Chapter 1: Awakening

The early morning sunlight filtered down through the canopy of thick oak trees bordering the river, dappling the swaying grass and wildflowers in a kaleidoscope of color. Jack tucked a stray lock of sandy blond hair behind his ear as he dunked his paintbrush into the small tin of water, swirling it clean. Satisfied with his work, he rested back on his knees and admired the landscape scene taking shape on his canvas.

A rustling nearby caught his attention. He turned to see Michael emerging from the trees, carrying an armful of freshly chopped firewood. His trademark grin lit up his handsome face, clear blue eyes sparkling with delight upon seeing his friend. "Didn't expect to find you out here so early, Jack!"

Jack returned the smile softly. "Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd get some painting done before the day gets too hot." He watched as Michael dumped the wood unceremoniously and plopped down beside him, long legs stretched out in relaxation. Whatever demons had haunted Jack's dreams seemed to melt away in Michael's cheerful presence.

"Let me see what you've captured so far," Michael urged, leaning in close over Jack's shoulder to study the canvas. His breath tickled Jack's neck, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine that he vainly hoped went unnoticed. Their closeness felt far too natural, as it always did, despite Jack's growing unease. He knew such intimacy between two men was considered sinful, unnatural, an abomination by most in their tight-knit Baptist community. And yet, he couldn't tear himself away.

Michael hummed in approval. "Looks just like the place. You have a real talent, Jack." He gave Jack's arm an affectionate squeeze, eliciting another flutter in his stomach. Jack thanked him quietly, pretending great interest in fixing a stray brush bristle while his nerves settled. Michael didn't seem to notice the effect he had, chattering away about his family's plans for the day as sunlight played in the golden wisps of hair around his boyish face.

Jack wished things could stay this simple between them, but knew it was only a matter of time before other eyes noticed what was unfolding in his heart. He knew he should pull away, find a nice girl to court like everyone expected. But each moment with Michael only drew him in deeper, and the thought of losing this closeness terrified him more than any secret cravings ever could.

Their peaceful idyll was soon disturbed by the faint sound of someone calling Michael's name in the distance. He sighed, climbing to his feet reluctantly. "Duty calls. Ma needs my help with chores before Sunday service. I'll see you at church?" Jack nodded mutely, already missing his company. With a wave, Michael bounded off toward the source of the voice, wood axe slung over one broad shoulder. Jack watched him go longingly, before turning his focus back to his painting and trying to commit every minute detail to memory.

Later that afternoon, Jack entered the village general store carrying his washed canvases to be packaged for shipping. Maya, the bright-eyed shopkeeper's daughter, flashed him a beaming smile from behind the counter amid bagging items for customers. "Jack Watts, as I live and breathe! Didn't expect to see you in town on a Saturday. Got some new work for your agent already?"

Jack nodded shyly, spreading out the canvases for her appraisal while she assisted the last customer. Maya whistled low through her teeth. "These are incredible as always. You're going to be famous one day, mark my words." Her praise lifted his spirits, as it always did. Out of everyone in town, Maya alone seemed wholly unbothered by his artistic ambitions and freethinking ways.

Once they were alone, she hopped up to sit on the counter, waving away his protests. "Now don't you be running off so soon. Indulge a girl in some friendly gossip first. Anything interesting happen out in the woods today?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"N-nothing of note," Jack stammered, cursing the rapid flush creeping up his neck at her insinuation. Maya had long suspected there was more to his close relationship with Michael than met the eye, though he'd never openly confirmed nor denied her hunches. Her perceptiveness both comforted and terrified him. What if others began to see what he was only just allowing himself to feel?

Maya hummed noncommittally, dark eyes flashing with intuition. "You know, I saw Michael hauling off a load of logs this morning, looking awful chipper. I wonder what, or who, put him in such high spirits..." Before Jack could reply, the jingle of the shop bell announced the entrance of Reverend Brown making his weekly patronage. His stern gaze fell immediately upon Jack and Maya, and he frowned disapprovingly.

"Good afternoon, sir," Jack greeted politely, hastily gathering his art supplies. "I was just leaving. Thank you for your help, Maya." She shot him a look mingled with apology and reassurance as he beat a hasty exit, the reverend's judging eyes boring into his back. Jack quickened his pace, the village fading into forest greenery as his mind whirled. He needed to put distance between himself and prying eyes that might see too much, too soon.

The crashing of branches and sharp yelps from deeper in drew Jack from his troubled thoughts. He caught a glimpse of muddy boots fleeing the scene as he emerged into a small clearing and found Michael sprawled face-down in the mud, clothing torn and sodden. Rage and distress warred within Jack at the sight of his battered friend struggling to rise, but he suppressed it for Michael's sake. "Here, let me help you up."

Michael recoiled at his touch. "Don't," he snapped, staggering upright unsteadily. His usual cheerful visage was contorted in anger and humiliation, only fueling Jack's concern. "It was just Tom and his gang. Doesn't matter." But Jack knew it did matter, very much, if violence was being employed to drive a wedge between them under the guise of ribbing. He tried to meet Michael's agonized gaze, to offer comfort, but it was shrugged off.

"Please, Michael. Let me walk you home." Jack extended a hand tentatively, and after a long hesitation Michael accepted it, leaning heavily against his support as they limped toward the distant lights of town appearing through the trees in the twilight. Neither spoke for fear of the emotions it might unleash, but their clasped hands conveyed all that needed to be said for now. Jack refused to let go, clinging to this fragile bond with equal parts desperation and dearness, come what may.

As they entered the village outskirts, Michael pulled away regretfully. "This is far enough. Don't want to give them more cause for gossip if we're seen." With a pat on Jack's shoulder, he hurried off alone toward the glow of his family homestead, not daring to look back. Jack watched him recede, feeling more conflicted than ever. His joy at Michael's company that morning now seemed a lifetime away. Something had to change, and soon, before frustration and ignorance tore them further apart.

But how?