[ if it sounds like a date and knocks knees like a date, then it's definitely a date.
although it nagged at him to tell someone, sasha never mentioned to his friends about that middle of the night encounter. they were practical, reasonable folk; they'd tell him he was mad for letting a stranger waltz into his home without the slightest thought, not revel in the bizarre, unusual romance of it all. that, and sasha wasn't sure it had been real, as mentioned. he could have recounted it as if it were a dream, but funnily enough, he expects the reaction would have been much the same. perhaps as much as sasha is relieved that he hadn't imagined any of it, he's also relieved that the tangible spark of attraction remains. jens gave a little, and sasha gave back enough that they established interest so simply, so easily. no fuss, just careful, unashamed honesty.
the smile that's ever present on jens' face begs to be kissed. ]
On all sleeves imaginable, [ he confirms, with a soft laugh.
when jens pretends to think, sasha sneaks another glance at him, lips pulled in slightly as he tries to subdue the childishly pleased smile that keeps threatening to burst onto his face. not that he thinks jens would mind if he started grinning goofily at him, but sasha would like to think he's capable of holding at least one card to his chest. he knows that jens is teasing, pretending, but it suitably builds the tension well enough, and the nudge is received with another laugh and a suitable nudge in return. ]
I might have picked up on it. You don't have a very telling smile, after all.
[ except it's been wonderfully telling all evening, and it makes sasha's stomach twist into knots.
a brief pause passes between them as sasha fidget very slightly, swinging both his arms behind him and clasping his hands together to stop them from fiddling with the hem of his shirt or flapping too wildly as he talks. he's perfectly aware that the admission on the tip of his tongue might make him seem a little daft, but frankly, their circumstances should allow for daftness. besides, jens doesn't strike sasha as the type that would brush off his sillier considerations as nothing. ]
I'm really glad you called, you know. I'd honestly been wondering if maybe it had all been a dream, the way we met.
[ jens, too, has kept their bizarre meeting to himself, but moreso because he doesn't really have anyone to tell. if he were to tell anyone, it would be clay, but he's entirely used to jens running into strangers at seemingly inopportune times all over the world and making these short, intense connections. jens has struck up conversations in bus stops while taking shelter from hail storms and hitch-hiked for the sheer amusement of it many times over, and so a new story about a new man and his warm apartment would not inspire much of a reaction. though, of course, this time is different; this time jens came back. yet, his brother knows him and the oddities of his life too well, and jens had no real desire to remind clay once again just how different they are.
so sasha has been jens' little secret, and he's quite liked it that way. he's used to keeping secrets, many of which he might entertain thoughts of offering up to others, but sasha is one he doesn't mind keeping. this secret, unlike that of his family, is for jens and jens only, and it's special in that way.
sasha himself is special, too. it's a fact that he constantly seems to remind jens of, especially now when he laughs softly, his delight almost tangible. jens honestly feels giddy with it - god, how old is he again? - and his smile is not going anywhere. it can't, not when sasha is nudging him back like that, the press of his arm warm. ]
I'll have to be more obvious about it then. [ his smile transforms into a grin. he'll let his cheeks ache and ache if that will get the message across.
they walk in silence for a moment or two, and jens observes the admittedly endearing way that sasha keeps himself small, holding parts of himself in. his intertwined fingers hint at shyness and a reluctance to let himself become too engrossed in a moment of nervous energy, and jens thinks about holding sasha's hands for him, stilling him with thumbs brushed against the backs of his hands.
sasha's words catch him off guard, and for a moment, he's not sure how to respond to that. a dream, strange and hazy and yet entirely memorable, the smallest details recalled with startling clarity when one least expected it. his expression softens, brows lifting in the quiet question of really? because... because the admission sounds very innocent and wholly genuine. jens wets his lip as some part of his heart melts just a little, and he laughs airily, but not because he thinks this silly. quite the opposite. ]
Well, [ he stops and tries to find the words. he's not sure how to explain what he's thinking. it's possible he can't eventually: ] I'll admit, I am pretty dreamy.
[ all his life, sasha has operated in small circles. handfuls of friends that rarely changed in configuration, careful, cautious steps taken in directions only when he knows that certain people aren't looking. it's not that he doesn't have anyone to tell about jens; now that this evening has happened, he can tell friends at the university that he's been on a date, that he's met someone he really likes, and turn bright pink at their inevitable enthusiasm for such a development. but his family?
he remembers with stunning clarity how terrified he'd been the first time he'd kissed another boy, the way it set a thrill through him the same way that kissing a girl had, how he'd agonised over that thrill and wondered if it was wrong, because his parents had insinuated as much in idle, throwaway conversations. his sisters — there's a possibility he could chance it with them, but he's not brave enough to dare. maybe he doesn't give them enough credit. in the end, madrid is far enough away from his family that he feels less suffocated by the fear of what they'd think of him, if they knew that men and women both alike could set his pulse fluttering, if they looked at him right, brushed his shoulder just so.
the way jens does.
sasha falls into like very easily. he attaches very firmly to others whilst trying his hardest not to let it show too much. the thought of becoming bothersome or irritating frightens him awfully, but is constantly in battle with his natural inclination to express every emotion that flickers into his mind. years of practice have made him something of an expert at managing it, but not at changing the fact that it happens. that he's only met jens twice, and yet he'd be perfectly happy to let this man step into his personal space and kiss him senseless. or to be the one doing that, in fact. for all that he worries about how he comes across to others, sasha isn't terribly oblivious; quite the opposite. the fact that whatever is felt here is reciprocated doesn't require a rocket scientist to figure it out. ]
And I'll have to start paying more attention.
[ somewhat abruptly, sasha bursts into laughter. as much as he tries to dilute certain outward emotions, it's sometimes unexpected when his restraints start falling away, or when he can't catch himself in time. it's a bright, young sound, slightly muffled by the way sasha slaps his hand over his mouth, ducking his head with faint embarrassment, though he doesn't apologise for it. ]
That — I don't know what I was expecting you to say, but it wasn't that. [ the sentence peters out into more soft, huffing laughs as he shakes his head, pulling in his lips slightly as he stares at jens with incredulous brightness. ] That was terrible.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-05-08 12:28 am (UTC)although it nagged at him to tell someone, sasha never mentioned to his friends about that middle of the night encounter. they were practical, reasonable folk; they'd tell him he was mad for letting a stranger waltz into his home without the slightest thought, not revel in the bizarre, unusual romance of it all. that, and sasha wasn't sure it had been real, as mentioned. he could have recounted it as if it were a dream, but funnily enough, he expects the reaction would have been much the same. perhaps as much as sasha is relieved that he hadn't imagined any of it, he's also relieved that the tangible spark of attraction remains. jens gave a little, and sasha gave back enough that they established interest so simply, so easily. no fuss, just careful, unashamed honesty.
the smile that's ever present on jens' face begs to be kissed. ]
On all sleeves imaginable, [ he confirms, with a soft laugh.
when jens pretends to think, sasha sneaks another glance at him, lips pulled in slightly as he tries to subdue the childishly pleased smile that keeps threatening to burst onto his face. not that he thinks jens would mind if he started grinning goofily at him, but sasha would like to think he's capable of holding at least one card to his chest. he knows that jens is teasing, pretending, but it suitably builds the tension well enough, and the nudge is received with another laugh and a suitable nudge in return. ]
I might have picked up on it. You don't have a very telling smile, after all.
[ except it's been wonderfully telling all evening, and it makes sasha's stomach twist into knots.
a brief pause passes between them as sasha fidget very slightly, swinging both his arms behind him and clasping his hands together to stop them from fiddling with the hem of his shirt or flapping too wildly as he talks. he's perfectly aware that the admission on the tip of his tongue might make him seem a little daft, but frankly, their circumstances should allow for daftness. besides, jens doesn't strike sasha as the type that would brush off his sillier considerations as nothing. ]
I'm really glad you called, you know. I'd honestly been wondering if maybe it had all been a dream, the way we met.
no subject
Date: 2016-05-08 03:44 am (UTC)so sasha has been jens' little secret, and he's quite liked it that way. he's used to keeping secrets, many of which he might entertain thoughts of offering up to others, but sasha is one he doesn't mind keeping. this secret, unlike that of his family, is for jens and jens only, and it's special in that way.
sasha himself is special, too. it's a fact that he constantly seems to remind jens of, especially now when he laughs softly, his delight almost tangible. jens honestly feels giddy with it - god, how old is he again? - and his smile is not going anywhere. it can't, not when sasha is nudging him back like that, the press of his arm warm. ]
I'll have to be more obvious about it then. [ his smile transforms into a grin. he'll let his cheeks ache and ache if that will get the message across.
they walk in silence for a moment or two, and jens observes the admittedly endearing way that sasha keeps himself small, holding parts of himself in. his intertwined fingers hint at shyness and a reluctance to let himself become too engrossed in a moment of nervous energy, and jens thinks about holding sasha's hands for him, stilling him with thumbs brushed against the backs of his hands.
sasha's words catch him off guard, and for a moment, he's not sure how to respond to that. a dream, strange and hazy and yet entirely memorable, the smallest details recalled with startling clarity when one least expected it. his expression softens, brows lifting in the quiet question of really? because... because the admission sounds very innocent and wholly genuine. jens wets his lip as some part of his heart melts just a little, and he laughs airily, but not because he thinks this silly. quite the opposite. ]
Well, [ he stops and tries to find the words. he's not sure how to explain what he's thinking. it's possible he can't eventually: ] I'll admit, I am pretty dreamy.
no subject
Date: 2016-05-20 11:29 pm (UTC)he remembers with stunning clarity how terrified he'd been the first time he'd kissed another boy, the way it set a thrill through him the same way that kissing a girl had, how he'd agonised over that thrill and wondered if it was wrong, because his parents had insinuated as much in idle, throwaway conversations. his sisters — there's a possibility he could chance it with them, but he's not brave enough to dare. maybe he doesn't give them enough credit. in the end, madrid is far enough away from his family that he feels less suffocated by the fear of what they'd think of him, if they knew that men and women both alike could set his pulse fluttering, if they looked at him right, brushed his shoulder just so.
the way jens does.
sasha falls into like very easily. he attaches very firmly to others whilst trying his hardest not to let it show too much. the thought of becoming bothersome or irritating frightens him awfully, but is constantly in battle with his natural inclination to express every emotion that flickers into his mind. years of practice have made him something of an expert at managing it, but not at changing the fact that it happens. that he's only met jens twice, and yet he'd be perfectly happy to let this man step into his personal space and kiss him senseless. or to be the one doing that, in fact. for all that he worries about how he comes across to others, sasha isn't terribly oblivious; quite the opposite. the fact that whatever is felt here is reciprocated doesn't require a rocket scientist to figure it out. ]
And I'll have to start paying more attention.
[ somewhat abruptly, sasha bursts into laughter. as much as he tries to dilute certain outward emotions, it's sometimes unexpected when his restraints start falling away, or when he can't catch himself in time. it's a bright, young sound, slightly muffled by the way sasha slaps his hand over his mouth, ducking his head with faint embarrassment, though he doesn't apologise for it. ]
That — I don't know what I was expecting you to say, but it wasn't that. [ the sentence peters out into more soft, huffing laughs as he shakes his head, pulling in his lips slightly as he stares at jens with incredulous brightness. ] That was terrible.