Jonathan pulled his feet up from the
cold floor and wrapped his arms around his knees. The sleeping Andrew
on his bed was peaceful and still, his dark hair sticking to his damp
forehead and the covers partially kicked off. Almost a year now. More
than he had hoped for. More than he actually dared. Jonathan felt the
hard band of steel contract around his heart and closed his eyes.
Maybe they would have another year, maybe two. But then... Sooner or
later, probably sooner, Andrew would see, and the questions would
come. And the fear. And the parting of ways. If he was lucky, at
least without hate.
