Seasonal Feathers

Chapter 9

Matthew looked around carefully, before dashing through his back yard and into the trees. He grinned at the small success and climbed a flyrock, leaping with all his might. The young angel closed his eyes into the wind, enjoying the way it carded through his feathers.

Matt almost wished that he could stay there forever, floating through the forest on a night flight, but he had a plan in place already. Matthew had a purpose for sneaking out, because Hyldest had finally arrived and he wasn't about to miss his time with Gil.

Everyone else had gone to bed early in preparation to wake up before dawn the next morning. The Canadian knew that, by daybreak, the smell of baking bread would be lingering alongside the tinkling sound of laughter. He almost felt a twinge of regret, before remembering that it usually wasn't him laughing, anyway; Matthew was largely ignored around this time just as he was the rest of the year.

Although for some reason people were starting to remember his name more and more frequently, Matthew wasn't willing to take the risk of being let down once again.

He adjusted his pack, careful to make sure that none of the precious ingredients spilled. A few bottles clinked softly, ringing out louder than they should have in the quiet of the morning. Matthew swooped higher.

He rose above the treetops and stayed there all the way to the other edge of the forest, dropping down to the cover of the greenery just a few miles from the edge of civilization. From there, the angel dropped down lightly and continued on foot, moving like a deer through the trees.

Be there soon.

Gilbert's POV

Why. Why, why, why was this happening to him? Why right then of all times?! Gilbert took a deep breath and leaned forward, trying his best to seem collected. To his right sat Antonio, arm thrown casually across the sofa and sipping a beer. To his left, Francis yawned and twirled the remote lazily around in his hand. He flipped through channels, searching for another movie.

The German looked around at the disaster with a hand clenched around a beer bottle, trying (and failing) to work up more than a strained smile. His knee jogged up and down on the couch and sweat slowly trickled down his back as he glanced at the clock.

Five minutes...

Great.

Matthew would be arriving soon, or at least trying to. Gilbert just prayed that no one would see him, or worse: that he wouldn't come straight into the house by mistake.

He breathed out in a short huff and fell back against the cushions, thinking back to the moment his evening had turned into such a mess.

It was right about when his friends showed up randomly at his door. No call, no text, no freaking warning whatsoever before they'd decided that it was time for a bro's night.

The excuse had been worry. Gilbert supposed that that was a bit acceptable; after all, he'd been spending so much time with Matthew that he hadn't spoken much to his friends as of late. When he did see them, the albino was so sleep deprived that he didn't do much more than grumble a quick "hello" and disappear into his store. He couldn't help it though; he loved his night hikes through the woods, and then he and Birdie would come back and cuddle up on the sofa, and talk for hours until the sun just kind of showed up on the horizon.

But according to his pals, Gilbert was exhausted and withdrawn for some odd reason. They'd determined that the best way to fix that was a night of horror movies, beer, and music. Gilbert would admit that it was a nice gesture and that he'd be one hundred percent down literally any other day, but with Hyldest coming today, it was just a little too much to panic about. And Antonio and Francis weren't planning on leaving by--