Work Text:
Every morning she was asleep in my bed
like a visitation, the gentleness in her
like antelope standing in the dawn mist.
[...] How can they say
the marriage failed? Like the people who
came back from Provence (when it was Provence)
and said it was pretty but the food was greasy.
I believe Icarus was not failing as he fell,
but just coming to the end of his triumph.
— Failing and Flying, Jack Gilbert
In public, around other people, Julian looked at Albert like he did everyone else he loved these days; a little soft, not overly so, their long history and fondness wrapped up in a neat package. It was a good gaze. Comforting. Albert could stand in it for a whole night, through a long dinner party and endless small talk, and feel warm for hours after.
Like this, though, with only the clouded moon and alleyway’s shadows to bear witness to them, that package seemed to tear under its own weight, all that fondness spilling out over the curves of his cheekbones. He looked at Albert like he used to, back when they didn’t care who saw. Soft as overripe fruit and just as painful. Like it would burst into pulp at the slightest touch. Albert couldn’t tell if Julian knew he was doing it. He was afraid that if he told him he’d stop. Or that he wouldn’t.
So instead, he rocked back on his heels and closed his eyes, inhaling another lungful of cigarette smoke. The tobacco pushed down the leftover taste of the steak they’d been having, before the feeling of Julian’s ankle resting against his under the table got too much to bear and he’d excused himself for a smoke break, Julian at his heels and Gus and Justyna’s gazes on his back. The click of Julian’s lighter rang in his ears. When he exhaled, he heard the rustle of clothing as Julian brought his own cigarette to his lips and breathed in.
It was Julian who caved first this time. Albert was staring up at the clouds, the thin strip of them between the buildings, when he heard him take a step forward. Another step, two, and he was standing close enough for Albert to make out the faint scent of his lingering perfume. Burnt caramel and incense. Julian only put perfume on for weddings and anniversary dates. It was Thursday, dinner with old friends on a whim, but Albert understood him. He breathed in the scent, touched with smoke, feeling the ghost of the burn of his first time smoking weed, in Julian's dorm room too many years ago. Julian touched a fingertip to a crease in his button down, then slid his hand sideways to wrap around his waist as he closed the gap and pressed his body flush to Albert’s. Albert exhaled.
With his chin tucked over Albert’s shoulder, he could keep one hand resting flat, almost relaxed, on Albert’s upper back, the other bringing his cigarette to his lips. It always felt a little ridiculous, standing like this, but Albert brought his own free hand to Julian’s back, soft cotton chilled under his palm, and swept a thumb over the smooth print like he was thinking about curling his fingers deeper in.
Julian’s voice was a low, murmured rasp, startling him out of his steady rhythm of smoking. “I think Justyna knows.”
Ten years ago, Albert would have said, fast and upsetting Julian enough to either end the conversation there or drag it out into a week-long fight, “know what?” Twenty and he would’ve even meant it. They’d never spoken while doing this before. He ran his tongue over his teeth and turned his face into Julian’s neck.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
There was both too much and nothing at all to know, when it came to the two of them, and about as much to say about any of it. He felt Julian press his cheek against his, the scrape of his stubble. His lips stung with the memory of kissing it. How many blinding stage lights, how many mornings that slept into afternoons. If Albert opened his mouth, he’d be able to taste the damp sweat that clung to both their skins.
Julian’s body heat seeped through his jeans where their thighs pressed together. He was always so warm, a furnace in his arms on cold winter days, sometimes bitching at the whole band for piling on top of him but transparently pleased about it every time. Albert pressed forward without thinking about it, not realising what he was doing until Julian grunted as he stumbled backwards, Albert barely moving his hand out of the way in time before Julian’s back hit the alleyway wall. If Julian was surprised, he didn’t show it. His hand had drifted down to the hem of Albert’s shirt, worrying at the fabric between his fingers with no real intent. Albert closed his eyes.
“Did Juliet…”
Julian huffed. “What do you think?” A pause. “Yes,” he said, quieter. Albert felt his hand shift as he rubbed the pale skin where his wedding ring used to sit. “I think she always did.”
Albert’s cigarette was starting to burn down too close to his fingers, the heat licking at the back of his knuckles. He felt Julian’s breath fanning over his ear, lips parted over his earlobe. Heat verging on pain licking at his knuckles. He turned his head and had to pull away slightly to put his cigarette to his mouth. Julian’s arm tightened around his waist for a second before he dropped it, even though that hadn’t been what Albert meant at all. Albert stepped back, took one last pull before crushing it under his heel, already missing having something to do with his hands. Julian had his eyes trained half-lidded on Albert’s face, the very picture of relaxation with his cigarette dangling in his hand beside him.
“You done?” Albert asked.
Julian stubbed his cigarette out on the wall and let it drop to the floor instead of answering. They walked back to the restaurant together, Julian slouched with his hands shoved into his pockets, Albert letting his swing by his sides. Their elbows brushed every few steps.
Gus saw them coming first, giving them a scrutinising once-over out of habit. Justyna noticed them second, giving them a smile as they slid into their respective sides of the booth. He pretended not to catch the way her eyes had flicked down for a half a second to the space between him and Julian and smiled back at her instead.
The restaurant lights swept them all in amber. Albert watched Julian run a hand through his hair and laugh at something Gus said. In a way, he missed catching the glint of Julian’s wedding ring, being able to see it as he ran his thumb along the mismatched metal on his own ring finger.
“Alright?” Justyna whispered, lacing their fingers together on the table. Their gold rings knocked against each other, worn and gleaming with every time they’d done that over the years.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her gently. The sweet, briskly floral scent of her perfume was familiar, warm, and he made a mental note to buy her a new bottle next week. She’d been running low when they left the house today. “All good.”
She squeezed his hand, or he squeezed hers. He knew Julian was looking, but he only caught his eye for a second before they both looked back down at their cold food.