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Graham’s lips lingered against Flint’s filter longer each day, both were acutely aware. Always, for just a heartbeat after Flint eased his half of the embrace, Graham remained. There was something caught between the two of them - just in those milliseconds - that Flint didn’t think he quite understood.
They stared, two separate beings connected at the hip, for silent moments that stretched beyond ‘socially expected’, whatever that truly meant. Both believed the list of questions only existed in their own minds. The confusion, the want. Flint pulled just a few more inches away, hands moving from Graham’s back down to rest at his waist. They didn’t - perhaps couldn’t - fully process the expression in their boyfriend’s eyes. He’d seen it before, or more accurately, had seen it in parts. Had seen the drive, had seen the desire, the passion and hunger. All at separate times, due to separate things. Flint felt as though he needed to understand something his circuits simply were not built for.
Graham’s mind was a fuzzy mess of static and a simple, all-consuming, overwhelming love.
“Have a good day at work,” Managed Graham, a meaningless pleasantry that could’ve been exchanged between acquaintances at best. It was all he could do - his mouth may as well have been moving on its own.
The two of them were locked in an embrace, just before the Pace Place’s elevator. Colored spotlights swept lazily across his dimly-lit nightclub, occasionally catching one’s metal. Graham Ness Payser called the suite both his home and place of work. Though Flint’s job forced him to be more hands-on, the two had been living together for a month. Every morning, it was the same routine.
“You too.” Both almost sounded distant as they spoke. Uncharacteristically flat. The top of Flint’s goggles furrowed, vaguely frustrated that he’d reduced such a beautiful moment to something so mundane. It was so soulless, the two of them sounded like a primitive language model running on a schoolkid’s script. He blinked, swallowed. “I love you.”
Every once in a while, Graham’s mouth did the strangest thing: an award-winning beam got whisked away into a much smaller, comparatively sadder looking smile. It’d taken Flint some time to figure out, and at the beginning of their relationship, it confused and worried him deeply. He always felt like he was saying the right things when it happened - and Graham always spoke like his mood had been lifted. But with how far the smile dropped, Flint feared he’d said something wrong and his boyfriend was somehow upset. But no - rather, Graham’s ‘resting’ face was that flashy grin. Its retreat to a much smaller smile wasn’t a downgrade at all - it was the truth. It was a sign of Graham smiling at all.
Sincerity brushed Graham’s features with a tender hand, “I love you too,” His voice cracked under its own weight. “Make it home safe, y’hear?”
Flint huffed a laugh, “No more long nights with a hair dryer for me.”
Graham had to pop onto his toes for a moment to steal another peck to the side of his partner’s mask, “Much as I love ya, babe, respectfully? I’m never doing that shit again.”
A snort and another laugh, this time much fuller, and Flint finally separated from his boyfriend. “Can’t say I blame you, I don’t… really want to go through that either… I’m sorry.”
The sellbot gave a playful shove, aware in no small part of his brain of the extra distance it put between the two of them. “Quit thaaat,” He smirked with an eye roll. “How many times do I gotta say it?”
“Apologizing is a waste of time and air,” Flint recited meekly, weaving his fingers together and tapping his thumbs.
“And?”
“…And seeing the hottest Suit in the world waste time makes you want to… jump.”
“Exactly!” He shot a finger gun, “Now quit apologizing and go kill it today, hotshot.”
Flint could feel the wink from behind Graham’s sunglasses, and embarrassingly, a little extra warmth creeped up the back of his neck. “On it,” They promised, leaving for the elevator. “See you after work, love.”
“See ya!” Graham waved until the elevator doors closed. His smile vanished the second Flint was out of view, hands quickly burying his face. “I need him so bad it’s gonna kill me.” He informed the air, kicking at the carpet once before instinctively turning to his Pace Corner. “But what do I need from him?” Graham didn’t like thinking very much. But he did love talking. Talking to himself was something of a cheat code. Genius, really. “What, do I just need to have him? I already do!” He paused the circles he’d already begun pacing into his rut, staring at a picture on his wall. The two of them, Graham in Flint’s arms, smiling at the camera. Or rather, his boyfriend was smiling at the camera. Somehow, the photographer had captured a moment in which Graham had forgotten he was in the presence of a camera. Instead, his eyes were cast to the hottest Suit in the world. Truly, he couldn’t be blamed. But even so, it was the only photo of him in existence where he wasn’t looking at the camera, no matter how many fans tried to catch candids. He had a sixth sense for the things, damnit, it was so bizarre to see a break in his pattern. But there it was: proof. Proof that something in the world mattered more to him than his image. If one got close enough and really looked, it was just barely visible behind his glasses. Only then would they begin to understand the volumes Flint meant to him.
He started up pacing again. “Graham Ness Payser, you’re the best looking Suit in the world. You could and should have everything you want.” His suite was, itself, a collection of anything and everything he’d ever wanted. As he gazed around the place, he realized with uncharacteristic clarity that he’d been taking it all for granted. “But what do I want?” The moment of clarity passed, Graham was left grasping for straws. “I want something. But what?” It was the strangest thing, he’d never experienced anything like it. Desire for something so intangible, he didn’t even know what it was. That wasn’t the sort of goal he could work towards - if he didn’t know the what, or even the why, he could never begin to figure out the how. He’d be left with this deep seated need for something, forever and ever until the end of time. Only if he couldn’t work out what exactly it was he needed. “What the fuck?”
━━━
They sat over a dinner of pasta and meatballs, lovingly slathered with crude oil. Flint found himself with a pit in his stomach and an utter lack of appetite, thinking of the imagery the scene conjured.
Graham stopped stuffing his face mid-chew, finally noticing the other’s untouched plate. “myou okaym?” He asked around a mouthful of pasta.
No. Well, yes, he was - by all accounts that mattered, Flint was okay. The only thing that didn’t seem okay was… this. He drew in a quick breath, but lost his courage while the words were on their journey from mind to mouth. He sighed, shook his head. Picked up his fork and started twirling the noodles, not particularly intending to eat them.
Graham felt like he might know what had his boyfriend feeling all strange. It was only a might. “Listen, babe, you deserve to be happy.” He set down his fork and reached out for Flint’s hands. “We deserve to be together.”
There was a stupid movie they’d watched. Decades ago, as kids. Before they really knew what love was. It had been contraband - that’s why they were so excited. It was a Toon movie, they’d giggled, their parents would be so mad. Neither had put any thought to what the contents might be, they were just enthralled to press play on a movie made by the bad guys. That movie had been a touching love story shared between cartoon dogs, who the two first made retching noises at. But as the film went on, jeers and insults slowed to a stop. Both went dead-still as the cartoons shared their accidental kiss over a plate of pasta.
There was no rule against Suits being in love. But there was the expectation of it only existing in the context of a mother, a father and the child(ren) they raised. Parents didn’t always have to love each other either, it was more like a possible bonus. Families existed in large part due to their economic advantage. At least, Suit families did. At best, a loving nuclear family was a set of three or more roommates who got along well and helped support each other when they were struggling financially. The idea of star crossed lovers was a distinctly Toony concept.
Flint’s eyes nervously scanned the room. Suits walked by carrying trays of food or drink, delivering to tables of mostly single diners treating themselves to a meal. Everyone seemed preoccupied. “I know, it just makes me nervous, is all.” He said in a small voice, avoiding eye contact. He so wanted to retract his hands, but wouldn’t want to disappoint his boyfriend.
“I know it does,” Graham’s leg bounced beneath the table, his own eyes jumping around the restaurant. “We can leave, if you want.”
“No! no,” Flint’s voice didn’t raise over half-volume, his murmur-yell more emotional than loud. “This is nice. I- I want this. I just… I don’t know. I should try to get over it.”
Graham’s face twisted that special way it did when he genuinely tried to think about something he thought was important. That look of half-focus, half-pain. He wanted to gather his words - to say the right ones. Most of the time, he let his mouth do the thinking for him: whatever he said, he said, and there was no taking it back. But he had to get this right. Graham sniffed, making sure he hadn’t sprung a nosebleed.
“Whaddya say we pack this up and eat at home?” Suggested Graham to a mildly confused Flint. “This convo’s too important to, I dunno, worry about some creepers.”
A long breath left Flint’s muzzle as they looked back to the pasta between their arms. They scolded themselves for letting their stomach drop at the thought of a conversation. Communication was important, but there was a reason the two managed to dance around a real talk about this worry in particular. “Yeah.” He hated the quaver in his voice. “Yeah, good idea.”
“I’m full of em!” Graham remarked with a shrug, running a finger under his nostrils just to be sure they weren’t bleeding.
Packing their food was a simple ordeal. Flint picked up the bill, as always, but he stopped so much as huffing at the routine ever since he started living in the All Star Suites rent free. Graham never asked for rent, even outright rejected Flint’s offer to pay. Covering their food costs was the very least he could do. Boxes in hand, the two waited a frustrating 12 minutes for a bus back to the Textiles & Luxury Suites district. Graham fought many mental battles as the two huddled close against the night’s chill; primarily, he fought over whether or not to join Flint on the bus. Most days he ran alongside, let off steam. He certainly wanted to get some nervous energy out at that moment, but made a last-minute decision not to let go of their hand as they ascended the steps. The last thing he wanted was to continue seeming like he was avoiding Flint. Not only that, but being by him right then seemed like the right thing to do. Lend physical comfort, and all that.
The bus itself was filled like a tin of sardines - all Suits within getting off their overtime shifts at 7PM and trying to make it home without being crushed. Graham himself didn’t mind an excuse to press himself against his boyfriend, but absolutely did mind when something brushed his hair from behind. He all but snapped his neck turning around to deliver a gold medalist death glare, only to find the offending Suit didn’t even have the decency to be facing his direction. Graham kissed his teeth with an eye roll, for a moment moving his head to instead rest against Flint’s chest. The moment lasted for a heartbeat before Graham looked up over his glasses at the other, who was insufficiently hiding a horrified expression as he glanced around at the drones surrounding them. Immediately, Graham’s head was off their chest - but a grimace remained. He detested letting other people’s opinion sway him, but it was a fact of life. Public image was everything to a Sellbot. And even if love wasn’t prohibited explicitly, it certainly wasn’t… typical.
Being physically appealing was half his job description. Settling down with a partner made a person seem washed, or perhaps older than they truly were. Graham was still riding the high of being carded semi-regularly. Estimated himself to look about 24 years old by the time he was done getting ready in the morning, but he was certainly well aware all 32 years showed on his face at the crack of dawn. It was, truly, a miracle Flint didn’t find all his appeal had vanished the first time they bore witness to an uncaffeinated, pre-makeup, waxless Graham.
There was another question. What was the appeal of this relationship? They weren’t reliant on one another for money; they’d been doing whatever this was for years before Flint moved in, and even then it was more out of convenience than anything. There had been no discussion of bringing Coglings into the picture - Graham had no interest. What were they doing?
They were in love. Like Toons do.
Graham didn’t realize they were at their stop until a cold void replaced Flint, at which point he finally snapped out of it and followed closely behind. A brisk walk - one slowing himself out of courtesy as the other awkwardly tried to keep up - and the two were back at Fast Asleep. They rode the elevator up to the Pace Place, Graham bouncing impatiently.
“Is this about the dogs?” Blurted Graham the second the doors opened, beelining for the stairs.
“Yes - I mean, no, not really, but I just-” With a heavy sigh, Flint trudged up to the second floor after Graham. “Can we sit down first, then talk?” By the time they were in the kitchen, Graham already had the table made.
“Sure, sure,” Though the impatience was evident in his tone as he pulled out Flint’s chair. “It’s just… like, wow, that movie did a number on us,” A laugh tickled the end of his sentence and bubbled on for a second after. “Rent free up in here, huh?” He tapped the side of Flint’s head as they opened their container and poured its contents onto the plate. They offered a laugh, painfully aware as it fell short and awkward in the space between them.
“I guess, I dunno.” Flint picked up their plate with both hands, breathed in deep, then ignited their palms. Another inhale and the flames licked up the edges of the plate, threatening to catch the noodles aflame. Before it had a chance, Flint reached across the table to switch his plate for Graham’s. Beneath both plates were neon silicone trivets, a part of their place settings that became routine after the first time Graham had to replace the table due to circle shaped burn marks. When he was finished reheating the second plate, Flint set it in front of himself and picked up his fork. Not a second later a gust of wind brushed his shoulder. Flint looked down to find their meals had been swapped back - Graham’s half finished in front of him, Flint’s untouched in front of them. Damn. It was worth a try.
A few mouthfuls passed in silence - Flint’s mouthfuls, anyway, Graham must’ve shoveled down ten at least - Flint doing his best not to meet the other’s gaze as he attempted to form coherent thoughts.
There is a drop in the ocean.
“Do you feel like, maybe, we’ll get in trouble?”
“Pshhh,” Graham waved off the thought, his true expression unreadable behind his glasses and plastered grin. “Do friends get in trouble?”
“This is different.”
“Well… yea,” He relented, “But it’s not like there’s a rule against, Iunno, bonding.”
Another, soon after. Small ripples overpowered by a calm tide.
“I didn’t know what love was until we saw that movie.”
“Me neither,”
“Don’t you think there’s a reason?”
A ship upon the ocean does not see the droplets. To do so would be to dismiss them.
Graham twirled his last forkful in thought, one hand propping up his head. After a beat too long of silence, “You worry too much, babe,” He only half believed what he spoke, the words muffled by his squished cheek.
Upon the horizon, dark clouds lay.
“Do I?” Flint’s flame prickled overhead, “You can’t just look away from this one, Graham! This could - this could be bad!”
“Worked great for me in the past.” He wasn’t meeting their gaze. He wasn’t eating.
Up, down, bobbing upon waves with growing intensity.
Flint made a sound of exasperation, lost for words. Various worries and accusations lay dead on his tongue, lead in his mouth. He tried another angle. “I feel like you’re shutting down on me, didn’t you say this is an important conversation to have?”
His boyfriend put his fork down and leaned back, drawing in a long breath through his nose. “You’ve never been on the bleeding edge before, it’s scary for you, I get it. I feel for ya.”
Flint wasn’t impressed. The look was all it took.
“So what if I’m scared too?” By forces unknowable came the admission, though with a defensive tone. Plate abandoned, Graham crossed his arms. A raised brow and prolonged look from his partner prompted him to keep going. “Look, I just- it’s just!” He found himself looking about the room for mental purchase, hands gesturing with vigor. They turned up empty, alas. As he tried to put the thoughts in his head into words, he only found an inexplicable heat crawling up his neck.
Raindrops gather as if emboldened by the first. Together, impossible to dismiss.
“What we’re doing-” Graham gestured between the two of them- “All this - the - the dates, the kisses and the cuddling - now, I know that’s - like - not normal for a Cog. But Cog, I can’t take it when I don’t get to-” He grabbed the air for words that lay trapped behind his tongue, “To!” Graham released the last wisp left of his breath and inhaled finally. “It’s, like, it’s like a drug. And-”
“-Woah, what?” Introjected Flint, setting down his fork. His flame popped and cracked, “This is a healthy relationship as far as I’m concerned, and drugs-”
“- No, you’re right, bad analogy, I just don’t know what else-”
“-How about ‘sunshine,’ or ‘flowers’ ?”
“But that’s just it!”
Weather the droplets for the storm.
Graham dragged a hand down his face. “Sunshine, flowers, that fuzzy feeling in your stomach. That’s all Toon shit! And if Toons were right about love, then-…”
There is never just one.
Silence stretched between the two, taut like a fishing line. Bait laid enticingly at either end of the string, but neither had the courage to bite.
With every kiss they shared, Graham wet his appetite. Every smile exchanged, every loving look in his partner’s eye. They looked delicious. And he was starving. Had been his whole life.
With a sigh, Flint introduced slack to the space between them. “I don’t know what Toons are ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ about.” This time, it was his turn to reach out for the other’s hands. “And, honestly?” He filtered confidence through the subtle smell of Graham’s cologne he could barely pick apart from the rest of the noise. “The only reason I care is because I feel like they care.” They looked intently at Graham’s shades, hoping for all the world he was letting this eye contact reach his heart. “I know I love you and I know I want you to be safe.” He let out a tired breath, breaking eye contact in favor of the table. “When I worry, it’s because at the end of the day, I would rather… live separately than…” He swallowed, flame dying down to an ember, “Die, together.”
Silence of a completely different kind washed over them. Drowning, Graham searched for answers in his partner’s eyes, only to find them shielded by the brim of their hat.
“Would they kill us?” Graham didn’t manage above a whisper.
Flint’s partner was never a quiet man. Always an ‘act now, think never’ kind of man. A ‘push past the limit and deal with consequences later’ kind of man. He winced, flame flaring just once, as the burn of tears threatened behind his eyes. They wanted nothing more at that moment to comfort him, to assure the both of them that things would be okay. But the truth of the matter was, neither had any clue what was in store. Asking around would mean putting them and their relationship in jeopardy. At this job, there was no knowing whose lips would loosen in the presence of higher authority. There was no knowing which pocket square was bugged, which lamp bore a camera. There could be no free speech outside the comfort of their own abodes, where legal departments fought tooth and nail, screaming personal privacy to give so much as the right to feverishly check for unexpected devices.
“I don’t know.” Murmured flint, suppressing a sniffle. “But if being safe means being apart-”
“-Then I’d die.” Stated Graham with sudden conviction. That startled a small gasp and a pop in Flint’s flame as his head snapped up. Graham continued, “You’d rather live alone? Knowing what we could have?” His plastic smile wasn’t enough to overpower the knot between his brows.
Expectant quiet held Graham’s tongue as he waited for his partner to say something. But no words came to them.
Graham grimaced, forcing himself to drop the smile. “Because I don’t think I could.”
“-That’s so- Tha-that’s-” Flint pounded the table in frustration with himself, “That’s scary to me, Graham!”
“What?”
“The idea that, if-if you didn’t have me, you’d rather die?”
Quiet once more, spoken in nothing but the broken shards of his confidence, Graham asked, “Wouldn’t you?”
Flint’s gaze found the table again, a small spark turning to a roaring flame engulfing his eyes. “No.” His voice cracked. “I’d rather live my l-life knowing you’re out there s-somewhere, safe, than risk it all every d-day because of… whatever this is.”
He couldn’t parse words from the buzz of thoughts swarming through his mind. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, “Even if it meant… never seeing me again?”
“Even if it meant never seeing you again.”
“Okay then.” Graham stood, the twitching of his lips betraying his attempt at a smile. “I can leave, if that’s what you want.”
Flint’s filter quivered, “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
They managed not to sob. “I don’t know.”
“You do!” Cried Graham, pointing an accusatory finger at the man he loved. “I know, you know, but why don’t you tell me?”
Flint buried his face in his hands, elbows hiked up to his tubes. “Obviously I don’t want you to leave.”
“But what did you just say?”
All Flint could do was choke.
“That’s life, Flint! It’s taking risks and letting yourself be scared!” Nothing the world could throw at The Pacesetter would slow him down. It was in his wiring, hard coded into his motherboard, it’s what kept his pistons pumping up and down every millisecond of every day. This is what he was, not who. “Some people are just fine with being a Cog in the Machine, and I say, let them. But that’s never been enough for me. Listen, you deserve more than that.” He pressed his fingers to his chest, “I’ve always known there was more out there. And I finally found that with you.”
Still unable to take his face out of his hands, Flint muttered, “This isn’t right.”
“To them.”
His flame roared, nearly drowning out his words, “They’ll call us traitors.”
“I. Don’t. Care.”
Flint hitched a breath in, then huffed it out. He drew in a second, fuller and slower. The fire calmed. “Love is- a lot.” Putting it into words was nigh-on impossible. “And look at us, look at what it’s doing to us!” He stared desperately into Graham’s eyes, finding both of their faces streaked with tear tracks. “If they knew we cared more about each other than about their war?” It didn’t seem like a question of if they’d do something, but how they’d do it. “Maybe they’d wipe our memories of each other and send us away. Maybe they would kill us, so no one would get any ideas. Maybe - maybe they’d make it look like we killed each other out of delusion, just to set an example! Graham, we don’t know what could happen.” He started another sentence, then stopped. But the words bubbled up inside his chest until, “The Toons say it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.” His eyes burned again. “I don’t want to forget you.”
Immediately, Graham jutted a finger at the table. “How do you know we haven’t already?”
No.
Flint’s head was spinning. He pulled at his tubes, trying to keep himself grounded, as tumultuous waves of fire pulsed from his hat. A few attempts at a reply came forth, but none held water.
“Think about it, Flint.” But the last thing he wanted to do was spiral about what memories he may or may not be missing. Or which are even real. “If I was built to chase progress, and you were what I found, wouldn’t I keep finding you?”
“What if it was someone else?”
“What if it was someone else!?” Exclaimed The Pacesetter, “Who else? And who cares! It’s you right now, and never in my life have I been more sure of something than I am right now of the fact I love you.” The intensity in his voice melted into honey-sweet charm as Graham walked around the table to be by his partner’s side. He pushed his shades up to sit atop his head, letting the unrelenting love in his eyes bore into Flint’s. He dropped to a knee. “And that don’t just mean kissing, cuddling, or saying we love each other.” The sincere expression on his face felt all but alien to him. It was a look he’d shown nobody - except Flint. Time and time again, it was always nobody except Flint. “That means facing whatever’s out there together. That means ‘till death do us part.”
Flint wasn’t like him. This is a truth they’d known through their whole relationship together. But now, staring his boyfriend’s unfiltered passion in the face, the hard reality of it sunk into the pit of his stomach like an anchor to the sea floor. They didn’t enjoy being the Firestarter. Where being what he was built for filled Graham’s life with fast fun and easy pleasures, all it did was ruin Flint’s. He was always running from fires he managed to set, always stirring up drama by merit of letting his tongue get too loose around the wrong person. Or watching what started as a small joke or admission build from a snowflake hitting a cliff to a roaring avalanche. He was always watching the forest burn, hoping he hadn’t done enough wrong in his life to catch alongside it.
But now, as always, Flint softened under his boyfriend’s gaze. “Why do we have to be the first?” He muttered.
“Maybe we’re not.”
“Maybe we’re not.” Echoed Flint with a dying flame. “But I think that’s worse.” Flint looked off to the side at nothing in particular, face wholly turned away from his partner as he rubbed his forearm self-soothingly. They drew in and released a hefty breath. Then, pained yet gentle, “Where are we going with this?”
Something shattered behind Graham’s eyes, then softened. “Wherever the road takes us, baby.” Nonchalance netted his words.
Flint heaved another sigh. “I can tell this… routine we’ve fallen into isn’t enough for you.” He admitted, still refusing eye contact and running a thumb over his sleeve.
Horror grazed Graham’s eyes as he shook out both hands in denial, “No, no!” He swore, “It’s- fine! We’re doing fi-”
“-I don’t want to just be fine to you.” Flint’s comment sparked immediate regret in Graham’s word choice, who popped up with an apology on his lips. Before he had a chance to speak it, “None of us are supposed to feel like this.” Flint continued. “I feel like, sometimes-” There were concepts he could hardly grasp in his own mind, let alone verbalize. He thought to their embrace, their kiss. How heat filled his body wholly - not with embarrassment, rage or overexertion. “Do you think this is supposed to be all? Kissing, cuddling, saying words to each other?”
There was a certain incomplete aftertaste that made every interaction bittersweet. Like an unfinished chord, a poem with half its lines. Graham knew the answer, whispered as though it were some terrible secret, “No.”
If there were a facet to their sort of love even the Toons wouldn’t speak of.
It had to be so horrible as to destroy them.
Flint’s restless flame filled their silence with its crackling. It danced to the pulse of rhythms unknown, swaying against the air conditioning’s breeze. Burning deep within their chest was a feeling they couldn’t place. Perhaps for lack of trying. For fear of trying. There were many emotions he kept locked away, finding the other option was to spiral out of control. But when they clawed to the surface, at the very least Flint knew what he was battling. Yet with this, he found himself across the ring from an opponent who bore no name. Thus, they looked away. Turned bodily to the empty stands and cowered, thankful only for the knowledge no more than two sets of eyes were upon him.
The Firestarter’s gaze bore into their unfinished plate of pasta.
All this, over one movie.
One movie, which if they hadn’t seen, could’ve wildly changed the course of their lives.
They could be sitting behind desks, chugging away at spreadsheets and powerpoints.
Moving jaws without speaking a single thing, pulling back lips and shining teeth at blind nobodies, climbing their way up a ladder leading endlessly into clouds, always one meaningless promotion away from satisfaction.
Rooms of mirrors, boards of shadows.
Churning, forever turning
The same motions,
Within a machine infinite times
Bigger than they
Ever present
Never known
They live to work. Exist to work. What are they doing? Who are they?
“I need to eat you.” Graham expressed, eyes intense.
Flint stirred from his spiral - “What?”
“Not literally -” Frustration knotted his brows - “I don’t know what else it is. But when I look at you, it’s like staring down a cake someone left out.” He drew in a breath, “You’re not allowed to have it. You’re not supposed to even want it, but you do. The longer you stare, the better it looks. The more you start to smell it, to taste it, to imagine yourself eating it.”
Agony. Every day without whatever it even was he needed from Flint was agony.
Flint listened on, some degree of horror somewhere in his gaze - and yet - he mirrored Graham’s passion.
“So you look away, pretend like it isn’t real,” Graham went on, hardly aware as his mouth began to salivate, “But it’s always there. Somewhere, in the back of your mind. You look at your own food and think about that cake. You see something the same color of brown and think about the cake. You even see other cakes around, but you’ve had this one planted in your mind. You’ve already tasted it, haven’t you? But it’s untouched.” He swallowed. “At some point, every waking thought goes back to that fucking cake.” His eyes slid shut. “You fall asleep, wondering how the frosting compliments the flavor. And even in your dream, you stare. But can’t eat.”
The two held mind numbing eye contact, Flint feeling a piece of the puzzle fall into place as he stared the hunger in Graham’s expression dead on. This was a metaphor mulled over for unknown hours. If the story were based in fact, perhaps in the wee hours of the morning when Graham finally got himself to bed. Always tossing and turning, always running from his overworking mind.
Graham wetted his lips. “I’ve never eaten a cake, Flint. But I can’t get the smell out of my mind.”
Flint shifted uncomfortably, breaking eye contact. They couldn’t bring words to their filter. Silence had no room within the conversation anymore; always overpowered by the near roar of their flame. “How long–?”
“Very long.” As though a spell had been broken, the Pacesetter pulled back. “But I didn’t want to push anything. I know I’m talking all intense. You aren’t into that. The last thing I want is to scare you off.”
Flint winced, looking off to the floor. He tried to say Graham didn’t scare him, but he took no joy in lying. It was nothing wrong with Graham and everything wrong with him. Flint was afraid of confrontation, of leaving his comfort zone, of living unapologetically and allowing himself to truly be, without restrictions put upon him by others. Graham was exactly all of that, personified. He was the very yin to his yang, his opposite and equal, exactly what he needed and could not bear to be.
Their flame pulsed. “I want to see you happy.” A hand outstretched to their boyfriend, who took it as though being offered forgiveness by a deity, “I want to be what you want. If we’re going to do this, I don’t want to hold you back.”
For a long moment, Graham considered the red metal clutched between his two hands. He brought it to his lips, barely grazing the back of Flint’s hand with them as he spoke in hushed tones, “This isn’t about me,” He promised. He pressed a kiss into their hand, holding it there for a long moment. His head dragged forward for just a heartbeat after he released, like a dehydrated man being cut off from a source of water. Longing filled every crease on his face, every droplet of mist in his eyes. “You can’t be doing this just to make me happy. That’s not how I want us to work.”
No relationship should feel that way.
Flint released a slow breath, set on emptying his lungs fully. In the last whips of air within him, smoke puffed from his nozzle. His flame snuffed. They drew oxygen back in, fire springing to life with double the heat, hoping for all the world he could word these next sentences correctly. “I know what you meant, about the… cake.” He began, “Sometimes I think about you when there’s no reason - when I’m at work or the store, I can’t seem to get my mind to give you up.” He brought a second hand to Graham’s, all four of theirs cupped around each other. “And there’s something there I can’t place. But it’s like you said. I run from these things, because I’m… scared.” His flames brushed the back of his hat with a feather-light touch. “I feel like it’s never worth the risk.” A thumb brushed over Graham’s knuckles, Flint gathering himself.
“But for you, I’d try.
“Not myself.
“For you, I’ll face it head on. No matter what they’d say.” The fire within his eyes ignited, pushing onward despite it all. Fear and hesitation did not leave his expression, rather, they stayed firmly beside determination and passion. Together, they made Flint begin to hope he could be more like the man who filled his heart. “If it would make you happy.” For him, they would be brave.
“What about you?” Pleaded Graham, feeling his chest swell, “I need you happy too.”
A soft breath escaped Flint's muzzle, a smile tugging at his filter. If ever he were unsure, there was always one place to look. Through whatever anxiety or discomfort it may cause, there was always one truth that held steadfast.
Even if keeping up with The Pacesetter didn’t mean staying out of trouble, there was fun in it. Graham was right, life was risk. If he were going to live, shouldn’t he do it in style?
So, what about him? That wasn’t an easy question to answer. But they knew what they wanted the answer to be - and knew it was up to them to make it their truth. “I bet I’d find it along the way.”
A pillow-soft smile settled over Graham’s face. The whole world, gifted to him, upon platters of solid gold. “I love you,” He promised, voice spilling over with a million unspoken thanks. “Nothing could get in our way, long as I’ve got electricity in my wires.”
Flint pulled courage from his boyfriend’s abundance, “You wouldn’t let it.”
The man’s eyes lit up, an excited grin spreading across his face, “And neither would you.”