Cyrus took in a deep breath of the late summer air, still sticky with the humidity that clung to every thing and every body. He loved how quiet it was out here. The running water of the crystal clear river, the cicadas, the soft wind in the trees, the peacefulness of it all. No mother yelling about a brother tracking mud in the house, no crowing of a cranky rooster, no constant calls of his name for his attention.
He exhaled slowly, and wiped the sweat from his forehead, pushing his hair to the side. It was getting long, which Tristan never let him forget, but not without a playful kiss on the cheek or a wink if other people were around.
The sun was retreating, dotting Cyrus’ body with shadow as it sank behind the rustling leaves of the trees guarding his little oasis. Some time soon, he would have to get home. At the same time, he was perfectly content sitting on this rock, right here, his feet dangling into the cool water below, and watching Tristan’s glistening body drift past along the current. The weather was turning gray on the horizon, but for now he was thankful for the warm light of the sun cutting shadows over Tristan’s wide shoulders. Cyrus was eager to run his hands along those same shadows, where the sun wouldn’t dare to touch.
“What if we just stayed here?” Cyrus asks, softly.
Tristan flips over to gain footing among the wild rice flowing gently in the current below the surface. “Well, which one of us is going to convince your mom that her oldest son isn’t the right fit to inherit her family’s generations-old land ownership?” He smiled, “Doesn’t seem like an option, farmer boy.”
Cyrus rolled his eyes and laid back on the rock. He hated Tristan calling him ‘farmer boy.’ He hated acknowledging that he was, in fact, a farmer boy. No matter which way he looked at it, or how much he daydreamed, at the end of the day he would inherit his family land and have to settle down with some girl and have a dozen kids to work the land. The Novakhiri’s were an institution with a family size to match. His dream of settling into his home with Tristan wasn’t feasible. Dreams are just that - dreams.
“Cyrus,” Tristan dragged his name out while he waded over to Cyrus’ rock. “We don’t have to plan for the future. We have everything we need right here,” Tristan took Cyrus’ hand and pulled gently, “and we can always come back.”
Cyrus took the invitation, sliding off the rock and into the water with Tristan. The water was cool on his sun-kissed skin, and Tristan’s hands were warm as their fingers intertwined, and Tristan’s body was hot as Cyrus is pulled in for a kiss.
Tristan was always so gentle with him, which Cyrus was thankful for. Before him, Cyrus only romantic experience, if you could call it that, was kissing Shara Kaling in the 4th grade on a dare. He could barely remember anything about it other than that it happened. It was nothing like the first kiss with Tristan behind his family’s cobbler shop back in town as the sun set back at the beginning of spring. It was like the fireworks of midsummer’s eve, the sweetness of the first strawberries of summer, the warmth of the hearth in winter, the refreshing coolness of this river in the woods.
It was still like that now. In the shelter of these trees, here in the middle of the woods, it was just the two of them. Free from the anxiety of getting caught, free from having to hide from each other. They didn’t have to be separate here. They could just be together.
Cyrus broke the kiss, smiling as he rested his forehead on Tristan’s. “This is nice,” he thought at Tristan.
“It sure is, farmer boy,” Tristan thought back.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“It’s what you are, no shame in that.”
Tristan smiled brightly, and Cyrus couldn’t help but smile back. He was so damn infectious. “Do you know what else you are?”
“What am I, shoemaker?”
“You’re mine, of course.”
“Oh, am I?” Cyrus asked out loud, playfully splashing at Tristan.
“Shhhh, you’re ruining the quiet,” Tristan thought at Cyrus. “Shut that mouth of your’s and come kiss me.”
Cyrus happily obliged. Finally he could show the sun sinking further behind the trees that Tristan was his, and he could touch anywhere he wanted.