The Tea Shop [mxm]

XVI: Sharing Memories

Today was an amazing day and I really wanted to write something so I decided to update this story because it was really sunny and warm (and sure it was snowing and hailing and raining but then there was sun again) and I was walking around without a jacket and you just gotta love Swedish spring. So unpredictable, and absolutely lovely.

They were curled up on the couch again. Elliot wasn't sure how, but Wren had successfully gotten him to stay at home for a day, leaving the tea shop to the three others. He didn't like it, because that meant the someone else was once again in his kitchen, possibly making a mess of everything just as last time, but it was too late to do something about it.

He'd already agreed.

Elliot suspected that it was the thought of just spending the day in Wren's company without any interruptions that lured him into staying, and he didn't even feel ashamed anymore. The more time he could spend with Wren, the better. He refused to think of what this might mean in terms of feelings, because he knew it was far too early to admit his love for the other man, even to himself.

So he simply decided to not overanalyze everything like he usually did, and just live in the moment. There was no point in thinking of what might happen in the future, or how his troublesome past might ruin everything good he'd ever have. Therefore he decided he wouldn't.

So they were cuddled up again on the sofa, lying on their backs, Elliot partly on top of Wren because of the narrow space. He didn't mind. It meant that Wren had to keep an arm around his waist to keep him from sliding off, while the other one was playing with his hair.

The window was slightly open, and Elliot inhaled the frigid air. Wren had complained loudly about the temperature earlier, but had agreed to open the window when Elliot promised they would wrap themselves up in several thick blankets. Now it was warm and cozy, but Elliot still got the satisfaction from having the window open.

He loved the cold. Nostalgia, he supposed. The best memories from his childhood came from his grandfather's cabin, the old structure couldn't keep the mountain winds at bay; it seeped through the walls and into the small space that only fit two beds, a TV, and a tiny kitchen. The nights were always a struggle, and usually he prompted to sleep in his granddad's bed just to keep them both warm.

Two week every summer was reserved for hiking in the mountains, just Elliot and his grandfather. That had stopped when he was eleven, though, when the old man had died from a heart attack. He never went back to the cabin.

He'd explained this to Wren, and told him all the fun things they had done. Like the time they found a shallow lake and his grandfather had insisted they go fishing, even though Elliot knew it was hopeless. The lake could barely be called a lake, it was more of a pond, and way too small for fish.

But they had spent hours there, Elliot being entertained by stories told about a faraway place in a time long ago. Needless to say, they didn't catch any fish, but it was still Elliot's favourite memory of the old man.

That was all Elliot was comfortable sharing with Wren - the rest of his childhood wasn't really much of a childhood, and Wren didn't need to hear those stories and pity him. The past was best left where it belonged, behind us. No need to bring sad memories back.

"What about you?" Elliot asked. "What's your favourite memory?" Wren had turned on his side to be able to look at Elliot, and was now propped up on his elbow.

"From my childhood?" Elliot shook his head.

"Not necessarily, it can be anything. From any point in time." He smiled up at Wren, curious to learn more about him. Regardless of what he said, he really wanted to hear about Wren's childhood. He wanted to know how he had it, and hoped to God that it wasn't as bad as his own.