Summer in our bones ✓

12 | he is art

I had no idea why Nico decided to visit Tate Museum in London but after I knocked on his hotel room door expecting to be invited inside, he just casually said we should go for a walk and I stupidly followed, speechless and still surprised that he showed up, here, in my country, in my city. He is here for me.

I rarely visited tourist sites and I'm pretty sure I hadn't stepped foot in this building since my art class assignment when I was twelve. But once I walk into the grand old building, with Nico by my side talking about his flight a sense of surety envelops me. This was a good choice. I get to listen to him talk, and find out more because he is still just one big mystery for me.

I feel calm settle over me as we enter the main exhibit hall and Nico lets himself wander, drifting through twisting hallways and hushed rooms, me trailing behind him, my gaze discreetly wandering from paintings on the walls to him. His normally impeccably styled light brown hair is mussed and falling into his eyes, and instead of his expensive designer clothes, he is wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and a simple high-top black converse.

Nico walks through the hall, footsteps echoing on the floor and then he stops in front of magnificent oil on canvas, probably hundreds of years old, eyes full of wonder and I want to know what he thinks, what he sees. I find myself staring at him, waiting for him to tell me what got him so mesmerized by it. I've never felt so helplessly conflicted about what I should do in a situation like this — should I bring up what we did in the darkness of that guest bedroom, should I ask what he wants from me, should I pretend it never happened and keep it casual? I've never been a fan of small talk but I am desperate for something, anything to pull me out of this silence — the unknown. How do people keep it casual after they've been intimate with someone?

"Who painted that?" I blurt out.

"Um..." he squints his eyes to see what is written on the small plaque in the corner of the painting, but struggles to see, "I... don't know really, it's ..." he points to the small lettering, and I approach to look at it, the name of the painting and artist is very clear but he seems to struggle reading it.

"You forgot your glasses or what?" I joke and he clears his throat.

"Yeah, my sight is shit. And glasses don't really fit into my whole look, you know..." he brushes it off and I'm guessing he wants to say that his online persona doesn't allow him to be his true self and I'm ready to protest, to ask him how can he be so consumed by his celebrity that every move he makes has to be calculated to gain him publicity but he turns away from me.

And then I hear him say in a voice too timid. "I love museums because they're so peaceful."

I remember the night at the beach, before the beach was the rooftop, now the museum— and suddenly I realize the pattern—Nico wants to escape the crowds, loudness. Maybe the reason he chose me to spend his time with is that I'm generally not a talkative person. It takes a long moment to find my voice when he looks at me. My mind seems caught, trapped in an endless circle of knowing and not knowing what he means, of wanting to know him. So finally, I just say the only thing that made sense.

"I'm happy that you came."

"You are?" Nico dips his head, and smiles a bit sheepishly with those lips, pink and shiny and so, so sweet. "That's... a relief. I swear I never felt this nervous before a date."

He moves to turn away, but suddenly I feel desperate to keep talking. This side of Nico Silva is so rare to see, finally, all of his bravado is laid bare in front of me.

"Wait. A date?" My voice is a touch too loud for this room so heavy with quiet. I can practically feel the disapproving eyes of a museum guide in the corner burn through me. He clears his throat as Nico watches everything with a pleased smirk.

"Well, I thought it was obvious," Nico speaks shyly, blushing a little and steps forward, closer to me. So close our toes touch. I'm not sure why he would be nervous in front of me, but I desperately want to reassure him. I swallow thickly and his eyes move from my eyes to my Adam's apple and then to my mouth, an unreadable expression painted onto his perfect features. So I lean and kiss him. Slowly with the barest pressure I brush my lips over his, hoping that my touch would affect him the same way his lone presence affected me since the moment we met.

My heart won't stop drumming wildly as our lips move and taste each other. For a very brief moment, I think about the fact that I am kissing another boy in public in broad daylight but soon I feel no fear, no shame, just lightness.

When we break apart Nico lights up grinning at me and I can't help but just laugh. How ridiculous we must look now. The sound of my laughter rings in the air, the guide in the corner is definitely glaring now, but I can't bring myself to care. I jokingly slap my palm over Nico's lips to make him shut up but he just takes my hand off his mouth and kisses the centre of my palm, then moves to walk away from the angry guide. He gives my hand a squeeze and doesn't let it go as he makes his way out of the room and my gaze strays to our locked hands, my dark skin against his pale, fingers entwined.

Hours later, way after the point I should've left to go home, Nico and I are walking the streets of my city, just talking about anything and everything. It is all just so good. I'm really into Nico Silva. And somehow, it seems that he feels the same way because when we reach his hotel his eyes are wide, alight with something too shimmering and elusive for me to name.

"So..." he speaks as he pulls the hotel room key card out of his pocket.

"So?"

"Well you know what happens now," he is looking at me intensely, those brown eyes holding a hint of amusement, "I invite you to come up to my room and you say yes."

"Hmm... is that so? What if I say no?" Somehow I'm still maintaining my stony expression. But the breeze ruffles his hair and I'm jealous of it, my fingers are itching to touch those soft waves and I know right here and now that I will never say no to him.

He looks around like he wants to make sure none of the passersby can hear what he's about to say and leans in closer "You will go home and think about me and what we could have done in a big empty hotel room that we have all for ourselves. And then you'll get hard and horny only to realize that you're all alone when you could have had me to help you with that. That's the moment you'll say 'Fuck, I should've said yes to Nico'."

I shake my head at his ridiculousness but I'm sure my face is only showing never-ending fondness, "You are so much, Nico."

"So much what?" He is looking at me expectantly. Goosebumps tickle up his arm when our fingers touch as I'm taking the key card from his hand. I smile quietly and walk towards the sliding glass doors of the hotel.

"So much everything I want."

☀

A/N

Just a small warning for anyone who doesn't like reading smut-there will be some in the next couple of chapters! Nothing too explicit. I mean, I don't know, does anyone want explicit? Let me know I might do that too lol

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