Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

some people are born with dust in their blood.
these are the people who cannot simply be still and contained.
those kids who no matter how smart, ditch classes to brew coffee in the grove near school.

some people were born to feel the grass tickling their toes through their sandals, pick berries and wake up in a different spot every day. spend every weekend with other nomads like themselves, then fold their sleeping bag and part their ways as the sunday sun lights up the cool dawn.

Stolas Goetia once cried because a caterpillar touched his arm.

in fact, he once refused to leave his room for five whole days because he saw a lizard on the porch of his house, the fear of the wretched creature getting even close to him reducing any chance of him leaving his bed to zero.

all of these incidents and more were evermore the reason it was so very odd that instead of a bachelors party, stolas decided in favor of going on a one week backpacking trip, all on his own.

after extensive research that took him hours, he decided on palestine, as he wanted to experience as many different sceneries and climates in as little time as possible.

he was flabbergasted by the amazing photos of the deserts, the forests, the groves and the beaches. and if he could see all that and eat some local cheese made from sheep's milk, then what right does he have to complain?

all that lead to this very moment, as he quickly yet as precisely as he could, packed his clothes, bottles, his very expensive pocketknife containing eleven different tools, strapped his sleeping bag and mat to his massive bag, then stuffed his phone, wallet and passport into his pouch. he was ready.

or at least as ready as someone like him could ever be.

the cab ride to the airport would take at least an hour and a half, so as he settled down, his head rested against the window, he watched as the neon lights of the city night and the darkness of the sky blurred together into a display of fires, dancing just for him. as his eyelids fluttered shut, a thought swept through his mind.

how long has it been since I was outside on my own?

the rumble of the engine woke him as they arrived at the airport, the only place that would be buzzing with life on a weekday.
stolas had never before boarded a flight on his own. in fact, he had never even been to an airport, as his flights always included fancy ass private planes with loads of alcohol and those small fuckass cookies.

imagine his surprise as upon entering, the first thing he saw was a woman in pijamas wearing a sleeping mask, drooling all over herself and the purse clutched in her hand as she lay on the scruff metal bench, that probably saw more sweat and bodily fluids then stolas would like to imagine.

aside from that, his time in the airport was rather uneventful, although very new to him, and as the clock hit 5 AM, his plane rose above the the ground, he watched as the clouds grow closer, looking as soft as can possibly be, yet he knew it was a lie. all they were were cold, bundles of water.

as the plane rose higher and the clouds lay lower beneath him, stolas fell asleep, the hum of the engines buzzing softly against his skin.

somewhere in the Judah desert, black coffee with cardamom was brewing.

Chapter Text

The Jerusalem central station was hell incarcerated.

Stolas had never been this overwhelmed in his life, and once he had to attend a wedding with a navy blue suit instead of a crimson one! Truly a terrible memory reserved only for a bored therapist.

The place was buzzing with life - old women buying bagles and burreka, couples boarding busses to the north, a mother with her three little girls, all of whom were wearing the same pink dress with a bow, following her like ducklings.

And lastly, there were those who he wished to be.

Young people in their twenties, wearing sandals and carrying huge bags, leaning on walls and sitting on the floor.
Laughing, chatting, and he even caught the sound of a guitar - although he could not locate the source of it.

His plan was simple - board a bus to the north, buy food at a convenience store, and set up camp near a river.

Stolas being stolas this all went to shit.

“Excuse me miss, do you perhaps speak english?”

The young woman wearing a light black dress looked at him when a smile washed over her face.

“You're just in luck! I've lived in america for a couple years, so I know my way around they language. Ya need any help?”

Stolas breathed out, feeling himself relaxing, and went on.

“Lord am I greatful. You cannot even begin to fathom how I've struggled until now, no one here understands my accent! Or english at all! Do these people have bricks for brains? Anyways, If it wouldn't be a bother, I'd gravely appreciate it if you could help me find my bus.”

The woman’s face froze as she stared at him, with stolas staring back at her utterly baffled, until she snorted then burst out laughing so hard people turned momentarily to see where the noise was coming from and why.

“people here ain't stupid you elitist fuck!” She managed out between laughs, and stolas’ eyes narrowed into a suspicious frown.

“You're just in jeruz! See all them religious folk?” She waved her hand in the general direction of a mom who looked about to slap her son who wouldn't stop tugging at her dress.

“They don't speak English, it's like they're from another world! And they ain't stupid, you're just a judgemental prick.” She said with a wide grin.

There was no malice in her voice, stolas began to think, as he was suddenly interrupted by her slapping his shoulder so hard to the point he tumbled backwards, waving his hands like a distressed pinguin, then fell flat on his back, the weight of his bag winning against his self respect.

She kept on laughing as he sat up, looking so pissed a little kid gave him a wide eyed look and quickly hurried away.

“What the fuck is wrong with you??” he looked up to her, still laughing so hard to the point she was bending forward clutching her stomach.

“I figured you were a fancy ass tourist but shit me dry if ya aint entertaining as fuck. you’re a riot! you gotta join us for the weekend! we’re camping up at, eh, wait how is it pronounced in english - ah yeah! the jarden river!” she was practically beaming at him, yet he did not spare her even a small smile in return.

“I believe you mean the jordan river, darling, and I have to decline. it’s not in my plans for at least three days from now, and with all due respect, I’ve known you for a mere thirty seconds in which you already managed to push me to the floor. can’t imagine this coming in handy for when we’re near a cliff.” as soon as the words left his mouth, he got up from the grimy floor, dusted himself off, and pretended he didn’t just wobble from the weight which some thirteen year olds he thought he saw around could carry as easily as breathing.

her face fell. only a little, though. her expression wearing a scowl compliant with mild annoyance, while her eyes spoke of understanding and pity.
“look, fancy ass. I don’t know where you’re from, but I’m one hundred percent sure wherever it is yall eat something like duck feet and call it the queens cheese sock.” stolas narrowed his eyes, unable to connect any word she said to a coherent sentence, just staring at her with nothing but pure confusion. “...but how yall do things over there aint close to how we so em over here. the people here, are, well, people. but theyre more than that! theyre human, and theyre warm and they will never let you feel alone. well, as long as you hang out only with leftists.” she added, her face deepening into an expression stolas could not for the life of him decipher, but he could swear he spotted.. exhaustion? maybe, anyways, she continued “ my point is, you dont have to be so uptight. no one here is against you. here you will be loved until you prove you deserve otherwise, if you even ever will.”

stolas stopped looking at her, and yet she stood there patiently, with one hand on her hip and the other hanging freely, as she observed him with calm, knowing eyes.

he was looking at an old man buying a cookie and thanking the cashier, exchanging a joke in a language he could not yet understand, but have learned by now to recognise as arabic. he saw four girls in white tops and bucket hats decorated with cute fruit drawings, walking and talking about (not that he knew that) some movie they were going to see at the mall.

And it was, in that exact moment, that it dawned on him.
This is what he came here for.

this is why his intuition kept screaming at him to run.

As not one single person in his life fad ever shown him the amount of warmth two strangers exchanged in the mere purchase of a cookie.

he looked back at millie, and knew that if he wanted to change things. if he wanted to make these 7 days mean more than a mere distraction until the inevitable end, he had to go with her. because he cannot be alone. not again.

“how did you call where we were going?” a smile crept up her face as she replied “the yarden river, or urdun, whatever youd like really” “then id more than love to go there with you” he said, his posture stable, but for once in his life it wasnt from endless training, it was from confidence.

“so to the river we’re heading! don’t think I’m hitting on you though, you’ll meet my husband there, I really think you too will get along.”
stolas smiled quietly and followed her, as she percked up and turned to look at him, horrified “962 is coming right now! we have to catch it, come, run!”

and as they ran together, getting dirty looks from old people carrying bags of varying foods, and an extremely dirty look (and something he presumed to be a swear?) from a nice looking lady he had bumped into, stolas did not care for it. he did not think of any of it, as all he could think about, was how she thought he had hit on her, and his thoughts sank as the realization hit.

this isn’t england. no one here knows me nor my family.

they finally reached the platform as millie laughed while panting from all the running, but stolas was deep in thoughts.

can he use these seven days to be himself for the first time?

to be with another man?

the bus boraded with the both of them napping on eachother, bags bellow their legs, the air conditioning cooling their senses.