Chapter 6: Bread and Apricots

The house felt more like a cottage, and the cottage felt too close to a home to be called anything close to a house.

I stepped into the kitchen where Brinley had rushed off too. I saw him light something with a match and he began to stir a big pot. I heard the slosh of the liquid against the silence of the home and thought perhaps he was feeding me soup.

I took the time and looked around the place, observing silently. There wasn't many things, but the little tokens and objects scattered around the small living space seemed to have nothing of value. An oil lamp lit the living space and the flickering light made me walk towards the table on which it stood.

Sitting down on a chair in front of it, I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on top of them. I watched the dying light as the oil started to burn out. It never occurred to me that the situation was desperate. Inviting a complete stranger into a house for a stack of coins seemed absurd, yet almost like a miracle at the same time.

I never believed in miracles. Statistical improbabilities were always present in the lives we lived but miracles seemed something that rose from a fantasy mind putting words on promiseless paper.

I startled when a hand came forward and poured more oil into the small basin that the wicker was coiled in. The fire burst to life again and I looked up at Brinley who had two bowls in one hand and some spoons in the other. Against the moonlight, he looked like a Athenian sculpture, but now against this glow, it was almost something real.

I saw him swallow and place the bowl in front of me and the spoon beside it. He then placed the other adjacent to where I was and ventured back behind me into the kitchen. After two more trips there and back, in front of me lay a bowl of chicken broth that was steaming enough to make my skin warm. There was also a small fired mud slab of bread cut into slices.

"Thank you, Brinley," I tried the name out on my tongue. It rolled out almost instinctively. "I didn't imagine this would be where I rest for the night, but then again I didn't imagine me sleeping at home, supposedly either. "

"It really should be me thanking you, but you're welcome." he looked down at his bowl, picking up the spoon he slowly scooped spoonfuls of broth into his mouth.

My hand hovered over my own spoon, but my eyes stood transfixed on the way his mouth curved when the spoon slipped in and out of his lips. I felt an almost immediate reaction to the way his eyes stayed lidded down and he didn't look anywhere ate me. His tongue peeked out to lick a bead of broth and the blood rushed to places my Father would kill me for if he knew.

I pulled my gaze away from him with some adversity. I dipped the spoon into the hot broth and brought it to my mouth. The dull liquid was nothing like what I was offered back at Waitstill Manor and I loved it and it's creator all the more for it. I reached for a slice of bread and dunked it into the broth. Putting the soaked bread into my mouth, I decided to get as much of him as I could before we slept for the night and I had to depart in the morning.

"Do you live alone?" I asked, I hadn't seen anyone around the house, yet there were two doors and one of them had been closed. I prayed that he didn't live with a significant other, not for intruding in their home but in selfish hope.

"Na, I stay with my Ma. She's..." Brinley paused, almost hesitant to say anything he shouldn't. I wanted to hear more, I wanted to tell him about my mother. How she was the only thing that I ever held dear and she left me. I saw him shift his eyes to mine and I didn't break the contact. I held him there and willed him to see me as an equal.

"She's got one of them fevers," he spoke softly. His voice hoarse with an emotion that sounded too much like mourning for someone of his youth. "I needed the money for medicine."

I nodded. "I was seven when my mother died. A fever had taken her and I know I would have done anything to put a stopper to it. So I wish I didn't spend in the bar. It should have belonged to you."

He started shaking his head, a small laugh on his lips. "You've given me enough to buy medicine for the whole damn Valley, Finn. That... I don't even know where to begin with that."

I looked down at my broth and the hunger swelled so deeply in my stomach that I pulled the bowl up and cupped it in my hands. I then put my lips to the edge and drank the chicken stocked liquid like a starved soldier. When I put the bowl done, I saw Brinley looking at me surprised. His eyes shifted to my wet lips and I rubbed the back of my hand against it. The movement caught him off guard and he went back to looking at his own bowl.

"I'm sorry about your mother, Finn. "

In another life, I wasn't branded a Waitstill. In another life, I went to finishing school and got taught by the enlightened scholars and learnt how to find the cure to the fevers that plagued our communities. In another life, I was a medic and found Brinley once more.

"Don't let it take yours like it took mine." I whispered into every parallel universe that lay between us.

Soon, easy conversation resolved among us. I had another two bowls of chicken broth and Brinley had finished his meal long before I did. The bread was nothing short of crumbs on the slab and my body felt warm all over. Brinley was almost too easy to open out to, perhaps it was because he was a stranger. I would never see him again, and that left me no reason for dishonesty.

"She doesn't know that we all see her gawk at Radella. She has had this infatuation ever since Radella applied for a staffing job within the culinary servants. All I can wish for is that nothing actually happens between the two of them," I laughed.

I saw Brinley's smile disappear and a slight frown laced his brows. His features as I had been noticing seemed soft, too soft almost. Unlike any other young man's I've ever seen before. He was beautiful.

"Why's that... Because she's poor or because it's a sin to feel attraction for the same sex?"

I choked back a cough, sitting up. I lean't forward towards him and looked at him directly when I said, "Both those reasons, because my Father is a prick and not everyone can live in a utopia."

I saw him breathe in harshly and realized that our proximity was the closest it had ever been. I lean't back a bit not wanting to make him uncomfortable. "We can't always get what we want, Brinley. It may seem like everything in my world fits perfectly, but that's so far from the truth."

"What do you want?"

I looked to him and saw the question in his eyes. His lips were parted and a heavy intoxication fell over me. All I wanted was to reach out and close the gap between us. It was wrong, and I wanted it. Needed it.

I closed my eyes and smiled, "Do you have a cook you're in love with too, then?"

I saw Brinley's eyes drop slightly and the tension in the air diluted. The small smile returned to his face and he spoke in a hushed whisper, "No lovers. Not very people want me and you'll find that a lot of people actually dislike me here."

"I find that hard to believe"

"That people dislike me?"

"That you aren't wanted."

He looked at me then, and it felt like everything about this night was absurd. Everything but this. Everything about us was different except for the fact that we were the exact same. Brinley's eyes deviated across my face, almost like he was memorizing this moment like I was. Drawing me into memory. His eyes lingered on my lips and I wanted to move closer to him. Just as I convinced my body to mover where it desired, Brinley stood up.

"I think I 'ave a couple apricot's in the cabinet, I'll go see if I can get 'em" He scratched the back of his neck and licked his lips before faltering toward the question.

I nodded casually and waited for his return.

He came with two apricot's in his hand and he looked like he had been running his fingers through his hair. I didn't understand what was happening, nor did I want to try. I enjoyed this stranger's company more than my family's. Perhaps, my thoughts and desires were wicked, but that's what they would stay to be. Thoughts not actions.

He handed me an apricot and I thanked him. At home, fruits weren't a luxury but I could tell that Brinley only offered me the apricot as a ways to give me an extent of what I paid for. I wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary but couldn't bring myself to make him move away from me again.

"What is it you do in the Southside?" I asked as I bit into the small fruit, feeling the nectar burst into my mouth. The seed hit the corner of my front teeth and I pulled back to chew.

Brinley watched my mouth before biting into the fruit himself. He chewed while he answered. I smiled at the prospect, speaking with your mouth full was ill mannered in my house but I wanted to see him do it whenever he pleased. "Not at all really, if yur ever in the mood of getting jumped or stolen from. I'll show you around"

I laughed and watched him smile against the fruit, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Over the course of the night, I learnt that he had a southside accent but it was well formed than the other's I had heard. Almost fuller, like it had a bit of both within it.

"I'd love for you to show me around, Brin"

He looked at me softly, I hadn't realized I shortened his name but it felt natural at the time. I was just about to apologize when a small piece of apricot juiced out from his bite and sat on the corner of his bottom lip. I leant forward and swiped the apricot against his bottom lip.

I heard him breathe in suddenly and his apricot fell to the floor from his hand. My thumb still placed on his lip, I felt the warmth of his breath on it. Felt it poison my fingertips and vine it's way around my shoulders, up to my throat and then down to all my critical organs. Trapping me right there with him. Wanting nothing more but to succumb to this feeling.

I hesitated, looking at nothing but his lips. I could feel his eyes completely on me, but the lack of moving away urged me to press my thumb and the small piece of apricot further into his warm mouth. The heat around us felt palpable, and I didn't try and hide my apparent arousal.

You, I want you.

I was about to move away when I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and keep me right where I was. A flicker of tongue against the pad of thumb made me groan softly, an uncertain taste.

I looked up and matched his strong gaze.

"What do I with you?" I asked, my voice hoarse, sounding almost mad. I wanted to be against him, I wanted to feel his mouth on mine, everywhere. I wanted to ease the aches, I wanted to feel him writhe on me.

Brinley shook his head slightly, my hand now cupping the side of his face. "Whatever you want," he breathed.

That was all it took for me to urgently close the gap and crash my lips against his.