Body has been practicing its standing and its noise-making in private for a very long time when the seed of an idea begins to sprout. It's been niggling at body for a while. If He doesn't come back to walk and talk body, and if body can walk and talk itself, then maybe.
Then.
Maybe.
Body wakes up with wet on its face again. Handsome Man is touching body's head and shoulder and chest, and it makes the Sam noise, quietly. Body doesn't want Handsome Man to be sad, and body thinks about how wonderful it would be if body could talk to Handsome Man and tell him not to be sad. Talk to him. Talk to him.
Handsome Man pulls body in close and body feels Handsome Man's heart thudding. They both have heartbeats. That one is Handsome Man's, and this one is ...
Mine, body decides, and its heartbeat goes faster, which is uncomfortable but exciting. My heartbeat, and if it belongs to body now, and if the arms and the legs and the throat do too, then body isn't really body, exactly.
Self has watched the Handsome Man smile very carefully, because it's good when Handsome Man smiles, and Self decides that he will learn how to do it, too. He'll practice that, along with making the right noises, until he can talk to the Handsome Man and tell him not to be sad, because he's so good and he makes Self not hurt and he's beautiful when he smiles. There's no good reason to be sad, as far as Self can see. They're warm and nothing hurts and they both have heartbeats of their very own.
Handsome Man gives Self soup to eat, and Self tests out a smile, but Handsome Man has turned around again and missed it. Handsome Man keeps talking while Self eats. Handsome Man is talking about the winter outside, and if Self had worked out his own talking a little better, he would correct Handsome Man, because Self knows winter very well, and the snow outside is not winter. Sometimes Self has wanted to give up on talking in frustration, because he knows the words but not how to make them come out right.
They sit on a couch and eat food that burns Self's mouth. Later when Self's belly is full and Handsome Man is talking, Handsome Man catches Self looking at him. Self likes to look. Handsome Man comes up so close that Self can smell the spicy on his breath, and Handsome Man makes the Sam noise, loud.
A thought distracts Self so he stops looking. Usually he feels bad for Handsome Man because Handsome Man keeps trying to talk to Him, but He isn't there and hasn't been ever since spring came. But sometimes -- and this thought makes Self's stomach clench up and his palms sweat -- sometimes he dares to think that Handsome Man is talking to Self.
If that's true, then everything changes. Self thinks about it in the dark, when the sheets are cold because Handsome Man hasn't come to bed yet.
Self wakes up from winter with a twitch and a gasp. He blinks the wet out of his eyes. Handsome Man is still sleeping, curled on his side with an arm under the pillow. During the day Handsome Man can do just about anything, banishing cold and bringing food and walking and talking like it's nothing, so beautifully himself, at home in his own body. In sleep, Handsome Man seems softer and sadder and smaller.
Self doesn't want to wake Handsome Man. Self is dry-mouthed tight-jawed hand-shaking frightened about tomorrow and he thinks it's better to practice now, while Handsome Man is asleep and gone away. He makes the rumble in his throat stay small and quiet. "Hello."
Sparks and shivers run all over Self's body. A pleasant sensation aches his face and he realizes he's smiling without even trying.
He leans in closer, elbows on the sheets. "Hello, Handsome Man." From here Self can see every individual eyelash. "I'm going to meet you tomorrow," Self says, low and secret. He hopes it's a good surprise and that it makes Handsome Man smile.
Self puts his head on the same pillow as Handsome Man and lets their knees touch. He presses his toe against the top of Handsome Man's foot. It's warm in the bed. Warm keeps the winter out. Sam shifts closer and drapes an arm over Handsome Man's waist, sneaks an ankle between his legs. Makes sure Handsome Man is warm, too.
2/2
Then.
Maybe.
Body wakes up with wet on its face again. Handsome Man is touching body's head and shoulder and chest, and it makes the Sam noise, quietly. Body doesn't want Handsome Man to be sad, and body thinks about how wonderful it would be if body could talk to Handsome Man and tell him not to be sad. Talk to him. Talk to him.
Handsome Man pulls body in close and body feels Handsome Man's heart thudding. They both have heartbeats. That one is Handsome Man's, and this one is ...
Mine, body decides, and its heartbeat goes faster, which is uncomfortable but exciting. My heartbeat, and if it belongs to body now, and if the arms and the legs and the throat do too, then body isn't really body, exactly.
Self has watched the Handsome Man smile very carefully, because it's good when Handsome Man smiles, and Self decides that he will learn how to do it, too. He'll practice that, along with making the right noises, until he can talk to the Handsome Man and tell him not to be sad, because he's so good and he makes Self not hurt and he's beautiful when he smiles. There's no good reason to be sad, as far as Self can see. They're warm and nothing hurts and they both have heartbeats of their very own.
Handsome Man gives Self soup to eat, and Self tests out a smile, but Handsome Man has turned around again and missed it. Handsome Man keeps talking while Self eats. Handsome Man is talking about the winter outside, and if Self had worked out his own talking a little better, he would correct Handsome Man, because Self knows winter very well, and the snow outside is not winter. Sometimes Self has wanted to give up on talking in frustration, because he knows the words but not how to make them come out right.
They sit on a couch and eat food that burns Self's mouth. Later when Self's belly is full and Handsome Man is talking, Handsome Man catches Self looking at him. Self likes to look. Handsome Man comes up so close that Self can smell the spicy on his breath, and Handsome Man makes the Sam noise, loud.
A thought distracts Self so he stops looking. Usually he feels bad for Handsome Man because Handsome Man keeps trying to talk to Him, but He isn't there and hasn't been ever since spring came. But sometimes -- and this thought makes Self's stomach clench up and his palms sweat -- sometimes he dares to think that Handsome Man is talking to Self.
If that's true, then everything changes. Self thinks about it in the dark, when the sheets are cold because Handsome Man hasn't come to bed yet.
Self wakes up from winter with a twitch and a gasp. He blinks the wet out of his eyes. Handsome Man is still sleeping, curled on his side with an arm under the pillow. During the day Handsome Man can do just about anything, banishing cold and bringing food and walking and talking like it's nothing, so beautifully himself, at home in his own body. In sleep, Handsome Man seems softer and sadder and smaller.
Self doesn't want to wake Handsome Man. Self is dry-mouthed tight-jawed hand-shaking frightened about tomorrow and he thinks it's better to practice now, while Handsome Man is asleep and gone away. He makes the rumble in his throat stay small and quiet. "Hello."
Sparks and shivers run all over Self's body. A pleasant sensation aches his face and he realizes he's smiling without even trying.
He leans in closer, elbows on the sheets. "Hello, Handsome Man." From here Self can see every individual eyelash. "I'm going to meet you tomorrow," Self says, low and secret. He hopes it's a good surprise and that it makes Handsome Man smile.
Self puts his head on the same pillow as Handsome Man and lets their knees touch. He presses his toe against the top of Handsome Man's foot. It's warm in the bed. Warm keeps the winter out. Sam shifts closer and drapes an arm over Handsome Man's waist, sneaks an ankle between his legs. Makes sure Handsome Man is warm, too.