"sy, you dont understand. i would forfeit a 25 second race lead if it meant i got to talk to you again."
. . .
"oh."
in which. . .
sylas comes back into oscar's life, all rippling muscle and perfect grace, and oscar no longer knows what to do with...
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I didn't know that I was capable of being happy right now But you showed me how I didn't know that you were right in front of me Until I looked out You make me wanna cry in a good way
in a good way • faye webster
PLUNGE Volume 1.2 Habitual
June 15th, 2024
The doorbell rings at 5:38 and Oscar thinks he has never shot up from a seat so fast.
He swings the door open to greet a sheepish Sylas Bailey, bottle of expensive Chardonnay in hand.
"Hi, Oscar! I'm so sorry I'm late. I got caught up in-"
Oscar pulls the man into a tight hug before he can even finish his sentence, both of them stumbling back a step or two. Sylas, frozen at first, slowly leans to set down the glass bottle, which hits the carpeted hallway floor with a quiet thump. He then reaches up tentative arms to wrap around Oscar's neck. They're the same height. but Oscar's taken hold of Sylas' waist like his life depends on it, so Sylas settles with hooking his chin over Oscar's shoulder and holding the back of his head where it's tucked into Sylas' neck.
"Hi," Sylas whispers, rubbing a thumb along the base of Oscar's short hair.
"Christ, I missed you so much," Comes the response, along with Sylas being pulled impossibly closer. "You've got no idea,"
Sylas laughs lightly, but lets Oscar bury his head further into Sylas' collar. "I missed you too, Osc."
What did I read? Sylas thinks to himself, Hugging is the most intimate form of contact? Starting to believe it.
After they finally break apart, Oscar takes a few deep breaths as he follows Sylas inside his own apartment. The diver places the wine onto the small table in the foyer to remove his shoes, then picks it up again as he ventures further, eventually finding the dining room table and letting the bottle rest there. He then turns to find Oscar just staring, leaning on the doorway with a sort of starstruck expression and his arms crossed loosely over his torso.
"What? Sylas asks with a little laugh, cocking his head as he leans back, hands on the dining table.
Oscar pushes himself off the doorway and lets his arms come forward along with his body, taking a few steps to reach Sylas.
"C'mere," he mumbles lowly, then places warm hands on the Brit's waist, eyes dancing over black pants & a blue linen top, and Sylas can feel his face heating up involuntarily.
He thinks he hides it well by reaching up and pulling Oscar into another friendly hug (as friendly as it can be while the Aussie's hands are slowly sliding down onto Sylas' hips), but Oscar chuckles into his ear. "Make you nervous?"
