Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wasn’t sure exactly when he decided to take a walk. In February, he stopped writing. It wasn’t writer’s block. He'd had writer’s block before; who hasn’t? This was a complete, sudden cessation of the composition of anything more complex than a shopping list. It took nearly five months before he realized that he needed to panic, but by September, his publisher had made it clear that he should have panicked several months prior. 

“You know what I’m not looking at?” Connor had barked into the phone. “Chapters! That’s what!”

Oliver was accustomed to the man’s gruff manner, and it wasn’t the first time his publisher had to apply some pressure about meeting a deadline. As he listened to Connor rant at him through the phone, he comforted himself by studying the eastern wall of his office, which was at that very moment being showered in the diffuse golden light of the setting sun, causing the awards there to glimmer as if they actually held some import. In fact, though, the awards were not something he thought about often. But when your publisher is squawking your ear off through the phone, there’s a certain amount of job security in them, and so to some degree he valued them. Connor railed on so long, though, that by the time the call had ended, Oliver thought he needed an appointment with his therapist. So he headed downstairs to talk to the only therapist who’d ever been of any real help to him, his favorite bartender, Dave.

As soon as he sat down at the bar in his usual spot at the corner, Dave was already pouring his bourbon, neat, as he asked, “The usual?” Oliver felt more chastised in that moment than he had by the friendly reminder Connor had just provided him. 

“Make it a double,” Oliver said, just to mix things up. Dave added another splash of bourbon, unconcerned about the change in order. 

“Rough day?” he asked, which would have been nice if he hadn't added, “Again?” 

“More like a bad year,” Oliver groaned, wishing it were more exaggeration and less truth. 

Dave was shining the bar with a cloth absentmindedly; Dave was always busying himself with something, but he did look up long enough to condescend, “I already told you what you need to do.” 

Oliver shrugged, then took another sip of bourbon. He liked the painful burn the bourbon left inside his mouth and throat, and let it linger a while before swallowing.

“Tell me again,” Oliver said. He remembered, of course. Dave had been singing the same song for weeks now. Oliver just kept hoping that one day he would have the courage to take his advice. If he had only known then what lay ahead for him, Dave wouldn’t have had to advise him more than once. 

“You gotta get out of the city, man. A change of scenery,” Dave said. All at once, Oliver noticed that he was receiving more than his share of Dave’s attention, so he looked around. The bar was nearly empty. 

“Is it closing time?” he asked. 

“Just about. Take your time though,” Dave said, polishing the bottles filled with clear and amber liquids. 

He took another sip of his drink. “So where would you go?” Oliver asked. With this question, he took the conversation further than he had allowed it to go in the past. 

“Me?” 

“Yes. If you wanted a change of scenery, where would you go?” 

Dave chuckled mildly. “I did need a change of scenery. I came here. It doesn’t matter where. Alls that matters is that it’s a change. Go to Texas or whatever. Just a change. That’s all you need.” 

Oliver knew that he wasn’t going to Texas, that was for certain, but he thanked Dave anyway, left a nice tip, and headed home. For Oliver, home was just up a few flights of stairs. In his inebriated state, he thought he might be lazy and take the elevator, but it wasn’t working of course. Nothing ever seemed to work anymore. Not for him. When he finally reached his apartment, he found it already inhabited by his girlfriend, and he wanted nothing more than to do a U-Turn and head right out the door. When home becomes a place to escape rather than the place of escape, you really do know it’s time to get going. But where would he go? The answer was clarifying for him: Anywhere. Anywhere else. 

“Where have you been?” Tabitha asked, her voice already edgy. Angry. 

“Downstairs. Tabz, I’m sorry. I really don’t feel well. I need to lie down,” he said, moving toward his tiny bedroom. He wanted to tell her to go home, that there was a reason they didn’t live together. He didn’t have the heart. But he sometimes thought that might have been the moment. The moment when he decided to take a walk. 

When he finally told Tabatha he was leaving, she didn’t ask where he was going or how long he’d be gone. She just asked if she could sublet his apartment. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later when she’d come in to find him surrounded by guides to various cities that he was considering for his ‘change in scenery’ that his imminent departure became real to her. The angrier she became, the less Oliver cared. They’d ended up having a fight that night; their last fight as it turned out, but something good had come of it because as the grand finale of the fight,   in which Oliver was failing to participate, Tabitha began throwing the guidebooks at him and her  words, the last words Oliver would ever hear from her, were, “You can go to hell or the hills of Arkansas for all I care!”

Because Oliver had been struggling with where to go, and thinking again and again that every city is more or less the same, her words, which she had not meant as a suggestion, became one anyway. He’d never been to Arkansas, but isn’t that the best way to approach a change of scenery? Go someplace you’ve never gone? He went online and did some research and discovered that Arkansas is called The Natural State. Oliver had never considered himself a nature-lover, unless you  count walks around Central Park, which he did. Over the next few   days, the idea grew on him, and considering how things ended up, he did have something to thank Tabitha for after all. 

Oliver got on AirBnB’s site, and was pleasantly surprised to find that there were plenty of rental properties available in the state. He was particularly interested in the Northern part of the state, but he couldn’t say why. Maybe it was Tabatha’s comment about the hills, or maybe it was the fact that the temperature would be cooler and less humid. Maybe it’s because it’s one of the most sparsely populated areas. Or maybe it’s because the universe knew what he didn’t. That he would be there. Later, Oliver liked to think it was that. 

He talked to his travel agent, who thought he had lost his mind. She told him there was really nothing to do in that area except for hunting, fishing, and hiking. The first two were out. He hadn’t the least bit of interest in killing anything, at least not back then. The hiking he thought he might enjoy, so maybe that’s when he decided about the walk. The travel agent was of little help, since there were no tickets to book, but the talk with her did help him in his preparations for what to pack. He rented a little property from AirBnB called Jack’s Bend, which sounded rugged and adventurous to him. Exactly what he needed. At least that’s what he thought at the time. However, his very first day hike, which was intended to be a short, easy walk through the forest, would make it clear that he was in for more adventure than he planned. 

Elio was on his knees. He held his breath, waiting for the perfect moment. As soon as she spread her stained-glass wings, he pressed the button. The shutter clicked, and the butterfly flew away, but not before he captured what he already knew was the perfect shot. He stood, rubbed his knee, and examined the display on his camera. He was correct. It was a flawless capture. His mom had been right about him coming here. He tried not to think about the reason she’d suggested it, but of course anytime he tried not to think of something, it was the only thing he could think about. So for a moment, he wasn’t exploring the Ozark Highlands, but was instead back on his own porch in Concord, New Hampshire. 

Elio stood on his porch, staring at the envelope he’d just pulled from the mailbox. He slid a finger beneath the flap and was just about to slide it across the seal, but then quickly removed his finger. He knew he was only delaying the inevitable, but sometimes the inevitable was best delayed. He tapped the envelope against his palm with a harder whack than he’d really intended. Once inside, he tossed it onto the coffee table. From there, the envelope continued to taunt him throughout the evening. It was only after his mother returned and picked it up that he was suddenly forced to make a decision. 

“Mom, that’s my mail,” he said crossly. He was rarely cross with his mother, but she knew what was inside that envelope. She knew what was riding on its contents. 

“Well you don’t seem too interested in opening it,” she said with a smile. She was trying to keep the mood upbeat. She didn’t know if her son could take another disappointment. 

“Just put it back,” he said. He felt bad, though, when a look of mild hurt flickered behind her eyes, so he added, “Please?” 

She nodded and returned it to the table, then dropped herself onto the sofa beside him, leaning into him. “You’re going to drive me to drink, Elio,” she teased. 

“Why? Because I can’t pass the bar exam?” he asked. His voice sounded as if he’d been chewing a lemon. Bitter and acidic. 

She sighed. “You know better than that.” 

He leaned his head against hers, which rested on his shoulder. It occurred to him that they were both supporting one another. His shoulder supported her head, and her head supported his. That seemed to be how it had always been with his mom. 

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just stressed.” 

“I know you are... And you’ll remain stressed until you open it,” she said. 

“I know.” 

He had been raised by his mother alone, he and his brother. She’d worked two, sometimes three jobs, to provide the two boys with all of what they needed, and some of what they wanted as well. He’d gotten scholarships to college, and he’d gone on to Law School after that. That had taken some loans, a lot of loans . But he could pay those back once he had landed a job at a top corporate firm. He’d always done well in school. He felt stupid thinking about this now, but he’d never even considered not passing the bar. Even though they had stressed to the students in Law School that New Hampshire was one of only six states that not only limit the number of times a candidate could take the exam, but they also impose hard limits, meaning that they do not make exceptions or grant special permissions under any circumstances. He had four attempts. He’d failed two. The third results sat, unopened, on the coffee table. 

“Torturing yourself isn’t going to change what’s in that envelope, Elio. You either passed or you didn’t, and whether you opened that thing hours ago or tomorrow, or the day after, it won’t change the result. What it will do, though, is add even more stress to an already stressful situation.” 

“No, Mom. What’s going to be more stressful is opening it and finding out I failed again. I don’t think I can even cope with that. I really don’t,” he whined. 

She raised her head from her son’s shoulder, leaned forward, and picked up the envelope again. “I didn’t raise you to avoid your problems, Elio. Whatever is in this, we’ll handle it together, just like we always have.” 

Elio groaned extravagantly, but he opened it. As he pulled out the letter, he gave a nervous chuckle at how the paper quivered in his trembling hands. He read the letter. He read the letter again. Finally, he read it a third time; the same number of times that he’d now failed the New Hampshire Bar Exam. Maybe he and his mom would get through it together, but at the moment, Elio thought he’d never felt more alone. 

The days after that had been rough ones. 

“You still have another attempt. We’ll just study harder. You’ll get it,” his mom promised. 

He shook his head decisively. “I told you, I’m not taking it again.”

“Elio. It’s all for nothing if you…” 

“It’s all for nothing anyway! I got a lower score this time than last time. It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless. I’m sorry you invested so much time and money raising such a sorry excuse for a human being!” He knew he was being dramatic, perhaps even more dramatic than the situation called for. 

“You can at least try. There’s nothing to lose in trying,” she said. 

But Elio knew something his mom did not. There was something to lose in trying. Hope. As long as he had one more attempt, there was still hope. Even if he never used the fourth attempt, at least it was there. A road stretching itself before him, leading absolutely nowhere. But it was a road. 

“And think of Ollie. You’ve been such a good example for him. Do you want your little brother to see you just give up something you’ve worked so hard for?” 

“Maybe, Mom. Maybe he needs to know that things don’t always work out. Maybe he should think twice before biting off something that’s too big for him to chew. Maybe he should set more reasonable goals,” he said. These were cutting remarks directed at her, and they both knew it. He felt guilty even as he spoke, but that didn’t stop the words from spilling out almost against his will. But wasn’t there some truth to it? His younger brother was in high school. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him he could be anything he wanted, accomplish anything he set his mind to. Maybe if someone hadn’t raised him, Elio, to be so idealistic, he might have stopped to consider whether law school was a good fit for him. But no one had ever taught him to consider failure, and he couldn’t help but resent that, even though he knew it was unfair. 

Over the next few weeks, Elio and his mother had been round and round about what to do. One night, there had even been a late night call to his father, who had never really been a father to either of the boys. They only talked on birthdays, and hadn’t seen one another in person in years. His father was an attorney, though, and Elio thought he might have some advice. At least he hoped so.

But the man had only said, “If you’re wanting me to pull some strings, it just doesn’t work that way.” Elio had hung up, rolling his eyes. His father had never helped with things that he could have helped with. Much less would Elio have expected his help with this, something that he obviously couldn’t help with.

That had been four months ago, and now Elio smiled at the image of the butterfly he’d captured. His mom had talked him into taking some time off before making a decision about the Bar. She’d arranged for him to travel to visit her brother, his Uncle Ronny. He lived in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Mountain View, Arkansas. It was considered the foothills of the Ozarks, which spread across several states, but Ronny was in an area known as the Boston Mountains in the northernmost part of Arkansas. Elio found it amusing that they were called the Boston Mountains, because this place couldn’t be further from Boston. The area was sparsely populated, and the people he did encounter were, well… They were interesting to say the least. They were what his mom called “hillbillies,” but Uncle Ronny had let him know in no uncertain terms and from an early age that it was a derogatory term and that he wouldn’t tolerate hearing it again. 

“What should I call them then?” Elio had asked. 

“People,” was Uncle Ronny’s answer. “Just give them a chance. They’re not so different from you.” 

Elio remembered doubting that was true, but over the years and many visits, he’d discovered the truth in those words. This time, he’d been in Mountain View for over three months, and with each passing month, he felt less and less inclined to ever return. His mom had been right. He had needed to get away from everything. Spend some time in nature. Spend some time practicing the craft he had once loved and which he had been told most of his life he had a gift for. He’d won nearly every photography contest he’d ever entered, but it never felt like a career possibility to him. He would be a lawyer. He couldn’t remember ever wanting to be anything else. 

He flipped past his most recent shot, studying the rest of the morning’s captures. It had been a good morning. He had several that he’d print for his portfolio. Maybe he should become a nature photographer, since the whole law school thing hadn’t worked out, he thought bitterly. He capped his camera, tossed it into his bag. He glimpsed the granola bars he’d tucked into the pocket before he left and suddenly realized he hadn’t eaten all day. By the position of the sun, he knew it was well past lunch. He checked his watch and verified. It was nearly three o’clock, well past time to make his way back to civilization. This particularly lonely stretch of wilderness was nowhere he wanted to be at sundown. In fact, as he looked around and thought about how far he was from Uncle Ronny’s truck, he decided to forgo the granola bar. He was in bear territory now anyway. While the bears in the area were generally shy and docile, Elio saw no reason to tempt them.

“Damn it,” he grumbled when he caught a glimpse of the jagged cliff across the way. He had forgotten that he’d brought a special lens, hoping to catch a great shot of that specific bluff which overlooked the water. When the light was just right, the water became a mirror, reflecting the bluff. He wavered on whether to bother with it, since he’d already put his camera away. He’d almost decided against it, but then he rolled his eyes at himself. He was so damn lazy. Probably why he couldn’t pass the bar. Annoyed with himself, he shrugged out of his backpack, dug out his camera, and attached the lens and filter he needed. It took some experimentation to find the right shot, but once he did, he was glad he’d taken the time. The light was absolutely perfect, a soft pink that would make the cliff pop just the way he wanted it to from this angle. As he was lining everything up for his perfect shot, some movement in the top of the frame caught his eye. He moved the camera to see that it was, in fact, a bear. This excited him. Though this area had a growing population of black bears, bear sightings were rare, and photographs of them were even more rare. A good one might actually bring in some money. He began pacing again, looking for a new angle for his new target. He had to be quick because animals never cooperated with photographers. He twisted his lens this way and that, but when he was fully zoomed in, he saw that the bear was not alone. 

Standing across from the bear was a man, looking like men do when they’re terrified but trying not to show any fear. Elio lowered his camera and looked around. Could he help? They were far away, so far they wouldn’t even be able to hear him if he shouted. Too far away and too high above him for him to have any chance of throwing something. He had no cell service up here, so he couldn’t call for help. And even if he did, it would take hours for them to reach this remote area. 

“Stand up. Wave your arms. Make some noise,” Elio coached uselessly. He couldn’t see what was happening without his camera. He certainly had no intentions of capturing a photo of a bear attack, but he did put his camera up to his eye just long enough to look to see if the bear was backing down. It wasn’t. In fact, just at that moment Elio saw the bear raise its sharp-clawed paw above its head, swiping it down toward the man. The man collapsed, but from where he stood, Elio couldn’t tell whether the bear had gotten him, or if he’d fainted. In any case, the bear was lumbering away. Elio looked toward the horizon. The sun was already too low in the sky for his comfort. The man was a long hike and an arduous climb away. Elio wasn’t prepared for an overnight hike, and Uncle Ronny would be worried sick. But what choice did he have? He had to see if the man was alive and help him, if there was, in fact, still help to be given. So he once again packed his bag, and began hiking in the direction that would take him farther into the wilderness rather than out of it. Annoyed with life, he ripped open his granola bar, bears be damned. 

Chapter Text

Oliver’s senses seemed to return to him piecemeal rather than all at once. He could hear a bird cawing, not singing. Beneath that sound was another sound, a roaring that he eventually decided was water. Next, he recognized the earthy, musty smell of the leaves, which carpeted the forest floor year round. Finally he opened his eyes and was momentarily confused to see nothing but shades of amber. Golds, oranges, reds. The colors of fire. Fall colors, he remembered. He’d come to see foliage. At last, his spatial awareness returned to him, and he realized he was lying supine, gazing up at a bright canopy of trees. With a groan he sat up, and that’s when he realized his sense of feeling had returned as well. His head felt like someone had stabbed him in the eye with an ice pick, and there was a dull pain in his tailbone as well. What the hell had happened? 

A bear, he remembered. He’d been attacked by a bear. He touched his face and looked at his hand. No blood. Had he fainted? He was relieved that no one had been present to witness it, but still he shook his head, embarrassed. That sent another wave of pain, this time accompanied by nausea. As the situation continued to clarify itself for him, a new danger presented itself. The sun was setting. It would soon be dark. It would soon be cold. Very cold. How long had he been unconscious? And what should he do now? He checked his phone and confirmed what he already knew. No signal. He tried not to think of the rapidly dropping temperature and the darkness that might soon render the trail impassable. 

“Hello!” came a disembodied voice. Oliver looked around in every direction but saw no one. Thinking he’d imagined it -- maybe he had hit his head harder than he thought-- he tried to stand. This sent a shockwave of pain from his tailbone, down his left leg, all the way to his ankle. He groaned, letting himself lie back again. 

“Hello!?” came the voice once more. Oliver knew that he hadn’t imagined it this time.

He turned toward the voice, at first seeing nothing, but eventually a boy stepped out of the forest. This startled Oliver for several reasons. First, what was a teenager doing in the woods alone? At this time of day? 

“Hey kid, you okay?” he asked. “You need some help?” 

Elio chuckled. “I came to help you. Looked like you passed out. Have you tried to move?” 

Oliver felt his cheeks grow warm. “You saw that? How?” 

Elio jerked a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his daypack. “I was trying to get a shot of the bluff here. When I zoomed in, I saw you. Did you faint?” 

Oliver felt his jaw tighten. Who did this kid think he was? “I didn’t faint. I was attacked by a bear.” 

Elio didn’t reply.

“Whatever, kid. Listen, you better get home. It’s going to be dark soon,” he said.

Elio’s eyes narrowed, his mouth widened. “I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-five.” 

This information surprised Oliver, but he tried not to show it.

“And, we aren’t making it out of here before dark.” Elio stopped himself from adding, thanks to you. 

“So, what do we do then?” Oliver asked. 

“Think you can walk?” 

Oliver nodded. He was unable to hide a grimace as he made his painstaking way to a standing position. He limped a few steps before nodding. “Yes. I might be a little slow.” 

“It’s okay. It’s a bright moon tonight, so I say we try walking out then, if we can,” Elio said, adjusting his daypack before taking a few steps. “You coming?” 

“I’m trying,” Oliver said with a laugh that was empty of all humor. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“Elio. And I’m not a kid.” 

“Whatever… kid,” Oliver said and though there was no smile on his face, there was humor in his voice. “I’m Oliver.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Elio said. He stopped walking, gesturing for Oliver to pass him. “You set the pace. I’m right behind you.” 

“Think we’ll see more bears?”  Oliver asked as he passed his new acquaintance. 

Elio smiled. “I doubt it. And if we do, it’ll be okay. They’re just black bears, very timid and afraid of humans.” 

Oliver tried not to take issue with Elio’s assessment. As they walked, his injured coccyx seemed to resolve itself, allowing him to move more quickly, and also making him feel more amenable to conversation. 

“So are you from around here?” he asked. 

Elio shook his head, and Oliver noticed for the first time how strikingly good-looking the young man was. He was surprised and somewhat unsettled to feel a warm, tingly sensation slithering up his spine as he watched the man, who had taken the lead a mile or so back, agilely maneuver the trail in front of him. This confused Oliver, who was as straight as the day was long. He couldn’t deny that the younger man was a thing of beauty, and he found himself admiring the long lines of his body and the way they changed as he moved. It must be similar to the way one admires art, though, he decided. The man was beautiful, like something in a museum. That’s all. 

“Me? No. I’m visiting my uncle. I’m from New Hampshire. What about you?” 

“I’m staying at Jack’s Bend. On Sylamore Creek. I’m a New Yorker, though.” 

Elio nodded. “I know Jack’s Bend.” The cabin was located in a much more touristy area than his Uncle Ronny’s, but he supposed it made sense. The man was a tourist. 

“So what brings you from the Big Apple to the foothills of the Ozarks?” Elio asked. 

Oliver shook his head. “It’s a long story,” he said. 

Something about the way he said it made Elio feel it was a story he didn’t want to tell. 

“What about you? You came just to visit family?” 

Elio smiled. “Long story,” he replied. They traveled the rest of the way in companionable silence. 

When they reached Elio’s truck --his Uncle Ronny’s sunbaked, pea-green, 1969 Ford truck that Elio had come to love despite himself-- Oliver hopped in with him. They’d determined several miles back that he’d gotten on the trail at a different trailhead, and Elio had readily agreed to give him a ride.

“Nice truck,” Oliver said with a smile. 

Elio couldn’t discern whether his new friend was being sincere, but he was so happy to be back in the old thing, he was inclined to give the man the benefit of the doubt. 

“Thanks. It’s Uncle Ronny’s, but I love it. Feels like nothing can touch me in this thing,” he said. He glanced over at Oliver just before he turned the key, and it was like he was seeing him for the first time. He realized now that the stress and anxiety of his situation had given Oliver a harshness that he had cast off the moment he entered the truck. He was smiling now, and Elio couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. He was tall, probably 6’ 5” or maybe even 6’ 6”, and built like a statue. He felt himself blushing, coughed awkwardly, and started the truck.

Back at Oliver’s car, a slick Mercedes that must have cost a fortune, the two said their goodbyes. 

“Elio, thank you. I don’t know what I would have done.” 

Elio kept his eyes on the steering wheel. He felt shy suddenly. “I didn’t really do anything. You walked out on your own.”  

“You gave me some company and kept me calm. You really did. So thank you.” 

The younger man turned to face him then, smiling sweetly. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I was able to.” 

The silence stretched out between them until it was just short of becoming uncomfortable as the two kept their eyes locked on each other. 

“If you ever decide you want to tell your long story, I’m at Jack’s Bend,” Oliver reminded him. 

“Sylamore Creek. Got it,” Elio said, looking toward the steering wheel again. Oliver thought he looked a little sad, and felt an unexpected urge to comfort him. To hold him, even. He shook his head to clear the strange thought. 

He nodded at Elio, who returned the nod without looking back from the steering wheel, and with that, Oliver slid out of the truck, entered his Mercedes, and absolutely refused to acknowledge the inexplicable bulge in his pants. 

“Where the hell have you been?!” Uncle Ronny yelled the minute Elio walked through the door. Elio’s mother had never been a yeller and for a moment, Elio felt as if someone had thrown ice water in his face. 

“Sorry, Uncle Ronny. Let me explain,” Elio began. 

“Explain it to your mother. She’s beside herself. Little Ollie, too.” Little Ollie was seventeen years old and a walking, talking, six foot tall spaghetti noodle, but whatever. 

“You called MOM?!” 

“Damn right I did. What did you expect me to do when you didn’t come home?” 

“I’m not a child, Ronny! I’m twenty-five years old!” 

“That’s Uncle Ronny to you and I don’t care if you’re five or twenty-five, you can at the very least show me the respect of a phone call if you’re going to be this late!” 

Ronny took the deep breaths he should have taken when he saw his truck bumping its way down the gravel road toward the little A-frame cabin he’d built with his own two hands when he was Elio’s age. He’d never married, never had children, so this cabin and that truck were dear to him. Not as dear as the young man who’d just dropped himself onto the squeaky sofa where he now sat looking crumpled and sad. 

“I was worried about you,” Ronny said as he opened a beer and offered it to Elio and then opened one for himself as well. “But I didn’t call your momma.” 

Elio took a swig of the beer, closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. He was annoyed with himself for feeling so relieved that his mother hadn’t been notified. Was he always going to be treated like a child? 

“You won’t believe what happened,” Elio began. He and Uncle Ronny stayed up talking until the wee hours of the morning, when Elio finally, mercifully, collapsed into his bed and slept the sleep of the dead. 

Oliver returned to his little cabin, Jack’s Bend, in an almost dissociative state. It was difficult to grasp what had happened in the span of a few hours. He took a quick shower before slipping into bed where he knew sleep would overtake him immediately. 

If not immediately, then very quickly. 

If not very quickly, then relatively quickly. 

If not relatively quickly, then eventually. 

He was so tired, the room felt like it was spinning, and yet after an hour, he was still lying there, more wired than relaxed. Finally, he resorted to the old stand-by, counting sheep. Only the sheep weren’t actually sheep, but Elios. 

When he awoke the next morning, it was as if he hadn’t slept at all, but rather someone had only pressed the pause button, and then resumed. Because before he even opened his eyes, there was Elio, smiling at him. The sun was backlighting him, bringing out all of the different shades of chocolate in his wavy hair. The fall leaves were behind him as well, and his green eyes sparkled in contrast. And then Elio moved closer. And closer. He closed his eyes as if to kiss him, so Oliver opened his and bolted upright in bed. 

That was weird, he thought. He would definitely not tell his new friend about that bizarre… dream?...daydream?... fantasy? He threw on a fresh t-shirt and jeans, slid his feet into his hikers, and walked across the street to the gas station for a cup of coffee and then headed back to his cabin. He’d set up a writing space by pushing a small table to the window. His cabin was perched on a bluff overlooking Sylamore Creek, and he hoped that the breathtaking view might inspire him. So far, he hadn’t produced any writing, but he was disciplined and sat at his desk for at least four hours, broken up, each day. With a groan he lowered himself into his seat and prepared for his daily exercise in futility. He sighed, glanced out the window, set his fingers on the keyboard, and began clicking away. After about ten minutes he read over what he’d written, highlighted it, and clicked backspace. 

He sat staring at all that white space on the screen with that one, lonely blinking cursor, replaying the words in his head, and it occurred to him that they really weren’t that bad. He hit undo and continued writing without even knowing where he was going. One thing he’d learned in his years as a writer was that sometimes you don’t have to know where you’re going in order to get there. His four hour writing goal soon stretched to six with only a couple of very brief breaks, and he was rewarded with many pages of promising text. It would be an essay, he realized. Maybe old Dave had been right, after all. He looked at the clock and was shocked to see it was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon. He hadn’t eaten lunch. Nor breakfast unless you counted the coffee. He stood and stretched, then reached back to knead the stiff muscles in his neck and shoulders. For a moment, he imagined it was Elio’s fingers instead of his, lovingly working out the tension. He gave a nervous laugh and shook his head mildly. 

Where was Elio, anyway? He’d made sure he knew how to reach him, and he’d been certain that he would stop by or call. He felt that they’d made a connection, a sort of instant friendship along the lines of Ezra Pound and William Yeats. Those special, manly friendships that only come around once in a lifetime, and not in every lifetime at that. But maybe he was wrong? Maybe the warm, intimate feelings he had for Elio had been one-sided. Maybe he was just lonely. He was the interloper here, the big city writer trying to mingle with the hill folk. Oliver rolled his eyes at himself. Of course Elio wasn’t going to contact him again. He probably had things to do, friends to hang out with, maybe even a girlfriend.

Why did that thought make Oliver so miserable? 

He groaned, elaborately, grabbed his wallet and keys, and headed into town seeking sustenance. He’d noticed a little café in the center of town called Bushel and a Peck that was always too crowded for his tastes, but he knew that meant their food was probably great. Since it was three o’clock, the parking lot was deserted. He whipped in, hitting a pothole as he did.

When he stepped into the diner, it was practically empty, but he found himself searching the few faces that were there. He felt the warmth of embarrassment on his face when it occurred to him that he was looking for Elio. 

“Sit wherever you’d like.” It was a woman with waist length hair tied back into a low ponytail. 

He smiled and nodded to acknowledge her, and then went to sit by the window. So he watch look for Elio? The population of the town was less than 3,000 people, so it wasn’t so far-fetched that he might see him. As he ate his burger and fries --probably the best he’d ever eaten-- he grew more and more annoyed with himself. Why hadn’t he taken the initiative and asked for Elio’s number? Or his last name? What if he never saw him again? And why was Elio all he could think about? Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought when he fell yesterday. 

“How ‘bout some pie, Darlin’?” asked the woman who’d greeted him. It turned out she was the greeter, waitress, and cashier, but she was efficient and friendly. 

“Sure,” he said. “What’s your specialty?” 

She grinned. “All our pies are special. I made ‘em myself.” 

Annnnd the cook as well, apparently. 

“Surprise me then,” he said. 

“Alright then. You are in for a treat,” she said with a huge smile on her face. Oliver could see that she was really proud of the pies, and he wondered if the diner was hers. 

When she returned a moment later with the largest slice of pie he’d ever seen, so large he had no hope of finishing it, he glimpsed her name badge.

“Thank you, Arlene,” he said, picking up his fork. 

“It’s coconut cream,” she replied with a serious nod. Her tone said that he should have commented or asked. He made a note to do that next time. 

His late lunch had been a great success in many ways. He was no longer hungry, which was his primary objective, of course. His meal had been simple, but delicious. The service had been fast and friendly. And the atmosphere of the little diner was everything you would hope for in Ozarks of Arkansas. There was only one disappointment. He hadn’t seen Elio. He rolled his eyes and laughed under his breath. It’s a small town, but still what were the chances that Elio would come to the same restaurant at three in the afternoon? He was probably off climbing mountains or saving New Yorkers from bears or something exciting like that. But as Oliver started his vehicle and headed back toward Jack’s Bend, he remembered his writing, and he supposed he couldn’t be too disappointed. He was writing again, and hadn’t that been the purpose of the trip? 

He clicked a button on his steering wheel with his thumb and the car suddenly filled with music. The fall leaves were perhaps even more beautiful than yesterday. He was more content than he had been in a long time. In fact, he didn’t think the moment could be any more perfect, but then it was. Because up ahead on the left was a tiny building that must be a post office. It was the smallest excuse for a post office he’d ever seen, but it wasn’t the building that caught his eye. It was the faded, pea-green 1969 Ford pick up that was parked in front of it. Before he realized he was going to, he’d pulled in and parked next to it. 

He was suddenly nervous though. Would Elio think he was stalking him or something? And for that matter, was he? He needed some pretext before he could walk into the post office. He glanced around for something to mail, but of course there was nothing. He wouldn’t be there to pick up anything, either. His mail was being delivered to Jack’s. He was about to give up when the simplest reason of all occurred to him. Stamps! He reached into the console and pulled out a few bucks he’d stashed there. 

Once inside, he was disappointed. There was only an employee and one customer. And the customer was not Elio. Oliver looked out the window toward his car and the truck. It was definitely the same truck, so that could only mean…

“You must be Uncle Ronny?”

Chapter Text

When Oliver returned to his cabin, he was inexplicably restless. It was too late in the afternoon for a hike. Besides, he’d learned his lesson about hiking alone. He sat at his laptop and read over his writing, but he found it difficult to concentrate on anything. Anything except for Elio. Uncle Ronny had been unwilling to pass along Elio’s phone number, and he couldn’t blame him for that. But Ronny had agreed to let Elio know that Oliver had asked about him. He hadn’t seemed surprised or concerned about a strange man asking about his nephew at least.

He tapped out a few more sentences, but he couldn’t stay focused. With a sigh, he walked over and plopped himself down onto his unmade bed and clicked on the television, or what he secretly thought of as the noise box. He couldn’t focus on that, either, and soon he closed his eyes and let his mind wander. He was both very surprised, and yet not at all surprised, that his mind wandered to thoughts of Elio. With each passing hour, Elio’s image became more clear to him rather than less. 

He must have dozed off like that, thinking of Elio. Of how his skin would feel beneath his fingertips. The way his lips would taste. The way his face would change when he experienced pleasure. Those images continued after he was asleep, and when he was pulled from his sleep by a knock on the door, he found that although he was dressed, he wasn’t entirely presentable for company. He made his way to the door, hiding behind it as he cracked it open to see who was there. Probably the property owner delivering coffee filters or something. 

When he opened the door, though, it wasn’t the owner. It was Elio, looking even more ravishing than he had in his fantasies. Fantasies? Was that what these were? The increasing pressure in his pants seemed to indicate that they were.

“Hey,” he said through the crack in the door. 

Elio’s smile changed a bit, an inquisitive look entering his eyes. 

“Hey,” Elio replied. Then after a pause, “Can I come in?” 

“Uh,” Oliver said, glancing down at his pants and shaking his head wearily. “Sure,” he said, walking quickly back to his bed, lying down and covering up. He knew it was weird, but it was more weird to stand there talking to another dude while hard for him. And for some reason, Oliver was certain that Elio would know that he was the cause of it. 

If Elio thought that Oliver lying in bed while he had a guest was odd, he was kind enough not to say so. He just shut the door behind him and sat in the chair Oliver had pulled up to his desk. It was the only chair in the room, Oliver suddenly realized. He was thankful for it, and hoped that Elio would think that was the reason he’d chosen the bed. 

“Uncle Ronny told me you ran into him in town and asked about me,” Elio said. His face and voice gave no clue to his feelings about this, and for the first time Oliver wondered if he’d done something wrong by talking to Ronny. Certainly it was weird, he supposed.

“I thought you’d come by. Or call. You remembered Jack’s Bend?” 

Elio nodded. “I remembered.”

Oliver nodded, as well. That could only mean he’d chosen not to come. 

“I didn’t think you’d really meant it as an invitation,” Elio said. He was looking around the room now rather than at Oliver. He looked nervous. More nervous than someone should look when talking to a friend, even a very new friend. “I thought… well… I thought you were straight. I don’t know why I assumed…” Elio’s eyes drifted back toward Oliver’s then, looking shy, curious, uncertain. 

“I am straight,” Oliver said.  

“Oh,” Elio said, looking more confused. Oliver’s dash into the bed to conceal his enthusiasm told a different tale.

“You’re not? Straight?” Oliver asked. 

Elio felt a puff of silent laughter escape his nose, and wondered if Oliver would recognize it for what it was. “No. I’m not. Is that a problem?” 

Oliver shrugged. “Not a problem.” 

There was a lull in the conversation -- was this a conversation? -- as the two men looked around the room, then at one another, neither knowing what to do or say, or what they were even doing together. 

“I think I shouldn’t have come here,” Elio said finally. 

“Can gay men and straight men not be friends?” Oliver asked. 

Elio rolled his eyes and made a strange noise in his throat that might have been a laugh. “That’s not what this is,” he whispered. 

“What is it then?” Oliver asked. His voice was low and searching. 

“You know what it is,” Elio said. After another pause, he stood and shrugged. “I should go.” 

“Wait,” Oliver said. He didn’t know what was going on. He was having feelings for this man that he’d never had for anyone before, male or female, and he was confused by them, yes. He didn’t know what the feelings were exactly, but there was one thing he knew for certain. He did not want Elio to leave. He moved over and patted the bed beside him. 

Elio seemed to be thinking very hard, as if the fate of the world rested on this decision. 

“Please stay,” Oliver whispered, and it was the most vulnerable he’d ever allowed himself to be. With anyone. 

Elio walked toward the door, and Oliver’s heart began to sink. When Elio placed his hand on the knob, Oliver’s heart began to pound wildly. Don’t go, he wanted to beg. Then Elio locked the door, turned back toward him, and sighed. 

“You’re straight?” he asked again.

Oliver nodded. 

“Are you inviting me into your bed?” Elio asked. 

Oliver nodded. 

“I don’t make a habit of sleeping with strangers,” Elio said with his hand still on the knob.

“You saved my life. Doesn’t that put us above the level of strangers?” 

When Elio began walking toward him and then pulled off his shoes, Oliver felt relief wash over him. Elio glanced down at his clothing as if making a decision. Oliver slowly crawled out of bed and stood facing Elio, so close to him that they could feel the warmth of one another’s bodies. Oliver didn’t know what was happening to him. He didn’t feel gay. He felt like the same person he’d always been. It wasn’t men he wanted. It was this man. And he thought, though he knew better than to say so, that this man was the only person, male or female, that he would ever want again. He was thankful Elio couldn’t read his thoughts, or he would probably run from the room. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked the younger man.

“Yes, please,” he breathed in reply. 

When he brought his lips to Elio’s, the world suddenly made sense in a way it never had before. Oliver felt as if he’d put together a jigsaw puzzle many years ago only to find that it was missing the 1,000th piece and it had been sitting, incomplete, all this time. And now, though he had long ago stopped searching for it, he had found that piece and everything made sense suddenly. 

He grasped the hem of Elio’s t-shirt and slipped it over his head, then smiled to see that Elio was eagerly working to unfasten and remove his pants. The fact that Elio seemed to want this as much as he did both surprised him and thrilled him. There was a frenzy of undressing as they each pulled off some of their own clothes, some of the other’s, and then were in bed together. 

Oliver loved the feeling of Elio’s nakedness against his own, and knew there was a rightness to this. That 1,000th piece was about to slip into place and complete the puzzle that Oliver had given up on ever solving and had, in fact, forgotten about after so many years of being disappointed. 

“You’ve never been with a man?” Elio whispered as they lay facing one another with their legs entwined, arms around one another. 

Oliver shook his head. “Do you have experience?” 

Elio shook his head as well. ”Nothing of any consequence.” Oliver thought this should make him nervous, that neither of them had any real knowledge about what they were doing, but he wasn’t nervous. This was so right, and they both knew it. There was no room to be nervous. 

“I’m nervous,” Elio said. 

Oliver smiled. “We don’t have to right now. We can just lie here.” 

And he meant it. As he felt Elio next to him, all smooth skin and firm flesh, he was perfectly content. But then Elio’s hand was on his chest, sliding its way down his stomach, then sliding down a little more.

“I want to,” Elio said. 

Oliver didn’t know how he knew what to do, but they came together with a hunger and desire for one another that neither of them had ever experienced before. When the moment happened, Elio cried out, and Oliver stopped for a moment. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

“Don’t stop,” Elio replied. 

“Are you okay?” he asked again. 

“You’ll kill me if you stop,” Elio whispered.

And so he continued as gently as he could, until they both had revealed more to each other and to themselves than they ever had before.

He woke alone in bed, and not only alone, but lonely. Yesterday when he had woken, his arms were just his arms. But today, his arms were empty, and he thought it would have been better not to dream at all, no matter how lovely, if it was going to feel like this when he awoke. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then he heard it, and wondered how he’d missed it before. The shower was running. He sat up, placing his feet on the cool floor planks, to see his clothes, and Elio’s, lying in a puddle beside the bed. He smiled to himself, hardly able to believe it was real, that it had happened. He crossed the room to find the bathroom door unlocked. 

“Can I come in?” he asked. 

“Yes, please,” came Elio’s voice through the door. 

Oliver hadn’t dressed, and when he pulled back the shower curtain, Elio reached for his hand, and he stepped in.

Chapter Text

The shower had been of little use, because the moment they turned off the water, they stumbled and tumbled their way back to bed, where they made love again, this time with a confidence they had lacked the night before, which made things even more exciting for them both. They lay in bed for hours after that, touching one another, holding one another, and most of all, talking to one another. Elio realized for the first time how lonely he had been. He’d known he was gay. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know. But he was a quiet person, and he didn’t think of himself as a risk-taker. If an opportunity didn’t fall into his lap, he was slow to chase it down. 

“So you’ve never been in love? Or even infatuated with someone?” Oliver asked, kissing Elio on the temple and loving the way it made his smile slowly change, like moonrise. 

Elio shrugged. “Not really. I’ve had attractions, but nothing  ever comes of it. I’ve always been too busy, anyway.” 

Oliver pulled his head away from Elio’s, just a bit, so that he could really see his face and eyes as he spoke. “Busy with what?” 

“I don’t know,” Elio said with a shrug.

But Oliver shook his head. “Don’t do that,” he said mildly. 

Elio’s eyes narrowed as his smile grew curious. “Do what?” 

“Say you don’t know when you do.” 

Elio’s face became thoughtful, as if he were giving Oliver’s words his deepest consideration. The more they talked, the more they discovered that they could see through one another, straight to the heart. This level of intimacy was both exhilarating and terrifying to Oliver, depending which side he perceived himself to be on. He loved understanding Elio so easily, but he felt vulnerable and exposed when he thought about Elio’s ability to read him just as easily. He laid himself bare nonetheless, because not to do so would be to show an enormous lack of gratitude. Toward the universe. Toward fate. Toward whatever had blessed him with something he hadn’t even known existed. No, he could no more secret himself from Elio than he could hide from himself.  

“So what has kept you so busy?” he asked again. 

“My dad left when my brother was born. I was eight. Things just weren’t the same after that,” Elio replied. 

Oliver could feel Elio’s grief as he spoke. The wound might be old, but the pain was fresh. Elio had had much practice hiding it, dismissing it, and lying to himself about it. In fact, Oliver thought Elio might not know himself just how much damage had been done to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, placing a hand on Elio’s face, tucking his thumb behind his ear. 

Elio studied him for the longest time, so long in fact, that Oliver began to prepare what he should say next if Elio didn’t reply. But finally he did. 

“Don’t be. Lots of kids’ parents get divorced. Lots of dads leave,” he said. 

“Sure,” Oliver agreed. “But for each child, it’s a different experience. For you, I think it must have been particularly painful.” 

“It was no worse for me than anyone else,” Elio said. Oliver tightened his arms, giving Elio another small squeeze.  “Well, maybe a little, because of Ollie,” he conceded at least.

“Your brother,” Oliver said. 

Elio nodded. He smiled too, because it wasn’t a question but a statement. He loved the way Oliver listened to him with his whole heart. “Yes, I always tried to spare him from hurting the way that I was. So I was kind of like another parent to him I guess.” 

This made Oliver sad, because Elio had been only eight. What a lot of responsibility he’d tried to shoulder. 

They lay quietly for a long time after that, until Oliver at last needed to move his arm, which had lost all sensation at least an hour ago. When he tried to move it from underneath Elio, though, he found that the younger man was sleeping, which made him smile. He looked younger when he was sleeping, and more vulnerable, too. And just as Elio had spent his life trying to buffer his younger brother from anything that could hurt him, Oliver felt that same feeling as he watched Elio sleep. He carefully climbed out of bed, adjusting the covers so that Elio would be comfortable, and he returned to his writing, which seemed to flow forth from his heart, transformed by his fingers into words that easily filled page after page. 

And this is what he was still doing when Elio woke again. Oliver sensed Elio’s wakefulness, but he couldn’t have said how, for Elio hadn’t spoken, or yawned, or turned over. There was just an awareness between them. A connection. He turned to see Elio looking at him. And not only looking at him, but looking at him as if he were something more. Something more than he was. 

“Hey Sleepyhead,” he said with a smile. 

Elio sat up then, laughing mildly. “You shouldn’t have let me,” he groaned. 

“You were too cute to wake up,” Oliver said. He removed his fingers from the keyboard and stretched them, making fists and then stretching again. He realized all at once that he’d been working for quite a while. “I think you’re my muse, Elio. Either you, or this place, or both.” 

Elio walked over and stood so that he could see over Oliver’s shoulder. “What are you writing?” 

“I’m not sure yet. But I’m writing,” Oliver said, and he felt Elio’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. It had been so long since anyone had touched him like that. Tenderly, as if he mattered. Certainly he couldn’t remember the last time Tabitha had touched him so lovingly. In fact, he couldn’t remember Tabitha’s touch at all, and he had to think hard to remember her face. She had become a memory, the ghost of a memory, overnight. 

“Should I go?” Elio asked, leaning down to kiss his shoulder just beside the place where his own hand rested. “Do you need to work?” 

Oliver stood, turned, and took his hands in his own. “Actually, I need a break. What is there to do around here?” 

Elio’s eyes seemed to sparkle. He loved this quiet little mountain town, and was excited to be the guide rather than a tourist for a change.
“Have you seen the caverns yet?” he asked. 

Oliver shook his head. “No. I haven’t seen anything aside from this room, the trail, and A Bushel and a Peck.” 

“God, I love that place. Did you meet Arlene? Isn’t she the best?” Elio was still chattering on about the menu a few minutes later when they’d dressed and skittered out the door. 

Elio wanted to drive, and the old Ford fit in much better in the area than Oliver’s Mercedes did anyway, so they climbed in and Elio headed them toward what he referred to as Blanchard Springs Caverns. 

Oliver didn’t want to hurt Elio’s feelings, but his first impression of the caverns was that they were unspectacular. They parked in a mostly empty parking lot, which to Oliver doesn’t usually indicate that something spectacular awaits. Then they walked up a sidewalk to a building that looked like every visitor’s center at every National or State Park he’d ever been to. When they entered the building, it was really just a store. He walked across to the counter to purchase tickets, and was told the next tour was in about a half hour. So he and Elio moseyed around, looking at the different things for sale. There were some T-shirts, magnets, postcards, and the usual suspects. But by and large, the store was comprised of books. Oliver had no idea in his wildest dreams that so many books about Arkansas existed. There were books on the flora and fauna, the insects, the mushrooms, the trails. He was particularly interested in those, and he was thumbing through one on the Ozark Highlands Trail when Elio walked up and stood next to him, so closely that they were touching. This made thinking about anything other than Elio nearly impossible, so he leaned a bit so that their arms were touching. 

“I had no idea this trail was over 200 miles long,” he said. 

Elio nodded. “Oh yes. It’s one of the most important trails in the entire country.” 

Oliver felt his face twist into a dubious expression, and he tried to smooth it out. “Important how?” he asked. 

“It’s one of the only trails that was designed and built entirely by hikers. So literally every single mile of it is absolutely breathtaking,” Elio said wistfully. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.” 

“You haven’t hiked it?” 

Elio chuckled. “Not all of it, no. I don’t live here, remember? I’ve only explored the parts of the trail that are nearby. I used to dream of hiking the whole thing, but…” he shrugged, as if that completed his sentence. 

“But what?” Oliver asked. 

“But life. But family. But college. But law school…” But the bar exam, he did not say. 

Oliver nodded. Elio looked so comfortable and at home here, it was difficult for Oliver to remember that this was only a very small part of his life. He was a visitor, the same as he himself was. Oliver was a bit disappointed when he heard the tour guide calling for them. He would have loved to continue looking at the guides with their beautiful glossy photographs, their colorful and humorous descriptions… they just made you want to crawl into the pages and spend some time in these amazing places. But Elio was already walking toward the tour guide with a bit of a skip in his step. He loved the caverns. It was clear without him saying so. 

The tour group was small. A guide at the front, Elio and Oliver, and a guide in the back. As they introduced themselves and waited a moment to see if any latecomers would join their group, the second guide asked if they thought they could make it without him. His job was turning out lights and shutting doors, and he felt that with so few people, he wasn’t really needed. Elio agreed that he was capable of shutting off lights and closing doors, and then they were on an elevator, descending deep into the earth. When the elevator doors opened, and the lights, though dim, were turned on, Oliver realized how wrong he had been. These caverns, still living, were mesmerizing, and for the next ninety minutes, there was nothing else. 

Chapter Text

Elio and Oliver were inseparable after that. For a town with a population of less than 3,000 people, there was a lot for them to do together. The caverns, of course. Many little stores that could be overlooked if you didn’t know they were there. Mountain View had a picturesque court square, just like something one might see in an old movie, which Oliver commented on one day as they ate at a restaurant on the square. 

“This place?” Elio said with a grin. “This is nothing.” 

Oliver felt his cheeks twist and tighten into a smile that he’d come to associate with Elio. A wider and more sincere smile than he typically employed. “Oh really?” he said teasingly. 

Elio nodded casually as if unwilling to acknowledge that he was being teased. 

“What day is it?” Elio asked. 

“Friday,” Oliver said. 

“Let’s come back tonight, and I’ll show you.”

Oliver waggled his eyebrows at Elio across the table, making him giggle like a child. 

“I’m interested in anything you have to show me,” he said.

So after a day of mostly lying in bed until they both felt like Jell-o, they climbed back into Uncle Ronny’s truck and Elio drove them back toward the square. 

Oliver reached over immediately and took Elio’s hand and held it as he drove with the other hand, and he could see that Elio wore a pleased little smile on his face. The miracle of this entire situation, as far as Oliver was concerned, wasn’t that he’d met someone he was so attracted to, but that someone like Elio would feel the same way. But he did. Oliver didn’t have to wonder, or ask. Or worse, not ask, in the exhausting and  complicated way people do in a new relationship, where they talk around everything except what they really want to know, gleaning hints and reading between the lines, trying to figure out if they are on the same page. With Elio and Oliver, things were easy. One reached, the other reciprocated. There was nothing complicated about it. They were careful about their public interactions, of course. They were in the hills of Arkansas where they had to drive 40 minutes to see a film, but would pass seven Baptist Churches on the way. But again, the two were on the same page, and there was no tension resulting from it. 

“Do you like bluegrass music?” Elio asked. 

“You mean like… dueling banjos?” Oliver was skeptical. 

Elio laughed, unoffended. “Yeah, I don’t like it either. I mean… I don’t have it on my playlist. But I think you’ll still enjoy this. I know I do.” 

“What exactly is this, anyway?” Oliver wanted to know. He could see the court square up ahead and was already amazed at the transformation. What had been a sleepy little square earlier in the morning was now bustling. 

“People come from all over. All over the state, down from Missouri, quite a few from out of state and out of town. And they just play. They don’t need a permit. Don’t get paid. It started out just the music store there,” Elio nodded toward the store. “They would come out in the afternoons and play, attract a small crowd, get people into the store. And then more musicians joined in, and it seems like every week more people came. It just grew from there. It’s every Friday night now. Year round.” 

Oliver smiled, but he wasn’t really smiling inside. He hated country music, and he’d only ever heard bluegrass in movies, usually just to let the viewer know the setting was in the hills somewhere. But Elio seemed really excited about showing him this, so he would be a good sport. 

As soon as they got out of the truck, Oliver understood. This wasn’t like in the movies. These were real people. People who’d been playing banjos and dulcimers and spoons on family porches since they were old enough to hold an instrument. As they ambled around the square, there were different musicians set up, and no one expected people to stay. So they walked, and one group would fade out, the next would fade in, and though it wasn’t the type of music Oliver, or Elio either for that matter, were going to listen to for fun, it was impossible not to be impressed by what they saw. 

“What’s going on over there?” Oliver asked when he noticed a huge pavilion set up on a lawn in front of the court house.  

“Oh, that’s just people dancing,” Elio said. There was a mischievous quality to his words that made Oliver’s right eyebrow float upward. This, in turn, led to giggling from Elio who went on to explain, “The state dance is square dancing. Do you want to go watch a minute?” 

“I guess,” Oliver said. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see it, it was that he couldn’t believe he was seeing it. It was like they were at a theme park, but these weren’t people in costumes. They were real, and this was their life. When they reached the square-dancing pavilion, they only looked on for a moment when a cute young girl, a child really, perhaps twelve, ran over and grabbed Elio’s hand.
“Elio!” she squealed, and he hugged her. 

“Hey, Lynette,” he said. “Are you behaving yourself?”  

“I will if you’ll dance!” she was tugging his hand lightly. 

He looked at Oliver who shrugged and nodded toward the pavilion.  “Go on, I have to see this.” 

That night, once again lying in bed, trying their best to stay awake because they hated being separated, even by sleep, Oliver asked Elio about Lynette. 

“Oh, Lynette? She is Uncle Ronny’s apprentice,” Elio said. 

“Apprentice?” Oliver asked. He didn’t know that was still practiced. 

“Yes. It’s common here. Most people who are here don’t want to leave. Even the ones who leave to travel and seek their fortune, if you will, come back. And to live here, to make a living, for most people that means learning a trade.”

“What’s Ronny’s trade?” Oliver wanted to know. 

Elio laughed. “He makes brooms.” 

Oliver turned onto his side, his face next to Elio’s. “He makes brooms?” 

Elio shrugged. “Hey, he gets at least $100, sometimes upwards of $300 depending on the broom. People come from all over to buy them. And that’s not to mention the ones he sells online.” 

Oliver nodded contemplatively. He supposed it was an honest living, and for a moment he imagined himself in a trade. Working with his hands. Having people drive in from all over just to see his creations. “And so Lynette is learning to make brooms?” 

Elio nodded. “Yes. She chose it. We have a… I mean they have a… folk center where people sell their work, and a couple of times a week Ronny and Lynette go there and actually make brooms. People like to see them being made before they buy one. I guess it makes it seem more authentic, though most of the brooms aren’t made at the folk center.” 

“Oh, so they aren’t authentic?” Oliver asked, so much for an honest living. 

“No, no, they are. The handles are all made from wood that Ronny or Lynette have found themselves. They only use wood that is already dead. No trees are cut. The wood is local. And they make them 100% by hand. It’s just that Ronny makes most of them at home on his porch. Only a couple of times a week do they go to the folk center.” 

Oliver thought he might have hurt Elio’s feelings by asking if they weren’t authentic. He placed a palm on Elio’s cheek, and then leaned in to kiss him. He’d intended it as a soft, sweet kiss, but Elio parted his lips, and Oliver felt the tip of his tongue touch his briefly before they returned to gazing at one another. 

“If you want, I’ll take you to the cabin tomorrow. You can meet Uncle Ronny and maybe he’ll be making one,” Elio whispered. The desire that was stirring within him was detectable in his voice. 

“Sure,” Oliver said, and he could hear the desire in his own voice, as well. Elio apparently could too, because his smile changed. 

Elio had a way of making it clear what he wanted. He closed his eyes lightly, parted his lips just the slightest amount, and rolled onto his back, or almost so, opening his legs just a bit in invitation. Oliver was lost to himself each time Elio did this. His response was automatic. Elio wanted him, and he would do absolutely anything that he thought would bring his partner pleasure. And so he rolled on top of him, kissed him until they were both so hungry for one another, Elio was pressing his hips against him pleadingly. 

He tried to make Elio tell him what he wanted, but Elio was so desperate for him by then, he could do little more than pant out, “Oliver.” 

Strangely, that’s all that was needed, because Oliver intuitively knew. 

Elio woke the following morning to find Oliver sitting at his makeshift desk in front of his computer, not typing. He got out of their bed, went to stand behind Oliver, and bend down to place a few warm, breathy kisses on his neck. 

“What are you writing?” he asked. He had asked this several times, and he’d gotten a vague answer each time. I don’t know. Or… It’s an essay.

But today Oliver sighed. “Nothing,” he groaned. 

Elio walked around to sit in his lap, and Oliver moved his chair back to accommodate him. 

“Writer’s block again?” Elio asked. 

Oliver nodded, looking miserable. “It’s kind of one of the most essential parts of being a writer. The ability to actually produce words on paper,” he tilted his head back, planning to groan toward the ceiling as he tended to do when struggling with writer’s block. He thought that it was the best way of letting the universe know how much it was inconveniencing him. But with Elio sitting on his lap, he’d found his groan was stifled by his lover’s lips as they shared a warm kiss. It was a much nicer way to begin the day. 

“You know, Elio,” Oliver said at last. “I think I need to get back on the trail. I wrote more after the hike than I’ve written in nearly a year, but every day, I seem to write a little less. Something about being in nature like that… it causes so many different emotions at once: joy, awe, a sense of my own smallness, fear… It would be hard not to create something after such an experience.” It occurred to Oliver then that perhaps this is why nearly everyone who lived here seemed to make their living through the act of creating, whether music, pottery, or brooms. 

“That sounds fun. There’s a pretty trail right down there,” he nodded toward the creek, which was quite a ways down as they were situated atop a bluff. “It comes out at the caverns actually.” 

As Elio stretched to see if he could see the trail, his neck took on the particularly lovely lines of a dancer, and Oliver couldn’t help but kiss him upon it, feeling even more satisfied when the younger man’s breath quickened and he tilted his head back. They were in bed again shortly after that, though Oliver had not abandoned his ambition of hiking. But he wanted more than an afternoon hike along the creek. 

As promised, Elio arranged to take Oliver to see Ronny’s home the following day. The two were talking, about anything and everything. One of the joys of a new relationship, it seems, is always having plenty to talk about. Oliver was so interested in hearing about Elio’s life in New Hampshire and his time at law school that he didn’t realize how much time had passed until Elio apologized for it. 

“Sorry. I always forget how far out it is,” he said. He was turning off of the highway, and Oliver began scanning for a house of some sort. All he could see, though, was trees. Elio must have sensed him looking, because he laughed. “There’s still a way to go. Uncle Ronny likes living in what he refers to as the boonies. ” 

The boonies seemed like an accurate enough word for what he was seeing, Oliver thought. He wasn’t sure if he could ever live in such an isolated area, but it was undeniably beautiful. You’d be hard-pressed to settle your eyes upon a single spot that didn’t hold some beauty, be it the trees topped with their leaves a kaleidoscope of fire and honey, the doe and her fawn who had hardly bothered to look up at them as they passed, or the waterfall that Elio pulled to the side of the road to point out to him. 

“Follow me,” Elio said, climbing out of the truck. The two men stood in that sweet sort of silence that comes only through a shared experience.

“This is incredible,” Oliver said at last. He meant it. He couldn’t imagine living among such beauty. But all of it paled in comparison to the man standing beside him, pointing out some amazing but inferior thing in the distance. 

Back in the truck, Oliver knew when they were approaching Uncle Ronny’s home. He knew, not because he saw it, nor even any sign of it, but because of the nervousness that seemed to settle over his companion. 

“It’s not much, you know. He built it when he was my age, from wood and stone he found on sight, without so much as a blueprint. He’s done some upgrades over the years, but it’s still just a simple log A-frame cabin.” 

Oliver didn’t have time to tell Elio that he didn’t care about things like that before the cabin came into view, and he wondered if he’d ever been so impressed by such a small building. It wasn’t the building itself that impressed him so much as the land around it and the way the building and the land seemed to work together to make something even more beautiful than either of them would have been alone. He squeezed Elio’s hand, making them both smile. 

He admired that the cabin didn’t have a yard as one would typically think of such. Everything about the homestead indicated that the person who had built it and lived within it wanted to live in harmony with nature, not in opposition to it. There was no man vs nature here. No lawns would be mowed. No hedges would be trimmed. As they walked up the stone walkway, Oliver felt that Ronny built the place with the respect of a guest rather than a landowner. As Elio had predicted, Ronny was on the porch, sanding a long stick, too long to be a walking stick. A broom handle, of course. And there was a pile of them, which Lynette was sorting though he couldn’t quite determine what criteria she was using. 

“A sight for sore eyes!” Ronny called as they stepped onto the porch. 

A small chuffle of laughter escaped Elio’s lips. It was the type of laughter that sent a clear message, Ronny liked to tease him, and he was used to being teased. 

“Me, or your truck?” he asked wryly. 

“My truck, of course, and you’re blocking my view,” Ronny teased. Lynette smiled up at Elio briefly without pausing in her sorting. She, too, was accustomed to his antics. 

“You’ve met Oliver,” Elio said, unsure how to introduce someone who’d already met but not been formally introduced. 

Oliver held out a hand, muttering a greeting. He had been surprised by how rough Ronny’s hand was. It was the hand of someone who had worked hard for a living, but his face was the face of someone who loved their life, and Oliver spent a moment trying to reconcile this. 

“Y’all sit down. I’ll show you how to make a broom. Lynette, fetch us some tea darlin’.” Lynette seemed to welcome a new task. 

Oliver had been intrigued by the broom-making process, which Ronny described in great detail. The most important part was finding the right handle. It had to be on the ground; he never stole from a tree, he made a point of mentioning that. The price the broom would bring was greatly dependent on the quality of the handle. It must still look like it belonged on a tree; that was part of the charm. But it also must be perfectly balanced. 

“You ever watched that Mickey Mouse with the brooms?” Ronny asked. Oliver nodded. “It’s like that. A good broom is balanced and will stand on its own when properly made.” 

“Stand on its own?” Oliver asked, dubious. 

“Elio, show your friend,” Ronny said. 

Elio grinned, crossing the porch to where the week’s brooms were hanging, ready to go to the Folk Center. He grabbed one on the end, held it bristles down as if he might sweep the porch. But rather than sweeping, he held it still. Oliver’s eyes were glued to this performance, as if a magic trick were being performed. Elio had some showmanship skills, too, really building the anticipation. 

“No way,” Oliver muttered. Just then, Elio moved his hand and the broom stood perfectly upright on its bristles. “No. Way.” Oliver said again. 

Elio picked up the broom and held it toward him to try. “Try it. Or you can choose your own.”

Oliver looked at all of the brooms, which really were works of art all the way down to the intricate, colorful designs Ronny created when he sewed the bristles together. They looked almost as if they were held together by embroidery rather than stitches. 

“Which ones stand?” Oliver asked, trying to decide which one to try. 

Ronny scoffed. “All of them. That’s quality assurance. If any don’t stand, they go over there,” he said, nodding toward the pile of handles and bristles of brooms not yet made. 

Oliver expected to have to practice a bit, and he was amazed when he was able to make the broom stand on the first try. He was almost proud of his broom balancing skills until he remembered that they’d been designed to do this. 

“That’s balance,” Ronny said with a nod. “Balance is one of the most important parts of broom-making. One of the most important parts of everything, truth be told.” 

Oliver didn’t yet know the full truth of those words, but he would soon enough. 

Chapter Text

returning from Uncle Ronny’s, Oliver once again found that his ability to write was renewed. Something about nature undoubtedly inspired him. Being a New Yorker, he’d never explored this part of himself. In fact, he didn’t know it was a part of himself. But it undeniably was. Without sitting down to make a plan, one was forming in his head.

When he and Elio finally got around to hiking the Sylamore Creek Trail a few days later, he decided it was time to talk to Elio. Elio had a knack for finding hidden gems, those little nooks that were tucked away, overlooked by most. Oliver thought it was his photographer’s eye that allowed him to see things in a different way than most. He’d found just such a spot for them today. He touched Oliver’s arm as he was walking, and when Oliver stopped and cast him a questioning glance, Elio nodded toward absolutely nothing. Oliver felt his eyebrows knitting themselves together like a scarf as he glanced from Elio, to the ground, to Elio again. Finally he whispered, “What?” He certainly hoped it wasn’t a bear again. Elio took his hand and walked straight into a line of greenery. Oliver thought to complain about ticks and poison ivy, but he was glad he hadn’t because this was worth it. Once they crossed through the green veil, it was as if they’d found a secret door at the back of an enchanted wardrobe. There was a wall of rock several yards ahead of them, and from it poured water, but it was hot. He could see by the steam coming from it, and on this cool fall day, the breeze carried a heat toward them that he knew came from the water which collected in a small pool beneath the rock. 

“It’s like a radiator,” he muttered.

“It’s a spring. A hot spring,” Elio said. He was already sliding his shoes off. 

“Don’t,” Oliver said. It was too cold outside. 

Elio completely ignored him, tossing his pack to the side, then his shoes joined them, followed by his socks. He rolled up his pants as he waded out, and Oliver was so nervous he could barely breathe. He worried that Elio would catch pneumonia, or maybe he would dissolve entirely. He’d read about that happening at Yellowstone a few times when someone thought they were wading into a hot spring that was actually a form of natural acid. Before he could form a coherent sentence about his fears that Elio would simply vanish, it became unnecessary because Elio was waving him in. 

“It’s awesome! Come in!” 

Oliver couldn’t imagine taking off even his jacket, much less his shoes. Meanwhile, Elio had stepped out and was removing the rest of his clothes, tossing them toward his pack. He looked utterly freezing, but he also looked alive to a degree that Oliver suspected he himself had never been. Elio hurried back into the warm water and waded out, sinking down so that only his head was above water. “Oliver! Come on!” he called again. 

Oliver didn’t want to. And yet he wanted nothing more. After a little more coaxing and taunting, he finally growled, cast off his clothes, and rushed out to Elio. The water was warm, bordering on hot, but not uncomfortably so. 

“It’s like being in a hot tub,” Oliver commented, and Elio nodded. 

“Arkansas is famous for its hot springs. They’re more common farther south. They even have a town named Hot Springs. This far north, this is a rare treat,” Elio explained. He was speaking rapidly, which made Oliver smile. Elio was even lovelier when he was excited about something. “Do you think they have leeches?” Oliver asked, hesitantly. 

Elio shrugged and then disappeared under the water. He popped up again moments later saying, “I didn’t see any. Maybe they were eaten by flesh-eating bacteria.” 

This led to playful roughhousing which resulted in wrestling, which led to another, more pleasurable type of wrestling, until they both emerged from the water later looking like drowned rats. But very happy, contented drowned rats they were.  In addition to the hot spring, the surrounding area was particularly pretty, combined with the burbling of the springs, they decided it was the perfect spot for a picnic, but Elio was doing more photography than eating. Oliver could watch him all day, though, bent over a flower or insect, or kneeling to get just the right angle for a certain shot. The look of concentration on his face when he almost had it, and then the way that expression flowed seamlessly into the brightest smile the moment he clicked the shutter. He practically skipped over to the blanket where they were supposedly picnicking, lying down next to Oliver and scooting close. He eventually worked himself into a T formation, using Oliver’s stomach as a pillow as he flipped through, passing the camera to Oliver when he came across a shot he was particularly proud of.

“I think you’ve missed your calling with law school,” Oliver said as he looked at one particularly intriguing shot of a grasshopper nymph. “The way you framed this one with the subject in the corner rather than centered is so interesting. You think you’re looking at one thing, but really it’s something else. Wow.” 

Elio turned onto his side, still using Oliver as a pillow, but facing him rather than the canopy of trees above them. “You really like them?” he asked, his voice hesitant. 

Oliver passed the camera back to him and then rested his hand on the side of his face, letting his fingers wind their way through the unruly curls. “Yes, I really do. You’re talented.” 

Elio sighed, satisfied, and laid the camera down beside him, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of Oliver’s fingers brushing against his skin. It was a perfect moment in a series of perfect moments that seemed almost too good to be true. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Oliver said. Elio’s smile dimmed immediately, and Oliver touched his finger to the tip of his nose, playfully. “It’s nothing bad,” he said. “At least, I don’t think it is.” 

“I’m listening,” Elio said, his voice tense with curiosity. 

“How would you feel about going on a long hike together? Like the Ozark Highlands Trail you were telling me about?”

Elio nodded. “Sure. I’d love to. I mean, not all of it, obviously. But if you aren’t a fan of Sylamore Creek, we can do the other one tomorrow. You haven’t seen much of the Boston Mountains yet.” 

Oliver’s smile became mysterious, his eyes narrowed, which led Elio to make a similar expression while muttering, “What?” 

“I don’t mean just a day hike. I’m envisioning backpacks, walking sticks…” Oliver said in a dreamy tone. 

“... a mini camp stove? And sleeping bags?” Elio joined in, which could not have pleased Oliver more.  

“Exactly,” he said. He placed a finger beneath Elio’s chin and Elio let himself be gently repositioned so that they were lying side by side. “Our sleeping bags stuffed into a stuff sack, clipped to our backpacks with a…” Oliver pinched his fingers together as he tried to think of the word.

“Carabiner?” Elio supplied. 

“Yes!” Oliver snapped his fingers, relieved. Nothing bothers a writer more than being without the right word. 

He kissed Elio then, who kissed him back greedily. 

“We’d have all of our days and nights together for... I don't know… weeks?” 

Elio’s smile faded a bit. “Are we serious right now, or fantasizing?” 

“You tell me,” Oliver said. He was serious, of course. But he didn’t know if it was something Elio could do, or would even want to do.

Elio didn’t reply, which was its own kind of answer. Just as Oliver felt a feeling close to despair fall over him, Elio did at last say, “I’ll have to go home, you know. I have to pass the bar exam, or it was all for nothing.” 

Oliver wanted to argue. He wanted to tell Elio that he was home, that wherever they were together was home from now on. But even with the intimacy they shared, which they both knew without saying so was something rare and beautiful, it still had been only a short time to make such assertions. He decided on a more playful, less threatening approach. 

“Just think of having day after day, night after night, just the two of us. You could take pictures of things that are rarely seen, and I could write some. You could even study for the bar, if you wanted. We wouldn’t have to be in a hurry. We could take our time. I don’t have to report to my publisher again for over a month.” 

“Oliver, I would like nothing more than that. But I have a family to take care of. In New Hampshire.” 

“Ollie is practically grown. You’ve taken care of him. And your mom is your mom, she should be taking care of you if anything,” Oliver said. He regretted the words almost before he finished saying them. Elio’s face was unreadable, but even to himself the words sounded hollow and revealed a lack of understanding for another person’s experience. 

“You’ve never been responsible for anyone, have you?” Elio asked. 

He shook his head. He hadn’t. Not really. Himself, perhaps, and the jury was still out on how he was doing with that. He wanted to tell Elio that he wasn’t responsible for anyone, either, but he supposed that a sense of responsibility is subjective. People often don’t take responsibility for what they should, Elio’s father being one example of that, and then other people happily, willingly take on responsibilities that aren’t theirs. So who was he to tell Elio what his responsibilities were? He put his lips to Elio’s again and was relieved when he returned the kiss. Maybe he’d not ruined things entirely. 

“And we just happily ever after?” Elio asked. His smile had turned sad. 

“Why not?” Oliver asked. 

“I feel like you’re the twenty-five-year-old and I’m the thirty-three-year-old,” Elio said. He was using a teasing tone, but the words rang true to the situation, and Oliver thought he should be ashamed, or at least embarrassed, but he couldn’t summon either. 

“You’ve taken care of your family since you were eight years old, Elio. Probably longer if you really think about it. When do you get to take care of you?” 

“Can I think about it?” Elio asked after a pause.

Oliver nodded. “Of course.” Elio’s hands were fumbling with his zipper with those long, elegant fingers. Oliver had intended to remind him to eat some lunch, but that thought was soon forgotten as, for the two of them, everything faded away except for one another. 

“God, I am starving,” Elio complained later as they headed back to the trailhead. Oliver didn’t know whether to laugh or feel guilty. 

Chapter Text

“Oliver, I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I don’t think I can do it,” Elio said a few days later. Oliver had been trying his best not to bring up the topic of hiking the Ozark Highlands Trail, because he didn’t want Elio to feel pressured. But the look on Elio’s face right then made him wish he had pressed, just a little. They were once again lying in bed at Jack’s Bend, he on his back, Elio curled up on his side in his arms. Though Oliver detested the words, he couldn’t be angry. He turned his head and placed a kiss on Elio’s forehead. 

“Why not?” he asked quietly. Elio sighed so dramatically that he could feel the rise and fall of it himself. 

“Lots of reasons,” Elio said. 

Oliver nodded slowly. Elio brought his fingers to his lips, and Oliver again found it difficult to be angry. He also found it difficult to think about anything other than their physical relationship, so he grasped Elio’s hand and slowly brought it away from his mouth. He turned onto his side, facing Elio, and placed their hands between them with an affectionate squeeze. It was important, he thought, for Elio to know he wasn’t angry.

“We can probably solve every single obstacle, but my question for you is whether you want to,” Oliver asked, forcing a smile. 

Elio’s fingers stretched and wriggled within his hand, until their hands were woven together. 

“What do you mean?” Elio asked. 

“I mean that I’m a very good problem solver. If you want to go, we can work through the ‘lots of reasons’ and make the trip happen. But if you don’t want to go, then you’re going to refute every solution I propose. That’s a waste of my time and yours, and it’s a pressure I don’t want to put on you anyway.” 

Elio closed his eyes, making him even more difficult to read. 

“So my question for you is simple… Do you want to go backpacking with me? And it’s okay to say no.” Please don’t say no.

 Elio opened his eyes, peering searchingly into Oliver’s. Was Oliver arrogant? Was that what it was that made him think he could solve every problem? Or did he just think that he was the only person who had real problems, and everyone else’s could be explained away? Elio knew these thoughts were uncharitable, but they flitted through his mind anyway. He was relieved that they didn’t take root, however. 

“I want to,” he said, and when he heard the words, he recognized the truth in them. 

Oliver had been trying to keep his reactions neutral in order to let Elio’s decisions be his own, but he couldn’t hide his smile when he heard these words. 

“Okay, then what is the thing that is holding you back the most?” 

“I guess there are three things really, that are a tie.” 

“Let’s hear them.” 

“First, the bar exam. I’ve got to study. Then I’ve got to get back and take it.” 

“You said there was no time limit,” Oliver reminded him.

“Right, but it makes sense that since Law School was supposed to prepare me for the exam, I should take it as soon as possible after graduating.” 

Oliver shrugged playfully, and placed a loving kiss on his cheek, trying to soften the impact of his next words. “But Law School didn’t prepare you for the bar, or you would have passed it. We are just going to have to get you ready for the bar exam ourselves, which we will have plenty of time to do on the trail. I’ll help you.” Oliver thought that one was self-explanatory and believed that there was really no answer to it, assuming Elio did truthfully want to go. 

“Okay… But, then there’s my family… Although…” his voice trailed off. 

“Although?” Oliver prompted after a moment. 

“Although I talked to Ollie and he was encouraging. He thinks I shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to work on my photography. And he said mom’s doing okay even if she tells me she isn’t.” 

Oliver’s smile widened. “So that’s not even a problem anymore, right?” 

“I guess not. But there’s also the money. The equipment we need? If we’re going to do this with any level of comfort, not to mention safety, we’re talking about hundreds of dollars each, and that’s money I don’t have. Besides, I need to be working. I can’t survive without a job.” 

“Money? That’s the easiest problem of all to fix,” Oliver said with a chuckle.

Elio chuckled too, but his was a nervous laugh. This wasn’t going to be a fairy tale, and he was entirely unwilling to be Cinderella, if that’s what Oliver thought. Oliver hadn’t mentioned being wealthy, but he did drive a Mercedes. 

Oliver seemed to read his mind, because he kissed him playfully on the cheek before saying, “No, I’m not rich. But this is a job to me. I’m a writer. And I plan to write on the trail. So all of it, the packs, the food, the equipment, and even the time are all business expenses. I can get an advance for it, and if we go over that, then I can get more. I’ve already talked to my publisher.” 

“Okay so that takes care of you, but…” Elio said. Oliver’s words had actually only made him more worried. He would be the only one worrying about money, which made him feel even worse.

“What if you’re my assistant?” Oliver asked. “I am allowed one, and I can choose my own.”  

Elio’s eyes became almost impossibly narrow. “What would I have to do?” 

Oliver laughed. “Nothing really. Just help me with a few things that you’d hopefully help me with anyway, just like I’ll help you with whatever you need. But this way, you can get paid for your time. And your expenses, too.”

Elio looked to be thinking hard, but really, he’d already decided. How could he say no?

“It sounds too good to be true,” Elio mumbled, more to himself than to Oliver. 

Oliver kissed him again, less playfully, and not on the cheek this time. At last he said, “Elio, sometimes good things do happen. To me, you seem too good to be true. But here you are. We can do this, if you will just let yourself be happy.” 

Elio nodded. He wasn’t sure about taking a 200 mile hike. He wasn’t sure about dragging along the books he’d need to study for the bar. There were so many things he was uncertain of, he wouldn’t have been able to list them all if he tried. But there was one thing he was certain of, though he knew it was too soon to say it aloud. He loved Oliver. They were meant to be together. And he would do anything really, in order to walk by his side from now on. 

The next few days were a frenzy of preparations. There were maps to review, guidebooks to buy and mark up, people to talk to… Elio’s mom had taken the news hard… and equipment to research and purchase. 

Finally, Elio and Oliver stood side by side, hand in hand, staring wide-eyed at the mountain of equipment before them. It was much larger than they’d anticipated. It was so large, in fact, that the very sight of it made Elio feel nauseated, and made Oliver question many of his recent decisions, particularly the decisions he’d made at a backpacking store called Aspire Outdoors earlier that morning. 

“We’re never going to fit all of that,” Elio nodded toward the mountain of supplies lying on Oliver’s bed, “into those.” He nodded toward their packs that sat empty and lifeless in the corner. 

Oliver, always the problem-solver, had nothing to contribute other than, “We have to.” 

“We can’t, Oliver. Even if we could get it to fit, it would be too heavy to carry. We’ll just have to take some of it back,” the younger man said sensibly.

Oliver shook his head, slowly. “What could we do without though?” Oliver had listened very carefully to Earnest, the employee at the store. He seemed very knowledgeable and had actually completed the entire trail himself, so shouldn’t they heed his advice?

“Maybe that?” Elio suggested. “That thing is large, and heavy.” 

“That thing is our stove though,” Oliver pointed out. It was arguably one of the most important things they had purchased. 

“Are you forgetting that it’s fall? This is going to be a late fall hike. Do you know what that means?” 

“That we need more blankets?” Oliver guessed, wondering where they would fit anything more.

“No. It means we’ll be making a fire every evening. Probably every morning, too. So can’t we use that for cooking?”

Oliver’s head tilted slightly to the side as he eyed the camp stove. 

“Think about it a minute,” Elio continued. “We’re taking all this dehydrated instant food. What does it require to cook it?” 

Oliver knew this one. “Boiling water.”   

“And can’t we just boil water on the fire, using those?” He indicated the sturdy metal cups they would be using for their coffee and instant noodles. 

Oliver sighed, crossed the room, and in his small notebook he jotted: cook stove??? 

“I’ll do some research,” he offered. 

The first part of the day had involved driving to a town an hour away, also with a mountain name, Mountain Home, to purchase anything and everything that Earnest thought they might need. The second part of the day was spent talking, second-guessing, and googling until they’d scaled the mountain of supplies down to something more manageable. After that, they packed their backpacks, tried them on again, and swapped out a few things to try to even out the weight of the two packs. Oliver tried to take more of the things that they would share, to make Elio’s pack a little lighter. But Elio was too smart, and too observant, and immediately returned things to their original location while muttering under his breath about not being a child. 

Oliver could only smile and watch. He knew better than to say it, but he thought Elio was especially adorable when he was a bit irritated. He must grind his teeth a bit, making his jawline change into something worthy of a museum. 

“Should we take all of that back tonight?” Elio asked. He waved his hand toward the large pile of equipment they’d decided they could live without. 

“It’s already getting late,” Oliver said.

Elio’s mouth twisted into an amused half-smile. “It’s getting late, huh?” It was only seven. 

Oliver stepped toward him, wrapped his arms around him, and tucked his chin so that his forehead kissed Elio’s. “So late,” he whispered. 

Elio’s teeth appeared as his smile changed to something shy and needy. He glanced toward the bed. “We won’t have time to go to Mountain Home in the morning. Not if we are going to be on the trail at sunrise,” he pointed out. 

“I don’t care. Ronny can have it. Or we can leave it here for the next person,” Oliver whispered. 

“You want to go to bed so badly that you’re willing to just…”

“Yes,” Oliver said. 

“I didn’t finish,” Elio laughed. 

“You don’t need to. Anything could go after the ‘just’ and the answer is still yes. I do want to go to bed that badly.” 

So that is where they blissfully spent the final third of their day.

Chapter Text

They didn’t leave at sunrise. A quick call to Ronny indicated that he was in no need of backpacking equipment, even free backpacking equipment. A call to the property owner of Jack’s Bend indicated that they’d rather not have it left behind for them to take care of, either. Oliver was frustrated, but Elio took it in stride. 

“So let’s just take it back,” he said, sounding too chipper in Oliver’s opinion. 

“That will add over two hours to our morning before we can leave, though,” he said. 

Elio only laughed. “So it takes four weeks and two hours instead of four weeks. What difference does it make? We’ve already given ourselves a week long window for completion anyway.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. Elio was standing, looking out the window of Jack’s Bend, and Oliver walked up behind him, rested his hands on his hips, and leaned down to rest his forehead lightly on his shoulder. 

“You’re right,” he whispered. “I’d rather have four weeks plus two hours with you anyway.” It was true, but he did have a deadline. 

Elio twisted around so that they were facing one another, tilting his head back so that Oliver would kiss him, which he did. 

“You know, it’s going to take us more like four months to hike it if we can’t keep our hands off each other,” he teased. 

Oliver groaned. “Good thing we aren’t in a hurry,” he whispered. 

“Good thing,” Elio agreed. 

When Oliver at last turned in his key and checked out of Jack’s Bend, it was with mixed feelings. Even as he drove away from the tiny cabin, he was already missing it. It would forever be a pivotal place for him, the place where his entire life changed. Yet he was excited, because he was embarking on a new journey with someone he cared about at his side. 

Returning the equipment turned out to be simple enough. Oliver expected Earnest to give him a hard time about it, to insist that they would be sorry if they even considered embarking on such an adventure without every single item, but Earnest didn’t seem concerned or even surprised. In fact, he said, “I was wondering how you were gonna carry all that.” This caused Elio and Oliver to give each other silly, wide-eyed looks which they laughed about later. 

Because it was a thru-hike and not a loop, Uncle Ronny had graciously offered to drive them over three hours to Lake Fort Smith, which was the official beginning of the trail. They could have hiked it in reverse, but if given a choice, Oliver preferred to hike it as it was designed to be hiked. As Ronny drove them with Oliver in the passenger’s seat and poor Elio crammed in between them, Oliver couldn’t stop looking at the sky. It was a grey day, the sky completely overcast as heavy, wet clouds hung low in the sky like a taunt. He turned his attention then to the long, dark ridges of hardwood trees as they zipped by them, waving their golden pom-poms. A stark contrast to the indifferent sky. 

“I hope y’all know what you’re doing,” Ronny said when he dropped them off at the trailhead. Elio giggled, reminding Oliver of a child. “Uncle Ronny, Oliver’s a New Yorker, and I’m not much better. Safe to say we don’t know what we’re doing at all.” 

Oliver laughed. “I’ll take care of your nephew, I promise.” How he would do that, he had no clue. Why he thought he should say it, he had even less of one. He was actually embarrassed that he’d made such an arrogant remark, but then he felt Elio’s pinky hook around his own, and he decided it was the right thing to say after all. 

There were a few minutes for goodbyes. Ronny took pictures of the two at the trailhead, which was marked with a beautifully carved sign, then gave them another gruff warning to be careful. After signing the trail register, they took their first steps onto the trail about four hours after they’d originally planned, but it was early yet. The hike felt familiar, too familiar, at first. They’d taken several hikes together by now. The trail was wide, and well marked, and they could still hear the occasional car pass by on the highway. So the packs felt superfluous and almost showy. Oliver found himself hoping that they didn’t pass anyone, because if they did, they would  probably be a local day hiker, and would most likely be wondering what they were doing with packs. He voiced this concern to Elio, who had looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. 

“What?” he asked, unsure what he’d said to cause such dismay.

“No one cares, Oliver,” Elio said with a smile. 

“No one cares? That’s a rather glum outlook isn’t it?” Oliver said. They were moving along at a quick pace while the trail was easy.

“I always tell my little brother that we’re the center of our own universe, so we naturally place ourselves in a position of greater importance than we actually hold. No one cares if we’re carrying backpacks or not. No one cares if we’re day-hiking or thru-hiking. I just think it’s funny that you’re concerned about it.” 

Oliver didn’t have an immediate reply to that, so the two strode along. When Oliver felt the back of Elio’s hand brush against the back of his own, he grasped it and held it without looking over. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he thought that he saw a small smile appear on his lover’s lips. 

“I wouldn’t say I’m necessarily concerned about it,” he finally mumbled in a playfully whiney voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elio’s smile stretch wider as his shoulders moved up and down in a whatever shrug. They walked on and on for over two hours with no sound other than the crunching of fall leaves beneath their boots and the occasional forest sound. Each time they heard a sound that wasn’t made by them, Elio would grab Oliver’s arm to stop him as if he truly were a trail guide. He would peer off into the surrounding forest with his hand on his camera which was hanging from his shoulder. But it would only be a bird hopping around, or a squirrel jumping from one tree to another. Sometimes they would see nothing at all, to which Elio would say, “It must have been a falling branch,” and that would be the end of it. 

“What are you hoping to see?” Oliver asked after the third time Elio stopped like this. 

“Oh, I don’t know. A deer would be likely. If we’re lucky, a bear.” 

“Lucky?” Oliver scoffed. “I’m sorry, I thought I just heard you say we’re lucky if we see a bear?” 

Elio laughed, really laughed, for the first time since they departed. “We would be. The bear population is increasing, but sightings are still rare. You don’t think I hiked all the way over to you that first day, plus climbed the bluff, just to save your life did you? Hell no. I was just trying to get a good picture of the bear.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes, shook his head, and then leaned down to place a soft kiss on Elio’s cheek. There were some things about which they would just have to agree to disagree. 

The trail was lovely. The foliage seemed to grow more beautiful with every step. The mountains, which were really more like tall, picturesque hills, loomed ahead of them, and the sounds of water seemed to be all around them. Oliver was glad, for so many reasons, that he’d chosen this particularly gorgeous part of the country for his change of scenery. But as stunning as the area was, Oliver was beginning to worry about how to pass four weeks, because it did all look the same. You could only gasp and point and mutter, “Wow,” so many times before it became familiar. And if it was already feeling overly-familiar on the very first day, how would they feel in three days? Or three weeks? And just as importantly, what would he write about? He could just visualize it now: Saw more pretty trees today.

He was pulled from his thoughts, though, by what he saw ahead. The trail took a sharp turn and then grew almost impossibly narrow and steep. To complicate things further, it was blocked by a very large fallen tree. He knew from his research that the trail had a problem with red oak borers, a beetle that attacks living oak trees, often leaving them weakened and prone to falling, but it hadn’t occurred to him that there would be entire trees lying across the trail, and he briefly wondered how many more there would be. The two men stood at the bottom, staring for a long time. Finally without saying a word, Elio charged up the trail. 

“Elio, wait!” Oliver called, but Elio didn’t wait. He did yell something in return, but Oliver couldn’t quite make it out. It might have been something like, “Come on.” 

The steep incline wasn’t the most fun part of their day, but it wasn’t as bad as they had expected. Neither of them were athletes, but they were young and healthy, and they found themselves only slightly breathless by the time they reached the tree. But the tree itself was much larger than it had appeared from below. It was impossible to climb over it. They discussed going around it, but the north side was hanging over a ledge that neither man was keen on maneuvering if it could be avoided, and to go around the south side would require another very steep climb. Oliver put his hands together in a stirrup and nodded toward it, indicating of course that Elio should step into it and Oliver would boost him over the tree. 

“But then what will you do?” Elio asked. 

Oliver looked around and shrugged. “I think I can climb it,” he said. 

Elio looked dubious, but finally he said, “Okay, but give me your pack.” 

Oliver shook his head. “No way.” Each pack was approximately forty pounds, so if Elio took his, that would be eighty pounds he’d have to somehow get over. “Just… here…” Oliver said impatiently, moving his hand-stirrup up and down as if Elio just wasn’t seeing it. 

“Okay,” Elio said with a nod, but it was clear he wasn’t happy about taking the easy way over and leaving his friend to struggle. Once he put his foot into Oliver’s hands, though, he was quickly lifted up to the top of the tree trunk, and it was a relatively simple matter to slide down the other side, though he did scrape his side in the process. 

“I made it!” he called. “Can you throw me your pack?” 

There were sounds of Oliver walking around, evaluating the obstacle. “I don’t think so, but I think I can slide it under. Can you get it?” 

“Sure!” Elio said, not really knowing. But Oliver had been correct, it fit through a space underneath, barely. It took some pushing, by Oliver, and some pulling, by Elio, but it was relatively easy. 

“Okay, I’m coming over,” Oliver called.   

Elio could hear the sounds of Oliver scrambling to scale the huge trunk and found himself barely able to breathe. Suddenly, the sounds stopped. Elio waited, but no more sounds were detectable. 

“Oliver?” he asked. “Oliver?” 

Then there was a different sound, much faster and more ominous than the climbing. 

“Oliver?!” 

“I can’t make it over,” Oliver called. This was terrible news, made even worse by the fact that Elio knew that he, too, couldn’t make it back over. The silence of their separation was the most ominous sound of all.

Chapter Text

Elio studied the large log that separated him from Oliver, looking for any knots or bumps he might use to climb over. He did see a few promising places, but they were too high for him to reach. 

“Oliver?!” he called. 

“I’m fine. And so are you. Just wait a minute,” Oliver called. He tried to adopt a reassuring tone, because Elio sounded like he might panic. Surely this was not an insurmountable problem. He walked to both the north and south sides, finally deciding the climb up would be safer than the climb down. The hardest part of the climb turned out to be trying to keep Elio calm. Oliver was trying to focus on each spot that he chose to place a hand or foot. Everything was wet and slick, and some of the rocks that seemed secure in fact wobbled and moved when he applied his full weight to them. Still, he knew within five minutes that he would be able to make it. The problem, though, was his inability to convince Elio, who fretted and called his name every few minutes. He did his best to reply in his most confident and reassuring manner, but it was a stressful fifteen minutes. When Oliver at last placed both feet on the ground on Elio’s side of the tree, he found his arms immediately filled with Elio, who kissed him passionately. 

“I’m fine,” he promised, placing a hand gently on the side of Elio’s face before kissing him again. “You know, I don’t think you were that worried when I was being attacked by the bear.” 

“I didn’t love you then,” Elio said. For several minutes, the only sounds were their feet carrying them forward, and even that was made softer by the dampness of the forest floor. “I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have said that,” Elio finally whispered. 

Oliver reached a hand out, and Elio took it, and they walked on together. Oliver hoped that it communicated to Elio what he couldn’t. It’s okay. I’m glad. I think I love you, too. 

“We made it over our first… hurdle… ” Oliver teased, hoping to break the melancholy mood that had fallen over them. 

“Ha,” Elio said, but it wasn’t a real laugh. Oliver squeezed his hand and wished that he could speak his heart as easily as Elio could. 

“Do we have to cross water today?” Elio asked. Although he knew the area better and was supposed to be acting as the guide, Oliver was the one who’d spent hours pouring over trail guides and maps. 

“Yes, twice. It was supposed to be three times, but we got such a late start.” 

“The water’s going to be cold,” Elio pointed out, but he sounded excited about it. He liked adventure. 

“We’re looking for Frog Bayou. That will be our first water crossing,” Oliver said, leaning down to kiss Elio on the temple. He was happy to see that his mood seemed to be lifting. 

“I think we’re getting close,” Elio suddenly whispered, becoming suddenly still. Oliver cast him a questioning glance, but Elio placed a finger over his lips and nodded up to the top of a high tree. Oliver followed his gaze, but he didn’t see anything. He could sense by Elio’s stillness, which would have put any statue to shame, that there was something alive nearby, something that was worthy of this much attention. It wasn’t until the thing moved that Oliver saw it.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. Just then, the huge brown bird jumped from its perch and pumped its wings a few times, which was more than enough to carry it out of their sight. “That thing had a wingspan of at least four feet,” Oliver said in awe. 

Elio nodded. “A bald eagle,” he said. He had already dropped his pack from his shoulders and was unzipping it. 

“What are you…” Oliver began, but then Elio pulled out his camera, and Oliver understood. 

“Sometimes they nest at Frog Bayou,” Elio said as he swapped out his lenses. “I might be able to get a decent shot.” He stood and nodded, holding his camera in one arm as Oliver helped him into his backpack. When they resumed their hike, they only had to round the corner when the sounds of water became much louder. Elio’s smile widened as he nodded again. Frog Bayou. The two men stood hand in hand when they finally reached the quickly moving creek. Elio’s eyes were scanning the high places. The sky. The tree tops. But Oliver’s were looking at the water, trying to decide how to cross it. They had known, of course, that they would be crossing water many times on their journey, but it can be difficult to plan for because the depth is always changing, and neither of them had first hand experience with this section of the trail. Elio was concerned only with the family of eagles he’d spotted nesting in a dead but still standing tree that had grown up almost impossibly near the water. 

Oliver had hoped to find a shallow spot to cross. They had both invested in waterproof hiking boots, and Oliver had read that at certain times, the water was low enough to be splashed through without getting wet above the ankles, but after nearly twenty minutes of exploring, he finally took off his boots, then his socks, tucking his socks into the boots and tying them together so that he could clip them to his pack. He realized immediately that he hadn’t thought it through, because his bare city feet could not then walk across the rocky bank to where Elio stood still taking photos. 

“Elio?” he called in a voice that he hoped wouldn’t scare the eagles. Elio looked over, listening. 

“I’m going to try to cross here. When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting for you. Wait until I get across though,” he instructed. 

Elio’s eyes narrowed just the slightest amount, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Oliver. Elio didn’t like being ordered around. But for whatever reason, he didn’t argue about it and instead nodded and said he’d be ready soon. Oliver made it across easily enough, though his feet and ankles were numb from the frigid water by the time he reached the far side of the creek. He sat down on a boulder that looked for all the world as if it had been placed here just for this purpose, and set about drying his feet and slipping back into his socks and boots. He saw Elio removing his own boots and preparing to cross, and he kept a close eye on him as he did. Once his boots were tied, he walked over to meet Elio, planning to offer a hand when he was close enough, but Elio hopped out of the water with admirable agility. 

“Jesus, that was cold,” he said with a laugh. 

They decided to stop for a snack. Oliver hadn’t gotten to observe the eagles, and Elio loved the sound of moving water. It was a perfect place for a snack, and Oliver smiled to himself when he noticed the clouds were clearing above, revealing patches of bright blue sky. 

“How are you on water?” Oliver asked when they began preparing to depart the area. 

Elio held up his bottle for Oliver’s inspection. 

“Let’s go ahead and refill it. But drink as much as you can first. You can’t drink again for thirty minutes after we put in the iodine tablets,” Oliver said, chugging his own water, too. 

Elio hid a smile. It’s not as if they would dehydrate in thirty minutes. Not in this weather. But Oliver seemed so happy with himself and his problem-solving skills, Elio didn’t have the heart to do anything other than drink his water. 

The two men hiked on like that, mostly in amiable silence that was occasionally broken by bouts of easy conversation. When Elio spotted a clearing that had obviously been used as a campsite in the past, he looked at Oliver and shrugged. It was well short of their goal, but they had gotten a late start. They had also agreed from the start to take their time, allowing time for work and study. 

Though they were exhausted, much more so than they had anticipated considering they’d only traveled about twelve miles, it didn’t take long to set up their little camp. The tent was a tiny backpack version, and though Earnest had insisted that they would each want their own, they knew better. So their little camp consisted of a tiny red tent and a crackling fire by which they boiled some water for noodle soup. After they ate, Elio unzipped the tent and crawled in, and Oliver shook his head ruefully. 

“Are you going to bed already?” he asked, but the question was filled with dry humor. He knew exactly what Elio wanted to do. 

“Yes. I’m so,” Elio gave a long, dramatically playful yawn and stretch, “tired.” 

“What about the Bar Exam? Aren’t you going to study?” Oliver asked. He’d purchased Elio’s 

study guide in e-reader format so that he could study with an iPad. The battery should last at least two weeks, which is when they planned to restock in a nearby town. 

Elio’s eyes became narrow, his chin tilted slightly to the side. “I don’t feel like studying right now.” 

Oliver opened his small notebook and gave his pen a click. “Okay then. Goodnight. I’ll be in after I do some writing.” He thought that Elio would know he was teasing, but when he saw the hurt look that appeared on his face, he regretted the joke. He tucked the notebook back into its pouch and climbed into the tent with Elio.

“I was only teasing,” he said. 

“It’s okay. I know we agreed we’d work every night,” Elio said. “I just, you know. It’s the first night.” 

Oliver nodded. “We only have one first night on the trail, huh?” he said, his voice low. They were sitting, legs criss-crossed on top of their sleeping bags, which they’d zipped together into one larger one. 

Elio nodded, and Oliver heard his breathing quicken. It amazed him every time. That he could get such a strong reaction from someone like Elio. Someone he so clearly did not deserve. 

He placed a hand on Elio’s neck, gently pulling him toward him. When his mouth was next to Elio’s ear, he whispered, “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.” 

“Make it up to me.” Elio’s head tilted back, exposing the smooth, sensitive skin of his neck, and Oliver showered the area with small, soft kisses, until he heard a soft moan escape Elio’s lips. 

“Undress,” he whispered. 

Elio brought his chin back to its usual position, a sexy but curious smile on his face. They usually undressed each other. 

“Please?” Oliver asked. Elio loved the experience of Oliver undressing him, and was hesitant to do it himself. But when he saw how excited Oliver was becoming at the prospect of watching him, he felt more excited about it himself. He crossed his arms in front of his body, grasping the bottom of his t-shirt and peeling it off of his body, over his head, and finally tossing it to the side. Then he began unfastening his pants. He lay down then and shimmied out of them and his underwear at the same time, tossing them in roughly the same direction as his shirt. 

“I’m cold,” he whined, his voice tense with need. He wasn’t cold. The tiny tent was warmed by both the fire and their considerable body heat. 

“Oh no. We can’t have that,” Oliver said with a grin, pulling off his own shirt, taking a moment to admire every inch of Elio’s body as he did so. He could see that Elio was growing impatient. He was always an eager lover, but at this moment he looked downright greedy for Oliver, and Oliver felt his heart begin to pound, making his own desire something he couldn’t ignore, either. Though he had planned to take things slow, playfully teasing and tormenting the younger man, he found himself hastily shedding the rest of clothes.

“Tell me what you want,” Oliver whispered. But Elio only gasped. Oliver could feel Elio pressing his hips upward, into him. “Tell me,” he said again. 

But Elio wasn’t in the mood to play games. “Same thing you want,” he gasped, still pressing his hips upward. 

Oliver sighed. “Fine, we’ll work on talking next time” he said, as he used a hand to gently position Elio’s legs in exactly the way he wanted them before leaning down to trail kisses along his inner thigh until his young lover could take no more. 

Chapter Text

Elio woke the next morning with a smile on his face. That seemed to be his default setting, these days, and he was certain it was just leftover bliss from falling asleep in Oliver’s arms. His smile dimmed, just a bit, when he realized he was alone in the tent, but it returned when he heard the sounds of the fire already going outside, and he knew that Oliver was nearby. He crawled from their sleeping bag to discover that it was colder than he’d expected. He slid on his joggers, his shirt from yesterday, and Oliver’s favorite sweater, which was lying by the entrance. He unzipped the tent and then glimpsed his bare feet. That wouldn’t work, so he had to sit back again to cram his feet into his socks and boots. 

Finally he made it out of the tent to find Oliver sitting on a log in front of the fire, writing feverishly in his notebook. 

“You getting some work done?” he asked as he stood and walked over. 

“Oh yes, I couldn’t sleep this morning, so I’ve gotten a lot done. I almost wish I’d brought my laptop though.” Like all hikers, they had spent a good deal of time reducing the weight of their packs as much as possible. What feels manageable when walking around the house or even on a short day hike feels much less so when you are lugging it hour after hour along a variety of terrains. So Oliver had decided he’d just bring a notebook and hand write some notes and any descriptions that came to mind. Then he could actually write the book when they returned. But now that they were here, it felt like double work to write it all by hand and then put it together later.  “I did get some good notes down, though.” 

“Good,” Elio said with a nod. He wondered why he didn’t feel guilty about the fact that he had not studied for the bar yet. He should be working on that every night when they stopped, but he hadn’t been able to muster even the slightest bit of desire to do so. 

“I’ll make us something to eat, but then we should get going. Sound good?” Oliver asked, tucking his pen into his notebook. He was just beginning to feel the pressure of meeting with his publisher. 

“Sounds perfect,” Elio agreed. 

By seven o’clock, the two were striding back up toward the trail, hand in hand, ready to enjoy another day of unpredictable events. At times, they discovered, walking through the woods could get almost boring, but there was always the unknown just ahead, so they never really felt bored. 

It was an overcast morning with a sleepy fog hanging over the area, making Oliver feel like he was in a dream. When he looked to his right to see Elio walking along beside him, he thought that if it was, in fact, a dream… he hoped he would never wake from it. Just as he was contemplating this, Elio grasped his arm. 

“Look!” he said, pointing. 

Oliver looked, but he saw nothing but trail and trees. Today’s section of hike did not have any grandiose views or overlooks, but he was looking for anything that might excite his partner so much. An animal, perhaps? Elio was pulling him off the trail excitedly, skittering down a slight slope. Finally, Oliver saw it. Elio was already digging out his camera. There were five of the largest spiderwebs Oliver had ever seen in his life. The drops of moisture that clung to them left them sparkling, like intricate crystal palaces. Oliver doubted that Elio would be able to capture the awesomeness of what they were seeing, but Elio was already crouching low to the ground, exploring different angles, trying to get the light just right. It only took him a moment and he came practically skipping over to Oliver, waving the camera with the excitement of a child. 

“I got it!” he said. When Oliver looked at the display, he really couldn’t believe his eyes. He had doubted that Elio could capture the beauty of such an ordinary thing, but he had. In fact, he’d done it in such a way as to create something extraordinary from it. In Elio’s photo, Oliver could see that this wasn’t an ordinary web. It was filled with a bright white zig zag design worked through it. It reminded Oliver of Charlotte, weaving words into her webs. Elio had even gotten some excellent shots of the beautiful spider who’d created them. 

“See?” Elio said, pointing to the spider. “She’s an orb-weaver spider. They use an extra-bright white silk in some parts, but not within the entire web, which creates these…” Elio seemed to be looking for the right word before finally settling on, “works of art .” 

Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out his notebook, jotting down a reminder to do more research on this. It might be something he could work into the book. 

Then they were back on the trail. “How are you doing on water?” Oliver asked. 

“Good,” Elio said without checking. 

Oliver gave him a reproving look which made Elio both chuckle and roll his eyes, but he did pull out his water bottle to show that he had over half a bottle. 

“Mine’s about the same,” Oliver said with a nod of acknowledgement. “Let’s go ahead and drink it so that we can refill it soon. We have another water crossing in…” he seemed to be thinking hard. “In about three miles.” 

Elio replied by taking a big gulp of water and trying not to grimace. Drinking warm water drawn from a stream and then purified with iodine tablets was not delicious. But it was healthy, so he just gulped it quickly and tried not to think about it. They had done a lot of research before leaving, and had decided to take only one water bottle each and the iodine tablets. In addition to the numerous bridgeless water crossings, there were many other water sources they passed by each day. Besides, it had been a rainy autumn, so there were no worries of being without access to water. It had been nice not having to lug water through the forest. It had seemed risky to Elio, but he now agreed with Oliver. It had been the best thing, all things considered. 

For the first time since they’d set out, they made good time that day. Even though the day was wet and drizzly, they made it to their planned sleeping spot in the early afternoon. 

“Maybe we should just continue on a little farther?” Elio suggested. “We could make up some of the time we lost yesterday.”

Oliver considered it. But, “No, let’s go ahead and stop for the night. It won’t hurt us to stop early,” he said. 

This brought a sulky sigh from Elio. 

“I need to write. And you need to study. “Besides, the next leg is Potato Knob Mountain, and we’ll want plenty of daylight to explore that section.” 

It was true. It was supposed to be one of the most spectacular sections of the trail. So with reluctant acquiescence from Elio, Oliver tossed him the iPad and began to set up camp. The fact that the iPad sat unused while Elio perused his ever-growing collection of photos did not go unnoticed by Oliver, and he thought that he’d have to address it eventually, probably sooner rather than later.

Chapter Text

“Potato Knob Mountain?” Elio said through laughter the next morning. 

Oliver smiled. He loved the sound of Elio’s laughter, as well as how easily it came. What must it be like? The ability to find joy in such small things? He was also relieved to see that some of the color seemed to have returned to Elio’s cheeks overnight.

“Yes. Potato Knob Mountain. That’s what I said,” he replied with a wry laugh. 

“But it’s not a potato. Nor a knob. Nor even a mountain,” Elio pointed out. “And what is a potato knob, anyway?” 

“Maybe we’ll find out!” And with that, Oliver bounded up the trail while Elio yelled something about waiting up. 

As it turned out, the bounding up was short lived, as the trail quickly grew difficult. The trails they’d followed for their day hikes had been more or less what Oliver envisioned when he heard the word trail: wide, easy to follow dirt paths winding through the forest.  But this was something else entirely, as the trail weaved its way through brush that was waist high in some places. Oliver knew from his research that Arkansas was home to six kinds of venomous snakes including three different varieties of rattlesnakes, so he didn’t like not being able to see where he was placing his feet. To make matters worse, the brush was damp, and in no time both Elio and Oliver were soaked through and freezing. 

“You doing okay?” he asked at what he estimated to be about the halfway point. 

“Yes,” Elio said, but something about the way his teeth were chattering belied his words. 

“Hang on a minute,” Oliver said. When Elio stopped, Oliver turned him around and unzipped his backpack. 

“What are you doing?” Elio asked, a skeptical tone to his voice. 

Oliver didn’t have to answer, because he’d already located what he was looking for. A woolen beanie. When Elio saw it, he laughed and pulled his head away. 

“I’m fine!” he insisted. 

Oliver put a hand on each of Elio’s cheeks and found them to be like ice. 

“You’ll be more fine with a hat on,” he said, sliding the hat over Elio’s head before he could protest further. Not only were Elio’s teeth chattering and his lips pale, but Oliver was for the first time noticing that his eyes seemed shinier than usual, almost glazed. He smiled at how nice he looked in the hat, though, and gave him a brief, appreciative kiss. 

Elio reached up to pull the hat off, but then he noticed how much warmer his ears felt already. He turned and resumed walking up the trail, hoping that Oliver would not gloat. He didn’t. 

By the time they crested Potato Knob Mountain, he had warmed up enough that his teeth were no longer chattering, but even if they had been, he probably would have forgotten his suffering. 

“Oh my God,” he gasped as he looked around. He had known it was supposed to be one of the most beautiful sections of the trail, but still he hadn’t been prepared for this. It was so breathtakingly beautiful, he almost forgot how cold and wet he was. 

Oliver took his last few strides and stood beside Elio, taking his hand. He would have liked to stand behind him, dropping his arms around him, holding him so close to his chest that he could feel his heartbeat. But the backpacks effectively limited his ability to do this. From their position at the top of the climb, they gazed back and could clearly see the two Potato Knobs between which the trail had passed. The trees at the top had more leaves still clinging to them than the ones they’d passed climbing up, which meant more songbirds. The sun even broke through the clouds, warming their faces as well as their hearts. It was almost like a small oasis of spring; a reward for those who completed the climb. 

“I had no idea this was here,” Oliver said. 

Elio gave him a quizzical look. 

Oliver smiled in answer. “In Arkansas. I don’t know what I thought Arkansas would be like, but I didn’t realize it was this beautiful.” 

Elio nodded, looking at the scenery that surrounded them. “Sometimes we find beauty in the most unexpected places, don’t we?” 

Oliver squeezed his hand, then brought it briefly to his lips. “That we do.” 

The peak of Potato Knob Mountain was, in fact, so picturesque that they decided to spend some time there. They had allotted four weeks to do the hike, and that allowed them time to explore off trail. Earnest at the Outdoor store had been the one to tell them, “Life doesn’t happen on the trail. Life is what happens off the trail.” 

They didn’t pitch the tent, as they did not plan to sleep here, but they laid out the tarp and built a fire in an existing fire ring.

Oliver laid a sleeping bag on the tarp and beckoned Elio to him. 

“Let’s take a break,” he suggested. Elio was all for it, but when he lay down next to Oliver, Oliver was alarmed. 

“You have to change. You are as cold as ice and soaking wet,” he said, concerned. 

Elio shook his head as his mouth formed a half-smile. 

“And you think you’re not?” he asked. 

Oliver looked down at himself and laughed. “Okay, we both change.” The area was so remote, even without a tent they took the liberty of undressing each other, laughing as their wet clothes clung to their bodies as if fighting not to be removed. Oliver gave Elio’s shirt one last, hard, tug after a long battle, making Elio laugh. 

“I don’t blame it,” Oliver said. “If I were the shirt, I wouldn’t want to part with your body either.” 

Elio smiled up at him, but it was a somber smile. 

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked as he tossed Elio a dry flannel shirt. 

“I was just thinking how much I wouldn’t want to part with you, either,” he said. “Have you thought about it, you know… what’s after this?” 

Oliver shrugged slightly, then finished changing. They draped their wet clothing over some large rocks that surrounded the fire, then climbed into their sleeping bags together to warm up. Elio lay facing the fire, Oliver behind him, arms wrapped around him. He didn’t like how cold Elio still was, and rubbed his hands along his arms to create some warming friction. Elio closed his eyes, and Oliver kissed him softly on the neck. 

“Yes,” Oliver whispered. 

“Yes, what?” Elio asked. 

“Yes, I think about what’s after this.”

Elio opened his eyes and seemed to be staring at the fire. He moved his outside arm, the one he wasn’t lying on, back so that it rested on Oliver’s hip behind him. 

“And?” he asked. Oliver thought that he sounded almost afraid to ask. 

“And I don’t care what’s next. As long as we’re together. We could go back to New York if you’d like. We can go to New Hampshire. We can stay here. Leave the country. I just want to be together.” Oliver was surprised when he heard his own words. Not the words themselves. He’d known the truth in them for weeks now, almost since he first met Elio. It was the bravery he’d shown in voicing them that surprised him. He’d never been good at sharing his feelings. He’d never been good at sharing the secret parts of himself. But now he thought perhaps he just hadn’t met anyone he wanted to share himself with so intimately. “What about you? What do you think is after this?” He was terrified to hear the answer, but he needed to know. 

“I don’t know,” Elio said, and the words were almost like a knife to the chest for Oliver. He’d so longed to hear his own words echoed back to him, though he knew it  was unfair to project his own hopes on another. “I thought, well…” Elio began, but then his voice trailed off. 

“It’s okay. You can tell me,” Oliver said, wrapping his arm around Elio’s stomach and pulling him closer. 

“I thought that since I told you I love you… and you didn’t say it back. So I thought,” Elio shrugged as if the rest were just too difficult to say. 

Oliver closed his eyes and groaned.

“Elio, no. It’s not that I don’t love you. I’m just not good with words,” he whispered. 

Elio laughed, a wry, ironic laugh. “You’re a writer. Being good with words is basically the job description.” 

“Books aren’t real. They’re characters. I’m good with words for characters. Words for other people. But I’ve never been good with words when it counts. It’s scary to put yourself out there like that.”  

Elio nodded slightly. “Yes, it is. Don’t you know that’s how I felt when I told you?”

“I love you,” Oliver said. He felt Elio trembling slightly and worried that he was still cold, but he quickly realized it was laughter. “I do, Elio.” He let his hand slip beneath Elio’s shirt, warm against the cool skin of Elio’s stomach. He let his fingers slide upward, toward his chest. “I do. I love you.” He held his breath, hoping that Elio said the words to him, and when he thought about the fact that this must have been how Elio felt, he felt guilty.  

“Do you like gray, gloomy days like this?” Elio asked. 

“Actually, don’t laugh at me, but I really do. Always have.” 

Elio’s grin expanded. “Me, too! My mom has always picked on me about it, but I do. There’s something so peaceful about it.”

Oliver agreed. 

“Do you want to go look at a canyon?” Oliver asked. 

“A canyon?” Elio sounded surprised. 

“Sure. It’s not going to be like the Grand Canyon, I’m sure, but there is supposed to be a canyon in this area. I read about it in one of the books, I’m pretty sure.” 

Elio shrugged. “Sure. But can we lay here a little longer? I’m still cold,” he said. Then more suggestively he added, “Again.”

Oliver smiled, though it was a hidden smile from where he lay behind Elio. “You’re cold… again…huh?” he teased, sliding his hand back down toward the waistband of Elio’s pants, then letting his fingers slip just beneath it. Elio’s breath caught, and he rolled toward Oliver, nodding. “So cold,” he whispered. 

“We can’t have that,” Oliver whispered, dipping his hand even lower and smiling, satisfied, at how quickly Elio’s body responded to his touch. He hoped they would always have this effect on each other. “I’d better warm you up, huh?” 

Elio nodded, whining impatiently. Oliver hadn’t expected such an intimate rendezvous in broad daylight, but they were at the crest of the mountain, lying next to a crackling fire beneath an overcast sky, and he found himself to be a more than willing participant. 

“I love you,” he whispered between the kisses he was now placing along Elio’s neck as his hands nimbly worked to free Elio from his clothing. 

“I love you, too,” Elio moaned, as he allowed himself to simply enjoy the sensation of being undressed. The canyon had been there for thousands, maybe millions, of years, and he felt confident it would be there in an hour. And even if it wasn’t, he still wouldn’t have said no.

Chapter Text

Fortunately, the two lovers found that their time together energized them as opposed to exhausting them, and before long they were happily, very happily, putting out the campfire, packing away their freshly dried clothing, and marching in the direction in which Oliver felt certain they would find a canyon. And in fact, a few days’ hike later, they did. He had been correct in his prediction. The canyon was as much a true canyon as the mountains were true mountains, which is to say that it was only canyon-esque. He thought that Elio might be disappointed, but on the contrary Elio was already glancing around, studying the sky, the light, the shadows with a photographer’s eye. He got some nice shots from above, which was a simple enough matter. The shots he really wanted, though, could only be taken from within the canyon.  As he craned his neck upstream and then back down, he thought he must be looking at some of the wildest, roughest country in the entire state. The walls of the canyon were impossibly steep, but for the right shot, he was willing to attempt it. Before Oliver could stop him or even protest, he began the descent, half-climbing, half-sliding down the 500 foot ridge. It was worth it, though, because once at the bottom, he saw what he could not see from above. He noticed how sharply the creek’s lively green water contrasted with the now leafless trees that lined it on both sides. Combined with the car-sized boulders that littered the area, it was a photographer's dream. Elio knew that he was his own worst critic, but as he clicked through the photos, even he recognized that the shots were good. When he had eventually made the climb back up, not an easy task to be sure, Oliver flipped through them, ooohing and aaahing in a way that turned Elio’s heart to pudding. 

“I love the way you see things,” Oliver said.

Elio couldn’t suppress the grin these words brought to him.

Having seen what they wanted to of the canyon, Oliver from above, Elio from below, they continued hiking on, eventually following a ridge of limestone cliffs that lined the stream they would soon need to cross. 

They decided to stop to refill their bottles, when Elio heard a noise that was oddly out of place. He felt himself standing a little straighter, as if he were an antenna and this would somehow help him pick up the sound. 

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

Oliver was bent over Elio’s camera again, once more admiring the shots taken from the depths of the canyon with a small amount of regret that he hadn’t gone down as well. He was so enamored with the photos, in fact, that Elio’s question didn’t register with him at first. 

“Oliver?” Elio said again, placing his hand over the viewfinder to force Oliver’s attention back to his words. “Did you hear that?” 

Oliver looked up from the camera and saw alarm on Elio’s face. 

“Hear what?” he asked. 

Elio didn’t reply. He was too busy listening. 

Then Oliver heard it, too. He nodded. Elio noticed that he, too, was standing straighter as if this would help him hear better. 

The noise came again, and the two looked at each other. 

“Was that…” 

Elio nodded. “I think that’s a person.” 

They didn’t discuss it further, but both charged off in the direction from which it came. Earlier, Elio had found a few small fossils, and this had distracted them, causing them to linger longer in one area than they normally would have. If not for that, they might not have heard it. 

“Is it coming from the cliffs?” Oliver asked. He knew it was a ridiculous question, but it did sound as if it were coming directly out of the cliffs. 

Elio shook his head, confused. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe it’s an echo,” Oliver said. He nodded to himself then. That had to be it. 

“Unless…” Elio muttered, walking directly toward the cliffs. “Hello!?” he called. 

Oliver’s forehead crumpled into a confused expression. 

“Hello!?” Elio called again, louder. He was walking along the base of the cliffs, studying them but to what end, Oliver had no idea. Then, they both heard it, very clearly this time. 

“Help!” 

“I don’t think it’s an echo,” Elio said. Oliver was about to ask what else it could be when they were looking at a solid line of cliffs, but before he could question him on it, Elio was on his hands and knees, studying a hole at the base of a cliff. 

“Hello?” he shouted into the hole. 

“Elio?” Oliver didn’t like this at all. 

Elio glanced over his shoulder at him, taking in his puzzled expression. “These cliffs are limestone, right?” 

Oliver nodded. He was following so far. 

“Don’t you remember when we visited Blanchard Springs Caverns? What were they made of?” 

Oliver nodded. “Limestone,” he said, and he heard the dread in his own voice. He knew that large limestone deposits were often riddled with holes and caves. “Elio, you’re not going in that hole.” He was adamant. He knew that Elio was an adult who could make his own choices, but another part of him wanted to grab Elio’s ankles and flatly refuse to let him go. “You’re not,” he repeated. 

Elio smiled at him, which did nothing to calm his nerves or reassure him. If anything, it made Elio seem young and naive, and Oliver felt all the more responsible for him. “You’re not.” 

He was surprised by the forcefulness in his voice. He wasn’t a controlling person, and never had been. But at that moment, he would have done anything to prevent Elio from doing what he knew he was about to do. 

“Help!” came the voice again. It was a woman’s voice, or a girl’s. 

“I’m here! I hear you!” Elio called into the hole. They both heard the sounds of crying. “Are you injured?” 

“I don’t know!” called the voice. “My light went out. I can’t see!” 

Oliver ran over and kneeled beside Elio, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Elio, there are probably bats in there,” he said. 

“So? I like bats,” he said. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. What can you possibly say to someone who likes bats?

“If they can use echolocation to find something as small as a moth, then they can definitely detect something as large as a human. And guess what? Bats don’t eat people,” Elio reasoned. 

“Snakes then,” Oliver tried. “There are six kinds of…” 

“I know, I know... Six kinds of venomous  snakes. Three kinds of rattlesnakes. Oliver, don’t you hear that?” he asked, nodding toward the cliff. “Someone needs our help. Please get me the flashlight?” 

“Spiders, too. They have tarantulas in this state, too!” Suddenly, Arkansas didn’t seem so surreal or beautiful. It seemed like a likely setting for an Indiana Jones film. 

“Oliver,” Elio said, impatiently. “I’m going in to help her. Are you going to get me the light and help me or do I have to do it by myself?” 

Oliver cursed at that, but he did retrieve the light. When he reached Elio he said, “I’ll go in then.”  

Elio took the light and shined it into the hole and then waved for Oliver to look, which he did. 

“I’ve done this before with Uncle Ronny,” he muttered. “Not these cliffs, but I’ve been spelunking in caves like this. It’s going to be a tight, tight fit, just see for yourself.” 

When Oliver shined the light into the hole, he groaned. 

“I’m smaller. It has to be me.” 

“I don’t like this at all,” Oliver said. But he could still hear the cries of the person who was inside. In trouble. “Are you alone?” he called. A strangled, Yes, was returned. 

He cursed again. “Okay,” he muttered. “But wait a second.” 

Elio yelled into the hole that they were coming, and Oliver retrieved some light rope they’d brought to use as a clothesline, to tie down the tent, or to save people from caverns, he supposed. “Give me your wrist,” he said impatiently. 

As Oliver tied the rope to his wrist, Elio shook his head. “Oliver, that isn’t  going to be long enough,” he said. 

Oliver looked into Elio’s eyes, green and flecked with gold, shaking his head. “You can go this far,” he said, giving the length of rope he held a little shake. “And that’s it. When you run out of rope, you’ll just have to call and hope she can follow your voice. Okay?” 

Elio nodded, but Oliver didn’t believe him. “I mean it, Elio. Do not untie this rope. You can end up in the same situation and as you said, I can’t get through the passage to help you.” 

Elio nodded again, impatiently, but he offered no words of reassurance. He was going to do whatever he had to do, and they both knew it. Oliver wrapped his arms around him, held him close, kissed him goodbye, and then watched as he disappeared into the side of a cliff. 

Oliver sat in the safe, warming light of the autumnal sun as Elio descended into the darkness of the cave, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling so fretful. He could hear Elio calling out, and the replies of the adventurer, and he found himself mumbling prayers, to God or the universe, to whoever was listening, that Elio would be safely returned to him. Quickly, much too quickly, he felt the rope grow taut. Elio had reached the end of the rope, and Oliver knew what was going to happen. 

“Don’t do it,” he muttered. “Elio, don’t do it.” Then, aloud, he called, “Elio!” 

“I’m okay!” came Elio’s voice, but it was of little comfort, because he knew. 

“Elio, don’t go farther! She can come to you!” He gave a little tug to the rope and found what he knew he would. Give. Elio had untied it, and there was nothing at all that he could do about it. He dared not pull the rope back, not even another inch, because Elio would need to find it again, and could use it to find his way out. 

“Oliver, I’m okay! I think I see her! It’s a straight shot from here. I’ll be right back, I promise!” 

Again, Oliver cursed. What else could he do? He sat on the ground, completely helpless, holding the rope, and waiting. Minutes passed. Minutes that felt to him like nothing less than hours. He began to call again, “Elio!” but this time, there was no reply. He tried to keep the panic from his voice, but he knew he was unsuccessful. “ELIO!” 

After several more minute-hours, he decided he had to try to go in. But just as he was about to enter, he felt a sharp pull on the rope. “ELIO?” he called. 

“Yeah! We’re okay! We’re coming back!” 

Oliver’s vision blurred, and as he struggled to blink back the tears, a small sob worked its way up his throat, and he let the tears fall. He saw a filthy hand emerge, followed by an arm that was nothing but dirt and scratches. It wasn’t Elio’s. He offered a hand, and she took it as he helped the young woman out. She looked weak and was visibly shaken, to be sure, but he didn’t attend to her, not yet. He turned his attention immediately back to the cliff, to the rope. 

“Elio?” he called. 

“Yeah,” came Elio’s voice, and it was close. And then there was Elio. 

He pulled him up and held him tight. “You untied the rope!” he yelled angrily as he held Elio lovingly, creating a confusing jumble of emotions that he didn’t know what to do with. He held Elio at arms’ length, looking him over. He was in one piece. He was fine, actually, smiling even. 

“I told you not to untie it,” he said, placing a palm on each side of Elio’s face and kissing him passionately. “I told you not to.” 

“I know. I know you were scared. But I’m fine, see?” Elio waved his arms toward himself as if completing a magic trick. Voila! 

Oliver only shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later,” he muttered. Elio nodded and kissed him again. 

“Aren’t y’all both guys?” 

Elio and Oliver both smiled at each other, slightly rolling their eyes before turning toward her.

To her credit, though she had been surprised to meet two gay men in an area where there weren’t many gay people, or if there were, they carried out their relationships in secret, she was not in the least bit unkind about it. She was only thankful, which she expressed again and again as they did their best to tend to her. They gave her water, then more water. Oliver took their bottles to refill and treat while Elio checked her for injuries. She was in surprisingly good shape, just dehydrated, dirty, and scraped. They found out that she was a dayhiker, which surprised them. They didn’t realize they were close to a trailhead. She’d seen a bat fly out of the crevice, and just had to go in to explore. She’d gone in using the light from her phone, but after a few turns, she was lost. 

“It all looks the same in there,” she explained. 

Oliver wanted to tell her that’s because it was freaking limestone, but he didn’t. He was sitting on a log as Elio sat on the ground between his legs, so Oliver kept his attention on him, gently massaging the tension from his shoulders, occasionally leaning down to kiss his shoulder. Or neck. Or head. He was so thankful to have him back, safe and sound, and was not willing to let him go. 

After she had hydrated and eaten an energy bar, she stood, thanked them for saving her life, and said she was going to head back to her car before it got dark. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Elio asked. He went to stand, but Oliver wrapped his arms around him again. This made him smile. He was the caregiver, always looking out for his mother, his little brother, even his friends. It was nice, he had to admit to himself, to have someone to care for him for a change. 

“I’m sure,” she said. “I wasn’t in there that long. Thank God you came when you did. Someone was really looking out for me today.” 

Without any pomp and circumstance, they watched her disappear down the trail, then veer off onto a smaller trail that they knew must take her back toward the trailhead.

Elio studied the sky and sighed. “You know, we’re probably going to have to camp here after all. It’s going to be dark before long.” 

Oliver sighed. Elio was right, but for the first time, he began to worry about their deadline. They’d set a meeting with his publisher for four weeks out, and that would allow for a very leisurely hike. Still, they’d gotten behind on their very first day, and the gap had only grown larger with each passing day. They would have to try to make up that time some other way, though, because they weren’t going any farther today. 

“I’ll build a fire,” he grumbled. 

“I’ll help,” Elio offered. 

“No, I’ve got it. You need to study,” Oliver said, his voice tight. 

Elio turned to face him, coming up onto his knees and moving closer to Oliver as he sat on the log. “I’m sorry I scared you. You know I had to, right?” he said gently. “She was just right there. I knew I could make it.” 

Oliver felt the words… I told you not to untie the rope… forming inside him, but he pushed them back. Of course Elio was right. 

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said instead. “And please study,” he added as he gave Elio one last, playful kiss on the forehead and then rose to set up camp for the night.

Chapter Text

Elio couldn’t sleep that night. The moon was too bright. The night was too cold. His thoughts were too loud. And he felt like he might be coming down with something. He didn’t want to disturb Oliver, who did seem to be sleeping deeply, so he lay still and quiet for as long as he could. Finally, though, he couldn’t lie there any longer. As slowly and quietly as he could, he disentangled himself from Oliver and crawled out of the sleeping bag. He waited by the door to the tent for a moment, until he was confident that Oliver was still deeply asleep, and then he carefully unzipped the door and crawled out. The fire was out, of course, and if he had thought he was cold before, within the protection of the tent and sleeping bag, and wrapped up in shared body heat, he was absolutely freezing now. He didn’t mind it, though. As he had suspected, there was a full moon, and as it struck the limestone cliffs, it created a shimmer as if the cliffs were encrusted in diamond dust. The water that ran along the cliffs, which had been a milky green in the daylight, was now black. The combination of the bright night sky and dark water made Elio feel strange, as if he were in a shaken snow globe. 

He pulled out his camera, but he didn’t have the lens he would have needed to even attempt to capture it. Instead, he flipped through the photos he’d taken thus far. He was his own hardest critic, but even he could acknowledge that some of the images were good. Maybe even better than good. 

He felt a satisfied smile creep onto his face, as he went to slip the camera back into its bag, but at the last second some movement caught his eye, followed by rustling sounds. It was deep night, so he knew it must be a nocturnal animal. He slowly pulled the camera back up, looking around for the animal. If he was lucky, he might get a shot of a raccoon or an opossum. He was afraid to move, because the smallest sound would send it scurrying. He remained still as stone for a long moment, then he waited even longer. Finally, though, he knew he’d missed the shot. He reached down to pick up his camera bag, and when he stood again, he couldn’t believe his eyes because before him, looking right at him was the animal, and it was not a raccoon or an opossum. It was much, much better.

“It’s okay, girl,” he said in his most soothing voice, though he had no idea whether he was looking at a boy or a girl. “I’m a friend,” he said, moving his camera toward his eye slowly and steadily. He knew he couldn’t get the perfect shot, but he hoped he could get a shot, any shot. He lined his target within the frame and then held his breath as he pressed the button, causing the shutter to make a loud but unavoidable click. He expected the animal to run away at that moment, but to his surprise, it didn’t. In fact, it took a step toward him, and then another. He clicked again and again. Every photographer knows that the more shots you get, the greater the likelihood that one will be special. He was surprised by how close the animal came as it continued to stalk toward him, but it didn’t occur to him to be afraid. He was too focused on the camera. He heard more skittering sounds just outside the frame and slid the camera over, seeking the source of the sound. 

All at once, several things happened. The sound of the tent’s zipper filled the air. The sound of the camera’s shutter clicked, clicked, clicked. Oliver’s voice called out. 

“Elio!” 

“I’m fine,” he said without moving his face from the viewfinder. 

“Have you lost your mind!?” Oliver wasn’t happy at all. First, Elio had taken off unprepared into a cave and disregarded his own safely completely. Now he was standing mere feet away from… what?... a wolf? Oliver didn’t know what to do. He, too, heard the sounds of a second creature to his right, and turned in that direction. 

“Oliver, it’s fine. I know what I’m doing,” he said with as much calm as he could muster. 

“It’s not fine,” Oliver said as he strode quickly over to Elio and put himself between him and the creature. “Go away!” he yelled. He was surprised when Elio pushed him out of the way. 

“Move!” he complained. “You’re blocking my shot!” 

“I’m protecting you!” Oliver said, dismayed. 

Elio simply stepped around him, but it was too late. His subjects were long gone. 

“Damn it,” Elio grumbled. “Why? Why did you do that?” 

“I was protecting you,” Oliver said again. He thought it should be self-explanatory. 

The two stood staring at one another for a moment, both out of breath, chests heaving. 

“What?” Oliver asked. “You’re angry?” 

Elio’s face painted a very clear picture. He was angry. But he shook his head as he stormed off toward the tent leaving Oliver standing in the moonlight feeling completely befuddled. He had thought he was the one who was angry. Shaking his head, he finally followed Elio into the tent. 

Although he’d followed almost immediately, Elio had already crawled into his sleeping bag when Oliver got into the tent, and something about his body language made Oliver feel almost unwelcomed. He couldn’t stand in the tent, couldn’t really even sit in it, though he was slumped over and trying his best. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked. 

“No,” Elio grumbled. “I’m going to sleep.” 

Oliver wasn’t sure what to do. “Do you want me to…” He didn’t know how to finish the question. He was going to say, Do you want me to sleep out here, but there was nowhere. There was in the tent together, or there was outside with the wolves. 

Fortunately Elio looked at him and sighed, finally patting the space beside him. “Come on,” he growled. It wasn’t the warmest of welcomes, but Oliver slunk over and crawled in beside him. 

“Sorry,” he said, though he honestly didn’t know what he was apologizing for. It wasn’t insincere, though. He was sorry. Whatever he’d done to upset Elio, he was sorry for it. He just didn’t know what he’d done. He placed his hand on Elio’s arm and Elio pulled his arm away. It was more than he could take, and so he rolled over. The two lay back to back for the first time since they’d gone to bed together at Jack’s Bend, and they both were absolutely miserable about it. Time seemed to crawl as they lay like that, both of them afraid of what the other was thinking. The silence between them grew until it was a much larger and more frightening creature than the one who had started all of this. Finally, just when Oliver had almost given up, Elio turned over and wrapped his arms around him. It was the first time he’d been held like this by Elio; he was the one who held Elio as they dozed off to sleep, or else they clung to one another. He liked it, though, and was comforted. He brought his hand up and placed it over Elio’s, which was resting on his arm. 

“I’m sorry,” Elio whispered. “I know you were only trying to help.” 

“I was trying to save you from that wolf,” Oliver said, and he hated the whine in his voice. Then he felt Elio shaking behind him. 

“Are you laughing?”  he asked, suppressing his own laughter. 

“Oliver, there are no wolves in Arkansas. Not verified anyway. And even if so, that wasn’t one.” 

“What was it?” 

“It was a coyote,” Elio said. “They come around Uncle Ronny’s from time to time.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes and released a scoffing sound. 

“Okay whatever. I saved you from a coyote then.” 

Elio was really laughing now. 

“They aren’t dangerous. Maybe to chickens and rabbits, but not to people,” he said. “Did you see the pups? They were so cute.” 

Oliver rolled over to face Elio, wrapping his arms around him. 

“You’re braver than I am,” he whispered, tucking his chin so that their foreheads came together. “And it scares the hell out of me. I don’t want you to get lost in a cave or eaten by a coyote and you seem to have no regard for your own safety.” 

Elio sighed. “Oliver, I love you. But I’m not a child. I went into the cave because I knew I was safe. You weren’t there. It was a straight line from the end of the rope to the woman and back. There were no twists or turns, and no way to get lost. If I didn’t know I was safe, I would have come back so we could figure out something else.” 

He waited to see if Oliver would reply, but he didn’t. 

“And I know about coyotes. They are some of my favorite animals. I knew I wasn’t in danger. And you may have cost me a great shot. How would you feel if I impeded your work?” 

“Your work? I thought you were an aspiring attorney?” 

Elio smiled, at last. It was a most welcome sight. 

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that,” Elio said. 

“I’m all ears.”

Chapter Text

When Elio woke the following morning, he was alone in the tent. He sat up and reached for his clothes. Already he could tell that it was cold outside this morning. Very cold. So he threw on Oliver’s sweater, too, since he wasn’t using it. When he moved to unzip the tent, he realized he was extremely sore all over. 

“Hey sleepyhead,” Oliver said when he saw him emerge from the tent. The sight of Elio swimming in his woolen sweater was almost enough to make Oliver take him right back to bed, but he knew they had to have some self control, or they’d never get out of the woods. 

“Hey,” Elio said with a yawn. He walked over to sit on the log next to Oliver. 

Oliver noticed how slowly and carefully he positioned himself as he sat. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Elio smiled, a small burble of nervous laughter escaping. “I’m fine.” 

Oliver kept a concerned eye set upon him for another long moment before deciding that he had no choice but to accept his answer. “Coffee or oatmeal?” Oliver asked. It sounded like a strange question until Elio remembered they each only had one tin cup. 

“Coffee for sure,” he said.

“Agreed,” Oliver said with a smile. “There’s granola. And some beef jerky.” 

Elio wasn’t hungry, but he dragged out their provisions anyway, holding up different options until Oliver finally nodded toward the Slim Jim. Elio laughed. “These are so disgusting,” he said as he handed one to Oliver and then opened his own. “Delicious but disgusting at the same time,” he said as he ripped off a bite. 

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Elio asked when Oliver placed his hot coffee in his hands, wrapped in a t-shirt so he wouldn’t burn himself. 

Oliver chuckled. “Walking in the woods? Stopping for snacks? More walking in the woods? Then setting up camp again?” 

Elio laughed, too. It’s what they’d been doing every day for the last several. It sounded so boring when he put it that way, but it wasn’t. Not when they were together. “Sounds good to me.” 

“I need to write tonight though,” Oliver said resolutely. He was prepping himself as much as he was prepping Elio. “And you should study.” He saw Elio’s face fall, just a bit. Recalling Elio’s words from the night before, he quickly added, “Or take some photos.” 

Elio sighed extravagantly. “Okay,” he muttered. He knew Oliver wanted him to study for the bar. And he knew that’s what he probably should do. But his camera was what was calling his name. When he stood to take care of his and Oliver’s trash --which, like food, needed to be completely sealed to deter wildlife-- he once again realized how sore he was, pausing to grimace halfway up. He saw Oliver peering at him over the map he was studying, and he felt like an old man. He laughed nervously and limped toward their packs. 

“Elio? Are you sure you’re okay?” Oliver asked again. He set down the map and went over to Elio, placing a gentle hand beneath his elbow. 

“Yes, I guess I just overdid it yesterday,” he said. 

Oliver’s concerned expression only deepened. He was several years older than Elio, and based on the hike so far, along with their day hikes, Elio was in at least as good shape as he was, if not better. Yet he himself was not sore. He might dismiss it as being the result of the cave mission, but Oliver had been concerned about Elio’s health for a couple of days already. He couldn’t help but feel that something wasn’t right. Now that he was standing this close, he was certain Elio looked pale. He placed a palm against Elio’s forehead, then against his cheek. 

Elio laughed and batted his hand away. 

“Calm down. I’m fine.” He retrieved the bag they were using for their trash and placed the Slim Jim wrappers inside, but he could feel Oliver’s eyes studying him carefully. He really was feeling quite ill, but he determined he would mask it. Maybe he had a bit of a cold from the water crossing the previous afternoon. 

That day’s hike turned out to be a lovely one, other than the fact that Elio was feeling progressively more ill throughout the day. They did not see another person for the entire day, which gave them the sensation of really being isolated, but that’s what they wanted. 

Elio had once again sniffed out the perfect little spot for lunch. They had had to snack on and off all day on the trail because of the physical exertion, which meant that they weren’t hungry for full meals. They did stop and take a break when they deemed it “lunch time.” 

Oliver noticed, of course, that Elio really was not feeling well. Yesterday at lunch he had eaten well, rehydrated, run around taking photos, and then he’d even initiated an intimate moment before they’d headed out again, apparently cold yet again. Today, Elio sprawled on the ground and used his backpack for a pillow as soon as Oliver began pulling out their food choices. 

“Hey,” Oliver said. “No.” He was shaking his head, but Elio had no idea what he was unhappy about. Oliver unclipped the side pocket of his backpack, and pulled out the small tarp they used under the tent. He laid it on the ground and then helped Elio up. He didn’t like how weak Elio was, nor how hot his skin felt. “You don’t need to lie on the bare ground like that. It’s damp,” he said gently as Elio moved to the new location Oliver preferred. 

Elio wanted to say that he was fine. That the ground wasn’t that damp after all. That Oliver didn’t need to fuss over him. Those were the things he meant to say. But when he spoke, the words, “Thank you, Oliver,” came out instead. That’s when Elio knew he was sick. 

It took some coaxing, but Oliver got Elio to eat something, and drink. He kept going through different possible diagnoses in his head. He wasn’t a doctor, but he’d done some research before they left, not enough, but some. It shouldn’t have been from crossing the water. He’d crossed it, too, and besides, while being cold and wet can definitely be a cause of hypothermia, it doesn’t cause illnesses like this. Elio could have contracted a virus somewhere before they left, but if so, logic dictated that Oliver would be sick, too, since they’d been together nearly every moment for the past few weeks. He could almost see the page that discussed common illnesses. He didn’t have a photographic memory, but he was a visual learner. He could see the layout of the page, the heading, the footnotes. And there was a photo. A large photo. With a caption. At last, he knew what was wrong. 

“Elio, sit up,” he said. 

Elio didn’t feel like sitting up, but the urgency in his partner’s voice left no room for argument. Oliver helped him sit up, and then lifted his shirt in the back. It was a cool day, and they were in the shade. The cool air against Elio’s feverishly warm skin was unpleasant, causing him to whimper. Elio reminded himself of his little brother when he did that. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Oliver said as he lightly ran his hand across the hot skin on Elio’s back. Not seeing what he was looking for, he lowered his shirt and kissed his shoulder before crawling around to raise the front of Elio’s shirt. Once more he slid the shirt up. Elio shuddered against the cold, but he didn’t whine as he had before. Oliver again ran his hand all along the skin of Elio’s stomach and chest. He let his hands glide up and over Elio’s shoulders, then back down and around his sides. He felt nothing, but he knew it had to be somewhere. 

Next, he ran his hand over the skin of Elio’s neck, all the way to his hairline. Finally, in the hairline just behind his ear, he felt it.

“Turn your head,” he said and when he did, Oliver saw it. He didn’t have to wonder if it was a mole, because he had already memorized every mark on Elio’s body. 

“You’ve got a tick, Elio. Just one minute,” Oliver said. He slid off his coat and laid it on Elio’s shoulders as he quickly retrieved the small first aid kit from his pack. 

“A tick!? But it’s late fall!” Elio objected. 

“I know. But it’s going to be fine. It can’t have been there too long.” It was quick work removing the tick and applying antiseptic. The area was reddened and angry, but he was hoping that the tick hadn’t been there long enough to cause a serious illness. 

“I think maybe we should just camp here,” Oliver decided. 

But Elio was already shaking his head. “I’m fine. Like you said, you found it early enough. Do we have any Tylenol?”

“Sure. Of course,” Oliver said, looking through the first aid kit once more, plucking out two small caplets. “But Elio, I really do think we should stay here. We didn’t write or study last night, so we could use the extra time anyway.” 

Elio groaned audibly. He did not want to be the one slowing them down. He did feel terrible, though. “Let’s just rest here and see if the Tylenol begins to take effect? I think if my fever abates, I’ll feel perfectly fine.” 

Oliver’s face was neutral, but he was studying Elio as if he were a mysterious puzzle he was trying to solve. “Okay. But if you’re not feeling better in an hour, I’m setting up the tent. Deal?” 

“Deal,” Elio grumbled. He grumbled because it felt like the right thing to do when someone is fussing over you, but he was secretly so grateful. It occurred to him with a certain amount of melancholy that he couldn’t recall ever being nurtured and cared for before. Not by anyone. His father was out of the picture, of course. But even his mother had never been a very affectionate person, especially after his father left. She had always been so busy, working multiple jobs at times. She had been stressed and unhappy. It is hard to show love and affection to someone else when you feel love and affection are missing from your own life. That’s probably how it was for his mom. Thankfully Ollie had had him. Hopefully he would fare better. “Thank you, Oliver,” he said, but he was already drifting off to sleep. 

When he awoke two hours later, he could hear the fire already crackling, and could see the light was beginning to take on the pink tinge of dusk. He was still lying on the tarp, but he was covered with his sleeping bag and his head was resting on Oliver’s leg. Oliver had bent his other knee into some ungodly shape in order to use it to support his notebook as he laboriously jotted some notes. The moment that Oliver noticed that Elio was awake, he set the notebook down and placed his palm on Elio’s forehead, then his cheek. 

“Hey, baby,” he whispered. “You scared me so much. Are you feeling better?” 

Elio smiled. Honestly, he didn’t feel that much better from his illness yet. He was still achy, and was pretty sure he still had a low fever. Yet he replied, “I feel a million times better.” And it was absolutely the truth.

Chapter Text

Sleep evaded Oliver that night. Though Elio claimed to feel better, he slept fitfully and whimpered occasionally. It was difficult for Oliver to see him suffering, and he spent most of his sleepless night trying to decide what to do. 

The next morning when Elio awoke, he found Oliver by the fire, poring over the trail maps. When he heard Elio unzip the tent, he smiled at him. 

“Good morning,” he said. 

Elio yawned and shuffled over to him, and Oliver tugged him down onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. 

“Are you working on your writing?” Elio asked with another yawn. 

Oliver shook his head. “No. Not right now,” he said, tapping the map he held. 

Elio gave it a closer look, laying his head on Oliver’s shoulder. He still didn’t feel well, and Oliver let his hand drift upward, rubbing soft circles on Elio’s back. 

“What are we looking at?” Elio finally asked after several long moments of studying the map. 

“This is where we’re going today,” Oliver said, tapping a certain spot. Elio’s face twisted into an expression of confusion. That was not part of their original plan. 

“What’s there?” he asked. 

“The Lick Branch Trailhead,” Oliver muttered without looking up from the map. 

“What?!” Elio gasped. “We’re not even halfway!” 

Oliver let his hand drift up beneath Elio’s shirt, resting it on the bare skin of his back and feeling the muscles there contracting at his touch. 

“Geez. Your hand is cold,” Elio complained. 

“No. Your skin is just hot. You were feverish all night. We’ve got to get you to a doctor,” Oliver said, folding the map and tucking it back into his notebook. 

Elio stood, turned to face him, and crossed his arms. “It was a tick! I’m fine!” 

“From the trailhead, it’s only eight miles to Oark. We can possibly hitch a ride and if not, we can walk it.”

Elio dropped his hands to his side and turned abruptly to face the fire. Oliver could see he was annoyed, but he tried to ignore the fact. 

“You should eat something before we go.” He stood as well, and moved toward the tent which he was going to empty and take down. 

“This isn’t necessary though. I’m fine!” 

Oliver sighed, walking back over to him and wrapping him in a hug. “Elio, please do this for me, okay? You were shivering with fever all through the night. We talked about dropping into a town, anyway. We can recharge our devices. You can check in with your family. I can check in with my publisher. And we can get you some antibiotics to make sure that this doesn’t turn into something serious.” 

Elio groaned dramatically. 

“We can get a nice meal, sleep in a hotel for a night. Then tomorrow we can get back on the trail. You’ll feel so much better. We’ll both feel so much better. Okay?” When Elio still looked skeptical, he added, “How would you feel if it were me who’d been bitten and was now ill?” 

Elio let his head fall onto Oliver’s chest with a heavy thunk. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. 

“Thank you,” Oliver said, kissing his feverish temple. 

Though he knew Elio wasn’t particularly happy with his plan, Oliver became more and more convinced that it had been the best course of action. By the time they reached the trailhead, he was fairly certain that Elio knew it, too, because he was feeling worse, not better, with every passing mile. Oliver had hoped there would be a visitor’s center, but he knew it wasn’t likely. In his reading, he had found that there weren’t many. There was a picnic area, though, so he and Elio found a table unsullied by birds and sat there for lunch. Oliver hoped this would also give him some time to think. He wasn’t at all sure if they would be able to hitch a ride, being two very dirty, very in-need-of-a-shave, very homeless looking men. He knew that it wasn’t uncommon to see hikers coming down from other, more traveled trails, but they’d seen very few hikers yet. He glanced up at Elio, who was picking at his granola and hadn’t yet drunk his water, and he didn’t want to walk him 8 more miles into town. 

Just then, he heard a familiar voice. 

“Hey! Aren’t y’all the guys from the cave?” 

They both looked over and almost didn’t recognize the young woman without the dirt. She was walking straight toward them, and she had a friend with her this time. 

“Trav, these are those two guys I told you about,” she said with a grin. 

“And this,” she gestured toward the man that must be her boyfriend or husband, “is Travis.” 

Travis held out a hand, and Oliver looked down at his dirty one. They’d really gotten used to nature, and the switch back to societal norms was a bit jarring. He showed his hand, laughed, and shook his head. Travis understood the message and put his hand back to his side. 

“I heard y’all saved Joy’s life here,” he said, putting an arm around Joy’s shoulders. 

Oliver nodded toward Elio. “He did.” 

Elio shook his head. “No. Really. She would’ve found her way out.” But he wasn’t at all sure if that was true. 

“Well I love this girl, even if she don’t have the sense not to go following bats into crevices without backup,” he kissed her on the side of the face, and she blushed. “So if there is anything I can do for y’all. Anything at all.” 

Elio was shaking his head in preparation of saying that it wasn’t necessary, but Oliver had another idea. 

“Do you think you could drive us into Oark? If I’m reading the map correctly, it’s about 8 miles.” 

Joy looked like they had just asked her to make a great sacrifice. “Well, we were going to explore this trail today. We try to do another section of trail as often as we can.” 

Oliver nodded his understanding. 

“But we will gladly drive y'all into Oark first,” Travis added, giving Joy a look of slight disapproval. “It’s the absolute least we can do. Like I said, if there’s anything at all we can do for you, you’ve got it.”

“Actually, there is one other thing,” Oliver said, smiling at the surprised look on Elio’s face. 

“Anything,” Travis said again. 

“Could you take a photo of us here at the trailhead? We’ve got a nature photographer here, but no pictures of us.” 

Elio groaned slightly. They looked pretty rough. But he knew Oliver was right. One day they would want to look back at themselves in this moment. 

“You bet,” Travis said as Elio pulled out his camera and handed it to him.

As they walked toward their car a few minutes later, Joy muttered, “Sorry. It’s a little messy.” 

“No problem, mine is, too,” Oliver said. But he soon learned that his idea of messy and theirs came from two different dictionaries. Still, they were grateful for the ride and couldn’t believe their luck at running into the one and only person who would even recognize them, so they slid into the backseat among dirty coffee cups and old fast food wrappers as if it were a limousine.  Hiking has a tendency to turn everything into a luxury. 

As Travis drove them the few miles into town, he also gave them suggestions. The best doctor in town. The best place to eat. And, should they decide to stay the night, the best motel. It was a small, small town, so Elio and Oliver soon learned that the best doctor, restaurant, and motel were also one of the only doctors, restaurants, and motels. But as they’d already learned, everything was a luxury. 

They checked into the room first. They felt like they might simply float away without their packs. They also decided to get a shower even before leaving the room. They lay on the bed for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being completely supported by such a soft, comfortable thing whose only job on earth was to support their bodies. Mattresses, too, had become luxurious, and these mattresses weren’t anything special to be sure. 

When Elio turned onto his side and draped an arm over Oliver, they both felt that low-key hum of attraction that always passed between them. With a groan, Oliver sat up and climbed out of bed. 

“Doctor first,” he decided. Elio whined about it, but he knew Oliver was right. They needed to make sure they were seen by a doctor. 

Surprisingly, the doctor’s appointment was a quick one. There was no wait, for there were no other patients. The friendly older man seemed delighted to see them, nevermind that they were there for an illness. After Elio explained his symptoms --with Oliver jumping in a few times to elaborate or clarify-- the doctor examined the tick bite. He checked Elio’s hair, just in case there was another, and lectured both of them on doing nightly tick checks even though it was late November. 

He prescribed antibiotics, which was really the purpose of the detour, but he also offered some information that they hadn’t wanted to hear. 

“Now you boys did a good job getting that tick off, and I can see you’ve kept the area clean. It’s looking pretty good. And the antibiotics will take care of most problems. But you know, the only way to know anything definitive is with a blood test.” 

Elio’s eyes widened, and Oliver hid his smile behind his hand. The man who laughed in the face of caves, snakes, bears, and coyotes was nervous about needles? But as the doctor continued to talk, things became progressively less amusing.

“If we test for Lyme disease, we aren’t getting the results for four business days, at best. And if we test for Rocky Mountain Spotted Tick Fever, a more likely result, well, it’s too early to even test for that. The antibodies won’t even be detectable until at least a week after the bite, and even then it’s not definitive. Another test would be required about three or four weeks later, give or take. Now I know y’all are in the middle of your big hike, and this gives you a lot to think about. Chances are good that you don’t have either one of those, and the antibiotics will be all you need. But I’d be remiss not to advise you that both Lyme and RMSF are serious illnesses that can have long-term repercussions.” 

Oliver was listening carefully and nodding, but Elio was studying the floor. 

After scribbling something onto his pad, the doctor ripped off the prescription and handed it to Oliver, since Elio made no effort to reach for it. 

“Now I’m not saying y’all can’t finish the hike. I’m just presenting information so you can make the best decision for your situation.” 

Elio and Oliver both stood then, shook hands, thanked the doctor, and made their way out to reception where they would pay and be on their way. But while Elio was paying, the doctor pulled Oliver aside. 

“Is he always this thin?” the doctor asked. 

Oliver looked toward Elio, eyes drifting up and down. 

“We’ve both lost a little weight on the trail. I think that’s normal, right?” Oliver asked. 

The doctor looked skeptical, but he said, “Of course. But be aware that loss of appetite is a symptom of many tick-borne illnesses. I suspect he’s not eating enough as it is. It wouldn’t hurt him at all to stick around here for the four days while you wait for the lab results.”

Oliver sighed. This was bad for a couple of reasons. First, Elio would throw a fit. He hated to be the one slowing them down, and he hated to be treated like a child. Second, they really were on a schedule. It had begun as a very loose schedule, but it was becoming tighter every day. With a four day layover in Oark, the schedule would become a straight-jacket. 

But he couldn’t take Elio back out if he was sick, and if he wouldn’t eat properly. 

“Thanks, doctor. We’ll talk it over.”

Chapter Text

“It actually seems like a pretty neat little town,” Oliver said later, back in the room. Elio had been lying on the bed sulking for nearly an hour. 

“I feel fine !” 

“Well the doctor doesn’t think you look fine, Elio. It’s not going to hurt us to hang around here and eat some good meals and get some great sleep for four days.” 

“No, he said four weeks!”

Oliver shook his head wearily. “Elio, you didn’t listen to him then. And you’re not listening now, either. Four weeks is to have a recheck, just to be sure… ” Oliver was saying, but Elio interrupted him by angrily tapping the wad of tape and cotton the nurse had affixed to his inner elbow after Oliver had ‘coerced’ him into letting them draw blood. Oliver nodded his acknowledgment. “Okay. So I vote we remain here for the four days it will take to get those results. Then, if you’re eating well, and not running a fever, we can safely go back in and complete the hike. We can do the four week follow up after we finish.” It seemed so logical to him, but Elio groaned extravagantly, as if Oliver was being entirely unreasonable. 

“I’m not a child!” 

“Then stop acting like one. An adult would see the logic in this right away.” Oliver cringed when he heard his words. He’d been trying so hard to be patient, especially after Elio had expressed his feelings about Oliver’s overprotectiveness toward the cave rescue and the coyote sighting. Elio said nothing, so Oliver tried another approach. “What would you say to Ollie if you were doing this hike with him?” 

Elio closed his eyes, and Oliver knew he had him. 

“And besides, Elio, I really can get a lot done in four days. It would be nice to have something to send my publisher besides a scan of the scribbles I’ve jotted in my notebook. There’s just no downside to staying.” 

“Fine,” Elio grumbled without opening his eyes.  

Oliver sighed with relief and plopped onto the bed beside him. “Thank you.” 

“It’s only because I love you,” Elio said, opening his eyes and smiling slightly. 

“Love… that’s the best reason of all,” Oliver said. “I love you, too.” 

And they drifted off into the deepest and most luxurious nap. 

When Oliver awoke, only an hour later, Elio was still asleep, and still felt feverish. Their devices were now charged, so Oliver used his phone to find some food for them. Apparently, there was a General Store Cafe. It seemed to be exactly what it sounded like. A General Store with a cafe inside, but according to Joy and Travis as well as the receptionist at the doctor’s office and even the friendly young man who’d checked them into their hotel, it was a world famous place to eat. Oliver thought World Famous might be pushing it, but it was clearly a place well-loved by the locals. He decided to save that for the following day when Elio would be, hopefully, feeling better. So he jotted a note for Elio in case he woke up, and went out to Catalpa Cafe, a local spot with great Yelp reviews, where he could pick up some crawfish. He’d never eaten it, and wasn’t sure if Elio had, so he made sure to pick up plenty of sides, too. Thankfully, though, they both loved the crawfish, and Oliver was relieved to see that Elio ate quite a lot. 

He was complaining about his muscles aching, though, so after they ate, Oliver massaged and kneaded until his fingers were killing him, then he went to get ice. He made a few ice packs for Elio’s most tender joints, and was relieved to see that he drifted off to sleep again. This would give Oliver some much-needed time to work.  

He checked with the desk to see if they had a laptop he could borrow, and they’d actually laughed at him. He would have to make do with the iPad he’d brought for Elio to study with. If he’d brought the bluetooth keyboard, it wouldn't be so bad, but still, he managed to type out a lot more than he thought he would. He was a novelist, of course, and as he’d taken notes, he’d assumed he would be writing a novel. An adventure story. But as he wrote, he noticed that’s not what this was. It was more like a memoir. A description of his journey and how it was changing him. His thoughts on the trail, and how the lessons he was learning applied to life. 

After he’d written a few thousand words, he read it over and knew two things. First, it was good. It was quality writing with just the right mixture of description, fun, wit, and wisdom. Second, his publisher would hate it. He could almost hear Connor already, “You write crime novels. Crime novels are what your readers expect. If you want to write a diary, write a diary, but it’s not to be published for the masses. Christ, Oliver!” 

He sighed and considered deleting what he had so far. Only the fact that he’d pecked it out on the touch screen of an iPad saved the words from deletion. He sighed again. 

“You working?” came Elio’s voice from the bed, and it was a most welcome sound. He rushed over and lay beside him, feeling his forehead which was, he must admit, much cooler. He ran his fingers through his hair and finally kissed his cheek. 

“A little,” he answered. “Are you feeling better?” 

“A little,” Elio echoed, but he was smiling. “How’s the writing going?” 

Oliver wrapped his arms around him, and he wrapped his arms around Oliver right back, and the two lay in their oh-so-comfortable bed while Oliver summarized what he’d written. He left out the part about what he knew his publisher would have to say about it. 

“Elio?” he asked after a pause. 

“Hmmm?” Elio replied. He was enjoying just lying together. 

“Would you be willing to let me send a few of your photos to my publisher along with my manuscript? I’m doing my best, but I can only get so much pecked out on the iPad. I thought some photos might clarify things that I can’t fully portray right now.” 

Elio shrugged casually. “Sure. They aren’t that great, but if there are any you think would be helpful, help yourself.” 

In the end, Elio had to admit that while Oliver might have been wrong about the cave, and was definitely wrong about the coyotes, he had been absolutely correct about spending a few days in Oark. Like Mountain View, it had a very Ozark feel. When Elio was feeling better, they were able to finally check out the General Store Cafe. It was nothing more than a metal building with antique signage, both of which had seen much better days. Elio and Oliver agreed they wouldn’t even use the building as a storage building. But once inside, they discovered that it had amazing mushroom swiss burgers and even more amazing homemade pies. Pies must be a thing in these parts, Oliver decided. The owner was friendly and even quite chatty, which again, Oliver had come to expect from the people in the area. 

After a few days of good food, fresh water, and plenty of rest, Elio looked almost himself again. His blood work came back positive for Lyme disease, though the doctor stressed that as long as he continued the full course of doxycycline and followed up with a second blood test in a few weeks, he could expect to fully recover. He’d gotten to check in with his mom, and spent a very long time talking to his little brother, Ollie. 

Oliver had worked nearly every free moment on his manuscript, and on the last day, as Elio packed for the last leg of their journey, Oliver finally sent an email to Connor. 

“Attached is an outline and partial draft of my latest work. Have included photos to show you what you’re reading. Look forward to discussing more soon. ~Later, Oliver.” 

He really had no idea what kind of response to expect. He knew Connor well enough to know it wouldn’t be good. But the question, really, was would he publish it?

Chapter Text

The two had spent their final night in Oark poring over trail maps and guidebooks. They’d only traveled half of the trail, but they were honest enough with themselves and with one another to open the discussion of how many more trees, streams, waterfalls, and cliffs they really needed to see. It had been a wonderful adventure. As the great John Muir had famously said, “The mountains are calling, and I must go.” They understood the truth in these words now more than ever. But as the great Elio and Oliver would not-so-famously say, “Life is calling, and we must go.” They were both ready to get on with their lives. Neither of them knew exactly what was next for them, but they knew it would involve the other. It might even have been their own curiosity about the next chapter of those lives that decided it for them. 

They would skip sections four and five of the trail, moving directly to the final section: section six. 

They called Joy and Travis, who’d given them their number and insisted that they should let them know if they needed anything. Knowing that the couple were day hiking the trail, it didn’t seem too outrageous to at least ask. 

“By any chance are you hiking today?” Elio asked. 

Being on a phone, they couldn’t see Joy, of course. But they could almost hear the smile in her voice. “Well of course we are. Are y'all ready to get back to your hike?” 

“Yes. But listen. I don’t know where you're hiking today, and it’s fine to say no of course, but is there any chance you’re going near the Big Piney/Fort Douglas trailhead?” 

“That’s section six,” Joy said. 

“Yes,” Elio confirmed. “I’ve been quite ill.” He didn’t know why he felt he needed to make an excuse. It wasn’t a mortal sin to skip portions of a trail. Was it?

There was a long pause before Joy yelled, presumably to Travis, “Babe?! It’s those gay guys that saved me from the cave! They need a ride to Piney!” 

Travis replied, but Elio couldn’t make out what he said. Then suddenly, it was Travis on the  phone instead of Joy. Elio shoved the phone toward Oliver, but Oliver only looked confused.

“So you need a ride to Piney you say?” Travis said. Elio put the phone back to his ear. 

“Uh yeah. I mean I told her only if it’s not too much trouble,” he said. “We thought you might be hiking out that way. But nevermind.” 

“We’d be more’n happy to drive y’all out there. What time are you wanting to head out?” 

“Whenever is convenient for you,” he said, realizing that they should have called yesterday and arranged a morning time. But they would just have to make it work. 

“It’s already nearly 9:30 am. The sooner y’all get on the trail, the better. How long will it take you to get packed and ready?” 

Elio looked toward Oliver who was stretched out on the bed looking particularly handsome. He’d love a few more hours here, but he answered truthfully. “We’re ready anytime.” 

“Be there in fifteen. You still staying at the Best Western?” 

It’s where they’d dropped them off. “Yes. See you then.” 

Elio lay down beside Oliver and whined. Oliver turned toward him and wrapped him in a hug. “What’s wrong, baby?” It had sounded like good news to him. 

“He’ll be here in 15 minutes. I was hoping we’d have time to…” his blush finished his sentence and Oliver chuckled. 

“That’s basically all we’ve done since we’ve been here,” he laughed. It was true, even with Elio feeling slightly under the weather, they’d made good use of the comforts of a real bed. 

“I know,” Elio groaned. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Oliver said, kissing him sweetly, but not too sweetly, before climbing out of bed and putting on his boots. 

As much as the two had relished their four days in civilization, they were delighted and a bit surprised to find that they were also glad to be back on the trail. They had been concerned that after their foray into luxury, they would decide that the wilderness life wasn’t for them. On the contrary, now that they were well-rested, well-fed, and healthy, they took off with a vigor that they’d not had when Uncle Ronny dropped them off initially. 

Even Travis’s warning hadn’t dampened their excitement much. 

“Y’all got any orange? Hats? Vests?” he asked as he dropped them off. 

They both nodded. They’d brought some orange hats and vests, having been warned by Earnest at Aspire Outdoors that they would be traveling during hunting season and would need something for visibility. 

“You’ll want to put those on. It’s hunting season,” Travis said with a nod. 

“Out of curiosity and so we can plan better in the future,” Elio asked. “When would be a good time to come when it isn’t hunting season?” 

Joy laughed from the passenger seat as Travis said, “Only summer, and trust me. You’re safer with the hunters than trying to hike through the heat of an Arkansas summer.” 

From the Big Piney trailhead, the trail was easy. It was wide, not overgrown or rocky, and all inclines were gentle. It was just what the two needed to ease back into the hike. 

“Thanks for letting me send Connor some of your photos. I think that’s really going to shed some light on a lot of things I didn’t have time to describe fully,” he said, taking Elio’s hand as they leisurely sauntered along a particularly wide, flat area. 

“Of course. They aren’t that great though,” Elio said.

Oliver gave his hand a squeeze. “I thought you were considering trying to make a career of photography?” It was what Elio had mentioned to him the night he saw the coyotes, and something that Elio had been thinking about more and more as they hiked.

“It would be my dream job, but I probably can’t make a living from it, right?” he said, kicking a rock off the trail with his boot. “Plus, I invested so much time in law school.” 

Oliver said nothing for a few strides. 

“Making a living is kind of a vague goal, though. It depends on what you want from life. Sure, if you want wealth and possessions, then you might or might not get that as a photographer. If you want to do something you love and you can be happy with less, then you can definitely make a living as a photographer,” he said at last. And in truth, he believed Elio could have great success as a photographer. He had an eye as well as a heart for it. “And as for your time investment for law school… yes, you have invested a lot of time and work, but if it’s not something you want to do, then does dedicating even more time into it really make sense?” 

“In hindsight, I wish I hadn’t done it. But I did. And now I have all the student loan debt that I’ll have to begin paying on soon. I can’t pay that off by being a nature photographer. Not unless I’m one of the greats.” 

“You are really talented. Just keep your options open. When the time is right, you’ll know what to do. Just remember what your Uncle Ronny said about balance.” 

Elio turned narrowed eyes toward Oliver. “Are you comparing my life to a broom?” 

Oliver laughed, leaning down to place a brief, playful kiss. 

“Sure. Life is like a well-made broom. It’s all about balance. Balancing the need for money against the desire for excess money. Balancing work and play. Balancing friendship and love. And so on,” Oliver said with an encouraging nod. 

Elio grinned at him, then looked down at the trail, kicking another small rock to the side. “We’ve got that last one down, at least.” 

“That, we do,” Oliver agreed. 

Chapter Text

Elio, with his eye for beauty, found another perfect spot for them to camp that night. The section they were hiking now did not have big climbs or amazing overlooks, but Elio did manage to find a small waterfall that was tucked far enough from the main trail to feel almost enchanted. Because he was feeling so much better, he was also more helpful in the camp set up. Oliver put up the tent, which was by this time quick and easy, but Elio hung the clothesline, made a new fire ring --they were not technically supposed to do this, but would return the area to its original condition before leaving in the morning-- and even built the fire himself while Oliver wrote in his notebook. They thought they were stopping early, but when the sun went behind a seemingly unending cloud and the temperature dropped sharply, they decided they’d stopped just in time. 

They lay together in the tent, but they left it open, facing the fire. 

“It was a good day,” Elio said. 

Oliver, who was lying behind him, kissed him softly behind the ear, whispering, “It was.” 

“Are you sad that the hike is almost over?” Elio asked, his hand drifting back to find Oliver’s hip. 

Oliver didn’t answer right away. It was a good question, and one that he thought deserved some  contemplation before answering. Finally he said, “No.” 

Even though he was lying behind Elio, who was facing the fire, he could see even in profile that Elio’s face registered surprise and maybe even a degree of disappointment. 

“Are you?” Oliver asked. 

Elio shrugged in reply. Oliver wasn’t willing to accept it as an answer, though, and tickled him on the ribs, making him contort himself adorably as he laughed and pushed Oliver’s hand away. 

“I’ll ask you again,” Oliver said with a playfully menacing voice. “Are you sad the hike is almost over?” 

“I mean, kind of,” Elio admitted. 

“Why?” 

Elio flipped over so that he was facing Oliver. “I guess I’m spoiled. We’ve been together 24 hours a day for weeks. And I still don’t know what’s next for us.” 

“I told you what I wanted, Elio. So if you don’t know what’s next for us, that’s a question you’ll have to answer yourself. I know what I want.” 

“I want to be together, too,” Elio said. Oliver was relieved that Elio remembered what he’d told him. 

“Then we have no reason to be sad that the hike is ending. There will just be another adventure around the corner for us.” 

Elio grinned. He liked imagining this, and he clearly wanted the story-teller to continue his imaginings. “What kind of adventure?” 

Oliver drew in a deep breath as if preparing to tell an epic tale. “The Appalachian Trail? The John Muir Trail? We could hike every day for the rest of our lives and not complete them all.”

Elio nodded. It was true.

“But let’s not forget other adventures. We could travel. I’ve never been to Italy. Or Amsterdam.” 

“I want to see Central Asia,” Elio said with an even wider smile. 

“Okay, so we can have some Central Asia adventures, too. And don’t forget our… well… I hope… we’ll have some domestic adventures, too. Once we decide where we want to live. We can buy a house together. Or a condo. Make a home for ourselves…” Oliver’s voice trailed off dreamily. He’d run from many relationships in his life over these very notions. He thought he didn’t want these things, but now, with Elio, he did. He could see by the look in Elio’s eyes that he shared the same desires. 

“Kids?” Elio asked. 

“If you like,” Oliver said. He had no experience with children and hadn’t envisioned himself a parent. But he hadn’t envisioned any of this. Elio made him want things he’d never wanted before, and he suddenly chuckled a bit.   

“What?” Elio said, laughing too, but not knowing why. 

“I just realized I’m not Buddhist,” Oliver said. 

Elio laughed again, and this time he knew why. “You just suddenly realized you're not Buddhist, huh?”  

Oliver kissed him and nodded. “Buddhism teaches that suffering comes from desire, and that if we want nothing, we’ll be happy. I’ve never been Buddhist, but that has always rung true for me, and I’ve spent a lot of time trying not to want anything.”

“And now?” Elio asked. His voice was soft, his eyes fiery. 

“And now, for the first time in my life, I want something. I want something with everything in me. And I’ve never been happier. So while I respect the tenets of Buddhism, I can say with certainty… I’m personally not Buddhist.” 

Elio’s face had grown serious as he whispered, “I’m not Buddhist, either.” Which Oliver knew meant, I desire you, too. 

They spent a long, happy time after that, showing one another just how much. 

Perhaps because Elio was finally healthy again, or perhaps because they’d made love well into the night, perhaps for another reason, they slept in the following morning. Oliver, usually awake and building the fire before the sun, slept straight through the night and into the morning. 

The two lovers might have slept even later, if not for the gunshots. 

A single shot rang out, loud and unmistakable even for a city boy like him. Two more shots quickly followed. 

Elio bolted awake as well, but when he tried to sit up, he found himself unable to due to the fact that Oliver was lying over him saying, “Stay down.” 

Elio laughed. He wanted to tell Oliver that this wasn’t a war film, but it was obviously not amusing to him in the slightest. 

Elio, thanks to his time with Uncle Ronny, knew a little more about hunting, though he’d never been and had no urge to. 

“Our tent is red. We’re okay,” he said instead. Oliver reluctantly moved off of him so he could sit up. 

“So we just stay in the tent all day?” Oliver wondered. 

Elio snickered. He couldn’t stop himself. Fortunately, Oliver wasn’t offended and was able to laugh at himself. 

“Remember what I said about bats and their echolocation?” Elio asked. 

Oliver nodded, but it was a weary nod. He already knew where this was going. 

“Hunters know to look for bright colors. They don’t just fire randomly. We just need to wear our orange vests and it will be fine.” 

Oliver gave him a long, thoughtful look. A few weeks ago, he would have dismissed his words and presented his own plan. But although Elio was more of a risk-taker than he, he had shown himself to be a thoughtful and resourceful decision-maker again and again. So Oliver unzipped the tent, reached out for their packs, and tugged out the two hideous orange vests, tossing one to Elio. 

Because of the late start, they decided to forgo the morning fire, breaking camp and hitting the trail right away. They kept a brisk pace over the terrain, which was steeper than the previous day’s, but still felt easy to them, well-rested as they were. Oliver was glad that Earnest had talked them into the orange vests, because even though they hadn’t heard anymore gunshots, he did feel safer with them in the blazing orange. In fact, the more distance they put between themselves and their former camping spot, the safer he felt, until soon he wasn’t thinking of hunters at all. 

That was, until a large black lab with a bright orange collar came bounding toward them. Oliver knew right away it must be a hunting dog. What other dog would be so far out? And if it were a stray, it wouldn’t be in such good condition. 

“Hey girl!” Oliver called. The dog seemed happy to have found a friendly face, even if it wasn’t the one she was looking for. When she reached him, he bent over to take a look at her collar. 

“Mable, huh?” he said. “Hi, Mable.” He gently rubbed the silky fur on her head, and she licked his wrist in thanks. Oliver had been so delighted by the dog that he had forgotten his manners for a moment. He looked over his shoulder and tried to move to the side to make room for Elio, so that he, too, could pet Mable. That’s when he noticed that Elio was standing directly behind him, clinging to his jacket. 

“What’s wrong?” Oliver asked as he quickly scanned the surrounding area. 

Elio made a strange noise, a strangled syllable, as he danced to stay behind Oliver, clinging even more tightly to his jacket. 

“Oh my god,” Oliver said, unable to hide his amusement. “Are you… scared? Of… her?” 

“It’s not funny!” Elio squawked. 

“Mable, my boyfriend is scared of you,” he said in his best baby-talk. 

But then, Elio gripped his arm, tightly, and he realized that he really was frightened. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning to hug Elio while making sure to stay between Elio and Mable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were that scared,” he gently said. 

“Yeah well I am. I’m scared of dogs, okay?” Elio said in the defensive tone typically adopted by someone who’s been mercilessly teased about something in the past. 

Oliver kissed him softly. 

“Okay,” he said. “You’re okay. I’m right here. I’ve got Mable, see?” 

Elio glanced down to see that Oliver was holding her collar. He gave a little nod. 

“Sorry. I was bitten pretty badly as a kid,” Elio muttered, clearly still anxious and upset, but also embarrassed. His eyelashes fluttered closed. 

Oliver shook his head. “It’s okay,” he whispered. When Elio opened his eyes again, he added a bit more playfully, “You’re not afraid of bears. Not afraid of tarantulas…”

Elio gave a weak smile, shaking his head slightly. 

“You’re not afraid of coyotes or the six venomous snakes that are just slithering all around us at this very moment probably…”

Elio’s smile widened, and he shook his head in earnest, mumbling, “Nope.” 

“You’re not afraid of hunters? Or bats? Or caves?”

Elio fully laughed. 

“But you’re afraid of little Mable?” he teased. By now, he’d taken Elio’s hand in his, and Mable was walking calmly on the other side of him. Oliver felt certain they would cross paths with her owner eventually.

Elio grinned sheepishly apologizing again. “I’m really sorry. I feel so dumb.”  

“Hey, don’t feel dumb. I’d be scared too, if I was bitten as a kid. I’m just glad I finally got to protect you from something.”

Elio laughed again. “You saved my life, hero,” he said.

Chapter Text

It took longer than Oliver expected to find the dog’s owner, but once Elio got over his initial meeting with the dog, he gradually began to calm down. By the time the woodland camo ATV came puttering down the trail toward them carrying a man wearing matching camo coveralls, Elio had returned to himself and was the first to offer a friendly wave with a yelled, “Hello!” 

Mable, for her part, had already begun to run gleefully toward the man who was calling her name, leaving no doubt about whose dog she was. Oliver found his feelings were almost hurt by how completely she severed ties with him when in the presence of her owner. 

“That’s a nice dog you have,” Oliver said when he was close enough. 

Elio nodded his agreement. “She’s really well-behaved. For a dog.” 

The man smiled. “She’s a two thousand dollar dog that attended a ten thousand dollar school. She’d better be.” 

They had a brief but cordial chat with the hunter, who thanked them for looking after Mable and then wanted to know if they’d seen any deer. They hadn’t; not that day. As a parting gift the man added, “Take care that you don’t miss the car graveyard and Granny Henderson’s cabin.” 

“We’ll do that. Thanks for the tip,” Oliver said. 

But Elio’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Before you go, would you mind if I take your photo?” If they were going to document their hiking adventure, this reunion seemed like a picture-perfect moment. When he reviewed the photos of the smiling man and his smiling dog, Elio still couldn’t decide which of the two were happier about the reunion, man or man’s best friend?  

They hiked on for two more days with no major problems. Another cold water crossing, wet boots, a few blisters. The usual hiking woes. But when they finally reached the car graveyard, which was way, way off trail and not mentioned in any guidebooks, they were glad they’d run into the hunter after all. 

“This is so cool,” Elio said as they walked back and forth among the rows of rusted out, ancient looking remains of former vehicles. “How do you think these even got here?” 

Oliver was equally intrigued. “I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug. The hunter had given them only the briefest amount of information about them. Essentially, they are a mystery, but some people think they were simply parked together and left as a sort of silent protest by the people who felt they were pushed off their land by the National Park Service. Elio reached for Oliver’s hand as they circled the area, thinking about each vehicle and the fact that each one had a person at one time, and that each person had their own story. Oliver, too, couldn’t help but think about his own story and how this would become part of it. 

“Can you snap a few photos?” he asked. 

Elio beamed, happy to feel he was contributing something. After he’d taken the photos, he and Oliver leaned against one of the cars to look through them. They were great. 

“I don’t see how you do that,” Oliver said. 

Elio, grinning shyly, asked, “Do what?” 

“Take photos that make things look even better than they do in person. I mean, I thought they were cool before, but this,” he gave the camera a brief jostle, “makes me want to go see Carhenge.” 

Elio didn’t respond for a very long time, but finally he said, “Did you say… Carhenge?” 

“Yes, it’s what it sounds like. Someone arranged some old cars like this into the shape of…”
“I got it,” Elio said with a snicker. “Where is Carhenge?” 

“Nebraska I think,” Oliver said. 

“Of course, Nebraska. Isn’t that where the largest ball of twine is?” 

Oliver shook his head as if this were a normal conversation. “That’s in Kansas, I think.” 

“Ahhhh,” Elio said. “So many adventures lie ahead.” 

Granny Henderson’s cabin, they found out shortly, was no longer much of a cabin. They’d learned from the hunter that Granny Henderson was the last hold out, refusing to sell her land to the National Park Service for any price, living all alone in the area for the final years of her life. Elio and Oliver agreed that someone with that much spunk should have at least had their cabin maintained, but it was in a state of disrepair. 

“Cabinhenge,” Elio joked as he took some photos. 

That evening as they set up camp, it was with a touch of melancholy, for they would be hiking out the next day. The sections they missed did not have any special sights or attractions as far as they could tell from the trail guides, the internet, and even the townspeople they’d talked with in Oark. So while there was some sadness to their final night, there were no regrets. 

The two stayed up late, snuggling by the fire, reminiscing about their favorite parts of the hike. 

“Favorite part?” Oliver asked. 

“The coyotes. Your favorite part?” 

“You.” 

Elio blushed, both because of what Oliver had said, and because he hadn’t thought to say it, too.

“Least favorite part?” Oliver asked. 

Elio tried to think of a sweet answer, but he couldn’t, since the topic was least favorite moments. 

“Drinking water that fish have swum in. Iodine tablets or not.”

Oliver made a face. “That’s a good one,” he agreed. 

“Your least favorite?” Elio asked. 

“Your getting so sick,” Oliver said. 

Elio groaned. 

“What?” Oliver asked with a laugh. “Did I say something wrong?” 

“No,” Elio grumbled. “You’re just more romantic than I am.” 

Oliver smiled, then leaned over and kissed Elio, and he felt Elio’s lips linger hungrily when he went to lean out of the kiss. “Mmmmmm,” he moaned as Elio really put some extra effort into kissing him. “I think you’re plenty romantic,” Oliver whispered once Elio eventually broke their kiss. 

Elio glanced toward the tent and raised his eyebrows. “What do you say we call it a night, and I will show you how romantic I can be…” 

Oliver raised his eyebrows in return and whispered, “I can’t wait.” 

Chapter Text

“I’m so nervous,” Elio said as he paced back and forth across Oliver’s study. 

Oliver smiled at him. “Why don’t you sit down?” he suggested. Surely pacing back and forth like a caged lion wasn’t soothing to the nerves. 

“I can’t,” Elio said, blowing a puff of air and directing it toward the ringlets of hair that were hanging over his eyes. He’d gotten a haircut when they returned, but Oliver had begged him not to cut it too short. 

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. Unless you’re nervous on my behalf. I’m the one who should be nervous,” he said. He was, in fact, nervous. He’d been working with the same publisher for several years, but his latest manuscript had been a major deviation from his usual writing. He’d sent an outline, a drafted chapter, along with some of Elio’s photos for clarity to Connor during their detour in Oark, and he’d somewhat regretted it. Part of him thought he would have been better off to wait until he returned and present his entire pitch in person so that he could explain his vision for the book. But the moment he returned to civilization to charge his phone and check his messages, he found both an email and a voicemail saying essentially the same thing. 

“Call Brenda and set something up the minute you’re back in New York so we can talk about this thing you sent me. And make arrangements for the photographer to be in the meeting, too.” 

He hadn’t known what to make of that. Connor hadn’t said anything encouraging whatsoever, and he was concerned about what that might mean. He thought, though, if he were being honest with himself, that his biggest worry was about Elio. He didn’t want Connor to say anything negative about the photos, which he’d only included to enrich his outline. The photos were great, he thought, but they weren’t edited yet, at least that’s what Elio kept saying. 

He was also concerned about Elio hearing Connor’s reaction to his manuscript. He usually only got wonderful feedback, but he thought that in this situation, the conversation wouldn’t be so favorable. He didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Elio. But he tried not to think of that, because Connor was going to be arriving any minute, and he was trying to soothe Elio’s nerves, not add to his stress. 

When Connor arrived, Oliver was surprised to find that he’d brought two people with him. That was certainly unusual, and Oliver tried not to reveal his dismay. 

“Hello, Connor. Nice to see you,” he greeted as soon as they were all in his study. “This is Elio.” 

Elio and Connor greeted one another with a simple handshake. 

“You’re the photographer?” Connor asked. 

Elio stared blank-faced, unsure how to answer, but Oliver replied for him. “Yes. The photos were his.” 

Connor nodded. “Well this is Micah Lowrey. He’s one of our photography editors. And this is Janet Rideout. She’s from legal.” 

Oliver shook hands and introduced himself to Micah and Janet, but Elio looked terrified. 

“Did you say… legal?” 

“Yeah,” was all Connor said. Oliver wished that he was sitting on the sofa with Elio so he could hold his hand and comfort him, but he hadn’t been expecting so many people and everyone had sat wherever they saw a seat. “So tell me about this,” Connor added, looking at Oliver and tapping a brown envelope that must hold the manuscript. 

“Okay,” Oliver said. “Well, it’s not a crime novel.”

“Yeah I gathered that, thank you for the clarification. That’s why I said tell me about this,” he tapped again. 

“It’s a nature book. A travel book. A memoir. A love story,” Oliver looked at Elio when he added that last part. He wasn’t sure what Connor wanted him to say. He was holding the manuscript, and it really spoke for itself. 

“It’s very good,” Connor said. “Your loyal readers are going to love getting to know you better. And you’re going to attract a lot of new readers, too. The nature loving, wanderlust crowd will go crazy for this, and then some of them will jump on board with your crime novels. This is brilliant.”

“Really?” Oliver couldn’t help the surprise he felt at Connor’s warm reaction. He’d been prepared for outright rejection and had been hoping, at best, for the opportunity to argue his case. 

“Oh sure. You know Tony Hillerman and Sarah Paretsky both wrote personal travel guides and memoirs, and they’re from your genre. And Michael Crichton, of course.  They all had great success at it, and you can, too. Given the right conditions,” he said. He looked toward Micah and Janet, making it clear that it was their turn to speak. Oliver and Elio followed his gaze. 

“To jump genres like this,” Micah said, we’ll have to do more press than you typically do. We’ll need readings and book signings. And of course, your photographer will have to agree to attend those as well,” he said, nodding toward Elio who was looking over his shoulder for a photographer. Janet from legal was pulling out papers, which Oliver knew would be contracts. 

“You have more photos, right?” Micah asked Elio. 

“Of course,” Elio said. He’d taken thousands of photos. 

“As good as these?” Micah asked, tapping the table as if he had the manuscript instead of Connor. 

“I think so,” Elio said. 

Oliver cut in. “He took many, many more photos, some of them much better. I only chose the ones that depicted the scenes from that chapter.” 

“Great. And is he,” Janet began, but then it occurred to her that she was speaking to the wrong person, so she looked at Elio instead. “And are you going to be available to work on a project of this magnitude? We could buy the photos, but we’d really like for you to be part of this process. You’d work with our team of photographers and editors, our graphic designers, to really show off your talent. In a book like this, the photography is an important part of the story.” She was pushing some legal papers his way.  Elio took them, but he was looking toward Oliver with an expression of wonderment on his face. 

“I know you’ll want your own legal team to look those over,” Janet said. “After you do that, just contact me and I’ll get you in contact with Micah’s team. Sound good?” 

“Um, yes,” Elio said, grinning. 

There were a few more details to work out, but those mostly involved back and forth between Connor and Oliver regarding the manuscript. When the meeting concluded and Elio and Oliver were once again alone, Elio couldn’t help but spin around in a happy circle muttering, “I’m a photographer!!” 

Oliver cut in, taking him into his arms and dancing another circle with him. “A real, working, photographer. You’ll probably even be an award-winning photographer.” 

“Really?” Elio asked, awestruck. 

“Probably. All of my books seem to win some award or another, and by the way they were talking, your photography is really special.” 

Elio was still smiling, but Oliver thought to add, “Just like I knew it was.” 

Elio couldn’t wait to call and tell his mom and brother about his big break. 

As it turned out, he and Oliver did part ways after that. But only for a few weeks, as Elio returned to New Hampshire to visit his family, to show his photos to Ollie, and to say goodbye to his friends and family. 

“You know you can come visit me in New York, right?” he asked Ollie on the day he left. They were sitting on the front porch stoop together on a particularly icy December morning. 

Ollie nodded. Elio hated to see him looking so glum, but he knew he had to live his own life, if for no other reason than as an example for his brother to follow, so that he, too, would have the courage to chase his own dreams. “You could even come to college in New York next year. If you want,” he said, leaning into Ollie like human bumper cars. 

“Maybe,” Ollie said with a little nod. “But I’m okay, Elio.” 

Elio nodded. “I know that. I know you are.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” Ollie said. His kind words seemed to embarrass him, as he turned his attention to his Converse. 

Elio smiled and kicked at his shoe, playfully. “I know. And I really am happy.” 

Ollie chuckled. “Yeah I bet, now that you finally passed the bar exam.” 

Elio laughed, too. He now knew he’d never practice law, but it only seemed right to take his final attempt at the bar. And lo and behold, he passed it by a respectable margin. 

Oliver had told him that he  just needed to take it without putting so much pressure on himself, and it appeared he had been correct.

“It’s not a bad feeling,” Elio said, nodding slowly. “Not bad at all.” 

“And Dad will pay your loans now? Since you passed?” 

Elio shrugged. His father had offered to pay off his loans if he passed, but he was making out so well on the book deal, part of him didn’t even want to accept it. “We’ll see what happens,” was all he said. 

It was harder than he thought it would be, hugging and kissing his mother and brother goodbye at the airport. He’d said goodbye to them before. Sometimes even for lengthy journeys, such as his trips to Uncle Ronny’s. But this goodbye was different, because he was moving to New York, and even the fact that he’d see them when they visited him and Oliver in two weeks for New Year’s was of little comfort. He was emotional when he landed in New York, and when Oliver came to him and hugged him, he couldn’t help the few stray tears that fell.

“Hard saying goodbye?” Oliver whispered into his hair as he twined his fingers through it. 

“Yeah,” Elio said. 

Oliver kissed him softly on the lips, took his bag from him and flung it over his shoulder, then took his hand and led the way out of the airport saying, “Then let’s just think of it as hello.” 

“Hello, hello.”