Heartbeats

19th century England

The countryside outside of London was too congested for Kyo to understand. Though his father had been a farmer for the kingdom, even the palace at times, the family was still left rubbing two pennies together at times. Kyo had never seen it as a worthwhile exchange and being the second son of four he had no fear of having to stay and man the farm when his father was gone.

Though, Kyo thought as he hitched his pack higher on his shoulder, he shouldn't have said so much aloud. With only the clothes on his back and a few hard earned dollars to his name Kyo set out down the dirt road with a swagger in his step. He didn't know where he was headed but even Ireland sounded better then the pungent shadow of London. So he walked in his calfskin boots as far as the third closest settlement – and then walked more.

On the fourth day of his journey Kyo's dark hair was matted with dirt and weeds. His feet were tired and his skin, his clothes, wrinkled with the rain that had soaked him over the course of the night. He'd begun his journey in the sun but now he cursed the hellish clouds, it was their fault crops came and went and for the dirt road turning to red mud beneath his feet.

Grumbling beneath his breath Kyo dragged his body from the ditch that had been his housing for the night. He'd taken one step onto the road and was nearly run over by the wagon going past.

"Whoa," an older man called, bringing his single old and tired horse to a halt. He caught to his hat with the back of his hand and blue eyes surrounded by wrinkles of long life turned toward the muddy figure. It was, the man saw, merely a boy in rumpled clothing. No older then his grandson, the old driver concluded.

"Aye, boy," he shouted to Kyo. Kyo's eyes narrowed up at the man as he struggled to remove himself from the mud. When the man had shouted Kyo had stumbled and slipped bottom down into the mud.

"Where's a child like you heading to," the old man asked with a nod toward the horizon.

Kyo growled and pulled himself up straight to return, "I have seen fifteen summers. I am not a child."

The old man chuckled with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I apologize, my boy," the old man said. He tipped his hat to the lad but looked him over again. "My manners are always flying from my mind, you must forgive an old man."

Kyo looked cautiously at the old man, his stance wary as he clung to his pack. He'd heard of the tricksters and swindlers that roamed the roads. Kyo had only barely kept his small amount of money in his grasp by avoiding inns and rooms with board. Now, however, his stomach was groaning and the back of the wagon looked a nice enough place to have a nap.

"Where are you headed my boy?"

Eyes still on the wagon bed Kyo replied, "Nowhere in particular, sir. Just a small village far enough from London to evade the smell and enough land that I might settle."

"A farmer," the old man asked with a scrutinizing glance. Kyo nodded again, his hands tightening over his pack as he swayed in his boots. The old man clicked his tongue at the sight and being a truly compassionate soul he tipped his hat low and barked for Kyo to get into the wagon.

"I just might know a place like that," the old man explained. Then Kyo was in the wagon and the old man snapped the reigns.

"Who are you, sir?" Kyo questioned as he was overtaken with drowsiness. The man chuckled as the wagon went over a fairly large bump.

"Martin, my boy," the old man introduced. "The finest farmer you'll find this side of London – if I do say so myself."

&

Martin did not boast, Kyo discovered. The farm that he awoke upon was no larger then his father's but each pasture was green with growth and none looked to have been affected by the passing rainstorms. The pastures surrounded the small cottage of a house in which, Martin explained, was his wife and grandson. There was an air of melancholy when Martin spoke of his family, as if there was something missing to the story. However, Kyo knew not ask and merely extended his gratitude.

Kyo moved to make his way through town but Martin stopped him with a look. Kyo's throat felt tight as the older man regarded him with a reproachful look.

"Do you not like my farm, boy?"

"It is wonderful," Kyo quickly established, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. He felt as he had as a child and caught in an act of mischief. "I merely wished to cause no more inconvenience."

Martin's eyebrows rose in a cross between disbelief and condescension. Without the eyebrows settling on a specific Martin moved closer.

"How much money do you have on you?"

Kyo's mouth went dry. Unable to speak he pulled free his money and showed it to the man who clicked his tongue. It took all of Kyo's courage not to close his hand around the money, as he feared it being stolen. Martin did not try to take the money. He merely nodded then directed them both inside.

At a table, settled in the center room, a boy with brown hair of usual length labored over a pad of paper. His pink tongue stuck from between his lips as he concentrated with the smallest of wrinkles across his nose. The sound of the door opening and slamming did not seem to draw his attention, to which Martin laughed loudly.

The boy jumped, bright eyes of a purple hue widening on his grandfather. A pink flush rose over his cheeks as he murmured a greeting. His head bobbed in greeting and for a second Kyo assumed the boy would return to work. Instead the gaze shifted to Kyo and the impossibly wide purple eyes grew larger at the sight. His pencil dropped from his fingers and the pink flush grew darker.

"H-hello," he murmured. Kyo tilted his head a fraction in confusion and in that second the boy's gaze dropped back to the table.

"That is my grandson, Yuki," Martin explained. "Yuki, make some tea for our guest, Kyo."

The boy gave a nod of the head, his chair scraped along the floor as he pushed away from the table. A cast iron kettle was set to boil and as Kyo and Martin replaced Yuki at the table the boy did not turn around. Instead shaking fingers ran up to his hair and tugged at random strands and the fingers of his other hand clenched open and closed. The cogs in his head turned desperately for semblance.

"Red eyes," Yuki whispered to himself. The kettle before him fell out of sight as a million different images began to penetrate his mind. He did not understand them and had the sense that only a child could that he shouldn't know this feeling. Red eyes, red eyes, Yuki thought as he threw his arms about his chest as if to protect him from the images. Though they were fuzzy they were clearly real and instilled fear in him.

"Yuki," his grandfather's voice came as a booming shout – rousing him from his dream. A hand lay over his should and Yuki startled alive with a gasp. The kettle whistled before him and with clumsy haste Yuki exclaimed apologies. He nearly spilled tea everywhere but the pinnacle moment was when he tripped over his feet and barely caught himself and the tea by slamming a hand to the table. The guest gave a hiss and Yuki realized his mistake a moment too late.

Beneath his palm was Kyo's hand and though Yuki whipped backwards quickly he still felt the heat of the red-eyed boy's skin. The heat traveled through Yuki's blood with a screaming song and it was all Yuki could do to keep his mouth shut. Instead he straightened, just as the images straightened, and though he placed the tea down before Kyo in calm Yuki's mind was conquered.

The cat had returned, Yuki's mind screamed and it took more will then he was aware had to tear his gaze away.

"Grandmother is in the field, shall I fetch her," Yuki asked in a whisper. He was already standing in the doorway. His grandfather declined the offer but dismissed Yuki nonetheless. Excused Yuki ran from the house and to the farthest reaches of the small farm. Memories of running overtook him and his gallop became one of intertwined terror as he searched for a place to rest. His body knew it was only twelve summers old but suddenly he was aware of a thousand years biting at his heels. Amongst leaves of barley Yuki sank to his knees – or rather the newly awakened being – sobbing tears of incomprehension and joy.

Back in the cottage Martin sighed and rubbed wearily at his temples. He tried to excuse Yuki's behavior to the stranger but he barely understood it himself.

"I'm afraid my grandson has endured much," Martin murmured as his head settled in his palm. "We lost his father, Henry, when Yuki was seven. His mother, my daughter, remarried last spring."

"Yuki didn't go with her," Kyo murmured as he looked toward Martin. A dry laugh left the old man's lips and he shook his head.

"Nay, Elisa has always had a flighty air to her and her new husband has no need for another son."

Kyo cupped his hands around the cup of tea and said no more. A silence descended and Kyo wondered when he would be allowed to leave. He could feel his money poking in his pocket and focused almost singularly on it. Wondering whether or not he would be able to buy land Kyo nearly missed Martin's proposition.

&

For five years Kyo worked as an assistant to Martin on their farm.

"Work for me until you have earned enough for your own land," Martin had said on that fateful day. "In exchange I will teach you what I know."

The chunk of change that had rattled in Kyo's pocket upon arrival grew substantially as the summers past. And over the course of time Martin stayed true to his word. It was often that Kyo thought the old man taught him with the enthusiasm of a father teaching a son. Which couldn't be far from the truth.

After his first month Kyo had realized that Yuki wasn't much meant for the life of the farmer. The brunette boy always had ink on his fingers – sometimes on his lip as well, from chewing his quill – and would become distracted during work. For three more years Yuki ran round the farm performing menial tasks and Kyo observed quietly.

There was something different about Yuki, Kyo had concluded. It was as if his mind was beyond the farm and England itself. Yet when Yuki caught Kyo staring his calm visage would turn into a bright smile.

When Yuki turned fifteen he was accepted to study in the city. The long summer was spent preparing him for the journey; inkbottles were stopped and stored, Yuki prepared new quills on the front steps. During this summer Kyo noticed new things about Yuki; how the brunette went out of the way to visit him in the fields. The way Yuki's fingers seemed to stretch toward him but always stopped short. Or how Yuki always asked endless questions about Kyo, who preferred silence.

The two years Kyo worked the farm while Yuki was away were too silent for him. He hadn't expected to miss the brunette boy but Kyo soon realized that he it was the aching absence of your shadow. It hurt and confused him to think that way.

It was painful enough to drive Kyo away from Martin and his wife, Acadia, and the farm. He picked up and traveled across town to buy land and spent two years tilling the land on his own. Many invitations were sent from the elder couple but more often then not Kyo could find a reason to stay away. He nearly starved the first winter without Acadia's stews but in the end he managed.

It had been seven years since Kyo had seen a sibling or parent and spring was blooming across his land. Standing in the doorway of his house as the land was lit by early morning light Kyo noticed a figure coming up the road. The distance made the figure featureless and the only remarkable detail to be seen was brown hair. Kyo remembered having a sibling with brown hair but doubted the two were one and the same. Instead he remained in the doorway and watched the traveler come to his gate.

A man with a hat sitting low on his head paused at the edge of Kyo's lawn. Hair hung long on the stranger's head, a tangled mass brushing at the man's shoulders. His face was lightly shadowed by a traveler's beard, as if the man were a week without a shave. However, Kyo could not judge, being at least a year without a shave himself.

"You look like a farmer," the man called humorously. Kyo ran a hand up his recently shorn head and gave a nod.

"And you look in need of some rest," Kyo replied lowly. "Are you passing through or planning to stay?"

The man paused on the walkway, the gate swinging shut behind him as he reached up to grasp his hat. The man laughed, his voice a low, steady pitch that sounded somehow familiar to Kyo's ears. Then the man lifted his chin and the hat from his head. Beneath the years were Yuki's shining eyes and his smile.

"Yuki," Kyo named. His voice was barely above a whisper and his red eyes widened in surprise. "You've returned from London."

Yuki nodded and said, "Yesterday. Imagine my surprise to have found you gone and little news of you beyond the location of your house."

"It has been busy these last years. The saplings are struggling to life."

Yuki did not refute him but merely continued to smile. Across his shoulder hung a satchel and smudges of ink stained the skin of his forearm. Kyo tried to take in the sight of the younger man but was too stunned to notice the way Yuki leaned his body toward Kyo or even how there was an unnecessary gleam of wetness to the purple irises.

"May I come in," Yuki finally asked. His voice was quiet and hesitant as if fearing denial. Kyo could do nothing other then nod and step out of the way.

Yuki awoke with the midday sun shining in through the window. It was warm on his skin and lit the bedroom in warm hues. Looking around Yuki found he was alone – which was of no surprise – and guessed that Kyo had gone to the fields. A whistling sound grew in volume from another end of the two-room cottage; it was the sound that woke him up. Prying himself from the cot Yuki moved barefoot round the room and through the doorway. Close to the bedroom a small stove burned warmly and a kettle atop it sang to its finish.

Yuki looked curiously at it then turned toward the far door. On a rug between the two doors Kyo lay fast asleep. Limbs cocked at wide angles the raven haired man dozed peacefully through the kettles call. Dirt layered Kyo's clothes and visible skin brown and gray. A catnap, Yuki thought ironically before stepping round the sleeping form. He almost knelt beside Kyo but then, remembering, thought better of it. He looked for his satchel instead and was pacified to find it still hanging beside the door – untouched.

As Yuki removed the kettle he tried to be quiet. Four years away and his pining for the cat had not waned. Rather, Yuki had only come to understand the feelings more clearly. With time he had come to discern memories from one another until he knew each story.

"You don't have to do that," Kyo mumbled groggily from the floor. He sat up and rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes. Yuk smiled in reply but said nothing. He served tea and smiled complacently then, just when Kyo opened his mouth to speak, he stood. Kyo looked up from the brim of his cup as Yuki reached for his satchel. Kyo's red irises watched in curiosity but he closed jaw instead of asking.

"You're invited to dinner a week from today. Grandfather and Grandmother would greatly enjoy the chance to see you," Yuki informed. His eyes never left the floor. Yet he smiled when Kyo nodded an affirmative. Then Yuki left.

&

Kyo strode through the pasture. Lilacs had been planted recently and they clung to his trousers as he passed like fingers of an eager child. A smile lit his features as he stared in a semi-circle around him at all of the green. His own land was this green but it didn't feel as at home as Martin's. Years of tilling the same dirt and now it felt more like his then his own pastures could.

Among the tallest of grass, sunken in among the lilacs, Yuki lay asleep. His dark brown hair fanned out behind him as he was curled around a pad of paper. Sidestepping the open satchel Kyo saw that Yuki's cheek was pressed to the dirt. With cheeks flushed from sleeping in the breeze the boy looked so young. Kyo, only three years older, felt so old in comparison. Yuki's face was cleanly shaven and his lips black from chewing on his quill again. Rubbing at his own chin Kyo contemplated shaving his own beard free.

Yuki murmured in his sleep and Kyo knelt beside him as if to catch the words escaping. Thin, inked fingers released the pad of parchment just enough for Kyo to get a good look. What he saw left him shocked. In black ink his own face looked back at him, sketches of his eyes covered every other available space. Kyo's heart thumped in warning as his legs buzzed with the urge to run far away – a reaction he could not understand. Instead Kyo took hold of the satchel and sat facing the curl of Yuki's knees. He watched the rising chest fill then lower with Yuki's breath as he searched through the satchel.

Kyo found pages in English and also in languages he could not read but on nearly every page there were sketches of cat-like eyes, of his own jaw line. One with a cat and a mouse acting uncharacteristically peaceful, another was a march of creatures and a banquet. But most were of Kyo's eyes.

A mumbled word and Kyo looked down just in time to see Yuki's eyes open sleepily. Automatically a smile lit the younger man's lips as he regarded Kyo but it only lasted until he noticed the pages in Kyo's grasp.

"I can explain," Yuki exclaimed hurriedly. Kyo looked down at him with a calm visage and all excuses cleared from the brunette's mind leaving his lips to stutter incoherently.

"By all means," Kyo said his voice a deeper rumble then Yuki remembered.

Yuki felt his world begin to fall apart and for all he could do his eyes had begun to itch painfully. He had tried so hard to keep it a secret but now it seemed Kyo would hate him. He covered his eyes with his palms and shook with frustration. Fingers curled around Yuki's wrists and tugged gently until the man looked up into red irises. A kindly smile covered Kyo's face and though his eyes were glancing about Yuki's face with confusion he did not look angry. Yuki nearly choked at the sight.

"Admittedly," Kyo murmured as he tugged their bodies closer. He slid his hands up Yuki's arms and wrapped his fingers loosely about his elbows. "I do not understand these feelings myself but we both seem to have had them for quite a while. It is quite a relief."

Then he threw out propriety – and common sense – to press a kiss to the corner of Yuki's lips. Violet irises fluttered shut and fingers rose hesitantly to hold to Kyo's forearms. Kyo drew back slowly and Yuki followed, pressing his lips to the corner of Kyo's lips.

"Yes, a relief," Yuki answered when they both drew back. Then he laughed and held tighter to Kyo who held as tightly back. They laughed and leaned, pressing their foreheads together until their eyes had closed in calm. They breathed warm air between them that made up for the up rise of a cooler breeze around them.

Slowly, as if exhausted and shivering slightly despite their jumpers the two lay in the grass. Kyo laid his head on Yuki's shoulder and thin, inky fingers rose to trace idly through the knotted black hair. Sleeping more peacefully then he imagined he ever had (or would) Kyo drifted through dreams of blurry images. The pulse of Yuki's heart below his ear grew louder as he turned to curl about the young man and press his cold nose against Yuki's neck.

After dinner Kyo's buzzing head became heated with a headache. It felt unfair he thought as he stared at his mostly full plate. Acadia fussed and jokingly accused her husband of letting Kyo go too soon. His breath became uneven until he was nearly panting from hiding his illness. A groan escaped Kyo unwillingly and soon the rest of the table was watching him with worry.

Head pressed to his palm Kyo slowly but sternly convinced Martin and Acadia that he could make it back to his home. His illness had just cropped up and the thought of passing it to the now gray haired couple scared him. Kyo excused himself as soon as the wind seemed less harsh he gathered himself together and began to walk.

From the darkness of the road Yuki appeared with another coat and a scarf. It was clear that Martin and Acadia wanted their Grandson to watch over Kyo but it wasn't involuntary on Yuki's part. He wrapped an arm about Kyo's waist and they pushed through the nipping cold. They stumbled through the threshold together and as Kyo tugged his boots off Yuki set the kettle to boil. The buzzing grew like a deep pulsing drum in Kyo's head and he begged Yuki to leave the kettle alone. He could not stand the thought of the whistling water. Purple irises stared mournfully at him but Yuki agreed quickly.

Yuki moved to the bed and gathered the seated figure against his chest. He ran fingers through Kyo's hair in a comforting manner. He tried to rub heat into Kyo's body, thinking it was a cold ailing the raven-haired man.

"Tell me what to do," Yuki murmured desperately.

Kyo took a strong hold of Yuki's wrists and pulled Yuki into the bed beside him. Curling in around his own pain Kyo dragged Yuki's arm over his waist so the younger man was curled behind him. Kyo held Yuki fast as the pounding made him moan with pain. Yuki curved tighter against the shaking spine, sliding his free arm beneath Kyo's head in hope of cushioning it more then the worn rag of a pillow could. He drew circles on Kyo's stomach and listened to the pained moans until sleep over took them.

So I decided to continue with this story plot- train of thought - but their going to be interwoven as drabbles. And to keep from being confusing Yuki and Kyo will always be named Yuki and Kyo.