As the Crows Fly by A. L. Lester

Author:A. L. Lester
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay, gay romance, contemporary, welsh, celtic, short story, lgbtq romance, crows, gentle romance, hurt comfort, mm romance
Publisher: A.L. Lester
Published: 2021-04-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7: Kevin

KEVIN CAME BACK DOWNSTAIRS, laundry on in the distinctly not-up-to-electrical-standards washing machine in the bathroom. When he’d moved into the cottage, he’d turned the spare bedroom into a big bathroom. He’d knocked the kitchen through into the tiny, damp downstairs bathroom that had been carved out of it when indoor plumbing had first become a concept the previous occupants had wanted to engage with however many years ago, restoring it to its larger size.

His unexpected guest was asleep in the armchair.

His head was thrown back and his legs were stretched out toward the fire. His face looked less strained in sleep. Not younger exactly, but as if he’d temporarily put down all the concerns that were consuming his waking energy. And whatever he said, sleeping on that thin camping mat wasn’t going to be comfortable for someone with a recently busted-up hip.

Kevin shhh’d Grackle, who was thinking about going closer to investigate. He’d go and throw something with vegetables together in the bottom oven of the range so it cooked in time for supper and then sit and draw at the kitchen table.

He left the doors open as he settled at the table. He could see Web stretched out, not-quite-snoring. One of the cats had climbed up on his lap and his hand was burrowed into its fur. The cat was purring.

Kev found his pencil moving almost under its own steam. Oval face. Dark brown hair that was coming into wild curls where it was longest. Thin eyebrows. Cheeks slightly hollowed...he was a bit thinner than he should be, probably. Perhaps because of his time in hospital? An interesting face rather than a handsome one. Attractive, though.

His dark, loose clothes concealed a lot of his stature, other than being quite a bit taller than Kev and narrow with it. Difficult to tell whether there was muscle under them.

Kevin was pulled from his haze of concentration when Web opened his eyes and looked straight at him.

Kevin felt himself blushing to his hairline, but neither of them moved for what seemed an eon. The fine-spun awareness that had been there since they met in the car park yesterday drew a little tighter.

Then Web stirred, smiling, and Kevin could breathe more easily.

“Sorry,” Web said, sitting up and rearranging the reluctant cat. “I fell asleep,” he added unnecessarily.

“It’s fine. Not much else to do!” Kevin nodded out of the kitchen window as Webster got to his feet and came across the hall into the room. “I was sketching, that’s all. I often do at the weekend.”

Webster came over to the table and stood beside him, looking at what he was working on. Kevin looked too. He’d meant to be doing another series of sketches of the Murder.

Instead there was a perfectly recognisable outline of Web, asleep with the cat on his lap.

“Er,” Kevin said.

Web stretched out a hand over Kevin’s shoulder and then stopped. “May I?” he asked diffidently.

Kevin swallowed.

“Yes, please do,” he said. “Model’s rights.”

Webster lifted it up and looked at it properly.

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