Part Four: Somnolence

It was well past midnight when Asher woke needing to relieve himself, and dark still. Once comfortable, he wandered down the rows of beds toward the window coolly lit in familiar starlight. He rested his hands on the sill and stood gazing outside; letting his eyes slip over the black field, the deeper textured shadows of the forest.

His thoughts drifted. What had frightened Harper, to have him seek comfort from him, only to spurn his advances a moment later? And why all of a sudden was it a problem?

Am I moving to fast? He asked himself anxiously. But, I thought I was taking it slow!

In sudden worry, he looked back over his shoulder until the glint of white light in Harper’s pitch black hair shone in his gaze. I’ll back off. At least, during the day. Maybe, at night…

He left the window and soon his fingers trailed over soft skin, a feather light touch, feeling gently over closed eyes and Asher leaned down, suddenly yearning for Harper’s warmth.

Something felt different in his sleep and curiosity brought Harper to the brink of consciousness. There was a body against his, close and hot, and words whispered in his ear.

Sleep well.

A brush of boyish fingers in his hair, curling under his neck.

Love you.

And they were gone and Harper was left alone. Pondering what this could be, too tired to feel the scare of being touched at night—after all, he’d destroyed those fingers. One thought stayed in his sluggish mind as he drifted off: he’d rid himself of that fear long ago, and the touch of this small body was sweet.

Morning dawned and days returned to what they had been in the beginning. Asher led Harper, eager to show him the hidden nooks nature hid in the woods, beautiful, simple places. Asher kept his hands from questing, kept them in safe places with Harper, who eased back into his numbed state of forgetfulness. Forgetting what had happened, what kept him from moving forward.

It was the nights that were interesting.

The hands slid; the touch was back with gentleness like a breeze stirring in spring. Harper felt it, and the love in the touch turned his nightmare into a dream.

Again, there they were. This time the covers had been pulled back slightly, but Harper was shielded from the drifting cold of night air. There were warm boyish hands rubbing his stomach, rubbing his side, where his last bruise had faded. Since when had he slept so well? Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing that he’d done in the past, if finally it brought him such peace.

There was a voice, warm breath on his ear, but Harper did not need the words of love to know who it was, who it had been these several nights. He lay, breathing deeply, remained still as trusted hands wove over his skin, teasing it to prickle and shiver and make Harper’s heart burn with an ache only Asher had been able to call forth in him. Asher against him in the blanket of the night felt good and safe as it never had been before, but his heart hurt. Still, Harper waited in the unseeing night for the first whisper of his fingers. Then sleep would come.

He lay awake, waiting. Anticipation, longing, excitement all curled in his heart, boiling and twisting with a last unwanted, constant feeling. A fear of rejection, of being without—Harper stifled a gasp at the first rustle of fabric and there a hand was in his hair. He lay in complete rest, soaking in the attention, almost swooning, had he not already been pretending. And Asher did many things that night, his boldest Harper could remember. Hands rubbed his head, stroked again and again his cheek, his hair. The fingers felt over his eyes, his nose, his lips. Harper clutched at his composure not to laugh from the tickle. They traced along his jaw, felt the soft flesh of his ear, before a mouth in a sudden rush of heat latched onto the lobe. Harper, his head thrown back slightly jerked as Asher sucked. He left immediately when he felt Harper move beneath him and stood over the bed silently, except for ragged breathing.

Both boys waited in turmoil. Loving like this, from afar, Harper felt was hard but it felt unnaturally easy, unintimidating.

Harper thought. Don’t go away. I’m asleep. Don’t leave yet. Touch me again…just once more.

Asher stood stiffly, his heart leaping with the thought of Harper’s fear, the look of it on his face that day in the church.

Be asleep be asleep be asleep. Please. Don’t be afraid of me. He stepped closer, hesitantly. His hand fell against Harper’s, threading their fingers, gripping loosely. A sigh escaping his lips he lay his head to rest on the pillow, forehead just brushing Harper and looked intently on his sleeping face.

So peaceful. The skin so smooth, Asher’s fingers rubbing cheek, neck, curving around the back of his head. “If only I could love you like this everyday, out in the field, under the sun, in view of everyone and it would be okay.”

The words sent Harper’s heart flying faster on its course and he struggled to keep his breathing from flying away with it. This became no easy feat when Asher breached the fabric of Harper’s nightshirt to slip a hand inside, sliding on the heat of his body. Up and down, rolling across the sleek skin, puckering in excited shivers.

Go on. Touch me just like that.

Asher gained confidence as Harper’s muffled interest rose and the bed dipped, the sheets creased in rough sighs when Asher mounted the bed. Dominating the air above and around Harper, a solid shadow that leaned to methodically lift Harper slowly, compressing the warmth between them to share.

Don’t wake. Let me hold you properly. Once, let me do this.

His body felt more alive than ever, riddled with intense longing, such that he had known and suppressed, and Harper huffed it out in a single breath. The noise loud in the stillness, Harper unable to do more. And why was that, again? Could he remember now, so clearly, when what he wanted held him in quiet possession as the night held the nether hours of the day?

Is there really anything, any reason, to think this determination that brings Asher here every night, should fail, if I tell?

Thought vanished in a wisp like fog when Asher finally touched Harper with the softest of sensual flesh and Harper experienced the sharpest pang of disappointment that he was not “awake” to share their first kiss.

Rejection, any thought of holding back, the dreaded burden of reason snapped under the fire Asher had stoked over the nights and Harper threw up his hands to lock Asher in a hug in both his arms and his mouth. The slight vibration on his lips from Asher’s surprise, stifled in a cry, heightened the sudden fervor Harper had restrained in reason. Harper moved zealously, enforcing his will for the first time in such force that Asher froze in his suprised attempts to escape, and bent to accommodate. Harper clamped the back of Asher’s head and tugged him down for a second searing kiss after a breath of air. He kissed and even licked, excited, pushing his fear to the back of his mind and for a moment, things were great; reality would be dealt with later.

Reality came too soon. Gripping the hot skin of Asher's face, Harper felt a loss when he sensed Asher not kissing back. Asher had become malleable, a doll for Harper to have his will with; Asher lost confidence, unfamiliar with the feel of his lover finally responding passionately after platonic days and one sided flights of love in the dark.

With a shove Asher found himself separated from Harper, his warmth, though less than a finger-length of breath hung between them. He closed his eyes when Harper allowed his hands to feel his flaxen hair. They lay gasping.

“H-h-harper!” Asher finally stammered, his voice squeaking.

“Shh!” Harper pressed a finger to swollen lips and hoped the sudden arrest his heart had on his mind lasted.

Asher’s head fought the hands as he shook his head in doubt. “I don’t understand.” he uttered in a hoarse whisper.

“Wh-what do you mean?” He dropped his hands to the bed and felt the familiar tendrils of doubt seep closer, dropping into his chest like water filling an emtpy well.

“What?” Asher sat up and looked down at the flash of starlight in Harper’s black hair. “This, I don’t understand…” he shook his head, gestured in a lost fashion.

Harper pushed himself up slowly. He sat, his face shrouded in shadow, turned away from the window. The silence gathered. Thicker, even, than the night.

“Are you angry?” Asher asked, his voice tremulous, a hand searching for Harper in the dark anxiously.

Harper was silent. He seemed not to move, make a sound.

An explosive breath was the beginning of Asher’s justification for the night’s events, followed by what seemed to be most important “I, I’m sorry! If you’re angry at me, I just- I wanted- you know I like you! And, for a while, I, I thought you did too. So, you know, that time in the kitchen and later in the church…and then you didn’t like it, so I thought maybe I was wrong, or I was moving to fast, and anyway I thought I better stop if I didn’t want to lose you--!” Asher swallowed his words and leapt to his feet to follow the determined pat-pat of Harper’s bare feet out the door into the hall.

Desperately Asher went on, “I was only comforting you at first with nightmares, then, it was just too easy! I know it was wrong of me, I’m so sorry!” He swallowed the bile rising in his throat from the fear filling his gut. He watched the movement of Harper's shoulders under his shirt and threw out his best defense as Harper threw open the door. The light flashed on to reveal the game room. Harper stood, shoulder’s slumped, and listened.

“Just now, you liked it.”

The words hung in the air, and with them all reason, all the confliction was hung with Harper and he floundered in a sudden frothing sea of emotions he knew not how to control.

“You loved it.” Like a stone, the confidence in Asher’s words fell on shoulders suddenly to frail to bear them.

I’m not ready for this.

“Harper.” Asher stared at the soft strands of black hair.

This need is—too soon. A terrible time to love.

“Harper, say something.”

Worst possible timing ever.

“Harper!” Asher snatched his shoulder and thrust him around. Harper was quick, but the arms he brought up to shield his face didn’t hide the tears Asher saw.

“God, what’s wrong?” Asher fussed. Harper jerked, imagining Asher's voice full of annoyance and frustration.

"Why are you apologizing?!" Harper half-screamed before sucking in his vehemence and ending in a hoarse, choking whisper. "Was that some mistake?" he spoke accusingly in anguish. Asher's hands hovered over his slumping body, Harper determidly roughing his face up as he wiped away the tears angrily. He backed away from Asher, and both began to move in a flustered, charged circle around one another, as words were thrown between them.

"I'm apologizing because you're freaking out again!" Asher snapped, his face flushing, eyes glinting.

"Shut up! Don't make fun of me!" Harper exploded. He tossed his head and felt the beginings of a headache.

Asher sucked in a deep breath and tried to calm himself, "I'm not making fun of you I'm only pointing out the truth--"

"You- you're the one that-" Harper, breathing hard, his hands balled into fists.

"I what?" Asher challenged, "Liked you? Fell in love with you? Yes, I did! And I know-"

"NO!"

"I know-"

"I'm not a pervert!"

"You like it too!"

"This is your fault! I don't do those things!"

"HARPER!" Asher finally snarled, "I don't understand you!" Asher came at him fast and Harper whimpered, falling into a cowering shaking heap in a corner. Asher stilled and stared. Harper curled his knees to his chest and hid his face in his arms, shaking.

"Harper--" Asher whispered, frozen.

A sharp bang interupted as the door burst open and loud adolescent voices traveled down the hall, and Lucas stood in the doorway, staring. In one swift moment he brushed past Asher and knelt at Harper's side. Asher stared at Lucas, not sparing a glance as half the orphanage crowded the doorway, slipping uncertainly but curisouly into the room. Murmuring, hesitant inquirements were made.

"Asher," A small hand tugged on his sleeve. Asher turned to see one of the little boys, clinging to his sleeve, looking at Lucas, who had shielded Harper with his large frame. His face was pinched in childish worry. "Is he okay? Why is he sad? Is he hurt?"

Asher swallowed, "He's just really tired." He stood when Lucas rose.

"Clear off. Back to sleep, all of you." Silence as everone stared, and then several voices at once.

"Lucas-

"I heard you yelling--"

"-- Asher."

"I said clear off!" Lucas snapped firmly, seeming to stand much taller than any of them. Still the kids lingered, some shuffling to the door, others pressing forward, inquiring after Harper, asking Asher what he meant by hurting him like that.

Lucas suddenly dashed at them and they all fled, some squealing. Lucas shut the door with a snap. He turned to see Asher sitting close to Harper, who had taken to huddling his face behind his arm, propped up on one knee, the other leg stretched out and one hand limp in his lap.

Lucas squatted in front of him, not suprised when Harper ducked his eyes.

"Harper--"

"I can't. I can't." Harper told them, desperation lacing his quiet words.

"Can't what?" Asher asked, hoping to start over.

Lucas pushed him aside, "That's enough." Blocking Asher from view he spoke to Harper's arm, and the long hair that served as a curtain, "Harper, aren't you beat? Time for bed, yeah? C'mon. Up up." he hitched a hand under Harper's arm and hauled him to his feet. Harper seemed to sway, but he stepped away from Asher when he reached out a hand, but not without sending a skirted glance his way. Asher saw that his eyes were bright. He disappeared out in the hall, shuting the door carefully behind him. The room was silent. Asher stared at the ground.

Lucas watched him with a quiet openess, waiting.

"It's just--" Asher tried, looking up quickly.

"What?" Lucas asked, crossing his arms.

"I was just-- I wasn't going to hurt him." he turned his back and made for the door.

"Asher, take it easy for a few days. Then ask him. And, I think you should take a long look in his eyes before you do anything."

"Weird advice." Asher mumbled, thinking it good, all the same. he felt Lucas moving around him to open the door. "Eyes are the windows to the soul." Lucas said lightly, and tossed a wink at Asher. He paused in the doorway and looked over his shoulder. "He's good for you." and left. Asher blinked at the wood of the door and thought back to how he had made it there.