Chapter Text
It was getting down into the fall. Cold air had begun to settle in at night. Bright orange pumpkins sat in the fields ready to be harvested. Spirits Eve was only a couple of days away.
Yet Timothy stood in front of the old mirror in his farmhouse, staring at himself.
The season had been rough. In a good way.
The harvests had been successful and the money was coming in. But he could see the labor in his hands, his eyes, his everything.
Once smooth, flawless skin was now freckled and tanned from long days under the sun. His arms rippled with the newfound muscle he had developed over the past year and a half. He was an average man, standing about 5’10 and maybe weighing 160 pounds. But he felt strong.
He had handled the pumpkin harvest entirely by himself the year before and had every intention of doing the same this year. The only problem was that this year’s harvest was nearly three times the size.
Sure, maybe he had gotten a little carried away. But he was going to handle it.
He stood there wearing a new flannel he had recently picked up. Orange and black plaid for the season. It was loosely tucked into a new pair of thick black jeans. Not his usual look, but it looked good.
He pulled on a pair of boots. Not farm boots, but a pair of black “city” boots. At least that’s what his granddad would’ve called them.
Timothy took a step back and turned slightly, making sure everything sat right. He adjusted the cuff of one sleeve before looking himself over one more time.
His hair wasn’t an issue. He had decided to go for a buzz cut during the summer, much to the dismay of Evelyn and Haley. Evelyn had called it a shame. Haley had spent nearly a week complaining about it.
Timothy smiled at the memory.
It was hair. It would grow back.
Timothy stepped out onto the porch. The old boards creaked under his feet. He looked out across the farm.
What had to be over a hundred pumpkins sat in neat rows, their bright orange skin almost glowing in the last pale light of the evening.
He sighed.
There was no ignoring it. Every single one of them needed to be harvested before Spirit’s Eve.
It was a lot of work.
A ridiculous amount of work, actually.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.
Tonight, he was occupied.
He found himself starting down the path that led from the back of his farm. Heading through the woods toward the mountains.
Between his trips to the mines and the ridiculous favors he was always asking of Robin, the path had become second nature to him by now.
Over the past couple of seasons, though, a third reason had been added.
Sebastian.
What had started as casual run ins had slowly turned into a friendship. An unlikely one at that.
Usually the broody type didn’t mesh well with him. Timothy was the sort of person who would strike up a conversation with anyone. Sebastian was the sort of person who looked like he was actively trying to avoid one.
Yet somehow it worked.
Maybe it was because Sebastian was smarter than he let on. Maybe it was because there was a dry sense of humor hiding under all that sarcasm.
Or maybe Sebastian was just… charming.
Timothy still wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened.
Then came the day on the pier.
It had been raining.
Timothy had been heading down to fish, like he often did. The weather didn’t bother him much. If anything, he preferred fishing in the rain.
As he approached the beach, a figure standing on the pier next to Willy’s shop caught his attention.
No one except him and Willy ever seemed interested in being out there when it rained.
The familiar black clothes came into view. A thin wisp of smoke drifted away from the figure.
Sebastian.
At that point they had only been friendly with each other. A few hangouts. Some genuinely funny conversations. Sebastian had even shown him his motorcycle.
Timothy stepped onto the pier.
Sebastian turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. There was a hint of surprise on his face when he saw who it was.
“What are you doing here? In the rain?” he asked.
Timothy looked him over. Sebastian was completely soaked. Long black hair had been pushed back out of his face by the weather. His jacket looked heavy with rainwater.
Timothy laughed.
“I could ask you the same thing, you know.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Sebastian’s mouth.
He turned back toward the ocean.
He took one last draw from the cigarette before dropping the butt into the bucket sitting at the corner of the pier.
“You know…” Sebastian started, staring out over the water. “I feel drawn to the ocean. The rain too. There’s just something about it.”
His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon.
“I don’t know. It just makes sense to me.”
He turned to look at Timothy.
Then quickly looked away.
“…I get so anxious around people.”
His voice was quieter now.
“Even Sam.”
The rain continued to patter against the wooden planks beneath them.
“It’s just… all too much sometimes.”
Sebastian shook his head.
“But that doesn’t really happen with you.”
Timothy felt his chest tighten slightly.
Sebastian went quiet after that, as though he regretted saying it out loud.
After a moment, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small umbrella. He flicked it open above himself, then awkwardly gestured toward the empty space beneath it.
An invitation.
Wordless, but unmistakable.
For Timothy to step closer.
Timothy stepped beneath the umbrella, filling the small space left beside Sebastian. The two stood awkwardly for a moment, shoulder to shoulder as the rain continued to fall around them.
Then Timothy felt an arm wrap around him.
It caught him completely off guard.
Sebastian pulled him a little closer beneath the umbrella. Not enough to make a big deal out of it. Just enough that neither of them was getting soaked anymore.
Timothy didn’t say anything.
Neither did Sebastian.
Before long, the rain, the waves, and the steady sound of the town behind them seemed to blur together.
Timothy had no idea how long they stood there.
Eventually, Sebastian walked him home.
Ever since that night, something had changed.
It wasn’t dramatic. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed it.
But Timothy had.
Sebastian seemed warmer somehow. Softer.
He smiled more often. Sometimes for no reason at all.
His laugh came easier now too. Less guarded. More natural.
Even Sam had noticed.
Which, honestly, said a lot.
Timothy glanced around him. The trees creaked softly in the autumn wind, dry leaves rolling across the ground with every occasional gust.
It was pretty much dark now. Just a single light glowed in the distance.
Sebastian’s house.
Even from here, Timothy could tell the garage door was open. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
A few days earlier, Sebastian had left a note in his mailbox. A simple thing, folded once and written in his messy handwriting.
Want to go for a ride through the mountains?
That was it. No elaborate explanation. No specific plans. Just an invitation.
Timothy had probably read the note twenty times before finally tucking it away.
Now he found himself following the familiar path toward the light.
——-
Sebastian was in the garage, polishing, shining, adjusting. Anything to keep his hands busy.
He was nervous. Scared, even.
He’d never felt this way about anyone before, and honestly, he didn’t know why he did now.
For years he had worked hard to keep people at a distance. It was easier that way. Safer. If he stayed isolated, he never had to worry about rejection, heartbreak, embarrassment, or any of the other things that came with letting someone get close.
Yet somehow Timothy had slipped past all of that.
Sebastian sighed and ran a cloth along the side of his motorcycle. The bike was already spotless. He wasn’t worried about the motorcycle.
He was worried about tonight.
He was already the black sheep of the family. The basement dwelling programmer who spent too much time alone and smoked too much. The one who never quite seemed to fit anywhere. The thought of messing up one of the only genuinely good things in his life made his stomach churn.
So he kept polishing. Anything was better than sitting still and thinking about it.
A few more minutes passed. The mindless task of cleaning his already spotless motorcycle was no longer distracting him.
It was just past eight.
What if he didn’t show?
The thought kept creeping back into Sebastian’s mind. Part of him knew that would almost be easier. Easier than Timothy showing up and Sebastian somehow making a complete fool of himself.
With a sigh, he stood and grabbed two identical motorcycle helmets from the workbench.
He had built them himself.
Prototypes.
They were Bluetooth compatible with built in microphones so riders could communicate at close range. They also had a system that projected navigation onto the inside of the visor without obstructing the rider’s view.
He had been looking for an excuse to test them for weeks.
Tonight seemed perfect.
Sebastian pushed his hair back out of his face, stood up straight, and adjusted his jacket.
Just then a gust of autumn wind swept through the open garage, sending leaves skittering across the floor.
“Shit… Demetrius is going to tweak.”
He shook his head and looked up.
Only to find Timothy standing at the edge of the garage, watching him.
For a second Sebastian forgot how to breathe.