Hi, Shorty!

He’d been captive for three hundred and ninety four days.

A quarter of that was confined to a cage, before he could prove his use for Jacob.

A quarter more of that was spent feeling more like a dog than a human, eating raw meat out of a metal bowl with his bare hands, a chain hanging around his neck constantly, sleeping on the floor next to his bed. He spent his days at Jacobs heels, following him around like he was lost, and really, it wasn’t far from the truth.

The rest was… Well, it wasn’t better, but the raw meat was upgraded to cooked meat with potatoes and some vegetables, something he could actually stomach, being given some freedom to carry out jobs as they needed to be carried out, and actually having his own blanket - even though his pillow was still an old backpack from Jacob’s closet.

The chain remained around his neck, a reminder that no matter how far he goes from that stupid fucking cage, he is still just a dog, a mangey mutt desperate for an owner.

“Done all your jobs?” Jacob asks him as he walks into the office, which is littered with papers and maps with circles drawn on them, arrows and words that Staci doesn’t care enough to read. It’s probably marking the movements of the Whitetails, Staci’s only chance of freedom, maybe even survival at this point.

Jacob has been run off of his feet all day, doing this here, that over there. He’s not even had chance to sit down.

“Yes, Jacob.”

“Good.”

Jacob has seemed far more on edge today than he has been since Staci got here; he still has his dominating confidence, the sort that smothers the room and controls the mood, but somewhere, there are cracks that are beginning to show. Staci tries not to think about it, tries not to plan a way to take advantage of them and try and get himself out.

He actively tries not to think about the change in his behaviour.

The way his hands are slightly shaking.

The way he’s hardly speaking…

No, definitely not thinking about it.

“Have you eaten?”

“No.”

The man just shrugs.

“No bother, you can have breakfast tomorrow.”

And as ruthless as Jacob can be, this is unlike him. To starve Staci just because. Or is it? It keeps Staci on his toes, never knowing when the next punishment may or may not come…

Fuck, Staci doesn’t even know him. Is he on edge? Are his hands shaking or has he not had a cigarette in a while? Is he hardly speaking, or is he just busy?

He feels like he’s running around in circles.

“Okay.”

There’s an awkward shift in the room, the tension wobbles slightly, the mood transforming.

“You’re sleeping in the room next to mine.”

His voice is clear and demanding of Staci’s attention. He speaks in such a way that he doesn’t bother to question, doesn’t have the courage to argue with.

“Okay.”

“There is a bed in there. I will bring you a spare change of clothes in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Well… Go on then. Why are you still here?”

It’s a plain room; a bed in the middle and nothing else. Why couldn’t he have slept in this room for the last six months? Why was he sleeping on the floor next to Jacob’s bed, when this was here the whole time?

Power. That’s probably why.

Staci feels suddenly lost, alone for the first time since he got out of that damn cage some nine months ago. The room feels impossibly big and he feels scared without Jacob here for some stupid reason.

Stop being stupid, he tells himself, it’s part of his plan. Make you dependant. You know this.

So he makes his way over to the bed, despite the fact the new environment has put him slightly on edge, so he isn’t tired in the slightest, and undoes his boots. They’re the same boots he wore in the…

His breath catches in his throat.

He tries not to think of the…

Of Joey.

Of Whitehorse.

Of the Rookie Deputy and the Sheriff.

Their bodies being dragged from the fiery, burning wreckage, all whilst Jacob told him the same phrase that has repeated every minute and every hour since.

Nobody is coming to save you, Son.

Staci scratches at his skin until it begins to bleed, until he stops thinking.

He gets into bed and closes his eyes tight, squeezing them and trying desperately to not think of the flames.

A yelp erupts from him as he awakens with a start, his heart hammering in his chest as though it might explode.

But he didn’t have a nightmare.

Did he?

No, no - it was a noise.

Is someone at his door?

Another boom sounds in the distance, followed by a few more - Staci listens for a moment, trying to decipher if it’s gunshots and bombs he’s listening to. It’s not unheard of around here…

But no…

It’s in the distance, somewhere over yonder. The crackling of a firework and the boom of another.

Since his arrival at Jacob’s compound, sleep has been lacking but still something he has been trained to get out of easily. Despite the fact he has just woken up, he quickly works out the date.

It was June 5th 2018 when he arrived at Jacob’s compound.

It’s been three hundred and ninety four days.

That would make it… July…

Fourth.

Oh. That makes sense. Although he hasn’t heard fireworks since he got here, despite the fact this is the second July 4th and there has been a New Year too…

Another bang makes him just just as much, the sound of something hitting the wall to his left echoing around the empty room. There’s a strangled, choked grunt, and then a wail that follows.

Staci leaps out of bed, tripping over his boots that are left by the side of his bed as he does so, hitting the floor with some force and winding himself as he does so.

There’s another choked sob, and Staci quickly scrambles to his feet, rushing to the door.

Fuck.

He can’t leave.

Jacob will kill him if he disobeys orders.

But…

Jacob is in the room next door.

What if he needs help?

What if this is a test?

But what if it’s not?

He hovers by the door, until the sound of glass smashing makes his mind up for him. A shaky hand opens the door and he snakes out into the darkness, slowly tip-toeing to Jacob’s door.

“Jacob?” He asks, although rather quietly. He raps on the door a few times, but no response comes. “Jacob?”

It takes all the confidence he can muster, but he twists the door knob, and lets the light pour into the dark hallway.

Jacob’s lamp is shattered into bits on the floor, porcelain and glass scattered across linoleum. The lampshade is distorted, the side taking the brunt of the force against the wall. There’s a few drops of blood along the floor.

“Jacob?”

“Get out.”

Jacob is growling at Staci, his teeth bared as though he’s a wolf on the defence, chest heaving, laboured. He’s not making eye contact with Staci as he kneels on the floor by his bed, blood seeping out of his hand and down his arms.

“Get out!”

“Jacob… What’s… What’s going on?”

“Just get out, Pratt.”

But for some stupid reason, Staci stays put, shutting the door quietly behind him. His whole body is shaking in fear and he doesn’t understand why he hasn’t followed his brain to leave.

“I… I don’t know how to help you. But I can sit with you, and listen.”

“Listen to fucking what?”

Jacob’s hair is askew atop his head, pointing out in all directions. He looks disheveled and tired, his skin pale and body shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Whatever you want to talk about…” 

As though he is approaching a feral beast, Staci takes calm, slow steps towards Jacob, keeping his distance just in case he lashes out. He stops when he’s a few feet away from the man, who is still making a point of not looking at him.

“I’d like to look at your hand.”

“Who do you think you are? You think… You think ‘cause you see me like this, you’re my dad or somethin’ now?”

Staci stays silent.

And the silence is almost smothering as they sit there, the distant boom of fireworks continuing in the distance. As he observes his superior, Staci realises he is flinching with every noise.

The pieces slowly click into place.

“You know I served in the army,” Jacob says after a few moments, breaking the tension that is suffocating the room. “I… I saw a lot. I heard a lot. I went through a lot.”

“I get it,” although he doesn’t understand, “You can talk to me, if you want. But we can just sit here.”

“There’s a bandage in the drawer over there. I did multiple tours, Afghanistan, Iraq, in the Gulf war… I was wounded as many times as I was rewarded, came back thinkin’ I was some weapon out there without a purpose. Declared me unfit for service, left me out on the street after drying up my bank account… The fucking noises… If people knew the fucking horror it reminds me of-“

Jacob pauses, taking a few deep breaths. He’s sweating profusely, his t-shirt drenched around the neck and armpits. He observes Staci as he gently wraps a bandage around his hand, from where the porcelain and glass had shredded his skin.

He tries not to think about the gunshots.

Of the bombs.

Of his fallen squadron.

Of the horrors of war.

“I am not weak.”

Staci remains silent as he ties the bandage off, and then leans back onto the balls of his feet in a kneeling position.

“Tell me.”

“T-tell you what?”

“Tell me I’m not weak.”

“You’re not weak.”

“You know who is?”

“Who?”

“You. You are a fucking mutt, Staci. A dog we dragged out of a burning wreckage, and what have you done? You rolled over like a submissive bitch and let me have my way,” with his good hand, Jacob grips the chain around Staci’s neck, yanking him down. “Wearing this fucking chain so I can control you. You haven’t fought back. You haven’t tried to get out. All you’ve done is follow me around like a lost little lamb.”

There’s something in his eyes; a fury Staci has never seen. 

Survival is a blessing, and it most certainly isn’t guaranteed when in Jacob’s care. He hasn’t tried to escape or leave because he knows he hasn’t got a chance. He rolled over because what other option was there? Dying for what? For who? If Jacob says jump, he’ll jump if it means he gets fed tonight.

“You are weak!”

Frustrations are growing, and Staci stays as still as he can as Jacobs tirade continues, smoke almost bellowing out of his mouth.

“I’m going to make you regret the day you ever became a fucking solider!”

Staci is almost choked with the chain as he is pulled up, Jacob rising as he yanks the metal, before throwing Staci backwards, making him hit the wall, his head slamming against concrete and his skull splitting, blood seeping through his clothes as it trickles down his scalp.

Through the shock and the sudden nausea and pain that fills him, Staci stays quiet, trying not to show any signs of distress.

He doesn’t move from his spot, resting against the wall, but he does make eye contact with Jacob, who seems to have shocked himself.

“St-Staci…” he whispers, eyes wide for a moment, as though he doesn’t recognise his own strength. He takes a short second to look around the room, at the bandage on his hand and the lamp smashed on the floor. He almost looks as though he wasn’t the one who threw the lamp, who threw Staci. 

Neither of them say anything for a minute, but Staci reaches his hand up and feels his scalp, pulling his hand down to see it dripping with blood.

“I think… I think I need to see a doctor, Jacob. I’m losing… Losing a lot of blood.”

Jacob clears his throat awkwardly, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s… Let’s get you there.”

He gently helps Staci to his feet, and although he doesn’t really feel guilty for what he’s done, Staci doesn’t deserve this. The wall is stained with blood, so are his clothes.

He’ll survive.

“I only wanted to help,” the air is cold outside, but Staci feels sick, and it’s warming him up a lot. “I’m- I’m sorry, ‘didn’t realise it’s that… Like that…”

“Shut up, Pratt.”

“‘Sorry.”

Staci can hardly walk. Jacob is dragging him across the courtyard, ignoring the fireworks that remind him so much of all of his struggles, reminds him so much of his life before, reminds him so much of all of his fallen buddies.

Pratt could never compare to them. He could never be as brave. As strong. Pratt is weak.

Weak.

Weak.

And the weak have their place.

The weak must be culled.

“Do you think I’m joking? Is this funny to you? Do you see what’s happened? This is the second independence day since you’ve been here. We’ve had a new year. Did you hear fireworks then? Did you?”

“No…”

“No! No, you didn’t. Because they were looking for you, then. They were looking for you and your little buddies, your little cop friends. They were worried. But everyone moved, everyone forgot about you. The world has gone back to normal. You know what that means?”

Staci is hardly even having coherent thoughts; every word is blurring together and he can’t really remember what got him here, but that’s true, this hasn’t happened before… 

“Pratt. I’m talking to you.”

But all Staci can do is hum lightly in response, his eyes going blurry. He is slipping from consciousness, slipping from life…

There’s the distant sound of laughing, conversation, and music from somewhere over yonder. They can hear the music clearly, but the conversations are just blurring into one.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe we’re doing this!” Staci stage-whispers next to Jacob’s ear as they step towards the lake, Jacob stripping himself of his t-shirt and discarding it to the floor. “This is so fun!”

To say a bit of alcohol had been consumed would be an understatement; Jacob had, for the most part, stopped drinking, ‘I’ll leave it for the holidays and the special occasions’. That was in March, and now, on the 4th of July, he is very much indulging. Staci had also drank his fair share; a few bottles there, a can here, a shot over there somewhere.

“You need to be quiet,” Jacob tells him, grabbing the hem of Staci’s t-shirt and pulling it over his head. Like a toddler, Staci just lifts his arms up, resting the urge to grab Jacob’s chest. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you,” Staci agrees, before planting his lips on Jacob’s, although the kiss is sloppy and all over the place. “I’m nervous!”

“Ah, shut up, it’s only a bit of fun.”

His shorts and boxers are stripped effortlessly, and, with only the moon for light, Staci takes in the view; Jacob isn’t as muscular as he once was - once he stopped talking to his brothers’, he stopped being so regimented with the gym - but his body is perfect, from the tips of his fingers to the tip of his - well, something else…

“You’re so hot,” he tells Jacob, feeling bashful for some reason. They’ve been together for ages, so seeing each other naked isn’t anything new. But his cheeks are burning red and he wants to put his t-shirt back on.

“Oh, really?” The smell of alcohol lingers on Jacob’s breath, merely centimetres away from Staci’s face, “Well, do you wanna know what I heard?”

His hand reaches up and brushes Staci’s side, the flesh cool under the night sky. It gives Staci goosebumps.

“W-what?”

“That the last one in the lake is actually gay.”

And Jacob bucks it into the water, a loud splashing as he goes. He gasps as the chill of the water, especially as it goes around his hips. Effortlessly, even in his inebriated state, he disappears beneath the water and out of sight.

“Oh, you asshole!” Staci shouts, stumbling over his shorts as he tries to get them off, eventually managing to and kicking them to the side before he follows his boyfriend into the water. “You fucking suck, you know that?”

“Am I wrong?”

“I thought you were still under the water!”

Jacob swims towards Staci and eases him into the water - even when they’ve been on holiday, when Staci gets in the sea, he needs ‘adjustment time’, as he calls it. He walks the slowest he possibly can into the water, gasping and yelping as he goes.

“Be quiet!” Jacob laughs, putting a cold hand on Staci’s chest, and the younger man gasps at the difference in temperature. “C’mon, I’ve been waiting for you…”

Jacob connects their lips and gently pulls Staci into the water; Jacob on his back and Staci by his side, looking down as they kiss. The water is cold, sure, but they’re adjusting well.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, his voice hardly audible over the sound of the waves they’re creating lapping at the muddy banks surrounding them. “I always loved your eyes.”

“You can’t even see my eyes,” Staci replies, finally moving away and swimming out into the centre of the lake, the water still cold on the skin of his neck and across his shoulders. “I think you’re lying.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Peaches.”

Staci puts distance between himself and Jacob, a small game of cat and mouse, but Jacob is the stronger and faster swimmer, so he knows he’ll lose.

And, as expected, Jacob catches up with him in record timing. Staci reckons that he should’ve been a competitive swimmer, given how fast he can do laps around a pool, but unfortunately Jacob’s talents went undiscovered.

As his lover gains on him, Staci intentionally slows down, hoping for -

Jacob’s hand connects harshly to his bare ass cheek, and Staci gives a pretend yelp in surprise, despite the fact this is what he was after the whole time. He turns his body so that Jacob’s hand is on his thigh, and moves so that, instead of being on his back, he is treading water.

“C’mere…” Jacob’s hand reconnects to his skin, and the tough on his hip gives him a little spark of electricity. His other hand, also now one his hip, sneaks around the back and holds his ass, holding him firmly to his body, chests pressed together. From the feeling of it, Jacob is also enjoying this.

“God, as soon as we get out of this pool, I’m gonna -“

A whistle cuts through the air, a high pitched squeal that hurts their ears, snapping them from their embrace and making them look to the sky.

Fireworks bloom in the sky, trails of sparks falling like the leaves of a weeping willow; stretching only until they dissipate into nothing, bright flashes of red, blue, and finally white filling the air, trails of fire left in their wake.

The two men tread water as they take in the view; the colours burning brightly in the sky, hardly enough time to comprehend one before the next comes. There’s distant hollering and cheering, although it all fades into the background.

Staci reaches over and gently takes the hand of his partner, his eyes remaining on the sky, colour and sound filling the world around them. But it drags Jacob away, and when he looks at Staci, he can’t pull his eyes from the view - the colours lighting up his face and reflecting in his eyes, the way his wet chest shines in the colourful explosions. His hair is wet, slicked backwards and stuck to the back of his neck.

He looks perfect.

“That was nice,” Staci says, the air suddenly quiet around them - catching Jacob off guard. How long was he staring for? “You okay?”

“Y-yeah, you just… You just looked good.”

Thankfully, it’s dark again now, so his burning cheeks aren’t obvious. The air smells of burning and smoke, and it makes his nose burn a bit.

“I was enjoying my view.”

“Come on, you creepy old perv,” Staci laughs, letting go of Jacob’s hand and beginning to make his way back to the bank. “Let’s get going before someone catches us.”

“What?! C’mon, that’s part of the fun! Let the creepy old perv have his fun!”

“Oh my God, someone’s gonna hear us, get over here!”

“Didn’t think to bring a towel, huh?”

“Did you?”

“Thought you’d have one in your truck.”

“Don’t really skinny dip all that often.”

“Hm. Well… Now we know.”

Staci is tired.

So, so tired. 

He’s tired all of the time. His bones ache in a way that shows his age, his eyes heavy, mind usually somewhere else all together. You can find him either in his bed, or sat in a chair, drinking coffee (or, on occasion, a whiskey, but only. Ever on the rocks, and only it’s past five in the afternoon), and watching the world go by. In the evening, he will shuffle onto the porch, and sit and watch the sun travel over the meadow, a blanket on his lap to keep the chill off.

He’s been sick for a while. It was the flu to begin with, then it turned into pneumonia, which spread to both of his lungs.

Everyday, it’s getting harder and harder to breathe.

It’s getting harder and harder just to live, old bones struggling to carry him around, needing a ten minute rest just from walking across the room.

The door shuts softly behind Jacob, the lock clicking. The morning is creeping in now, the late December sun beginning to climb over the distant mountain range, gold seeping over the skies.

“Staci?” He calls quietly, knowing that Staci will probably be asleep. All Staci can do these days is sleep. He takes off his coat and hangs it on the hook, kicking his shoes off and dumping his keys and the bag onto the side. He’s been to pick up Staci’s antibiotics, thankfully from the one pharmacy that opens before the sun rises. “Honey?”

Soft footsteps track to the bedroom, where Staci lies in bed, the blanket pulled to his chest, his breathing wheezy.

He looks old.

Well, he’s eighty-five, now. He is old. But he looks terrible - his hair completely grey, skin wrinkly, face gaunt. But to Jacob, he’s still his beautiful man. His beautiful husband.

“Staci,” he says a bit louder, sitting on the bed next to Staci. “Staci, honey, I’m here,”

Staci stirs, his breathing catching before he coughs himself awake, laboured coughs followed by weak gasps. His tired eyes struggle to open.

“Jacob,” he says, his voice raspy. “I don’t feel all that well.”

“Oh, Sweetheart. Just catch your breath, okay?”

Jacob runs his hand through his hair, which is thinning atop his head, and not quite as long as it was in their youth. He is careful to not disturb him too much, in fear of hurting him.

“How do I look so old,” he speaks slowly, and fights to keep his eyes open, “And you look like you’re fifty?”

And it’s true; Jacob has aged considerably well. His ginger hair is greying, almost silver, at the roots, and whilst a few laughter lines have developed, it’s nowhere near the amount Staci has.

But then again, in Staci’s world, he’s 103.

In his own world, he’s 584.

And Staci has known for years - it was obvious when Jacob had a blatant aversion to the outdoors in the daytime, when he asked for meals made strictly without garlic.

And he thinks it’s total bullshit that Jacob still looks as young as he does.

“A good vampire never shares his secrets,” he says, playfully. Staci cracks a smile, but closes his eyes, lacking the energy to do anything else. “Staci…”

“Hm?”

“This is it, isn’t it?”

There’s a long pause, filled by the creaking of the house, the knocking the pipes, and the sound of the boiler firing up and filling the radiators with hot water.

“I think so,” Staci confirms, his eyes still shut. “Talk to me, Jacob. Talk to me about your life. All the things you did, before me.”

But Jacob just huffs a laugh, despite the tears that are welling in his eyes. He’s known Staci for almost sixty years. Sixty, out of his five hundred and eighty four.

“My life didn’t start until I met you,” he whispers, lying down carefully next to his husband, lying on his shoulder and stroking his face. “It was like the world exploded with colour, when we first met. I went hundreds of years without knowing you, but for the first time, I felt like I could breathe. Like everything in the world just made sense.”

His cheeks are beginning to become wet from the tears, but every word that is said is the truth.

“I would live a billion lifetimes, until the sun explodes, if it meant I could be with you in every single one. But if I couldn’t have you, I would never chose to live a single lifetime.”

Staci smiles, but he’s looking weak. Weaker than he did before.

“You’re soppy,” he whispers, “When did you become so romantic?”

“I need you to do me one last favour, Sweetheart.”

Staci slightly nods his head in encouragement, but he’s trying to get his breath back from speaking. Jacob wipes his face on Staci’s jumper.

It had been kept under the bed for emergency purposes; if something were to happen and Jacob became blood hungry, and if Staci needed to protect himself, or if an intruder decided to pick the wrong house.

He gently moves, leaning to grab the stake.

“I need you to kill me.”

“No.”

“I can’t do it myself, my love.”

“You don’t die just ‘cos I am…”

Truthfully, even if Staci had wanted to kill him, there isn’t a chance he would have the strength to do it, to impale the man straight through his heart, through his ribs and through his muscle. He just isn’t capable.

“I can’t… I can’t do this without you.”

“You did it before you knew me…”

“That was different, I didn’t know better! I can’t… I can’t go on without you, knowing what life is like with you.”

Staci shakes his head and waves his hand, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. He moves his head and then can’t settle, his breathing growing somehow more strenuous but weaker at the same time. Jacob lifts himself off of Staci to try and help him, but his face distorts into a nauseous look.

“I feel really sick.”

Jacob sits at the kitchen table, a glass of whiskey on the rocks in front of him, and a cigar in his hand, smoke pooling under the ceiling.

The undertakers came to collect Staci’s body a half hour ago, and now the house is deafeningly silent. They were the most compassionate, respectful people they could have been. Then again, it’s not the sort of career you can have a bad day in.

It’s been a good life. They had married when Staci was 28, two years after they met. Nobody before him had ever made Jacob feel that way; a fresh breath of life, a cocky little attitude he’d never seen on anybody else, and Jesus, the sex… The sex was enough to drive him absolutely mad.

The whiskey burns as it goes down his throat, and his eyes are too sore from crying to be stung by the smoke.

But his heart hurts the most.

The sun is setting over the horizon, the last of the light making it’s way into the meadow before it disappears completely. The sky is purple and gold, Staci’s favourite. He can still smell his aftershave, hear his snores from the bedroom. It’s torture.

The ice clinks in the glass as Jacob finishes off the dregs collected in the bottom, before discarding it into the sink, never to be cleaned. It feels as though he’s on autopilot as he takes the same coat he wore earlier and puts it on his body, retrieving the same keys from the side, opening the same door and letting it close behind him as he walks outside, greeted by the frosty, cold air. He takes a deep breath and holds it in his lungs.

Staci would be 86 in three weeks.

Jacob would be 585 in four months.

A whole 499 years apart, and yet, Jacob has never felt further from him.

The ground crunches under his feet, frozen mud and grass holding it’s shape as he passes over it, making his way to the sunny end of the field.

They had bought this house a week before they got married. They had seen it one day as they had driven past the field, and Staci commented how much he loved it, a small farmhouse in the middle of a meadow, plenty of room for dogs!

And so they made their enquiries and found out it was abandoned long ago, which meant they basically had to rebuild it. And they did; making each room their own and marking their tracks as they went - their hands in dark blue along the left side of the house, contrasted between the light blue they had painted the wood, J + S written on the drive way.

Children were never an option. Jacob couldn’t bare the thought of outliving Staci, never mind children. Instead, they raised dogs, each one living a life full of love and comfort. Jacob wasn’t impressed when a Newfoundland moved in, but he didn’t argue too much.

Staci was estatic.

The meadows stretch on endlessly and border the woodland; they don’t own the woodland, although the trees creating the barrier do technically fall on their land, so every year on their anniversary, they would head up and carve another tally mark.

As Jacob steps into the sunshine, his skin begins to tingle and burn. He’d spent his entire life avoiding the sunlight, hiding in the shadows and confining himself to the indoors until the moon decided to show it’s face.

It fills him with so contempt with his voice, and the warmth on his face feels like Staci is greeting him, his hands on his face and the love radiate from the setting sun, warming him in a way only Staci could.

He traces his hand over the rough bark of the tree, feeling the 49 tally marks under his finger tips, and finishes his cigar, finishing Staci’s last day, finishing his last day. Their last day.

49.

49 years.

49 years of love.

Of warmth.

Of friendship.

Of passion.

Of a love the sort of relationship the universe would never see again.

Of them.

Of Staci.

“You grew up around here? Doing this?”

The world is vibrant and alive, stretching endlessly around them. The sky is the bluest blue it could be, the birds singing, protected from the heat of the midday Summers’ sun by the thick trees hanging overhead, cool shadows casted on the two men.

“Yeah, I was a lucky kid, huh?”

Jacob guffaws, shaking his head and looking around in disbelief, as though he might miss something the second he actually looks where he’s going.

“Damn right you were lucky,” he says, “This is amazing.”

“You never sat on a horse before?”

And it’s quite obvious the answer is no, Jacob is rigid, trying to follow Staci’s instructions down to the mark, whereas Staci is relaxed, one hand on his leg, the other holding the reins, casual and hot.

“Never really got the chance to before, ‘specially as a kid.”

Staci leans down and pats his horse as it cuts through the overgrown undergrowth; he’s riding his dad’s old trusty paint gelding, Fuego, ‘for his fiery spirit!’ His dad had exclaimed, hours before realises that whatever fire had fuelled the horse had burnt out some time ago.

“I’ve always had a soft spot for them. They’re awesome creatures. Kind animals. There’s no other feeling like it, anyway. It’s like your hands connect you to the horse, to nature, to the world around you.” Fuego moves with all the pace of a truck with burst tyres; old legs carrying him and his rider along the trail, even though all he wants to do is eat hay and sleep in the sun. “You missed out.”

“I’m beginning to realise that,” Jacob mumbles, finally looking forward, and then down to the grey mare below him - he thinks her name may have been Stella, but he can’t quite remember.

Staci closes his eyes, taking in deep breaths and soaking in the smells around him - the dirt, the bark of the trees, the fresh air. It’s a luxury like no other, and when life got too hard, too much to cope, it’s here he would sit.

Staci and Fuego.

Fuego and Staci.

Them against the world.

In all of his darkest moments, peace was found in the saddle, reason within the trees, a solution in the sounds of Fuego’s footsteps and the call of the birds. It all came down to here.

Especially when his -

“Stace, you here? Or you on a different planet?”

“Huh? Sorry - I was just -“

“Are you okay?”

Staci swallows.

“Yeah - yeah!”

“No, Staci. Are you okay? With… With everything?”

The younger of the pair tries to take a deep breath but it betrays him, shaking on his exhale, tears stinging his eyes. He sniffles and wipes them before any can fall.

Jacob lets out a soft little laugh - not because it’s funny, but because he knew he was right.

“I thought not,” he says, jabbing Stella with his heels just as Staci had showed him an hour before, spurring the horse into a trot (and making Jacob feel like jelly) and catching up with Staci, so they are riding side by side. He gently reaches and takes Staci’s hand, both of the horses now half off of the path. “I’m here with you, Baby.”

“Sorry,” his voice breaks although it’s still a whimper as Staci uses his other hand to lift his shirt to his eye, immediately wetting the cotton with his tears. “I’m sorry-“

“Shut up, I’ve seen ya cry a thousand times. Only this time it’s a bit more reasonable than crying over that stupid cookie advert,” Jacob rolls his eyes playfully, and then turns his attention back to his husband.

“That advert was just so sad,” Staci sniffles, “He was so left out…”

“Get over it!”

There’s a moment of silence whilst Staci tries to compose himself.

“I just… I never thought it would be this hard. I always thought I would be more prepared…”

“It’s not even been a year yet. Obviously it’s still gonna be tough - it was never gonna be easy,” Jacob’s grip on Staci’s hand tightens, and he squeezes it three times. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’ve been incredible. You’ve been so brave about it all - showing up for your mom when your brother would - couldn’t… It’s admirable. You bottle it all up, so you’re allowed to have your quiet moments.”

“It’s just fucking hard, I miss him so much,” he lets the tears go freely, wetting spots on his dusty pants. “And the only thing left of him is Fuego…”

The horse’s ears prick at the sound of his name and he lets out a little huff, and for some stupid, bizarre reason, it hurts Staci even more. The horse is old now - older than Staci, and Staci was only four when the old trailer rumbled up the drive to their ranch. No other horse could compare to the bombproof paint that stepped off the wagon, using all of his force to pull to the nearest patch of grass.

Staci grew up with the horse, both of them learning the ropes together, Staci from his mom’s old horse that’s no longer with them, and his dad ahead, on trusty Fuego.

The image of his dad on the horse will forever be etched in his mind.

“And this isn’t forever, you know? Fuego is getting old, he’s slowing down - we used to run through these woods, jump over fallen trees, stay overnight by the lake with my dad, with a tent that was just a bedsheet hung between trees, a lantern, a campfire, and that’s it… It was magical. And now… I dunno, when we lose Fuego, that’s it. My last tie to my dad, gone.”

Jacob doesn’t really know how to reply; he had never had any positive relationship with his father, so any tie he had to that man that wasn’t his blood was cut at the first opportunity that came his way. He struggles to understand what it is like to have a good dad, one you would mourn in the way Staci does. He has an expensive bottle of wine tucked away for the day his dad dies.

“Your dad lived a good life,” is the only thing he can think to say, looking away from Staci and down at the saddle. He had met Staci’s dad not long after he and Staci had started dating, and initially, they got off on the wrong foot. “He loved your mom, he loved you, and he loved all of your family. His world was full of love, for the world, for you guys, for his horses. He was loved and he knew that. And he knew you guys would continue to love and be loved - but, Baby, he was ready to go.”

It was a rainy day in mid November when their paths had initially crossed, before Jacob even knew Staci’s dad was, well, Staci’s dad. Jacob had misjudged his braking distance on the sodden roads, and the car in front decided that an amber light is worth slamming the brakes on for.

Needless to say, Jacob telling the other driving to go fuck himself and learn to fucking drive later backfired when he was sat at the other driver’s dining room table later that evening.

Eventually, they laughed about it, and then Jacob became part of the furniture. Neither Staci nor Jacob were treated any differently because of their relationship - Hell, Mr Pratt had shed a tear when Jacob asked him if he could marry Staci.

“When Fuego goes too, your dad will be there for him, waiting,” Jacob tells him, ducking out of the way of a low hanging branch. “And maybe Fuego will live up to his name!”

They both share a laugh because even when he was leaping over fallen trees and galloping through the fields, it was begrudgingly.

“And besides, nothing lasts forever. It’s no good to mourn something before it’s over. Fuego’s only… Twenty something. He’s got a few more years left.”

“Not enough,”

The sound of water lapping against the hull cuts through the quiet of the night, seconded only by the crickets sat on the shoreline, a quiet rambling to the darkness, nobody but the two men, and the horses left on land, as their audience.

“It’s real quiet out tonight,” Staci keeps his voice low as to not disturb the wildlife, but he’s looking up at the sky. His hat is discarded on the seat next to him, only because it almost fell off the first time he looked up. “Look at all the stars up there, sure is pretty.”

The stars look as though they’ve been hand placed in the sky, small twinkles against a dark blue, almost purple backdrop. They flow on endlessly; an ocean of navy, decorated delicately beyond what the eye can see, thousands of lifetimes away, so close, and yet so untouchable.

“My Mama used to tell me that when we die, we become stars,” he tells Jacob, staring at one particular star in the sky. Jacob is rowing the boat slowly to the centre of the lake, his muscles sore from his day at work, but still willing to put the effort in for his Staci. The air smells of still water and algae, musty, but kept fresh by a blow of wind. “She used to tell me that the brightest one was her Pa.”

Jacob hums, partially in acknowledgement, but partially because he never really knows what to say back. In his world, stars are just that; a glowing dot in the sky, something you only see at night. They’re not lost loved ones. They’re not beings from other planets.

They’re just stars, out in the darkness.

Instead, the older man turns his attention to the fireflies by the shore, dancing to the sounds of the crickets and occasionally resting in the longer blades.

“I read in a book once that fireflies are the spirit of fallen soldiers who died in battle. ‘Parently the blue ones mean something too, but I can’t remember.”

“You’ve read a book?” Staci repeats, turning to his lover. Jacob nods the affirmative, although he doesn’t change his facial expression. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Shut up, you act like I’m some sort of idiot.”

“Ah, Jacob who ran away from home as soon as he could provide for himself, got on his daddy’s horse and rode ’til the poor thing was starving, and then worked odd jobs ’til I met him, has read books. Hell, I ain’t even read that many.”

“Ah, sorry, I’m just some dimwit you met on the street.”

Staci turns around with a cheeky smile on his face, and any annoyance that Jacob has dies on the spot - it’s those puppy eyes, big and brown, almost just shadows in the darkness of the night.

He couldn’t put into words how beautiful Staci is. There are no descriptions that Jacob could offer, no comparison, because his Staci isn’t like the most beautiful person. He just is the most beautiful. There’s no amount of money, no amount of land, no amount of anything that would make Jacob even reconsider their relationship. Staci is his everything, he’s the first light of sun in the morning, he’s the sound of the cows out in their pastures as they have a coffee together, he’s the smell of the river they pass by and the cool breeze that blows around them, he’s the snow on the mountains which twinkles in the sun, and the grass in the fields. He is everything. Everything and more. 

“If you don’t close your mouth, you’re gonna catch flies,” he’s yanked from his admiration unwillingly, pulled back into the dark reality. His eyes refocus, but Staci is merely a silohette, outlined by small green bugs, dancing in the background. “Jake? You there? Helloooo…?”

“I love you,” Jacob tells him, as though he hasn’t said it a billion times before. Staci turns around in his seat, and turns to Jacob.

“Well, I know that! I love you, too,” he can hear the smile in his voice, but it doesn’t dampen the growing nausea in Jacob’s stomach. “What’s up-“

“I want you to marry me.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“What?”

The boat wobbles in a sickening way as Jacob leans forward, setting so hes on one knee. He doesn’t have a pretty diamond ring or anything to mark the occasion because frankly, he didn’t think about it until just now. He takes stacis hand, and gazes into his eyes. 

“I love you so, so much. I know we can’t be married like a man and a woman but I want you to be my husband, and I wanna be yours. You ain’t gotta say yes, but… but without you, I ain’t me.”

“Jacob, ger’up will you? You’re gonna tip the boat, stop bein’ silly!”

He didn’t see the white knuckle grip Staci has on the side of the boat, until he lifts his hand and gently bats Jacob on the shoulder.

“I ain’t bein’ silly, I’m being honest. Will you marry me?”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah I’m serious! We don’t have to have a ceremony - what’s mine is yours anyway, ain’t none of that legal stuff matters.”

“My fucking God, you are serious!”

“Of course I am!”

“Oh my God, yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

“I didn’t get you a ring,” but his words are muffled by Staci’s shoulder as he practically barges into him, holding him tightly, both hands wrapped tightly around him and nearly gripping his back. “I’m sorry-“

“Shut up! Oh my God, just shut up! It doesn’t matter! I love you!”

"Go on, look! You're almost there!"

Staci's body aches from the strain, his calfs and biceps complaining with every move. He stretches his fingers out, using the pads to grip onto the rocks, which are just a stretch higher from where he is currently positioned; one leg higher than the other, his bright red face pressed against the cool stone. His skin is a weird mixture of wet from his sweat, beading on his fingertips and his forehead, dripping down past his temples and his cheeks, and dry from the chalk, a futile attempt to improve his grip.

It's not proving very successful.

There is a harness around his waist, made of black, synthetic nylon, squeezing in all the wrong places - tight around his thighs, making every movement more painful, and squeezing his ass in a way that he's sure Jacob is enjoying.

Regardless of that, it's uncomfortable, and he can't wait to get the damn thing off, and to get his feet planted on the floor.

“No long to go, Baby! You’ve got this!”

It isn’t very often that Jacob is encouraging; usually, he just lets things play out, a silent observer from the sidelines. When Staci plays soccer, he doesn’t shout from the side of the pitch, he doesn’t congratulate him when he does well, but he will tell him to be better when he fails. Better. Faster. Stronger. Work harder. Think more.

So for Jacob to be shouting in support, audibly and enthusiastically encouraging Staci, is making his grin grow by the second, even if he’s struggling to keep his grip. His t-shirt is wet through with sweat; dark patches under his arms, along his back, and across his chest.

It’s obvious whose idea it was to go rock climbing.

“I can’t do it!” Staci calls back, his hands shaking as he tries his hardest to maintain his grip, his limbs shaking. “I can’t do it- I’m-I’m gonna fall!”

It’s a roasting hot day, easily in the 100s, and Staci is both dying for a drink and dying for the bathroom. He feels sick, his head swimming with heat and dehydration. His lips taste of salt and everywhere he touches leaves wet prints, even the chalk clumps together on his hands, forming a paste.

“No you’re not - just climb! It’s not that hard.”

“It is that hard! I’ve never done this before,” he pants, and although he tries to hide the fear in his voice, he fails, so decides to just roll with it. “I’m scared, Jacob!”

He swears he can feel the wind on his back, cooling gross, damp skin. An audible groan escapes him as he hoists himself up another metre, his body feeling heavier than ever with the exhaustion that fills his soul. Somewhere in the distance, he thinks he can hear the call of birds.

“I want to come down now,” he says, his voice matching his hands and legs with how it shakes. Staci had jumped at the opportunity when Jacob had suggested a date night activity. When the words rock climbing fell from his mouth, the couple sat in silence whilst Staci’s stomach plummeted and did a somersault on the way down, knowing that whilst he couldn’t really shoot the idea down (given that Jacob rarely suggests dates), his paralysing fear of heights would definitely throw a spanner in the works.

“Jacob! Let me down-“

“You’re so close to the top!” Jacob fishes his phone from his pocket and begins to record Staci, who closes his eyes tight and turns his face away from the camera. He chuckles as he films his partner, but Staci doesn’t find it funny.

“Jacob, please.”

Tears are welling in his eyes as he uses all of his strength to cling to the side of the cliff face, his breathing becoming sharp and hyperventilated.

“One more and then you’re there!” He encourages, but Staci knows that tone, that challenge behind his words. He isn’t encouraging him at all; he’s taunting him, patronising him. “One more, Baby.”

Baby. That isn’t a cute nickname.

That’s an insult.

And it's so, so fucking typical of Jacob. All supportive when Staci is doing what he wants to, and the second Staci shows any sign of not being completely on board or completely happy with what is happening, he starts being a dick.

Staci hesitantly reaches his hand up and grabs the next spot, moving so he’s looking up at where he’s putting his hand. He feels sick. Way too hot. Way too sweaty.

It feels like lifting a tree from the floor, how his leg slowly rises to give him just a tad bit of height, but he misjudges it, and he damn near has a heart attack as his foot slips from it’s position, shifting his weight and making him lose balance, sending him backwards from the cliff face.

It feels like he’s falling in slow motion, the top of the rock slowly growing further away as he falls and falls and falls and -

“Yikes, seriously?”

The padded mat saves him from significant injury, softening the blow, even though his arm is immediately ringing with pain.

“It was one more rock…”

Jacob stands over him, still with his phone in hand, pointed at the younger man who is trying not to whinge about his arm or cry about Jacob forcing him up there.

Staci releases a small grunt of pain as he tries to lift himself off of the floor, to not appear weak on Jacob’s video.

“You know you’re meant to stop me from falling,” he mutters, rubbing his elbow. His arm has taken the brunt of the fall and it feels off. “You’re supposed to save me…”

“How else are you going to learn to be careful?”

Jacob sighs as he puts his phone away, looking to Staci with a disapproving glare, as though Staci is his kid and he's just failed his maths test for the eighth time.

“Guess I wasted my money on rock climbing, then.”

It catches Staci off guard. He quickly looks to Jacob, eyebrows furrowed together.

“What?”

“This. If I had known you’d be such a wuss, I probably wouldn’t have bothered.”

It was your fucking idea, Staci thinks as the rage begins to fill him, starting in his lungs and spreading rapidly to his heart; a cancer he cannot stop. He reaches down with his good arm and begins to fiddle with the buckles around his waist, unfastening to the harness that is still squeezing him too tight and has definitely cut his blood supply off.

“I didn’t even want to do this! I only said yes because it’s literally the only date you’ve ever suggested since we started dating!”

“Not true, I took you to WingStop.”

“Ah, yes, the true gesture of romance. And then you shove it in my face as if you’d taken me to fucking Paris or something. Load of shit.”

It's awkward because the harness isn't really coming off, it jumps slightly every time he yanks on what he thought would be the release, but now he just stands, fumbling with the various books and buckles whilst trying his best to not burst into tears and to just get out of there.

Jacob just watches him.

"Fucking harness!"

His should is much louder than he intended, and it draws the attention of the other patrons of the rock climbing building, and they begin to mutter to each other, sharing awkward glances whilst trying not to look at either Jacob or Staci but still managing to somehow.

"Fucks sake."

"Don't embarrass us," Jacob grunts under his breath, reaching over and yanking a piece of fabric of the harness, releasing it and letting it fall to the floor with a slight jingle of the buckles. Staci steps out of it and looks at Jacob with a fierce fury in his eye, a look that Jacob doesn't think he's seen before.

Still, it doesn't concern him much.

"You always make such a scene."