Br-oranges and Bro-ranchers

by Nenalata

It was bromancery in its purest form: two guys liked to eat a lot of food and not talk about feelings very much. They were not the manliest of men, nor the best of friends. But they got along perfectly well, and had they ever stopped to think about their relationship, they would agree that that was enough. A collection of short fics about the bromance between Adrien and Chase.

4. Summer 14th

First, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Being friends ("bros," Adrien would call it) with a farmer had its benefits—he had grown accustomed to gifts of oranges almost daily. Newly energized after a few citrus-y slurps, he set the glass down in the sink before retrieving the polished wooden case from its special shelf.

He carefully removed the lid, and there it was. Simple and wooden, just like the box it called home, it did a fine enough job. More importantly, it had been handcrafted by loving hands and intentions—which he was not going to think about right now.

A few scales, then, to warm up.

His fingers flitted across the instrument with a practiced skill as he started with the simple stuff: C major, A minor. Then, as he grew bolder, the more complicated ones: Gb major, A# minor, a few blues scales thrown in to spice it up.

He allowed himself to smile once he was finished. He'd never played so well—must be a good day for the flute, or perhaps his dexterity. But now came the fun part. He took an expert breath and began.

Notes flew from the flute foot with an ease he wasn't expecting. He faltered for a moment in his surprise, but his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own; he played on, his eyes starting to close as the music enveloped him.

He was a one-man wind ensemble, a force of nature. Goddess, he'd never sounded this good before. Images began to swirl in his mind accompanying the melody, and he could feel his spine tingling with the emotions the instrument, the piece pulled out of him.

He poured himself into the song. As complicated rhythms and tricky fingerings flew by without issue, he tried to reign in his excitement. This piece, memorized though it was, had been causing him no small amount of grief the past few weeks—but no, now was not the time to focus on such things. Now was the time to enjoy the rapturous beauty he was creating—

"Hey, Chase! Boy, you sure are being noisy. I could hear you halfway across the meadow!"

-and the music stuttered to a halt.

Perhaps Adrien would never fully grasp the reason why a livid Chase ran him out of the house with a rolling pin in hand, but then again, he wouldn't have been Adrien if he had. As the fleeing farmer's eyes widened in fear, creative expletives falling in a torrent from Chase's lips, a phantom melody whistled through the midsummer breeze, a melody that only Chase seemed to hear.

Chase swore some more and returned home, exhausted, but sure to lock the door behind him this time.