Anthony's head was still spinning when he hobbled out to where his mother's Aston Martin was waiting in the clinic parking lot. It was Monday the twelfth of October, two weeks after his evaluation, and Helen had given him the news today: a diagnosis of both attention deficit disorder and autism spectrum disorder. Anthony now had the option of discussing ADHD medication with his doctor, though Helen noted it was a personal decision and some people chose not to use ADHD medication; Anthony knew Sören self-medicated with caffeine.
Most of the session had been about processing the diagnosis itself - Helen wanted to know Anthony's initial reactions, how it made him feel. It was hard to put into words, a mixture of both relief and regret. Relief that now he knew something was going on with him, and there were ways he could learn to cope specific to his special needs. Regret because it had taken thirty-five years to get to this place - he'd been markedly different in childhood, enough that it had caused him problems, and he wasn't taken into a specialist then. He knew that his parents weren't maliciously withholding treatment for him, there was not a lot known about either condition back in the 80s and early 90s when early intervention would have made a difference, so he couldn't be too upset with them for not receiving a childhood diagnosis. But he did wonder now how his life would have been different if he'd had more support and resources growing up.
And he knew that speculating on the "what ifs" didn't help. Things were what they were, and all things considered, his life had been much better than even many people's who weren't dealing with those same conditions. He'd hit a rough patch, but things were starting to look up, a little.
Nonetheless, Anthony felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders... and a new weight put there in its place. He knew that having the diagnosis was helpful to tailoring strategies for going forward. And yet, the revelation was already changing his perception of himself, and every choice he'd made in his adult life.
It was too much. When he got in Elaine's car he just sat there for a moment in silence.
Elaine, for once, didn't ask how the session was, nor did she start the car right away. She let him sit there, seeming to understand he was in a bit of shock. After a few minutes passed, she put the key in the ignition but still said nothing.
They remained in silence until they were halfway to Blackheath, and then Anthony made a noise, feeling a surge of distress. "Oh no. Oh god, oh no... oh no..."
"What?"
Anthony blinked. He was usually very observant, hyperaware of little details that most people missed - and he'd needed to zone out after the appointment and didn't realize they were this far along on the highway... in the opposite of the direction where he needed to go. "Mum, I don't want to be a pain, but I n-need to see S-Sören."
He swallowed hard, feeling like a needy, overprivileged, overgrown child for asking. It was bad enough that he increasingly felt exasperated with his mother's concern, though he tried to keep it in check, not wanting to hurt her feelings... and now he felt guilty about all she did for him, like chauffeuring him around, and he was asking her to drive in the opposite direction on a whim. He felt ashamed of how badly he needed to see Sören right now, that this was the first thing he thought of to comfort himself when he was like this. "I'm sorry," Anthony said. He started to rock a little, not able to help it. "I'm s-sorry. I shouldn't h-have asked..." He realized then he was in so much emotional distress that his old childhood stutter was slipping out, despite all the work he'd done to control it.
Elaine reached out and put a hand on his arm, her grip firm. She gave him a look that was stern and compassionate all at once, before her eyes got back on the road. Anthony watched her maneuver the car into a different lane and take the first exit, knowing she was going to get back on the highway going in the opposite direction.
"I'm s-sorry. Oh g-god, I'm s-stuttering..."
"Cornelius Anthony, stop apologizing right now."
Anthony shut his mouth.
Elaine cleared her throat. Once she was back on the highway, now heading in the direction of Covent Garden, she glanced back over at her son. "It's normal for you to want your partner when you've had news like this, even if it was news you were expecting."
Not once since Anthony had gotten in the car, had he mentioned that today the diagnosis was confirmed... but he hadn't needed to. His silence, and then the reaction he was having now, told Elaine everything.
Anthony felt another twinge of guilt - since Sören's policy at the end of August that they remain just friends for at least a year, Anthony hadn't informed his mother that they hadn't in fact gotten back together, but were working towards it. Elaine had been so devastated by losing Sören as a future son-in-law, and so overjoyed at his return to Anthony's life, that Anthony didn't have the heart to tell her what was really going on. This was further compounded by the fact that Sören had spent the night once, with Anthony not wanting to correct any assumptions that they'd had sex, not wanting to talk about his sex life with his mother at all. He still felt like he was lying by not correcting her now and saying "he's not my partner yet", but he held his silence.
A few minutes into the charge down the highway, Anthony felt another surge of panic. He knew Sören had off this afternoon - Sören was working the overnight shift, going in at eleven - but he also knew when Sören worked nights, he usually slept during the day, and even though he had a key, he didn't want to just barge in when Sören was trying to sleep. Heart racing, stomach churning, Anthony took out his cell and hit Sören's number on speed dial. To his relief Sören answered after the first ring, which told him Sören probably wasn't sleeping yet.
"Hey," Sören said.
"Hi," Anthony said. "Can I come over?"
"Yeah, sure! But Anthony... you have a key now. Why are you calling first?"
Anthony's brow furrowed. "Sören, I didn't know if you w-were s-sleeping." Oh shit, he's heard me stutter. Not once in the almost two years of their relationship had Sören heard him stutter. Anthony's heart hammered even harder. Fuck. FUCK. "I d-didn't want to d-disturb you if -"
"I get that, but Geir's woken me up before. It's OK. And it sounds like you need to come over."
Shit. "Yeah, I n-need to see you. I'm s-sorry -"
"Don't apologize. Listen, I have an idea. It's a really nice day, the leaves are gorgeous, you want to go to the park? Same place we went a couple months ago, to see the pelicans being fed? I'll meet you outside?"
Anthony found that touching, not just in and of itself, but knowing Sören had anxiety in the lift and knowing it was probably worse going in the lift by himself, so Sören being willing to meet him outside to make this happen was a very selfless gesture. "OK, thank you."
"How far away are you?"
"Ten minutes or so, depending on traffic."
"OK, see you soon, then."
Anthony ended the call with a sigh. He turned to his mother and asked, "Do you mind driving us to St. James's Park?"
"No, dear, it's not far from where Sören lives. Even if it was, I've told you before I don't mind driving you places -"
"I know, I just." Anthony made a vague hand gesture. "Feel a bit guilty, is all." He realized then he wasn't stuttering anymore - Sören's voice had a soothing effect on him.
Sören was waiting outside on the curb, wearing his black leather bomber over a charcoal grey T-shirt and black turtleneck, with faded jeans. His hair was loose to his shoulders and a few strands were blowing in the breeze. He waved when he saw the car coming down the street, and got in the back once the car pulled over. Anthony noticed then he was carrying a backpack.
"Hello, dearest," Elaine said when Sören was settled in. "How are you?"
"I'm all right," Sören said. "How are you doing?"
"I'm well. How is Nicholas?"
"The usual," Sören said with a chuckle. "The fall semester is here and he's convinced every year the students get more and more illiterate."
Elaine laughed. "When he was teaching me French he was very hard about grammar. I would have hated him if he wasn't otherwise so nice to me."
"I can see that. I like to get a rise out of him, when he gets pedantic."
Though Anthony knew that Sören meant he liked teasing Nicholas - which Anthony had now seen firsthand - Anthony's mind still went in the gutter at the phrase "get a rise", a mental image of Sören making Nicholas's cock hard. He didn't want to be aroused right now in front of his mother, and he especially didn't want to get aroused over the thought of Sören and Nicholas making love.
Sören didn't ask Anthony how he was, and Anthony suspected Sören already knew. They drove in silence to the park. It was close to two PM now; the pelicans were fed at two-thirty in the afternoon so they had enough time to get to the feeding area. When Elaine let them off she said, "I take it you want to call when you're ready to be picked up?"
"Yes," Anthony said.
"When we're done here, do you want to have coffee or tea at my place?" Sören asked. "Both of you?"
"Oh, yes please," Elaine said. "If Anthony doesn't mind."
"I don't mind," Anthony said.
Anthony hugged his mother and then he and Sören were off. Sören put an arm around him as they entered the park, which was very comforting right about now.
They continued in silence for the first few minutes and then Sören finally looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "You have it, don't you."
"Yeah." Anthony nodded. "It wasn't a surprise, but it still..."
"...Is a bit of a shock, anyway. You can mentally prepare for something and still be hit by the impact harder than you were preparing for."
"I stuttered on the bloody phone."
"So?" Sören shrugged. "I lose my ability to speak English when emotions run high." Sören smirked. "As you know."
Anthony couldn't help a small smile back. "As you know."
"Nobody's perfect, Anthony."
Anthony wanted to say When you speak Icelandic, it's as close to perfection as it can get, but he held back - they weren't back together yet, and that felt probably more romantic than was appropriate.
"You need to not be so hard on yourself," Sören said. "If the situation were reversed, would you think any less of me for stuttering?"
"Well, no. I'd feel bad that you were under so much stress that it slipped, but I wouldn't be judgmental or make fun of you about it. I did get made fun of about it, though, growing up, and..." Anthony swallowed hard, and confessed something that had bothered him for a long time. "One time, years ago, I was out at a pub with... my ex-friends... and Steve was making fun of a client he had with a speech impediment. Not to the client's face... behind the client's back. The others laughed, except Lawrence - we eyerolled at each other. I didn't think it was funny at all, and I said so, and I was told to 'lighten up' and not be so 'politically correct'. I considered then whether or not continuing to associate with them was a good idea, but I didn't want to be alone, and I didn't want them gossiping about me and starting trouble if we had a falling out. I thought of how I was bullied in school, and how lonely I was, so I... I put up with it. Eventually I mostly forgot about it. Except I started thinking about it again when Trisha mocked me and the others ghosted me after the accident. I feel like such a coward -"
Sören stopped walking, the ire visible on his face. For a moment Anthony thought Sören was going to yell at him and walk off, but then Sören got in front of him, and put his arms around him, hugging him tight. Anthony rested his head on Sören's shoulder and the tears came silently. He was embarrassed since they were in public, though the park was less busy on a Monday afternoon and he wasn't being loud about it. Sören felt him shaking and Sören's arms tightened around him. Sören began rubbing his back, making soothing noises.
"I also feel like an idiot for not realizing you were being bullied by them," Anthony said, picking his head up. "I wanted to believe that Trisha was really genuinely trying to be nice to you. I... I couldn't see them for what they were..." Anthony shook his head. "I defend guilty people for a living and I couldn't see it at the time. It became so much more obvious after it was all over. I'm so sorry."
Their eyes met, and Sören wiped Anthony's tears with his fingers. He poked the tip of Anthony's nose. "We all make mistakes, Anthony. Yes, I really wish you had seen them for what they were, what they were doing to me. But I also... well, I get why you didn't. And you know, I've been reading up on autism, in what little spare time I have, because I want to be able to support you, and I've learned that a lot of autistic people miss certain social cues. Sometimes the word 'naive' gets used..."
"I don't know that the word 'naive' exactly fits, considering the kind of people I've had as clients."
"No, but it's one thing to see an obviously bad person who got caught doing something very wrong and fucked up, and another thing to see people who are respected by the community, who seem like decent people other than the odd shitty remark and a bit of offhanded casual prejudice. It can be harder to parse, especially if they're being nice to you."
Anthony nodded. "I suppose."
Sören patted him. They continued walking, and took a seat on a bench near the pelican feeding area. Sören opened his backpack and took out a can of blood orange San Pellegrino for each of them. Sören clinked cans with a grin. Anthony started to relax as they sat, drinking their San Pellegrino in the crisp autumn afternoon, and took a look around. The fall foliage was at its peak, the deciduous trees burning orange and red and gold among the evergreens. The ground was strewn with fall leaves, and the air had that touch of woodsmoke. Anthony found himself smiling as the pelican feeder came out and began to throw fish to the pelicans, some of whom caught it right in their huge scoop-shaped bills, some of whom chased the fish that fell on the ground, snorting and grunting. Sören's laughter rang out at the noises the pelicans made, and the way their pouches wobbled.
"They're so cute," Sören yelled. "AAAAAAAAAAA, I'm gonna die."
Sören's exuberance made Anthony smile and laugh. The pelican feeding was enjoyable to watch in and of itself, but Sören's wild glee was infectious. Even as it also gave Anthony a touch of wistfulness, making him love Sören even more.
Anthony also felt wistfulness for another reason as he watched the pelicans chase each other, snapping at each other for fish. Sören heard the little sigh and inquired, "Hmmm?"
"Oh..." Anthony looked down. "One of the things I miss about living in Kingston... seeing the swans on the Thames."
"We could... you know. Go down there and watch the swans sometime," Sören said.
"I'd like that," Anthony said.
"Awwww, are you sad now?" Sören reached over and turned up the corners of Anthony's mouth with his fingers, which made Anthony chuckle. "Are you thinking about your place in Kingston? What else do you miss?"
You. Anthony didn't want to start crying again. He thought of the almost-two-years he and Sören lived together, a time when he truly understood the saying "a man's home is his castle". Up until the last few months, things had been idyllic. That flat was their refuge, their sanctuary. But even before Sören had moved in, Anthony had enjoyed living there - the scenic location, the pride in having his own place. The freedom. "Independence," Anthony said sincerely. He sighed again. "Don't get me wrong, I love my mum, but -"
"No, I get it." Sören patted him. "She, ah. She fusses over you a lot."
Anthony nodded. "I feel bad for saying that because then I do things like... we were halfway to Blackheath and I hadn't realized, I was just gone after therapy was done for the day, and I asked her to turn around and head for Covent Garden. I don't do that sort of thing often, but it's... I feel like I'm being an entitled twat for complaining about how much she coddles me when I ask for things like that."
"No, I don't think you're being an entitled twat," Sören said. He grinned. "You're a cake-eating, posh twat."
Anthony facepalmed and then he elbowed Sören, shaking with silent laughter that bubbled out of him. Sören laughed too. He'd missed Sören's banter terribly.
Sören then got a little more serious and said, "But seriously. If you were an entitled twat, you wouldn't be worrying about whether or not you were an entitled twat."
"Point," Anthony said.
"Besides... she does seem to be very... ah." Sören looked like he was struggling for words. "She's treating you like a kid again, like she doesn't seem to understand the difference between you having a handicap and you being a child. She probably wouldn't be like that with other handicapped adults, but it's different with you. Your vulnerability after the accident makes you a kid again in her eyes."
"Yes." Anthony hated how accurate that was.
"To some extent I get that. I think if I had a kid and they became an adult and they got into an accident, I'd be stressed out over them too."
"And I was a fucking wreck when I moved back home," Anthony said. "My mental state didn't help things."
"But you're doing a bit better now, both in terms of mobility and mental health. You may not ever be 100% again, but you are recovering, and she's still at square one. And that's not really helpful to you at this stage."
"No." Anthony exhaled sharply, once again feeling guilt for admitting that. "I don't want to sound ungrateful -"
"You don't. It's understandable you'd be frustrated. Which leads me to tell you - Nick and I were talking about you."
"Oh god." Anthony cringed, worrying that Nicholas suddenly disapproved of him.
"As you know," Sören said, lowering his voice in an imitation of Nicholas's basso, grinning to put Anthony at ease, then returning to his normal register, "you have a key now. Like I told you over the phone, it would have been OK if you'd just come over without calling first. I get why you did, but... the reason why I answered right away is because I was awake... because I was expecting you, knowing you'd probably be hearing about your diagnosis today."
Realizing that Sören was keeping himself up to be there for him, went right to Anthony's heart. He took some slow, deep breaths, not wanting to cry.
Sören went on, "But anyway, we were talking about the fact that you have a key, and... Nick suggested that maybe you come stay with us for awhile. Like, not permanently. A year, maybe."
Anthony's eyes widened, not able to believe what he was hearing. "Nicholas. Said that."
Sören nodded. "I mean, in fairness, I brought up the fact that I think you need to move out, that it's not good for your mental health to stay there. It's great that your parents are supportive, but I think Elaine is only going to get more overbearing when winter gets here and the streets get all icy and there's the risk of slipping and falling. She means well, she really does, but." Sören made a vague hand gesture. "But yeah, Nick seems to be on the same page and he said that since you have a key, it's not a stretch to offer you the guest bedroom."
It was a very tempting offer. He'd loved living with Sören before... when it was just the two of them. As much as he appreciated that Nicholas was making an effort to be his friend, and he, too, wanted friendship, Anthony felt like he was going to be the third wheel. He also worried that would make the wait of rebuilding trust even harder, and make the sting of not being able to go back again even worse, as he was right across the hall from them sleeping together... making love together.
He also didn't want to be a burden. His limited mobility also limited what he could do around a house as far as chores. He knew that Sören and Nicholas took care of their flat together, but he also knew that having an additional person in the house meant additional cleanup and more frequent cleanup, and he felt guilty about not being able to pull his weight. He was willing to do what he could around their flat if he moved in, but right now, simple tasks still took a lot out of him. He worried that Sören and Nicholas would come to resent him and see him as a bad roommate for not being able to contribute as much to the care of the household as they did. It didn't help that he wasn't working, he didn't know when he'd be returning to work, or if, and he wasn't on a disability pension either. He had money in savings, but it bothered him to live there rent-free or not contribute in some way to the household expenses and things like grocery bills.
"We have a caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat," Sören said in a singsong voice. "You love cats. You've always wanted a cat."
"Tobias wouldn't be my cat, though, he'd still be yours."
"Yeah, but you could still spend time with him. He'd probably want to sleep on your bed." Sören cocked his head to one side.
"I need to think about it," Anthony said. "I'm not saying you're wrong for saying I need to move out, but it's a big step and I worry that I'd cramp your style." His answer was actually closer to no, worrying that he'd move in with them, it would be a disaster, and he'd have blown everything, but he didn't want to upset Sören by saying no this quickly.
"We wouldn't be offering if we thought it would be like that," Sören said. "Nick has a good head on his shoulders." The way Sören's lips quirked as he made that sentence let Anthony know Sören was laughing internally at the phrase good head, and Anthony raised an eyebrow, and they lost it together. It felt so good to laugh with Sören at off-color humor, he'd missed that. But then Sören sobered, took a big sip of his drink, and folded his arms. "Seriously, Anthony, we're not offering to be polite. We know letting someone live with us isn't something to do casually."
"I... I get that." Anthony did wonder however how much they'd thought about the full implications of what they were getting into, like how his limited mobility would impact the upkeep of the household. "I still need some time."
"OK." Sören looked disappointed, but also willing to drop the subject and not push, seeming to understand something of that magnitude couldn't be decided right away.
They sat in silence for a few minutes - or as quiet as it could be with the pelicans grunting and snorting in the distance - and then Sören said, "Would you at least accept a gift from me?"
"A... a gift?"
"I have something for you." Sören went into his backpack again, but before he could take it out, he pulled his hand out and paused. "Actually, I wanted to bake a cake for you - a cake that says CONGRATS ON THE AUTISM, but Nick thought that was in bad taste."
Anthony laughed so hard his sides started to cramp and his face hurt. Now the tears came for an entirely different reason.
"It's not that I'm trying to be dismissive of the difficulties or treat it like some sort of superpower... though I don't think there's anything wrong with being autistic, either," Sören said, "it was more a lighthearted attempt at saying 'Yay! You know what's going on with you!' But Nick said no." Sören pouted.
Anthony couldn't stop laughing. This is why I love you. Sören was sometimes the most ridiculous thing in existence, and he needed that so much. "Congrats... on... the autism... Sören, you're fucking terrible."
"Takk." Sören smiled and then he reached back in the bag. His fist was clenched when his hand came out. "Here," he said, and opened his hand.
Anthony took the wheel-shaped object made of anodized metal, gleaming rainbow iridescence.
"It's a fidget spinner," Sören said.
Anthony's breath caught - not only that Sören had indeed done his research and got it that he needed to fidget when he was stressed out, instead of the way he'd learned in his teenage years to keep that urge stopped up and not look weird... but also the way Sören said "fidget spinner" with his accent, feejit speenerrr. Anthony bit his lower lip, feeling that flutter, melting as he looked into Sören's warm, kind brown eyes. "Say it again," Anthony said.
"What? Fidget spinner."
Anthony grinned. "I love that."
Sören chuckled. "Oh, you."
"I'm sorry. I... can't help it. Your accent is..." Anthony didn't even know how to describe it. He felt giddy and nervous all at once, like a teenager with a stupid crush all over again.
"Go on," Sören said, gesturing to the fidget spinner in Anthony's hand. "Try it."
Anthony looked down at the fidget spinner, and back into those sweet brown eyes, and then Anthony took a deep breath and began to spin the wheel. He watched the blurry, spinning rainbow, and smiled again, soothed by the feeling of the wheel spinning on his fingers, the sight of the whirling colors.
"That looks like fun," Sören said.
There it was. No judgment, no mockery, only acceptance. Anthony knew Sören wouldn't be cruel, but nonetheless, it felt so good to be able to release a little of his internal pressure by fidgeting, in front of the man he loved, and find only kindness. And fidgeting like this, when he'd been picked on about it enough to keep it bottled up for years, in front of someone else - it felt intimate, vulnerable, letting Sören see a part of him he was reluctant to show others. It felt almost even more intimate than sex, a very deep act of trust. Their eyes met and the encouraging smile Sören gave him, lighting up his whole face, made Anthony want to grab Sören and kiss him.
He held back.
"Shit, I should get one of those for when I'm on my break at work." Sören cocked his head to one side. "Can I play with it?"
Anthony's mind sank back into the gutter, thinking about Sören playing with his cock. Yes, Sören, you can play with it anytime you want. Consider it yours. Anthony batted that thought away, not wanting to get horny, not wanting the mixture of lust and vulnerability to tempt him to try to seduce Sören when Sören had clearly stated they needed a year. Anthony handed him back the fidget spinner and watched Sören spin it, and once again Sören's exuberance was contagious. Anthony grinned too, enjoying the sight of Sören spinning the wheel.
Sören nodded. "I think I will get one for myself. Then we can be fidget brothers."
That pushed Anthony's mind right back in the gutter, remembering the kinky roleplaying of their relationship, pretending to be brothers... of course, they'd also both dreamed about being brother-lovers in other bodies, in what felt like a long time ago, another life. Anthony's face was on fire, cock stirring in his jeans. Before his mind could run away with too many sexual fantasies of the way they used to call each other "brother" during sex, the wrongness of it making it even hotter, Sören gave him back the fidget spinner.
Anthony played with the fidget spinner some more. He continued to look around at the trees in their autumn glory, the birds, the way the light took on a touch of gold in the late afternoon now that the days were shorter. At last Anthony tucked the fidget spinner into his pocket. "You want to walk around a little?" Even though he was slow and couldn't go far, he wanted to see the park from other angles.
Sören nodded, stood up, and helped him up off the bench, though Anthony would have been all right using his cane to get up. Sören's touch made him tingle, made his cock throb again. But Anthony was soon distracted by the beauty of their surroundings as they strolled. Sören didn't seem to mind the slower pace - Anthony glanced at Sören from time to time and saw Sören taking it all in, could practically see the gears in Sören's mind turning, the visions in his artist's eyes.
"It looks like everything's on fire." Sören smiled. "I like it."
Anthony laughed. "You thinking about painting it?"
"Maybe," Sören said. "I have a lot of ideas for things I want to paint, but only so much time. Still, though, that's a good sign, after the way my muse just went quiet after..." He didn't need to say it.
Anthony's free hand took Sören's and squeezed. "I'm sorry."
"So am I." Sören nodded. "But, already things are better." Sören squeezed Anthony's hand back. "And you have more ways to cope, now."
Anthony nodded. He took out the fidget spinner again and gave it another spin. "I mean, I can't do it in front of other people at work..."
"I hear on the Internet it's common enough now to see people with fidget spinners that probably none of your colleagues or clients will care."
"They'd care in the courtroom, just like yours would care if you whipped it out during surgery."
Sören smirked, and Anthony knew he was reacting to "whipped it out". Sören quipped, "That puts a whole new meaning to 'playing doctor'..."
"Dear god." Anthony facepalmed, snickering. Yes, he'd missed this. "I meant the fidget spinner, Sören."
When Anthony took his hand away from his face Sören was grinning, eyes full of mischief, and Anthony's face burned like the trees. He didn't need to start thinking of Sören's cock again.
Then Sören said, "Point taken, though I wasn't talking about the courtroom, just... around Lincoln's Inn, or in your office. But if you're still self-conscious about it, if you don't think it'll look professional, you could still do it when you get moments alone, between clients, or before and after court. Better to blow off a little steam here and there. If you're less anxious it might help your performance. Not that your performance is bad, from everything I've heard, but what I mean is it might be even better."
Anthony shrugged. The topic of going back to work was still a sore spot for him, and he looked down at his shoes.
Sören put a hand on his shoulder and gently rubbed. Once again, Sören's touch made him tingle, made his cock throb; Anthony fought the urge to grab Sören and kiss him.
Then Sören paused, and took a long look around before looking at Anthony again, and Anthony wondered for an instant if Sören was feeling it too and was going to kiss him. But Sören said instead, "Let's take a short break from our problems. I have an idea."
Anthony cocked his head to one side.
Sören made the "wait here" gesture and Anthony watched as Sören walked over to the base of a cluster of trees, where a large number of leaves had fallen to the ground. Sören got down on his knees and began to scoop up handfuls of the leaves, building a pile. Anthony wondered what Sören was doing as the pile got larger, and at last the pile was a couple of feet high. Sören got up, walked around the pile to get a good look at his handiwork, and then gestured for Anthony to come over.
"What... what are you doing?" Anthony asked.
"Let's jump in the leaf pile together," Sören said.
Anthony gave him an incredulous look. He was used to Sören's silliness, but this was something else. "I..."
"You've never jumped in leaves before?" Sören asked.
"Not since I was very young," Anthony said, "and my father was a bit annoyed since he'd gone to all the trouble of raking them up."
"No one's going to yell at you. And if you're worried about looking stupid, like you're too old for this, the park is quiet, there's nobody else around in this particular area -"
"It's not that." Though Anthony knew there was a touch of self-consciousness and being perceived to look ridiculous, and he knew he shouldn't worry about what strangers thought. But there was a greater concern. Anthony gestured to his cane. "I'm going to have a hard time getting up off the ground -"
"I'll help you. It won't be hard."
Oh, something will be hard. Anthony was going crazy from Sören's touch, and he didn't trust his cock not to get fully erect if Sören grabbed him to pull him up. But the leaf pile looked inviting... he remembered how much fun he'd had as a small boy, jumping in leaves and rolling around. How after his father's initial annoyance, they made a game of it, where Roger let Anthony jump in the leaves all he wanted if he helped his father rake and get the leaves into the compost pile. Roger had allowed himself a moment of fun too - one of the very few times Anthony had ever seen Roger let his guard down and play, joining him in the leaves. And when Anthony looked at Sören, he remembered all the ways Sören showed such wild, unrestrained joy at simple things, the way it made him, too, feel lighter, brighter. Here was another chance for that.
Anthony nodded. "All right."
Sören jumped into the leaf pile, with leaves flying everywhere, and when Anthony hesitated, worrying about how to maneuver his body, Sören grabbed his arms and pulled Anthony atop him into the leaves. Anthony couldn't help laughing as he crashed into Sören, the leaves making a delightful crunching sound as they held each other, rolling around together. A leaf settled onto Sören's nose and Anthony laughed harder, finding the sight adorable. He plucked the feather from Sören's nose and tickled the tip of Sören's nose with it, and fought the urge to plant a kiss on the tip. Sören snatched the leaf away and started to tickle Anthony's ear, which made Anthony laugh harder.
The papery feel of the leaves, the blankety weight of them, and the crunching all was strangely satisfying, as well as that rich earthy smell. Sören scooped up handfuls of leaves from the pile and tossed them up, with the leaves falling back down on them. Finally they had rolled around enough that there wasn't much left to the pile, and Sören sat up. There were leaves stuck in Sören's hair and Anthony thought Sören looked like some sort of forest spirit, or god of nature - and the bright red-orange leaves in his hair, like fire, seemed appropriate for the fire of Sören's spirit. Before Sören could figure out he had leaves in his curls and get them out, Anthony found himself reaching for his phone in his pocket and snapping a few candid photos of Sören.
Sören raised an eyebrow, a bemused-and-amused look on his face, and Anthony took a picture of that too, smiling. Then he got a selfie of them together, with Sören pouring more leaves over them before the camera went off.
Sören put a gold leaf on Anthony's head, grabbed Anthony's phone, and took a picture before Anthony could protest. Sören stuck his tongue out when he handed the phone back to him.
Sören got up, and a moment later he grabbed a hold of Anthony and pulled him up... into a hug. The feel of Sören's body against his, Sören's arms around him, sure enough made Anthony's cock throb, though he was only half-hard, not a full erection like he feared. But now, looking into Sören's eyes, the flush in Sören's cheeks, the smile on his face, in his eyes, Anthony badly wanted to kiss him. He was both disappointed and grateful when Sören pulled back and patted him, heading them in the direction of a bench. "You want to call your mum and we can go back to my place for tea?"
Anthony nodded. What he really wanted was to drag Sören back into the forest, push him into the leaves and fuck him right there, but he would settle for tea... and visiting with the cat.
The thought of living there was a very nice thought - indeed, the impending visit gave Anthony the feeling that he was coming home, in a way - but he was still hesitant to take that step. Not the least of which was he could barely resist Sören now, never mind being around him even more. Part of him wanted to just go back to his bedroom and get himself off, aching for Sören as much as he did. I'll do that later. There was still time left to spend with Sören today, and he intended to bask in the warmth and light of him as long as he could.
chapter 11 | return to Learning To Fly | return to Other Tolkien Fic | return to index