Page 76 of The Broken Dawn

"No," Jakob agreed, his arms wrapping around Hal's waist, pulling him closer. "Not forever."

They held each other in the harsh electric light, Hal's precious copy of The Hobbit lying open and abandoned at their feet. Outside, snow began to fall, silent and steady, covering the academy grounds in white. Tomorrow would bring separation, danger, war. But tonight—tonight belonged to them alone.

November 20, 1939

The walk back to Hal's quarters after classes the next day —their last day — had been silent, their shoulders brushing with each step, hands not quite touching. Hal's heart pounded against his ribs as they slipped through the shadowed corridors, past the officers' wing where a single lamp burned in the commandant's office, and finally to the small suite afforded to him as a royal cadet.

Once inside, Jakob leaned against the closed door, his breath visible in the cold room. "Should I light the fire?"

"Not yet," Hal whispered, stepping closer. The darkness felt safer somehow, as if what they did in shadows couldn't be used against them. "We don't need it yet."

Jakob's smile was barely visible in the dim light filtering through the curtains. "We'll keep each other warm?"

"We have all night," Hal said, the words a promise and a prayer.

He reached for Jakob, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck, the edge of his collar. Every touch felt weighted with significance, with the knowledge that tomorrow would take this away. Jakob's hands settled at his waist, warm and steady, drawing him closer until their foreheads touched.

When Jakob kissed him, it was gentle at first, a careful press of lips that quickly deepened into something hungry and desperate. Hal's fingers tangled in Jakob's dark curls, pulling him closer, trying to memorize the way he moved, the way he kissed, the feeling of his body as they held one another, desperate to defy the laws of the universe, if it would only allow them to get closer.

They stumbled toward the narrow bed, uniforms half-unbuttoned, hands fumbling with belts and buttons. Jakob's mouth traced a path down Hal's neck, making him gasp and shiver against the mattress.

"Shhh, slow. We have time," Jakob murmured against his skin when Hal started pressing his hips into Jakob's too desperately. "All night, remember?"

Hal nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in his throat. All night. It would never be enough.

Jakob's hands were warm against his bare chest, sliding beneath his undershirt, exploring with reverent attention. Hal arched into the touch, his own fingers working at Jakob's belt.

"I want to memorize this" Hal whispered, his voice breaking. "Every detail. The way your hands feel. The sound of your breathing." His fingers traced the line of Jakob's collarbone, committing it to memory. "I'm so afraid I'll forget."

Jakob caught Hal's hand, pressing it against his heart. "You won't forget," he smiled. "And neither will I." His voice roughened. "When I'm in those Finnish forests, frozen to the bone, this is what I'll think about. This moment. You, looking at me like I'm something precious."

"You are," Hal insisted, fiercely.

Something vulnerable flickered across Jakob's face. "No one's ever—" He swallowed hard. "No one's ever looked at me the way you do."

"No one has ever loved you like I do, Hal said, as pulled him down for another kiss. "And no one else ever will, " he whispered against Jakob's lips. The fear that Jakob wouldn't return. The terror that Finland would change him, break him. The certainty that if Jakob died, something vital inside Hal would die too.

Jakob responded with equal desperation, his hands shaking as they moved lower, fumbling with Hal's belt. "I need to feel all of you," he murmured against Hal's mouth. "Need something real to hold onto out there."

The raw honesty in his voice made Hal's chest ache. Something broke open in Jakob's expression—hope and fear and desperate longing all at once. He crushed his mouth to Hal's, his kiss bruising, claiming, as if he could somehow bind them together through sheer force of will.

Hal surrendered to it, arching beneath him, trying to memorize every sensation—the weight of Jakob's body, the taste of his mouth, the small sounds he made when Hal's hands slipped beneath his waistband. If this was all they would have, he wanted to remember everything.

"I need you," Jakob whispered against his throat, the words raw and honest in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. "Not just tonight. Always."

The admission, so unlike Jakob's usual careful restraint, made Hal's heart stutter. He pulled back just enough to see Jakob's face, to memorize the vulnerability there, the naked emotion he so rarely showed.

"You have me," Hal promised, the words a vow. "Whether you're in Finland or France or the end of the universe. I'm always yours."

Jakob made a sound that was almost a sob, burying his face against Hal's neck. His hands were everywhere, desperate and tender all at once, as if trying to map every inch of Hal's body before time ran out.

The rap of knuckles against the door froze them both.

"Ignore it," Jakob whispered, his voice rough with desire and something that sounded dangerously close to panic. His fingers tightened on Hal's hips. "Please. Just—we need this. Just this one night."

The knock came again, more insistent this time. "Harald? I know you're in there."

Christian's voice, heavy with something Hal couldn't identify. His blood turned to ice.