He'd vowed not to go there again. After he spent an entire week trying not to think about the Bodt boy and failing miserably, he decided it was dangerous territory. So, of course, that made it near impossible. He never realized how frequently he passed the property. More than once a day he'd notice, with a start, that he was passing by the low fence that he'd jumped over just a few days ago. And not only that, he started noticing that Marco wasn't as scarce as he'd initially thought.
As he would pass, his eyes would find the figure, almost always. He'd be tending the sheep, or chasing chickens, or playing with the dogs, or watering crops. How had he never noticed the boy before? And the other Bodt children would be out on occasion, doing work of their own. It was so strange; Jean had never seen any of them before, yet there they all were. Had he simply not been paying attention before, or were they coming out for him? But no, none of them paid him any mind.
Except Marco. Somehow, the boy always seemed to know when Jean was passing. He'd look up from whatever he was doing and catch Jean's eyes with his. But he didn't approach, didn't call out. He'd return to whatever he was doing and let Jean pass without a fuss.
Jean felt like Marco knew something he didn't, and that was not a feeling he liked to have. But it seemed like he was waiting for something. But what? What could he want from Jean? There was an eerie sense of attraction looming over Jean. He wanted to talk to him, wanted to learn about him and his family. Maybe it was that nagging curiosity of his that had already proven dangerous. But he couldn't help it. It was making him mad, this need to learn, to question.
And so, finally, he worked up the courage to call out to the other boy. None of the other siblings were out, so it was only Marco that came when Jean shouted. But, now that he was before him, what was it he wanted to say? He hadn't thought of it before calling the boy over.
"Hello, Jean." Marco said politely. Jean nodded, taking in the boy's appearance. He was sweaty from a day's work, but he didn't smell badly, and the dirt on his clothing was somehow excusable. It suited him, in a strange way.
"Hi." He replied. Marco smiled.
"Would you like to help me for a bit? I need to herd the sheep back up this way." He offered. And what possessed him to nod, he'd never know, but nod Jean did, taking that little leap over the fence and following Marco to the back of the property, past what he could have seen from the street. And they kept walking until a field came into view. This was where the sheep were, grazing lazily. They looked up when they heard the boys approaching though.
They looked like they were about to start stampeding away in fear, but they calmed when they recognized Marco, and went back to grazing. One of the dogs, a big, fuzzy white one, came lumbering up to Marco's side. The boy grinned, bending down to scratch it behind the ears.
"Hey girl, you did a good job today, right?" He inquired, and the dog yipped playfully, backing off, then rounding around them. She nudged into Marco, sending him lurching forward, and he laughed. "Alright, alright, get to work, I know."
And he did, whistling for the other dogs. These ones were herders, Jean knew that much. Most of them were collies, and they came running at Marco's call. They lined up before him, and he gave them their orders.
"Cast!" He called, and the dogs got to work immediately, rounding the sheep up into a tight group. Marco nodded his head towards the house, and the dogs started leading them in the correct direction. Marco himself waited till all of them had passed before he started walking, Jean on his heels.
"They're well trained." Jean mumbled, not wanting to seem rude by not offering any conversation. Marco nodded, smiling after them.
"All of us have trained one." He began. "The white one from earlier is mine. I didn't want to train one of the herders, so they got me that fluffy monstrosity. I trained her as a Livestock Guardian. She's saved quite a few sheep from the coyotes. Loves them like they were hers." He said, stooping down to pick up a lamb that had fallen behind. "This one's new." He offered, bouncing it once in his arms, earning a bit of bleating. "Hasn't found her legs just yet." He laughed.
Jean finally smiled, unable to deny that the lamb was cute.
"Does she fall behind a lot?" He wondered.
"Yep," Marco replied, nodding. "But so did her mother. She'll figure it out sooner or later." He offered. "They all do. It just takes some longer than others."
Jean nodded. He'd never need to know that. He didn't raise sheep, nor would he ever, most likely. But for some reason he felt like Marco's words should mean something to him. Well, at least he was talking, and it felt a lot less terrifying when they could converse like this, like normal people.
"You're on your way home, right?" Marco asked. Again, Jean nodded. "You usually pass by around this time. What are you doing during the day?"
"I'm apprenticing with the local journalist. So I go around and talk to people, to see if I can find anything interesting going on. My father's pissed, wanted me to be the tax collector like him, and still thinks he's going to coerce me into it, somehow. I like writing, though." He offered. Marco smiled, nodding.
"That sounds like a fun job. But is there much interesting going on here?" He wondered. Jean laughed bitterly.
"Almost never. We had to put out a piece last week about some kids that fell into the river. One of them broke his leg. That's the most exciting thing we've had happen in a while, actually. We fill the majority of the space with news from the bigger cities closer to the coast." He explained. Marco frowned.
"Was he okay?" He inquired. Jean was surprised. Most people didn't care about that sort of thing.
"Oh, uh, yes. He's already up and around again. Jaeger got him patched up with a splint and some crutches." He assured, and Marco's face returned to calm.
"That's good. Broken legs can be really bad." He pointed out. "I broke mine when I was younger, and I nearly died. We couldn't afford the doctor, and I got really sick, and they just barely pulled me out of it. I'm pretty lucky, actually." He admitted. And it was then that Jean noticed that, indeed, Marco walked favoring his right side. It was so miniscule that he hadn't even noticed it before.
"I've never broken anything." He replied. No, he'd been too well taken care of.
"You're even more lucky, then. It hurts something awful, believe me. My sister, Mona, recently broke her arm, and I had to take care of her. She cried night and day. She's doing better now." He supplied, smiling. "Even went out to play with the dogs earlier. She won't be able to use it for a while yet, though." He added. Jean nodded, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"I don't work like you do." He pointed out, nodding towards the lamb in the boy's arms. Marco nodded.
"No, you don't. But your work is hard too, especially in a little town like this." He offered. They were approaching the house now, and he put the lamb down, the little creature clumsily finding its footing before clamoring off to find its mother. The dogs led the sheep into a smaller area, and Marco called them all out before closing the gate, leaving only the sheep. There was still plenty of room, but less grass, so many of the sheep got comfortable, clearly planning on taking a nap.
"I'm done for the day." Marco announced, stretching his arms over his head and arching his back. "And it's about time for dinner. You're welcome to join us, if you want, but I'm guessing you don't." He said, and Jean froze, looking up at the boy. The offer scared him. It scared him because he had half a mind to accept it. He quickly shook his head.
"No, thanks. I should get home." He replied, too quickly, heading towards the fence. Marco nodded as he went.
"Alright. I'll see you again." He called. And that scared Jean too. Because, the way Marco said it, it didn't sound like a casual farewell. It sounded like a premonition, like it was definitely going to happen. Like he already knew that it was going to happen. Jean offered nothing in response, retreating quickly, not turning to look back until he was well out of sight.
All he could see was the back of the house; a few of windows already alight with candles, chasing away the oncoming evening darkness. He wondered about the family inside, imagined them all gathering around the table. All twenty of them. That was an exaggeration, probably. He'd have to ask Marco how many siblings he actually had.
And there it was, that fear again. He was planning on seeing Marco again, without even realizing. It seemed so obvious that they would encounter one another; he hadn't even given it a second thought. But he was now, stumbling home and offering some half-witted excuse for why he was so late getting back. It worked though, and he was able to sit to dinner and go to bed without incident. Yet his mind was full of tan skin and lambs, of tiger lilies, collies, and freckles. And he couldn't stop the thoughts even if he tried. And he was scared.
Not scared enough not to go back the next day before meeting with the journalist, helping Marco collect the eggs from the hens before he left for work. That really only meant that he took the basket that Marco was carrying and held it out for the other boy while he worked. Jean had never worked with hens before.
"Aren't you scared of them?" He asked dumbly, looking at the creatures in question. They'd always made him uncomfortable. Marco only chuckled.
"No. I raised most of them from chicks, so I'm used to them." He replied. Jean winced as one walked past him.
"But their eyes… And the way they walk… They're creepy." He decided. Again, Marco laughed.
"I'm sure you like eggs though." He pointed out, and Jean couldn't help but nod, thinking of the scrambled eggs he'd had for breakfast. "And I bet you like chicken too." He added. Jean shuddered, the thought of eating one of the birds rather horrific to him. He much preferred them already plucked and beheaded. But chicken was one of his favorite meals.
"I'd rather not think about it." He mumbled, and Marco smiled, dropping the topic.
"You're up pretty early for someone who isn't a farmer." He pointed out, and Jean groaned.
"I know." He agreed, voice exasperated. "Levi insists on getting up before the sun."
"Ah, I know Levi. He's not so bad." Marco offered. Jean sputtered.
"You know Levi?" He demanded, and Marco nodded curiously.
"Sure. He's come around to ask us questions a few times. People are pretty wary of us, and when they start getting a little too wary, he comes and asks us about whatever the issue is, and he'll publish it to calm people down." He explained. And Jean kind of remembered a few articles like that. He'd just assumed that Levi made them up. Apparently not everyone was as scared of the Bodts as he'd thought.
"We tend to be at the center of most people's issues, whether we're actually involved in them or not." He added, shrugging. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you, but a lot of people are scared of us." He said, turning to look at Jean. "You're scared of us."
And Jean couldn't deny it. For, even as he stood holding a basket full of eggs for him, he was terrified to be standing next to this boy. He was scared to touch him, to talk to him, to even acknowledge his existence. No. He wouldn't deny it.
"But that's alright. We're used to it." He assured, turning back around. "We're not bad though, Jean. We're not here to eat your children or convert you to the religion of the devil." He promised.
Jean was surprised yet again. Could Marco read his thoughts? It was starting to seem that way, the more he was around him.
"You're not?" He asked without thinking. He immediately regretted it, realizing how stupid the question sounded. Of course they weren't.
"No, we're not. We don't worship Satan. We don't even believe in him." Marco replied, slapping his hands against his pants in a bid to clean them off. Jean was, truly, confused.
"You don't…" He started, but Marco cut him off.
"No. Nor do we worship God as you do. While we believe that he exists, we see him in several forms. Simply put, our way of thinking is that there is no way that one god could handle the needs of every person, every creature on this earth. We prefer to believe that there are many entities that make up your concept of God. I'm sure you know of a similar concept, you go to church every Sunday." He pointed out.
"You have the holy trinity, the father, son, and holy spirit. It's something like that, but we divide it further. We believe there is a different deity for most things, and not all of them are male. It doesn't make sense for there to only be a male God; there would be no balance. No, there is a god of war, a goddess of harvest, a goddess of love, a god of water. We use the classic names for them, like the Romans. But other families use different names. The idea is the same though." He tried to explain.
"It makes it much easier for us to worship. We have a specific god to speak to in different situations. If we are having a bad harvest, then we pray to the god of the harvest. If we want to find love, we pray to the goddess of love. Just as you would pray to God if you needed to find water, we would pray to Neptune. It's a different name, but is it really that different?" He wondered, looking at Jean, who was still holding the basket. The one in question couldn't think of a way to reply, so he simply refused eye contact. Eventually though, he did speak.
"It's blasphemy not to say so." He pointed out, still not looking at the boy. But he could feel the disappointed gaze. "There can only be one God." He said, the words feeling mechanical to him. He believed them, of course, but he wished he could say them with more conviction, like anyone else in town would have. Marco frowned, sighing.
"It's fine that you believe that. You're obviously not the only one." He replied, voice still level. "But that's not how I think." He offered simply.
"You're wrong." Jean announced, frowning deeply, just like his pastor did when he spoke of the godless Pagans. Marco turned to him, sharply.
"Jean, I'm respecting your religion, please do the same for mine." He plead. But, to Jean, it sounded more like a demand.
"But it's wrong." He said, stubbornness and years of church not allowing him to back down. Marco's brows furrowed, and Jean could see anger flash across his features for a second, but it was quickly replaced with practiced, forced calm.
"I understand that you think so. I'm not asking you to agree with my beliefs, I'm just asking you to accept that they are mine, and mean the same to me as yours do to you." He explained, and Jean withered underneath the steady gaze. "If I were to tell you that your religion was wrong, how would you feel? Is it fair of you to say that to me?" He demanded. Jean winced, shaking his head, guilt flooding his mind. He hadn't thought before he'd spoken, he'd simply repeated what he'd been told his whole life. It was so much easier to do than trying to comprehend the things that Marco was speaking of. But, truly, couldn't he just ignore the fact that the boy worshipped differently? Surely it wasn't so important a part of Marco's life that they couldn't be around each other at all. It was quiet, awkward. But, finally, Marco sighed.
"Anyway, I'm not trying to convert you or anything. I just thought you might like to know a little more about us. We're not as terrible as you're probably thinking." Marco finished, taking the basket from Jean's hands. Their fingers brushed, but Jean didn't flinch. Marco wasn't so scary anymore. "You should probably get going, or Levi will be out for your head." He pointed out, and Jean nodded. He needed time to think about all that he'd learned anyway. Marco had taught him a lot, just in the few minutes they'd spent together that morning. He needed to process it all, to understand and develop opinions.
"Yeah. I'll see you." He called, running for the fence and jumping it easy. He turned and waved before he started for Levi's house. Marco waved back. And it didn't scare him. He wanted to see him again.
A/N: I can say with a fair amount of confidence that this is the most religion-heavy chapter in the fic. While their beliefs to play a part throughout the story, they don't really have any in-depth talks about them beyond this. So if the religious talks were what you were worried about in regards to this story, then you can relax; you've already made it past that!
So, to clarify, after discussing with CousinNick about the incredible number of different Pagan branches and beliefs and whatnot, I decided to make Marco's family Romanesque with a bit of Christian undertone. Because of their heritage, which is mostly Italian for this story, and because of where they've lived, that seemed the most appropriate. I owe a lot to CousinNick for helping me with that bit, and educating me about practices and all of that jazz. It was quite an experience!
I'd also like to mention this here: This story has an incredibly slow build. Like, they both have a lot to work through. So, while I do consider it a romantic story, I want to point out that the romance definitely starts out subtle. They won't be doing any boyfriend things for many a chapter. But my hope is that the gradual build will make it more believable, and that it will overall add to the story.
Whatever the case, I hope you enjoyed chapter two, and hopefully you'll come back for chapter three! Thank you for reading, and feedback is always appreciated.