Even now, three months into the aftermath, Noam’s memories of winter were fragile and fragmented. Sometimes he wasn’t sure he even wanted to piece them together again—even if Ashleigh, his therapist, said one day he’d have to face what happened and reckon with it.
Dara was a constant: there every night Noam was in the hospital. Holding his hand on the long drive home. A quiet presence every time Noam tried to draw on his magic, not remembering; when he broke down at the kitchen table and Dara’s hand at the nape of his neck was the only thing keeping him anchored to the ground.
When they were together, it didn’t matter what the rest of the world thought—if they saw Noam as a victim or a traitor, if they even deigned to consider Dara at all. Noam didn’t want them to be defined by the worst things they’d survived. He wantedthis: the jungle of houseplants in their living room, college applications on the counter, Dara singing along to Queen on vinyl—he wanted Shabbat candles, the smell of fresh paint and Dara’s mouth tasting like coffee and long lazy mornings in bed.
He wanted what they built together: a new life.
“Telepathy or not, Dara is definitelystill cheating,” Ames declared as she lost another round of Saturday-night poker, Dara’s grin bladelike as he leaned over the table to sweep the chips into his corner.
“Want me to watch his cards?” Noam offered, resting his hands on the back of Dara’s chair. Dara made a face, and Noam swooped down to peck his cheek and steal one of the cheese cubes off Dara’s plate.
Cheese cubes that were, he noticed, half-gone. Dara had been doing better about eating more, if begrudgingly—and Noam was trying to be patient. Ashleigh had said it might take a while before Dara was willing to gain real weight.
So Noam would take what he could get.
Bethany dealt out the next hand, and when Taye glanced down at his, he shook his head and sighed. “I fold. Y’all are a tough crowd.”
Leo won the next round, and Dara finally excused himself from the table. “Let someone else win for a change,” he added airily, earning himself a pelting of chocolate-covered raisins from Ames.
“How’s the new house?” Bethany asked later, when the game was finally abandoned and they’d all drifted into their own separate knots of conversation. She was perched on the edge of Ames’s kitchen counter, heels knocking against the cabinets below.
“Really big,” Noam said, at the same time as Dara said, “Minuscule.”
They exchanged glances, and Noam broke first. “Big enough for Wolf at least,” he allowed. “Plenty of spots to claim as territory. No one is allowed to sit on the far right end of the sofa anymore, for example. It’s just piled up with dog toys.”
“Not enough closet space,” Dara said.
“Maybe you should donate some of your clothes.”
“I like my clothes.”
Noam suppressed an eye roll and made himself turn back to Bethany. “It’s a nice house,” he said with a note of finality. “You should come over sometime. Dara cooks now.”
“OurDara?”
“Why does everyone always act so surprised?” Dara said, but he was grinning all the same, and when Noam slid an arm around his waist, he leaned into the touch.
“Hey,” Ames said, breaking into the conversation with her mouth full of sugar cookies and someone’s pink lipstick blotched against her cheek. She had a glass of water in hand; she’d stayed sober since getting out of rehab a month ago. “Not to like, interrupt or anything, but don’t you two have somewhere to be?”
Noam glanced down at his watch—it was already past nine. “Oh—right. Thanks. We’ll see you tomorrow at graduation, right?”
“Yep. Can’t wait to see you in that stupid hat, Álvaro. Now get out of here.”
They made their rounds, waving goodbye to Leo and Taye in the living room before heading down the steps and out into the warm early-summer night. The car took them south, past the suburbs and into the open wilderness—away from the glittering city lights and the glow of so many human lives intersecting and intertwining behind lit windows and under streetlamps.
Dara carried the blanket and basket; Noam took the rest, the pair of them hiking down a short curving path through the woods, then breaking out onto the rocky lakeshore.
“Conditions are perfect,” Dara said, setting down his load and gazing out across the still-glass water. “It’s so clear tonight.”
Noam unrolled the quilt and weighed down the corners with stones. He opened his mouth to say something—come hereorsit downorhelp me with this—but Dara was silhouetted against the indigo horizon, moonlight a low sheen on his hair and skin, and Noam stayed silent for a moment. Just watched him.
He was everything Noam wanted. Had always been.
At last Dara turned, gaze lighting on the unopened aluminum case Noam’d set down next to the picnic basket. “Want me to show you how to put it together?”
“Sure.”
Dara constructed the telescope piece by piece, positioning the tripod and identifying true north, mounting the optical tube and attaching the finder scope and its mount. He made it look so easy, all smooth, quick movements of his hands. And when he peered through the lens, the wind picking up over the lake and ruffling through his hair, Noam thought Dara had never been so beautiful.
