“trust you? how can i trust you if you never gave me a reason to in the first place?” Phiciaociao
“Trust you?” Phichit breathes, so close to Celestino’s lips yet so far away. They’re stood in a parking lot, chest to chest, face to face, the glow of dim street lamps casting long shadows on Phichit’s cheeks from the dangerously seductive curl of his lashes. “How can I trust you if you never gave me a reason to in the first place?”
He’s staring away now, eyes pulsing from the flash of headlights as they pass, a stubborn stiffness to the set of his mouth. I’ve fucked up, he thinks, watching as the threat of tears shimmer around his irises. I’ve really fucked up.
Phichit wasn’t meant to have been at the bar, wasn’t meant to have seen him flirting with other men for the promise of cheap beer, perhaps something stronger if he really flexed his charmer’s tongue. It was never anything serious, just a few sugary compliments to fuel his alcohol addiction whilst saving some loose change- loose change he intended to spend entirely on their future together.
But Phichit had been there. He’d been there when a friendly hand at his shoulder had trailed lower and lower, cupping his ass as he knocked back the last of his forbidden scotch. He’d been there when Celestino hadn’t said no to the kisses mouthed down the column of his throat. Not right away. Not until the damage had been done.
He can feel the bruises now, pulsing with the beat of his desperate heart, an aching reminder of the mistake he had made.
“When have I ever given you a reason to not?” he counters, realising too little too late it’s exactly the wrong thing to say to comfort his lover. The strong facade quivers, the mask Phichit had tried so hard to hide behind crumbling until his lip trembles with a single, solitary sob.
“How often?” he whispers, looking anywhere but at him. “How often do you do it?”
“How often do you do it, Ciao Ciao?!” he cries, shoulders shaking with the force of his words. Celestino reaches for him, but Phichit flinches away, taking a step back so the space between feels miles apart.
Breathing deep, Celestino steadies himself before laying the truth before them. “A few nights a week.”
“A few nights a week?” he repeats, voice choked, squeezed into this unbearable squeak that pierces through Celestino’s liquor hardened heart.
“I-I can’t. The men I can forgive, but the drinking?” Phichit runs a hand through his dark hair, making it stick out at odd angles. Celestino wants nothing but to smooth it back down into place, to take his sweet boy back into his arms and press kisses until his tears melt away into smiles.
But he doesn’t, because what’s the point in making things worse?
Then Phichit surprises him, causes his heart to splutter in the rotting cavity that has become of his chest. Gently, he takes Celestino’s chin between warm fingers, and leads him down into a kiss that tastes of salt water and farewells.
When they draw away, there’s a new hardness to Phichit’s eyes, cold and resolute, and Celestino sees that unwavering force that he’d fallen in love with. “You were supposed to choose me, not the alcohol. I was supposed to be what mattered the most, and I won’t settle for second best.”
And then he turns, melting into the nightlife as if he were nothing but a figment of Celestino’s alcohol infused imagination.
The taste of tears lingers on the back of his tongue long after he’s drowned his sorrows with whisky and rum.
literally the first time i’ve written something that’s not Otayuri oops- i hope this follows properly and makes sense ^.*
I WOULD JUST LIKE TO FUCKING ANNOUNCE THAT MY BROWSER CRASHED STRAIGHT AFTER I CLICKED ANSWER AND MY HEART IS NOW BEATING SO HARD IN MY CHEST I WOULD HAVE CRIED IF I LOST THIS
