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Elijah does a little shimmy with his scarf and with one last dramatic flourish, loops it around Sean's neck. The cold air stings between them and settles on their skin, frozen noses and cheeks touching. Hot breath fogs up Elijah's glasses and he quickly snatches them off. "Fucking things," he complains. The eyeglasses dangle between his fingertips as Sean takes his waist. Sean's eyes memorize the ice-pink of Elijah's face. Elijah leans his forehead against Sean's, loving the scratch of Sean's beard. "Love you," the younger man says, and Sean, smiling, brings up his hands to trace Elijah's jacketed forearms. |