It’s easy to not worry, in the artificial warmth of the pool, in the familiar warmth of Quentin’s arms. Koby could find a way, of course, but it’s nicer to pretend they’re back in the bath of one of their rooms, back to that first night, maybe. Before Koby had as much to worry about, anything to worry about besides this man, this stranger in his bed, sending him to dizzying heights he hadn’t know were possible with his laughing mouth and his beautiful body and his sweet words.
It feels like a lifetime ago, before Koby had known what there was to lose, the anchors dropping into the depths of his heart before he’d even realized it. And now – here, somehow given enough time for the silly questions, for the smaller things. It’s strange. It’s nice. He settles in, ignoring the rest of the party, smiling easily, warmly. “Well, I know you like to steal my toothpaste, so that answers that one. What is your favorite color, then?”
Quentin catches his hand, then, and the easy smile slips a bit, replaced with that wide-eyed look Koby gets when he’s been caught out in something. A fib, a nosy inquiry, something else like that. It’s not quite fear, more – surprise. Shyness, even, shoulders scrunching a little, towards his ears.
“W-Well, I – everything here is. Complicated, sort of. For me, at least. I’ve never –” Falling back on his inexperience makes Koby’s ears turn pink, embarrassed enough to flick his gaze away, look down, back at the piercing, tracing his free fingers around it, slowly. “I didn’t want to assume, not without talking to you, and – there are all these books and magazines about how to talk to you and I hadn’t. Decided which one was the right one, yet. I was still, um. Collecting data.” It sounds stupid, even to Koby’s ears, and he looks back up, doe-eyed and unsure. “That’s the complicated part. Not – not how I feel, just. How to talk about it.”
no subject
It feels like a lifetime ago, before Koby had known what there was to lose, the anchors dropping into the depths of his heart before he’d even realized it. And now – here, somehow given enough time for the silly questions, for the smaller things. It’s strange. It’s nice. He settles in, ignoring the rest of the party, smiling easily, warmly. “Well, I know you like to steal my toothpaste, so that answers that one. What is your favorite color, then?”
Quentin catches his hand, then, and the easy smile slips a bit, replaced with that wide-eyed look Koby gets when he’s been caught out in something. A fib, a nosy inquiry, something else like that. It’s not quite fear, more – surprise. Shyness, even, shoulders scrunching a little, towards his ears.
“W-Well, I – everything here is. Complicated, sort of. For me, at least. I’ve never –” Falling back on his inexperience makes Koby’s ears turn pink, embarrassed enough to flick his gaze away, look down, back at the piercing, tracing his free fingers around it, slowly. “I didn’t want to assume, not without talking to you, and – there are all these books and magazines about how to talk to you and I hadn’t. Decided which one was the right one, yet. I was still, um. Collecting data.” It sounds stupid, even to Koby’s ears, and he looks back up, doe-eyed and unsure. “That’s the complicated part. Not – not how I feel, just. How to talk about it.”