“Here.” Noran looked up, tearing his eyes from the drawing he was working on. Therin had his hand outstretched, a flat pebble between his fingers. “Watch.” Noran nodded, indicating the other boy should continue.

The younger boy squared his shoulders and drew his arm back, the pebble caught in the curve of his fingers. Time slowed as Noran watched his arm snap forward, the sunlight catching in his lustrous hair and glinting off his golden skin. His unlaced shirt exposed a swath of taut, smooth chest and Noran watched the muscles beneath the fine silk ripple as his arm extended forward. A single bead of sweat tracked down his jaw and left a trail down his neck. Noran pictured putting his mouth–

Time resumed as the pebble left Therin’s broad hand and skipped once, twice, thrice across the pond before plunking unceremoniously into the weedy middle.

“Damn it,” Therin said as he clenched his hand into a fist. Noran waited for the other boy to turn back to him before offering him a smile of commiseration.

“Bad luck,” he said as Therin sat beside him on the rock. Noran turned his attention back to this drawing and glanced up once to watch the sunlight shine through Therin’s hair again. Amazed at how many shades of gold were in the other boy’s hair, he stared a fraction too long and Therin glanced at him, catching his eye. The grin he gave Noran took his breath away, his heart thundering in his chest.

“Aren’t you done with that yet?” Therin gestured to the pad on his lap and shook his curls out of his eyes. Noran, blushing, shook his own hair out of his eyes.

“Nearly there,” he said but as he did, he smudged out the lines he had just drawn and replaced them, shading softly and then blowing on the paper to chase away the charcoal dust. He glanced once, quickly, to check the likeness. He had captured the smirk perfectly.

“Let me see,” Therin said as he reached a hand for the pad.

“No!” Noran jerked his work away, panicked at letting the other boy see the unfinished portrait. He looked down at the work and frowned. It was nearly perfect. Even with just a charcoal pencil he had been able to capture the essence of Therin: from his shaggy, too-long hair to the way the light caught in his cerulean eyes. Even in shades of grey, Therin’s beauty was evident. Maybe he’d never show his adoptive brother the portrait. It was…telling.

“You’re so weird,” Therin said but the affection in his tone took the sting out of his words.

“And you’re stupid,” Noran said offhanded, distracted by getting the shape of a lock of hair right. The summer air fell between them, hot and humid, the frogs singing in the lowering sunshine. Noran’s pencil scratched against the paper as he drew, the only sound either of them made for a while.

“I’m hungry,” Therin said, breaking their companionable silence a bit later. Noran snorted in amusement, his lips twitching up in a rare smile.

“Tell me something else I already know,” he said softly, earning him a brotherly punch on his arm. He saw it coming and lifted his hand from his paper before Therin made contact, thus preserving his hard work’s integrity.

“Ass,” Therin muttered but his stomach groaned loudly and he put his hand over his gut. “See?” He said, his voice breaking as it raised annoyance. “I told you.”

“Nearly done,” Noran soothed him and as he did, he finished the shading under Therin’s jaw and sat back, his hand ready to fix anything he might see. Glancing between the drawing and the subject he felt the steady warmth of pride wash across him, tightening his chest. It was good. It was…perfect. He pursed his lips before shrugging slightly and signing his name on the bottom. He blew the dust away and then folded the cover over the page, careful to not smudge the work.

“There,” he said and tucked the pencil in the small loop along the side of the leather pad holder. “Let’s go eat.” Therin was already on his feet, his hand held out to the still seated Noran. The thin boy eyed the hand, already calloused with hard work, the nails a little dirty.

A man’s hand, Noran thought as he looked down at his own. The side of his left hand was smudged slightly from drawing but otherwise his long, pale fingers were clean, untarnished by rough work and play. What would Noran’s hand feel like in his? He could imagine it. He could imagine his hands–

He flicked his grey eyes up once again to Therin’s outstretched hand and knocked it away and stood without assistance. He grimaced as he stretched his long legs, stiff from sitting still for so long. His own stomach grumbled and Therin laughed. Noran noticed it was deeper and huskier than it had always been.

“Even you need to eat, Noran.” Therin grinned and slung a heavy arm around his thin shoulders and Noran sagged dramatically under the weight. He shrugged out of the contact, his skin flushing at the touch. He wrapped his arms around his drawing pad and hunched his shoulders, shying away from way he felt when Therin’s blue eyes met his.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

While they had been raised as brothers, given the same opportunities and, for the most part, the same treatment, Noran could not banish the discomfort he lived with. Their lives were nearly identical yet Therin’s boyish happiness and carefree joy merely cast Noran’s darkness into stark relief. He fell even more silent than usual when with Therin, outshined by the other boy. Noran could not banish the feeling that he was other and Therin’s casual grace and charming personality made Noran feel that gulf between them widen as his heart beat painfully.

Physically, they could not have been any more different, either. His golden blond hair was sunshine itself compared to the silver moonbeam of Noran’s own straight, sleek hair. Though younger than Noran, Therin, tall and broad, sweaty and muscled, was already nearly a man. Noran had once caught him looking in the mirror, pulling his lip down to let the tiny golden hairs on his upper lip catch the light. His own upper lip stubbornly refused to grow anything at all, which didn’t bother Noran one bit. Shaving looked tedious when Devan did it.

Noran, while taller than average, was not nearly so tall as Therin. His thin frame refused to pack on muscle, despite the exercises and chores he did with his adoptive brother. Instead, lean and pale, he resembled exactly what he was: an awkward, uncomfortable teenaged boy, unsure of who or what he was. He shook his silver-blond hair out of his eyes again and led the way to the manse.

A half hour later they sat in Therin’s room at his work bench, sandwiches of cold chicken and hard, sharp cheese before them on thick cloth napkins. Therin had three sandwiches to Noran’s one and as he watched the bigger boy put away the food with machine-like efficiency he scoffed, amazed.

“Wha–” Therin said, his mouth full. Noran shook his head and looked back down to his barely touched dinner and picked up his sandwich. He took a generous bite, the soft bread sticking to the roof of his mouth. As he chewed, he saw Therin watching him.

“Wha–” he echoed Therin’s word from a second ago. The other boy’s hand came up, his finger extended and Noran froze. Time slowed again as Therin’s calloused finger touched his cheek, wiping away a smear of butter. He brought his finger to his own mouth and sucked the butter from his fingertip. Noran felt his stomach clench and his appetite disappeared. He set the sandwich down and swallowed painfully. Therin wasn’t looking at him and he was thankful that he could not see how discomforted he was by the casual touch.

“Tomorrow is Sally’s birthday,” he said to break the awkward silence between them.

“Yeah,” Therin replied thickly. “I sent for blue ribbons for her. Mrs. Jones said she’d like them.”

“Mmm,” Noran replied.

“What did you get her?” Therin asked, noting the judgemental tone in the reply.

“Nothing special.” Noran said evasively.

“What?” Therin pressed, and Noran blushed.

“A new quill and ink set. Some nice paper. So she could write to her family in Lightholde.” Therin fell silent with his response.

“That’s…thoughtful.”

“Yeah,” Noran said. “I thought so.”

“I should have thought of it.” Therin huffed a sigh and Noran looked up from the crumbs he was picking at on the napkin.

“I’m sure she’ll like the…ribbons.” Noran smiled thinly and Therin groaned.

“She’s going to be thirteen,” Therin said, scrubbing his face with annoyance. “She won’t like ribbons.”

“She’ll like them.” Noran assured him. “If Mrs. Jones said she will, she will.” He touched his fingertip to his tongue and picked up some of the crumbs then popped his finger into his mouth.

“Ribbons,” Therin muttered. “Idiot.”

They finished their dinners, Therin finishing what Noran pushed his way. The older boy watched as the taller one took out a small piece of soft, pale wood and a small knife and began to whittle.

“What are you making?”

“Well, it was going to be a cow for the farm collection,” he gestured over his shoulder to the glass case with his carvings. “But now it’s going to be a horse for Sally.” He frowned as he set the carving down and threw a log onto the fire and turned the oil lamps up. “Stupid ribbons.”

“She’ll love that,” Noran said and before he could stop himself he added “All teenage girls like hastily carved horses as gifts.” Therin’s lips quivered into an annoyed smile as he stopped carving.

“You’re an ass,” he said, lifting his head and glaring at Noran. “An absolute ass.” Noran gave him a rare smirk and stood.

“An ass who knows how to give gifts.” He said as he dusted his shirt off and picked up their napkins. Therin dropped the knife and wood chunk on his work bench and glowered, his face like thunder.

“What should I do, then?” He looked so confused that for a second Noran saw the Therin lost to time: the young boy who had lost his father, who had been taken in by the High Lord, who had been thrust together with the broken, dark Noran.

The pale boy grew even paler as he saw that childish face peek out at him and for a second, he felt the world fall away from him. The neediness behind that cocky facade was shocking. The child that had cried at night, in Noran’s bed, in his arms, for three weeks shone through in that moment so clearly that he wanted to take Therin into his arms–

He shunted away the impulse to reach out to Therin but Noran’s heart stuttered, his eyes grazing across Therin’s lower lip as he bit it. Noran wondered what those teeth would feel like on his own lip–

“Put your name on my gift. I’ll give her the ribbons.” The words tumbled out of him before he could stop them and Therin’s face melted back into the almost-man he was.

“What? No, I couldn’t–”

“It’s fine.” Noran turned on his heel and as he left Therin’s room he cast a glance back at the boy-man seated at the workbench. His slouched shoulders were rounded, relaxed. His shirt hung open, the laces pooling in his lap. His hands were clasped together, his thumbs pressed together in a thoughtful way. He met Noran’s eyes and smiled, warmly, openly. Noran felt the blush rush down his neck and twist into his gut.

“Thanks,” Therin said and Noran made himself break the eye contact before he caught fire with embarrassment and something else he was refusing to name.