Rooftops

The air still had the sharpness of winter. He could feel the slow, lumbering pain of the cold creeping up his fingers, stiffening them until they were clumsy and red. Something inside him did not allow them to flex and exercise them into comfortable warmth, or fetch gloves from the house below him. He did not move, or speak or cry. Instead, the tears built up in his eyes until they overflowed and escaped. He did not make a sound.

Noah could hear Sam in the house, cursing and hurling objects about. The apartment they had bought together a year ago was empty of all his belongings; all he had left behind was a note penned in his sloppy, quick handwriting. The note was written on the back of a receipt from days ago, rescued from the kitten hours before as he left. The kitten was hissing from the kitchen now, stalking away from Sam as he collapsed in a heap on the sofa.

Noah ducked his head into his arms, folded along his knees that curled up beneath him. He knew what Sam was doing. The same thing he always did when things went wrong. Things had been going wrong all too often lately. They had revealed their relationship to their parents months ago, but they never really came out to anyone else. Neither had they hidden themselves anymore though, and that was when things had gone worse.

Noah had been fired from his job a few months back, and had to make ends meet working two tiring jobs that left him no spare time. Sam was no longer welcome to his best friend's house and many of his other friends restricted their time with him to stay close to both men.

Noah had convinced himself leaving Sam would be the best option, hours ago when there was no evidence of Sam's heartbreak to hold him back. Maybe he would come back in the summer, when he had a steady job and time to make things right again. Now, he had to climb down silently and leave unnoticed.