If You Miss It

30. yearn

CHAPTER THIRTY

YEARN

—

Once Dmitri had realised that he liked Tariq, he could not stop thinking about it.

Every minute of his day was spent just thinking about it, thinking about how he could get rid of it, how he could go about his day without exposing himself and his ridiculous thoughts. He thought about it all the time.

When he was at the coffee shop and Tariq came downstairs to tell him about the tattoo he had just given someone. When he handed him his coffee and their fucking fingers brushed, something that always happened, but now, his touch felt like fire every time it happened. Even when Tariq was just seated in front of him, on his phone, doing nothing but scrolling through his Instagram feed.

There was no exception now, either. This time, however, Tariq was making it very difficult for him to not think about it.

Because right now, Tariq was in Dmitri's room, and he was shirtless.

Typically, Dmitri wouldn't have been fazed, not in the least bit. He had seen Tariq shirtless multiple times before, for good reasons like sex, and for bad reasons like when he had a fever and clothes just made him even warmer.

"— So, yeah. That's the tattoo."

Dmitri hummed, raising his head from the spot that he was staring at on the ground. "When did you get it?" he asked, hoping, praying that Tariq couldn't tell that he was flustered out of his fucking mind.

Flinging himself onto Dmitri's bed, Tariq just sprawled his limbs out, staring up at the ceiling as he said, "I think I was twenty? It's in Urdu!"

"I can see that," Dmitri laughed out, shaking his head as he moved closer to get a better look at the tattoo. Or at least, that was what he was telling himself. "What does it say?"

Tariq hummed, leaning his right hand over his left hand to grab a bottle of water, only to place it on his cheeks and say, "Mm. Cold." Then, he flipped over so that he was on his side, facing Dmitri. Still shirtless. "It's for my parents. Got it right after I came out to them, it just says love."

Fuck. How am I supposed to stop liking him? Fuck.

"I mean, they don't like tattoos at all— completely valid, since I'm prone to infections and shit," he continued, his t-shirt balled up on his chest. "But they liked this one. Mostly because I did it myself, and I was super safe. Do you like it?"

Naturally, since Dmitri was a fucking mess and also a loser, he just stuttered out a weak, "Y-Yeah. It's nice. Looks great. Really— it's really nice. Great."

Smite me, God. Do it, please.

Snorting out a laugh, Tariq shook his head at Dmitri, and with a roll of his eyes, he said, "Weirdo. You're acting odd," he pointed out, shrugging his t-shirt back on. "Did I do something?" he asked, a small frown appearing on his face as he pushed himself upright, staring at Dmitri.

"You didn't do anything," he managed to get out in response, choosing to ignore the pointed look of disbelief that Tariq shot his way. "I promise. It's just— it's a weird day. I mean, it's been a weird day."

At that, Tariq's frown just got more prominent. Shit. "Like— it's a weird day, mentally? Or just a generally weird day? I can leave if it's a weird day mentally, I promise. I won't even be mad or anything."

From the moment Dmitri called Tariq over to his house, he had regretted it. Because Tariq was so close to him, they were in the same room, in the same bed, their bodies kept touching each other, and Dmitri was so unbelievably queer.