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Scott keeps close to his side of the bed, curled in close like a bug hiding from a boot. Only his boot is two feet away, sleeping soundly. Even as he slept, the boot had an air of hostility about him. Scott couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than sharing his own bed with a stranger. The fact that he’d have to do this every day for the rest of his eternity makes him sick to his stomach.
Something wet falls down his face and he sniffles, reaching one hand from his cocoon to brush the tear from his face. It’s warm on his cold hand. A spot of sunshine on an icicle. He melts under his own inner fire.
The boot shifts and Scott tenses, going silent. The room echoes with the quiet of two men unsure of what to say.
“King Smajor?”
Scott closes his eyes, stealing himself before he speaks. “Go back to bed, Solidarity.”
No one moves. Scott keeps his eyes closed, praying that his voice hadn’t wavered too much. He counts in his head the seconds that pass. Ten. Then twenty. Then forty.
“What’s wrong?” A hand brushes Scott’s shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” He swats the hand away, scooting back against the wooden headboard. His breathing grows irregular, his wet eyes barely holding back the welled-up tears.
“Something’s wrong. I’m—you can tell me.” The blonde holds his hands out in a placating invitation.
“I don’t even know you! I met you yesterday when my brother signed my life away to you!” Scott shouts. “I can’t tell you anything.”
The boot cringes—winces? He doesn’t say anything after that. Scott watches him as his brain runs through a million different thoughts at once. From scolding himself to praying for forgiveness to preparing for what the stranger might say.
“Smajor, I know this is hard, I didn’t want it either, but if we’re going to spend the rest of eternity together, we might as well make it bearable. You don’t have to trust me, not in the slightest, but at least let me help. Please?”
The earnest look in his eyes pierced through Scott’s barriers. He doesn’t trust him—he doubts he ever will—but he’s right. Scott lowers his arms and sets his hands in the offered ones before him.
“Okay.”
“Well… if it helps, I know elves value names. I can give you mine?”
Scott hesitates. “I… I don’t know. That’s a lot of trust you have in me. I don’t know if I’m ready to give you mine yet. You’d be risking a lot.”
“I know.” He squeezes Scott’s hands softly. “My name is Jimmy, it’s nice to meet you, King Smajor.”
Scott’s mind rings with the sound of a true name. “Jimmy,” he whispers, testing the feeling of the word. It fits the face before him. Soft smile, softer brown eyes, bright golden hair, and an overall openness that scares him.
Jimmy smiles when Scott says his name. “Yeah! Yeah, that’s me! Do you want to talk about what’s scaring you?”
“…” Scott looks down at the hands holding his, and the truth is, the fear is still there. “You are.”
Jimmy’s smile falters, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t demand answers, doesn’t shout or call him words Scott has heard and tried to forget. He simply asks: “Why?”
And it’s a little odd how much that stumps him. Scott knows why, but the fact that the question is phrased so softly, throws him off. He’s not sure what to say. So he tells the truth.
“I’m afraid of this. The marriage, the sharing everything. I was afraid that you would be angry that I was scared. I was afraid that you would try to hurt me. I’ve never… I haven’t… I’ve never been in this sort of situation before. I don’t know… how to feel.”
Jimmy nods. “I get it. I’m scared too. Maybe… maybe we can be scared together? We can… work through this and… try to find our balance? I guess?”
Scott nods. “Okay.”
“Can I…” Jimmy hesitates. “Can I hug you?”
Scott thinks it over. The fears he had before aren’t gone, but they’ve abated. He thinks… maybe they can do this. Maybe he should at least try. He nods.
Jimmy lightly pulls on Scott’s hands, bringing him closer. He puts his arms around Scott’s back. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, it’s barely even there. It’s perfect.
Little by little, Scott relaxes into the touch. He lets his eyes close, if only for a moment. As sleep starts to settle into his bones, he leans forward, tucking his head under Jimmy’s chin.
“Can we lay down?” Scott asks softly.
In lieu of a response, the blonde carefully lowers both of them onto the pillows. They remain facing each other, Jimmy’s arms holding him in place. Scott slowly moves his arms around Jimmy’s back, underneath his arms. He freezes, waiting for Jimmy’s response, but all he feels is a smile against his hair.
He closes his eyes again and rests. Maybe the bug and the boot can coexist. Maybe this isn’t so scary. Maybe… just maybe… eternity doesn’t sound so bad.