Ferris\u2019 dreams had been mostly sounds. A heartbeat pounded like a knocker on a door. There was the crunch of snow, the sound of glass\u2014a wine bottle, tumbling onto a sidewalk. His own voice. \u201cYou\u2019re drunk.\u201d<\/i><\/p>\n
He woke with an ache in his chest. It took a moment to put together the blurry hotel room. Right. They were at the hotel. The door knocker thumping in Ferris\u2019 head still hadn\u2019t stopped. A glance to the left told him that Demos wasn\u2019t in the bed. A glance right, followed by a hand patting over the nightstand, told him that his glasses weren\u2019t there either. This was bad. Both of those things were supposed to be there.<\/p>\n
\u201cMorning,\u201d came a voice from across the room. Ferris couldn\u2019t recognize the fuzzy shape. But even with his pounding head, even with just one word, he knew that stupid voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cDemos\u2014\u201c Ferris started. It was more of a croak, the final words of a man on his deathbed. \u201cHave you seen my glasses?\u201d<\/p>\n
The other half of the bed sunk, just slightly. The blur that was probably Demos had joined him. It looked very much like that blur was playing with something in his hands\u2014maybe a pair of glasses.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d Demos said. Ferris watched with little amusement as Demos tried them on, cringed, then tore them off his face. Served him right. His figure leaned in, ever so gently sliding the plastic arms over Ferris\u2019 ears. Demos\u2019 face came into focus with a snap; there was a weary smile on it. Also, the glasses were completely crooked.<\/p>\n
Ferris pushed himself upright, fussing with the frames until they sat correctly over his nose. He made an effort to rub the ache from his temples, which didn\u2019t work in the slightest.<\/p>\n
He looked up. \u201cSomething smells good.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI brought you a coffee.\u201d Demos gestured toward the dresser. \u201cThere\u2019s a bakery down the street.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sure enough, Demos was fully dressed. There was a to go cup on the dresser beside some kind of pastry wrapped in paper. This was strange. Demos was usually the last person awake in any given group of people. He was also the one that would demand someone else bring him his caff\u00e8 e cornetto. A pack of cigarettes. This was all wrong.<\/p>\n
Maybe Demos was trying to make up for something.<\/p>\n
With much more effort than it should have taken, Ferris pushed himself from the bed. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, lifting the paper cup to take a sip. Still hot. And fuck<\/i>, it was good. The sound was still there\u2014the thump. Thump<\/i>. Last night. That hadn\u2019t been a dream, had it? The ache in his chest intensified.<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks.\u201d Ferris kept his eyes on the plastic lid of the cup. \u201cDo you\u2014remember what happened last night?\u201d<\/p>\n
Shit. Why did he ask that? Why had those words left his mouth? Demos was still making that same, tired smile. \u201cNo. Did I do something stupid?\u201d<\/p>\n
Of course. That was the answer Ferris had expected. Demos had been so drunk he didn\u2019t even remember what he\u2019d done. That was for the best. It would have made for an uncomfortable conversation. After all, Ferris had\u2014<\/p>\n
\u201cNo\u2014\u201d Ferris\u2019 eyes were still down, afraid to look up. \u201cI did.\u201d<\/p>\n
There, propped on the armchair, he saw it. His violin case. Ferris had forgotten about it when he\u2019d stormed out of the wedding reception. Demos must have picked that up, too. Last night had been such a mess. It had been\u2014<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re not hungover?\u201d Ferris asked.<\/p>\n
Demos gave a light laugh. \u201cAm I supposed to be? How drunk was<\/i> I?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDrunk enough to\u2014\u201c Ferris stopped. He didn\u2019t want to talk about this anymore. The pain in his chest had sharpened to a point. He was exhausted, inside and out. Forgetting took more energy than he\u2019d expected. \u201cUh\u2014 we should check out. I\u2019ll ask them to pull the car around.\u201d<\/p>\n
Why did it still hurt?<\/p>\n
Demos\u2019 smile fell. \u201cYou didn\u2019t want to spend the day here? I thought we were going to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not\u2014feeling up to it,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou sure? There\u2019s supposed to be a snowstorm today.\u201d<\/p>\n
Spending the day here\u2014watching Demos\u2019 face light up in a store or settle into deep thought when trying a new dish from a new restaurant. The way he\u2019d tug on his sleeve. The way his laugh sounded in the cold air. Having to go back. Back to the park.<\/p>\n
There was no way. Ferris couldn\u2019t bear a second of it\u2014not today.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cI\u2019m sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
#<\/p>\n
They were only halfway home when the blizzard hit in full strength. It had started as a light flurry twenty minutes prior. It had grown and grown until all Ferris could see was the color white. The Alfa Romeo was struggling now, tires pressing on through inches of snow. The highway was empty; no one else had been stupid enough to try driving through an ice storm. The lines on the road were gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cShit,\u201d Ferris said through his teeth. \u201cI can\u2019t see the road.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos had cranked up the heat, cocooning himself in the knit cotton blanket they\u2019d received as a wedding favor. Thankfully, the bride and groom had the courtesy not to put their own names on it.<\/p>\n
\u201cPull over,\u201d Demos said.<\/p>\n
The vehicle rumbled to a stop on the shoulder of the road\u2014at least, what Ferris hoped was the shoulder of the road. Outside, snow whipped past the windows. Ice had already begun to build along the edges of the glass. He looked over. \u201cYou want to wait this out?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think we have a choice,\u201d Demos said. \u201cYou can\u2019t drive on a road that\u2019s not there.\u201d In spite of the heat blasting in front of his seat, he was still shivering. \u201cFuck<\/i>, my feet are cold.\u201d<\/p>\n
The Alfa Romeo Spider\u2014a tiny, vintage convertible with a cloth top. In retrospect, this was the worst possible choice of vehicle for this road trip. Demos had been right. They should have rented a car. A glance at the dashboard brought a second wave of regret. They were low on gas. Ferris had accounted for gas stations during the drive; there was one off the exit just a few miles farther. He hadn\u2019t, however, accounted for the snowstorm.<\/p>\n
\u201cFuck, I\u2014\u201c Ferris dragged both hands down over his mouth. \u201cI\u2019m sorry. We don\u2019t have enough gas to keep it running like this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/i> Demos\u2019 head bumped back onto the headrest. \u201cCazzo di merda<\/i>\u2014this is not<\/i> how I wanted to die.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris\u2019 hand lingered on the key. He took in a slow breath, then cut the engine. The heater stopped. Everything was silent save the snow pelting the surface of the car. The windshield was already half covered, casting a shadow over their seats. This was bad, but it could have been worse. The storm was only supposed to be an hour. They could survive an hour. Couldn\u2019t they?<\/p>\n
He could already feel the chill creeping up into his bones. His hands cupped over his face, a vain effort to warm his fingers with a few breaths. It was a challenge, peering through fogged glasses to the passenger at his right.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re really going to hog that entire blanket?\u201d Ferris said. It seemed warm\u2014really warm. The kind of throw that looked like a knit sweater\u2014cream-colored, plush, and thick. Demos had pulled it up over his nose, leaving only his eyes exposed to the air.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell\u2014\u201d Demos\u2019 voice was muffled. \u201cCrank your seat back, then.\u201d<\/p>\n
There wasn\u2019t much space for the driver\u2019s seat to move in the little two-door car. Ferris tugged the handle, letting it roll back until it stopped with a clunk<\/i>. What did moving his seat have to do with\u2014<\/p>\n
A sound took Ferris\u2019 attention back to his right. Demos was clambering over the emergency brake. He was\u2014coming over. To this seat. The driver\u2019s seat.<\/p>\n
Oh.<\/p>\n
Ferris felt it immediately, the wall of warmth, the instant heat of another body against his. The knit blanket draped over the two of them, trapping that heat beneath the fabric. Ferris\u2019 back was digging into the door handle, his head bumping the window. There wasn\u2019t enough room for both of their legs, even with Demos curled up beside the steering wheel.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is\u2026 so uncomfortable,\u201d Ferris said.<\/p>\n
It was a flat-out lie. Yes, everything was cold and hard and hurt. But Ferris couldn\u2019t remember ever feeling more comfortable. The weight of that body on top of his, wedged in the small space by the dashboard. The softness of that pitch-black hair against the side of his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s call reception,\u201d Demos mumbled into the blanket. \u201cHave them send up some pillows with our room service.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShut up.\u201d<\/p>\n
This was worse. Worse than spending a day in the city. Demos had never been so painfully close to him\u2014never for this long. Ferris could feel breath on his collar. He could smell that bergamot and vetiver hair product Demos had brought along because he\u2019d refused to use whatever the hotel provided.<\/p>\n
And whenever the storm ended, he would pull away\u2014and it would never happen again. This was for survival, to get through the cold in a poorly equipped Alfa Romeo on the side of the highway in a blizzard he\u2019d been stupid enough to drive through. This didn\u2019t mean anything. And it would be wrong of him to pretend it did.<\/p>\n
Ferris closed his eyes against the crown of Demos\u2019 hair. Then, he felt it. A solid shiver that ran straight up Demos\u2019 back and through his throat into a gasp. Ferris moved instinctively, without thinking. His hand ran up that cold back, an unsuccessful attempt to rub some heat into the chill.<\/p>\n
It was odd. By now, Demos would normally have pulled some kind of I told you so. I told you we should have stayed at the hotel. I told you there\u2019d be a snowstorm.<\/i> But he wasn\u2019t saying it. Maybe he was too cold to speak.<\/p>\n
\u201cI lied,\u201d Demos said against his chest. It looked like he was capable of speaking after all.<\/p>\n
Ferris stilled his hand. \u201cAbout what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI do remember.\u201d Demos\u2019 fingers curled, just slightly. \u201cI remember what happened last night.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris\u2019 eyes opened, locked tight on the frosted windshield. That sound in his skull returned with a start. That incessant thump<\/i>. Thump<\/i>. \u201cWhy\u2014why didn\u2019t you say so?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was embarrassed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s\u2014fine,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cYou were drunk.\u201d<\/p>\n
The seat creaked. Demos pushed himself up onto his hands, forcing Ferris to meet his eyes. It was just like the reception during that song. The sound of the piano\u2014of the strings. Ferris couldn\u2019t look away.<\/p>\n
Demos inhaled. \u201cYou kissed me back.\u201d<\/p>\n
Shit\u2014could Demos hear it, too? It was so loud. His pulse was so, so loud. Fuck\u2014he remembered. Fuck<\/i>.<\/p>\n
Demos\u2019 eyes tensed around the corners. \u201cWhy did you kiss me back?\u201d<\/p>\n
That pain returned tenfold. Air caught in Ferris\u2019 throat as he forgot how to draw it into his lungs, forgot how to use words to convey meaning. This whole time, this whole morning\u2014he\u2019d remembered. Demos had remembered everything.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d was all Ferris could say. \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
Wind was whipping past the windows, sending flurries and ticks of ice against the glass. The entire windshield was covered in snow, a shadow, impossible to see through.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you?\u201d Demos said. His eyes had tightened\u2014hardened. \u201cAre<\/i> you sorry? Do you wish you could take it back\u2014that it\u2019d never happened?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was no correct answer, nothing he could say that was safe. Nothing that wouldn\u2019t change everything between them. That wouldn\u2019t mean losing everything he had, everything he\u2019d come back for. The door was ice cold against his back. He was starting to lose feeling somewhere in his boots, down in his toes. He was starting to lose feeling everywhere.<\/p>\n
Why was Demos asking this? What did he want to hear?<\/p>\n
Demos hadn\u2019t removed that stare, that lock of his eyes that had entrapped every trace of Ferris\u2019 attention. The Ghost had braced himself against the seat, against the door, hanging over Ferris, legs tucked against his, back bent at an angle it probably shouldn\u2019t have been. He was only inches away.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know,\u201d<\/i> Demos said. The ice outside had nothing on those two words.<\/p>\n
There was nowhere for Ferris to escape to. Nowhere else he could look. \u201cI don\u2019t\u2014I don\u2019t know anything anymore.\u201d Why was his voice shaking? Why couldn\u2019t he breathe properly? \u201cI don\u2019t know what I want\u2014what I am.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re my life<\/i>, Ferris.\u201d<\/p>\n
Those words stopped every function of Ferris\u2019 body, his heart, his lungs. The sensation of pain from the too tight seat, from the angled joints pressing into his thigh. The shiver that had just started to build in his gut. It all stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re\u2014everything,\u201d Demos said. \u201cExcept right now, I feel like you\u2019re missing. I feel like I\u2019m alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
With that, Ferris found his voice. \u201cYou\u2019re not alone.\u201d He knew what it was like\u2014to be alone. To spend three long years living in memories, living with a hole so deep that nothing could fill it.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m here<\/i>.\u201d Ferris\u2019 hands stopped shivering the moment he touched Demos\u2019 face. His jaw was cold, just like it had been last night. He held that face with both hands, thumb brushing over his cheek. No matter where he was or who he was with, his thoughts always came back to this same face, that one smile\u2014the one Demos never let anyone but Ferris see.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m right here.\u201d In that moment, Ferris forgot what he\u2019d been so afraid of. All he could feel was this life in his hands\u2014the Ghost that haunted him. The one he loved more than anything he could think of, anything that ever had or ever would exist.<\/p>\n
Ferris leaned upward. Here he was, fighting gravity at the cliff\u2019s edge, the thump, thump<\/i> so strong it was rocking his balance. He closed his eyes and took that step.<\/p>\n
Demos\u2019 mouth was as soft as he remembered, yielding against his own until there was nothing between them. Warm against the cold. Tasting of that bitter espresso he\u2019d had that morning. That cliff was gone, leaving only his body and the pull of the earth. Falling upward. His hands wanted to shake again, his throat wanted to give in to a tremor. Somehow, he held fast. But\u2014<\/p>\n
Demos wasn\u2019t moving. He had frozen in place, eyes wide open\u2014still. There was no embrace, no reaction. There was nothing. Just the patter of ice on glass and the baying wind outside.<\/p>\n
That panic returned, cleaving through Ferris\u2019 heart like a handaxe. He\u2019d made a mistake, hadn\u2019t he? One he could never take back.<\/p>\n
\u201cDemos. Please\u2014<\/i>\u201c Ferris whispered. Hands shaking, voice shaking. \u201cKiss me back.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was all it took. Ferris\u2019 back bumped hard against the door as Demos deepened the kiss, tasting him. Ferris wasn\u2019t sure whose pulse he was hearing anymore. Hands dug into his shoulders, that mouth chasing his own, panting visible clouds in the brief moments they parted. Glasses bumped up over his nose, over his brow. There was no room for them anymore.<\/p>\n
The kiss deepened, closer, harder, and Ferris felt as if he had stood up too quickly\u2014as if he had been standing in a hot shower for much too long and had grown dizzy from the heat. It didn\u2019t matter that the car was frozen or that he couldn\u2019t feel his feet. Every corner of his body was burning. His heart felt like it was beating for the first time in his life, that every dull thump until that moment had been a lie.<\/p>\n
Demos pulled back, gasping puffs into the frigid air. \u201cI love you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Ferris had heard that before. It had been in bars, after long nights, each word smelling like liquor. He\u2019d always answered with a joke, with an offhanded comment. But this\u2014there was no writing it off. There wasn\u2019t a joke hidden in it; there wasn\u2019t the alcohol-laden evening that led to this point. It was just the two of them, huddled in a car like the idiots they were. He was finally listening to those three words, finally believing them.<\/p>\n
Ferris opened his eyes. \u201cI\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t say you know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know.\u201d Ferris let his hand trace higher, his thumb running over the flush in Demos\u2019 cheek. \u201cBut I wish I had.\u201d<\/p>\n
He waited until their eyes met again, that he was certain Demos was listening. Ferris\u2019 chest rose and fell before he spoke. \u201cI love you\u2014so much<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n
Demos shook\u2014once. There was water in his gaze, welling just above his eyelids.<\/p>\n
Ferris\u2019 hand stopped. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m happy, you asshole.\u201d Demos lowered his head until their foreheads met. Ferris felt a tear\u00a0 <\/span>hit the side of his face. There it was\u2014that smile. Ferris couldn\u2019t see it, but he could feel it\u2014feel it against his palm, feel the rush of his breath as he spoke once more. \u201cI\u2019m happy.\u201d<\/p>\n They held that moment as long as they could. Ferris didn\u2019t care that he would probably have lingering pain in every joint he owned, that he may never feel his feet again. That the snow had piled up over a foot along the side of the car\u2014that the storm hadn\u2019t calmed. All he could feel was the soft breath on his face, the heat in every point their bodies touched. The arms that Demos had wrapped around his shoulders, as if he was afraid he\u2019d slip away.<\/p>\n That was all there was.<\/p>\n \u201cThis isn\u2019t how I imagined it.\u201d Demos\u2019 voice was quiet, barely audible over the blizzard outside.<\/p>\n \u201cYou imagined this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah. A lot,\u201d Demos said. \u201cIt was sunset, and we were on a big pile of money. And we weren\u2019t about to die.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris\u2019 laugh was faint. \u201cWe\u2019re not going to die,\u201d he said. \u201cWe just have to stay warm.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos seemed to take this as a cue to move closer. Their chests met flush against one another. Ferris could feel Demos\u2019 mouth resting on his neck, strands of hair on his jaw. It took every ounce of will he had not to swallow\u2014not to shiver at the light touch of those lips.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d Demos said. \u201cBut if we make it, you owe me a dance.\u201d<\/p>\n Ferris cringed internally. That was right. Demos had asked him to dance. And he\u2019d replied with some mean, petty remark that had set off this entire mess. \u201cGreat,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cNow I hope we die.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou are such<\/i> an asshole.\u201d<\/p>\n There wasn\u2019t really any arguing with that.<\/p>\n An entire half hour passed before a wave of snow splattered across the side of the car. Ferris opened his eyes, glancing out the side window just in time to see a roaring truck, a plow, tearing through the walls of snow that had covered the highway. The next thing he noticed was the incredible pain in his lower back,\u00a0 <\/span>provoked by whatever he called this ridiculous position in the driver\u2019s seat.<\/p>\n Demos stirred against his chest. It seemed they\u2019d both nodded off. It also seemed the snow had stopped.<\/p>\n \u201cLook,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cThe road is clear.\u201d<\/p>\n Demos sat upright, rubbing his eye. \u201cFinally.\u201d<\/p>\n The car started with a low rumble. The heater instantly kicked on, blowing cold air into cold air. Right\u2014it would take a minute to warm up again. Ferris looked over to Demos, who had a line across his cheek from Ferris\u2019 collar. \u201cYou okay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah.\u201d Demos still looked half asleep as he rolled back into the passenger seat.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, uh\u2014\u201c Ferris put his hands on the steering wheel, then chewed his lower lip. \u201cI didn\u2019t\u2014dream that, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo.\u201d Demos tugged the knit throw up over his chest, then glanced back over. That look in his eyes\u2014was it new, or had Ferris just not noticed it before? Whatever it was, it stirred something in his chest. Something that had been locked away for ages but was now sitting in plain sight. In the cold, winter air. In the sun.<\/p>\n Demos smiled against the folds of the blanket. \u201cYou didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Ferris\u2019 dreams had been mostly sounds. A heartbeat pounded like a knocker on a door. There was the crunch of snow, the sound of glass\u2014a wine bottle, tumbling onto a sidewalk. His own voice. \u201cYou\u2019re drunk.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-631","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fishbones-book-02"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4oWx8-ab","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/631","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=631"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/631\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":687,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/631\/revisions\/687"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=631"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=631"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=631"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}