We’ve been here before and it was weird, because it was even the same season almost. Down to the blistering cold and the still-black sky, the still-twinkling stars, it was the same details, the same setting—the same set up, almost, Leos hitting the ground, me on my feet and poised to do something about it. Except now we weren’t talking about a war he had fought in on the wrong side. (But maybe we were, I dunno, I’m just as lost here—)

It looked like he was—fluttering. Not on the outside, no, outside he was just as solid as he ever was, as large and buff and white, so blindingly white like ljós a light someone refuses to turn off, so that it burns, burns, burns itself into the ground. I was talking about his eyes and the way they looked at me so steadily, even though the words were pouring out of his mouth in a rush, in a terrified rush, like his whole insides were shaking and shaking and shaking and shaking and shaking and—

I took a breath. I counted in my head all the way to ten so I knew I was taking enough of it in. I was back to this point, like time and fate itself had given me a chance to change my actions, to do it over again because before I had grabbed his mane and that was the absolute wrong thing to do. I couldn’t help it at the time—I was mad, I was rough, I’m always rough. I was rough right now, having to count to ten to make sure my actions were just right, that I was sure enough, gentle enough, careful enough to do what I needed to do, offer what I could.

I didn’t know if it was what he needed, though. And I never knew that, and I’m not sure if I’ll ever know. I know what he is, or I guess what he isn’t, and that was “fine” (—I've never been fine—). And I remember when the roles were reversed, when I was on the ground and the frost was actually broken shards of crystal and he was standing where I was now and I was very very super not fine and I remembered what he did for me then, at least. And he was old enough, sure enough, calm enough and careful to do the thing I was gonna try doing now. It had worked for me and that’s all I know. I’m not sure if I’m wrong for that, if I’m selfish for thinking that way.

I’m not fine, he was saying to me, with eyes and teeth and heart.

“I know,” I said back to him—really, really small coming out of my mouth, because it’s not a thing you can afford to fumble.

I’m short and I’m smaller than him but I knelt down next to him anyway, like he had done with me. He had been this…solid thing, a shield from something crashing down on me or a bonding agent to keep me from blasting apart again, from losing myself in a black hole beneath me that was gonna end up threatening me daily and nightly. So that’s what I was trying to do; I laid down next to him , shoulder to shoulder, neck to neck, and I gripped him with my head and held him down, close to something warm, keeping him tethered to himself at least, even if I didn’t have the heart to keep him tied to the earth. I’m not sure if I could be that cruel.

And I thought back to Tembovu and the conversation we had, about what I was to Lee, about…about all those others, the sea of them, everyone who had a claim on Lee’s heart and how I hated it and how terrified I was of drowning, suffocating under those waves that surrounded him. Here I was, the only warm soul for miles trying to comfort my friend—and it wasn’t pride I was feeling in my actions. It wasn’t the smugness I had been feeling not too long ago, the relief that, now, it was just us for a second. It wasn’t arrogance that was driving me to this—it wasn’t anything driving me to the ground, nothing at all, because to walk away would be a thing against every single piece of me and that was a power I didn’t have. Not yet. Not now.