Strength Through Progress

Waves

                                                    THROUGH

     “Wonder what this could be,” Ezra remarks with a smile, as he slides a finger under the gift tape. He likes his ratty old black hat, but it’s been rained on, thrown around, crushed under his coats. But this one’s nice. Looks like his old one, without the scuffs. 

     Ezra turns it over, and a note falls out and into his hand. Oh. The gold ink is a nice touch, makes it seem like it’s to a fancy uptown restaurant, rather than their kitchen. But to be fair, their kitchen is Ezra’s favorite eatery. 

     He throws the hat atop Jayce’s head, and with a grin, pulls him down for a kiss. He finds Jayce’s hand in his, and pulls away, pressing his forehead into Jayce’s chest. It hides his flushed cheeks.

→ ACTION / REACTION. (accepting)

     “There you are.” 

     The balcony door slides open, and Ezra walks over to his husband, one arm wrapping around him as he stands at his side. The summer evening is warm and clear, and above them, where Jayce is looking, the stars are coming into view. 

     Ezra kisses along his jaw, then his lips. With a content hum, he rests his head against Jayce’s shoulder, eyes glancing up at the night sky. His hand finds Jayce’s, and intertwines their fingers together. He gazes up, too, quiet and calm. He has learned to accept these moments as his life, not just a rare and fortunate part of it. It’s taken years, but Ezra finally feels as though he fits into the world, can stand in it without feeling cramped or twisted. 

     He takes a breath, and turns his head, pressing his nose into Jayce’s shoulder. He smiles.

Walt Whitman, “Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking”, Leaves of Grass

     Ezra’s never been good at receiving gifts, either— he dislikes when people look at him for that long, gauging his reaction to see whether or not he appreciates the present. He doesn’t mind it so much from Jayce, but it still makes him nervous, as he holds the wrapped gifts in his hands, feeling their weight. 

     He guesses the first gift is a stack of books before he even unwraps it, though it doesn’t take away from the enjoyment as he realizes he’s right. Ezra separates each book, reading the titles, running a thumb through the pages. His tension drops as easily as a coat from his shoulders, and he smiles, head lowered, almost embarrassed. 

     The second gift seems like two gifts in one. It has the weight of a book, but it’s larger than any traditional fiction, and a smaller box on top. He’s gotten this sort of present for several years, from his parents, so it’s probably a sketchbook and charcoals. When he unwraps the paper, he’s proved right.

     They’re thoughtful gifts. Simple, and it makes Ezra’s heart glow. He sets down the sketchbook with the remnants of the wrapping paper, and leans against Jayce’s shoulder, finding his hand.