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The sun burns right through their skin as it gradually slips away under the horizon, illuminating the ocean waters with its sunset palette. A cool breeze is starting to introduce itself through the beach grass, its rustling making beach rose bushes sway softly. Footprints in the sand have been dented and dented again until it becomes an entirely new configuration unrecognizable from its state in the morning.
At the shoreline, the waves lightly wash away every fleeting message written on the sand. As they brush up, they tickle Martyn’s feet and leave clumps of sand stuck between his toes. It’s a tad annoying, but he doesn’t think about it thanks to Scott’s warm presence distracting him.
And the alcohol. That too.
Martyn is never going to question Pearl’s taste anymore. This strawberry moscato is mind-blowing. Scott likes it too, judging from his hoarding of it and the fact that he's drunk just short of getting kicked out for being a public nuisance.
The summer is almost over, and Scott’s promise is, too.
Not quite yet, though. Martyn is going to cling onto the last days of their “just for the summer” agreement for as long as he can, and boy is he going to milk it.
At the start of the summer, Scott had propositioned him with a pretend relationship: they’d have the status, an excuse, all without the commitment and public displays of affection. It’s an offer impossible to turn down.
(When they do PDA, though, it’s always accidental. Scott just doesn’t want anyone eyeing Martyn, and Martyn loves it when Scott is territorial even if he always denies it.)
Private displays of affection are a different matter. They’re still meaningless all the same, but they don’t have to hold themselves back when there’s no one around. Their lips still clash, their tongues still fight, if just they have a lot more vigor to them. And it escalates beyond that sometimes.
Never the dirty, though. They’ll do everything but that.
Because this love isn’t actually love, it’s all just a facade. Even with how terribly realistic Martyn’s passion is as he kisses Scott, he refuses to let the idea of him being in love with Scott progress beyond flickers of doubt in his mind. Martyn doesn’t actually mean it when he’s breathily whining Scott’s name as he grinds their hips together. There’s no reason other than a need for warmth when the two of them cuddle on one sleeping bag in a tent lazily set up beside the highway. It’s all just out of necessity.
Yeah, because you definitely need his love, his useless brain supplies. It's been acting up ever since this whole arrangement started, and he figures Scott's gorgeous face is what causes him to short-circuit.
At least it's good enough to assure himself every day that all those actions mean nothing.
Right now, too. Scott has one arm slung around him while he licks his neck, the saltwater mixing with the tropical fruit flavor on his tongue. It’s just the alcohol making Scott act up, Martyn tells himself.
“Is he always like that?” asked Cleo, clearly sensing the huff of fondness that Martyn let out.
Thanks to someone holding onto his shoulder awfully heavily, Martyn couldn’t shrug, so he just moved his arms in a resembling manner. “Not around other people. It’s the alcohol.”
“Is that your reason for what he was doing with a popsicle earlier, too?” piped in Pearl, replanting into their minds the image of Scott shoving a whole rocket popsicle into his mouth and bobbing up and down from the red to white to blue and back again. Cleo grimaced and elbowed Pearl to scold her, while Martyn flushed slightly at the thought.
“You didn’t even bring the drinks over then,” Cleo said.
“Oh yeah, that’s entirely Scott,” Martyn replied with a laugh.
He swallows any thoughts of this all having to fall once they’ve fulfilled the promise, and he doesn’t even let the idea of this all being pretend surface as Cleo brings out a few packs of sparklers. Then it’s running recklessly with the wind as they write messages in the air, the smoky haze making Scott’s eyes burn all the brighter.
None of what he does with Scott might mean anything, but he’ll savor it nonetheless. If it’s just for the summer, he might as well make the best of it.
Scratch that thought, actually. It’s autumn, and both of them have agreed to extend their promise for another season.
The almost paralyzing chill in the air and the vibrant hues of the abscising leaves make it the perfect time to go on walks through the forest. Everything smells so cozy beneath the canopy, and the trickle of the running stream in the background really ties it all together. Distantly, wind chimes ring, the sound almost covered by the creaking boards of the wooden bridge that heaves both Martyn’s and Scott’s weights.
Luckily, it’s already past mosquito season, so neither of them are frantically flailing their arms and legs in an attempt to ward off bugs because their paralleled stubbornness makes them both insist that they don’t want bug spray.
They go on routine walks like these every so often. Always starting off at the nature center, where they say hello to the hundred year old turtle, they then start wandering wherever in the neighboring woods. There’s no set trails, so as long as the path looks trodden, it’s probably a viable way to get either back to the nature center, the creek below, the large hill used for sledding, or the small playground made entirely out of wood.
Today, they’re taking all the time in the world to get to the wooden park. It’s not a very well known location despite being quite close to the highway, but that’s all the better for them.
Scott is wearing a sweater that he bought on their most recent shopping spree from last week. They’ve already gone on so many since autumn started and neither of them would pass up on "summer’s over" discounts, and when you consider the fact that Scott can afford such large hauls — well, Martyn still maintains enough dignity to keep himself from becoming a sugar baby, but he’s got to be somewhere close if not already toeing the line.
(Hell, he already sleeps at Scott’s place most nights. But can you blame him — Scott lives in a mansion, no idiot would turn down that luxury!)
As they walk, Martyn has his hand placed in Scott’s, who keeps swinging their hands back and forth and bringing a steady gust as he does so. He can especially feel the warmth emanating from his hand, especially thanks to the extra long sleeves of Scott’s flamboyant yellow, purple, pink, and teal sweater being extra fuzzy.
Even though there’s nobody else around to boast their relationship status to, Martyn still reaches for Scott’s hand. However, he still denies any of this being genuine.
Well, he’s made attempts to, but the thought of him being in love is starting to solidify itself against his will.
Once they finally get to the park, they watch the hours tick by as they have fun with the different wooden parts, with the racecar being their personal favorite next to the stepping stones that they love to race each other on.
To close everything off before they head back to the parking lot, Scott finds a stick and draws a huge heart in the mulch. Then it’s back to civilization they go, where the black Mercedes that Martyn has become increasingly familiar with awaits them.
Snow covers the world in white, a purity that Martyn and Scott no longer know.
Both of them still say that all their little declarations of love that they silently say in their affections mean nothing. It’s a little bold to say that such sinful, desirous behavior could be done without ever having to rip your heart out, but at least they collectively agreed to befriend the elephant in the room by joking about it.
For all of their friends, it’s pure torture. The joint forces of Scott’s flirty personality and Martyn’s tendency to be a little suggestive here and there have tormented them ever since Scott accidentally let it slip that he was sleeping with Martyn, both literally and figuratively.
(Knowing Scott, they’re not even sure if it was an accident or if Scott just wanted to brag.)
Pearl and Cleo, the only two who know that their whole relationship is a ruse, have always had doubts about how fake they made it out to be. Now, knowing that Martyn and Scott are actually banging, they’re starting to think that there’s more than a simple agreement to a fake relationship that the two of them have going on.
Funniest part is, Martyn and Scott don’t even realize this. The bluenette vehemently denies any thought of love, even if their broken promise nags at him everyday; the blond has his thoughts, but he rarely ever lets them fall out of his mouth and see the light of day.
Right now, the two of them are waiting for Cleo and Pearl to be dropped off as they sit in the back of Scott’s Mercedes with the trunk popped open. They have a two-person foam sled and a one-person circular sled as well as an ungodly amount of winter accessories and hand warmers.
Martyn has somehow found himself lying down in Scott’s lap and using the other's legs as a pillow as they talk. He’s absentmindedly brushing his fingertips over Scott's latest manicure when Scott takes note of a bright red coat sticking an arm out of the passenger window of a car driving by.
“Wow, Pearl, thanks for inviting every single person we know,” Scott said sarcastically as Jimmy and Joel hopped out of the car’s middle row with a sour-faced Cleo following them shortly after.
“Hey, Grian invited himself,” Pearl said as she side-eyed the two lovebirds on her way to open the trunk of Grian’s car. She pulled out an inflated tube while Cleo, still recovering from the disaster that was being squeezed in the same row as Joel and Jimmy, grabbed her plastic sled. Meanwhile, the two Bad Boys instantly ran off, Joel having grabbed a standing scooter and leaving Jimmy with a bulky foam two-person sled. In the driver’s seat of the car, Grian just sighed as the trunk beeped and closed before going off to find a parking spot.
Cleo’s face slowly filled with excitement as she saw the snow covered slope that they were all so familiar with. “C’mon, let’s go sled!” Pearl giddily followed her as they ran off without even waiting for Scott and Martyn to get ready.
Their squeals as they stepped into the deceivingly short fresh blanket of snow faded away as they scaled the mountain. Not wanting to move, Scott just pressed a chaste kiss to Martyn's lips. Nothing passionate, just two smiles meeting each other for a split second.
“Okay, I’m not third-wheeling here,” Grian’s voice said, snapping them back into reality where he started trodding away from the sight of them.
Scott, who didn’t want Grian to walk all by his lonesome self up the hill, called out, “We’re getting hot chocolate after this!”
This definitely got his attention, and he rushed back with a plastic sled trailing behind him less dejectedly. “Do we have to bring Tim and Joel?”
“Not if you trust them with your car,” Martyn said with a laugh. Grian groaned but stayed behind nonetheless.
Martyn yawned as he sat up from Scott’s lap and readjusted his scarf in the rearview mirror before picking up his foam sled and hopping out of the trunk. To cushion his fall, Scott awaited him with his arms wide open, which he eagerly landed in. This garnered an eye roll from Grian but a cheeky smile from the couple.
They’re just keeping up the act, Martyn told himself. It didn’t actually mean anything when Scott was right there waiting for him, and it didn’t matter that home felt like Scott’s arms.
What matters is that coat of snow over the grass that still hasn’t been roamed in most of its areas. Its glistening white right at the foot of the majestic mountain is calling for him to trample all over it, and he would listen to its encouragement if not for Scott linking their arms and wanting to walk slowly.
“Can I go in the snow?” Martyn asked nervously, and Scott inhaled sharply through his nose.
“Fine,” he replied with a hint of faux annoyance and traces of a smile tugging at his lips, and then Martyn was instantly off.
To start off, he dove into the snow headfirst and was met with a pleasant faceful of the chilling material. Rolling over onto his back, he made a snow angel while Grian and Scott watched him with embarrassment and fondness (respectively) before carefully standing up to admire his work.
“Okay, let’s go!” Martyn said, excitedly dragging the rope of his sled as he scrambled to catch Pearl and Cleo while they were still at the bottom of the hill from their most recent kamikaze sled run.
Trailing behind with equal enthusiasm but lesser energy, Grian and Scott did eventually get to the top of the mountain, where the Bad Boy was enthusiastically greeted by his fellows.
“You left me with those two,” Grian complained as the three of them squeezed into a two-person sled, clearly trying to make it work for their trio.
Jimmy patted the area behind him for Grian to join. “It’s fine. Martyn, can you push us?”
Sighing, Martyn obliged anyway. At least it gets rid of those Bad Boys!
“Where did you put the unused sleds?” asked Martyn to Pearl and Cleo, who were taking a quick moment to empty the snow from their gloves. He held up his two-person sled. “We’re gonna use this one.”
Cleo pointed at an area slightly concealed by some small trees, where Scott set his circle sled down.
“You don’t have to use a sled,” Scott said, a devilish glimmer in his eyes. “You could ride me instead.”
While Martyn's cheeks immediately became flushed red from what he was sure was not the cold, a shade that matched his Rudolph nose and rose-tinged, snow-coated face, Cleo and Pearl burst into giggles at the hilarity of it all. Even without speaking, they knew that they both had the same thought on their mind: those two are definitely in love.
Trying to move past his flustered state, Martyn said, “Do you want to try going on your stomach? So basically one person goes on top of the other, like a sandwich.”
Martyn laid his stomach on the sled and continued, “Then you just go on my back. Like a penguin.”
Scott did as he said, which was rather unfortunate timing as the Bad Boys had just made their way to the top of the slope.
Nervously but with a clear laugh that he was struggling to hold back, Jimmy asked, “Is this, like, top-bottom?” He's right, but they will never give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
“Be quiet, boy!” Martyn said, clearly sick of being playfully embarrassed by his friends.
But it does get him thinking that he would give anything for all of their shows of love that they parade to their friends (and fulfill in the bedroom) to mean something.
Maybe love. Probably love.
Definitely love.
Grass is starting to grow again, and Martyn soon finds himself able to go outside in a t-shirt. Now, he greets the morning by going out to the balcony right outside of Scott’s room and saying hello to all the birds.
The view there is amazing. It overlooks parts of the garden, the beds of which are blooming with assortments of flowers in every color, all a labor of love of Scott's green thumb and an enthusiastic Martyn following behind him like a puppy as he hauls Scott's assortment of garden tools and supplies. Nearly every part of it is baroque style except for the asymmetrical parterres, which has been Scott's main focus as of late. Geometric patterns are made by bushes and shrubs with flowers dotted about in swirls from the aerial view. The most abundant flowers were sea thrifts, bleeding hearts, and African lilies, although only two of them were Scott's favorites — the bleeding hearts being Martyn's. Despite Scott's detestation of the flower because they "clashed with the scene," he reluctantly added a few patches.
Behind him, the other sliding door shutters open, and out steps the prettiest man ever, who is groggily wiping sleep dust from his eyes. Once Scott finally can see, though, he goes to tug on Martyn’s finger so that they can sit on the swinging bench together.
Some morning dew is on the surface, but oh well. More importantly, Scott is still by his side, Scott still chooses to disregard how much of a lie that original promise was, and Scott still wants him.
It’s a simple scene. They’re not kissing each other, nor rocking the bed, or even snuggling closer under blankets, but this light sway is enough for them.
Then back comes summer, and the blazing heat reminds both of them that they can’t ever be satisfied.
“Just for the summer.” A wonderful promise that they both happily broke.
They both wholeheartedly insist that it’s still pretend. Even if every reach for the other becomes a subconscious instinct rather than an active attempt of showing the other off, or wanting to share warmth, or just trying to silence their unholy urges.
Well, they still do all the rest of that, too.
And it’s back to their old summer tradition of camping, though they’re a little more sophisticated now and sleep in an actual campground in a national park that's close by.
(Of course, there’s still only one sleeping bag. That will never change.)
Scott keeps dragging Martyn along on hikes, too. Some of them are quite strenuous but they’ve built up endurance over time. Also, the views definitely make it worth it.
Martyn still isn’t satisfied by their day-to-day happenings or even their nightly schemes, though. Even if every press of Scott’s lips or his tongue or his teeth feels real, Martyn assures himself that he’s just being delusional and that Scott is still pretending. That he himself is still pretending when he cries Scott’s name, when he threads his fingers through Scott’s hair, when he does something as simple as a mundane task for Scott, even when he just says his name.
It’s a lie, of course, but so is that first promise!
And then Martyn has the genius idea of telling Scott he actually loves him, because it’s been plaguing him for so long and it’s the one thing he is absolutely, positively confident that he knows.
Scott loves him back, he learns.
Well, it’s not quite new information—he's always secretly held onto hope in the back of his mind—but it’s confirmation.
Martyn can now pull Scott close without any worry of it all fading away once summer deteriorates into fall.
Martyn now knows that Scott means everything that he does — every kiss, every touch, every task, every word (perhaps with the exception of that first promise — not that he’s complaining, though, look where that broken promise got him!) with his whole heart, with every ounce of love he’s ever held.
And Martyn returns it, for every summer and fall and winter and spring that follows.