Work Text:
It had become an unspoken habit on Thursday evenings, when the sun was just starting to set, that Gust and Elizabeth would sit together on the balcony of their home. Elizabeth had quickly made up a small bench, facing it towards the eastern fields that glowed golden in the dying day. Sat in silence, they would exist peacefully in each other’s company.
Often, Gust would take the opportunity to read his book, sitting with his leg crossed over his knee, he would tap his foot against the arm rest of the bench. Elizabeth would hum soft notes in timing with him.
Elizabeth, at the beginning, would sit and read also, but her mind had less patience for the written word than Gust’s. She would instead bring her smaller whittling or crafting projects up with her. There had been one occasion where she’d convinced Gust to help her lift the chest of drawers from their bedroom and up the stairs so that she could finish carving the designs into it. Between the mess of the wood shavings and Gust’s crushed toe and loud profanities, it was quietly decided that it would only be projects that could be held in two hands.
Other times, Gust would read his book aloud to Elizabeth. His voice confident and soothing, she found solace in the intimacy of his lowered tones.
In the winter, when the sun set faster and the night brought a chill that quickly became too much to bear, they would wrap themselves up in a thick blanket, huddled together for warmth. On clear nights, they would leave the lamp unlit. Wrapped in each other, they would watch the stars. Gust found himself most transfixed when a star would shoot across the sky, unable to take his eyes off of his wife and the way she would scrunch her face and make a wish.
They would stay out later in the summer months, when the evenings were warm, and the breezes cool. One night, not long ago, Gust had run late at the office. He’d returned to a dark home, with a note that simply stated ‘alfresco.’ They spent the evening with the bench pushed back against the wall and a blanket spread across the floor, eating their dinner under the slow-moving clouds.
This night, however, Gust had spent the hour between that laid between him getting home, and Elizabeth returning from her work, to drag their mattress up to the balcony. He had piled up blankets and pillows and had made a makeshift picnic. The sun had set only a couple hours prior as they laid on their bed under the skies. Elizabeth’s breathing was heavy and rhythmic against his chest. He held her close to him, his arm around her shoulder, her hand against his chest. Her skin was warm against his. He moved a tendril of hair away from her face before kissing her softly on her forehead. She made a small murmur at the contact. When she had begun to drift off, he had considered moving them back downstairs. However, the way her weight deepened on him, the way she hummed as she fell to sleep, the way her breathing softened against his neck, had made it difficult to get up. He had decided, instead, that it would be okay to lay there just a little longer, on their balcony, under the stars.