Impossible || Druig

13

The village wasn't much different than last year, Soro noted. Maybe a new wooden bridge through the trees, or a new vegetable patch. The amazon forest around them was the same. The natural frames formed by overlapping branches allowing him to step through anywhere, without the need of a doorframe as guidance. This time, he stepped through a doorway sized gap between the branches high in the canopy. His converse finding purchase on a thicker branch below as he peered down to inspect the village below.

People wandered about doing their work and chores. The village was busier than usual and Soro knew it was because Druig was keeping a eye out for him. It was a game they played, or it had turned into a game over the centuries. Now it was mostly competitive.

In the first decade since their separation, Soro had handled the breakup by ignoring things that reminded him of his husband. That had been a lot of things, almost everything and he recalled a lot of nights drunk crying into pillows. Then, about fifteen years afterwards, he picked himself up and took himself to the market to buy himself some good food in honour of their anniversary. Food always reminded him of Druig and he may have gotten drunk that night and decided to return the favour and leave food for his husband in hope it would remind him too. So he had drunkenly portaled to the forest and left a basket of street food for his husband to find. Then he did it the next year, and the year after. Different foods from different places and countries each time.

Sometimes it was out of anger. Almost as if to send the message 'look at what you're missing hiding away here'. Or, 'we could have been enjoying this together'. Other times is was because he worried. Food was something they had always shared and he worried about Druig not eating enjoyable food. Long lives were not fun if you weren't enjoying what you ate.

After about a century of him leaving food on Druig's doorstep for him to find, his husband decided to try and catch him at it. That was where it turned into a game. Soro didn't want to talk to him yet. He had gotten over the heartbreak of it, but he still loved his husband and had been procrastinating his complex feelings of their separation for longer than was strictly healthy. Also, the thrill of hiding from him was fun. Soro enjoyed leaving gifts and watching the other man turn the village upside down to find him.

This time, he was approaching from above. It was easy to swing across the branches silently until he was over the village hall. The tree growing through the building made it easier and he climbed up higher until he was barely able to see the ground and the branches around him were bending under his weight. Then he tied the bag of leftovers to one of the glowing threads hanging from his fingers and began to slowly lower it down. He felt like one of those spies from the movies and giggled to himself as he watched the bag drop through the branches.

He had to pause several times as one of the humans in the village passed by. The light golden sheen to their eyes familiar. Soro smiled to himself. Druig was trying to lure him into a false sense of security. The people all looked as if they were doing their chores, but Druig was controlling them all and keeping his eyes on everything in the area. It was very Druig of him. The bag was mere feet from the steps of the village hall and with a flick of his fingers, the thread was unravelling from his hands and fading into nothingness. The bag landed on the step with a light thud.

The nearest villager lunged for it but Soro was already climbing back across the branches. "Soro!" Druig's voice echoed over the village. It made him pause. The tone was amused and frustrated. "My darling Soro?" It was teasing but the endearment made the blood rush to his face. It had been so long since Druig had called him that. It was nostalgic, painful and it left butterflies in his stomach. He froze, crouched in the branches with bated breath for whatever Druig might say next.