Work Text:
‘Many say a rose is the only form
In which love is to blossom in the clear
Yet any petals left seen in the storm-‘
…
This is stupid.
Simon knows writing this was stupid.
He just-… *Ugh*, it’s so dumb.
Ryland was a science teacher. Not English. However, when his students, the pebbles, asked on the other aspects of earth, Grace just couldn’t *not* give them an answer.
And since Simon was not from earth, Grace and his laptop were the only things capable of explaining the entirety of earth’s extensive research and history. Ryland explained to him that ‘I’m only going to tell them what they ask because… frankly, there’s so much I don’t remember and I’m not educated enough to teach it all.’
Simon can certainly understand that. He certainly doesn’t want to tell the stories and history of Eden to the small aliens.
… he doesn’t like thinking about his home planet. Anyways, one day he had sat in on one of Rylands lessons, as he often did when he was done tending to the herbs in his garden.
Somehow the original biology course had been shifted by some off topic question from one of the students on an entirely different manner.
They knew very well the weakness that was Grace’s natural curiosity and habit to ramble, so of course they used this to their advantage to get out of a quiz. After doing some research on Ryland’s tablet, they had landed on the subject of Shakespeare and that time period.
At first, after hearing the name ‘Shakespeare’ Simon assumed he was some sort of warrior. His world was filled with violence, after all, but it wasn’t his fault the man literally had ‘spear’ in the name. However, he quickly learned he was a famous writer in ancient times.
Grace said every human child had to read at least one of his plays, despite how old it was and how little amount of students actually enjoyed reading Shakespeare’s plays.
Simon, who had taken up reading when Ryland wasn’t around, had found he wasn’t exactly a fan himself. Yet, more importantly, Grace had read some sonnets, a form of poem that Shakespeare wrote in his spare time about his inner thoughts. In fact, he wrote 154 of them.
‘He must’ve had a lot a free time,’ Simon couldn’t help but think to himself after he learned this fact.
The blonde had playfully tasked the pebbles, as a quote on quote ‘punishment’ for getting him off track, with writing their own sonnets as a sort of challenge that can be used for extra credit as they see fit.
They were dismissed, and left the two of them alone.
“How many do you think are actually going to *try* and not just half ass their way through it?” Simon asked, finally speaking up and approaching the man he loved so dearly.
“Eh, I’m not really sure,” Grace replied, wrapping his arms around the shorter man’s waist and pulling him in close. “With this, I’ll at least see who actually wants to learn more about my world’s history, and who just wanted to get out of a quiz.”
Oh, so he *was* aware of that. Huh. Guess the pebbles underestimated him.
Simon hummed in acknowledgment, pressed a kiss to his lips, which Grace returned, of course, and moved his only hand to his partner’s cheek.
“Don’t you have that play date with Rocky in an hour?”
Grace scoffed quietly, clearly finding humor in the other man’s words, leaning into Simon’s hand with a roll of his eyes and a warm smile.
“Don’t call it a ‘play date’ Si… but yeah, I do. Although, I… honestly would rather spend the rest of the afternoon with you.”
“You know you can’t ditch on him though. Not after last time.”
Yeah that was… awkward.
Ryland sighed exasperatedly, flopping into Simon and burrowing his face into the crook of his neck and whining some tired complaint about not wanting to go. The latter couldn’t help but chuckle at his lover’s antics.
“Come on Angel, you know you have to.”
With another long sigh, Grace nodded, gave Simon a kiss, said his goodbye with another embrace, and left.
————————————
While Ryland was gone, Simon couldn’t help but stop thinking about the lesson, more specifically, about sonnets.
14 lines, 10 syllables each, following the rhythm pattern of ABABCDCDEFEFGG, a turn or switch on line 9, and about anything you want. Most common topic, however, was love.
Simon knew he… wasn’t the easiest to love. He was blunt at times, violent and harsh in the beginning stages when he first met his darling Grace. He knew with his mutations, he was quite a sight for sore eyes as well, and he often found himself questioning the ‘why’ of it all. Why did Ryland save him? Why did this man love him? Why did he care?
He remembered very early on Grace saying that writing down your feelings could help process and come to terms with them. At first he thought it was stupid but… he feels the urge to do so now. To write something for himself. About himself. For Grace.
So, grabbing a blank page and pencil, he sat down at the kitchen island and began to write.
He was new to every type of love that existed. He never had a proper family, just the cult of Eden, which was certainly more obsessive and toxic than it was affectionate. No familial love, no friendly love, certainly no romantic or… self love either, but he was aware of all these emotions existing in him in the form of desire. Desire to be so cared for by another and to *be gentle* to another without fearing them.
And thus, he drew from that well of emotion in his writing. At first, it was hard to get started, but once he began, it was as if the puzzle pieces fit perfectly into place. He checked the syllables once, twice, thrice until he was certain it was right, and soon, after about an hour or so, it was complete.
He titled it, sat it somewhere he knew Ryland would find it, and left the house to a spot in the dome where he knew his partner would find him once he read it.
Simon was too anxious to give it to him himself, and thus, he waited.
————————————
Simon sat by the edge of the oceans waves on top of a rock that sat in the sandy beach, his leg nervously bouncing up and down as he stared out at the waves, his head in his hand. It was so cheesy. So… so *stupid*. What would Grace think?
Footsteps approach him hesitantly and Simon instantly knew this sound to be Ryland Grace without even turning his head. It didn’t have the same scuttle as a five legged Eridian, after all, and Simon was observant enough to know when someone was behind him.
“So I uh… assume you’ve read it.”
…
He got no response. He sighs and turns around.
“Look, I know it’s stupid, and I-“
He instantly pauses when he catches a glimpse of the later’s expression, teary eyed and… sort of broken with the piece of paper clasped in his grasp, as if it was the only thing keeping him together,
Simon couldn’t help but mutter an ‘oh shit’ at the sight, instantly standing up to move to Grace’s side.
“I’m sorry angel, I didn’t mean to-“
Before he could even finish his apology, Ryland had pulled him into an embrace with a sniffle, curling into his lover. Although startled by this, Simon doesn’t hesitate to hug him back to the best of his ability. And that’s when, Grace decides to speak up.
“I love you.”
…
“Wh-what?”
“I love you, Simon,” Grace repeated shakily, pulling away slightly to hold his lover’s face in his hands as a wobbly smile came across his expression, despite of the tears.
…
Simon… wasn’t expecting that. He didn’t know what he expected in all honesty, but it certainly wasn’t that. With a soft huff of laughter, he melted into Rylands touch, unable to meet the brilliant blue of his lovers eyes that he adored so deeply.
“So uh… I assume you liked it, huh?” He asked awkwardly, trying to ignore the warm feeling blooming in his chest and the sad tone in his own voice.
“Oh sweetheart, it’s beautiful,” Grace replied gently, pressing a kiss to Simon’s forehead.
“And you… don’t think it’s stupid?”
“Of course not.”
… why was he crying?
“Damn it Grace, now you got me all emotional,” Simon murmured nuzzling his face into the crook of the taller man’s neck with a wet chuckle. Ryland held him close once more, pressing his lips into the other’s silky, black hair.
“Sorry babe.”
…
“For the record… I love you too, a-and I hope you know that.”
“… I do Si.”
————————————
‘Many say a rose is the only form
in which love is to blossom in the clear.
Yet, any petals left seen in the storm,
no matter the sight, none shiver in fear.
For a daisy as proper and pretty
growing in the same garden bed will find,
any that lives in the violent city
will take any said affection in kind.
Yet love does not always come from the ground.
Actions and items given with such care
won’t easily be thrown in a mound.
Flowers are just often seen with such flair.
So before you pick a red rose for them,
Does affection must come with leaves and stem?’