Toxic [2gether]

Part 5

Tine gaped at the sheer size of the apartment. It was horrendously decorated and messy, as if after moving in Sarawat never really bothered to unpack. The man himself looked sheepishly at Tine, shrugging wide shoulders.

"I'm never actually here that much," Sarawat said in a way of explaining the atrocity. Tine looked around some more, trying to stifle his sudden nervousness, eyes darting to an expensive looking dark leather sofa and then to a bunch of stacked cardboard boxes in one corner of the room.

"Um-" he trailed off and sneaked a look at the tall musician.

Sarawat was casually standing, hands in the pockets of his slacks, in front of the panorama windows that spanned the other side of the room, opening up to the big city below and beyond. The outside world visible in tiny miniatures, lights twinkling lazily as two streams of red and white of the highway wound about the landscape. His silhouette eliminated by heady hues of red and orange from the setting sun, casting his face in shadows by the backlight but all the more making his brown hair come alight.

"Tine," Sarawat said, carefully stepping closer to the other man, reaching out one hand. Tine bit his lip, staring at those long fingers. What should he do? All his confidence had unexpectedly deflated, leaving just a young boy behind.

He looked up into Sarawat's open, almost pleading expression and reached out to grab his hand but averted at the last moment, rubbing at his long neck instead. A flush was staining his high cheeks as he looked away. This was not easy. How should he act?

Tine's eyes winded as his gaze unexpectedly fixed on a crystal ashtray and a packet of cigarettes in a messy bookshelf. Did Sarawat smoke? He blinked to clear his eyes, in case his sight had somehow failed him.

Nope, both were still there.

Tine bit his plump lower lip, thinking. For some reason he suddenly felt an irrational distance spanning the space between them. Chances were high that both of them could be totally different people than who they were before, after all time apart and different ways of living their lives.

"So this is your palace, huh," he tried stalling. Why did he have to make sense of these mixed feelings right at this moment? It had been nice being kissed, just acting on instinct.

"Tine," Sarawat said again, not having it, and took another step closer without dropping the outstretched hand, instead reaching even further and cupping Tine's cheek. The pads of his fingers cool against the feverish skin. He angled Tine's face so that the other man would be looking solely at him. Wide eyes stared at the musician, overpoweringly black. Then he blinked and his gaze turned sultry. Sarawat had trouble breathing when looking at this Tine.

His Tine.

His thumb followed the outline of Tine's cheek and jaw, swiping under his lower lip and pressing at the soft flesh there. Tine inhaled noisily, his breath stuttering and ribcage expanding. Cautiously he lifted one pale hand and fisted it in Sarawat's silk shirt, tugging on it fussily.

"I'm gong to kiss you," Sarawat said. This triggered something inside of Tine. Panic suddenly flooded his body and Tine shoot his arm out, clamping a hand over Sarawat's pout.

"Wait, wait," he said flustered, voice rising an octave. Tine's inner self could not actually believe at how horrendously stupid he was acting right now. The other man arched his brows in inquiry, before he lowered his gaze, his eyelashes fluttering, and darted his tongue out to taste the soft skin of Tine's palm.

"Don't do this to me," Tine pleaded and felt Sarawat's infuriating smirk on the pouty lips grazing against his hand. "I'm going to let you go and we're going to talk calmly, ok?"