If he had a son, James wondered what he would be like.
He must have wondered aloud, because the other boy laughed.
"When, not if," he corrected, and moved closer until their lips brushed.
James shook his head, then closed his eyes and kissed him fervently. As if that would kill the guilt, the denial.
"If he’s lucky," came the soft whisper, between kisses, "your son will be just like you, James."
When he had a son, James wished he would never have to face this same decision.
Choosing Lily was the hardest choice he would ever have to make.
- fin -