It was difficult to befriend others.
Wulfstan had come to that realisation after the latest of his uncountable attempts to acquainthimself with the other villagers his age failed once again. Several years had passed since he'd started living amongst these people; it should have been long enough for him to not be a frightening unknown anymore. It wasn't lost on him the hypocrisy of that – he was a trustworthy face behind his stall at the market, yet not one of the people his age deigned to speak to him in any other situation. The rare trip to the tavern left him cramped in the furthest dim corner, away from others sight, being pointedly ignored by everyone but the barmaids.
Even them, people that had to interact him, they took their time, kept their distance.
He was unsure what the issue with him was. No one had told him if he'd done wrong, acted strangely, or made someone uncomfortable. Wulfstan knew he was big, and that his red hair was seen as a bad omen by some, but he was harmless, he knew that. That seemed impossible to convince others of, though.
It seemed, no matter what he did, something went wrong with any interaction he sought out. Perhaps it really was more like something was reprehensible about him on the inside, not just how he looked, but he hated that thought. That meant it would extend to Leofric too.
Both of them were not treated like the other youths. It seemed they were always on the outside, looking in, allowed to observe but never partake. Wulfstan really couldn't figure out why – they went to church, they farmed the land, they sold at the market and paid their tithes to the nobility. Nothing they did strayed from the norm. They were by far not the only nor the first freemen in the village, so it could not have been as simple as jealousy from the villeins.
A conundrum.
One he yearned to answer.
"I'm unsure if it's only myself noticing, but do you not think the villagers treat us… oddly?" Wulfstan finally asked, after dragging his feet for three years, hoping that the strangeness would go away. They'd long since assimilated into the way of life that the villagers abided by, and yet, they still didn't open up the sealed tight barricade around their community to let the boys in. "Have we… have I done something unsound?"
Leofric looked up from his work, setting aside the pail of water he'd been lugging up from the well with an emphatic exhale. Having lived in several places through his younger years, the Smythe's lifestyle having been somewhat transient in nature, he knew how to assimilate into the communities at each place he'd ended up in with his parents. "Can't think of anything bad you've done." Leaning against the low wall encasing the well, Leofric swept his hair back from his face and tilted his head back, his skin soaking up the last of rays of sun. There was a confused expression on his face, though, contrasting how seemingly relaxed he was. "The people 'ere… they're a lot ruder than people I've met before. Unless we broke a rule we didn't know about, and they didn't tell us, it's not our fault. Definitely not yours."
Nodding his head, Wulfstan walked over to sit next to Leofric. "It just appears as if they detest my very being." He clenched his hands together in his lap. "They make me feel as if I'm, I don't know, incorrect? Peculiar?"
"Well, you're neither of those things." Leofric said it so steadfastly that it left no room for arguing; not like Wulfstan was ever one to spat with the man. "Perhaps some more years must pass before we are welcomed. They just 'ave to… feel us out, see us for our characters."
Wulfstan hoped Leofric was right. Social isolation was draining, even if he didn't really care all that much about having a flourishing social life as long as he had Leofric. Not knowing the cause of it was what disheartened him.
-
Despite the backbreaking labour of farmwork, the months of break they enjoyed were an appreciated reprieve. The last of their work had been finished the previous day and, apart from some upkeep to make sure the crops grew well and the sow stayed healthy, the Smythe's were free to spend their summer as they wanted to.
That was why, at the height of noon, Wulfstan and Leofric were basking in the sun, laying in the grass of a meadow a couple miles out from the village. It wasn't farmland and it was outside the nobilities estate, so it was a pleasant, undisturbed spot. People tended to not walk out this far, so there was little risk of the sanctuary
being interrupted.
Warm as it was, Wulfstan couldn't feel it. All he could sense was the soft, mossy grass and the wildflowers caressing the bare skin of his arms. A bee buzzed lazily over his head, its legs heavy with dew, back off to its hive. Everything was peaceful, like the world had let out a long, relaxed exhale after the hectic season of preparing and sowing their crop's seeds.
Leofric was a few inches away, eyes closed against the burning sun and a hot, red flush spreading across his face and down his neck. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead but there was still a relaxed look upon his face, almost a look of sleep.
The man was beautiful in the blinding sunlight.
While the world teemed with wildlife around them, the men remained silent; one with his eyes closed and the other, unbeknownst to the first, watching him. It felt like that most days, though, that Wulfstan saw Leofric in a way that others couldn't and Leofric was often clueless, adrift in his own world.
Wulfstan didn't mind that about him; if anything, he enjoyed it because it meant he could observe Leofric freely. He didn't know why he always felt his eyes drifting over to the face of the other man, why he was always in his mind when he should be thinking of more important things. Regardless of what the reason for his perpetual interest in the other man was, Wulfstan didn't think there was any harm in it, so he never thought to stop himself. Especially in moments like this, when Leofric wasn't looking and there was no one about to say cruel things, as those villagers would, if they spoke to him at all.
The slope of Leofric's nose was strangely delicate for such a rough-handed, well-muscled man. Long eyelashes, blond at the ends, glittered in the sunlight. His mousy brown hair had darkened slightly over the years, and grown messily long. Ita had been fussing over it for a good month now, but Leofric just didn't feel like cutting it back – it wasn't getting in the way of his work, so it caused no issue.
Wulfstan thought it suited him quite well.
"The weather is lovely, isn't it?" Leofric's voice suddenly cut through the quiet lull, his eyes sliding open, though they remained half-shut against the sun. That piercing golden iris of his looked to the side, peering at Wulfstan from the corner of his eye. A smile danced across his lips, a softness to his expression that Wulfstan hadn't seen before.
Stunned mute, having not really expected Leofric to speak in that moment, Wulfstan just hummed in response. His eyes remained locked on Leofric though, their gazes meeting and lingering for a long while.
Leofric's smiled widened, his eyes crinkling as he observed Wulfstan. Everything about him oozed with contentment, like just sitting in this meadow side by side with Wulfstan fulfilled him. The visage of a pampered little lapdog kept by a lady in the high towers over yonder hills, satisfied and cared for. "What are you thinking about? You're being awful quiet."
There wasn't really much Wulfstan could say. He hadn't been thinking of anything, just staring at Leofric's face. Glancing away, almost embarrassed at the prospect of admitting his behaviour, he answered with a lie. He wasn't sure how believable it really was. "Nothing much really. I'm just appreciating how beautiful… the meadow looks."
Despite the hesitation in Wulfstan's answer, Leofric seemed placated, like he believed him with no qualms. "It is wonderful out 'ere." He shifted, laying on his side as if he wanted to look at Wulfstan fully, that soft, smiling gaze unwavering. "I always miss summer when winter comes. Summer feels like we 'ave all the time in the world, don't it?"
That made sense to Wulfstan. Winter was hard to survive, frost coated the floors, food scarce if the harvest wasn't successful. He saw how the Smythe's suffered, how he was glad his small portion of food was easily given to them, their need to eat something Wulfstan understood but didn't feel. Summer was months of freedom, minimal work. There was a reason many held their weddings in the summers. Wulfstan could understand it, in his limited capacity. He really wished he could feel the warm air, the sun on his skin, but all he got was his eyes, overly sensitive to the extreme, unable to see when the sunlight was too strong.
"Before your Mam and Da found me, how did you spend the summer months?You're always with me now, so I'm curious about what you did as a child." Wulfstan realised he'd never really asked about Leofric's life before he'd come into it. The man never spoke of his memories of the past, beyond simple comments, so Wulfstan had never thought to pry about it. "You've seen a lot more places than I have."
"Not much." Leofric answered. "I didn't 'ave many companions, in any of the places we stayed. I'd stay 'ome or go walk about nearby fields." He sighed, his smile slipping a bit, though there was still affection in his eyes as looked at Wulfstan. "These last couple years… well, I'm glad I 'ave you around now. For many a reason."
Crinkling his brow, Wulfstan focused on that last sentence, though he chose not to ask, finding that there was an undertone within Leofric's words that he didn't quite understand. Instead, he said, "Really? I guess I can't be that surprised seeing how the people here treat you." Hesitant, he reached his hand out and patted Leofric's shoulder, letting it rest there. "At the very least, I'm exceedingly happy that my company is welcome."
"It always will be." Leofric responded without thinking. Reaching up, Leofric grabbed Wulfstan's hand and entwined their fingers together, bringing them both down to lay on the grass between them.
Twittering birds overhead filled the silence, and the summer bugs continued to buzz around them, but all Wulfstan could hear was the thundering heart echoing in Leofric's chest. The trembling breathes spilling from his lips. Wulfstan could feel Leofric's heartbeat in the fingertips he had pressed to his hand, the sweat on his palms, the rough callouses on his knuckles.
Wulfstan was very aware of how smooth his own hands were, despite mirrored years of labouring.
Unable to tear his eyes from Leofric's face, Wulfstan's gaze darted across the man's features, catching on his lips, no longer split wide in a smile, but still curved with affection. The lack of words between them, this type of quiet, was often talked about as painfully silent but Wulfstan couldn't disagree more. Just looking at Leofric, his face cushioned in the soft, wild grass, left Wulfstan utterly speechless.
As the quietude stretched on, Wulfstan staying rigidly still, he noticed that Leofric was nervously scooting closer and closer to him. Shimmying forward a little bit, the man slowly became the only thing that Wulfstan could see, the green of the grass vanishing as Leofric's face drew near. That thundering heartbeat beat into Wulfstan's skull, filling it up, blocking out all of the surrounding background noise entirely.
Wulfstan didn't know what was happening, why he too was leaning in towards Leofric. His gaze flitted from Leofric's eyes to Leofric's lips, back and forth. That
tugging around his heart that he'd felt all those years ago came back intensely, yanking him towards Leofric fervently.
He just had to be closer to him.
The sound of a rustling bush, twigs snapping under the weight of a moving body, pulled Wulfstan back into reality, out of the affectionate, puzzling gaze of the man before him. Sitting up abruptly, his hand still holding onto Leofric's, Wulfstan whipped his head around to look in the direction of the sound.
Crashing through the undisturbed landscape, brash voices loud, dispersing the wildlife without a care in the world, was a gaggle of men that Wulfstan vaguely recognised from the village. Disappointment and fear flooded him, though he couldn't figure out a distinct reason for either.
Not wanting to move, Wulfstan watched as the men grew closer. Even from half a mile out from where he was laying with Leofric, he could see the man leading the pack.
Godwin Ward.
The man, older than both Wulfstan and Leofric by some years, had a shock of blond hair and a pair of muddy brown eyes. His gait was distinct – arrogant and overly confident. The other men, Wulfstan didn't know their names, but he knew that they were perpetual tag-alongs down the tavern with Godwin.
"Shit." Wulfstan muttered.
Leofric, who'd been staring up at Wulfstan in confusion, his ears unable to hear the sound of the approaching people, sat up at the exclamation.
While he couldn't see the faces of who was approaching, a petrified expression warped his face at the gang of approaching men. "Wulfstan, I think we should get out of 'ere." He tugged at Wulfstan's hand. "We're not in the village. They could… they could 'urt us and get away with it."
Wulfstan looked at Leofric, not quite sure why the man was so genuinely terrified. He was anxious about the approaching men, indeed, but he didn't think they would hurt them – they only ever said cruel things, ignored them, ostracised them; they never once actually attacked them. "Why would they harm us, Leofric?" He looked down at the man, furrowing his brows, before deciding to say, "But you're right. We should leave."
As the men grew closer, Wulfstan stood up, keeping his eyes trained on them – he didn't like that it seemed like they were now purposefully heading towards them. Their voices, while he could hear they were speaking, were just slightly too far out for it to be completely clear. Leofric followed but he swiftly tugged his hand away from Wulfstan, putting space between them intentionally. Wulfstan wasn't quite sure why Leofric had receded so much.
While the men were coming from the direction that Wulfstan and Leofric had originally walked from, there was an alternate route they could take so they didn't have to walk towards the intruders. They swiftly started walking, perpendicular to the direction Godwin's rabble was heading, but Wulfstan picked up his pace soon after when he caught the man's voice on the wind.
"Oh fucking hell! Look, it's those fuckers!"
Grabbing onto Leofric's arm, he started to jog, fast enough that they would easily outpace the approaching men but not so quick that Leofric would trip over himself. "They've spotted us."
After a few minutes, they crashed through the bushes at the edge of the field, the men's clamorous voices being completely left behind them. They didn't stop moving though, unwilling to allow them to catch up with them if they were still following, far behind.
It felt as if Godwin, if he caught Wulfstan and Leofric outside of the village, would not be as kind as just throwing harsh words. Leofric's hunch seemed like it was not coming from nowhere.
Fortunately, the village came into view and Wulfstan heard Leofric let out a relieved sigh. He couldn't believe how he'd never noticed how acutely afraid the man was of some of the people in the village. Vowing, in his own mind, no one else needing to hear it, Wulfstan swore he would not allow Godwin, or anyone else, to lay a finger on Leofric. Not if he could help it.
Not when the man was under his watchful eyes.