The Little Things [Book 1]

Chapter Twenty: Shoot

"I'm not good at posing. It's so awkward," Thomas said and Mark had to pull back from the camera.

"I didn't ask you to pose. Just pretend you're playing. Or better yet, actually, play!" he said back with a huff.

"Fine!" Thomas sighed and set the soccer ball on the ground.

Breathing in deep he started running, keeping the ball completely under control, moving it around expertly and focusing solemnly on it. As he neared the goal, his expression turned crazed with a sardonic smile and, since there was no goalkeeper, he effortlessly kicked the ball in the net.

"I just got like thirty pictures from just that..." Mark muttered. "We'll do it one more time and then I think we're done. No more sunlight".

Thomas repeated the sequence, only now switching up the tactics a bit. He approached the goal differently and Mark couldn't help but love the new angles he got. But he was right, the sunlight was fading and the streetlights wouldn't be enough.

After they were done with the pictures, they both sat down in the middle of the field, with a beer can each. As the question ate Thomas up, he couldn't hold it in anymore and huffed.

"I see your bruises are better. How did they heal so fast?"

"They didn't. I've covered them up with make-up," Mark replied dryly. Taking a swing from his beer, Thomas frowned.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of them," he said and pulled his knees closer to his chest. Mark stretched his legs out, almost grazing Thomas's outer thigh with them.

"Who said I'm ashamed?" he asked and drank.

"Then why are you...?"

"Seeing them on me... even thinking that they are on me can trigger a panic attack," he explained and fell back on his hands. "My therapist said covering them up might help. I tried it; it helped". Thomas nodded in understanding and stayed quiet for a couple of seconds.

"Why do you sit alone during lunch?" The question had come out of nowhere, and Mark had to raise an inquiring eyebrow to that. "I mean, you don't seem to mind sitting alone, but we have an empty seat for you at our table..."

"Why do you care?" Mark asked and sat up.

"Well, I... you know, eh- you know why..." Thomas stuttered. His coat rustled as he moved one hand to scratch his head. Mark set his can aside, not even noting the fact that it fell down and the remaining beer spilled out. Thomas was about to point that out, when his eyes were drawn back to Mark. He had inched closer to Thomas and his one hand was moving up Thomas's arm.

"Remind me," Mark whispered, their noses barely touching.

"I... like..." The 'you' was muffled by Mark's lips against Thomas's.

Completely different. Having Mark take control had made this kiss completely different from the last one. The lack of panic also helped, but neither were about to stick to details. Mark had experience in kissing. Mark had experience in more things than just kissing. But kissing, damn, with the first touch he had sucked all of Thomas's thoughts away. As if someone had decided to call an evacuation in his brain. Nothing worked.

When Mark's hands wrapped around Thomas's face and body, and pulled him closer, then he went into overdrive. Suddenly, he couldn't move fast enough. For a second, Mark was taken aback at Thomas's suddenness, but only for one second he managed to pull back and grin at Thomas. Fuck. Thomas went in for another kiss and this time, he tried to take the kiss over. But he lost. Thomas fell on his back, Mark slowly climbing on top of him, never once breaking the kiss.