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It’s not often he gets a moment of peace.
The radio plays a remix of glass crashing against various surfaces, volume turned down to be background noise. Donovan sat by the flower garden, scraping chalk against the bricks. He already drew two suns and is currently working on a centipede, switching between orange and brown chalk. Charles lounged on the porch bench, a glass of peach tea sitting on a small table beside said bench. From the brief glimpses Kevin caught, he was reading either a murder-mystery novel or fun rituals to perform on Friday nights.
Kevin tapped his nails against his plastic cup of peach tea, sitting on the edge of said bench. The ice cubes inside bump against each other. Donovan finished his centipede drawing and moved onto drawing planes, his hands getting stained with white chalk. Charles took a sip of tea and turned a page. The weather continues to play.
He wonders how long this moment will last. Kevin took another glance at the page Charles’ was on; something about a giant archive of dangerous and unknown creatures. Charles picked up his glass again, taking a sip through the curly straw. The sides of the glass dripped with condensation. Kevin reached over and drew a little smiley face, smiling as Charles giggled and made his own smiley face next to his. He set the glass back down on the table and continued to read, Kevin turning his attention back to Donovan. The kid was coloring a brick yellow, chewing on his sun pendant.
Kevin wonders how long this peace will last. He prays it lasts forever. He wishes it lasts today. He hopes it lasts for at least another half hour.
“Sunshine?” He blinked, feeling Charles’ hand on his shoulder. “Are you feeling alright?” Charles asked, hand moving to rest on the back of his neck, right above the spine. His thumb made little circles, easing his racing mind a little.
“I’m cheery as always!”
“Are you sure?” Kevin tilted his head, Charles sitting up. “Your cup.” Glancing down, Kevin realized he was crushing the plastic cup, tea spilling all over his hands and ice cubes hitting the porch floor.
“Oh, oh shoot-”
“It’s okay, don’t worry.” Charles slid a bookmark (a centipede leg painted gold, courtesy of Kevin) into the page, set the book down, and went inside, emerging with some paper towels. Kevin wiped his hands off as Charles threw the plastic cup out, got a new cup, and filled it with peach tea. Sitting back down, he held the cup to Kevin. “What’s wrong?” There’s the pinging in the back of his head to say happy again, that everything is sunshine as always. Part of him wants to tell Charles to go back to reading, the peace was so much nicer than this tension. Part of him knows Charles wouldn’t do that, or even if he did, the peace would be very awkward. It doesn’t feel good to lie. It especially doesn’t feel good to lie to Charles.
“... Thinking.” Kevin admitted, staring at the ice cubes in his cup. There’s less than last time.
“What are you thinking about?”
“How long this is going to last.” He stirred the cubes with his nail, said nail a chipped yellow.
“What do you mean?” Charles rested a hand on his arm. A welcome reminder he’s there.
“This.” Kevin tried to gesture to Charles, Donovan, the porch, the weather, the air, the tea, and the warm sun. He isn’t sure how to gesture the feeling of peace and content. Charles seems to understand anyways, he always does.
“Why are you worried?”
“History. My history isn’t exactly the most… peachy, as you know.” Kevin laughed a little, raising his cup. “Hehe, peachy, get it?” They both know ‘not peachy’ is a gross understatement, but Charles still smiles to the joke. His laugh trails off and he drinks; Charles’s peach tea is always delicious. “I just… feel like something bad is going to happen.” He sighed. It still feels weird to not be smiling. There is still the itch to pull his lips back to his ears because he is not smiling. “Something that will make me very, very unhappy again.”
“Is it like a heavy, dreadful weight in your ribs?” Exactly. Well, it was also a dull sting around his throat, but Charles ran a thumb over the back of his neck again and the stinging eased up a bit.
“Mmhmm.” Kevin stirred around two small cubes. “Sometimes, it feels like my skin wants to jump out from underneath.” He usually welcomes the sensation of bugs on his skin. Right now, he doesn’t. As much as he wants to go scratching and digging for the itch, he knows it’s only going to result in sitting in the bathroom getting bandaged up by a worried Charles. He sets the cup down on the porch floor.
“I’m sorry you feel like that, sunshine. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“... Can you hug me?” Charles immediately pulled him into a hug, squeezing. Kevin buried his face in his shoulder, clinging onto the back of his shirt. They remained like that for a while, Kevin waiting for the itching sensation to go away. It gradually crawls away, though the heavy, dreadful weight remains. He pressed his forehead against Charles’s shoulder. “It doesn’t feel real. That I can live like this.” He mumbled. To be so happy, so perfectly naturally happy. “I feel like the other shoe is going to drop at any moment. Like an invisible, ticking countdown.” If he looks into the sky, he half expects to see a giant stopwatch.
“Hm…” Charles drew back, just enough to rest his forehead against Kevin’s. Kevin swore that Charles’s eyes had highlights of gold, only visible when they are this close. He thinks that if the undersides of his eyelashes are tinted gold, it would bring out said shine more. “What if we get a motion sensor for the house? If there are any unwanted guests, we will know right away.”
“That…” Kevin blinked. “Can we? Would you mind?”
“Desert Bluffs Too is a lovely town, but it’s always good to have some security!” Charles fished his phone out, pulling up the calendar. “We can go to Home Depot next Tuesday and look at what they have. Does that sound good?” Kevin smiled, nodding.
“That sounds fabulous.” He watches Charles schedule Tuesday. He picks up the cup again, noting that the cubes are now all melted. He drinks; still delicious. “... Can we lie down together?”
“Of course, c’mere.” Charles shifted and returned to his lounging position. Kevin lied down between him and the back of the bench, their legs tangled together. He set his cup next to Charles’s glass.
Resting his head in the crook of Charles’s neck, warmth bloomed in his chest as Charles ran his hand through his hair. Donovan has moved onto singing with the centipedes, rocking back and forth cross-legged to match their swaying. Kevin makes a mental note to ask the kid if he’d like to join the church choir. The weather has changed to the sound of countless sand particles slipping through narrow gaps. Kevin buried his nose against Charles’s skin and took a deep breath. Charles smells like old wood, parchment papers, wax, and tea. He smells like a cozy home.
“You feeling alright, dear?” He can feel Charles’s throat vibrate as he talks. Kevin smiled and took another deep breath, nodding.
“I’m okay.” He feels Charles kiss the top of his head.
He doesn’t know how long this peace will last. He still feels the heavy dread sitting in the back of his head, that this will be torn away from him.
Donovan ran up to them, clothes covered in chalk powder and fingers a variety of colors. When he pats the peach tea pitcher, it leaves behind some yellow chalk powder on the glass. Both of them don’t really care. Charles poured a cup while Kevin reached over and ruffled his hair, Donovan giggling. He took his cup and sat down on the porch steps, drawing little suns on the railing. Charles carded his fingers through Kevin’s curls, turning a page and taking a sip of peach tea.
Kevin takes another deep breath. He’s okay. This is okay. This and other moments of peace is and will be okay.
“Want some?” Charles offered the curly straw, Kevin taking a few sips. The sweet peach taste lingers on his tongue, lingering even longer as Charles kissed him, smiling and setting the glass back on the table.
It’s not often he gets a moment of peace, but he thinks he can get used to it.