Chapter Text
Hob shivered as he peeked up at the signs of the buildings before him. He squinted against the just-harsh-enough-to-be-uncomfortable winter wind blowing in his face. Thankfully, he could see the one he was looking for through his lashes, just at the end of the block. The hanging black sign emblazoned with a golden infinity symbol guided him down the sidewalk as a lighthouse guided a ship.
When he finally reached the door, he straightened from his hunched-against-the-wind position and smoothed back his hair. Infinitas: Fine Jewelry, Custom and Estate Pieces, Appraisals. Master Jeweler, Dream Áperios.
He took several deep breaths, patted his breast pocket to make sure the tiny parcel was still there, and hitched his bookbag higher on his shoulder. With another breath to dissipate at least some of the nerves, he steeled himself and opened the door.
The showroom was brightly lit with a combination of ceiling lights and rows of tiny spotlights highlighting the display cases arranged in a smaller square around the room . Each display was an artfully arranged exhibit of bracelets, necklaces, rings, earrings, even loose gemstones and some items he would never have expected to be made of metal. Hob vigorously wiped his boots on the welcome mat to avoid dirtying the immaculately clean navy carpet. Speakers pumped soft jazz into the room, lending it an air of mystery in addition to its understated elegance. He marveled at what appeared to be a top, made of nothing but draping silver chains, some of which were connected to hold the settings for gems on his way to the counter.
In the back half of the store, Dream was once again absorbed in his work. At the moment, he was carving out a piece of wax to turn into a mold- a delicate, swirling S shape the size of his thumb that would eventually be cast hundreds of times over in silver, the pieces joined together with rings to make a large, ornamental necklace. He heard the bell on the door, and peeked at the security camera.
A man was standing at the main counter, the one closest to the short hallway leading to the back rooms and workshop, fidgeting nervously. Dream sighed as put down his tools and removed his magnifying goggles, mussing up his inky hair in the process. The shop had technically only been open for thirty minutes, even if Dream had arrived over an hour ago. Grumbling slightly to himself, he stood up and grabbed a handkerchief as he walked out to the showroom.
“Good morning,” he greeted softly as he stepped behind the counter, wiping his hands. “How can I help you?” Dream had been focused on cleaning away the last bits of wax and rubbing the soreness from his hands, so his first look at the customer took him completely by surprise.
Even under the golden tone of his skin, Dream could tell the man’s cheeks were red-raw from the cold and the wind. Dark umber hair fell loosely to the burgundy scarf wrapped around his neck and tucked into his thick navy parka. Eyes the color of fresh earth were watery from the wind, face creased slightly in anxiety and nervousness. The showroom lights emphasized the highlights of caramel and gold in his hair, the flecks of hazel in his eyes. The faintest shadow of stubble dusted his cheeks.
Dream felt his eyes widen ever so slightly at the handsome man standing in front of his counter looking like a lost puppy. He felt his stomach doing backflips. Maybe his sister was right and he needed to get out of the workshop more often.
“Um, hi,” the man began nervously, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I was hoping to get a ring… appraised? Identified? I found it at an antique shop, and it seemed… too nice to be there, if that makes sense. Like it was a genuine, nice ring, not just some old costume stuff.” He laughed awkwardly. “So I bought it and figured I would ask an expert. I think it’s silver but I’m not sure what the stones are.”
Dream nodded and tossed the handkerchief under the counter. “Let me get my glass, I’d be happy to take a look.” The moment his back was turned and he disappeared into the back room that Hob assumed was the workshop, he braced himself on the counter and took a shaky breath. Of course the associate helping him had to be heart-stoppingly gorgeous, in his black slacks and black button down, with the sleeves enticingly rolled up to show toned forearms, why couldn’t he have come on a day where he was running on more than four hours of sleep and disheveled by the winter wind and could turn on his usual easy charm?
Dream came back with a rectangular magnifying glass and what looked like a square of sandpaper, which he placed on a soft cloth atop the counter. “May I see it?”
“Oh, right.” Hob reached into the inside breast pocket of his parka and pulled out a small pouch of red velvet. He passed it to the jeweler, eyes fixated on pale, elegant fingers. Three on each hand were adorned with gold and silver rings of varying sizes. Dream carefully opened the pouch and poured the ring into the palm of his hand.
He froze and was catapulted over a decade into the past.
The ring did indeed appear to be silver, with what Hob assumed was a decent sized rectangular cut diamond, surrounded by tiny, deep red stones. But the man behind the counter looked as if he had seen a ghost- this was clearly no ordinary ring.
“Hey,” Hob whispered softly, “A-are you okay?” The hand holding the ring began to shake- slight tremors and twitches, but not small enough to hide. “Oh Christ you’re trembling. Oh hell, um…” Hob looked around for any way to help that wouldn’t require him vaulting over the counter. Instead, he reached for the hand that had braced itself on the counter, fingers curled in, knuckles even whiter than before, the bands of his rings digging into pale skin.
He placed his hand over Dream’s and gently stroked the back with his thumb. The tender yet uncertain touch rocketed the jeweler back to the present with a start and gasp. Hazy, ice blue eyes snapped up to meet Hob’s, and the threatening tears in them tugged at his heart. “A-are you alright?” Hob asked again. The genuine, unfiltered concern radiating from him formed a lump in Dream’s throat. He almost choked on it trying to speak, but then Hob asked, “Do you need to sit down? I can come back later if-”
“This is mine.”
Dream’s words were breathy, choked, as if speaking each one was a monumental effort and he didn’t believe what he was saying, but felt all the freer for them being in the open. He looked again at the ring. Size seven, he thought to himself. 18 karat white gold, 2.4 carat emerald cut diamond, bordered by 30 tiny garnets.
Those were the last three words Hob had expected him to say, his mind shorting out momentarily. “I’m sorry?” He swayed back and forth slightly, wanting to lean over the counter to make sure the man was okay, but also not wanting to crowd his space when he was in distress. “What do you mean it’s yours?”
“I made this ring, fifteen years ago.” The words were spoken to Hob, but his gaze was once again fixed on the ring, disbelief and wonder circling around the still present shock of holding it in his hand again. Dream forced himself to take another breath and place the ring on the cloth he had set out. He braced himself on the counter, as if it was the only thing holding him up. He let his head hang for a few moments before once again looking up at Hob. “You said you found it in an antique shop?”
“Yea,” Hob gasped softly. He let go of Dream’s hand and scratched at the back of his head- this interaction already way more than he had bargained for. He was going to need a drink at this rate, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. “I was visiting a former colleague in Southampton, we went to a few book shops and antique places, and it was just sitting on a tray with a bunch of other rings.” He paused, the threads of thought finally connecting in his mind. “Wait… you said you made this…” He quickly glanced at the door over his shoulder. “Are you- are you Dream Áperios, the master jeweler?”
Dream nodded. “I am.”
Hob did a double take. “Oh, wow. Um…” He awkwardly held out his hand for a shake, a gentle smile touching his face. “Robert Gadling. Professor of medieval and sometimes ancient history. Friends call me Hob.”
Dream couldn’t help returning his smile as he shook Hob’s hand, even if his was tinier and fleeting and tinged with sadness. “Pleased to meet you.” They let go after a moment, but that moment was long enough for Hob’s heart to start pounding harder in his chest. He never wanted to forget that smile. He wondered what it would look like without the sadness.
When they let go, they both braced their hands on the counter and glanced downard, Dream at the ring, Hob at his slush-scuffed boots. A tense silence grew between them.
“It’s not silver,” Dream finally said. He cleared his throat and distractedly fiddled with one of his rings, a thin, braided band of gold on his left index. “It’s gold. 18 karat white gold. The main stone is a diamond, the smaller red ones are garnets.” Hob glanced up with an expression of innocent wonder. Dream’s voice was incredibly soothing, soft and deep, steady and reassuring. He could listen to it for hours, found himself wanting to listen to it for hours. He swallowed hard.
“When did you make it?” Hob finally asked.
Dream was silent for a moment, both doing the mental math and debating whether to answer. “I was 19 when I made this,” he finally mumbled, “In the last year of my apprenticeship.” Hob let out a low whistle, his eyes wide.
“You were 19? Wow, no wonder you’re a master jeweler. It’s beautiful. I wonder how it came to be in an antique shop in Southampton of all places. Would have thought it’d be on someone’s finger or in a display case.”
Dream bit his lip. Hob could tell it was an attempt to hold words back, that there was something Dream wanted to say but wouldn’t let himself say it, couldn’t let himself say it. He carefully leaned in just a little closer. “Do you know how it got there?”
Dream simply nodded, still not trusting himself to speak. He could feel the burn of tears behind his eyes. His fingers curled in again, still braced on the counter. Hob’s heart broke at his distress. He waited patiently, his curiosity barely held in check, even as he gave Dream space to back away and change the subject. He tried his best, but patience had never been one of Hob’s stronger suits. “I- I know we just met, but… well, if you wanted someone to talk to, I’d be happy to listen. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger about heavy things than someone you know.” Dream’s head snapped up as Hob checked his watch. “I have to go prepare for class, but, um… if you want, there’s a pub around the corner. We could have a drink after closing?”
Hob mentally smacked himself on the forehead. What’s wrong with you? He berated himself, Man’s almost in tears and you’re shooting your shot?
No, another part of his brain insisted, I’m just offering a friendly ear, bloke seems lonely and like he has something big to get off his chest.
“Tell you what.” It took a few moments, but Hob finally worked up the courage to smile at Dream and continue: “I’ll head over there at closing time. You don’t have to come if you don’t want t, or you can come and not chat, or come and chat. The offer’s open. And…” He felt his smile soften into something far too tender for two men who had just met. His fingers pushed the cloth bearing the ring a hair’s breadth closer to Dream.
“Keep it. It’s yours anyway.”
Dream actually took a step back at that, dumbstruck. His expression must have been something, because Hob’s smile brightened with mirth. “But-” Dream stuttered, and even his stutter sounded lovely. “You purchased it, therefore it is yours.” Hob shrugged, that brightness turning into something like cheek.
“Alright, if it’s mine I get to choose what to do with it.” The smile widened. “And I’m choosing to return it to where it belongs.” Dream let out a heaving breath. Hob thought he was about to gather wind to continue his protestations, but then it seemed as if a great weight was lifted from the jeweler’s shoulders.
“Thank you,” he finally rasped. Hob gave an easy shrug, as if such world-shattering kindness was the most easy and natural thing.
“Only seems right for you to have it, especially if you parted with it unwillingly.” Dream sucked in a startled, choked gasp of air. How had this man, this Hob Gadling, already come so close to the story of the years he would much rather forget? His heart squeezed so painfully Hob might as well have crushed it in his fist.
Hob checked his watch again and did a double take. “God’s teeth I’m gonna be late.” He looked back up at Dream and started walking backwards toward the door. “Pub around the corner at closing time, I’ll be there if you want to come.” He gave a cheery wave and briskly strode out the door, hunching against the wind the moment he was outside.
Dream watched the door slowly swing shut, heard the tinkle of the bell fade into silence. Except it wasn’t silent; his ears were ringing, he could hear his heart thundering in his chest. Something was constricting his lungs, a band of titanium that made it almost impossible to breathe until his vision started to fade at the edges. When his lungs burned for air, he sucked in a great gasp, the flood of oxygen sending a slight tremor to his hands.
The ring still rested on the counter, its shine burning his retinas. He had half a mind to immediately take it into the workshop, wrench the stones out of their settings, and melt the gold down until it was just barely usable. The other half wanted to slide it onto his finger, to serve as a constant reminder of Hob Gadling and his kindness.
At the moment, he did neither of those things. He once again held the ring in his hand, fingers clenched and curled so tightly it left an angry red imprint in the meat of his palm. The pain was ice-sharp, jolting him out of his fog. He took another gasping breath, sucked in between clenched teeth. Anger began to unfurl- how dare this beautiful man just come right through his door like a ray of summer sun and break him open in a matter of minutes? His muscles surged, ready to throw the ring as far as he could across the showroom- maybe it would go through the door and fly all the way to hit Hob in his beautiful stupid face.
Instead, he slips it back into the little pouch it arrived in and tucks it into the back of a drawer under the counter- out of sight, out of mind. He felt a stinging on his hand when he closed the drawer- a moment’s inspection revealed several drops of blood blooming from his palm, each no bigger than a pinhead. Dream’s brow furrowed in confusion, but then he realized- the ring. He didn’t think he’d held it tight enough for the prongs to break the skin, but the evidence was there before his eyes. He sighed and reached for a tissue.
Damn Hob Gadling for his appearance, for his kindness, for refusing to leave Dream’s mind for the remainder of the day.