(place) by junkpile Sun Jul 16 2000 at 1:35:16

The train station was fucking freezing and I wanted to be holding both his hands but it was too cold for them to be anywhere else than jammed deep down in his pockets. We were both trying to be casual about it.   no big deal, it’s only a few months, back before you know it.   All my energy was firmly invested in trying to ignore the wind and trying to think of things to say. I was shivering so hard my words shivered too, which made it sound like I was about to cry, though I didn’t think I really would. I tried to make it sound more like a laugh, and he asked what I was laughing at, and then I felt stupid, so I shut up. In the end we waited for the train silently, on the bench, shoulder to shoulder. I could hardly feel him through my coat and his.

I’d like to kiss you I said But I’ll stick to you like a lightpost. He laughed and offered me his face, eyes cast upward, doing a dumb coquettish flutter. Damned if we wouldn’t make everything a joke, especially today, when we needed things to be just a little easier, whenever possible.

I leaned in close, not touching him. Haaaaaaaaah. Heeeeeeeeeh. Thawing you out. I breathed on his cheek already scruffy in midafternoon and pink from cold. Like I was going to rub a circle clear on a frosted-over window. I could feel my own warm breath coming back to my lips. He laughed once and then it wasn’t a joke anymore, and I kept breathing warmly on him but without the silly noises, without anything silly all of a sudden. I wanted to give him all the warmth I had and for one clear moment I knew I could do it if I could just keep up a steady cycle. I was giving him the heat from inside my lungs, it was what I had to give. It was doing things to both of us; it was doing the things you’d expect it to. The wind whipped around us and didn’t matter.

The train came with its horrible sweep of sound. I had a wishbone in my pocket, for him; had been clutching it carefully the whole time, trying to protect it from being crushed, trying not to crush it myself with my cramped numb fingers. I’m stupid and had forgotten I’d only have a few seconds before he was on the other side of the dirty oval windows, and it was so noisy, shit. I have something -

Shook his head. Can’t hear you.   Grinned.   Come to the airport with me.

Yes. Yes I will ride halfway across the city with you, with you these cold molded-plastic seats are a privilege. On board I had the usual fantasies about the train breaking down, but it didn’t.

At the airport, at his gate, we pulled the wishbone. He won, which was all right; I was going to wish for something for him anyway.

I like it! 8 C!s