Cold Hands, Warm Heart: steampunk gay romance

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Cold Hands, Warm Heart: steampunk gay romance Page 7

by Hollis Shiloh


  It was rueful honesty as much as a standing joke between them: Jason had not always been glad of having his life saved. Some days, when he was in pain or feeling particularly bad about himself, it was still difficult to be glad he was alive. But overall, he was glad. If nothing else, he wouldn't have met Jess otherwise.

  Jess. Why am I still thinking of Jess when I should be sparing at least a few minutes for Harrold? It was, after all, only kind to pay attention.

  They shared a rueful smile, the smile of old friends who might not talk much, but were settled in their understanding of one another. Why had he wanted that to change? Had he expected the cool and gentle Harrold to suddenly become hot-blooded and intense with feelings for him?

  No, perhaps that was part of it. Harrold would never be intense about the bedroom activities, and perhaps that was less intimidating to Jason than thoughts of a man with strong desires. But he was growing, feeling better about himself and his body and desires, and maybe that wasn't the defining need for him anymore — someone who wouldn't want much from him, who wouldn't push his boundaries and make him uncomfortable.

  "Do you ever…" Jason hesitated, not sure how to ask. But he wanted to ask, because Harrold had always been honest in his advice, even if he didn't return romantic feelings.

  That was probably not going to change, he thought. There were no sparks of love in Harrold's eyes, just honest warmth and affection — and sometimes, compassion.

  Harrold clearly knew Jason's life was not easy, even with a job and his health (more or less). There were still days when everything was difficult, everything hurt, and the memories were bad. And there was only so much anyone could do to fix that.

  So Jason endured. He was good at enduring.

  "Do you ever wonder…" He hesitated, not sure how to go on, and then just spit it out. "How do you know if you're in love?" he asked quietly.

  Harrold's step faltered, and he blinked rapidly before regaining his stride. He cast a quick glance ahead to Jess's back, seeing him hunched now, hands deeper in his pockets than ever, head bowed as if he was enduring something that hurt.

  And maybe his wounds and memories bothered him, too. Jason would have to be extra gentle with him today. Not that that was a problem. No, sir.

  Harrold laid a hand gently on Jason's arm. "My dear friend." His eyes were warm and friendly, sparkling with happiness. He removed his hand again and cleared his throat.

  "I wish I could advise you. But I'm afraid my advice would be worse than useless. Take two doses and call me in the morning, most likely." He laughed lightly. "But I wish you well of it. Of him. He seems like a good and steady man, clever and kind."

  "Yes," said Jason thoughtfully. "He is."

  They both watched Jess's back up ahead, the mild hunch to it, as if he was cold, miserable, or both.

  "You see," said Harrold hesitantly, almost shyly, "I've never been in love myself. I never expect to be. It doesn't… It seems that something was faulty in my wiring at some point, because that's…just not in me." He laughed awkwardly. "I'm sorry, old man, but there it is: I'd be less help to you than the youngest boy with a heartfelt crush on his neighbor. I am useless at love, and always have been, and always expect to be."

  Jason looked at him closely, blinking. "Do you mean…"

  The doctor shrugged. "I mean I have never felt the need, the desire, the inclination for any of it. At all. When I was younger, I tried, of course: I wished to fit in and find a way to belong. But I'm afraid that the sexual act, any of them, has no appeal to me. I understand at the level of a medical text, of course: the way the liver works, the way reproduction and sexual appetite can work, in its various states and degrees normal, unusual, and pathological. But I've never understood the actual desire to engage in it for enjoyment." He shrugged. "If it was up to me to practice falling in love and copulating, the human race would no doubt go extinct. Let us be glad there are plenty of others who will put their shoulder to that burden willingly, eh?"

  Jason nodded slowly. "I guess so." He didn't want to reproduce either. He'd always like men. But…to have no sexual longings at all? He couldn't imagine it, he who'd had crushes and longings and sexual fantasies for as long as he'd lived — well, nearly. It had been a great burden to him at times, but he wasn't sure he'd want to trade it in for…what? Nothing?

  "I…apologize if I shared too much," said Harrold awkwardly. "It seems…people sometimes think I'm broken if I tell them the truth. I don't know why I've burdened you with my feelings now. I spent a long time thinking that others were right, and sexual congress was the be-all and end-all of human experience, and I must be broken if I did not wish to take part in it. But now I think I am…simply different. If nothing but reproduction is the highest aim of all humanity, then what else will be lost?"

  He glanced at Jason, growing animated. "I think it must be natural — necessary — for some to be born without the desire to reproduce. Those who mock or belittle the 'old maids' or…ahem…virgin doctors…of the world are showing merely their own ignorance. What important tasks might be missing if everyone was born exactly the same? What might our species miss out on? I, at any rate, have convinced myself of that. It is easier, I suppose, than thinking I'm broken all the days I live. It might be self-deception, but I do feel I have the right of it."

  "I had no idea," said Jason softly. Harrold hadn't been rejecting him all these years. He had simply been…being himself. And really, that was the best thing in the world he could do. Because he was a good man and a kind man, and the world would be a much worse place without his gentle diligence and warm-hearted, sacrificial spirit.

  And wasn't that often the way? Those who never married or fell in love had something they devoted themselves to, teaching or studies or taking care of family members who were ill, or even just ministering to stray animals who would have starved otherwise. There was kindness in those who were different, just as surely as anyone else, and kindness mattered more in the end than nearly anything else.

  Those who chose not to reproduce, or have a sex life — those who couldn't, or didn't wish to, or who had simply been born without the desire — who was he to judge them, to say they ought to be other than they were?

  Wasn't that what people had done to him for most of his life, wanting him to be something other than he was? Outgoing where he was private. Fierce where he was gentle. Talkative where he was silent. Interested in women when he was interested in men. Dead when he was alive.

  "I don't think you're broken," he said to Harrold quietly. "Not at all."

  "Thank you." Harrold smiled at him and pressed his hand, a warm look in his eyes as if he felt a little choked up. "You've always been a good friend to me — better than I deserve."

  "Well, someone needs to look after you," said Jason with tremendously gentle affection.

  And in a way, hadn't that always been a large part of what he wanted? Just to be near Harrold and look after him, to take care of the good, gentle, self-sacrificing man who had saved his life and who gave his attention to everyone but himself? There had been more — of course there had been more — to his feelings for Harrold, but that was slipping into the background now as Jess became a larger part of his life, realer in his desires and in his heart.

  But he was so very glad to see that not all his warm feelings for Harrold were going away.

  "I wouldn't say that," Harrold said now, grinning. Their steps were even, matching, just as they ought to…

  "But you really need to take better care of your health. Sleeping, for instance. Eating proper meals."

  Harrold grimaced, scrunching up his nose. "Nag." He put a hand on Jason's arm then. "You are very good to me, and I don't know what I'd do without you, but I do think you ought to attend to your…to Jess. I don't want him getting jealous and feeling unhappy when there's no need."

  "No," said Jason. "There's no need." He smiled at his friend again and moved to catch up with Jess.

  Jess walked with his head down, scrunched in on him
self, pain radiating from him. It wasn't purely physical pain, was it?

  "Jess," said Jason. "Wait up."

  "I — oh." He slowed his pace so Jason could fall into step with him. His eyes were glazed with unshed tears that were close to falling but hadn't yet. "I… What is it?" He appeared to be trying to pull himself back to the present.

  "Thank you for giving me time to talk with my friend — my dear friend." He slipped an arm around Jess and took a deep breath. "But you know, you and I are…more than that. We have been now for some time I think, at least on my part."

  Jess looked stunned, his eyes round and watchful, maybe wary. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. I…I'll make time for Harrold. Don't keep trying to throw us together. Because that's never happening. And I don't want to keep beating a dead horse, living in a fantasy. I…I like you, Jess. I think maybe I love you, or am starting to."

  "How will you know?" Jess reached up and swiped at his eyes, smearing tears away. He sniffed loudly, swallowing visibly, and tried to look away so Jason couldn't see his miserable gaze. "How does anyone know what real love is, if we can all get it so wr-wrong?"

  "You couldn't help falling for Carl. It's not your fault it didn't work out that way."

  "No," said Jess in a quiet voice. "But I — I think I've fallen for you, as well. I'm pretty scared about it, to be honest. Maybe it was easier to love someone who would never really notice me. Then I didn't have to risk anything." He shrugged miserably. "I don't know. He broke my heart — but maybe I broke it myself, like falling over a stone. It couldn't help being what it was. I should've w-watched where I was going."

  "I don't know," said Jason softly. "But I'm sorry you were hurt."

  Jess snorted. "That's rich, coming from the man who poured his heart out on the ground every day for someone who never saw."

  "It wasn't wrong for me to love him. It wasn't wrong to make a mistake and think he'd want me back. And…and it's not wrong to love you, either. If you'll give me a chance, we can be good together. I know it." He nudged Jess lightly with his shoulder, waiting for a reply.

  Jess's lips thinned and then flattened. He nodded, giving Jason a hard look. "We are together, whether we've admitted it or not. And yeah, I've been falling for you recently — pretty hard, pretty far. And if you must know, I'm very, very tired of tripping over rocks. I've been trying to get you to go after your doctor or give up. But…I didn't think you would actually give up. This is a lot to take in." He swiped at his face again and sighed. Then he leaned against Jason as they walked. It was awkward, but so sweet.

  Jason reached down to take his hand. "Let's try, though."

  "Yes," said Jess softly. "Let's try. I won't make you be or do anything that's not right for you. But you…you have become very dear to me. The way you looked after me, respected me, comforted me and helped me survive. I feel safe and wanted with you, like you really see me, and I…I am grateful that you—"

  He broke off and looked down.

  Jason had begun to tug his hand free from Jess's, realizing awkwardly that he'd taken Jess's hand with his metal one. He was embarrassed.

  "What are you doing?" said Jess.

  "It's…the wrong hand." Jason blushed.

  "No." Jess looked at him with tremendous affection and took his metal hand purposefully, weaving their fingers together.

  He stood on his toes and kissed Jason right on the mouth, right out in public. Oh, it was quick and light, but it made Jason blush to his roots.

  That made Jess laugh. He kept a firm hold on Jason's metal hand as they began walking again. Frankly, Jess looked a little cocky. With tremendous affection, he gave Jason's hand a little squeeze and added, "You know what they say — cold hands, warm heart."

  He gave Jason a long look from under his brows that promised slow, pleasant, and exceedingly sensual explorations later. Not to push him past what he was ready for, but to find the places they liked together, to explore the shoals of their broken but beautiful bodies, and their love.

  Jason snorted, grinning a little. It felt silly on his face, but he couldn’t remove it. Jess liked him. Jess liked him back! "I don't think they meant me exactly. Metal hand and all that."

  He lifted it awkwardly, but didn't try to pull away from Jess. It was a good thing; Jess held on too tightly to pry loose without hurting him. And Jason never wanted to hurt Jess. Never had wanted to, never would want to.

  "I think they meant exactly you," said Jess softly.

  They walked on, holding hands: one metal, one not.

  Jason hardly felt the chill in the air, or in the occasional glance from strangers noticing he was mechanicalized. For that moment, he did not think he would ever feel the cold again.

  The End

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