It's Just You And Me

Chapter 16

Almost a year had passed. Mew and Gulf had only gotten closer, more domestic as the months went by. They were practically tied to one another. Spending days at a time at one another's house, Gulf had very quickly found comfort in the way Mew's arm would lazily wrap around him in the night or how Gulf spent what felt like hours just listening to Mew's heartbeat, his breathing, the small words he'd mumble every now and again as he sunk deeper into his dreams. It surprised him how fast he had gotten used to it and how much he struggled to sleep without him. Mew equally found pleasure in waking up to Gulf's perfect face; his eyelashes fluttering against his skin and his pouty lips that were always so kissable. Mew would run his fingers through Gulf's hair, pushing it away from his face as he waited for the other to wake up. It was rare that Mew would leave the bedroom without Gulf; they would get ready together, their wardrobes slowly combining until they each had an array of outfits belonging to the other. They'd do each other's ties, Gulf would pick one for Mew and Mew would pick one for Gulf. They'd then do their hair together; Mew had tried to do Gulf's hair once but it didn't go so well - too much gel and not enough brushing. They laugh about it now but that day had been very stressful for Gulf; his hair commotion almost made them late. They would then make breakfast together, usually something quick and unchallenging (unless it was a weekend and they were feeling adventurous.) They'd then put their shoes on, grab their bags and coats on the way out before getting into one of their cars and off they went to work. They were still keeping quiet about their relationship at work. It wasn't because Mew was worried about rumours - he was far beyond that, at least he thought he was - or because Gulf was scared he'd be judged, the topic of their relationship just never came up in conversation. They thought maybe some people had caught on - they weren't exactly secretive; always flirting, straightening each other's blazers or ties, getting drinks and snacks for one another but with nobody asking or saying anything suggested that they didn't care and that was more than fine for the both of them. They had a lot of sex, good sex. Experimenting with different toys; Mew was building quite the collectio. They tried new positions, fucking in almost every corner of each other's homes. They had also made use of Mew's now lockable door in the office. Gulf had been sprawled across his desk, sheets of paper on the floor along with his clothes as Mew fucked him. Or the time Gulf rode Mew on the couch in his office, grinding his hips so perfectly, Mew had to bite into Gulf's shoulder to stay quiet, leaving quite the mark on his skin.

Truthfully, everything was going smoothly. Gulf was still doing research into careers - it wasn't that he didn't like working for Mew, he loved it actually, but it wasn't what he pictured himself doing long term and Mew was more than supportive in helping Gulf come up with ideas. Mew's work was certainly less stressful having Gulf around; he wouldn't bottle up his emotions as much, mainly because Gulf would force him to speak if he sensed something was wrong. It was how they solved arguments. They were like any other couple, bickering over this and that and sometimes someone would take it too far and they'd have to talk through the conflict, apologise to one another and make out - make up.

But then towards winter, as the air turned bitter and the nights felt longer, something changed. Mew was becoming distant. There was no warning, no build up, nothing. Just one day, Gulf leant in to kiss Mew as they sat in bed and the other politely declined him, claiming he was exhausted. Gulf didn't let it get to him, Mew probably was tired and he didn't exactly push Gulf off when he laid his head on Mew's chest as he did every night they shared together. So the following morning, Gulf questioned him, asking if he was alright. Mew had nodded his head, avoiding the question and picking out his own tie. Gulf had watched from the bed. Something was definitely different, Mew's eyes looked tired, his skin pale and there was this heavy atmosphere following him around. Then over breakfast, Gulf asked him if it was art, if he hadn't been drawing as much. As their relationship developed, so did Mew's art. He was getting incredibly good at it, moving out of his sketchbook and onto canvas', experimenting with oils and acrylics and whatever he could get his hands on. Many were of Gulf, of course, and the whole process had been enjoyable; Mew would set his easel up in front of Gulf who posed however Mew wanted him and they'd listen to music and chat as Mew painted. Gulf loved it - Mew had gone from being so secretive and unsure of his art to embracing it and wanting to share it with people, posting time-lapses or close ups on his Instagram. Gulf hadn't really noticed the absence of their art sessions but he couldn't think of anything else, anything else that Mew wouldn't tell him about. It wasn't art either, however, and that same day as Mew drove them into his usual parking space, he told Gulf that they should "maybe not be so obvious at work." That perplexed Gulf. His first instinct was to ask why but he resisted that and just agreed to Mew's terms. He wasn't about to spark an argument.