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He was most at home deep inside the dark recesses of a lab, his eyes scanning data, turning light into numbers, then numbers to sound and listening to galaxies billions of lightyears away sing him the lullabies of creation.
Archer had done this out of pity, and somehow tripped and fell heart-first into something more. He was matter and Julian was a black hole, distorting his reality, stopping time, pulling him apart atom by atom until nothing else existed except the places where Julian’s power held him in orbit.
“So let’s get drunk now, and tomorrow Ilan can order us some Chinese since he knows all the good places open on the holiday, we can look up what movies are playing, and we’ll have a proper Jewish Christmas.
He could have loved them. He almost did—because he loved Julian already. And maybe it wasn’t a big, grand love, but it was the spark of something. It was the spark of life in the early universe, a millionth of a second after the big bang. It was matter and antimatter battling each other for space and dominance and he knew that love—that matter—would win out. Eventually. If he let it.
