England, 1864
June 11,

Vincent's head lies on Peter's chest. Their white button-down shirts loose and open, leaving the cool breeze to brush their stomach and neck.
Both boys lie in an empty field. Nothing but the sun in the sky, no clouds to be seen.
"How'd your parents react if they found out about us?" Vincent lifted his head, meeting Peter's eyes. Which were only focused on the view they got; the vacant land. So vacant, you could see the breeze of the wind.
"Hate me, they would. Once this year passes, I will leave."
Vincent nodded and rested his head back on Peter's chest. Peter glided his finger down Vincent's jawline to his chin,
"We will live together somewhere." His voice was deep and meaningful, he lifted his thumb to brush Vincent's bottom lip down,
"I promise."
He reached his head down, and with the utmost delicacy, pressed his lips onto Vincent's.
"I have a question?" Vincent got up off his chest again,
"Yes?"
"If you were to have one wish, what would it be?"
"Well," Peter hesitated, "It would be me and you together, old, and we'd be in a city."
"And?" Vincent asserted,
"And people would see us as people." His eyes met Vincent's, and nothing but silence fell between the two boys.
Sometimes silence is the loudest thing in the world, because when you don't say anything, your eyes do.
Vincent's eyes had shades of red, mostly made up of scarlet and crimson, but they'd glow brighter whenever he was sad.
Peter's eyes were dark to where sometimes you couldn't read anything from them. However, the slight raven he had would glow a bit whenever he was happy.
Nobody looks at people's eyes long enough to notice color changes, but these boys admired each other in every way possible.
"I love you." Peter ended the silence,