Kai Langford - January 2121
The impact knocks the wind right out of him, a sharp huff of air escaping his lips as I land heavily on his chest.
"Shit," I breathe out, panic instantly flaring in my chest. I scramble, pushing myself up on my hands to take my weight off him, my eyes scanning him desperately. "Are you okay?"
Ethan just laughs, a breathless, coughing sound from underneath me, his hands instantly coming up to grip my arms. "I'm fine," he smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Sorry for tripping you."
I don't answer right away as I scan him for injuries. But as I stare down at him, the hyper-vigilance melts into something entirely different. My heart, already racing from the fall, completely shifts gears.
The snow all around us acts like a reflector, catching the light and making his eyes look impossibly bright. It feels like they're pulling me in, grounding me in a way nothing else can.
My stomach does a sudden, flip not from danger, but from pure, unadulterated excitement.
"You know," Ethan says, his smile widening into something softer, sweeter. "This reminds me of that time back at the facility. When you punched me right before falling on top of me."
A sudden wave of heat rushes straight to my face, warming me against the winter chill. I remember it perfectly. I had felt so sick with guilt the second my fist made contact back then.
But it was also the exact moment the walls had cracked, the exact moment I truly realised how beautiful he was.
"If I remember correctly," I reply, my voice dropping a little lower, a rare, playful edge slipping into my tone, "you said you'd be able to avoid it."
A soft laugh leaves his throat. He shifts his weight, sliding his arms up my chest to wrap securely around my neck, pulling me back down into his space. He doesn't let me keep my distance.
"If it wasn't for that bed, I would have won" he murmurs, his fingers tangling gently into the hair at the back of my neck.
The contrast of his warm skin against the cold air makes me ache. He tilts his head up slightly, leaning in until his lips are just brushing the shell of my ear, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper.
"It was also the first time I realised how badly I wanted you. Right there, pressed so close to me."
His breath sends a sharp, electric shiver straight down my spine. When he sinks back onto the icy ground, his cheeks are just as flushed as mine feel, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips.
It's completely unfair. It breaks through every bit of restraint I have.
I lean down and catch his lips with mine. The kiss is deep, full of the quiet, fierce affection I usually struggle to put into words. I want to lose myself in the warmth of him, but the old habits die hard.
The constant need to be aware of our surroundings yanks me back to reality too soon.
I pull away, breathless, and instantly whip my head toward the spot where Finn and Noah had been standing. A tight knot of worry forms in my throat, the last thing I need is my twin making fun of me, or Finn witnessing me being completely helpless around my boyfriend.
But the snow is empty.
"They must have gone to check the cabins out," Ethan says softly, his thumb tracing a gentle line along my jaw, drawing my attention right back to where it belongs. "Come on. Let's go find our room."
_______________________
We step into the first cabin, the heavy scent of dust and old wood immediately hits us.
An old L-shaped sofa sits in the main area, positioned near a dirty window that looks out over the gray, frozen lake. I scan the corners of the room out of habit, but everything is still.
Above us, a balcony overlooks the living space, and the muffled sound of voices drifts down from the upper floor.
We make our way up the wooden stairs, following the noise. As we step into one of the bedrooms, Finn is in the middle of shaking a faded sheet off the mattress. A thick cloud of dust erupts into the air, and Noah immediately bursts into a coughing fit.
"Doesn't look like anyone has been here for years," Finn says, glancing over his shoulder as he notices us standing in the doorway.
"Good job we brought our own bedding then," Ethan mumbles, coughing lightly behind me as the airborne dust reaches him.
The bedroom is large, surprisingly spacious enough to have its own attached bathroom. I move toward the wall and flip the plastic light switch, but nothing happens. The room remains dim.
"We need to find the fuse box" Noah says, his eyes tracking my hand on the switch.
"Any idea where that is?" I ask, my eyes already scanning the hallway for potential breaker locations.
"I have an idea" he says, brushing past me without waiting.
Finn is still distracted, aggressively stripping the rest of the sheets off the bed, so I take the quick opportunity to shadow my brother.
Before I can take two steps, Ethan pats my shoulder gently. "I'll go find us a room" he murmurs.
I nod before turning to follow Noah.
By the time I step back into the corridor, Noah is already at the bottom of the stairs, pacing purposefully toward the front door. He's moving too fast.
"Noah-" I call out, but the heavy front door clicks shut behind him.
I rub the back of my neck in frustration, a familiar tightness gripping my chest. I jog down the stairs and break into a run as I hit the cold outside air.
He's trekking through the snow toward a small, weather beaten box situated on the far side of the cabins.
"Will you hold up?" I shout, picking up my pace until I finally catch up to his side.
Noah doesn't stop. He just keeps his eyes locked on the shed. "I am only going to check the power," he says, his tone exasperated. "That doesn't exactly warrant protection, Kai."
"Noah, we have no idea if anyone else is here yet," I snap, my voice tight with the anxiety of keeping him safe. "So of course you can't just wander off on your own."
He doesn't argue, but he doesn't slow down either. He just pulls his scarf higher up over his neck against the biting wind and keeps walking.
We continue to walk in silence as we get closer to the box, but the quiet between us feels heavier than usual. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Noah glancing at me, his eyes darting away the second he realises I'm looking.
"What?" I ask, my tone a mix of curiosity and impatience.
"Nothing," he replies quickly, fixing his gaze straight ahead. But his resolve doesn't last, after only a few more paces through the crunching snow, his eyes drift sideways toward me again.
"Noah," I say, my voice dropping into a warning tone.
He suddenly cuts his stride and stops dead in his tracks. I halt a step later, turning fully to face him.
He tugs at his scarf again, pulling the fabric tight and then loosening it again, as if the physical motion can somehow help him build up the courage to say whatever is stuck in his throat. I just stand there in the freezing air, patiently watching the internal battle play out across his face.
"I'm just thinking," he says finally, the words sounding safe, carefully chosen.
"Okay?" I answer, waiting for the actual thought to follow. But the moment breaks before it can start. He lets out a quiet breath, turns back toward the box, and leaves the conversation hanging in the cold air as he heads for the circuit box.
I stand there for a moment, watching Noah crouch by the power circuit box. His fingers are already moving through wires and switches like they are a language he doesn't need to think about,no hesitation, no performance, just that quiet, clinical focus he slips into when everything else might as well not exist.
I want to ask him what all this is about, but I already know he won't answer in a way that actually explains anything. Still, I walk up behind him anyway.
The open metal box reveals a tangle of switches and wiring. Leaning in slightly to get a better look inside, I ask, "You sure you know what you're doing?"
Noah doesn't look up. "In theory."
That doesn't help at all, but I exhale slowly because it's Noah. With him, "in theory" usually still ends in success, even if reality has to be persuaded against its will.
A few seconds pass before the box clicks, followed quickly by another. The hum of power comes back to life, low and steady, as if the buildings themselves are remembering how to breathe.
Behind us, the house flickers once before a warm light finally spreads through the windows, casting a sharp contrast against the snow.
"Nice one," I say, reaching out to pat him on the back.
Noah straightens and brushes the snow off his trousers. "It wasn't anything complicated."
"Just take the compliment," I reply.
Usually, he would brush it off with something sharp, minimal, or dismissive. But this time, he doesn't. He just stands there, looking at me again. Long enough that I can't help but notice.
There was something he wants to say, I can feel it before he even tries, the silence between us suddenly taking on a heavy weight.
"There's something you want to say," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. "So just say it."
His eyes drop to the ground and then lift again, careful, measured, as if he is weighing every possible outcome of speaking. He opens his mouth to reply, but Ethan's voice cuts through from behind us, too loud and urgent to ignore.
"Guys! You have to come see this."
Noah shuts his mouth immediately. Without a word, he walks past me and heads toward the house, and just like that, whatever he was about to say disappears into the cold air.