Raphael /BoyxBoy/

||Eight||

Raphael was the type of person you meet and then can't stop thinking about. Nate was kind of the same, except now I hated thinking about him. Hated seeing his name on my screen, feeling his name on my lips, tasting his skin whenever I missed him.

I texted Raphael when my shift was over.

I sat at a random bench on the street as we sent messages back and forth and he finally got the hint and invited me over, sending me his address.

I pulled it up and set off trying to find his apartment in the busy city, while he still managed to struck up a conversation, earning himself some half-assed responses as I had zero multitasking skills.

"Finally," he said when he swung the door open. "You only took ages to get here. I'd thought you'd found yourself in Paris at this rate."

"Have you ever been to Paris?" I asked as I stepped through, shrugging off my jacket.

He took it away from my hands. "No, never was into change."

I didn't know what to say, so I let my eyes study his apartment.

It looked exactly as I thought it would. Right down to the fact that he did actually own a record player. Most of the walls that I could see from the entrance were filled with art work and tapestries. His living room was cosy, with vintage leather seats, a worn out colorful rug, a coffee table in similar condition, and several books and sketchbooks scattered around.

"It's sort of messy."

"I like it," I said, taking a closer step inside.

"Thanks," he murmured. "Do you want anything? Coffee?"

"Sure."

"The kitchen's down here."

Raphael led me to his equally homey kitchen. Pans hung from the walls, wooden cupboards lined the area, some ajar, revealing cans of food and different colored bottles. Raphael knocked his hips against a drawer that was open and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Forgot about this room," he muttered under his breath. "Take a seat."

I fell back comfortably against one of the chairs surrounding his kitchen table.

I watched as he moved around the kitchen, grabbing a mug and starting up the coffee machine.

Armed with two mugs of fresh, steamy coffee, Raphael beckoned for me to follow him to the living room, where he seemed a lot more comfortable laid back against his couch.

He sat and instantly curled his legs beneath him, blowing gently against the liquid in his mug.

I grabbed my own mug and settled in beside him.

"How was work?" he asked.

"Fun," I replied honestly. "It's really interesting."

"No trouble with any customers?" he pulled a face. "They can be quite a handful at times."

"Nah. Not yet, at least."

He cracked a smile and took a sip, peering at me behind the rim of his mug. "What would you like to do?"

"I don't mind. What were you doing before I came by?"

His fingers tightened around the mug. "Working on some designs."

"Could you show me?" I asked.

"I seem to do that a lot lately," he said. "What do I get in return?"

I grinned. "Can't I see them simply because I'm your friend?"

"Nope. Where's the fun in that? Come on then, think of a good bargain."