Diego & May

The raindrops fell softly on their skin as they sat straight-backed and cross-legged in the back garden, eyes closed, lost in meditation. The open book beside them was drenched, but they did not care—they had finished with it anyway. Besides, the heat of the fire would dry the pages in no time.

They had some shelter, though not much. Their clothes were soaked through. Their hair, once blonde, now hung discoloured and sodden.

Diego, daubed in his mighty stag-do antlers, approached carefully along the treeline. His tread was soft and careful, so as not to disturb—

Snap!!!

He flinched at the noise that, in this idyllic stillness, rang out like thunder. He had stepped on a twig, breaking it in two.

"Did you want something?" they asked, not looking up. In all the time that Diego had been watching them, they hadn't moved once, save for the steady rise and fall of their chest.

"How—?"

"You've been standing there for twenty minutes. I was going to ask what was wrong sooner, but you looked like you had something on your mind—something you were building yourself up for."

"... Yes. Something like that."

"Is this something I can offer you assistance with?"

"No... thank you. I ... I’ve a gift for you."

"For me?"

"For you. Black rose seeds. You said you wanted to make this garden so beautiful that Eden would weep with envy."

"Did I really say that?"

"Mmm."

"Hmm, how very prideful of me."

"Oh, I don't know about that. One's own patch of Eden does sound perfect. Here—keep them so you can start tending to our dream. And maybe you'll think of me when you look at them."

"You sound like I won't see you again."

"I won't be around forever. Sooner or later, I won't be here. But the garden, our grove—well cared for, well maintained—that will outlive us both. I had hoped to find the perfect shade of red, but the black felt more like you. They're hardy, durable. They'll grow well, no matter the odds, and bloom with such beauty and grace.

"... They're such a thoughtful gift, Diego. I don't know what to say, other than thank you, of course."

"You know, I’ve never seen you lost for words before. Never. You sound tongue-tied."

"... ... ... Not yet."

"May... ... ..."

May rose and approached Diego, circling him. They looked over their shoulder, back toward the house. It may have been dark, but they had a warm backdrop. The warm glow of the distant windows bathed them like moonlight.

"Do you think anyone can see us?"

"Maybe."

"Mmm. Do you care?"

"... Not at all."

May continued to walk around Diego, so they were right behind him, pressing their nose into his neck. They nuzzled.

"Stand still, the Summer

Day that makes my heart beat true.

Stand still beside you."

"For Summer brings joy,

Showering from bleeding sky above,

Pierced by great Cupid"

"Cupid's bow, rain down

This love, so that I bask in

Such sweet revelry."

"And such revels can't

Compare to one drop of love,

from this wedding day."

"I could stay in this moment forever."

"As could I."

Diego removed his antlers and placed them tenderly on May's head. He leaned in and kissed them, their lips barely brushing. He wrapped his arms around them, drawing them so close that their toes pressed together, tip to tip.

"Oi, you two! Do you know how many traditions and superstitions you're flaunting? It’s bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the ceremony, and I don't care that there’s no bride—it’s still bad luck. Diego, get inside and play Mario Party with the rest of the stags."

"Till noo..."

"Go on. ... ... ... What did I miss?"

"An exchange of Haiku verses."

"Then I got here just in time --- Diego, I can see you're dawdling. Go on! If I weren't here, you would’ve been making out in the rain and missed your own doe do. Which would be most unfortunate. As me and the does could not finish four bottles of Perseco on our own. Yet alone forgo watching Grease... ... ... And why are you wearing Diego's antlers?"

"He shed them."

"You fawn on Diego like Pyramus does Thisbe."

"I do hope not. Their story ends tragically."

"So will this one if I miss Summer Nights. Go on. And take your book with you. What is it anyway? The Tempest? Forecasting a storm, are we?"

"Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,

Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.

Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments

Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices,

That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,

The clouds methought would open, and show riches

Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked,

I cried to dream again of my Diego."

"Ha. Come on."

"I mustn't forget these."

"A packet of seeds?"

"Wishes... A wedding gift from Diego."

"Dorks, the pair of you. Now come on."