Post by harrow emmett satagori-hedlund on Feb 10, 2014 20:56:03 GMT -5
Fingerless gloves. Whoever invented these things was a special kind of asshole. Harrow rubbed his hands together to try to work some feeling back into his fingertips, but had to admit that the gloves pulled together his whole, ‘carelessly put together, but looking fine’ look that he had tried to go for. The gloves, his well-fitting jeans, pea coat and knitted scarf, it was comfortable and perfect for the snow. February in Salem was always something that amazed him. Snow was rare when he was growing up, even a light dusting in Tacoma was enough to drive people insane, and sometimes even end their lives with horrible driving along I-5.
He ran his fingers through his red hair, knowing that he was coated in the swirling snow, but couldn’t quite bring himself to go home. He had been excited to spend a first Valentine’s Day with his new boyfriend, but had been turned down. Apparently Ian wanted to spend the day with his kids, and declined to have a day with him. Harrow didn’t have anything planned, but he had wanted to just curl up with his man and enjoy the snowfall.
Harrow knew that it was difficult for Ian to cope with his new found sexuality, but he hated being shoved into a closet. He hated that people seemed to hate spending time with him openly. Was it so horrible to want to just walk down the street and hold the hand of a man who loved him? He wanted to be able to kiss his own boyfriend and not worry about him getting angry over it because someone could see them.
One year ago to the day, he had been curled up with Felix in his home; with them curled up by the fireplace, sipping hot chocolate and gentle touches. While he was enjoying his time with Ian, he missed Felix. He still thought about the Swede and knew that he was awful to Ian for it. He wanted to make it work with Ian, but how could he when his thoughts would race to Felix? Was it possible that he was still in love with his ex-boyfriend? He sighed a little and walked through the Village, smiling as everything was covered in a thick layer of snow.
He could see all of the loving couples, sharing pastries and holding each other to race out of the snow. If he went home to his three dogs, he might break down. It was hard enough to cope with dating a man so much older than him, with children; he just never thought he would turn into someone’s dirty secret again. It hurt and he hated it. He wanted love, was that so much to ask for? At least with Felix, he knew the other man tried. He tried to get over his history of distaste with physical affection for him.
Felix had proven to him that he at least wanted to try, and Harrow had been selfish. He wanted everything from his Swede and refused to make any compromises himself. If he had been more patient with his lover, there was a good chance they would still be together. They would still be stripped down, with their wet clothes all over the floor, hot chocolate in their favorite mugs, and a roaring fire in his fireplace.
Harrow sat down on a bench and watched some of the other couples, curious how he was going to make this work with Ian, or Felix, or whatever he was going to do.