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Robbe stands in front of the mirror, eyes critical as he assesses the forest green shirt, plucking at the collar that’s digging uncomfortably into his neck. It’s not like the shirt is ugly; the problem is that it’s not and that it looks a bit too formal. But then again, Robbe wouldn’t know for sure since he’s never been on a real date before. He’s feeling a bit helpless in that area, to be honest.
He has a half a mind to text the boys and ask for advice, but just as the thought passes his brain he scoffs because it’s just silly; the only thing he would gain from doing that would be merciless teasing for weeks on end. Thanks, but no thanks.
Sighing, he glances in the direction of the hall, debating with himself whether asking for Zoe’s opinion is the right option here, but deep down he knows that otherwise, he’s gonna be standing i front of that mirror agonizing over his appearance for the next twenty minutes if someone doesn’t talk some sense into him.
The way Zoe’s eyes widen in surprise when he enters her room lets him know that yes, he is overdressed.
“Too much?” He scrunches up his face, feeling a bit self-conscious.
“Well, I mean... you look really nice, but, um, maybe go for a t-shirt instead?” Zoe suggests, looking almost apologetic. Robbe hovers in the threshold, still not totally convinced.
“Yeah?”
“You clearly feel uncomfortable in that, plus he’s not taking you to an expensive restaurant or something so I think you should just go for chill,” she pauses, trying to remember something. “That pink t-shirt you have? You look really cute in it! You should wear that.”
“I don’t wanna look cute, Zoe, I wanna look hot,” Robbe blurts out, pink blooming on his cheeks when Zoe coos at him in that annoying way she always does and he immediately covers his face. “Stop .”
She giggles at his embarrassment, patting his arm consolingly as she pretends to give him a once over. “You do look hot, no matter what shirt you’re wearing.”
“Yuck, that sounds weird coming from you.” Robbe fake-gags and gets a smack on his chest. “I’m outta here, thanks.” Before he manages to close the door, Zoe catches his arm and shoots him a comforting smile.
“And calm down. He’s already into you, he won’t care what you’re wearing, Robbe.”
It’s easier said than done. Ever since he woke up, he’s been a giddy, anxious, yet excited mess, butterflies flying rampant in his stomach, fingers drumming absent-mindedly on the nearest surface, and he’s-
Well.
He’s been kinda freaking out.
Somehow (he has no idea how), he managed to keep his cool during that faithful afternoon a week ago when a boy came up to him with a dumb YouTube challenge, he’d even call himself flirty and bold.
He’s not so sure he’ll be able to provide a repeat performance tonight. Not with that particular charming smile directed at him, almost making him whimper because no one should have the right to be that handsome. At the time, the infatuation was laced with disappointment and anger so Robbe guesses that’s what helped him keep his cool.
Only to melt into a pile of goo minutes later when Sander’s cheeks flushed red in embarrassment over what popped on his phone screen.
Bambi eyes
Robbe smiles at the memory, trying to keep it small and not look like a psychopath that’s grinning to himself for no reason. It proves to be difficult though, those damn butterflies not easing out when an image of Sander combing his fingers through his longish bleached strands pops into his mind, uninvited, but oh so welcome if Robbe’s being honest.
Back in his bedroom, he fishes out the pink t-shirt from the drawer, sending a thank you to the past Robbe who finally did his laundry last Wednesday. His comfort level is up immediately after he takes the green shirt off and pulls the pink one over his head; the material doesn’t dig in anywhere, and it’s just... him. He doesn’t feel like a clown anymore.
A quick look at his watch and he curses under his breath. If he doesn’t want to be late, he needs to leave in five minutes tops. It’s probably better this way since it means less time for freaking out. Once he sprays a bit of cologne on his clothes and grabs his wallet, he gives himself one last look in the mirror, fingers attempting to tame his curls at least a little, but it proves to be a lost cause. As usual. His hair just has a mind of its own. He doesn’t let himself obsess too much about it though, and as he closes the door behind the flatshare his mind wanders to two weekends ago, the corners of his lips twitching on their own.
“You look like an angel with those curls. I should get you a halo or s’mthing.”
He’s in his personal space all of a sudden and as Sander’s breath grazes his face, Robbe’s own breath stutters, but the freakout has no time to breakthrough on his features because Sander’s eyes swivel up, glazed with alcohol as he tugs gently at one of the brown strands.
“I really like ‘em, you know? They’re so... silky. And pretty.” A lightbulb goes on in his head, his lips widening in a smile. “You’re so pretty.”
Drunken confessions never really seemed particularly sweet to him, but with Sander gazing at him like he hung the moon and the stars, his jaw slightly open as if in wonder, it was difficult for Robbe to feel anything else than fondness, heart fluttering in his chest, so enamoured with the boy with white hair that it would have blushed if it could.
That white hair and green eyes have been the main stars of his dreams ever since.
Okay. That’s not entirely true. There were glimpses before that. After all, Sander had been the first thing he noticed at the Academie. But at the time, he had only been his looks to Robbe, golden skin and intriguing smirks, face scattered with moles and legs for days.
And lips. Lips that looked soft like a rose petal.
He had dreamed about those lips a lot then.
He still can’t believe his brain holds the memory of kissing them with his own.
Again. Peak boldness for him.
And yet, he’s so nervous now, walking fast-paced to the nearest tram stop, praying his chaotic energy won’t make him look like an idiot once he’s faced with Sander again. His only saving grace, the only reason the full on freakout seems to be kept at bay is the reminder that even though Sander is way out of his league, he’s also a bit of a dork, and that honestly makes Robbe feel better.
He’s a hot dork though.
But a dork nonetheless.
Deep down Robbe hopes he’s gonna become his dork.
The city passes behind the window in a whirlwind of colors, creating the perfect background for him to get lost in his thoughts, daydreaming to the sounds of the playlist crafted specifically for him, courtesy of Sander. As Bowie sings about absolute beginners, a notification ping pulls him back from his musings, lips smiling on their own when he sees Sander posted a photo.
And what a photo it is, fuck.
A part of his face, edges smudged with shadows leaving only his eye in focus, dark eyebrow curtained a little with wet bleached strands, everything in black and white aesthetics because Sander rarely does colors, Robbe came to find out.
With eyes completely open
But nervous all the same
He wonders if the lyrics relate to their date or it’s just his wishful thinking.
Quick fingers like the photo and then take a screenshot of his own Spotify to send it to him. Robbe doesn’t have to wait long for the reply, a string of “🤯” blowing up his phone followed by “I’m so proud 🤧”, which again confirms that Sander is, indeed, a dork.
Robbe shoots him a “😂” and scrolls up a bit to check the address again.
Robbe: I watched the video
It was cool 😎
Sander: Oh yeah?
But somebody cut me out of it 🤔🙄
I told them to, it was too personal 😌
Oh 🙃
+ You're too pretty for our dumb videos 🤷🏻♂️
🙈 stop
You are 🤷🏻♂️
You're making me blush 🙊
Well good, you're cute when your cheeks are all pink 😏
🤪
But you're always cute so 🤷🏻♂️
Okay stop haha
😎
Thank you tho 😊
You're welcome x
Now go to sleep, I need you to be rested for tomorrow!
Tell me where we're going 🥺
Nope
Please 🥺
Nope 😌
How should I know you're not gonna kidnap me or sth 🤔
Robin! I would never! 😟😟
Robin?
Yeah
You like it? :)
I think so :)
Good 😌
Oranje Street, that's all you need to know
Goodnight Bambi Robin 🦌😏
Shdjskahaggfdsk 🙈🙈
Hehe
😚
😊
The Robin part pulls another involuntary grin out of him again, the jitters in his stomach intensifying, but now they’re more anticipatory than nervous. He checks his hair in his selfie camera, running a hand through it to mess it up a little just when his stop comes.
The neighborhood is busy with the Friday rush and he has trouble finding white hair in the crowd from where he’s leaning on the lantern. Swaying awkwardly he keeps looking around, feeling his stress levels raising with each second and telling himself to get a fucking grip.
“Hey, Robin.”
His poor heart just can’t catch a break today.
Jumping a foot above the ground before swiveling around to smack Sander’s chest, the first thing he sees is his toothy grin, face smug at almost giving Robbe a heart attack.
“Asshole.” His grumble is all for show, the corners of his mouth pulling up when Sander presses a soft hello kiss to his cheek.
“Sorry, didn’t wanna scare you.” He could win awards for least sincere apologies ever, but Robbe would lie to himself if he said he didn’t find his playfulness attractive. Also, he’s still trying to get his heartbeat under control that has less to do with actual scare and more with the warm breath grazing his ear and the fanthom feel of lips on his cheek.
“Sure you didn’t.”
Sander chuckles at his deadpan face that lets him know Robbe knows he’s full of shit. Raising his arms in capitulation, he says another sorry before giving him a not so subtle once over, his features softening.
“You look really pretty.”
His voice sounds uncharacteristically shy, Robbe notices, and he keeps biting his lip nervously. This sudden shyness looks exceptionally endearing on him.
Eyeing his t-shirt critically, he cocks his brow at Sander, hand scratching his head in a self-conscious move. “Thank you. It’s nothing special though.”
“Then I guess it’s just you,” Sander replies, shrugging matter-of-factly, and keeps giving him that charming smile that weakens Robbe’s knees.
But he still rolls his eyes on him, snorting as he mutters “smooth” to which Sander pretends to hold his chest dramatically, swearing it’s not a line and that he’s being honest.
“Okay, okay, let’s say I believe you,” Robbe gives in after being defeated with a strong case of puppy eyes. “Now come on, tell me where we’re going.”
The faux-serious expression on Sander’s face melts into a full of promise smirk. “Prepare to be mind blown!”
And then he takes off, firing a wink over his shoulder at Robbe who’s gaping at him, flabbergasted. This mixture of confidence and shyness taking turns emanating from Sander has a peculiar effect on him, making him follow the boy without another question. He’s intrigued, curious to find out what’s underneath this cockiness that Robbe has a feeling is all for show, a cover up, but for what he has no clue.
They fall into an easy conversation on the way to their destination, interrupted with a string of Robbe’s guesses as to what that destination is and Sander shooting him down everytime, his smile getting fonder with each pout directed at him. So far it’s been way less awkward than Robbe feared, familiar almost, safe, melting away the anxious lump in his stomach. The good-natured teasing reminding Robbe of his relationship with Zoe or Milan, only the furtive yet lingering glances they keep shooting at each other when they think the other is not looking the sign of this being more than just a friendly hangout.
“Any plans for the Eenvoud sequel?” They’re crossing the street when Sander asks the question, tongue in cheek, which makes Robbe scowl in disdain. Even though internally he’s pleased Sander went and looked him up online. He was less pleased with the teasing that ensued a few days ago.
I had no idea
?
That I'm going on a date with a star
😂 what
Music star 😏
Or should I say
Dance star 🤔
Oh fuck
You're v e r y talented Robbe IJzermans
Shut uuuuuup
😂
You weren't supposed to see that 😭
Why not? You're so cute in it 😌
🙈
Please don't hold it against me
Never :)
You're gonna hold it against me aren’t u
A bit :D
🥺
But in a loving way!
Guess I have to now go and find blackmail material on your channel 😌
As if you hadn't already 😏
Omg you're so full of yourself 🙄
😛
Should I be expecting hoards of fans throwing themselves at you when we're out?
Haha no
Maybe a few ;)
Great, now I'm even more nervous :(
Why are you nervous? 🥺
Are you nervous about our date?
Well um
A bit?
I'm nervous too
But that's because I wanted to go out with you since I saw you on campus the first day
I wanted that too
Oh 😌
Yeah :)
“Fuck off,” he barks out a laugh, shoving him without much force once they’re back on the sidewalk. Sander pretends to be offended with the attack, huffing and shaking his head, but then bumps him with his hip all the same, smug when Robbe splutters in indignance in turn.
“Keep this up and I’m gonna rethink my forgiveness.” Robbe’s tone is lofty, even if his eyes scream he’s just teasing, an attempt to rile Sander up.
The boy’s eyes widen comically, hand flying to his chest. “You wouldn’t do that to me, Robin.”
There’s that nickname again, making his breath catch again, and the only response he can manage now is a flirty smile, or at least something that is supposed to look like it.
The afternoon heat subsides on their way to Sander’s mysterious place, but Robbe’s still glad he left that green long-sleeved shirt at home when they slow down and Sander turns to him with an expectant look.
“Carnival?”
“I didn’t remember you giving me your number, but I did remember your preaching about cotton candy being the superior junk food,” Sander rushes with an explanation like he feels his choice needs a proper justification. “And it just so happened that a carnival came to Antwerp this weekend. I thought it was a sign?” He scratches his nose, his stance a little unsure as he awaits Robbe’s reaction.
His eyes grow bigger with each passing second until Robbe beams at him and tells him how much he likes the idea. Sander lets out a loud phew, face relieved when they enter the area. The place is packed, but that’s okay because Robbe loves the vibe and how close Sander keeps walking next to him because of it. The loud music is not the best for talking, but they soon find other things to do, marching from booth to booth, getting drinks and trying out silly games, the teasing competitiveness quickly coming out. Sander really wants to win a plushie for him, but he fails spectacularly, his sulking remedied only by a kiss on his cheek.
Robbe eats his weight in cotton candy, childlike joy on his face while Sander watches amused and keeps calling him cute. The Ferris Wheel was supposed to be their next stop, but when it turns out it's out of service, Sander shoots him a desperate look, apologizing for this lame outcome like it's his fault. But Robbe is having so much fun he barely cares they lost their chance at a kiss on the top, knows the night's still young and they'll get their chance somewhere else.
They try out a few other things, laughing and having a great time together before Sander gets weirdly quiet.
"Do you, um, do you think we can go sit down for a bit? To talk?" Sander keeps avoiding his eyes as he asks, but Robbe doesn't miss the flicker of vulnerability in his face, and he feels his heart jump in his chest. He's a bit taken aback at this gear change, but Sander's clearly bothered with something and he wants to be there for him so he just hums and follows him to the bench outside.
"There's something you need to know."
Robbe steals himself for the worst, muscles tensing as he holds his breath.
“I’m bipolar,” Sander finally blurts out, and Robbe’s heart breaks for the insecurity in his eyes, eyes that are now darting all over his own face, trying to be furtive, yet clearly assessing his reaction. “I just-, I want to be straight with you from the get go cause I feel like this may be going somewhere and I don’t want to lie, or, omit anything.” He pauses, frowning a little as he looks down, and something awfully similar to a broken heart shadows his features. “I don’t ever want to keep it a secret anymore.”
Robbe doesn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue, but Sander misinterprets the silence.
“It’s, um, it’s okay if you don’t wanna get involved with me now or something, I get it, I’m a lot to handle.” Scratching his head awkwardly, his lips morph into a wistful smile, and Robbe knows he needs to put a stop to these thoughts.
“Hey,” he starts softly, waiting until Sander’s ready to direct his eyes back on him. When he does, he shoots a smile at him of his own, but there’s nothing wistful about it. If it matches what he feels, Robbe’s quite sure it’s close to adoration, actually. “Thank you for telling me.” Sander takes a deep breath, sitting straight as if he’s preparing for a rejection. “My mom has schizophrenia, you know?”
Green eyes blink up at him. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Robbe lets his smile widen. “And she’s an amazing mom. She just-, struggles sometimes, and there are days that are really shit days. But I can’t imagine her not being here. Because she’s amazing. And I love her. With or without a mental illness.” He presses his thigh against Sander’s, trying to ease his nervousness as he continues. “I still want to give us a shot. Cause, um, I think that, um, well, you’re really hot, I mean cool, I meant cool, well...” Why does he have to be so awkward? He peaks at Sander after his unfortunate little slip and feels his cheeks flush under his small grin.
“You think I’m hot?”
Robbe whines in protest because now Sander’s just being a little shit, torturing him even though he knows exactly what his stammering means.
He hides his face in his hands. “Obviously, since I’m on a date with you, smartass.”
“It’s always nice to hear.” Sander nudges their shoulders and it makes Robbe look up, just in time for a wink. “Especially from a cutie like you.” He holds his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips, and as Robbe gets drowned in his green eyes, distracted, Sander lifts his hand to push a few locks away from his forehead. The brief contact of his fingertips with Robbe’s skin is enough to raise goosebumps on his skin, and he really hopes Sander didn’t notice, that he doesn’t know how gone he is for him already.
He already mourns the lack of contact when Sander pulls away, something akin to shyness on his face now as he’s fiddling with his fingers, and it’s comforting to see he’s not the only one around here being affected.
It’s what gives him the guts to do what he does next, without second-guessing himself again into a spiral. He gets up off the bench and takes Sander’s hand in his own, their fingers tangling right away like it’s their second nature, and nods in the direction of the sidewalk.
“Come on, I’ll show you my favorite spot around here.”
The initial surprise at Robbe’s bold move is quickly replaced with a beaming smile as Sander squeezes his hand gently and gets up too, laughing when Robbe bumps their shoulders teasingly because hey, he’s still a teenage boy and sometimes likes to act like it. Also, he needs to do something to distract himself from the fact that he’s holding Sander’s hand. The fact he can feel a thumb softly grazing his knuckles, almost absent-mindedly, does not help. He'd think their playfulness and cheek kisses would make it all easier for him, and yet here he is.
He’s feeling carefree and drunk on his feelings and this evening and Sander’s smile and when they get close to the spot, Robbe sets his hand free and jogs over to the small ice cream booth, turning around to do a small “taa-daa!” with a big grin. Sander’s laugh at his shenanigans is music to his ears and he loves how the previous frown is now officially gone from his face, features softening instead, eyes twinkling as he calls Robbe a dork, entwining their hands anew the second he’s in his close proximity. Robbe scoots even closer, like an invisible magnet is pulling them together, getting lost in his presence, the smell of his aftershave that carries notes of citrus and something woodsy, masculine, combined with the intoxicating scent of Sander’s leather jacket. The air changes around them, gets charged with tension, Sander’s face changes too, green eyes darting to Robbe’s lips that get dry under attention, and he licks them subconsciously. Just when Tiana Major9’s voice coming from the booth speaker sings when they collide, it’s a beautiful disaster, their faces tilt towards each other, Sander’s hand reaching up as if to cup Robbe’s cheek.
Robbe barely contains his whine when a loud crash from the booth ruins the moment, catching the same frustration on Sander’s face in the corner of his eye. The loaded silence is buzzing in his ears, nerves picking up and he feels awkward again, not sure whether he should just go for it or wait for a better moment.
Sander’s chuckle brings him back from his overthinking, smiles crookedly down at him. “Come on, you gotta tell me your favorite flavor.”
His tone is light like the almost-kiss didn’t happen, but the subtle pink at the high of his cheeks gives him away. It looks like the world’s most exquisite blush, blended perfectly with the shade of his skin that has already been painted light golden with the early summer sun rays. It distracts him for a moment, his gaze stuck as his eyes wander slowly from one mole to another, lingering on his lips that are just as inviting as they were a few seconds ago, tempting Robbe to make that move, but then he feels Sander taking his hand again, this time interlacing their fingers and pulling him out of his trance.
Robbe is a vanilla guy and he can see the joke at the hip of Sander’s tongue, but thankfully, the boy refrains from the comment, the huge eyeroll he receives probably stopping him in his tracks, and he only gnaws on his lip, trying to keep the laughter in. He goes for mango, which yuck. Sander doesn’t appreciate his reaction, and they easily slip in the previous banter, ending with him smearing a bit of the ice cream on Robbe’s cheek, lips sucked in as he giggles quietly at his scandalized face.
“You’re such a fucker!” He immediately gets him back for that and they’re close to full on ice cream fight until Sander yells truce, hands protecting his face from the onslaught of Robbe’s sticky hands. Robbe smiles triumphantly at his capitulation, and goes back to licking away at what’s left of his treat.
“It kinda fits you.”
They’ve been strolling along the river for a while now, the full moon shining its light on the side of Sander’s face, making his hair look icy white.
“What?
“The mango flavor.”
Sander furrows his brows in question, waiting for an explanation. Robbe shrugs a little, eyes tracing the soft ripples on the water as he tries to find the right words.
“Mangos have a hard peel, but have a soft inside.”
“Sooo, you’re saying I’m… mushy?” Sander wrinkles his nose at his words and it’s a truly adorable sight.
“No, I’m saying you can seem, um, intimidating and unapproachable, unattainable.” His eyebrows furrow more with each adjective. “But once you get to the inside, so once someone gets to know you, you’re none of these things,” Robbe pauses, swaying their joined hands a little as he peeks at Sander’s face. “You’re nice and sweet and stuff. Even with your edgy black and white aesthetics,” he adds as the second-thought, grinning when he gets a deadpan look in return. It quickly morphs into something softer, beautifully confirming Robbe’s words.
“Okay, let’s say I’m a mango man. In that case, you’re a cutie pie,” Sander says matter-of-factly, always needing to have the last word, and Robbe can only laugh helplessly, trying not to combust under his intense glance. “Also, my black and white aesthetics are amazing, by the way.”
Robbe doesn't dare to argue with that, and he also agrees with the statement so he admits as much, making Sander very pleased.
They walk way into late hours of the evening, huddling closer together with each passing hour in search of warmth against the coldness of the night, or at least that serves as the main excuse. Sander has him bursting in fits of giggles sharing crazy stories from his shopping assistant job and Robbe finds himself opening up about his videotaping passion, a little shy when knowing about Sander's photography skills, but the boy's eyes shine bright when Robbe mentions it, and he's so attentive and interested in everything he has to say on the topic, of the small details he geeks out about that it makes fuzzy feelings swim rampant in his stomach; it's the kind of attention he's been unknowingly yearning for, and here it is, served on a golden plate and in a package so beautiful it makes him swoon.
And he also walks him home, acting all gentlemanly and offering his jacket when the shivers shake Robbe's body a bit. What a catch.
“So, um,” Sander starts as they reach the front door of Robbe’s apartment building, his face mostly covered in shadows cast by the street lanterns. “Kiss or slap?”
The answer to the question is obvious for both of them, but Robbe can’t stop himself from teasing him a bit, scrunching up his face in a deep thought, eyebrows frowned, making Sander scoff impatiently, which is exactly the reaction he was hoping for.
Still, he needs to push him a bit more. “Hmm, I’m not sure. I should probably go with the slap for that ice cream incident.” Sander plays along, heaving a regretful sigh, before turning those pretty eyes on him, lips in a pout and hands put together in a praying motion.
“A kiss?” Bottom lip juts out and he’s just too cute for words, Robbe dropping his facade immediately, not stopping his beaming smile anymore.
He also can't fucking wait any longer.
“Okay, I gue-”
Soft lips crash into his, not letting him finish the sentence, Robbe’s clumsiness almost making him topple over, but Sander’s there to catch him, sure hands squeezing his hips and sending small shocks through his body. He rests his hand on the back of Sander’s neck, giving in to the need to bury his fingers in that messy blond hair, and he tugs, just a little, but it’s enough for Sander to sigh into his mouth and pull him closer. Robbe loves the reaction, whimpers quietly as he parts his lips just right for Sander’s tongue to slip inside, to tease at the soft skin inside of Robbe’s bottom lip. It’s all over after that, the kiss morphing from something soft and sweet to tongues sliding together, teeth clinking almost painfully in their desperation, the kiss tasting of mango ice cream and cotton candy, and it’s the best Robbe has ever tasted.
It’s better than he imagined, Sander’s hands caressing his sides as he slows down the kiss so sweet and tender, it pulls at every single one of his heartstrings. He can’t believe he has this wonder of a boy in his arms, kissing him so good, making him dizzy.
The kiss stops eventually, but they stay put, as close as before, the tips of their noses grazing against each other, warm breaths and fluttering lashes, fingernails scratching at the skin that’s covered in goosebumps.
“I have to go,” Robbe murmurs between the miniscule space between them, giggling quietly at the immediate frown his words cause.
“Nooooo.” Sander hides his face in his flushed neck, pressing a kiss there too because why not. “I need more kisses.”
And who is Robbe to tell him no, he goes willingly when Sander lifts his chin up for another one, his mouth a little puffy now. He lets him have it, not that it’s any hardship; he’d stay here all night, just lazily sliding their lips together in a never ending dance.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Sander asks when they break apart. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. You know, he’s very important to me, has been in my life for years so his opinion kinda matters a lot.”
His words take Robbe aback, but he tries not to show his discomfort, even though Sander must have felt how tense his body went. He doesn’t seem to find it weird, his face still smiling as he keeps talking about this he that’s apparently so important.
“I hope he’ll like you. He’s perfect, you know?” Actually, Robbe does not know and he’s getting kinda annoyed. He’s pretty sure waxing lyrical about someone else on a date is a faux pas. “I mean, except for leaving fur on anything he touches.”
What.
Robbe’s eyes swivel up to look at him, the corners of Sander’s lips twitching and his face a picture perfect of impishness. He groans in protest, smacking his chest because Sander did it on purpose to pull a reaction out of him and it’s not fair, damn it. He crosses his arms which proves difficult to do when there are still hands firmly holding his hips, keeping him close.
Sander rests their forehead together, swaying them a little to put a smile on Robbe’s grumpy face. “He’s a Norwegian Forest breed and his name is Major Tom.”
And this time it’s Robbe who has a hard time to keep his giggle in because oh my god, what a nerd.
“I wonder where that came from,” he ponders in a voice as serious as he can manage, but Sander sees right through him, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“It’s the bestest name ever, I’ll have you know.”
He gets shut up with another kiss, last one, the sweetest out of all of them. Then, Robbe steps out of his embrace, not trusting himself to end this when Sander's hands are touching any part of his body, and tells him a quiet goodnight, backing into the front door with Sander's soft sleep well ringing in his ears and a huge smile threatening to spread on his face.
It only takes a minute for his phone to ping.
Sander: May your dreams be filled with cotton candy 🍬🍭
And maybe some mangos too 🥭
White-haired mangos 😘
Just need one 😘
Goodnight ❤️