Two Hearts. Part one.
Golden Sunrise & Golden Eyes
Hopeless woke early, quite literally rolling out of bed. The duvet that was wrapped around him cushioned his fall onto the uncarpeted floors, but the man still let out a low groan as he landed. His steps were uneven, and he stumbled his way to the other side of the room.
Yesterday, it had seemed like a good idea. Putting his alarm on the other side of the room meant that he couldn't sleep through it, and that meant he'd be up. That he wouldn't be late for another class...
If Hopeless had the ability to process that during the morning, he would have copped that it was a godawful idea, actually. Stupid.
He pressed the snooze button on the alarm with a flailing hand, and immediately slumped down on top of it. Hopeless was snoring by the time his head hit the alarm and bounced off. Cursing and stumbling backwards, he clutched at his head, glaring daggers at the alarm clock.
How dare it wake him so early.
He ran a hand through his hair sleepily, scowling when his fingers got stuck in the knots atop his head. Yanking his hand from his hair, it was the pain that truly woke him up.
Hopeless' eyes widened, and he quickly shoved open the small window in his room, allowing sunlight into the cluttered space. Pulling clothes from gods know where, he dressed hastily, grabbing his keys and his bag before heading out, still cursing under his breath as he went to get coffee.
Lots of milk. Paint splattered hands stirring the dairy into the paper mug as he walked, Hopeless raised the drink to his mouth. No way would he be late again.
And Hopeless wasn't late. He pushed open the door to his class, and found it empty bar one man - who sat in the middle of the room with his feet up on a table. Hopeless froze, and the pretty man raised an eyebrow. Gods, he was pretty. Hopeless wasn't so sure if his heart was still beating.
"You look panicked," the man commented simply, lowering the battered book in his hand to look at Hopeless.
"I... I'm meant to have a class here," he replied, thanking the heavens that he managed to keep the stammer from his voice. "You're not... you don't take art." He was sure of that. He would have noticed the man if he did.
"That's right," the stranger replied, a smile to his voice. "Literature. And there's no class here at all today. I've checked."
Hopeless blinked at the beautiful man, biting his lip. He fished his phone from his pocket after a moment, and checked it, swearing colourfully under his breath.
Sinking into the chair beside the stranger, Hopeless shook his head. "No," he mumbled quietly, "no class today."
The man smiled, and Hopeless looked back up at him. This time, he was sure, his heart truly did stop. Were his eyes golden? Oh, gods.
It was only after a long moment of staring that he noticed the other man's slow smirk, those golden eyes twinkling. He blushed scarlet, and decided it was as good a moment as ever to introduce himself. Offering his hand, he mumbled, "Hopeless."
The man smiled, and Hope's blush spread at the sight of his paint splattered hand clutched in his ink-stained one.
"Erskine Ravel."
His voice was gorgeous, Hopeless decided. Smooth and velvety and completely swoon-worthy. Wow, his vo- He should probably reply.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
Erskine winked. The world stopped. "It will be."
The golden-eyed man returned to the book in his hands, the pages worn. Lines were highlighted and pieces underlined. Hopeless couldn't help but look him over for a moment longer. He was dressed smartly, far from the torn and paint stained clothes that he himself donned.
Oh, no. What if Erskine thought he was a slob? What if he'd made a terrible first impression? What if the other man was straight?
He was caught staring yet again when those golden eyes glanced back up at him. Hopeless dragged his gaze away, opening his backpack and pulling his sketchpad and charcoal from it.
He knew he was still blushing as he set to work, unable to concentrate on it, too aware of the beautiful man beside him. And that book - it proved he was clever and dedicated as well. Hopeless may melt.
Charcoals flying across the page, he barely even realised that he was drawing Erskine Ravel. The sun was rising. It was basking the man in the warming light. Golden sunrise and golden eyes.
It was only when Hopeless glanced down at the page that a slow thought dawned on him. His friends were right. He fell for people too easily.
He looked up at Erskine, who was holding his book down loosely by his side, watching the sun.
Hopeless closed the sketchpad, and the action seemed to rouse the other man out of his stupor.
He looked at Hopeless, and gave him a smile that Hope was sure was capable of killing people. It was so perfect.
"What brings you here so early?" he managed.
"I like empty classrooms," the young man replied simply. "There's something powerful about it being so quiet, don't you think? It's usually so filled with people. With shouting and instructions that block out the sunrise."
Hopeless faltered for a moment, before nodding his head. He spoke quietly. "There's something quietly rebellious about it."
The crooked smile he got in return was well worth the early morning. "Yeah. A quiet rebellion.
"I could be in the next room, attending class, but I'm here instead. With you. Watching the sunrise." Hopeless' heart seemed to have no intentions of starting again any time soon. "Can I see those sketches?"
He blushed once again, pink spreading over his cheeks.
"I don't know..."
That smirk. Oh, gods. "I know that they're of me, love. I'd like to see them."
He had no argument to that, and so just opened the pad to the right page and handed it over. He watched Erskine nervously as his golden eyes took in the drawing, but his appreciative whistle put Hopeless right to rest.
"You looked beautiful, and I just... I needed to draw you, I guess."
Ravel grinned, closing the book after another moment. "Get coffee with me."
Hopeless froze, stammering a little. "Wh-what?"
The golden eyed man repeated the sentence, smirking again. "Get coffee with me."
He nodded, biting his lip and taking his sketchpad back as Erskine stood up and took his coat from the back of the chair. Hopeless blinked. "Now?"
"Why not?" he asked with a smile, shrugging his coat on and offering his hand to the artist. "Do you have anything better to do?"
Hopeless didn't falter again, rebagging his art supplies and putting his hand in the other man's.
"I can't think of anything better."
