In his dreams, Soren would roll over and see Rocky lying there beside him, tangled up in the linen sheets, one leg or arm poking out. In those dreams, Soren would kiss his mouth, just to see him awaken, those golden eyes matching the sunlight that came in through the window. 

Sometimes they would lay in silence in those dreams, Rocky stroking his hair and his arms. "You found me," he would tell Soren, a smile teasing his lips.

"You're always with me," Soren would reply softly, "Everywhere you go, I carry you with me."

And then the dream would end, and Rocky would leave once more. 

Every poem that Soren had read warned him about lovers like Rocky. Surely their fascination with one another would end in death or plunging from the sky engulfed in wax and fire. They both knew it was a dangerous game to play, but they couldn't stop themselves. 

Soren opens the back door to the kitchen and steps outside carrying a plate of red meat diced into cubes. The air was slightly chilly and the wood porch felt cold under his bare feet, but he didn't mind at all, especially when he sees Rocky sitting on the steps holding a bottle of cheap red wine and a pack of multicolored party hats. It was such a Rocky thing to do that he almost chuckles, but stops himself just in time.

"I'm probably going to regret asking you this," Soren tells him, "But what's up with the party hats and wine?"

Rocky stands up abruptly, the wine and pack of party hats in his hands. For a moment, he looked like a kid who'd been caught doing something bad, and then he perks up at the sight of Soren, his shoulders lifting. "I was hoping we could talk," the redhead admits, "So I stole all this stuff from a bachelorette party on the way here. Just ignore all the tiny cocks printed on the party hats and we should be good, okay?"

"Seriously?" Soren scoffs a little and snatches the pack of hats from Rocky to examine. Sure enough, dicks of all shapes and sizes were printed on the cheap, pink cones, some of them erect, other ones just hanging there like hot dogs.

"Yeah, sure. We can talk, but I need to give the owls their breakfast first," Soren mutters after a moment, and he hands the hats back to Rocky, his cheeks burning. "Come help me out."

"Oh! Wonderful!" Rocky chirps, "Let's start the day off right by being covered in owl shit and slashed by sharp talons! Excellent idea, Renny!" But despite his bitching, the strange man reluctantly follows Soren around the back of the house where they kept the owl pens and a rather large shed. 

They only had a barn owl mom and her owlets to care for right now, but in the summer, the Moons had been known to have up to eight or nine owls waiting to be treated in different pens. It definitely made roping all of them in for medicines and surgeries interesting, so all of his siblings tried to help out as best as they could.

Soren walks over to the first cage and hands Rocky the plate of minced mouse meat so he can open the lock. Each cage had been built by his dad and set up to accommodate a variety of birds, including hawks and kestrels. In fact, Soren's earliest memory was helping his dad hammer nails into the wood and hanging up a bunch of chicken wire.

"So! Since I have six weeks to burn through, I was hoping we could do something fun!" Rocky says as he leans against the cage, "You're always cooped up in that dusty room, Soren! Don't you think it's time to live a little?"

Soren rolls his eyes and opens up the cage. "Your idea of fun and my idea of fun are two very different things, Rocky," he replies, and the barn owl high up in the nest box on the wall peeks her head out to stare at them. "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know," Rocky sighs and he hands Soren the plate of meat and a pair of tongs, "I just want to run away with you. I want to sleep in the same bed as you, and dance together in obscure clubs at night. College is fun, but I'm miserable without you, my darling."

Soren turns to look at him, tongs in one hand, which the barn owl on the branch above his head wasn't pleased about. Her chicks had begun to screech hungrily at this point, but all Soren could think about was Rocky. 

His lips. His beautiful hair. The sound of his voice in the darkness of the night.

Rocky drops the penis party hats and bottle of wine and steps forward, one hand reaching for Soren as if to tangle in his hair and bring him close.

"Soren!" A voice suddenly screeches from the front yard. "Soren, baby! Where are you?"