Scenes from Solshine Farm #1: When Zain First Saw Seb’s Art

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.

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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.

The moment he heard the car turn into the drive, he dashed out, down the back staircase, and into the garage. His heart pounded as he waited for the door to roll open. When it finally did, he tried to squint into the rear through the windshield as his father pulled in and turned off the engine. Then, while he and Seb’s mother were still unbuckling their seat belts, Zain climbed out and took a single step towards Seb.

“Hey,” he said.

Seb ached. Because Zain had never looked like that before. Lost and faltering, and trying, unsuccessfully, to smile. Zain looking like that shouldn’t be allowed. His vision blurred.

“Hey,” Zain said again, rushing forward. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.” He clutched Seb around the shoulders, and Seb was too upset to even notice it was their first full embrace. He gulped and shook his head. Zain must’ve felt it, because he insisted, “Really. We talked everything over with them, and I think they just need some time to cool off and get used to the idea. They both said they– they love me.” His voice hitched on it, like it hurt.

Charlie, Seb’s dad, came up beside them, holding a green camo LL Bean backpack with ZMA embroidered on the front. He put his other hand on Zain’s shoulder. “‘Three things cannot be long hidden,’” he said. “‘The sun, the moon, and the truth.’ They will see the truth eventually, and in the meantime, you have a home. Come inside.”

*

They went through to the kitchen, Charlie leading the way and Maeve, Seb’s mother, following. It overlooked a family room with a large sectional sofa, and the breakfast nook where Zain had first met two of Seb’s siblings.

One of them, the brunette girl named Quinn, was sitting on the sofa playing a video game. She glanced at them, then grinned and sprang up. “Oh, hi, Zain! No one said we were having company for dinner. Je me demande pourquoi?” The last part was aimed at Seb, with a teasing wiggle of her eyebrows, but as she said it, she got a closer look at his face. “Wait, what’s wrong? Sebby, why’re you crying? Are your sugars acting up?”

Zain thought it was odd of her to jump right to that. Seb just shook his head, though, and Maeve spoke. “Show Zain upstairs, mon petit trognon. I’ll bring you both some tea.”

Seb retreated. As Zain followed, Charlie held out his backpack. Zain accepted it, and Charlie went to the family room to speak quietly with his daughter.

They went up a staircase Zain hadn’t seen on his first visit to the house. It was much more plain than the curved one in the foyer. At the top, Seb turned right, then right again. He opened a door and led Zain through.

“Wow.” Zain dropped his backpack on the floor and stared around. “So… when you said you have a guest suite, you weren’t kidding.”

He was facing a tiny kitchenette, like you’d find in a nicer hotel. To his right was a small living room with a loveseat, a recliner, and a TV hung above a bookcase. Behind him, another door stood open, and he could see a full-size bed beneath a dormer window.

“We used to have au pairs,” said Seb, “so we renovated some space for them to stay. Now it’s mostly used for family visits. I mean, not now, with you here. I mean, if we have family over, they’ll sleep somewhere else. Not that we’ll have any over anytime soon. Mostly just, um, for Thanksgiving.”

Zain would be back with his own family by Thanksgiving. Hopefully. He looked around again, and then down at his backpack. Taking out the few things he’d managed to bring was more than he could face. And the suite, while clean and comfortable, also felt… unlived-in. Not alive the way the rest of the house was. “Can I see your room?” he asked.

Seb blinked. A blush colored his cheekbones under the freckles. “Um. Okay.”

It was barely three steps down the hall. Seb opened the door, gesturing for Zain to go through first. When he did, his jaw fell. He forgot his surprise over the guest suite, and the pain gnawing at his gut, and he just spun in a slow circle.

Every wall was covered with art. Drawings taped up next to paintings and watercolors and a few places where it looked like the illustrations had spilled off any sort of paper or canvas and simply decorated the walls themselves. They were mostly of natural things, like trees and animals, but he saw portraits, too. One was easily recognizable as Keegan, Seb’s other sister. The desk pushed up under the dormer window was piled high with sketchbooks and colorful bits and blobs of supplies.

“Holy shit. You did all this?”

Seb was still halfway outside, chewing on his thumbnail and watching Zain taking it in. He frowned slightly. “Oui. You’ve seen me sketching before.”

“Yeah, but you never let me really see it,” Zain said. “Even when I tried to sneak up on ya, you were too fast closing that sketchbook.” Grinning at Seb, he added, “I don’t know why. This is amazing. You’re, like, super talented. I’m impressed.”

The other boy went even redder. “Merci,” he mumbled.

“Hey, do you think you could draw me sometime?”

Seb’s eyes flicked to the sketchbooks on the desk. “Um. Yeah, maybe.”

“Awesome.” Zain bounced onto the twin bed and flopped back to look at the art hung on the ceiling. It was all stars and moons up there.

“Some of them glow in the dark,” Seb said, coming to stand next to the bed.

“Sweet,” said Zain. He scooched over and patted the covers. “Lay down. It’s your room.”

*

Seb gazed at the narrow strip of space next to Zain on the mattress, and couldn’t think of a single excuse to refuse his invitation. Why was he trying to, anyway?

Right. Because Zain had just been practically kicked out of his house, and he needed a friend right now, not a silly boy with a crush on him. But that meant doing whatever would help, and perhaps Zain needed physical contact. Platonic physical contact. Platonic… cuddling.

He was going to burn up from the inside out.

Slowly, he inched his bottom onto the bed. Then he brought up first his right leg, followed by his left, and ever so gently, laid back. He tried to stay as close to the edge as he could without falling off. It was impossible to avoid feeling the warmth of Zain next to him, though, and Zain’s knuckles brushing his own where their hands rested between them. He closed his eyes and attempted to focus on his breathing.

“Thanks,” Zain whispered.

Seb wondered for a moment if he meant for laying down. That was stupid. Of course he was talking about sending his parents to get him and bring him here. “De rien,” he whispered back.

They sat up when they heard footsteps on the staircase. Maeve appeared, carrying a tray with two mugs and a plate, which she set down on Seb’s nightstand without batting an eye at them being on the bed together. “Just a light snack,” she said. “Seb, I brought you goat cheese, and Zain, there’s some biscuits for you and a few sugar cubes for your tea. Do you need anything else, mon cher?”

“No, thank you,” Zain said. “This looks delicious, Mrs. Crews.”

She smiled. “Call me Maeve, please.”

“Maeve. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Sebby, you know when dinner is ready.”

“Oui, Maman,” Seb said.

She left again, pulling the bedroom door nearly shut on her way out.

Seb picked up the nearest mug and looked down into it. “Um. She’s Irish, so… y’know, in a crisis, make tea.” Immediately, he wanted to bite his tongue off.

Zain laughed, though. “Yeah. Egyptian mothers are similar.” He took the second mug and inhaled the steam coming off it. Seb heard him swallow heavily. “She was making some when I left.”

With two full languages at his disposal, why could he never think of anything to say? All he could do is reach out to Zain’s wrist and push the compassion filling him towards his fingertips, trying to transmit it through his skin so Zain could feel and know he wasn’t alone.

Zain didn’t move his arm away. He used his other hand to raise the mug to his lips and blow over the liquid. His brilliant brown eyes roamed across Seb’s art surrounding them as they both sipped tea in silence.