Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Exploration B [SevenxGoatse]

Ilovegoatse

Ilovegoatse

Supernova
Joined
Jan 11, 2009
"Look out the window... Is that it?" A somewhat soft voice inquired, those big blue eyes glancing out the window of the car. "That's our new house, right? It's beautiful." There was a gentle smile that crossed those soft lips, the pads of the man's fingers pressing against the glass. "I can't believe you did this all for us. It's so much money to be out in the country..." Sighing happily, he had leaned back in the seat of the car, red locks bounding slightly as he sighed once more. "So, you think the movers lost or stole anything? I heard they do that all the time.. it'd suck to loose all our shit like that."

There was an ideal scenery before the couple, a large lawn of green grass, an immaculate white house. It seemed like it would be the perfect sort of dream, there was even a white picket fence. Nothing could've been more appealing to live in. After all, they were in the country, and there wasn't the hustle and bustle of the city. Nor was there the threat of having anyone break in and take their things, or cause trouble. Crime rates were extremely low in the middle of no where, and the house was a luxury in it's self.

Though this sudden move and rush to packing wasn't exactly made out of simple impulse. All serene things usually had a grim sort of outlining. Such serenity was interrupted by sudden coughs, reality brought painfully close. When Declan started these coughing fits, it usually took him a few moments to stop. With the rattling of his body and the sudden breathlessness he felt, he had suddenly grown quiet. Obviously the gravity of the situation was still being laid upon him. Holding onto his chest for a few moments, he suddenly curled up in his seat, those freckled cheeks seeming terribly pale at the moment. Apparently his optimism was gone for the moment, the reminders of previous mistakes sucking the life out of him for a few moments.

Home sweet home.
 
Stuart rubbed at the windshield in front of him, trying to remove some of the moisture from the glass - it was early spring, so the air outside was still cool and he'd turned on the heat to ensure Declan wouldn't catch a chill, though he'd had to strip down to his t-shirt to keep from getting overheated,

"I had to beat down an old pig farmer for this place," he said, briefly taking his eyes off the road to glance at Declan - pale as always, but he looked healthier when the sun was coming down on him like that, enough that he could pretend for an instant that he wasn't sick, "We fought with rakes and everything."

He reached out and brushed away a few stray red locks from Declan's forehead before bringing his hand back to the steering wheel,

"Don't worry about the movers, they're on the level." he added - and of course they were, because Stuart, as always, had done extensive research. He had long ago learned not to leave things up to fate or the irresponsible and as far as he was concerned, that left him and Declan, and Declan needed his energy to - get up in the morning.

Gravel crunched beneath the tires of the car as it moved up the driveway towards what would become their new home; it was an impressive plot, a wide stretch of bright green grass - which had been mowed that very morning, he had made sure of it before he'd brought Declan to see it - with an idealistic white country home, complete with blue shutters and a picket fence, a small garden and an apple tree. It was far away from the insanity of the city, away from the pollution and the robbery and threats - a place where they could live together, where Declan could be safe and comfortable out in the country.

It wasn't secluded per se; there were neighbours, but they were further down than they would be in the city, their lives separated by their fields. Stuart had decided to rent out their field space for cheap to one of the men down the road - he wouldn't be using it for farming and there was no sense in wasting it when someone else could make some profit out of it.

He put the car into park and turned in his seat to watch Declan with dark, worried eyes; this happened often, some days the coughing was mild, and on others it was this horrible, wheezing rattle that made it sound like his lungs would give out any second.

"Let's get you inside," he said, undoing his seatbelt and stepping out of the car, moving around to the passenger side and opening the door, leaning in to put his arm around his partner, pulling him in close to his chest, "I'll make you something hot to drink and you can relax, alright?"
 
Declan couldn't help but laugh softly at the story about the pig farmer. "Makes me feel better knowing some old guy got his ass beat with a rake." The image in his head was quite amusing, he could hardly imagine what it would look like seeing Stuart fight someone off with a rake. He was too nice of a guy, too sweet to actually go to violence to deal with a problem. He didn't believe the story for a second, even if it was true. "That's good to hear.. I guess I should trust that you did research on the movers, you seem to do research on everything." That was one of the things he liked about his companion, the fact that he seemed to take care of all the details. He worked with Declan well, and that was one of the many reasons they were able to stay together this long.

"Man... I can't believe you were able to afford a place like this.. it's just amazing." It seemed like this was a dream come true. Even with as grim as a future as Declan had, he knew that this would make it easier. It was hard to know one probably wouldn't even survive five more years. He was too young to die, but he had abused his body so much that it didn't matter... this cancer... it was all his fault. It was something they mutually didn't mention, though both of them probably knew. The mutual understanding stuck him like a needle every time he suffered a symptom, sending him through a temporary spiral of guilt. He knew that one day Stuart would be miserable because of him, and he would leave him to pick up the pieces. With this new house, he tried to throw away those old worries, he needed to let himself forget this guilt.

Undoing his seat belt when they had arrived, he had watched his lover effortlessly get out of his seat to come to the other side. His sides were still aching though, and he still felt quite a bit of pain. He tried to ignore the pain in his chest and body, just so they would be able to enjoy this moment. "That sounds great." He grinned, getting out of the car with Stuart's help. "What're you going to make me? Or is it going to be a surprise?" Shivering a bit when they had gotten out of the car, he pulled the button down shirt closer, trying not to say anything about it. He already had so much as it was, no need to complain about the small stuff. "
 
Unfortunately Stuart didn't have the luxury of being oblivious to all of the details of small cell lung cancer - being an Oncologist didn't afford him with that chance - so he knew what Declan's condition was, knew how quickly it could deteriorate. He was also painfully aware that the long term outlook for those suffering with the disease was not optimistic - it was unquestionably fatal, and there was only a six percent margin that survived up to five years. No one had to tell him the numbers, because he knew them by heart just the way he knew Declan's blood pressure fluctuates, bone mass density, weight, height - everything there was to know about his partner, he knew. He had to, because he wasn't just his lover, he was his doctor.

He had thought it would make it easier to deal with, being the one to always tend to him, and he didn't regret the decision - but it hadn't made it any easier, though it forced him to face the reality of it.

"I'm just thorough," Stuart reasoned, and he slung his jacket up around Declan's shoulders as they moved up the walkway; he didn't need to say anything, he'd seen the quiver run through the man's shoulders, and the doctor was hyper-aware of those signs.

"I could probably head down the field and get you a steaming cup of cow blood if you're looking for something different," he said, pulling out the keys and keeping one arm around Declan's shoulders, keeping him close to his side, "But if it's just the same, I was going to put the kettle on for tea."
 
Declan smiled a bit when he suddenly felt the jacket upon him, pulling it just as tightly as he did his shirt. He certainly was a bit more comfortable, though he couldn't help but give his lover a strange look. "God.. you have the most morbid sense of humor." He breathlessly replied as they walked, almost perplexed by even the joke of drinking cow's blood. "I think that's why I love you, but still." Laughing a bit, he had just moved a bit closer, shaking his head a little. "My parents wouldn't like you as much as they do, if they knew you were so weird." At least they meshed well together, and they were able to appreciate each other's humor.

When they had gotten inside the house, he couldn't help but gasp a bit, surprised by how big it looked on the inside. Somehow, it just seemed so much larger. "Man... this is amazing... I still can't believe you were able to afford this.. I can already see where everything should go, where we should put our furniture." Which brought to mind the fact that he couldn't help his companion out with moving things in, which made his heart sink for a few moments. Though he tried to pick himself up right afterward, wanting to enjoy this moment for all it was worth. "I guess I'll have plenty of room to paint in. All kinds of scenery too." Yes, Declan had painted for as long as he could remember, and he wasn't going to stop until he couldn't hold the brush any longer. "Thank you so much for this... you're so amazing." Leaning over, he placed a kiss right on Stuart's lips, grinning like an idiot.
 
"What, you haven't gotten around to telling them that I howl at the full moon?" Stuart asked as they stepped inside, watching Declan to absorb his reaction - and it was well worth it, because his face lit up at the sight of the place - just what he had hoped for. He had gone looking for something with broad windows and plenty of sunlight, lots of room for painting and plenty of scenery, it was bright and optimistic, a place where dreams could grow rather than be crushed the way they tended to be in the city.

A smile tugged at his lips when they pulled away from the kiss, and Stuart pushed his glasses back up his nose,

"Shucks," he said, and ran a hand through Declan's hair, "T'aint nothin'."

And he looked around the room himself then - he had been inside before of course, he had explored the place thoroughly, taken a few measurements, mapped out things that he knew Declan would want in the room. He wanted to say that it had been extensive research that had led him to purchase the place, but the truth was that it'd had him from the moment he had stepped inside and he hadn't been entirely sure why - he'd just known it had felt like something was drawing him to it.

Of course, he'd brushed off the feeling because it was ridiculous, but he had put a down payment on the home anyways - he was well-paid, a man who had not only entered a lucrative career that helped people, but also the sort who made wise investments on businesses and stock exchange, not to mention that he had written a number of books for the medical community that had ended up backing up his bank account even further. As it were, Stuart was set for life, which meant Declan was as well.

But as he observed the place, he found himself encountering a brief moment of confusion; it seemed somehow larger than it had been when he'd first gone inside - but obviously his perception was just off.

There wasn't a lot in the house, but as he did with everything else, Stuart had the foresight to get a few chairs put into the place.

"You take a look around, alright? I'm gonna get the kettle going for you." he said.
 
"Yeah, I told them that, and I'm afraid I'll have to spoil your Christmas present... but they got you a flea collar." Sticking his tongue out a bit, it seemed as though he was in good spirits for now. His illness didn't matter, just the fact that they had a new home, and a place to call their own. Of course he enjoyed every bit of affection, too. "How did you get to be so cute?" He snickered, walking off to inspect the room a bit. "Yeah, no problem, I'll just be looking around." And he did indeed look around quite a bit.

There was something about that house that seemed a bit different though. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but as he walked the house he felt so strange. The deeper and deeper he walked into it, the more lost he felt. The main room seemed so big, but the halls seemed to be getting smaller and smaller. His breaths were growing shallow as the claustrophobia was building up. He felt as though he couldn't move his head, as if he had no choice but to look forward, and the sweat was starting to form upon his forehead. What little he could breathe felt more and more restricted, as his chest was starting to hurt and feel heavy. The aching had struck him deeper and deeper, like a needle forcing it's way through his veins.

The halls felt as though they were crushing him like the jaw of some horrible monster, and he could feel the snapping of his own bones. Desperately he tried to scream, but his lips were numb, his mind going blank as he started to get terribly dizzy. His legs felt as though they were melting like butter, and his vision was growing blurred.

Suddenly, he felt his forehead hit something hard... like.. glass?

His vision was clearing up as he felt the warm sun against his skin, and had stepped back to see his fingerprint staining the window. He was... in the sun-room still? He had only moved a few feet from where he was, and at that, he managed to bump into the glass like some sort of bird. Confused, he looked to Stuart, as if he knew what the hell was going on, creating a confusing situation for the both of them.
 
"Well, just make sure they didn't get me a brown one, it clashes," Stuart called back as he headed out of the room and into the kitchen; it was a decent sized room with a clean, blue tiled floor and broad, well-built cabinets. He had decided against installing stainless steel appliances because of the knowledge that the cold silver looked too much like something from a hospital room - he wanted as few reminders of that reality in their home as possible.

He flicked on the gas burner and waited with his arms crossed over his chest as the kettle boiled away; he looked out the window, which was looking out onto the wide, green field behind them - it was spotted with dandelions and a few overgrown areas that didn't look unsightly, just natural. It was an odd reminder for Stuart, who had come from a humble upbringing; he was no stranger to this kind of community, though everyone immediately thought his childhood was spent in some urban ghetto - it always surprised them to know that the over-achieving black doctor had been a farmboy. No thug life for him, but enough childhood trauma that he was sure he could get away with a few poorly-written rap songs about his pimped out plow, or something.

He gave a snuffle of laughter at himself and then quietly acknowledged he needed more sleep.

Tea cup in hand, he headed back out to find Declan, only to discover him in a state of disarray - he entered the room just in time to see his partner ram into the window, and when he turned around, Stuart regarded him with an equally confused expression, first unsure if Declan had merely been clumsy, and then concerned by the man's expression.

"You alright?" he asked.
 
"I'm fine." He lied, feeling himself shaking a bit. What he had felt and seen seemed so real. He could've swore he heard his own footsteps going down that hall. He could've sworn the... house.. the house was choking the very last bit of life out of him. He clutched his chest a few moments, and turned back to the window, trying to calm himself down. It must've been a side effect of the medication, he really couldn't have walked that far. He was probably just tired from staying up last night, that's all. His vision was still a little spotted though, and he still felt dizzy.

He still couldn't shake the feeling off, the feeling that he walked down that hallway that seemed to last hours. That feeling of restriction, mounting fear.... death. It must have been in his head, which meant he must be fine now. He breathed a bit, and felt faint now, stumbling a bit. Looking for a chair, he started panicking a bit, quickly looking for somewhere to sit down.

That awful choking feeling was coming back, and he could feel like his throat was closing up. Wheezing a bit, he had started to loudly hack and cough, the glass becoming slightly dappled with blood as he didn't react fast enough to cover his mouth. Trying to cover up the site quickly with the sleeve of his own shirt, he finally managed to get his breath back.

With those slightly pink stained teeth, he managed a small smile, trying his best to appear strong.
 
Declan wasn't fine, that was obvious enough, but he had moments where he seemed stronger, days where he could walk further and go longer without coughing or wheezing, but then there were moments like these - and Stuart could see the tremble in his shoulders, and he stood behind Declan, watching his back for a long moment, waiting for the next move. He was always troubled about his partner's illness, always worried by it, but he had taken measures to make sure he didn't completely crush his partner with his concern - Declan was ill, but he was still a full grown man who needed some measure of space.

So after he had told him he was fine, he waited - he waited because he knew he should respect what Declan had said until he had a reason to act, and it came quickly because the man's skin had taken on an abnormal pallor, and then he was shifting, looking around - and the spray of blood nearly had Stuart dropping the teacup, but he calmed himself. He had seen this before, time and time again he had watched patients choke up bits of their own organs, bleed out of every orifice, have their skin slough off - he had seen this before, so it shouldn't surprise him.

But this wasn't a patient. He didn't have the emotional distance, the safety net that kept it from impacting him too much - this was Declan in front of him.

He moved in, put an arm around him and led him to the only chair in the room; privately grateful for his own hindsight, he still found himself wishing their things were in the home to make it more comforting for Declan.

"Just take a seat, alright," he said, setting the tea down, off to the side, "You just start feeling worse, or has this been going on longer? I need to know these things, Dec."
 
Declan hadn't quite remembered being sat down in the chair, but he seemed to be distant for a few moments, his eyes blankly staring ahead. Though he felt that weight growing heavier and heavier with each moment. Once more he tried to speak, but that familiar feeling of numbness was back, and he felt his grasp upon the chair growing tight once more, as if terrified to get thrown back into that suffocating feeling. He was sick of the drug that adrenaline was, he wanted off of it, he wanted to escape from that feeling.

The room finally felt as though it was stop spinning though, and he finally was able to focus the whirling vision. All he could see was the Rorschach print of blood splatter upon the glass... the way it grinned back at him, mocked him. He could hardly understand what his companion was saying, as he felt as if his head was being held under water, but suddenly, his ears popped. "N.. now." He sputtered, "Now."

Holding his forehead, he had jumped for a moment, surprised by how cold he felt. "Have you switched my medication recently...?" Declan mumbled, his lips feeling slack as he tried to form what words he could. "I feel weird... I'm seeing.. I'm seeing things I think." He was difficult to understand though, as he was trying to eliminate the use of his throat, and he was trying to make himself understood at the same time.
 
Stuart waved a hand in front of Declan's eyes, startled to find him unresponsive, almost vegetative for those few moments, staring without really seeing anything - it was the sort of look that told the doctor that his partner was currently miles away from him, and he wished he knew where he was so he could pull him back where it was safe.

He responded, but the words were so garbled that Stuart struggled to understand,

"I haven't switched your medication," he said, "Not for the last month."

He felt his heart twist at what Declan said next,

"Seeing things?" he repeated; small cell lung cancer was a nasty thing even when caught early and had the cruel tendency of spreading quietly and efficiently to other parts of the body where it could go undetected for long periods of time while medical staff focused on the initial. He grimly acknowledged that there was a chance it had metastasized, but also that the hallucinations could be brought on by low blood pressure - but the blood that had come up told him otherwise, "What are you seeing, Declan?"
 
Declan's head rolled like a rag doll, looking towards the hallway. "Hall.. couldn't breath.. hell.. it was like hell.." The sweat on his forehead had shown he was still slightly struggling to stay with Stuart, that he was trying to stop himself from slipping back into that hallucination. It felt as though he had no traction though, and that every desperate claw for coherency was an uphill battle. "Tighter... choking me and d..devouring me." Biting his lip hard enough to draw a bit of blood, he had kept his grip tight upon the chair, though his hand wandered to his companion, giving him a taste of how tense he truly was.

"I was walking there... window... the window hit me." Sighing heavily, it appeared as though he was straining under a heavy burden, instead of simply just recalling an event. "Smaller and smaller... tighter..." Rubbing the sweat off of himself for merely a moment with his free hand, he quickly tightened his grip upon the chair once more, panicked. "I'm so sorry.. This was so perfect."
 
"The hall was choking you?" Stuart repeated, working out the concept in his head - it sounded like a bout of claustrophobia, but the home was so open-concept and so spacious that he had trouble seeing how it could be that simple. Was he anxious about the move? Was this too much for him all at once?

What disturbed him most was the philosophy behind it - he was sure that a tightening, restricting hallway could be a sure metaphor for death, a slow strangulation, a perfect visual interpretation of cancer. He felt Declan's hand on him, acknowledged the bizarre sort of strength that had come to him, and knew that his adrenaline was pumping, because there was no other time that his partner could summon that amount of power in his illness weakened limbs.

Stuart put out a hand,

"The window didn't hit you," he assured him, "I saw - you walked into it. You just got a little confused, is all; it's okay though, alright?"

He moved around so he was crouching in front of his partner and he put a hand on Declan's face,

"Hey," he said, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to draw him back from the lingering threat of the hallucination, "Hey, come back to me, Dec."
 
"It hit me..." He insisted, despite the other's much more logical words. "This house.. It was choking me.. I tried to get away.. Stu, the hallway wouldn't let me!" He spoke, exasperated, still wading through the waters of his hallucination. His head just was now barely bobbing above the surface. At least now it was much easier to understand him. "I was just walking.. it looked as big as it does now, but when I walked further and further down, it got tighter and tighter... My ribs and arms were broken. Then the glass hit me and I was here again..."

Leaning into that hand upon his cheek, he had tried to come back, he didn't want to be so distant anymore. "I'm really trying... it's hard to let go.. It's so hard to let go sometimes.." Who his words were directed at seemed unclear, but they were true on more than one level.

And then a single tear rolled down his cheek, his head tilted awkwardly to the side as he tried to mesh himself against the real world once more.
 
"It hasn't moved, Declan," Stuart said, looking over his partner's face, searching for some semblance of recognition, some indication that he was coming back - but it wasn't there, the distant look remained on his face as he struggled to bring himself back from a much darker place, "The house is the same as it was when we first came in."

On his haunches, he swiped his index finger down to move the tear that had trailed down Declan's face,

"You're safe," he said, rising up and putting an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a careful embrace, trying to give him some grounding and trying to warm him at the same time - he was trembling again.
 
Declan insisted once more, "It's moved... and this house... I don't think it wants me here.. it attacked me." Burying his face into his partner's shoulders, he had closed his eyes, finally finding his grounding once more in his lover's grasp. Things were fine now.. he could breathe, and although there was still a metallic taste in his mouth.. he knew that he was feeling better, and that hopefully this wouldn't happen again. He finally seemed to be back, too.

"C.. can you show me which room we're going to be sleeping again? Is it down that hall?" His eyes glanced to that foreboding hall for a few moments, before he had buried his head back into Stuart's shoulder, sighing softly, holding onto him tightly. From his grasp, he indicated that he would rather be carried than walk. He was terrified that if he put his feet down upon those floorboards, he would be dragged back to that hellish place.
 
Stuart considered this for a moment; he knew there was no sense in telling Declan the place was inanimate - he knew that already, on some level he was aware of that fact, but right now the hallucination was still too fresh and he was still too groggy from its after effects for logic to even be applicable right then. Instead of trying to reason, he simply held his partner in his arms until he spoke again,

"It's down the hall," Stuart confirmed; he let Declan bury his head against him, and he tucked an arm beneath his legs, lifting him up easily from the chair; since the start of the treatments, Declan had lost a lot of his body weight - it was normal for most cancer patients, they had trouble keeping down food and even though their movements were limited, their bodies wasted away at a ridiculous rate, the disease eating away at their muscles 1. It had never been a problem for him in the beginning, but now lifting Declan felt almost too easy and some days it made him feel as though his lover might break in his arms.

"Just hold onto me, alright?" he said, and moved out of the room, through the doorway, and down the sunlit hallway towards their bedroom.

___________________________________________________________________________________________
1 Cachexia and two thirds of all patients with progressive cancer experience cachexia. Researchers have found that cancer cachexia differs from simple starvation. Weak as a kitten.
 
Declan had nodded a bit and remained close to his lover, trying to keep himself quiet and calm. He couldn't help but feel himself tense up when they had approached the hallway once more. It felt like any moment, he would be dragged right out of his lover's arms, and he would be flung into that chaos once more. Though he knew he couldn't spend his time being afraid of the house, or afraid of certain parts of it. He would need to conquer these fears as soon as he could.

Clinging to him as tightly as he could, Declan had allowed himself to look at the walls of the hall once more. He could see the light leaking through, and it felt just like a normal hall... It felt wide, and everything seemed to be calm. He no longer felt as though he was going to be eaten alive.

"It's gone.." He spoke softly, resting his head upon the man's chest. "It's gone now."
 
The hallway wasn't so terribly long and Declan's frame was so depressingly light that the journey was brief, and Stuart found himself with some measure of relief when his partner stated that the hallucination had died away; he was sure it couldn't be the medication causing it because Declan had been on it long enough that all of the side effects should have shown themselves by then. The hallucinations were a new symptom - up until that day, Declan had never complained of them.

"Good," Stuart said, stepping through the doorway and into what would become their shared bedroom - it was a broad room with a wide bay view window and hardwood floors. The afternoon sunshine was filtering in through the curtains and casting a blue hued light on the room; their bed would be there within an hour or two, though Stuart wished it was there already so Declan could lay down for a while and sleep off this paranoia. It wasn't a good start to their new setting, but he was sure they could work around it - it was merely a slip, a moment of confusion for Declan, they could still make sure this home was everything they needed it to be.

"We'll have the bed right by the window," Stuart said, "So you can look out at the field, see the sun in the morning and watch it set in the evening."
 
"That reminds me of the story I heard..." He laughed bitterly, feeling sick to his stomach for a few moments. "About the two old guys in the hospital.. the one who sat by the window and said he saw all of these beautiful sights, and described them to the man by the blank wall." Looking to the blank wall opposite of the window, Declan added, "Then when the bastard ended up suffering from a heart attack or something.. the guy by the blank wall didn't say anything and he died. With the bed free, he asked to be moved there."

Looking back to the window, he spoke once more, "The guy sat up after a few moments of effort... anticipating the beautiful sight.. All that was there were bricks and that was it.. or was it the tall buildings of the city...? Either way, the story had dualel meanings. No good deed goes unpunished, and sometimes the anticipation is better than what actually is there... or something.."
 
For Stuart, metaphors were things that happened to other people; as a Doctor he had to use them too often to help a patient find some less-frightening equivalent to help them understand their own illness, but he had some minor qualms with hearing Declan make allusions to death - they both knew it was on the horizon, of course, that one day the cancer would no longer be controllable and Declan would succumb to his illness, because love can only do so much - he knew it was healthy to talk about it, but god help him, Stuart still hated it.

"You know," Stuart said thoughtfully, staring at the window as well, "You can be such a sad-sack."

He looked at Declan, and offered him a 100-watt smile to show he was pulling his chain,

"The thing is, my dear," he continued, strolling up to the window with Declan still in his arms, moving close so they could both look out it, "There is no brick wall here. There is nothing to spoil this view, no sky scrapers or smoke stacks, no Starbucks or noisy rave parties just down the street - and, relievingly, there is no longer a hunchbacked old crone living next to us and saying she'll call the priest to exorcise the gay from us. This is just us, and the sunrises and sunsets, and a stretch of green field."
 
Smiling, Declan replied simply, "I suppose you're right. I just can't help it, it's always been in my nature to be like this. I suppose I'll have to make a last minute conversion to looking at the bright side of life." Snickering a bit, he added, "I'm a born-again nice guy. Right?" He wasn't mocking Stuart, just trying to relieve some of his depression. He hated being such a downer all the time, but it was just a little difficult to be cheerful with these circumstances. The red-head was trying to at least hide some of those feelings, just for both of their sakes. Pushing it away and bottling it up was the best thing to do right now. It would keep the peace.

"You forgot." He spoke suddenly, "We have the house too." Sighing a bit, he sarcastically added, "Oh how I'm going to miss her. All that 'sodomy' seemed to just drive her insane. Not only that, but she loved peeking through the window, just to watch us engage in such 'sinful' acts." Snorting a bit, the young man leaned into his partner a bit, breathing softly. "We should go explore the lawn when it gets a bit warmer. It's too cold to do that right now."

For some reason, he still didn't want his feet to touch the ground, perhaps out of some fear lurking in the back of his mind. He would have to get over that if he ever wanted to enjoy this place. After all, the trip was all about enjoyment, and this new home was supposed to be good for them.
 
For a moment, Stuart looked startled at Declan's mention of their elderly nextdoor neighbour's apparent voyeurism; this was news to him and it happened to make the entire thing about three thousand times more uncomfortable - though it would explain a lot of things.

"Please tell me you're joking," he said, adding pleadingly, "I really hope you're joking."

He shook it off as best he could, though there was a mild air of nausea that lingered for a moment or two,

"Once it warms up a bit outside, there will be flowers too; I'll be planting a garden for us out front, though we'll see how it fares, it's been a long time since I did any gardening. Maybe if I've still got a green thumb, I can plant some vegetables for us too," he said, and placed a kiss on Declan's temple before turning towards the door, one eyebrow quirking up, "Sounds like the truck is here - we might not have to sleep on the floor tonight."

It was, naturally, a joke - one way or another, Stuart would have made sure the moving truck showed up that day; if it hadn't, he would have gone down to the company and driven the truck to the house himself if he had to. Stuart didn't like when things went against their schedules or planning, because that was when the world fell out of order and into chaos; he liked things to be neat and on time.
 
"Why would I be joking? This isn't exactly something you joke about." He awkwardly laughed, looking just as uncomfortable about the whole ordeal. "I don't know what's wrong with her, but at least she didn't take pictures or anything." Snorting a bit, it seemed as though he was finally picking up his spirits a bit. Who knew the subject of a very disturbing old woman would be the thing that finally made them smile again. Apparently not everything worked out as one would plan for it to, but at least it worked out in the end.

"You think you can plant something without killing it? That'll be the day. You're a city-boy now. The best we'll get is the weeds that're already around here." Laughing once more, it appeared as though he enjoyed picking on his lover. "Oh yay! We don't have to sleep on the floor. I guess I'm a little let down, I was looking forward to getting some splinters." Playfully nipping at the other when he was kissed, he suddenly locked up a bit, seeming uncomfortable. "If you're going to put me down... please don't do it here. Put me down where I can see you." Apparently he was adamant on not being left alone. Declan wanted to feel as though he was being carefully watched over by Stuart, and not this.. this new home of theirs.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom