It All Fades Away
The pounding on his front door had Harry’s head jerking up from the carving that he was doing. He’d heard the car driving by a couple of minutes ago, strange enough, but he hadn’t expected anyone to show up at his door. That was the point of this pretty little cabin, hidden in the mountainside in Montana.
No one had been here since Draco had shown up on his doorstep six months ago looking for a place to stay for a night (or four as the case had been). But that certainly didn't bear thinking about.
There was another round of pounding and Harry stood and made his way across the room, pulling the door open, expecting to see some lost driver who couldn't get any reception.
Instead it was Draco standing in the doorway, long hair tied back in a braid, wearing a pair of skinny jeans and the plaid shirt that Harry hadn't been able to find for the past six months. "Harry," Draco murmured, like he was surprised to see him.
He closed the door again, heart beating loudly in his ears, he felt a little dizzy. Harry screwed his eyes shut, then opened them again, he was dreaming, he must be.
But then, if he was dreaming, why wouldn't he let Draco in? At least enjoy the time they could have, even if it wasn't real.
A tentative fist knocking on the door and Harry pulled it open again.
"I'm sorry," Draco blurted, reaching out a hand for Harry but not actually touching him. "I'm sorry that I left without a word. I'm sorry that I just disappeared. You didn't deserve that."
He swallowed, looked Draco over from head to toe and took a step back, gesturing for him to come in.
Draco's shoulders released, tension draining as he stepped inside.
"Why are you back?" Harry asked, voice a little hoarse and gravelly from disuse, before heading toward the kitchen and taking out the tea. Funny that he hadn't forgotten how Draco took his.
The chair slid out from the table and Draco sat down, Harry didn't have to be looking at him to know that Draco's eyes were on him. He'd done the same thing every time that Harry had cooked anything for them when he'd been here all those months ago.
"I couldn't stop thinking about you," Draco said and Harry almost dropped the tea cup he'd been holding.
He glanced over at Draco with a sardonic grin, "you don't fuck off for six months from someone you can't stop thinking about."
"You weren't the reason I came to the States," he replied.
Harry nodded, placing a cup of tea in front of Draco at the table but not taking the seat across from him. He leaned against the counter instead, "You were trying to get some perspective. That's what you said, right? Trying to get some space."
"I was trying to find myself," Draco replied bluntly.
He hummed and took a sip of tea, "And?"
"I've seen the most beautiful things," Draco said. "Mountains, and oceans, trees that are thousands and thousands of years old. I've seen cacti, and deserts, and giant canyons. More wildlife and flowers than you can imagine. The things that I've seen," he shook his head, "Harry, I've wept for joy of seeing them, with experiencing them. I've been freer than I've ever been in my entire life."
Harry nodded, took another sip of tea, he'd let him share his life. How could he not? He was happy to share the joy the other man possessed.
"But it all fades to absolutely nothing when it's compared to you."
He blinked, "Sorry?"
"For the past six months, all I could think about were the four nights in your arms. All I could think about was what you might say about the places I've been. All I could imagine was waking up in the early morning light and admiring the way the sun makes your skin glow bronze. Every restaurant I ate in, I imagined the way you'd delight in the flavors, the seasoning; the way you'd enjoy the food in front of you. And every night, I'd lie awake and feel the ghost of your fingers on me; soft and almost reverent, like I was something worthy of being cherished."
"You are," Harry said simply.
Draco swallowed, "And I came back to see," he shook his head, clenched his fingers around the tea cup, "I wondered if maybe you felt a little bit the same."
"Draco," he said incredulously, "I asked you to stay with me." He shook his head, "six months ago, while your body was warm, and heavy, and sated, pressed flush against mine on that bed," he said, pointing to the bed in the corner of the cabin. "I kissed you and I asked you to stay. I gave you my entire fucking heart."
"I-" Draco started but Harry interrupted him.
"You were the one who left-"
"I know," he said, tucking a hair behind his ear. "I'm sorry-"
"I'm not saying that because I want you to feel sorry," he said with a frown. "I'm saying it because I already told you that I wanted you. Of course I feel the same."
Draco's head snapped up, eyes searching Harry's face, "Really?" he whispered.
"Yes, of course, really," he groused.
Before he could get any more words out, Draco flew across the space between them, throwing himself into Harry's arms. And Harry caught him on reflex, arms enfolding him, drawing him closer as he breathed him in. "I missed you," Draco whispered.
"Well it's your own stupid fault," he grumbled but his hands soothed over Draco's back and sides. "I missed you too," he relented, "so much."
Draco swallowed and pulled back, "if the offer still stands," he whispered, "I'd like to stay."
Harry nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat, "It still stands."
"Can we travel, too?"
He laughed, cupping Draco's cheeks in his palms, "I'm afraid there isn't much that I wouldn't give you."
"You'll love it," Draco assured, grinning brightly at him.
"With you?" he said, "I'm sure I will."
Draco leaned in and rested their foreheads together, "Maybe just a little time here for us first," he said.
And the two of them traveled the world together, but it was always true that the other was the thing that they longed to see the most.
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Days 9-10 in Chile: Days 1-2 of conference
I went to bed early the night before the conference got underway and didn't have a totally solid night's sleep (reasons included congestion, sweating, and a small earthquake), but it was at least fairly long, and I think the fever had actually broken this time. The congestion still wasn't any better, and I had an occasionally scary-sounding cough, but I woke up hungry and with improved energy.
Needless to say, I didn't get up early enough to go to the opening plenary session. It's my first conference in 5 years; I initially felt very overwhelmed and claustrophobic in the crowds of people. So I went to the room where my session was, which was at that point still pretty empty (it was a coffee break). By the time the symposium started, the room had filled up. I did get through my talk respectably, though I wouldn't say that it was my best presentation ever. But I wasn't aiming for that given my condition! I enjoyed the other talks. At the end all the speakers sat on the stage for the Q&A, and I got a better look at the audience (I can't really see when I'm giving a presentation since I'm mostly trying not to die focused on my talk); I recognised several people either from previous conferences or from having worked in the same institutions in the past.
I got some nice feedback from a few people afterwards. There was another session immediately but I needed to decompress (and also blow my nose, so I went outside to take off my mask). After a bit, I returned inside and ran into a former colleague, so it was nice to reconnect. Eventually found my way to another session I was interested in. I only lasted one and a half talks before I felt a cough coming on, so I ducked out so as not to disrupt the session.
Lunch was provided after the session ended, so I took my bag lunch and went outside and had a picnic. It was a pretty warm day. I sat on my own at a distance from others so as not to spread my germs.
In the afternoon I only attended two talks, but the second one was quite noteworthy and probably the most original research being presented at this conference: it was about the effect of tattoos on risk of lymphoma. !! Everyone was riveted. Nobody has studied this before, but the chemicals used in tattoo inks are known to have health effects in other contexts; the presenter pointed out that having them injected directly into the skin could plausibly be a concern. She has tattoos herself. (She points out that laser removal could then exacerbate the problem, so if this news makes you worry that you should get your tattoos removed, don't do it!)
After that I was kind of Done for the day. I rested in the room a little and then Wife and I went to dinner in one of the hotel restaurants. She heads home tomorrow. (She had done a horseback ride in the foothills of the Andes today and saw a black-chested buzzard eagle! Well, she was told it was an eagle (they may have told her which kind and she forgot), and she somehow got an iPhone photo that confirmed Merlin's only suggestion when I asked for eagles around here. [how?! how did she get a photo while on a moving horse, of a soaring bird high above, with a crappy camera, that was clear enough in shape and plumage to confirm the id?!])
That night I slept really badly. I didn't turn out the light until 11pm, and then it took a while to fall asleep because the decongestant hadn't taken effect yet. Then, I woke up at 4:40 because I was too hot with the blanket on, but I was too cold without it. I was awake at least a couple of hours. At some point I adjusted the thermostat and then I eventually managed to doze for a couple of hours.
Despite being exhausted, I did in fact feel much better today. I had a slow morning, but eventually made it down to the conference and ran into a friend (formerly a student in my research group), and chatted to her a bit before going to the last couple talks in a session of some short methodology talks. Then the friend and I had lunch outside. The lunch bags came with a randomised soda can; I lucked out with ginger ale, which is literally the only soda I like, but the friend got diet ginger ale, which is disgusting. It seems weird that they would randomise people to diet or non-diet sodas.
Afterwards, I attended part of a session on health effects of wildfires, but it was so cold in that room that I had to leave before it ended. I was too tired to attend any more of the conference at that point anyway.
Wife came back from having done some sightseeing and we caught up a bit and took a micro-nap; she leaves for the airport soon. I'm trying to decide whether to go to the conference dinner, which doesn't start until 8pm and is a metro ride away. I'm under-rested and still recovering from whatever this illness is, and that seems late to go out (though there is transport back, but maybe not until midnight, which... is clearly too late for me to be out). I haven't left the hotel since we checked in because I've been ill. But this meal is already paid for and is a good networking opportunity but also a social anxiety stressor. It's in a large space, I think, so I hopefully wouldn't be putting others at risk (and I may not be contagious anymore by now anyway, and I'll wear a good mask when I'm not eating). Argh. Decisions.
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