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Bloody snow , I couldn’t stand it. Yes, it made for a beautiful picture, the white contrasting with the deep colours of London’s masonry, people dressed in layers to keep warm, the snow making for a stunning effect. But the effect it had on people, that’s what I couldn’t stand. They either act as if armageddon had started or if every human conviction was suddenly lifted from their shoulders and they were born anew. I opted to stay inside, most snowy days, keeping to myself at the fireplace with a nice brandy to warm up, I would even sleep on the armchair to keep toasty. Heating the entirety of Number Nine was tedious, so why not keep to a single room if possible?
It was early on a snowy winter day when I awoke to a warm bed, in my arms lay a sleeping figure. Bright light entered the room, reflected from the flurry below, and masked us in a dull blanket of white. I let my long, deft fingers drift to entangle in my partner’s hair, he hummed in delight and pressed his face closer to my bare chest. I could feel his breath against my skin, warm and damp. It made for a lovely contrast to the frigid room. I hunkered down closer to him, drawing him tighter into my grasp, his legs intertwining with mine as we sought each other’s heat.
“It’s snowing,” I mumbled into his hair, kissing the top of his head, “and by the looks of it, it snowed all night.”
“Really now?” he pressed his cheek flush to my bust, I could feel a smile on his face. He peeked up at me from under the blankets where he took up residence, bright blue eyes gleaming, “Can we make a snowm’n?”
“If you’re not going to get sick again.”
I could already hear the throws of a cold coming upon him. “ ‘m not gonna get sick… again.”
“Charlie,” I chided, making him chuckle, “You can’t handle the cold, you always get sick, love.”
“No-” my dear boy said, quite sarcastically, “I don’t always get sick.” He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing in a toddler-like fashion. He loved the snow, dear reader, and I love him enough to tolerate it for a few hours every day.
“Every winter,” I untangled one of my legs from him, “for as long as you’ve been in my company,” I sacrificed my poor foot to the chill of the room, “Without fail, you have gotten sick.”
“Have not! Oi-!” I brought my chilly appendage back under the blanket, pressing it against his calf, “Are you dead?! Your bloody toes are freezin’!” He giggled, curling up to escape my assault on his skin.
“How about breakfast first, hm?” I threw the blanket back, gasping at the onslaught of frigid air, “Maybe turning the radiator on would be a good start-” Luckily, I had the sense to wear flannel pyjama bottoms the night before so I could make the journey to the radiator and back unscathed, “And now, we wait.”
Charlie instantly took the opportunity to sit up and hug me close, tucking his face into the crook of my neck, “You’re cold.”
I smiled at the heat he supplied, even as he placed light kisses along my skin, “And you’re very warm, love.” His hands wandered around my body, slipping under my pyjama bottoms. “ Oh- ”
After some greedy fellatio by my dear boy, and during our post-coital haze, the room finally warmed to a reasonable level. We set to dressing for the day, bringing our outer layers downstairs. The cooking was divided between us, I made the eggs and bacon while Charlie set to work making toast and tea. It was rather lovely, the domesticity between us, I enjoyed it with every ounce of my being. After losing my boy to the war, every moment with him became some of the most special memories I had.
We settled back in together quite nicely: he fell back into our hectic rhythm, Charlie took up his duties as a valet (which was a bit odd, but I couldn’t argue with having an extra set of hands), and we were once again in sync. It was no little delight, waking up with my boy every morning, having him by my side every moment, knowing he was safe. He’s safe now.
It would take quite some time to get that nagging paranoia out of my mind.
Enough dwelling, the past is the past and all I can do is hope for the best future for us. Charlie’s mind, on the other hand, was burdened with nothing more than the anticipation of snow. His foot tapped lightly on the floor as he quickly ate his serving of food, not sparing a single crumb. My boy’s love for the snow was immense, it was a juvenile love. Charlie would make snowmen and angels till the end of the day if I let him, but alas, the poor lad was all-too susceptible to sickness, and death by influenza was frightfully high in the cold winter months. His lovely dimpled smile beamed across the table to me, though there was a hint of mischief.
“What’s that look for?”
“What look?” the mischief only grew, a small glint in his icy blue eyes, “I dunno what you’re a-talkin’ about, sir.”
“Mhm,” I couldn’t help the smirk that crossed my lips, he was simply too divine, “Well, once you’ve finished your tea, we can leave and get some hot cocoa from the stall near the park.”
The rambunctious boy, ever the creature of spite, downed the rest of his cup in one go, not sparing a moment to get up and dress for the chill outside. His socked feet quickly padded across the room and he slid a bit before stopping to get his coat on. “C’mon Lucifer!” He buttoned his first layer up, “We’ve gotta get there for a good spot. All the lil’ street rats and posh little kids are gonna get the fresh snow at this point.”
Charlie had this air of innocence that never quite left him, even after the throws of war, his youthful smile reminded me of our earliest days. Those days in Italy, both of us young and irresponsible (the latter half remained to this day), we spent our time getting to know one another quite intimately. His curled, fluffy hair still in its prime, those icy baby blues shone just as before, his freckles were quite dim, but the lad hasn’t seen proper sun in years, and oh… those dimples. As a portraitist, dear reader, I could appreciate a beautiful face any day, but Charlie… he was the muse supreme, his presence itself could inspire monumental work. I could spend the rest of my days painting only him, and I would be content with where my life was.
We dressed in silence before I took the keys off the tray at the door, “Well?”
“Well?” He gazed up at me, a smile in his eyes.
I placed a gentle peck on his nose before pulling his scarf up, “Stay toasty love, wouldn’t want you to freeze.”
We set out into the bright winter streets of London, and after a few close calls on the steps (if is was not for my cat-like reflexes, my arse would have been busted upon the stairs barely a foot outside of the door), we set off to the park. Arm-in-arm, we safely traversed the icy streets and barely escaped the splash of a passing motorcar. Charlie bought the hot cocoa for us, the warm drink was a small saving grace to the crisp, dry winter air.
“Over there by the trees!” He pointed with a woollen mitten,”Perfect!” Charlie skipped ahead of me.
Even after all this time… he was still the same old Charlie Jackpot, silly, excited, joyful, charismatic. If only I could say the same about myself. I planted myself on a nearby bench, free of the frozen precipitation, and watched as Charlie began to roll his foundation.
My fingers twitched for my sketchbook, the sight before me was worthy of being immortalised.
Snow was a strange background for any image, it created an unnatural amount of negative space. There was virtually nothing to interest the eye, but it emphasised the focus even more so. Charlie, dressed in his dark colours, was the focal point. He always was. The dotting of snow on his black coat and pants, clumps of ice forming on his boots and gloves as he tramped about. The red scarf that served as a barrier to the frosty outside world only accentuated the beautiful blush that adorned his nose and cheeks. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes never ceased as he packed snow into the uneven bits of his creation. My precious boy. The toboggan that he wore had a little bobble at the top, it swayed back and forth as he studied his sculpture, and it was absurd… but he looked so happy .
I nursed my hot cocoa (Charlie’s was finished before we even reached the interior of the park), revelling in the comfort it brought. He presented the rather large base he created with a flourish of his hands and a showgirl-esque wiggle of his hips, “What do ya think?”
“I think he could use a body and a head!” I quipped at him, getting a rather rude gesture in response (which I happily returned). I nearly let out a scream as I felt a firm hand clap on my shoulder, but once I turned to see my new company, I relaxed, “Chris! Good Lord man, you nearly scared the ghost out of me. Sit down.”
“Didn’t mean to almost give you a heart attack there, old man,” Chris took the seat next to me, hands propped up on his cane, “I cancelled class today, thought it would be nice to take in the scenery. Then I saw Charlie and thought you couldn’t be too far away.”
“What can I say? We’re a real odd pair, Charlie and I.”
“That you are.”
I looked my friend up and down and got a strange feeling in my gut, “There’s something you want to talk about… isn’t there?”
“I- yes, shouldn’t have tried to hide it from a skilled man like you.”
“Doesn’t take a secret agent to figure out when you’re hiding something Chris, you’re practically a lightbulb in the dark about these things.”
He scoffed in a mock-hurt, “Well I never-”
We broke into a small fit of laughter, Charlie looking up at us and waved, the lad had managed to roll his second segment nearly ten yards away from his initial project. “Look at him, it’s difficult to think that just last year, I sat in this very spot reminiscing on our domestic exploits… just like this.”
Chris leaned forward on his cane, “And that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about, Lucifer.” Oh C hrist not this again, first Flarge and now Miracle. I hoped that the nearby lamppost would collapse upon us so I wouldn’t have to endure another lecture. “I won’t insult you by saying you’re not excited to have Charlie back, but… you’re not exactly content… are you?”
Damnit… he’s backed me into a corner, “No.. I’m not.” He made a gesture for me to continue, “Ten years, Miracle… you were there for it! All that time and I could have just confessed everything I felt for the lad. I could have confessed a million times over,” I stopped myself once I felt tears prickling at my eyes, so I blinked them away, “And he was just gone . Now I’ve been given this freak second chance… but he remembers nothing of me. Maybe it was just the universe giving all of my karma back at once, maybe it was a mercy on me. Every morning I have felt guilty for what happened to Charlie… I promised him that we would come home safe. Now look at him…”
“Yeah, Lucifer… look at him, right now.” I drew my ever-increasingly wet gaze up to Charlie. He triumphantly hoisted his final ball onto the snowman and cheered to himself, a wide smile on his face. “He’s home, he’s safe, he has you.”
“... You’re right, Chris.”
“Chin up mate, you overthink everything for not a single reason. Charlie’s okay now,” He held out his hand, curling his fingers as if to accept money, “I believe you owe me ten quid.”
“Hold on a moment! Since when did we have a wager?” Of all the preposterous-
“You said ten quid on whoever could give sound advice to the other-”
‘When?!”
Chis smirked, “Uni.”
That smug bastard has held onto this (probably) drunken bet we’ve had for nearly two decades! I had to give him points for commitment- “Fine.” I flipped out my billfold, forking over the specified amount, “Satisfied?”
He counted out the notes, “Pleasure doing business with you, Box.”
Charlie pranced over to us, breath heaving, “Christopher!” they enveloped one another in a friendly embrace, Chris placed a kiss on Charlie’s cheek, “How are you?”
“Much better, now that your helpmate has funded a new canvas for my work.” Me , a helpmate? To Charlie? I must say that I was rather offended by the implications. “And even more giddy now that I’ve seen you create such a lovely snowman.”
I looked over to my boy’s creation, complete with stick arms and stones for the eyes and mouth, “It’s adorable, my boy.”
The younger of us turned to smile at the frosty figure, “I s’pose you’re right, it is cute.”
After Charlie made his final goodbyes to his new friend, we set off together down the road. Our houses were in the same direction, generally, and Chris said he would walk us home (what a gentleman ). Charlie walked between us as we chatted about the artistic aspects of snow, the colour composition, how things turn into cool tones whether we want them to or not when painting about winter. Miracle mentioned how gorgeous Charlie looked in the snow, of course the boy was absolutely flattered and I was taken aback (once again) about how directly fond the supposedly “straight” man was of Charlie, and he suggested that I sketch it out at once once we reached No. 9 while the memory was still fresh.
“In case I don’t see you by Monday: Merry Christmas you two. Stay warm.”
“You too, Miracle.”
Once dry and sans winter attire, Charlie and I started the fire in the master bedroom. He rested, tucked tightly against my chest, an arm wrapped possessively around my body. Luckily, my boy hadn’t caught any sickness yet. I smoothed his hair back as he slept.
“I love you, Charlie.” He would never hear a single word I was about to say, but I needed to get it out… no need to dwell and all that… “I’ve loved you since that bloody night in Pompeii when I was too much of a coward to tell you. I loved you when I sat at the professor’s dining table and you leaned over me… You have changed me, and I wouldn’t have grown from that naive, idiotic, selfish boy without you. Your loss changed me, my boy. And now you’re here… You’re here with me and I can never repay the universe for what it has given me. I love you so much Charlie.”
“I love you too, Lucifer.”
I chuckled, ruffling his hair, “of course you were awake to hear me spill my guts, eh?”
He gave no response as he lifted my hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back.