You might think you know me
But you're mistaken
You might think I don't care
But you're mistaken
You might think you understand
But you're mistaken
So beautiful. Van wanted to touch him, to run his fingers over that face, through that golden hair, to run his hands over Tylendel's chest, to hear him moan as the girls always had. What would it be like to be enveloped in Tylendel's arms? Van wanted desperately to know. He couldn't understand– how? How could they ever– It wasn't like with girls, that he understood, even if it didn't interest him. But this– no, this he didn't understand. The burning sensation he got when he thought of Tylendel, of what it would be like to be the recipiant of his kisses, to spend the night with him, entwined together in love—. But he couldn't- he daren't trust him. He couldn't trust anyone. No matter what his treacherous heart was demanding.
****
Tylendel was aware of eyes on him. He looked up, to see Vanyel turn away. Cocking his head he regarded the back of the boy who had plagued his dreams since his arrival. Cold, haughty, talented and beautiful, Vanyel had girls swarming around him. Tylendel had promised Savil he wouldn't fall in love with him. That was easy, his vain manner didn't invite such emotions. But he could not help lusting after him. And sometimes, deep in his heart he hoped it was an act, that Vanyel was protecting himself by keeping everyone at arms length. But how likely was that?
****
Vanyel was tired. Reaching for his history book he knocked the entire stack to the floor. Sighing he knelt and began to gather up his books. To his surprise Tylendel knelt and began to help him. Simultaneously they reached for a book on Rethwellan and their hands brushed. Tylendel's hands were warm and smooth, they sent tingles along his arm, and down his body. Hurriedly he jumped back, jerking his hand back with a hurried "Thank you." He fled to his room. Oh damn. Oh DAMN. The fire- the longing. When he touched Tylendel. A quick brush, nothing much. But it had left him trembling with desire. Gods. What was he going to do?
****
Tylendel was shocked. Why had Vanyel reacted so badly to a casual touch? He must have found out about Tylendel's — preferences. Some people got wierded out by such things. He sighed. He should have known. Why had he even bothered to hope? Why had he bothered to dream that Vanyel could ever care for him?
****
Vanyel was curled up on his bed sobbing, shaking, fast asleep.
Mocking laughter. "Can you believe he ever thought I would be interested in a useless brat like him?" A familiar voice sneered. It was Tylendel, and he was talking about Van. He felt his heart lurch. No– no it couldn't be true, Tylendel couldn't really think of him like that. With a strangled cry Vanyel whirled and ran. He had to get away, had to escape the ridicule, the humiliation, the heartache.
Ice. A frozen plain. Blinded by tears he ran through it, heedless of the razor sharp pieces of ice that tore at his clothing, ripped through his skin. A trail of blood marked his path. He sank to the ground. Unable to run farther. And the snow covered him.