Sleepy Fox Hollow The world don't see

Between them something tender was growing — if Anselm would allow it. But it would take time, and gentle watering, and nurturing attention, and loving words — these were things Anselm was not capable of. And instead of love, Anselm’s scorched fields were only sown with resentment. 

He stared at Etienne in disbelief. But I like the face staring back at me — he wanted to counter — to scream — to grab each other and shake the sense into them both; the truth. The truth he knew was threatening to unfurl around them. 

But the words, like everything else, died on his tongue. His stupid, acerbic tongue. 

Etienne began to rip the reeds from the frozen earth. Anselm wanted to help him, but such a gesture could be seen as soft. He grunted and moved at last, pulling out some shoots and roughly throwing them towards Etienne’s direction. Helpful, but not too helpful. Interested, but not so interested as to be perceived as gay. Because he wasn’t. He was normal. He was fine. He wasn’t g—

Vhat good did that do you? Anselm finally spoke, noticing the way Etienne struggled to bind the reed and cobwebs to his fur. 

He looked around them, as if making sure they did not have an audience. Do you vant me to find Fiona, or… ? Though he did not like the idea of touching Etienne because that would be — well — he liked the idea of Fiona touching Etienne even less.