The Farmer's Personal Bartender

It was a late evening, the sun’s orange glow hanging like dripping honey over softly blowing evergreen trees. A tall male was farming, keeping to his daily routine. His eyes scanned along the horizon, ginger hair kept in a loose curl as he wiped tired eyes. It was around the season to give his crops up to his boss, a local lord named Laron. As much as he didn't like him, Hugo knew he didn't have much of a choice but to give - the pay was what he needed to live. Hugo was planting seeds at the forest’s border, a soft hum to his lips as he stood - dusting off the dirty gloves on his jeans and strolling casually to his small home, finally finished with his day of work. He poked his head inside, ditching his mud caked boots as he came to his housemate and friend, Vincent Nimlough - or as Hugo called him, Vince. Vince was tall and slender, cinnamon brown hair tied up in a ponytail and evergreen eyes dragging from the dishes in his hands to Hugo. There was a soft shuffle of hawk-esk wings off Vince’s back as he approached.

“Hey Hugh,” He smiled, scruff surrounding his gentle simper as Hugo nodded, eye-bags signifying his lack of sleep, “I found something while I was cleaning up earlier.” Hugo’s emerald eyes carried sleepily, brow raising as he shifted ginger strands from his eyes to see what Vince was talking about. The male hummed, taking off the soapy gloves and setting them on the sink’s counter - taking up a towel to his hands as he came to a nearby bookshelf and selected a picture frame. Hugo’s pupils slimmed. The sweat on his brow became made of fear, not the aching feeling of exhaustion coursing through his veins. Vince was holding a picture of Hugo’s 'wife', Mariah. She was a lovely woman, baby blue eyes as gentle as a morning sky, and hair the color of golden sunlight. Her lips were placed into the softest smile Hugo had ever seen, and the mere memory of the tragedy that had become of the angel woman brought tears of frustration and pain into his eyes. 

Vince watched in confusion, fear developing in his pupils as Hugo reached, snatching the photo and with tears rolling down speckled cheeks he smashed the picture on the floor, glass shards flying out all around the pair as Hugo raged, yelling incoherent frustrations that slowly faded to angered sobs, collapsing into the wooden floor as Vince reached to hold his arms. He kneeled, coming to his side as the wing closest coiled around Hugo’s shoulder. 

Vince had never heard the full story, but from what he understood from Hugo’s ‘son’, Issac, Hugo had fallen in love with the wife of a powerful lord - Laron. Laron had once been in a band with Hugo, Vince, and their friends Theodore and Oliver. However, the band broke - and somewhere in the middle Laron had been forcibly married to Mariah. Mariah didn’t like him, and after what Vince considered a handful of emotionally abusive events, Mariah began to keep herself away. She had found Hugo, and they had fallen in love as well - but Hugo could not protect her from Laron. Laron went on to prove his dominance and forcibly got Mariah pregnant, but her battered body could not handle the birth of the child. Issac was born on June 22nd, 2001, and that was the day Mariah had died. 

For the first three years, Hugo kept Issac. He loved him like his own flesh and blood, but within three years, Issac was found by the lord, and was taken in. He was treated as a slave to Laron, and after having his left leg amputated Laron tested him in an electric chair. Issac survived narrowly, and had been thrown in the dumpster - where Vince and his partner, Vale, had found him. From there, the little angel boy was taken under their wing - reunited with Hugo soon after and Vince had been residing with the farmer as a helping hand.

Hugo was aware Vince was on the run. In his young years, Vince had made friends with a group of children - Xavier, John, and Jess. They had been school friends. War had broken out in his home country, and he had been selected somewhere in the roster to fight. However, something had gone wrong. Xavier had murdered John and Jess in the midst of the battle, and as things calmed Xavier had blamed Vince. The upperclassmen had believed him, and Vince ran away to avoid his death sentence. To cope with the trauma Vince had gotten drunk, and ran into Vale. He didn’t remember much of that night, but he remembered falling in love with Vale - and having the hopes for their child, Violet. However, things quickly went south. Vince had awoken from a PTSD induced nightmare, and when Vale attempted to help him, he unintentionally snagged the knife off his dresser and stabbed her. The baby had died, but Vale had lived. They had decided to become friends - even if Issac still called them “Maman” and “Papa”. 

Vince knew there was little he could do to help Hugo cope with the trauma he had faced, and that there was little Hugo could do to help him. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in Hugo’s shoes.

The cinnamon male took the hand of the redhead, and brought him to his feet. 

“Why don’t we go get a drink?” He asked, watching as Hugo hiccuped, already intoxicated with his own sorrow as he nodded.

Later that night, Vince would be carrying Hugo back to their home for the umpteenth time. This wouldn’t be the first time Hugo had snapped at him. It wouldn’t be the last, either. However, Vince needed the place, and he knew Hugo needed the help. He placed the farmer into his bed, and turned the light out. There was something about Hugo that drew him in.

That something was love.