Page 123 of The Villains of Winter

James cared both for Elliott and about him, Callum had been wrong. There would be a hundred more honorariums if James didn’t end the rites and rituals. Even if it cost his mortal soul, he would exchange his purity, his life, his fate, so that Elliott could be safe at last.

When James was elected senator, he would put forth a statewide ban on the rituals. He would forge alliances to enact a federal prohibition of the rituals entirely, even if it countermanded the constitutional right to freedom of religion.

By September, the summer air was torrid, balmily irriguous that month. The window in Elliott’s dormitory was airless, refusing a breeze, which left them sticky, hot from each other. Elliott murmured how deeply he’d missed him.

James had been gone for the week in a speech-writing conference in California. He had stripped to the waist, panting and licked with sweat from exertion, his sun-drenched skin tanned from the western coast. His white hair was bleached by the sweltry summer.

Elliott was exhausted, half-asleep from their swim. “I will not rest until I’m faster than you again.” Elliott smiled competitively, fresh from the shower after a race in the millpond. He’d missed the sermon to swim with James. “Even if you’re my best friend, I need to win.” He climbed into bed. James didn’t care to wash himself, he toweled his damp, sweaty skin.

He sat at the edge of the mattress.

“Is that what you want for us?” James held the Winterthur Residence Hall towel against his ear. Since he returned that week, Elliott had only referred to him as his best friend. It was as though they’d never exchanged breath and body heat with each other.

As though they’d never extracted their sinewy, yearning, longing, hearts out of their chests and given it to each other.

As though the past year never happened.

His voice faltered and though they’d spent the better part of a decade speaking endlessly to each other, he suddenly couldn’t find enough words to express himself. As though they were fifteen and sixteen again, they could only exchange glances from across the bedroom.

“Is that what you want for us?” James broke their silence first, repeating himself in earnest, his voice raw. “I shouldn’t have left you.”

The five words made James’s eyes drift up to Elliott’s soft, full lips. Lips he’d dreamt of at night, wishing he could exchange anything with fate to return to the first week of June with him again. He would’ve given anything. The stir of his blood. The breath of his soul. The sands of his future. Anything.

James didn’t deserve anything more than friendship, he wasn’t entitled to a romantic relationship with him, therefore he didn’t have any right to dictate and demand anything of Elliott. Except, he couldn’t bear the thought that none of it ever existed. To behave as though they had never experienced each other.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Elliott responded. Ever since his days in rugby, Elliott liked being the fastest, the nimblest, the sportiest. He tossed an old rugby ball in the air and he caught it with ease.

Elliott was a healthy, competitive young man, he didn’t like fist fights or aggression, but he loved sports. He felt alive outdoors. He appreciated it more than ever.

“Then that’s what we are, Elliott.”

It took a moment for Elliott to realize that they were having two different conversations, and when it dawned on him that his words bothered James, his voice lowered. “Is everything alright between us?”

“Are you seeing someone else?” James asked, unable to meet his eyes, as though the response might kill him, and he didn’t have the nerve in him for direct eye contact. He knew Callum had taken his passport and he’d made Elliott promise to keep it where no one else could find it. Elliott had listened to him. “You don’t need to hide anything from me, Elliott.”

“What happened?” Elliott asked, puzzled as to what James meant.

Elliott felt a warmth against his shirt as James pressed his forehead against Elliott’s inner shoulder. He rested his head there. “I would walk through fire for you, Elliott. I would set the world ablaze. Just tell me what happened when I was gone.” Was there someone else?

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“Tell me.”

I left for a handful of nights. Was that all you needed to replace me?

“Do you want more with me?” Elliott rearranged his words. He didn’t want to air his fears, in case they materialized. “I’m just glad to have my best friend back, that’s all. I hadn’t thought of anything else. I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“I want whatever you want.” James rested his head against Elliott’s inner shoulder for a minute longer in want. A yearning that felt akin to dying. It feels like I’m dying, atom by atom, neuron by neuron, without you. However, every time James took more, he lost everything. Every time he took less, he felt the ache of desiring more.

He would accept whatever Elliott gave him without complaint.

“I want whatever you want as well, James.” Elliott smiled warmly at him, still slightly perspired across his freckles, as he sat forward to put on his sneakers. James reached for Elliott’s face and he guided their mouths together. He examined Elliott’s expression as their lips touched, searching for response. For reciprocity. For mutuality.

To know if his feelings were requited.

In response, Elliott laid his lips against James’s cheek. It was chaste.

Afterward, James pretended to be interested in the fox sparrows congregating on Elliott’s windowsill. A florid hue crept across his cheeks.