If he thought about it, he’s sure he could make this exercise as corny as hell, he thinks, as he hacks away at dirt made solid by a few months of sun. It hadn’t occurred to him to water it first to make it easier.
The baby vines Fiona fetched from Amber lie in their tray beside him as he tries to do this quietly so that Random won’t hear him. He’s trying to sleep upstairs. The man hasn’t been resting so easily lately. Ramon knows this because he hasn’t either – they’ve both been awake to hear the other lie in silence. He doesn’t try to break the peace because the way he’s been feeling lately, he could say nothing that would help.
Maybe this will help though. It’s symbolic really, this anniversary, given that in their own personal timelines they’ve been together far longer than a year. But there should be a date somewhere and they were brought together by the bar. It’s as good a place as any to count the days in.
The hole seems big enough. He’s no gardener and doesn’t really have a clue what he’s doing. How hard can it be though? Give it a foundation, room to breathe, something for the roots to cling on to. Food, water, a bit of care. Should be enough. They should grow strong, these vines. They have each other to wrap around. No reason why they won’t spread and still be in a thousand years time.
Ramon doesn’t think of much as he pulls them carefully from the tray and places them in the ground. He’s determined not to make this something it isn’t. He could make it sentimental, but won’t. It’s enough, he thinks, that he’s trying to bring Random a piece of home here to this place. What more can he do? He listens when the man speaks, tries his best for him. Thinks up strange gifts that he hopes he’ll like. Attempts to not fuck things up too badly.
(let him sleep with someone else)
Isn’t that sentiment enough?
Dirt is shovelled back into the hole roughly, but patted down with care. And he fetches some water and a couple of the plant food pills that Bar gave him, because they might as well get off to a strong start. He can smell the scent off them already; sweet in the still morning air. Ramon stares at the things for a moment when he’s done. They should thrive here, he thinks. Really, they should. No reason why not.
It’s been a strange year. Its hurt more than anything else ever has but been better than everything too. He wouldn’t have traded a minute of it.
There are sounds of rustling sheets coming from the room above. Ramon looks up to the open window, then back down at his gift. (home). After a moment, he bend s and takes a while to arrange them a little more to his satisfaction. As he leaves to go back upstairs to his lover, a bee lands on a small flower growing from the newly entwined stalks. Ramon’s not a man given to sentiment. But still. They might as well grow together. Stronger that way.