On His Toes

Chapter 1 - First Encounters

Hadrian opened the glass door and stepped out of the brisk, grey Sunday afternoon outside into the comfort of the little tea shop. The warm light above fell upon the timber cabinets lining the walls in an amber glow and lifted the chill out of Hadrian's bones. The air was rich with the scent of pu'er, sencha, gyokuro, jasmine and osmanthus, not that he knew these things.

No, all Hadrian saw were the broad shoulders of the man standing with his back to him at the counter. His muscular back wrapped up in a charcoal winter coat. His silky black hair swept behind his ears.

The man turned around. All that Hadrian could hear was the rapid beating of his heart flushing his now burning red cheeks and ears as he marvelled at the sight before him. His chiselled jawline. His high cheek bones. The slope of his nose. The shadow of a stubble offering a touch of roughness to his otherwise soft porcelain skin. Those thick, defined, dignified eyebrows. But it was what the latter framed which caught Hadrian's attention.

Two dark pools, glistening and calm on the surface, yet hiding a swirling tempest deep within.

Their power drew Hadrian in.

Hadrian stared into the abyss, and the abyss gazed back upon him. Into the chasm did Hadrian fall.

The surging storm in those eyes burst forth. The man's long arms swept Hadrian up onto the table by the wall. The back of Hadrian's bumped the shelf, canisters clanged as they landed, scattering tightly rolled tea leaves across the wooden floor.

Hadrian gasped, unaware that he had held his breath this whole time he stared at this man now only three inches in front of his face. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon on his breath was intoxicating. With his slender fingers the man stroked Hadrian's burning ears and slid his hand behind Hadrian's head, running his fingers through his hair and pulled Hadrian in to...

Lick the corner of Hadrian's mouth...

Hadrian jerked awake from the touch of the cold spot of drool which formed on his pillow. He let out a groan as he realised that it was just a dream. He ground his aching morning wood into his body pillow as he bit into his blanket.

So frustrating.

It had been over three months since he had seen that man, and he had had variations of the same dream every night since that cold July afternoon. Not that things played out in the same way in real life.

In actuality, Hadrian had only seen the man very briefly.

Hadrian had flown down to Melbourne, Australia, in the middle of July to attend a conference. He was there with his honours thesis supervisor, but by the third and final day, he had truly heard all that he could about dry economics research and theory short of being bored into a coma. He called his supervisor and let her know that he was sick and blamed the cold Melbourne winter. In actual fact, he was nursing a hangover from the economics students pub crawl the night earlier.

On that Sunday, he ended up rolling out of bed at quarter to ten, just in time to brush his teeth, stuff his belongings into his duffle bag and rush downstairs to check out of the hotel. It was a slightly overcast day outside, but otherwise fine. Hadrian hadn't been to Melbourne in five years and was keen to explore its laneways. He ended up walking almost the entire length of the CBD and found himself at QV by noon. He wandered around the shopping mall and found himself at Hakata Gensuke. Curious about what chicken ramen would taste like, he went inside.

Hadrian made his order, and a piping hot bowl of ramen quickly appeared on his table. The smell was sweet and savoury. The noodles were firm and perfectly cooked. The broth was rich and luscious without losing its balance and tasting extra heavy. However, the chicken was dry and flavourless.

Hadrian left slightly disappointed. The Melbourne weather seemed to agree. Hadrian quickly made his way indoors as a light shower started outside the restaurant. He meandered through the crowded food court, passed the unusually popular Indian place, and made a beeline for the escalator at the other end of the hall.

He continued exploring the mall and walked past a few more eateries. The wind picked up and chilled Hadrian to his bones. He pulled his hood over his head and kept walking until he stumbled upon a tea shop. Lupicia. The light inside was warm and inviting. He decided to step inside for a peek.

Then he saw him.

Those broad shoulders.

Those endlessly long legs.

He turned around and made his way to the door.

"'Scuse me," he said.

"S-sorry..." Hadrian replied.

Hadrian stepped aside to make way in that little store as the man lightly brushed against him to get through to the door.

"Nah, you're 'right."

Hadrian stood there in a daze as the man left through the glass door.

The shopkeeper coughed lightly.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh," Hadrian started. He didn't know how long he had been staring at the door. "I'm okay. Just looking around."

"Well, let me know if you need anything," she smiled.

Hadrian sheepishly smiled back and left without another word.

Once outside, he looked left and right for the man, but he was nowhere to be seen.

And that was the sum of their interactions.

Hadrian's mind was a mess for the rest of that Sunday afternoon. That didn't help when he was passing through airport security that evening. His suspicious behaviour and the large bulge in his pants meant that he was randomly selected for a pat down, which turned awkward when the security guard realised that he was not concealing a weapon (though what Hadrian packed could do some damage).

Over the next three months, Hadrian eventually brought his daytime thoughts under control, if only so that he could finish his research thesis. However, every night he would dream of that mysterious man, and every morning his little emperor sought to take control.

Hadrian's 7:15am alarm pierced the silent morning. His little emperor will find no release just yet.

Hadrian quickly got up and got ready for work. He put on a long coat to hide his state of excitement and hoped that his jog to the train station would move the blood away from that region. As usual, the little emperor went back to sleep, however the mornings in Sydney were getting warmer as summer approached and so long coats were already looking somewhat out of place.

Hadrian took off his coat at Lidcombe, tapped his opal card at the ticket barrier and made his way down to Platform 3 to catch the 7:56am train to Town Hall. He got onto the sardine can and squeezed in with the other hapless fish. Hadrian grimaced. It was only 8 o'clock in the morning and he could already smell B.O.

When the train doors opened at Town Hall, Hadrian walked briskly past the throngs of other commuters on their way to work and made his way to the bookstore, Kinokuniya. His morning was spent serving customers at the register, his lunch break with a sad-looking sandwich out back, and his afternoon tidying up the art and design section of the store. As he was putting away some books on photography, he saw a dark silhouette behind a row of bookshelves.

That hair, it looked familiar to him, somehow.

Hadrian got up on his toes to get a better look.

Hadrian froze.

Those eyes.

Hadrian fell.  

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Author's note:

Thanks for making it this far! I'm a slower writer than GRRM, but I hope that you will stick with Hadrian on his new journey.

_(:з」∠)_