Page 51 of Freshman

He walked forward, his body in silhouette. Alfie realised the paper in Nate’s hand was his letter. Nate offered it, not looking at the hatch but at the wall, as if it was irrelevant.

“Still leaving, right?” He sounded bored and flapped the letter with a huff.

Alfie studied him, then reached to get it.

Nate snapped from calm and collected to a striking python. He grabbed Alfie’s wrist with his other hand and yanked him forward. His knees pressed painfully into the metal walkway, and he patted his belt with his free hand to get his radio. He couldn’t breathe and was surprised his heart was still beating. Pain, he waited for it, waited for the snap of his fingers, or wrist, or the dislocation of his elbow.

He froze when the hand captured by Nate pressed against soft bristles. Nate moved his hand up Alfie’s wrist to link their fingers, then pressed Alfie’s hand to his face, made him cradle it.

“Nate?” he gasped.

He throttled his radio with his other hand, poised to press down and demand assistance, but he didn’t. Nate brushed his face into Alfie’s hand, then moved it to his lips.

“Let me go,” Alfie whispered.

Nate didn’t answer, just continued to lead Alfie’s fingers to the places he wanted touched. His lips, more specifically the bump in his lip, the catch of torn skin, and the hard scab that stopped leaking blood. Alfie shut his eyes and swallowed hard. He did not like the feel of the damage he’d done.

“I’m sorry,” Alfie whispered and then moved his thumb along the cut.

Nate opened his mouth, and Alfie registered heat on his thumb. He shivered, Nate nipped, and he shivered again. Teeth clutched at each of his fingers in turn before letting go. The metal digging angrily into Alfie’s knees didn’t matter nor did the edge of hatch door pressed into his chest.

All Alfie could feel was the soft skin of Nate’s lips, surrounded by the coarse hair of his beard.

“I…I,” Alfie stuttered.

“Wanted to say sorry,” Nate said. “Are you sorry?”

“Yes.”

“And what if I ask you to prove it?”

Alfie wet his dry lips. “How?”

“By kissing it better,” Nate whispered.

“What?”

“You heard me. One peck. That’s all I’m asking for, and then I’ll believe you.”

Alfie forced a swallow, and before he could think on it, he moved toward the open hatch. It wasn’t large enough for their faces, just their chins and lips. Alfie hovered, panting at the air between them and drawing it into his lungs. Him and Nate fought for the oxygen, and Alfie knew he was losing when his lips tingled with Nate’s hot breath and his head spun.

Just before Nate’s mouth met his, he yanked himself out of the lustful bubble and shut the hatch. Alfie didn’t rush away even though his mind willed it. His fluttering heart made him rest his forehead to the cool metal door, and he imagined Nate doing the same on the other side.

“Close enough,” Nate whispered. “I forgive you.”

Alfie didn’t rely on anyone, didn’t want to have that weakness.

“This…this can’t happen,” Alfie whispered to Nate, and himself.

Nate tutted. “It is happening, Freshman. Just let it. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

Alfie struggled to his feet. He winced at the deep ache in his knees and rubbed his chest where the hatch had pressed.

The radio hissed at his hip.

“Don’t forget this,” Nate breathed.

Alfie turned just in time to see the letter fall from the side of the hatch. He swooped down, grabbed it, and shoved it into his pocket. His radio hissed again, and Henry demanded he reply.

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