Jainan’s hair was still bound back, out of the way. He hadn’t thought of loosening it so far, but Kiem’s hands seemed to stray there often, running over his hair, or his fingers stroked the short strands at the back of Jainan’s neck. On impulse Jainan unwound the cord that held it. He didn’t have any time to regret it: Kiem’s breath caught and his eyes widened as if this was a revelation. When he kissed Jainan again, his hands were buried in Jainan’s loose hair.
Jainan had forgotten. It was supposed to feel like this.
He only realized then that he had done almost nothing for Kiem in long minutes. It took him an effort to find his voice. “Kiem,” he said. “Should I.” Kiem raised his head from Jainan’s chest and didn’t seem to comprehend. “I don’t want to be selfish.”
“What,” Kiem said. He propped himself up on his hands. “What do you mean selfish, this is—you’re just—I’m babbling, aren’t I, please stop me talking.” Jainan felt astonishment, which turned into something like a laugh, which was absurd; this wasn’t something you were supposed to take lightly. But he felt light and giddy enough to float off the ground. “Jainan, please, anything you want,” Kiem said. “Tell me what you like.”
The question took Jainan off guard. “What?”
Kiem caught Jainan’s hand and laced their fingers together. “We’ll do what you want. What do you like?”
Jainan only just stopped himself from saying, I don’t know. He couldn’t remember being asked. But he could feel Kiem’s expectation and his stirring of surprise when Jainan didn’t have an answer. Something dark and defensive rose up inside Jainan; it would be easy to make Kiem move on by bringing up his last partner. He could ask if Kiem wanted to be compared. He didn’t know any other way out.
But he didn’t want to. Let Kiem think he was strange. Let him ask awkward questions tomorrow if he had to. Maybe tomorrow Jainan would find out that Kiem didn’t mean any of this as he seemed to, that he hadn’t meant to look at Jainan as if Jainan were the only source of beauty in the world. But tonight Jainan owned Kiem’s gaze and the touch of his hands, and everything else was irrelevant. Tonight he could do nothing wrong.
Kiem was still looking down at him, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. Jainan reached up and touched his cheek, which seemed to stop Kiem’s breathing. “We could … find out.”
* * *
It was too short a time before the sky lightened around them. They were quiet and content, lying side by side half under a sleeping bag. Jainan felt the exhaustion of yesterday in his limbs, but the heating capsule filled the tent with warmth, and nothing could affect his deep well of happiness. Kiem had his head propped on Jainan’s shoulder. He was pressing against Jainan’s arm—or maybe Jainan was pressing against him, because he didn’t want to leave space between them. “Mrm,” Kiem said, half into Jainan’s shoulder. “Y’know, your elbow. ’S perfect.”
Jainan shifted his head and made an inquiring noise before he had time to realize that Kiem was still half-asleep, or might even be talking in his sleep. But Kiem woke up further and seemed to take that as a request for clarification. “I mean, probably both your elbows. Can’t see the other one. Everything’s perfect.”
It took Jainan a long, startled moment to absorb that—which was absurd, because Kiem had said that and a hundred things like it last night. Jainan hadn’t realized he would keep doing it the next morning. And he knew what Kiem said was what he thought. “Really,” Jainan said aloud, his thoughts unguarded, “I think you just verbalize everything.”
“Sorry,” Kiem said, raising his head. “Stopping! Stopping. Promise.”
Jainan turned over so they were nested beside each other, his head in the hollow between Kiem’s head and shoulder. Helpless amusement settled around him like warmth. “No,” he said. “I like you talking.”
Kiem smiled that ridiculous, unfairly stunning smile. “Did I say thank you, by the way? You know, for saving my life. Possibly twice. I must have said thank you.”
Jainan just wanted to store that smile in his memory forever. He groped for a reply. “I didn’t save your life.”
“You did. You fought off a bear.”
“That was chance.”
“Fine, play it down,” Kiem said. “I’ll sell the story to a vidmaker, then you’ll see.”
The helpless amusement was getting worse. Jainan held his grave face with an effort. “It’s hardly vid material.”
“It’ll star me, falling into a river. In my undershirt. The ratings will be off the charts.”
Jainan’s felt his face crack into a smile. “I might watch it for that.”
Kiem let his head drop back, as if Jainan smiling was all he needed to be supremely satisfied. The fabric of the tent was luminous from the sun outside. “Day’s getting on,” Kiem said lazily. “We should … go and do something.”
“Something,” Jainan said. “You mean: seek rescue from our stranded situation and attend the treaty signing.” He pushed himself up to a sitting position. Kiem made a noise of protest when he moved.
“Well, I dunno,” Kiem said. “I mean, being stranded: not too bad, right? Look at us.”
“So maybe we should just stay here,” Jainan said. “Just you, me, acres of snow, the bear…”
“Bears often hoard rose petals to strew on hiking couples. Little-known romantic fact.”
Jainan couldn’t stop the chuckle that came out. “Even so,” he said, once he had control of it. “I would like to eat something that doesn’t taste of plywood and perhaps reassure my sister that I’m not dead.” He reached for his clothes.
Kiem groaned and rolled over. “Point. Argh. Why is moving so hard?” He pulled his undershirt over his head and got his arm stuck in the neck hole. “Civilization is overrated,” he said, his voice muffled. He waved his arms until he somehow sorted out the tangle and his head emerged. “We could just start again out here.”
“You will find it hard to get the dartcar results from here,” Jainan said. Kiem’s hair was disordered, and Jainan’s fingers itched to neaten it. He didn’t let himself; they weren’t in bed anymore.
“I could live without them.” Kiem picked up the heating cylinder and reluctantly snapped the inner sleeve away.
“I’ll get water,” Jainan said. He pulled on his boots and coat. When he emerged from the tent, it was into a glorious landscape where the sunlight reflected blindingly from the snow. He drew in a lungful of cold, fresh air, raised his hand to cover his eyes, and squinted in the direction they were traveling.
“Oh,” he said, startled. “Kiem!”
“What?” Kiem was already sitting in the tent entrance, fully clothed and putting on his boots. He followed the direction of Jainan’s pointing arm.
The dawn sun had burned off the fog. In the cleft between two valleys, just visible past a rocky shelf, pylons stretched out of the mountains like metallic trees. A silver thread of magnetized cable gleamed between them. They’d reached the rail line.