A/N: Boy, it's been I while since I published something. Wrote it at 4 am, sorry if there are any mistakes. Also, english is not my first language, so again, sorry for any mistakes.
The wind whispered outside the window, and he didn't need to open it to know it was another cold day. The mug of hot chocolate warmed his hands, at least.
Dad would be home soon. It was surprising that he could still work. Nicholas had always admired his father, and seeing him like that -so... Devasted, was eating him to the bones. He wanted to help. He could help, for a while at least. But still. Fake happiness was better than real sadness. It lasted a few minutes, it made his blood boil and his body burn and his heart hurt but... He needed to do it. It wasn't what his father was looking for. It wasn't even what Nicholas himself wanted, but a fire was a fire and they were both so cold. They needed each other to keep warm.
At least when they both were swallowing each other's moans and groans and stealing each other's breaths, they didn't need to think about other things; about what happened, what was about to happen, what might happen. Between those four walls, they shared a secret that was born with them weeks after her death. She was still loved. She will always be. But she wasn't there anymore to kiss Nicholas' forehead, or to satisfy Joel's romantical and sexual needs. She wasn't there, she would never be.
Nicholas' face down, bottom up, cheek pressed against the mattress, eyes closed and mind poisoned by his father's groans, that filled the room around them when he was about to come. That was Joel's favorite position. Because then he wouldn't have to look into his son's eyes while he fucked him over and over again, and he could, finally, imagine it was her. Nicholas didn't have long hair, like hers, but the locks were of the same color. They didn't taste the same, but their lips felt alike. They didn't sound the same, so Nicholas tried to muffle his moans.
The drink wasn't warm anymore. He took a sip anyway. The front door opened, the old wooden floor made sounds as the older man walked in. Dad got home. He was probably cold in that autumn day.