Robin wasn’t thinking about what Lucas had said, except for how he was, remembering the certainty in Lucas’ voice as he insisted his time was far in the future and Robin had nothing to worry about. It didn’t stop Robin from shivering, but he clung to it, and Lucas’ hand, as he went up the stairs.
They both had to change and either hang up their clothes in the bathroom over the tub or toss them in the dryer. Behind them was a growing trail of icy droplets that Robin would deal with when he wasn’t shaking.
Lucas stopped at Robin’s bedroom door but stepped back before Robin could think to hold onto him. He gave Robin a smile, as if anything about tonight had earned Robin such a reward, and continued down the hall to the guest room.
Robin stared after him, then finally stumbled into his bedroom, which was not much warmer than outside. He opened the heat vent, then went to the fireplace, although it had no logs in it since he hadn’t slept in this room for weeks, maybe months. He wasn’t even sure the chimney flue was clean and usable, unless Lucas had taken care of it without mentioning it.
He peeled off his layers and dropped them onto the brick hearth, then had to sit down in the chair by the desk under the window to remove his socks. Robin had done his high school homework and shyly sketched his first tapestry plans at this desk, though now he used the office downstairs for anything important.
One of those tapestries, not very large, with mistakes that still haunted him, hung above the head of the bed. The other wall was bare apart from the antique wardrobe that held Robin’s clothes. The wall with the window had faded floral wallpaper, probablyfrom the turn of the last century. As a teenager, Robin had tacked magazine pictures over it.
The curtains he’d woven himself. The blankets on top of the bed were all handmade save the one at the bottom of the pile. The shelf above the fireplace had trophies from competitions he’d forgotten about and shells from the one time he’d seen the ocean while on a trip for the business.
He’d left the curtains partly open. Lightning lit the room two times before Robin stood up to try to remove his wet pants. The light from the hallway let him see enough to not trip over his abandoned socks but he didn’t feel steady. He was cold, trembling, with restless thoughts and images behind his eyes of Lucas watching the storm and looking very much like he would have ridden into the heart of it if he’d only had a broom.
Water dripped from Robin’s hair down to his bare shoulders. His body gave a hard shiver.
He gripped the back of the chair to stay upright.
“Lucas?”
Robin had no reason to call that name. He had no right to, even if Lucas forgave him for not visiting. But Lucas answered, “Blessing?” before appearing in the doorway, and Robin was still shaking but suddenly much steadier on his feet.
Lucas had a small towel in one hand, and was wearing sweatpants and a thin white athletic shirt. His feet were bare. Robin decided dizzily that it was for the best that his room was so dark, because it was the sort of view that should be enjoyed in full light, but in full light, Robin might have done something foolish.
Lucas looked Robin over slowly, then shook his head. “Are you having trouble?” He came into the room, glancing to thefireplace which had no logs for him to light before his gaze fell to Robin again. “Are your jeans stuck?”
Wet jeans did stick. That would be a good explanation for why Robin had wanted him here. Robin mutely watched Lucas cross to him and pause before sitting in the chair Robin had just gotten out of. The seat was probably wet. Lucas would have sat there anyway, even if he’d known that beforehand, if he thought Robin needed him to.
Robin smiled down at the top of Lucas’ head.
Lucas held up the towel, apparently for Robin to use, so Robin took it, and watched, mesmerized, when Lucas reached down to Robin’s ankles to tug on his jean cuffs. Theyweresticking; Lucas was very wise. He also was not in black and white for once, but white and gray. The hall light was a quiet glow of yellow and far enough away to brush the edges of him. It put shadows at his collarbone and behind his shoulders, made his eyes dark when he looked up again.
“What is it?” he asked, probably wondering why Robin hadn’t said a word since calling him in here. His voice was low. Maybe he didn’t want the spirits to overhear.
“Finally,” Robin explained in the same whisper, “I’ve got you in my room.”
An achievement that would have made teenaged Robin confused, happy, and so hard he wouldn’t have been able to think. Robin now was trembling with cold and remembered fear, but also warm and light and smiling.
“Finally?” Lucas echoed. He was confused or hopeful or, oh, Robin couldn’t tell. He was earnest, that was it. Lucas didn’t know what Robin meant but he wanted to. He held himself still, gazing at Robin as if Robin had the answer he needed and it had nothing to do with Robin’s gift.
Robin laid his palm against Lucas’ cheek, sweeping his thumb over the skin and scar tissue beneath Lucas’ left eye. He dropped the towel to the floor so he could put his other hand to Lucas’ jaw before trailing his fingertips down the side of his neck.
They were speaking of something. Robin tried to remember what.
“Yes,” he decided on, to be agreeable, and to make it clear that whatever Lucas was asking him, the answer was yes.
It felt a little inappropriate to leave his hands where they were without a similar answer from Lucas, so he stopped short of touching Lucas’ lips, although he could feel Lucas’ breath on the inside of one wrist.
“Blessing.” Lucas watched Robin steadily. “You’re still shivering.”
“I’m cold,” Robin told him. “And you said… what you said.”
“I said what I said,” Lucas blinked, “and it upset you?”
“Yes.” Robin expelled a short, somewhat irritated huff of air. “You shouldn’t forgive me. And you shouldn’t let me pet you. Yet you are.” His smile returned. “You really are.”
“I….” Lucas didn’t seem to know how to finish his thought.
