Page 31 of Hansel and Gerhardt
“Yesterday.” Gerhardt smiled over a blush. “Today? I don’t know. I just knew.”
“You just knew,” Hansel repeated. He laughed, his smile too precious to resist, and Gerhardt kissed him again.
Then Hansel simply lay down. His big hands gently encouraged Gerhardt to lie in front of him, then he curled his body warm and loving around him. He stroked his hair, and he held him.
Neither had been held or loved like that in their entire lives. There were soft pecks, squeezing of hands, shuddering hugs so tight it felt as though one could melt into the other, stay with him forever.
They lay that way for the rest of the night, insensible to danger, high on a new understanding of nature and humanity. Close, at peace, in the way only men who have spent half their lives together, who already knew each other inside out, could ever be.
For a Heart that Beats True and Strong
Hansel awoke slowly. Cold. Missing something. A piece of himself.
He curled in his outstretched arms, pulling nothing but air to his chest. For the second time in two days, he refused to open his eyes on waking, letting the world settle over him like a death shroud.
He hadn’t dreamed it.
He was sure.
He knew with every fibre of his being that Gerhardt had lain in his arms, soft through the long night. That he’d kissed him and adored him. That what they’d done had been beautiful. That he’d made Gerhardt as happy as Gerhardt had made him.
He shrunk his head low to his chest, gathering strength, then pushed up on one arm. The sun was just rising, its orb still below the horizon, but the pink-purple glow of dawn’s fingers lit the forest, the fire, and on the far side of that rocky outcrop, Gerhardt.
Knees pulled tight to his chest, arms wrapped around himself, Gerhardt met his gaze for a quarter of a second before looking away with a tight smile. “Told you I’d stay awake.”
Hansel’s throat was dry with crisp air and thirst, rasping when he spoke. “You didn’t get any sleep?”
Gerhardt’s look seemed to linger on the stone ground by Hansel’s outstretched body. The cold spot that Hansel was sure had been warm a short time earlier. “Maybe a little.” He picked up a handful of twigs. “I almost let the fire go out. I thought I should…” He concentrated hard on setting the twigs alight.
Hansel had thought he’d won him. The night before, in the heat of the moment, he’d thought it was done. That the two of them were a fact.
How strange to wake to this. As though it had never happened.
Hansel began, “Are you—”
“I’ve got some boar to eat,” Gerhardt interrupted him, his anxious smile fading. “Not much else, I’m afraid. Maybe with the light, we’ll find more. Don’t you think it’s strange there are no berries in this forest?”
“Do you—”
“We should probably get moving soon. Make the most of the daylight. I don’t know if we’ll find another spot so—”
“I didn’t dream it,” Hansel cut in. “Don’t pretend I dreamed that.”
The silence was unmatched. Not a bird, not a breeze, not a sound, until Gerhardt’s voice came back slow and small. “I never said you did.”
“Then why are you acting like I did?”
“I’m not.” He held his gaze, and well Hansel remembered the haze in those eyes the night before. The light of the fire dancing in them just before he kissed him. The way they closed tight when he came in the palm of his hand.
But now he had the eyes of a creature of prey, shrinking and skittering, and he made Hansel feel too big, like he was about to crush him.
Hansel was close to the edge of the rock, but he pulled away even further. What had he done wrong? Was Gerhardt disgusted with him? Should he not have let him do that? Because Hansel hadn’t felt any shame, not one bit. And now this.
He turned his back, sitting on the very edge, a sheer drop to a thousand stake-like pines below, his toes peeking over.
“You should eat something,” Gerhardt said softly. “It’s going to be a long day.”
“I want you to come and sit with me.” He waited, back turned on Gerhardt. Gerhardt didn’t make a sound, not for a long time, and not even when he finally approached.
