Then he realized he was tangled up with Kiem, his bare arm over Kiem’s naked back, and he froze.
Even as Jainan’s brain raced headlong toward panic, Kiem’s eyes opened. His gaze was unfocused and sleepy. Jainan took a breath, and that was all it took for Kiem to realize they were touching and flinch back as far as he could in the sleeping bag.
Their legs were still touching. Jainan was very aware that he was only wearing a shirt and underwear, and Kiem even less than that. He tried not to let the awkwardness come through in his voice. “Better?”
Kiem cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.” He sounded more coherent than he had last night. Jainan tried not to think about the agony of mixed comfort and embarrassment that last night had been. “Yeah. Yes. Much better. See, no shivering.” He moved his hand as if to demonstrate, but that nearly brought them back in contact again, and he stopped and held unnaturally still. “Um. Thanks.”
Jainan suddenly realized the fastenings were on his own side. He was an idiot. He wasted no further time in unzipping the side of the sleeping bag, rolling out, and retreating to his own cramped half of the tent. His skin felt tight with mortification even at this distance. He crossed his legs, attempting to compose himself, and focused on unwrapping a ration pack.
Kiem slowly sat up and rubbed his shoulder. There was a red mark across it that must be from where he’d lain on Jainan’s arm.
“I am sorry I took the liberty,” Jainan said, focusing with all his might on the wrapper. He folded it back in small, neat squares. “I thought you were in danger of hypothermia. I may have been wrong.”
“Er, no, really, don’t be sorry.” Kiem said. He was talking slightly faster than normal. “I was definitely getting that way. You did everything right—actually, my prime five teacher would be pretty proud of us, I guess. Of course, she never taught a module on how to win fights with bears.”
Of course Kiem knew how to paper it over. Kiem was good at smoothing away awkwardness. “No,” Jainan said, making sure he was still looking down at his hands. He folded the wrapper back over itself again into another neat square.
Kiem grabbed the other ration pack. “I’m just gonna have a quick look around,” he said. “Scout the next move. Back in a moment.” He pulled on his trousers and coat—they looked almost dry from the warmth of the heater—and climbed out of the tent.
Jainan looked up as he left. Sorry, he wanted to say again, but his tongue was clumsy and slow. However sensible sharing their body warmth had been, he had been wrong to find it pleasant. He had taken advantage of Kiem’s incapacitation. No wonder Kiem wanted to take some time outside.
The heating capsule had run down in the hours since they’d fallen asleep. He occupied himself with changing it and organizing the detritus of their bag. The stim tabs were missing; Kiem must still have them in his pocket.
It was just unfortunate, that was all. They lived in close quarters at home and they had been forced into closer quarters here. If Kiem could get the space he needed, they could go back to what had developed into an almost comfortable equilibrium. Jainan activated his wristband automatically to look up more about monasteries, but of course they were out of range. Never mind. He could ask Bel when they got back.
Jainan looked up from the heating capsule when Kiem returned. It was working now: the tent was so warm that Kiem shrugged out of his coat the moment he came in. “I thought we might as well use another one,” Jainan said in explanation. “I’m not sure when you want to set off, but I assumed we would wait at least until it was light enough to see, so we may as well keep warm. And I think we may be able to use this to warm water?”
“Good idea,” Kiem said. “There’s coffee powder somewhere, did you find it with the food?” He seemed more energetic. He must have taken at least one more stim tab.
“Yes,” Jainan said. He shook some powder into the cup attachment, which Kiem took outside and filled with snow. Jainan paid more attention to melting it than necessary, but once it was fitted to the canister and warming, he ran out of things to do to keep from looking at Kiem. He found himself locking his hands together in his lap and inspecting them.
The awkward silence stretched out for long minutes, until Jainan heard Kiem take a deep breath. “So, uh,” Kiem said, sounding as if he had reached some sort of conclusion when he was outside. “Can we talk for a moment about … stuff?”
“Stuff,” Jainan said blankly.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said about the monastery. I think I know why you brought it up.” Jainan’s back started to knot up with tension; so it was going to be that kind of conversation. Kiem carried on, “It’s about having your own freedom, right? I understand. I know you didn’t choose this marriage. But, you know, long-term, it doesn’t have to be so much like a marriage. I mean, we’re—we’re friends, right? Sort of?” He stopped. Sort of friends echoed in Jainan’s head. It was a relief to hear it confirmed, and more than he should expect. It shouldn’t hurt. Jainan didn’t know why it did.
Kiem was still waiting. Jainan realized he was expecting an answer, and gave a slow nod.
“Right! Yeah,” Kiem said. “So we can just stay like this, can’t we? Being married won’t stop you doing anything you want to do. If there’s someone you—if either of us was to start seeing someone on the side, that’s—that’s fine, right? We can both keep it quiet. So we can make sure the marriage doesn’t get in the way of, of either of our lives.”
Someone on the side? Jainan realized he was staring at Kiem, groping in vain for some sort of response, and made himself look back down. “I see.” It was not his business if Kiem wanted to see someone else. He must get offers all the time. At least he was being honest about it.
“Right,” Kiem said. There was more uncomfortable silence. Kiem reached for the open ration pack and wrapped it up to put away.
Someone else. It was like an invisible splinter: Jainan didn’t want to press at it, but at the same time he couldn’t leave it alone. “This is an impolite question,” he heard himself say, “but may I ask who it is?”
The wrapping in Kiem’s hands ripped.
“What? Me?” he said. “No, wait, there isn’t anyone! This isn’t me telling you I’m seeing someone!”
“Why not?” Jainan said. It was easier to sound calm and reasonable if he didn’t look at Kiem’s face. “Your marriage isn’t fulfilling. I don’t mind.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to them,” Kiem said. He sounded baffled, which didn’t make any sense. “It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
“I see,” Jainan said. He didn’t. Kiem seemed to be undermining his own argument. Jainan felt like he was trying to unravel a mathematics problem, but he cared about it too much to have any chance of solving it. “So you would like to see someone in the future.”
“I just thought—I thought you—” Kiem opened one hand in a frustrated gesture. “Look, it’s better than you going off to a monastery.”
Something unreasonable shot through Jainan’s chest like an energy cutter. He looked down at the coffee to conceal it. It was starting to boil, but he couldn’t seem to move his hands to do anything about it. The orange light flickered on Kiem’s face, highlighting his expressive eyes and the consternation there. Jainan had somehow hurt him. He didn’t know how to fix it.