A sentiment so entirely divorced from these past months of silence.
He had missed Daniel. He had been missing Daniel, years of missing him, without even fully understanding or recognizing the feeling. The way Daniel says this thing, it reminds Louis of the night they met. It reminds him of the way Daniel talked about his interviews, fussing with the strap of the bag holding his tape recorder.
World-changing. Daniel has done his fair share already.
Daniel could open the door and step out of a moving car if he wanted, but Louis doesn't make him. He pulls to the curb, as directed. Daniel is going to leave. Louis is going to let him. Daniel will publish the book. Louis is going to let him. Inevitable, all of it.
Louis wants it to be inevitable too, that they come back to each other. But he doesn't know how to draw that out of Daniel, so bites back the urge to appeal more strongly to him.
"Call me," he says instead. "I want you to call me, anytime you like. Or need."
Hands detangled (he feels cold), bag re-shouldered. Still fiddling with the straps, though there's a laptop inside of it, now.
Louis' eyes are so green. He's so beautiful, even looking unhappy with him, in the dim light of the car, with the highlights from outside. Flashing neon colors from the traffic signals, and the false warmth of yellow street lamps.
Daniel reaches over to touch his shoulder. Leans in, presses a kiss to his cheekbone. It feels friendly and chase, it feels too intimate, it's half electric and half gutting. He loves him. He wants to stay. But all of that puts fight or flight into him like a cornered animal.
Not ready. Might not ever be.
"You're gonna get so annoyed when I figure out how to really call you."
A grin, and wink, and he hops out of the car. Into the night.
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no subject
A sentiment so entirely divorced from these past months of silence.
He had missed Daniel. He had been missing Daniel, years of missing him, without even fully understanding or recognizing the feeling. The way Daniel says this thing, it reminds Louis of the night they met. It reminds him of the way Daniel talked about his interviews, fussing with the strap of the bag holding his tape recorder.
World-changing. Daniel has done his fair share already.
Daniel could open the door and step out of a moving car if he wanted, but Louis doesn't make him. He pulls to the curb, as directed. Daniel is going to leave. Louis is going to let him. Daniel will publish the book. Louis is going to let him. Inevitable, all of it.
Louis wants it to be inevitable too, that they come back to each other. But he doesn't know how to draw that out of Daniel, so bites back the urge to appeal more strongly to him.
"Call me," he says instead. "I want you to call me, anytime you like. Or need."
no subject
Louis' eyes are so green. He's so beautiful, even looking unhappy with him, in the dim light of the car, with the highlights from outside. Flashing neon colors from the traffic signals, and the false warmth of yellow street lamps.
Daniel reaches over to touch his shoulder. Leans in, presses a kiss to his cheekbone. It feels friendly and chase, it feels too intimate, it's half electric and half gutting. He loves him. He wants to stay. But all of that puts fight or flight into him like a cornered animal.
Not ready. Might not ever be.
"You're gonna get so annoyed when I figure out how to really call you."
A grin, and wink, and he hops out of the car. Into the night.