Page 45 of Hurt

“Must be nice to see your nephew again.”

The corner of his lips quirked up slightly. “I’m wondering when the brat got so smart. He’s calling me out on my shit.”

“Family has a way of seeing the parts of us we would rather hide.”

Kurt made a noise of assent but didn’t say anything else.

They were left standing shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the stars. There was something timeless about it—like the night was their shroud, and nothing outside of it was moving. They didn’t need to speak. There was a sense of comfort and camaraderie between them that transcended logic and spoken word. A feeling that neither one of them was comfortable addressing.

“Novalunosis.”

Kurt didn’t look at him. “Talking to yourself again?”

Grant smiled. “It means the state of relaxation and wonderment one experiences while staring at the stars.”

Kurt shivered a little.

Grant was pulling off his jacket before he realized what he was doing, draping it over Kurt. He flinched a little at the unexpected move. The action brought them closer together, Grant’s fingers just barely brushing Kurt’s shoulders through the jacket. His dark eyes were almost unfathomable in the night, two dusky pools that were hiding a thousand things.

This was the closest he had ever been to him.

“Wanyin.”

Kurt inhaled sharply. “What does that mean?”

“It’s from a Chinese poem. It means abstruse melancholy.”

The look of wonderment disappeared, and Kurt glowered at him. “For those of us who didn’t eat a dictionary for breakfast?”

“Abstruse means difficult to understand.”

His lips parted in a small ‘Oh’ of understanding.

Grant was still close, so close he could smell the sharp sting of alcohol wafting off Kurt. It was so much like his dream, but he was really here. The warmth coming off his skin wasn’t in his imagination.

Lazy locks of purple hair fell in front of his face, tickling those bow-shaped lips that Grant had been trying so desperately not to stare at. Those dark eyes flickered over his face, taking in everything and taking those thoughts back with him behind the wall that Grant wanted to get through.

There was a softness to Kurt’s face. A look he had never seen but knew he would gladly spend an eternity memorizing. Without conscious thought, he leaned in to kiss Kurt. Even just the slightest touch of those alluring lips would be enough to sustain him.

Kurt was trembling.

He realized it belatedly, just as he was entering his personal space. He wasn’t pulling away or saying no, but his whole body was shaking. The softness of his face had changed into a stiff mask, eyes darting from Grant’s face to his hands.

Grant froze and had to wait for his brain to catch up before pulling back quickly. Turning away so Kurt wouldn’t see the look on his face, he coughed and tried to compose himself.

“I’m sorry, Wanyin,” Grant said softly.

When he looked back, Kurt was glowering at him. There was something bright and angry in his eyes, and a sneer was painted across his lips.

“Don’t call me that.” Grant could hear the slight tremble in his voice.

Shrugging off the jacket, he let it fall to the ground before turning and storming back into the bar.

Crouching down, he picked up the jacket and held it to his chest. It was still warm.

“Wanyin,” he whispered into the fabric.

10