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Courfeyrac stood solemnly on the island, staring out to sea. Involuntarily, his hand drifted to the place on his forehead where the prisoner who’d washed up on his shores almost six years ago had placed the sweetest of kisses.
He had tried and failed for the past six years to forget ‘Ferre, to live the island life as he had before. It was no use. Whenever he was at ease, his subconscious would fire neurons in his brain to picture the man with his dark, lean body and eyes like molten chocolate hidden behind thin frames of spectacles. With each memory, he felt a longing like no other.
Courf was something of a hopeless romantic. In the watery depths of his mind, he believed that Combeferre would return to that forsaken island and take him to a land where the two of them could be happy to love one another just as they were. He tried to talk himself out of the idea. The odds were against them. It couldn’t be possible.
But the yearning persisted.
Courfeyrac began to hum a simple tune, doing whatever he could to distract himself from thoughts of Combeferre.
He busied himself with the task of collecting food, careful to avoid crabs of any kind. Don’t ask him why, because it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Combeferre once promised him that they would one day have pet crabs. No, it had nothing to do with that at all.
Suddenly, Courfeyrac heard the faint sound of a foghorn in the distance. His head jerked up to catch a brief glimpse of a silhouette. A shadow of… a ship?
It couldn’t possibly be. Hadn’t Courfeyrac spent almost a year imagining ships in order to rid himself of delusions? (The Answer: YES)
Why was he fooling himself now?
Then he heard a cry from where he was imagining the ship to be, only the ship was drawing nearer and appeared to be more than a mere figment of his imagination with every second.
“What… what is…” he couldn’t help but mumble.
As the ship barreled in closer, Courfeyrac was able to inspect it more thoroughly. It wasn’t very large, perhaps it couldn’t even be called a ship. It was just a boat, not a dinghy, but a small boat nonetheless. The figurehead of said boat was… an angel? He presumed so based on the descriptions that Combeferre had given him of an angel years ago: ethereal women with wings and a life preserver over their head that marked that they belonged to heaven. Honestly, he didn’t see the appeal.
At the bow of the boat, there was a man. Through the unfiltered sunlight it was hard to make out what the man looked like, but Courfeyrac’s heart was already flopping about in his ribcage with every moment.
Could it be? No, that was impossible.
Still, a part of him dared to hope.
Suddenly, the boat was docking on the island and Courfeyrac darted behind a pathetic piece of shrub to observe (read: hide from) the mysterious man.
The man then quite literally hopped off of the boat and Courfeyrac’s heart stopped.
It was him. He was here. Now. And somehow just as handsome, if not more.
Combeferre stood tall and majestic in contrast to the island scene around him with his dark skin and perfectly tousled hair that fell in little waves on his head. He surveyed the area around him serenely, and Courfeyrac was shivering.
In his panic, he forgot that the shrub he was hiding behind, truly was pathetic and as soon as he started shaking in awe, the damn thing started rustling. A sly smirk came to Combeferre’s face then as he walked over to the little bush until he was quite literally towering over Courfeyrac.
“Hi,” the bespectacled man breathed.
Courfeyrac let out a sob and launched himself into Combeferre’s arms, pressing their lips together for the first time, delirious and uninhibited. Luckily, ‘Ferre wrapped his arms around the other’s waist pulling him closer. Courfeyrac threaded his fingers into those lovely, lovely locks while Combeferre explored his lips deeper.
When they finally pulled apart, panting and breathless, Courfeyrac couldn’t help but rub his thumb tenderly across Combeferre’s jawline. “You’re really here?” he breathed.
Combeferre nodded, grinning.
Courf threw his arms around Combeferre’s neck, pulling him down for another kiss. “I missed you so much.” The taller man murmured against Courfeyrac’s lips.
“I missed you too.”
“6 years, can you believe it?”
“I don’t want to.”
“So,” Combeferre started. “I found a place.”
Courfeyrac smiled hopefully. “Yeah?”
“A place with two queens. Homosexuality is not only allowed there, it’s encouraged!”
Courfeyrac’s mouth fell open. “Really?”
Combeferre nodded, kissing the smaller man’s temple.
The two of them stayed like that for a while, too in love to care that they were still standing or that the boat was waiting for them… until they heard a squawk.
Courfeyrac jumped out of Combeferre’s arms to come face to face with a fowl friend: a pale white chicken on the sand.
“Um, ‘Ferre? Who is this?” Courfeyrac inquired, clinging to his lover.
Combeferre shrugged. “I call her Gertrude. She kind of just… appeared in the boat. She scares me so… we just accept her I guess.”
Courfeyrac nodded solemnly, “Alright then.” And kissed Combeferre once again.
He was going home.