Chapter Text
The ringing in his ear slowly returned his consciousness, faded and barely there.
“Sander? Fuck, Sander, I’m so sorry,” he heard on the other line as he picked up his phone, still groggy from the lack of sleep. He twisted from his position on his stomach to his back, squinting at the sunlight in his room.
“Robbe?” he asked. “How the fuck are you awake so early?”
They’d just left the club around 2am last night and he was comforted by the fact that Zoë and Milan were there to help Robbe. Zoë had given him a tight smile before leaving the club saying ‘Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him,’ and the look in her eyes told him she knew something had happened, though unsure what. Regardless, he had thanked her and went back home with Senne. He thought Robbe might have passed out by now and he wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew that it was early .
“I’m not. I’ve sobered up, though, and I’m just...fuck, I’m so sorry,” Robbe repeated.
Sander took a moment to rub his eyes and let out a small chuckle.
“Look, I know I’m irresistible and everything, so it’s okay if you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”
But Robbe wasn’t laughing.
“Robbe, I mean it, it’s okay. It’s fine,” his voice softened.
The line was really quiet for a second and Sander thought he’d hung up, but then he heard him take a small breath, his voice tiny and low through the phone.
“Can I come over?” he asked.
It was a Sunday morning and Sander had planned to get work done at some point, not to mention getting some physical distance to keep him from losing his mind. But Robbe had sounded so small, so sorry, just needing some consolation, some faith to latch onto that he would accept his apology. And he would . He did.
“Yeah,” he breathed out.
He tapped his phone absentmindedly on the sheets after Robbe finally hung up. How was he going to have him here and not be distracted, completely flooded by his warmth? How was he not going to be able to think about last night? Robbe had sounded like he just regretted everything, like he had been mixing up what’s real and what’s fake in his drunken state. Sander didn’t know what to make of all of this and instead just zoned out, staring at the ceiling for the entirety of the twenty minutes it took for him to reach his apartment.
When he heard the doorbell, he got up, throwing on his grey sweatpants and a white shirt overhead. He opened the door to see a remorseful and tired Robbe in his brown jacket, his dark grey hoodie, and his red beanie on his head. The bags in his eyes were starting to sag and the corners of his lips were downturned. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all making Sander’s heart clench.
“You really mean it?” Robbe asked.
“Yes.”
He didn’t have to wonder what he was asking.
“Then, can I be selfish for a minute?”
“Yes.”
Whatever it was, the answer was yes.
Sander watched him kick his shoes off and quickly walk into the direction of his room. With his bare feet treading lightly behind, he followed him. He watched him walk up to the edge of his bed and plop down into the white sheets without even bothering to take off his jacket. The bed shook from impact and a small laugh escaped Sander as he leaned on the doorframe of his room, looking at him. He thought he’d probably fallen asleep right there and then, but Robbe turned his head slightly and muffled into the pillow,
“Don’t ever let me drink again.”
Sander smiled wearily, his lashes fluttering to look down and his lips pursing to stifle the smile now. He carefully stepped towards the bed. He took off Robbe’s beanie and set it on his bedside table and pulled the covers over him. Then, he got himself under the covers, too and pressed against him, soaking in the warmth.
“Sleep, Robbe,” he whispered.
He set an alarm for a few hours from now, needing to get up to finish his assignments. He was sure Robbe would have work to do as well. But for now, all they had to worry about was getting some much needed rest. He could hear Robbe’s breathing become less shallow and as he lulled himself to sleep, his thoughts drifted to his shiny, brown curls, his deep brown eyes, the lines that formed whenever he smiled, and the freckled constellations across his cheeks. If Sander was going to dream of him even when he was right here, then he definitely wasn’t going to survive.
Sander had awoken before him, lying on his back while Robbe was still lying on his stomach beside him, his hands clutching the pillow. He looked at him and reached over to where his hand lay, softly brushing the veins with the back of his fingers, nails just barely grazing them. He did this lazily for a bit as he looked nowhere in particular. Suddenly, he felt Robbe start to stir.
He opened his eyes to Sander’s fingers still leaving butterfly trails across his skin, and if he thought anything of it, he didn’t say it. Then, he let out a small groan and shifted in the sheets. His jacket had been taken off and thrown somewhere on the floor at one point in his sleep and now he just lay there in his grey hoodie, soft and warm. He swallowed before speaking, his voice still worn out and tired.
“I really am sorry,” he said.
Sander kept his fingers there, tapping lightly now. Words were taking time, but he knew Robbe would need them soon.
“I know,” he replied. “It’s okay.”
Robbe twisted himself to his side, taking the hand that he was brushing and using it to scratch his nose. Then he laid it back down, eyes darting between their hands and he could’ve sworn it was like he wanted his fingers on his skin again.
“I told Milan and Zoë we’re not together,” he said quietly.
“I told Senne, too.”
Robbe nodded.
“Do you want to stop?”
Sander could see the look in his eyes, tentatively searching his own. He didn’t know what he wanted him to say. Stop what, exactly? Pretending? Because none of this was pretending for him. But what if Robbe wanted to stop?
“That’s...hard to answer,” he whispered.
Robbe nodded once again and he didn’t know what he understood of that, what he was so sure of.
“Can we give it one more week?” he asked.
And Sander’s heart lit up, glowing brightly in his chest. It was like a crack of light where hope escaped and he couldn’t shove it back in. Here he’d thought this was coming to an end (it inevitably would), but here Robbe was saying it didn’t have to end just yet. He’d have one more week to build up the courage to tell him just like Senne said.
He nodded a yes.
Robbe turned on his back now, the covers disarrayed, his hoodie lifting up, exposing a sliver of skin. Sander laid his hand on his stomach, wrinkling his shirt. Both of them stared up at the ceiling now.
“Our friends are gonna hate us,” snorted Sander, referring to their soon-to-come countless displays of affection and then their impending ‘breakup.’
“Yeah, I know,” Robbe let out a slight laugh. —
Standing in the kitchen, Sander was feeling a little out of place at the flatshare this time. It was buzzing with conversations and laughter, sounds of glasses and forks clinking. The lights had been dimmed and Zoë had set up the fairy lights she’d found in Robbe’s room, spreading them around the living room. She and Senne had been getting up every once in a while to refill drinks or offer more food while Milan talked about the cool photography on an Instagram profile with Jana, Luca and Amber, sitting on the couch. Jens had spread himself on the other couch laughing with Moyo and Aaron around the floor about new skating tricks. And Robbe was talking to Yasmina about bio labs and classes, things of interest to him like “that article on the newest gene splicing technology” or how “phylogenetic trees are always a mess.”
Things of interest to Sander were never narrowed down like that. He was into science and art and photography and music and history and everything around him. He could find something of interest in it all. There wasn’t really one thing that was his. Or maybe there was, but it had slowly diminished leaving him to dip his toes into everything he came across, never fully submerging himself.
He realized he’d been standing with his hand around a glass of orange juice for a while and that’s when he saw Robbe come up to him from the corner of his eye.
“What are you doing here all by yourself?” he smiled warmly at him, reaching over to put a hand on his shoulder. It was a comforting touch.
“Nothing,” he smiled weakly back at him. “Getting some juice for Yasmina,” he lifted the glass.
Robbe gave him a look, the one where it seemed like he could see right through him, the one that bored at him until he relented and told him whatever was bothering him. His hand on his shoulder hadn’t left, rubbing soft circles. Then, his eyes looked down at his shirt, his lashes fluttering as his brows scrunched and recognition came through to him.
“Is this your Bowie shirt?” he lifted the fabric. Sure enough, Sander was wearing his black Bowie t-shirt, the face faded, over his white full sleeve. It was laundry day and he had literally almost nothing to wear except for this shirt that he dug out from the depths of his closet. It was from his Bowie-loving phase from a year ago, a relic of the past now. He had hoped he could slip by Robbe without him noticing it when he first arrived here with Senne, but of course he was bound to notice at some point.
“Yeah, I didn’t have anything else to wear,” he said. “And before you say anything, I had to scavenge the entire closet for this. Don’t think too hard,” he added with a glower.
“I wasn’t saying anything,” Robbe surrendered his hands with a suppressed smile.
“You’re thinking it,” Sander flickered a glare.
He knew that Robbe had been waiting for the day this obsession would spring back up somehow, but he just never got a chance to get back into it. And quite frankly, it brought back memories he didn’t want to think about and he hoped that Robbe would understand that.
Thankfully, for now he did and he didn’t say anything more. Just gave him a look he couldn’t quite comprehend, his lashes dipping low and his smile becoming infectious. His hand on his shoulder released the fabric, but his free hand grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him towards the rest of their friends.
As they made their way to the couch, Yasmina gave them a smirk upon her maroon lips, taking the glass from Sander.
“Took you long enough,” she said.
Sander just shrugged and nodded towards Robbe who still had his hand on his shirt and brought them down to the couch. He wrapped his arm around him as Robbe’s arm came around his waist.
“We were kinda busy, right babe?” Robbe curled his fingers around the base of his neck, getting caught in his hair. And Sander couldn’t get the way he called him that out of his mind. It was almost word for word what he’d said to Noah that night at the club. He’d called him babe plenty of times the past few weeks too, and he just melted at the endearment each time. It left him wishing he was in the universe where he called him that forever.
“You’re busy a lot these days,” a smooth voice teased.
Sander turned his head to see Jens with his lips curving up, the glint on his ring flashing as he took a sip of his drink. Suddenly all the attention was on him and Robbe and all he could do was sit him in his lap and smile with his arms wrapped fully around him. He pulled him closer leaning back as they both laughed with scrunched up faces and Robbe’s hand came up to grip Sander’s so he wouldn’t fall over.
“What can I say, he’s my favourite person,” he pulled him even closer in his bear hug. “My angel,” he placed a kiss on his cheek. Angel could never fully describe what Sander thought of him, but he found that it came quite close. They smiled as laughter grew around them from all their friends.
“You’re making me feel really single,” Jens shoved a pillow to them as he smiled, too.
Sander felt Robbe place a chaste kiss to his jaw as they all laughed once more. The conversation started drifting back to differentiated groups, bits and pieces separated here and there. Robbe was quiet for a few moments and at first he thought he was just listening to everyone around him, but then he saw him looking down with a smile on his face.
“I like it when you call me that, by the way,” he said softly, eyes not quite willing to meet him. Sander wasn’t sure if this was meant just for him or if he was saying it for show. But everyone around was too loud, too fragmented, to be listening to them. He looked at him, brows furrowing momentarily as he tried to connect the words in his brain instead of his heart.
“Call you what?” he asked.
“Angel,” said Robbe.“It sounds nice.”
He still wasn’t looking at him, his smile growing bigger as he casually traced shapes across his knee. Sander had called him that twice before, once when they were at the skatepark and once in front of Zoë at his apartment. Sometimes it would just slip out. He didn’t think that it was enough for him to notice.
“I can call you angel whenever you want.”
“Yeah?” Robbe looked up at him, hopeful.
“Yeah,” he smiled.
As the night went on, the atmosphere shifted to an even more comfortable one. Yasmina had migrated over to where Jana was speaking with Milan. Jens and Moyo had moved to talk in a corner so that Amber and Aaron could continue with their budding affections, making out on the couch and Zoë and Luca were having a conversation in the kitchen. By now Sander felt restless on the couch, so he got up, pulling Robbe with him by the hand and leading him past Milan who gave them a knowing look. Robbe just smiled at him.
He then asked Sander to get his phone that was charging from his room and he let his hand go as he walked towards it while Robbe joined the conversation with Milan.
Senne had just come out of the bathroom, closing the door with his lips curving cheekily.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Losing my mind,” Sander muttered as he walked past him.
He found Robbe’s phone charging on his desk and separated the wire from it. The screen immediately lit up with a picture of Robbe and Sander with their arms wrapped around each other. He smiled at it as he walked out in a daze.
“What happened to telling him?” he heard Senne. Looking up, he clutched the phone harder.
“I’m getting to it,” he said.
“You know, the longer you wait, the worse it’s gonna be. What are you gonna do once you ‘break-up’?”
“I’ll go dig a hole, sit there and cry,” he deadpanned.
“Sander,” Senne scolded.
“I know. I’m just waiting for the right-“
“Hey,” Robbe’s voice drifted near them. They both stopped to look at him. “Can I steal my ‘boyfriend’ for a sec,” he winked at Senne.
Sander saw the look Senne was giving him and he just stared back slightly shaking his head in disbelief for being this obvious. Senne smiled and looked at Robbe.
“He’s all yours,” he said as he scooted behind them and across the hall.
Robbe took the phone from him and grabbed his hand.
“Noor’s here,” he said.
Sander let out a sigh. “Finally.”
He’d been waiting for his cool, artsy friend to show up so he could ask her about the newest spray location or that professor she had last year that was extremely difficult since they went to the same school or to just ask how she’s been doing. She was a friend of Britt’s and it was true that after their break-up tensions had been high, but he chose to remain friends with her because even after it all, none of it was really her fault.
Following Robbe to the door, he squeezed his hand tighter.
“You made it. I was starting to worry your scooter broke down or something,” Sander smirked at Noor who was just taking off her black jacket. Her dark hair shook as she shrugged it off and the piercing in her septum dangled with the movement.
“It’s not a- ugh,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. Then she smiled at Robbe. “I don’t know how you deal with him,” she said as he shrugged. Then, she did a double take squinting her eyes lower at Sander’s shirt and pointing a finger. “Is that…”
“Don’t ask him about it,” Robbe let out a chuckle as Sander started ushering her in to join the rest of them.
“As long as he has the one I gave him, I’m fine,” she laughed.
He had to roll his eyes at that. Of course, he still had the Bowie shirt she gifted to him. Somewhere. Pulling her further into the living room, he hoped he could divert the conversation to other things tonight. He almost forgot Robbe was trailing behind them when he called him.
“Sander?”
He whipped his head back to give him his attention. Robbe was sporting another one of his shy smiles, eyes sparkling and toes bouncing. It made his knees go weak.
“You look good in it,” he said, referring to the shirt. —
His fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, typing a string of words until he halted. He dragged both of his forefingers across his thumbs, thinking and waiting for the next words. Drawing and sketching was as easy as it comes, but for an Art History essay, suddenly everything was hard to articulate. As he licked his lips, he felt Robbe’s eyes on him.
“I know you’re staring,” Sander said as he typed one more word.
He heard his giggles from his bed where Robbe lay with his textbook open. He didn’t answer him and instead just kept his eyes down, the smirk on his face relentless.
Sander sighed. “What ?”
“You’re wearing the shirt that Noor gave you,” Robbe finally gave in. He was indeed clad in the grey shirt with a red lightning, symbolic of David Bowie, that she got him.
“Yeah, she FaceTimed me and asked to see if I actually have it,” he told him as a matter-of-fact.
“Oh, so you listen to Noor and not me?” Robbe tilted his head, pouting and giving him a look as if pretending to be offended. What was it about Robbe and his Bowie shirts?
“That’s not-“ he huffed. Then he smirked. “Here, I’ll take it off right now if you want.” Just as his fingers touched the hem of his shirt, he heard Robbe mutter,
“I didn’t say that.”
He chuckled at his reaction, all flustered and shy and though he couldn’t see the pinkish tint to his cheeks, he knew Robbe was feeling heat there.
“It’s just,” Robbe started again. “That’s a good thing Sander, that you’re getting back into Bowie,” he said.
So, this wasn’t just about his shirts after all. His fingers twisted the fabric on the hem now.
“I’m not,” said Sander.
“Why?”
“You know why,” he gave a frustrated sigh, shaking his head and wanting to dismiss the thought altogether.
Okay, so maybe Robbe wasn’t the only one with remnants of insecurities left from his past relationship.
Sander had been obsessed with David Bowie. He had found comfort in his music and he became an absolute fan of him. His music gave him an escape and took him to a whole other world, making him feel like if he had to live in his own convoluted mind, maybe Bowie could join him and he wouldn’t feel so alone.
Then, when he first started dating Britt, it had apparently become a problem. She’d been fickle around other people and it was ‘Come on, Sander, no one wants to listen to that’ with an innocent roll of her eyes, ‘Maybe you’re too obsessed?’ with a smirk and a tilt of her head, and ‘You’re going on about Bowie again?’ with a sweet kiss on the cheek, but a resigned sigh from her lips.
Sander wasn’t one to let people get to him, but six months of that, so subtly creeping up on him, had worn him down. She probably hadn’t even realized she was doing it. And now every time Bowie was mentioned he felt he had to drown the impulse to burst with excitement. He was a neutral fan. He liked Bowie a normal amount.
But he wasn’t as convincing to Robbe who had seen right through him and tried multiple attempts to make him feel the same passion for Bowie again. However, all Sander’s mind let him feel was a bittersweet aftertaste every time he had anything to do with it.
He could feel Robbe’s warm eyes on him again as he sat in silence for a while. From the corner of his eyes, he saw him chewing on his lips and deciding on what to do or what to say next.
“Can we try something?” he was surprised to hear Robbe say. Normally, he’d be showering him with comforting sentiments, but he seemed to understand that hadn’t really worked much in the past. Not when Sander had already been so set in his ways and refused to hear him out. “Can we listen to a Bowie song but just for one minute?” he asked.
Sander looked at him with his eyes hesitant yet sparking with curiosity. When Sander looked at Robbe, he saw him apprehensive about his approach, his teeth still gnawing on his bottom lip. But his brown eyes were filled with warmth, such hopefulness, softly tempting him into a wonder.
He nodded slowly.
Robbe got up from the bed and searched for Sander’s earphones. Then, he crouched down next to him, putting one earbud in his left ear and reached out to give him the right one. He searched through his phone for the Spotify playlist that Sander sent him once before and squinted his eyes as he chose a song.
“Here, I’ll stop it right after a minute,” Robbe said after setting his phone down on the desk, his finger hovering over the play button. Once he gave him the ok , Robbe pressed play and the sounds of “Heroes” drifted into his ears.
He sat there listening to the song with Robbe beside him and let the lyrics sink into his skin, having it crawl with goosebumps. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity flow through him. He was almost getting lost in it when the sound cut abruptly and it was like he was pulled out of a trance. Robbe had said one minute and he couldn’t believe that minute was over before it even began.
“See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Robbe smiled softly.
No, it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all. In fact, it was like coming home.
Still Sander couldn’t shake the feeling of doubt.
“You say that now,” he started shaking his head. “But once I start going on and on and on about-
“Sander,” Robbe interrupted firmly, grabbing his hand and trying to search for his eyes. Once he found them he said, “That has never bothered me. Ever. And it shouldn't bother you or anyone else and if it does, screw them,” his voice lilted higher in assurance.
His hand gripped his tighter, tracing the hills of his knuckles. “If I’m enough, you’re not too much,” he continued.
And yet it was just so hard to accept.
He wasn’t like Robbe where it was just easy to accept the words. Saying them to others was easy, hearing them himself was a different story.
“Maybe I just lost interest. Maybe I got caught up with uni and got busy. Have you ever thought about that?” he shrugged, still trying to play this off.
“Have you ever thought that maybe that’s so unlike you ? So unlike the Sander Driesen that doesn’t give a shit about what people think?” Robbe’s voice was even, but challenging. “You like something, you latch onto it. You want something, you go for it. I don’t know what-“ he cut himself off with a sigh. He looked to the side as he chose his words carefully. His voice softened when he looked back at him.
“Whatever she said to you, she’s wrong.”
Sander hated how true that was, that he was always one to go for what he wanted and now he wasn’t. His jaw clenched as he looked down and put a hand over top of Robbe’s. He took a while before he spoke.
“Just...just give me some time,” he whispered.
Robbe seemed to understand that. He closed his attentive eyes and nodded solemnly. He squeezed his hands one more time before getting up and trudged over toward his bed again. He laid down and went back to his books occasionally smiling at him and Sander’s heart felt it was about to burst out of his chest with how endearing this boy was. He couldn’t believe he was his friend. And while some part of him wanted more from Robbe, another part thought it completely fine if this was how it would be for the rest of their days. If he couldn’t have him one way, at the very least he could find comfort in having him this way. Still filled with warmth and care and love. -
“I don’t wanna bike back home,” said Robbe. It was nearing midnight and they’d spent the whole day in Sander’s room just catching up on school work and being as productive as they could be. Save for the odd distractions of throwing balled up paper at each other or talking about news on a show or celebrity and heading to the kitchen to get food, they’d gotten pretty far. Robbe’s books were still lying all around Sander’s bed just as he was finishing up his essay and his ears perked up at his remark.
“So, stay the night,” Sander said.
“I’ve got class tomorrow and all my clothes are back at the flat,” sighed Robbe looking at the ceiling and stretching out his arms and legs on the bed. He was still in his jeans and green sweater.
“Fuck it. Skip,” Sander’s eyes gleamed at him. Now Robbe sat up giving him a hesitant look, but it turned into a look of defeat.
“Fine. I could probably get more done that way,” he said.
There was a nerve-racking silence as they both sat unmoving and unsure what to do now. Robbe took his phone out to text Zoë and Milan and Sander sat there bumping his fists on top of one another. He didn’t know why he felt so tense now, but he figured it was probably just him. Nerves appearing out of nowhere, a churning in his stomach, it was probably just normal anxiety that Sander couldn’t really explain. He then rubbed his hands together and blew out a breath.
“I’ll get you some clothes to sleep in,” he said, getting up from his chair and cracking his spine with a much-needed stretch.
“Okay. I’m not really all that tired, though,” said Robbe as he hit send and clicked his phone closed. “Hey, Sander?”
“Yeah?”
Robbe dropped his phone in his lap and his fingers played with the collar of his sweater as he stared up at the ceiling still, his eyes darting, his teeth biting his bottom lip. “I-uh…”
Sander watched him contemplate something, though he was uncertain what. In the end, Robbe just shook his head, closing his eyes and sighing instead. “Nevermind. Thanks,” he said.
Nodding, Sander decided to let this one slide and made his way toward his closet. He was pulling out a t-shirt and sweats and his heart sped up as he realized why he was so nervous all of a sudden. The apartment was empty with just the two of them and Senne had gone out with his friends for the night. It was just the two of them. And it would be the perfect time to tell him how he really felt. But that could ruin things. Robbe had just gotten out of a relationship and he’d just gotten over said relationship. What if he wasn’t ready for another one? One with him?
Shaking his head slightly at the thoughts, he threw the clothes on the bed next to Robbe.
“I’m gonna make coffee, do you want some?” he asked and once Robbe nodded, he gave a small smile and headed for the kitchen.
He was fine on the outside while putting the filters in the coffeemaker and getting it all ready to press the button and wait for the brewed coffee, but his mind was an absolute mess of a disaster. He couldn’t really focus much and it all felt too overwhelming. Just as he put the bag of coffee grounds back into the cabinet, Robbe made his way into the kitchen with his steps light and a smile on his face. He easily hopped onto the counter beside Sander. His legs dangled with his loose jeans and his dark green sweater sat perfectly snug on his shoulders as he gripped the edge of the counter.
“Noah stopped texting me, by the way,” Robbe said in a quiet voice.
“Thank God,” Sander scoffed. “That’s good, though. That’s really good,” he said, getting milk and sugar. There was a moment of silence while Robbe tucked his neck in shyly and kept smiling almost privately to himself.
“Yeah, he uh, he stopped messaging me a while ago actually.”
“Oh,” said Sander in some sort of high pitched cadence he couldn’t recognize in himself. If he’d stopped messaging a while ago, that meant they could’ve been done with this so much earlier and Sander didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if that was the case.
“I mean, he’s not a problem anymore, but our friends were, so I didn’t really tell y-
“No, don’t worry,” Sander cut him off. “We agreed on one more week, so…”
So...now what?
The whole reason they’d been fake dating was out of the picture completely and now they just had to worry about letting their friends know this was all just a farce, a fabricated make-believe that had Sander wishing it was anything but.
“So...how do we tell them?” Robbe’s eyes glimmered at him as he nervously chewed on his lip. Sander let out a slight chuckle.
“Would it be bad if we never do?” he smirked, only half-joking. The smile on Robbe’s lips was enough to get his heart racing again.
“Might as well get pretend-married, too. We’ll be seventy-four and they’ll still think we’re an item,” he laughed.
His laugh was a shimmering giggle, slight tones of a tease somewhere in there. It made Sander’s mind spin now, wheels in motion that he couldn’t stop if he tried, reminders that he attempted to ignore. He doesn’t want this with you. He’s joking around. You’ll lose this comfort of joking around.
Every few seconds, with every movement, as he took steps to lean against the kitchen table, his mind spiraled. If you tell him, it’ll ruin everything. Everything’s so good right now. You’ll ruin it.
Still, he looked up to ask again,
“Would it be so bad?”
He was pretty sure his own eyes were on the verge of vulnerability, something on the edge of a confession. But he saw Robbe’s eyes glint with teases, flirty banter on the tip of his tongue.
“Hmmm, not for you, I’m your favourite person after all,” Robbe giggled once again and Sander wanted to shut his mind off and for once just let his heart do the talking.
“That’s true, angel, ” Sander’s lips curved up at him, calling him what he’d been told to call him.
A beat.
“Keep saying things like that and you’re gonna steal my heart,” Robbe tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded, lips mirroring his. And Sander didn’t know why, but he felt bold tonight.
“What if I want to steal your heart?” he smirked at him, eyes sparkling under the kitchen lights.
Robbe gripped the counter tighter now, averting his eyes for a second before meeting them with Sander’s. A small smile stretched across his lips.
“Then, be careful with it,” he said softly. -
The coffee finished brewing and there was a strange silence between them now. Sander couldn’t quite place it. They’d gone from being extremely emotional to flirting (?) to this fiery tension looming in the air and he wanted to just sink into himself with how quiet it was now. Robbe glancing at him every once in a while wasn’t helping either. He still sat there on the counter looking good as ever, his dark hair tousled, his eyes shining and at some point between Sander reaching into the drawer next to him for a spoon for the sugar and reaching over to the cabinet above Robbe for cups, their gazes held for a second.
He could’ve sworn Robbe’s eyes flickered to his lips for a moment and all he could think of was what kissing him right here right now would mean. But it had happened so fast when Robbe leaned in that Sander could only think one thing right before their lips met.
Ruin it. Fucking ruin him.
His lips pressed against Robbe’s, moulding into him. It was a kiss that lingered, slow and supple, one that made him lose his breath. He knewhe would literally always lose his breath when kissing him. He tried to breathe in through his nose and suddenly his heart connected to his mind and he was thinking again. Thinking about what this meant. He pulled away abruptly, leaving Robbe in a daze.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, turning away to face the kitchen table and put his hands on the wood.
“What?”
He heard the confusion in Robbe’s voice, the slight crack.
“You don’t even know what you do to me,” Sander took a shaky breath. It took moments before he turned back around to face him. “When we first started this thing, I thought I was fine. I thought I’d gotten over you and it wouldn’t be a problem. Except now…” he faltered. Fuck, he was never good with words. But he had to tell him. He took another deep breath and he looked into Robbe’s warm, brown eyes, such endearing eyes, and he told him what he’d been holding onto for so long.
“I love you, Robbe, so much, but I’m also really in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for a whole year. And you probably don’t feel the same way or maybe you’re just confused with this whole fake-dating thing or caught up in the moment, but that’s fine. Really. I just…” he sighed. “I just needed you to know.”
Robbe stared at him for some time, unable to really form words it seemed. Finally, he got his bearings and his eyes glistened.
“And you just, decided I don’t feel the same way?” he asked.
“It’s okay if you don’t,” said Sander.
Robbe slowly pulled himself off the counter and brought his hands close to his own face. Whether he was frustrated with him or Robbe himself, Sander couldn’t tell. His eyes were almost sparkling with tears as he looked up for a second with his mouth open, trying for the words to come out.
“I’ve literally been going crazy thinking about how to tell you the same. I was so sure you didn’t want me, especially not after that night at the club.”
Sander couldn’t believe this.
“I thought you were drunk,” he said quietly.
“I was,” Robbe’s lips curved. “But not one word of it was a lie.”
Robbe took a step closer and Sander had to swallow, his throat parched and dry.
“I didn’t want to take advantage of you,” Sander said looking down. Not only at the club, but in general under the circumstances of fake-dating.
Now, Robbe had taken all the steps and in a blink of an eye his hands were on his face, looking at him as Sander’s hand instinctively reached up to trail the skin on his wrist, holding it. His forehead leaned tenderly against his, brown hair caught in snow-like strands.
“You weren’t. You didn’t,” Robbe said. “I didn’t want to take advantage of you, either.”
“You didn’t,” Sander repeated back.
He could feel Robbe’s fingers on his face and neck, all the hair standing on end now, goosebumps as his face got even closer. His touch was both equally comforting and maddening.
“I’ve been trying to get closer to you, but I felt you pull away each time. I didn’t think-I didn’t know if-“
Robbe took a breath.
“I’m so in love with you, too.”
Sander felt his hands tangle in his bleached hair, the ends blackening slowly now. Somewhere in his mind, he felt it was all a dream and he was too tired and Robbe wasn’t really here, saying all this. But he felt his presence in front of him, his weight leaning heavily, his entire being slowly melting into him. They stood in silence and swayed gently to fit between each other comfortably. Robbe brushed his nose across his ever so softly, his lips just barely grazing his.
“Sander,” he whispered, his voice just a slight crack above crying out for him. And Sander wanted to disintegrate, his legs almost giving out. “If you don’t fucking kiss me right now…”
So, he kissed him.
He kissed him tongue and cheek, his jaw clenching, his eyebrows furrowing. He gave it his all into this kiss that he’d imagined a hundred times over. His hands found their way to his waist and he pulled him in even closer, practically falling backwards if it weren’t for the table keeping his balance. Their smiles and laughs interrupted the kiss, but they quickly dived back in for more. Robbe sighed into his mouth and Sander thought he’d never heard such a pleasant sound.
His heart was about to topple and spill out of his chest if it kept beating faster. He couldn’t believe he got to have Robbe like this in his arms, head tilting, letting out sighs of contentment. His hands slipped into his sweater and he trailed the curves of his back, up and up towards the blades of his shoulder and he pulled him closer, closer. It was some ethereal feeling bubbling up inside his chest, making him unable to think. Everything he ever thought ceased to be and all he could feel was this. All he could feel was real.
Everything was finally fucking real.