[21] hike away

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It was almost five when Chris parked the car on the gravel parking lot and stepped out of the car. Dylan slammed the door after himself and quickly put his jacket on to hinder the cold air from biting at his skin. 

"Alright," Chris smiled gently as he swung a backpack over his shoulder, "let's go." 

The two of them started walking up toward the forest opening where the trail began. Dylan had walked the dirt road more than a hundred times over with his family when his mom got the idea of a 'mini-vacation', but he'd never enjoyed it any of those times. 

Now, however, he did. Very much. 

"I used to walk here with my brother when I was younger," Chris said after a few moments of silence. Dylan turned his head to look at him. He hadn't said much about his brother until now, and Dylan wanted to show that he cared. "But that was before he got sick." 

Oh, Dylan thought. "I'm so sorry-" he started but Chris interrupted.

"No, it's not like that, he's not dead," he assured and Dylan sighed in relief in his head. "He... he's in prison. For murder." 

"You don't need to tell me this, at least not already," Dylan said. He wasn't sure which he would think was better, the murderer brother or dead brother, but none of them were very good. "We have time." 

Chris gave him a soft smile. They continued walking up the road, neither saying anything, just taking in the other's company and listening to the whispers of the forest. After a few minutes, they got to the cleared space for picnics that had a view over the entire city.

"Okay," Chris breathed as they walked closer to the steep hill that lead down to the town, "come on." He set down the backpack and opened it, getting out a blanket and spread it out as close to the edge as he could get. 

"A picnic?" Dylan couldn't help the laugh that escaped him as he got closer and sat down, "I didn't know you were such a romantic." 

Chris laughed, too. "There are many things you don't know about me." 

"But you intend to change that?" 

"I do," Chris took a seat.

"It's nice," Dylan looked out over the town. By now, it was around five-fifteen and the sun had officially started to set, albeit most of it was still in the sky. He twisted his head around to look at Chris, who was staring out over the landscape. The sun hit his face in a way that made him look very nice, and Dylan had a strong urge to kiss him.

But he didn't. Instead, he leaned back on his arms and stretched his legs out. 

"So what do you want to be, then?" He asked and Chris turned to look at him, crossing his legs.

"Honestly?" 

"Honestly." 

"I don't really know. Dad wants me to-" 

Dylan shook his head. "No, I don't want to know what your dad wants. I want to know what you want. What are your dreams?" 

Chris stared at him for a long minute, not saying anything. A mix of shock and sadness flashed upon his face, but it was gone just as quickly as it had come and left was only a blank slate.

"I... do you promise that you won't judge?" He asked finally, a red color decorating his cheeks. 

"I promise." 

"It's not what I want to work as, I don't know what I want to be, but I would like to have a piece at a gallery..." 

"An art gallery?" Dylan smiled softly and Chris nodded. "You have the talent for it, I'm sure you could." The silence that followed was tense and intimate in a way the Dylan hadn't experienced before. Both of them sat back and looked out over the edge, not saying anything.

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