[For Anthony] Walking in a Winter Wonderland

[poetic_apostle]

When Julian had awoken in a cozy pine bed in a swiss chalet, he'd been rather confused, but the sight of snow drifting past the window in lazy swirls had transformed the confusion into delight. He'd slipped on the shoes, jacket and scarf he'd arrived in, not even bothering to change from the warm flannel pyjamas he'd awoken in; they were the

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[alittleofboth]

But while Anthony was likewise awake and dressed, he did not share Julian's joy and amusement. He had not been exactly surprised to awake on December first to find the ground once again covered in snow, but it had not particularly pleased him. Snow was cold and messy, and even if it were neither of those things, its presence was only yet another trick of the island, nothing more.

It wasn't real snow, just the absurdly magical sort.

He was now collecting what books of his he could to take inside before they suffered in the damp, but the cheerful shout made him pause and grimace just slightly. "Yes, Julian?"

[alittleofboth]

Anthony actually had the dignity to look insulted. His eyes went wide for a moment, and then his jaw tightened further. "It is as simple as that to you, isn't it?" he returned with icy calmness. "Either I shower you with gifts, or you mean nothing. You have much to learn." And then he turned and continued to walk once again.

[poetic_apostle]

It was Julian's turn for a wide-eyed stare. "That's not what I said!" he insisted angrily, catching up to Anthony again like a faithful puppy. "That's not what I want! But is it so wrong to expect...some sign of affection? Some indication that my feelings are returned?" And there it was.

[alittleofboth]

Anthony paused again and closed his eyes briefly. He took a breath. There was no reason not to be civil. This was Julian, and even with his frustration, that meant something.

"But I do not wish to waste time proving it at every turn," he answered, calmer than before.

[poetic_apostle]

Julian took a deep breath and nodded, looking solemn and a bit scared. "Fair enough." He swallowed and added, "Tell me the last time you proved it, and I won't mention it again. You have my word." It had been months since Julian had had any reassurance beyond their physical relationship, and it was taking its toll despite his romantic idealism. Or perhaps because of it.

[alittleofboth]

Anthony's eyes narrowed once again. Perhaps he truly thought Julian was playing games, or perhaps it was merely easier to think of it that way. Either way, he was clearly unimpressed. "Difficult, when you hold your own view of 'proving.' I am not going to play this game today."

[poetic_apostle]

Far from backing down this time, Julian's anger rose. "So my love for you is a game, is it? Fine, we'll 'play' by your rules. Tell me when you last proved it by your standards, even!" he all but shouted, refusing to give into the hurt tears that stung his eyes. "I don't know if you've noticed, Anthony, but this is about more than sex to me! So tell me...when? Or even how, for that matter?"

[alittleofboth]

And as Julian's anger rose, Anthony's own self-righteous annoyance deepened. "I am here, aren't I?" he said, his steady, quiet iciness contrasting sharply with Julian's shout. "I would not be here if I did not wish to be, Julian. I do not see what other proof is needed."

[poetic_apostle]

Julian's breath hitched as he looked sharply at Anthony. There was one proof that he'd waited for, waited so patiently and it had never come. Not once, not at Cambridge and not here on the island.

He took a deep breath and requested softly, "Tell me you love me." It was what he needed to hear, what he was starving to hear.

[alittleofboth]

And there it was.

Anthony had known it was coming, if he were honest with himself. Hell, if he were honest with himself, he would have been surprised it had taken this long. But that didn't mean he had to like it. His feeling for Julian ran deep, but he couldn't sum them up like that.

Anthony Blunt didn't fall in love.

He stalled. "Julian..."

[poetic_apostle]

"Just once," Julian pleaded, suddenly desperate to hear Anthony speak those three small words. "I just need to hear it from your lips once, and I'll never ask again. Anthony, please. Tell me you love me."

[alittleofboth]

Anthony swallowed hard. But he could not lie. He could say (or not say) many things, but he could not lie.

He met Julian's gaze with pained, apologetic look, and then he turned and walked away.

[poetic_apostle]

And suddenly the day got much colder. Julian stared at Anthony's back for a moment, speechless as a shiver ran through him. The books nearly slid from his numb fingers before he jerked into action, following slowly behind him for a few moments before quickening his pace to catch up yet again.

And even as he drew next to him, he still had no idea what to say. His mind was racing as he tried to convince himself that Anthony's response (or lack thereof) didn't mean what he was horribly afraid it meant. He'd never said it, but surely that didn't mean he didn't feel it.

Did it?

[alittleofboth]

Guilt - yes, honest-to-goodness actual guilt, rose in Anthony's throat like bile. He was just as lost as Julian was, unable to lie and answer yes, or tell the truth.

He didn't expect Julian to follow, but then the poet was once again at his side. The silence lengthened until he could stand it no longer. "Julian," he began stiffly, "if you are unhappy how things are..."

[poetic_apostle]

Oh, but it wouldn't be that simply finished. If he wouldn't say the words, he would have to confirm the opposite. "You don't love me," he interrupted quietly, keeping his eyes fixed directly ahead. "Is that it?" It hurt already and it hadn't even been confirmed yet, but the dread of hearing it was filling his chest with a heavy, sharp ache. This wasn't supposed to happen. Love was supposed to be enough to overcome anything.

[alittleofboth]

Anthony stopped once again. He turned to face Julian. He sighed. His instinct was still to walk away, immediately, sharply, answering the question without any words. But he was damned tired - of these manipulative games, intentional or not, of the tension, of Julian being a bloody fool.

So instead he asked coolly, "Would it really make everything better if I did?"