The first hours of the journey passed in silence. The horses stepped at a measured pace, the light morning mist dispersed, and the sunlight broke through the branches of the trees, casting dappled patches on the ground.
From the outside, Anastas looked calm, but inside, everything was different. Every mile distanced him from home and simultaneously brought him closer to the unknown, in which he was searching for his person. Or, perhaps, he had long been searching for more than just him.
Thomas rode slightly behind, sometimes catching up to him, sometimes falling behind again. He tried not to disturb Anastas's thoughts, feeling that he needed space right now. Thomas didn't ask anything. He had long understood that there were questions Anastas would never answer.
They rode through sparse woods. From time to time, they came across farmsteads: neat fences, fields where people were working. Some raised their heads, their gazes following the travelers — two young, handsome noblemen, unescorted, with light luggage. Not something you see every day.
They stopped for the night at the edge of the forest, lit a small fire, and tended to the horses. Thomas sat with his back leaning against his saddle, watching Anastas, who was rummaging through the bags.
"I thought it wouldn't be so calm," Thomas said after a while.
"We just set out. The troubles will begin later. Especially when you find something you can lose."
Thomas looked at him.
"But right now, we have each other, don't we?" Thomas noted.
"You gave me no choice."
"Not true," Thomas objected softly. "You could have said 'no' and set off alone."
Anastas fell silent.
"I could have."
The fire crackled; sounds occasionally drifted from the forest.
"Sometimes I think," Thomas said, "that you look at the world as a temporary stop. As if everything could disappear tomorrow, and therefore you don't want to get too used to anything."
Anastas looked up.
"You're observant."
"It's just that you rarely talk about yourself," the latter shrugged. "So I have to learn to understand you without words."
"I don't want losses again," he said quietly. "I don't want to get attached... and then regret it."
"But if you don't get attached, don't regret," Thomas said, "is that really living?"
The question remained unanswered. Anastas looked into the fire for a long time.
"You are too young, that's why you say that," he finally said.
"And you are too young to be saying that," Thomas replied with a smile.
This time Anastas actually chuckled.
"Was your family very worried?" he asked after a pause.
Anastas nodded.
"Mother and my sisters cried and hugged me. Father and my brother supported me, but you could tell they were worried too," he sighed. "But they knew that if I stayed, I would be out of place."
"And you wouldn't forgive yourself," Thomas finished.
"Yes."
They fell silent again.
"If it gets difficult," Anastas said without looking, "you can go back. At any moment."
"And you?"
"I will go further," Anastas replied.
"Then I will go too, after you," Thomas simply said.
Anastas nodded.
The night slowly descended, the fire burned down, and the young men took turns sleeping and keeping watch over each other throughout the night; only towards morning did both of them relax.
Anastas woke up earlier, as always. He quietly got up so as not to wake Thomas, put out the fire and made sure it was completely extinguished, then went to the stream to wash up. And when he returned, Thomas was already sitting up, wrapped in his cloak.
"You got up first again," he said sleepily, stretching and yawning.
"You woke me with your snoring," Anastas replied jokingly.
Thomas snorted.
"Not true."
"True," Anastas allowed himself a barely noticeable smile.
For breakfast, they had bread, cheese, and cold boiled pork.
"It's about half a day's journey to the city," Anastas said, rolling up the map. "If we don't delay."
"And if we do?" Thomas asked.
"Then we'll have to spend the night just outside the walls," he shrugged. "Not the best option, but tolerable."
Thomas nodded, looking thoughtfully towards the road.
"Have you been to cities like this before?"
Anastas froze for a second.
"To similar ones," he answered cautiously. "Always the same thing."
Thomas got up, began to gather his things, but suddenly stopped.
"Listen..." he hesitated. "...thank you."
"For what?"
"For becoming more open to talking," Thomas simply replied. "You usually don't do that."
Anastas sighed.
"I'm just not used to talking about such things."
"I know," Thomas smiled softly.
Their eyes met, a shared understanding visible in their gaze.
The horses snorted, as if hurrying them.
Before setting out, they decided to water the horses. While the horses drank, Thomas stroked his horse's neck, encouraging it. He wanted to say something to Anastas, and as he turned, his foot slipped on a wet stone. Everything happened so fast: a sharp intake of breath, a sudden lurch forward, and he lost his balance.
Anastas instinctively lunged toward him and caught him. One arm wrapped around Thomas's waist, the other gripped his shoulder, holding him steady. Thomas almost crashed into him, his fingers reflexively grabbing onto the jacket.
Both froze from the unexpected closeness. Anastas felt the weight of the other's body and its warmth, the tense muscles beneath his palm. He exhaled heavily and sharply. Thomas looked up at him, his eyes wide open.
"I..." he started and fell silent.
Anastas realized that he was still holding him. His fingers tightened a fraction, then he immediately pushed him away slightly, as if coming to his senses.
"Careful," he said hoarsely and took a step back, clearing his throat.
Thomas awkwardly straightened up, lowering his gaze. He ran a hand over his side, right where Anastas's palm had rested a second ago, as if trying to erase the touch or, conversely, to hold onto it.
"Thank you..." he said quietly. "I didn't notice."
"Watch your step," Anastas replied, sharper than he would have liked.
He turned away, pretending to be busy with the gear again. His heart was beating faster than it should, and for some incomprehensible reason, this angered him.
Everything is fine, he repeated to himself.
Thomas stood a little ways off, feeling a slow warmth spreading inside. He knew it was only a moment, but that moment meant a lot to him. Deep down, he wished Anastas had lingered longer, but immediately reproached himself for the thought. Why get his hopes up in vain? Anastas had never seen him as anything more than a friend, or even a brother.
When they finally mounted their saddles and set off, a silence hung between them. For the first time, it was awkward.