Page 38 of We May Be Fractured

Aaron headed straight for it, stirring up a cloud of tiny insects in his wake. Pocketing his nearly dying phone, he poised his hands over the dusty keys.

“Do you play?” Landon marvelled, standing beside him.

“They used to call me ‘Mozart’.”

As Aaron hit the keys, the air filled with the jarring sounds of ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’, though terribly off-key. It didn’t help that it would have been equally terrible, even in tune.

“You’re awful,” Landon said as a gust of wind howled through the room. “Mozart must be turning in his grave. Who called you that?”

“My sister.” Aaron laughed, stopping to brush his dirty fingers on his jeans. “She had the talent. I’m rubbish at music. What about you?”

“Same. I’m better off listening.”

Aaron smiled and shoved his hands into his fleeced coat pockets. Despite being inside, it was as freezing as outside, his breath visible in the air.

“Shall we get going? Doesn’t seem like there’s much more to see,” he suggested.

Landon nodded, taking the lead this time, his phone lighting their path as they moved from one empty room to another. They occasionally tripped over cans and food wrappers or disturbed a rat’s hiding place but found nothing truly frightening.

As they reached the ground floor, the beam from Landon’s phone disappeared, plunging them into the moonlit narrow corridor.

“Shit, the battery’s gone,” Landon said.

Aaron kept calm. They weren’t too far from the exit, and it wasn’t that dark. But he found his closeness to Landon in that confined space unsettling.

“Afraid of the dark?” Landon teased with a tremor.

“Not at all,” Aaron replied, though he didn’t sound too convincing.

“Afraid of what you can’t see, are you?” Landon’s hand went to his coat collar and tugged it. He shuffled on the spot, his feet seemingly glued to the floor, avoiding any steps deeper into the shadowy corridor.

That’s when it hit Aaron. Landon was afraid of the dark. The lights, always left on in the summer house until dawn, weren’t aesthetic but to keep the darkness away.

“Well, it works both ways. You can’t see others, and they can’t see you,” Aaron said, trying to reassure him. “And here’s a fun fact about people who are colour-blind. They see better in the dark.”

“Bullshit.”

But there, in the dim corridor, it seemed Landon could truly see him, more than anyone ever had.

Aaron paused, observing Landon’s silhouette, illuminated by the soft glow from the distant doorway and the light seeping through the cracks. The silence stretched on until Landon’s fingers brushed down Aaron’s arm to rest on his wrist.

“Your heart’s racing,” Landon noted, the weight of his touch palpable against the throbbing pulse. “Is it the dark you fear, or is it…me?”

“Neither.” Aaron’s voice shook a little. “You’ve never scared me. You’re not the psycho people say you are. But you seem to like that idea, or maybe you want it.”

Landon chuckled softly, his breath fogging in the space between them. They were so close Aaron could hear Landon’s breathing.

Switching it around, Aaron pressed his thumb to Landon’s wrist, the pulse frantic, just like his. “Your heart’s going fast too. What are you afraid of?”

Landon looked away for a second, then met Aaron’s scrutiny again. “Can I?”

“Can you what? Kill me and hide my body in these ruins?”

“Kiss you.”

“Oh.” Aaron glanced quickly at Landon’s lips, then back to his eyes. He seemed all over the place—nervous, excited, unsure.

“I only accept binary answers.” Landon leaned in, the gap between their mouths narrowing. “Can I kiss you? Yes or no?”

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Aaron worried that a kiss with Landon could ruin everything between them, especially if it was as lacklustre as his past experiences had been.

But as he gazed into Landon’s eyes, he realised he had never longed to kiss someone as deeply as he wanted to kiss Landon now.

“Yes,” Aaron breathed out, his anxiety and anticipation evident.

That seemed to be all Landon needed; he cradled Aaron’s face and brought their lips together.

The kiss, unlike what Aaron had braced for, was soft, almost tentative, lasting perhaps five, ten, fifteen seconds.

Yet, it was enough to jolt every nerve awake, to spark something he thought was long dormant, much like the derelict rides around them. Inside him, a series of tiny lights flickered to life, echoing those in the summer house.

As they drew apart, Aaron’s heart pounded wildly. Their foreheads touched and their breaths mingled, melting the visible cold that hung in the air between them.

Aaron sighed, not from disappointment but from wonder at what other sparks Landon might ignite in him.

So, he leaned in and captured Landon’s lips once again.

If their first kiss was a light brush, this one was all-consuming, an eager clash of noses and teeth and lips and tongues.

Despite their initial clumsiness, they soon found a rhythm, harmonising their movements.

For Aaron, it was revelatory, answering questions he didn’t even know he had.

In the midst of Landon’s kiss, he finally got what desire really meant. It was there, under Landon’s tongue, in the way their mouths pressed and gasped for air, in the fingers entwined in his hair, and in the gentle nip of Landon’s teeth on his lower lip.

And it wasn’t fair.

Kissing someone wasn’t supposed to make him feel both thrown off balance and grounded. Like sliding too fast down a very high slide but trusting the landing. He wasn’t prepared for this.

He’d expected a bit of excitement, a teaser for what might come next, a warm-up. His mind and body had always run on separate tracks, never meeting. But now, they merged.

It didn’t matter that the kiss was messy, that their noses bumped yet again, that he kept his hands awkwardly stuffed in his pockets because he wasn’t sure what to do with them, or that Landon’s stubble and the edge of his metal piercing scratched against Aaron’s chin.

What made the kiss special was its unique taste—a blend of sleepless nights over tea and cigarettes, the songs they shared on Tube rides, deep chats by Regent’s Canal, the stories behind each scar and tattoo, and soft awakenings in the summer house.

That kiss tasted like a safe place; it tasted of Neverland.

And it was the worst; it was the best.

It was too much. It wasn’t enough.

Pulling back slightly for a breath, Aaron found Landon already waiting for him. The real world started to creep back in. The musty smell of the old building and the sharp chill of December air reminded him of where they were.

Undoubtedly, a ghostly house in an abandoned theme park was the strangest and most unsuitable place to let go and feel safe. Once again, in a surreal present. Once again, somewhere he shouldn’t have belonged.

But then, Landon’s lips met his again, as naturally as if they were made to fit together, like a key turning in a lock, opening the door to a home Aaron never had but had always longed for.

“Merry Christmas, Aaron,” Landon whispered against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Landon.”