Fandom: Big Eden
Word Count: 299
Prompt: #15 - Memories
Author's Notes: Written for the movie_100 prompt challenge. Many thanks to my husband for the beta.
Pike does remember Henry from high school. He remembers the quiet, outgoing boy with the soulful, piercing eyes. He remembers how Henry's face would catch any available light when Dean Stewart was around. But the memory at his center is of watching Henry paint and of feeling a piece of his spirit attach itself to something in Henry's core.
Pike doesn't know why this happened, nor can he figure out what struck him most: Henry's work, or the light in his eyes. At the time, he also couldn't figure out why, from that point forward, he always felt a pang in his chest whenever Henry gazed longingly at Dean.
Now, as he lays the trout fillets on the lemon slices and sprinkles his windowsill parsley over the top, he sees the gleaming flesh of fish and citrus and thinks of the boy with such inner light that everyone looked for at least a second before looking away or trying to catch him as he danced away. He slips the fish into the oven, careful about four hundred degrees of heat, and has a sudden confusion of Icarus and Oot-kwa-tah that catches him in the heart.
And then Henry is there, just behind him, not touching. Just being.
Pike stands perfectly still.
Henry sighs. "I'm sorry, Pike."
"That you're worried I'd leave." Henry touches his arm.
Pike realizes that he's trembling. He steadies himself with effort. "It's all right, Henry. It's your nature."
Henry turns him and gazes up at him. "Not so much, anymore. I've pretty much fallen from the sky."
"I shouldn't have put that fish in the oven."
"It's all right," murmurs Henry. "There's time later, and right now, we can neck."
Pike sets the timer and doesn't stop kissing Henry until it rings.