I wanted to keep this moment with me forever. But the reality of an approaching morning that would again push us to different coasts arrived faster than I wanted it to.

As our mouths separated, we buried our faces in each other's shoulders, clinging to each other as if our lives depended on it.

Don't let go of me.

Let's stay like this for one more second.

And another one.

“We have to,” said Conor, forcing a brief sad smile to rush over my face. I couldn’t help but think that there were many things we had to do: go back inside, hold hands, kiss again, exchange phone numbers, and never fall asleep so we never would wake up from this dream.

My feet slid over the icy floor when Conor pulled his head away to turn toward the entrance. But he held my hand and helped me stay on my feet.

I wasn’t ready to let go of him.

Hand in hand, we glided cautiously as penguins do on thin ice. The first to fall would have taken the other with him. But the closer we got to the door, the stronger the thicker layers of snow supported our steps and the easier it got to walk.

When Conor finally opened the door, the warm air hitting the cold outside produced so much steam. It felt like we had returned from outer space. As if we had just visited another planet and were entirely different people now after seeing the wonders that await humanity elsewhere.

Conor pulled me inside, shoving the door into its place with a snap as if he had just secured the airlock to our spaceship. Conor's face was glowing red, as was probably mine. We both had so much snow on our clothes that we almost looked like snowmen. I shivered, feeling cold and hot and everything in between.

Conor swept the snow off his jacket and nodded at me to do the same. As soon as he was done, he came over and opened the zipper of my coat to help me out of it. He didn't even ask me if I needed or wanted his help.

The snow under my jacket had already melted, leaving my clothes soaking wet.

“You should change. Do you have anything dry with you?”

I shook my head. Everything was in my suitcase, which was already checked in for departure.

“I’m surprised you are still alive after being without me all these years,” Conor laughed.

Believe me. I am too.

Shivering, I slumped on a bench, rubbing my red hands against my pants to stay warm while Conor pored through his bag.

"It's not fresh, but at least it's dry." He handed me a white shirt and a green sweater, and I graciously took them.

"Let's find a place where you can change without offending public decency."

—

When I came out of the restroom, now wearing Conor’s marginally too-big-for-me clothes, I felt human again: refreshed, warm and embarrassed.

But at least I smell like Conor now.

"You're finally wearing something fashionable," he joked, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against.

“Where now? It’s your turn to make the call," said Conor. I had almost forgotten that this was our objective for the night. But I am not in the mood to decide anything. I can’t even choose how to feel or what to say right now.

My voice cracked when I replied. “Do you want to return to the movie theater?”

“I told them we wouldn’t be back before I came after you.”

"You saw right through my lie, huh?" I didn’t dare to meet eyes with Conor, so I directed my view to the floor, following the seam of the dark grey floor tiles touching the beige walls.

"You're an open book, more than you realize, Ash."

Maybe. Or perhaps you still know me better than anyone else, myself included.

“Sorry for ruining the movie for you.”

He slammed his right hand on my shoulder and moved my chin with his left hand, forcing me to look at him as if I were a child who needed help understanding the consequences of their actions. “I’m just happy you didn’t do anything stupid, like running away and wandering outside in the middle of the heaviest blizzard this country has seen in years.”

The ridiculous way he talked reminded me of my father, and I couldn't help but laugh.

“Oh wow, I didn’t believe that would work,” he said and grinned at me, stirring the feeling that made me want to kiss him again. What is the code now? Is it okay for me to kiss him again? Or was that just a one-time thing in the spur of the moment?

"How about we relax for a bit? It's almost midnight, and most of the stuff is closing soon anyway," suggested Conor, and I gladly nodded. I felt tired. Though I would have liked to stay awake all night so I wouldn't miss a minute with him.

We wandered around the airport for a while, looking for the most suitable spot to camp. Most of the seats were occupied by other travelers sleeping or hypnotized by their smartphones. We walked to the far end of the second-floor seating area and found some unoccupied benches in the back, hidden behind some unseasonable palm trees that invited us to enjoy some privacy.

As soon as we put down our stuff, Conor winked at me and left without a word. I looked at where he was heading, but he was quickly out of sight. Since I didn’t know when he would be back, I pulled out my phone to kill some time with Instagram. No signal. Thanks, Blizzard.

What now? Staring into the distance? Boring. Play some Strike Force? Won’t work properly without Wifi. Stressing out about the past and the future? Sounds reasonable. Although, I have already worried more in the past couple of hours than an average person does in a year.

I scrolled through my photo library. So many memories: a picture of my coworkers and me at the Christmas party; pictures from my games my mother took and sent me; selfies with classmates; memes I liked; Milo, Will, Leo, Conor, and I in the park; and eventually my favorite picture of Conor in our backyard in the winter.

“What are you looking at?”

I nearly dropped my phone, scared to death for not realizing Conor had returned.

He cautiously balanced two to-go cups with his index finger at the bottom and his thumb on the top and leaned slightly over me. But not in a way that suggested he wanted to snoop on me, more like in a way that asked me to take the cups out of his hands so that he could sit down next to me without spilling the drinks.

“Be careful. The tea is way too hot.”

I slid my phone onto my lap and tried my best not to burn myself when I took the cup out of his hands.

“I’m surprised you still have pictures of me on your phone.”

“So you were snooping!”

“I own all rights to my own image.”

“Okay, okay. Sue me.”

I unlocked my phone and shoved it under his nose. He studied the image closely and tried to figure out when and where it was taken.

“It’s in your backyard, isn’t it? When was that?”

I clenched my lips, hurt that he didn’t remember me taking this picture.

“Shouldn’t you have the opposite picture on your phone?”

He shrugged, pulling the corners of his mouth almost to the floor as if he wanted to say he didn't know. He flipped out his phone and scrolled through his library. It would be best if you didn't look at his screen while he was doing that. So I took the cap off my cup and inspected the tea. It was a simple herbal blend, something my grandma would have given me so I wouldn't get sick. I drew my head back to avoid getting burned by the steam rising above the cup and blew at it in a futile attempt to cool it down.

Conor held his phone up, showing me a picture of Milo and me inside my living room, maliciously grinning at him.

“So you also didn’t delete them.”

“Why would I?”

I had to smile as I looked at us, being so young and innocent. Well, maybe not as pure as the driven snow, but not as worldly as now. Oh fuck, I sound like a thirty-year-old man that feels old for the first time in his life. I put the cap back on the cup and stored the tea safely next to me on a small table. It was too hot to drink anyway.

“I miss those times,” Conor muttered as he flipped through more pictures of our shared past. I leaned over his phone, curious about what else he had stored there.

“Me too.”

We both had to smile, wallowing in nostalgia like retirees. I leaned in closer to get a goodlook at the other pictures. Conor smelled of spring. I want to kiss him so badly again. To show him what he means to me. But can I… do that? I used the opportunity and leaned in even further, our heads now dangerously close. He turned to face me.

Inhaling a deep breath, Conor pushed the right button on his smartphone to turn the screen off. He kept his gaze fixed on me and his head close to mine. Does he want me to kiss him? If it had been a one-time thing, he wouldn’t look at me like this, would he?

I wanted to hold his hand, but all I could do was place mine on my knee, hoping he would have the guts to touch it. I could see that he glanced at it for a second.

“Are you afraid?”

“No,” I said softly, even though I stifled my tremors. I leaned closer and waited to see how he responded. He copied me as well, leaning closer, awaiting my next move. Our lips were only inches apart. He wants it too. Or he would draw his head back, wouldn’t he?

Conor chuckled.

“You may kiss me, you stupid fool. That is if you want to—”

I pressed my lips into his.

He wasn’t the first person I ever kissed, but it never felt as good as it did with him. This was special.

Because it’s Conor.

I fumbled for his hand, and as I found it, he interlocked his fingers in between mine.

I want this to go on forever.

—

I ended up lying in his arms, just like in the cinema. But this time, I decided to enjoy it.

There is enough time to feel guilty once we have to part ways again. I should only focus on the moment. Be with him. Like he told me when we were out in the storm.

Conor held up his smartphone, trying to find the perfect position for a selfie of us. I pushed myself up, so my face was closer to his when he pressed the red button. The screen turned white for milliseconds. The picture he had taken was promptly displayed, and his smile struck me. I can't believe I'm with him again. My jaw dropped as I realized I had kissed him. Twice!

"I can't believe we… did that," I said, feeling at ease for the first time in years.

"Taking a picture?"

"You know what I mean," I said, surprisingly calm. Four hours earlier, a joke like this would have driven me crazy.

“So…,” Conor curiously bent his eyebrows, which reminded me of cute black hairy caterpillars. "…no worries about kissing another guy?"