Tag: i love this??? it’s so soft and Good

palmettomonsters:

Andrew and Neil are up on the roof chain smoking and chain not-smoking, respectively, and not talking.

It’s the middle of the night, like 2am or something equally ridiculous, and they have practice in the morning, but here they are anyway. Whatever.

At this hour it’s gotten kind of cold in the dark, and neither of them brought their jackets, but the chill isn’t enough to scare them off. They’re sitting right up next to each other, shoulders, arms, hips, knees touching, so at least their sides are warm where they’re sharing body heat. 

Andrew has torn through his cigarettes far faster than Neil, the result of actively smoking them instead of just waiting for them to peter out. So Neil still has one between his fingers, watching the end smolder and turn to ash, while Andrew is empty handed, watching, well, Neil.

First just watching out of the corner of his eye, tracing the lines of Neil’s fingers as he turns the cigarette over, spreading the smoke. Then his eyes move to Neil’s face, trailing down his neck when Neil tilts his head back to take a deep breath as the breeze blows the smoke towards him. 

Andrew is no longer subtle, if he ever really was. He’s staring, transfixed. Has been for a while.

Neil says, “So I’m not allowed to look at you like that, but you can look at me?” He’s still looking straight ahead, out at the sky, how would he know. 

“Yes,” Andrew says. And after a pause, “You haven’t told me not to.”

Neil bites back a smile. He’s never going to tell Andrew not to. They both know this. 

So Andrew keeps staring, Neil keeps watching his cigarette burn, the embers threatening to go out.

Then Andrew twists and leans towards him, hand going to Neil’s thigh for balance. When Neil notices him move and reach he starts to turn to meet him for a kiss, but he’s a second too late, and that’s not quite what this is.

Neil ends up with his cheek kind of sort of held against Andrew’s as Andrew presses a kiss to the corner of his jaw. It’s quick, a light brush of his lips and then gone, but he doesn’t entirely pull back. Andrew stays close for a few more seconds, head tilted forward, with his forehead and nose pressed to the side of Neil’s face. Eyes closed, smelling the smoke that’s clinging to Neil’s hair, listening to the catch in his breath.

Then Andrew does pull away, looking anywhere but at Neil, and reaches for the pack of cigarettes that’s feeling dangerously empty. He takes two of the remaining four and lights one for himself and one for Neil, who doesn’t even seem aware that the one he’s still holding is nothing but ash, ignored now that the tables have turned back to their rightful place where Neil is the one staring. 

Andrew chooses not to comment. He takes a long drag off one of the cigarettes and passes the second to Neil, saying, “Last one,” because it’s too late for this.

Because they need to get to sleep or practice will be hell in the morning. Because they need to get off this goddamn roof. No matter how much time Andrew’s spent up here, no matter how much time he’s spent with Neil, he still hasn’t gotten used to this perceived sensation of falling.