[Just be you. What does that mean, really? Does Andrew really mean it? Against the body-warm clothes pressed against his face Mike chokes on a wounded sound. Soon to follow after is an incredulous laugh that devolves into sounding suspiciously like a sob while he clutches harder to the shirt in his hands.
It's a wonder that the deluge of tears streaming from his eyes haven't carved tracks in his cheeks by now. They burn like they should be. A simple task like in and out cadence of each breath drains all energy from the acrobat. However, still so defiant of being seen ugly crying he sniffles- but it's a little too late for that with the mess they've both made of themselves. What a pitiful little pair they make indeed.
Perhaps to the chagrin of his roommate Mike pushes himself back up and away from Andrew's chest. Although it takes effort to shift out of the hold Andrew has on him. He's been what others would regard as a endless ball of energy his whole life. Capable of bouncing back from everything with a smile. But this? After a week of agonizing over the what-ifs and the way everyone avoided everyone else that youthful stamina drains from Mike. He leans what feel like overburdened shoulders over Andrew as he places his hand to cup a hollowed cheek. Not a moment after Andrew finishes his bit a tear soaked thumb brushes along the seam of the lips surrendering enticing promise to the air.
A great deal of wonderment shines through the otherwise anguished expression on Mike's face. His hand replaces the place where his head was once resting against that broad chest. The deep pulse that proclaims Andrew as just as alive as Mike has stubbornly wanted believe him to be begins to anchor him again. Like that- sitting slumped while his legs barely keep him from sitting all of his dead weight on Andrew's torso- a point of no return reached. Mike wouldn't be able to get off now even if he wanted to. He doesn't want to and his legs won't allow it.
He's ballsy, known for it, really. Impulsive at times too. But for this he has to work up the nerve to do what he knows he wants to do so badly.]
There's no way I'd care about any of that! 'Cause I like the you that I know! Besides, who hasn't done things they regret! Listen here, Andrew, because it's really important— I don't care. I want to try for you too. So can I-...Uhmm!
[Mike's mouth works soundlessly around the words he wants to say. The words that get cut off by his own disobedient throat. The desire he wants to act on. It's absurd that his cheeks begin to flush not only from the upset racking his body but out of embarrassment... Out of something close enough to timidity that it'll be both hilarious and mortifying to look back on. The curls set free from the absence of his usual hat bounce following a shake of Mike's head. Like he's berating himself for faltering.
Just allow him one good honest kiss and maybe it'll start to feel alright. Just let all of it be out in the open. He'll take whatever judgement or punishment or hate there is to receive afterward. Tear clumped eye lashes lower over his exhausted eyes as they drop to Andrew's lips to try to communicate what he hasn't put a voice to yet. Still, as impatient as he can be, more than enough time is being granted to the gravekeeper to put a stop to it if that's how this is meant to go. Mike tentatively leans in until lips hover a scant few millimeters apart. Just the proximity is enough to steal his own breath away as he glances back up to look into Andrew's eyes.]
[ It's difficult to choke back sobs, after years of swallowing them down. He'd always told himself it'd be weak to cry, and he can't let people see him weak, knowing what they probably already think of him. Not when he failed to keep a promise to not weep, spilling wet gobs of tears over a crumpled letter and smearing the ink. Even now, he tries to stop himself, even if the dam is broken; clutching the other man close, he takes shaky, deep breaths, lips wobbling in a futile attempt to keep them shut.
Seeing someone else cry, because of him (because of his choices, as unintended as they are), it just...hurts. Hurting people is never his real intention, but protecting himself...it's always been the better way, at least in his eyes. Not once did he ever think somebody would cry over him again, no matter the reason. His shirt feels wet from a torrent of tears, both his own and not, and his face and neck feel uncomfortably sticky even as they continue to trail.
He isn't expecting the movement, finding his grounding grip slipping away as he becomes forced to stare at that stained face again. It's almost too much to bear, and he wants to tear his eyes away just so he doesn't have to look, a hand slipping back to the rumpled bedspread while the other slowly presses to the gentle touch currently cupping his cheek. The thumb that brushes his lips leaves the taste of salt, but he doesn't have it in him to complain right now. Not when he can see that look on Mike's face, this emotion peering through the pain that makes him feel so small.
Andrew lightly turns his head, a small choked noise escaping as a palm presses flat to the curve of his ribs, heart thrumming against them far faster than he'd prefer. He feels— embarrassed. Ugly. He doesn't want to show this kind of frail, vulnerable face, afraid of what would come of it. He thinks of the agonizing faces his mother would make when she thought he wasn't looking, like the weight of the world was pressing against her feeble back, and wonders if that's what he looks like. Suffering for love. What a funny thing to imagine, that the same thing is happening all over again, but this time almost stronger.
He listens, a small whisper trying to convince him that the blond wouldn't be saying these things if he knew what he'd done, but a stronger one pushes that voice to the back of his head. It just sounds too good to be true, and doesn't he maybe deserve this? Just once, hearing these types of things, isn't he allowed that after so long? ]
C...Can you...?
[ The cut-off earns a wet blink, shivers momentarily pausing as he stares up at the other's face as it hovers over him, smaller body almost caging him in. Being him, he can only stare in confusion at the red flush that starts to spread over freckled cheeks, the bob of curls only making his brows furrow.
Naive and embroiled in a deluge of emotions as he is, he doesn't pick up on any of the subtler signals, only registering the closing distance and the soft breath on his face as lips hover directly over his own. Andrew grows rigid, out of...confusion? Apprehension? This is something he's only done once (perhaps twice, but the other one doesn't deserve to be thought of right now), and he can't say the feelings there even came close to...this. His heart practically feels like a jackhammer pounding against his chest, and the realization earns a steady, slow swallow.
The light tremble returns, to accompany the slow rise of a pale, scarred hand. It settles on the other's cheek, thumb anxiously brushing the tip of a reddened ear as he takes another deep breath. This...he probably doesn't deserve this, but just this time he wants to be selfish. Selfish enough to push himself up just the slightest, to tentatively push his lips against the Acrobat's. It's not perfect, clumsy and still tasting of the salt that drips and soaks their clothes and the sheets below, but it feels so suffocatingly warm that he just really doesn't care. Not when he hasn't felt this safe in years, being this close to another in far more ways than physical. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
>1 week ago. IM SO SORRY FORGIVE ME
It's a wonder that the deluge of tears streaming from his eyes haven't carved tracks in his cheeks by now. They burn like they should be. A simple task like in and out cadence of each breath drains all energy from the acrobat. However, still so defiant of being seen ugly crying he sniffles- but it's a little too late for that with the mess they've both made of themselves. What a pitiful little pair they make indeed.
Perhaps to the chagrin of his roommate Mike pushes himself back up and away from Andrew's chest. Although it takes effort to shift out of the hold Andrew has on him. He's been what others would regard as a endless ball of energy his whole life. Capable of bouncing back from everything with a smile. But this? After a week of agonizing over the what-ifs and the way everyone avoided everyone else that youthful stamina drains from Mike. He leans what feel like overburdened shoulders over Andrew as he places his hand to cup a hollowed cheek. Not a moment after Andrew finishes his bit a tear soaked thumb brushes along the seam of the lips surrendering enticing promise to the air.
A great deal of wonderment shines through the otherwise anguished expression on Mike's face. His hand replaces the place where his head was once resting against that broad chest. The deep pulse that proclaims Andrew as just as alive as Mike has stubbornly wanted believe him to be begins to anchor him again. Like that- sitting slumped while his legs barely keep him from sitting all of his dead weight on Andrew's torso- a point of no return reached. Mike wouldn't be able to get off now even if he wanted to. He doesn't want to and his legs won't allow it.
He's ballsy, known for it, really. Impulsive at times too. But for this he has to work up the nerve to do what he knows he wants to do so badly.]
There's no way I'd care about any of that! 'Cause I like the you that I know! Besides, who hasn't done things they regret! Listen here, Andrew, because it's really important— I don't care. I want to try for you too. So can I-...Uhmm!
[Mike's mouth works soundlessly around the words he wants to say. The words that get cut off by his own disobedient throat. The desire he wants to act on. It's absurd that his cheeks begin to flush not only from the upset racking his body but out of embarrassment... Out of something close enough to timidity that it'll be both hilarious and mortifying to look back on. The curls set free from the absence of his usual hat bounce following a shake of Mike's head. Like he's berating himself for faltering.
Just allow him one good honest kiss and maybe it'll start to feel alright. Just let all of it be out in the open. He'll take whatever judgement or punishment or hate there is to receive afterward. Tear clumped eye lashes lower over his exhausted eyes as they drop to Andrew's lips to try to communicate what he hasn't put a voice to yet. Still, as impatient as he can be, more than enough time is being granted to the gravekeeper to put a stop to it if that's how this is meant to go. Mike tentatively leans in until lips hover a scant few millimeters apart. Just the proximity is enough to steal his own breath away as he glances back up to look into Andrew's eyes.]
no subject
Seeing someone else cry, because of him (because of his choices, as unintended as they are), it just...hurts. Hurting people is never his real intention, but protecting himself...it's always been the better way, at least in his eyes. Not once did he ever think somebody would cry over him again, no matter the reason. His shirt feels wet from a torrent of tears, both his own and not, and his face and neck feel uncomfortably sticky even as they continue to trail.
He isn't expecting the movement, finding his grounding grip slipping away as he becomes forced to stare at that stained face again. It's almost too much to bear, and he wants to tear his eyes away just so he doesn't have to look, a hand slipping back to the rumpled bedspread while the other slowly presses to the gentle touch currently cupping his cheek. The thumb that brushes his lips leaves the taste of salt, but he doesn't have it in him to complain right now. Not when he can see that look on Mike's face, this emotion peering through the pain that makes him feel so small.
Andrew lightly turns his head, a small choked noise escaping as a palm presses flat to the curve of his ribs, heart thrumming against them far faster than he'd prefer. He feels— embarrassed. Ugly. He doesn't want to show this kind of frail, vulnerable face, afraid of what would come of it. He thinks of the agonizing faces his mother would make when she thought he wasn't looking, like the weight of the world was pressing against her feeble back, and wonders if that's what he looks like. Suffering for love. What a funny thing to imagine, that the same thing is happening all over again, but this time almost stronger.
He listens, a small whisper trying to convince him that the blond wouldn't be saying these things if he knew what he'd done, but a stronger one pushes that voice to the back of his head. It just sounds too good to be true, and doesn't he maybe deserve this? Just once, hearing these types of things, isn't he allowed that after so long? ]
C...Can you...?
[ The cut-off earns a wet blink, shivers momentarily pausing as he stares up at the other's face as it hovers over him, smaller body almost caging him in. Being him, he can only stare in confusion at the red flush that starts to spread over freckled cheeks, the bob of curls only making his brows furrow.
Naive and embroiled in a deluge of emotions as he is, he doesn't pick up on any of the subtler signals, only registering the closing distance and the soft breath on his face as lips hover directly over his own. Andrew grows rigid, out of...confusion? Apprehension? This is something he's only done once (perhaps twice, but the other one doesn't deserve to be thought of right now), and he can't say the feelings there even came close to...this. His heart practically feels like a jackhammer pounding against his chest, and the realization earns a steady, slow swallow.
The light tremble returns, to accompany the slow rise of a pale, scarred hand. It settles on the other's cheek, thumb anxiously brushing the tip of a reddened ear as he takes another deep breath. This...he probably doesn't deserve this, but just this time he wants to be selfish. Selfish enough to push himself up just the slightest, to tentatively push his lips against the Acrobat's. It's not perfect, clumsy and still tasting of the salt that drips and soaks their clothes and the sheets below, but it feels so suffocatingly warm that he just really doesn't care. Not when he hasn't felt this safe in years, being this close to another in far more ways than physical. ]