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Avi had never given much thought to gardens before Magnus.
Well, there was a period of time after Magnus that he hadn’t given them much thought, either. Not until the day that Magnus coaxed him out of the arcade with that sweet, shy smile and his C’mon, I want to show you something.
Magnus had brought him to his spot in Agricole. Avi had looked around at all that greenery, seeing it not the way he had on his own Agricole rotations, but as Magnus did: peaceful and quiet, free of expectations. A refuge. Safe.
And then he’d thought, Oh. I can do better than this.
So he had, and he’d captured Magnus’s smile in his memory and tucked it deep, deep inside, telling himself it was so he’d stop thinking about it when really it was the opposite. Avi always had thought too much.
On Chrysothemis, gardens were everywhere. So were queers. Which meant the two things that had made Magnus look at Avi the way he had on Gaia were obtainable without Avi’s help at all. On Chrysothemis, Avi was just a short, near-sighted asshole.
The garden he made for Magnus was still prettier than anything on Chrysothemis—but everything on Chrysothemis was real. Not a lie. Avi knew better than to fall for pretty lies.
Somehow, in all Avi’s plans of escape—daydreams of escape—Magnus had shown up. Even in the privacy of his own mind, Avi had told him not to bother, that he could do better, but Magnus would come anyway, and maybe—
Well. Maybe that was part of the daydream, too. A pretty lie that Avi let himself hang onto.
The Gaia refugees had been given temporary housing when they’d arrived. Housing and help. Therapy, deradicalization. The kids were going to be a whole thing. There was probably a foster system here that some, maybe most, would end up in. They all went to school, though, even though no one knew what to do with them yet.
Magnus went to school, too. He was going to do one year in Raingold’s public school system, and then he planned to go to a university. “You’re going to become a botanist, aren’t you?” Avi had asked.
“I thought maybe I would just take some general classes first,” Magnus had replied, sounding so… excited. “To see what I like.”
It had made Avi’s stupid chest hurt. Stupidly. Magnus would go off to university and he’d make new friends, because why wouldn’t he? He was Magnus, good, kind, sweet Magnus, who could do better and had a chance to now. Avi had never had a claim to him, and no one had made that clearer than Avi himself.
“Good idea,” Avi had said. Somehow everything he said to Magnus came out sincerer than he meant it to.
“You should go, too,” Magnus had said, and then, shyer, added, “You’re so smart—you could go anywhere.”
Avi had said something obnoxious. I’m not sure there’s a university that can handle my brilliance or Maybe they’ll ask me to teach instead. Trying to be aloof and nonchalant about the whole thing, when inside he was just scared, as usual.
So Magnus went to school, and so did Kyr, and Avi kicked around Raingold, knowing eventually he’d have to do something. Not kill trillions of people. That memory was kicking around in his head the same way he wandered Raingold. See, the thing was, Avi made plans, and then he made some more, but when it came to carrying them out, that was where he stumbled.
Except that one time he hadn’t, and Magnus had died.
Magnus had died. Avi might as well have pulled the trigger. Or okay, fine, he’d been to a couple group deradicalization sessions, so sure—he didn’t exist in a vacuum; Gaia had made him. He’d still—
He hadn’t, not really. But he had, or a version of him had, and it wasn’t the twenty trillion that made his stomach shrivel to a tight, hard knot. It was that he’d let Magnus kiss him, and he’d said he wasn’t going to take advantage. And then he’d turned around and done exactly that. Avi had known exactly who Magnus was, what he felt and how he hurt; how unhappy he was. Avi made it worse.
Avi wasn’t used to making things worse. He didn’t love the feeling.
Today’s activity was lurking around the Salam Garden in Magnus’s neighborhood. Avi had traced a finger along the script on the entrance plaque when he’d arrived: سلام. Condensation had gathered behind his fingertip, the metal plaque slick against his skin as he followed the curves of the word. The adhan that rang out five times a day was in Arabic. His own name was a corruption of an Arabic name. Which was funny, actually, when you thought about Gaia. Or not funny. As funny as any of it was, in a sort of you-can-laugh-or-lose-your-mind way.
Avi just knew Magnus came to this garden. It was an incredibly Magnus place. All the flora was Chrysothemis native, so many flowers and delicate vines, sweeping arbors of fine, filigreed branches. There was a fountain in one corner of the garden, which you could only reach by following meandering paths. You could hear the trickle of the water as you walked, ducking around showy, perfumed flowers and curling leaves with silvered veins.
There were also bugs, and some kind of vole or something burrowed under the paths and made weak sections in the ground that caved in when you put your foot on them, and there were dead leaves and muddy puddles in low, well-trod spots. It wasn’t perfect at all. It was infuriating, because Avi was so smart, and he’d never thought to have voles. Voles! A nuisance! A maintenance problem!
When Avi made the agoge garden for Magnus, it was obvious how happy he was. But he’d kept going to Agricole, and Avi didn’t understand that. Now that he wandered through city parks and gardens, he got it. This was real.
Not getting it before was just him being stupid, anyway. The whole thing with Magnus and him, none of it was real. Magnus was Magnus, and Avi was Avi. One shitty gay guy on a planet full of them. Someone who gave Magnus a garden once.
Avi followed the sound of trickling water and sat on the low wall of the fountain, where he propped his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. For his entire life, dreams of escape and revenge had kept him going. He couldn’t spend his life sitting in gardens. Unless he became a botanist.
With a snort, Avi kicked a pebble. It skittered into bunches of thick pink flowers bordering the path. He didn’t like being outside. If he became a botanist, he’d do indoor plants only. Honestly, he didn’t really know what a botanist did. Also, Avi didn’t like plants. Or if he did, it was for Magnus’s sake.
Footsteps crunched on the path. Avi turned toward the fountain and put his hand in the water, uninterested in interacting with some well-adjusted Chrysotheman human who didn’t have to re-examine everything they knew lest they inflict their fascist indoctrination on the people around them. Water swirled around his fingers, cold and clean.
“Avi?” Magnus said.
Avi’s fingers curled into his palm, an echo of the way his shoulders always seemed to cringe away from the notice of others. Though it had been a long time since he’d felt that way with Magnus. “Still following me, huh?” he said, trying for a sneer. It didn’t work. For some reason, on Chrysothemis, sneering was a lot harder.
Magnus came closer. Avi looked up at him. He was so fucking tall. Huge. To say Avi had wanted to climb him like a tree for months now was the obvious joke. Realizing you were queer and that you had a thing for men who could crush your head between their thighs was rough on Gaia. So many massive warbreed guys, so few people who didn’t want to beat him up for his sexuality.
“I was looking for you, so I guess, yeah.” There was a little smile on Magnus’s face, not shy, not uncertain, exactly, but like he was holding the full force of it in reserve just in case Avi was in a mood.
Which. Fuck. Avi didn’t want to be in a mood with Magnus. For Magnus’s sake, he should, but it was hard, and it required bravery, and Avi wasn’t brave. “Weird place to look for me. A garden.”
Faint red stained Magnus’s cheeks. “It reminds me of the one you made me. Anyway, look,” he rushed on, holding out a stack of flimsies. “I got this for you from school. It’s information on different universities. All the admissions qualifications are there, too… not that you’ll have any trouble with that.”
“No, I’m sure it would be a real feather in their caps to get one of the Gaia lunatics,” Avi said.
Magnus frowned. “Don’t say that. Any university would want you. You’re brilliant.”
“No disagreement on the lunatic part.”
Still frowning, Magnus sat on the wall next to Avi. “You shouldn’t say that either. But, I mean, it’s kind of true. We shouldn’t pretend it’s not.”
The flimsies rested on Magnus’s legs. The very top one showed a white building with large, arched double doors and a manicured green lawn surrounding it. UNIVERSITY OF RAINGOLD, it promulgated. Even though Avi had intellectually known there were multiple universities spread across the galaxy, seeing the evidence in the pile of flimsies that Magnus held so casually still made Avi’s ears ring a little.
“I guess I should go to group therapy more,” Avi muttered. It was easier than saying You’re right, which Magnus was. Pretending they weren’t all carrying around a monstrous rot inside of them wouldn’t do anyone any good.
He rubbed a hand over one of the shaved sides of his head. It was weird, remembering another lifetime where he’d worn this hair style and deciding it looked good enough to repeat in this one. Heat radiated off Mag’s body. Their arms and shoulders were nearly touching. Avi could move his leg just a little to bump it against Magnus’s knee.
Magnus offered the flimsies to Avi, and there wasn’t really any choice except to take them. His fingers automatically started flicking through. Some of the universities weren’t even on Chrysothemis. Some of them looked like they were majo universities. “These are the ones you’re thinking of going to, as well?” Avi asked.
With a shrug and flicker of emotion that Avi knew well, Magnus said, “I don’t know. Some of those wouldn’t take me. You have to be the best of the best.”
“Now who’s saying things they shouldn’t?” Avi brushed a coppery curl out of his eyes as he tilted his head up. So. Tall. “You’re the best of any of us.”
“I’m not smart like you and Kyr,” Magnus said—casually, baldly, like he was just stating a simple fact. Avi didn’t like it.
“Just because people said that shit about you on Gaia—” he began fiercely, but stopped Magnus smiled. “What?”
“Nothing. I just.” Magnus’s big shoulders shrugged. “It’s nice when you do that.”
“Defend you?”
“I guess. Yeah.”
Avi ducked his head, feeling his own smile creep over his face. Not the nasty one—the real one, the—ugh—nice one, that only Magnus got to see. “You were the only person on that shithole worth defending.”
And this, this was not the way to distance himself from Magnus. From daydreams of Magnus. From the pretty lie that Magnus would keep feeling this way about Avi once there were other people who were better for him.
“You were too, you know.” Magnus’s blond hair fell over his eyes as he looked down at Avi. “I’m sorry there wasn’t anyone to do that for you. I’ll do it now, though.”
Something stupid and hard jammed itself in Avi’s throat. “Magnus, don’t.”
“Why?” Tentatively, Magnus brushed his fingers over the back of Avi’s hand. The sun on Chrysothemis had made his skin glow with health. It had just made Avi freckly. “I want to. I want people to see us together and think…”
Shaking his head, Avi said, “You don’t. You seriously don’t. C’mon, look at all these universities! You’re going to go to one, and you’re going to find someone who’s actually good for you—”
Magnus twisted to put his hands on Avi’s face, and they were so big, but so impossibly gentle. Their warmth was too much. “You keep saying that.” Magnus said. “I really wish you wouldn’t.”
A memory of Magnus doing the same thing overlaid itself on the moment; a not-memory of his lips and the soft insistence of his mouth opening. A phantom recollection of putting a hand up to push him away and then… not. “You can do better than me,” Avi said, which was the same thing he’d said before. Over and over, actually, and everyone knew what they said about repeating the same action and expecting a different result.
“But I want you.” A thumb brushed Avi’s cheekbone. Avi’s hands were raised between them, to push or just to signal stop, but he couldn’t follow through. Magnus had that look in his eyes, the same one that had been there when Avi made him the garden.
Back then, Avi had thought: Shit.
Right now, he thought the same thing. “Magnus,” he tried again, his voice quiet.
“You always listen to me,” Magnus said, dropping his own voice to a low rumble for the words that would get Avi every time. “So why won’t you listen to me about this?”
And—oh. Fuck.
Avi’s hands finally decided on something to do. One curled around the back of Magnus’s neck, the other around the back of his head, so Avi could pull Magnus close as he surged upward.
Their mouths met hard, nothing like the memory of the other Avi’s life. Magnus made a low sound, a groan deep in his chest, as his mouth opened to Avi’s. Avi clung, and kissed Magnus, and let Magnus kiss him, and thought dizzily that he wasn’t a good enough person to stand up to this. Not when Magnus moved his hands to Avi’s back and held him there. Not when the press of Magnus’s hands, hot against Avi’s back, made him feel so damn safe.
They only stopped kissing when the university flimsies tumbled off Avi’s lap and to the ground. Magnus scooped them up, a huge grin on his face as he presented them to Avi again. Avi’s fingers tingled as he took them back. His face was flushed, his heart was pounding, and there was something big and bright in his chest that threatened a terrifying, consuming happiness—the sort of happiness he’d spent his entire life knowing he’d never have for himself.
“I’m nothing special here,” Avi said, because he had to try to make Magnus see. “There are queer people everywhere. You can find one who isn’t horrible. You don’t need me to make you gardens anymore.”
“I know that, Avi.” Magnus took his hands and held them tight. “But I want you to make me gardens.”
“Ugh.” Avi let his forehead fall against Magnus, who, as fucking noted, was so big and broad and tall that it meant Avi was resting against his sternum. “Why do you have to be so… so…”
Magnus slid a hand up Avi’s back and into his hair. It was hard to decide what felt nicer, the way his fingers sank into Avi’s curls, or how they felt rubbing over the shorn parts. “What?” he asked.
Waving a hand vaguely, Avi said, “You know.”
“I don’t.” Magnus sounded like he was smiling. Avi found he was too.
“Well, I don’t either.”
There was a huff of laughter above him, which Avi wanted to see. The desire to make Magnus laugh had burrowed itself deep into Avi months ago, and no matter how many times he told himself there was no point in chasing that desire, he couldn’t seem to shake it.
He looked up, and Magnus’s eyes were bright with happiness. His smile was blinding, like the sun shining on the white garden city that Avi had built for him. A city made of daydreams and wishful thinking.
The university flimsies were still on Avi’s lap. Decisively, he pushed them over to Magnus. “You keep these. Apply to some of them. Hell, apply to all of them. And when they all offer you a place, choose the one that makes you happiest.”
A flicker of uncertainty darkened Magnus’s smile. “You don’t want to go to any of them?”
Avi fisted the front of Magnus’s shirt. Birds sang around them. This was like a daydream—only it wasn’t. It was real, and Avi needed to make the right choices. “I thought you wanted me to keep making gardens for you?” he said, and the huge, terrifying happiness in his chest burst its cage and flooded him, like the pink and gold of a Chrysotheman sunset. “So choose one, Magnus, and I’ll go with you. I should probably figure out what I like.” He thought. “Besides you, I mean.”
Magnus kissed him. And then he stopped to ask, “Are you going to listen to me when I say I love you?”
Avi put his arms around Magnus’s shoulders. “Kiss me some more and I’ll let you know.”