Lance heard the familiar clang of the dinner bell and spared a weary grin for his father as they trudged up the stone path to their home.  He tried to hurry--there would be little time to wash up before supper--but his body was too drained to go faster than a brisk walk. 

"It's times like these you would do well to remember during those days in January when you complain of boredom," his father said, though his gait was not much more lively. 

"Yes, Father," Lance said.  From behind him he could hear his brother, David, chuckling.  It made the back of his neck prickle with annoyance, but he said nothing.  Bickering was for children and his brother sometimes acted like a child, but Lance was nearly a man now; old enough to join the church, marry, and have a family of his own. 

Once they were all seated for the evening meal, Lance's brother was at it again.  "I'll be out late tonight," he announced, and was ignored by their parents.  Their younger sister, Stacy, who was only fourteen, rolled her eyes. 

"You've been out every weekend this summer," she said.  "What do you do?" 

"Many things," David replied vaguely, shooting a glance at his parents.  Lance mashed his potatoes with his fork and held his tongue.   "I am merely exploring the world.  And Lance should do the same," he pointed out. 

"That is enough," his father said, with enough firmness Lance knew it was the end of it.  Gratefully, he ate his supper in silence.  The young people of the community all did their share of dabbling in the ways of the English as they came of age, but Lance had never participated in "rumspringa," as they called it.  He was content to stay where he was and follow in the footsteps of his father, who was the ordnung minister. 

He hated the way David treated him, as though there were something wrong with him for feeling that way.  Even his own father had suggested that Lance needed to experience a bit more of the outside world before joining the church and settling down.  Tonight, maybe because he was already so tired, it wore down his spirit more than usual and for the first time ever he didn't go to sleep with the rest of the family.  The house was quiet when he slipped out the front door. 

***

Joshua settled onto the grass and folded his legs underneath him.  His heart beat double-time as he reached into his pack; this was his favorite part of the day.  With sunset less than an hour away, there was no chance of being interrupted, which was the point because he did not wish to get in trouble...again.  

Tossing his hat to the ground, he ran his hand through his sweaty curls and sighed with relief.  It had been a long day, but here in his private spot he felt peaceful and rejuvenated, especially when his fingers danced over the reason for him being here.  His...music maker.  He supposed that the English would call it a flute, though a crudely constructed one.  It had taken weeks to whittle and polish into the correct shape and even longer to fashion the holes to make the sweet sounds he liked so much, but now it was finished and he would not be so foolish as to be caught this time around.  

He wrapped his fingers around his precious instrument, remembering back two years to when his father had caught him playing a lively melody when he ought to have been working.  Instruments were not allowed in their community because God had given them their voices to make music, which ought to be enough, and Joshua had been punished for breaking the rules.  Of course he had lost the instrument, which made him all the more protective of this one. 

He swiped his tongue over his lips, putting his mouth to the flute, and after that lost track of time.  His eyes fell shut as he fell into the music, full of awe that his very breath could create these heartbreakingly pure sounds.   High and low and all the notes in between, he loved them all, broke them into patterns and groups that somehow made his heart tighten and ache with happiness. 

After a while it became necessary to stop and catch his breath, and he opened his eyes only to nearly jump out of his skin with surprise.  "Oh!" he gasped, his hand to his chest.  The instrument went behind his back, though it was obviously too late. 

"What are you doing?" 

Joshua blinked up at Lance Bass, the minister's son, and tried to find an explanation that might convince him to keep the secret.  "I- I was.  This is...you're not going to tell on me, are you?" he finally sighed. 

Lance's face was pulled tight with concern, but the frown eased off once he'd approached Joshua more closely.  "You shouldn't have that," he pointed out.  "Where did you get it?" 

"I made it."  He kept it behind his back, cradled in one hand while the other scratched nervously at his neck.  Lance was a good person, but Joshua didn't know him well enough to predict what he might do next.  He would be well within his rights to demand that Joshua hand over the instrument, or to go straight to his parents to tell them what he'd been doing.  Well, there were worse things he could've been doing, Joshua thought, his chin coming up in defiance.  Let Lance tell.  He'd claim it all a part of rumspringa, and everyone would look the other way. 

"You shouldn't," Lance repeated, still staring.

"I know," Joshua admitted.  There wasn't any good argument for disobeying the rules, so he didn't try to make excuses.  "I suppose you heard...." he trailed off, waving his hand at the air, where the music had gone.  Lance arched an eyebrow, but answered with a small smile. 

"I heard.  It was...lovely, but so is your voice," Lance reminded him.  It was exactly what his parents had reminded Joshua back when they'd caught him. 

"I...know," he said dumbly, and finally brought the flute around to his lap.  He knew he should feel sorry, but he didn't, and wasn't about to apologize.  "Your voice, too," he said hopefully.  "You would.  Um, your voice, with the..." he held it up for Lance to see. 

"I don't think so," Lance declined, but lowered himself onto the grass next to Joshua.  "I thought you already got in trouble for this." 

"I did."  Joshua looked from Lance to his instrument, then up to the pink-streaked sky, torn about what to do next.  Part of him wanted to keep playing, but that would probably displease Lance, and JC had always wanted to know Lance better.   He watched Lance all the time, hoping to catch his attention, but Lance's time was usually occupied with his best friend, Joseph. 

"You can keep playing, if you want." 

Joshua stared at Lance.  "I can?" he asked, still cautious. 

Lance shrugged.  "It's...you're going to do it anyhow, right?  If I leave?  So there may as well be someone around to enjoy it." 

"You enjoyed it?"  Joshua grinned back at him, and Lance's cheeks darkened with color. 

"I told you I did," he muttered, and that was all the encouragement Joshua needed.  He picked up his instrument and played, this time concentrating on making it beautiful so that Lance might understand why it was worth breaking the rules.

He started with something light and fun, something that made his own legs twitch with restless energy, then eased into a slower, richer expression of what was in his heart.  It was why he liked music, because he couldn't put what he felt into words.  It never made sense with words, but his songs were like another language. 

When he finished, he took the flute from his mouth and licked his lips, breathing hard.  Even though he wanted a response from Lance more than anything, he dared not ask.  If Lance had something favorable to say, he would say it.  Or maybe not.  Lance was a reserved young man; maybe he wanted to be asked.  Joshua opened his mouth, but all that came out was a sigh.  Sharing his music was something he'd always dreamed of, but now that he'd gone and done it, he felt like he'd offered something too precious for someone who might not have wanted it in the first place. 

It seemed like it was taking forever for Lance to respond, and when Joshua raised his eyes to check his face, Lance was waiting for him with a hesitant smile that wavered at the edges. 

"Okay?" Joshua asked, breathless for so many reasons.  

Lance nodded, his expression a mixture of confusion, excitement and reservation.  "Yes," he agreed.  "Okay." 

***

Justin was the fastest of all his brothers, but he was still nearly left behind when his father departed.  It wasn't as though Justin liked going to the outskirts of town to sell their vegetables from the roadside, but his father had asked him to come and he didn't wish to disobey.  His legs were burning with overexertion by the time he reached the buggy, and when he hopped up beside his father, it took him all the way to the main road to catch his breath. 

"So you are with me, after all," his father remarked.  Justin blinked at him and rummaged for his handkerchief with which he wiped the sweat from his face and neck. 

"Yes, father," he replied, but his heart wasn't as agreeable.  He didn't like to work the produce stand because it made him uncomfortable the way people stopped and stared, how they sometimes pulled over and asked questions yet bought nothing.  When they arrived it was much the same as always.  Justin tried to make himself invisible, but his father kept pushing him forward and urging him to bargain and chat with the infrequent customers.  Half past noon his father took a break.  While he rested, Justin was solely responsible for all the business, and that was when Justin first saw him. 

He was older than Justin, yet still very much a young man.  On his head, his dark hair was twisted into dozens of braids that swung excitedly when he moved about.  Everything about him seemed vivacious and alive, from the bright colors of his shirt to the sharp gleam in his eyes, and Justin watched him carefully inspect the sweet corn.  He didn't seem like the kind of person who usually stopped by to buy vegetables; he seemed rather like the kind of person who drove by honking loudly and threw garbage toward the produce stand, but but his halting skepticism only tempered his fascination slightly.

Orange tennis shoes, Justin noticed, staring down at the stranger's feet.  Orange like the pumpkins harvested every fall from the Chasez farm, and with thoughts of pumpkin pie, warm brown eyes and his own plain boots, it was no wonder that Justin didn't immediately notice that the young man was speaking to him.

"Um, you do work here, right?" the stranger asked, and Justin was jolted out of his thoughts.  After a quick glance toward his father to make sure he hadn't been caught daydreaming, he forced a smile onto his face and nodded. 

"How much if I want the whole thing?" the man asked, pointing at the fullest basket available. 

"Fifteen," Justin said quickly.  It was fair to give a discount to someone buying a large quantity. 

"Great!  Then I'll take two," the stranger said.  "My name's Chris," he said, and stuck out his hand.  Justin automatically reached out to grasp it.  He knew it was proper to look Chris in the face as they shook hands, but his gaze was drawn to Chris' wrists, which were both wrapped in thick, smooth black-and-red striped wristbands. 

"You like?"  Chris withdrew his hand and twisted his wrist that Justin might have a better look.  "They're leather," he said.  "Lined on the inside, though, which is good for sweaty-ass days like today." 

"They're nice," Justin agreed quickly, trying so hard to file away all the new information that he forgot to introduce himself.  "I've never seen..." anything like you.  Foolishly, he didn't finish the sentence, but Chris just laughed and pulled some money out of his pocket. 

"I bet you haven't," he chuckled, and gave Justin three ten-dollar bills.  "You wanna help me carry these to my car?" 

The car turned out to be a black jeep. Justin stood with his basket and waited for Chris to clear room in the back for his purchases.  "What are all those?" he couldn't help asking.  There were at least a hundred of what Justin recognized as music CDs that he had seen in Walmart, stacked and scattered around behind the back seats. 

"Huh?"  Chris shoved his basket into an empty spot and turned toward Justin.  "I DJ on weekends, sometimes.  Parties, a few clubs." 

"Oh."  Justin didn't know what he meant, but it sounded impressive.  His gaze drifted down to Chris' legs, which were covered lightly in dark hair.  When Chris took the remaining basket and swung it toward his jeep, his calves flexed strongly, and Justin felt his own legs tighten.  There was strength in his own body, but no one had ever seen it.  Something about this stranger, Chris, made him want just that, want Chris' eyes on him the way his were on Chris right now.  It didn't make much sense, and Justin took a step back, away from the situation. 

"Thanks, man," Chris said, and slammed shut the back of the truck.  He gave a small wave before turning to get inside. 

"You're welcome," Justin said dumbly, and though he said nothing, his mouth formed a silent, man, as he watched the truck drive away.  

***

The next day was the Sabbath, and Lance rose earlier than usual.  In addition to the regular milking and feeding of the cows, he had to help his father prepare their home for the company they'd be hosting after the church services.  The extra work was always worth it, though, because his mother glowed with happiness on the Sabbath, in her element when she could entertain her friends in her home.  Lance enjoyed the day, too, because it gave him a chance to spend time with Joseph and his other friends.  Also, Joshua would sometimes lead the music, and those services were the best. 

"Will you be asking Joshua to lead today?" he asked his father before everyone had arrived at church.  His father, ever concerned that Lance didn't take enough interest in socializing with the other young people, was pleased with Lance's interest even though there were many more desirable friends for his son. 

"I was planning on it," his father told him, and Lance took a seat up front where he would be able to better hear Joshua's voice.  Ever since Joshua had played that instrument for him, there had been music in Lance's head, but he sat quietly and read his Bible as he waited for everyone to arrive and get seated.  Everything seemed as though it were taking forever today, and Lance had the vague, itchy feeling that it was somehow related to the other night when he'd sat on the cool grass with Joshua and stayed out past a proper bedtime for the first time in his life. 

Lance smiled at Joshua when he finally made his way up to the front of the church, but Joshua was focused completely on the task at hand.  He didn't seem to even notice Lance until his mouth opened to sing out the first words of the song.  Clear and bright his voice rang out, and as the rest of the congregation joined in, he looked straight at Lance, surprised at first, then with his lips curving upward in a smile so real that Lance could feel its warmth from his seat.  It was silly, Lance told himself when he lost track of the lyrics and stumbled over the chorus, to feel this way.  The giddy, nervous feeling in his belly was completely unbefitting the situation, yet whenever he looked up and caught Joshua's eyes, it was as though what they had shared had been something more than just a conversation. 

Later, after lunch was eaten, Lance allowed himself to seek out Joshua and found him, not surprisingly, flanked by Justin and some of the more lively young people.  He approached from behind, watching the group for a moment and had almost decided not to bother when Joshua saw him and moved aside, opening a spot in the circle.

"Lance!" he said, and gestured for him to join them.  They weren't his usual crowd--Lance preferred to talk with the adults--but they were friendly enough.  Joshua's welcoming smile made it more than worth having taken the risk.  It seemed that Justin was involved in a cocky rendition of something that had happened the previous day and the younger boys were captivated, as everyone tended to be with Justin. 

"...because I couldn't find my hat," he was saying, his hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets.  "And I really needed it because it was such a sweaty-ass day." 

Lance had been preoccupied with what he had planned on saying to Joshua, but his head turned, as did everyone else's within hearing range.  "Justin!" he frowned.  And on the Sabbath!  The other boys were giggling, but Joshua just shoved at Justin's shoulder, shaking his head.  It had been a bad idea to come over here; Lance didn't know what he'd been thinking.  "I'm uh.  Have a good afternoon," he said, already walking away, but Joshua chased after him.  

"Wait," Joshua said, then looked around quickly and lowered his voice.  They were so different, Lance didn't even know how they'd become friends.  He just wanted to get away before Joseph saw them talking, for some reason. 

"What?" he asked. 

"Sorry about Justin," Joshua said, wearing a sheepish grin.  "He talks too much." 

"It's fine," Lance said.  He knew he sounded too stiff, but he didn't know how to deal with the disappointment he couldn't help feeling. 

"No, it's not.  And that's not why I-"  realizing he was holding onto Lance's arm, he released it suddenly.  "Sorry.  I just wanted to tell you, tonight I'll be at the same place.  I go there to be alone and play music, but you were there last time, so I thought maybe.  You'd like to, um..." 

"Oh," Lance said quietly, when he realized what Joshua was asking.  It was a nice offer because he was so rarely invited anywhere.  "I'm usually not out after dark," he explained.  Still, something about the offer--something about Joshua's bright, hopeful face--kept him from rejecting the idea altogether. 

"All right," Joshua said, nodding, nodding.  "Well, if you want.  You can."  He smiled and nodded some more before shoving his hands into his pockets and returning back to his friends. 

***

***

"Joshua," his mother called after him.  He stopped as she caught up with him, carrying a small covered basket.  "Stop at the Bass house on your way out.  Ask if they need anything, and give this to Mrs. Bass."  She straightened the bow on the basket one last time before handing it over.  Joshua took it from her and tucked it under one arm. 

"I will," he said.  "What's inside?  Anything to eat?"  When he pretended to peek inside, she slapped his hands away, laughing.  Joshua grinned back at her and leaned in to kiss her cheek.  "You look pretty," he told her, because she was shining today in her new blue dress; he'd just seen her finish the hem yesterday.  So many of the women wore black, and if Joshua himself couldn't wear brighter colors, he was at least grateful he'd always had his mother right there to admire in her blues, greens and the sunny yellow apron she'd cooked in for as far back as Joshua could remember. 

Her cheeks blushed pink.  "Thank you," she said, still smiling, and touched the tip of his nose with her finger.  "My baby."  She shook her head at him fondly.  "Be careful today."

"Yes, Mother," Joshua replied, and climbed onto the seat of the buggy.  Trips into town were few and far between, especially for the young people, and his foot was already impatiently tapping against the floorboard.  The only thing dampening his excitement was the prospect of stopping at the Bass home.

Lance hadn't shown up last night.  Joshua supposed he shouldn't have been surprised.  After all, Lance was notoriously, single-mindedly devoted to his friendship with Joseph, and just because he and Joshua had shared a few songs one evening didn't mean he was willing to let Joshua into his life.  

When he arrived at the Bass house, however, Lance was waiting outside.  He saw Joshua, adjusted his hat and started toward the buggy even before it stopped. 

"My mother needs some things in town," he said, looking up at Joshua with the morning sun on his face.  "I guess I'll be joining you." 

Joshua nodded and tried not to stare as Lance climbed into the buggy.  It was hard not to, because Lance had an interesting face-- the most interesting in the ordnung, perhaps.  Beautiful like a girl, yet completely masculine.  He could never say that to Lance, though, and even thinking it made him feel strange, so he turned his attention to the reins.   

"Doesn't Justin usually ride with you?" Lance asked. 

"Sometimes," Joshua replied.  "He has other plans today.  It's probably for the best, since you're coming along.  I know you find him exasperating, but he's an acquired taste.  He makes things...fun." 

"Ah." 

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say.  Lance probably thought Joshua didn't know how to be serious, or that he was still an immature boy.  Saying nothing would probably be better than altogether ruining chances at a friendship with Lance, but even as he decided this, his mouth opened and said, "I waited for you last night." 

"Joshua..."  Lance shook his head and rubbed his hands on his knees.  "I never said for certain whether I'd come." 

"I know.  I had just hoped, that's all.  It was nice having someone to talk to." 

"You have lots of friends." 

"No...I mean, yes."  Joshua nodded.  "I do.  But they're either consumed with rumspringa or they've rejected it completely.  I'm interested in music, Lance--all kinds--but that doesn't mean I want to be out doing...other things."  Surely Lance could understand that.  They'd all heard stories of the things that happened while the young people were out experimenting, and Joshua was positive that Lance neither participated nor approved. 

The lapse into silence appeared to be a step in the right direction, because Lance finally broke it by saying, "Next time...I might come if you ask." 

***

They weren’t even halfway home before they realized they’d stayed too long.  Lance supposed he should be blaming Joshua and the way he’d lingered so long on everything he’d found fascinating, but he didn’t.  He blamed himself instead.  He’d let himself forget the time because yet again he’d put aside what was proper in order to indulge Joshua, whom he didn’t even know very well.  It didn’t make any sense, but it probably had something to do with the way Joshua looked at him sometimes, with sweet, slow sideways glances that seemed to mean more than was actually being said. 

Joshua noticed the late hour as well; Lance could tell by the way his fingers drummed relentlessly on the seat.  Occasionally he’d stop to bring those fingers to his mouth, gnawing at his fingernails, shoulders tense with anxiety.  “It’s too late,” he finally said. 

“Yes.”  There wasn’t any point denying that their last few miles would be driven in the darkness.  “It will be fine,” he added, but urged the mare to quicken her pace. 

“It’s my fault,” Joshua blurted.  “I was looking too long at…things.” 

Lance nodded silently and didn’t bother to fill in the blanks.  Joshua had loitered at the magazine rack, paging through as many as he could before Lance had finally cleared his throat and steered him toward the checkout line. 

“It’s fine,” Lance said again when they pulled off of the highway and onto a country road that would lead them home.  “We have the moon,” he said, and Joshua’s eyes followed his up to where it hung, round and white against the black sky. 

“It’s nice,” Joshua murmured before taking off his hat.  “I just wish we were home.”  From the corner of his eye, Lance watched Joshua run his fingers through his flattened, sweaty curls before tossing his hat down to the floor.  He’d never seen Joshua so tense; normally the worry just seemed to roll off his shoulders, a song on his lips, but Joshua’s fear wasn’t surprising.   Many years back he had lost an uncle and cousin to an accident on a dark road like this one, where cars went too fast and didn’t always pay attention to the road. 

“We could pray,” Lance suggested, and Joshua’s head was already bowed by the time Lance had spoken the words.  Lance said a few silent words of supplication, then turned his attention back to Joshua.  Even in the faint moonlight Lance could see that his eyes were shut, lips moving with slow deliberation.  The sight made Lance’s chest tighten with something fearful and protective, so much so that when he felt Joshua’s fingers slide over his hand to curl around his palm, he allowed it and even turned his wrist that Joshua’s fingers might find their way between his own.  Neither of them spoke. 

It was a humid night, and their hands were damp where they clasped together.  Lance blinked into the dark as his surroundings faded into nothingness; the sound of the horses and the ache of his back vanished, leaving nothing but the press of Joshua’s skin against his own, stirring and troubling all at once.  It was one thing to join hands in the church house, but here in this dark, enclosed space the touch seemed different, and shaded with implications that he knew weren’t safe to think about.  A car came from nowhere and passed them on the left, rushing by in a blurred glare of yellow and red lights.  Joshua’s head came up at the sound. 

“We’re almost there,” Lance said, and answered the squeeze of Joshua’s hand by tightening his own fingers in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.   

“My mother will be worried.” 

“She knows you are with me.” 

“She does,” Joshua agreed.  “And she thinks well of you.  Is it true that you have been called to the ministry?” 

“All of us are called in some small way,” Lance evaded.  There had been talk about him continuing along his father’s path, but he was not yet sure he was right for the great responsibility that position carried.

Joshua laughed, so perhaps he understood the absurdity of Lance leading the community in their walk with the Lord.  “Perhaps,” Joshua said slowly, a smile still in his voice.  “But none ought to confuse a mere man with a man of God.” 

“No,” Lance corrected, though he saw Joshua’s point.  “There should be no distinction between the two.  We are all to be men of God.” 

Joshua made a small, indecipherable sound at that.  “We are all to try,” he said quietly, and the warmth of his hand was replaced by the prickle of a cooling nighttime breeze. 

***

They made it home safely.  Joshua’s mother was too relieved to scold him; instead, his parents just hugged him and sent him to bed with stern, matching expressions and he went obediently, anxious to be alone with his thoughts and the way his body was thrumming with something he didn't recognize. His skin felt hot and oversensitive and he wondered for a moment if he were becoming ill. His clothes were uncomfortable, so he pulled them off as soon as he was safely in his room. There was a nightshirt waiting for him on his bed; his mother had done laundry, then, but he couldn't bring himself to put it on. He tossed it on the floor with the rest of his clothes.

It felt strange being in bed without clothes. It was exhilarating, almost as thrilling as holding hands with Lance had been. Even thinking about it sent a rush of excitement thorough him. His manhood stirred between his thighs and Joshua tentatively reached down to touch it.  It had been hard many times before, it was nothing new, and it usually went away if he ignored it. But Joshua was tired of ignoring it.  He didn't have to suffer through the bothersome ache, not when just pressing his palm against it sent a current of something astonishing spiraling through his body.  His hips reflexively rose, seeking it again, and it was good; good enough that Joshua did it a few more times before forcing himself to still, taking in deep, shaky breaths as he listened to the quiet in the house.   

It wasn't surprising that he felt this way tonight of all nights.  The entire day he'd been riding the edges of this wave, only he hadn't known exactly what it was.  At the time he'd thought it was just the thrill of being with Lance, and now he realized that was maybe it, because right now, just thinking about Lance's smile, his voice and hands--it made Joshua's cock tingle with sensation.  He tried to stop again, but it felt so good; his cock had never felt this good in his hand, with silky liquid drops leaking slowly from the tip.  He wasn't going to be able to stop. 

His fingers curled around his erection, one careful digit at a time, and when he flexed his hand, his heartbeat roared in his ears.  Beneath the thin blanket his legs fell open, knees drawing up, and it was like he knew what to do, his hand picking up a rhythm of squeeze, jerk, pause, until the pauses were coming further and further apart and he couldn't hear anything but the sound of his own eager breathing.  

"Yes, mmm," he mumbled, and licked at his lips.  They were dry and he bit at them, his tongue coming out again, slicking over the raw flesh.  He felt like biting, like something was missing, but that missing piece was just out of reach.  Something was building, he could feel it, and his chest swelled with excitement, hand moving faster.  He wished-- for something-- and when he turned his face into the pillow, licking at the soft fabric, there was a sudden flash of goldenhair goldenskin in his mind, and that was it.  Overwhelmed, he stopped the frantic movements of his hand, but his whole body was already shuddering with breath-stealing, toe-curling release and the sound that came from his throat was a surprised sob of pleasure.  It was too loud, he knew, but it was like he was completely helpless against this onslaught of sensation; as if he weren't the one to have caused it.

Footsteps in the hall, and then a sharp knock at the door.  "Joshua?" His mother, sounding worried and half-asleep.  "Are you well?"  

His hand tightened protectively, instinctively, around his softening cock.  What a question.  He was better than well, he was wonderful.  A warm glow had settled on his limbs, making them heavy with contentment and it was all he could do to answer, an unsteady, "I'm fine, Mother.  Just a bad dream." 

***

Joshua couldn't forget about what he'd done beneath the covers in the darkness of his room.  Somehow, he knew that the image of Lance in his mind's eye was at least somewhat responsible for the experience, and he also knew, instinctively, that picturing Lance as he'd done...that, was not the type of thing a young man ought to be doing. 

But it had been so good.  So new and exciting, and every time Joshua thought about it, his face heated with the memory of how strongly it had taken him, how he'd shaken apart with it.  When Sunday came he was still thinking about it, a fact that shamed him because not only was it the Lord's day but because he needed to stop thinking of Lance in this manner.

"What's the matter?" 

Joshua blinked, and realized that Justin was speaking to him.  His thoughts had been somewhere else again, somewhere they should not have been, but Justin didn't seem to notice.  With a sweet smile, he began talking about his father's produce stand, where he'd been spending a lot of time lately.  Most of the stories seemed to revolve around someone Justin had met, an Englisher named Chris who, from what Joshua could understand, sounded a little strange.  Still, Justin's enthusiasm was contagious, and Joshua was relieved to have a distraction from his own bothersome thoughts.  They'd all just enjoyed a picnic lunch after church, but Joshua had hardly been able to eat.

"And he wears these chains on his pants," Justin was saying.  "They're...it's hard to explain, but he's, um...I don't know.  I said I liked them and he said he'd try to get me some, but he's probably just being nice." 

"Maybe," Joshua agreed.  "He's been coming by a lot, it seems like."  Joshua's own mother sometimes sold baskets at the farmer's market, and the repeat customers were usually housewives, older couples, or tourists.   No one who sounded like the man that Justin had been describing repeatedly for the past few weeks. 

"He has.  I asked him why he buys so much, and you'll never believe what he said," Justin said eagerly.  "He cooks a lot!  For himself, and for his friends." 

"He doesn't have a wife?" 

"No."  Justin seemed offended by the very idea, his young face twisting into an expression of scorn.  "Why would he need one!  He knows how to do everything all on his own.  Cooking, sewing, cleaning..." he ticked off the items on his fingers as he went, clearly impressed. 

"He can't have a family on his own," Joshua reminded him. 

"No.  But he's too busy for a family right now.  He's..."  Joshua tuned out Justin's words as he caught sight of Lance, talking beneath a large oak tree with Joseph and Joseph's brother.  Lance laughed at something Joseph said, and shifted, sliding his hands into his pockets.  Just seeing the way the gesture made the fabric stretch tight across his body made Joshua look away, his face burning.  Justin was just background noise now, a sound that had no meaning as Joshua fought against remembering how his own hands had felt on his body and what part Lance had played in all that.

"Um, I have to go," he said, "Justin, I'll see you later."  He walked away and hovered near Lance and Joseph, far enough to not intrude, until Joseph finally noticed him and gave a small wave, nudging Lance with his elbow.  Joshua returned the wave, but didn't approach them.  Joseph always had a smile for everyone, but not for Joshua.  Lance probably wouldn't even come talk to him with Joseph standing guard, but just as Joshua was thinking that, Lance patted Joseph's shoulder and turned, walking toward him. 

Joshua squinted at Lance, feeling the heat of the late afternoon sun, and realized he'd left his hat lying around somewhere.  Normally he'd try to run and find it before his mother could catch him, but now he finally had Lance here, he just wanted to stay.

"Hi," Joshua said when Lance reached him.  He grinned with happiness, but Lance just nodded politely, his gaze darting over to where Joseph stood. "How are you?" 

"I'm fine.  Did you, uh.  Want something?"  It wasn't quite the greeting Joshua had hoped for, but things were always different when Lance was around other people.  

"Meet me tonight," Joshua said quickly, quietly.  "My grandfather's barn, the one they used before the house burned." 

"That's..."  Lance frowned and scratched at his neck. 

"It's not too far.  Please?" 

He didn't argue.  He didn't ask why, or make excuses.  Lance just nodded again, slowly considering, and walked back toward Joseph. 

***

The old Chasez barn was set a ways back from the new one.  The house had been burned to the ground, but the barn had been spared, and was still used for storage.  It was a place Joshua loved to go visit, walking in the shadow of the looming building and picking the wildflowers that grew out of control in the long grasses where it met the ground. 

Someday, when Joshua married, he would own this barn and the land around it.  This scenario had been painted out by his parents so many times that it was looked on as inevitable, but it had always seemed a vague, fragile arrangement to Joshua.  Some of his friends talked about the future with enthusiastic anticipation, but Joshua hadn't ever felt that way.  Tonight, waiting for Lance, was the closest Joshua had ever come to that particular feeling.  It was a new sensation that fluttered in his belly; almost like being nervous, but warmer, more pleasant. 

The sun was almost gone when Lance arrived.  Just seeing him approaching made Joshua's anxiety peak almost painfully, and he chewed at his fingernails, trying to stifle what shouldn't even exist.  "Hi," he said.  Now that he had Lance here, he had no idea what to do with him.   

"So...here I am," Lance said.  He was always looking at Joshua with caution, as though he expected Joshua to do something startling and dangerous.  Joshua didn't know why; he wasn't a threat to anyone, least of all to Lance, for whom he only wanted good things.  "At least my brother leaves me alone now that he's not the only one going out after dark." 

"My brothers say the same thing," Joshua agreed.  "They want me to come along, but they come home tired and sick in the morning.  I don't see how they can be having fun." 

"And you?" Lance asked.  He gestured around him, one perfect eyebrow arched in question.  "This is fun?" 

Joshua didn't need to give it any thought before answering.  "Yes."  Being left on his own to enjoy the world, as well as the thoughts in his head, was his idea of fun.  "I like to be out," he said.  What he really meant was out where everyone can't hear my thoughts, but he didn't know how to describe his fears about all the beautiful things inside his heart dying or getting lost somewhere along the way, simply because he wasn't allowed to let them out to breathe and grow the way he wanted.   There were a lot of things he didn't know how to tell Lance.  "I can see the city from the loft," he said instead, and pointed at the barn.  "Come see?" 

Lance's gaze traveled up the side of the tall structure.  As if pleased with what he saw, he nodded.  

Joshua went first, letting Lance follow behind him, up the ladder and all the way to the far side of the loft, where the paneless window let in the red evening sun.  There was no reason for him to feel so unsteady on his feet, but his legs were shaky as he led Lance to sit on the simple wooden bench.  “See?” he said, and knew he sounded strange; he sounded strange to even his own ears.  He felt strange, too; flushed and apprehensive.  It shouldn’t have been pleasant, but somehow it was.  He liked having Lance with him, even though somehow it wasn’t enough. 

“It’s nice,” Lance agreed. 

“It’s a good place to be alone,” Joshua said, thinking of all the times he’d sought some peace from his large family.  “Or with someone,” he added quickly.  His mistake was worth Lance’s amusement and the low chuckle that wasn’t much more than a whuff of breath.  Lance’s smile was reserved but beautiful, and Joshua couldn’t look away, not when Lance was so close, the heat of his leg lined up with Joshua’s, facing forward on the bench.  They were barely touching, yet Joshua felt ultra-aware of the place where their thighs met, the thrill of it spreading up between his legs where it tugged at him, this baffling thing he couldn’t seem to control.

Far across the fields, they saw several figures running.  Their shouts carried to where JC and Lance sat; rambunctious, bright laughter that faded as they disappeared over the top of a hill. 

“My brothers,” said JC. 

“And mine.” 

“They sound happy.”

“Rumspringa doesn’t last forever,” Lance said.  “I worry about what they may decide.” 

“Yes.”  Joshua worried on the same things.  He couldn’t imagine doing anything to break his mother’s heart, and he thought he might never forgive his brothers if they made the wrong choice.  She’d loved Joshua so well his entire life; she gave love the way he’d never seen it given by anyone else, not even between husband and wife.  The proper thing was for affection to be shown in private, but his mother said that was nonsense, and lavished Joshua with all the hugs and kisses she seemed to know he needed.  Lance had shown him affection, too, Joshua thought; in actions if not physical demonstration.  “What you did for me,” he began, then lowered his voice.  “Thank you.  For not telling.”  

Lance shrugged and wiped his palms on his thighs.  He kept doing that, Joshua noticed, over and over.  “You’re welcome,” he answered.  “You don’t deserve to get in trouble for your music.” 

“It was, um.  It was really nice,” Joshua continued, staring at Lance’s profile, and his heart was fluttering so quickly it was almost painful, like the time his grandfather had fallen into death, clutching at his chest.  Joshua was far too young for that to happen, though, and he breathed in deeply to battle the dizziness in his head.  “You’re nice, Lance.”  He felt it with all his heart, so much that his hand was already reaching out, sliding from his own lap over and onto Lance’s hand, which lay pressed flatly against his thigh. 

Lance’s eyes dropped to where their hands touched.  “Joshua,” he said slowly.  “What happened before; when we were coming home from town…” 

Joshua smiled and leaned in nearer to Lance.  “You mean this?” he asked, and curled his fingers, let them wrap around Lance’s.  The closeness warmed him in a way nothing else had ever been able to. 

“Um.  Yes.”  Lance blinked rapidly, but still didn’t move away.  His face, as far as Joshua could read it, seemed tense and censorious.  “About that.  It doesn’t seem like something we ought to be doing.”  In an act contrary to his words, he turned his hand, a slow slide of movement that left them palm to palm. 

Why? Joshua wanted to ask, but didn’t.  He was afraid of the answer; afraid Lance would make good on his threat to stop this.  He didn’t want it to stop.  All he wanted, somehow, was more of this, more of Lance, more touching.  It was odd, but he felt compelled in this vague and powerful way to spread his fingers until Lance’s fell between his own and hold tightly onto that piece of his friend. 

“We shouldn’t,” Lance said again, but this time his voice sounded different.  When his thumb stroked over the inside of Joshua’s wrist, lightning streaked through Joshua’s belly.  It was sudden and yet familiar, like that night he’d touched himself under the covers. 

It was exactly like that night.  Suddenly, Joshua knew what he wanted to do; what this indescribable yearning was all about. 

“I like it,” he confessed, and let his other hand come to rest on Lance’s thigh, touching the hard muscles underneath through the fabric of his pants.  It still wasn’t enough, and Joshua’s frustration boiled up to the surface, making him bolder—or perhaps just more foolish.  “You can touch me, too,” he said, his face aflame with excitement. 

“Touch you?  I don’t--”

“-Like this,” Joshua said, hardly able to speak.  He was being too forward, he knew, forward in the way his parents had warned him about, but Lance was no young lady.  He was on the verge of bolting, so Joshua let his arm slide around Lance’s shoulders until their chests were pressed as tightly together as their hands, hidden between their bodies, still entwined.  

It was an embrace, nothing more than Joshua had shared with neighbors, brothers, and his parents over the years, yet it was entirely different.  The difference was in the way he pressed his face to Lance’s neck with intent, shutting his eyes against the knowledge of what he wished to do—which was to open his mouth where his lips rested against warm, salty skin.  Shakily, Joshua exhaled.  His skin crawled with restless wanting, but he forced himself to just breathe. 

For long, quiet moments neither of them moved.  Joshua’s skin felt sweaty in the places where their bodies touched, and between his legs there was an endless ache.  Perhaps there was something wrong with him, but he didn’t think so.  He felt, with certainty, that he wasn’t alone in this.  “Do you like this?” he asked, and when his lips moved on Lance’s neck it rose a million tiny bumps on the sensitive skin. 

“We shouldn’t.” Lance said hoarsely, but when he pried his fingers out from between Joshua’s, it was only to wipe his sweaty hand on his pants.  When he tried to return it to where their hands clasped together between their bodies, he happened to brush against the front of Joshua’s pants. 

“Oh, oh-”  Joshua whispered, awestruck, and reached out to eagerly touch Lance in the same place.  His fingers stumbled across the folds of fabric until they came in contact with the thick, solid shape of his manhood.  Lance.  Lance made a surprised, muffled sound and suddenly he was surging against Joshua, their bodies twisting clumsily together, hands petting anywhere within reach.  The small bench was hard and rough, and they went to their knees on the floor, caring nothing for the dirt and filth. 

Lance’s lips were soft against Joshua’s own.  To kiss them seemed as natural as anything else they were doing, and Joshua had always been accused of falling prey to his own impulses.  This was no exception.  His tongue inside Lance’s mouth was shocking and foreign; wet and slick enough to make him feel the same wetness seeping into his underwear from the tip of his cock, which he tried to press against Lance, seeking some kind of relief.  Against his belly, he could feel Lance’s own need, hot and hard even through their clothing. 

“Lance,” he moaned, sounding completely unlike himself.  His hands worshiped slowly underneath Lance’s shirt, tracing the strong planes of his back and the firm curves of muscle that came from hard work.  Lance’s body was beautiful, he could tell just by touching.  “You’re beautiful,” he blurted.  Lance’s fingers tightened around Joshua’s waist.

“So are you,” Lance breathed, and even in the early evening darkness Joshua could see the sincerity that glittered like jewels in his eyes.  He’d never seen Lance like this before, and he didn’t know how it was possible that Lance was suddenly the most important thing in his world.  Joshua had always thought the first commandment the easiest to obey, for what would a person possibly put before God?  He hadn’t known how treacherous his own heart was, that it could be so quickly enthralled by the wrong master. 

“I want to be close to you,” Joshua said desperately, though his hips were already moving against Lance in small, slow increments; it was as much as he dared, but still not enough.  “Closer.”

“We’re too close already,” Lance warned.  Joshua kissed him again and followed him down to the floor.

He wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, only that somewhere in their dark fumblings something broke, something that made Joshua’s voice betray him with frantic, broken whines he couldn’t seem to control.  His hips pushed and ground against Lance with an urgency that drove him to continue, faster, harder, until his thighs shook with the effort.  Each thrust brought flashes of pleasure that sparked in his groin, blooming outward and spreading, and Lance sweated and shook beneath him.  Lance shuddered silently every time their cocks slid together, but other than that he didn’t speak. 

Lance’s hands stayed to Joshua’s hair, teasing and stroking the long curls until suddenly, he bucked underneath Joshua and crushed him to his body, as closely as Joshua had wished for before.  It still wasn’t close enough, his heart told him, but his body responded to Lance’s passion by seizing with pleasure, waves of it that pulsed through his entire body as he clung to Lance.  

Even though Joshua’s lips were raw and swollen, he wanted to never stop kissing Lance.  After a few minutes, the kisses slowed and Lance gently rolled Joshua off him in order to sit up.  There they sat on the floor, their breath still coming hard as Joshua considered what had just happened.  His skin still prickled with sweat, dirt, and residual arousal, and his muscles ached.   

“Are-- your pants wet, too?” he asked, then dropped his face into his hand.  Did he always sound so foolish? 

“Wet?” Lance sounded shell-shocked.

“I mean, I- I just want to know if it—“ Joshua lowered his voice to a whisper.  “What we did, if it made you feel good.” 

“Oh,” Lance said, and his voice hitched on his reply.  “Come here.”  Joshua went gladly, even though the embrace seemed different this time.  Even though the trembling scared him, Joshua liked the way Lance tucked his hot, damp face into the crook of his neck.  “It did make me feel good,” Lance admitted, but he didn’t seem happy. 

“What’s the matter, then?” 

“I didn’t intend...I never intend for things to happen when I’m with you, Joshua.  But it’s like…” 

Joshua knew what it was like.  He knew what it was like for himself, but Lance’s thoughts remained a mystery. 

“…it’s like I can’t stop myself.  Like it’s important to touch you – necessary —more important than what’s right and wrong.” 

Joshua tightened his arms around Lance.  “Is this wrong?”  It certainly didn’t feel wrong; not with the warm glow that had spread its way through his body.  He was elated, more than the time he’d won the race from the top of the Adams’ field to the edge of the forest.  That victory was the closest thing he’d ever felt to the euphoria of being with Lance. 

“You know it is,” Lance replied.  When he tilted his head to look at Joshua, his stubbly cheek scraped Joshua’s neck.  Joshua shivered with it because it burned, rough against his skin, but he knew where to find softness.  The rest of Lance- excepting one part- was all silken smooth skin, and Joshua wondered if he might one day be allowed to touch it. 

“I don’t see how,” Joshua argued quietly, and Lance snorted.  This time he extracted himself from Joshua’s embrace and put some distance between the two of them.   

“You think you got in trouble for your music?  That’s nothing compared to what might happen if we were caught doing…this.” 

“I don’t care,” Joshua said recklessly.  “We both feel the same thing.  Would we both be feeling the same thing if it were wrong?”  And it actually made sense.  He truly believed it at the time. 

***

The Bible warned against living by superstition, but sometimes Joshua had a hard time telling the difference between superstition and religion.  Once, he’d asked his mother the difference and she’d said that whenever he had doubts, he should take them to God and trust his heart.  He believed her, even though it was hard to trust his heart when it had suddenly begun aching with emotion and unsatisfied avarice whenever his thoughts turned to Lance.  His mother had never steered him wrong, and neither had his beliefs, so he started each day with a prayer for guidance.  Please, Lord, he prayed.  If I’m doing something sinful, let it rain today.  When the rain never came, he asked for more complex signs.  If I’m meant to forget what happened, let no one mention his name to me.  Joshua’s mother asked him about Lance before noon, and Joshua felt such peace with his position that he was able to answer his mother with a clear conscience and a glad heart. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been happier, and was singing by the time he carried his father’s tools back to the shed.  Singing was the only way to release the enormity of what he felt, and it always felt better, freer, when there was no one around to hear him.  The solitude gave him freedom to sing a hymn of love, but while his lips said God, his heart said Lance.  He took a breath while he locked the shed door and gave a startled gasp when he turned around.

“Justin!”  His face felt overly hot, like his secrets were on display. 

“I’m sorry.”  Justin’s eyes were laughing and his hand reached out for Joshua’s shoulder.  It was just a few short years ago that Justin had needed to look up in order to see Joshua, but now his laughing expression was at eye level.  “I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you.  I just need a favor.” 

“You walked all the way down here to ask for a favor?” Joshua said slowly.  “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!  Nothing’s wrong.  But, I- remember the man, the man with the-“

“Yes.”  Joshua had heard Justin speak of little else since the two had met. 

“He’s having a party tonight.  He asked me to come and I’m going, Joshua.  You have to come with me, please.” 

A party.  Some of Joshua’s friends had gone to English parties, and up until now he hadn’t been interested in participating.  But things were different now, and a party seemed like an opportunity to spend time with Lance.

“What time?  How will we get there?”  He laughed when Justin stepped back and gave him a suspicious look. 

“You’ll come?”

“If I can bring someone.  Um, if I can bring Lance.”  Saying Lance’s name felt like something personal, and he liked it.  He wanted to say it again, while he was touching Lance. 

“You want to bring Lance to a party?”  Justin made a face, but he didn’t say no.  “If you really want to, I suppose Chris wouldn’t mind.  Chris will pick us up at the end of my road at sunset.” 

***

“A party?  I don’t think so.”  Lance didn’t even take time to think about it, just shook his head and looked at Joshua, his mouth set in a hard line.  “Joseph’s family is coming over for supper.  My mother expects me to be there, and it would be rude to just leave.” 

“Please?  I thought, I mean.”  Joshua took a breath and glanced around before moving toward Lance.  “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Joshua…” 

“Have you been thinking about me?”  He knew he sounded young, suddenly, too much like Justin, but he couldn’t help it.  Lance was acting strangely.  It took him entirely too long to think about the answer, but after closing his eyes for a few seconds, he opened them and smiled at Joshua as though it hurt him. 

“I have,” he replied.  “Joshua,” he sighed, suddenly resigned.  “It would be impossible not to think about you.  About what we did.”   

“If you come with me we’ll be able to talk.  And this,” Joshua said.  He let his knuckles brush Lance’s thigh, a silent suggestion that made them both blush.   Lance seemed to lean into it, toward the building heat where they touched, but then he shook his head and shifted away.

“No,” he said.  His resolve was clear.  “I have to stay home.  And- you should go, Joshua.  If my mother sees you, she’ll want to know why you’re here.  She’ll also insist that you stay for dinner and you’ll miss your party.”  He said “party” as though it were something evil. 

“I don’t care about the party if you can’t go.” 

“You have to.  Justin shouldn’t go alone.” 

“I know.  I gave him my word; I will go.  But if you came-“

“-I cannot!  And Joshua,”  Lance stepped back until he stumbled into the gate.  “we cannot do this anymore.  The- touching, and kissing.  It feels wrong, and I’ve already repented.  You should, too.  We can forget…” 

Joshua was struck hard by what he had not expected to hear.  Forget?  Leaving this behind would hurt too much.  Joshua had gone his whole life without anyone looking at him the way Lance did, and he wouldn’t go without it. 

***

"How old are you?" Chris asked, and Justin smiled before answering because everything Chris said was so warm and affectionate, yet tinged with a hint of amusement.  If the amusement was because of him, it was all right because he didn't feel laughed at.  He felt nothing but the heady rush of having Chris' arm on his shoulder, Chris' eyes only on him. 

"Sixteen," he replied unsteadily.  Chris' other hand had moved to Justin's thigh, and while he liked it, the sensation worried him.  For such a small touch it was too powerful, did too many things to him all at once. 

"Old enough for rumspringa," Chris said wisely, and leaned in, putting his thumb to Justin's bottom lip.  "Old enough for this." 

Justin couldn't even say he hadn't known what was going to happen.  He'd hoped and fantasized, even touched himself while doing so, but when Chris' mouth covered his, it was so much faster, hotter, wetter than anything he could have come up with on his own.  And tongue--he hadn't even thought to imagine what a young man's tongue might feel in his mouth, opening him up until he was hard and aching, no longer satisfied with kissing alone. 

His hands reached out and tangled in Chris' braids just as the hand on his thigh squeezed tightly, sending a current of heat spiraling up and between Justin's legs.  It was as though Chris knew exactly what was happening to Justin because his hand was following that path of sensation right up to the place that made Justin gasp and buck forward when Chris cupped him through his pants with a sure hand, stroking with a slow, light brush of thumb.  

"You ever done this before?" Chris whispered.  His mouth was working wetly at the sensitive flesh of Justin's throat, a move that sent goosebumps skittering all across his skin.  

Justin didn't want to stop to answer.  Anything that meant missing even a second of this was out of the question.  Chris made him feel like there was nothing more important than being touched and able to touch in return.  All the bewildering things he'd ever felt for Chris suddenly made so much sense now that he knew how Chris' mouth felt on his skin.  And the things Chris was doing with that mouth...Justin shuddered against him and wished he had the nerve to move his hands somewhere other than Chris' hair. 

"Well...have you?" Chris repeated, only this time it was a growl and a sharp nip on Justin's lower lip. 

"Chris," he moaned in frustration, because a second ago there'd been the steady tempo of Chris' hips pulsing against his own.  Now, the delicious pressure had stopped, but the arousal was still there, built up to an unbearable level, which left Justin confused and sweating, shaking under Chris' scrutiny.  "No," he replied when it because obvious Chris truly expected an answer.  "I haven't, but it- it feels so good.  Just show me what to do and I'll do it." 

"I know you will," Chris said, and followed up with a cross between a chuckle and a sigh.  His hand, which had crept under Justin's shirt to stroke gentle fingers over his belly, now withdrew and patted Justin's cheek.  

"Wait, wait." Justin grabbed onto Chris when he started to pull away. "Where are you going?"

"Justin, I really like you. But it's too--"

"I like you too," Justin interrupted. "Don't go, please. Please don't stop." He didn't want to beg, but he couldn't stop himself. Chris looked apprehensive, so Justin pulled him close and kissed his jaw softly. "Please, Chris," he whispered. "Please." Chris' braids brushed against his face when Justin kissed behind his ear

"Okay," Chris murmured. "Okay." He glanced around the room quickly and then pushed Justin onto the couch and covered Justin's body with his own. 

"Oh," Justin breathed silently.  "Oh, thank you," hardly noticing when Chris chuckled at his enthusiasm.  Instead, he parted his lips and sought Chris' mouth again, licking at Chris' lips, mouth, anything that felt silkysmooth to his tongue and tasted deep, dark and rich like the candy Joshua sometimes brought him. 

"Is this okay?" Chris asked, his hand on the front of Justin’s pants, and Justin was already nodding before he realized what Chris was asking.  When he caught the full meaning, he went still and let Chris reach inside to slip his hand into the brand new black briefs Justin's mother had bought him. 

"Sweet," Chris whispered, his fingers wrapping around Justin's hard length.  And it was sweet, the way Justin convulsed beneath him from that simple touch, clutching at Chris' back as though he were falling.  "Shh," Chris whispered, and licked at Justin's ear just to feel another immediate and eager response; Justin pushing himself desperately into Chris' hand.  It was sweet the way Justin had no concern for the fact that he was getting off on a couch in a room full of people, and even though Chris was fairly sure his hand--and by default Justin's cock--was hidden between their bodies, he lifted his head as he jerked Justin slowly, scanning the room just to make sure. 

He was almost satisfied with their discretion when he caught himself in the full-on gaze of Justin's friend Joshua, whose eyes, even across the room, were glued to the place where Chris' hand moved just below Justin's waist.  Stopping wasn't really an option at this point, not with Justin growing more frantic by the second, his mouth latched onto Chris' neck giving sloppy, inexperienced kisses as he strained upwards, so Chris just concentrated on making Justin feel good.  The next time he looked up, Joshua was gone. 

***

Lance stayed home, but his thoughts were not with the people in the room with him, nor with the food or the lofty conversation of a minister’s table.  Luckily, his father always had a lot to say, which left him alone to his thoughts for most of the meal.  After supper, he and Joseph would usually go for a walk, and tonight was no exception.  They walked down to the east pasture, stopped at the fence, and stood in a companionable silence until Joseph cleared his throat and spoke. "Your mother says you've been going out a lot at night."

"Oh." Lance tightened his grip on the fencepost, unaware of the splinters digging into his skin. "I-I have been."

"Are you… is there a girl you're courting? Because my mother seems to think..."

It would have been the perfect excuse, but he just couldn't bring himself to lie to Joseph again. "No, no. There isn't. I'm not courting a girl."

"Oh." Joseph moved closer to Lance. "I thought you might have been. I'm sure there are many who would be eager to court a fine man like you."

Lance blushed. "I don't know about that.  Is there a girl you're interested in then?"

"I've got my eye on too many girls to choose just one yet," Joseph dismissed, still circling the topic at hand.  "How is Joshua?"

Joshua. Just his name sent memories of what happened in the barn unbidden to his mind.  He pushed them away and watched Joseph's fingers curl around the brim of his hat as he lifted it to wipe the sweat form his forehead. Lance had never really noticed before, but Joseph's hands were large and strong, and callused from years of work.  They were different than Joshua’s hands and would probably feel rough against his skin, a thought that he immediately stifled because thinking of his best friend like this was even more shameful than what he’d done with Joshua.  He shouldn't be thinking of Joseph that way; he never had in the past, certainly never before Joshua had come along and brought to light a dozen shameful sins that Lance had been harboring deep inside. 

"Joseph, have you ever…"

"Have I ever what?"

"At night, when you're alone, have you ever, um--"

"I sleep at night," Joseph said brusquely. His cheeks were tinted a light pink from the sun. Lance wondered why he hadn't noticed before.

"No, that's not what I mean," said Lance. He could feel heat creeping over his skin, and he knew that he would not be able to explain further. Lance didn't know why he had even bothered to bring it up; it wasn't something they should be talking about anyway.

"There's not really much else to do." Joseph turned away from Lance and looked up at the stars. "Not when it's dark out."

They stood together in silence for a few moments, looking up at the sky. Joseph was tense beside him, and Lance wondered why. "I'm sorry. Never mind, Joseph."

***

“I didn’t think you’d come.”  Joshua stood when he saw Lance approaching.  It was past dark and he’d given up on Lance joining him but had still opted to stay because the stars and the cool night was far better than the stifling walls of his own room. 

“My father and I were discussing tomorrow’s sermon.  Now that I’m older, he likes to hear my thoughts.”  Lance spoke with pride, and Joshua suspected that this was a new development. 

“Your thoughts are valuable,” he smiled.  Lance had always done best in school, back when they’d attended together. 

“No…”  But Lance smiled back and even touched him lightly on the side of his neck.  “I see you and Justin made your way home from the party.”  

“Yes!  And Lance, we danced.  Justin and I together, and then with some girls.  It was incredible!  I have to show you.”  Already, Joshua’s body was swaying, arms above his head, and Lance stepped back, shocked. 

“Wait, it’s better with two people,” Joshua said joyfully, and keeping a light tune in his throat, he grasped Lance’s hands and guided their bodies in the same foreign rhythm.  With a bewildered gasp, Lance pushed him away.

“You danced this way with Justin?” he demanded, and Joshua’s smiled faded. 

“I…yes.  But there’s nothing sinful about it.  There was loud music and many people.  Happy people,” he added.  “It was…I can’t describe it.”  All he wanted was to show Lance something that had been burning brightly in his heart for days now.  Dancing and happiness were forever intertwined, and there was nothing he could do to take it back.  He didn’t want to take it back; rather, he wanted to race toward it until that kind of freedom was forever part of his life.  And Lance’s life.  Except…Lance was standing back, frowning, looking at him the way they’d all looked at Aaron Snow when he’d beaten his wife black and blue. 

“And with girls, Joshua?” 

He paused, puzzled.  “Yes.” 

Lance nodded, looking every bit as confused as Joshua himself felt.  “So you just go about rubbing yourself against any willing body?  I- my parents always warned me against being—but you’re—that’s appalling, Joshua.” 

“It’s not like that!  I swear to you, Lance.”  Joshua watched helplessly as Lance shook his head angrily.  Angry with him.  “You’re the only one,” Joshua added softly, but Lance just made a scornful sound.

“The promises you make,” he muttered, his voice deep and rough.  “Like a wedding vow, which just proves how foolish this is because we’re not entitled to make those kinds of promises.  Not to one another.” 

I know a place where we are entitled, Joshua thought, where we would be entitled, but he silenced himself.  No matter how much it hurt him, he could not tell Lance about what he had seen- Justin and Chris loving one another right there in the open- because he understood the anger Lance felt, and the fear he carried himself, all born from the same source: the law.  And he understood that even though Lance was still standing with him in the tall grass, he had already drifted far away and that Joshua would not be able to touch him again. 

***

“You were yawning all though church.”

Lance jumped, startled. “Joseph, you shouldn’t sneak up on people.”

“I’m sorry,” Joseph said, looking apologetic. “I haven’t seen you much lately.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Where have you been?” Joseph’s tone was almost accusatory, and Lance felt himself bristle.

“I’ve been busy.”

“People have been talking, Lance.” Joseph stepped closer. “They say you’ve been seen in the company of Joshua.”

Lance tried to swallow, though his mouth was dry. “You shouldn’t be listening to gossip.”

“He was caught playing music, you know. And that’s not gossip. It’s the truth.”

“That was years ago,” said Lance. His hands were shaking so he folded his arms before Joseph could notice. “People change.”

“But he hasn’t changed, has he?” Joseph spoke calmly. “He’s still the same troublemaker he always was. He’s only going to get worse Lance, and I’m afraid that one of these days he’s going to lead you astray--”

“He--” already has. “He wouldn’t.”

“Lance--”

“You shouldn’t judge him.” Lance felt sick. “The Lord has forgiven him, and you should too.”

Joseph sighed heavily and looked away. “You’re right.” The look of shame on Joseph’s face made Lance feel a depth of guilt he hadn’t thought possible. “I’m sorry.”

He had never lied to Joseph before; there had been a time when he had never thought he would. Joseph looked up and Lance was shocked at the sadness in his eyes. Lance should have been the one apologizing, not Joseph. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.”

“No,” said Joseph. “It’s not okay. That was very unchristian of me. You’re a better person then I am, Lance.”

“That’s not true,” said Lance, the sick feeling in his stomach grew worse. “Please don’t compare yourself to me, or anyone else. You’re one of the kindest, most compassionate people I know. You’re perfect.” And I don’t deserve a friend like you.

Joseph smiled almost bashfully. “That’s how I think of you.”

Lance smiled shakily back at him. For a second he imaged losing Joseph’s friendship, and it terrified him. “Promise me something,” Lance blurted. He felt desperate. “Promise me we’ll always be friends. Promise me, no matter what happens to us, you’ll never leave me. Please.”

Joseph looked shocked for a moment, as if what Lance had asked him was inconceivable. “Of course. You’re my best friend and I--” He swallowed and looked away. “Nothing will change that. Ever.”

“Thank you.” Lance wasn’t sure if he was capable of saying any more at that moment.

Joseph pulled him into a hug. Lance was surprised at first, but then he relaxed and rested his head on Joseph’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered and felt his friend shiver. “Are you cold?”

“Yes,” Joseph replied, his voice strained.

“Do you want to go inside?”

Joseph shook his head and held Lance tighter.

***

Lance's father was at his desk, Bible in front of him, taking notes for the next Sunday's sermon.  The curtains were open, the last few rays of sunlight spilled over the pages of the holy book. Lance knew he shouldn't interrupt, but he was afraid if he didn't say anything then, he never would. "Father?"

"Yes Lance?" Lance could tell his father wasn't happy, even though he didn't lift his head from his writing, "What is so important that you saw fit to interrupt me while I was doing the Lord's work?"

 Lance took a deep breath and tried to speak with as much confidence as he could muster. "I think I'm ready to join the church."

"Are you sure?" He turned to face Lance, a bit apprehensive. "This is not a decision to be made rashly, Lance. You have only just begun rumspringa. You have plenty of time to decide."

"I'm sure," said Lance. "This is what I want. What I've always wanted."

His father nodded. "This Sunday then." He patted Lance on the shoulder and smiled. "I'm proud of you, son."

 "I want to be a minister," Lance blurted. He wasn't sure if it would be proper anymore, for him to preach the gospel after all the wicked things he'd done. His father looked so pleased though, Lance only hoped God could forgive him. "I want to be a minister. Like you."

"Then you will be," he said. His eyes were shining in the dim light. "Someday."

Someday, Lance thought. He hoped Joshua could forgive him too.

***

***

***

Joshua pretended to be sick on the day Lance was to be welcomed into the church.  It wasn’t a complete lie, for his stomach was had been pained for days and there was a constant tightness in his throat.  When his mother had checked in on him the night before, some tears had leaked from his eyes as she placed her cool palm on his forehead, which had ensured that he would stay in bed all the next day.  He felt exhausted even though there was no true illness, but his body sought sleep and he allowed it, for hours and hours until the next morning when he knew he must get up with everyone else.  It wasn’t fair to worry the others just because he was suffering a disappointment. 

His mother said life was to be full of disappointments, Joshua thought as he dressed and got to his chores.  He supposed that this was just the first as many, but surely with such a merciful God this would be the harshest.  Otherwise, he didn’t know how he was to survive with his faith intact. 

One small consolation in the days that passed was Justin, whose eyes were bright with love.  Justin never spoke of such a thing, but he spoke of Chris often and fondly, and Joshua was too polite to bring up what he had seen at the party so many weeks ago. 

“Who do you suppose Lance will marry?” Justin asked one autumn day when they were loading pumpkins into the cart for the market. 

Joshua paused, his fingers spread across the great bright curve of the vegetable.  “Marry?’ 

“He will be the next,” Justin predicted.  “He is often with Kelly.” 

Joshua whirled around so quickly he almost lost his grip on his pumpkin.  “He is not,” he cried, far too loudly.  “Joseph is courting Kelly, and Lance is-- he is a friend!”  He hadn’t even thought that far ahead, to think that Lance would marry and do all the things he had done with Joshua with someone else.  The situation only became crueler and crueler, and there was no way Joshua could get away with staying in bed through that celebration, as well. 

“All right!”  Justin’s eyes were wide and his lips held laughter on them, laughter that was contained only out of caution.  “I am sorry I said anything.” 

“I just.  That is how rumors are started,” Joshua explained, and turned away in case his own face was as expressive as Justin’s own. 

Justin snorted.  “You love a bit of gossip as much as the next person,” he muttered, but allowed the subject to drop. 

That night, Joshua went to the old barn again, for the first time in many weeks.  He used to spend his evenings alone and there was no reason why he should stop enjoying life just because of some hurt feelings and loneliness.  He had plenty of friends, anyhow; perhaps he would go along with Justin sometimes soon; dance, sing, laugh.  He expected to spend some time looking at the moon, but did not expect to turn the corner and find Lance walking slowly through the brush, dragging his hands through the dying foliage.  Lance appeared surprised to see him, but not displeased. 

“Let me speak,” he blurted immediately, as though he were afraid Joshua would flee.  Nothing was further from Joshua’s mind even though his heart was panic-rapid in his chest. 

“So speak,” Joshua said warily.  There was no telling what Lance might say.

Though Lance had effectively put miles of distance between them in the past few weeks, he denied that space by stepping near and taking Joshua’s hands in his own.  “I feel badly about how we left things.  If we are to be neighbors, then there must be peace between us.” 

Joshua waited, unhappy but still enjoying the way it felt to have Lance’s hands on him once again.  It would be the last time, he knew, for Lance had come to give him a firm and proper goodbye. 

“There was no other choice,” Lance said quietly, his gaze unwavering.  Joshua felt weak for being the one left with such wanting, but he still managed to raise his eyes to Lance’s, asking with his eyes all the questions that were still unanswered.  “The thing that is between us,” Lance began, and looked so deeply into him that Joshua’s breath caught in his throat.  Is between us, Lance had said.  Is, not was.  “We should never speak of it again.  Why should we, when it leads nowhere but trouble?  I want us to be friends.  I want you to join the church and marry and someday-“  he broke off abruptly when his words grew too hoarse. 

“Someday?”  Joshua held tightly to Lance’s hands.  He would never let go.

“Someday it will be easier,” Lance said. 

“Now who’s making promises?”  Joshua had never heard such bitterness in his own voice. 

“It will if we do our part to forget.”

There were many things he wished to say, but his throat had closed up so tightly that he could not speak.   He nodded instead, a small, defeated gesture.  The outdoors at night always made him feel small, but tonight Joshua felt more tiny and insignificant than he had ever dreamed a person could feel. 

“Joshua,” Lance whispered.  “Don’t.” 

He glanced up in question, for he hadn’t done anything.  “Don’t-what?”

“Your face,” Lance said.  “Don’t look like that.”  For such a harsh request, it sounded infinitely gentle. 

“I can’t--this is how I look when I feel-- when I’m hurt,” Joshua managed, even though ‘hurt’ seemed far too mild a word for the unforgiving wound in his chest.

“Please don’t,” Lance interrupted, and wrenched his hand away from Joshua’s to cup the back of his neck, rough but not hurting.  He took Joshua’s mouth in a slow, desperate kiss that only made things more confusing because how could he willingly accept this reminder of what he was losing?  But he was letting it happen, was letting Lance make low, pained sounds into his mouth and was making his own heartbroken sounds that turned the kiss deep and hard.  When Lance started taking broken gasps, Joshua felt the wetness on his cheeks and knew that Lance hadn’t lost his resolve at all, that this was just what he’d known it was all along.  A goodbye. 

He knew it was a goodbye, and yet he stayed in the embrace, in the warmth of Lance’s warm, salty mouth until Lance stepped backward to end the kiss.  After that, there was really nothing left to say. 

***

Joshua joined the church the following Sunday. 

Lance watched him from the front pew and wondered why he couldn’t bring himself to smile along with the rest of the congregation.  It was exactly what he’d wanted, bringing not only himself but another person off the path of sin and into a life of righteousness, but it had proven a hollow victory.  Joshua’s mother seemed happy enough for all of them, though, beaming and inviting everyone to her house for their afternoon meal.  Lance could not refuse, but he had no problem with shielding himself with Joseph at every opportunity.   Whenever he felt himself dwelling too much on regret over Joshua, Lance reminded himself of his long friendship with Joseph instead. 

“I didn’t think he would join,” Joseph confessed once they managed to get away from the crowded porch and front yard.  Lance looked at him in surprise. 

“You thought he would leave?” 

“Of course!  He cares very little for the laws.” 

“I’m tired of talking about Joshua,” Lance snapped before he could censor himself.  Joseph looked at him strangely, but shrugged. 

“Then we’ll talk about something else,” he said with a smile.  “The weather is pleasant lately,” he offered in a teasing tone.  “Sunny, but not too hot.” 

Lance smiled weakly.  “Not too cold, either,” he pointed out. 

Joseph rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and Lance thought, not for the first time, that a beard would suit Joseph well once he married.

“It’s a fine day,” Joseph said.

***

The fall pumpkins took up a great deal of Joshua’s time.  Englishers were mad about pumpkins this time of year, and the Chasez farm yielded the best in the county.  He was glad for the work and the way it kept his mind from idle things, such as Lance’s naked skin, which Joshua had never even seen but had felt with his hands and would never forget.  He wondered sometimes if Lance ever thought about such things and would then scold himself for hours because no, Lance had more noble thoughts and had been strong enough to do what Joshua would never have been able. 

“Joshua?  Are you all right?” 

Joshua looked up and saw that Justin’s Chris had stopped and was examining some of the biggest pumpkins in the bunch. 

“Yes, I’m sorry.”  He smiled, blushing the way he always did when he saw Chris, always thinking about that night when he’d seen…what he’d seen.  “How are you?” 

“I’m fine,” Chris said, and lifted a pumpkin, testing its weight.  “Justin said you had the best, so I thought I’d check them out.”

“That was very kind of him,” Joshua said, thinking about the way Chris and Justin had kissed.  Did they still kiss?  Touch?  Do more?  How he envied them, and the bolt of envy that sliced through him was almost more than he could bear. 

“He said you’ve joined the church,” Chris said lightly.  “Congratulations.  I’ll admit to being a little surprised.” 

“I- the idea of leaving was tempting,” Joshua admitted.  He surprised himself, for he had admitted this to no one.  “But there were certain things I couldn’t give up.” 

Chris fixed his sharp gaze on Joshua, nodding knowingly.  “It’s a shame you have to decide,” he said, and Joshua steeled himself against the sudden, inexplicable urge to pour everything out to Chris, to someone who wouldn’t judge him, about Lance and his mother and all these feelings that were driving him mad because contrary to what his family wanted him to believe, every vanity and sin had not flown from his soul the second he pledged his commitment to the church. 

“My decision was not Justin’s,” he settled for saying.  “My decision was made for me.” 

And while there was no way that Chris could possibly know of what he was speaking, Joshua could swear that the expression in his eyes was one of understanding.  He paused, fingers playing through his braids as though sorting through what he might say, and settled for, “Then maybe you’re lucky.   Justin likes to plow into things, but whatever choice he makes will rip his heart out.”

Joshua cringed at the phrasing.  “I don’t feel lucky,” he said, horrified by the sudden wetness in his eyes.  He fought it, but could feel the skin around his eyes and nose growing red and puffy despite the fact that he refused to shed the tears.   “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket.  He pressed it to his face, mortified.  “I thought it would get easier.” 

“It does.”  Chris touched his shoulder kindly, and waited for him to regain his composure.   “It gets easier.” 

Joshua nodded and wiped his face, then stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket.  “Thank you,” he said softly, and bent to lift the large, perfectly shaped pumpkin that Chris had been eyeing.  “A gift,” he said, feeling shy and grateful.  New friends could be made; things could and did change, no matter how slowly.  He prayed for the quick passage of time. 

***

Justin walked slowly down the long dirt road.  It was dark, but he knew his way well and there was nothing to fear.   Chris had just dropped him off, and their parting had-- as always- -been accompanied by long, desirous kisses that made him want to climb back into Chris’ Jeep and rub up against one another until they both found satisfaction.  But they had already done that once tonight, and twice the night before, and while Justin felt that he could never get enough of Chris’ clever hands on his body, he didn’t want to push things. 

He had enough to worry about, anyhow, because while he was known for being carefree and reckless, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he could go on like this forever.  A choice would have to be made, but the idea of choosing between Chris and his family tore him apart inside.  Why did he have to choose?   With Chris there was lust and laughter, but Justin was also certain that there was love, even though they hadn’t spoken of it.   Living in two different worlds had begun to wear on him, and he was afraid of what he might choose. 

It was late, but he didn’t want to go home so he took a shortcut through what used to be Joshua’s grandparents farm, before it burned.   The surviving barn was a good place to sit, and he was almost there when he saw something, shadows that moved like a person.  When he got closer he could see that it was Joshua, and was about to call out to him until he saw something else, someone else coming from another directi