It was December when Driek asked Gela to join him in the cemetery. The marshy earth had frozen solid and a fresh blanket of snow had fallen upon the town.

It was nearing sunset as they walked. Gela let Driek lead the way as he held her hand. Following behind him, Gela noticed that Driek’s tracks were about the same size as her own. Her gaze flicked from her own feet to his. 

That couldn’t be right. His feet were nominally bigger than hers. She shook her head instead. She still wasn’t the old Gela. Just as well she was seeing things.

Suddenly, Driek stopped walking. Gela almost bumped into him. He was staring down at a patch of land she was fairly certain would be a grave. She was about to ask him who was buried here when he spoke up.

“It’s strange, you know… I never knew him, but whenever I’m here I still feel myself mourning a presence that I’ve never been in before,” Driek said solemnly.

Carefully, Gela tried to catch a glance at his countenance without him noticing.

It was haunted. Paler than she was used to. His eyes filled with unshed tears, he bit his lip so they wouldn't spill.

“A presence I’ve spent my entire life living in the shadow of,” he mumbled.

Gela turned her gaze towards the grave and gently squeezed his hand in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture. Finally, she found the words. “Who was he?”

Driek was quiet for a moment. “He was my brother. His name was Driek.”

Gela frowned and glanced from the grave to Driek. “But-”

“I know, I’m the family’s only son. The man of the house. But that should have been him. He died before I was ever conceived. I shouldn’t even be here-”

Gela squeezed his hand tightly. She wasn’t sure what she was hoping to do. Ground him. Take him away from this line of thinking. With a boldness she hadn’t known she possessed, Gela released one of her hands from his, laid it on his cheek and turned him to face her. She gazed into his midnight black eyes. “But you’re here now,” she said firmly. “And I’m grateful that you are.”

Tears, previously unshed, spilled from his eyes. There was something in his expression Gela couldn’t quite place. Sad. Appreciative. Conflicted? Yearning?

She gasped as he took her wrist, bending down. Kissing her. His warm mouth against hers, tasting vaguely of iron.

“I love you, Gela.”

*

It had been months since that day in the graveyard. Gela joined Driek back to the graveyard several times after. She never once felt that joining her friend to visit his dead brother’s grave might strike the other townsfolk as strange. If it did, she didn’t care much. It was clear to her that Driek needed someone with him. A bit more of an outsider than his mother and sisters. 

Driek also came round to her family’s farm more often, sharing stories about seminary school and life in the city. Gela listened to him with rapt attention as he spun wool from his family’s farm into yarn with a drop spindle.

In return, Gela spent a considerable amount of time at Driek’s family’s farm, helping the girls make cheese from their sheep’s milk.

There was a change in Driek, Gela noticed. He was more open and candid about his feelings. His back straightened, forcing Gela to look up even further, and he seemed genuinely happy. 

His smile made her feel butterflies and it occurred to Gela that she might love him in return.