By the Lake

The days blurred, Rory kept showing. Always. Without invitation, without excuses. Sometimes he arrived with two cans of soda, sometimes with a fishing rod, sometimes with nothing at all but that impossible grin.

It became routine, Rory knocking on the gate, calling his name, dragging him out toward the loch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And Ewan… let him.

****

Rory was never still. He skipped stones, raced along the bank, tried balancing on one hand in the sand, waded knee-deep just to see how far he could throw a rock before it splashed. He was restless energy wrapped in sunshine, always moving, always laughing at his own failures.

And Ewan sat on the grass, watching.

He didn’t mean to. It wasn’t conscious, this quiet fixation. But his eyes kept following Rory’s movements: the flex of his shoulders when he threw, the curve of his mouth when he laughed, the way the sun caught in his hair, making strands of pink shimmer like they were aflame.

It was unfair. People like Rory belonged to the world. And Ewan had spent his whole life convinced he didn’t.

“Oi, daydreamer.” Rory’s voice snapped him back. “You watching or judging?”

Ewan shifted, pretending indifference. “Both.”

Rory barked a laugh, delighted. “Good answer. Come on, try it.”

“I don’t throw rocks.”

“Then do something else.” Rory plopped down beside him, shoulders touching, breathless from running, knees streaked with sand. He leaned back on his hands, head tilted toward the sky. “You can’t just sit there forever. You’ll mold.”

Ewan gave him a sidelong glance. “And you’ll wear yourself out.”

Rory turned to him, smirk tugging at his lips. “Not if you’re watching. If you're watching, I will forever have the power to show off.”

Heat flared under Ewan’s skin. He looked away sharply, heart racing, and Rory’s chuckle followed like a breeze.

****

So the days unfolded like that, easy, strange, and warm. Ewan found himself listening when Rory spoke, and Rory spoke a lot. About school, about football practice, about a song stuck in his head, about his older brother who turned troublesome, about the time he fell out of a tree and broke his arm. He told stories like they mattered, even the small ones, like he wanted to share them just so someone else would carry them too.

Ewan never said much. But Rory didn’t seem to mind. He filled the silences without crushing them, letting Ewan’s few words sit like treasures when they came.

And sometimes, when Rory laughed, loud, unguarded, the kind of sound that made the air feel lighter, Ewan caught himself staring. Marveling. As if the world bent toward that sound.

****

It was Rory’s idea to swim.

The sun blazed high that afternoon, heat shimmering off the lake’s surface. Rory kicked his shoes off first, peeling his shirt over his head in one careless motion. Ewan purposely did not stare.

“Bet I can beat you across,” he challenged, already wading in.

Ewan froze. His guardian would disapprove. Water was dangerous for them, it was more than water. It stirred things inside him he wasn’t ready to share. It could expose his otherness.

But Rory was already knee-deep, turning back with that cocky grin. “What, afraid?”

Ewan’s pride bristled. “No.”

“Then prove it.”

Something reckless in him stirred. Before he could stop himself, he pulled his own shirt over his head and followed.

The water wrapped around him like an embrace, cool and familiar. He hadn’t swum freely in years, always cautious, always careful of others seeing him. But now, something in Rory’s presence loosened the restraints.

“Ready?” Rory asked, eyes bright.

Ewan nodded.

“Go!”

They surged forward. Rory was strong, fast, all muscle and determination. But water was Ewan’s element. His body remembered even if his mind had tried to forget, the perfect pull of his arms, the way he cut through the lake like a blade.

He reached the far bank seconds before Rory, surfacing with droplets running down his face, hair clinging to his skin.

Rory splashed up behind him, panting. “You… cheated.”

Ewan grinned before he could stop himself, wide and genuine, teeth flashing in the sun. “No… I won fairly.”

“Well… I was delayed by a swarm of fish.”

Rory’s exaggerated indignation look coupled with the ridiculous excuse was too much.

The laugh that escaped him felt alien and familiar at once, bubbling up from a place he’d buried. For a heartbeat, the weight he always carried was gone.

And Rory just… stared.

His chest heaved from the swim, droplets sliding down his bare skin, hair plastered to his forehead. But his eyes were fixed wholly on Ewan. On the way his dark hair fell into his eyes, on the grin lighting up features usually guarded.

“You shouldn’t…” Rory began, voice rough, then broke off. He moved closer, water swirling around them.

Ewan blinked, confused. “What?”

Rory’s hand lifted, brushing wet strands from his face with a tenderness that left him breathless.

“You shouldn’t smile like that,” Rory said quietly. “I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Before Ewan could ask what he meant, Rory leaned in and kissed him.

It wasn’t careful or hesitant. It was as inevitable as the tide, certain and warm and unflinching.

Ewan’s eyes widened, heart stuttering violently in his chest. Every nerve lit up at once, confusion and panic and something dangerously close to joy colliding inside him. He should pull back, should run, should do anything but melt into it.

But Rory’s lips pressed against his like a promise, steady and sure, and Ewan couldn’t do anything but melt, deeply, drink from that warm, from that taste of sunlight and joy.

The world around them, the shimmering lake, the blazing sun, the endless blue sky, blurred until there was only this.

Only Rory.

****