Chapter Text
Charles Leclerc, a young, up and coming singer, was tired. Tired of a life which had turned out much more bothersome than he had hoped for.
Yes, he still loved writing songs and singing to people, but the writing part was getting harder and harder as he was getting less and less time to himself.
There seemed to be people around wherever he went now. Even in his small apartment, tucked away in an anonymous building in an anonymous street, his manager Esteban or one of his band members seemed to always be with him.
Charles hated it.
He needed a clear head to write, a calm place where no one could find him.
And it was his best friend Pierre who came with the solution.
"There is a small cottage just outside the city. The closest neighbour is kilometres away and all you can see from there is trees and fields." Pierre had told him, slamming a picture of a small wooden house onto Charles's coffee table. "I rented it for you for a whole year. Get out of it for now. Tell your fans you need to work on new music. Find yourself." His friend had added worriedly. Charles peeked over his shoulder to where Esteban was talking to someone on the phone.
"I'm supposed to have some concerts in summer though…" he muttered. Pierre sighed.
"Charles, you're tired. And you're not having fun anymore. You need a break." He whispered. "I'll explain it all to Esteban as well."
Charles stayed quiet.
A whole year to himself? A whole year to reconsider what he was doing and who he was?
A whole year of the calmness and silence he needed to write new songs?
Charles took the picture from Pierre with trembling fingers.
"Visit me?" He asked. Pierre smiled and kissed his forehead.
"Of course."
~~~~~~
The house was just like the pictures. It was a small, cosy looking build with a small bedroom, a living room/kitchen and a basic bathroom to top it of. At the far end of the plot, large, green trees formed a dense forest, and the more Charles looked at the shadows the trees formed, the more it looked like there was something moving between the trunks.
At the front of the house, the plot sloped down into a steep hill, the surface covered in soft, dark soil ready for seedling to sprout through.
Charles spent his first day going as deep in the forest as he dared, and walking down part of the hill to a large pond, which, according to the flyer, was perfect for swimming.
The water was clear, and Charles could see small, orange fish darting around near the bottom.
Charles sat down with his feet in the water, the gentle spring wind warming him enough to do so.
He made a mental note to thank Pierre for finding this place, as it already felt like the right place to find his peace again.
He reluctantly left the premises to drive down to the market for some supplies, and made sure to buy enough for multiple days.
He knew it would be hard to ever leave this place again.
~~~~
It was on his 7th day at the cottage that something very strange happened.
Charles was outside, having dragged a wooden table and chair down to the pond to sit and write at the water’s edge, when he got the distinct feeling he was being watched. He turned to find a young man further down hill, the man bent over slightly as he dragged his fingers through the soil. Charles was unsure if maybe this was the carer of the fields, but nothing such had been advertised and he thought it would be better to investigate.
“Excuse me.” Charles spoke up as he left his seat and neared the man. The man looked up and smiled brightly. The man, who was younger than Charles had first thought, had large blue eyes framed by long lashes and thick, unruly hair that curled slightly and messily fell over his forehead. He was dressed in dark green dungarees and a shirt so bright orange it almost blinded Charles. His feet were bare though, and covered in soil, as were his fingers.
“Are you the caretaker here?” Charles asked as the man stayed silent, eying him curiously. The young man shrugged.
“In a way.” he said. “But not only here.” he added vaguely. Charles frowned.
“I see.” he muttered. The young man straightened, wiping his hand on his pants a little to get the worst of the dirt off before stretching it out in Charles’s direction.
“I’m Spring.” he said. “But my name is Lando.” he added.
It was possibly the weirdest introduction Charles had ever heard.
“I’m Charles.” he said, clasping the man’s hand in his. Lando smiled.
“I know.” he said simply. Charles didn’t take too much mind of it, figuring the man knew his songs. There was, however, still one thing that bothered him.
“You’re Spring? As in the season?” he asked with a frown. Lando beamed brightly.
“You catch on quickly.” he praised, before frowning slightly. “Although you don’t believe me.” he added, seeming disappointed. Charles felt rather guilty, even though there was no way this man was speaking the truth.
“How can someone be Spring?” he asked despite himself. Lando smiled.
“Like this.” he said, pointing at his own chest. Charles frowned.
"And let me guess, your siblings are Summer, Autumn and Winter?” he asked. Lando’s smile widened.
“Yes! Who told you?” he said. Charles blinked, at a loss for words. Lando pouted a little, then took Charles’s hand and pulled him further along the field.
“I can prove it.” he said, tugging Charles down until they were both knelt in the soil. Lando let go of Charles’s hand, and Charles frowned again when he saw a handful of seeds on Lando’s palm now.
“Where did those-” he started off. Lando shushed him, digging small holes in the soil and placing the seeds down in them with the utmost care.
“Get some water.” he said, holding out a small cup to Charles. Charles headed to the pond and filled the cup as asked, returning it to Lando’s waiting hands moments later. Lando tipped a few drops over each seed, now covered with the lush soil.
Up until then, it had mostly seemed like a normal gardening job, but then Lando gently touched the soil, and Charles watched in awe as the seedlings already broke through.
“I’m Spring.” Lando said again.
And this time, Charles believed him.
~~
After that, Lando visited Charles every day, the young man showing Charles a variety of plants and teaching him the names of the fish in the pond. Charles wrote more songs than ever before, about new life and warm air, of orange scales and green leaves, but most of them felt too intimate to share.
He played one for Lando one evening, just the two of them sitting next to the lake, Charles strumming gently on his guitar as they watched the sun set into the valley. When Charles was done, Lando grabbed onto his hand and smiled.
“Spring teaches us about the start of something new.” he said. “It teaches us that even the smallest seedling can grow into something big when you treat it right.” he added. Charles sighed, letting himself fall back into the grass to stare up at the red and pink sky. He felt Lando lay down next to him, Spring taking his hand again.
“Sometimes it’s okay to need a new start.” Lando said wistfully. Charles rolled on his side to face him, gently brushing a finger over Lando’s freckled cheek and chuckling as Lando scrunched his nose up a little.
“Thank you.” Charles said, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of Lando’s nose. Lando’s smile softened, and the young man wiggled closer until his head was resting on Charles’s chest.
“The first day of summer is only a month away.” he said. Charles sighed.
“Does that mean you’ll be leaving then?” he asked. Lando nodded against Charles’s shoulder.
“In a way. I’ll still be present in a way. But not in this form. Not until next year.” he explained. Charles pressed a kiss to Lando’s messy hair.
“I’ll miss you then.” he whispered. He was surprised as to how much he had gotten attached to the young man over the last few weeks. Lando touched Charles’s cheek.
“I’ll miss you too.” he whispered. “But I know my brothers will take care of you.” he added. Charles hummed.
“They’ll show up like you did?” he asked. Lando nodded.
“I expect them too… Although Winter isn’t really a people’s person.” he said. Charles smiled.
“I look forward to meeting them.”
~~~~~
On the last day of Spring, Lando arrived even earlier than usually. Charles still hadn’t gotten a clear answer on where Lando was during the long evenings, and had given up trying to figure it out.
He was just glad when the young man came to visit.
Lando seemed a little sad that day, staying closer to Charles than he usually did. Charles was reluctant to see Lando go as well, but decided to push those feelings aside for now. Instead, he spent a long time chasing Spring through the fields, the two of them laughing uncontrollably when Charles had slipped and fallen on his ass next to the seedlings Lando had planted the first day they’d met.
“Oh no…” Charles said, when he saw one of the seedlings’ leaves were drooping. Lando sighed sadly, stroking the leaves as if he was stroking a pet. His fingers then curled around the little plant’s base and he swiftly tugged it out from the soil.
“It’s okay.” Lando whispered, still stroking the small leaves. “Not all of us can make it. But you put up a fight.” he whispered to the plant, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss to it before tucking the seedling into the pocket of his dungarees.
“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Charles blurted out when he realised the sun had started to set. Lando seemed surprised but then nodded.
“I’d like that.”
That night, Charles and Lando cuddled close together, huddled under the thin duvet on Charles’s bed. Charles tried to stay awake for a long time, but the more Lando’s hand gently carded through his hair, the harder it was becoming to keep his eyes open.
“Shh, it’s okay.” Lando whispered. “I’ll see you next year.” he added more softly, his voice getting more hoarse. Charles sniffled.
“Don’t go.” he whispered. Lando’s lips pressed against his forehead.
“This is not a goodbye.” Lando said gently. “I’ll be back. When the first seedlings break through the soil, you can find me here, or in any place where nature is untainted.” he explained.
Charles’s eyes started to droop shut now, but he desperately fought against the sleepiness threatening to overtake him. Lando’s lips now pressed over his in a soft kiss. Charles kissed back, clutching Lando close.
“Sleep now.” Lando whispered against his mouth. “I will be back. I promise.”
Charles could no longer fight off the sleep now, and his eyes fell closed.
He dreamt of new grass, of baby birds crawling out of their eggs and the sun gently warming up the soil. He dreamt of Lando’s smile, of his bright eyes and his freckles, and of Lando’s lips over his.
And when Charles woke up, Lando was gone.
The only reminder Charles had of him were the plants growing steadily in the yard, and a small, dried seedling resting on the pillow next to his own.