Tuesday, 14 April 2015

K is for... Kirill



Blogging From A to Z is a blog challenge where participants post a new item every day (except Sundays), where every item relates to the appropriate letter of the alphabet.  You can find out more over at http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com



This short contains spoilers for the end of The Reconstruction of Kirill.

Story: The Destruction/Reconstruction of Kirill
Rating: G
Word Count: 392

The air was thick with the chirp of crickets, no doubt all desperately hopping for their lives to escape the flashing scythe’s descent.





The air was thick with the chirp of crickets, no doubt all desperately hopping for their lives to escape the flashing scythe’s descent.  The only kindness he could offer them was to take his time, make each sweep a powerful, methodical movement, and hope they could make a bid for freedom in the meantime.

If Niko knew these were the thoughts filling his head as he cut the lawn he’d laugh, but Kirill couldn’t help suspecting he’d also wonder if he’d been more damaged by the whole experience than he’d let on.

Of course, Niko objected to him doing things like this even now.  It was still ‘too soon’, apparently, but it seemed more like Niko had been more traumatised by their separation than Kirill had been; maybe ‘too soon’ was only about Niko, and nothing to do with Kirill.

Swinging the blade so steadily in the summer haze, as perspiration tickled its lazy way down the muscles of his back, Kirill finally felt truly comfortable.  This work wasn’t for obligation’s sake, and it hadn’t been ordered, asked or demanded of him: he did it willingly.  Perhaps soon Niko would realise that too and stop flashing him worried smiles every time he shaded his eyes and glanced back at the house.

Frustration...  Funny, Kirill had never realised he was capable of it.  He couldn’t help smiling.

The whisper of feet over newly- trimmed grass prompted him to lower the scythe to the ground, leaning his weight on the handle as he grinned over his shoulder at the approaching form of Niko, accompanied this time by a welcome tumbler of water.  “Do you need to rest?”  Though his lover might try to keep the concern from his voice, he wasn’t wholly successful.

Kirill shook his head.  The water was beautifully cool against his lips, sliding down his throat— and such a contrast to the heat of the palm that slipped along his cheek to angle his head up for a warm kiss.  No matter what happened, how he changed, the height difference between them would always remind him of what they both were and how far they’d come.  And as Niko’s thumb skirted along scarring Kirill was no longer ashamed of he thought, just maybe, safe, free and beside the man he loved, he could finally look forward to the future as well.

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