(Dianne) Fox Writes

They sat on a bench and watched the empty swings sway in the breeze, their fingers still twined together. Gray closed his eyes for a long moment, listening to the faint squeak of the rusted chains, the whisper of the last autumn leaves blown across the newly-fallen snow, and the steady huff of Vale’s breath. He savored the sound, memorizing it for the comfort of another year of days and nights that felt impossibly, infinitely long and lonely.

He knew without looking that Vale was doing the same. They had long since fallen into rhythms and patterns to carry them through the night with nary a pause for planning what was to come next. Those pauses wasted precious moments Gray could otherwise spend as he was now, turning to see Vale’s beautiful golden face lit up with the ecstasy of their contact.

“Has it been a good year for you?” Gray asked. In the beginning, they’d tried to send messages to each other, sharing news of their days, but nothing made it through the barrier of the curse. Even mutual friends, the few they’d once had, found themselves unable to speak of Gray in Vale’s presence, or of Vale to Gray. Those friends had all moved on, now, made too uncomfortable by the curse’s control over their thoughts and actions.

Vale gave the same answer as always: “Long.” After a pause that felt as long as a year, he continued. “I know how to break the curse.”