Short LGBTQ+ Shorties

Silver in the Green

"Angelish!" He could hear them shout from where he sat. Perched, one foot dangling sitting crouched on his other, his hands pulling down a plentiful leaf filled branch to keep him hidden amongst the thick branches and summer leaves. His silver hair had quite a few twigs stuck in it, but he could not care less.

A number of people had come and gone, each one shouting a variation of his name and title.

"Angelish!" by his stepbrother Leon, it was followed by his most favourite, endearing, nickname "Hedge-Born!". Very recommending of him... His eye role and frown at the slur changed to a happy smirking smile-having to quickly swallow down a giggle as to not give himself away-when he saw Leon act like he hadn't a second ago tripped over a surface root, checking to see if anyone was had seen while brushing himself of dry dirt and briskly walking off his nose in the air, like the snobbish noble he was. Little did he know that his young teen stepbrother saw it all with his eagle black eyes. Mentally high-fiving Karma, of whom Angelish was good friends with.

Half an hour later he heard his other nickname, "Angel" being called by his half-sister. He was tempted when she came looking for him, Regal who was younger but help more status than him was the only member of his family who cared. For anyone and anything. Heart of pure gold and too good for this family of bloodsuckers. He did not jump down from his tree; the rain had decided that for him. She went in and he stared up at the sky loving the feeling of droplets on his face.

He did not feel the cold from the north wind as it played with the rainwater that feel from the heavens. He simply sat and watched the transparent beads fall from the sky onto the leaves then drop down further to the ground below. Angelish really wanted to drop down himself to feel the wet grass between his bare toes. But his stepfather, Duke Fitcher, came waltzing by with his prissy entourage of advisers and other nobles in their tailored to perfection coats keeping them from feeling the rain and wind. Barbarians Angelish muttered to himself watching them shun anything natural in their stately attire.

After glaring at where his stepfather had walked cursing each footprint his ears pricked up at the voice that rose from the nearest veranda. "Nothus! Where are you boy?" Yet another charming nickname, he signed, I get it, I was born low class, illegitimate and no clue who my father is, no need to rub it in. There must be no one else around because his tutor only calls him Nothus when their alone. If his mother heard Mr. Pole-up-his-butt calling him that slur she would have in out of the manor in seconds. Though it would do nothing, he would only be replaced with another awful tutor who cared nothing for the boy. Hearing his tutor, he went a still as possible, eyes alert and narrowed, month pinched. Yes, he was late for his lessons, but his boring dull lessons over sitting in a tree all day while it rained, it would not be hard to guess which Angelish would pick.

Mr. Born-in-the-dark-ages did not wait long, impatient and taking the opportunity to snake away to write up a fake, filled with false remarks, report of Angelish behaviour. No doubt he will be summoned in a day or two and forced explain his behaviour in front of the Duke of Arse house of Arse town... He was already planning the snarky retorts he could turn out to rile his stepfather up with.

After spending the whole morning hiding up in a tree, he finally came back down to ground some point during midday. When his feet hit soft wet grass, he closed his eyes and sighed happily. He reluctantly walked away from his chosen tree of the day and snuck into the shadows of the manor and crept his way in and out of the kitchens, leaving wet footprints in his wake. Snagging what he could, stuffing what he grabbed into his waist jacket and trews pockets then wisped off back to his tree. He was not so lucky on his way back.

One of the items of food he picked up fell out of his trousers, he did not hear it fall, nor the footsteps that also stopped to pick said food item up.

"Angelish," the articulated whisper of his name had him sucking and biting his inner cheek, suppressing an Oh Bugger! He haltered and shuddered at the recognition of the voice turning round slowly.

"Yes Earl Magnus?" he said with his practiced put-on sickly-sweet tone and bright white smile he only did for the Earl, everyone else got deadpan uninterested tone and looking anywhere else that wasn't the person wanting his attention. His infatuation for the Earl was no secret, he made a game of showing it at any opportunity. His endeavouring was to one day crack the stoic man's stoical face. The closest he has ever gotten was a smirk a year ago after completely embarrassing himself in front a whole party with a large bowl of something not for his age, definitely not his most favourite moment to remember.

"I think you dropped something," in his hand was the bread thing neither of them knew what it was, all Angelish cared about was that he was going to eat it in his tree. Angel reached to take it, letting his dainty fingers linger longer than needed in the older man palm. His pale-white cheeks came up a visible purple colour when the Earl drifted his own fingers down to Angelfish's wrist, as if feeling his pulse, that totally was not beating faster than a hummingbird's wings. The teen's smile faltered at the unforeseen action, his eyes gaping at their hands, his hand frozen in time yet hanging limply while the Earl's basically-and making it look so casual-stroked his wrist. His heart all but stopped when the too-handsome for his own good Earl leaned into Angel's space, his face inching too-close for his poor cheeks to cope who were practically burning off him. Suddenly blinking rapidly when the Earl's has his lips to his ear.

"I win. I managed to wipe that smile off your face again."