Constant (theme: emergency candles)
Note:
constant /ˈkänstənt/ adj. 1. occurring continuously over a period of time. 2. remaining the same over a period of time. 3. (of a person) unchangingly faithful and dependable.
Flash. Crash. "Crap." Sudden darkness, no light save for the blue-white streaks of lightning across the pitch of stormy nighttime sky. The hiss of rain on the sill lets them know the bottom's dropped out even as a thunderous boom shakes the aged panes.
"Got a match?"
Flick hiss.
"There're some candles around here somewhere."
"Didn't know you were a romantic, boyo," Bran teases, his grin illuminated by the flickering match.
Will ignores him. "Found them." Light, dim and flickering, dances in the small space of the living room.
"Ow! Shit!"
"Here, let me see." Soft touch, gentle hands. It's really not all that bad, more a shock than an actual hurt; but he won't confess that, not with Will's attention on him, Will's hands cradling his, Will's touch - delicate, careful not to cause more hurt.
He wonders how long the lights will stay out, wonders how long the storm will rage. The thunder is closer now, lightning sending blue silhouetted shadows dancing across the walls.
The living room is still barren save for the pathetic table and chair they'd rescued from Will's old flat, not the most comfortable places to relax while they wait out the storm.
"C'mon," he urges, grabbing the candle and tugging the dumbfounded young man in the direction of the bedroom. "We might as well get comfortable." Another shuddering crash of thunder and dancing blue-white light. Conscientiously Bran flips the switch as they leave the room - no sense blowing a perfectly good bulb in the surge of returning power.
"Here," he says gently, pushing the Englishman toward the bed. Finding a safe spot for the fickle flame, Bran joins Will and enfolding him in his arms. He settles them both against the pillows, leaning back and relaxing. "Best seat in the house," he declares as another flash illuminates the room.
It occurs to Bran, in-between the flashes of lightning and the rumble of thunder, that Will is like their emergency candle: shining in the dark, a constant light in the raging storm. He's not sure how comfortable this realisation is - the sudden awareness that long after Bran himself is dust and forgotten memory, long after the world has come to an end, until the end of time, that Will... Will will be there. That, as surely as storms pass and lightning fades, Will will always remain. It's a bit unnerving to think about, disquieting. So for the time being, he pushes it to the back of his mind and wraps his arms a little tighter around the other's too broad shoulders and watches the tempest wreak havoc on the night sky.