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The sun was shielded by the light grey canvas above his head. Sig didn’t care, particularly, but he definitely noticed, closing his eyes and breathing in the brisk air.
Stepping on the leaves below provided a sloshing sound, as rain had just now decided to end. He only had one real pair of shoes, but his mind silently decided to wash them in the river once he’s done with his hike of sorts, something he usually does- both the river, and the hike. This wasn’t his usual route. There would be more bugs this way.
December brought uncertainty for the neighborhood bugs, as many of them retreated into hiding, but Sig had methods of betting them to come out. He didn’t particularly love this weather, as he felt he was naturally cold-blooded and preferred the warm hug of the Sun, but he appreciated the brightness of the day, and sort of liked the filter it put on his surroundings.
He didn’t need a net, he had his hand. He didn’t need storage, he had his bag. He didn’t need anyone else, nobody was interested.
He liked being alone during bug hunts anyways.
He crouched down, looking up at the trees of the woods above him and then back down. There was nothing on the bark.
His right hand scratched his left.
He shivered, but not from the cold.
He immediately perked up, shooting to a stand. His eyes darted around.
This usually wasn’t good.
He heard a crunch from ahead to his right. The crunches grew and became louder.
He wasn’t sure if he should look, despite probably knowing what the source was. It felt like hearing a car crash from inside the house and not knowing if you wanted to open the window and look at the wreckage.
His feet almost propelled him. He still clutched his left arm.
“...okay? Yes, I’m okay. Yes, I love you. I love you, I love you. Thank you. Thank you.”
His mumbles became clear. Sig’s eyes instinctively shut and he took a deep breath.
“I feel fine. Just go back. Thank you, though. Genuinely. Thank you. I love you too.”
Sig was close now. He was too close.
Klug was kneeled over on the leaves, and Sig only saw a split second of the red retreating back into the book. Klug’s head was down and he clutched his body. He seemed not to notice the other boy above him.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much…”
Klug mumbled to himself, shaking slightly, clutching his arms a little tighter. He shook a little harder. Sig saw small wet drops appear on his legs.
He silently observed for a couple seconds.
Klug’s head raised slightly, noticing the legs beside him, and quickly shot his head up, scooting back on the ground until he was a considerable ways away from him.
“WHAT-” he hissed in pain, changing his position to be similar to his initial one. “What are you doing here.”
“I felt you.” Sig said bluntly.
Klug paused. “What?”
“Felt my arm. My arm was redder and it made me shiver. I came over. I was just over there.”
Sig pointed backwards. Klug shook a little harder.
“It's not that important.”
Sig didn’t say anything.
“It’s none of your concern, Sig.”
Sig blinked. “It’s the red thing.”
The color drained from Klug’s face. “Huh?”
“The red thing in your book, right? It made me shiver.”
“Why would it-” Klug caught himself. “That’s not your business. Please let me go.”
“Glasses, you’re crying.”
Klug hiccuped and wiped his eyes with a sleeve. “I’m not. Go away.”
“I know about it. You’ve told me about it. You don’t need to hide it. Or pretend to.”
Klug didn’t say anything. Sig walked over to him and sat down beside him.
“What did it do.”
Klug shook, breathing heavily. “It’s-”
His eyes never strayed from it, sitting at a small distance in front of him. It was closed, the red glow was gone. He knew it was probably listening, faintly, but it was mostly contained in its own little world.
“Why do you wanna know?”
“Because you look hurt.”
“I-” Klug responded almost immediately. “I’m not hurt. I feel okay.”
Klug was a terrible liar. Sig quickly looked over his body.
He was shaking, crying slightly, his fingertips were a very light purple, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and his lips were chapped and mouth was dry. Klug looked a mess.
“It was inside you.”
Klug didn’t say anything as his breath caught in his throat. He brought his knees up to his chest.
“Why are you concerned?”
“Because it hurts you.”
“It-” Klug swallowed dryly. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because I care,” Sig looked up at Klug and made direct eye contact. “D’wanna see you be hurt.”
Klug breathed out, attempting to stabilize himself. Feeling tears forming again, he wiped his eyes. “It’s necessary.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s. Necessary.”
Klug tried to act like he was refuting Sig’s words, but he made no attempt to get up and leave. Or bring the book closer.
“Do you love it?”
Sig asked the question after averting his eyes. He didn’t want to see his face.
Klug’s face fell, looking around and confirming nobody was there.
“Why- why did you-”
“Heard you say you loved it. The book thing. Do you love it?”
He looked up at Klug.
“Do you like it?”
“Are- are you insinuating I’m attracted to it?”
“Love isn’t always like that.”
Klug didn’t say anything.
“Why did you say that?”
“...Because it likes to hear it.”
Klug responded in a hushed tone. He had the mannerisms of a spooked stray cat. He did not look back at Sig.
Sig didn’t respond for a little while as he let the reply set in for the both of them.
“Why?”
Klug paused before he spoke. “It just does.”
“Do you love it?”
“I don’t know.”
Silence. The both of them listened to the birds cawing, a distant river stirring, and the wind passing through the overhead leaves. Sig scooted closer. Their shoulders were touching.
“I don’t know what love is.”
Klug said it so quietly, Sig almost didn’t know if he heard it at all. He didn’t make a big deal out of it as he turned his head to the right.
“Why not?” Sig mimicked his tone, hushing his voice slightly. He felt like he should.
“It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Me neither. I don't really think about it.”
“Have you ever loved someone?”
Sig thought.
“I guess.”
“How?”
“I care for them. Hard for me to say it’s love, I think. I sort of just look at what other people do. Think if I really care, I love someone.”
“I mean romantically.”
“Sometimes it’s that. Can be both.”
“Who could you possibly love romantically? It’s Amitie, isn’t it?”
Sig dodged the question. “Why’d you ask about romantic? Do you love it like that?”
“No,” Klug answered without hesitating. “It’s different than that. I don’t know if it’s love. But whatever it is, it’s not romantic. It’s just… need.”
“Need isn’t love.”
Klug looked over at Sig, a little closer. “Why?”
“They’re two different words.”
That, admittedly, made Klug think. He looked over at the book again, then got up and gently pushed it a little farther away. He went back to his original spot, sitting back down.
“Who do you love?”
“Ami,”
Klug’s heart fell a little bit. He nodded. “That’s who I thought.”
“Not romantically,”
Klug looked over. “What?”
“No. Love her like I was saying earlier. Care for her. A lot.”
“But it’s not romantic?”
“No,”
“You don’t think of… those things?”
“What are those things again?”
“Hand holding. Kissing. Dates. Things like that.”
“Ami holds my hand,” Sig mumbled, grabbing a leaf with his left hand and plucking it apart with his right, the pieces stubborn at first but slowly letting themselves fall. “She kisses my head sometimes. But it’s not like that. I think people can do that and not be romantic.”
“Really?!”
“Yeah. I d’wanna be like that with her. She said it’s the same with me, too. It’s just a way some people show love.”
Klug breathed out in disbelief. His eyes were almost fully dry. “I guess it’s different with everyone. …but, wait, what’s the difference when it’s romantic with you? Is it just all of that, but… different?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So who do you love?”
“Tell me you first.”
“W-Well, it’s- hey, HEY! I never told you I loved anyone!!”
“No, you didn’t. But you sort of just did.”
A trace of a faint smile teased Sig’s lips, barely noticeable as he continued picking at his leaf. He finished it off down to the stem, moving onto another. He didn’t look up at Klug.
Klug sputtered. “This… this is an AWFUL time to be asking about this.”
“You brought it up.”
Klug groaned, looking around one last time to make sure there was nobody around. He glances at the book, a considerable distance away from them.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what love is. I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone. My entire body is sore, Sig. My chest still hurts. I don’t know why I’m here talking to you about this. I want to go home. I feel things, but I don’t think they’re real. It doesn’t feel like what Aya gives. I can feel what Aya gives, and it tells me it’s love, so it’s love. I guess. Whatever. I don’t need a- a fucking- a wedding ring or something to prove it, I just need to keep letting it do what it wants to do. Every time it does this, it’s just for it to use my body and for me to not have to. When I’m tired, or mad, or crying, or something, I just let it use it. I feel everything as he’s doing it and nothing when it’s done. I feel nothing when I’m in the pages and everything as I’m leaving. It tells me I’m so good, and tells me I’m the perfect host. And it tells me it loves me. So I say it back. I don’t care if it hurts. It hurts so bad. I don’t deserve any more than this, actually. I-”
Sig slowly, gently, turns his body and pulls Klug into a hug. Klug doesn’t move.
“Need’s not love.” Sig mumbles.
Klug doesn’t move.
“Love’s when you care. That’s what I think. Don't think the red thing cares.”
Klug starts crying.
“Romantic is caring, but just a little deeper. But maybe I just love everyone. That’s what I’ve learned from being here.”
Klug uses his small strength to hit Sig. Sig doesn’t let go. He bows his head slightly.
“I care,” he mumbles.
Klug breathes a shaky breath out, does a glance around, and slowly brings his arms up to return the embrace. “You do?” he whispers.
Sig nods.
Sig’s jacket is very soft. Klug leans his head against it for a little while before they both pull back. Klug is still unsure.
“I care about you,” Sig says, his hands still on Klug’s back.
They stare at each other, hands still on the other.
“As do I,” Klug nods.
Neither of them move.
“Who do you love romantically, Sig?”
Sig glances away and shrugs. He looks back to Klug, his face slightly redder than before.
Klug doesn’t respond. He feels like crying again.
“S’not a big deal. Guess you’re just a little deeper than the others.”
Sig’s eyes are half-lidded, staring at Klug with an emotion Klug doesn’t know how to describe. The faintest hint of a smile traces him, and his hands still have a gentle hold on Klug's back.
Klug wants nothing more than to jump into the book like it’s a bottomless pool.
Instead, he lunges forward, jumping into Sig instead. Their noses bump, and Klug hits his cheek, but quickly readjusts himself and meets his lips properly. He’s slow at first as he catches his bearings, but quickly wraps his arms around Sig further under his arms, going up past his shoulders.
Sig is caught off guard, but attempts to mimic what he’s seen in commercials and movies. His hold on Klug’s back gets slightly firmer. He pulls him, and Klug is almost sitting on top of him at this point.
They don’t go any further than repeated pecks, mashing their lips together in an attempt to have some stability, pulling away every once in a while to take in a breath, Klug’s being very shaky and vocal. Sig, after briefly opening his eyes at one point, saw Klug looked more exhilarated than anything. It looked like he was crying again.
Something was wrong.
Eventually, he felt some sort of clawing against his back. He could barely feel it under his jacket, but the pressure pushed down, very obviously being done on purpose. Sig’s eyebrows furrowed, but he kept kissing Klug, readjusting his grip on his back to be gentler. He rubbed his right thumb over it slowly.
The clawing became rougher, more manic, and Klug’s kisses could barely even be called those anymore. He began to hit at Sig’s back and scratch the space between his hair and his neck, directly at his skin. Sig started to get hurt. Without opening his eyes, Sig could hear the soft crying every time Klug pulled back, his heavy breathing transitioning into pained whimpers. Sig felt like his soul was splitting in half. For the first time in a very long while, Sig felt like crying himself.
As much as he hated the action, his grip on Klug’s back transitioned to be gently pushing him away. Klug tried to cling on, whimpering, shaking, and attempting to peck him one last time, but Sig refuted, slowly helping him back.
Klug was freely sobbing at this point, attempting to hit and claw at Sig with all of his remaining strength. His fingertips still purple, his eyes more bloodshot than before, his body shaking like one of the leaves Sig was picking apart, its pieces flowing away in the wind as Sig’s ‘good hand’ let them go. Klug was being picked apart.
“Klug,”
Sig’s voice, saying his real name for the first time, made Klug want to die. His head whipped to the book.
“Klug, stop.”
Klug tried to get up. Sig held him back.
“I need- I need to-”
“No, you don't.”
“I need to go. I NEED TO GO.”
Klug managed to stand up. Sig grabbed him with both of his hands.
Klug still tried running, his shoes becoming dirty with the mud below. Sig held both of his arms back, trying to pull him in again. Klug sobbed, writhing and violently shaking his head.
“LET ME GO!!”
“NO!” Sig raised his voice for what Klug thinks is the first time. Something about it- something so deep, raised from the depths inside of him, made Klug falter. He stopped getting violent with his struggling, but didn’t cease. His strength began to give out. His heart was pounding so hard he could probably feel it poking out if he put a hand up to his chest. His legs wobbled. They gave out.
Mud on his knees, Klug put two hands out, and then fully gave, his body falling limp onto the leaves. The leaves cracked under him. The leaves fell apart.
He was sobbing loudly.
Sig dropped to his knees, pulling Klug up with care. Klug’s face was covered with leaves, dirt, and tears. His hair was matted. His cap had fallen off. His glasses were scratched. His fingers were purple, but moreso a blue. Every time he breathed in, he squeaked.
Sig didn’t care at all.
Sig didn’t hug him. He gently dusted off the more noticeable parts, and kept his left arm on his shoulder, holding him up. Klug was too weak to move.
“I don’t deserve this,” Klug said, almost completely incoherently through his sobs.
“You do.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“You deserve love. Real love.”
“I don’t.”
Sig didn’t respond. He finished picking the leaves out of Klug’s hair, then stared at him.
“You do.”
Klug sobbed harder, covering his face. Sig sat there, patiently.
“Love you for a reason.”
Klug keeps sobbing.
“‘Cause I care a lot. Deeper than the others. You’re smart. Passionate. Sweet, under all of it.” Sig picks a leaf off of his collar. “You deserve it.”
Klug kneeled, covering his face, shaking. Just like how Sig had initially found him. This time, though, it was different.
“I’m sorry,” Klug squeaked. He didn’t look up.
“Don’t be,” Sig said.
Klug kept sobbing, eventually opting to lean on Sig’s lap, sitting cross-legged next to him. Sig stroked his hair.
The book sat at its considerable distance. The book did not stir. The book did not speak.
The wind began to pick up. The leaves from the trees surrounding them began to fall harder.
Sig looked up as Klug’s sobbing slowly died down. After the minutes it took, Klug, without speaking, turned his head up to look to the sky. The leaves flew across his line of vision.
He sat up and adjusted his position to be next to Sig. They both looked up at the leaves.
Klug rested his head on Sig’s shoulder.
Neither said a word.