10. Christian

TEN

CHRISTIAN

I waited outside Milo’s shop, my breath curling up in clouds around me as I paced the sidewalk, feeling the prickling cold work its way through my jacket. My nerves were raw, a mess of torn threads pulling tighter the longer I waited.

The night felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for me to either get it right or mess it up all over again.

I kept running through what I’d say, what I’d ask of him—anything that would make this make sense. But even in my head, everything sounded messy, tangled up in questions I couldn’t answer myself. Why had I kissed him this morning? Why couldn’t I walk away after I had? And more than anything—why did it feel like he was the only thing keeping me anchored in what seemed like a terrible storm?

I looked up just as Milo stepped out of the White Elephant, tucking his hands into his pockets. His scarf was wrapped high around his face, and I could just see the tips of his light hair poking out from under his beanie. He gazed right at me as though he was expecting me. The way he moved, cautious and reserved, had my stomach knotting all over again.

When he finally reached me, he didn’t stop close. He left this careful distance between us, his eyes guarded, assessing. It wasn’t like we were strangers, not even close. But right then, it felt like we were worlds apart, standing on opposite sides of a bridge that was somehow both too narrow and too wide.

All of him was torn. He looked like he was physically holding himself back, holding himself in place.

“Milo,” I started, struggling to keep my voice steady. He didn’t respond, didn’t even nod—just watched me, waiting. “I…I need to talk to you,” I said, my throat tight, my chest tighter.

“You do?” he asked, his tone gentle, expressionless, almost hopeful. Like he was holding back something.

He had every right to be angry or at least wary. I hadn’t exactly handled things well this morning. If I’d been more honest with myself, maybe I’d have known what I wanted all along. But there I’d been, getting lost in that one moment—one impossible kiss that seemed to stretch out forever and then collapse in on itself.

I took a step closer, desperate for him to see what I couldn’t say. “Just…walk with me. Please.”

His eyes narrowed, a flash of hurt there that he couldn’t quite hide. “Where?”

“Anywhere,” I said, my voice soft, pleading. “Just…come with me.”

For a second, he stood there, looking at me like he was trying to read something between the lines. I thought he might turn and walk away, just like I had this morning. But then he let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing, just a fraction. “Alright,” he murmured. “Lead the way.”

We started walking down Main Street, the quiet pressing in around us like an unspoken question. I kept glancing over, catching glimpses of him under the glow of the street lamps. He walked with his head down, hands still buried in his pockets, and that cautious distance still between us. I wanted to reach out, close that gap, but the fear was too sharp, too deep. I had already leaped once today.

A long time ago, I thought things would be easy. Once I’d gotten used to my life without Milo, I had different goals. I was going to study, move to the big city, meet a nice girl, score a great job in marketing, and have everything I wanted.

But now I didn’t even know what “everything” meant anymore.

As we walked, I kept thinking about that kiss. The feel of his lips, the warmth that spread through me like something I’d been searching for without ever knowing it. I tried to push the memory away, tried to remind myself that it wasn’t what I’d planned, what I’d worked toward. It had just happened, like an explosion that had been brewing, pressure rising, yet never seen or noticed by anyone until it was too late. But it kept creeping back in, whispering promises I wasn’t ready to believe.

I glanced over at him again, and he caught me looking, his eyes flashing with something I couldn’t quite place. Hurt? Hope? I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that whatever we’d had before, whatever closeness we’d shared, I’d put a crack in it. And now here I was, trying to patch it up without knowing how.

“So…you wanted to talk,” he said finally, his voice soft, but with an edge to it. “What do you want to say, Christian?”

I swallowed, searching for words that didn’t feel like they were there. “I…I don’t know,” I admitted, feeling the weight of it settle over me. “I just…I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

He let out a small, humorless laugh. “Funny, neither do I.”

We walked in silence after that, his words lingering in the air between us. I kept telling myself to say something, to explain why I was so caught up in this—why I couldn’t seem to shake him, even though I’d unknowingly spent half my life trying. But all that came out was a quiet, broken whisper. “I thought I knew what I wanted.”

Milo looked over at me, his expression softening. “And now?”

I took a deep breath, feeling the truth settle heavily in my chest. “Now? Now everything feels wrong without you in it.”

He blinked, surprised, and I could see the guardedness slipping from his face. “Christian…”

“I spent years thinking I needed something bigger,” I continued, the words coming out faster like I couldn’t stop them. “A big job, a city where I could disappear, where I didn’t have to feel…anything. A girlfriend. Because that was all I thought I needed to have. And then we returned here, and it’s like my whole life flipped on its head.” I held my breath for a moment longer, then caught his gaze. “We were too young to know what we felt. Or I was. Too swept up in wanting to grow up and have what everyone else had. And now, it’s coming back like waking up from a long, deep slumber.”

“Christian,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” I said, mainly for getting all poetic.

He stayed quiet, watching me, his eyes softer than they’d been before. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to pull him close. But there was still that gap between us, still that echo of everything I’d walked away from once already, and I wasn’t sure how to close it.

“All those years, I told myself that leaving was what I needed,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “That this place wasn’t enough. But it wasn’t this place, Milo. It was me. I was the one running…” I rubbed my brow and tried to put it into words. “Running from you.” His arched eyebrows were a warranted reaction, so I hurried to explain. “Milo, I could see you everywhere in this town after you moved away. I thought I missed my friend, but I’m not so sure anymore. I’m not sure who we were to each other.”

Or who we are now.

His expression softened further, a hint of something warmer breaking through. He stopped, turning to face me, his eyes searching mine. “So what now?”

I looked down, swallowing against the knot in my throat. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just know I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you, Milo. Not again.”

The quiet stretched between us again, the tension thick and heavy. I could see the conflict in his eyes, the war between wanting to believe me and the hurt I’d put him through. I didn’t blame him. Hell, if I were him, I wouldn’t trust me either. But here I was, hoping he’d give me another chance—hoping he’d see that I was trying.

Finally, he nodded, just barely, but it was enough to make my heart skip. “Then…let’s keep walking,” he said softly.

And for the first time today—and maybe in ages—I felt that distance between us start to close, just a little, as we took the next steps together.

The edge of the town gave way to fields before a distant forest encircled us. I didn’t want us to follow the winding old road to the forest, but when we left the most populated part of Christmas Falls behind, I stopped and gazed out at the fields, the ripples of the land. A flat, thick blanket of snow lay over the slopes, untouched except for the craw’s feet here and there or the prints of some benign, wandering deer.

“Old Ridge Road is up there,” Milo said softly, his voice warm and knowing.

“It is,” I said. I turned to Milo and looked at him expectantly. “Do you wanna?”

He nodded enthusiastically, and we moved on. Not a hundred yards from us, there was a dirt road leading into the hills and out of the town. It wasn’t our first time here, although the gap of fifteen years had pushed the forest further into the distance.

High up the sloping road, we veered into an empty, snow-blanketed field. Our shoes broke the undisturbed surface of the snow and sank deep into it. Step by slow step, we walked across the field until we were surrounded by vast emptiness and near complete silence. “Milo,” I said, still digging through my heart and soul for the right words.

“Hush,” he said. “This is the spot.”

I couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter from escaping me even if I tried. My arms stretched wide, and a breath of air I drew into my lungs plunged me back into my childhood. Freely, without a trace of fear, I let myself fall gracefully on my back, landing in the deep layer of snow that softened the impact.

Milo gave a shriek before doing the very same thing, landing just a few feet away from me. And so we lay under a clouded sky, and in deep snow, limbs stretched far to all sides, wiggling to clear away the snow.

Sixteen or seventeen years ago, we had been boys with nothing but free time and heads full of wild thoughts of adventure. Back then, I would have given anything to go away with Milo on a grand journey and stay with him forever. I would have traded all my collectible toys and cards for it. I would have sold my dearest comics to the devil if he promised to let Milo and me stay friends forever.

We had been inseparable.

And between building snowmen and snow forts, we had found the time to explore the empty fields and make snow angels.

My limbs were heating up and sweat broke all over my body to the point that I desperately wanted a shower. Yet I dragged my arms up and down to create the wings. They were narrow; the snow was beaten into a solid wall on each side, but they were unmistakably angels.

Only when I was out of breath did I realize we were laughing aloud, huffing and puffing with the effort. I lay still in the snow, satisfied with the hard work of the evening. The silence slowly returned and settled over the land, only the pounding of my heart filling my ears.

“I shouldn’t have left,” I said. As the words left my lips, I realized I didn’t know which leaving I was talking about—this morning or years ago. All the years I had wandered about felt like a waste, teaching me that my place was here and nowhere else because I wasn’t meant for anything better than Christmas Falls.

But Milo’s answer to my words was applicable to both. “What matters is that you returned.”

“Do you mean that?” I asked bluntly and with unrestrained hope.

“I do,” he assured me.

Relief that washed over me was enough to lift me up almost literally. “Because I don’t know, Milo,” I said, staring at the sky. It caught the light of the town and glowed orange until it paled into dull grayness in the distance. “I don’t know what I came back for, and you need to know that.”

Movement to my left told me that Milo was on his side now. I slowly turned as well, facing him. His expression was expectant but not hopeful.

“I…I used to think we’d be together forever,” I admitted. “And the moment I saw you again, the same old feelings came over me. I don’t understand them, Milo. They’re not…not what I thought they were.”

He let the silence stretch for a little while. “How so?” he asked, his voice calm. Tell me. I can take it , his tone said.

I inched closer to him within the confines of the snow angel, then even a little closer, destroying the outline of the angel to be closer to Milo. He mimicked me, although not completely, and we remained separated by a mound of snow as I rummaged through my thoughts for a way to put this into words. All I could do was start at the beginning. “I know the right thing to do would be to say I shouldn’t have kissed you,” I admitted. “There’s a million things I should apologize for. And I get it. What you told me in no way led me on. Alright? It wasn’t your fault. The real hard truth of it all is that I wanted to. I thought…” I grasped for words again, seeing them run away from me. “When you told me about your feelings—” Ancient feelings , I should have added. “It felt right. I can’t describe it, Milo. It felt like that was it. Like you put my feelings into words.”

Milo’s calm exterior cracked a little as he blinked quickly. “Do you mean…? Do you mean you felt the same way?”

“Hadn’t I?” I genuinely asked. “All my life, I missed you. And before that, all I wanted was to be with you. Just not…not like that.”

The hurt on his face flashed instantly, but he smoothed it out.

It made my heart want to cry to see that. “What I’m saying is this: I didn’t want you like that because I never thought it was possible.” I swallowed. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.” I sat up slowly and faced Milo, who sat up a moment later. The angels were only a distant memory. “I never questioned anything they promised. You grow up, go to college, find a girlfriend, buy a house—it’s how life works. It never crossed my mind that I wouldn’t fit into that plan. But I didn’t. I barely graduated, never had a real relationship, and can’t afford to rent a place on my own, let alone buy one.”

“Right,” Milo said with a gentle air of confusion and even a gentler one of frustration.

“I know. I’m stupid like that. It took me years to realize that what I wanted then—and what I wanted the moment I saw you again—had never changed. Something I never thought I could want because it wasn’t part of the plan.”

I could hear Milo’s breath hitching in his throat.

This was now the hard part, but I was done trying to protect my feelings. “I know it’s been fifteen years for you, Milo. I should never have assumed this morning that you might still…”

“I do,” he said, words flung into the open as if he was terrified of missing this chance. “I know. It’s been a long time, Christian, but you’re still you, and I’m still me.”

Silence.

Stunned, expectant, unbearable silence.

We gazed at one another as thoughts rushed through my mind. It was that simple. I was me, and he was him. Did it have to get any more complicated than that?

Then, in an instant, my thoughts evaporated. My brain slowed down, and my body switched to the simplest, most basic settings.

Milo’s big, hopeful eyes invited me, and I found myself leaning in, reaching for the one thing I wanted more than anything else in the world. I had no capacity for fear just then. I had no capability to consider the risks and to worry if I wouldn’t like it as much as I had hoped. It wasn’t like this morning when I leaped and kissed him, worrying after the fact that I just wasn’t able to feel what I most certainly felt. No. It was better now. It was so much better because I leaned in slowly and carefully, completely aware of what was leading me to this place of unspeakable joy.

Milo gave the tiniest nod once my face was inches away from his, our gazes locked onto one another, and our breaths misting between us.

There was no reason to wait. None whatsoever. Because I was certain that this was it.

So I leaned in. The few little inches of empty space between us felt like traversing galaxies until my lips met the soft warmth of his flesh. Our faces touched, and our mouths collided in an incredible, impossible sensation of sheer happiness.

The suspense of the heartbeats leading to it had been sweeter than waiting for Christmas morning to open the presents. The deliciousness of his lips was infinitely better than the finest chocolate he could ever make. The joy in my chest was so much brighter and warmer than the most incredible fire in a fireplace on the darkest, coziest winter evening.

This kiss, unlike any kiss in my entire adult life, made me complete.

Milo gave a little whimper, his lips pressed hard against mine, the moan rising from his nose. And as soon as he did, his hands clutched the lapels of my coat, and he pulled me in. Wet. His cheeks were wet as our faces pressed together, and he kissed me back fiercely as if it was all he had ever wanted, and he didn’t want to risk ending it too soon.

I couldn’t blame him. Why wouldn’t some part of him expect me to pick up and run away?

But I wouldn’t. I matched his kisses and brought us together, leaning over him and pushing him until he lay back on the snow and my body sank onto him. The pressure and proximity gave us both warmth, but there was more than that. It was impossible, except that it was real. What I felt deep in my soul didn’t stay locked and hidden there. Instead, my blood heated, and my muscles tensed. I clutched him against myself as I kissed him, relaxing and taking it slowly, exploring him until my awareness reached all the way down between us, where we were both clearly excited.

There was a moment of nervousness in the instant when I realized it. This was, after all, something I had never thought I could want. But as soon as I blocked out the expectations of the entire world and the notions of other people, it all became simple again.

Yeah. I liked it. I liked his body under mine, regardless of gender. I even liked the hardness of the bulge I felt under myself.

A shiver ran through Milo, and I remembered that we were deep in snow and far from the town. Quickly, I pulled back, heated and dazed, my ears ringing with a million wonderful sounds. “You’re freezing,” I murmured.

Milo only gave another whimper as if trying not to beg me to just keep kissing him. Then, reluctantly, he said, “I am.”

So was I. “Let’s go someplace warm.”

“My place?” he offered carefully.

I nodded, taking his hand in mine as I slowly rose to my feet. The pressure in my pants was painful, making me hold my breath, and I held on to his hand as he got up.

“That was…” Milo said, then trailed off.

I squeezed his hand in reply. In truth, I didn’t think there was a word to describe it. But there was a promise. A promise I made myself internally. This was not the end.