Work Text:
Aidan remembers it all.
Sometimes, it feels like he didn’t really exist before Richard came into his life. Without Richard, Aidan was but an empty page of an empty book and then he came and covered the blank page with words, hundreds of thousands of words and Aidan felt complete. So complete he could scarcely believe it.
Aidan likes that metaphor.
He finds it suitable because Richard loves words and he loves reading and he loves talking about reading. They have spent countless hours sitting on the sofa or lying on the bed, tired from the pleasure, and those were the times Richard spoke. He talked about novels, plays and poems, about Shakespeare, Saroyan, Verlaine, Pushkin, Kerouac and dozens of others.
And Aidan knew close to nothing about those writers and their work. But he scarcely cared about gloomy English poets or rebellious Americans or romantic French. He focused on Richard, the gleam in his blue eyes, the way he bit on his lip in search for the right word, the tiny smile anytime he looked at Aidan.
God, Aidan loved Richard’s smile. The curve of Richard’s soft thin lips made him want to kiss the other man senseless, to taste him, touch his perfect body and-
No.
Aidan shakes his head to get rid of those thoughts. But they seem to be stuck there and the only thing he achieves by shaking his head is slight dizziness.
He decides to make himself a coffee and he gets up a bit too fast, his head throbbing painfully. The kitchen seems to be miles away as he walk through the endless corridor.
Aidan tries hard to push away the memories that are crawling from the walls, but he still can see himself caught between the cold wall and Richard.
He can almost feel the heat radiating from Richard’s skin, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his thighs between his own, as Richard fumbles with the opening of Aidan’s jeans.
Richard’s mouth on him was wet and hot. The memory of it sends a wave of heat into Aidan’s groin as he rushes through the corridor and forces himself to leave the too vivid images behind.
The kitchen is grey in the late afternoon. Aidan looks around while waiting for water to boil. Grey and empty, he notes. Eerie.
Shaking his head again, he opens the cupboard to find a clean cup. He reaches for the closest one and he sets it on the counter before realising the cup was Richard’s favourite. The next moment, Aidan turns around and throws the cup across the room.
The sound of ceramics shattering on the floor makes him wince.
He turns back and chooses another cup as if nothing happened. He finishes preparing the coffee and with steaming drink in his hands, he heads for the window. The first sip of coffee burns his tongue and he also realises it tastes like shit.
He frowns and pours the hot drink into the flower pot on the windowsill. He sets the empty cup away and leans closer to inspect the plant.
He might as well kill that green fucker, Aidan thinks to himself, it’s not like he is fond of plants. Richard is, though, a little annoying voice whispers in his head. Suddenly, Aidan wonders: do plants feel pain?
And he pinches on the dark green leaf as if he expected the plant to scream in agony. It doesn’t, of course, and Aidan is slightly disappointed.
He doesn’t know how long he stands by the window, but when he hears the knock on the door and looks up, it’s already dark outside.
Aidan walks to the door mechanically and he is not even surprised when he opens it and finds Richard standing there. He looks handsome as always, but Aidan keeps the ice-cold expression on his face.
Richard runs a hand through his hair nervously. ,,I-I’m sorry to... I just came for the things I..forgot there the last time. If you don’t mind?”
Aidan nods and lets Richard enter. Without any hesitation, Richard heads for the bedroom they used to share. Aidan doesn’t follow. Instead, he leans against the wall and sighs heavily.
It feels like all the air has fled from his lungs and his heart is racing fast. His palms are cold and sweaty when he hides his face behind them.
He hears Richard clearing his throat awkwardly. Aidan peeps at him from between his fingers.
,,So...uh...I think I have everything this time,” says Richard and he scratches his jaw uncomfortably.
,,Except...haven’t you seen my cup? The beige one, my favourite? You know which one. I can’t find it anywhere.” Richard chuckles and Aidan thinks this situation is pitiful.
Aidan’s thoughts run back to the kitchen where the remains of the cup are still scattered on the floor. He looks straight into Richard’s eyes.
,,No, I haven’t.”
Richard pouts, clearly disappointed. He then motions towards the door and adds: ,,So, I suppose...eh, see you later.”
Aidan nods in response and watches the older man leave. It is only after he has closed the door that he falls onto his knees and breaks into uncontrollable sobs.
Aidan remembers it all. Even if he wants to forget.