Dzoto’otú, Nutmeg Hill
Tom had laughed, and that laugh had gone straight through him, for all it was deep and low now rather than high and soft. It was what he had wanted, Aremu thought, the husky laugh which was almost a promise.
They eased apart; Tom took his spoon, and Aremu took his too, digging into the tomatoes and onions and flatbread. He ate a spoonful, and then another; he had missed lunch in the rush of the day, and though he had known he was hungry, he hadn’t realized how much so until the first bite of food. It was good, the tomatoes unexpectedly fresh, all of it well spiced.
Aremu smiled, this time, when Tom spoke of the stars. “Like being swaddled in them,” he said, softly, fondly. For a moment something different came to mind, the feeling of their light bearing down on him, shining through him, with nothing in him to push back. If only he had welcomed it - if only he could have -
Those thoughts went with the next spoonful and Aremu did not try to hold there. He was here for a precious few stolen moments with Tom; he did not know how many there would be. I can arrange something, he wanted to offer; I know a few places where I think - I think - no one would ask questions, and so you should not have to lie.
It isn’t just that, Aremu wanted to say, suddenly, absurdly. I want to go and hold you in my arms; yes, I’m a man - yes, I want - but just to sleep with you beside me - he swallowed through that, the word lover washing through him with remembered softness.
“Strange,” Aremu said, slowly. He thought of the thin-faced Anaxi climbing from the carriage; he thought of the cluster of Giorans he had seen earlier, one of whom had bristled and flexed at a human who had dared to walk too close.
“They’ve invited me to help represent Dzit’ereq,” Aremu said, aware of the familiar frown finding its way onto his face once more, “during the exhibition.” He pushed at the food with his spoon and took another bite.
I was the only to graduate, he wanted to say, suddenly, in my head. There were never many; there still aren’t. I’m told there are more, now. They didn’t want me then, and now they want to show me off to the visiting foreigners.
He swallowed the anger with another mouthful of food. He was fortunate to have been allowed to attend at all; they could have kept him out, and Aremu knew it. He glanced at Tom, and he didn’t have any expectation of him understanding.
“It’s still my home,” Aremu said, after a moment, taking a breath. “But I’ve changed, and it fits differently than it used to. Maybe not worse,” he knew he was frowning still, “but differently.”
After a moment Aremu shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, quietly. He looked at Tom, frowning, something aching. He wanted - it didn’t matter what he wanted. “It makes it seem easier.” Aremu said, quietly, and he didn’t need to say that it made it seem harder, too.