"SO," Cheryl grinned, matching her husband's wave to bid the Hans goodbye, watching as the family of three trodded peppily to their home. "You really told them that I'm sick, Bang? We're lucky I'm a good actor because we would've been caught," she sighed, still smiling a little at the near memory of her success. "I spotted Mrs. Han and Jonathan from the window, so I somewhat suspected the origin. Thank goodness I prepared myself, because Mr. Bang, said that I had a bad cold," Cheryl shook her head jokingly before heading back inside to show some love to the giggling child in the living room.

      But Christopher stood still, sighing, not even capable of mimicking the dimmest copy of his spouse's stretched cheeks, thinking back on the spontaneous, ethic-rebelling conversation with Peter. Thinking back on the pet names which upheld the title of a synonym to his government ones. Not once but twice. And how they made him feel so... inferior. As though he was missing a vital piece of the puzzle of his destiny, and that he should hurry before the opportunity could pass by.

      He reminisced on the way that Peter's tone never failed to splash wave-like sensations in his abdomen upon uttering any line of substance; a substance that obliged to be savored. It enticed mental chastisement of shame, but Bang could not deceive himself with the claim that he did not in fact desire an experience with Peter's proposal; wanted to try whatever it was with the man he had just met. Wanted to explore what his ignorance had blockaded from his mind.

      "Still midday," Christopher muttered, drawing back to reality, at last. He felt limp from just overthinking, thus unable to work up the strength for planting or harvesting that afternoon. Christopher truly wished to visit the Hans again; craved conversation with Peter on the unpopular controversies again, although they had departed barely twenty minutes prior. Wanted Peter to call him darling again.

      And standing there, just before Christopher could lift his straw hat to the rack near the doorframe, his shoulder stung a bit. An odd sensation at the same spot at which Peter was bold to rest his hand. Christopher wondered whether it was his mind performing tricks, or if his skin desperately, and quite comedically, craved Han's touch.

      "Yes," he mouthed, ruffling his curled hair upon walking out to the homey veranda, taking his seat; backside routinely unbothered by the patches of eaten-up cushion, revealing the bare, coarse wood of the seat. "I'm saying yes."

ϟ ϟ ϟ

      10 o'clock PM; an hour at which the population of the awake would be as the norm outlined; a husband and his wife, basking in the pleasure of their marital privileges. But tonight, a husband was up; Christopher, twisting and turning against his mattress, whilst his wife savored her slumber.

      The fact that he had allowed an entire day, brimmed with potential, run past without accomplishing anything of substance soaked restlessness into the setting of his mind that truly desired a full night's rest. He felt lazy, even, and Christopher thought that he'd maybe look at the day's worth differently if he had just accepted Peter's proposal then and there.

      Growing too overwhelmed at the unverbalized pressure, Christopher sat up, swiftly collecting his pipe from the nightstand, not forgetting his lighter and coat. Glancing back at Cheryl, Bang awaited another verse of snores for further confirmation of her deep sleep before standing. He headed for the veranda with the aim of a late smoke, trusting that the thick, satisfying sensation of tobacco against his lungs would bring some settlement amongst his thoughts.

      Closing the front door behind to avoid the mosquitoes that Cheryl always nagged about, Christopher looked around, his possessions overruled by the darkness; the light from his lamp only able to illuminate a short distance from the path to the porch.

      But almost fully detached from the original plan to smoke, one particular, troubling suggestion stumbled through the gullible gates of Christopher's mind. He was quick to shake his head, attempting to close that open door shut and proceed with what he had left the comfort of his sheets to do.

But, whatever that unnamed thought was, it left behind an offspring- an offspring that was drilled to breed more and more strains of its parent, causing Christopher to feel as if madness would meet at his doorstep with the objection to comply.

      Sighing, Christopher tightened the thick trench coat around his torso, resting his unlit pipe and lighter on the rail, and then taking hold of the lamp's handle before moving forward.

      Bang gulped thickly, the audible ruffles through the bushes on either side sending shivers down his spine. But that- he couldn't allow those eerie surroundings to get to him, because he had to get to Peter.

      He had to tell Peter yes, after a day of such mind-boggling and core value-provoking sessions of overthinking. Whatever that experiment would entail was a brief necessity for the continuation of Christopher's sanity.

      Finally, he neared the intended path; the one with miles and miles of unclaimed soil on either side, his target's house just to the end of it. Bang trodded hastily, the wind still maneuvering its way past the narrow separations in between his skin and cloth causing shudders to vibrate the nerves of his chin.

-

      "Pete-Peter," Christopher whisper-yelled, confident that the younger man would hear him due to the small space inside the cottage. "Peter wake up," he hoped that Mrs. Han was as much of a deep sleeper as his own wife, "I need to talk to you."

      "Christopher?" A throaty call startled Christopher from behind, the lamp slipping from his hand, thankfully being caught by the recognized silhouette. "What are you doing here this late?"

      "Peter," Christopher swallowed the lump in his throat, Peter lifting a hand to his cheek to be certain that he was alright. But- unintentionally- Bang found himself melting into the touch. How Peter's hand, small though manly, felt so warm and soft against his cheeks; tinted red from the cold. "I couldn't sleep, because I feel the need to talk to you."

      "Well let's go for a walk," Han whispered, fixing what was assumed to be a similar trenchcoat around his body. "My wife is a light sleeper," he took the elder's hand, guiding the giddy man through the darkness, the light from the lamp dimly guiding their way.

      "W-well, I thought hard, about what you told me," Christopher coughed, clearing his throat, "And I think- I think I am willing to try. I- I thought back on my youth- my interests, everything. Some- some things don't make sense, but I- I somewhat trust you, although we've conversed only today. I find you... almost alluring."

      Despite the dark, Christopher could readily sense the smile radiating off of Peter's squirrel-like cheeks. "I'm happy to hear that," Han answered, tightening his grip on Christopher's hand. "I'm excited to see how this goes, you know. But this is new to both of us, so I don't even know where to start."

      Christopher then lowered his head, halting his steps just near the middle of that pathway, the wide acres encompassing both their sides. Peter stumbled a bit from the sudden stop of his partner, his smaller body sliding back to a stagnant Christopher's side.

      "Are you okay?" Han asked, "You know we can still walk, right? I mean it's just the beginning, ain't it? I wouldn't want to rush you into any act-"

      "Let's do something. I didn't come all this way at this time of night just to say yes... let's do something to have an exciting start?" Chan mumbled the latter part, eyes locked with Peter's, either of their frames as a paired silhouette illuminated and detailed by the half-moon.

      "S-sure," Peter stammered, not from nervousness or the desire to be submissive on such a predictable night, but from the cold wind against his lesser flesh. "I've always- I've always wanted to do this."

      And just then did a dog, they assumed was tied, howl from the distance, that being the only sound against the wind in the sparsely populated area. It added greater thrill to the environment for the two husbands whose wives stayed sleeping innocently, whilst they evidently lusted same-sex pleasure from each other.

      Peter rotated a bit to stand face-to-face with Christopher, both males growing more and more anxious with every action, although Peter was a bit surer as to what exactly he was doing- what he wanted to do.

      "I- may- may I kiss you?" Peter asked, skeptical, face merely centimeters away from Christopher's as he tiptoed to match the latter's height. "I was always cautioned to ask... before anything," he still pecked Christopher's lips, almost able to swear that he could view the red overlay along Bang's face, despite the darkness.

      "Wait," Christopher mumbled, nervous but excited, lips already cold and wet, "Let me turn off the lamp."