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the gravekeeper’s hands tremble, and he grips his shovel tighter in an attempt to calm down. It’s late at night, and the stars seem to smile down at him as they twinkle in the sky. There’s a new moon, and though the lack of the moon makes the sky feel emptier, it somehow makes the glow of the stars brighter.
A surprisingly cold wind ruffles his hair as he waits, sending red and orange autumn leaves flying. With a sigh he leans further against the half broken fence of the graveyard, propping his shovel against it as well. He likes the autumn, the temperature is just right. In the summer the sun is harsh on his skin, and the nights feel much too clammy. Winter is fine. It’s cold, a little too cold for his liking (it makes his nose all runny), but everything is so pretty, even if it’s all a little bleak and white. Spring he loves as well, it reminds him of his mother, of when life was simpler.
“Andrew!” A quiet voice was heard to the gravekeeper his right, and he turns almost immediately, a small but genuine smile finding its way onto his lips as he recognizes the voice. “Victor,” he replies with a small nod, stepping away from the fence, his tone warm and gentle as he adresses the postman jogging up to him. “I almost thought you wouldn’t come,” Andrew lightheartedly hums, his once tense shoulders relaxing.
Victor’s face twists into one of guilt, a wavering “I’m sorry!!” leaving his lips. The postman had been running, that much was clear. His freckled cheeks are tinted red and a sheen of sweat is visible on his brow. “I really really am sorry,” he hastily continues as he slows his step, standing next to Andrew with a warm yet tired smile. “Someone called in sick, and they needed the extra help,” Victor explains as he pats down his clothes, ridding it of any imaginary filth.
Andrew just snorts out a short laugh, to which Victor replies by hitting his arm, only making Andrew laugh more. “You’re mocking me,” Victor plainly states, his blue eyes narrowing as he looks at Andrew, a small smile on the postman’s face. Andrew just shakes his head, calming down from his laughing fit.
As the gravekeeper glances up at the postman again, he couldn’t help but pause, simply taking in the sight. Victor is still in his postman uniform, the bright red colour of it matching the red leaves whirling around them in the wind. The breeze makes Victor’s short blonde hair flutter around him, leading his already messy hair to only get messier.
The two stand like that for a while, just looking into the other their eyes. But eventually Victor moves, not breaking eyecontact as he gently grasps Andrew’s gloved hand in his bare one, a smile on his face as he tugs the gravekeeper along. “I know a spot,” the postman’s words are barely a whisper, almost completely inaudible over the wind, but Andrew heard. God, how couldn’t he.
Victor leads them out of the graveyard, and into the forest. The trees tower over the two of them, and through the few leaves that still remain on the branches, the night sky is seen. They don't speak. The walk is silent, the only sounds that of the forest and the crunching of leaves under their feet.
They stop after a while, it might’ve been a few minutes, it might’ve been an hour. Andrew glances around the area, his breathing making small puffs of white smoke in the air. The two of them stand in a clearing. They’d been here before during the spring, it‘d been full of all sorts of wild flowers, covering the ground in bright and varied colours. The smells almost sickeningly sweet. Andrew’s nose itched just thinking back.
But now all that lays on the dirt are leaves and the occasional mushroom. Victor tugs Andrew along, and the gravekeeper knows where they’re headed. The tree. Their tree. The earth is wet and mushy, but neither of them seem to mind as they sit down, their backs leaning against the tree.
Unlike Andrew, Victor isn’t looking up at the night sky. The postman’s face is tilted down ever so slightly, his gaze firmly focused on Andrew as he reaches for his gloved hand. “You look pretty,” is all that leaves the blond man’s lips. Andrew can feel his heartbeat pick up.
It’s an odd compliment. But then again, any compliment is odd to Andrew. He’s so used to being shunned, sometimes the affection Victor gives him can almost be overwhelming. He can feel Victor’s fingers brush over his knuckles, then his palm. “We should buy you new gloves before winter,” Victor seems talking to himself more than anything, focused on the feeling of the scratched up leather of the gravekeeper’s gloves.
A soft kiss is pressed to the palm of Andrew’s gloved hand, and finally Victor’s face tilts up. “I missed you,” Andrew breathlessly murmurs, his free hand moving to brush over Victor’s jawline. His fingers touch the blondes freckled cheeks, the small burn scar under his eye, and his lips. Andrew almost desperately tries to take everything in, every blemish on Victor’s face, every scar, every wrinkle. He tries to burn the image in his mind.
“I missed you too,” Victor leans into Andrew’s touch, his eyes closing. He must be tired, he’d been working the whole day after all. “So, so much,” the postman continues, quieter this time. Andrew shifts slightly, pulling the postman closer and letting him rest on his shoulder. A content sigh leaves Victor’s lips, and a smile grows on Andrew’s face. He supposes his work could wait a bit longer.