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Aaron’s not drunk, not even a little, but there’s this heaviness to his head that makes him feel like he’s about to melt into the mattress below. It’s nearing two am, or so the digital clock tells him, the showering rain finally calmed to a soft mist outside, spritzing the window with tiny drops. The streetlight catches it, creates a monochrome dazzlement of navy blue shapes, dark shadows clinging to the corners of his room, lighter tones brushing almost silver over the crinkles in the blankets and the tips of their noses.
They’re lying side by side, Aaron’s tinny speakers ebbing the low sounds of Oasis through the room. Beside him Robert looks like he’s sleeping but Aaron knows better. The corner of Robert’s mouth is twitching on each beat, there’s a hint of that little quirk he tries to dampen when he’s thinking of something that makes him happy, and Aaron knows that’s exactly what he’s thinking about. He knows, because he’s thinking about the same thing too.
Happiness.
Happiness is smelling Robert again for the first time in months, stale and sweaty from the train journey but still him all the same, that fancy cologne and even fancier shampoo and him, finally close again. Happiness is Robert’s nose in Aaron’s hair, breathing in, and the warm palm pressed to his back. Happiness is the warmth and comfort of Robert’s arms after months of being cold.
Aaron flicks his eyes down and dampens his own smile. Fiddles with the bottom of his t-shirt. Robert’s t-shirt.
“I can hear you fidgeting,” Robert murmurs, voice thick with sleep. His fingers collide with Aaron’s knuckles in what Aaron assumes was supposed to be a frustrated tap, but their limbs are so slow movement languid that the touch is barely there, just a soft patch of momentary warmth. Aaron’s fingers curl up a little all on their own accord, tiny tingles settling in the tips just from that barely there touch.
“‘M not fidgeting,” Aaron whispers back, just because he can. Because he wants Robert to look over and make that face; laughter held in cheeks.
“Sure,” Robert says, eyes cracking open. They’re edged silver, lashes wispy steel, wet to the touch. He’s smiling, now, that lazy-tired thing, and Aaron’s stomach twists just a little, fingers tangling up in loose threads. “You’re gonna ruin my shirt.”
“Mine now innit,” Aaron replies softly, wiggling away with a quiet protest when Robert makes a grab for his waist, fingers tickling the spot of soft flesh right against Aaron’s hip. “Don’t.”
His voice is all raspy from their earlier laughter, and Robert wriggles his fingers once more, harder this time, both of them laughing quietly.
“I’ve missed winding you up, Dingle,”
“Well I haven’t miss you at all,” Aaron says, haughty. “Not even one bit.”
“Hm. The sea of text messages on my phone tell a different story,” Robert says. Aaron can feel his cheeks growing warm, that prickling sensation crawling up his neck with intent, burning hotter with each second Robert stares at him like that, smug smile yet soft eyes. Aaron knows that Roberts just teasing, friends poking fun, but that doesn’t stop him hopin; wishing. Maybe Aaron should try harder to see it that way, too.
They’re just friends. Best friends, sure, but it ends there. Always has, always will.
But it’s been so long since he was last in Robert’s company, three months and seventeen days to be precise, and it’s been hell. He thought he was doing a good job of convincing himself that he just felt weird about leaving home, moving away from everything and everyone he knew, that once the distance finally settled between them he’d be fine with everything. He’d be fine with being just friends and eventually missing Robert wouldn’t be such a constant and crushing part of his everymday.
Apparently not.
Because here, now, the two of them alone in Aaron’s tiny student room with the rest of the world on pause, he knows he’s lying to himself forever thinking he’d get over somebody like Robert just by putting a stretch of motorway between them.
Not even oceans could settle Aaron’s aching heart.
Aaron turns his body then, knees bumping with Robert’s for an awkward moment before they figure it out, Robert’s foot brushing between Aaron’s calves. Aaron curls his fingers gently into the sheets and tries to breathe, wills himself not to react. They’re so much closer now, touching here and there and everywhere, and now the light’s brushing Robert from behind, hiding his face. All Aaron can make out is the soft shine in his eyes, the slope of his nose. He shifts himself down the pillow in the hope of hiding his own face from the moonlight.
Robert makes him feel so vulnerable sometimes, even if he doesn't mean to.
“Anyway,” Aaron starts up, “you’re telling me that my daily updates don’t make your day?” Aaron says, fake-affronted, enough to make Robert roll his eyes a little.
“You mean your updates about what item of food you’ve managed to burn today?”
“Exactly! Don’t pretend my name lighting up your phone isn't your favourite moment of every day.”
“I think you already know it is.”
But I want to hear you say it. It's not the same until you say it. Tell me I’m your favourite person.
“Whatever,” Aaron says, blanking on a witty reply because Robert’s touching him again, thumb resting delicately on the nub of Aaron’s wrist.
“Hey, you know you’re my favourite person in the whole of Yorkshire, right?”
“Just Yorkshire? I’m offended.” Aaron replies, exaggerating the hurt look on his face.
“Idiot,” Robert laughs, pushing at Aaron's shoulder. Aaron just rolls closer now, shoving at Robert too until they finally settle again. Robert’s fingers are still resting against Aaron’s hand, now finding home in the cup of Aaron’s palm, and each time he shifts the soft drag of fingers makes Aaron’s chest clench up.
He lets his eyes fall shut, edges of weariness starting to creep in now that he’s tucked up on his side. It’s still raining outside, and each beat, each pattering, lulls his eyes shut. He can hear Robert breathing next to him, and he almost considers holding his own breath just to hear it clearer. If he thought he’d get away with it he’d bottle the sound, release it when he’s missing Robert.
So, every day then , Aaron thinks.
“So, have you explored much around here yet?” Robert asks softly when Aaron is on the cusps of sleep. He starts to trace Aaron’s palm, from the gap between his thumb and forefinger down to the thin skin of his wrist. Aaron takes in a quiet breathe and keeps his eyes closed.
“A bit,” he whispers. “There’s a nice running track that follows along the lake. And this cafe at the end, bit snobby like - you’d probably love it.”
“Oi!” Robert lets out. “Let’s go there,” Robert says, and Aaron finally blinks his vision back, surprised at their close proximity. “In the morning.”
“Yeah?” Aaron hums, heart fluttering a little. “You gonna come for a run with me an’ all?”
“Course, if that's what you want to do.”
Maybe it’s silly, and juvenile, and absurd, but it’s the little things like that, the details, the fact Robert would do anything to make Aaron happy, that make him feel the most warm inside.
“Yeah,” Aaron says, nuzzling a little closer and letting out a soft puff of breath as he closes his eyes. “Sounds good.”
Anyway, I need to sus the place out, don’t I? Make sure it’s good enough for you.”
And yeah, Aaron doesn’t know what to say to that. He isn’t sure if the pang in his chest comes from being homesick and missing it all, or from knowing he’s only got Robert here for a matter of days.
It’s been a weird three months living here, three crazy, stressful, terrifyingly wonderful months, but some days he wakes up and it feels like it’s only been days, struck with the need to call his mum and ask her for help with things he doesn’t really need help with, struck with feeling like maybe he’s made a terrible mistake and he’s going to fail his degree and God, maybe he made the wrong choice, after all.
But today, for the first time, it’s felt like home. For the first time, he’s thought about this being his forever. The pub down the road becoming his local and the coffee shop owner becoming his friend.
But Aaron is wise enough to know that home isn’t a place; it’s a person.
So maybe this place does feel like home today, but he knows come next week, when Robert’s a hundred miles from him again, he’ll be thinking of home as a completely different place.
Aaron really never thought it was possible to miss somebody who’s right in front of you, somebody who’s not gone yet, but that’s what he’s feeling right now. Needing somebody so much that even their presence in the here and now doesn’t feel like enough. He just wants to know, somehow, someway, that they’ll always see each other again.
“Rob?” Aaron whispers, because he’s gone suspiciously quiet, hands relaxed between them.
“Mm,” Robert hums, lashes shifting.
The rain is picking up again. Outside, a lone car sweeps down the street, a brief flash of yellow light that jumps in through the window like a spike in a pulse, sudden and bright.
“I’ve really missed you,” Aaron admits, the vulnerability of the night and tiredness cracking him open, turned inside out like a raw nerve. “So fucking much.”
Robert finally looks at him again then, a slow, sleepy sweep of his lashes as looks up at Aaron quietly. And, God, the last thing Aaron wants is to look desperate, or to make Robert feel guilty, this was all his doing afterall. And now Aaron can just feel his mood gradually crashing. The peak of joy he felt when he lept into Robert’s arms at the train station has melted, caught on a glint of sun, and the heavy, dark blue bulb that’s below the surface is trying to tilt up and show its face.
For months Aaron’s been pinning up pictures on the walls and scrolling aimlessly through his phone and wondering if this is really it, if he’s been destined to just love Robert forever, from anywhere, any distance, to just have this eternal thudding ache so deep in his chest to be near another person. To hope they might one day feel that way, too.
They were never meant to be two ships passing in the night. They’ve never been like that, and Aaron doesn’t want them to ever become those people. Glossing over each other with each visit, slowly drifting further and further apart each time until they’re just specks across full land.
“Don’t. You’ll make me cry,” Robert says, teasing, but Aaron can hear it, that tight gruffness to Robert’s voice that he always puts on when he doesn’t want Aaron, or anyone, to see him upset.
“I think I might’ve missed you more than I’ve been missing me Mum’s Sunday roasts every week,” Aaron says, laughing weakly.
Robert’s laughter is a burst, something so bright that reminds Aaron being a boy, of living next door to the slightly older boy, of posting notes through the gap in the fence, of purposely kicking the football over into the Sugden’s garden in excuse to speak to Robert, of riding their bikes down the hill on the corner and scraping their knees. Of growing up and gradually calving out these spaces for each other in their chests, little homes to nestle into.
“Well you must’ve missed me a hell of a lot then, because I’ve seen you eat one of your Mum’s famous roast. I never knew it was humanly possible for someone to eat so much food in such little time,” Robert says. “You’re a gannet, mate.”
They laugh for so long then, these muffled giggles, and Robert still hasn’t let up his hold on Aaron’s wrist, fingertips climbing up the skin of his forearms, these tiny firecracker touches. And, it’s just - it’s so much, and Aaron just has to be a little closer, has to let himself tip forward so their foreheads nudge, so dark inside that all Aaron has now is touch and smell.
Robert’s laughter fades suddenly, and then there’s a stillness, Aaron staring down at the wet of Robert’s lip, the softest silver glint caught there, and the speakers are playing Talk Tonight. Their faces are so close, noses bumping, the brush of a cheek, and Aaron sucks in a tiny breath and gently, finally, lets himself lean in.
It’s barely a whisper of a touch, but he hears Robert inhale, feels him tense as their mouths softly brush.
I wanna talk tonight.
About how you saved my life.
Aaron pulls back, this terrible feeling flushing down his entire body like a rush of ice water.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he babbles, too loud in their little bubble. “Rob - I. I didn’t mean to - I’m so - so sorry.”
“Aaron,” Robert says, hoarse. His hand finds Aaron’s cheek, hot to the touch, then slips back into his hair. “Come here, yeah?”
“I - I can't -“
“Sh,” Robert whispers, and Aaron feels it against his bottom lip, this barely there buzz. His entire face feels pink, like each individual peach fuzz hair is sensitive to touch, burning. “I’m not angry at you, ya know?”
“You’re not?”
“No. Of course not, idiot.” Robert laughs, and yeah, Aaron’s glad he can find some light in this whole embarrassing situation. “Just - just come here.”
Their mouths touch again, and it’s molten, soft and gentle and cautious, Aaron’s bottom lip is caught tentatively between Robert’s and he has to let out a shudder of a breath, toes curling up so hard it hurts as Robert’s fingers gradually start to twist in his hair, pulling him closer.
Aaron feels out of body, like he can register each touch and press, he can hear the rain tapping light fingers on the window and the rasp of Robert’s breathing but it doesn’t feel real. It can’t be real.
“Rob,” Aaron breathes again, trying to ground himself. He finds Robert’s hip, feels brave enough to slip his thumb under his shirt and touch his skin, and it’s like that alone is enough of a spark to hold the bed up in a gulf of flames. Robert’s fingers curl around Aaron’s neck as he gently lowers Aaron back into the pillows, the kiss takes a different turn then, it’s wetter, hotter, their mouths slotted together so perfectly, so intensely. Aaron tugs at Robert’s shirt gently, so overwhelmed his chest feels like it might burst when Robert brushes at his hair, over and over, this tender touch that before has always been so friendly, but now the comfort of it is new; intoxicating.
“How long?” Robert says as they part to breathe, just to breathe, their faces still pressed up close. Robert is so warm, burning up under Aaron’s light touch, the skim of his palms over broad shoulders.
“So long,” Aaron says thickly, body shifting up when Robert kisses him firmly, thumb against Aaron’s stubbled jaw to part his mouth. “So fucking long.”
“Me too, Aaron.”
“Really?” Aaron asks, unable to hide the sheer shook from his voice.
“Yeah. Forever, really.”
Aaron hates the word forever. It petrifies him that anything in his life may be permanent - a constant. But right here, with Robert’s body pressed so closely that they’re almost one, he think forever may be his favourite word.
“I’m sorry,” Robert breathes then, the words muffled by another kiss.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Aaron shushes him, tries to pull him closer again with a nudge to his hip, but Robert shakes his head lightly and just stares down at Aaron in the dark, fingers in his hair. “Rob? What’s up?”
“Why did it take you leaving to make me realise I don’t wanna be without you,” Robert says tightly, shaking his head at himself. “We could have had so much more time. We could be-”
“No, don’t so that, okay? We both could have but didn’t. What matters is we have now,” Aaron says, because he’s spent enough time worrying about it for the both of them. In the now, their mouths both shiny, bodies slotted so warm and close, and that’s all Aaron wants to think about. Them, together, comfortable and close in a way they’ve never been before. “I just want this. You. Always”
“I’m here,” Robert whispers, the words lost against Aaron’s jaw, wet kisses to his neck, back up to his waiting mouth. They both inhale, feet dragging soft in the sheets as they shift. “I’ve got you, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Aaron nods. He smooths his hands up under Robert’s shirt, and he has to close his eyes at how warm he is, how familiar he smells, how good it feels. “You’ve always had me.”
“Is now a good time to tell you I think you’re beautiful? Bloody gorgeous, actually.” Robert says with this glint to his eyes. “And I don’t want to go home, not ever.”
“Stay, then,” Aaron says, however superfluous a thing to say it may be. “Stay another week.”
“I can’t,” Robert sighs, sighs right against Aaron’s parted mouth. “I’ve got work.”
Home can be here. Right here with me, that spot in my chest. Aaron can’t say it, he won’t. He isn’t cruel enough to.
“Then stop talking and kiss me some more,” he says instead, trying for a smile. Robert blinks down at him, that syrupy grin slowly pulling up at his cheeks, and it’s enough to dissipate the small knot of sadness that’s trying to grow in Aaron’s chest, that knowing feeling that it’s going to hurt even more saying goodbye this time than it did the last.
“I like your thinking, Dingle,” Robert says, drawing a lazy circle against the side of Aaron’s hip with light fingers.
Robert nudges their noses together first, and it’s such a soft gesture, it has Aaron melting back a little more in the pillows, urging Robert to follow him down. “Think you’ve got some lost time to make up for.”
“Oh?” Robert says, but his indifference is lost in his smile, in the slow, wet kiss he parts Aaron’s mouth with. “You think so?”
“I know so,” Robert says, and he laughs when Aaron nips gently at his neck, fingers tucking into his sides. “Come here, c’mon.”
“Patience,” Robert teas. He pulls back a little and brushes a wayward curl off Aaron’s forehead. “I don’t wanna forget a single second of this.”
Aaron blinks up at him. They stare at each other for a moment, and he just lets it rush over him, lets himself go. He tells himself to stop thinking, to stop worrying, to put himself in the here and now; not tomorrow, not when they have to say goodbye, when he knows he’ll cry at the airport and all the way home, when he’ll miss Robert so much it’ll make his heart ache.
Right now he’s got to let himself be happy. Robert’s mouth twitches against his own and Aaron knows that he’s happy, too.
“I love you, Robert Sugden.”
“I love you more, Aaron Dingle.”
They’ll work it out. They always do.