Rory kissed the finger against his lips, then leaned in to press his mouth to Arthur’s again. Arthur’s eyes fluttered closed as they kissed softly, sleepy and clumsy because Rory was exhausted and Arthur had driven all the way home after three a.m. magic to make it back in time for Rory’s birthday.

Finally, Rory leaned back to reach the light, pulling the chain to darken the bedroom. The hall light was still on, spilling in and illuminating Arthur’s face, his high cheekbones and closed eyes under thick black brows. He was so big and strong that it was hard to remember he had soft spots that could get hurt too. Soft spots Rory hadn’t realized he could hurt.

He was too heavy to pull closer, so Rory crawled over him instead, fitting himself against Arthur’s back. He wrapped one arm over Arthur and threaded the other one under his head, and held on tight. “Perdonami,” he whispered into the space behind Arthur’s ear. Maybe it was chicken to apologize in a language Arthur didn’t speak, but soft words still came easier in Italian and Arthur had always understood that.

Arthur made only a quiet sound in response, relaxing into Rory’s arms with a trust that made Rory’s throat tighten again.

It’s not a leash, it’s a lifeline, Arthur had once snapped at him, trying to get Rory to take help he desperately needed. And maybe I can’t make you take it, but you can’t make me take it back. If you need it, my lifeline is there, and the only leash on you is the one you’re using to choke yourself.

Four years ago, Rory had put his faith in a pair of sisters from Ireland, and they helped him escape an asylum and a lobotomy and move to New York City. But he’d locked himself up again after that, afraid of his magic, too afraid to take another leap of faith.

Until Arthur had come into his life.

He held Arthur possessively close and stared into the blurry dark. And as Arthur’s warmth spread into his cold bones, he could have sworn he almost felt a similar relief in his veins, his restless magic finding contentment in having Arthur back.

“You make me happy too,” Rory said, in an even quieter whisper.

Maybe he could finally be brave enough to break the leash.

The cheerful spring sunshine was a cruel asshole.

Arthur groaned as the light hit his eyes, and pulled the pillow over his head. “I can save the world from magic, but I can’t spend a cent on decent curtains?”

“Whoops, sorry, shoulda thought to shut those.”

Rory.

The night’s memories flooded back in a rush, because he was blessed—cursed—with remembering his drunken foibles as well as everything else in his life.