Chapter Text
Tranquility flooded my room, coated in the soft sunlight dancing on the horizon. Blinking, my hand instinctively reached for my nightstand when I was hit with a wave of lavender, linen, and that all-too-familiar mint. Glancing down to the side, I was met with Angelo’s serene figure propped against my bedframe, his eyes gently closed and his arms crossed against his firm chest. His ivory coat sprawled out around him, concealing his angelic figure in a woolen veil. Unsure if this was a dream, I reached for him, my fingers brushing against the tips of his platinum strands.
“...Angelo?”
He let out a small inhale as he stirred, as if he had waited an eternity for my touch. With a soft blink, he cocked his head against the bed, resting the back of it on my duvet. His beautiful opal stare was even more ethereal when drenched in the lilac hue of the morning sun. I traced his cheek with the back of my fingernail, pausing where it met the mole beneath his eye. He released a slow blink in response, maintaining his line of sight in my direction. The enchanting nature of his existence reached beyond mortal comprehension, as if any magic within the world resided within his soul.
Neither of us said anything, hoping that this moment of peace would be all that remained until the end of time and that we wouldn’t be forced to confront the elephant in the room. Yet, hopes are only that–an optimistic state of mind destined to fall flat in the face of unresolved conflict.
“What time is it?” I whispered, trailing my finger to the beams of light that graced his hair.
“Six forty-five.” He replied, his voice melding with the quietude of the room. Always, his eyes remained on me, as if I were his favourite novel and he refused to miss a single letter.
“How was your flight?” I asked, pulling my hand back to my side. Angelo let out a slight shrug, refusing to say anything else. I bobbed my head in response, contemplating the situation in front of me.
“...How did you get in my apartment?”
A delicate grin pulled at his lips as he tilted his head in the direction of my living room. “Fire escape.”
My eyes widened with the realization of how easy it was to break into my apartment. Sensing my concern, Angelo interjected.
“I ran into Camille in the hallway. She showed me how to get into your room.” He explained.
“Oh.” I paused, piecing together the puzzle of my morning. “Wait, Camille is awake?”
Angelo turned over, placing his elbow on the bed and resting his head on his palm. “Is she normally asleep at this hour?” Although I wanted to believe that his curiosity was pure in nature, I couldn’t deny the trap that lay within his inquiry.
Offering him a shrug, I maintained my silence, praying that the topic would shift elsewhere. But, if there’s one thing about Angelo, it’s that I would never be off his hook. His eyes flicked to my bare torso and then to my face, scanning for a hole in my defense. “Does she often break into your apartment?”
Yeah.
I hesitated to tell him the truth, with the wash of guilt overtaking my system and pulling me under its tow. As I looked upon his neutral expression, I swam against the current, breaking free from my shame. “She comes by now and then.” Angelo remained silent, his breath steady as ever, as if nothing affected him.
Uncomfortable, I continued, hoping to say enough to end the tension. “There really isn’t anything between us. I go to her place on Fridays for movies, she comes by sometimes, we smoke on the fire escape.” The silence had begun permeating my blood, sending a chill through my system.
“We’re more like roommates than neighbors, that’s all.” I had nothing else to offer; all I could do was rest faithfully in the unknown.
Angelo shifted his weight, pressing himself onto the edge of the bed. With a lean, he placed his arm across my legs, pinning the duvet around my calves. “I didn’t say you weren’t.”
Detecting a shift, I slanted toward him, placing my arm in front of his cotton-clad knees. I angled my head to the side, allowing my hair to whisk against my brows as my jaw relaxed. Noticing the calm of the morning tread into our conversation, my breath evened to his pace, moving in synchrony. My gaze lingered on his, glancing up at him through my lashes. Where I’d expected stiffness, I found ease, as if his natural state was one of tension. Mine, however, was not.
“I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.” I conceded.
Angelo’s other hand traced the back of mine before he pulled it to his side. “I wasn’t exactly a saint either.”
I sighed, letting the relief of our confessions settle my doubts. Vulnerability must have lingered in the air, because a quiet kind of bravery began to bloom within me.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Angelo laced his fingers through mine, relaxing at my touch.
“Me too.”
“Come here?” I asked, leaning into the headboard while gently tugging on his arm. Angelo’s seraphic grin found its way back to his face as he hovered above me, propping himself on the palms of his hands.
I snuck my hand from his grip, placing it on his cheek in a soft caress. Wrapped in his scent, undone by the hypnotism of his gaze, the reason for my discontent slipped from reach. “You wanna take your coat off?” I whispered.
Angelo lowered his lips to my forehead, planting a kiss while he shed his coat onto the floor. Sitting back to meet my gaze once more, he laced his index finger under the collar of his sweater and tilted his head to the side. “You want this off, too?”
I nodded faintly, unable to look away as he peeled his sweater off, fingers catching beneath the hem and pulling it over his head in one slow motion. The fabric gathered at his forearms, hugging the lines of muscle and the faint shimmer of veins beneath his skin. As the cashmere fell to the floor, he shook his hair loose, his gaze locking on mine with a smirk that felt like a challenge.
Even as ice crept along the glass, a fever stirred in the room, born of something far from a cold. I braced as he lowered himself above me once more, allowing my hand to graze over the velvet of his skin. My eyes followed my touch, wandering to his biceps, to the curve of his shoulders, and then back to his face. Three days. That’s all it took for me to come undone, to lose myself and find it again in the warmth of him.
Unable to bear the distance any longer, I tangled my fingers in his hair, leading his mouth to my own. As I tasted him, I was met with the reality of my unwashed state. Pulling away, I placed my hand over my jaw, staring at his confused expression.
“...I haven’t brushed my teeth,” I admitted from behind my fingers.
Angelo let out an airy laugh before placing his lips on my ear, speaking in a whisper, “It’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on you being clean.”
I tilted my jaw up, exposing my throat to his mouth. “It’s gross,” I emphasized.
His teeth sank lightly into my neck, each bite a pull that drew a breath from me. He moved lower in one smooth motion, pulling my duvet with him. He paused at my navel to look up through his fluttering lashes before stating, “You think I care about that?” His voice dropped, amused. “Nothing about you could ever be gross.”
He said it as if it were the most straightforward truth, as if there were no way anything about me carried a hint of disgust.
He had no idea.
Before I could open that can of worms, Angelo’s teeth grasped onto the loose skin around my pelvis, drawing me back to the present.
“Stay with me here.” He murmured, pressing his fingertips into my waist, pulling me into him.
Fuck.
My fingers tightened around the linen sheets, every nerve alive beneath the brush of his lips against my inner thighs.
“Wait.” I gasped, pulling back. In an instant, Angelo recoiled, maintaining a foot of distance between us. I pushed myself up, looking at his tense state. “Sorry.” I offered.
“Why are you apologizing?” he murmured, voice low, as if coaxing the words out of me.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I hadn’t wanted him to stop, that it was quite the opposite.
“I wanted to,” I whispered, rising to meet him, the space between us aching to be filled again.
Angelo’s eyes glimmered with quiet amusement as he yielded to my pull. His hand slid up my spine before curling around my waist, guiding me effortlessly onto his lap. In one fluid motion, he shifted beneath me, the roll of his body seamless, practiced. “Don’t let me stop you, then,” he murmured, his smirk cutting through the air between us.
I’d thought about it more times than I’d like to admit–about going down on Angelo, feeling him unravel under me. But he’d already been inside me before, and that alone made the idea daunting in a way I couldn’t quite name. However, I’d had my fair share of experience when I was younger, so I convinced myself that I’d manage.
Somehow.
I perched over him, undoing his belt with my left hand while kissing his neck, slow and tender. Angelo curved into me as a small groan escaped from his throat. The small victory tugged a smile from me as I continued downward, every movement deliberate. As my mouth grazed his waistband, I placed the zipper between my teeth and pulled down, staring up at him feverishly.
His hand curled into my hair, gripping like a leash, firm and unyielding. The sharp sensation from the tug drew a shiver along my spine, every nerve aligning with the anticipation of what might come next. In a moment of courage, I wrapped my mouth around his skin, taking in his entirety. His nails dug into my scalp as he let out a slight hiss, pulling me down further. Yielding to his enthusiasm, I continued gliding in a rhythmic pace, taking in his carnal state. Even from this angle, he was godlike–every movement effortless, every glance charged with a magnetic pull that made my pulse spike, as if seduction itself had taken shape in him, untouchable yet completely consuming.
Angelo relaxed under me, maintaining his grip on my hair as I consumed him. As I slid down to his base, he tugged me sharply toward him, tilting my head back to expose my throat. With his fingers laced in my hair, he angled my head to the side, leaving me trapped beneath the intensity of his gaze. “Easy,” he groaned, lips curling into a smirk, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t get too carried away.” Even beneath his teasing, I could sense the heat coiling beneath his calm, the deliberate control that made the air between us taut with need.
“Or what?” I murmured, narrowing my gaze to meet his.
“Impatient, aren’t you?” His voice was low, husky with quiet amusement, and each word pressed against me like a challenge. His fingers tangled in my hair, drawing me closer. His lips crushed against mine, insistent and claiming. Every brush of his mouth, every tilt of his head, left me dizzy, wanting more.
Without having to beg, I slid on top of his waist, each movement intoxicating me. His nails trailed along my spine, causing me to arch into him with a slight gasp. Angelo chuckled, bringing his mouth to my ear. “Oh, does that turn you on?” I dug my talons into his shoulders as a silent plea for more.
“All you have to do is ask.” He smirked, leaning back against the headboard as his gaze trailed down to my waist.
I sat back on his hips, hazy, anticipating what lay in store. Glancing at his commanding expression, my pride became a distant memory in the face of his temptation. “Please.” I groaned, throwing my resolve to the wind.
Angelo’s line of sight trailed below my legs, then back at my thighs. He leaned forward, holding my hips and pressing his teeth into my collarbone. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” With a rush, he rolled his hips into mine, sending waves of pleasure through my core. I wrapped my legs around his torso as he pushed into me, letting out an involuntary cry.
He positioned me upright, staring at me from below as he placed his palm over my mouth, suppressing the noise. “Keep the noise down, mon cœur, unless you want the whole block to hear, hm?” I let out a slight nod, relaxing my jaw as he prodded open my lips with his fingers, sliding them down my throat. “You take that so well.” He whispered, pressing into me once more.
I’d always been sensitive, but with Angelo, he pushed my boundaries to new heights. He filled every part of me, leaving me no choice but to yield. I let him claim every breath, every tremor, giving myself over to pure instinct. Each movement was a force of pure ecstasy, drawing me in and consuming me whole.
His hands returned to my waist, holding me onto him as he dug his fingers into my flesh. I bit into his shoulder, gathering any restraint I could summon. Angelo let out a slight grunt at the sharpness of my teeth, wincing at my bite. However, he has never been one to yield. Pulling me back once more, he cocked his head to the side as he stared me down, brows furrowed into a taunt as his lips curled into a smirk. “You can take a little more, can’t you?”
Fuck no–
Pulling me from the brink of surrender, he drew my hips down to his, kissing me with a heat that left no space for thought. Quivering, I held onto him, tucking my face into his neck, fighting every urge for release. Sensing my hesitation, Angelo’s lips brushed my ear, the whisper a spark against my skin. “Don’t hide from me now.”
His words sent shockwaves through my skin, bringing about a finality to my torment. I seized up, unwillingly tightening every muscle with fervor. A strangled moan escaped him, raw and unrestrained, filling the air like a song meant only for me. My chest heaved against his as I rested my forehead between his brows.
Clarity began to set in with the understanding that I’d still been unable to control myself around him.
This wasn’t my plan.
Frustrated with myself, I pulled off Angelo and started for the bathroom without a word. As I turned to push off the bed, his wrist caught mine, dragging me back down.
“Lucien.”
Fuck.
Hesitantly, I turned to him, biting my cheek to hide my frustration. Looking into his eyes, I found traces of concern dancing with agitation. I’d grown sick of my own antics, and still, I couldn’t resist their temptation. Yet, in his glimmering stare, the fires of my compulsion dwindled, subdued to a mere spark. Relaxing into his touch, I sat next to him on the bed, resting my head on his shoulder as the mattress curved under our weight.
Angelo lay back, wrapping his arm around me and running his nails over my skin gently. “What’s on your mind? Parle-moi.”
I shrugged into him, leaning into each trace of his finger, unable to voice my concerns. At the end, I’m still me. Pathetically, I chewed on my lip, breathing in his calming scent as if that would amount to anything. Yet, in his arms, I could have conquered the world–nevertheless, my own fear.
“I wasn’t planning on hooking up,” I stated plainly, heeding my dad’s advice. Angelo brought his hand up to my scalp, flipping each strand between his fingers, sitting in his signature silence. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come, actually,” I confessed, bringing about a truth even I wasn’t yet familiar with.
“I’m a man of my word.” He replied.
I nodded in a silent acknowledgment, understanding his sincerity. “Still. I didn’t want to just have sex and get over it.”
Angelo shifted to look at me, allowing his eyes to rest in a half-lid gaze. “I’m not holding it against you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Shaking my head, I sat up and placed my arms on his sides, pressing into the spring of the bed. “It’s not that. I just don’t want all of our arguments or disagreements to end in sex.” He brushed a stray piece of hair from my eye, tucking it behind my ear.
“Then let’s not fight anymore.”
I rolled my eyes at his response and let out a scoff, falling back to his chest. “I think fighting is in my blood.” Angelo cracked a gentle smile in agreement, letting his hand trail to my own as he wove his fingers between mine.
“I was ready to be angry with you. Then, as I looked at you curled in your sheets,” he took a deep breath, leaning his head on mine. “I’d forgotten what anger was to begin with. With you, all of my defenses crumble into nothing more than dust.” Placing a kiss on the top of my head, he held our hands up in front of us, his fair skin against my tan, placing them in front of the light. “Maybe fighting’s in your blood–” he paused, turning to look down at me with a soft grin, “–Lucky for you, I don’t break easily.”
At his confession, something in me settled into place. It was as if he carried the answer I’d been searching for all along: an unwavering patience, a quiet kind of devotion. When I was young, I used to imagine someone like him sitting beside me, holding me as though the act alone could keep me from unraveling, no matter how hard I pushed them away. I wanted him to stay–God, I wanted him to stay. I didn’t want the day to fade; I wanted to wake to his sunlight every morning, to the warmth of his voice and the soft curve of his angelic smile as his hair brushed against his full lashes.
“...When do you have to go?” I mumbled, shying away from the answer.
Angelo kissed the top of my head, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “I worked some things out.”
Tilting my head back, I looked up at him from his chest. “What do you mean?”
He let out a playful shrug, fighting the grin that began to creep upon his lips. I turned to face him once more, attempting to read his mind. “Ange, tell me,” I commanded.
Please tell me you’re staying.
Answering my prayers, he placed a gentle kiss upon my lips, lingering for a moment to savour the sweetness of our encounter. As he pulled away, he leaned against the headboard, relaxing into its frame. “I may have suggested a certain campaign to my agent that would cause me to stay in the city for the next six months.”
My heart fell to my stomach, jaw slacking in shock. “You’re fucking kidding.” I gaped.
He shook his head, cracking a lazy smile. “Nope.”
Unable to help myself, a childlike joy found its home in my heart, infecting the rest of my blood. “You’re staying then?”
Snaking his hand around to the nape of my neck, he guided my lips to his, letting out a whisper against my skin, “Always.” I leaned against his chest, smiling into his mouth between kisses.
He drew from me, running his thumb against my cheek as he looked into my eyes. The tenderness of his gaze returned, signifying the melting of his icy exterior. Whenever he looked at me, it was as if he saw nothing else, as if the world ended and began all in that moment. And, in his eyes, the only thing reflected was my form, my honeyed eyes, my tanned skin, the dark curls of my hair, the moles on my throat–I became the sole focus of his view.
With a light exhale, he whispered, “Before you, the world lost all of its colour.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning into his touch.
“Everyone looks the same to me–I can’t distinguish faces that well.” He confessed. “My life has been a series of routines, pining after one thing and then the next. It’s completely dull and monotonous, filled with a blur of people that only exist to drain me.” His eyes narrowed, as if he were irritated rather than sorrowful. “Despite the glamour of my life, it’s actually quite miserable.” He chuckled, laying his head against the bedframe.
“But,” he began once more, “the day I saw you on the stairs, you put the world back into motion. You acted as you pleased and said whatever you wanted without hesitation. And, for once, I was excited.” He took a breath, his composure slipping just enough to carry the weight of his words, as though lead had been pulled from his shoulders and thrown to the wind.
“When I say you’re my heart, I mean you’ve become the thing that keeps me alive.”
My brows furrowed together, confused by his proclamation.
He’s never said that.
Interrupting my uncertainty, he placed a kiss on my forehead, pulling me back to the universe of our creation. For a while, we sat in complete silence, with only the sound of our breath to fill the air.
When I first met Angelo, I thought he belonged to another world. I believed him to be admired from afar, never touched. Yet here he was, breath and heart beneath my fingertips, and in that quiet morning glow, it was as though the universe had finally marked him as mine.
The spin of the world resumed, bringing us along with its pull for the first time. “We should probably shower,” I chuckled, overwhelmed with elation. Placing a kiss on Angelo’s chest, I pressed off the bed and started for the bathroom. Angelo walked one pace behind, leaning on the door frame as I walked into the tile room.
I flipped the shower handle, letting the water heat up as I turned back to him. “We still have some time to kill today. Do you want to get breakfast with Camille?”
He shrugged, nodding slightly. “It would have to be somewhere small.”
Placing my hand under the flow, I let out a small laugh. “I forgot you’re like, a famous person.”
Angelo smiled, “You seem to be the only one who does.”
“Shut up–” The words remained unspoken. Angelo had closed the distance between us, his hands framing my face like something sacred before his lips found mine.
The faint trickle of water whispered against the walls, sealing out the world beyond, as though intent on guarding our privacy. Everything with Angelo felt this way–dreamlike, transcendent, untouched by noise or time. He was gold and lilac and ivory, a figure brushed with divinity’s hand. When the world slipped from view, it did so at his command, for nothing dared waver before his will. At times, I swore I had died and awoken in heaven, condemned and blessed to exist within his presence for eternity.
Steam encompassed the room, shrouding us in its veil. Hesitantly, I pulled from Angelo to check the water once more. “It’s good,” I confirmed, sliding open the curtain to step in. He followed close behind, never straying too far from my side.
Until now, I hadn’t realized the compact nature of my shower. I’d only ever showered alone, but with Angelo towering beside me, we were only a breath apart. Under normal conditions, claustrophobia would have seized me. But as I pressed against Angelo, I wished that the heat from the water would meld us together.
Emulsifying the shampoo in his palms, he rubbed the suds into my hair, massaging my scalp. “I’ve always wondered what products you used.” He commented.
“Why’s that?” I asked, tilting back to look at him.
“Your hair smells like eucalyptus,” he murmured, fingers tracing a strand. “It’s calming, like a morning in early spring mixed with the scent of rain.”
Embarrassed by his confession, I turned back to stare at the wall, welcoming his silent touch. Under it all, I wondered what I had done to deserve this, to have such peace.
Is it okay for me to be this happy?
Soap trailed down my arms, washing the sins of the morning into the drain. Maybe this was my salvation, maybe it was okay to just be with him, here in my cramped shower with his hands on my skin, pulling me back to Earth.
“Ready to get out?” He asked, kissing the back of my head. With a breath, I shut the water off, dripping onto the stone beneath our feet. Opening the curtain, I reached around him and pulled one of my towels off the hook, wrapping it around his waist.
“I have to grab another one, give me a second.” I hopped out of the shower, trailing water across the floor as I pulled another towel out. Fishing around in the cupboard, my fingers wrapped around a spare toothbrush. “Here.” I thrust the package at him before turning to the sink, wetting my brush. Angelo slid beside me, reaching for my toothpaste and placing it on his brush. As his skin brushed against mine, the air around him mixed in scent, carrying both me and him with it.
I wondered if this was what Angelo had experienced when I was at his apartment–a collision of our worlds in physicality and sensation, combining us into one.
My fingers pressed on the cool glass, opening the medicine cabinet to pull out my product. Angelo stood next to me, eyeing my choice.
“What?” I asked, the snarkiness in my tone coloring my words.
“Nothing.” He smiled, observing me. I rolled my eyes, spooning out some of the pomade onto my fingers. In a quick moment, he swept it onto his palms, rubbing his hands together and moving behind me. “Let me.”
“What, are you a hair stylist or something too?” I joked.
“No,” he said, grinning as his fingers slid through my hair, “Just someone who knows a thing or two about beauty.”
Turns out, he could have given Fekkai a run for his money. With a final brush, he backed away, letting my hair fall as he leaned against the frame once more. I brushed a strand behind my ear, leaning into the mirror. “I didn’t know my hair did that.” I laughed, rubbing the strands between my thumb and index finger.
Gazing into his reflection behind me, I smiled. “Thank you.”
His familiar grin returned to his face as he tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Any time.”
I spun to face him, taking in his essence. The towel that hung loosely at his waist faded from thought as my gaze found him, radiant and still, a vision that silenced everything within me. Curling my fingers around the lip of the porcelain basin, I slanted against the cool material and angled my chin in his direction.
“Come here.”
In a moment of obedience, he strode to me, trailing his hands down my arms to string our fingers together. With a soft lean, he tilted over me, the damp strands of his hair brushing against my forehead. “Yes, mon cœur?”
I cocked my head back, angling it to stare into his tender gaze. “I just wanted to touch you.”
Angelo grinned, slanting his eyes gently. “Is that all?”
Behind Angelo, sunlight spilled across my white sheets, turning the room into a still life. My eyes returned to him, illuminated by its glow. “Actually, no.”
He took a step back as I slid past him, beckoning for him to follow. “Could you lie there for a second?” I asked, pointing to the unmade bed. As he crawled onto the sheets, his towel clung to his Apollo’s Belt for dear life. Empathetic to its struggle, I turned to Angelo, camera in hand.
“Are you comfortable with nude modelling?”
“You forget, I make a living being looked at.” He replied, drawing his towel from his waist, allowing it to pool next to him as he settled against the headboard.
“That doesn’t mean I want you to feel like a spectacle,” I said, adjusting the camera.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” he teased. “Not if it’s you watching.”
Allowing the camera to fall to my side, I stared at him with sincerity. “Tell me if you’re not okay with this. I won’t do it if you don’t give me a straight answer.”
Angelo angled his face to mine, placing his hand at the edge of the bed. “I’m okay with it.” Despite his confirmation, uneasiness remained within my chest, burrowing deep and refusing to leave. With my free hand, I reached for one of the thinner sheets and draped it over his pelvis, allowing the fabric to cascade like the Elgin Marbles.
“There.”
From where I stood by the window, the light framed him in quiet glory. I lifted the camera, attempting to capture his ephemeral nature. The sun loved him like its own, and beauty ran through his blood like a pulse. His eyes shimmered with sun glitter, lulling like the sea. Flecks of gold adorned his skin, as if he were more valuable than they. If Apollo and Aphrodite ever had a child, it would have been him.
Angelo’s eyes reached across the room, drawing me in as though the air itself had bent toward him. Even through the lens, I felt the pull, like a sailor adrift in the siren’s tide. A playful smile curved his lips, effortless and luminous, as he regarded me from the bed. In that moment, he seemed woven by an unspoken string of fate, unbound and radiant, a presence the world could scarcely hold. Basking in his bliss, I could not imagine anything more beautiful than him.
As I took a step closer, he hooked his finger on the edge of my towel, winding me to him. “Allez, viens ici.” He smirked, placing my legs between his, admiring me from below in reverence. Unable to help myself, I pointed the camera down at him, capturing his devotion. His unbothered nature remained as he wrapped his hands around my thighs, luring me to him.
I drew my knee in between his legs as I let the camera fall against my chest, raising my hands to his jaw. With his face framed in the palm of my hands, his enchanting stare remained focused on my being, peering straight to my soul. Our intentions merged implicitly without a need for words, transforming and circling around the other, caught in an infinite vortex. Homesick, I pressed against him, my lips finding his, and the ache within me eased like the tide receding.
Nothing had ever made as much sense as he did. My lips locked perfectly on his, his hands slid into mine as if they had been crafted from the same flesh, and his heart beat at the tempo of my own. Here, resting in my palms, was the answer to all my discontent. In him, I found certainty, knowing we were forever intertwined–that to separate would be to unravel the red string of fate itself.
The best part about it all was knowing he felt the same for me. With Angelo, there was never a question; he had given himself before I could realize it. My insecurity had blinded me, ignorant of his affection. From the very first day, he would never have lingered on those stairs for anyone else. He would have disappeared without a second thought. That was Angelo. No one impressed him, not even himself.
Except me–I was his answer and eternal captor.
I withdrew, noting the time. “We should probably get changed.” Angelo brought my hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss before standing up and proceeding to my wardrobe.
“Have anything that fits me?” He asked, pulling open the top drawer.
I peered over the edge, fishing around for a sweater. “This should work.” Handing him a navy quarter-zip, I pulled open another drawer to search for pants. “How do you feel about plaid?”
“I could live with it, but it’s not my first pick by a long shot.” He teased, sliding the knit over his head.
“So you’re not mad about plaid, got it,” I said, pulling out a pair of grey-washed jeans. “Here.”
Angelo took the denim from my hands, slipping it up his legs with grace. His thumb found a belt loop, and he leaned back just enough to let his gaze linger on me, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, is it everything you expected?”
I won’t lie, seeing him in my clothes triggered a visceral corner of my desire that I hadn’t been aware existed. But, I had a breakfast to eat–and it wasn’t the blonde figure before me.
“And then some,” I replied, pulling out an outfit of my own. “Coffee?” I asked.
“I could do coffee.” He said, following me into the kitchen. I poured the water into the pot, turning on the machine with a quiet beep. Angelo leaned against the counter, its ridge sitting below his hips. “When’s your birthday?” He asked, making light conversation.
“October twenty-sixth,” I said.
He straightened against the counter, placing his hands behind his back. “...Wasn’t that the day we did the shoot?”
I laughed, pouring the coffee into a cup and handing it to him. “Yeah, why?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, holding the cup in his hands as it warmed his palms.
Shrugging, I poured a cup for myself, leaning back on the counter. “I don’t know, it wasn’t important at the time.” I paused, taking a sip from my mug. “Plus, being the center of attention makes my skin crawl; there’s nothing else to it.”
“Is that so?” He smirked. Curiously, I raised my brow. “You’ll have to get used to it.” He joked, sipping his coffee.
“And why’s that?” I asked.
He glanced sideways at me, smirking gently as if he knew a secret I didn’t. “Let’s just say you have a certain talent for capturing my attention.”
With a teasing eye roll, I slid next to him, feeling his sweater brush against mine. “What do you want to do for your birthday? It’s coming up, isn’t it?” I knew it was coming up; I’d already blocked off my calendar for that week.
Angelo angled to look at me, pondering his options. “I want to hear you sing.”
Huh.
“Sorry?” I laughed nervously.
A knowing grin sat on his lips, tilting his head in a slight nod as if he were hinting at a secret I was too slow to understand. And then, like a gust of wind, it hit me.
The lullabies.
“You heard those?” I stammered.
“You know more French than you let on, mon chéri.” He laughed.
“Okay, easy there, tiger.” I nudged him playfully, taking a sip of my coffee. “I took, like, one French class in high school for a language credit. Just because I know the song doesn’t mean I know what they’re saying.”
“Uh-huh.” He smiled, leaning softly into my arm.
“...is that really all you want?” I asked.
Angelo let in a soft inhale as his line of view pointed to the cabinets across from us. “That, and uninterrupted time with you.”
I nodded, crossing my arm over my chest. “We can make that happen.”
The domesticity of the situation was not lost on me–sitting here with him in my kitchen, sipping our morning coffee, emitting the same scent of soap. It was as if the qualms of yesterday had been aired and settled centuries ago, swept aside by the passing of time.
“Hey, Angelo?”
“Hm?”
“Do you want to go out with me?”
Angelo turned to me, placing his palm on the counter, resting his head to the side as a youthful smile painted his face.
“I thought you’d never ask.”