The air between them felt thin, electrified by the weight of the question hanging in the frost. Ken stared at Jake—at those brilliant sapphire eyes that seemed to hold a world of peace—and felt a dizzying mix of longing and terror. Part of him wanted to scream 'yes', to dive headlong into the promise of cherry blossoms and Italian sunsets. But the scars on his soul were still raw, and the ghost of the cage he had escaped lingered in the back of his mind.
"Jake," Ken whispered, his breath a plume of white in the moonlight. "I... I don't know what to say. Tonight was perfect. It was more than perfect. But my life has been a storm for so long that I've forgotten how to stand in the sun without waiting for the lightning."
Jake nodded slowly, his expression one of patient understanding. He didn't pull away; he didn't pressure. He simply stood there, a steady anchor in the cold.
