Love Speaks

Chapter 1 Ian Sheffield stood before the window, watching as the lazy white flakes drifted to earth. It was only November, the last month of fall, but already the world, or at least his little part of it, was covered in winter’s shawl. Normally he rejoiced at the sight of snow and the magical touch it added to the brown, slumbering landscape. It meant ice skating on the frozen pond down the street and building snowmen in the front yard. Twinkling strands of lights and cheery carols. Peppermint swirled hot chocolate and curling up under a fluffy blanket while listening to a crackling fire. His favorite things about the chilly months of winter. And they weren’t supposed to arrive in November. “What’s with the dour look?” inquired a voice from behind. “The window can’t possibly have offended you so deeply. It’s only a glass.” “It’s snowing. Again.” An arm slipped around his waist as Stephan Rodgers stepped up beside him. “Who do you think you’re trying to fool? Normally you’d be standing here remarking about the lack of flaky white stuff to cavort around in.” Ian looked at Stephan, one eyebrow c****d. “Who says cavort nowadays?” “I do.” Stephan playfully punched him in the shoulder. Then slipped his hand down to take Ian’s in his own. “Come on, let’s see to making plans for Thanksgiving. We haven’t decided what we’re going to do yet.” Ian allowed himself to be led over to the couch, falling onto one of the cushions and accepting a glass of his favorite wine. There were festively wrapped chocolates in a bowl on the coffee table. They had agreed to hold off on Christmas decorations until after Turkey Day, but sweets were a weakness they shared and often indulged in, perhaps a bit more than they should have, all things considered. Come the last weekend of November they would put on holiday music and dig the boxes out of the attic, dressing the house up in its winter finery. At least they’d managed to get the outside lights put up before the first round of snow, though Ian refused to turn them on until what he deemed an appropriate time. “I thought we decided that I’d go home and you would go home,” Ian said, sipping the fruity beverage. He reached for one of the candies. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” He sucked on the morsel letting it melt in his mouth. They’d been together three years, not once spending a Thanksgiving together, but this year was different. It was their first as an engaged couple. Still, out of habit Ian bought his plane ticket and come tomorrow afternoon he would be on his way home where he would see his mom and dad and younger brother. As much as he looked forward to it, he also knew how much he would miss curling up next to Stephan for those handful of nights. The easiest solution seemed to be inviting Stephan home with him, however, things were never quite as easy as they appeared. “You could always come with,” Ian suggested, already knowing the answer. They’d been over this a handful of times already. It was one of those things they couldn’t agree on, and though it hurt Ian more than he let on, he always bit his tongue. Stephan put down his wine, taking Ian’s hand in his own. “I would love to, but…” Neither of them spoke, both no doubt thinking things they would never say. “There is a way to solve this,” Ian finally spoke up. Stephan winced, turning his gaze to study the stack of magazines on the table—mostly home and garden titles with a few celebrity rags thrown in. “Just tell him.” Stephan didn’t speak. Carefully he freed his hand from Stephan’s hold. Plucking his glass from the table, Ian stood. “I suppose we should consider the conversation over.” He left the room without another word, making his way upstairs to the extra bedroom that doubled as a library. The bay window came with a window seat they’d fixed up nicely and that was where he collapsed, letting out a sigh. His heart ached. Just the thought of life without Stephan was unimaginable. Ian firmly believed he’d found his soulmate. But for one minor little glitch. Stephan’s mother and sister knew he was gay and in a committed relationship. The same, however, could not be said for his dad. Mr. Rodgers was either in denial about his son’s preference for men or he sincerely didn’t know. Why Stephan and the others opted to keep it from him was another subject not talked about. And with Stephan’s family living across town it was a wonder they hadn’t been outed. The whole sticky situation led to more than one argument. Biting down on his bottom lip, absently twirling the ring on his finger, Ian tried to squash the pain he felt. Stephan swore up and down that he wasn’t ashamed of Ian or their relationship. Deep down Ian believed him, but it was hard to shake the icky feeling that came with being a secret. Some days, especially after a fight or like now around the holidays, it was almost like he wasn’t good enough; which was simply ridiculous. Ian turned his gazed to the window and the dancing snowflakes. One of his friends suggested he try an ultimatum. Either Stephan came clean to his dad or he walked. Thinking about it twisted his stomach in knots. He swallowed the last of his wine. Acting on such a crazy idea meant breaking his heart and walking away from the best thing he’d ever found. Impossible. A plaintive meow shook him from his heavy thoughts. Ian looked at the floor to find one of their two cats sitting there; Mushu twitched his tail, his coat sleek and black. Ian patted his lap and the cat leaped up, purring, rubbing against Ian’s offered hand. “Oh, Mushu,” he lamented. “What’s a guy to do?” * * * * Dinner that evening was eaten quietly and shortly afterwards Stephan excused himself by saying he needed to finish a few things for work. Ian once again retired to the comfort of the library. Shelves of books were bathed in the faint golden glow of a lamp. From their ranks, he picked a well-worn, well-loved favorite and settled in an extra plush easy chair. Eventually he drifted off, the book slipping from his grasp to fall to the floor. Mushu had returned, a purring ball of fur in his lap. And outside the snow continued to fall. * * * * At some point, he was vaguely aware of someone coming into the room and muttering his name. this same person saw to it that he was covered with a blanket and left the mark of a kiss on his forehead before ducking out, flipping off the lamp. It seemed as it nothing more than a dream.