, painting the sky almost every color of the rainbow in hushed tones... except at the very spot sky touched mountain: there would lie rich reds and golds spreading out into fiery points around the blue and grey mountains. The house smelled of wood: earth and spice; and when the evening sun, right before it tucked behind the mountains, lit through the windows, the wood walls and floors would glow a deep amber, so magnificently beautiful and cozy that it had stunned Keurin so suddenly it stopped the breath right in his chest the first time he had seen it.

Western Portdam was very Aspenesque; that is, it was glitzy, flashy, and catered to the wealthy. It was basically a curved line, skirting around the base of one of the mountains. Not many people lived there all year around. It was a vacation town, and it got considerably more attention than the Icechest, seated above the city, closer to the best skiing locations. Knickknack shops, homemade fudge and candy stores, overpriced clothing outlets, and five star restaurants and hotels made up a large majority of Western Portdam; on the western edge of the city, nearer the hills was the residential area, a veritable grid of streets and avenues, with homes that were empty most of the year, until October when they came alive with tourists and vacationers. Most of the owners actually rented their vacation homes to others to make up for the cost of keeping a house they were too attached to sell, but too busy to visit often enough to justify paying taxes on it. Thus, it was difficult to make friends, as someone you would meet one winter might not be there next year. It was lonely, but it was a welcomed loneliness.

Keurin's house sat on one of the corners of the grid of residential lots which gave him better views and more yard space for him to do... not much in. His time was spent either working or doing nothing. His writing was sterile and often went nowhere. His writer's block was just too stubborn, and now, with the temperatures never getting above twenty degrees Fahrenheit, it seemed to be frozen in place as well. Keurin, as much as he hated to admit it, was getting increasingly bored each week and had considered moving back to Upper Portdam, as painful as it might be to do so. Even out here, surrounded by snow, utter silence, and a distinct lack of life, those memories just would not die.

1. Sunday, November 18th, 20XX

Sunday was always a slow day for the dining hall at the Icechest. A home cooked Sunday dinner won out over the Icechest's fare, no matter how delectable it was - and it was quite delectable. Keurin absently wiped down each table, then, after having wiped all of them, wiped them down again. When that was done a third time, he straightened the chairs, and when that was done, he vacuumed. The chefs had been out back on their smoke break for hours; they weren't needed, business was... there was no business.

Keurin joined them, lighting one up and taking a long drag, loving the way his lungs stung just a little. Anselm and Markus were wolves and brothers. They were twins, but Anselm had been delivered first. Anselm was the head chef. Markus was... well he might as well have been a second head chef. Anselm did the cooking. Markus did the presentation and plating. They were okay fellows, a little on the prickish side, but good company when they were in good spirits. Getting paid to stand around and smoke was a great way to put them in good spirits, so they stood together, shivering just a bit, one arm holding the other which held a cigarette, and talked about the girls from the town they would like to bone.

Keurin rolled his eyes good-naturedly when they asked him which of the babes he'd like to screw. He took another drag to avoid answering, expelling the smoke out through his nostrils in a long sigh. The afternoon sky lit his fur nicely, the lavender patches glowing and the white majority glistening as beautifully as the snow. The wolf brothers were both clad in thick, dark fur; it didn't take long for them to become uncomfortably warm under their coats as the sun was absorbed into their black hides. Keurin's amber eyes sparkled in the sun. He was handsome.

After finishing his smoke - the wolf brothers lighting up another; they were chain smokers - Keurin returned to the dining hall. No one came in that night.

The dining hall closed early. Keurin walked home, as usual, politely refusing the brothers' offer to drive him home. Best they not know where he lived, although it wouldn't be particularly hard to find out. Keurin watched as they drove off into the city proper, and thought they were off to pick up chicks. He would have been correct.

Keurin turned away from Western Portdam and walked slowly, holding himself after he lit another cigarette. It bobbed up and down between his lips as he walked. The smoke drifted upwards and stung his eyes a little. The glowing embers on the end seemed bright in the evening air. Twenty minutes later he was home. He snuffed the cigarette out and tossed it into the snow.

The first thing he did was draw the curtains closed on the large windows facing the western sky. The evening was beautiful, but forecasters predicted a storm. Then he lit the fireplace and turned the lights down. While he waited for the fire to warm the living room, he went upstairs to his loft bedroom and undressed. The fire downstairs cast long shadows against everything, dancing and twisting against the softly glowing hardwood floors and authentic log walls and wood furniture, the various knickknacks and odd decorative things his grandma had littered the place with: school pictures of Keurin at various ages, pictures of her and her husband, porcelain dishes and animals, abstract driftwood carvings Keurin's grandfather had hewed himself that were stained different, and often clashing colors, greens and blues, and even a powdery pink one that his grandmother had stained herself, the color bleeding into different, uneven hues. A plush couch faced the fireplace, flanked by two gnarled wooden end tables upon which sat two gaudy lamps which were never used: either the sun let in enough light, or the evening was pleasantly dark, with no reason to expose anything with light.

Keurin retired to the couch, clad in his pajamas: a grossly oversized shirt and ragged pair of boxers. A pen and pad sat lonely upon the coffee table. Keurin looked at it, then away, then up at the ceiling: trunks of an unknown wood arched together in an inverted V. He wiggled his toes in the growing warmth, the end of his tail wagging just a little - content. This was life; not the life, mind you, but life in such a way as we are content to live. Things could be worse, much worse; things could only be a bit better. This was as close to perfection as possible. Now if only that damn book...

"I'll write it when I write it and not a damn moment before then," Keurin said, suddenly speaking aloud to himself. He laughed and crossed his arms behind his head. It was only eight. Even after washing the tables three times, setting the chairs twice, and vacuuming, he'd done considerably little work today, but he was still quite tired. Somewhere far to the west, near the mountains, thunder gently cracked. Through the curtains he saw a slender stem of lightning. He got up and closed the safety mesh on the hearth after tossing two more logs in the fire. That would be his only source of heat for tonight. The freezing rain would see to that

As if on cue, the lights in the kitchen shut off. Keurin started, scared suddenly even though he was expecting it. It looked eerie for a moment: the kitchen across the room just barely lit by the fireplace, the shadows dark and seductive, slinking across the walls and floor. Then he closed his eyes and sighed, and when he looked again everything was normal.

He went into the kitchen, full of dark and seductive memories moments ago but now just a kitchen, as it should be, and, quickly so as not to let out too much of the chilled air, yanked out the second half of a grilled sandwich Anselm had made yesterday for Keurin. It was a steak and fried egg sub. That wolf sure could cook. Sandwich was ugly as hell though, but Markus was the presentations expert. And hell, it was all going to the same place: Keurin's gut.

Keurin returned to the living room and had his supper. After that, he brushed his teeth, and then wrapped himself in his quilt and fell into a fitful sleep.

1. Monday, November 19th, 20XX

The storm made it impossible to travel the roads. A dirty slush of dirt and snow ran in the corners of the streets and down the hills, gathering in pools in storm drains. Many of the shops in town were closed due to this terrible storm, as well as the Icechest, but it did not get much business even on clear days. The sky looked as though it might burst open at any moment, and when noon came four hours from now, it would. A gentle drizzle of rain frozen into tiny prisms fell now, just past eight in the morning, and as they hit the living room windows, as thick as they were, a delicate tinkling sound emanated from them.

Keurin woke up, in part, to this sound. He was still in the same position in which he had fallen asleep: the quilt wrapped around his shoulders, and his feet kicked up on the table. Standing was painful - and walking even more so - as his knees cracked as he stumbled into the kitchen for the second, more impelling reason he had awoken: the phone had been ringing.

"Hello?" Keurin said, smacking his lips and running his tongue over the roof of his mouth to wet it; he had a bad tendency to snore, and the congestion settling within his head didn't help either. He sniffed, trying to clear his nose.

"Hey, Keurin, this is Felix." Felix was the co-owner of the Icechest, an otter, kind of cute and rather out of place in this veritable winter wonderland. He was the main overseer of the dining hall and therefore, Keurin's direct superior.

"Hey, Felix, what can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing, just calling to inform you that the Icechest is closed down until this shitty weather lets up. Not taking any chances in giving anyone a reason to sue us if they fall on their asses on the resort's property. I'm thinking two or three days tops."

Keurin split the blinds on the small, porthole window above the kitchen sink with a finger and looked outside. It wasn't all that bad outside, but that sky... it looked dangerous. From the window Keurin could see the milky white sheet of ice over the sidewalk and road outside. Dangerous for sure, but Keurin loved this kind of weather.

"All right, thanks for letting me know, man. Call me later, or when you know for sure when you'll be reopening, would ya?" Keurin asked, having moved from the window to the fridge. The power had returned, but to be safe, Keurin uncapped the milk jug and sniffed it, then, gagging a little, he dumped the chunky contents down the sink.

"You bet your ass I will! No one else has the kind of OCD you do when it comes to setting up chairs and cleaning tables!"

Keurin chuckled. "There's a difference between boredom and obsession."

"Well then I hope you stay bored if you do that well!" Felix said, not unkindly, but his words killed the chuckling in Keurin's throat.

"All right," Keurin began, recapping the milk jug. "Talk to you later."

Keurin hung up the phone, and then, closing his eyes and smiling bitterly, said:

"Boredom's what drove me here in the first place."

* * *

The frozen drizzle persisted until, as predicted, noon when the bottom fell out and the sky darkened to near twilight, the freezing rain adding another half inch of ice to the streets. Around four in the afternoon, Keurin started up another fire. The living room glowed again with alien memories almost a decade old. There had been a fire that night, too. Keurin shook himself back to his senses, realizing he had been poking the same log over and over. He turned to the pen and pad on the table, tapping the ashes from his cigarette and taking a long drag.

There was plenty to write but no drive to do so. It was like the sculptor trying to hew marble with a toothpick; the photographer without his camera coming upon a scene of absolute beauty: something that would validate the believers and make the doubters doubt. Ever since he graduated college and left everything behind, Keurin's writing had been no more alive than the mountains upon which he daily gazed. Four years. Four years had he been surrounded by snow and silence, leaving all distractions (or rather, those distractions having left him) behind in Upper Portdam with its garish sun and fresh, green grass.

Winter lasted forever here. The sun might break through the clouds during the summer months, but it was muted and restrained. If any grass ever grew here before, it was now enclosed permanently under frost: dead, but not dead. The needles and cones of the pines, furs, and yews, first browning, and then falling, were the only signs that time passed and wounds healed. Keurin liked it here; even on those sleepless nights where every part of the dragon yearned, strained, and throbbed for his home town, banishing for a minute or fifteen, as he worked, the cynicism that had settled in around his heart; where he was eighteen again and surrendered everything: when he gave up a life's worth of fear and doubt, and for the first two years it had been wonderful; the writing flowed then: he published so much - poems, articles, a short story - things he burned the day of his departure; burning, cauterizing himself of all for which and for whom he had longed.

And yet, it was better here. The walls, furniture, photos, even the tacky knickknacks radiated the love of his grandparents with an amber glow. Every once in a while, when the home was warmed by a gently roiling fire, Keurin could smell his grandmother's perfume - White Diamonds - and the earthy scent of his grandfather's tobacco. In the glowing hearth he saw his childhood; in the ornaments upon the Christmas tree each year he saw the reflections of his family and his love. He missed them, yes all of them, but it was still better here.

* * *

Keurin found himself doodling absently on the despised pad, having set out determined to write anything, and, in his defense, he had scribbled out a few terrible lines about seeing faces in Christmas balls, and then lost his train of thought and resorted to doodling. The storm still boiled overhead, impeded by nothing, let alone the silent lament of a million hearts. It was dinner time. A few things had thawed while the power was out, so Keurin had a weird dinner consisting of one single-serving lasagna, a tenderloin steak, and some once-frozen shrimp. It was pretty foul and it gave him a stomach ache. He threw it away after only eating half of it... and then threw the other half up an hour later in the upstairs toilet.

"Well," Keurin began, heaving over the bowl, "This'll teach me to eat spoiled food."

After that, feeling strangely better most likely due in part to the filth that was now out of his system, Keurin showered. The warm water felt absolutely wondrous - the heat from the fire below didn't quite reach his bedroom, hence why he had slept on the couch last night - and after hanging over a cold toilet in a cold bathroom for nearly an hour, the steamy shower was more than welcome. Even his head cold seemed to fade a little. He rinsed, lathered, repeated. He scrubbed; he even played a little.

He got out and dried off, now in rather high spirits. Keurin spun on his toes in a silly dance, as naked as the moment he came screaming into this earth, his flaccid bits swinging, and he fell onto the bed and lit another smoke.

Thanksgiving was in a few days; if the storm let up, perhaps the Icechest would see some business from those with no family nearby with whom to dine, or those too busy to cook and prepare for two days a dinner that would be destroyed in a single night. Perhaps it wouldn't be so boring, if only for a few days - rampant nostalgia drowned out by work would be wonderful.

It would also keep Keurin from realizing that he, too, would be alone for Thanksgiving.

Keurin snuffed his cigarette and dressed, then returned to the downstairs living room. The fire had gone out, but that was fine; the room was pleasantly warm, almost stuffy to the point of justifying a window being cracked open slightly. The storm had abated for now, but the sky still appeared to be teetering on the edge of another downpour. Preempting another power outage, Keurin went into the kitchen and removed a few perishable items - those he preferred and didn't want to spoil - and put them into a plastic zip top bag, opened the back door leading onto the patio, and buried the bags in the large piles of conglomerated snow and ice.

"There! Classic ice chest," Keurin said and hurried back inside before his toes froze off.

Unlike last night, Keurin having passed out, tonight he definitely planned to sleep on the couch near the wonderfully warm hearth, so he gathered up his pillows from his bed upstairs, picked up a random book from his disappointingly small library (the majority of his books were still at his house in Upper Portdam) and returned to the living room.

Figuring tomorrow would be another lazy day, Keurin read much of the night. Around three in the morning, he shut off the lights and read by fire light - he kindled yet another fire an hour prior as the thin fingers of eternal winter crept in through the windows and under the door - and he treated himself to a mug of hot chocolate. When he finally decided to retire, head pitching forward as he nodded off, it was seven in the morning, and the skies, while still stormy, were nevertheless clearer than they had been just twelve hours before.

1. Tuesday, November 20th, 20XX

_ _

Tomorrow was, in fact, not another lazy day. On the heels of yesterday's storm was a freak heat wave - although "heat" was a poor way to describe it; it was still only just above freezing, but it was enough. The sun was intense enough to melt the ice from the roads. By noon, as cold as it still was, a sick humidity permeated the air.

Felix was the one to thank for Keurin's foul mood: the otter had phoned around nine to let Keurin know the Icechest would be opening that day. Keurin stumbled in an hour later, pissed off, the back of his shirt trailing behind him, with a scowl on his face and a cigarette in the corner of his mouth. He pinched the cancer stick between his middle finger and thumb, took a long drag to kill it, grimacing a bit, and tossed the butt out into the snow. He went to the kitchen, stumbling as he tucked the back of his shirt into the ass of his pants. Like a coffee fairy, Markus poured him a mug of the wondrous liquid caffeine. He didn't waste time on cream or sugar, the coffee was lukewarm and strong anyway like a slap to the face, which is exactly what Keurin needed to wake up.

"Thanks, Markus, I needed that. Where's Anselm?" "Out back. Look, can I talk to you about something?" Markus took Keurin's mug.

Keurin forced himself to keep the coffee down and, with a palm against his forehead, nodded.

"Well, see, I met this girl-"

"Wouldn't Anselm be a better person to brag to about your latest sexcapades?" Keurin said suddenly, his eyes shut tight and his palm still firm against his forehead.

"I'm not bragging. See, I've been with her for a few months now-"

"Sounds like bragging to me."

"Let me finish, damn it."

"All right, Christ, sorry."

"Her name's Sara. Real nice vixen. Huge tits. But I've been thinking: I don't even like her; I mean I don't like her. I ain't in love with her."

"Leave her," Keurin waved his hand as if dismissing the problem as nothing more than a wolf who loved to chase ass finally developing a conscience.

"I did. But I got to thinking... and I discovered I was only staying with her so I could have an excuse not to go out with Anselm to pick up more chicks. He comes home to the apartment every weekend with a new girl, and it started to bug me, you know?"

"Guess you're finally growing up and want something more than Saturday Night Grab Ass." The urge to vomit passed, and Keurin looked at Markus, seeing for the first time concern, true concern, in the wolf's eyes.

"I dunno. If I wanted a relationship, why didn't I feel anything for her? Like now I don't wanna date or go after anyone. You could show me the prettiest, nicest girl and I think I'd turn her down, man."

"Interesting. Guilt?" Markus shrugged. "For Sara, sure. The rest of them were totally cool, even liked the idea of casual sex. I dunno. I see the girls Anselm brings home, real beauties, but I'm never envious, or I never wanna get with them either."

"Weird."

"I know, right!" the wolf chuckled nervously. "Like I don't wanna go out on the weekend anymore and hang out with the ladies. Part of me feels like I never did, like I only did it to look cool to Anselm, but instead I just wanna... I dunno, stay in, watch TV with a bro; you know, guy time. I've been around chicks almost nonstop, picking them up on their last weekend here, holding their hands, opening doors, pulling out seats, waiting for them to put on their makeup, washing lipstick out of my collars, I'm sick of my muzzle being full of fruity perfume! I just want some guy time, you know?"

Keurin stared at him blankly, dumbfounded by the guy's hesitance to hang out with his friends instead of wanting to chase tail. Was he really that ignorant that he thought he had to bone every woman alive? No, Markus wasn't stupid, just naïve. There was something else going on here, some other desire rooted firmly in the wolf's mind, in the back, where the darkest, most secret or most embarrassing thoughts tend to manifest, like the peeling of wallpaper in the corner of a room or the yellowing of a edges round a photograph or the fogging of a window pane; the wolf fidgeted nervously as he talked to Keurin, as if he was shy. Keurin blinked slowly, and said with open sarcasm:

"Wow, I gotta say, Markus, that's such a huge deal; I dunno how you don't go nuts with so much conflict within yourself."

Markus, completely and adorably oblivious said, "I know! I knew you'd understand!"

"Oh?" Keurin's left brow raised slightly at that as he was actually surprised by the wolf... and prepared for the hilarious next comment on why Markus thought Keurin understood.

"Because you're a faggot, right?" Markus said oddly, as if saying that brought him some kind of joy, not through an attempt at insulting Keurin; no, Markus only said what he thought to be the truth, that the dragon was a faggot, gay; or some kind of confession, as if he wanted to say it so badly just so he could hear it coming from his own lips; the shy fidgeting returned, as if Markus was a schoolboy talking to his crush, trying to get to know her and gain her approval but deathly afraid of letting her know he liked her. The left corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a small grin. His ears were gently folded back, as if he was afraid or embarrassed by his assertion. There was a word for his actions, Keurin thought... what was it... Deflecting? Yeah, that sounded about right.

So, five minutes later, after Keurin managed to pick his jaw up off the floor and quell his roaring laughter before he turned blue in the face, he said, "So, you think my being a faggot helps me understand your not wanting to bang endless amounts of women?"

"Yeah! 'Cause you know, you can look at it in a different way!"

"But, Markus dear, how have I helped you? You came to your conclusion on your own. My being gay had nothing to do with your wanting to hang out with guys. All I was, was a proverbial board upon which you bounced your thoughts, a board with the exact same interests as yourself."

"Yeah! I think you're right!" Markus replied, still so utterly oblivious. Keurin just wanted to pinch his cheeks; he was that adorable.

The dragon closed his eyes and crossed his arms, chuckling. "Well, that's settled, now what? You gonna find a bro to hang with?"

The wolf and dragon moved from the dining hall out to the front door to keep out of earshot of Anselm. Markus lit a smoke; Keurin did not.

"I dunno, man," Markus began, twin wisps of smoke drifting upwards from his nostrils. "Anselm'd never let it go, 'Oh you gonna guzzle balls while you're at it?' And that's not worth it, the bullying."

"Well if you don't want to 'guzzle balls,' why does what Anselm says bother you? Do what you want."

"You don't live with him, Keurin. I mean, he's nice and all, but if he wants to, he can completely cut you down even with a joke."

"I can't help you there except to tell you not to listen to him. You do what you want to do. Only you know what's best for you," Keurin looked to the east toward the town; beyond that was his hometown and everything he had left behind.

"I understand, thanks for listening."

Keurin murmured an mmhmm and continued looking away, toward everything and everyone he had left. It was silent for a long while until Keurin looked away, back down at the snow covered ground before him and noticed, from the corner of his eye, that Markus was staring at him.

Keurin furrowed his brow, "What?" "Would you wanna hang out or something? I could bring my Xbox and we could play Halo, or... something."

The dragon, too caring to hurt Markus' feelings by outright refusing, but not so caring as to let himself suffer through such a night, said, "I don't like Halo."

"Oh..." Markus looked away, down at the butt of his cigarette as it fizzled out on the wet snow.

Keurin looked at him, the way his head slunk down a little between his shoulders, his large, tufted ears folding backwards against his head like two white triangular spots against a sea of black, his rich, green eyes cast downwards, and suddenly felt horrible. He placed a hand on the wolf's shoulder and said "But how 'bout you bring it anyway, so you can play and I can watch? Maybe I'll join you if it seems fun enough, okay? And I'll cook us a nice dinner-"

"I'll bring some booze!" Markus interjected.

Keurin nodded, "And you bring some booze. That sound fun?"

Markus nodded, excited like the pup he was. His tail even wagged a little. "When?"

"How about tonight, since you're so eager?"

"That's great!"

"An hour after work? Just drop by." Keurin whipped out his phone and sent Markus a text message with his address.

"Awesome!" Markus replied as he flipped open his phone and looked, "I'll be there!"

The Icechest, astoundingly, did receive business that day - a fair amount, too: a large family of eight, a young couple, and a few single patrons who sipped their change away on cheap liquor.

Keurin's mind was elsewhere, and who could blame him? Having been a waiter since his first job at ViB during his senior year of high school, his body went through the motions unconsciously, allowing his mind to wander. It was close enough to Thanksgiving to justify some holiday dishes, but he didn't have enough time to roast an entire turkey. Instead he would make turkey ravioli. That would be nice.

While he was taking a break and downing his fourth mug of coffee - this time it was much better as he personally made it - about two hours before quitting time, Keurin had the sudden thought: Should I buy some condoms for tonight? He chuckled through his nose, almost spitting out his coffee and looked across the kitchen to Markus who was currently crafting a fresh steak into a work of art on a plate. The wolf smiled widely, still quite excited - almost overly eager - for tonight.

Keurin was pretty sure, by now, that the wolf was bisexual, maybe even gay, but either way very curious; suffering under a brother who had once appeared to Keurin a nice guy but who now seemed to be a domineering and cruel bastard of a twin who, although only being delivered a minute before Markus, had always held onto that accomplishment of being first and therefore the dominant one; and he had always dominated Markus, no doubt: made fun of him for doing anything he, Anselm, didn't want to do; forcing Markus to pick up chicks, not by physical threat but by mental, emasculating him before the women they brought home.

Anselm the alpha, Markus the beta, the second; more shy than Anselm, but desiring to dominate as well; wanting, for once, the final say; to be top, not bottom.

If Markus wasn't gay or bisexual, he was no doubt curious. That's what the booze was for: courage and an excuse for amnesia the next day.

Keurin, might as well be honest with himself, was not opposed to the idea of sleeping with Markus. The dragon was lonely, dear god was he lonely, physically and emotionally starved for attention. He expected nothing to come from this one night (he didn't really expect it to be satisfying, either), but having, even for a few hours, someone to hold and be held by would, perhaps, loosen his heart's hold on the past.

Maybe it would dislodge all of what had kept him from moving on. So, Keurin decided, yes, he would purchase a pack of condoms. He could use them himself if nothing else.

The first thing Keurin did when he got home, in the short hour before Markus was expected to arrive, was stash the box of rubbers in his nightstand upstairs. Then he prepared the ravioli and set it aside as he cooked the garlic cream sauce. It would go well with the turkey. He set it aside on an old pot warmer to keep it hot.

He then cleaned the living room, folding and putting his quilt aside on a recliner, and stashing the pen and pad completely out of sight. When he turned on the television, he was surprised that it crackled to life after nearly two years of disuse. It was a decent sized television - not huge, but there was no point in investing that much money in an accessory, something that wouldn't be used often. Although, if Markus visited every weekend...

Six o' clock came and there was no sign of Markus. Keurin chalked it up to the wolf simply being fashionably late, but when another hour passed, the dragon's thoughts turned a little more sour and he half thought Markus forgot, or had been making a joke on him. But, right as the dragon resolved to eat alone and, for the first time in two years, have a nice evening watching television, Markus arrived.

"I'm so sorry, Keurin," Markus said out of breath, lugging under one arm his game system, and, wrapped tightly around his other hand, a plastic grocery bag with the game disc box, controllers, and the booze.

Keurin was making a mental comment about the quality of the booze - good stuff, Jim Beam and Crown Royal - when he looked into the wolf's hazel eyes. They were utterly apologetic, almost on the verge of tears (that thought was quite strange), glassy and round; hurt.

"You okay, Markus?" Keurin received the game console from the wolf and carried it into the living room. Markus followed.

The wolf nodded, "Anselm was just a little bit of a complete asshole about you and me hanging out."

Keurin set the Xbox down onto the coffee table. "I always thought he liked me."

"It's not you, it's me. He's pissed at me, jealous that I'm hanging out with you and not going to a bar with him."

Keurin sighed a little, "If you want to forget about this and go..."

"No! Not at all! I need this, Keurin, or I'll go insane."

Keurin laughed softly and muttered, "You and me both," under his breath.

Dinner was a hit. Markus went back for seconds, then thirds. Keurin broke out a vintage bottle of his grandfather's wine. After dinner Markus, stuffed and slightly buzzed, dragged Keurin into the living room. Keurin set up the game console and then Markus set out to destroy his online rivals. Keurin sat opposite of the wolf on the couch, partly fearing the wolf would, like many of the people who play online shooters, fly into a rage.

The latter proved to not be true. Markus rarely lost and, even when he did - although he did get frustrated - he never flew into a blind fury. Even as he became more and more drunk, he retained a polite - albeit sarcastic as he became more inebriated - demeanor, always congratulating his betters on their win. As the hours dragged on - Keurin was unbelievably bored - Markus more and more hogged the alcohol. He had long since finished the bottle of wine and now took to downing the bourbon straight from the bottle.

During this time, Keurin ventured to scoot closer to the wolf, admiring him in his growing savagery, his utter manhood in all of its baseness, its essence. The wolf grew vulgar, hunched over and pounded away on the controller - still congratulating the winners yet gloating to himself when he won; his breath loud and steeped in the rich, earthy odor of nicotine and alcohol that drove Keurin crazy with desire; add to it the wolf's cheap cologne barely masking the smell of his sweat - not a rank, unwashed odor, but the smell of a hardworking man at the end of his day; the nicotine present there, too, making Keurin pant softly, wanting to bury his face in the wolf's chest.

Keurin's knee knocked against Markus'. The wolf, smashed out of his mind, threw his arm around the dragon, tucking Keurin against his broad chest as he continued playing. Keurin's heart pounded against his chest. The wolf smelled delicious, sounded fierce - his breathing ragged yet controlled, his voice deep and rough - male and animalistic, and Keurin rest his head against the wolf's chest.

"You havin' fun? Am I-am I doing good?" Markus asked, slurring a little.

Keurin nodded, his cheek rubbing against Markus' chest. "Very good, I'm impressed by you." He put an arm around Markus' waist, drawing his legs up onto the couch, practically snuggling against the drunk wolf who, even in his inebriated state, seemed not to mind especially from the way he brought a hand up to run his fingers through Keurin's hair.

"Oh... Markus..." Keurin squeezed against the wolf just a little, and that was all it took.

Markus suddenly dropped his controller - his player dying a glorious death - and shoved Keurin off of him. The dragon looked up in fear, but that look quickly turned to curiosity as Markus gazed back at him with a mixture of ignorance and desire. The wolf climbed onto the couch, over Keurin and fell onto him. His mouth went right for Keurin's neck, kissing and biting and licking, eliciting all manner of curses and moans from the dragon. His hands held Keurin's wrists down, keeping the dragon submissive as the wolf ground his crotch against the dragon's own. Keurin arched his back upwards, his eyes flying open as Markus bit down on Keurin's neck again, drawing blood and hurting like hell, but hurting in such a way as to drive Keurin into the peak of his lust and desire, crying out for the wolf who grunted and cursed in his rough, deep voice.

The wolf could not get out of his clothes fast enough, and he actually ripped Keurin's shirt down one of the side's stitches as he strove to finally find out for sure what he had, deep down, known all along. He wanted the dragon as much as the dragon wanted him. Hetero or homo, straight or gay; Markus, for once, dominated.

No less than eighteen guys ages twelve to thirty two, and two sisters aged eighteen and twenty heard the ruckus through Markus' headset. Some cursed, some laughed, and a few even joined in their own way.

Markus was loud, rough, and extremely vulgar. It only fueled the fires of Keurin's desire as they crashed rhythmically against the couch, the pack of rubbers Keurin had bought earlier all but forgotten. The wolf was awkward but more than made up for it as he became more and more confident and therefore skilled; he continued to ravage Keurin, the dragon knowing he'd be sore for a week and wanting it, needing it. The empty wine bottle somehow crashed against the far wall. The fire in the hearth cast hunched shadows on the ceiling.

Markus was first, then, feeling it, Keurin was second. The wolf slipped out of Keurin with a wet squelch. He drew Keurin into his arms, appearing sober and lucid, but Keurin knew otherwise. He cupped Keurin and his hand came away sticky. He blushed. His lips met the dragon's and they kissed sloppily for the next half hour. The wolf was an amazing kisser; Keurin was ready to go again after that make out session, but the wolf, gathered Keurin up into his arms, and, dripping a little even now, carried him up to the bedroom.

Keurin tasted Markus then (Markus, even in his drunken state, could admit that Keurin gave great head), and afterwards, both of them fell asleep.

1. Wednesday, November 21st, 20XX

_ _

Keurin was the first to wake, and that was probably for the best. Markus lay sprawled out on the bed as naked as the day he came into the world, snoring loudly and reeking of expensive booze and great sex. Keurin kissed his cheek and covered him with the spare quilt he had laid out on the bed last night just in case.

The dragon ventured downstairs to survey the damage. The late morning sun filtered in through the gently swaying shutter blinds over the large windows in the living room. The bottle of bourbon lay empty on the floor. The wine bottle lay in pieces next to the front door. Keurin tossed the former into the trash bin and carefully swept up the latter. When that was finished, he neatly folded Markus' clothing and set it on the couch; the dragon's own shirt was ruined, torn beyond repair, so he set it on the kitchen counter to be made into a wash rag.

After that he washed and dried the dishes, remembering with a chuckle how Markus had ravenously enjoyed dinner. All of the ravioli was gone, devoured by the pair by candlelight, the wolf just so adorably oblivious that he did not realize how overtly romantic dinner had been. The soft candlelight had lit Markus' face and, looking back and thinking about it, Keurin paused as he considered how handsome Markus really was, even as he stuffed his face and guzzled the wine.

Keurin shut off the television - it and the Xbox had been running all night, having been forgotten in lieu of more fun activities like an old toy after its owner has just received a shiny new one... or in this case a hot, throbbing one - after Keurin had cleaned up Markus' things, he returned to the bedroom. As he stood in the doorway, leaning against it with arms and legs crossed, he pondered the future of his relationship with Markus. He was fairly certain that, without booze to bolster his desires (as well as force him to accept those desires), the wolf would return to his feigned, strict heterosexuality, fearing the torment and shame his brother would dump upon him; such agony that he would forsake who he truly was for whom he thought he was expected to be. After all, family would always be there (in this case if their implied demands were met and their standards kept) but how could Markus know if things would work out between he and Keurin - the dragon himself being unsure - why take that chance? Anselm would always be his brother; a relationship with Keurin might fail, making Markus lose his family and his relationship with Keurin - through no fault of either; and if Markus did pursue a relationship with Keurin and lose his brother's respect in the process there would always be that resentment, that secret standard unspoken, but held always in Markus' heart and mind, the one who risked it all, that said "I gave up everything for you, make it worth it for me; validate my sacrifice, it all depends on you, Keurin, I trust you and I actually really do love you, but when it all comes down to it, this was all your fault. I lost my family for you."

And who would risk that? Would Markus risk that? Keurin liked the guy a lot, not quite to the point of love just yet, but even so Keurin would not instantly marry into Markus' life even if Markus were to wake up this very moment and smile and beckon Keurin into a kiss; no, things would have to change: Markus would have to find out once and for all which team he played for: the boys or the girls and finally admit it to himself. Was this a onetime thing? An unbearable curiosity finally fulfilled: Markus wanting to know the feeling of another man - the taste? Or was he, indeed, just a guy obviously confused, but straight who was terrible at holding his alcohol and who fell prey to his lust and decided to lay whoever was nearby, in this case Keurin?

Or was the wolf really gay?

Honestly, Keurin hoped it was the latter. He really did like the guy, after all.

Markus stirred but did not wake. He turned on his side, his face completely peaceful under gentle slumber. He pawed and groped for the quilt and, touching Keurin's pillow, he drew it to his chest and seemed to cuddle with it. Keurin's heart melted at that, a silly grin spreading across his snout. He crept over, gently sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to caress Markus' cheek. The wolf groaned a little, seemed to enjoy it, and fell silent again, his soft snoring like a gentle purr. Keurin leaned over and kissed the corner of the wolf's mouth.

Keurin then showered. The hot water relaxed him and helped him push through the painful process of scrubbing last night's remnants out of his fur. He wondered if Markus would even remember last night. Keurin always remembered what he did while he was drunk, but he had never been that drunk: definitely not as drunk as Markus was last night. The wolf had gotten absolutely plastered, slept with Keurin, and now he was lying bare assed in the dragon's bed; if he tried to explain and rationalize that away or pretend it didn't mean anything, then he was so far in denial that it was sad.

"If nothing else, at least," Keurin began as he shampooed his hair, "It'll force him to reevaluate what he likes."

The dragon stepped out into his bedroom, drying his hair with a towel. The rest of him he had dried already and his fur glowed in the morning light, clean and silky. It was then that Markus woke, sitting upright suddenly as if waking from a nightmare. His eyes darted around, his vision in a haze, and he blinked a few times. Keurin stood - finding himself somewhat afraid now that the moment had reached its crisis and so many things could go very wrong - and watched Markus intently.

When the wolf's vision cleared, his eyes first surveyed his surroundings - it wasn't his bedroom, but that was fine; he had woken up in strange, unfamiliar bedrooms plenty of times before. Whose was this? Markus blinked again and his eyes settled on Keurin, as naked as Markus himself was.

Wait, naked?

"Keu...rin?"

"Good morning, you sleep well?" the dragon arched his back a little and stretched.

Markus gathered up the quilt and covered himself, feeling no guilt or shame at being seen naked by the dragon yet needing to cover himself anyway. His eyes drew over the dragon's body, every inch, as the fucking guy stood there drying his hair, grinning a little; arrogant; hip cocked to the side, and speaking of cock-...

"No!"

The dragon wasn't surprised by the wolf's outburst but he was deeply hurt by his denial, even now, but that was to be expected. Keurin sauntered over to the bed, walking seductively in some feeble attempt to remind Markus of how much he had enjoyed the dragon last night, thinking it would actually change the wolf's mind yet knowing it wouldn't. He sat opposite of Markus and did not turn to face him.

In the deep brown curls of Keurin's still damp hair, the zigzag of lavender and white where the two colors of his fur met, the wolf could see flashbacks of last night. He had slept with Keurin, loved it then and even now, sober and lucid with no alcohol to blame, he yearned for the dragon. His loins stirred, his heart grew warm and pounded against his ribcage. He fidgeted nervously, yelping as the dragon began to speak.

"I won't tell anyone," Keurin said, his shoulders beginning to rise and fall, his growing more and more upset as he continued to speak. "Won't tell Anselm, Felix, or anyone at all. Will pretend like it never happened; won't ever speak of it; you were drunk, didn't know what you were doing, and so on," Keurin whipped his hand back and forth to wipe the words from the air like the bullshit they were - the wolf had been drunk but he still wanted it, even now, somewhere deep within the recesses of his brain, why else would he have covered himself? All the alcohol did was bring these desires to the forefront of his mind and give him courage to act upon them.

"But," Keurin began after a moment of silence, "it did happen, Markus. I only tell you that so you can think about what it means to you, because it meant something to me."

"N-nothing happened," Markus insisted, shaking a little, so utterly cliché that Keurin chuckled bitterly.

"It did," Keurin found that final bite mark on his neck, still pink and sore. His hand caressed it softly. He still did not look at Markus, did not want to grace the wolf with seeing his tears. "You can lie to Anselm, Felix, your future female flings, you can even try to lie to me, but don't fuckin' lie to yourself. That's just pathetic.

"Like I said, I knew nothing'd come of this; I wanted it to be something, if I can finally be honest with both you and myself, but in the end I knew it wouldn't develop into anything. Go shower. Your clothes are on the dresser.

"Then get out."

"Keurin-" Markus began.

"Get outta my fuckin' house!"

_ _

Once Markus had left, Keurin having placed his unopened bottle of booze and other belongings into a few plastic bags, Keurin got dressed. He felt ashamed, fooled, and completely stupid. He started a fire in the fireplace but for some reason it just would not warm the room. Keurin stood and looked at the hearth, marble and ice cold. He leaned into it and sobbed.

"Deep down I guess I always knew we wouldn't end up together," he hiccupped, "But god damn if I didn't know it would hurt this bad!"

Neither Keurin nor Markus went into work that day. Keurin moped around the house, eyes red and raw from the tears shed for someone he didn't even love but wanted, longed for, needed; as if being apart from him was a physical pain as real as the bite mark on his neck that still painfully reminded him of last night. Keurin washed everything Markus had so much as touched: the pillowcases, sheets, quilt, the comforter, all of the towels, washrags, yesterday's outfit (he changed his mind about turning his ruined shirt into a washrag and instead just threw it out); he tossed out the bar of soap from the upstairs shower and scrubbed the dishes a second time.

Late in the afternoon, the calls started to come in. Felix first, irritated that both Keurin and the wolf weren't at work today. Keurin calmly explained he wasn't feeling well (his voice raspy from an entire morning of crying was convincing, but Keurin was not lying anyway: he felt like absolute shit) and hung up.

Around six in the evening, Anselm called. He was openly hostile, his authority and superiority over his brother having been undermined by the dragon, a faggot no less!

"Where the fuck is Markus, Keurin?"

"I don't know. He left this morning."

"What the fuck did you and him do that made him stay out all night?"

"Halo."

"Halo! You just sat up all night playing Halo with one hand and fiddling with his balls with the other!"

"Oh, yep, you got me. Got it all figured out."

"Fuck you! Now he's been gone all day, didn't come into work, hasn't called or texted! I'm worried-"

"Worried!" Keurin thundered loud enough to make Anselm jerk his phone away from his ear. "Don't mistake your jealousy and your being so goddamn nosy for worry! Go out there and look for the bastard if you're so worried! Don't sit there and run your fuckin' mouth off at me on things about which you have no fuckin' clue! Go find him, you're his brother!

"I am nothing to him," Keurin said and hung up, slammed his fist down on the kitchen counter, and screamed in rage and agony. It was all too familiar, still too soon. The huskywolf's mother had done the exact same thing as Anselm: calling, raging, threatening, cursing Keurin over her son; not worried, not even a bit, but completely angry and needing someone to blame.

"Markus... I shoulda known by the name."

But Keurin, you write all the time... No, I understand it's your job and you've supported us with it... But it's been years_, I can't do this anymore._

_ I do this for you! I write for you! All of my life I've lived for you, these past four years - you're giving up on it?_

_ No, Keurin, it feels like you just work constantly! If you aren't shut up in your office pumping out pages you throw away anyway, you're gone to conferences or department meetings! The only time I see you is when I'm woken up in the middle of the night to see you flop into bed, passing out before your head even hits the pillow! It's like you and I aren't even together anymore!_

_ What are you saying?_

_ I've already said it. I love you, Keurin-_

_ I love_ you, Marc!

_ But enough is enough, I'm sorry._

_ _

"Wow, I never knew the exact details of the breakup," said the voice on the phone.

"Yeah... but does that mean you've talked to him since then?" Keurin asked, slowly pacing around the living room, one arm curved around his gut, his hand cradling the elbow of his other arm which held the receiver up to his ear. "Alicia?"

"Yes, Keurin, we have. The last time we saw him was..." her voice suddenly cut off as if she realized she had said too much... and she had.

"Was?"

"Yesterday. He's back in town."

"Oh," Keurin said, emptily. His apathy did not surprise him. "How is he doing?"

"Why don't you give him a call?"

"Why should I put forth the effort with him when he wasn't willing to put forth the effort with me?" Keurin snapped. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Sorry, Alicia. Just tell me how he is. Please."

"The fact that you want to know how he is only serves as proof that you still care, if you'd only see it that way. He's fine. Working for his stepdad. It's good that Marc finally has someone who can keep his stupid mother under control."

"So he's happy?"

"About his family? He's as content as can be, yes. About breaking up with you? It still hurts him, too. Sure he gave up too easily at the end there and acted immaturely, but he still loves you. Just like you, even though you'll say otherwise, still love him deep down, somewhere."

"Yeah, you think so?"

"If you don't love him that way anymore, that's one thing, but don't act like you don't wish you were still his friend."

"Yeah, sure, talk to you later."

Keurin hung up, more upset now than he was when he phoned Alicia. Of course it would turn back to Marc; she always turned things to Marc - he should have known seeking comfort from her would end that way. She was a great girl, but she was hung up on the boy's past even more than they, themselves, were.

But, then, why did he call her? An unconscious desire to feel guilty and therefore be punished; a need to be reminded of all the things at which he had failed?

The phone rang, again. Keurin snatched it up, assuming it was Anselm who would no doubt be drunk again with another slew of threats as empty as the bottle he held by the slender neck between his thumb and middle finger, a half burnt cigarette just above, tucked into the curve of the webbing between his first two fingers; yellow phlegm flying, spattering onto the mouthpiece of the receiver that was stained brown by cigarette smoke - one of those older phones, no doubt, the kind with the spiraled cord that was tangled or kinked up in a few places and that hung heavily, mashed together into a lumpy disaster like a tumor.

But it wasn't Anselm.

"Keurin?"

"...Markus?"

"...Yeah, it's me."

"You dumbass, where the fuck are you?" "I hit up a shitty bed and breakfast just outside of town."

"I told you I wouldn't tell anyone what happened! You didn't have to skip town, I'm not that bad of a person to wake up to, holy shit."

"It's not like that!" Markus screamed. "How would you feel? You wake up hung over in someone else's bed, not a chick's bed like you're used to, but a guy's bed, and the guy is standing there, naked as shit before you, telling you something happened last night and that you're a faggot like he is, and you can't deny it - although you want to so bad - can't deny it not only because you can remember it, but also because you remember loving it and even now, when you're sober you want it, but don't want it, can't want it because of your brother or parents or whoever the fuck! The ridicule and the torment you have waiting for you because of a mistake!"

"A mistake?"

"Yes, that's what this was, Keurin. Good or bad, fun or not, it was a mistake. It shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have put myself in such a situation."

"Yeah, I think we can agree on that. It was a mistake for me to think you'd admit to yourself the truth - for me to let you fuck me senseless thinking I was helping you and helping myself. It was a stupid mistake for me to think that not only would you like it, but you'd also take me up in your arms and be with me and help me get over my demons, just as I'd help you get over yours.

"Was a mistake to think you'd be different."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize to me. Just get home to your stupid ass brother before he comes over here and kicks my ass. I've already got your story for you: you brought a girl over that you met on the way to my house. I wouldn't let you and her fuck at my house, so you both left for the B&B; you fucked her, and have been sleeping it off."

"Keurin..."

"You get to keep your façade with everyone. Just remember it won't make you truly happy to have to pretend to be someone you aren't. I did it for eighteen years and it nearly killed me."

"Keurin, I..."

"Just come home, Markus, and we'll never speak of this again, not only for your sake, but for mine as well."

Later that evening, Markus did indeed come home. By then Anselm had sobered up just enough to welcome him home, hear his story, kick his ass for leaving, and then kick his ass again for having such an adventure for tail.

Markus had then forced Anselm to call Keurin and apologize for the threats... and for being an asshole in general.

Things returned much to normal after that, as normal as possible. Keurin and Markus talked less. The dragon could see in the wolf's eyes a silent longing, a plea for another chance, another night of secret sex, but the wolf, himself, never asked. He knew better; Keurin would refuse. It wasn't up for discussion.

Keurin still liked the guy... but simultaneously, he did not. He saw the wolf's desire in his eyes, but also, beneath that, he saw the look that the wolf had given him upon waking up that morning: that look of utter, pathetic denial, a cruel plea of "give me what I want, what I need, and let's be done with it. I won't give you what you want, but please give me what I need. I need you, in darkness."

No, Keurin would silently reply, I will not.

December

_ _

The love of your life is always the one person who sought you in the end. Never forget that.

- Anonymous

_ _

As autumn progressed into winter (although 'round here, you could never tell. It snowed all the time, and when it didn't snow, it was cold, and when it wasn't cold... well, it was cold all the time), the already grey, dreary days grew all the more dreary. It was as though time stopped at that point during sunrise where the world has not yet entered fully into light, remained that way until four in the afternoon, and then the town would slink back into total darkness in less than half an hour.

The Icechest received a considerable amount of business, but even with people coming and going all hours of the day, it was still nowhere near satisfactory. If this downtime kept up, the Icechest might just make it this year, but by next it would be forced to close permanently.

In spite of all this, Keurin was having a pleasant Christmas season. The day after Thanksgiving, Black Friday, he had gone out and gotten a Christmas tree - a real one. It sat to the left of the fireplace in his cabin, in front of the television that he unconsciously hated now, and the tree glowed with strung lights, gold and silver streamers, and a multitude of colorful, real glass ornaments. Atop the tree sat a large star, with golden tassels hanging from each of the five points, which cycled through every color of the rainbow. A rich, earthy, scent of pine and thick, spicy sap was constantly present all throughout the house, especially when the nearby fireplace warmed the tree.

Keurin got his Christmas shopping out of the way as well. He finally upgraded his cell phone - that was an early gift to himself, being able to keep his old phone's number was even better. The rest of the gifts were necessities: a few pairs of pajama pants, some boxers, shirts, a new hoodie, a pot and pan cookware set, candy (the dragon had quite the sweet tooth!), and a new quilt. He mailed Alicia and Theresa a Christmas card, his mother and grandmother too, and hell, even his father.

A gentle fire burned constantly in the fireplace - the weather had turned foul at the beginning of the month and showed no signs of stopping; the temperature fell well below zero every night, and never got above freezing during the day.

Sunday, December 23rd, 20XX

_ _

"Hello?" Keurin asked, picking up his cell phone as soon as he had put it down.

"Damn, man, who have you been talking to all morning?"

"A... Aderrian?" Keurin asked, completely dumbfounded by the random phone call.

"The one and the same!"

"I, I uh, I've been on the phone with my mom all morning, she's trying to get me to come home for Christmas, but I can't."

"Ahh, I see, too busy with work or teaching? You're not living at home anymore?"

"Not exactly... How are you? It's been much too long."

"A couple of years at least, I'll say! I'm pretty good; just arrived in Upper Portdam after the last cruise of the season. Amazing that people want to spend most of their holiday on a damn ship. How... are things with you and Marc?"

Keurin hiccupped and swallowed hard, fearing where this was going. "Marc and I, uh, aren't together anymore. That's why I can't go home; Mom'll just try and push us together and it ain't gonna happen."

"Oh, wow... shit, I'm really sorry, Keurin. I didn't know," the orca lifeguard said, truly apologetic. "Are... are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah it happened years ago, right after the last time you and I talked. I'm fine now."

"You don't sound fine, but I know you're getting there. You'll be all right, Keurin."

Keurin nodded and said nothing, forgetting the orca could not see him. "So, uh, you're going home to family?"

"Ah... no, not exactly. To be honest I was going to drop by if that was cool with you, but seeing as how you're not exactly living in Upper Portdam anymore... you see the problem," Aderrian chuckled. "Looks like it's a hotel room for me!"

"You've got nowhere to go?"

"Parents are dead, kiddo. Sister's in Europe. Don't worry about it, though, okay?"

"No one should be alone on Christmas..." As Keurin spoke these next few words, his brain, heart, and all of his better judgment screamed for him not to: "Why don't you and I spend Christmas together?"

"Would love to, but..."

"Marc? He isn't in my life anymore. It's none of his business who I hang out with."

"Don't you still love him?" "Of course! Part of me always will, but he left me, Aderrian. I'm not asking you to date me, silly. I'm just giving you the option to not spend Christmas in a hotel, alone."

Aderrian was silent for a moment. Then, in a way that let Keurin know he was grinning, said, "When you put it that way, okay!"

"When can I expect you? Will you be driving?"

"I don't have a car, bud. I'll be taking the bus, so sometime tonight, perhaps?"

"Oh jeez, you won't get here until tomorrow if you take the bus: the only one that runs here from Upper Portdam takes this really stupid roundabout route. Look: you head to my house, I'll call my mom and let her know you're coming; I'll drive and come pick you up."

"You seriously don't mind?"

"Not at all, its two hours there and back on the highway now that the traffic has died down since everyone is either gone to visit family or is done with their Christmas shopping. That's a lot shorter than the half a day it'd take you by bus."

"All right, you got a point, there," Aderrian replied as he hailed a taxi. "I'm about to head to your house, so I'll see you in a few hours, 'kay?"

"Okay! I'll call my mom back in just a sec and let her know, and then I'll be right out the door. See you later."

"Later, Keurin."

The dragon hung up, and then dialed his mother.

"Keurin?" she began, "Have a change of heart about coming to see your poor, dear mother?"

"Mom..."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. What do you need, baby?"

"A friend of mine just got to town and I told him to head to the house so he can wait there while I drive by to pick him up."

"Oh? Who is it?" "You remember when... when we went on the cruise after we graduated? I met a lifeguard there named Aderrian, he's a real cool guy. We hit it off instantly, became great friends. He's... I don't know what to call it, on shore leave? Or something like that, he's off duty for the rest of the year because the cruise ships have stopped running for Christmas, so he wanted to drop by and see how me and - how I was doing."

"I getcha. So you're going to bring him back with you to the cabin for Christmas. What about Marc?"

Keurin sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead with the tips of his fingers, "Mom, don't start, please."

"Okay, okay, sorry baby. I'm just saying-"

"Mom, look, just let Aderrian in when he comes by, okay? Please?"

"All right, all right, you win. When can I expect you?"

"In a few hours. I'm driving."

"Driving! Go slow and watch out for crazy asshole drivers, okay?"

"I will, see you in a few hours."

"Love you."

"I love you too, mom."

The drive to Upper Portdam was uneventful. Keurin spent it either in silence or singing along to the Christmas music playing from nearly every radio station. There were a fair amount of others on the road, but never enough to cause concern or even any traffic. After the first hour Keurin stopped at a gas station to take a piss and grab a bag of chips and a soda, as well as gas up his car. He stood, hand on his hip as he waited for the pump to fill his tank, taking a long swig of his soda - ginger ale, his favorite! - and watched the cars as they drifted along through another dreary day. It was considerably warmer down here in the piedmont as he neared Upper Portdam than it was back up in the mountains, but it was still chilly nonetheless. The sky was also clearer, the blue that had been so rare back in Western Portdam actually breaking through the grey clouds; it was a strange sight for Keurin, at first. Even on sunny days back at the cabin, the sky was always grey or white, never blue.

Keurin took in a deep breath: gasoline. He always associated the smell with college when he had to fill up his car at least once a week to keep up with his commuting to campus. Oh god, college... those days were the greatest, even though, actually living them, they were hell. It was funny how things worked like that. Even times of pain were kind of like that: sure it hurt, but if there wasn't any good in your life, then there wouldn't be any bad. You couldn't have one without the other. In a way that made it a beautiful hurt.

The pump nozzle clicked, automatically stopping the flow of gas as the tank filled up. Snapped out of his daydreaming, Keurin tapped it a few times to get the last few drops, then flipped close the gas tank cover and drove off.

The closer Keurin got to Upper Portdam, the warmer it got. Soon it felt like a pleasant autumn's day; Upper Portdam hardly ever got extremely cold for winter, as the town was so close to the ocean and the warm tropical winds that blew over the area stopped as they reached the foothills, never quite having enough momentum to reach Western Portdam over the mountains.

By the time Keurin reached his hometown it was around dinner time. The sun hung so lazily over the horizon; the ocean like oil on fire, silky and beautiful; a few gulls flying in a few clusters, lit orange by the sun. The waves threw themselves upon the beach and rolled backwards into the sea leaving feathery dollops of foam and strips of seaweed like black and green streamers tossed to the ground. The air had a wonderful saltiness to it, something Keurin had forgotten, and the wind always seemed to be blowing gently. A few palm trees were still alive in spite of the chill in the air and swayed always, seeming to wave to Keurin as he drove by. He did so with the window down and the air whipping by fluttered through his shaggy mat of curly brown hair. If he had looked in the mirror, he would have seen his eyes glistening in the evening sun.

Fifteen minutes later he arrived home. It was the first time in at least three years, maybe longer (it had been so long, he had honestly forgotten). He unconsciously looked down the road for the bus Marc used to ride over to Keurin's house, but didn't notice what he was doing (he didn't notice he had driven past Marc's neighborhood, either). As he strolled up to the house, Keurin's mother and the orca came out to meet him. The former rushed out and gathered him up into her arms - you were never too old to get a hug from your own mother - and the latter laughed as Keurin playfully pushed his mother off of him.

"Good lord," Keurin's mother began, turning his face with her hands to get a good look at him, "When are you gonna cut that hair?!"

"Mom!" Keurin said, flushing a little. "You sound just like grammaw!"

His mother laughed, then became serious. "Why don't you and Aderrian just stay here for Christmas?" Keurin looked away, flushing deeper, his face turning red in anger and embarrassment. He knew she would try this. "Mom... please, don't make it sound like I don't wanna spend time with you, it's just..."

"Marc's here? You do realize you and he can live in the same town, right? I mean it's not like-"

"I think what he's trying to say, Miss Nerim," Aderrian began, stepping forward and touching her shoulder, "Is that he doesn't want to burden you with having to take care of both of us on Christmas, when you're supposed to be relaxing... There'll be dinners to cook, gifts to wrap - not to mention going out and shopping for both of us... and he doesn't want you to feel obligated when he already has everything prepared back at his house..."

Keurin looked at the orca as if he were the greatest person ever, staring at him wide eyed and grinning. His mother sighed, conceding defeat even though she recognized the orca's words for the crock they were; what she'd said was true, she knew it: Keurin didn't want to be here because of Marc. Nevertheless, she kissed her son's forehead and then sent him and the orca on their way, waving until they were out of sight and standing in the driveway long after that.

"So..." Keurin began as they left Upper Portdam, "Thanks for that, back there."

"No problem, dear, I realize how hard and annoying it can be to have to deal with everyone telling you things you don't want to hear. Plus, it's Christmastime, there's no room for bad feelings, only good, right?"

Keurin nodded, glad the orca understood.

"Your mom's a riot, by the way. First thing - first thing­ she asked me when I arrived was if you and I were dating, or had dated, or had even had sex!"

"Yeah," Keurin replied, drawing out the word in a sigh, "she's like that. She sees me-"

"As her little baby boy... Yeah that's what she told me as I stared at her, mouth agape. We had a nice laugh. Then came the questions about, uh, Marc."

"Holy shit is he the center of everyone's life except mine?" Keurin said through bared teeth, slapping the steering wheel with a closed fist. "No one will shut up about the damn guy."

Aderrian raised his hands, "Whoa now, she just wanted to know what happened between you and him."

"I've told her."

"Yeah but she seemed to think maybe it... wasn't the truth, and that you might have told one of your friends the real story."

Keurin shook his head. "Nope. He decided it wasn't worth dealing with my writing and teaching. Funny story, then, 'cause after we split up the writing dried up and I stopped teaching... Look can we not talk about him?"

"Of course, sweetie."

"This holiday is about you and me, and for you and me."

Aderrian smiled, clasping Keurin's shoulder, "You bet that still adorable and sexy ass of yours it is!" he exclaimed, being completely playful, but it still made the dragon blush. He gave a quick smile to Aderrian.

The drive back to Western Portdam was considerably faster, not because Keurin drove faster, or somehow the road was magically shorter on the way back, but just having company made it seem quick. They stopped at the same gas station Keurin had hit going the opposite way to do their business and top off the gas tank, and the rest of the way to Western Portdam was spent singing along with the radio.

Aderrian was a wonderful singer with a rich, beautifully deep voice that resonated on the verge of operatic, but not so extravagant that he couldn't step in and out of a nice "pop" voice for those quicker songs. Keurin was utterly dumbstruck by the orca's voice, enrapt, and after a whopping three seconds of the first song Aderrian sang, Keurin fell completely silent, unable to bring himself to stain the air with his own voice when such a beautiful singer was in his presence. After a while, Keurin had to force himself to shut off the music and ask the orca about where he got that voice and jokingly asked where he, Keurin, could get one as well.

The orca laughed, even that was musical, "When I was younger, before I got a job as a lifeguard, obviously, I used to sing in choir at church as a kid, then at college. I've been singing since I was very young."

"It's very beautiful," Keurin said, "your voice."

Aderrian tipped his head and smiled, "Why thank you, dear. Do you like to sing? You kinda stopped there right when we started."

"I usually do... but your voice is so much more beautiful; mine's pretty terrible," Keurin laughed. "I usually just sing by myself or around people I know won't make fun of me."

"Don't be silly, I wouldn't make fun of you and I'd be glad to sing along with you!"

The dragon smiled and nodded, and after that they sang all of the way home.

When they arrived, Keurin started a fire and made he and Aderrian a few sandwiches while the orca unpacked. As they sat on the couch in the living room, feet kicked up, warming by the fire, Keurin asked:

"How's work been treating you? Anything exciting? Any celebrities?"

Aderrian laughed, "No to both... Being a lifeguard, contrary to what you'd think, is very boring on a cruise ship. No one actually... swims! They just laze around on inflatable rafts or they sit in the hot tub or on the fuckin' lounge chairs texting away on their phones! If it weren't for regulations and laws, I wouldn't even have to sit there and babysit them!" he laughed. "Sometimes I beg Carrie, she's another lifeguard, of course, to switch with her so I can watch the kids. They're the ones who like to swim and get crazy, even though their pool is only five feet deep, you know, so they can't get too crazy, but they're a lot more fun to watch than their boring parents. But hey, it is free money just for being bored every day," he chuckled again.

Keurin nodded and smiled, remembering when he and he-who-shall-not-be-named were on the very same cruise and how they, too, had been bored with the adult's pool and had ventured to the kiddie pool and met the orca for the very first time; he must have switched with Carrie that day. I guess a life of leisure isn't always fun if one actually values and enjoys excitement, Keurin thought.

"How 'bout you? You mentioned you worked at the Icechest?"

"It's okay, really slow nowadays. No one wants to ski anymore. They all wanna go to the beach or somewhere warm or..."

"On cruises?"

Keurin shrugged and smiled sheepishly, stuffing the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth to keep from having to answer.

Once he and Aderrian were finished eating, Keurin took their plates. They went upstairs and brushed their teeth.

"I guess I'm gonna turn in," Aderrian said, yawning. He looked over the banister down at the couch, then back at Keurin, and blinked once, slowly, his blue eyes bright even though the bedroom light was off up here.

Keurin looked down at the couch, too, then back up at the orca and shook his head. "The couch is a terrible thing to sleep on, trust me," Keurin rubbed his neck. "Why don't you sleep up here in my bed, and I'll sleep on the couch?"

The orca furrowed his brow, "No, now that doesn't make sense, why should you wake up with a strained neck while I sleep comfortably in your own bed?"

"'Cause you're the guest?"

"Oh come here you," Aderrian said, growling a little as he grabbed Keurin from around the waist and dragged him over to the bed. "Lay."

Keurin did so, laughing.

"There, good," Aderrian flopped onto the bed next to him. "Better?"

The dragon laughed, "Better!"

"Good!" Aderrian said, pretending to be angry. He couldn't keep up the act, and laughed, drawing the quilt up over he and Keurin.

Keurin lay, looking at him from his side of the bed, "Do... you think we could...?" The orca rolled his eyes playfully and drew Keurin close.

"Gotta snuggle up when times are dire and it's really cold outside," Keurin said, raising a finger as if he was explaining something complicated, like a teacher.

"Oh shut up, you just wanted to cuddle with me," Aderrian replied, wrapping his arms around the dragon, squeezing him.

Keurin let out a very soft giggle and said aloud what he thought he was saying mentally, "Friends can snuggle..."

Aderrian smiled, letting out a soft chuckle at hearing Keurin's justification.

"Oh, I - uh, I..."

"Good night, Keurin," Aderrian said with a grin, and that was the last of it.

Monday, December 24th, 20XX

_ _

Christmas Eve morning saw Keurin and Aderrian waking up in much of the same position as when they had fallen asleep. The orca had held Keurin close all night long. Nothing had happened between them; Keurin didn't really want anything to happen: he respected the orca too much; they were too close of friends to do anything without it meaning something. Markus had been... different.

Keurin woke around seven, still in the lifeguard's embrace. Thinking he was up first, Keurin edged away from Aderrian only to be tugged backwards against the larger male.

"Mornin'," Aderrian said softly into Keurin's ear and smiled, releasing him.

"Good morning... I didn't wake you, did I?" the dragon asked, sitting up in the bed.

Aderrian shook his head and sat up as well. "Nah, I always wake early; I've been awake for about an hour or so. You looked so peaceful that I didn't wanna wake ya by getting up."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that - asking that last night," Keurin flushed again.

The orca smiled, "You're so silly, you know that? If I didn't want to have you against me all night long, I wouldn't have kept you there."

Keurin nodded, "Makes sense..."

"Anyway! Come on, we gotta get up, get dressed. We got things to do today."

"Oh?" "Yeah, my mom used to drive me and my sister all the way up here just to see the Christmas lights every year 'til my sister went to Europe and I went to college. It's been... oh, at least twelve years; yeah, twelve years. I was twenty, then. Thought it might be fun if you and I went tonight. Today though, you can take me to see the other sights.

"Of course, that's only if you want to."

"Of course I do!" Keurin clapped his hands, "That sounds great! I've always wanted to go see the lights but just haven't ever gotten around to it; this'll be fun!"

"Right," Aderrian said, shepherding Keurin into the bathroom, "So you take a shower, I'll make the bed and shower after!"

Keurin nodded eagerly and hopped into the shower. He was in and out quickly and brushed his teeth, trimmed his beard, and dried his hair while Aderrian showered.

When Aderrian finished showering, he stepped out and sat on the toilet, towel-drying himself.

"What can I make you for breakfast?" Keurin asked as he brushed his hair, turning to look at the orca.

"I was thinking I could treat you to breakfast at that resort you work at, the Icechest."

The dragon nodded as he fought with a particularly vicious hair tangle, his eyes gushing tears as he yanked it out. "Yeah, the Icechest has some pretty amazing breakfast and it's chea - god damn how do I have so many tangles!"

The orca chuckled and stepped behind Keurin, taking the brush and combing the dragon's hair for him, gently and meticulously undoing any tangles he came across.

"If you just jerk the tangles out, of course it's gonna hurt, silly," the orca said. He placed his hands on the dragon's shoulders and leaned to one side, looking at Keurin in the mirror. "You know what'd fix that, though, don't ya?" The dragon rolled his eyes, "I'm not cutting my damn hair."

"Was worth a shot! Honestly you look fine... but teasing you is just too much fun to pass up," Aderrian winked.

Keurin shrugged his hands off and huffed playfully, "You and my mom, je-eee-ez! Worrying about someone else's hair all the time!"

"Well I don't have any, so forgive me for being jealous!" Aderrian ruffled the dragon's scruff.

After the pair got dressed, they headed to the Icechest, electing to take Keurin's car in lieu of the dragon's normal, preferred means of transportation: walking. The morning was pleasantly cool but both knew that wouldn't last long and, especially if they went shopping and had things to carry, they'd enjoy a nice, warm car to drive home in later that night after seeing the Christmas lights. Not having to heave any heavy boxes was a bonus, too.

Anselm and Markus always worked on Christmas, and, as if on cue, as soon as the dragon and orca drove up, the brothers quickly stepped back inside, tossing their smokes onto the ground. Markus gave a long look toward Keurin - still silently pleading for another night - and then, as if he had only just noticed the large orca, Markus gasped and stumbled quickly after his brother.

They must work on Christmas as an excuse to not actually spend any quality time together, Keurin thought. He looked at Aderrian, That's an intense look, wonder what's on his mind.

Aderrian furrowed his brow as the stranger had not only eyed him, but had seemed physically ill upon seeing him, and then had retreated inside. What's his deal? Aderrian thought.

"You all right?" Keurin asked.

"Yeah," Aderrian said as he thumbed toward the Icechest, "but who was that guy, he gave me a weird look like he was afraid of me or wanted to try and kick my ass.

"Oh... he's nobody. His name's Markus and I don't think he's afraid of you; well, I mean, he isn't going to cause any problems. Okay?"

"All right, all right... You act like something happened between you and him," Aderrian said.

Keurin forced a chuckle, "Nah, he's just a coworker. Come on."

"Right, right," Aderrian said, chuckling but knew there was more than what the dragon was telling him.

Markus begged Felix to wait on Keurin and Aderrian, but the otter wouldn't have any of it.

"Something's going on between you and Keurin," Felix began without looking up at the wolf. "You both went after the same girl or something, I don't care. But you need to rectify this problem because I will not have it interfere with your job or his job any more than it already has."

"Right... okay," Markus replied, murmuring curses as he stomped off. He gathered up a pair of menus and tucked them under his arm, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he trudged over to the pair's table.

"Hey, Keurin," Markus said with a mix of longing and unjustified anger.

Keurin smiled as wide as he could, "Well, hello, Markus! How's it going?"

"Oh," Markus took a step back from the suddenly flamboyant dragon. "F-fine, and you? Who's this?" Markus thumbed toward the orca.

"I'm great, just catching up with a really good friend of mine," he motioned to the orca. "This is Aderrian. Aderrian, Markus."

The orca, very much aware something was going on here, nonetheless extended his hand to the wolf, who shook it (with a tad too much vigor). "Nice to meet you, Markus."

"Yeah," the wolf grumbled and set the menus down. "Take your time, I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order."

"All right! Thanks!"

The wolf openly scowled at Keurin and then left.

"Okay," Aderrian began, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward. "What the hell just happened here?"

Keurin looked away, suddenly guilty. "Markus and I... we spent the night together about a month ago."

"Oh," Aderrian said, both interested and a little jealous. "And?"

"Well, he was so god damn dead set on trying to believe it was nothing, and that the only reason why he slept with me was because he was shitfaced... and yet now all he does is look at me so pitifully, practically begging me to sleep with him again... So I guess I want to make him feel as bad as he made me feel when he broke my heart."

"Oh." Aderrian said, raising his brow. "...Broke your heart?"

Keurin shrugged but kept his gaze away from Aderrian.

"You fell in love with him too fast, didn't you?"

"No! I just... I don't know... I guess I did."

"That was a silly thing to do, Keurin."

"I know, but... I had become so lonely, so pathetically lonely."

"It's not a pathetic thing to be lonely. If you're lonely that means you need other people and you value others. That's not pathetic."

Keurin smiled a little. "Yeah I guess you're right. But you can't deny that sleeping with him and falling in love with him so quickly was stupid."

"Yeah, it was pretty stupid," Aderrian chuckled and smiled at Keurin.

The dragon looked at him and laughed as well.

"Next time you're so lonely, why don't you give me a call?"

"I couldn't dump all my problems on you, Aderrian."

"Keurin, seriously, I can spare a few hours on a phone call if it'll help you," he reached forward and lifted Keurin's chin with a curled finger so that the dragon looked him in the eyes. "Okay?"

The dragon nodded.

Markus begrudgingly served the pair, and did a poor job on plate presentation (Aderrian's breakfast was almost spilling off of the plate). Keurin had ordered an omelet with plenty of cheese. Aderrian had ordered the same, but with mushrooms, much to Keurin's distaste.

After breakfast, the pair hopped back in Keurin's car and the dragon drove into town. He stopped at a souvenir shop called Snow Flurries that advertised authentic, wood carved sculptures not unlike the ones with which Keurin's grandmother had decorated the cabin... except hers were actually authentic and the ones sold at the shop were mass produced, overpriced plywood disasters. Nevertheless, Keurin found a silver chain necklace that he purchased for the orca when he had managed to slip away from the larger male so it would be a secret. To match, he purchased an industrial ring that had curved, black marks etched onto it that matched the orca's tribal sleeve tattoo.

The orca entertained himself by strolling around the confectionary isle, especially when he came to a box that read:

Forget Salt Water Taffy! Try Mountain Snow Taffy!

---

** ** Keurin could hear Aderrian's giggles from the other side of the store as he bought his things and waited for the orca to join him so they could leave. As the orca strode over to meet him, Keurin stuffed the gifts he had bought into his pocket and they left.

They hit a few more shops, but didn't purchase anything. Keurin learned a very interesting fact about the orca, however: Aderrian was a window shopper, and an insatiable one at that. Spending most of the year on a cruise ship, seeing the same wares over and over each day, was probably boring, Keurin figured... Coming to a place so completely opposite of the warm, salty climate he was used to, Aderrian was enthralled by everything he saw... even the overpriced junk and poorly crafted toys that would break as soon as you looked at them. Keurin also learned that he loved watching the orca even as he did something as monotonous as gallivant up and down the aisles at each souvenir shop they stopped that day, never buying but always looking; the way the orca would bend over to look upon each knickknack (regardless of how enamored he was with mountain town curiosities, Aderrian was still aware of the fact that they were highly overpriced and extremely fragile, so he never touched); his arms crossed behind his back as though he was a child who needed to keep his hands there lest he touch everything; the way the orca cooed upon finding something truly magnificent among the junk: a copper picture frame; how he gathered it up in his hands as if it was a priceless artifact that he was afraid would shatter if he so much as jarred it and held it up to the light; sparkles and rays of light reflecting into him, dancing around on his face, into his eyes as blue and sparkling as the purest sapphires crushed into a precious dust.

Aderrian bought the picture frame, clutching the plastic bag into which it was placed against his chest until he and the dragon were back in the car.

"It's a nice picture frame, Aderrian," Keurin said, confused as to the orca's attachment to the object, but glad he found something nice. "I wish you had let me buy it for you though."

"Come now, I can't let you buy my breakfast and my own souvenirs!" Aderrian smiled at Keurin.

The dragon chuckled, "I don't mind buying things for you; you're my friend, Aderrian. I like you."

"Well," Aderrian said, having lured Keurin into his trap, "If you're that guilty, you can buy me dinner!"

Keurin's jaw dropped a little and he playfully swatted at Aderrian's shoulder, "You are such a tool!" he said, but not unkindly. "Are you hungry, then?"

"I could go for some dinner, yes; are you?"

"Yeah, I'm startin' to feel it; I could go for something to eat."

"Does the Icechest still serve chicken marsala-ah, Keurin, let's not swerve off of the road, okay?" Aderrian laughed nervously. "You all right?"

Keurin nodded stiffly, cleared his throat, and said, "You, ah, you like chicken marsala, then?"

Aderrian eyed the dragon, but replied: "Well, when I was younger - the last time mom, my sister, and I came up here - the Icechest was called something different, I forget what. Snowfall or something weird like that. Regardless, they served the best chicken marsala I've ever had; I'd like to try it again and see if it's just as good with the new chefs. After that, we can go check out the lights, right?"

"Sure, Aderrian, that sounds fun," Keurin replied, smiling a little. Chicken marsala, of course. Of course!

_ _ That was the first sign that something was happening. The rest wouldn't come until later that night, and would both exhilarate and terrify Keurin.

* * *

At dinner, Felix served the pair, and the presentation was much nicer as Markus had no clue he was preparing dinner for the dragon he loved and hated, and the orca he just... hated. The Icechest did indeed serve chicken marsala.

It's not quite as good as I remember though, Aderrian thought. But I better keep that a secret from Keurin, the poor guy looks like he has a lot on his mind right now.

Indeed, Keurin was staring blankly into his own plate - spaghetti with a great sauce, the recipe of which Anselm got directly from his aunt - and had been twisting the same bundle of noodles around his fork for the past fifteen minutes.

"You all right, Keurin?" Aderrian ventured. "I'm pretty sure that bite's ready to be eaten, silly."

Keurin's head snapped up and he, suddenly realizing he had been very quiet and no doubt boring both stuffed the bite into his mouth and attempted to speak, which unfortunately resulted in him spitting bits of noodle and sauce into Aderrian's face.

"Well, eaten, spat onto your date... Hard to tell the difference, really," Aderrian chuckled as he cleaned himself. "Keurin, Ke-Keurin, it's all right, Keurin," Aderrian raised his palms as he tried to calm the dragon down.

"I'm sorry," Keurin said for the eighth time.

"Here, I've got it; if you want to apologize for real, how about you and I talk about what's bothering you later, okay?" Keurin sighed, knowing he had to, and nodded. "All right, but not until then. I want to enjoy this night with you; I want this Christmas to mean something."

"I think I can work with that," the orca replied, and smiled.

After dinner, the pair shared a slice of cake and Keurin grew into lighter spirits: something about the thought of sharing a dessert with Aderrian comforted him. It made him happy.

The sky had long since been pitch black, and a few stars shone here and there like tiny pinholes against a black screen, letting in only a tiny bit of paradise. The moon lay snugly upon the jagged mountaintops, silhouetting them into a romantic image like the cover of a trashy romance novel or a postcard. Keurin drove slowly to the cluster of neighborhoods that would be putting on the Christmas light show. As they neared, even with the neighborhood still out of sight, both the dragon and his companion could see the glow of lights cast upwards into the sky. It was no small matter that this neighborhood was nicknamed Christmastown.

When they arrived, Keurin pulled to the side of the road designated by bright orange cones as parking for the Christmas light show. It was a rule that no cars be driven to cut down on traffic, noise, and safety for those who lived in the neighborhood who liked to come out and brag about their decorating escapades. No one would be out tonight, thought. It was cold, and Christmas Eve on top of that; everyone was enjoying dinner and family.

Indeed, the pair had free run of the neighborhood as not a single soul was to be seen. Aderrian let out a very audible gasp as he took in the splendor of it all. His hand wend up to his chest and he smiled as widely as the dragon had ever seen him smile; his blue eyes shimmered in the twinkling of the lights and his smooth skin seemed to glow a little.

Aderrian turned to Keurin and with emotion and rapture filling his voice, said, "Thank you, Keurin. Thank you for bringing me here."

The dragon smiled and nodded and they walked along together. The orca put his arm across Keurin's shoulders, tucking the dragon closely against him. Keurin curled his arm around Aderrian's waist and smiled up at him.

Every house was decorated to the fullest - almost to the point of being garish and tacky. Some had spelled out scripture, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, NOEL, HO HO HO, and so on. Some had fully animatronic Christmas icons; a few houses had sleighs perched upon roofs with a jolly old Saint Nick strolling to the chimney. There were lights that blinked rhythmically - some twinkled in rhythm to Christmas carols that constantly, softly, played. Aderrian would hum along, and Keurin would join in, gazing up at the orca with adoration and joy as the orca himself whipped his head around to see every house, every decoration, possibly even every light; memories no doubt flowing in and out of his mind of his family, his sister and late mother; nostalgia surging through him like the ocean upon which he sat, bored, on a cruise ship most of the year. Keurin wondered if this was Aderrian's first Christmas with someone other than family and was glad, deep down, that it was he with whom the orca wanted to spend it.

The pair made a full revolution around all neighborhoods, seeing every single house, and returned to Keurin's car right as the snow began to fall. Keurin drove slowly, carefully, as the light snowfall turned into a veritable blizzard that threatened to strand the two of them on the side of the road until morning when Keurin could see more than fifteen feet in front of him.

Nevertheless they made it back home, and as Keurin and Aderrian rushed inside, the power flickered once, and then went out. That was the second sign that something was happening, and it brought back all of the troubled thoughts Keurin couldn't shake while he and Aderrian were dining earlier that night.

"Well, ain't that typical," Aderrian said with a chuckle as he and Keurin stumbled into the living room.

Keurin let out a half-hearted chuckle of his own and started a fire. The sudden burst of light burned his eyes and caused him - as he was already not really paying attention - to stumble backwards onto the couch.

"Whoa there, bucko, let's not get injured, yeah?" Aderrian helped the dragon up and they sat together on the couch.

"Right, right, sorry; got surprised and dizzy all of a sudden, is all."

"I see... you... want to talk about it now?"

Keurin shook his head, "Later, please."

"Well what are you waiting for, Christmas?" Aderrian pushed at Keurin's shoulder playfully.

"Christmas... oh! Christmas! I... I got you some things, here," Keurin fished through his pockets and pulled out the ring and silver chain necklace and handed them to the orca. "I'm sorry I couldn't wrap them... I hope you like them."

Aderrian smiled as he slipped the ring onto his third finger, and put on the necklace. "I love them, Keurin, especially the ring! It matches my tattoo!" He gave the dragon a little hug. "Hold on," he whispered to Keurin, "Let me go get your gift, all right? No peeking!"

Keurin nodded.

The orca slipped away and went upstairs. Keurin heard what sounded like a bag being unzipped, then the characteristic click of a flashlight being turned on, and then there was silence. Outside the snow fell heavily, and Keurin could see it begin to pile up on the deck and knew he and Aderrian were definitely going to have a white Christmas. He hoped the power would come back on, which, again, triggered his brooding thoughts.

Time's like a wheel, I guess. It always comes back around. Chicken marsala... a storm, the power going out... I mean, all that's left is admittance and then... consummation... This is so fucked up. Now my own life is going to mirror everything that happened with Marc? It's not bad enough that almost everyone I know tries to get he and I back together, when he's probably off gallivanting around with some new guy who doesn't write or teach and who has all the fuckin' time in the world to - Calm the fuck down, Keurin. Stop shaking. Cool your breathing. Aderrian's already going to think you're immature and obsessed because you can't get your ex-fiancé out of your fuckin' mind for two goddamn seconds to have Christmas with him. Aderrian's about the only person who isn't trying to get Marc and me back together. Least he cares 'bout my feelings and respects my wishes. He's a sweetheart. Wonder what's taking him so long. When did he have a chance to buy me a gift? The only thing I saw him buy was that picture frame and I doubt he'd give me that, he's much more thoughtful. I hope it's nothing expensive... After all, the only things I got him were the ring and the necklace. I hope he didn't feel obligated to get me anything, as if he needed to buy my friendship; I like spending time with him. I like him, he's awesome.

_ Oh god, I'm doing it again, aren't I?_

_ _ Keurin covered his eyes with his palm and laughed bitterly.

"Okay! Close your eyes, Keurin," Aderrian said from somewhere behind the dragon.

The dragon obeyed. I hope he doesn't put his balls in my hands... Well, I kind of hope he doesn't. Nah, I totally hope he does put his balls in my hands.

_ _ Well, whatever it was, it definitely wasn't a pair of testicles. It was cold, metallic, and square. Keurin groped at the object - his eyes still shut - the copper picture frame coming to his mind instantly.

"And open!" Aderrian said eagerly as he sat down, almost bouncing in his seat as Keurin's eyes opened.

It took the dragon's eyes a moment to focus on the photo, but there it was: it was the picture one of Aderrian's friends had taken of the lifeguard and Keurin standing against the railing of the cruise ship, sea spread behind them for miles, a dusky sky spread above for eons; the orca with one large arm holding the dragon close, his other hand adjacent to his face, the first two fingers in a "V" - a peace sign - and a huge smile spread over his face; Keurin was smiling just as widely, his arms around the orca's waist.

"Do you like it?" Aderrian asked, watching Keurin intently as the dragon's eyes traced over every line, every shadow, seeming to trace over the curve of the smile he had worn so many years ago.

He had been truly happy then, right before he and Marc had gone home; the huskywolf always harboring a little resentment towards the lifeguard regardless of how amiable he had been at the end of the cruise; that resentment manifesting itself in short quips that always stopped Keurin for a moment and made him wonder what the fuck and then continue on with his business. Keurin would never allow his mind to process such a thought, but Aderrian had, through his innocent flirting with Keurin, played a small part in the breakup. He probably had planted the seed; no, that wasn't fair. Marc had always been insecure in his own way.

"It was taken right before you... Right before you left last time."

Keurin's head tipped forward just a little. His hair fell across his eyes but Aderrian knew he was tearing up. Keurin brushed his fingertips lightly across the photo. The copper frame shone in the firelight, intensifying the moment against eternity. Outside a gentle wind blew; clumps of snow pattered against the windows. Keurin groped blindly for Aderrian, and the orca slid in closer and drew Keurin against him with an arm, just like in the photograph, and just like he had done earlier as they walked among the lights.

The dragon turned his head upwards to face Aderrian and kissed the corner of the other's mouth.

"Aderrian... Thank you; this is the sweetest gift I have ever gotten; the most sentimental. I had, regrettably, forgotten about all of this; the entire cruise, and everything good that came out of it: meeting you." Keurin chuckled. "I remember now the way you winked at me the first time we spoke, and then when you joked about us spending the night together, god you were such a flirt!" Keurin chuckled and set the photograph on the coffee table.

"Who said it was just flirting..." Aderrian said softly, curving his finger under Keurin's chin, pressing his lips against the dragon's; his eyes shutting as he felt Keurin's soft lips against his own; the way Keurin resisted at first - barely, for a moment, and then the way he melted against the orca's chest; his arms finding their way around the larger male, drawing his legs up onto the couch in the same fashion as when he was holding onto Markus; but now the holding meant something else, before being a lustful desire, and now for dear life; as if Keurin was afraid that once he let go of the orca, he would float up and away and drift through the galaxy, utterly alone; a thought which made Keurin all the more desperate to never let the orca go, doubling the intensity of the kiss with his tongue; Aderrian welcoming it and biting upon the dragon's tongue, tugging at it as he tilted his head a little to the side; his hands moving upwards to the sides of Keurin's face, cradling his head dearly; his left thumb wiping away a spare tear from the dragon's cheek as the dragon shut his eyes and tried to will this moment to last forever.

Friday, December 28th, 20XX

_ _

"You don't know how special this Christmas was to me, Aderrian. Thank you," Keurin said as he and the orca stood on the front porch of his cabin in the early morning hours. The sun had actually wiggled its way through the clouds and shone brightly. Keurin stood, facing the orca with one of his hands clasped tightly around one of the orca's. Down on the street, a taxi idled and the driver watched impatiently at the two queer lovebirds saying their drawn out goodbyes. It was like a bad Hallmark movie.

"I wish you could stay," Keurin said softly, looking down at the lifeguard's luggage.

"I do too, kiddo, but duty calls..." Aderrian replied painfully, agony twisting up his face. "People want to spend Christmas with their families in their homes, but six days later and they want to hit up a cruise again for New Year's. But I promise I will keep in touch. You've got my e-mail, and I've got yours. Call me, all right? When you're not too busy, that is," Aderrian was grinning, but Keurin could see in that grin complete heartbreak.

"I'll never be too busy, Aderrian," Keurin said, squeezing the orca's hand.

A chilly wind blew over them, causing Keurin to shudder. Aderrian pulled the younger male against him, drawing him into a final kiss.

"I'll come and visit whenever I can," Aderrian said, but he knew it wasn't true. It was just too far.

"You better," Keurin replied with a forced smile, knowing exactly the same thing.

* * *

Later on that afternoon, after the misery had sunk in and Keurin cheered himself up a little by moving Aderrian's Christmas gift - the portrait of he and Keurin - up onto his nightstand so that he could look at it each night before bed, Keurin went in to work.

Keurin joined Markus and Anselm out back for a cigarette when business, as usual, died down. He greeted the pair amiably and half-listened as they bragged to one another about their latest nights full of romping with the opposite sex. Everything had gone back to normal, but a thought still burned in Keurin's mind.

"Hey, Keurin," Markus began, snickering to Anselm, "Just who was that guy? Your boyfriend?"

Keurin tossed the butt of his cigarette into the snow, and laughed softly as it fizzled out. He turned and looked at the two brothers with such obvious agony in his eyes that it shone right through his smile.

"No, no... Not my boyfriend. Not out here where the heart makes a fool of the mind."

_ Hey, mom..._ A long pause. I think it's time for me to move back home.

1/2/13

R.W.F.