His hand was already on the doorknob but he stops when Lysander asks him not to leave. Instead, Tristan pushes the door shut again, though he hesitates for a second about locking it. It seemed like he should for some reason, but at the same time he asks himself why. What was he even doing here, still? He’s ready to open his mouth to tell Lysander that he doesn’t need to explain when he hears Alek’s name slip from his lips and Tristan’s eyes flick towards the hickeys again. “Alek what?” he asks, tone tentative. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was he was feeling but he knows he feels strange as images of what possibly happened between the two flash in his mind, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not he wished it was him instead of Alek who got to be with Lysander, or if he was more curious about what it must have been like to have been in Lysander’s place. Tristan’s cheeks flush pink when he catches on to his train of thought. As much as he wanted to forget about it all like how Lysander is asking him to, it was a little difficult when the evidence was right there in his face. Still, he finds it hard to say no to the other’s request completely. He’s still drawn to Lysander and it feels good to be wanted by him, so he steps towards the other boy, bringing a gentle hand up to his face, his careful touch lingering just slightly before it trails down his neck and settles on his shoulder. Tristan’s eyes follow the movement of his hand, examining the markings on the other’s neck more closely. “Did they hurt?”
The red hue on his face intensifies when Tristan repeats his boyfriend’s name, confirming that he had in fact heard Lysander’s dangerous slip of the tongue. “Yes, Alek… He did this to me,” the boy confesses, because there was really no denying it at this point, and Tristan probably had already guessed what had transpired between them. Lysander didn’t trust very easily, but the other boy had never given him a reason to doubt him before. Besides, he was a nobody, so who would believe him anyway? “Mmpf,” he whimpers wantonly, as Tristan’s fingertips gently trailed down his neck, tracing the dark, tender spots that were scattered across his throat and collarbone. While they didn’t hurt anymore, they did feel mighty sensitive to his touch. Lysander didn’t understand why his ex-boyfriend was touching him like this, or why he appeared to be so mesmerized by the marks in the first place, but admittedly, his curiosity was piqued, and it was turning him on a little. Fluttering his eyes closed, he imagines how Tristan’s soft lips would feel against his bruised skin, and involuntarily licks his lips. “Yes, it hurt…” he nods his head, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip to ensure no other embarrassing sounds would leave his mouth, but unfortunately, that doesn’t last very long. “Do you… Do you want to kiss them better, Tristan?”
