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They stand shoulder to shoulder, looking out at a field of green foxtails, not yet in bloom. The grass waves in the brisk breeze, a hypnotic and rather cinematic vision. Grace stands on Simon’s left to cover his blind spot (a habit that’s formed ever since a date where Simon nearly walked in front of an oncoming car before Grace had pulled him back by the hand and then fretted for several minutes about what could have almost happened).
Simon wishes he could tell what Grace is thinking about. Grace has been quiet their entire walk, face serious like he’s working over a complex theory and only humming in response to Simon’s light conversation starters. He’s just about to ask when Grace speaks.
“There’s a crater on the moon.”
“I’ve actually heard there’s a few there, doctor.”
Grace snorts, a wildly unattractive sound from anybody else but adorable from him. “Named during the Artemis II mission. Carroll. For one of the astronauts on board’s late wife. Imagine,” Grace sighs, whole body seeming to decompress. “Imagine meaning so impossibly much to someone that they etch your memory into the literal surface of the moon. Carving your name into history forever because they love you that much.” His eyes dart to Simon’s for just a second before flitting away. “Now he gets to look up every night and imagine he’s looking at her. People will know her name, will know of their love, for the rest of time. The man who turned his love into the moon. A modern Greek tragedy.”
Simon doesn’t know what to do with the way his heart flips over inside his chest. He feels like he’s being chased and needs to run for his life.
Grace gives him a lopsided smile, voice barely there and angel soft. “I would name a moon crater after you, too.”
It’s not a confession exactly, but it has the same shape and flavor as one.
Simon stares out at the young foxtails, wishing he could sink down and hide amongst them because it feels like a gunshot to the heart would have been kinder than hearing the tone Grace used when he said it. His voice tilting just a little bit from happy into something pained, like he thinks he’s asking for something he could never have.
But he can have it, he already does.
Grace has had Simon’s heart for longer than either of them can fathom.
He can be brave, he can ask for this. Simon can want this without worrying it’ll fall apart the second it’s his.
Reaching up, he runs his thumb over Grace’s cheekbone. They’re making direct eye contact when he says, “I love you too.”
Blue eyes go wide. “I didn’t mean-”
“You did.”
Grace looks like he might throw up. “I did.”
It’s a quiet admittance. Tears well up in Grace’s eyes and he refocuses his gaze on the foxtails. Simon slides his hand to the back of Grace’s neck.
“Hey, angel, look at me. It’s okay. You’re okay. We are okay.”
“We are?” It’s shaky, tears spilling over.
“Yeah. You love me, I love you, what’s more okay than that?”
“It’s only been three months.” Grace says weakly.
“And you could die tomorrow. Time is irrelevant. What’s important is how we feel about each other. This doesn’t have to change anything about what we have going on if you don’t want it to.” Simon swipes his thumb to wipe away some of the tears.
Grace nods, leaning into Simon’s touch and closing his eyes. “Right. You’re right.” He opens his eyes again and the sparkle as he looks at Simon. “I just, I’ve been on my own for a very long time. Caring about someone, loving someone, is terrifying. Like jumping off a cliff not knowing how far down it is.”
Simon laughs, his own emotions overflowing and making him quick to smile. “I feel the same way, but now I get to jump with you.”
“I can’t believe we’re doing this in public.” Grace says, voice cracking as he sniffles. “This is so embarrassing.”
“You started talking about Carroll!” Simon sputters. “This is your fault! We did not need to do this here!”
“People are going to think we’re breaking up. We’re both crying.” Grace cracks a tiny smile, wiping his tears hastily with the sleeves of his favorite cardigan.
“I’m not- Oh.” He is, tears making a steady path down his face. He hadn’t even noticed. He takes a deep breath to steady himself.
“It’s alright, you’re pretty when you cry.”
He scoffs, disbelieving. “Sure I am. Want to go home where we can cry in peace?”
Grace hums. “Only if I can make you cry for other reasons.”
“Other reasons?” He’s slow to catch up. “Oh!”
“I love you, you love me, let’s go make some love, yeah?”
“Never, ever, say that again.” Simon laughs, whacking him on the shoulder. “You sound a million years old. Nobody says that.”
Grace just grins down at him. “But it made you laugh.”
“You’re lucky I like you.” He grumbles, cheeks heating. “Take me home.”