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Julian is cinnamon and gingerbread and soft on the eyes; he's all pouty lips and toffee-coloured gazes, heavy lidded and determined. He spends his lunchtimes exchanging fuck-me eyes with Fab across the canteen, but vehemently denies it until Fab, like clockwork, walks past and trails his hand along the back of Julian's neck, prompting silence and hitched breaths, clumsy fingers and consent.
Fab, maybe in contrast or comparison, is more like chocolate; smooth and desirable, everyone's guilty pleasure, but maybe only for Julian and his ever-hungry eyes. He shares his time between girls and family and boys and gin and teasing Julian Casablancas - maybe because he's bored, or maybe because he likes the way Julian's breath hitches and his perfect little disinterested cliché seems to shatter under even the slightest of attention.
It had all started, of course, when Julian found himself, for the first time, hungry instead of thirsty.
Fab happens upon it on Monday in the canteen, surrounded by people he has no strong feelings for. There's shouting and laughing, fighting and cursing, and in the midst of it all - when Fab happens upon it - he can see Julian Casablancas across the room, head cocked, gazing at him impassively. And in the middle of the shouting and laughing, cursing and fighting, Fab smirks and he gets to see red bloom across Julian's coffee cheeks, like raspberry upon butterscotch, toffee-coloured eyes skidding away and crashing back on themselves.
Monday finds Julian hungry instead of thirsty, and Fab, quite suddenly, engrossed.
On Tuesday morning, Julian doesn't come to school and no-one particularly notices. He shadows Sam until lunch, palms sweaty as Sam frowns at him over his canvas, and he gets sent back in time to see Fab stub out a cigarette and lead a butterscotch-skinned girl into the toilets. Julian smiles, waves to Nikolai, and leaves. There's music somewhere in there, as there always is, and so - and so Julian takes what he can get, and with clumsy fingers, consenting, a practical mind, buries himself back behind Sam's canvases and paints his own picture, painting with honeys and ambers, the exact memory of gin and treacle.
Wednesday is really no different from Tuesday, but this time Julian has cigarettes and gin and that makes all the difference. He's extra-friendly and so discovers himself surrounded by people - blurs of colour, dull and flat and amicable. Fab smiles at him when he passes him in the hall, and Julian stumbles, clumsy fingers and feet and Fab smiles wider, presses two fingers into Julian's neck as he helps him up. It scorches him, roasts him, sweetens him. It's not quite fuck-me eyes yet, but Julian's mind teeters and he lets the colours dazzle.
When Julian gets home on Wednesday, Sam makes him a sandwich, brow furrowed once more, lips pursed. Julian hadn't mentioned he was starving, but he can't seem to keep the sandwich down.
On Thursday, Fab sees Julian's wide, toffee-coloured eyes and wistful raspberry smile and it's not directed at him. This, he guesses, is how he finds himself getting acquainted with Juliet Joslin behind the gym. She likes Julian better, and they both pretend not to be thinking of caramel and fudge when Fab comes violently, embarrassingly, and finally. Afterwards he kisses her cheek and for a second, Fab swears he sees her smile.
Turning around, he spots Julian in the distance, mind teetering, and he grins at the havoc he's created. Violently, embarrassingly, finally, satisfied.
Friday arrives too soon for Julian, and too late for Fab, and so he takes control. He corners Julian in the toilets and shows the huge, toffee-coloured eyes and the boy that's lurking behind them what chocolate tastes like. It's not quite fuck-me eyes yet - it is so much better. Julian isn't hungry anymore.