#— ❛❛ // zeev ¦ but here i blur into you

[hochmvt]

you're using my words against me.

The tension between them had been building, silent but palpable, until it finally erupted into— this. Isaiah wasn’t someone to raise his voice or lash out, but when he was tense and people treated him disrespectfully, there was a cold precision to the way he chose his words, each one carrying a deliberate weight. And he knew his words could hurt. His calm demeanor only seemed to infuriate Zeev more, who fired back with an edge, frustration in his words. ”You're using my words against me.” Isaiah stopped, turning around, his gaze fixed on Zeev. He wanted to get away from this situation, to smoke a cigarette and give both of them some space so things would calm down again. The situation was on the verge of turning ugly (and Isaiah knew, that he tended to make them ugly if the other one was acting irrational) and frankly, Isaiah wasn’t particularly known for holding back when it came to rhetorics. He was smart — and he was aware of that.

”Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he told his boyfriend and looked at him, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched. But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t lose control. Instead, his eyes narrowed, his mind going through their conversation again, piecing together exactly what had been said. He couldn't be serious. Zeev’s accusation stung, but Isaiah wasn’t about to let it derail him. He didn’t twist words — he listened, deeply, and maybe that was the problem. If Zeev didn’t like having his thoughts mirrored back to him with such clarity, he dated the wrong person. The other repeated what he had said. ”I’m not using your words against you, I’m holding you accountable for what you’re saying, Zeev. If you feel uncomfortable with that, we have a more serious problem than ‚me using your words against you‘.” It was a blunt truth, one that cut through the air between them. Isaiah could see an emotion in Zeev’s eyes that he wasn’t particularly familiar with. There was something deeper there, something raw and unspoken. The hurt lingered between them, neither willing to give ground, both afraid to reveal what was hidden underneath the words. ”But if you wanna fight dirty, be my guest.”

[hochmvt]

"Isaiah, I'm about to pass out any minute."

The sun shone brightly and mercilessly on the earth for the second week in a row, heating up the asphalt of Macomb's streets and making the distance appear in shimmering waves. Zeev generally felt naturally comfortable in the sun. The heat seemed to affect him far less than Isaiah, who sat next to his husband and sighed. His lanky frame was draped in a white t-shirt—sweat luckily not yet darkening patches of it, but he knew if he'd sit in this heat for more than two hours, getting up would be an embarrassment, for him and for his husband—, and his jeans were definitely the wrong choice today, just as his mom had predicted, but that's primarily because she was a mother and mothers, as per law, were always right, apparently. The blonde's hands fidgeted with the condensation dripping from his cup of lemonade. Oak and maple trees lined the sports field, where several rows of chairs had been set up with picnic blankets and folding chairs in the shade until the ceremony had come to an end. Isaiah glanced around, looking further back at his mom and dad, Zara, Carter, Jemma, and the Petosky clan, smiling at them and waving as they fanned themselves. Then he turned his attention back to what was happening in front of him, excited men and women, most of them Isaiah and Zeev's age. His gaze went to his left, he looked to his husband who had been leaning against him, took his hand and gently kissed his knuckles. “Are you alright, my love?” he asked, looking down at him, kissing the top of his head and smiling softly, then stroking the back of his husband's neck. “Isaiah, I'm about to pass out any minute.” The podcast host smiled down at the Sundawner and gently kissed his temple, putting his arm around him and supporting him more. “It's exciting, isn't it?” he asked, smiling back at him and stroking his hair reassuringly with his free hand. “I got you, baby, you're safe with me,” he assured him, pulling him closer and offering him his shoulder and support.

The principal took the stage and greeted the parents, relatives and family friends of the 60 children who were starting school today. Isaiah shifted a little in the chair, keeping an eye out for Daisy, who had to be standing somewhere up ahead, but always keeping his arm around Zeev so that he wouldn't hurt himself if he actually lost consciousness. “I'm here, my love,” he assured him again, looking down at him and gently stroking his side. “And please welcome,” the principal continued at some point,—after children had went up the stage one by one,—and smiled, gesturing to the students standing at the side of the stage, ”Daisy Pines.” Isaiah looked to Zeev, who still appeared to be conscious, and stood up carefully with him, putting his arm around him to continue providing support and placing his index finger and thumb between his lips with his free hand, whistling loudly as Daisy took the stage, rather reserved and shy (but she did nonetheless, despite her fear of getting up there!) while the rest of the family was equally loud in the background, cheering for the newest addition to the family. Her braided pigtails bounced slightly as she walked, the flower crown Zeev had made with her in the morning was a little out of place, but somehow it added to her overall appeal. She looked so pretty, Isaiah thought, and how courageous she was and how polite she was to say 'Hello' to the principal and shake her hand—the only child who did. Because that's what one does. They both watched her, waved as she looked to them and smiled supportingly as she got in line.

Shortly after Isaiah and Zeev sat down again, the American felt his husband's body slump, becoming more sluggish beside him. Isaiah smiled gently at Zeev, kissed the top of his head and leaned him against his shoulder so that he had support, helping him to keep his balance. “I love you,” he mumbled into the other's hair, stroking his back gently as he continued to look forward, glancing down at Zeev every so often to check.

“She looked great up there. Gods, reminds me of you two when you had your first days in school,” Emma smiled and leaned against Matt, looking at Evie and Arwen. “Oh my God, Mom, that was ages ago.” “It doesn't feel like ages ago,” she commented back, smiling brightly. “We'll need to do video calls every day, I wanna hear everything she has to say about her first day at school. And the flower crown Zeev crafted? So cute.”

Isaiah nodded in agreement and glanced over his shoulder towards his husband, who was standing near the bar getting lemonade for everyone, but seemed to have been mobbed by a few mothers. Amused, Isaiah smirked as he saw each of them hanging on his lips, nodding repeatedly in agreement, smiling broadly at his every word. One had brushed over his shoulder and Isaiah didn't quite know if Zeev had approved, but his posture wasn't tense or uptight, so Isaiah assumed everything was fine. The American wasn't worried that Zeev would find the next supposed love of his life with any of them or that he'd cheat, there had been plenty of times when the witch seemed to know how to put people in their place, he had communicated—without leaving room for ambiguity or doubt—that he was married. And that very happily so.

He managed to remain polite, but he was also outspoken about his relationship status and his values. Isaiah loved that about him, too.

A wide smile graced the blonde's face as Daisy came running up to the group in her white dress and threw herself against Isaiah's legs, hugging them tightly and hiding her face. Looking down at her, he smiled tenderly and stroked her hair, bending his knees carefully and asking her if she wanted to be on his arm, to which she nodded in silence. He carefully put his arms around her, stroked her back gently and finally lifted her up, kissing her cheek with all the care and love he felt for his daughter. “You did so great, honey. And how polite you were when you shook hands with the principal. And how brave you were! Gods, dad and I are so proud of you” he smiled at her and stroked her back gently as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and mumbled against his skin that she wasn't brave. “Being brave doesn't mean not being scared, Daisy... It means doing things even when you are scared. And you still walked on that stage and you did so good,” he spoke to her calmly and ran his fingers over the back of her head. His pride was hard to put into words.

“Did you see your classroom, Daze? Is it cool?” asked Evie, who had joined her, and Isaiah looked down at his daughter, who lifted her head slightly and stroked her eyes, then nodded and looked at her second cousin. The girl leaned her head against the blonde's shoulder, her arms still around his neck, and talked about where she was sitting—by the window, right by the sun because it was nice and warm there and because Zeev said she would always watch over her like he and Isaiah did—how everything had looked and that she had already hidden candy from her school bag in the compartment under her table. It made Isaiah smile and even though she wasn't his biological child, there were some similarities one could undeniably draw.

“Did you manage to tear yourself away from the ladies charming you?” Isaiah asked with a smirk, smiling down at Zeev, kissing his lips softly and thanking him for the lemonade. Daisy lifted her head once more, looking at Zeev and accepting a soda with a thanks as well. Her other father's words made her smile, she giggled as Zeev spoke to her while Arwen helped hand out the sodas the witcher had gathered.

Daisy had offered to show Evie and Arwen the classroom, the adults still had to wait because the two ladies from Petosky had to classify the classroom and Daisy's place as cool first. Isaiah had his arm around Zeev, though Zeev was talking to Zara and Carter and Isaiah was talking to Jemma. He had to smile when the Brit told him how proud she was and how much she was looking forward to going to get breakfast alone with her tomorrow morning. "Isaiah, I can't wait. I'm gonna be the best aunt out there, I'll buy her everything and I'll try my best to convince her that I'm great at tagging along for shopping sprees. I mean look at me, I'm fashionable!” she argued to him and Isaiah nodded vehemently in agreement, confirming her statement. Sarah called Jemma and Zara over (and Carter followed his girlfriend as well), which gave him and Zeev a moment of privacy. He carefully pulled Zeev close, stroking his cheek, his hair and examining his eyes, gently kissing his lips and pressing him closer. “How are you feeling, my love?” he asked, still a little concern in his voice, even though he now had several years of experience with Zeev's condition. "You did so well and passed out right after the most important thing happened. I love you, baby.”

[hochmvt]

HAPPY  BIRTHDAY,  MY  LOVE  ! (please go follow @sonnenreich, he is THE sweetheart of the century and i love muse and mun dearly – if you don't, you're missing out BIG TIME)

My beloved birthday boy,

this isn’t the first love letter I’ve written you and it will most certainly not be the last. And I’m writing this at 3AM while you’re sleeping upstairs looking like a renaissance painting and all I do sometimes is look at you and feel this unexplainable warmth inside, that’s this mixture of gratefulness, love and deep-rooted admiration for you. And now that I’m writing this, I miss you once more and a part of me is getting all giddy in excitement to crawl back into bed and pull you close and fall asleep next to you, sure that I’ll wake up next to you the following morning.

You’re intertwined in the very fibers of my being, I start to use some expressions of yours (except for Splendid, I will never use that), the advice you’ve given me on so many small little aspects of my life is webbed into my soul, you inspire me, the conversation we had replay in my mind, over and over again. And I remember the night we spent at the little apartment right above Spindleweeds, trying to make sense of things that life had thrown at us, while falling in love with one another. I fell in love with not just your flowers, but your roots⸺in between daisies and sunshine and I will forever be grateful for that. And hell, I’m proud of you; for how much you’ve grown, how strong you’ve been and how you never let go of the hope and love running through your veins. I admire you not just for your strength, but for your kindness. For the way you see the world. For how you take care of yourself and how you let me help you, when you struggle with it. Your soul is painted in the most beautiful colors I’ve ever seen and I will never stop trying to find names for it, just as I will never stop admiring it in its beauty. Even though I cannot solve all your problems or rewrite the past (if there’s a way though, I’m gonna find it), be assured that I will always keep you company in everything you face, you will never face any struggle alone and I promise you, that I’ll always be there for you. I promise you that I will spend a lifetime understanding your heart completely. I promise you that I will always take care of your well-being.  I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. You made me feel something new and I will forever be grateful for that, too. I will cheer for you, for every success, for every attempt and I hope we’ll celebrate everything that life has in store for you together. From two-people BBQs to unopened envelopes until 8:30PM. You made me into something beautiful. You look like the rest of my life.  I want all of you forever.  I love you. ⸺ Isaiah

[hochmvt]

❝  MY  ENTIRE  SKY  CRAVES  ONLY  YOUR  STAR  ❞ —  college  au  starter  for  @verflcht

If Isaiah had been honest with himself, MIT had been the only actual prospect he had. Had it not been for this particular university, he probably would never have gone to one altogether. The thought of going to uni had its appeal, but he never really knew if it was the right thing to do. Making a decision for the rest of his life at 18 felt so terribly grotesque that he questioned the sense of the entire educational system. Maybe it would have made sense to take some time off, leave Greenville and see what the world had to offer. But the scholarship practically took the pressure of making that decision off him, the summer passed, as everything in life eventually does, the fall turned the campus into a warm-toned sea of leaves, the winter had ushered him to attend student parties and make friends. And with the first rays of sunshine of the new year, not only did a few friendships blossom, but so did Isaiah. A single thousand-voiced, thousand-winged hum of joy that everything was starting all over again. This must be what it felt like to be liked.

High school hadn't necessarily been the easiest of times for the blonde. He still had contact with very few people from there, although he sometimes spoke with Sophia on the telephone. There was one more contact he would have liked to have kept; with the boy with the alert eyes and sharp mind, curious and kind. With the colorful potpourri of random bits of miscellaneous knowledge that he always shared with him, even though the situation rarely matched. Moments like these had been so beautiful about him. The new kid who had never felt like a stranger. Not for a second. He'd had to leave Greenville in an overnight move, his family had had their reasons for moving cities with alarming regularity, but something seemed to have been going on for some undefined period of time. It had taken Isaiah a long time to get over the fact that the one person who had actually understood him in some way was suddenly gone. He had lain in his mother's arms because he didn't feel he could talk to anyone else about it. There was still so much he wanted to find out about him: What had made him the person he was, how his mind worked, how he liked to be touched, what he thought about at night when the world was empty and silent. They hadn't even exchanged phone numbers. Isaiah had no address to write to. Nothing. Just memories that were slowly fading. Student life had not only distracted him, but also kept him on his toes. His lectures and tutorials demanded a lot from him, every A+ seemed to make his mother very proud on the phone and his academic achievements not only earned him positive attention from his lecturers, but also seemingly a certain social standing. His fellow students greeted him, invited him to student parties (where pale pink dawn light greeted him in the morning - something Isaiah, who loathed parties for most of his life, had never thought of himself) or study circles. Rainy weekdays were often spent in the library or at Marc's apartment, and the first days of summer were often spent outside in the campus's spacious lawn. On days like these, the sun tickled his nose and warmed his face. Regardless of how nice the weather was, it was as if Isaiah was clinging to an anticipatory melancholy, as if the most beautiful of situations was always a little cloudy.

The physics department had organized one of the many celebrations to which the other faculties were also invited. He had seen Barbara, Andrew, Garret and Lydia from the biology department, his peers, as well as some of his other friends and acquaintances. One of them was Alden Tyrell, a tall, gray-haired man, a heavyset giant with thick, black horn-rimmed glasses, who smiled politely at Isaiah and gestured for him to join him.

Tyrell seemed to have seen something in the blonde boy as he had sat in his lecture. As if he had seen through him, knowing that Isaiah's thirst for knowledge didn't stop at equations and lecture notes. It had only taken a few weeks for the man in his mid-fifties to take the freshman under his wing, encouraging and challenging him, even beyond the curriculum. And now, like some other students, usually in their 7th semester and not like him, in his third, he orbited around Tyrell like a small planet in a fixed path. One evening Isaiah had told his mentor (he was on his fourth glass of wine and they had moved away from the physics curriculum and instead talked about things no serious physicist would ever devote his life's work to) that he believed something else lay beyond their reality. “I don't want to- I mean, it's not like I want to portray myself as anyone important here, I- I'm sorry, I don't find better words right now, but sometimes it feels like I'm seeing the edges of something... but I can't make out what edges I'm seeing. As if the outlines of whatever I'm aiming for are just out of reach. Or blurred.” Tyrell had looked at him for a while and said nothing. Isaiah had felt like he'd crossed a line and had looked down at his wine glass, embarrassed by his thoughts, as a single drop slowly ran down the stem of the glass. “That's where the truth's hidden, Isaiah,” he had replied at some point, ”In the edges. The limits of perception. Where reality starts to fray.” That had touched him, that he had listened and hadn't dismissed his thoughts.

Such conversations, however, would not take place this evening. Tyrell had introduced him to some colleagues Isaiah didn't know personally, but he had heard their names several times. Faculty legends, Nobel Prize winners among them. He was uncomfortable with the tone in which his lecturer spoke of him, but he put on a happy face and played along, listening to the six men as they philosophized and excusing himself a little later to go back to his friends. “You wanna dance with us?” Evelyn had asked him and Isaiah had just shaken his head, sipped his drink and wished them a good time as he leaned against the wall and watched them, toasting towards them and smiling genuinely.

[hochmvt]

❛ i guess i'm scared that i don't have what it takes to not fuck this up. ❜

Isaiah leaned back into the warm water, his arms wrapped loosely around Zeev, nose buried in the wet hair of his boyfriend (ㅤhis!!!, he thought, Zeev chose him!!!ㅤ) as they laid nestled together in the tub. The world outside seemed distant, the only sound their breathing, a gentle swash of water every once in a while when they moved. Isaiah’s fingers traced soft patterns across Zeev’s chest. It was a rare moment of quiet, where Isaiah's mind could slow down, if only for a while. Zeev however, always had this effect on him. Where all of the sudden the world went quiet, things fell into place and there was order. Other people took ritalin for that. Isaiah was merely in love. And very much so.

His thumb brushed the curve of Zeev’s collarbone, his touch light and absentminded, as though his fingers were following the rhythm of his thoughts — gentle, but persistent. But while Isaiah was lost in the moment, within Zeev, it seemed like something heavier kept his mind busy. He seemed lost in thought, staring at his hands, his wrists, almost apathetically, as he mumbled: ”I guess I’m scared that I don't have what it takes to not fuck this up.” 

Isaiah had felt the shift before Zeev said a word. The doubt, the unease — it seeped into the quiet between them, like a change in the air he couldn’t ignore. Neither of them could. The thoughts that must’ve swirled around Zeev’s mind, fed with worry, but instead of rushing to fill the space with verbal reassurances, Isaiah stayed silent. He knew Zeev, knew that words wouldn’t reach him right now.

Instead, Isaiah pulled him closer, his arms tightening gently around Zeev’s frame, offering comfort in the way he knew would reach him best — through touch. Zeev had always been a rather physical person and sometimes Isaiah felt, that through touch, it was easier for him to get through to whatever had occupied his mind. His hand moved slowly over Zeev’s chest, resting there, steady and warm, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. Zeev needed this, the closeness, the unspoken reassurance that came not from conversation, but from the simple act of being held. That he wasn’t alone in this world. Sometimes, Isaiah thought, he felt like Zeev was caught in this narrative he had; that he wasn’t worthy of something. Or that he was alone. Despite the efforts the American had poured in their relatively short relationship so far, Isaiah sometimes had the feeling, that there was something inside the witcher he couldn’t quite grasp. He wasn’t even sure if Zeev could. Or anyone, for that matter. Through touch, all the podcast host hoped for was that in this moment, in this quiet, Zeev would feel it — the reassurance, the understanding. The love. That he didn’t have to be perfect, didn’t have to worry about messing up anything, because Isaiah wasn’t going anywhere. Except for when Zeev would ask for it. ”What’s the matter, my love?” he spoke softly against the damp skin, placing soft kisses onto the other’s shoulder. ”Do you want to talk about it?”

[hochmvt]

i've seen you before.

Oh, honey, you're a genius. The American made an effort to suppress his smile as he looked at Zeev, who was leaning against the bar counter next to him. For once, they had both been invited to the event—the Creative Industry Summit, a networking opportunity for creatives in the industry, featuring all kinds of talks and masterclasses on various topics: Influencer marketing, leveraging the algorithm to your advantage, the 'power of collaborations', working through a creative block, the advantages and disadvantages of doing niche works and anything else—Zeev in his role as Main Stage presenter (and Isaiah's pride was immeasurable, looking to the front of the stage and seeing his husband guiding guests through the evening with wit, charm and genuine interest; he had been working nonstop to prepare properly for this, studying a plethora of guests, thinking up combinations of how to cluster people, and even when Isaiah told him that there were around five hundred guests and no one expected him to know every single one of them, he had always responded with an immediate “I know!” and continued to work diligently. That day, Isaiah had fallen a little more in love with him) and the podcast host as an invited guest. He had declined his panel, instead wanting to focus on Zeev and maybe attend a talk or two, but rather he liked to sit somewhere further back and just listen to his husband host the event as if he had done nothing else all his life.

He hadn't seen Zeev since the last segment; the crowd that had quickly formed around him was an impenetrable conglomeration of people who all wanted something from Zeev, but he looked happy and relieved when people spoke to him, so Isaiah turned his attention to the bar and gave him some time and space to be showered in all the love and admiration he deserved. It had been a good three quarters of an hour since then.

❝  I've seen you before.  ❞

Isaiah's smile was hard to ignore. “Oh... Apart from today? I'm sorry, I'm terrible with faces.” He wasn't, yet smiled apologetically. Meanwhile, he thought about who he was today. Perhaps a game developer who had found his specialty in particularly immersive horror games by breaking the fourth wall? Or a writer, so that he would appear a little more intellectual? Perhaps he was also a historian who published his findings on modern media. Hm. No matter who he chose to be, he loved playing these little games with Zeev. In a way, they were one of many defining factors of their relationship. “But congratulations on your work. You did a great job tonight, I had such a fun time listening to you. You do this regularly, don't you?” he smiled politely at him and ran his fingers through unruly strands of blonde hair. Apparently the trigger for his sudden flash of an ephiphany. “I'm Isaiah, by the way. I'm a film director and digital storytelling consultant. It's a pleasure...— Zeev right? What do you do, aside from excelling at presenting?”

[hochmvt]

Isaiah laid back on the soft motel bed, exhausted and satisfied. His tight grip on Zeev’s hips had loosened, his nails leaving behind slight marks on bare skin. The witcher was too good to him and Isaiah was thankful for the way Zeev had treated him ever since they met. The northern Montana air outside their motel room was crisp and cool, but inside, the room felt warm. Intimate. His chest rose and fell with each deep breath as he stared at the ceiling, a lazy smile stretching across his face. ”Fuck...” he sighed, closing his eyes and pulling Zeev into his arms, his fingers trailing absentmindedly over his back in gentle, comforting strokes. 

The podcast host couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with love and satisfaction in moments like this. Isaiah had always thought of himself like someone with a relatively low sex drive. With Zeev however, every touch, every kiss was electric, like his body came alive in ways he'd never experienced before. And he loved it. He loved the way Zeev moved on top of him, fluid, his hips godsent. How his spine arched ever so beautifully beneath him, face buried in the soft pillows beneath, mouth wide open. The way he kissed every inch of his body, as if Isaiah was all the Sundawner had asked for all his life. How he moaned his name. How he gasped for air. It was intoxicating, the way Zeev gave himself over so completely, the vulnerability in those moments when nothing else mattered but each other. And Isaiah couldn’t get enough of it. It wasn’t just about the physical satisfaction, although that was undeniably good — it was the connection, the trust, the intimacy. Zeev had opened up parts of him he didn’t even know existed. 

His fingers brushed through Zeev’s hair, soft strands slipping between them, as he sighed contentedly. ”I still have to earn money, my love, it’s just an interview for today, we’ll still have a lazy evening, I promise you,” he spoke softly against his lips, smiling contently. He kissed him again, one hand resting upon his bare chest, wandering to his neck, pulling him even closer. Hesitantly he pulled away. If it wasn’t for the pre-produced content he had recorded already, that’d last him at least 4 months, his audience undoubtedly would’ve noticed the lack in episodes. He couldn't get enough of Zeev and it showed. As he brushed his teeth, he heard Zeev’s question from the motel room. He turned around and smiled at him, leaning in the doorframe of the adjacent bathroom. ”Only one way to find out,” he spoke with toothpaste in his mouth, tilting his head slightly back again so he wouldn’t spill it anywhere. Facing the sink again, he finished getting ready for heading out, Zeev however, stood right in front of him when he turned around again. Isaiah blinked twice, almost startled. ”Hi...” he said and looked down at Zeev, placing one hand on his waist. He didn't know if there was worry or something else in his eyes. ”I’m gonna take care, baby, I promise you. It’s just an interview, hm? Nothing to worry about...” In a way, he didn't want to leave. He wanted this lazy Sunday. Being in bed with Zeev, watching movies, ordering take away, snuggling up, talking, lazy kisses, lazy sex. Neglecting his job, however, didn't feel right either. Especially if it involved other people.

⸻ for my beloved @hochmvt.

Exhaustion caught up with him as the euphoria slowly left him. Zeev crawled over Isaiah, leaving a trail of sloppy, slow kisses across his chest that came to rest against his lips. As much as he enjoyed every day, lazy Sundays were his favourite. Although it was hard to call them lazy, judging by the light film of sweat that clung to their bodies. Furthermore, the lazy aspect wouldn't last. Zeev rubbed his ear as the tinnitus of his high tickled his ear. Satisfied, he snuggled up to his boyfriend, leaning his chin on his chest to continue looking at him; his tangled blond hair sticking to his forehead, his cheeks slightly flushed, the smile firmly anchored in his features. To say Zeev was proud because he was the reason for this sight was an understatement. Satisfied and happy, he hummed as Isaiah’s arms encircled him and once more he kissed the patch of skin he could find in the immediate vicinity. Not having to worry about anything but each other was a wonderful advantage when they weren't at home. There would be food somewhere, they wouldn't have to clean up (although they would whenever they stayed longer) and they would no doubt not be expecting visitors. 

The midday sun shone warmly and invitingly into the room, even if the weather outside was anything but welcoming for Zeev. As much as he liked autumn, with all the cosiness that it brought, he was not a fan of the weather. However, he was glad that Isaiah rarely let him freeze. And if he did, it was Zeev's own fault because he vehemently resisted the scarf and hat. “Do you really need to go?” he mumbled displeased, showing him the biggest pair or puppy eyes he could muster given his light-headed state. Inhaling deeply, he fully immersed himself in the feeling of his boyfriends lean, artistic fingers against his scalp, brushing away his golden strands of hair, seeking warmth against his body, as his temperature dropped back to normalcy. 

Although Zeev knew the answer, he didn't like it. Of course Isaiah had to do his job, that was what they had come here for in the first place. Not because long car journeys and overnight hotel stays had become a wonderful pair activity that they shared whenever they could. At least Isaiah's spine could thank Zeev for not sleeping uncomfortably in the car. “Do you think that guy is trustworthy?” He trusted Isaiah, and thanks to him a number of other people as well, but he couldn't completely put aside his doubts.

Somewhere, deep amongst the belongings of the podcast host, there was note, tucked away and folded almost unrecognisable.

[hochmvt]

𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚢 𝟾 ⸻ 𝐀 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 for @sonnenreich and @embcrspark

They had been sitting next to each other in silence for a good forty minutes now, the radio had played music from time to time, occasionally Isaiah had simply turned it off. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, one hand supporting his head, the other resting loosely on the steering wheel. At some point, he straightened up slightly, changed the position of his hands, and placed both hands on the steering wheel. “I didn't mean it like that... at the station,” he mumbled at one point, looking over at his boyfriend. The words quickly died down in the small interior of the car as the long, desolate road blurred beneath them. They hadn't seen another car for the last forty minutes either. The sun was already setting lower and the sky was beginning to turn warm, soft colors; an image that was supposed to bring lightness. “I would never say that you don't deserve good things or that you're broken, Zeev. I—I'd never say that, I don't think that and...—You know that,” he continued and he looked over again. Stoically, Zeev looked out of the window as the golden sunlight poured over his face. He looked so beautiful in that glow. Even if his jaw was tense. He knew the look the Sundawner was putting on right now. He withdrew, as he himself did when he felt guilty or bad, too. The air hung heavy in the wagon and Isaiah opened the window briefly, as if it would help let fresh air into the wagon, even if it was windless.

Isaiah gathered himself and took a deep breath. “I just meant that... Listen,” he said, chewing the inside of his cheek, rubbing his face briefly and looking back at the witcher. “You deserve happiness... And it's not like you have to live everyday like you owe something to the universe.” He breathed softly; it would be foolish to call it a sigh. “You don't have to repent for the rest of your life and shut yourself off from all things that give you joy and a sense of peace. I just wanted to say that...—I can't relate to what you're going through, Zeev. Of course I'm speaking outside the box for me here, but...—You've atoned, okay? And now it's about you waking up in the morning and starting over. Trying. As the Zeev that you are, not the one you were. You've grown, you learned your lesson...”

Zeev's mouth opened slightly, as if he wanted to speak, then he fell silent again. Isaiah swallowed and looked back over at Zeev, who had turned his face further away from him and was now looking out of the passenger window at the desolate desert. A few minutes passed before the blonde reached across the center console, just in Zeev's direction. Not entirely. Just enough for their fingers to touch one another tentatively. A small peace offering. No pressure. Only presence. “You're not a bad man, Zeev,” the podcast host said at one point. His voice was more intentional, but also more approachable than before. “You're one of the best people I've ever met. I think very highly of you... Regardless of whether you're my boyfriend or not.” There was a sense of relief when Zeev finally looked at him. Even if it was only brief. It was certainly long enough for Isaiah to see how much vulnerability and insecurity was behind the other man's eyes. Maybe that was why he hadn't looked at him. Because he knew he was an open book to Isaiah, even though they had only known each other for a year. Now Zeev's fingers moved more to Isaiah's.

“You care so much it almost breaks you... I see that... I know that,” he spoke softly with a desire for reconciliation. “You protect the people who are of importance to you. The people you love... You listen... You're there, even when it's difficult. And yes, you made a grave mistake at one point. But you didn't stop there. You didn't let that be the end of it. That wasn't the final thing that defined you. Your misstep wasn't the end of you.” Now the slowly setting sun shone directly into the car and filled the interior with golden yellow light. “There's hope for everyone, my love,” he added after another brief moment of silence. “Especially you.” It took a while for Zeev to reply. “You really believe that?” he asked and it felt strange because they had been silent for so long. The blonde smiled gently and nodded. “I wouldn't be here if I didn't...” he smiled encouragingly at him. He stepped off the gas a little, the world around them slowing down as if giving it room to breathe. And as Zeev slowly slipped his fingers between the American's, Isaiah looked over at him and smiled softly, gently reaching for his hand and studying his boyfriend's face. A gesture that said: I see you. You're allowed to heal, my love.

And as they were carried further along the road by the wheels of the car, with no direct destination in mind but simply a means to an end, to spend time together and be by themselves as the stars gradually flashed above them, it gradually felt less like they'd simply hopped aimlessly into a car to run away from something neither could name and more like they were coming within touching distance of something that welcomed them.

They'd been driving for hours by now and the terrain had changed a little, slowly but steadily; the way you only realize after the fact that you've been sitting in front of the console for six hours while lost in your new hyperfixation. Occasionally they had passed trees, but their coverage gradually increased in number. Zeev was the first to lean forward slightly. Isaiah had become blind to the road at that point. Irritated, the Sundawner's gaze had switched between what was looming on the other side of the windshield and the Google Maps map on Isaiah's phone. Then Isaiah noticed it too. A cluster of houses echoed in the distance, but they hadn't seen any town or street signs, let alone road markings, for miles. There was no indication even on the map, although it was considered the most reliable and up-to-date orientation medium in the digital zeitgeist of navigation devices. Even in the middle of nowhere. In front of them was a village that shouldn't be there; a village that didn't seem to be there five minutes ago, like a forgotten memory in the middle of the valley they were just passing through. “That's weird,” he muttered and straightened up slightly, leaning forward slightly too. Even from here, everything looked like a ghost town. It was the emptiness that loomed before Isaiah that both worried and strangely attracted him. A kind of attraction that drew him to caves, ghost stories and places that begged to be forgotten.

It was really just about peeking, Isaiah had assured the other. To test the waters before they moved on. Just a quick glance. Zeev had gotten out at the same time as him, looking around and taking in the scenery. Meanwhile, Isaiah, in addition to his notebook, had taken the flashlights out of the trunk, which weren't necessary at the moment, but the sun set noticeably fast on some days and who knew how big this town was. He locked the car, walked back over to his boyfriend, took his hand and kissed the back of it. He let his hand rest in the other's. The excited smile that resembled that of a little boy at Christmas was hard to contain. This ghost town—it was obvious that it was one—was completely silent. Even the wind that blew around their legs and stirred up the dust on the ground seemed quieter than anywhere else. “Thank you for doing this,” he smiled at Zeev, leaned over and kissed him. “I love you.” And when he broke away from him, he looked at the witcher, who was smiling and whose ears were turning red, Isaiah smiled brightly, feeling that Zeev shone a little brighter in the dusk than before.

The sun-bleached wooden buildings that lined the main street that ran through the center seemed to be collapsing in on themselves under the weight of time and oblivion. Shutters hung crookedly in their mounts, others were missing altogether and seemed buried under the dust and sand. There had been no light or warmth behind the windows for years; they were dark and empty, like everything that surrounded this town. The white paint had almost completely peeled off some of the houses, revealing it's wooden foundation. The place seemed to have fallen out of time. It was a simple cluster of houses, bungalows with weathered roofs, a barn could be glimpsed a little further back, a windmill turned wearily in the breeze and squeaked every now and then. Two of the houses indicated that they had once been stores, but the signs had faded into illegibility. What remained were remnants of forgotten names and forgotten stories. Dust and dirt had settled on everything and clung to it tenaciously. Nothing had moved here for eons. And at the end of the street stood a church, its bell tower rising high into the twilight night sky, and as Isaiah looked at it, a shiver ran down his spine. Their footsteps echoed in the emptiness of the village.

“Hm,” Isaiah remarked taciturnly and took out his notebook. His handwriting, which was already rather debatable, became even more illegible as he walked. But he didn't want to stop either. As if the village would disappear, if he stopped to take it in. “Church looks oddly... intact, don't you think? As if preserved, like it was covered in resin or something, dunno,” he murmured under his breath, talking to Zeev as he wrote, capturing his thoughts in speech and writing at the same time. “The architecture is kinda... inconsistent. You got like Western, late 19th century and then you have like Gothic elements, with that church. As if this place was always built on top of an already existing one...” Then they were silent for a moment, Zeev seemed to be thinking, too and expressed this with a verbal Hm. Isaiah thought out loud because he knew Zeev didn't mind and because his boyfriend often gave him new ideas and perspectives on matters he got stuck on. They both realized that the layout of the city was definitely deliberate. Central axis. A likelihood of ritual significance. No smell of decay or rot. Hm.

Everything seemed to lead towards this church. As if it lay in the valley of it all and everything around it had been built on the slight slope so that the roofs, supporting beams and windows pointed towards it. His gaze returned to the church at the end of the street. Tall and narrow, once white, now tarnished by time and probably moss or mold. Or perhaps something that didn't belong to nature to begin with. Isaiah's heart leapt at the thought and he squeezed Zeev's hand. The cross at the top of the church tower was crooked, it looked awry, as if it had been bent by invisible hands. Some of the colored stained glass windows had been smashed, but their saturation had faded and today they looked only like former bruises slowly fading on the skin.

The witcher's eyes were alert and attentive just as Isaiah's were. Because even if Zeev didn't always approve of everything Isaiah did when he thought he could throw himself into risky ventures without a second thought, he too was curious and thirsty for knowledge. He found fun and interest in pursuing such things, just as Isaiah did. The latter had always been a dreamer and free spirit, not least because of the upbringing he had enjoyed. Even then, he had chased shadows to grasp their shape. And now Zeev was with him, maintaining a safe distance but always having his back in case the shadows turned out to have teeth. They trusted each other and were grateful for one another, with all that that entailed.

There was something written in Latin above the large entrance doors, but the letters were weathered and the distance from the church didn't aid the cause. Nevertheless, there was no question that it was a Christian church. Whether they really worshipped God was another matter. Perhaps former inhabitants had only used Christianity as a cover for something, to worship a deity that was older than an old, supposedly merciful man who punished people for sins that were not sins. His gaze went over to Zeev and he was sure he would sin again and again every time if it meant he would be allowed to enjoy heaven on earth with Zeev for his lifetime. Or through Zeev. He lifted the other's hand once more, kissed the back of his hand and then continued writing.

“Your pupils are dilated,” Zeev stated at one point and Isaiah looked from his notebook to the side. “Are you having fun?” Zeev asked, smiling up at him, and Isaiah nodded, leaning over and kissing the other. “Investigating creepy ghost towns with my favorite being on this earth? Hell yeah, I'm having fun,” he smiled and kissed him several times in quick succession. “Feels like we stumbled into something that ain't supposed to be here, don't you think? That's so cool...” he grinned, looking back at the church and thinking that something was moving behind the windows. Maybe it was just the wind or a reflection of light or a trick of his own mind, but whatever it was, it was moving. “Maybe we check out the church, we don't have to go in it, if you don't want that and then we leave, baby. Don't think we gonna find a motel here and I love you too much to offer you the car as our stay for the night.”

They both walked closer to the chapel together, Isaiah swaying slightly with his hand resting in Zeev's, smiling because he was happy to be experiencing all of this with him. They were only separated by a few more steps to the church until the podcast host heard something that didn't fit the dead silence of the scenery. Static. So quiet at first that it might as well have been a figment of his imagination. “Do you hear that?” he asked Zeev, glancing around. The noise wasn't coming from the church, but from a building further to the left. He squinted slightly and looked around as if it would help him to find out where the noise had come from. He located it somewhere between the sagging window sill and the wild weeds in the distance. They agreed to look at it without mutual communication. A glance and a nod. Only briefly, of course.

The static emerged from an old ham radio on the second floor of the building Isaiah had suspected. It was a fully-fledged setup, with a microphone and a glowing display that kept flashing and flickering. Hm. All of it was part of an even grander setup, some wires sticking out and leading to nowhere, others disappearing into holes in the wall behind it. Most of the labels were faded and no longer recognizable. Others, however, were. Broadcast A. Town Relay. Emergency Override. Some microphones hung from metal hooks, their cables porous and old. “A ham radio... And a quite impressive one at that,” Isaiah noted, examining everything carefully. This wasn't the result of some hobbyist's work. “This seems like a lifeline, something like a command center. As if the entire communication happened here and... well, was controlled here, too.” The green beacon of the transmitter in the center glowed faintly. Isaiah took a few steps towards it, sat down on the stool in front of it and leaned forward slightly, examining the tangle of technology and cables, trying to make sense of things and draw conclusions. The sleeves of his hoodie left traces in the dust. What escaped him was that they weren't the only marks that had been left here recently.

Isaiah moved cautiously. Not necessarily because he was afraid he would break something, but because he didn't want to disturb the silence. He turned one of the knobs and his gaze followed the needle as it searched for another frequency. The static, however, remained. Until a voice cut through the silence and Isaiah startled slightly.

“The search continues now for the missing thirty-seven men and women, last reported to be seen near the old mining trail east of Briar Junction. Their families, to this day, have not heard of them. Sheriff Brooks confirmed to authorities and press that there was no new evidence that has surfaced since the deployment of the initial search parties earlier this month. Volunteers from the American Legion and Civil Air Patrol have since combed the region on foot and by air, but as of this broadcast, no traces have been recovered. Relatives and all those affected by the disappearances are welcome at the Saint Luke's Parish School. Citizens are advised to remain vigilant and report any findings to the station office at Klondike 4-7381. Local curfews will remain in place until further notice. A moment of silence will be held at tomorrow's VFW gathering in town hall. God keep them safe, wherever they may be.”

“Giving phone numbers out like that... That was common in the U.S. before the 1960s... Odd... It's a live broadcast after all. And hell, if there are going thirty-seven people missing, they're looking for them not just by search parties,” he commented and continued turned the knob after a while when no more news broadcasts followed. Static again. He felt Zeev's hand on his shoulder, stroking the fabric of his hoodie. And then he heard... whispering. Between the static and the cackling of the transmission, he heard voices. As if he was eavesdropping on a private conversation.

“It's working,” he heard a strange voice behind him. His gaze quickly went behind him, to the door frame, Isaiah stood up with a jolt and stood in front of Zeev, pushing the Sundawner gently behind him. He did this more out of instinct than to make any subtle statement. Still, he'd protect his boyfriend with his life. The dark-haired man was younger than both of them, but he looked neither more out of time than the two who had stumbled into this village. His face was tired, as if he had been here for a few days. And even if Isaiah was suspicious, his gut instinct suggested to him that there was no threat posed by the boy. He stumbled a few steps towards them, mumbling that he was going to get help.

Until the volume of the radio changed abruptly, the whispering had stopped and instead a woman's voice rang out through the radio's old speakers. Her words were accompanied by the sound of bells from the church. Calling for sermon. “The bell shall toll and all shall gather. He awaits the faithful in His house.”

The sound of the church bell echoed in the empty streets of the village and everything felt like it was tolling not for silence, but for someone. With his arm he had reached slightly behind him, pressing Zeev closer to him. They had been called to service. Whoever they were. And as the dark-haired one spoke frantically into the microphone of the Ham radio, calling for help, Isaiah turned to Zeev and made sure he was all right. He nodded to him, then looked back to the boy in front of him. The blonde gulped, something inside him sympathizing with how desperate the other was. “It won't work...” he explained gently, placing a hand on the boy's bent back. “The signal's looping... Look,” he continued and pointed towards the oscilloscope's waveform, a length that repeated itself in its rhythm—too accurate to be natural. “That's not distance interference but containment... There's some kind of signal dampening field here... Could have many reasons, the terrain, age of the rig, something like that... The waves bounce, so to say. They echo around inside the town, endlessly.” He ran a hand over his own face. “The setup is a closed circuit... Whoever built this didn't want to communicate with the outside world. They wanted to speak to each other,” he explained, looking down at the brunette. “Where do you have to go? We can take you along... My car's parked just outside of town...”

[hochmvt]

get you a hubby like zeev 🥹♥️

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐘 @hochmvt !

I’ve countless words, so much to say,

But when you’re near, they slip away.

My thoughts are full, my heart is too,

Yet when you smile, I lose the view.

So here’s a riddle, a little key,

Solve it and find what’s meant to be.

A letter hidden, just for you,

Unfold it, love, and read what’s true.

"I’m seen in the mirror, but never quite clear, I change with the years and show joy or fear. I’m what others first see, but can’t easily trace, ⸻ what am I?"

[hochmvt]

Today was one of those days. Isaiah was caught up in the shitshow that was the topic of the next episode, a story so absurd and yet oddly intriguing than anything he'd taken on in recent years. A seemingly cursed town in New England, where residents claimed to hear whispers in a language no one could identify. But it was the historical records that had kept him awake even at night, hints of mass hysteria and forgotten settlements. With each thread of the past he had uncovered and brought sense into, the less made sense. Isaiah’s hands hovered over his keyboard, eventually writing something down, but deleting it immediately after. There was nothing coherent enough coming out of him for the podcast anytime soon. His research seemingly went nowhere, as every theory led to five more questions. He rubbed his eyes, his thoughts pinballing from one revelation to the next, unable to focus. Fuck.

Zeev quietly appeared in the doorway, a cup of coffee in his hands, asking him if he's getting anywhere with his research. Zeev, too, had become witness of rather sleepless and short nights, as Isaiah read until late at night about the town's history. The podcast host's features softened as he saw his boyfriend, a small smile appearing on his lips despite his frustration. “Thanks,” he answered to the gesture, placing his hand on Zeev's thigh and squeezing it affectionately. Eventually he focused on the screen again, determined to get at least one paragraph of the script done. Zeev apparently saw it — how drained Isaiah was, and he suggested gently, “Perhaps it’s time for a break, don’t you think?” Isaiah’s brow furrowed as he shook his head, as if admitting defeat against his own expectations was worse than anything else. Zeev stepped closer, standing between Isaiah and the screen, blocking his view. Isaiah blinked, looking up. “Do you want to lie down for a bit?”, he had asked. “I can't take a break now, I need to—”, he said, tilting his head to the side so he could see the screen. Until his boyfriend said his name. Zeev’s eyes were focused on him as the Michigan boy looked up, soft and concerned, but there was something more — an invitation lingering in the way he slowly bit his lower lip. The way Zeev looked at him, lips tempting and irresistible, made his thoughts shift entirely. The frustration melted, and Isaiah felt a different sort of pull. He swallowed, his gaze slipping down to Zeev’s lips, his body finally giving in to what Zeev had clearly intended. Isaiah’s hands were wrapped around Zeev’s narrow waist, holding him close as their lips collided again and again, each kiss more intoxicating than the last. Zeev's body felt good against his, how they had came to halt at the sofa, clumsily sitting down on it. The way Zeev's hands roamed over him, how they moved with such confidence, such knowing — it made Isaiah’s mind go blank, the only thing left was how Zeev made him feel.

Just as the Sundawner was about to pull down his boxers, Isaiah glanced to the side, catching sight of something that pulled him sharply out of the moment. Jersey sat on the small bookshelf near the corner of the room, her eyes fixed on them in what could only be described as judgmental observation. Isaiah stifled a laugh, biting his lip as he pulled Zeev’s head up just the slightest, meeting his eyes, just enough to murmur, “Uh, we have company.” Zeev blinked in confusion for a second, his breath still ragged, before his gaze followed Isaiah’s. There, perched with an almost regal air, was Jersey, her tail flicking with disinterest, but her stare unyielding. To Jersey, Isaiah was hers and hers alone. Isaiah knew how uncomfortable Zeev felt when Jersey (or that one little dinosaur figure, that Isaiah randomly hid in different places of the house, just to give Zeev a good scare) was closebay when they got intimate.

Zeev groaned, dropping his forehead onto Isaiah’s thigh in frustration. “Suns—” he muttered, straightening his back, clearly caught off guard by the intrusion. “I swear, she always does this.” Isaiah chuckled, gently kissing Zeev’s forehead, running a hand through his slightly disheveled (and somehow still perfect?) hair. “She has impeccable timing, doesn’t she?” he teased, standing up and heading over to where Jersey sat. The cat looked up at him expectantly, letting out a small, conciliatorily meow. “Alright, my love,” Isaiah said softly, picking her up and kissing her head softly. “Let’s get you upstairs, huh?” Jersey purred, nestling into Isaiah’s arms, clearly more interested in getting some attention (that was usually the witcher's forte) than whatever had been happening between Isaiah and Zeev. As the blonde carried her up the stairs, he could feel the familiar warmth of her soft fur against his chest, her little body relaxing in his hold. He smiled down at her, as she meowed at him again. “Didn’t Zeev feed you already?” he asked, scratching under her chin as he made his way to the kitchen. Isaiah reached up to the top shelf, grabbing the small container of treats and putting their beloved cat down. “There you go, my love,” Isaiah spoke softly, placing a few treats in front of her, and she eagerly devoured them, purring satisfied as Isaiah gently petted her head. He knew that she loved him more, because he fed her treats quite regularly. But he was fine with that. “Your dads need some alone time now, but tonight I’d be down for some snuggles, hm?,” Isaiah murmured affectionately, giving her one last scratch before heading back downstairs.

As he returned to the basement, closing the door softly behind him, he was greeted by the sight of Zeev lounging on the sofa, shirtless (and, for that matter, trouserless, too), with a small, playful smile on the corners of his mouth. Isaiah felt his heart beating in his chest, the earlier tension that clung to the room (and to Zeev for that matter, too), welcomed him once again. Approaching his lover, Isaiah rested one hand on Zeev's chest, kissing him again, longingly. Passionately. As he sat down next to him, he pulled him onto his lap, their bodies pressed close. This, Isaiah thought, was intimacy at its finest and it never felt like they had been interrupted at all.

Zeev began moving his (Godsent, mind you, dear reader) hips again, grinding against Isaiah’s pelvis in a way that made his breath become more irregular, his mouth falling open as another soft moan escaped it. Zeev’s lips found his neck, kissing and biting gently, sending shivers down Isaiah’s spine. His hands settled on Zeev’s butt, squeezing as he pulled him even closer, feeling every shift in position very clearly. And as Isaiah let his head fall back just the slightest, closing his eyes, the witcher’s hand wrapped around Isaiah’s throat once more, this time with more pressure, a dominant, possessive gesture almost. Zeev’s breath was hot against his skin, his movements deliberate. As if he had thought about it for quite some time when he was upstairs. Usually, Zeev was rather dominant when he was tipsy, but Isaiah couldn’t taste any liquor or wine on his lips. Not that it mattered anyway — he loved how confident Zeev was in these moments, how unapologetic he became. How he made sure Isaiah was all his made him feel something. The blonde's hands wandered, squeezing and tracing the lines of Zeev’s hipbones, his thumb slowly tracing beneath the waistband of his underwear. ”Baby...” he sighed softly, resting his head against Zeev’s chest. He could feel Zeev’s his control, and it was both mind-blowingly hot and grounding all at once. Isaiah couldn’t help but smile against Zeev’s lips as they kissed again. As Zeev pulled back and looked at him, lust flickering in his eyes, Isaiah, still breathing heavily, couldn’t help but ask, “What do you have in mind, love?” His voice was a little breathless, but playful, curious even.

“ do you want to lie down for a bit? ”⸻ @hochmvt

On days like these, Zeev rarely knew what to do with himself. The kitchen was cleaned, the floor mopped, the cat fed—even if Jersey claimed otherwise—and the living room tidied up. At a certain point, Zeev leaned against the living room table and looked into the room, which could have come straight out of a catalogue. Deep-cleaned and tidy, everything seemed a little too organised, as if it was forbidden to be any other way. Yet it was the little ricochets that Zeev liked the most. When there was a book on the coffee table that Isaiah had been reading before he went into the kitchen to put his mug in the sink, only to realise that he hadn't taken the mug with him and had grabbed a snack from the fridge instead. Zeev liked to watch as his boyfriend occasionally stood confused in the room and seemed to have forgotten what he actually wanted. Whenever possible, Zeev would remind him or offer suggestions on what he could do instead. This usually ended in a kiss. 

Zeev liked that Isaiah never put his shoes neatly next to each other after he took them off, so they were usually on top of each other and on the side, while Zeev's own were almost aligned to the wall next to them. 

Zeev also liked it when things changed in the room that he wasn't responsible for. As much as he had enjoyed the artistic freedom of the interior design, he liked to let his gaze wander and try to fathom what had been added or disappeared. Like a “spot-the-difference”-picture, which was usually found in the newspaper—and admittedly was the only thing Zeev bothered with while Isaiah read the local news. They were already living a married life without being married, and Zeev loved everything about it— except the not being married part. 

He originally had an appointment with Naomi, whom he had recently met, but something had come up. It wasn't as if Zeev didn't have countless hobbies that he could pursue. The garden definitely needed tending again, but the weather was too gloomy for that. He could finally work through his pile of shame and snuggle up in his armchair with a cup of tea, but he didn’t feel like it. He could try out a few new tea blends, which he could give Sarah for her birthday—as he does every year—so that she doesn't ingest those insults from the supermarket. Or he could check the emails in which he could probably drown himself in enquiries again. But the thought of the flood forced him to turn away from this idea. The agencies' interest in him was certainly flattering, but it was clearly asking too much of him at the moment. And he didn't want to entrust Isaiah with it either. It would probably be good if he had someone who could take care of it. Zeev shrugged his shoulders. His thoughts were already drifting off again. His indecision at not knowing what to do came less from the fact that he had no options than from the fact that Isaiah had made a rather unmotivated impression since this morning. 

Some days were like that, nothing much to worry about. Still, he did and Isaiah had been nestled into his little cabin in the basement for quite a while now. So Zeev did what he always did. He made him a coffee and crept down the narrow steps to the lower level of the house, Jersey excitedly following him, jeopardising his safety on the stairs more than once. He knocked gently on the door and heard only a frustrated but he assumed permissive grumble. The office wasn't huge, but it had room for everything that was needed. Various shelves for Isaiah's personal collection of books, comics and toys from his childhood, odds and ends he had collected on his travels and mementos placed with incalculable reasoning wherever Isaiah happened to be standing and could reach. Whenever Zeev entered his office, he felt as if he were entering his mind. The light from the screen seemed to be one of the few sources Isaiah allowed while he worked, reflecting sparsely off the walls and illuminating the Overlook-Hotel-wallpaper that Zeev almost had to donate a kidney for. From a corner of the room, he was gazed at by the watchful eyes of a Nicolas Cage cardboard cutout, tugged away between the shelves; witness and victim alike. 

Zeev stepped up to his boyfriend and instantly ran his hand through his hair, lightly scratching his skull in encouragement and stroking a few strands from left to right as he placed the coffee on the coaster—which wasn’t occupied because Isaiah's empty mug was right next to it. Zeev smiled to himself. 

“Are you getting anywhere?” the witcher wanted to know, looking at the screen without really understanding what he was looking at. His hands slid over the blond's shoulders and he felt the tension. With Isaiah's posture, though, it wasn't much of a surprise, regardless of his demotivation. In response to Zeev's question, Isaiah just groaned in annoyance. “All is shit and nothing works. I can't even write one coherent sentence.” Zeev's thumbs pressed where his neck and shoulders met before he leaned forward and kissed the back of his head. 

“Perhaps it’s time for a break, don’t you think?” A suggestion that rarely sat well with Isaiah, as if he thought he was wasting time fulfilling his job. From Zeev's perspective, though, his writer’s block could only dissolve if he took time to relax his mind. They probably jumped from one thing to the next, as was so often the case. Of course, it was then difficult to put down on paper what he wanted to convey. “Do you want to lie down for a bit?” Zeev slowly rounded him, coming to a halt against the desk, smiling crookedly at him.

“I can't take a break now-I need to-”

“Isaiah,” Zeev breathed, his smile intensifying and he tilted his head in amusement before briefly glancing down at his boyfriend, biting his bottom lip suggestively. Of course, Zeev's act of selflessness was purely born out of a willingness to help, to get Isaiah out of his predicament of frustration. Of course.

“... however, upon closer consideration…”

A sweet, almost innocent laugh fled Zeev’s chest and he invitingly took Isaiah’s hand to pull him out of the chair, feeling his body shuffle closer to him, his warmth wrapping itself around his frame like his arms. Hungrily, yet caring, he caught his boyfriend’s lips, tilting his head just the slightest to deepen it. Despite having done it numerous times, it still felt refreshingly new and loving like the first time. Zeev loved Isaiah’s hands on his waist and hips as they kissed, his palms dipping perfectly into the curve, whereas his own hands were running along his throat and neck, occasionally wheeling out towards the back of his head, taking a handful of his hair. 

Suddenly, Zeev pushed himself off the table, his hands pressing against Isaiah’s chest as he forced him further into the room. For a split second he broke away, just to be able to pull the hoodie off his boyfriend, discarding it rather carelessly, but Zeev was on a mission and he wouldn’t be hindered by trifles. His hands wandered underneath his shirt, sighing delightful at the soft touch of his skin, his body tensed at the touch. But that shirt needed to go too, no matter how beautifully it clung to him. Zeev pushed himself as far off the ground as humanly possible, his hands wrapped around Isaiah’s neck as he continued the kiss, pulling him down in the process to meet him halfway. Happily he hummed into the frantic exchange of breaths and salvia, as Isaiah’s pretty fingers were disappearing underneath his own shirt, accentuating his slim torso. Each and every shiver motivated his movements; how he pressed himself closer to the other, how his tongue darted forward, how their heads moved like a rehearsed choreography.

At some point Isaiah’s knees must have buckled away from under him, as he stumbled against the couch, pulling Zeev along and accidentally hitting his forehead with his own. Zeev hissed, his hand flung against the spot. As much as Isaiah apologised, Zeev just laughed amused, feeling the other’s lips against the patch of skin. 

“Lie down,” Zeev ordered soon after, a mischievous tug at the corner of his lips. He pushed Isaiah’s legs apart, causing one to fall off the edge of the couch, kneeling in between as he leaned down to plant soft open mouth kisses along his chest, all while his hands were busy unbuckling his pants. Once done, his fingertips started to roam the white unmarked skin of his boyfriend, feeling his breathing and shivers as Zeev reminded himself how beautiful he thought Isaiah was. Every now and then Zeev allowed himself a detour to longingly press his mouth onto his again, his thumb brushing promisingly over his throat. Nothing was hotter than the trust and loyalty they held for each other and Zeev absolutely revelled in the devotion he held for the man underneath him. The witcher softly kissed the tender skin close to his ear, coarsely whispering: “I’m going to rearrange all that loose thoughts, love, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

[hochmvt]

“Bet your momma’s proud of raising such a quiet little bitch?” spat the brunette, who was ostensibly standing nonchalant next to Isaiah, leaning against the gas station counter. The blonde had learned that just keeping quiet usually worked best to not upset anyone. The three men who involuntarily kept him company while he paid had been waiting in the scorching Montana summer sun for something other than the dust of the road to stir. Two passing tourists were a convenient distraction when life didn't have much more to offer than this. His gaze went outside for a moment to his trusty Chevy, to Zeev, who was waiting for him, then to the distant horizon: to the wild, cloudy sky on this windless blue summer's day. 

“I'm pretty sure you understood me just fine,” the American smirked as he ran his fingers through his blonde strands of hair, smiling at Zeev. Admittedly, the three strangers' insults and hollow phrases tended to be rather uncreative, even though Isaiah was reluctant to admit that two of them had struck a nerve. Smiling faintly, he held up the plastic packaging and nodded affirmatively at Zeev's question: “I got you some strawberries. They look a little sad but I'm sure they taste great anyway. And some water.” 

On their trip towards Seattle - they both worked their last jobs before the big summer vacation they had planned; a convention panel Isaiah was speaking at and a campaign for a soft drink where Zeev was supposed to be the face of - they often talked about trivial things, listened to just as much music, visited the occasional landmark on the way (or a slight detour) and the intellectual intimacy had still been as pleasant as in their time in Edinburgh. “Last gas station for some time. You have everything you got, love?”

that's the 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 of what i just suggested .

Amongst many characteristics, Zeev was above all someone taking liberty in interpretations. Especially when the act brought him closer to his goal. This particular goal was blonde, tall, had a charming smile and looked like he hasn't slept since birth, hiding in his slightly oversized hoodie, but Zeev knew that underneath all that there was a man with stories to tell the witcher only could dream of ever experiencing himself.

"Not sure what you mean," he snickered, leaning sideways closer to the other, their shoulders briefly touching. "You said I should not engage. I didn't." A mischievous smile lit up his face. "I just made sure they knew you are not alone."

The strangers at the gas station had been way too close for Zeev's taste and it had been obvious they were seeking trouble out of boredom. Seated in the car he had watched them from afar as they tried to pull Isaiah into a provocative quarrel, getting way too comfortable in his personal space.

At some point Zeev had turned the music up and swung himself out of the car, showing the most dashing smile he could have mustered and pointed a question towards Isaiah, ignoring the others. The strangers had felt interrupted, buggering off soon after. Whatever they had tried to accomplish, Zeev wasn't having it.

"Got all you need?" he wondered lastly, nonchalantly waving a hand at the station's shop.

[hochmvt]

The family gatherings (no matter what the occasion) of the Pines' clan had actually always followed the same pattern for years: everyone had their tasks, everyone was looked after equally, sometimes, when everything became too much, his mother put her foot down and one was allowed to do everything but help out. Today, Zeev met this fate and Isaiah kissed him as he passed by and saw that this went completely against his nature. The willingness to help was sacred to his husband and he was a good host, always making sure that everyone was well, especially when they were guests on Lafayette Street. Isaiah loved him for that (and for so many other things too), but at the same time knew him well enough to know that he was driving himself crazy, not allowing himself to rest when he deserved it most. The days leading up to today, he had barely been able to sit still, they had stayed up late at night because they were both getting excited about everything, they worried a lot, too. How much could change in such a short amount of time and even though Daisy had been living with them for a good year, every day felt like a new, more unique day than the last. Maybe that's how it was when one had children. The joy and euphoria of watching them become independent people, of seeing Daisy blossom and, above all, being allowed to be a child, had a lasting effect on both of them. A small family. Papa, Daddy, Daisy and Jersey. A colorful patchwork of interwoven fates. Like particles. Like double stars. 

“Can I help you with anything else, Mom?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, resting his forearms on it and watching his mother slice the steaming baguette and shaking her head no. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. “How are you feeling, honey?” she asked him instead and Isaiah straightened slightly, leaning against the counter the opposite way and crossing his arms as his gaze traveled across the kitchen to the adjoining living and dining room. “It's all good... It's just— a lot going on.” “Lots of people, huh?” “Mhm...” he replied taciturnly and took a piece of baguette, ate some of it and stroked his free hand under his shirt, over his stomach and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Well, of course I'm glad you're all here. I didn't mean it like that,” he added hastily, correcting himself to clear up any misunderstandings. Misunderstandings that would never really have arisen anyway. At least not with his mom. “I know, Isaiah. It's okay,” she assured him and he smiled apologetically, finishing the piece of bread and kneading his hands lightly, looking down at her and taking the bread basket, placing it with the plates, platters and bowls in which a colorful potpourri of food waited to be the crowning glory of a grandiose day. Then he went back to his mom. 

“Mom, can I ask you something?” “Of course. Anything.” “Is it normal to ask yourself if you're doing everything right? In parenting, I mean...” he asked, continuing to knead his hands, twirling his wedding ring and studying her features. When Emma briefly entered the kitchen, his mom kept silent, waiting to answer. That was something he appreciated about her: that she respected it when he asked her a question and not everyone else present. “Asking yourself if you're doing things the right way shows that you care, first and foremost. One of the qualities of great parents, honey. It shows that you're not just loving her, but that it's important to you that she lives the best life possible. Also a great quality of a parent.” “But I question myself a lot. And I'm insecure and I have a hard time standing up for myself.” “And you're kind. And you're patient. And you're loving, you're curious, you're creative and you try to see the world for what it is. You've kept your inner child, and that's something that many people lose in life. It makes you a father who not only gives Daisy values, but also discovers the world with her.”  Sometimes it was hard for the words to reach his core, even when he tried to listen. “What if it isn't enough?” “It is,” she assured him emphatically. “And you're not alone. Zeev brings so much to this family, your dad and I realized that early on. He not only brings warmth and peace to us, but also calmness to you. He's brave and loving and articulate and confident, generous, loyal, empathetic— Determined... You complement each other. Where you are insecure, he is outspoken and confident, and where he hesitates, you bring a sense of ease. Together you are a team, Isaiah, and Daisy realizes that. She knows she's loved. That's the most important thing.”

Isaiah smiled weakly and wrapped his arms around his mother's petite frame, kissing the top of her head and closing his eyes. Regardless of the size difference, he felt much smaller and much more secure than one might have expected in his mother's arms. Isaiah nodded slowly, her words sinking deep into his heart. “Thanks, Mom,” he finally said, more of a mumble. Regardless of the hullabaloo that was currently going on in their house, he'd been pondering between the clanging of dishes and the babble of voices. But apparently that was normal. 

Daisy had insisted that Zeev, Evie, Arwen and Isaiah himself should ideally sit next to her all at the same time, but then she had also started to ponder how to do it. In the end, she thought it would be coolest if she sat between her two second cousins and opposite her parents, so that she could make faces if she wanted to and look at both of them at the same time—just in case she needed to tell something very important. That was particularly important. Once again she sat in the already low sun, once again the little sun plush toy in front of her. And above all, a very broad, proud grin. The podcast host looked up at his husband when he had come back into the house with Jemma, smiled softly at him and kissed him too, his hand resting on his thigh. “Uh-huh... It's just a lot,” he confessed honestly, whispering against his lips so as not to draw too much attention to himself. He didn't want anyone to feel uncomfortable or forced to leave earlier than they would have liked. “I'm also a bit looking forward to when we're alone with her and have some peace and quiet. Well, as much peace and quiet as you can have when there are guests... When we put her to bed or something. And when we're alone.” He kissed his cheek again and stroked it, smiling sincerely and leaning his forehead against the witcher's. For a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them. He felt Zeev's hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently to soothe him, to make sure Isaiah didn't feel alone. He loved that about him, too.

The scent of herb butter, homemade with herbs from Zeev's garden, lingered in his nose. Their garden. Between the plates and glasses were small vases of freshly picked flowers, especially for Daisy. Zeev reassured him he was there. That he could understand, but that Isaiah was not alone. That was nice to hear. And at the same time, Isaiah experienced an acceptance that he had never felt before. Zeev tolerated and put up with things about him for which he had been rejected by others all his life and had learned to hate them himself.

His constant talking. Not only about topics that no one was interested in, but also at inappropriate times. The way he often digressed in the middle of conversations because his head was working faster than his words could. The way he could talk for hours about black holes, the nature of light, the process of making jam or some obscure myth without realizing that no one was listening. His restlessness. The constant fiddling with his own hands or Zeev's, the tapping of his fingers on each and every surface, the way he drew patterns with his index finger to keep his mind occupied in conversations. Especially when he was listening. Or how he often counted things—like the twenty-three yellow flowers, the twelve purple ones and the twenty white ones on the table—how he nervously tapped his foot, which often annoyed others, even if he didn't realize it. His social awkwardness, how he sometimes laughed even though he wasn't sure if something was really funny just to fit in. The moments when he was too honest, too direct, or said the wrong thing at the wrong time. His sensitivity. His forgetfulness. His insecurity.

And Zeev allowed him to finish talking, even when he stuttered, without completing his sentences for him because he was getting impatient. He listened attentively and asked questions when Isaiah told him something. He was honest with him and forgave him a lot. Zeev had never told him to be quiet or that he talked too much. Even when he repeatedly forgot his keys at home and drove to the shop to get Zeev's. The witcher not only showed him that flaws were okay, but that they weren't just a downside. The constant talking was a testament to his passion, how he was just trying to understand the world. His social awkwardness (which Zeev would never label as such) was a testament to an openness that he wasn't hiding behind a mask, but was authentic. And his sensitivity was proof that he was a good person for whom apathy was a foreign concept. Isaiah had never suspected that anyone could think of him like that.

As he ate some of his grilled vegetables, Daisy talked excitedly about what she was going to learn tomorrow—her first day of school!—and said: “And tomorrow I'm going to wear my dress again! The one you brought me, Grandma! And I-” she took a deep breath, sometimes her thoughts overflowed when she told a lot at once, “I'm so excited to open my presents, do you know what's in it, Arwen?” “No, but we can open it together!” “Well, Arwen and I will watch and you can open. Of course,” Evie interjected and grinned at her sister, then looked back down at Daisy and stroked her hair. “I can already read too, I practise with Dad in bed at night!” she proudly told the two youngest Pines sisters and Isaiah looked at her briefly, smiled and nodded in agreement as he passed the black olives over to Zeev's plate and ate the remains of the pasta salad.

Most of the conversations at the table took place at the same time: At one end of the table, Sarah and Zara were talking to each other, along with Carter, she was talking about past family gatherings and Carter's first summer in Petosky. Jemma and Emma talked about Scotland and how Emma had always wanted to go. Evie and Arwen exchanged glances as Daisy shared with them what she was most looking forward to at school, including how nervous and scared she was, how much she was looking forward to vacationing in Petosky, but that she definitely wanted to vacation in the snow sometime (something, which Isaiah certainly understood and was equally amused that Zeev would surely whine daily because it was cold and a hat and scarf would do absolutely nothing to help—this would ultimately translate to lots of cuddling to keep him warm, a sacrifice Isaiah was very willing to make). Evie had then told Daisy about Zeev's first Christmas in Michigan, Sarah joined in and shared the story with Zeev, while Isaiah stepped back from the conversation and just listened. His gaze wandered through the open window in the kitchen out into the garden, where the tall shadows of the trees were already reaching into the kitchen and the sun's rays were refracted by the suncatchers in the windows.

A monarch butterfly and a small cabbage white butterfly fluttered around the flowering bushes that Zeev had planted a good two years ago, and the soft rustling of the leaves was a nice contrast to the lively bustle at the table. Then he listened from time to time, sometimes nodding when spoken to and other times drifting off into his thoughts. He reviewed the day, Daisy's proud smile, how she had remained polite and shaken hands with the principal. He thought of Zeev, who had brought him coffee in bed in the morning. His trip to Seattle at the end of last year, when he'd been invited to speak on a panel about his podcast and what it meant to go the extra mile to create something sustainable that also offered real value to the audience. The excitement before his talk, the relief when it was over, and the unexpected joy when Zeev had called him to ask him how it was. He had really missed Zeev then.

His cell phone ringing snapped him out of his thoughts, he pulled it out and read the caller name, apologized to Zeev and got up, left the room and picked up. “Hi Gran,” he greeted her warmly on the phone and stroked his clammy hair. “Isaiah, my boy!” Her voice sounded familiar and somehow he became nostalgic. “How was Daisy's school enrollment? I've been most excited to hear her and ask how it was.” He smiled up and leaned against the wall, telling vaguely that it was lovely, but leaving enough for his daughter to tell.

“And tomorrow will be my first day of school, great-grandma!” she smiled brightly, speaking into Isaiah's cell phone and looking up proudly, leaning against her father, who was sitting behind her, one arm around her, listening. He had put her jacket on and they had sat down outside on the steps leading to the garden. All his attention was on her, how beautiful she looked in the golden sunlight, her blue eyes bright and awake, her cheeks rosy from smiling so much. Daisy held the cell phone tightly to her ear, laughing at something her great-grandmother said, and Isaiah felt his heart fill with warmth. And at some point she said goodbye and gave Isaiah his phone back, whereupon he hung up. Before he could even get up, she put her arms around his neck and hugged the blonde. Gently, he put an arm around her and tenderly kissed her temple, staying like that for a while. When she looked up at him, there was something in her gaze that had changed; that made him slow down and hesitate. It looked like she was asking herself a question that she couldn't really name or grasp, because she was missing the words for it. Caressingly, he stroked her back, asking her if she wanted to go back inside, but she shook her head and hugged her father tighter, pressing her body closer to his. The moment felt weightless, timeless even, as if everything around them had held its breath for a moment. He furrowed his eyebrows a little in irritation, not knowing whether something had unsettled her on the phone, whether she was simply tired from all the excitement or both. Nevertheless, he didn't say anything. Instead, he laid his cheek gently on her head and just held her. And then he heard it—a quiet, almost imperceptible sob. A tremor that ran through her body. A break in the silence. He pulled her even closer to him, gently kissed the top of her head. “It's okay, baby, I'm here. Papa's got you, okay?”

She stayed quiet for a while, her tears soaking into his shirt, and Isaiah waited patiently, stroking her back and looking into Zeev's garden. He knew that sometimes words needed time to find their way out. It was no different for him as well. Finally, she lifted her head a little and looked up at him, stroking her eyes. “I'm happy I found you and daddy,” she began, her voice cracking but she was sincere nonetheless, “but… why I'm crying… I don't know.” He gently brushed the tears from under her eyes with his thumb, kissed her forehead and tilted his head slightly to the side. “Sometimes,” he began, “what we feel is too big for words. It's as if our heart is overflowing because it's full. Then there is a lot of joy and very often a lot of love and today there is perhaps also relief and perhaps also a little fear. And then the tears flow because they are the only way to let it all out.” He was silent for a while and looked towards her, smiled and gently kissed the tip of her nose. “That's happy tears, baby. Daddy and I cried happy tears, too, when they told us you want to live with us. Or when we met you. Or when you gifted us your first drawing of our little family.” His smile grew warmer as Daisy nodded and hugged him again, trying to be more conscious of her feelings.

“It's a big day, huh?” he asked sometime into the silence between them. She nodded languidly and he gently pulled her onto his lap. ”Yes,” she whispered, ”but it's not just today. It's... everything. It's nice, but it's also a lot.” After a while of silence, he answered her. “I feel like this a lot too,” he shared a soft word with her, gently smoothing over her blonde hair, taking her in his arms and standing up, walking a few steps with her. Sunlight caught in the blonde strands as she rested her head against his chest. “Do you want to know what I always do when I feel like that? When a lot of things happen all at once and I'm happy-sad?” She nodded, but didn't look at him. He felt her small hands on his back. “I always like it when I'm somewhere quiet. Like here... Here you have a little rustle of leaves or the buzzing of bees, but there's no one to distract you, is there? Well... Except from me right now.” She gave a slight half-smile and then nodded, closing her eyes and listening.  “I sometimes find comfort in silence because I listen to myself. And I look at how I feel. What makes me happy. And what doesn't make me happy. And what makes me happy-sad.”

His daughter remained silent, thinking. And Isaiah held her in his arms for quite a while, rocking her gently back and forth and stroking her back. The wind blew through the leaves of the trees that framed their plot and for a moment it was as if the whole world was listening with her. “I'm happy because of daddy and because of you. And because I'm allowed to be here. And because I'm grown up and at school now. And because Great Aunt Emma's cupcakes taste good. And I'm scared because everything is new. But I'm more happy." Isaiah nodded, his hand reassuringly between her shoulder blades. “That's okay, Daisy. It's okay to feel both at the same time. What you're feeling is gratitude. Because you're happy you're here, because you know this is special. And because everything feels like a summer day, huh? Or like strawberries or like being hugged soooo hard or like Sunny.” Daisy nodded slowly, but her gaze remained questioning. That's what he loved about her: that she really tried to understand something and didn't just give up when something was too difficult to understand right away. “But why do I have to cry when I'm actually happy and grateful?” Isaiah stroked her head gently. “Sometimes when we're really happy about something, it can feel big that it almost hurts—but not in a bad way. It's like your heart is too full to show it all with just a laugh or a hug. Sometimes the feelings come out as tears.”

Isaiah glanced toward the door toward the porch, mustering Zeev's concerned gaze and smiling at him assuringly, gently kissing the top of Daisy's head and smiling his way as the witcher joined them. Daisy thought for a moment before saying softly, “So I'm crying because I'm glad I have you and daddy and a lot is happening?” “Exactly. That shows how important it is to you. Gratitude is something in your heart because it's all happy.” “Then that's not bad at all?” “No, not at all,” Isaiah replied, ”It's a beautiful thing. We don't always cry just because we're sad, my love. Your tears of joy show that you have a big heart that feels how much love is around you.” Daisy looked to Zeev who was standing next to them and reached her arms out to him, hugging him tightly and burying her face in his neck. Isaiah gently kissed the witcher's lips and stroked his side, his back, his butt soothingly, wordlessly reassuring him that everything was okay. “I'm glad I'm with you, daddy,” she spoke softly against her father's skin and the blonde smiled as his husband replied that they were glad she was with them too. “Thank you for loving me,” she continued. Isaiah remained silent for a few moments and looked down at her, gently stroking her hair and kissing her upper arm softly. “You know what, my love? You don't have to thank us for loving you. To us, it's the most natural thing to love you. There's nothing you have to do or that you— not have to do for us to love you. It's good to be grateful and we appreciate that, but us loving you is just the same as there is the sun in the sky, or birds chirping or Jersey likes Zeev's spot on the bed the most.”

Daisy giggled at Isaiah's last sentence and her eyes went to Arwen, who was standing in the doorway outside, asking if they wanted to look at what was in Daisy's present. She nodded and asked Zeev to be let down, running back inside, even a little faster as Evie joined her sister and called out to Daisy that Jemma would surely snatch the candy. 

“What happened?” Zeev had asked not much later, when they were both alone again. Isaiah put his arm around him and stroked his back gently. “She was overwhelmed with what was happening and cried happy tears. She said she was happy to have us as family and that she didn't understand why she was crying.” He swallowed hard and wiped his own eyes, cursing under his breath and then laughed. “Fuck, sorry.” He felt Zeev's gentle touch on his cheek, his kiss and how he snuggled up to him. “Sometimes I doubt that it's— enough, what I do. And to see her like that, ooft... Do you think she's really feeling at home here?”

“So, where's Mrs. Pines?”

Really? It hadn't even been enough for a what a nice enrollment that was, don't you think? Something that didn't necessarily have to do with him, if it wasn't already about honest interest in another topic. But maybe he was just prejudiced and only expected ambiguous intentions where there really weren't any. Maybe she really just wanted to know and wanted to talk to a potential wife instead of him. He just didn't know why that was important. Ultimately, he didn't care whether she had a husband or where he was. It really had no relevance to the course of this conversation. For her, however, it did and the way she looked at him reinforced his trained expectation of being reduced to mere availability by everyone. He looked down at his left hand. Perhaps he was wearing too many rings. Perhaps he should at least make it clear in these matters that he was promised to the vow between Isaiah and him, if all else was dismissed by others intentionally.

"You mean a wife?" he asked again, only to have her run aground. He looked over to the stand and ordered fresh lemonade, which would feel absolutely heavenly in this heat. 

"Of course!" Veronica laughed sweetly, as if he'd made a charming joke. She accepted her own drink and continued to eye him unpleasantly unabashedly.

He wrinkled his nose slightly as he averted his gaze to the drinks being poured for him.

“My husband is over there, with our daughter and the rest of the family.” He pointed behind him rather nonchalantly and a little later cast his gaze there too, smiling at the swarm of Pines who were chatting away while Isaiah held Daisy in his arms. The sight would never fail to warm his heart. They had a daughter. It was unreal how their lives had turned out. 

The woman followed his gaze before dropping it back to Zeev. "Oh," she murmured, seeming to have to process this turn of events. "That's lovely."

Zeev didn't need to have a higher knowledge of human nature to know she wasn't being entirely honest. 

"It truly is, Isaiah and I are very happy, what an exciting day for all of us. You, too, I assume?"

He looked around her, but couldn't see a child. She nodded weakly. "Yes, yes, though after the second child you know what to expect, it was more exciting the first time around."

"I can imagine," he claimed, but doubted that this excitement could ever fade even after the third child. It was the beginning of an eventful life for everyone, especially the sons and daughters. Zeev believed he would always be hanging on the edge of unconsciousness, the excitement too strong to stop.

“So it's your first time?”she continued. 

"It is, I wouldn't have thought it to be such paperwork, I'll be honest, but I'm glad it is done."

"Yeah, a surprise they don't want the blood type as well." She laughed briefly. "Well, I bet we'll see each other around!" She said goodbye with her lemonade and turned her back to him. Just as he was about to take his drinks and pay, he heard a soft curse next to him. 

"Of course that happens to me," sighed the woman next to him, her dark hair obscuring her face as she searched impatiently in her bag. Zeev eyed her questioningly.

"Forgot your wallet?"

She looked up awkwardly and sighed heavily, tiredness reflected in her eyes. "Yeah, it seems..."

"How many do you need?" He pointed to the counter, run by a few teachers and fourth graders. The sales went to the school and its future expansion.

“Oh god, please, no… that’s… very kind but it is what is.”

“It’s way too hot to go without something refreshing to drink,” he insisted with a smile. She gently placed a hand on his arm, gratitude in her expression. 

"Thank you... We're two, me and my girl."

He nodded and ordered two more lemonades, which were relatively cheap, especially considering they were selfmade. 

"I'm Juliette and you are?"

"Zeev," he reintroduced himself. "Nice to meet you." 

"Boy or girl?"

"What?"

"Oh, sorry, I meant the child. Or are you just tagging along?"

"Ah, no, I got a girl, I'm here for her."

"Aw, lovely. First child?"

He nodded.

"For me, too. I'll sleep for two days straight when this is done. Sammy hasn't slept last night, way too excited. And so haven't I. Been a really nice ceremony, they were so cute up on stage. Who's your kid?"

"The name's Daisy," he smiled and pointed at her little family again, seeing Isaiah looking over and waving sweetly at him. 

"The kid on his arm? What a gem, she radiates like the sun itself, what a lovely child. Wait a minute... I think Sammy mentioned her already, unless there are more Daisy's in the classes. Quite impressive how easily kids make friends. I always feel way too overwhelmed."

"And yet you're doing quite good so far." He smiled kindly at her and she waved him off.

“I promise, forgetting my wallet isn't my typical way of approaching other people.” She laughed lightly and shook her head. "Although, now that I think about it... that's practically how I met my husband, too." The memory seemed to fill her with joy, reflected in the gleam in her eyes and the lovely curve of her lips. In a way, the sight warmed Zeev too. How nice to see that there were other people who were happy with their partners. Presumably that was why her presence was not unpleasant for once. They were handed their drinks and he placed two cups in her hands after paying for them.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. This is so embarrassing. I'll make sure to put some treats for Daisy in Sammy's lunchbox! Big promise!”

“That's very sweet, but not necessary.”

“It is!” She grinned and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "So, it will help to find some nice friends. Gotta support what feels right."

"Can't argue with that," he agreed with her and took the plastic cups, trusting his dexterity not to lose them on the way. "Well then, Juliette, was nice chatting with you. I bet we'll hear of each other soon!"

"Absolutely, and then I'll repay you with some lemonade!"

"I'll keep that in mind. Take care!"

He sighed heavily at his husband's comment and rolled his eyes shallowly. He was grateful that over the years they had developed a trust in each other that was more unbreakable than any century-old tree or structure in history, anything else would break Zeev's heart. Isaiah knew that his attraction was part of his charm, but also his greatest weakness, recognised over the years. But despite this realisation, and the gratitude that Isaiah would never hold this against him, the witcher couldn't help but feel a certain amount of guilt. Even though his husband knew Zeev would never turn his back on him, it didn't change how other people perceived him—and what that meant for Isaiah in return. Zeev was aware of what it did to him when others talked about the witcher as if he were a chastened fop just waiting for his chance at infidelity, while others overlooked the qualities Isaiah brought to the table that went beyond his run-down sneakers—as if that was anything to judge a person by anyway. Just as Zeev was misinterpreted, misunderstood because he was reduced to appearances, Isaiah suffered from always being thought of as less than he de facto was. The disrespect was hard for Zeev to bear when it was directed at him.

Isaiah was the most beautiful, intelligent and strongest person he had ever met, who brought values not only to him, but also to their child, that made the world shine in a light that illuminated all life's aspects from which one could learn, gain experience and recognise what really mattered. Zeev only had truly grasped the beauty in seemingly insignificant things when he had met Isaiah, and the witcher was sure that Daisy would not only become the smartest child, but also one of the few who knew what gratitude meant on all levels. Not only for grand gestures and loud declarations, but also in the fleetingness of a moment that would be forgotten by everyone else. It saddened Zeev that it was precisely these people who based their opinion on narrow-minded assumptions, deepening those with dislike and rejection, that fueled insecurity and a low self-esteem. The power of these people was far too great, but Zeev's doggedness knew no bounds and he would not allow negativity to win over either Isaiah or his child. Nor over himself.

Zeev could barely stop himself from peppering kisses over Daisy's cute little and round face, who giggled sweetly and hunched her shoulders, her pigtails swaying back and forth hypnotically and only managing to restrain her very enthusiastic father in his behavior when she buried her head against the crook of his neck and wrapped her short arms around it. She snuggled up to him and seemed to calm down, as did he. He leaned his head against hers and swayed slightly from left to right as he stroked her back. It was indescribable how he loved this child, who had chosen them over anyone else, and what he was willing to do just to ensure she had a full life of compassion and unconditional love. A human life that had been entrusted to them and within two years had become such a permanent part that Zeev didn't even remember what it had ever been like without her. Their family had grown, and there was no one in the world Zeev would have made this decision with than Isaiah. Of all love declarations Zeev had ever received from him, being trusted to raise a child, was the biggest one yet. He hoped to never disappoint him—or Daisy, too, for that matter. 

“How are you feeling, sunshine?” he enquired quietly, his voice full of his natural gentleness, which he continued to show her. She lifted her head and caressed his cheek with a smile. A behaviour that she had no doubt copied. A tenderness that filled him with such great love and gratitude that he couldn't help but smile. No matter how much pain she already had to endure in her younger years, it seemed as if these scars would soon become just that—old wounds, covered over with warmth and affection.

“Very good!” she giggled, the gap in her row of teeth giving her a mischievous smile and adding to her cuteness. She had the entire Pines clan wrapped around her finger in the blink of an eye and it filled the witcher with immense joy at how lucky she would be to be part of this family that would look out for her and show what togetherness and always having someone to turn to meant. 

“You did really well on that stage and you were so polite to greet the principal,” he let her know proudly. 

“That was scary,” she confessed, fiddling with his open collar. 

“It was, but now it is done and over. Are you still scared?”

She shook her head vigorously and grinned proudly at him. “No! I’m excited!”

“I’m too, love. Have you met the other kids already, too?”

“Some,” Daisy agreed. “Chris, Saoirse, Poppy, Lilly-Anne and Jamie, George and Miles, Caroline and Daniela, oh and Samatha! She said my dress is pretty.” 

“Oh, that's so sweet of her. Did you say something to her, too?” It was remarkable how quickly Daisy could remember the names of her classmates.

“Yes!” she squeaked proudly and hastily tried to summarise how the conversation between the two girls had gone. So quickly that she stumbled over her own words. “I said—I said—I said—” She took a deep breath without Zeev feeling the need to ask her to. “I said she has really pretty eyes and super cool shoes! She said—she said they glow when it is dark! That is so cool!”

“That truly is cool. Do you like her?” Her pigtails bobbed again as she nodded excitedly, her smile as bright and enchanting as her father's. Despite her fears, her childlike curiosity prevailed and fuelled her expectations for the future. Unwavering and unstoppable. It was admirable and Zeev hoped she would never lose it.

Arwen and Evangeline, who already reflected what it was like to grow up with unconditional love and remarkable parenting, were led into the school building by Daisy a little later, while the adults still lingered outside. Zeev felt the closeness of his husband before he put his arms around him and any tension evaporated with a sigh. He put his hands to his, which were so loving and tight around him that Zeev would never fear falling without being caught. He leaned back against his chest and intertwined their fingers. “Thank you, love,” he whispered and closed his eyes. Isaiah's voice overrode the others', clear and unmistakable in his ears. Zeev would always listen to him, no matter when or where. “I'm much better. The sun's quite euphoric today, isn't she?” Cautiously, he turned in his grasp, placing both of his hands on his chest, rubbing soft circles as he smiled upwards into his beaming face—all the worries and the excitement melting away into pure bliss and happiness. “But I’ll be honest with you, I still felt a little embarrassed, but if it allows me to fall against big, strong arms, I’ll gladly faint like a damsel in distress.” A bubbly chuckle formed within his throat, leaving them both sweetly laughing into the exchanged kiss. 

“How are you, baby?” Caringly, he raised a hand and brushed through his sweaty strands of hair. Zeev wouldn’t call himself unaffected by the sun’s might, he was still a human after all with mostly average bodily functions, in comparison to the rest of the family though, it seemed as if he was just living in a 77 °F world while everyone else needed to get through 95. (And yes, Zeev still had a hard time doing the math of the american metric system, he still refused to use inches). He once had a discussion with someone, who had claimed “the Europeans” were having a different system for hours and minutes as well, saying they were counting to hundred instead of sixty. The witcher almost had received an aneurism trying to explain why that is not only false but also impossible—let’s say the person didn’t really understand time difference, so it was like teaching a toddler how planets move and what a solar system was, except there was no reward after the naivety. At some point Zeev had just nodded and said, “actually, we count to two-hundred-twenty, so two hours for you are one hour for me, it gets darker later, too”, which for some reason was easier to believe. 

A little later that day, and after the approval of both Evie and Arwen, Daisy had overly excitedly grabbed both her parents’ hand and led them into the soon-to-be classroom, showing off the interior and the facts, that had been revealed by Ms. Huxley, their primary school teacher. Like the whiteboard that was also a screen and the chairs that can be adjusted in height to accommodate every childrens’ growth in the near future. For Zeev, all that he saw and learned about the school, was fascinating and interesting, but he had not much to compare, whereas Isaiah seemed even more enthralled by the modernity and how school’s have developed over the years. They had already been given a tour by the teacher beforehand, when they had checked out the perfect school for their baby to enroll in, but with Daisy, they found new aspects to turn their attention to. For their sunshine, it was insanely important to have pretty large windows that allowed the morning sunshine to pour into the room—and yes, Zeev had choked back a tear when she explained why that was so important—how pretty the classroom was in it’s multicoloured glory, how much she liked the violets and yellows and the greens, how cool the space underneath her desk was for her belongings to be hidden, how glad she was that the playground had swings, but most importantly: Daisy absolutely loved the patterns of the flooring, which most definitely were overlooked by anyone else, but the little girl had an eye for swirls and lines and specks of colour that looked like confetti. She said it reminded her of her first birthday and how much of the little paper circles had lay on the ground of the living room, clinging to her locks and covering her presents. It had filled Zeev with an equal amount of sadness and pride that she considered her fourth birthday as her first. 

Daisy had been three when they first met her, drawing by herself at a round table in a bright and welcoming room of the youth welfare center. Her former family—the name and location unbeknownst to her new parents for privacy and legal reasons—hadn’t been much good to her, unsurprisingly. Absent mother and a neglecting father, both overwhelmed by the prospect of caring for a child, let alone unable to care for themselves. Daisy had been forced to grow by herself, taking responsibility for her own at an age where she shouldn’t. The lack of love and attention had turned her quiet, careful and withdrawn. As Ms. Fredericson had explained, she didn’t want to be any burden, suspecting she wouldn’t receive any help anyway. Her parents weren’t violent, but their silence had been just as painful. 

On a grim day in September, the weather had already turned cold and wet, an old lady had found her in front of a supermarkt, sitting in a electronic car for usually kids enjoyment, while Daisy just cried for her mother that had left her there—intentionally or not, it didn’t matter much for the youth welfare workers, especially not when it happened a second time. Her biological parents didn’t even fight for custody and left her for the third time in the care of people who promised a better future. 

Daisy hadn’t been the first kid they had met, but the day they did, Zeev had known and promised to himself that this child would never be abandoned again. 

Months later, Daisy had grown close to them, opening up and blossoming in a way that even surprised the social workers. In awe at the Pines and positively touched by the care they showed the burdened child. Supervised visits were followed by outside activities; visiting playgrounds, walks and picnics at the nearby parks, first visits to their home—Zeev would never forget how, despite her nervousness and shyness, she had brightened during the stay, finding enjoyment at their place, exploring and asking questions, the excitement that brimmed in her round little face at being answered and receiving attention—and lastly, when she had been asked to spent her birthday at their home to which she had answered with a loud and self-confident: Yes!

Ms. Fredericson had accompanied them during their first year, their contact still, who had shown no doubt that Daisy was about to be granted a safe home and loving parents. Close to her fifth birthday, Zeev and Isaiah received the approval to take care of Daisy and raise her as their own child. And the little girl with the faint freckles on the brim of her nose, had agreed, too. A big decision both Pines were proud of and moved by to this day. 

Their home in Lafayette Street was spacious, with its big living room and the three bedrooms, a basement, an attic, two bathrooms on the first and second floor and lots of edges and corners that allowed for a personality of the home itself. Still, with Sarah and Richard, Emma and the kids (Matt unfortunately had to work), Jemma, Daisy and the still fresh parents themselves, the house wasn’t only full of people, but filled with love as well. The mother of the entire Pines Clan—including Jemma as well—and Zeev had been preparing a buffet that put every other seasonal banquet to shame. It wasn’t warm enough yet to sit in the garden, with a perfect view towards the little garden house the witcher and Richard had worked on for weeks, but the big table in their living room was a good substitute. Daisy and the siblings were playing on the couch, giggling at each other's jokes that the adults had a hard time to understand but smiled at regardless, while Isaiah and his father were preparing the table. Zeev, who had much like Sarah insisted on helping, had been shushed out of the kitchen, sitting at their porch bench with Jemma, some sparkling water in their hands that the brunette most definitely would switch to something alcoholic in the blink of an eye if given the chance. 

“This is really beautiful,” she exclaimed with a smile, leaning against the backrest, her feet crossed at the ankles. 

Zeev followed her gaze and nodded in agreement. “Wait till it’s blooming fully again. The variety of the colours will be absolutely stunning to look at, accentuating each other without getting lost in the sea of flowers, each one bringing their own beauty to the full picture. These ones over there are my dearest chrysanthemums, they’ll look like a swarm of little suns. The bees go absolutely feral for those and—” He turned his head to look at her again and noticed her eyes already lingering on him, an amused smile upon her slim lips. In embarrassment Zeev ran his fingers along his jaw. 

“You weren’t talking about the garden, were you?”

She snickered. “Not really, but it’s cute. I meant… all actually. The house, the garden, the family inside, you and Isaiah, the life you made for yourself. It’s beautiful to watch.”

Softly, he nodded in agreement, leaning back as well, legs crossed and relaxed. The stress of the past days finally receding and drifting into contentment. Still, the faint sadness didn’t go unnoticed. Zeev knew that her own wish for a settled life, as much as she enjoyed partying and fooling around, hadn’t been fulfilled yet despite her greatest efforts. It pained him to see how important that aspect of her life was to her and that there was nothing he really could do to help her. 

“Thank you, Jem,” he said instead, smiling warmly at her, placing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She fell against him without resistance and leaned her head against his shoulder, huffing as she did. “I’m really grateful for all of this, for anyone who has granted me a place in their heart. You don’t just watch, you’re part of all this, too. When we say you’re Daisy’s aunt, it’s not just a joke. It’s a fact. You’re part of the ‘family inside’.”

Some time ago, she had confessed to him what he had expected far sooner. Which wasn’t a hard thing to imagine considering how they had met and what had happened in between. Something he could never be and never give to her in the way she would probably enjoy the most, but yet she had stayed and she had turned into an integral part of their lives. Zeev was glad that being her friend meant just as much, but the envy lingered and all he could do was remind her that her wishes weren’t some to bury. Not the life she might have imagined herself in at some point, but a life regardless. Zeev was certain, one day she’d meet her Isaiah as he had and suddenly, all would make sense. Nothing would ever be the same again and no challenge would be impossible to tackle. Not with the right person—not with the right family at her side. 

And when Zeev returned inside with her, he looked at the set table, chatting all over the place, everyone busy with one another, lighthearted and unrestrained, excited and jubilant, the witcher once more felt his emotions dwelling up in his heart, spilling through his veins. He sat down next to Isaiah, lovingly cupping his face with a hand, his thumb brushing over his cheek and a smile parting his lips before he leaned over and kissed him sweetly, once more reminded, how thankful he was to have crossed paths with him at a place where hope had been all that he had—just to turn it into something far greater. A family and a love that would last forever.

"Thank you, love," he whispered against his lips, not specifying for what exactly he was thanking for. "Are you enjoying yourself?" Despite it being the family that kept their home lively, he was still aware of how overwhelming the constant noise and attention could be for the other. Softly, he placed his hand on his thigh, reminding him that he was just as safe with him as he had been at the ceremony.