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In any good love story, the couple that spends the entire book getting together moves together with such ease. Their palms were made to fit together, when one leaned for a kiss the other was already there, not wanting to let go, bodies made for one another not sexually, just, for the sake of simple intimacy. In life and death Kravitz ate these descriptions up and the mere idea of finding someone like that. A literal other half who would make touching feel less awkward, who wouldn’t comment on how cold his undead body is at a glance. With smiling eyes and laughter they could communicate with some silent language that meaningful lovers seem to have in the novels he picks up. His own long standing search for love could be psychoanalyzed in so many ways, but this is just about contact with another being. He daydreamed of such a closeness with someone so dear to him.
Although loving Taako with all of his unbeating heart, he learns quickly that they are not characters in a novel.
The first time a living person, someone he’s not dating yet, touches his hand he gets the dreaded, “ Oh that, that’s a clammy one .” It cuts deeper than any physical weapon could harm him but it’s fine! Not a big deal, he can put it behind him. After all, in contrast, Taako had felt like a fireball and despite wanting to view the feeling as romantic and desirable in hindsight, it became harder to ignore the truth; it was not comfortable.
Because on the second date, and third, going on forth, he tries so hard to find that feeling. He loves Taako, so it should be a given, right? When he pulls gloves off to hold his hand or arms wrap around his waist to lean in for a hug it should be easy. It’s not as though he remains passive in this, either; he tries to steal touches and kisses wherever he can. Yet everything is strained. Despite the warmth flooding his chest when he so much as looks at the elf, touching is strange. Even when he’s warmer the sensation is almost overwhelming but he can’t bring himself to push Taako away. They’re dating, it’s what boyfriends do. He just needs to relax more, or try harder.
So that’s what he does, pushing past any discomfort that arises and trying to put forth just as much effort as Taako. It goes as far as his room, back on the moon base one night, into a makeout session leaned against the wall that teeters on sending Kravitz into a fucking panic attack if he doesn’t get space.
For all of his efforts he feels like he’s about to topple over and that isn’t a good look in front of his boyfriend.
Finally he places a hand between them on Taako’s chest, moving him back with the utmost care and an apologetic look. “Hey, um, do you mind if we hold on, a moment?” Though feeling like non-existent organs are going to tear themselves apart from anxiety, his tone is even. Judging by the look on his boyfriend’s face, his expression is more of a giveaway.
“Uh, yeah, I mean - sure, Krav. Something wrong..?” The worry that seeps into his tone is almost enough to make Kravitz say oh never mind forget I said anything!
There shouldn’t be anything wrong, after all. Everything up to that part, the groping and touching and all, it should have felt perfectly fine. He could spend every moment just talking to him and wax poetic about how alive he feels in the elf’s company, that he’s been alive so long and truly never met someone that so quickly made themselves a part of his life. He wants this to be as perfect as his stupid books. But this isn’t a book. Taako isn’t some character dreamed by a lonely author, and neither is Kravitz. They’re death, and an elf with a bizarre history of dying but not being dead, standing thousands of feet in the air on a second moon, trying to hide from roommates who don’t know the same man that tried to kill them and blew off one of their arms is over. It’s too stupid to be in a book. More importantly, unlike in his fiction, Kravitz can’t communicate every raw feeling with a look. He can’t communicate anything with his look besides being uncomfortable.
All these thoughts culminate into firm resolve, even as anxiety still stirs his chest.
“I mean - not with you! You haven’t done anything wrong,” he says first, before stammering, “Um, maybe we could just, sit down. And talk. It’s not bad, I promise! This is all me - I swear.”
Taako doesn’t look worried, thankfully. Just confused. “Okaaay, uh, sure. Yeah, we can hang out and chat,” he replies after a short pause and sort of leads Kravitz to sit next to him, backs on the headboard, with a view of the window curving next to his bed. By now he’s kind of used to things more like this; holding hands, brushing shoulders slightly. Not too much, just enough to feel him. Once they’re settled and he takes too long to explain, Taako gently prompts, “So? What’s up, babe?”
“Well. Uh, so, the thing is.” A pause again while he keeps his eyes on his lap, hands fidgeting with buttons on his cuffs. “So I’ve mentioned it’s been a thousand years or so working for the Raven Queen, right? And, for the most part it’s been a pretty, solitary thing. I mean you’re not the first person I’ve dated post-death - the most important by far, of course, you know. I’ve told you how much you mean to me and how much I love you and I look forward to every moment we get to spend together and -”
“Yes, yes, I’m gay too and also love me. And you. But that doesn’t sound like your point?”
Kravitz swallows and nods. “You would be right. Um, I care about you a lot. But I’m sort of...it’s been awhile since I’ve been so close to someone. A long , long time, I mean. And - close as in, physically, touching, and things that go with it.” Immediately he feels Taako shift to put a little space between them, and before a reply can slip in he adds, “Not that we can’t touch! That’s not - I don’t mean that, really, that’s not what I want you to think. You’re my boyfriend and I know you’re probably used to being - I don’t know, really, hands on? And I want to be too, so badly Taako, and I’ve been trying but it’s just - it’s overwhelming sometimes and I don’t want to freak out eventually and make you feel like it’s your fault...or..I don’t know..” he runs out of steam when realizing that Taako’s expression isn’t that of anger or disappointment. If anything he looks...relieved?
In fact he gives a breathy laugh and almost smiles as he replies, “ Fuck , Krav, I wish you’d said something sooner, I’m in the same fuckin’ boat over here.”
Kravitz can only blink back at him. “You’re...what?”
“I thought you were the one that wanted to be all touchy feely. Like, I’m not gonna delve into my tragic backstory right this second but let’s just say I know what you mean, dude. It’s fucking weird to have someone's hands all over and it’s like, wow! This should be great! Except I feel like I’m going to die.”
“Exactly!” Relief hits him like a wave and before he can stop himself he’s laughing out loud, joined in by Taako. “Oh my gods ...Taako, I love you, but we’re so stupid.”
“Yeah we sure fuckin’ are, babe.”
They end up staying like that, giggling and leaning into each other over sharing something without realizing it, and being too stubborn to admit to. And it’s, nice. For the first time there’s no worry clinging to the back of his mind. Just like that they know that they don’t have to expect anything from each other. When they end up bumping noses and kissing he feels a lightness that keeps the grin on his face even when they move apart, comfortably close and distant at the same time.
“So, no more touching unless you want to,” Kravitz says.
“As long as you’re cool with it too,” Taako finishes.
Maybe they don’t fit together perfectly physically, because no one is made that way. But they can unravel the web of each other and weave them together into something messy and new. To Kravitz that’s better than any romantic novel.