Work Text:
It feels like forever since they last saw each other, since their hands last connected, fingers tying together with warmth spreading like fire, since their eyes last caught the other staring in pure adoration. It feels like forever since Win left to pursue his singing career.
Tops missed him like hell. He missed the mornings when he would walk down the stairs and almost fall over Win doing push ups on the second to last step, he missed making them both meals, he missed hearing Win play - though sometimes it would drive Tops up the wall hearing the same notes on loop - Win’s voice brought him so much comfort; more than he’d like to admit. He missed the late evenings they would spend watching movies, cuddled together beneath a blanket and the nights they would spend in the same bed - though that had begun long before they were even a couple; Win had trouble sleeping, usually down to stress, so it wasn’t uncommon to find him in Tops’ bed, resting his head on Tops’ chest, long hair tickling Tops’ chin while Win listened to his heartbeat and inevitably fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.
Tops missed him.
Win did his best to stay in contact; texting Tops each morning just after he woke up - the messages would often appear as if he were drunk; letters all over the place and Tops would sometimes struggle to decipher their meaning, then a text was sent before he went to bed. They would talk about their days, Tops was always interested in what Win was eating, often scolding him for not eating properly and Win was curious to how Tops’ family restaurant was going.
However it was getting difficult. Win had several performances booked and they weren’t small venues like he was used to and that terrified him. Win wanted nothing more than to climb into Tops’ bed and be encased within his warm arms. But instead, he sat on the cheap hotel bed, his guitar over his lap as he began to rehearse. He knew this song like the back of his hand. It had been one he had written before he and Tops first kissed. He remembers the heavy feelings devouring him as he etched words into the napkin the bartender had provided him. Win needed to tell Tops, he thought he might explode if he couldn’t confess. So, naturally, as a talented songwriter, he began to compose a song. Then he would practice it day in and day out until it was perfect. He had then performed it to Tops, slightly tipsy - he needed the confidence - and as he sang each word, Tops watched him idly. And before he even finished, Tops was pulling him in for a kiss. Their lips meeting, the softest touch of want and desire.
Win feels his eyes well up. He’s nervous, he misses Tops, he wishes he had told him how much he loved him, he wants to feel that homely warmth that hotels couldn’t provide him. And as he reaches for his phone, looking at his lock screen - a picture of them both smiling - a tear escapes his eye and cascades down his cheek. He would wipe it away but now that he’s begun to cry, there would be no stopping the flooding tears. He removes the guitar from his lap, placing it on the floor and leaning back into the covers. His phone is still in his hand and he goes to unlock it but he can’t. Win knows that as soon as he sends Tops a message, he’ll reply but he can’t bring himself to. So instead, he drops his phone to the floor, regretting doing so when he hears the landing of it but he doesn’t bother to make sure it’s not cracked, he rolls over and curls up as tight as he can. His arms are tied around his legs in a fetal position and it’s almost childlike, he’s like a homesick kid who misses his parents but can’t do much about it.
*
The following week is an utter nightmare. Win loves performing, he really does but when the audience is a few more than his usual fifty to sixty, Win feels as if the world is crashing down on him. All eyes are glued to him, all ears listening to every word that comes out of his mouth and he almost couldn’t stand it. But then he would think of Tops; imagine he was in the audience, cheering him on and giving him that warm, encouraging smile. It seems to help and as the shows progress, they’re a lot less terrifying. He learns to really enjoy them; communicating with the audience and encouraging them to sway their arms in time with his music. And when he brings out the stool and his guitar, ready to perform an acoustic song, he doesn’t worry about not hitting the right notes, instead he embraces every second of it.
Then, finally, the last show is performed and he’s just about ready to collapse. The journey back to the hotel is quiet, he’s almost asleep, letting the tiredness take over but before he can allow himself to sleep, his manager looks over to him and says in an almost hushed voice, “there’s a club on the way home, they’d like you to perform if you’re up for it?” Win rolls his head to face his manager, she was possibly one of the nicest managers Win had ever come across; she was so caring and easy gowing, he sometimes forgot she was his manager and not just one of his friends.
“When?” He’d be up for it, there’s no doubt about it. It was a rarity for Win to decline a small show - they were always fun, he could really get in with the audience and those types of venues were more likely to want him back.
“Tomorrow. You could invite Tops?” She says, steering them into the hotel’s car park. Win nods his head. It was strange, in all the time Win had been travelling around for shows, Tops hadn’t been to a single one. He supposes that’s his fault; he was supposed to invite Tops but he felt bad dragging him all the way out just to see him play in something larger than their living room.
*
He ends up sending a message a little after nine in the morning - he was going to do it last night but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light. He hoped he wasn’t too late; the show would begin in a few hours and he could only pray that Tops would make it.
One hour remained before the show was set to begin. There was no response from Tops and Win was beginning to think he was ignoring him - there was no reason for this but Win couldn’t help but let the derogative thoughts consume him. He stares at his hands while his manager nags at him; she’s told him several times to focus but he simply can’t. His mind won’t hold the thought of his performance, or anything for that matter. The only thing channeling through his mind is Tops. Tops and his smile. Tops and his calming voice. Tops and his needed presence.
Half an hour until the show, still no response from Tops. Win’s now pacing in the small space that is his dressing room. His teeth continue to nip at his lower lip, almost causing it to bleed. “Win! Stop, you’re going to exhaust yourself before you’ve even got on stage.” His manager places a hand on his shoulder, freezing him. Win looks at her, he can see her nerves though they’re nothing compared to how he’s feeling. Surely she can see that. “You’re going to be fine. You’ve played here before.” She reminds him. There’s a small smile on her face, an encouraging twitch in her lips that does little to aid Win’s shaking.
“I know. I just really want to see him.” Win knows his eyes are beginning to well up with tears and he tries his best to will them away but he can’t. His manager’s expression softens almost to the point Win thinks she’s about to cry but not a single tear falls, instead she’s stretching out her arms and pulling him in. It’s motherly and warm. Win’s head is on her shoulder, hidden into the yellow fabric of her top. He feels her hands rub into his back and she’s hushing him. Eventually, after what feels like an hour, he stands back. A hand reaching to wipe away the tears. He probably looks like a mess, red eyes and rosy cheeks but he feels slightly better.
*
He stands next to the stage, waiting for the cue to go on. In one hand, he holds his guitar, the strap securely around his neck while the other switches between picking at his lip and grooming through his hair. Then just as his manager steps next to him, a gentle smile on her face he feels his phone vibrate against his leg. Win contemplates ignoring it, wanting to listen to his manager but they both exchange the same look. Just in case it’s him. He slowly removes his phone from his jean pocket and turns the screen towards him.
TOPS: i’m here
Win’s heart is pounding in his chest, his lips are curving into a smile and he’s unsure if he’s now floating. It feels almost surreal; he was so sure Tops wasn’t coming but he was. He was somewhere in the audience and as his manager sends him onto the stage, Win’s glancing over the crowd. Suddenly the world’s entire population is under the same roof and Win can’t help but stare; jumping between faces. As he finds the ‘x’ taped on the floor and the microphone waiting for him to adjust, he spots him. Tops is standing almost central, he’s crammed between two ladies who are excitedly jumping and occasionally bump his shoulders. They manage to make eye contact; Tops beaming at him and Win reciprocating the look. Everyone seems to disappear then, it’s only Win and Tops in the room.
Win takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He’s afraid he’ll lose sight of Tops but he can’t concentrate. The audience falls silent as he brings the microphone closer to him. “Hello, guys. It’s great to see you! I hope you enjoy the show!” He looks from side to side, taking in everything. The lights are dimly set, the atmosphere is warm and friendly - just how he likes it - and as he begins to let his lyrics fall out of his mouth, he’s almost certain he’s in heaven.
Throughout the entire performance his eyes consistently wandered to meet Tops’. It’s almost lustful and Win hadn’t quite realised how much he missed seeing that man’s face. Similarly Tops had been in an utter daze when he saw Win walk on stage. He looked incredibly handsome with his matching jean jacket and trousers and his hair that was much longer than it was when they said their goodbyes. Tops couldn’t wait to run his fingers through it.
At some point, he had managed to push his way through the crowd and neared the stage, Win looked even more incredible here. The lights casted welcoming shadows over his face and all Tops wanted to do was hold him. Despite being entirely unaware of Win’s previous meltdown, Tops just wants to hold his boyfriend. There was something behind those gleeful eyes, a look that Tops had rarely seen - it was a longingful look, a wanting glance that Tops felt somewhat guilty for. The last time he had seen that look was just before Win left, they had spent the night crying together in each other’s arms and Tops wished he had left with Win; there wasn’t much stopping him, only his family and their restaurant. He supposes that’s what kept him back and perhaps the knowledge that Win would return one day, he had to.
“Thank you everyone for coming!” Win says, holding the mic close to him as he steps forward. “I want to say a special thank you to someone very dear to me,” Win looks down to meet Tops’ eyes and there’s a smirk on his face. “Thank you, Tops, for coming tonight.” It’s short but Tops doesn’t care. He stretches an arm out to Win, who happily wraps a hand around his own. The feeling is almost foreign. Their hands hadn't as much as grazed in the past few months and now they were locking their fingers together. Tops lips begin to move without a filter and he’s mouthing the words.
“I love you.” Win’s expression softens even more as he tries to hide the gigantic smile creeping onto his face.
“I love you, too.”
*
“You were incredible up there!” Tops bounces next to Win as they walk to the carpark. Their hands are tied together and their connection is stronger than it ever was before.
“Yeah, Win you killed it!” His manager stands on the other side of him. She places a hand on his shoulder, congratulating him.
“Thanks, guys.” His eyes thank his manager first before craning his neck to face Tops. They’re merely inches away now and Win leans forward, just enough to nuzzle their noses together.
“So can you come home now?” Tops asks, looking at Win with pleading eyes. He glances over to his manager despite knowing the answer.
“Yes, yes I can.” There’s a burst of laughter then as they near their cars.
“I’ll drive you home then.”
*
When they arrive home, the sky’s a dark canvas, the stars sparkling above them. They’re both carrying Win’s luggage and Tops is convinced it’s doubled in size. But eventually, everything is unloaded and now their living room looks like a mess but that’s a job for the following morning. They’re about to head upstairs, both ready for bed and wanting nothing more than that warmth and comfort only Tops’ bed could bring them, when Win’s hand tugs at Tops’ wrist. It pulls the man back and he’s confused as to the sudden gesture. Win keeps the man close to him as he looks at Tops, taking in every detail he had missed, bathing in Tops’ beauty. Tops is about to speak up, unsure of what Win is doing but before he can get a single word in, Win’s leaning forward and pressing his lips against Tops’. It’s soft and careful. It’s like their first kiss only they’re both so much more certain and in love. Tops’ arms sneak around Win’s waist and pull him closer, Win copies him by tying his hands behind Tops’ neck. Their lips move together, their heads tilting in opposite directions to deepen the kiss. They both missed this. They missed this so much. And it was evident from the way Win’s hands were grabbing at Tops’ body; wandering and cascading down his sides. Tops reached to run his fingers through Win’s hair and a small noise escaped Win’s mouth at the slight tugging.
They pull back a few moments later, both with rosey cheeks and lips. They’re staring deeply into one another’s eyes and the lustful glint is still there but it’s laced with love and devotion. “I missed you,” Tops is the first to say it. He places an even softer kiss to Win’s forehead before adding, “so much.” Win feels his heart practically explode.
“I missed you more!” He says with a playful smile to which Tops reciprocates the look and contradicts him.
“No! I missed you more!” They’re laughing at one another as Win flings an arm over his shoulders, pulling him close and leading them to the stairs.
“Let's go to bed.” And as he says that, he wriggles his eyebrows and that sends the both of them into another wave of laughter.