There's nothing like needing to scream to make you painfully aware of not having a voice.

Most of the time I barely notice my handicap. Well, no, obviously that's not true. It's impossible to escape its prevalence in my life. It dictates pretty much every interaction I have with every person I meet. And considering how most people haven't bothered to learn sign language—well, most social interactions are limited to say the least. I spend a lot of my life excruciatingly frustrated. But that's just it: I'm frustrated at the communication barrier; I'm frustrated at other people's attitudes. It's not the ability to hear and speak that I miss. How would I even miss something I've never experienced? No, living in a world of silence isn't so bad, it's not so hard to adapt to. In fact, it's even got some perks. I often notice visual details that other people gloss over. What I miss is being treated like a dignified being. Being deaf wouldn't be a big deal if other people didn't turn it into one.

That topic is not an especially good road to travel down.

Anyway. My point being that there haven't actually been that many times in my life where I felt actual loss for the absence of speech itself.

But the silent scream that vibrated through every fiber of my being as I watched the Fenris Wolf slash his razor claws across my best friend's throat just didn't give my horror the adequate outlet I needed.

I screamed with magic instead of my voice. I let every ounce of my agony and frustration, not to mention my strength bleed out through my staff as I swung it into Fenris.

And unlike a real scream, it actually helped. But that wasn't obvious right away. Time seemed to slow to an agonizing crawl as my body crumpled from the effort.

No, my mind rebelled. No, you can't collapse. You have to help him.

"The dwarf is already dead" spelled out Surt's lips.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Each second it took me to reach Blitzen felt like a century. A hundred centuries. I could have sworn my heart beat a thousand times before my fingers connected with his neck and found his pulse.

The blood hammering in my ears reminded me that I still had a heart to pump it. I'd been fairly certain that in the moment that the wolf's claws had come down on Blitz, my own arteries had been shredded along with his. It couldn't be possible for me to still be intact with the echoing pain expanding through my chest. My heart had to have been torn clean out.

I'd thought of myself as an empty cup.

I was wrong.

Something that's already empty can't possibly feel this level of loss.

Imagine complete, all encompassing despair. Now imagine being too weak to do anything about it. It took the very last of my mobility just to press my trembling fingers against Blitz's skin. I braced myself for what I expected to find: the ripped and blood-slickened flesh of a corpse.

Now don't get me wrong: I'm not a wimp. I've seen a lot of awful things in my life. I've dealt with a lot of awful things. I could have dealt with this sort of scenario with just about anyone…but not Blitz.

Oh gods, not Blitz.

There was blood.

But not the ocean of it a severed carotid artery would have pumped out. My lungs froze, refusing to work as my hands searched for evidence of life. My sanity hanging in the balance, ready to tilt one way or the other at the first sign of life or lack thereof.

All around me people were fighting—the very fate of the Nine Realms was playing out—but I could no longer notice. My entire world had tunneled down to nothing beyond Blitz's neck.

Blitz's very fashionable neck.

Blitz's very fashionably protected neck.

Blitz rolled over, and suddenly I could breathe again.

Are you okay? I wanted to ask, but my hands were shaking too hard to sign. Not that it mattered—Blitz's eyes were unfocused. I doubt he could have understood me anyway.

In lieu of words I grabbed his hand. His grip was weak, but Blitz squeezed my fingers back. That told me more than his voice ever could have.

The world was still erupting in chaos around us, we were probably doomed, but I smiled.

It's surreal when things actually turn out okay.

No, really. I'm seriously not used to it.

Sure, I've watched other people get happy endings. It seems pretty run-of-the-mill. Unless you're me.

I'm a little rusty on the whole being-happy-thing. And by rusty I really mean: I haven't ever experienced it. Not genuinely.

Maybe that's why it isn't really sticking. I keep replaying that amazing moment when the All-Father singled me out. I can't believe that Odin invited me to Asgard. The greatest sorcerer alive is going to teach me.

Magic.

It's a dream-come-true.

My face cracks into a grin whenever I think about it; unused muscles making my skin feel stretched and foreign.

But almost as quickly the exuberance slides off again, my excitement elusive as quicksilver.

I'm going to Asgard.

Alone.

That shouldn't be a big deal…but it kind of is.

I've been pacing around my guestroom in Valhalla for what feels like hours. I should be out celebrating with the others, but I feel too anxious. I feel like if I put off seeing everyone I can stall having to say goodbye.

The thought of saying goodbye to Blitzen causes a lump to rise up in my throat.

I hadn't been prepared for things to end so soon. When we'd been assigned to watch over Magnus, the length of the assignment was indeterminate. All we'd been told was protect the kid. We didn't know for how long. It could have been years. Well, technically it did last for years: two years is hardly anything to scoff at. But I was kind of hoping it would carry on for more. We could have been trailing Magnus for decades. I would have been okay with that. Not that living on the street was a picnic or anything. But it was worth it. I'd take living in a cardboard box over elvish luxury any day if it meant I was living with Blitz.

My pacing picks up speed. Without even thinking my hands begin frantically knotting in my scarf: it's a bad habit I picked up a while ago. I use my hands so much that it just feels unnatural for them to be still. The long strands I keep wound around my neck are a good outlet for that nervous energy.

It's funny how that scarf turned into a source of comfort. I didn't even like it at first. What the heck is this? I'd asked Blitz when he'd presented it to me. This scarf looks like a candy cane. Are you making fun of me? I'm not that kind of elf.

"It'll look good on you," was all Blitz retorted.

I put it on without further argument, hoping its coils would hide my blush.

I'm probably blushing again now, just even remembering that.

Thinking about your best friend isn't supposed to make you blush.

The lump in my throat grows as I admit to myself that there have been certain things I'd been refusing to admit to myself.

Well, maybe not so much refusing to admit as trying not to think about.

It's scary to be honest when you know that the truth will add another big tick on your seemingly endless list of imperfections. But it's impossible to ignore that truth when it makes your heart feel like it's being clawed right out of your ribcage. There's really no avoiding it. My feelings for my best friend go way beyond the boundaries of friendship.

What would the others think if they knew I was in love with Blitzen?

It's a little too easy to guess what my parents would think. The only mystery there is what would disappoint them the most? The fact that Blitz is a guy or that he's a dwarf?

I try to banish the ooze of dread that washes over me any time I start thinking about my biological family.

They don't matter, I chastise myself. Don't let them get to you. Blitz has repeated those words to me what feels like a million times. I know there's truth in them, but still. It's easier said than done.

All that matters is what Blitzen thinks, I remind myself.

Somehow, that doesn't make me feel better.

I have no idea what he'd think if he knew.

Should I tell him? It's probably hopeless to try to keep this a secret. He's pretty good at reading me. The lack of spoken words I can supply has trained him to watch me pretty carefully for other clues to what I'm thinking. If he were to glance at me right now my face would probably tell him everything. Normally I'm grateful for his perceptiveness, but at the moment it's kind of inconvenient.

Of course…everyone's parting ways tomorrow. If I don't want him to know, well, it's only a few hours of secrecy I'd have to get through. Then everyone will be off on their separate ways, pursuing their dreams. Blitzen will be so busy starting his new business that I'm sure he won't have time to dwell on any strangeness he might pick up from me. It could be years before he has a chance to work out my feelings.

The thought of years sends a sharp ache through my chest.

Who would have thought that getting everything you wanted could hurt this much.

I'm spared having to make a decision by a knock on my door. I stare into a mirror for a moment before answering, trying to school my expression into inscrutability.

(It's utterly hopeless.)

Luckily Blitz isn't even looking at me as he barrels into the room.

"Hearth!" he announces, waving something that's kinda sparkly and kinda fabric-like in the air. "Check out this prototype for my new fall collection!"

(At least I'm pretty sure that's what he said. I had to read his lips because his arms were too full to sign. And he didn't seem to be annunciating as clearly as usual out of excitement.)

What is it? I sign.

He doesn't look up but obviously anticipated my question. "Due to the phenomenal demand for my signature line of bullet-proof neckwear, I've decided to expand to other more seasonal armored accouterments! I present to you: bullet-proof earmuffs with matching fashion poncho." He beamed as he held out his creations with a flourish.

Nice, I tell him sincerely. Interesting detail work with the pom-poms.

I hope he understands what I meant. The sign for 'pom-pom' is the same as 'anti-aircraft missile.' Although knowing Blitz, those two things aren't mutually exclusive.

"I know, right?" says Blitz. "I was just thinking, 'why should practical daily protection be limited to formal menswear?' The possibilities are limitless! I plan to make both bulletproof and regular models of every clothing item and accessory you can imagine! Ties and knitwear are just the beginning! Although speaking of knitwear…." His eyes land on my scarf, and his face scrunches up in thought. "Oh no, this won't do," he says, grabbing the ends of it. "We'll need to get you a weapon resistant upgrade."

I stiffen as he continues to tug on my scarf, his hands running up the woven fabric and getting dangerously close to my personal space. My eyes are riveted to them. Most dwarves have the kind of hands you would expect: covered in callouses and scar tissue from the wear of endlessly working their forges. Not Blitz, though. No, the only way to describe Blitz's hands is impeccable. He puts as much care into his bodily appearance as he does his fashion choices. Even after two years spent imitating a homeless dude, Blitz still managed to maintain a more impressive manicure than you'd find on your average perfectionist elf. I don't know how he does it. (Of course, we've already established I'm painfully lacking in the perfection department.)

My body language tips him off. I've never been standoffish about physical contact with him before. Usually I'm the one to initiate any touching between us, which happens on a pretty regular basis (hey, I spent most of my life completely starved for affection, okay? I never had any ulterior motives!) Without meaning to I lean back a bit, and Blitz immediately freezes at my withdrawal.

"Hearth?" he asks, releasing his grip on my scarf.

What's wrong? He signs.

Nothing, I respond automatically.

Blitzen's eyes narrow and he gives me a 'really? Who do you think you're fooling?' look.

I let out a deep breath and try to ignore all the concern scrawled across his face (and the way his expression is making my stomach feel like it's doing summersaults.)

I'm going to miss you, I finally admit. There's not even a point in trying to deny it.

Some of the stress softens out of his eyes. "Well, yeah buddy, I'm going to miss you too," Blitz agrees. "But I think you can survive for an entire afternoon without my awesome company just this once."

Wait. Afternoon…? I sign in confusion.

Blitz looks equally confused. "Well, yeah. Odin only offered you a 90-minute seminar, right? Sure, I figure you'll want a few hours of sightseeing, I mean, its freaking Asgard for crying-out-loud. But I kind of figured you'd be back by dinnertime. Hey could you maybe pick me up one of those souvenir snow globes that have a model of Mjölnir in it? I gotta admit I've always kinda wanted one of those."

Back? I ask, still confused.

Back where? I don't have anywhere to go back to. My home these past months had been on a curb near Magnus's bridge. That gig's up and I'm sure my vacant spot has already been claimed by another unfortunate transient.

Blitz stares at me blankly. Back to my shop, obviously. Alarm slowly begins to ebb into his vacant expression. "Wait, you weren't planning on staying in Asgard, were you?" he blurts out, apparently too panicked to take the time to sign.

I don't know, I answer honestly.

I had no idea what I was going to do. About the only thing I was certain of was that I wasn't going back to Alfheim. But ruling that realm out still left eight other options.

Out of the question, Blitz frantically signs. You're coming back to Boston with me. No arguing.

I…am?

Of course! Blitz signs before pulling out a real estate flyer from inside his vest and waving a dog-eared page in my face. "No ifs ands or buts! I've already signed a contract on this beauty and I didn't pick a shop with this much extra square footage in the over-shop apartment so I could live there alone!"

I can feel my eyes widening hugely.

You…want me to live with you?

"Well, duh!" Blitz throws his arms up in exasperation. "I can't believe you're even asking me that! It should have been a given!"

I thought you would be busy, I answer lamely.

"Too busy to spend time with my number one consultant and part-time model?" he asks skeptically.

I start to ask him what he means by that but give up. It looks like I've just gotten drafted. Drafted to…wait, did he say model?

Me? I parrot back to him. Model?

Obviously, he signs with a smug look. "I can't have A-list designs on a C-list model now can I? I need to keep my brand very high-end. I'm afraid you're the only one qualified so this is non-negotiable."

But I'm not—I can't—

He stills my stuttered reply by clasping his hands over mine. My fingers immediately start sweating profusely.

"Yes you are, and don't worry, I've already taken into consideration all the time you'll need for studying. That's why I said 'part-time'."

If I wasn't blushing before I definitely am now. My entire face is probably deep chartreuse if the way my cheeks are burning is anything to go by. My lips start to twitch up in a smile but freeze before they finish the trek.

Sharing an apartment with Blitzen sounds like an absolute dream-come-true. But it also sounds like a recipe for disaster. How long would I be able to last before I started acting strange around him and he figured out my secret? Probably fifteen minutes, if I were lucky. And then things would get very weird, very fast and I'm not sure I could live with that. In my whole life Blitz has been the only person who's treated me unfalteringly like I was normal. I don't want to—I can't lose that. The dynamic of our friendship is just too valuable to me to risk messing it up.

I'm not sure that's a good idea. I immediately regret the loss of contact as I'm forced to rip my hands away from his so I can talk.

Nonsense, you'll make a fantastic model, he reassures me.

Uh…thanks. But I meant the living situation.

Blitz's face falls. "What?" He switches back to signing. You don't want to live with me?

I shake my head. No, I try to explain. That's not it. I just don't want to make you uncomfortable.

Blitzen raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Hearth, sleeping in a ditch made me uncomfortable. Sharing my new swanky digs with you is pretty much the opposite of uncomfortable. I fail to see a problem here."

Things might get awkward, I try again. I have no idea how to explain this to him without actually giving away the core issue.

Luckily I have a very high tolerance for awkward, he replies. "I mean, geeze, I let you dress me up in that atrocious costume for the Ren Faire, didn't I? I mean, yuck, corduroy mixed with brocade? Talk about fashion homicide, that's not even historically accurate. Now that was awkward. You still owe me for that, by the way. You can make it up to me by moving in."

I almost nod but catch myself. I squeeze my eyes shut as I shake my head again instead. Why is he making this so hard? I can't keep resisting him if I look at him. He's too charming. I just want to say yes and hug him.

…Except my hug would be loaded with different meaning than it used to, and that's not fair to him.

I should probably just tell him.

It's just not a good idea, I repeat, opening my eyes again and trying to muster up the courage to go into more detail.

You're worrying me, he says. The humor he'd carried through his ren faire jab has completely fled his face. Are you sick?

I hesitate a little too long in answering.

Real panic flashes across his features and before I have a chance to react he's pulling me into a hug.

My body is at war with my brain, wanting to melt into Blitz's embrace while my mind is screaming at me that I should pull away. So I freeze and go limp. Blitz loosens his hold as he notices that I'm not reacting like I normally do.

His eyes are sad as he scans my face, searching for clues. I hate that I did that to him. I wish I'd never realized my feelings. I just want things to go back to normal. Our friendship was perfect. I want to hold on to that forever.

"What did I do?" He asks.

My eyes linger on his lips a lot longer than it takes me to read them.

He notices.

Of course he notices.

I watch as his gaze darts between my lips and my eyes than back again several times. Blitz's own eyes widening significantly as he works out the cues.

I wait for him to drop his arms and step back. Any moment now he's going to look embarrassed and come up with some way to change the topic. He'll probably start babbling about upcoming color trends and which textures they best pair with. That's all okay of course. I'll be grateful for him not making a big deal about it. I know things will probably be strained but I can at least trust Blitz not to be harsh.

Blitz doesn't let go.

I look down at him questioningly, bracing myself for the uncomfortable expression I expect to see on his face.

…He's smiling.

What the Helheim?

Blitz does release me now, and steps back so he can use his hands. "Hey, Hearth," he says, his smile growing into an actual grin. You do want to live with me right? You're just worried about something.

I nod, not sure where he's going with this. I feel moderately hopeful, and try not to let that feeling run away with me too much.

Well, what if I told you that the thing you're worried about is totally not an issue?

I don't react. I think he saw through me just now. But since I didn't explicitly tell him I can't actually be sure. What if he's assuming something completely different?

Are you sure, I ask.

Is paisley classic? He responds. I just look at him blankly because I have no idea what that means.

He moves closer again and starts leaning in and up, and okay, wow, so I might not of understood his words but his body language is pretty blatant.

He halts and hovers a few inches below my face, his hands clasped on my scarf again (this time obviously so he can pull me down to his level, rather than out of any interest in the scarf.) His eyes are intensely on me, tracking my reaction to make sure I'm okay with what he's about to do.

I take away his need to guess by throwing my arms around him and pulling him the rest of the way up.

Blitz lets go of the scarf and snakes his arms around my neck instead, clinging to me with more force than he usually does. He kisses me, a little cautiously at first, but that only lasts a few seconds. The moment I return it his lips become more forceful and urgent. Blitz is kissing me like he's drowning and I'm oxygen and it suddenly seems ridiculous that I'd doubted even for a second that he'd be okay with my feelings. It seems even more ridiculous that I hadn't thought about doing this with Blitz before. The friendly hugs we'd shared in the past were nice, but this is amazing. Having Blitz in my arms like this feels right in a way that few things in my life have. The closest I've come before was the first time I successfully tried rune magic. Feeling that spark of mystic energy in my hands made my whole body feel lighter, the entire world suddenly brighter. My chest feels like it's been filled with helium, I'm so happy.

We eventually stumble backwards and fall back against a chair. Blitzen is mumbling things against my lips but since I can't see his mouth I have no idea what he's saying. It doesn't matter though, I can get a pretty good gist of how he feels.

When we finally untangle a bit Blitz just grins at me and signs: Wow.

I nod in agreement and sign wow back.

He adds: Finally.

I blush and just nod again in agreement.

When's the move in date? I ask.

Blitz answers by kissing me breathless and I think, I could definitely get the hang of this being happy thing.