First Sight

Telephones

Pairing: Australia/Denmark (I...have no idea why)

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They don’t talk that much anymore.

They never really did. All of their conversations had panned out in the bedroom, words mouthed by lips too busy with tasting skin and stars from where the moonlight managed to peek through the blinds, illuminating blond hair and disappointment.

It’s been ten years since the divorce and Jett still can’t look at Christian straight, something that irritates the hell out of both of them, but their routine has become so set in stone, it feels almost wrong to disrupt it with trivial conversation about looks.

It’s been years, but it doesn’t stop Christian from keeping every single one of their wedding photos hidden in a box in his closet, along with the touches and caresses of a marriage long since faded. It’s been years, but Jett can’t drink anything other than the Danish beer Christian almost forced him to choke down, anything else tastes false.

Christian can’t blame Jett for the divorce. It wasn’t Jett who had lost restraint and spent a drunken night in a theatre box in Oslo with an old flame and ended up on the headlines.

Jett can’t blame Christian either, because in a way, Christian was never truly his, and Jett still loves the Dane too much to judge.

They don’t talk that much anymore.

“Hello?” the loud voice of the Dane came over the phone, bleary from sleep. Jett still hasn’t remembered the time differences, and that’s what Christian knows from the caller I.D.

Jett doesn’t say anything, but Christian stays on the line for hours, silent as a whisper.

They don’t talk that much anymore.

They really didn’t have to.