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“See you!” Khalid says over his shoulder with a vague gesture of the hand to say goodbye to his friends.
His smile drops when he turns the corner, head low and eyes fixed to the ground. He hopes he won’t run into anybody, or if he does, that they’ll get the message and won’t come too close or stay for too long.
He doesn’t know what sparked it, but everything simply feels off.
The sun is too bright, but not warm enough. And though the weather has been getting warmer, somehow, everything seems cold.
He quickens his pace, complaining under his breath about how this stupid place is too big and how he really shouldn’t have to walk that much to get to his room from the classrooms.
He breathes a sigh of relief when he’s shaded from the sun as he steps into the hallway, steps echoing in the empty space until they’re muffled on the long carpet leading to his room.
His hand rests on the handle for a second and he glances at a door a bit further away. Ponders.
With a little nod, he resolutely opens his door, carelessly stacks his books on top of one of the many piles of books and exits the room right away.
His heartbeat is a tad quicker than he’d like when he stops in front of Dimitri’s room, though he’s uncertain why.
He knocks — two quick consecutive knocks and a third after a beat — and Dimitri is at his door in a second.
His eyes are a little wide, like he’s on alert. Khalid’s heart contorts slightly — it’s still a little foreign to have someone worry over him so openly.
He gives Dimitri a small smile, the gesture tiring in itself.
“I’m fine,” he tries, though he knows Dimitri knows he’s not.
Dimitri frowns, hums, but doesn’t say anything more. Khalid is thankful for that, and silently steps in when Dimitri invites him in.
The door closes with a soft click as Khalid sits on the edge of Dimitri’s bed to take off his shoes.
Dimitri steps closer, stops a few centimeters away. Khalid looks up, locks eyes with him and waits.
His gaze still looks slightly troubled, and searching, like he’s trying to read into his soul. Khalid starts to feel the heat rising to his cheeks, and he clears his throat as he looks down to his shoes, busying himself with the task. He puts his left boot to the side of Dimitri’s bed.
“What?” It’s a futile question, but he asks anyway to try and dispel the tension.
He has time to get rid of his second boot and Dimitri still hasn’t answered.
His heartbeat picks up, and though he knows he hasn’t done anything to anger Dimitri, his brain starts trying to convince him he did.
So he looks up, on time to see Dimitri’s gaze melt into something softer. He barely has time to register it before Dimitri cups his face, hands gentle against his skin, surprisingly soft given how much he yields his lance. His perpetually cold hands are a relief against the heat of his cheeks.
And then, Dimitri smiles and leans in — movement slow as to not startle him — and presses a kiss to his forehead.
Khalid’s heart squeezes. It’s almost painful to be cared for so fondly, and he has to battle the thoughts crawling up — he deserves this. He deserves to be loved.
And as if to emphasize this point, as if Dimitri read his mind, he lets go of his face, sits next to him and engulfs him in his arms.
Khalid’s hands fly almost instantly to hug him back, hands holding onto the fabric of Dimitri’s shirt tightly, face buried against his chest.
The vague feeling of cold vanishes instantly. It’s not quite home, but it’s close enough for his eyes to start prickling and his throat to close up when he tries speaking.
“Thank you,” he wants to say. “I love you,” he wants to say. “I can’t imagine a life without you.”
But nothing comes out, other than a sound dangerously close to a sob.
Dimitri shushes him, tightening his embrace the tiniest bit. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk at all.”
Khalid nods against Dimitri’s chest, and shuts his eyes tight to fend off the tears. He doesn’t want to cry. He’s exhausted enough.
He has to keep himself from whimpering once Dimitri breaks the embrace, but he frowns to signal his discontentment. Dimitri chuckles, before leaning in again to plant a small kiss on his cheek. The frown vanishes.
Dimitri is trying his hardest to fight off a smile so Khalid raises his hand to jab him in the shoulder but he intercepts it, and lowers their intertwined hands on his thigh, right in that patch of warm sunlight piercing through the window.
Khalid looks at their hands, like mesmerized, thoughts completely numbed by the repetitiveness of Dimitri running circles against the back of his hand.
“How about a nap?” Dimitri asks eventually, voice close to a whisper.
Khalid tears his gaze from their hands to look at him and smiles. It comes easily this time. “Sure.”
Dimitri smiles back and lets go of his hand to push himself towards the edge of his bed, close to the wall. He lays down on his side, opens up his arms in an invitation, but Khalid has to take a moment to take in the view.
His hair, light as feathers, shines golden under the sun as it falls in front of his glistening eyes. Highlighted by the sun, they seem just a shade lighter than the sea at home.
It’s in those moments that he struggles to believe someone as breathtaking as Dimitri could love him at all. Yet, the hope and gentleness in those stupidly blue eyes propel him to join Dimitri’s side.
He immediately embraces him, and Khalid nestles against his chest, revels in the comfort and safety of his arms.
Right here and then, it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist — it’s just Dimitri and him and the birds chirping outside and the sun tickling his skin.
The sheets ruffle a little as Dimitri moves around.
Khalid is about to ask if he needs to change position, if his arm has fallen asleep when a soft pressure rests on his head. And then, slowly, Dimitri starts stroking his hair, and Khalid cannot contain the content sigh leaving his mouth.
He regrets it instantly, as Dimitri’s hand halts and he leans away, just enough for their eyes to meet, gaze inquisitive.
“It’s…” Khalid starts. He glances to the side, keeps his gaze down. “You can go on.”
He wants to hide his face against Dimitri’s chest again.
Asking for anything at all has always been an hurdle. Asking for any form of affection is akin to torture — it feels pathetic, like he’s begging for a love he desperately tries to convince himself he has the right to receive.
And as if he read his mind again, as if he’s made it his mission to destroy those self-deprecating thoughts, Dimitri leans in and kisses his temple.
Khalid can’t do anything but look back up, eyes a little glossy and smile. Dimitri smiles back, and then Khalid is nuzzled against him again, and the soft, gentle pressure on his head returns.
He doesn’t try to do anything against the few tears that escape his eyes. Dimitri doesn't comment on it but his hold tightens for a second when it happens.
In the warmth of Dimitri’s embrace, Khalid counts 32 caresses against his hair before the chirping of the birds fades into oblivion.