Pat usually keeps his eyes closed for a little while longer after their kisses end. He isn’t entirely sure why he does that.
Maybe because he’s an athlete and muscle memory is a thing, his body is trying to muscle-memorize Pran’s kisses, remembering how he tastes, the give of his lips, how soft and pliant they are.
Pat could also maybe be a little conscious about what he would see when he opens his eyes.
He isn’t one to dwell on the past, but the first time they kissed, Pran literally slipped away through his fingers and he couldn’t do anything about it, just stood there helpless, hopelessly watching him leave.
So this could also be Pat doing his best to savor every little drop of Pran, the taste of his kiss, the heat emanating from his skin, the surprised little sounds he still makes when their lips touch. Pat wants to savor all that is Pran, everything he is willing to give, and maybe more, more, if that’s somehow allowed.
He truly doesn’t foresee a day when he will have enough of Pran, though. This strange feeling of urgent tenderness, a mix of desperation and contentedness he feels whenever he’s with him, keeps Pat entranced with this boy he now knows he cannot live without.
Stay. Never leave again, Pat says like a prayer in his head in the five seconds after their lips part, hoping that Pran can hear him. Then opens his eyes and sees Pran looking back at him with eyes full of what Pat thinks he is also feeling…always, he sees. I’m never leaving, he hears.
So Pat smiles, and kisses Pran again.
