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Secret walks around Cairnholm were nothing new to Horace Somnusson. Solitude was naturally hard to come by in a house of twelve people, so whenever he needed alone time, he’d wander the paths around the island to see where they would take him. Horace had always kept to himself, much to the dismay of the gossip mill that was Miss Peregrine’s home. Relationships were no exception—something about his more reserved nature and being a boy who liked boys in 1940 made him hesitant to let any of the others in on his romantic life, even if none of his loopmates would care too much if they knew. If anything they’d just tease him like they would anyone else in the house, but Horace had never particularly liked being teased and they knew that. It was bad enough when it was about his crush on Julius, the man he’d never have had a chance with even if he had ultimately survived the war. Not only was Julius far too old for him, he’d had so little interest in Horace he didn’t even bother trying to turn him down, probably figuring ignorance would be enough. Even if he’d lived Horace would’ve been set up for heartbreak, which only made the others’ jokes about it that much more insulting.
This time was different. This wasn’t just a crush, this was an actual relationship, and with one of his own loopmates no less. Horace was determined to keep the rest of his friends as far away from his feelings for Enoch O’Connor for as long as possible. Thus, when Enoch expressed a very shy interest in going on proper dates together, Horace started taking him along on his walks around the island.
This particular evening’s excursion led them to the cliffs. Horace had borrowed Emma’s camera for their rendezvous, excusing their absence by claiming to want to take scrapbook pictures. It was partly true. He really wanted to take photos to keep for himself, photos of the two of them that hopefully would never be seen by anyone else. Just to remember this by. He wasn’t sure how he’d get Enoch to agree to it, being someone who normally hated taking pictures even when it was important, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He was mostly just worried about Emma noticing how much of her film was conveniently missing when they came back.
Horace snapped pictures of everything normal and non-suspicious he could think of: the birds nesting on the island, the waves in the distance, the slowly darkening scenery. Meanwhile, Enoch trailed behind him, hands propped behind his head and a mischievous glint in his eye. Horace didn’t have a clue what that look on his boyfriend’s face was about, but he supposed he would figure it out soon enough, knowing Enoch. He paid it no mind for the moment and continued taking photos.
“So, what are we taking pictures of?” Enoch asked. “For your cover story.”
“Just nice things around the island for Em’s scrapbook,” Horace said.
“Got it. So you’re using the whole rest of the reel to take pictures of you, then.”
Horace froze for a second, then burst out laughing. “Where on earth did that come from, dear?”
Enoch shrugged. “You said take pictures of nice things. Nothin’ ’round here that’s nicer.”
Horace rolled his eyes and Enoch laughed back at him. The pair climbed the cliffside, taking care not to step in the wrong places on the rock or let the other fall. The cliffs were half forest, half steep hiking trail, and while they were hard to climb the view from the top was well worth the trouble. Through the last bits of the trees there was a small wooden bench Bronwyn and Victor had built almost a century ago, before the loop had even been established, Bronwyn had said. Horace could hardly wrap his mind around the fact that he’d lived here that long. The bench was where Enoch told him he spent his own alone time when he got it, so Horace figured it could be a nice spot to talk without listening ears.
Horace pulled Enoch by the arm up the last of the rock they had to climb, taking note of how much darker it had gotten since they’d left the house. He’d have to take his own pictures quickly if he wanted to be able to see anything.
When they finally got to the top, Horace was instantly captivated by the sun against the ocean. “Wow. Look at that, ‘noch.”
“Ain’t that a pretty sight,” Enoch marveled behind him. After a brief pause, Horace heard him add, “The sunset’s okay too, I guess.”
Horace turned to his boyfriend, who was looking straight at him with a shit-eating grin.
“Oh, shut up,” Horace said, smiling uncontrollably and gently shoving Enoch.
Enoch laughed and grabbed his partner’s hand, pulling him close. “It’s true.”
“You’re an ass.”
“All yours. You’re stuck with this.”
“I wouldn’t ask for anything else.”
Horace pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss, letting it linger. The look Enoch gave him when he pulled away was one of pure adoration, one that said I want to be here with you forever. Horace led Enoch over onto the bench, kissing him again before wrapping both arms around him. He pressed their foreheads together, a gesture they’d adopted for talking without the rest of the world distracting them. Even when they could have private moments like this, it was nice to have a way to shut everything else out.
Enoch gave a quick peck to Horace’s nose, which immediately made his face burn. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered, you know that?”
“So that’s what you’ve been trying to do all day.” Horace laughed, narrowing his eyes.
“Possibly. It’s working.”
“Only because it’s so out of nowhere that I’d have believed hearing it more from Hugh than you, dearest.”
“Fair enough. I swear, have you seen how clingy he is with Fiona now? You’d think he’s scared she’ll disintegrate or something.”
Horace narrowed his eyes. “In his defense, we did all think she was dead for a while.”
“True.” Enoch sighed. “To think, you almost stayed back with her and Claire in the loop.”
“I did not!” Horace exclaimed, pulling away from his boyfriend. “I never wanted to stay in Miss Wren’s loop, you tried to bully me into it!”
“Come on, we both know you were at least thinking about it!” Enoch said, laughing. “You hated travelling to London.”
“I wasn’t going to just stay behind in a loop if everyone else was going to be in danger!”
“You stayed back in Florida.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, do you not remember that you swept daily-resetting chimneys for a year before you were off the hook for that stunt?”
Enoch rolled his eyes playfully and pulled Horace close to him again, though he looked a little more somber than he had before. He held Horace’s hands in his lap and moved to rest his chin on Horace’s shoulder.
“I don’t think I could’ve handled it if the wights took you with Fiona,” he said after a while, nuzzling the crook of Horace’s neck.
“They probably wouldn’t have. I wasn’t on Caul’s resurrection list.”
“Still. I know I was a dick to Hugh about it, but…” Enoch trailed off, then pressed a kiss to one of Horace’s hands. “I get it now. I think.”
“Maybe you should take that up with Hugh then.”
“Maybe.”
Horace took one of his hands back to run his fingers through Enoch’s hair. Enoch leaned into the touch. He wrapped both arms around Horace, and Horace moved his other arm to Enoch’s back, and they sat like that for a while. The sky continued to darken, and when Horace realized it he immediately jumped up and moved to grab the camera.
“What are you doing?” Enoch asked. Right. Horace hadn’t told him about this part.
“I wasn’t only going to take pictures for Emma’s scrapbook,” Horace explained, suddenly feeling a bit nervous and slightly guilty. “I was possibly hoping I could take some for us to keep. Of just the two of us. If you want.”
Enoch looked at Horace blankly for a moment, then he laughed. “I look like shit in photos, you know that, right?”
“Not to me,” Horace said. “You could never.”
Enoch made a face, then snickered at Horace’s return of the gesture. “Whatever you want, dear. Live in your biased blindness all you like.”
“I am not biased! You don’t look bad, you never have!”
“Horace, you’re literally my boyfriend. You are extremely biased.”
“Part of the reason I’m your boyfriend is because you look amazing, and you don’t even try.”
“Really.”
“Yes!”
Enoch sighed, then pulled Horace close to him to nuzzle him again. “Still biased.”
“Shut up,” Horace said, laughing. “Can I take my photographs or not?”
“I suppose,” Enoch said in mock reluctance, his smirk betraying the act. “Only for you, love.”
Horace pecked him on the cheek and started messing with the camera, but to his dismay, he could barely see through it anymore. The sun had fully sunk below the horizon, and the stars were starting to come out.
“Oh, hell,” Horace said, giving up and setting the camera on the bench beside them. “There’s not enough light left. You can’t see a thing.”
“What? Lemme see,” Enoch said, making a grab for the camera.
Horace quickly pulled it as far away from Enoch as he could, earning him a confused look from his boyfriend. “Nuh-uh. Em’s gonna kill me if you break this thing.”
Enoch reached over him for it, making Horace lean back. “I am not gonna break it.”
“Says you. I’ve met you, Enoch, you’d find a way to drop it down the cliff!”
“Would not! I’ll be careful!”
“Is ‘careful’ even in your vocabulary?”
“Horace!” Enoch laughed, now practically on top of him trying to get the camera. Horace laughed with him, pulling him down with his other hand and into a kiss. Enoch melted into it, the camera quickly forgotten as he pulled Horace closer to him. When he finally sat back up, he gave Horace a look and pulled him up too, where Horace could rest his head on Enoch’s shoulder. “You’re such an ass, Somnusson.”
“And you’re stuck with this,” Horace said, grinning as Enoch laughed some more. He kissed Enoch again, who in turn pressed quick pecks to anywhere on Horace’s face that he could reach. Horace started laughing uncontrollably, and Enoch kissed him more, over and over until eventually he had to shove Enoch off of him so he could breathe again. Once Horace caught his breath and could go a few seconds without bursting into a fit of giggles, Enoch kissed him one last time, long and gentle. When it was over Horace pulled his boyfriend into an embrace, which Enoch happily returned.
They held each other and whispered little “I love you”s until the fireflies came out and Horace started falling asleep on Enoch’s shoulder. When Enoch noticed he snickered and stood up, removing Horace’s wonderfully comforting heat source and tugging on his arm.
“Come on, love,” Enoch said, his voice softer than anyone but Horace ever got to hear. “We gotta head back before the Bird comes out to find us.”
After sliding the camera back around his neck, Horace stretched and grumbled about being too tired to climb back down the cliff, to which Enoch smiled and raised an eyebrow.
Every alarm bell in Horace’s head went off, knowing full well what that look meant.
“O’Connor, I swear to god if you—darling I love you but don’t even think—Enoch!”
Horace tried to back away, but Enoch grabbed him before he could run. In one smooth motion, Enoch swept Horace off his feet, picking him up in a bridal carry with the smuggest grin he could muster. Horace kicked and squirmed, but his efforts to escape were futile; Enoch was stronger than him and was absolutely aware of it. Enoch simply put Horace’s arms around his neck, pecked his nose, and started heading down the cliff.
“What if you trip?” Horace asked, still halfheartedly trying to wriggle his way back to the ground. “What if the rock comes loose and you drop me? What if someone from the house sees us?”
“I’m not going to, I’m taking the long way, and I’ll put you down before we get there.”
“The long way goes by the village, that’s why we took the short way, remember? Last time we went to the village on a date we got chased out of it!”
“It’s a time loop, you dolt, they’re not gonna remember.” Enoch said. “If someone asks, I’ll tell ‘em to mind their damn business or I’ll shove cow organs down their throat.”
Horace sighed, giving in. “You’re so stubborn, you know.”
“Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”
“Is that why you call me queer so often?” Horace asked, smirking.
Enoch stopped and narrowed his eyes. “I will drop you, Somnusson.”
“Please don’t, you know how easily I bruise.”
“That’s what I thought.” Enoch kept walking.
Eventually they made their way down the cliffs, and at Horace’s insistence, Enoch reluctantly set him down as they walked out of the forest and by the village. Once they were out of view of any villagers who may have been taking their own evening stroll, Horace laced their fingers together and Enoch pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. They held hands all the way back and eventually into the house, knowing the rest of the house knew Horace liked to cling to people when he’d spooked himself too late at night. Throwing a half-hearted “goodnight” over their shoulders and praying the rest of the peculiars would just assume Enoch needed some clothes fixed, the pair headed down the basement stairs to Enoch’s room.
The second Enoch shut the door Horace pulled him into another hug, smoothing out his hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Enoch gave Horace a quick kiss in return and walked over to his desk to get out some clay he’d stashed in a drawer. Lacking anything else to do, Horace’s hands moved to the camera strap around his neck, reminding him he hadn’t given it back to Emma when they walked in. He checked to see how much film he’d used, finding he had plenty left over.
“Hey, do you think when you’re done making your homunculi, we could snap a few pictures of them?” Horace asked.
“Sure,” Enoch said. “Long as you don’t mind a couple gory photos. My battles get messy.”
Horace grinned and pulled up a chair next to Enoch, helping him set up his battlefield. Once Enoch’s game had begun, snapping gory and slightly messy pictures was exactly what Horace did. Along with a few photos of himself and his favorite person in the world, which were cut as neatly from the rest of their collection as Horace could manage. Just to keep between the two of them.