Exposition.

Kiss. (I)

'Cause you know that I can't trust myself with my 3AM shadow.
I'd rather fuel a fantasy than deal with this alone.

-Talk Me Down, Troye Sivan.

*

Quite bluntly put, James wants to kiss Michael.

He wants to feel his heart somersault when Michael kisses him back. He wants to run his hands through his long black hair and trace his sharp jawline with his fingers and feel the warmth of his embrace and smell the spicy scent of the cinnamon bodywash that Michael insists on using in honour of Halloween season. James wants to feel Michael smile into the kiss at some lame joke James cracked, and he wants to pull away with slightly swollen lips and flushed cheeks, and watch as Michael smiles that smile and turns red. He wants to tell him that he loves him, that he has loved him for a while, and, most importantly, have him say it back.

But James also wants to be able to watch Michael dance with victory every time he beats James at Mario Kart, while he pretends to be disappointed, as though he totally didn't swerve right at the last moment on purpose. He wants to have hour-long headbang/dance sessions to Muse and to discover Michael sneakily munching on his cereal and to play pranks on him, but he can't see how he could have both, so he tells himself that he'd rather remain best friends with Michael than risk losing him.

So every time Michael finds him staring into space with a wistful look on his face, or staring at him with his eyes clearly shining with affection, James ducks his head and either takes refuge in a sarcastic comment or changes the subject altogether.

Perhaps he wouldn't if he knew Michael wanted to kiss James, too.

*

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