Work Text:
(Marco’s point of view)
The screeching noise that startled me out of bed wasn’t my alarm clock. For one, my bedroom was still dark. No light shone through the window. But the blaring noise sounded nothing like my alarm, and rang from further away in my apartment. After several seconds passed, and I wiped my eyes groggily, all at once it processed – the fire alarm.
I leapt out of bed, nearly tripping on my hardwood floor as I snatched up my phone, wallet and keys. Since they were sitting right on my nightstand, it was no waste of time. Then I darted out my bedroom door. My coat was slung over one of my kitchen table chairs. I grabbed it. Slid my shoes on as I neared the door, only then smelling the smoke.
Fear seeped into my veins. My heart slammed against my ribs in panic. This wasn’t a drill. My apartment complex was actually on fire.
Somehow, my subconscious drudged up a memory I must have learned in elementary school: if my doorknob was hot, I shouldn’t leave. But when I touched the doorknob, it felt cool. So without wasting anymore time I ran out into the hall, down the stairs, and out the first exit. My neighbors and strangers bumped into me on the way out. All of them yelling to their loved ones. On the phone. Searching their purses. Scrambling to pull on their winter gear. Earlier today it had been snowing. When I stepped out of my car after driving home from work, I had thought I’d never be warm again. Now sweat beaded on my forehead and slid down the span of my back underneath my hoodie.
Outside, I joined the crowd of residents surrounding the complex. Firetrucks had arrived, and firemen were pouring out of the vehicles and running toward my building. Cops were hovering close, circling the area and preventing anyone from walking too near the building. Several people were arguing with them, interrogating them, and making demands. Everyone else was huddled close together underneath falling snow, staring up at the clouds of smoke funneling into the night sky. I shivered even in my coat. Hugged my arms close. Tried not to think about everything in my apartment I’d potentially lose.
While scanning the crowd, I had to take a double-take. One of my neighbors, a blond man I saw from time to time – usually walking his bike down the hall with a backpack slung around one shoulder – stood in the middle of the snowy road. Naked. Not even wearing shoes. Toes curled and arms covering the most important parts of him. The longer bangs of his undercut frozen to his forehead. Shivering, with coiled muscled that looked like they could shatter. Obviously, he’d been in the shower when the alarm had gone off. And unlike me, and many of the other people standing in the street, he hadn’t wasted time gathering any belongings.
I didn’t even hesitate. No one else had bothered to help him. The firefighters had the building to worry about. The cops were distracted. I walked up to him as I unzipped my coat.
“Here,” I said, handing it to him.
He snagged it right away. Before he yanked it on, I got the worst and best glance of all of him. Of course I’d always thought he was attractive. Ever since I had seen him the first time in the hall, I’d caught glances of his broad shoulders and wiry physique whenever I could. He had the most mesmerizing hazel eyes, and I knew if I looked at them too long I’d start stuttering. But once the coat was zipped up, I could breathe again. His legs were exposed but they weren’t nearly as distracting as his…everything else.
“Oh my God. Thank God. I mean you. Thank you.”
I chuckled at that. I couldn’t tell which he was more relieved about: Being able to cover his body up, or being able to warm up. Either way, he looked like he thought he might forever be indebted to me. He wouldn’t be.
“I’ll return it to you as soon as I can,” he said. But he stared at our apartment building like he didn’t think he’d be able to any time soon. Some of it had completely burned. The rest was stained black or hidden by smoke. Flames flickered out from parts of the roof that had caved in.
“It’s no problem.” I smiled, and he stared at me like he couldn’t believe I existed. The same way I had stared at him for so long. Plenty of guys were attractive, but he was more. He was reserved and mysterious and inscrutable. Whenever I saw him, I felt like he would be a math problem I desperately wanted to solve but only ever almost got right. I wanted to know him. Unravel him. Figure out why he was the way he was, who had made him so distant and alluring to me.
“Hey,” I said, to catch his attention. His gaze had returned to the crowd. He shivered, holding his arms close to his body, looking so vulnerable. “Wanna come sit in my car? I parked far enough away…it would be warmer.” I held back the urge to offer him ten more reasons to do it. Even if I didn’t know him, I feared his rejection.
But he didn’t reject me. His eyebrows shot up and he spun around to face the rest of the parking lot. “Where? Let’s go.”
We weaved through the cars blanketed in snow toward my silver Honda Civic. Unlocking my car, I swung the door open. He slid in beside me on the passenger side. Immediately, I cranked up the heat. In the backseat, in case of emergencies – my car breaking down or something – I had a blanket. I handed it to him and he held it to his chest like he’d been searching for it his whole life. Then he spread it over his legs.
“I’m Jean,” he said. “I see you sometimes. In the hall.”
“You do?” Did he see me staring?
“Yeah. Always remember your freckles.”
At that, I blushed. As far as I could remember, we’d never made eye contact before. But there had to be times when I didn’t notice him. Times he didn’t have his bike with him, maybe. Or I had headphones in. And if he had been close enough to notice my freckles, it meant he had also been close enough to notice other things. An unwashed black undercut I hadn’t combed or clothing that hadn’t been ironed or lint-rolled.
“I’m Marco,” I said, remembering that he still didn’t know my name. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Thanks for doing this.” He said this like he didn’t want to. Like he had to fight with himself to say the words. I wondered if maybe he wasn’t used to saying thank you. Maybe he had too much pride, and simply refused to ever be in a situation where he would need to be thankful.
I shrugged it off, for his sake. “No big deal.”
He stared at his lap. His fists curled in the blanket. “You know, I uh…always wanted to uh…say something to you. Or whatever. But uh, not like this…now I don’t think I can show my face around here ever again.”
Glancing in my rear-view mirror at our crumbling apartment complex, I thought he might not ever have a reason to.
Then everything else he said before that sunk in. “Really? You – I mean, what did you want to say?” Again, I wondered if maybe what he had wanted to say was something like Back off, stalker. Or, You know you’re being really obvious, right? Or simply, Quit it.
“Actually, I was uh…gonna ask you out. Maybe.” He chanced a glance my direction, catching me with a dropped jaw and a momentary inability to breath. Seeing my face must have worried him, because he rushed to backtrack. “I mean, you know, unless you’re not – I guess I just hoped – Look, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Sorry I even brought it up.”
I shook my head to reassure him. Then, on reflex, rested my hand on his arm. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. And I am. Gay, I mean. And interested. Gay and interested.”
He chuckled, seeming comforted that I was as nervous and incapable of speaking as he was. In fact, his confidence in a moment’s notice damn-near radiated. “Well, why wouldn’t you be? After what you saw out there.” To clarify, he pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward the crowd of people. It had shrunk. Only now did I notice a lot of people got the same idea as me. Headlights flared all around us and exhaust from the mufflers floated into the air.
I looked back at him. Still smirking. Still looking so handsome I thought I might melt. My heart began panicking again. I hadn’t been on a date in so long. And I’d had my eye on him for nearly as long. This was my opportunity.
“I was kinda hoping you didn’t notice I noticed.”
He snorted. “Well, I was kinda hoping you didn’t notice. Period.” Then, the devilish smirk returned again. “But I don’t blame you for sneaking a peek.”
I shoved him playfully and buried my face in my hands. I was heating up. I also couldn’t stop grinning.
“I didn’t mean to,” I said, into my hands.
“Sure you didn’t.”
“No. Really. I swear I didn’t.”
He only laughed. “Relax. I don’t care. I owe you one, anyway. For doing all this.”
“Buy me dinner then.” The words slipped out before I had given them permission. But once they were out in the air I felt grateful I’d gotten it over with. More than anything, I wanted to go out with him. Already I could feel that it would go well. That we had something here. A spark between us I thought could last if we only helped it out. How many other people could so easily recover from such an awkward circumstance? Few. It was because it was the two of us that this hadn’t become the most uncomfortable, awkward, painful night of the year.
A smile spread across his face, nothing like the smirk. This smile wasn’t a performance but his natural smile. The one he didn’t put on for show. The one he couldn’t help.
“Really?”
I smiled back. Then I dared to hold his hand. He held it back. “Yes.”
At this, Jean bit his lip and glanced around the car. “Do you have any spare clothes in here?”
The question caught me off guard. I had to think for a moment. “Uh…I don’t know. Maybe in my trunk. Why?”
“I’ll take you out right now,” he said.
“It’s three in the morning,” I told him.
“You got something better to do?” He arched an eyebrow at me, then glanced pointedly at our apartment complex, which clearly wouldn’t be habitable again for a while.
I sighed. “You’re right.”
Popping the trunk, I stepped out of the car and dug through my stuff in there. In it there was a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. No underwear, but he’d do without. No socks either, but I did have a pair of boots. Since I was an inch or so taller than him, hopefully they’d be big enough.
After I got back in the car, he changed. I covered my eyes, even though he insisted that there was no point. I’d already seen everything he had to offer. But to be polite, and to keep myself from getting hard, I refused. He got dressed, first pulling on the sweatpants, then the hoodie. Just as he slid the boots on – too big, but once they were tied they wouldn’t fall off – I opened my eyes.
He looked right into them, his own amber eyes smoldering. He held onto my hand. And I knew – even though we hadn’t gone on the date yet and still hardly knew each other and still had no reason to cross this line – exactly what he was about to ask. I also knew how I’d answer.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
Our lips met. His were warm enough to keep me from getting cold the rest of the night. They were so soft. So welcoming. I felt every nerve in my body buzzing with the electric spark I’d felt between us the moment I first laid eyes on him, first spoke to him. And even though my apartment was falling to ashes behind me, because his lips were against my own, I couldn’t wait for the rest of the year. Couldn’t wait for each day to come. As long as I had this, and as long as this still had somewhere to go, I knew I would look forward to the future. Everything would be okay.
When our lips parted, we smiled at each other once more. Then I put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot in search of anywhere that was open – anywhere we could begin our time together.