- Intoxicating love - (Jesse Klaver x Rob Jetten)

13- reflections

Sticky ink rolls over the bleached white paper, his other hand pushes down the buttons on his laptops keyboard.

It's dark outside, the window keeps reflecting his image, while outside a light rain rules. Robs body might be working, but his mind is wandering. Memories of Jesses touch against his skin, of their little foot games under the blankets, and of the text messages in the bus. A lost focus combined with need.

The words on his document don't make any sense anymore. The longer he rereads them, the more they seem useless. What is he doing here? Did he really think he could just work after everything that happened?

Distracted by the bright light from his phone, he abandons the desk and throws himself onto the spacey couch. Immediately, the fabric starts to hug his features, so soft and comfortable.

No new text messages, no notifications. Loneliness all over again. He could've gone home to someone, to a preheated bed and a full meal, but that's over. The opportunity is gone. Sjoerd is gone, and Jesse doesn't look like the person that would fill in that space.

The insta feed is normal, no abnormal posts or funny messages, but when the green circle around Jesses profile pic appears, Robs heart starts to glow. He's added him to his close friends list!

A few political posts, followed by a picture of his drink in a bar he tagged below. The background is blurry, only funky lights reflecting in the glass. It's a pink drink with a little umbrella on top, no ice. Rob laughs as he reviewes the picture.

Next follows a group selfie. Looks like a lot of colleagues gathered there, and Jesse has been pushed into the background. But still, it's all Rob can see.

Shorter curls hanging loosely on his forehead, so defined but yet a wilderness to them. The white button up shirt is tight, looking like the buttons are holding on to their dear life, while the sleeves are turned up.

Rob zooms in.

He looks well, better than the last two days, but also a bit tired. While his lips are curled upward, his eyes reveal a hint of sadness. That, or Robs projecting again. Either way, it's painful to look at.

The next story is a video of Jesse downing a tequila shot. So much to 'one drink'.

But it's so painful to watch. How he licks the salt off his hand, his tongue now burning on Robs skin too, how his neck throbs at his swallowing, so mesmerizing. In his big strong hands the shot glass appears tiny, and it makes Rob wonder how it would look on his waist.

What support would it deliver? Would he be gentle or rough? Would his fingers ignite sparks between them.

He shakes his head at the thoughts. No time to drown in made up scenarios, he has work to do. But the longer he stares at his laptop, the more he hates it.

He hates the stupid screen with the stupid wallpaper, and the stupid document with the stupid letters on it. At this point, everything is stupid except him. He could never be stupid.

An urge to put on his hoodie and drive over to the bar occupies his entire mind. And without even noticing, his white tshirt gets replaced by a button up covered by a green sweater, while his sweatpants get replaced by a set of dark washed blue jeans.

Two last strokes through the grayish hair, a few tucks here and there, and he's out the door.

As his legs guide him to the location tagged in the story, his mind tries to slow himself down.

'Don't go there'

'He's not going to be there once you arrive'

'You look stupid'