JACKSON POV

The shower started and I forced myself to move. Clothes. Right. He needed clothes. I went to my bedroom and started digging through my drawers.

I stumbled upon some dark gray sweatpants, a black t–shirt and a Gary hoodie to match. I smiled in satisfaction as I looked back at my selection.

"These would suit him," I muttered as I folded them carefully, thinking about how he would look on my clothes.

I left the stack outside the bathroom door then retreated to the four corners of the kitchen. "Ah-"

I had completely forgotten that the grocery bags were still by the front door. When I peeked out the door, I sighed to see them surrounded by a puddle of molten snow.

"The milk's definitely warm now," I picked everything up and started putting them away in the kitchen almost on auto-pilot.

Putting the cans and bags of food away helped, it made everything feel almost normal again.

My phone was on the counter, still showing no signal. Sigh. I continued putting away things when something struck me.

I had a landline!

"How could I forget something so important?"

The building was an old one and the previous tenant had kept it, and I'd never bothered to disconnect it either. I scurried over to a section in the living room where it hid under piles of books.

I picked up the receiver and my heart jumped when I received a dial tone.This was perfect, I could finally call someone-but that sinking feeling in my stomach returned.

I let out a huff of air.

Give or take, even if I was calling with the intention of evacuating him into better hands, what was I supposed to tell them?

That I witnessed a hit-and-run but couldn't identify the car, and oh before I forget, the victim healed instantly and doesn't remember his own name? They'd think I was insane. Even I was starting to think that I was insane.

I heard the shower shut off and I almost jumped out of my own skin.

I practically flew back to the kitchen and kept myself busy by making tea-chamomile tea that was apparently supposed to be calming. I was pouring the second cup when the bathroom door opened.

The man emerged in my clothes, toweling his dark hair and I swore to God that I almost choked.

The sweatpants fitted perfectly, the hoodie was slightly tight across his shoulders, emphasizing just how wide they were and his hair, now clean and damp, fell into eyes. They were longer than I'd realized.

And without the blood and grime, he was even more striking-almost beautiful, in a way.

The thought hit me like a slap in the face, and I nearly dropped the teapot. Why the hell would I think that a guy was beautiful?

He glanced over at me while I was still staring and my heart almost leaped out of my chest. I turned away quickly, heat crawling up my neck.

I felt his feet shuffle as he started moving forward, I focused hard on the tea that I was pouring. My hands were shaking again.

'That didn't mean anything,'  I tried convincing myself. Our eyes just happened to meet. Right, that kind of thing happened all the time, it didn't mean anything.

He took a seat on the couch, the scent of shampoo filling the space between us.

"Better?" I asked, trying to sound normal and probably failing.

"Yes. Thank you." He said in that same controlled graceful tone, like every single syllable was deliberate. He looked uncomfortable in the clothes I gave him, tugging at the hoodie like it didn't quite fit right even though it did.

"I found these in my pocket," he said suddenly.

I looked up and he was holding out his hand. In it were three objects; a smooth black stone, polished to a shine, a strip of leather cord with strange symbols burned into them and a small shard of something crystalline that caught the light like ice.

I stared at them, not quite sure what I was looking at exactly. Just what the heck were those?

"Do you know what they are?"

"No," he responded, frustration etched in his voice, sharp and bitter. "I keep trying to remember, but it's like reaching through a fog. I know these mean something, but I can't-" He cut himself off, his jaw tightening.

His hand closed around the objects, his knuckles going paler than they already were. I positioned the teapot on the coffee table, just in case he needed more. I lifted a cup and gestured for him to take it.

After a moment's hesitation, he did, wrapping his fingers around the cup. Our skin brushed mildly and his were still cold to the touch.

I wanted to ask about that but I knew for a fact he wouldn't have the answer either. He stared down at the swirling tea in the cup and I took a seat on the arm chair, maintaining distance.

"Okay," I breathed, trying to organize my scattered thoughts into something coherent. "Let's start with something we do know, shall we?"

He nodded, taking a small sip. I couldn't tell whether he liked it or not.

"You were hit by a car around 9:45, if I'm not mistaken. Dark sedan, I didn't get the plate number unfortunately but what we do know is that he didn't stop." My voice came out more infuriated than I intended. "You were unconscious when I found you, bleeding from a head wound that-"

I stopped. How did you say it? How did you tell someone that their head injury...just healed itself?

"That healed," he finished quietly, setting the cup down. "I know, I can feel it. That something's...wrong. That I'm not-" He struggled for the word. "Normal."

The way he said it made my chest ache. Could it be that he was some sort of human experiment and managed to get away?

Sigh.

I watched too much Stranger Things.

"Do you remember anything before the accident?" I asked. "Even fragments? Feelings, images...anything?

He closed his eyes, and I watched his face tighten with concentration. His jaw clenched, his breathing slowed.

After a long moment of silence, his eyes shot open and there was something gleaming in them.

Then he spoke.

JACKSON POV

"Nothing." He said, glancing away, disappointment evident in his voice. "There's just nothing."

This was a little too sad, even for me.

"Do you think there's anyone we could call? Anyone who might be looking for you?"

"I don't know." The helplessness in this voice was almost painful to hear. "I don't know if I have a family, or friends, or a home. I don't know if anyone's looking for me."

He glanced at his hands, his face darkening. "I don't know anything."

We sat in silence for a long moment. Outside, the storm continued its rage, wind howling uncontrollably, threatening to split the window open if it wasn't locked so tight.

My apartment suddenly felt isolated, very far from the rest of the world and we were the only ones left in it. I glanced over at  his down-in-the-dumps expression, wishing there was more I could do.

But there wasn't, at least in this weather.

"You should get some rest," I finally said, breaking the silence. "Head trauma and amnesia are no joke. Even if you feel fine now, it doesn't change the fact your body went through something."

I stood and moved closer to him. "You can take the couch tonight, and tomorrow when the storm clears, we'll figure out our next step. Find someone who can help, or-"

"Jackson..."

I stopped. My name in his voice did something weird to me.

"I didn't tell you my name," I said slowly.

He blinked, then understanding crossed his face...then hesitation. "It was written in your mail. On the table by the door."

Of course, that made sense. My gaze narrowed, skeptically. That made...perfect sense.

"Thank you, Jackson," he continued and his random appreciation caught me off guard. "I wish I could give you a name to call me."

My heart instantly melted. I took a deep breath and shook my head, resisting the urge to give him a name but that proved useless.

"Fine," I muttered in defeat. I had to stop picking up strays. "We need to call you at least something. Until you remember your real name, of course."

He nodded excitedly and I almost laughed at that. Reaching out at the coffee table, I grabbed my glasses and plopped them on my nose, clearing my throat.

I studied him closely-the pale skin, the bewitching ice-blue eyes, his unusually low body temperature.

Then it struck me.

"Frost!" I beamed. "I'll call you Frost if that's okay."

The man-Frost-tested the name silently, rolling it around and something flickered in his expression.

"Frost," he repeated more loudly. "Yes. That feels...right somehow."

"Frost it is then," I confirmed with a smile, and the name settled between us.

I showed him where the extra blankets were and brought him a pillow from my room.

The couch definitely wasn't long enough for somebody Frost's height but it'd have to do.

Frost didn't complain, he just accepted the bedding with the same careful courtesy.

"Thank you," he said again and I never thought I'd get tired of hearing that. "I know this isn't...I know I'm an imposition."

"You were hurt, lost and it was a blizzard," I said with an arched brown. "It's not an imposition, it's basic humanity."

Something complicated crossed his face, like the concept of basic human decency was foreign to him. "Still. Thank you."

I nodded, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Uhm...bathroom's over there," I pointed. "If you need it. Kitchen's-well you can see the kitchen. Help yourself to whatever. I'll be in there."

I pointed lastly to my bedroom door.

"If you need me."

I smiled then turned around, I was halfway across the room when he spoke again.

"Jackson?"

I turned back.

Frost was standing in the middle of the living room, looking lost and uncertain and completely innocent as he pressed his hands together.

"Why did you choose to help me?" he asked. "You don't know me. I could have been dangerous."

I considered the question and it was pretty fair, plus he had a point. I hadn't even considered it, he could have been extremely dangerous.

"I guess..." I hummed in thought. "I guess, I just believe that everyone deserves saving." I said finally, nodding my head.

"And I couldn't just watch someone die right in front of me." I shrugged. "Bottom line, it felt like the right thing to do. Plus my conscience would have judged me so bad otherwise."

Frost just stared at me, his face completely blank for a long moment. Then he suddenly nodded.

"Thank you," he said again but softer this time.

I retreated to my bedroom and closed the door leaning against it. My heart raced and I could positively say that something was wrong with me.

It didn't pulse this much since that time I competed in a marathon and instantly regretted it. Just what was wrong with me?

Through the thin walls, I could hear Frost moving around, the couch creaking as he settled onto it.

I should be terrified, if I put everything that had just transpired. I should be weary and scared and I should be calling someone but, why wasn't I scared?

Why did I want to have this strange human being all to myself? To be the only one who helped?

Maybe it was because I knew-the fear and confusion and desperate, aching need to understand who he was.

I knew what it felt like to be lost. To not understand yourself. Maybe not to this extreme, but the feeling was familiar enough.

I stretched and moved to change into my pajamas. I slowly climbed the bed feeling the stress of today wash over my body.

Finally comfortable, I stared at the ceiling, knowing sleep wouldn't come anytime soon. Mostly because my mind raced with a thousand thoughts I had no answers to.

Who was Frost? Where did he come from? What happened to him? Why was he standing in the middle of a blizzard wearing such light clothing with those strange objects in his pocket?

And-just what was he?

FROST POV

I couldn't sleep no matter how much I tried. Finally I sat up, frustrated because my mind kept reaching for memories that weren't there.

Running through dark woods, voices shouting, pain tearing through me, then nothing.

These half visions tormented me and every time I woke up empty. In the dreams I could remember what happened to me but once I woke up all traces of it was gone, and I would always be back to square one,

blank.

I stood and paced, restless, and decided to explore the small house I was in. Everywhere I went, everything was stacked neatly and very organized.

I was impressed.

There was a framed photo on one of his tidy shelves and I picked it up, studying it in the bright bulbs overhead. Jackson was with an older couple, his parents probably, all three of them smiling at whoever held the camera and Jackson looked younger there.

I set it down carefully and kept moving until  I found myself outside Jackson's bedroom door staring at him.

I know I shouldn't but my hand was already on the doorknob. I turned it slowly, praying that he would not wake up, I held my breath carefully as the door swung open without a sound and there he was.

He was asleep and curled on his side with one hand tucked under his pillow. His round glasses were on the nightstand, his brown hair was mussed and falling across his forehead. I couldn't make myself to look away, no matter how much I tried. I should close the door because standing here makes me look like a creep but I just...couldn't.

He looked peaceful in sleep with his plush lips parted slightly, looking so soft and warm, I immediately had this crazy urge to plant my own lips there and feel how it tastes like but I shook the thoughts off my head. I should actually get out of here before I do something insane.

I told myself I would  just check on him, just make sure he was safe and... breathing because somehow in the few hours since he'd found me, Jackson had become the only solid thing in my world and I was scared that I was going to lose him...too. I needed to know he was okay.

 I sat carefully on the edge of his bed, close enough to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, close enough to count the faint freckles across his nose that I hadn't noticed before.

He was beautiful, a tiny thought sneaked into my head and I squashed it. After minutes of watching, no admiring him, I stood up to leave as my eyes were becoming heavy and finally sleep was pulling down on my eyelids.

 I lay down carefully on top of the covers, maintaining distance but close enough to feel his warmth and sleep dragged me under before I could stop it.

Lying with Jackson, surprisingly gave me a peaceful night, there were no nightmares or bleak memories, just peace and the steady sound of Jackson's breathing beside me.

I woke to light filtering through the curtains and sat up with a start. The surrounding around me was unfamiliar and it took Jackson's warm breathing beside me to remember how I got to this place.

When I turned to look at him, I found him staring at me, propped up on one elbow, his face both curious and amused at the same time. I had no idea that he was awake and I knew that this was not a pretty situation.

He'd left me in his couch and id walked into his room like a creep and slept on his bed without invitation. I should've apologized immediately but I couldn't look away from those brown eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said finally, my voice rough with sleep and embarrassment, "I needed to make sure that you were safe, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

It was a wack excuse and even I knew that, but he deserved the truth.

"You were checking on me?" His voice came out softer than I expected. He didn't look angry, he only stared at me in wonder.

"I know it's inappropriate, I'll go-" I started to rise.

"No," Jackson's hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, his fingers warm against my cold skin and heat shot up my arm where we touched. "I mean, it's fine, you just startled me."

We were still touching and neither of us wanted to pulled away.

"Jackson," I said, my eyes boring into his ."thank you, for everything, for saving me, for letting me stay, for not being afraid of me even though you probably should be."

"I'm not afraid of you," he whispered and I believed him.

My free hand lifted slowly, giving him time to pull away, but he didn't and my fingers brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. His breath hitched at my touch and I saw him jerk, but then his phone alarm blared from the nightstand, and we both jumped like we'd been caught doing something forbidden.

Jackson fumbled for his phone, he silenced it, but by the time he looked over to me I'd already stood.

"I think, I'll make coffee," I said and I left the room quickly. Even though there was a huge distance between him and I, my heart still thudded erratically in my chest.

I heard Jackson moving in his room, and I tried to focus on the coffee maker in the kitchen, trying to remember how he'd shown me last night but my hands were shaking and I couldn't get the filter to sit right.

When I looked up, he was standing in the doorway, watching me. When our eyes met, tension crackled between us.

Outside the storm kept raging, which meant we will trapped here together for how long I didn't know. Maybe that should've scared me but all I felt was relief because I wasn't ready to leave or ready to face whatever was waiting for me out there in the world. I had no idea how I would find my family or how I would survive without cash or a bank account. And, If I had one, I had no idea how I'd access it. So for now, I felt safe on this pocket of space where I did not have to think of so much.

I turned back to the coffee maker, finally getting the filter in place but not before I felt it, that flash of heat behind my eyes.

And I knew without looking that my eyes had flashed gold for just a second.

What am I?