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When Matthew told Vincent that he would take a walk, he did not expect Vincent to ask to walk with him.
He had always taken his walks alone, and Vincent seemed to be fine with it. He supposed they had a mutual understanding that they sometimes preferred doing things on their own. His surprise must have been evident on his face, because Vincent immediately furrowed his eyebrows in concern. The man wasn’t easy to read, but he was surprisingly expressive with his eyebrows.
“If you don’t want me to come, that’s fine,” Vincent murmured.
Though his gaze was sharp, it did not pierce through Matthew. Rather, it hit him like rays of sunshine pouring in between the blinds of a window. It wasn’t harsh, but it was enough to be noticeable. After years of being married, Matthew was able to read even the littlest of his husband’s expressions. They say that the eyes of an individual are the window to the soul, and Matthew could tell that Vincent was being genuine.
“No, you can come,” Matthew said, a little too quickly. A nervous smile instinctively drew across his lips. Admittedly, the thought of them walking together had never crossed his mind. They had always been used to doing things alone, and even now that they were married, they had yet to fully adjust to each other’s presence, still managing around their busy schedules.
Vincent had always been busy, pulled in a dozen directions at once, while Matthew learned early on how to occupy space quietly. They grew used to long stretches of absence, to conversations held late at night or cut short by work. Yet their love still persisted, and they never asked for more than the other could give. There were mornings when they held each other almost desperately, loved each other deeply, but love, Matthew had come to realize, did not always mean knowing how to be together all the time.
Vincent’s gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. His brows softened as a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, returning the gesture. He nodded once, quietly accepting the offer without pressing any further.
They left the apartment together not long after, coats pulled on and keys pocketed. The hallway was quiet, echoing faintly with their footsteps. Matthew walked slightly ahead with Vincent adjusting easily, falling into step beside him.
Outside, the air was cool and crisp with autumn settling in fully now. The trees lining the streets had begun to shed their leaves, blanketing the sidewalks in shades of the season’s hues. He scanned the ground as he walked, eyes catching on a leaf near the edge of the path. It was deep orange, its veins darkened and edges curling inward. He slowed and bent down to pick a leaf up, slipping it into his pocket.
Despite Vincent’s presence, Matthew felt the familiar sensation settle in his chest. He didn’t know when he had started doing this. At first, he needed something small to occupy his hands. Over time, the habit had taken on meaning. Each leaf was a way for him to ignore the loneliness. A way to distract himself, even.
Loneliness had been something Matthew learned to live with long before he had words for it. It followed him through his life, sitting quietly beside him during moments meant to feel full. He grew accustomed to it, convinced that this was simply how it existed in the world. And when love entered his life and promised warmth and closeness, the loneliness did not leave. It softened, perhaps, but it remained.
Even now, walking beside Vincent, married and loved, Matthew felt it press against him again, as if reminding him that having someone did not always mean knowing how to stop being alone.
They walked beneath towering trees, leaves crunched softly beneath their shoes. Work seemed to burden Vincent endlessly on his shoulders. Matthew, too, also dealt with work, but he was also dealing with a burden that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. There was no reason for him to be feeling the way he does, not especially having what he considered to be the happiest occasion of his life. The weight of the ring still presses against his finger.
Matthew wiped at his face with the sleeve of his coat as he held back his tears, though it did little to help. The sting lingered behind his eyes, dull and persistent. He stood there for a moment longer than necessary before forcing himself to move again.
Vincent noticed the pause. “Are you all right?”
Matthew shook his head slightly, trying to smile, but the effort felt thin. “Yes, just thinking,” he said, though even as he spoke, he knew it wasn’t the whole truth.
They walked in silence for a few moments, letting the crunch of leaves fill the space between them. Matthew’s hand itched to reach for another leaf, but he resisted. He didn’t want to get lost in the habit while Vincent was beside him.
Instead, Matthew looked up, admiring their delicate edges and warm hues. Its long branches towered over the lot of grass it sat on, bundles of leaves adorned with the lush colors of autumn.
He didn’t notice that Vincent was looking at him as he followed his gaze to the leaves.
Vincent noticed that Matthew always collected leaves whenever he went on his walks. He would take some heavy books from their bookshelf and press the leaves between the covers to dry. Then, he would display them on the fridge, arranging them like a scrapbook. Vincent didn’t comment on them, but they were like candy to look at, the colors vivid and sweet.
A thought came into mind. He decided he wants to pick one for Matthew. He stopped by a tree, searching for the perfect one for his perfect one.
He finally settled on a leaf, its edges tinged with gold and russet. The branches were low enough for Vincent to pluck the leaf directly. He held it between his fingers for a moment, studying it carefully, before turning to Matthew.
“I think this one suits you,” Vincent said, offering it.
Matthew looked at the leaf, then at Vincent. He hadn’t expected the gesture, as simple as it was, but it struck him more deeply than he anticipated. He reached out, accepting it. “Thank you.”
The street curved slightly, leading them to a small park tucked between buildings. Matthew instinctively slowed, taking in the quiet beauty of the way the sun cast its soft light. He felt Vincent step closer, their shoulders brushing lightly.
Matthew knelt briefly to pick up another leaf, a deep amber one with intricate veins. He held it up to the light, turning it slowly in his fingers. At the same time, Vincent knelt beside him without asking, picking a smaller leaf with edges kissed by red and offering it to Matthew.
Vincent tilted the leaf between his fingers. “This one looked reliable.”
Matthew blinked at the strange description. “Reliable?”
“Yeah. Strong stem. Good color. Won’t crumble in your pocket.” His tone was serious, but his eyes were tracking Matthew’s reaction.
Matthew took the leaf from Vincent, turning it slowly between his fingers. “You thought about it,” he said, almost to himself, unsure if he was teasing. If only he could tell Vincent why he collected these leaves in the first place.
He turned to face Vincent, the sunlight catching the side of his face, highlighting the quiet intensity in his eyes. Matthew felt a warm sensation in his cheeks, realizing how handsome he looked.
Vincent shrugged lightly, but didn’t look away. “I noticed you do. I thought I’d try the same.”
“It’s nice,” Matthew admitted, quieter than he expected. He felt the warmth in his cheeks spreading.
Vincent’s gaze lingered on him. “I like that you notice things,” he said. “Even small ones.”
Matthew looked down at the leaf, then back at Vincent. “It’s just a hobby.”
“Hobby or not, I still love that part of you.”
Matthew wondered if he had lost count of how many times he had cried. It had become a reluctant routine he felt compelled to follow. Just as the sun rose every morning, washes of orange blossoming into a blue that stretched across the sky, his tears rested on his tear ducts as part of a constant cycle.
Realizing what Vincent had said to him, Matthew unexpectedly choked out, “What do you mean still?” He looked around at the street in his panic, looking at the trees above and the scattered leaves on the ground. One leaf, deep amber with dark veins, broke free from a branch and fell between them.
Vincent caught it before it hit the ground. He held it in his fingers without handing it to Matthew, watching him instead. Matthew saw a desperation in Vincent’s expression, as if he was beckoning him not to hold back his tears. His throat tightened.
Vincent held his gaze with a steady, knowing stare. “It’s hard not to block out your cries,” he muttered. “Even when you try to hide them before I arrive home.”
Matthew let a single tear escape, tracing a path down his cheek. Vincent reached out instinctively, brushing it away with the back of his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Vincent said, reaching up to wipe away more of Matthew’s tears. “I should’ve said something sooner.”
As the sun dipped lower, the light shifted, filtering through the branches and scattering dappled patterns across the ground. For a moment, each leaf seemed to be illuminated by sunlight. Matthew stared at the leaf in Vincent’s hand, its edges curling inward. His breath hitched. “You noticed.”
The words loosened something Matthew had been holding tight. He turned his face away, embarrassed by the tears, but Vincent didn’t react. Instead, Vincent firmly placed the leaf into Matthew’s palm.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said. “Whatever you’re feeling, I still love you.”
Matthew closed his fingers around the leaf. Above them, the branches rustled softly, the light fading between the two of them. He nodded, the tightness in his chest easing just a little.
“I love you too,” Matthew breathed out, and with it came everything he’d been holding back.