-Go-
Sweet, sweeter than sugar, that saccharine sweet.
I’d swear I could taste it on my lips as I watch him, his movements so fluid and purposeful, not wasting a beat, everything he does holding a purpose and a cause; still all the while that smile, that ever present smile stays on his face.
Sometimes I can’t help but wonder if that’s him or if it’s a façade, but every time I find myself reassuring my own mind that he’s as sincere as he seems- as sincere as I desperately want him to be; god he seems so perfect to me.
I can hardly breathe with him this close, just in front of me, my eyes moving slowly over his face, his lips forming words and songs so flawlessly, and I can’t help but feel weak- maybe inferior here next to him.
My fingers freeze on the strings of my guitar for a second, and I curse myself mentally for being so easily distracted. I’ll never catch up to him at this rate.
It seems, though, that my slip-up was more pronounced than I thought; he stops, turning to face me, as do the others, and he alone speaks- he says my name.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
He sounds concerned. He sounds concerned for me and I almost feel like I couldn’t ask for anything more in the entire world.
I realize a few seconds later that I’m supposed to answer- good one, I know.
“U-uh, yeah, I’m fine, I’m just a little… ah, out of it, I guess.” I reply, shaking my head and forcing myself to smile. As much as I love knowing he’s concerned about me, I don’t want to be a burden on everyone. That’s not what I joined for, after all.
He looks like he’s thinking for a second, his lips pulled down into a semi-frown, his eyebrows furrowed, the tip of his thumb touching his chin, all just for a second, before his usual cheerful face reappeared, and he spoke again.
“Alright everyone, I think that’s good for today,” he says. He doesn’t command anyone, but everyone does as he suggests, no questions asked.
I start packing up along with everyone else, crouching down and putting my guitar back in it’s case, and pulling the straps on the case shut when I hear footsteps- his footsteps, behind me.
I double check that the straps are secure before I turn to face him, straightening and pulling my guitar case up with me.
“Hey.” He says simply, when we’re face to face.
I can feel my heart beating almost painfully in my chest and I don’t know what to do or what to say. I open my mouth to say something that probably won’t make any sense, but he speaks first.
“What’s up?”
“I…” I start out, not really sure how to respond. Suddenly I want to be gone; I want to be out of this situation before I say something stupid that I’ll end up regretting.
“Nothing, really.” I say back quietly, sidestepping him, intending to walk away.
“Hey,” he says quickly, reaching out and grabbing my arm before I can leave. The spot on my skin where he’s touching- just below the sleeve of my t-shirt- feels hot like his hand is burning me.
“Wanna go get something to eat with me? I’m starving.” He says, smiling.
I swear my heart skipped a beat when he said it, and I turn to look at him skeptically.
What’s this all of a sudden?
“What about the others?” I ask, gesturing across the studio to our three other band mates who are all standing together, talking.
He raises an eyebrow, releasing his grip on my arm, his hand falling back to his side.
“What about them?” he asks.
I blink, not sure exactly what to say. He takes over for me in the talking department again, and I’m thankful.
“So are you in?”
“Sure.” I say, not really thinking. I wish I did, though, a second later.
Great, I think, I can barely speak coherently to him in a normal setting, now we’re going off together with just us so I can… what? Be more awkward? Awesome. Fantastic choice.
“Oh? Good, then.” He says, grinning widely, resting his arm on my shoulder and talking cheerfully, “You seemed like you might say no! Good, good. Anyway, I know this awesome dessert place not too far from here. They’ve got the best…”
He keeps talking and I feel my palms getting sweaty. Why am I so nervous? We work together every day, right? We speak every day on perfectly normal basis. Why, when it’s just the two of us- why when I most want to be able to talk to him, do I have the most trouble doing it?
~♥~
Fifteen minutes or so later, we’re inside a small café nearby, and he’s got hold of my arm as he peers through the glass display case at the front counter.
He looks like a child, his eyes belaying his excitement, brought on by the mere sight of the fancy confectionary. He definitely isn’t the hard-to-please type.
“Do you eat desserts much?” he asks me as he eyes one of the cakes in the display hungrily.
“Mm…” I say softly, “Not often, no. When I do it’s usually puddings and stuff like that.”
“Ah? Hmm… wanna try something new?” he asked, looking thoughtful.
“Sure. What’ve you got in mind?”
~♥~
I looked down at the food on the table in front of us when we sat down, more than a little skeptical. I wasn’t exactly the most adventurous person in the world, but he’d insisted I try some weird foreign cake that he loves, and of course, being the me who can’t turn him down, I agreed immediately.
“Well?” he said, almost impatiently, “Aren’t you going to try it? It’s really good, I promise!”
I give in, cutting off a piece of the cake in front of me with the edge of my fork, spearing it and sticking it in my mouth.
It’s sweet- ridiculously sweet; it tastes like coffee and rum and cinnamon all at once.
“Welllll?” he says anxiously, watching me with anticipation.
“…Nn.” I say, looking away to avoid his gaze while I finish, and when I do I announce my verdict.
“It’s good.”
He smiles excitedly when I say this, so I add, “It’s really good.”
“I know, right! I knew you’d like it!”
I can’t help but smile now, and I feel a lot more at ease as he reaches over and steals a bit of my cake.
~♥~
“That’s good, but if you hold it a little longer, you’ll get a better sound. Put your hand a little higher too – yeah, that should be perfect.” I instructed, watching intently as he positioned his hand on the neck of the guitar that he held.
After we’d finished eating, I got up and I went to leave- to go home, but he grabbed my arm just like earlier and stopped me again.
”Hey” he’d said quickly, as if he thought I was going to bolt for the exit, “are you busy after this?”
I paused to think this time, but even if I’d had a reason to turn him down, at this point, I didn’t want to.
I shook my head.
“I’m not busy.”
His expression brightened considerably, and his grip on my arm loosened, but he didn’t let go.
“Really? Well that’s good. I wanted to know if you wanted to come back home with me, since I live near here. You’re really good at playing the guitar, and I wanted you to teach me some. Is that okay?”
I think I looked startled or something, because his expression fell, like he thought I’d say no, so I spoke up quickly. I didn’t like to see him look that way.
“Of course. It’s no problem.”
And so no less than twenty minutes later, we ended up here, sitting on the couch in his living room with my arm over his shoulder, my hand on top of his, positioning it on the neck of the guitar.
“Riiight” he says, looking down at the way I’d positioned his fingers, “it makes sense that it’d work that way. You definitely know your stuff.”
I shake my head quickly, “Nah, it’s not much; it’s just some stuff I picked up on while I practiced."
He looks surprised.
“You must practice a lot.”
I nod, “Quite a bit, yeah.”
“I can tell.” He says, strumming lightly on the guitar strings, “I play quite often, but I’ve never managed to pick up on this kind of stuff.”
“You’re a quick learner, though.”
I lean over, reaching forward to reposition his fingers again, but he lets go of the guitar suddenly, and grabs my wrist, looking hesitant for a split second before leaning forward, his lips brushing against mine briefly. He pulls back, watching my face, presumably to see my reaction.
My reaction doesn’t come for a couple of seconds though, since what happened doesn’t register in my brain right away. I freeze up for a second he kissed me then when it hits me
He kissed me I feel my face heat up he kissed me?! And I turn away no way! Tilting my head down for real? Letting my hair fall forward he really did to conceal the redness that’s spreading across my face HEKISSEDME.
Neither of us say a word for a few seconds, but the tense silence (aside from the very confused internal monologue in my head) starts to bother me.
“Why’d… you do that?” I manage to say finally.
“Is it bad?” he asks, “That I did it, I mean?”
I shake my head vigorously. It’s definitely NOT bad.
“Then…” he says slowly, “is it bad if I do it again?”
I shake my head again, hardly able to breathe but managing to quietly mumble something like “…not bad…”
“That’s good,” he says, a grin creeping across his face as he slides the guitar off his lap and onto the floor, then leans towards me, “because I’d like to.”
I turn back to face him, and he reaches forward, brushing the hair out of my face before capturing my lips with his once more.
This time, it’s not quite as much of a shock, and I have time to savor the sensation of his lips on my own, he and I locked together here on his smaller-than-I-would’ve-expected living room couch with his fingers running lightly through my hair.
And somehow, through it all, I manage to notice something. I don’t know if it’s from the cake he ate earlier, maybe it’s from that sheer vanilla lip-gloss he keeps using, or maybe it’s something else entirely. No matter what the case, I can’t help but notice that he tastes the way I’d always thought he would.
A taste that I’m sure belongs to him and only him in the entire world.
Sweet, sweeter than sugar, that saccharine sweet.
A/N:
For those who read this and decide to foolishly assume that after the story ended, they totally shagged each other right there on that couch?
You're WRONG.
They stopped making out and decided that being gay wasn't the right Christian thing to do, and opted instead to play a nice wholesome game of Scrabble.
Ha-HA.
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