Work Text:
I was jealous, of this I was almost certain; but no matter how many times I told myself it was unprecedented, that ache in my chest didn’t seem to get any lighter.
Lovro just left, lying about some reason he had to get back as our impromptu hangout got cut short by Sonja’s arrival. And after a quick conversation in which I’m sure she’d picked up on my sudden bad mood I quickly retreated back to my bedroom, flopping face first against my pillows. Now the rational part of my brain knows there was no reason to be angry with her for showing up, of course she was coming, Sonja basically lives here. However the selfish part of me wishes that maybe work could’ve held her up just this once. It was not a thought someone in a relationship should be having, that being said if I started dissecting it right now I feared the gnawing sensation growing in my gut which one could only describe as guilt would become too big to stay buried.
No, instead I was trying, and failing, not to think about what was happening before she’d arrived. Lovro and I were in the kitchen; the atmosphere was thick, subtle music playing in the background that I was definitely not listening to, paired with the warm hue of the street lamps filtering through the open window. He was stood so close I could map out the freckles on his nose, drinking it in until something in my mind deemed it inappropriate and I had to look elsewhere. I had this awful jelly peanut butter thing held up in-front of his face that I’d put together in an attempt to make him laugh, which in turn meant he was eyeing me with light hearted disgust.
“Here try that,” I said.
“Ok, wait - but you also have to” Lovro replied, a glint of humour in his eyes.
“I’ll try it after you.”
I won’t, I thought, but he didn’t need to know that. Finally he caved and parted his lips, making a move towards my hands. They shook in trepidation, and as if to add insult to injury he shut his fucking eyes on the way down. I didn’t miss the way my heart flipped, clutching the bread with a desperation so fierce I hadn’t known it was possible. I felt his breath fan out across my fingers, and as he pulled back I made the mistake of letting my gaze drift to his mouth, where a smear of peanut butter had clung to his bottom lip. Fuck me, I thought, watching as Lovro’s tongue darted out not once but twice, to lick the substance away. Lovro’s eyes were back on me then, and god his eyes were such a rich shade of blue I found it hard to look away, they were staring at me with such unabashed curiosity that I felt laid bare. My usual unwavering confidence buckling a little and I silently wondered what emotion I had plastered on my face right now. For all I know I could’ve been staring with all the grace of someone who was trying not to drool. I was sure he’d heard my sharp intake of breath but the look on his face was calm, and all too slow I realised he was waiting for me to also take a bite. My hands strained in effort to keep them in place as I let myself wonder what it would’ve tasted like had I swiped the peanut butter away with my thumb instead. The image made me restless, and I dared to venture past that, to pushing my thumb up against Lovro's closed mouth, forcing his lips apart so I could press down on his tongue—
Three raps on my door startled me out of my daydream, talk about deja-vu, and I shifted slightly only to realise I was rock hard. Oh yeah good job Ivan, your girlfriend’s at the door and you’re about to cum in your pants. I shoved a pillow onto my lap just as Sonja poked a tentative head around the door.
“You okay?” she asked, worry flicking across her features.
I could tell she was concerned, perhaps she thought this was the start of another episode.. No, that hasn’t happened since the doctors put me on medication — “blunted emotions” they had warned. Present, but not feeling isn’t that right? Two months ago I’d had what they described as a manic episode, resulting in me: fucking up my knee, losing my only career prospect and subsequently moving schools. Yeah I was doing great if anyone asked, absolutely fucking wonderful. They think it’s bipolar, Sonja thinks it’s bipolar everyone thinks it’s bipolar, but no one actually knows. I've given up thinking at all.
“I’m alright, just worn out,” I responded, pairing it with a smile I’m sure didn’t quite meet my eyes.
It’s surprising how quickly your life can fall apart. My parents tell me not to dwell on what could’ve been, and to - in their words “focus on the present” but how could I? When two months ago I'd had it all?
Sonja eyes me once more before saying softly, “I made some food, you should come eat.”
“Later, I promise.” I said, shooting her a wink I hope came off more real than it felt.
It must’ve, for she seemed satisfied with my answer, quietly retreating from the doorframe although I didn’t miss the way she left it a fraction open so I was visible from where she stood in the kitchen. I was still half hard, albeit the sudden trip down memory lane had eased the tension in my trousers considerably. I moved to sit crossed legged, needing to find my footing again as I fished my phone from the back pocket of my jeans. I’d like to pretend I didn’t know what I was doing opening Instagram, but my foot tapping against my knee in unrest should’ve been a dead giveaway. Lovro. It took everything in me not to lean back and fist my cock through the denim. He’d somehow gotten through the cloud of fog that’s taken up permanent residence around my brain, and if it wasn’t for the interruption earlier I would’ve happily let that little fantasy play out.
I typed his name in the search bar, first profile was a hit and I’d found him. His hair was a different colour sure, but there was no mistaking it. Almost instantaneously I felt a spark of jealousy that I hadn’t been there to see this version of him too, but I brushed it off as a by-product of how turned on I currently was. Scrolling down I saw pictures of him with girls, a few guys, but specifically this one guy who came up quite a bit. Yes I’d seen him at karaoke today, J— something or other. I don’t know, but they always seemed to move in perfect harmony with each other. It was jarring actually, trying to find a moment to get Lovro on his own and there this guy was, saying things that made Lovro look at him with such simple adoration. I continued scrolling, taking my time with every photo until I hit the bottom, would it be too much if I liked every single post at what .. 12:08am?! Perhaps. So I opted for just following him instead. As soon as I did however the recommended tab popped up, and there he was. Jakov, yes I remember him now. My thumb hovered over his icon for a few seconds, I didn’t want to press it in fear of what I would find, but in the end my curiosity won out. And —
Oh fuck off.
Instantly I was up, I uncrossed my legs and flexed my toes; every nerve in my body suddenly wound taut with tension, although looking at the photo I didn’t know what to focus on. The shit eating grin splitting Lovro’s face in half or the fact he was wearing.. shark slippers? It was both endearing and mind numbingingly irritating to see him wrapped around this other boy. I had no right to feel like this — that however didn’t stop the overwhelming surge of insecurity I just felt. Who was this guy anyway? Over half the posts on his page had Lovro in like some sort of lovers homage shrine which in turn meant every other scroll I felt like I was personally being shot. Okay that was dramatic, I’m being dramatic, sue me. Nonetheless I definitely wasn’t going to send him a follow request. Lovro had asked earlier if I was trying to steal his crew, light-heartedly sure, but no I didn’t want to steal his friends. In all honesty interacting with them never even crossed my mind. I just wanted Lovro, but it seemed I was going to have to try a little harder.