“I just want to get away with you.” // “You know, sometimes I wonder why you like me.” // “How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re kissing me?"
“You know, sometimes I wonder why you like me.”
The words reverberate throughout the room like a grandfather clock striking twelve. Sacha just stares at him, his mouth slightly agape as Andrew’s eyes stay glued to the floor. He is looking at anything but him, has been ever since this whole stupid argument started. All of their fights are dumb, he’s decided, because hurt feelings are dumb and that’s how these things always turn out. They never leave to sleep on the couch, they just lay in the same bed, facing opposite walls saying not a single word. It’s awkward, to say the least, which is the last thing Sacha wants them to be.
"Drew, we’ve been together for nearly five years now. You can’t possibly tell me you’re being serious." His voice isn’t as loud as it was before, but he tries to keep that same hardness to it. He isn’t scolding him, not how he usually is. He knows his tone says otherwise but he can’t help it. It’s not him, it’s the stress that lately has been tearing them to shreds.
He takes a hesitant step forward, then another and another until he has successfully closed the space between them. When he’s sure Drew isn’t going to flinch he reaches for his hands, bringing each of them in for a soft kiss. This level of intimacy and affection is something they haven’t even gone close to in weeks. He knows this. Of course he does, it’s his own fault anyway.
He kisses the silver band on Andrew’s ring finger.
"I love you. I’m sorry I’m an ass and that you feel that way because it’s not fair for you to be feeling like that at all." All the anger and fiery venom that his voice once held seems to wash away, his heart beating with nothing but absolute reverence and admiration for the boy in front of him. He’s gotten older, they both have, and he notices that he’s grown into his features more now. His eyes appear sharper and he feels a shiver shoot down his spine as they finally move to watch him. Lean muscle wraps itself around his biceps and chest, flexing and twisting each time he exerts force. He’s a man. Sacha has always noticed the changes in him, has always been so observant. It isn’t until now that he mentally scolds himself for slacking.
"I’m sorry for yelling and never swallowing my pride. I’m sorry for giving you a cold shoulder and not answering your texts. I don’t know a lot of things, you know, I’m not a genius—but I do know that I am totally and completely in love with a boy named Andrew Kinnick and I admire everything about him. Even if he is a ravenclaw."
He looks up at him then, deciding that he’s done with his confession and flashes him a smile. What he said might’ve been corny as hell, but it was true. Every last bit of it.
“How am I supposed to concentrate when you’re kissing me?”
Sacha’s hand slid down the dip of his back, his fingers moving to slide beneath his shirt once they reached the small of his back. Andrew was much taller than Sacha with broad, wide shoulders that gave him a much manlier appearance; something Sacha thought was quite the fallacy to all those looking in on them. On his bed, though, they appeared to be of similar stature and that was good enough for him.
He placed a gentle kiss on Andrew’s jaw, moving only to whisper quietly to in his ear. “What if I don’t want you to concentrate?”
There was something about the slight glimpses of delicate pale skin that would peak out from where his pants hung too low, something about the freckles that dusted his shoulders and upper arm, or the way he’d absentmindedly played with his lip ring as he tried to decipher paragraphs upon paragraphs of physics and, later on, plant biology. It was cute. Andrew was cute.
Sometimes it would happen on the couch. Sacha’s hands would gradually travel up Andrew’s thighs and somewhere along the way they’d end up with kiss-swollen lips and Drew’s text books fallen on the floor in a way that surely wasn’t good for their spines.
"C’mon," he whined, his breath getting only slightly shallow as his hands inched towards Andrew’s boxers, moving to grab the swell of his rear beneath them. "You study too much, anyway."
"I just want to get away with you."
Ryan’s cheeks heat up as soon as the words leave his boyfriend’s mouth. He opens his mouth to say something cheeky, but decides not to. Instead, he squeezes the hand in his lap reassuringly and smiles in a way that he knows is going to hurt his cheeks later. “Me too,” he says, his voice bashfully quiet in the silence of Beck’s room. “And we will in a couple years. After we finish up school we can go to, like, Asia and stuff. We can climb mountains and you’ll get hundreds of beautiful pictures. We can eat real sushi and be zen, and all that. It’ll be fun.”
