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Orym watched the contest from across the small room. He sat cross-legged on the edge of the lumpy bed and waited for the inevitable chaos to begin. The group had paid for three rooms at the inn, but most of them were currently crammed into this one. Ashton had set up a flimsy competition space by placing the bed's grey, woolen blanket across the rickety table. Fearne and Dorian sat facing each other, hands clasped, elbows firmly pressed into the blanket.
"Ready? Now, you can't move your elbow this time, that's cheating."
Dorian looked sternly at Fearne's serene face.
"I would never . . . well, maybe I would. But I will try to keep my elbow down."
Aston rolled their eyes.
"Okay, okay. Shut the fuck up and wrestle."
Orym watched Dorian grimace and try to push the faun's arm to the side. Fearne, on the other hand, sat pleasantly regarding Dorian and giving him words of encouragement.
"You're just doing so well."
The calm, breathy phrase was in stark contrast to Dorian's growled "thanks."
This went on for another minute or two; Dorian pushing with all his might and Fearne looking around the room distractedly. Dorian had rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, probably to keep it from getting wrinkled, and Orym subtly watched the muscles of the air genasi's forearm strain under blue skin.
You're doing it again. You're staring. He's going to see you . . . he's going to know. . .
"What'cha thinkin' about?"
Orym was thrust from his thoughts and found himself face to face with Fresh Cut Grass. He shook his head, a small, quick gesture, and focused on the yellow, metallic face in front of him.
"Oh . . . uh . . . nothing. Just watching."
"You seem very intent on the match. Who do you think will win?"
"Oh, I don't know. Fearne, probably."
Orym eyes darted down and were now boring holes in the backs of his hands. He was suddenly very happy he couldn't shoot fire from them. Had FCG seen the way he was looking at Dorian? Would they even know what it implied?
Stop, Orym scolded himself internally, you are a grown man and have the right to feel however you feel. Acting on those feelings is another matter altogether. You can unpack that later. For the time being, pull yourself together!
Orym looked up and smiled at the automaton.
"You gonna' give it a try?"
"Oh no . . . Ashton said I might pull someone's arm off. Accidentally, of course. I don't want to risk it, though. How about you?"
"No, I’m half the size of most of you and not particularly strong. I could probably take Laudna . . . maybe Chetney, although I think he's stronger than he looks . . ."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh." FCG's head bobbed in recognition.
The bed dipped on Orym's left and he tipped toward the sudden movement.
"Fearne is MUCH stronger than SHE looks."
Dorian was shaking out his arm and slowly swinging his head back and forth. Orym shot him a sidelong glance then quickly looked back to the competition area where Ashton had taken Dorian's spot. Orym's heart beat a little faster at Dorian's sudden closeness.
"Okay, Fearne. Let's fucking do this."
Ashton and Fearne began to push against each other. Orym just stared. It gave him a convenient distraction.
Dorian smelled nice, like soap and freshly oiled leather, and Orym relished the scents. He snuck another glance just as Fresh Cut Grass offered to heal Dorian's arm.
"No thanks, Letters. Thank you for the thought, but I should just sit here with my aches. Might keep me from doing something stupid, like challenge Ashton."
Dorian smiled at FCG and patted his thin, metal shoulder.
"Put your fucking elbow down! Ugh - STOP CHEATING!"
Ashton's voice echoed off the walls of the small room and pulled Orym's focus back to the match. He half expected the management to bust through the door and send the group packing.
"Oh, just calm down. We're just having a little fun . . . jeeze. You'd think we bet gold on this or something."
"We DID bet gold on this and you lost because you fucking CHEATED!"
Ashton's face was turning a weird shade of bluish-purple as the cracks in their head started to pulse.
Dorian was up in an instant.
"Okay guys. Let's all just calm down and figure this out together."
Orym watched his blue friend calm Ashton and Fearne, mostly Ashton, and convince them to start again with him as arbitrar. They began, with a few extra expletives from Ashton, but had a peaceful, if rather loud, few rounds of arm wrestling.
Orym's eyes flicked to Dorian every so often and a small, lopsided smile formed on his lips. Dorian was always shunning leadership, but here he was, convincing two textbook definitions of chaos, to work together and not murder each other. It was not too surprising, Orym supposed, that his feelings had intensified so quickly after their initial meeting.
-
Orym woke up with a start. He laid still, breathing heavily, listening for movement. After several tense moments he realized it was the dream that had jarred him awake. The same dream he had had, off and on, for weeks. He sighed, wiped the tears from his eyes and took stock of his surroundings. A familiar furry warmth ran along his back. He was tucked into the backside of Fearne's legs, a position he often found himself sleeping in lately. It afforded comfort and protection. He snuggled tighter against his friend and let himself remember.
The dream had been vivid, as it always was. Will was standing across a field of tall grass. The warm breeze moved the soft, green blades languidly as if they were waves upon the ocean. Will was close enough that Orym could make out his features, see his beautiful face, but far enough away that the words he seemed to be speaking were not audible. He strained to hear his husband's voice again, wanting so badly to make out the sound he had been missing dearly. He would reach out a hand, yelling Will's name, but his ghostly husband never seemed to hear. Orym wanted to run across the field, to hold him again, but his feet were rooted in place. Will's expression didn't change. He just kept calming speaking in a voice Orym couldn’t perceive.
"Please," Orym would beg over and over, "please don't leave me again."
-
Light was starting to penetrate the darkness, filtering in through the room's single, dingey window. Orym took a deep breath and sat up. He looked over the other occupants of the bed. Ashton was on their back, arms and legs akimbo, taking up roughly half the bed space. Fearne was in a loose fetal position in the center, her left arm stretched out across Ashton's solid form. In sleep, the two hardened and mischievous beings looked soft and innocent. Orym's gaze shifted to Dorian. His tall, blue body was stretched out on the thin space left to him. Orym just watched for a moment. Watched the intake of breaths through his mouth and the slight fall of his chest with each exhale. This was a rare opportunity to really study Dorian without everyone watching . . . seeing.
Orym gave himself a moment of contemplation, then got up to start his morning exercises. He began slowly with alternating sets of push ups and sit ups. The room was too small for his full sword form so he opted for burpees instead. Halfway through his second set of twenty he felt something whizz past his head. He looked behind him and saw a leather glove on the floor.
"It is TOO fucking early . . . how are you fucking moving at all? What is wrong with you? Really - I think you need some professional fucking help for your exercise obsession."
Ashton had opened their good eye and was glaring down at him in the sleepiest way possible.
Orym smiled and ducked as the second glove was tossed at his face. He chuckled and went back to his burpees as Ashton flopped back down on the bed.
"Fuck!"
-
The rest of the day went rather smoothly, all things considered. The group was tasked with helping Chetney find his associate, Gurge. Little was known about this Gurge person, just what Chetney had told them, which was vague at best. Ashton had a contact in Jrusar that dealt in knowing things. All sorts of things. They may have had some dealings in some slightly illegal ventures that may or may not have included the trafficking of people throughout the City. While the contact did not know the whereabouts of this Gurge, they did have some solid suggestions on where to begin.
Orym had been tense during the meeting, but his shoulders began to relax at lunch. After the group had eaten, they gathered in one of the rooms for a private conversation.
Imogen cleared her throat and began, "I think we've got a good starting point. Perhaps we should split into two groups this afternoon to cover more ground."
She paused and looked at Orym pointedly.
"Yeah. That sounds like a good plan."
He smiled up at Imogen and gave her a thumbs up.
"Good," she continued. "Laudna, Fearne, Chetney and I will check out the Smolder Spire. Orym, you, Dorian, Ashton and FCG will take the construction guild.
Orym tensed. The idea of exploring the city with Dorian was thrilling and a little daunting. At least Ashton and FCG would be there as buffers. He told himself to relax and smiled up at Dorian.
"You ready for an adventure?"
"Um, sure . . . Why not?"
Not an enthusiastic answer, but not a brush off either.
Ashton stared at the two men, shook their head and gave a little snort.
"Okay fuckers, let's do this."
-
Traveling through the busy city with a blue and a green genasi and a bright yellow automaton was not exactly a stealthy enterprise. Orym tried his best to ignore the looky-loos and focus on their task.
His group was following a lead that took them directly to the local construction guild. From what little they gleaned from Chetney, Gurge was a woodworker too. He may have found work in the field to make ends meet, even temporarily.
Ashton and FCG had been in Jrusar for a while and navigated their little band to the construction guild headquarters with ease. On the way, Orym took the opportunity to check in with Dorian; see what he thought about this whole plan.
"Oh, um . . . I don’t know. I'm just following along, if I'm being honest. Not sure this'll lead to anything, but it's worth a shot. I would be lost without you . . . and Fearne. I know I would be very appreciative of any help in finding you if we were separated."
Dorian shot Orym a lopsided smile and Orym's heart stopped, just for a moment, as he took in the glorious sight.
This. This was enough, for now. Orym was with friends. Good friends. He smiled to himself and followed his friends into the guild headquarters.
They didn't get much information. Someone might have seen a guy matching Gurge's description a few days ago, but that was it. The small group made their way back to the inn for dinner. Orym hoped the other group had better luck.
-
Night had come and Orym snuggled into Fearne and breathed in her Earthy musk. As he slowed his breath and calmed his mind he imagined himself lying on his back on a bed of soft, fragrant moss. He could picture the tiny bugs and worms going about their nightly routines, completely ignoring the tired halfling dozing on their land. The fantasy was simple, but relaxing. Orym was asleep on the inn's crowded, lumpy bed within minutes.
The transition to the recurring dream caught Orym off guard. He was plucked from the calming bed of moss and was thrust into the familiar grassy field in a matter of moments. The switch was abrupt and disorienting. He shook his head to clear his thoughts but kept his eyes squeezed shut, trying to delay the inevitable pain that came with seeing Will.
"Orym."
Orym froze at the sound of his name. His name being called in his husband's voice. His head shot up and his eyes flew open simultaneously. As was always the case with this dream, Will stood across the field, calmly looking at Orym. But this time it was different. This time Orym could hear Will's voice.
Maybe other things were different too. He experimentally lifted his left foot and was thrilled to find it raised with ease. He began to run forward as fast as he was able. While the grass was only about waist high on Will, it was at eye level for Orym. He used his hands to push a path through the grass as his legs moved gracefully over the uneven soil. The green blades slapped his face and arms but he didn't care. He was almost to Will.
"Will! Will!"
Orym shouted as he ran. His words labored as he fought for more breath. He could see the edge of the field before him. Will stood just beyond the tall grass, hands at his side, a small smile on his face. Orym charged into Will and threw his arms around his husband's waist. Tears ran down his cheeks as he looked up into the face missed so deeply.
"You're real . . . I - I can feel you."
Orym sputtered as he wiped his cheeks with his forearm.
"How? Why?"
"I'm not sure."
The serene expression didn’t leave Will's face as he looked down at Orym. He tilted his head to the side as if in thought. His eyebrows knit together.
"I think you're doing this. I think you're finally ready to move on."
Orym pulled back and looked up at Will's face in horror.
"No! I will never forget you! Not as long as I live."
Orym pressed his face back into Will's stomach, sobbing loudly. Will reached down and smoothed Orym's hair.
"No, Love. We will always be with each other. Big moon, little moon. You and me . . . forever. I just meant that maybe you're ready to let someone else into your heart. Not to replace our love, but to form new connections. New loves. I think a heart, your heart, is capable of infinite love, you just have to be open to it."
Orym pressed his cheek harder against the now solid form he clung to. His husband . . . his Will. A familiar clean scent wafted over him. Will's large hand caressed his hair. He felt home, safe. But he knew it was a dream. He knew he couldn't stay here, as much as he wanted to. He knew he had to continue to live. For Will. For himself.
Orym pulled his head back and looked up, sniffling a little.
"I will love you forever . . . but maybe . . . maybe you're right. Maybe I could have some feelings for - for him too."
Will's mouth spread into the wide smile that Orym loved.
"I'll be right here Love, whenever you need me."
Then blackness.
-
Orym blinked and shifted against Fearne's legs. He was back on the small, lumpy bed. Back to his life.
Orym had been alone for a while after Will. He had needed the space. But he was in a different head space now. Better. He was ready, he suddenly realized, to move forward with his life. This group, these new friends, had helped him with this realization. Dorian had helped him.
He smiled to himself and thought of Will. Maybe he could talk to him, from time to time, even if it was just in his dreams. Give him updates on his life. Orym wondered if Will would age or stay just as he was. He'd have to wait and see.
Orym was so caught up in his thoughts he was almost crushed as Fearne flopped over in her sleep. He managed to scoot his small form out of the way as two fir covered legs slammed down onto the space he had occupied. He now found himself horizontally splayed, face up, across Dorian's bare calves.
It was an uncomfortable position to lay in but he didn't move immediately. He felt like a teenager with a crush as his back literally tingled where it was pressed against Dorian's legs. After a moment of indulgence, he slid to the side and laid on his back between Dorian and the edge of the bed.
Orym's last thought, as he drifted off to sleep, was of Will. He would have liked Dorian.