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The sun, slowly sinking below the horizon, was saying goodbye to the whole world and sending friendly, but already short and weakening with each passing minute, rays to the people running below. It so wanted to put all of itself and all of its love for humanity through them, but (it's a real pity) it sank lower and lower, being disappointment in the hope that the next day in Palmetto would be more successful.
Neil stretched lazily: another training session had exhausted him quite a bit by the end of the week. Although if for him, a battery, which was eternally running from corner to corner with notes, this was the upper limit, then it was scary to imagine how his teammates felt. Obviously bad, and they had it even worse because of the inconvenient, too far from their homes location of the stadium. To this, Neil shook his head every damn time (after this gesture, his friends always telling him the usual "fuck you"), wished him luck and went home, overcoming a whole block and a half of another to the residential streets, where Andrew always waited for him on Fridays with a garland of lights already turned on (the thought occasionally crept in that the guy simply never turned them off) on the threshold. Minyard had called it ridiculous so many times, so much ridiculous so that it was only suitable for Christmas and even then with a huge stretch, but after a couple of drags this big "stretch" went away and a close look did not allow any of the living people to take off the decoration. Although, it seemed that even if the Horsemen of the Apocalypse themselves showed up at their place for punch on Halloween Eve, the chances of convincing Minyard would decrease even more, two or even three times.
From time to time, they had more such spontaneous ideas, and (of course, during their time together) something like their own weekly customs developed that varied throughout the year. As a rule, Andrew refused the very second after the proposal was made, and a few hours later Neil would find him cooking the offered pancakes or hear the slamming of the door, which signaled the return of his loved one along with a new board game, which would come just in time for the day of the meeting with their entire original team. As if they hadn't changed much and no matter how far they'd scattered - they'd kept the relationships between them. And they'd dubbed this a kind of "ritual": someone from the team would send a photo from their own little world into the general chat, and it was repeating itself in a circle.
That was stability.
And now Neil was basking in the rays of the May sun, perched on a small balcony (which, as comical as it may sound, was supposed to be a storage room), which he and Andrew had attached to the second floor, and photographing the sunset. He knew that everyone who had moved away after graduating from university would be pleased to see the view from good old Palmetto. But he didn't stay in the chat for long: someone else's footsteps in fluffy shark slippers rustled faintly on the stairs ("Drew, these slippers have such a beautiful smile," Josten once justified his purchase, not even counting on his partner never parting with them again), and Neil locked the smartphone, putting it in his pants pocket and waiting for Andrew. They didn't have any secrets between them, as such, and Minyard didn't even try to look at Neil's movements, who didn't want to be distracted from his brown eyes by his phone's notifications, which is why he put the annoying object away.
Andrew leaned against the railing, a lighter flashing in his hand. No, oddly enough, not to light another cigarette (an another source of old memories), but to let a flame out from under the cap for a split second. Andrew brought it up a little higher, to eye level, and, having looked closely, slammed it back shut, turning his gaze to Neil. This was another attempt to test him, and he knew it, so he froze in the pose he was standing in, a second before moving his palm a little closer. His hair caught every ray of light so that it seemed that what was fluttering on his head was not freshly washed strands of red hair covering the scars, but flashes of flame that had once delivered them. The sun was clearly appointing a successor for itself for the coming night, and the choice could not fall on anyone else.
It was driving Neil crazy.
The essence of Andrew's tests was whether Neil would move or not. Betray or not. Like spinning a wheel with knives. And he was bribed by the fact that a trillionth percent of hatred had gone, and the same number of tests, and Josten perceived it as a childish prank, only continuing to obey and only enjoying the chocolate ice cream of Minyard's eyes until he calmed down. Neil studied the snow-white highlights on someone else's hair out of the corner of his eye, how the wind had tousled it, dropping several strands across his forehead, and thought about the reality of the moment, about the fact that he had really grabbed such a person. His person.
No, none of them considered each other property. They could argue about it in public as much as they wanted, but under the judgment of the setting sun, honesty prevailed. Each other's happiness was above all else, and now it was crowded between them, rushing along the floor between their legs, until both could not tear their eyes away from the other.
And everything was right. It was another feature of stability. Andrew consistently said that he hated him, already accustomed to the lack of logic on their percentage counter, and Neil consistently agreed, kissing his forehead with silent permission. But in the evenings, when the Sun with a sad and offended face left them only the remains of itself through fragile orange rays breaking through the whole world to their home, the current captain of the Exy team looked especially hateful.
Andrew looked away, watching how the luminary went into the distance behind the skyscrapers, while the last rays fell on the floor of their balcony, and felt how someone else's warmth became closer, as always checking, asking. A slight nod allowed Neil to kiss him in the crook of the neck.
His sun will not go out in a few hours. Josten wasn't afraid to show him the open places, despite the fact that his partner had every opportunity to stab him in the back, kill him, break him forever. He became trusting and frivolous towards Andrew, but for some reason he even... liked it? He liked to think that he knew something that ordinary people kept at the bottom of a safe, immersed in a lake, and he understood that he could also extract something similar from own heart, covered with a stone crust.
The people around them would never understand what they were talking about, and the point would not be in the difference in languages, nationalities, or types of affection. The point was just that no one except Andrew and Neil themselves captured them exactly as they were alone together: immersed in the nirvana of satisfaction and deep inside proud of their merits, their home, victories in championships and disputes. And also godlessly happy.
It was impossible to understand whether the dose of ultraviolet light affected them so much or not, but one fact remained the most real, as they were for each other.
Everything that was between them was real and every day was reinforced by light, any light, be it the light of the setting sun, visible from an improvised balcony, or a viewing roof at the stadium, the smoldering coals of a fire or the tobacco of a cigarette. Or the light of happiness and trust.