@flashfictionfridayofficial
There had always been a thing about waiting that irked Dillon; it was the way the memory of what he was expecting tended to ingrain itself into his mind. Unrelentingly reminding him of what was to come or what he lacked until it happened.
No matter what he did, it wouldn't leave him alone.
His destain for waiting had gotten even worse since he had gotten his last promise.
It had been on a piece of old paper that he was pretty sure belonged to some book somewhere that hadn't been owned by the person that had written it, but rather some poor library book. A person that hadn't been supposed to be anywhere near Dillon's room or even the town he resided in currently.
No, Auden was supposed to be far away learning the art of pouring over books and being a stuck-up asshole. He was supposed to write notes in one of the unbelievably expensive notebooks and mingle with nobles that had questions.
Auden had also been supposed to have forgotten Dillon pretty fast after leaving.
Even when he had still lived in one of the most expensive houses in the town, Dillon had honestly expected the other boy to get tired of him every minute. But he hadn't instead ha had listened to Dillon's rants about the last trip into the forest to get some herbs his grandmother needed, had told Dillon about the names of the stars and the former they were supposed to form or about some important person that had lived long ago, the latter of which honestly hadn't particularly interested Dillon, but he had enjoyed listening to Auden, sometimes Auden had complaint about his teachers and how boring some of the things he had to learn.
Auden also had taught Dillon how to read and write, a thing Dillon would have never thought he would be able to learn.
Not that there was a lot Dillon would ever have to write or read; most of the people in town were illiterate, and every shop was if there was any writing at all on their signs equipped with some kind of symbol informing everyone about what exactly the shop was selling. And ink and paper were expensive.
But he has figured out that he could get the odd job writing one of the sings or reading a letter to the other people in town which was rather helpful when the town hadn't had enough injuries and illnesses or was generally too poor to spend either a bit of food or the odd coin on his grandmothers services.
Which was a blessing considering that it was not all that easy to live of the odd bit of berries and wild wheat he and she were able to find in the woods, and only living of herb porridge was not particularly enough to get an old woman and a growing boy to make ends meet. Even if the boy had a friend with a tendency to try and share his own wealth with him.
And that had been what Auden had always done tried to get them to make ends meet had acted as if he had just taken too much of the snack someone had given him for longer walkers though the forest and had offered the 'rests' to Dillon instead, because he knew Dillon would avoid taking any alms if he could really avoid it.
It hadn't been hard to fall for Auden. Not because he was rich or well-educated, at least in matters that didn't have a lot to do with survival, except maybe fighting, even if he certainly was that, but because he was kind, and he hadn't just lost his fancy for the grandson of the local herbalist. Even if Dillan wore mostly clothes his father had worn when he himself had been nothing but a boy and his greater interest in life was helping out his grandmother or maybe learning her trade to someday take over.
To Dillon's surprise, Auden had fallen for him too; that was what he had told Dillon at least when he had gotten the note he would be sent away for further studies, unable to keep it to himself any longer.
They had had a couple of weeks to sneak around, in which they had kissed a couple of times, before Auden had left. And the happiness Dillon had felt with him, the freedom of the fear and responsibility that had always lifted when he had been around the other boy with him.
And then two nights ago there had been a page in between his window frame and window, certainly of a book, because he had been able to see some of the lettering through the white paint someone had smeared over it, but more importantly there had been a promise. In the handwriting, Dillon knew so well, had he not followed its appearance so often during writing lessons with Auden.
It was a promise of returning, of being there and making sure no one would ever separate them again. It sounded too good to be true. If Dillon was totally honest with himself, then he had believed Auden had already gotten over his fancy, for Dillon had left and either found another brighter boy of the same sanding as Auden, or he had figured out that another man wasn't actually what he wanted and that Dillon was just some challenge.
But no, there it was Auden's handwriting and a promise that seemed too good to be true.
Dillon hated waiting, even more though he feared that this was just some big miss understanding that there was someone else in the town that the letter was meant for. Not that Dillon would ever doubt Auden's loyalty or the fact that he was the kindest and sincere person Dillon knew, but certainly he wasn't really worth Auden's love.
This time he didn't hate waiting because he hated the expectation clinging to his mind. He hated waiting because he didn't know if he dared to hope. Because the fear that Auden would chance his mind or that the promise was just a miss understanding was making it hard to focus on anything else.
Hi, I’m back. I sadly had a lot on last week and couldn’t really work with the prompt back than wich annoyed me but now I’m back.
I hope you liked this text I’m still not comfortable with writing love stories but this is what felt wire even if I’m not completely happy with the result.
Hope you have a good week and I would be happy about feed back and constructive criticism.
Hopefully see you next week!
