For Research Purposes | ✔

CHAPTER NINETEEN

     Sage doesn't always want to cry this much, it's just an as of late sort of thing. And airports during the holidays are bleak. They're packed with people, it's cold out, the windows are frosted, he's wearing too many layers inside, so he's sweating, and Sam's leaving.

     He's coming back. He knows that. But he's also leaving, and Sage has to pretend that he's fine, that this is nothing, that he's not going to miss him. And he doesn't know if he should kiss him before he goes, or if they can hug, or what's the protocol because they're not dating, except for when they're around his parents, which they aren't right now. They're alone and Sam's leaving.

     Sam shifts his bag and glances behind him. He doesn't say anything. For an unbearable second, Sage thinks maybe he's going to miss him, too. But then Sam says, "There's a time difference, so just keep that in mind if you wanna reach out about any research."

     What does that even mean? Sage thinks. The research? They're caught up till the semester starts. Unless Olekev sends out any early tasks. But that hasn't happened yet, so why the preemptive consideration? Unless Sam is saying something else. Unless Sam is giving him permission to talk to him while they're apart.

     Apart. They've spent summers not seeing each other before. Before Sage knew what Sam tasted like, what he sounded like, what he felt like under him and over him and inside of him. Yeah, before. Maybe he always missed Sam. He just didn't know what he was missing till now. It was a silent missing that he's suddenly turned the volume up on; the bass vibrating through his chest, disrupting his heart's rhythm.

     Sage nods. It's been too long and Sam's flushing. It's warm in the airport soit must be that. "Yeah, okay, no problem."

     Sam blinks. "Well thanks again. For the tickets. I'll see you when I get in, I guess."

     Sage is thinking about it. He is thinking about grabbing the collar of his coat, and pulling Sam in, kissing him hard, pushing his breath into his mouth like an airbag, like a three-car pile up, chaotic and maybe even deadly.

     He's thinking about it and thinking about it and willing himself to just do it. Fuck the consequences. He needs something to cling to while Sam's gone and he's decided on his mouth because it's the closest he can get in an airport.

     "You're gonna meet me, right..." Sam is saying, sounding confused. "When I get in?"

     "Yeah, no, yeah," Sage says quickly, snapping out of it. Fuck. He is full of wanting and he's been staring at Sam's mouth for too long. "JFK Monday morning."

     Sam nods, looking uneasy. Sage says, "You're coming back."

❧

     To you, yes, Sam thinks. Because I'm not exactly finished with you just yet, Sage Decourt.

     There's a moment before Sam turns and walks away that feels incomplete. He says goodbye but he's also saying I'll see you soon and I'm going to miss you and don't forget about me and I hope you feel it, too.

     I hope you feel it, too. That one. Sam hopes he feels the same sinking desperation, the wanting and yearning for something bigger than just goodbye, for one last taste of his mouth, hot and wet and open so Sam can slip his tongue across his palate and they can share one last secret before he goes.

     Sam doesn't know what this feeling is but it's blooming in his chest, unfurling like a cat, clawing at his ribs like it may slip between the cracks. He feels hot all over, black spots cutting his vision. He is a ghost moving through the airport. Finds himself at TSA with no memory of getting there.