FLYING | Sequel of FALLEN (NaNoWriMo 2022 WINNER)

15.

The struggle is real. I have never been this impatient to be in London in my life. These last few days in Sheffield and in Leeds were awfully and excruciatingly long. Spending our nights alone in hotel rooms, temptation being the darkest sin, it was hard to resist Marcel. But now, we are driving down to the capital for a few days. It will be nice to have no obligations. It will only be him and I for the next couple of days. No book, no job, no clothes, no nothing.

The first night we spent in Sheffield, we had the luxury to have a family size hotel room all to ourselves. To be responsible, I thought it would be reasonable to each spend the night in our own bed. We spent the entire night talking about the randomest things. He told me about the day he adopted Michaelangelo. We argued a little about the best way to do laundry. I wash everything with cold to warm water in the delicate mode, and he prefers to have the hottest water and the longest cycle to sanitise everything. He told me that he usually washes his bed sheets every week. It surprised me to get to know these details about him. It charmed me a lot. I used to be the only one thinking about these things while I was living with Steeve. So, to have Marcel so invested in chores was so seductive, I got up and joined him in his bed. I just couldn't help myself. It was a crazy idea to think I would spend the night away from him now that I had just gotten him back.

"What else do you think we need?" He asks me, tearing me out of my reverie.

"What do we need for what?"

"Were you not listening to everything I just said?"

"Sorry, my head got lost." I admit and smile softly before looking down.

He reaches for my hand, and takes it warmly in his for comfort.

"I was saying I want to cook for you tonight. I could make homemade pasta."

"You make your own pasta?"

"Yeah, it's quite simple."

"Of course, everything to you is simple." I tease him, amazed at all the things he knows how to do.

"It isn't, I just love to learn."

"Will you teach me?"

"I'd love to." The corners of his lips rise to showcase a genuine pride full of love. It warms my heart effortlessly.

I slide on my seat to look at him with more ease. My heart feels so full in my chest, I want to get to know him again.

"I know that look."

"What look?"

"Like you are about to start your inquiry."

"How do you know that?"

"I know you."

"You know me." I repeat after him, realising that despite the masquerade that happened between us before, he really does love me, and he did at that time too. "Speaking about that... that you know me and I you... How come you don't wear your glasses anymore? Or wear your usual cardigans for a matter of fact?"

"I didn't really think about it to be honest with you." He answers, pensive for a moment and looking at himself the next.

He is wearing a dark blue jean with a white tee, and the yellow jumper he had on earlier waits for him on the back seat.

"I think I simply outgrew them. You don't dress the same way either."

"I don't. Thank you for noticing."

"You used to dress very casually when you were hanging out with the band. And completely the opposite when you used to come to the office on weekends."