Afff, finally started reading. It's such a Turner painting in general-- I wish there were scenes of this illustrated as sweeping paintings with little figures across landscapes. I love Brad's taciturn brand of yangness... how he erects (heh) the schoolhouse, and omg the bed he made for himself to lie in (!!), the self-imposed semi-exile ;__; and, Ray is right, you can just feel in this fic that Nate is exactly what Brad needs... socialized and urbane but in a way that makes him polite and accommodating and perceptive and thoughtful ;__;
Somehow the fact that they're out in completely landlocked Iowa but Brad's soul (and eyecolor haha) is Of the Sea is really striking, and Nate-- from marshy waterlogged Boston-- getting drenched in the rain, and that helping to bring them to that Precipice... ;_____;