searching for home
1. Etienne's first time was at a house party when he was thirteen. Of course, he hadn't been invited. He had been walking by when he saw the activity in the house; people laughing and dancing as music poured out the door as people walked in. He watched it all for a moment before following a group into the house. He really didn't want to party. He just wanted the closeness of human content; where music pulsated around the throng of bodies like a living organism. He had found it unexpectedly but now he basked in it like a kitten in the sunlight, a drink he had no business having in tow When they bumped into each other in the hall they were well past buzzed, drunk on free-flowing booze, music, and the energy from the crowd around them. They talked, flirty, and shortly afterward, they kissed. It escalated quickly, possibly too quickly, but neither of them cared. They barely paused as they stumbled up the stairs and into an empty bedroom. He pulled away from her only long enough to close the door and lock it behind him before pressing his lips to hers in a frantic kiss, his hand traveling quickly up the front of her blouse. After that, everything was a flurry of hands and clothes, teeth dragging across hot flesh, lips kissing and sucking until bruises blossomed along collarbones like poppies on their collarbones. IN the moment he never wanted it to end. He craved that closeness, his body arching against hers as they moved together; creating delicious friction with no concern for anything but what was happening between the two of them. He didn't want it to end and perhaps they would have kept on if someone hadn't called the police with a noise complaint. The party broke up instantly and Etienne grabbed his clothes and bolted for the window before he could really think about what he was doing. He was lucky that he hadn't broken his neck. Somehow, he made it home in one piece, passing out on his bed as soon as his head hit the pillow. When he woke up he was hungover with a bad taste in his mouth, he didn't remember much about the previous evening. Her hair had been dyed lavender, she had a face full of freckles, and her lip balm had tasted like apples. 2. This particular boy had a name. He was Arthur and he kissed Etienne like he wanted to be loved. Etienne always felt guilty that he couldn't love him back; at least not like that. All he could truly see him as was a much-needed distraction. That was all. It was late, well past his curfew, but he wasn't worried. He had a feeling that he would find his dad passed out on the couch whenever he finally managed to make it home. Whatever. When he finally pulled himself off the sofa and told Arthur he needed to go home the other boy insisted that he walk him to the bus stop. Secretly, Etienne thought that was a stupid sentiment but he'd never say so. He couldn't be that cruel so he allowed Arthur to trundle him along to his usual bus stop. It started raining as they arrived, thunder rumbling loudly, and Etienne shied away deep under the awning from it. He hated it when it rained. It reminded him of the day they'd buried his mother; his dad standing over him with his hand on his shoulder as the rain pelted down mercilessly on the umbrella he held over both of them. Of course, Arthur didn't know that. He hadn't shared that with him. In fact, he kept most of his life post-Arthur to himself. Maybe that was why Arthur didn't know any better than to try and pull him in and kiss him. He felt as if that moment was supposed to be romantic. Maybe if he didn't feel so damaged it would have been. Instead, it just felt uncomfortable. Arthur raised his hand to trace along Etienne's jaw for a brief moment before his hands vanished into his hair, knotting into the untamed mess. The other boy's lips pressed against his insistently and he hesitated for a moment before he pulled him closer by his hips and kissed him back almost ferociously. His body arched into his, on autopilot, even though this was really the last thing he wanted to be doing at that moment. The bus braked at the curb with a hiss and Etienne pulled away, gasping for breath. He stared at Arthur for a moment before turning to go. The other boy grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop. “Hey. I love you, Etienne.” He jolted. Maybe he should say it. Maybe, in a different world, he would have said it back and he would have meant it... but his heart was sitting like a stone in his chest and he found that the simple words that he should be saying wouldn't come to him. Instead, he just raised the boy's hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles before climbing aboard the bus. He settled into a seat at the back of the old bus and watched Arthur as they pulled away. He gnawed his lip and kept watching until he was gone. He stared at the dark empty streets before turning to face the front. He knew that he couldn't say it. He never saw Arthur again after that night. 3. She ran her fingers along the bridge of his nose and he found himself grinning as he pulled her against him. The half-finished painting sat forgotten across from them as he looked up into her face and gently traced patterns into her lower back. “Mmm.... It's late,” she mumbled as she combed her fingers through his wild hair. “Why are you awake?” He sighed heavily and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. “I can't sleep. I really don't know what's wrong....” that wasn't the full truth but he didn't want to talk about his weird dreams with her just then. “Poor dear,” she murmured into his ear, gently massaging his scalp with her fingertips. “What can I do to help you?” He shrugged, resting the full weight of his slender frame against her. “Mm. No, this is nice, thank you.” he could feel her smile, her fingers dancing down his neck to brush along his nape. The gentleness wasn't unexpected from her but he still sometimes occasionally found himself astounded by it at times. She ran her palms down his bare shoulders and connected the constellation of freckles on his collarbone with her fingernails. He was a puddle against her body. His eyes fluttered shut as she kept at it; the movement pulling him closer and closer to sleep. He could have fallen asleep right there but she gently shook him to keep him awake. “Come back to bed. You'll sleep better there.” He nodded and yawned. She watched him stretched with a soft grin on her face before kissing his cheek. He smiled sleepily and allowed her to lead him back to the bedroom. He was too tired to worry about it right now. Maybe it wasn't true love but it felt like it was something close to it and that was okay with him. 4. Etienne scooted closer to Darcy and pressed his face between the soft skin between his shoulder blades. Darcy made a content little sound that had the taller boy grinning against his skin. They had been up for an hour but neither had wanted to get out of bed. At some point David had leaned in to check on them but, mostly, they were left to their own devices. Darcy tilted his face up to him, quietly asking for a kiss which Etienne was happy to give him. He held his face and kissed him deeply, pouring every ounce of love into it until they had to pull apart to catch their breath. He leaned forward to place little kisses along his face and throat, only stopping to kiss him again. They could have spent passed hours that way, each moment more amazing and wonderful than the last. For the first time since his mom died Etienne felt sure. There was no doubt in his mind. This was love. He had finally found a home.
