Zillah's Reading Corner

Hello again. I’m posting a couple little ficlets I’ve managed to finish in the past few months. Yes, I’m still working on Disney. And several other stories. My muse. She’s so flighty. *sigh*

Anyway, this one is a flashback to Hawaii, shortly after they moved there.

A hand touched Seb’s shoulder, and the bed beneath him swayed. He cracked his eyes open a millimeter before rubbing his fist over them in an attempt to drive away the disorientation. Yes, the bed was moving. It was also too small and much too exposed to a chilly Hawaiian morning breeze. This, his sleepy brain decided, was a problem for later.

Then Zain sat on his feet.

Still working on the other two stories. It’s been slow going due to some health issues, but I promise I have not abandoned anything. This one is part of a series of short scenes showing Seb and Zain as teenagers. I’m going to try to post a new scene once a week.

Seb was watching from his window for what felt like hours. Where were they? Had Zain’s parents done something to stop him from leaving? He never talked about them in anything but loving terms, yet if they were really homophobic, they could’ve…. Seb tried not to think about it. He paced in his room.

Continue reading “Scenes from Solshine Farm #1: When Zain First Saw Seb’s Art”

Thank you to my dear friend JL for inspiring this one by asking how Seb celebrates Earth Day. The title is from one of my favorite quotes: “There are no passengers on spaceship earth. We are all crew.” – Marshall McLuhan

He could tell from a distance when it happened. Far off along the shoreline, Seb stood braced against the wind under the clear blue sky. His feet were wide apart, his shoulders thrown back, one of his green-gloved hands clutching his steel stick as if it were a harpoon, and the trash bag dangling from his other fist like a victorious hunter’s prized kill. (Of course, Zain didn’t intend to share that comparison. Seb would hate it.) From where Zain was, he couldn’t make out his facial expression, but he just knew Seb was glaring gloriously. Not at the ocean. At the island, with all its inhabitants and tourists.

Continue reading “We Are All Crew”

Takes place in September of 2013. Title is from the song Dance With Me by Phillip Phillips.

Zain sat on the roof shingles and looked out over the ocean. Moonlight was reflecting off the water in a million tiny droplets of silver. He studied them, then Seb lying beside him. No, he decided. Seb’s eyes were still more stunning.

Today hadn’t been anything special. Just their routine, ordinary lives in paradise. Didn’t that make it an even better time to ask?

He smiled. “Babe?”

Continue reading “How You Shine On Me”

Note: Takes place at some point during their first year in Hawaii. (Probably in October?) Many thanks to JL for giving it a better title!

Looking up at the blanket of the universe overhead, I let out a sigh of pure contentment. Was there ever going to be a more perfect moment than this, laying on our roof with the sound of waves crashing against our seawall, a gentle ocean breeze blowing, and my boy snuggled up to my side, completely relaxed? I wanted it to last forever. Softly, I started to whistle When You Wish Upon a Star.

Seb smacked me. “Don’t!”

Continue reading “When You Whistle Upon a Star”

Note: This is a flashback, taking place several months after Unmellow Yellow. Title is from a Phillip Phillips song.

“Honolulu Endocrinology, Sam speaking. How may I help you?”

“Hi. Um, I have an appointment later today, but I need to cancel it.”

“Name?”

“Seb McKenna Crews.”

Continue reading “Share Your Silence and Unpack Your Heart”

Note: This takes place about a month after the conclusion of Back to School, Ring the Bell, but contains no spoilers.

Seb wiggled to get out of my arms. Assuming he was embarrassed by being held for so long on the sidewalk, with other mids passing us by to start their own liberty, I hugged him tighter. I don’t like him worrying about what people think of us. Plus, it usually makes him squirm against me more, which is not unpleasant.

He huffed. “Z, I just need to get your gift from the car.”

“Gift?” I let go immediately. “What’d you bring me?”

Continue reading “S. trifasciata (or The Cure for a Black Thumb)”

Note: Takes place between You Are the Moon That Pulls Me Through the Night and The Rousing Effects of Coffee.

Zain had brought it out after dinner and set it on the coffee table in front of Seb. It was covered in pink wrapping paper with red doodles of hearts being pierced by arrows. A black ribbon tied around it held the tag in place on top. LUSH, the tag read, and SEXY FUN TIMES over another heart. Seb took one look and said, “But I didn’t get you anything!”

“You made dinner,” Zain said. “Also, this is a gift for both of us, and also also, your birthday is in four days, so consider this your pre-birthday present, and finally also, quit arguing and open it because I’m really excited to use it.” He was practically bouncing.

Continue reading “Rub-a-Dub-Dub (Two Guys in a Tub)”

Note: Takes place about a week after Pride and Panic, when Seb and Zain have gone to Hawaii for leave. More-than-usually NSFW.

Trembles ran through my legs and arms. Carefully, I turned off the water pouring over my head and stepped out of the shower, into the chilly bathroom. A quietness filled it, broken only by drips falling off me to the floor, like icicles melting. I shivered. Merde, what have I done?

My drying-off was perfunctory at best. Rivulets of water still ran from my hair down my neck and bare torso as I wrapped the towel around my waist. Then I padded out to find Zain.

Continue reading “Driven From Distraction”

Note: Takes place between Ceci n’est pas une Pipe and You Are the Moon That Pulls Me Through the Night.

Searching for Seb when I get home is a well-practiced ritual, yet sometimes it surprises even me where I find him. Or what I find him doing.

One day, a few months after the move to Hawaii, I walked up behind him in the back yard, frowning. Stacks and stacks of small, round paper cartons surrounded where he crouched at the edge of a raised plant bed that was mostly dirt. He was studying it intensely enough to not notice me. As I watched, he picked up one of the cartons from the top of a stack, removed the lid, carefully shook out more dirt on top of the other dirt, and then spread it ever so gently around. It kind of… wiggled.

Continue reading “The Early Bird Special”

Note: Takes place right after they first move to Hawaii.

Seb

My eyes were on Zain, not the house, as we pulled into the driveway. I’d sent him pictures, of course, but this was the first time he was seeing it in person. It fell on me to go house-hunting with my parents while he was deployed. I’d had only my gut instinct of his tastes to guide me.

He turned off the Jeep’s engine and sat back in his seat, taking in our new home. I couldn’t judge his expression.

Continue reading “Unmellow Yellow”

Note: Takes place between Ceci n’est pas une Pipe and The Rousing Effects of Coffee. Title is from a Phillip Phillips song (of course….) called Tell Me a Story.

The meter says I’m fine. I woke up in time, tested, ate the recommended amount of carbs to correct the low, and tested again. Everything textbook, just like the doctors want. Then why can’t I fall asleep now?

Continue reading “You Are the Moon That Pulls Me Through the Night”

Note: Takes place between The Rousing Effects of Coffee and When You Fall Like a Statue.

“Babe? …Baaaabbe? …BABE!”

“Zain, oh my gods, what now??” Seb asked, storming in from his studio with paint on his chin.

Zain sniffled. He tried to make it sound extra-pathetic. Then he nodded at the remote lying on the coffee table, three feet away. “Can you give me that, please?”

Seb blinked at him in disbelief.

“I’d do it myself,” explained Zain, “except I’m dying, so.”

Continue reading “A Dying Man’s Last Wish”

Note: This is a story about the winter solstice (Yule, and the Yule log tradition in particular), which means it’s actually more of a New Year’s story than a Christmas-type story, so I waited until today to post. I hope you all have an amazing 2016!

“Mohyeldin.”

I looked up from packing my bag. Platt stood, almost at attention, in my doorway, waiting for my acknowledgement. “Hey!” I said. “Come aboard.”

He stepped into the room and thrust his hand at me. Or, to be more precise, the card envelope in his hand. “For you,” he said, gaze somewhere just above my head. “And Seb.”

Continue reading “Yuletide Treasure”

Warning: Contains homophobia and rejection of a child, and mentions the possibility of child sexual abuse.

I never really experienced Thanksgiving before my fifteenth year. My family embraced many aspects of American culture, but somehow, that holiday got left by the wayside, reduced to a day home from school with a moderately-nicer dinner than we’d have usually. Maybe it was because all my aunts and uncles and cousins live in Egypt, or because there’s debate over whether observing it is even allowed for Muslims. Whatever it was, it seemed as if my parents were just going through the motions as part of their quest to make sure my siblings and I had American childhoods.

Continue reading “Something To Be Thankful For”

Note: Takes place one year ago today, during the same period as College Bound.

I left my dress blues on, save the shoes, and stretched out across the duvet. It wasn’t the best choice for loungewear, but I got as comfortable as I could, yawning, while I listened to Seb brushing his teeth in the bathroom.

He glanced at me when he came out, before heading for the sliding glass door by the sitting area. Just as his fingers touched the handle, I hummed. The noise was barely audible, even to me, and only a fraction of a second long, yet he stopped instantly. I smiled. I knew he’d have no trouble interpreting that. It took a few more moments for him to look back, though. Rolling onto my side, I met his gaze and patted the mattress twice.

Seb bit his lip. He didn’t move.

Continue reading “Dress Blues”

Note: Written for National Coffee Day, which was yesterday.

I carried my coffee into Seb’s studio, taking sips from the mug as it cooled. My boy stood in front of the easel that held his latest work, a paintbrush hanging loosely from his fingers and bare toes poking out of the bottom of his frayed jeans. Smudges of color decorated his face: blue along his jawline, a dot of yellow on his right temple, gray over the freckles on his nose.

Continue reading “The Rousing Effects of Coffee”

Note: Written for a challenge to use the word “theek” in a story, which I would otherwise not use ever.

I hate this. I hate it. I hate it.

“I hate this,” I tell Zain.

He squeezes his arms around me, hugging me tighter to him, and simply says, “I know, habibi.”

Continue reading “Theek Pique”

Warning: This is a very early story. Because Seb and Zain met as teenagers, the earliest parts of their relationship happened when they were both underage. In this one, Seb is 16 and Zain is 17. It contains disciplinary and sexual themes, but nothing explicit on either count.

Seb returned from his walk as dusk fell over Solshine Farm. The chickens were clucking and making their way back to the coop while the mother goats nuzzled their sleepy kids. He stopped at the pasture fence to say goodnight to them and enjoy a quiet moment as the breeze whispered and crickets chirped around him.

Then, through the peaceful air, Dax’s voice cried out, “Lucky shot! That was luck!”

Continue reading “Changing Horses Midstream”

Note: Takes place a month after the move to Hawaii.

Zain doesn’t have the same relationship with his second language that I do with French. For one thing, it truly is a second language for him — he learned it after English, not simultaneously. His parents wanted their kids to fit in as much as possible, so they avoided speaking their mother tongue. After visiting relatives in Egypt when he was seven, Zain decided to study it on his own. Now, he’s fluent in both, but English is still his preferred vernacular. The major exceptions are ‘habibi,’ of course, and profanities. He says swearing in Arabic is just more fun.

Continue reading “Ceci n’est pas une Pipe”

Note: Takes place just before Plebe Summer. “Que s’est-il passé?” means “What happened?”

We had been packing for days now. The storage unit we’d rented was filled to capacity with the more valuable and fragile things, and the remaining boxes were piled in one corner of the living room, to be shipped to Santa Cruz tomorrow. The house was a tree in autumn, slowly shedding the leaves of our personal effects and becoming less ours as each one hit the ground.

Continue reading “Love Wins”

Note: In Hawaii, flip-flops are called “slippers” (or in Pidgin, “slippahs”). This was a response to a slippering challenge. Takes place between College Bound and Plebe Summer.

The other side of the bed was empty. Zain knew it before he fully awoke. He opened his eyes, sat up, and stretched, yawning hugely. Through the window, the gray, pre-dawn sky hung over the ocean, and silhouetted against both of them, the twisted limbs of Seb’s favorite climbing tree cradled his Brat.

Really, babe? he thought, amused. The sliding glass door onto the lanai wasn’t even closed all the way. At least give me a challenge.

Continue reading “Slippahs”

Note: Takes place in Hawaii, between When You Fall Like A Statue and Hard Choices.

My mom believed strongly that all her kids should be able to cook for themselves. We were her sous-chefs before we could talk, and even Dax can manage a good dinner if he bothers to try. For some things, though, I still need her to walk me through it.

“Now, this next bit is tricky, a leanbh,” she said from the phone. “Are you ready?”

Continue reading “Mouse in the House”

Note: Takes place at some point when they are together. Really silly. Just imagine them curled up in bed, and Seb’s kinda half-asleep while Zain plays with his phone. Then this happens. You can play along here.

“Oh oh! Babe, help me find out which Disney heroine I am with this Buzzfeed quiz!”

“Wha? Zain, for serious?”

“For super serious! Here, read out the questions and choices.”

Continue reading “Buzzfeed”

Note: This takes place in Hawaii, at some point between College Bound and Plebe Summer. The title is from the song Raging Fire, by Phillip Phillips. Also, very NSFW.

I came up from behind and wrapped my arms around him while he was rinsing off our supper dishes. He shot me a questioning look over his shoulder. Grinning, I slid my hand down, squeezed him gently through his jeans, and watched his fingers fumble on a cup.

“You’re going to make me break something,” he said, which was the most speech I’d gotten out of him since I came home.

Continue reading “Let Your Heart Be Next To Mine”

“Fifteen,” Zain declared.

From the other end of the couch, where he was sitting in half-lotus with his back against the armrest, Seb lowered The Real ACT Prep Guide enough to arch an eyebrow at him. “Is that your final answer?”

Continue reading “College Bound”

Today

“Babe?”

Seb froze, his pencil lead barely brushing the paper, listening to the footsteps cross the studio. A moment later, the side door opened and closed. He relaxed. Zain would look for him on the roof or up a tree first. Checking them all would keep him occupied for awhile — perhaps long enough for Seb to pull his thoughts together.

Continue reading “Hard Choices”

lanai: veranda (Hawaiian)
habibi: my beloved (Arabic)
désolé: sorry (French)

Zain whistled “The Bare Necessities” as he took the final curve before their driveway. If he timed it perfectly, the song would end just as the break in the trees cleared the view to the ocean, stretching out from the low cement wall and strip of rocky beach at the edge of their backyard. He smiled when he saw it. Couldn’t beat that view in Hawaii, especially at the price Seb’s parents charged them for rent. He turned into the driveway and parked his Jeep behind Seb’s Fiat, getting out almost before the engine died and heading directly for the side door, to the small “ohana unit” they’d converted into a studio. Knowing his fiancé, that was where he’d be.

Continue reading “When You Fall Like a Statue”