Cut from a Different Cloth

Prada

It's a day just like any other for Victor Salazar, the sun streaming through the fourth-storey window and casting him in a warm, euphoric glow as he buttons the cuff of his sleeve in front of the mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

Smiling to himself and turning to examine his lanky silhouette, Victor slips on the sweater vest he'd just thrifted last week, the red and yellow diamond pattern vaguely reminiscent of one of the Harry Potter houses, but he doesn't remember which--Andrew cares about it more than he does.

He tucks the sweater vest into his fitted black trousers before ruffling his dark curls and giving himself a final once-over, sighing heavily as he grabs his phone from the nightstand.

"So..." Victor says, sliding his keys into his other pocket as he pulls his beige trench coat from the hook on the wall a few feet from the bed and throwing it over his shoulder as he poses with a hand on his hip, "how do I look?"

"You look great, babe. You're gonna kill it today," Andrew says, the back of his hand draped over his forehead as he smiles up at him from the bed, his deep brown eyes sparkling from his lightly scarred, brown face.

Victor chuckles, putting his knee on the edge of the bed and leaning down to press a kiss to Andrew's lips, twitching as his skin rubs against stubble. "Thanks, babe."

Andrew's face scrunches as they pull away.

Victor frowns. "What?"

"Put some chapstick on, man. Your lips are dry as hell."

Rolling his eyes, Victor shrugs on his coat and reaches into the pocket, withdrawing some chapstick from within and uncapping it. He smothers it hurriedly across his lips before smacking them loudly. "Happy?"

"Very much. Have fun."

Andrew grabs him by the collar of his shirt and brings him in for another kiss as Victor rolls his eyes. When they separate, Victor slides his knees off the bed and stands up again, the old floorboards of their studio creaking beneath his feet.

"And can you please clean up in here today?" Victor says, knotting the belt of his jacket as he slips into one of the two pairs of black loafers he owns. "I feel like whenever I get back home there's more crap lying around."

"You got it, boss."

"I'm serious. Like, I'm pretty sure I heard rats running around in the kitchen last night. And you know how I feel about... bothering animals."

"Yeah, I know, I know. Just... go worry about your interview. I'll take care of it. It's my bad for slacking." Andrew rubs the bridge of his nose and takes a sharp breath as he tosses the covers away from him.

"Thank you."

"I mean, it's the least I can do since I don't even start work til later on, anyway." Andrew shrugs, stretching before he finally rises from bed.

"Oh... by the way... Did you wanna do something tonight? Just the two of us?"

Andrew raises an eyebrow. "Isn't that what we do every night?"

"No, I don't mean just falling asleep watching The Walking Dead. I'm getting kinda tired of that."

"Uh... sure. Yeah. I can think of something," Andrew says wearily, ruffling his tightly-cropped curls as he walks to the sink, turning the knob on the tap and filling up a glass from the counter with water. "Anyway, good luck. I love you. You're gonna do great."

Victor smiles softly, nodding. "Love you, too. I'll see you later, babe."

"Bye."

Victor blows Andrew a kiss before he snatches his briefcase from the floor. He retreats into the short corridor outside their room and pulls open the door to the hallway between flats, before locking the door behind him.