Work Text:
The sun danced in divits of trotting water as worms in rain-- they are happy of the new fall, squirming in delight of puddles. The river water is warm, the heat of late July bubbling from the oven burner of forgotten stones.
Pelle's hair had seemed to glow, light circling atop his head in a haloed aroma; the pale fuzz that lined his legs and face usually visible, Øystein had noticed. He seemed so pretty, the sun filling his pores with burning adoration.
His frail body curled atop a rock, pale eyes mellowed and intent-- almost melted and green in the sun-- fixated on the cod that writhed beneath the membrane of a portal, the thin waterline between life and other. And when Øystein thought his stomach couldn't get any warmer, he had looked at him, turning his head and resting it on his folded knees, warm cheeks pulling with a softly fond smile.
And he had smiled back. A more deep, oceanic blue hooking on the cornflower his eyes held, his dark eyebags crinkled and content. He'd held his hand out to him, palm open and welcoming, fingers curling around the rope tethered to his ribcage, tugging him closer. "C'mere," he had said.
An arm wrapped around his flanks when he got close enough, the water current heavy and splitting around his calfs, Pelle had pulled him to sit between his legs. The the rock was just big enough for the two of them.
Pelle rested his cheek on his sticky shoulder, his chest connecting to his back, sweat welding their bodies together-- if they were to try and pull apart it would be like ripping a mouse from a sticky trap.
Their atoms have become one.
The oceanic hush of the leaves battling tapped their ears, the rare quick breeze of the summer was always a lovely surprise. The everfalling glow of the sun started to cool the plaque it bestowed upon. Øystein sighed contently, pulling his eyes from the writhing fish to rest his head on his others shoulder, eyes near blinded at the clear dusk of the sky, no clouds could be seen, just the occasional dotting of slowly appearing stars. It was mind numbing.
Pelle's arms were warm around his waist, almost too warm; his lips leaving a burning trail when he dragged them to his neck, each kiss felt like he was being branded. Claimed for own. Øystein had let his head fall away to grant him more room, eyes fluttering shut with a happy sigh when he is rewarded with a harsh bruise beneath his jaw.
Sneezewort and fluttered dandelions sway with the hush of lips, they dance and jump in the wind, the mothers soothing shushes cradle them to new re-birth. Hares nestle under a cavern of grass, a laugh and tease would be told to him, pointing out their similarities.
Who am I if not are you? Veins like roots and mind flowing with the leaves. So inhuman, not even meat, just the dirt, earth and trees. Is that all we are? Could it be?
"Hey, look over there," Pelle points out, fingers gesturing to a hollow clearing of bushes; a hare poking it's head out, little nose twitching as it sniffs around.
Øystein's eyes follow, an eyebrow raising. "Yeah, and? What about it?"
Pelle rolls his eyes, chin sharp on his trapezoid, arms loose around his waist. "It looks like you." He smiles. Øystein scoffs, but he can't help the little smile that twitched at his own lips.
"My sweet bunny," Pelle coos teasingly. Snickering when Øystein grumbles.
The sun waved her blaring arms in greeting, welcoming them to new life of ardour, she smiles and beams in delight. She's quite knowing of the cycle of endless despair, but are they?
The river has a calming aura to it, it engulfs them, holds them tight in a womb of saccharinity. Pelle's doting had led to rough kissing, and rough kissing led to them sliding off the rock. The water cascading above and returning to earth like rain on pots.
A playfull splash was guided Pelle's way when he laughed at Øystein for whining about the stones under his back, Pelle pushing him into them with more feverish kisses, even after they fell into the water. He had to hold Øystein's face up to keep water from entering his nostrils, Øystein's own hands slippery with their grip on his shoulders.
Pelle had coughed and sputtered, hands coming up to wipe the water from his eyes, he had vaguely heard the jostling spashes of water and when he opened his eyes again he had pinned it on his other. Øystein stood just a few feet before him, wicked grin plastering his face as he kicked water at him. Squealing when Pelle splashed him back.
There was something childlike about it, playing together in the river, they'd felt free and joyous. There was nothing to worry about there, no unreliable bandmates, no finance issues, no weary side glances when he and Pelle had gotten too close and touchy; it was just them and mother earth, and she was none to judge.
Øystein tried to duck when Pelle came hurling toward him, although slowed against the current his long legs plowed through faster than his stubby ones could. He'd full on football tackled him into the mud bay, Øystein's eyes shooting open with a high wheeze when his back slapped against the ground.
Pelle's hands we're balled against his shoulders, chest sucking in heavy breaths then pushing them out, skin tight against his ribs, his hair shook with a laugh and Øystein's cheeks rounded with his own.
Birds cock their head from trees, crows and ravens whispering to the sparrows and sterlings of the odd newcomer, they'd seen the blonde before but not the other.
Pelle had come down here once or twice, stumbled upon it how many months ago and let the sky clear his head. He'd thought it would be nice to show his other his findings on such a hot day like today. Øystein had beed delighted, but it didn't take much to win him over in genral. Pelle had found his excitement so sweet anyway, their hands intertwined as they walked through a coward cloven dirt path.
Where the sun meets the river and where the trees stand tall, may you hold the moon in the palms of your hands and the sun in the sclera of your eye. May the treeline glow with the everfalling set of day and rise with the beam with the night. For far fall and sheer of all, shall it never get in your way.