A/N: On a roll with this one! Enjoy ^^ and don't forget to like and comment 🖤

Chapter 2.

Deon's mother spent a long time meticulously tidying their home, until she'd removed all traces of Alen. His clothes, his bed and the small trinkets he'd collected from the markets. She never grieved or showed any sign that she missed her son. Not to Deon's eyes anyway.

Deon went through the motions like a sleep walker. The pain in his chest was constant and Alen's memory was everywhere.

In the fields, in the trees, in the rooms and in smells. Like a missing limb Deon could still feel him. Warm and constant like the sun.

"Deon?"

Deon paused with a basket of eggs on his arm and looked over his shoulder at Tally.

He hadn't seen Tally since the incident two weeks ago and the boy still carried the last remnants of a black eye.

"...I heard about Alen. But I wasn't there to see it." Tally leaned against the fence and looked around the yard uneasily. No doubt wary of Deon's father.

Deon had spent the nights asking himself: Why? Why had Alen left. And there were many reasons. But Deon had reached the conclusion that it was his own fault.

But now, seeing this tall boy with his earnest face, Deon felt angry. Livid. Because if Tally hadn't touched Alen, Deon might still have his brother.

His fists clenched around the basket and he turned away.

"Wait!" The gate opened and quick steps crunched over the gravel.

Deon kept walking and a hand gripped his shoulder. The same hand that had run over Alen's smooth skin.

Deon swung around and looked up. Tally's eyes widened and he took a hasty step back. Then he blinked and his expression became dazed.

"You really...you look just like him." Blue eyes flicked to the ground and Tally glanced up with a shy smile. Deon felt cold rage wash over him.

He distantly registered Tally's shocked expression, before the boy was on the ground and Deon was straddling him. Swinging his fist over and over.

His pulse thundered and each hit felt like a release of all the sorrow, the pain and the guilt that was eating him alive.

"Deon!" Rough hands tore him away and gripped his wrists hard.

"I told you never to come back here!" His father roared and Tally scrambled to his feet, face chalk white beneath the blood, and ran like the hounds of hell were at his heels.

Deon trembled and he couldn't get enough air.

"Hey!" A large hand gripped his neck and a slap burned his cheek. Slowly, his eyes focused on his father's face. "What did he say? What did that filthy pervert do to you?"

Deon panted and his eyes filled with tears. His father just watched him.

"H-he said...I looked...like Alen." He choked out. The man's face hardened and he stepped back.

"We don't know anybody by that name." His cold eyes raked over the ground. "Clean up this mess."

His father left and Deon bent down to pick up the shattered eggshells. His hands shook and his knuckles were torn.

He hadn't had a fit like that in years. A complete loss of control that left him frightened and ashamed afterwards. Alen always used to hold him and stroke his hair until it was over.

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That night he gathered his meagre belongings into a leather pouch. Along with a small loaf of bread, an apple and a hunk of cheese.

He pushed the window open and looked around his bedroom one last time. He wondered if his parents would miss him or if he would be erased, as easily as his brother.

His father had intended for Deon to inherit the farm and that had been Deon's plan for his life too, until Alen left. But his parents still had Alise and they were young enough to conceive another child.

Deon wiped his eyes and shut the window quietly. He climbed down the roof, imagining Alen's footsteps and the many times his brother had taken the same route.

When he reached the town the first rays of dawn colored the streets. A few merchants were already setting up their stalls, unloading carts full of animals, fabrics and vegetables. His parents would be searching for him by now.

He hurried down to the harbour and stood on the stone steps overlooking the ships. The ocean lapped against the wooden beams and the air was fresh with salt.

Deon had never liked the ocean. It was too vast. Too deep. And full of creatures with lidless eyes and sharp teeth. He took a deep breath and approached one of the men.

"Only one of us heading south is the Augustine." The fisherman nodded towards a large clinker-built ship. "But it's a long trip."

Deon eyed the men loading cargo and quickly identified the chief; a large man with steel grey hair, bellowing orders.

"I could use more hands. Strong ones." The man answered him and set down a crate. He eyed Deon's slender build skeptically. "Looks like a strong wind could blow you away."

Deon frowned, slung his pouch across his chest, and bent to grip the crate. It weighed more than three sacks of grain, but he grit his teeth and straightened his spine, lifting slowly. He stepped onto the ship and placed the crate beside the others.

He jumped back on land and lifted another with trembling arms. The man roared at him to move faster and Deon knew he had passed inspection.

When the ship was stocked, Deon climbed on board and wiped his sweaty face with his shirt.

"How long until we reach Peraan?" He asked a man with leathery skin and a few missing teeth.

"Nine months give or take." The man said and pulled in the ropes. Deon stared, bewildered.

"Nine months? I thought it was five." He said.

"We're making two stops." The man gestured towards the cargo. "To trade."

Deon received a sharp cuff on his head and rushed to unload supplies.

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He was violently ill during the first night. The ship rocked and the stench of brine and unwashed bodies was unbearable. He missed solid ground and fresh earth beneath his feet.

The next day he was weak, but his gut had settled and he was ready for light tasks. Within a few months he had adjusted to life at sea and he hated it.

His bunk had lice, the food was bland and sometimes a hand would touch his ass, as if by accident. But the men quickly learned to steer clear of him.

"Hey!" Gell, a boy a few years older than Deon, with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes, plopped down next to him. "You got the night shift again."

Deon grunted in acknowledgement and bit into a dried strip of meat.

Gell passed him a jug of beer and Deon took a deep swig.

"Aren't you tired?" Deon knew Gell had been working hard, replacing the rigging all day.

"Nah. It's fine." Gell shrugged, but Deon noticed the blisters on the boy's hands.

Gell was an orphan who had lived on ships his entire life and he'd been thrilled to work with someone closer to his own age, even if Deon didn't talk much.

Deon passed back the beer and adjusted the animal hide around his shoulders. The nights were freezing.

"The weather will heat up soon." Gell said and shifted closer, until their shoulders touched. "And then you'll be off, right?"

Deon nodded and Gell shook his head.

"You ever wonder if your brother will want to leave? People get used to luxury."

Deon's jaw clenched and he took another bite of jerky. He wondered that all the time. Alen had always dreamed of an easy life, but Deon had thought his brother loved him enough to stay anyway.

In the back of his mind he knew Alen's reasons weren't that simple, but fear made him irrational.

"And if he wants to, do you think the guards will just open their doors for you? Let you take from a prince?" Gell continued and Deon stood, walking quickly to the other side of the ship.

Anxiety gnawed in the pit of his stomach and his nails dug into his palms.

"Oy! I was only asking." Gell caught his arm and Deon spun around, lifting his fist.

Deon had a temper, but Gell had grown up learning how to fend for himself and he quickly had the smaller boy pinned against the side of the cabin.

Deon snarled and snapped his teeth like a dog.

"Calm down!" Gell exclaimed and a window beside them flew open.

"If you two don't shut up, I'll have you thrown overboard!" The cook shouted and Gell grinned.

"Sorry! We're just playing." He said amiably, but his body was trembling with the effort it took to keep Deon still.

The man cursed a foul stream, no doubt waking the entire crew, and slammed the window shut.

"He's gonna spit in our meals now." Gell said and that disgusting reality made Deon calm a fraction and pant through his teeth.

Gell stared down at him. The boy wasn't unattractive, even if his nose had been broken a few times and his front tooth was chipped.

"You're beautiful, you know. I've never seen a man look like you." Gell said quietly.

Surprise cleared away the fog and Deon looked up. Gell smiled softly and Deon forced his brows into a scowl.

"Men aren't beautiful." He hissed, even though Alen was. They looked the same, but Deon knew he didn't emanate Alen's warmth or charm.

"Even when you make that face." Gell murmured and kissed him.

Deon froze and his heart stuttered. Gell's lips were warm and soft, but the body against him was hard, calloused hands gripping his wrists. It wasn't...unpleasant.

A wet tongue slid over his lip and Deon turned his face away, heart pounding. Gell kissed his cheek instead.

"There are no girls here." The older boy whispered. "Think about it."

And just like that the fury was back and Deon struggled. Gell let him go this time, stepping away with a crooked grin.

"No. There are no girls here." Deon agreed tightly, thinking of the derogatory comments he'd heard from some of the crew, when they thought he wasn't listening. Gell's smile went instantly.

"I-I didn't mean..." Gell started, but Deon was already marching away.

He returned to his post and stared out at the ocean. After a moment he heard the door to the cabin shut quietly and knew he was alone.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He tried not to think about the dark eyes he'd pictured when Gell had licked his mouth and what it meant. His cock was still painfully hard and tears of shame stung behind his lids.

He pushed away the animal skin and let the icy wind cut into him, until his erection softened and he was calm again. He shivered and bundled back up.

The stars were lovely back home. But they were otherworldly out here, with no town lights to compete with their shine.

Deon watched them reflect on that endless black water and had an idea of what he might do, if his brother turned him away.