Deja Vu
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Specks of dust swirl in the gold of sunlight pooling through the break in his curtains. Philip watches their listless dance, listening to the hum of silence. It was a game he used to play with his mother. Day stars she used to say, smiling like she could see the universe painted across blenched wallpapers. It hadn't occurred to Philip yet, she probably was. They'd chase constellations in the lazy descent of things shriveled and dead. It was one of the first pictures he had taken.
A pale hand rises beside him, pointing towards the cavalcade of dust drowning in light. Looks like stardust, Lukas says.
Philip closes his eyes.
Series
- Part 1 of Deja Vu
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Lukas, he whispers to him. Lukas hums in response and Philip feels it reverberate through his own chest more than he hears it. His arms tighten around him.
Does it feel different to you too?
...
I almost lost you, Lukas tells him, dark eyes heavy on his. Philip cups his face in his hands, strains forward to kiss him soft like the night keeping them hidden.Series
- Part 2 of Deja Vu
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When they reach the shore of the lake they always come to when either of them need to get away, Lukas tightens his hold on Philip’s hand and pulls him snug to his side, an arm winding around his waist. Philip feels his nose brush against his hair and nuzzle behind his ear before his voice finds him, as quiet as Tivoli itself. Are you sure, Lukas asks him.
Series
- Part 3 of Deja Vu
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Lukas’ hand tightens around his on his chest. Philip looks up to see him staring at the ceiling. I’m glad you don’t have one, Lukas says as light ascends slowly between timber beams.
I don’t have what, Philip returns, watching the way Lukas sighs and his Adam’s apple moves beneath his skin.
Lukas flattens his hand over Philip’s, pressing them both lightly down on his chest. A scar.
Series
- Part 4 of Deja Vu