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sunspray-peak · 6 months

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Ch. 59: Easy

SATURDAY - WINTER 13

As much as Achilles loathed the snow, it had proven to have somehow gifted him a rather peaceful and productive series of days. Though perhaps it was less the snow, and more… Alex. Nothing else—no one else, really—he’d encountered in Stardew had quite managed to calm the rollercoaster of this past year as well as Alex had.

Was he thinking about him? Likely not—the kiss he’d left behind had been, objectively, clearly more jest than anything else. Regardless, Achilles hadn’t allowed idle speculation to distract him from the duties at hand. Holed up in the temperate climate of his well-heated home, he had neglected to shovel his 2 acres of land, opting instead to sit at his desk with a cat in his lap and a pen in his hand. It wasn’t a novel he was writing, however—no, his brain still refused to respond in that regard—but letters. Letters to family, letters to old friends, letters to himself.

But the blinding, glowing sun cutting through his windows early Saturday morning had managed to melt with its golden cheer even his hatred for the cold. And so, shortly after 6am, Achilles threw on a robe and made himself a cup of tea before tottering his stiff joints to the front door. A breath of fresh air couldn’t hurt. Perhaps he’d do some bird watching on the porch or… something.

But it seemed that someone else had had similar ideas.

“What the fuck—god dammit—” This was really getting out of hand—really ought to get a lid for your mugs at this rate, or a thermos… Achilles wiped his sodden sleeve across his porch swing’s wooden plank of an armrest. It did not help, and now his hand was scraped as well as scalded. “Really, Alex we ought to put a bell on you, with this little habit of yours, just loitering around on my porch—you can knock, you know.”

“Oh—geez, I’m sorry, not my fault you’re so jumpy, I’m sorry—I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake—”

“I’m always awake. It’s a real problem.” Achilles clicked his tongue and nodded for Alex to take a seat on the swing before noticing the six inches of snow piled on the cushion. “Come inside. I suppose I’ll have to make myself another cup now, would you like one?”

“Oh. No, I can’t stay long. First day on the new job, wanna get there early… I just wanted to… stop by. Say hi.”

“Oh yes! Mr. Manager.” Achilles glanced to the east where the bus stop lay beyond the borders of Strawberry Farms. Even shielding his eyes, he still had to squint to make out Alex’s halting footsteps breaking up the otherwise untouched snow. “Damn. You trudged through all that just to say hi?”

“Well, in my defense, I expected you to’ve shoveled the path.”

“Yikes. Me? Big mistake—”

“—yeah, I see that now—”

“—I assumed it’d be, I don’t know, a government responsibility. How long does it take snow to melt?”

“Why would the government be shoveling the snow on your farm, Ash?”

“I don’t know, listen, I hail from desert country—”

“Ohhhh, I see, did the government shovel sand out of your driveway in Monstera? Because you might just be getting that mixed up with being rich.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right…” Achilles chucked a halfheartedly constructed snowball that Alex easily dodged. “Now what do you want? Everything okay? What brings you lurking like a gremlin on my porch this early in the morning?”

“No, everything’s fine, I was just… hoping to catch you.”

“Well. You caught me.” Achilles glanced down at his still-wet sleeve. It was too cold for this, and he likely needed a bandage.

Alex bit his lip before reaching into his coat—Yoba, really, it was quite unfair how one could make such a simple, innocent little hand motion look so seductive. He withdrew a pale green envelope and offered it forward. “I, um. I wrote you a letter—”

“Did you steal that from Lewis? I swear he has the same stationary—”

“—I just figured I’d hand deliver it since, you know, you never open your dang mail, you punk.”

“A thing like that! You know, that’s probably the most considerate thing a person has ever done for me this whole year.” With a squirrelly little smile, Achilles slipped his pointer finger smoothly under the envelop flap before catching sight of Alex staring rather alarmingly wide-eyed, as if petrified, at the letter between his hands. “Or… shall I open it later?”

“Oh—um—no, that’s all right, you can go ahead. Actually, no—yes. Later. Actually, you know what, I’ll just read it to you.”

Bemused but chuckling lightly, Achilles offered the envelope back. But Alex only shook his head.

“Man, I don’t know what I’m doing, I’m sorry. I’ll just tell you what it says.”

“So… no one’s opening the letter…?”

Alex shook his head again, ran a hand through his hair—a few strands broke loose from whatever gel or product he must’ve used to style it this morning. Being manager demanded a fresh new look, it seemed, but Achilles bit back his smile—didn’t seem appropriate, given that Alex seemed close to hyperventilating on his front porch.

Instead, Achilles pocketed the letter, which seemed to be the main source of Alex’s unusually pale visage, and asked, “Are you… okay…? You sure you don’t… want some… tea?”

And just like that, it was as if a light switch had been flicked. Alex smiled and, cocking his head slightly, chirped, “Would you like to get dinner tonight?

“What?” Achilles took half a second to register the dissonance regarding the degree of joy that had accompanied this rather banal question. He’d been expecting something much more dramatic—Lewis’ last will and testament, perhaps… “Dinner? …Sure. Is any place going to be open, though? With all the snow? Still seems quite deep.”

“Yeah, the government does actually shovel public property, if you must know—”

“All right—”

“I checked with Gus on the way here, the Stardrop’s open. If that works. For you.”

“What time?”

Alex blinked several times before asking, “6:30?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah?”

“…yeah…”

Alex beamed. “Wow! Really? Great! Really great! Um. I’ll see you then!”

Achilles nodded slowly, his wet sleeve forgotten as his brain worked to stymie the confusion currently sweeping his brain as Alex bounded off the porch and nearly half-skipped off the farm. It was quite a few minutes before he retreated back indoors, where he promptly curled himself onto his couch beneath the portrait of two root vegetables and continued to think.

Alex, on the other hand, was halfway through his very first day as Orange Grove Fitness’ new manager before realizing that both the conversation he had spent all night constructing and the letter he had spent all morning writing had been completely devoid of quite a number of choice key words. And right at the end of his lunch break! Head buried atop his new desk, a ham and cheese sandwich scrunched in his fist as his (Achilles’) watch struck 2…

“Oh, you stupid idiot, you’ve really outdone yourself this time. Date. How in the heckity heck did you miss the word—”

*****

This was a date.

Surely, Alex had been asking him out on a date.

Now he hadn’t said the word date. But the man wouldn’t have chewed straight through his lip or hiked two miles through half-shoveled snow to hand deliver a hand written note just to ask Achilles to a simple dinner. Right? They’d had dinner a million times, there was definitely something different to this one. Right?

Stay calm, bitch!

The clues were clear—Achilles had written them down in his notebook to better organize his thoughts, and even if he set aside his own feelings, the whole situation was still quite objectively suspect. An ordinary request such as this would not have required such extra-ordinary efforts if the aforementioned ordinary request was, in actuality, an ordinary request. RIGHT?

But it just seemed so… sudden. Surely a near-platonic peck on the nose couldn’t have triggered something to this extent? He had hoped the letter would be more explicit, but it unfortunately hadn’t revealed much either.

Hi Achilles! Hope you enjoyed your first ever snow day. Or snow week, really. How many crosswords did you get done? I bet you made the most of it, but if you didn’t, that’s cool, too.

I know this mihgt seem really sudden, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot these past couple of days, and I would love if you met me in the saloon tonight for dinner. 6:30pm if that works.

Hope to see you then! :-)

Best,

Alex.

He’d have given the man a call to clarify if it hadn’t been his first day on the new job.

Oh, Alex, Alex, Alex…

Achilles was calm. He was always calm, right? He’d just… act normal. Follow Alex’s lead. Yes. This was going to be fine.

But he made sure to clean his room. Just in case.

*****

Alex—well the whole town, really—always claimed he overdressed, so even if this wasn’t a date, the embroidered bomber jacket Achilles had adorned wouldn’t have raised any alarm bells.

It would be best not to get his hopes up, though. Just in case. But as Achilles trudged through the half-shoveled snow to the saloon, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Emily welcomed him the moment he stepped foot in the saloon, her eyes glittering as she took his arm. Haley, he saw, was coincidentally paying the Stardrop a rare visit today, having claimed a booth to herself despite the crowds and its accompanying damp, musty scent. She pursed her lips when he made eye contact, gave a wily little wiggle of her shoulders—really, quite remarkable how up in his business that button nose of hers could reach. He responded with a venomous grin and a raised middle finger. Incredibly impolite, of course, but he was only returning what she’d given him many a season ago.

Achilles followed Emily down the back hall to where the private rooms lay (So… definitely a date, right?), where they stopped at the very last door.

“Right along in here… oh, and would you look at that, I forgot to bring the menus. You go on in, I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah, all right, Emily…”

As she dashed away, arms held aloft like a ballerina, he took a deep breath, then pushed the door open.

Immediately, Alex, who had been seated at a small table in quite a small private room, jumped to his feet, tripping over the wooden chair as he half-stumbled for the door. “Hey!”

Oh fuck.

Outside of the Flower Festival back in the Spring, Achilles had rarely seen Alex out of activewear and athleisure. The sight of those arms now, tight in the sleeves of a forest green cardigan, would’ve alone been enough to send even Leah’s heart racing, surely. But the lightly patterned, sage button down—well. A man after his own heart.

Alex’s hair was combed back, tidier than he’d ever seen it (though a part of Achilles did miss the casual, semi-messy curls of it all), and as he shut the door behind him, he noticed something more akin to vanilla and cinnamon had replaced Alex’s usual citrus scent.

But Achilles quickly found his breath and shook himself out of his reverie, taking a step forward just as Alex finished picking up the chair he’d sent keeling to the floor.

“Hi—”

“This-was-supposed-to-be-a-date-but-if-you-don’t-want-it-to-be-one-I-completely-understand-I-didn’t-mean-to-ambush-you-I’m-just-really-stupid-just-tell-me-whatever-it-is-you-want.”

But Achilles could only blink, lost in Alex’s rather anxious, wild-eyed stare, eyes greener than ever in the rosy overhead lighting.

Did you hear that right? It is a date—you were right, good for you. Wait. He definitely said date, right? He said it was a date. Confirm? Confirm— “Pardon?”

“Also these are for you. I mean, if you want them.”

Alex half-shoved a cellophaned bouquet into Achilles’ hands. Half a dozen white roses and goldenrod wrapped in a emerald green ribbon. Not Pierre’s work, or even Jojamart’s. No, someone must’ve paid a visit to a Zuzu City florist.

Date?

Yes! Date!

Man, you gotta say something, bitch.

“Oh. Thank you. These are… beautiful. Thanks. Yes. A date. I… assumed.”

Assumed? Assumed? My god, what an arrogant prick you are. Get it together. What’s the matter with you?

He accepted the flowers from Alex, and in a sudden flash of inspiration, let his fingers linger on Alex’s for perhaps one or two seconds longer than necessary as the bouquet was passed between them. The effect was instantaneous—at this apparent affirmation of Achilles’, Alex’s visibly brightened, bounding back to the dinner table and pulling out Achilles’ chair for him.

“Wow,” he exclaimed, scooting the chair forward as Alex hurried to the other end of the table. “I didn’t think people did that anymore. You do this for all the girls or just me?”

“Don’t feel too special, I do that for everyone.”

“Damn. At least tell me I’m prettier than all the other girls you’ve dated.”

“You know I don’t like lying, Ash, don’t make me do it.” Alex grinned, handing him a menu that Emily evidently had not forgotten to leave behind.

“Zero for two. Well, it was worth a try.” God, shut up. He must’ve been more nervous than he realized. Babbling like this. Stupid jokes. Chill out, man. Why are you nervous? You’re never nervous! No reason to be nervous. He asked you out… you have all the power here. Yoba, shut the fuck up! Stop thinking like that! What’s wrong with you? Asshole!

Achilles’ poker face was near to breaking as his self-disgust began to overwhelm his nerves, but he was luckily rescued by Emily, who had returned with a knock at the door. “No violin today, Al?” She shimmied in with her question, ignoring Alex’s groan, and raised her notepad, ready to take their orders.

“I haven’t had Gus play the violin for me in 10 years, Emily, when is that joke ever going to die—”

“Ask him about the violin,” she said, bumping Achilles’ shoulder with her hip. “And the Handbook.”

“Emily—”

“Now just a warning for ya, it’s a bit busy tonight. Seems like lots of folks eager to get out after the storm, but Gus’ll get your order out shortly. Now what can I get for y’all?”

A steak for Alex, linguine with mushroom cream for Achilles—with her usual spritely bow, Emily scampered from the room, leaving Alex still red from whatever merciless ribbing she had dealt him.

“So,” Achilles began, lifting his glass of water. Perhaps a cold drink would wash away his lingering anxieties, though Emily’s return had broken most of the tension for him. “The violin…”

With the defeated air of getting something over with, Alex took a similar swig from his water before launching into a hurried, one-breath explanation. “My grandpa gave me a dating handbook when I turned 13, and yes, I will admit I followed it pretty religiously up through college, so Haley really got to see the worst of it all, and she and Emily have never gotten over it, but hey, in my defense there’s some stuff in there that’s really not half bad, I swear.”

“Like giving your date flowers? And pulling out their chair?”

Alex grimaced.

“Well shit, Al, I’m feeling less and less special by the second.”

Here, Alex seemed to visibly deflate, sinking deeper into the back of his chair until Achilles, rather alarmed by the somewhat uncharacteristic lack of confidence—maybe he’s nervous, too, bitch—rapped his fingers sharply against the table. “I’m just joking, Al. Sorry, I’m being an ass, it’s very… charming.”

That seemed to be enough to pull Alex back to his usual self, and Achilles quickly plowed ahead, making sure to keep his tone light. “But the violin Emily mentioned?”

“Ah. Yes.” Alex rubbed his nose, preparing his next words carefully as if gearing up for the worst. “Well, if you must know… according to the handbook, I’m supposed to start first dates with a little sort of violin serenade from Gus.”

“You’re lying to me.”

“I really wish I was.”

“And you actually… did that.”

“Oh, just a few times. I don’t know man, my only source of dating advice when I moved here was my really old and old fashioned grandpa.”

“Fair enough. I’ll allow it.”

Alex chuckled, and once again took a quick sip from his drink just as Achilles raised his own. A lull in the conversation—but not an uncomfortable one, Achilles thought, as he took the opportunity to casually savor the view from over the rim of his glass. He hadn’t ever really allowed himself to do it before. It had always felt rather intrusive, salacious even, to stare for longer than a beat or so—but surely now, of all times, it was… okay. Right?

Clearly Alex had put in quite a bit of effort tonight, really, it felt wrong not to appreciate it all… anyway, it was hard to ignore those eyes sparkling from across the table, pink lips slightly parted as Alex readied himself to take probably his twentieth sip of water. Achilles could think of just a few other things he’d rather see those lips do, but he dug his thumb into his palm and refocused himself back to the present. You perv, he thought, his own lips twisting to the side as he attempted to hold back a wry grin. Get your mind out of the gutter.

It was Alex who broke the silence, with a tentative observation of his own. “You, um… you look really nice.” His fingers were locked tightly together as they rested atop the table, and through the floorboards, Achilles could feel the faint vibration of what must have been Alex bouncing his foot. “You don’t usually wear black.”

“I do in the Winter, you’ll see. It tricks me into thinking I’m less cold than I am.”

“Ha.”

“You look good, too.” Achilles threw a nod in Alex’s general direction. “Probably should’ve opened with that, I was thinking it when I came in, but I suppose the words didn’t get a chance to make it out of my mouth.”

“Oh!” A blush crept into the man’s cheeks as he glanced towards the floor. “Thank you. I- I wasn’t sure, personally, I told Haley I thought the sweater was too small, you know, but she, uh, she told me to shut up—”

“Always, such a lovely, lovely girl.” Achilles’ eyes followed the well-defined slope of Alex’s bicep. “But she’s right. Don’t worry. It’s perfect.”

“Well, I can’t really raise my arms…”

“Listen, I don’t know if you know this, but I actually come from a long line of really famous fashion designers, and by long line, I mean just my mother—”

“Man, you don’t know a dang thing about fashion—”

“Fuck, 0/3—I thought this was supposed to be a date, why are you being so mean to me?”

“I’m not—well because—because you’re so calm, why are you always so calm, it’s pissing me off.” With a barking laugh, Alex chucked his napkin across the table as Achilles, rather bewildered by Alex’s uncharacteristically off-base observation, flung his hands instinctively in front of his face.

“It’s incredibly kind of you to ignore the five mental breakdowns you’ve witnessed me have, is doing that part of your grandpa’s handbook, too?” But as Achilles slid the cloth back across the table, he became more serious, and he continued in a somewhat softer tone. “There’s no reason to be nervous, Al, it’s just me. Just think of all the times I’ve humiliated myself in front of you, eh?”

That elicited a small smile, at the very least. But while Achilles’ anxiety had since settled for the most part, it seemed Alex would need more than a weak joke.

“Speaking of nerves though, how was the first day on the new job, Mr. Manager?”

Achilles gave himself a private pat on the back as Alex jumped at the redirection, the apprehension in his eyes rapidly melting as he eagerly shared his new schedule.

What a pro you are! Still got it…

The conversation carried them all through Emily’s return with their appetizers and dishes—and it was only after she left (with a rather unnecessary promise of “leaving them undisturbed”), that Alex’s hands, so animated during his recounting, returned to tightly gripping the glass of his water.

Achilles waited—as Alex would ruefully say—calmly. It was clear he had something to say.

And indeed, Alex cleared his throat with the tiniest cough and, after a quick glance at the door to confirm they were indeed alone, pulled his chair an inch forward.

“Um. Right. Achilles. So. I thought I’d get a private room so we could… talk. I mean, not that we wouldn’t be able to talk if we didn’t have a private room, but it’s loud out there, and it’s what my grandpa’s handbook always said I should do anyway—I don’t know why I just admitted that, I’m sorry. Um, anyway, all that to say—you know, actually, I wrote myself some notes, sorry, give me a second…”

He fumbled with something in the pocket of his chinos as Achilles smothered another smile.

“This really makes me look like a nerd doesn’t it, but I just wanted to make sure I was… clear. About things. And didn’t forget anything, you know, especially after how stupid I was this morning. So if you could, um, maybe listen for a bit?”

Achilles gave a smooth, little nod that managed not to betray the twitch that had returned to his limbs. “For sure. The floor’s all yours.”

Alex grimaced and, taking a deep breath, unfolded a rather wrinkled piece of notebook paper and began to read aloud in a rather toneless, slow and slightly stuttered recitation.

“When we first met, I was instantly drawn to you. And it wasn’t just because I was your number one fan.” He glanced up. “Ha.” Eyes dropped abruptly back down to the page as he continued.

“I think a part of me knew we were destined to be great friends. And I was really happy when we actually did become friends. I had never had a friend like you. You were so smart and cool and you made me feel like I could actually do things with my life. I really liked spending time with you.

“And then during the blizzard, I…” The paper between Alex’s hands began to crinkle as his grip tightened ever so slightly, but he continued to stare, laser focused, on the scribbled words. “Well I started thinking that maybe I liked you as… more than a friend. It was confusing. I kept telling myself, ‘You can’t have these feelings for another guy.’ I mean, I’d never had feeling like this for anyone.

“But I thought about it a lot. Went back and forth a lot trying to decide, I was going crazy, really. And, well. I think I really like you. Like that. And that’s why I wanted to ask you out on a date to—what? Oh. I think I spelled ‘tonight’ wrong. Agh, stupid. Okay, anyway. And that’s why I wanted to ask you out on a date tonight.”

With a bit of a sniff, Alex folded the paper back into quarters and gave Achilles a rather awkward, teeth-baring attempt at a smile. It was the most unflattering he had ever looked, in Achilles’ opinion, and somehow that made it all the better. Alex patted his folded notes and ended with a little nod. “Well. That’s it.”

During the blizzard…

So this had been a much more recent realization than Achilles had originally believed.

Thank Yoba you didn’t make a move earlier.

Had it really just been the kiss on the Mullner’s front porch? It had barely been a kiss—couldn’t have been less romantic if he’d tried. Was that really all it had taken to ignite this? He’d taken barely three days to think this through. Though, then again, he supposed Alex had always been the more impulsive one between them… Not everyone spends a whole week anguishing over pros and cons lists, you dumb bitch.

“What was the turning point?” Achilles asked as Alex shoved the scrap of paper back into his pocket. “I’m just curious. These past few days, what made you ultimately decide that you… wanted this?”

“Oh. During the storm.” Alex shoved the scrap of paper back into his pocket. “I don’t know, I guess I just realized… I don’t know. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it would’ve been to have been snowbound with you.”

*****

After it became clear to Alex that Achilles was not going to escape out the back door of the saloon after hearing Alex’s prepared remarks, his usual optimistic countenance quickly returned. By the time the two dug into their dinners, they had managed to roll back into their usual groove, chatting and laughing with familiar ease all through dessert until Emily returned with the check.

“Oh, I’ve got it—”

“Like hell you do—”

“I was the one who asked you out, I should pay—”

“Emily, give me the check or I’m never coming here again—”

“That’s an empty threat if I’ve ever heard one, the only thing you cook yourself is a boiled egg.”

Emily seemed to agree. She hip checked Achilles’s outstretched hand and, with a rather hyena-like cackle, seized Alex’s card before dodging Achilles once again on her way out.

“You know, the Handbook says it’s proper for the man to always pay,” Alex said, snootily tossing his napkin onto his plate with a raised pinkie. “Now I don’t know what that means for us, exactly, but at least let me have this one, will you?”

Achilles rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest as he craned his neck in search of nothing. “The napkin’s actually supposed to go on the left when you’re finished with your meal, but never mind that. Where’s Gus? Can someone get Gus? I want a violin serenade pronto.”

*****

Haley had disappeared by the time the two emerged from the private room, but Achilles, who had eyes for only one person, didn’t notice her absence. Neither did he notice the thick clumps of snow now falling under the glow of the moon, even as Alex held open for him the Stardrop’s front door and said, “Want to take a walk? It’s not too late, I don’t think.”

“Sure,” Achilles said with a soft smile. The bouquet Alex had gifted him was in one hand, and he tightened his scarf with the other as he stepped out into the cold. “Just a walk, though? Not a run?”

“Oh, you want to run?”

Without waiting for a response, Alex tore down the cobblestone path to the south.

“Fuck—Al, you’re going to slip and break your neck—fucking athletes, I knew I’d sworn them off for a reason—“

But the wind covered his calls and his muttered curses, and he had no choice but to hurtle after Alex, laughing even as he skidded past a bewildered Lewis. He hadn’t jogged in a fat minute—not that he likely would’ve caught up to Alex anyway at his peak back in the Fall—but even despite the cold, he gave a merry chase, sprinting across the bridge until his foot found the soft, squishy crunch of slushy sand. There was snow on the beach. Of course there was—we just had a blizzard, you dolt.

But even so, the strange sight came a surprise. He stopped to take in the cool glow of the snow, a white sheet stretching all the way down to the waves up ahead. It wasn’t deep, but the dampness still managed to seep through his boots.

Luckily, the rest of him was all warmed up now, thanks to their mile race through Pelican Town. Whether that had actually been Alex’s intention, nervous energy, or the man just couldn’t help but exercise whenever given the opportunity, he wasn’t quite sure. Regardless, with a bit of a wheeze, he sidled up next to where Alex (who was infuriatingly not out of breath) stood waiting by Elliott’s cabin. The light was on, casting both arrivers in its mellow beam, but if the writer had noticed their arrival, he took care not to disturb them.

“Can I, um… can I hold your hand?”

“Hmm?” Achilles, who was still slightly bent at the waist catching his breath, glanced rather pitifully up at the green-clad figure above.

“I just… I just figured it’d make the whole thing feel a little bit more like a date,” Alex, slightly red, said with the barest hint of a shrug. “I don’t know, sorry, is that weird? We don’t have to. It’s just that… it’s just kinda felt like we’ve been… hanging out.”

“We are hanging out,” Achilles said, slowly straightening himself up. “I mean, if we break it down, that’s basically what a date is, right?”

“I guess…”

Achilles had never exactly loved the concept of holding hands—he sweat too easily and it threw off his stride—but off of Alex’s blink-and-you-missed-it frown, he weaved his arm through Alex’s and led him towards the boardwalk.

Remember what Elliott said…

Physical touch was never Achilles’ forte. It’s not that he disliked it. Quite the contrary (well, as long as it was in private). It was simply that non-sexual touch didn’t come as naturally to him as it did for others. Often more of an afterthought than something top of mind. But, as Elliott had reminded him, Alex, who greeted his friends with a hug nearly as often as he did a wave, would likely find more validation in something beyond the mere time they were spending together.

“Would you like to sit down?” Alex kicked a clump of snow off the wooden planks and into the water before laying down his coat and chuckling. “Shoot, I really feel like I’m 13. Yoba, I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m sorry, I promise, I’ve been on a lot of dates before—”

“Wow, we’ve got a veritable Casanova out here, everyone—”

“All right, that didn’t come out right, you know what I meant. Although I don’t really know what you meant just now—”

“You’re a big baller.”

“Okay, okay, no, I just… look, I just don’t know what to do. With you.”

“A thing like that. You know how to make a boy feel special. What does the Handbook recommend?”

Alex began to tick off his fingers as he huddled slightly closer to Achilles on the boardwalk. “Well we’ve had the dinner. I got you flowers. Pulled out your chair. Paid. Asked if we could hold hands. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but later I’m going to offer to walk you home if you must know.”

“That’s adorable—you’re adorable—has anyone on your numerous dates before ever told you that?”

“Man, I could beat you up.”

“Why are you always threatening to beat me up?”

“Wasn’t it you who once said that every child deserves to get bullied just a little bit or something?”

“Are you calling me a child?”

“Man, I’m just making up for lost time, you don’t seem like someone who got shoved into a locker enough as a kid.”

Despite the confidence in Alex’s quip, Achilles could feel the tension in the tightened muscles of his arm. The small space Alex had left between them had felt purposeful—tentative. Even now, Achilles watched as his hands fluttered from place to place, as if eager for something to hold, but too afraid to commit.

Realizing it would be up to him to reassure a flustered Alex out of his hesitation, Achilles closed the gap, tightening the grip around his bicep and tucking his head onto his shoulder. The whole thing was admittedly rather stiff in its deliberateness, but as he better settled into the crook of Alex’s neck—felt Alex, who seemed to recognized the permission Achilles had silently granted, now reach eagerly for his hand—and inhaled the rich, velvety scent of vanilla, he believed there wasn’t a spot in the world he’d rather be.

Minutes passed, and they listened to the waves crash against the shore.

“Do you think Elliott’ll stay in the valley? If his book gets published?”

“Hmm.” Achilles stirred—shit, had he nearly fallen asleep? Can’t fall asleep in your own damn bed, but everything’s always fine and dandy and soothing out here on this damp ass wood. What’s this boardwalk got on you?

Though maybe it wasn’t the boardwalk’s doing.

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’d like to think so. I hope he buys himself a better house at any rate… or at least a second chair…”

“Have you been writing?”

“Mmm. Not in the way you’re asking. Does it count if it’s in my head?”

“I don’t see why not. But hey, I don’t make the rules.”

Achilles sighed and lay slowly down, his back against the boardwalk as he gazed up at the stars. Alex followed, though he chose to lie on his side, one arm beneath his head, the other resting atop Achilles’ chest as his hand continued to grip Achilles’.

“I’ve got an idea. Well, it’s the same idea I had before, if you remember those pages you snooped a look at when you were cleaning my house… I’ve got it pretty much outlined in my head and everything, it’s just… well you know. I want it to mean something. I want it to matter, I want to finally write something… more than all those kid books I wrote when I was younger, those were so simple, so… stupid. I just don’t know why it’s so fucking hard.”

The stars twinkled above them, and Alex thumbed his hand. The soft touch, combined with the steady rhythm of the small movement, slowly sweetened the bitter hollow that seemed to have taken up semi-permanent residence in his chest.

“Sometimes I think we’ve built up this idea that we have to always be, like, fighting for the things that we want. That if something isn’t hard then it must be wrong or, like… I don’t know. Not important.” Alex was tracing letters onto the back of Achilles’ hand now. “But I don’t know, maybe it’s the lazy bum part of me but sometimes—and I promise, I do mean sometimes, not all the time… but sometimes I do think things are easy because they’re the right thing to do.”

Achilles turned his head. In the dark, Alex’s eyes were black, but under the glow of the moon, he could count the snowflakes on every lash.

*****

“Well. Here it comes, drum roll please, everyone: can I walk you home?” Alex gave Achilles a hand as they rose from the boardwalk and didn’t let go as they exited the beach.

“Only if you give me a copy of this Handbook later.”

“I actually wonder if I do have a copy somewhere still… I don’t know, I’ve pretty much got it memorized at this point.”

“Because you’ve gone on so many dates.”

“Yeah, exactly. I was a real Casa—Cassiopeia? What did you say before?”

“Casanova? Wait, did you say Cassiopeia—fairly niche mythological reference—”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises. Anyway, whatever, I was hot stuff before you got to know me, you know.”

“Man, shut the fuck up, you were hot stuff even while I knew you, remember Abigail’s birthday party…”

The two laughed as they made their way back to Strawberry Farms, taking the slightly longer route through Cindersap Forest, despite the cold and the late hour.

Alex walked him to the porch. The motion sensor lights Achilles had installed nearly a year ago had flickered on the moment they passed the shipping bin, and so they stood awash in the weak fluorescence of a buzzing overhead lamp.

He was lingering—definitely lingering, biting his lip in typical Alex-fashion, his eyes dancing everywhere except Achilles’ face. And after a beat, Achilles—ever impatient—said, “All right, are you going to ask me if you can kiss me now?”

Alex jumped—actually jumped. “Oh.” Between rapid blinks, he managed to stutter, “Do you want me to ask you?”

“I—it was a joke.”

“Do you want me to?”

“It was a joke. You know, with the Handbook. I assumed you were just gearing up for Step 5 or whatever step we’ve reached…”

“Oh. No, I’m not supposed to kiss anyone until the third date. Obviously. Anything sooner is impolite and im… dang, what was the other word… immoral? Is that a word? Yes. Immoral. Obviously.”

“What?” Achilles stepped back, throwing a hand to his forehead in mock shock. “Fuck, so this whole time, my whole life—I’ve just been a slut? Shit, I always knew it—”

Alex laughed, but, to Achilles’ surprise, took a small, shy step forward. “Do you want me to ask you?”

Taking a page from Alex’s book, Achilles found himself biting his own lip as he met Alex’s inscrutable gaze. “I—Yes.”

A pause. And then, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

In one step, Alex closed the remaining foot between them. His hands gripped the back of Achilles’ neck, and with a boldness he had been so hesitant to demonstrate earlier this evening, Alex cupped his face and kissed him.

He tasted like vanilla and he tasted like gold and as Achilles let himself drown in the molten glow of his touch, he found he felt… happy.

But the kiss didn’t last long—barely a second, really, for Alex’s lips had almost instantly parted upon impact in that wide-toothed grin of his, his tongue peeking out per usual—and the two of them quickly dissolved into laughter.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex whispered, still half-laughing as he leaned his forehead into Achilles’. “That was… really bad. I swear I’m better than that—”

“Yeah, all that practice being hot stuff and all—”

“Hey, it’s not my fault I was born so dang se—”

“Stay the night.” But through the sleeves of a slightly-damp coat, he felt Alex stiffen, and so Achilles hurried to add, “We don’t have to do anything. I don’t expect anything. We can just talk. I just… I don’t want you to leave just yet.”

Immediately, Alex slackened as a small but earnest smile returned to his face.

“Ok.”

*****

Achilles put on some late night tea as Alex took a seat in the kitchen, Voltaire already snuggled in his lap.

Over the course of the blizzard, Achilles had finally moved the typewriter from where it had been sitting, like a monument to all his shortcomings, untouched upon the table. Not that he’d gotten around to taking it out of the box—it was now sitting underneath his desk, still packaged—but, hey, small steps.

Sitting in the center of the kitchen table now were a dozen white roses and goldenrod blooms in Achilles’ favorite (well, only remaining) vase.

“I can boil you an egg, too, if you’d like,” Achilles said, lips twitching as he slid over a cup of chamomile tea and a tray of strawberry scones he’d purchased from Pierre’s that afternoon.

“Ya know what, that sounds great, but I’m actually good. But thanks.”

It was easy—so easy to just sit here, together. He shouldn’t have expected anything less. It had always been easy with Alex.

They sat across the table from each other. Perhaps if Achilles had remembered Elliott’s advice, had been a little bit more thoughtful of a person, he would’ve moved closer—held Alex’s hand again, maybe bump his knee with his own. But in the moment, he was too drunk on his own happiness to give Alex’s prospective wants the consideration they likely should’ve deserved.

The scones and tea had long disappeared, but the two were eager to use any excuse to prolong the end of the evening—from walking through the schedule for Elliott’s book reading tomorrow to dissecting the latest season of The Bachelor (which neither of them actually watched, yet both were somehow still in the know), it wasn’t until the clock struck midnight that Achilles, in begrudging acknowledgment that any further delays would throw off his finely tuned sleeping schedule, slapped the table and stood.

“Well. I’ve got some extra toothbrushes and some clothes you can borrow, if that works for you. Ready to call it a night?”

*****

What is wrong with you.

It was Alex who was in the shower right now, but it was Achilles’ good mood that seemed to be dripping down the drain.

God, why can’t you just enjoy things, you bastard.

Surely he deserved to be happy, even if just a little bit, right? Yes, surely being happy was allowed. Then why was it now feeling like some sort of… betrayal?

Fuck, who is there even to betray, bitch? Get yourself together. No one wants to date a grump.

He needed to be better. Alex deserved better. Alex, who was like light and like stars. Alex, who was turning out to be everything and more than what he ever had hoped to imagine. He could be better, if this stupid ass mood of his would just go away.

Where did you even come from? Get out and mind your own damn business and let me be happy for once.

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the water shutting off—neither did he hear Alex call his name as he stood sourly against the wall of his bedroom, half-dressed, still trying to duke it out with his own brain.

“Achilles? What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” He snapped his head towards the voice.

“You’re thinking about something.” Alex had emerged from the bathroom wearing a set of sweatpants and an old t shirt Achilles had found at the back of a drawer. “I can see it on your face, what is it?”

“Mmm.” Achilles massaged the bridge of his nose and set a glass of water down by the nightstand before opening the top drawer to retrieve something small. “Nothing I haven’t already thought pretty much to death.”

Alex cocked his head, a knowing look on his face as he padded around the bed to take a seat behind the desk. “Want to think about it to death with me?”

“I— No.”

“You sure?”

Achilles uncrossed his arm only to cross them again. “I mean, we’re on a date…”

“Sure, but we’re still friends, aren’t we?”

Fuck.

Always with the patience of a saint. He didn’t deserve him—hell, was there anyone on this planet who deserved him? And strangely, with this thought, as quickly as his mood had come did it fade. Maybe it was true that nobody deserved Alex, but for some unbelievable reason Alex wanted him, and he trusted Alex’s judgement, so hey, who was Achilles to deprive him of that?

“It’s fine. Really. Like I told you before, it comes and goes…. Here.” Achilles held out his hand, dropping the item he’d retrieved from his nightstand into Alex’s open palm. “This is yours. Held onto it for awhile there, didn’t I. Sorry about that.”

“Oh! Yes, thank you!” Alex rested his arm across his leg to better clasp the thin leather watch around his wrist. “Wow, I totally forgot—I guess you should probably take yours back, too, here—”

But before he could remove the smart watch, Achilles bent to snatch Alex’s wrist, holding his arm up tightly between them. The sharp movement triggered a rather equally sharp intake of breath from the watch-wearer, but Achilles pretended not to notice, biting back his smirk as he glanced at the steps recorded on the watch face—a higher number than he was used to seeing, that was for sure, even with all his jogs.

“Mmm. Actually. You want to keep it? You’re probably getting more use out of it than I did.”

“Oh no, that’s all right—”

“I’m not sure if this one’s waterproof, though… have you tried swimming with it?”

“Oh. Maybe? I don’t really remember taking it off. Sorry, was that bad?”

“Eh.” Achilles, his fingers still splayed taught around Alex’s wrist, unclasped the watch and chucked it behind him where it fell about a foot short of the nightstand.

“Good aim.”

“I’ll get you a newer one.”

“Achilles, no, stop, man, you don’t have to do that—”

“Shh, no, no, just let me buy you things, what else am I good for?”

But he said the words with a lazy smile, and after running his hand through his hair, bent to retrieve the smart watch from the floor.

When he turned back from the nightstand, he noticed Alex watching him with a curious, wide-eyed innocence quite at odds with the subject of his stare. Mirroring the characteristic tilt of Alex’s own head, Achilles, his lips twitching as he held in a laugh, slowly knelt until he finally caught Alex’s eye.

The man immediately flushed scarlet, shutting his slightly parted mouth with a snap as he turned quickly away from Achilles’ unclothed chest. “Ah—sorry.”

“For what? Making me feel good about myself?” Achilles chuckled, straightening back to full height. “Although you’ve watched me swim a million times, you should know there’s nothing nearly as impressive to look at as what you see in the mirror every damn day—”

“Stop that.” Alex aimed a light kick before jumping up from the chair and joining him by the nightstand. “I think you’re perfect, you know.”

“Aw, Alexander, aren’t you just the swe—”

“Just physically, of course. There’s still some work to do up here.” He tapped Achilles’ forehead.

“All right, bitch—”

But he silenced Achilles with a hand to his chest—except that wasn’t quite it, was it?

Fuck.

He could feel his body heat—or maybe it was his own body that was suddenly beginning to blaze. From anticipation? From impatience? For Alex’s actual hand was hovering just barely a centimeter above his skin.

Dammit, just touch me, Alex.

But before he could speak, Alex, his voice wavering slightly, murmured, “Can I?”

Always so damn polite.

“Yes.”

He wasn’t exactly sure what he had expected, but it definitely wasn’t for Alex to reach first for his hand, tracing each of Achilles’ fingers, the lines of his palm, slowly, as if savoring each divot and crease. It was, if he was honest, a little strange, but he said nothing, only breathed, ragged and rough, as Alex’s own fingers traveled up to his wrist, up his forearm, to his bicep where they lightly circled the band tattooed on his skin.

Achilles closed his eyes. Relished the callused touch upon his collarbone that burned even with the lightest brush. Gentle. Everything so gentle.

One hand slipped to his lower back, and Alex’s touch on his bare skin sent a quiver through his body—he felt Alex pull him closer, felt him rest his forehead against his own. His breath was warm, but smelled faintly of peppermint.

Alex’s thumb parted his lips with a tenderness Achilles had never before allowed himself.

“Can I try again?” The whisper tickled his ear and a velvet thrill itched his heart. “I promise it’ll be better this time.”

Achilles nodded.

And yet, despite it being his own ask, Alex’s hesitance seemed to have returned. A delicate, trembling sigh seemed to be serving as the entr’acte before this second at, and so it was Achilles this time who closed the gap.

Perhaps he should’ve been gentle, perhaps he should’ve been polite, but he wanted it and he had wanted it and Alex was here, asking for it—

Utterly helpless, a moth to Alex’s flame. Yet it was Achilles who pulled him in with the hunger of a dying fire and kissed him as if he were oxygen, like he was fuel. Electricity sparked through every vein as his hands raked through still-damp hair, along his neck, his shoulders, muscles taut and tight and touching him back—it was rash and reckless, and surely it was right—

But something nagging at the back of his mind managed to pierce through his desperate desire, and, not without difficulty, Achilles pulled himself away. To give himself a second to better regain control of himself, to give Alex a second to better decide—

Are you sure you want this, too?

He slowed his breathing, let his hands drop from Alex’s hips. Prepared for the worst.

Was I too fast? Too rough? Too much?

For the first time, he found himself unable to meet Alex’s emerald gaze—that precise shade of green had, at some point, become synonymous for safety, so why was he suddenly so afraid?

He could feel Alex watching him, though his own eyes he kept glued to the ground. Achilles had never felt so scrutinized. So small.

Then, a hand on his neck. A finger resting below his ear, a thumb along his jaw. And Achilles was brought back to Spirit’s Eve. The first time Alex had kissed him. Had all been a character for Alex back then, a costume. How far had they come…

Alex slowly lifted his chin and asked in a voice, soft and tentative, “Is… is that what you like?”

“I—what? Yes, wh—Alex, what do you like—”

But Alex cut him off—seized him, kissed him, frenetic and greedy and deep and hard, and Achilles was set aglow. He pushed Alex towards the bed. Shoved him—not unkindly—down atop the duvet, straddled him and lifted his face up to better meet his own. His hands tugged at Alex’s shirt—god, just get that off—he wanted to feel him, more of him, all of him, he was burning, and wanting, and he very nearly got his wish—shirt halfway off, one hand clinging to the bare hollow of his back—until he was shoved unceremoniously off Alex’s lap and onto the floor.

“What the fuck—”

“Shit—sorry—I’m sorry, I—fuck—”

Achilles—ricocheting between irked and concerned—stumbled to his feet, cheeks red, and managed to spit out only one word whilst retrieving the pieces of his pride. “What?”

He took a pause before following Alex’s avoidant gaze down to his lap, where Alex’s hands lay stiffly between his legs.

“Oh.” Achilles wiped some imaginary dust off his hands as he pushed aside any lingering embarrassment. “Don’t apologize. You know, I, in fact, actually have a penis, too. I get it, it happens.” Wow! Great job not being awkward! Fucking idiot. But upon seeing Alex’s continued discomfort, he added in a less lighthearted tone, “I meant what I said earlier, Al, we don’t have to do anything. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Can—actually, can we talk?”

“Of course. That’s why I invited you over, right? To talk. It was you who seduced me, you wench. Here.” He pinched his nose—can’t you sound normal just once in your life—and tossed Alex an extra pillow after pulling back the sheets. “We can… put that between us if you’d like, just… give me a second…”

Achilles usually slept in just a pair of boxers, but after this most recent turn of events, he thought it best to head to the closet for a t shirt. His instincts were validated upon his return—Alex had indeed set the pillow in the middle of the bed, and was now clutching it like a life line.

He paused, one hand on the corner of the covers. “I— I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I can actually sleep on the couch if you’d like. I’m sorry, I should’ve—”

“No. No, no, no, that’s not it at all, no, it’s, um. It’s something else. I’m sorry. Shit, I’m sorry. It’s… well, it’s me. I’m the problem.”

“Now don’t say that…” Achilles slipped slowly beneath the duvet, taking care not to accidentally touch as he gave both Alex and the pillow quite a wide berth. He lay on his back, as he usually did, hands folded across his chest. “Talk to me, Al. Floor is yours.”

He had left his bedside lamp on—it was a rather dim glow, usually reserved for late night reading or the crossword if he was having particularly bad sleep troubles, but he could still make out Alex’s furrowed brow from atop the pillow between them.

“I… um…” A small sigh. Achilles watched Alex rub his face before turning to face the ceiling, one hand still kneading his forehead. “I, um, well… I don’t think—no. I, um…”

“Do you want me to turn the light off? Will that help?”

“No, it’s fine. Leave it on, I… I want to see you.”

“Man, you’re not even looking at me.”

Alex clicked his tongue and continued to stare at the ceiling, but Achilles caught the corners of his mouth turn up just the slightest bit. “Okay, okay, you got me there…”

“Mmhm.”

“It’s just that… Well. I just…”

This was a mistake. He doesn’t like you like that. He doesn’t want you.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Oh.

Achilles waited for further explanation, but Alex seemed somewhat disinclined to say more, (though in the subsequent silence, Achilles could hear the slight scrape of what was likely aggressive teeth gnashing). After waiting a respectable two minutes for an elaboration, Achilles took it upon himself to lightly prod. “Is it because… you’re… bisexual—”

“I don’t think I’m bi.”

“Oh.” Oh. Achilles had masked his surprise quickly, but even so, perhaps it was a good thing Alex wasn’t looking at him. No need to make the guy even more self conscious. “Well. Allow me to be the first person to say there’s nothing wrong with being gay either, if that’s what it is—”

“That’s not it, I don’t— well. No, I wanted to—You see, what happened was—I- I don’t… I…”

Alex’s eyes were now full on closed, his hand rather zealously rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I’ve had sex before. To be clear. Like a lot of sex. Oh god, why’d I say it like that.”

“Ah.” Achilles couldn’t help but wince. “It… it would’ve been all right if you hadn’t… to be clear.”

“I mean, not with a guy.”

He responded smoothly. “Sure. I assumed.”

Another sigh, though this one had the hint of a growl as Alex’s exasperation continued to balloon. “Shit. Shoot. This is—well this is obviously not going how I wanted it to— I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying, I just. I’m nervous. About what you’re going to say, and think, and… I just…”

Fuck, Achilles just wanted to hold him—but the situation was nebulous, and so he instead held his own hands, still resting across his chest, tighter, and kept his voice even. “It’s just me, Al. Like you said earlier, we’re still friends. You can tell me whatever, I’m not going to judge.”

“But you might.”

“I won’t.”

“But you might.”

“Alexander—”

“I just—Well. I’ve never been in love before.”

Finally, Alex turned to face Achilles. He lay on his side, his arms still fiercely wrapped around the pillow, and his face remained troubled—brows knitted, his lower lip drawn between his teeth.

“I was, um, 12, 13 when I moved here. Showed up to middle school smack dab in the middle of term. I was the new kid with a dying mom. Made me interesting, I think. Everyone wanted to be my friend. You know how it is…

“What caught me off guard though, was how many girls wanted to be my friend. Or, I guess, more than my friend, but it was middle school so I mean, how real could a relationship actually be, right…”

It wasn’t hard to imagine a 12 year old Alex—chubbier cheeks, probably, but the same freckles, the same large green eyes and sunny disposition—combine that with a tragic backstory and New Kid Novelty, and it was easy to see why the girls at Meridian Middle School had flocked to him.

“It was… weird. I didn’t like it. I didn’t understand what they wanted from me… or why.

“And I pretty quickly realized, well, everyone was either girl crazy or boy crazy or both. Not just girls. My guy friends, too. Man, that’s all folks spent lunch yapping on about, who had a crush on who and whatever. I just didn’t get it—man, I just wanted to talk about grid ball. I don’t know, it was like that part of puberty just… never hit me, I guess…

“But after awhile, I think I just kind of assumed that everyone felt the way I did, but you just…weren’t supposed to talk about it.

“Like I somehow logic-ed it out in my head that your girlfriend was just your best friend who happened to be a girl. And going on dates and stuff, that was just part of having a girlfriend. Like how when you’re a kid you have play dates, when you have a girlfriend you have, well, just… dates. I mean didn’t you say earlier, a date’s basically just hanging out, right? Especially in middle school. It’s just all part of like this script you were supposed to follow—and I mean, it couldn’t have helped that I literally had a dating handbook from my grandpa that was giving me step by step directions, telling me specific things to do.

“Well anyway… I kept feeling this way, even into high school. People stopped being so boy crazy and girl crazy and whatever then, and I stopped feeling so paranoid, stopped overthinking it.

“And then I dated Haley for two years. Everyone kept telling me to ask her out, so I figured I would. If everyone was saying we’d be perfect together, they must be right, right? She was my first serious relationship.

“And dating her actually made me feel—well, better. Validated? Is validated the right word? I liked hanging out with her, she was already my best friend, but, I don’t know, she never seemed that into me in any sort of fancy romantic way, she never really wanted to make out or hook up or anything all that often, and I thought, okay so maybe all that stuff really is all just an act, just stuff for movies, maybe I was right all along.

“Of course, that all came crashing down after she told me she was gay. She kept going on about ‘attraction’ and how it wasn’t a me problem, that she didn’t feel that way about any guys at all, that it was girls she liked, and I remember just nodding along because, honestly, I was just confused.

“I mean, what even is attraction? I’d never thought about that much, not until she was going on and on about it. But when she was describing it, I realized that there was… something else that I was supposed to be feeling. Something I was missing. But it’s hard, you know, like how do you know what it is you’re missing if you’ve never been able to feel it in the first place?

“You know, side note, funnily enough, after she came out, I actually had a second there where I wondered if maybe I was gay, too. Haley had never had a crush on a guy, I’d never felt that way about a girl—whatever “that way” was supposed to be feel. But I thought about it for a bit and ended up deciding I’d never felt that way about a guy either. And I’d been around a whole lotta guys. Sports camp, swim team… nothing.

“So I figured, well, I went back to square one. Maybe this is just how everyone feels. Maybe I just hadn’t met the right girl, maybe I should just give it some time. Maybe I needed to loosen up. So I just kept going through the motions. Doing what I thought everyone my age was doing.

“I was just so caught up with trying to find or feel or whatever, trying to prove that I was normal. So even though I had a bunch of solid excuses to not care about it all—swimming. Making the Artemics team. My grandparents getting sick—I think a part of me was…. I don’t know. Desperate. To find that feeling that I’d been missing, find that person. So I just kept… you know. Going out on dates. And… other stuff. Just nonstop.”

Alex seemed to be approaching the crux of his story now. He sucked in a deep breath between his teeth before turning away again while his hands abandoned the pillow to rest atop his own chest, fingers softly tapping between his rib cage.

“I thought sex was like… you know. Just something you were supposed to do. Like… shaking someone’s hand when you meet them for the first time or… saying thank you when someone opens the door for you. Like it’s just expected you do it. Hold a girl’s hand. Kiss her. Have… sex with her. I didn’t realize people actually wanted… like really wanted to… do these things. Beyond it making the other person happy. Like, I didn’t realize people actually had the… urge to do it. If that makes any sense.

“Like I remember in college, one of my friends, his girlfriend kept cheating on him and I just couldn’t understand why, you know? Like why was it so hard for her not to cheat? Like, what could you possibly be feeling that made you do that, like, what was the reason, why would you sabotage something so easily in your control? And for my friend—why was it so hard, just break up with her already. Like, why stay with someone who… isn’t treating you good?”

There was a small pause, but rather than dwell on darker memories, Alex continued steadily on.

“I know there’s probably more to it, but I guess I just didn’t understand that kind of love. That feeling of… being in love with someone. I had never felt it before. That is…”

Achilles felt Alex stir under the covers, felt him shift his weight as he turned onto his side, peaked his head back above the pillow like a turtle to look at him, a small smile now on his face.“That is, until last week. With you.

“You’re the first person, Ash. And I don’t know why, I don’t know why it’s you—don’t get me wrong, I’m… I’m glad it is.” He laughed, and to Achilles’ surprise, he reached across the pillow for his hand.

“And I see why now it took me so long to even realize there was something wrong with me, that I was missing something, because how could anyone have ever really described to me what this feels like? Attraction. Even now, feeling it now, it’s just… wow. It’s like friends. Like best friend, I don’t know. But… different. And I like it.”

Alex’s tiny sigh of satisfaction sent Achilles heart beating faster, but the rate at which Alex’s remaining hand was tapping against his chest began to quicken as well, and his tone grew more serious.

“But if I’m honest, I… Well. I still feel like a part of me is missing something. In regards to, well… well, just… sex. Like… wanting to have sex.

“I don’t understand why, because I really really like you, I do, and I… well I really liked kissing you. And stuff. And I… well… well normally I spend the time trying not to think about how gross the whole concept of making out with someone kind of is, but for the first time in my life ever, I… I want to do it. Like want to do it. Again. I mean of course, only if you, I don’t know… ever want to do it with me again… Shit. I sound 12, don’t I? Yoba, listen to me, we’ve had one date, you might never want to see me again.”

A rather sheepish smile—Alex ran his free hand through his hair.

“I don’t get it, I don’t get why it feels different, you’d think it’d be the same thing, wanting to be close to someone, wanting to kiss someone, wanting to have sex with them, I don’t know. Wow, I don’t think I’ve said sex as many times in my life as I have just now. What a weird word. Ok, sorry, anyway, I don’t know why I feel one but not the other now. I don’t get it, there’s just… something wrong with me, I don’t know.

“I know this probably doesn’t make much sense, because I’ve hooked up with lots of people before that that I didn’t feel anything for, but I just… because I like you, and because I… do want to be with you, I want to… I don’t know, I want to… want it with you. Like, I want it to feel better, more, I don’t know, purposeful, than all the other times.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that having sex was, like, traumatic or anything in the past—no one forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do—I mean, I never wanted to do it, but only in the sense that I never had, like, the urge to do it. I wanted to want it, but every time I did it, it just felt like… I don’t know. A chore. Yeah. It felt like a chore, and honestly, according to a lot of the girls I dated, I was pretty dang bad at it —for reasons that, you know, now make a lot more sense—until I learned how to, you know— actually, we don’t have to get into that—um, well—anyway, back to what I was saying—

“And, I don’t know, I’d stopped hooking up with people by the time I left school. Given up, I guess, just figured there was something wrong with me. And just thinking about sex in general now makes me kind of…anxious. And I don’t want it to feel like that with you, I don’t want to… bring that in there, if that makes sense. I want this to feel… different.

“Shit, wow, I guess all of this to say… super long story just to ask I guess… to just… I guess what I’m asking is if we can… can we take it slow? Is that stupid to ask? Is that, like, super lame? At 25 years old? Or I guess 28 in your case… geez…”

It took a second before Achilles, still digesting everything Alex had shared, realized he’d been asked a question. It was those green eyes—blinking wide-eyed rather expectantly—that jolted him back to the present, and with a small jump, he rushed to respond with something more akin to a squeal, “Not at all!” But worried that his hasty and high-pitched response (ugh) suggested a sentiment something more to the contrary, Achilles hurried to grip Alex’s hand tighter and said more firmly, “We’ll go as slow as you want. Slow as you need.”

The reassurance seemingly failed to land, as Alex turned slightly away. “I… I know sex is… important to a lot of people, and it’s stupid to ask you to wait, it’s not like there’s a good reason—”

“—Al, any reason is a good reason—”

“—and I don’t want you to wait if you don’t want to, I mean like, if you’re someone who likes sex and, well, wants it…” Alex trailed off, but watched Achilles intently as the latter reached slowly over the pillow to brush aside some of the hair that had fallen into his face.

“I mean, I won’t lie, Al. Like, I like having sex.” Achilles snorted, moving his hand down, tracing the line of Alex’s jaw. So smooth… the man shaved religiously, a holdover habit now unlikely to be broken anytime soon with his return to the competitive swimming world. “But I like you more. I think.”

Alex laughed, placing his hand now over Achilles’ to cup his own face.

“No, but in all seriousness, it’s fine. Thank you for telling me this.”

“But are you really sure? You’re fine with waiting? I… I don’t know how long it’ll be. I wish I could give you a timeline, I mean I wish I could say for sure it’ll actually even happen, to be honest, I don’t even know, but then I again I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love, but I see now these are different, and I don’t want to overpromise something that may not ever actually—”

“Al, seriously. It’s fine. I’ll wait forever as long as I’m waiting with you.”

This time, Alex’s smile reached his eyes, igniting that glimmer of mischief. He gave Achilles’ hand a firm, final smack before turning onto his back once again. “Well… forever’s an awfully long time, I think at a certain point I’d just… well, you know.” He made a circle with his left thumb and pointer finger and began to slowly move his right index finger towards it before Achilles whacked his shoulder.

“Boy, I swear to Yoba—”

But Alex cut him off with a surprise kiss on the cheek. There was a careless sweetness to it, and despite the comparative innocence of the gesture, Achilles immediately bloomed pink—but as Alex returned to lying down, letting himself collapse atop the pillow, there was one final furrow still striking his brow.

“I just… are you… disappointed? Achilles?”

“What?”

“I know, I know, you said it’s fine, but I just… I just want to… I don’t know. Are you disappointed? In me? You’ll tell the truth, won’t you?”

Achilles understood. The need to hear a specific set of words—the hunger for honesty alongside the anxious ache for approval. He kept it simple. “I’m not disappointed in you. And you could never disappoint me.”

It was remarkable, the speed at which those words transformed him; like night and day, Alex was now beaming like a sunrise. With a jaunty little wriggle, he pulled the covers up to his chin. “Okay. I’ll stop being sad now. I’ve ruined your sleep schedule enough and you’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Elliott’s got a big day tomorrow, I’ve got like, a medium day.” But even so, Achilles leaned over the nightstand to flick off the lamp.

“Medium shmedium… good night, Ash.”

The pillow still rested between them, but Achilles didn’t mind. He knew Alex was there, and he knew now for sure Alex wanted him.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent replaying the evening in his head—perhaps Alex had already fallen asleep, it was, admittedly quite a lot to digest—but nevertheless, at some point Achilles found himself suddenly speaking into the darkness.

“It’s a thing, you know. Asexuality. Aromanticism. There’s a spectrum for both, but it’s all… valid. It’s all… real, for lack of a better word, what you’ve felt and not felt in the past. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

#llnks #stardew alex #stardew fanfic #aspec fanfic #sdv fanfic #alex stardew #sdv alex #sdv oc #asexuality #ace positivity #sorry this was later than usual I am at urgent care lmfao

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