When the circus came to Eidenswill, Artemis had expectations that were always met years prior. The hunter spent early mornings in the Grim Woods, carefully bringing his wares so as to not raise suspicion. While the townsfolk know of Artemis' secret, he does not go out of his way to clue in others. Then in the afternoon and evening, the shop opens to sell to the onslaught of customers. By the end of the week, Artemis has sat in to watch the show once or twice, but this year is different.

Artemis watched almost every show for the last nine days in a row. Ladies teeter precariously atop tightropes high above, frightening the crowd into dead silence or shared gasps. Partners flip from one rope to the next in glittering silk. A woman breathes fire, catching swords aflame that she juggles like they don't burn. Beasts lurk in the tent, jumping through flaming hoops or yowling like nightmares. The crowd cheers and applauds. Artemis sits among them, doing the same, although his gaze drifts to Dovin, who is heading his way.

Dovin isn't a part of the act. He scurries about the tent selling snacks or small trinkets from other lands, or so they claim. Perhaps they're nothing more than pieces of common wood carved by someone with a vivid imagination. No one asks because they're too excited by the idea of the unknown. His job seems to be a sort of errand boy.

During the day, Dovin comes and goes from Artemis' shop to make purchases. He doesn't mind Artemis' silence, chattering about his day and worries concerning the journey along the Jolly Road. When Artemis replies with more than a word or two, Dovin smiles. That smile drains the breath from Artemis' lungs and he hates himself for it. But he continues peeking out the window, hoping for Dovin to visit or pass by. When he does, he always stops to at least say hello. His voice is like a song calling Artemis to look his way, to pay attention, and to want what he wishes he didn't.

Artemis tells himself time and time again not to watch the show. The tickets aren't expensive, but Mr. Orshawl will return when the circus leaves with another excuse to take more money. He needs all the coins he can get. But when Dovin takes a break to sit with Artemis, he forgets about money, Orshawl, and the house on the hill.

"Aren't you tired of the act yet?" Dovin asks. His arm is unbearably warm against Artemis' goosebump covered skin.

The heat of summer is trapped within the tent, bringing sweat to his brow. He shakes his head.

"Well, I'm certainly tired of it. I know the words and movements to every act." Dovin laughs, re-enacting the announcer when he comes on stage. Dovin gives a mocking flourish in perfect synchronization with the announcer. Artemis laughs.

"You should do that more often," Dovin says.

"What?" Artemis asks.

"Laugh. I like it when you laugh."

Heat rises to Artemis' face, as it has been. Sometimes he wonders if Dovin speaks purposefully. Does he carefully choose his words to invoke such a reaction? Can Artemis hope for that? Can he live with himself if he does hope for it? And other times he calls himself ridiculous for even contemplating the notion of Dovin having any interest since those across the sea don't always have the same customs. The townsfolk have witnessed this first hand. The married ladies selling fruits by the Jolly Road were spat at once by a man speaking in strange tongues. And the married men have gotten into a bar fight on a couple occasions.

"I better get back to work," Dovin says, rousing Artemis from his thoughts. Dovin rises from the bench. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Artemis nods, maybe a little too eagerly because Dovin laughs again. Then he disappears among the crowd. The act comes to an end the way it always does. The next day comes and goes as an odd and new normal. Artemis sees Dovin, talks to him, sits with him at the circus, and laughs over the new jokes that Dovin stumbles through. Hope blossoms within Artemis, accompanied by fear. But he hasn't the time to address either before the final night arrives.

Artemis is closing up shop to watch the last act when Dovin arrives. He stands behind Artemis in the fading sunlight, dressed in a loose shirt and pants, unlike his usual uniform.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Artemis asks, confused.

"I got the night off," Dovin answers, rocking on the heels of his feet. With eyes downcast, he adds, "So I thought we could watch the act together... or do something else."

There are plenty of other things Artemis would like to do that he pushes to the farthest recesses of his mind.

"Are you certain you want to spend tonight with me?" Artemis mumbles, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Of course!" Dovin declares, then darkens. "If that's ok with you?"

"It is," Artemis blurts out so fast he's surprised Dovin even understood.

"What shall we do then?"

"There isn't much to do," Artemis answers honestly, gesturing to the woods. "It's more dangerous after nightfall."

"Surely we can go for a walk at least?"

No is on the tip of Artemis' tongue, but it burns like a spark.

"A walk should be ok," he lies, triple checking that his quiver is tight to his back, iron dagger at his ankle, and sword at his waist. Dovin watches curiously, but not worrying. Then the two set off.

Eidenswill fades into the background. They walk together among the growing fields. The stalks reach above Dovin's waist. His hand dances over the crops, letting them graze his open palm. Artemis keeps to his right, gaze shifting to the Grim Woods. It's late and most are sleeping or watching the final spectacular act. The boys are alone among the fields beneath the darkening sky. Although Artemis worries with the woods so close, he can't bring himself to end their final evening. He tells himself these feelings are ok for the time being because they'll leave with Dovin, even if he knows that's an atrocious lie.

"I..." Artemis clears his throat. "I didn't see you among the circus last year."

Dovin stares wide-eyed at him.

"D-Did I say something wrong?" Artemis whispers.

Dovin shakes his head, humming. "Not at all, but that's the first time you initiated conversation."

"Ah."

"Ah," Dovin mocks, chuckling. "My family and I worked at a smaller carnival until we joined this year so..." His cheeks tint pink. "I'll see you again next year too."

"G-Great, that's... nice." Unlike his piss poor response, although Dovin takes amusement in it because he smiles, bright and awe-inspiring.

"The way you speak, one would think this is your second language rather than mine."

"I don't talk much," Artemis declares. His prince would say otherwise, if he could.

"That's fine. I talk a lot."

"You do."

Dovin playfully nudges him.

As they walk, Dovin weaves stories of all the places he has been. There was once a village atop mountain peaks, scattered over the edges, threatening to spill into the valley below. They've been to marshlands where they sank up to their knees and jungles so thick one couldn't see further than an arms length in front of them. The circus has performed for royals and commoners alike. The life he has led is like that of a fairytale, someone who has seen so much in such little time. Although the more Artemis considers his own life, the more he realizes that perhaps his is a bit tale-like as well, only far more nightmarish than fairy.

Eventually, the boys sit along the dirt path, peering up at the stars. Dovin falls to his back, dragging Artemis with him. Their arms brush, like they did in the tent. Artemis goes short of breath, struggling to ignore Dovin laying next to him under the stars. Dovin traces over constellations that have much different tales than the ones Ima told Artemis. They have peculiar names that make Dovin's accent even thicker. Artemis struggles to pronounce them, but he's kind of glad he does because it makes Dovin laugh. He likes when Dovin laughs, too.

Artemis looks at Dovin, who's so close that he sees his reflection in Dovin's eyes. Then he's close enough to feel Dovin's lips gently caress his own from every breath. And then Dovin kisses him. He tastes like aching sweets and smells of the aromatic incense from the circus. His hair is soft between Artemis' fingers and his hands are calloused, slipping around Artemis' neck. Artemis moves, leaning over Dovin, pressing close so Dovin's thighs brush against his hips.

The kiss deepens. Artemis doesn't know what to do. His only experience is one he doesn't want to think about, especially now. Don't remember the house on the hill. The taste of liquor and the suffocating scent of smoke. Focus on Dovin and his labored breath, trembling lips, a soft moan when Artemis descends to kiss his neck. His heart races beneath Artemis' lips that taste like summer and something forbidden.

They kiss and touch among the fields. Artemis hopes he'll forget everything else and remember this instead. Remember pleasure instead of pain. He wants to think of the moments after too. Dovin kissing him just because. Artemis holding his half naked form, skin to skin, feeling Dovin's heart race against his chest. He laughs when Artemis tickles his neck with a kiss or moans when his hand goes south again. This is what it's supposed to be. This is what others talk about with a partner, the excitement and the yearning. Even if it's only for tonight. Hopefully it'll make tomorrow easier.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:✧*⋆.*:･ﾟ✧.: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾