The Tea Shop [mxm]

XXI: Words Left Unspoken

When Wren woke up the next morning he was in a daze. He couldn't believe he'd said what he did the night before. Elliot was most likely asleep already when he'd said it, but it was scary to admit it even to himself. They had met just a couple of months ago; how had it escalated this quickly?

As Wren was lying there, looking down at a sleeping Elliot, he realised how. From the very first time he'd seen Elliot, he knew something significant had changed in his life. It felt like something had gone missing, and he was sure that whatever it was he'd dropped, he'd done so in the Tea Shop, and Elliot had picked it up. When Wren walked out the door that first time, he was no longer whole. He was fractured, and the only time he felt whole anymore was when he was with Elliot. That missing piece was in his hands, but Wren felt no desire to take it back.

A piece of him was Elliot's now, just as a piece of Elliot was his.

There was never any doubt in his mind that he would fall for Elliot. At first, he'd been reluctant, but after a week of holding himself back he finally gave in. He went back to the shop where he first met Elliot, and the rest is history.

Well, not really. Wren knew that their story was still being written, and no one knew what the future might hold. Except a year in France, away from al he loved and knew. He wasn't sure if he should be excited to finally leave this place, or scared to death. He didn't know what would happen if he moved. When he moved. What would happen with the people back home? Would they be able to stay in touch, or would they eventually lose contact? More importantly, how would Elliot take it? He didn't want to leave Elliot behind, but he had no choice.

He had to go to France, not only for the sake of his job - that was actually the smaller part in the equation - but for himself. He'd waited for an opportunity like this this for so long, he couldn't just let a romantic relationship that might not last get in the away of that. He really wanted to do this.

But how would he explain that to Elliot? It was time to tell him. Wren knew that the timing was less then optimal, and wished he'd done this earlier. Just the night before, Elliot had voiced his fears about not being good enough and Wren leaving, and he'd reassured him he wouldn't. But that was a lie. He was leaving. In less than 48 hours.

Elliot stirred to life suddenly, his breath puffed over Wren's chest. He struggled against the tight hold of Wren's arms, but relaxed a moment later and relished in the warm embrace.

"Good morning," Wren spoke, but Elliot just hid his face in Wren's neck.

"No." Elliot certainly wasn't a morning person and Wren wondered how he managed to get up early in the mornings to get to work. Elliot had told him that he usually started baking at five in the mornings.

Speaking of that, why were they still in bed?

"Elliot, don't you have to get to work?" Wren asked.

"Not yet," Elliot mumbled. "I got Desmond to cover for me this week, I have to be there by nine." The time was six thirty, when Wren's inner clock usually woke him up.

"That explains the late mornings the last couple of days," Wren said and nodded. "Well, in that case, why don't you go back to sleep for another hour?" Wren asked and kissed Elliot's forehead.

Elliot mumbled something incoherent, already halfway to dream land. Wren fought the urge to chuckle, not wanting to disturb the boy sleeping on his chest. He couldn't help but to think of Elliot as a boy when he was asleep. Like the first time Wren had stayed the night, Elliot's cheeks puffed out and his lips were pouting the slightest bit. He looked so... innocent, as cliché as that sounds. And he still looked like an angel.