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Vuk always touched the back of his neck in an odd way whenever they kissed. Dražen had been noticing it for a while now. Knowing Vuk, Dražen assumed it was some odd quirk of his that he was unknowingly doing. He didn’t necessarily understand it, but the justification made sense in his mind.
For example, when Vuk was a bit stressed or overwhelmed, he would repetitively manually blink hard, or run his hand through his hair, or mess with his tie if he was wearing it. Dražen assumed that when he touched the back of his neck, it was the same kind of thing, but specifically linked to kissing or initiating anything else intimate with him. He was probably nervous.
Initially, Dražen found the notion cute. He would never say it out loud, though.
A few times, however, Dražen would try to catch Vuk’s hand as it snaked its way up to his neck in an attempt to be comforting or coy. Vuk never usually minded when Dražen stopped him from performing a quirk, but he seemed to get strangely annoyed whenever that would happen. He’d produce an irritated grumble before worming his hand out of Dražen’s grasp and resuming touching his neck for a short while.
It honestly started to bother Dražen a bit, but he didn’t know what to say about it. He stopped finding the whole thing cute after a while. It became strange. Vuk wasn’t usually aware of the other quirks he performed while he did them. But he was aware of this one? And he wanted to do it? Dražen couldn’t understand it very well.
He was positively convinced that he would figure out why Vuk was so hellbent on acting on his quirk the next time they were together. It was partially his motive as to why he invited him over for a nice, quiet little night under the guise of watching a movie. A historical one, even. Dražen didn’t really care for the subject, but he was going to try his best to butter Vuk up. The other part of his motive was that he, well, liked him very much, and everything about this situation was probably silly.
Dražen glanced towards Vuk, who was just barely leaning against him. From an outsider’s perspective, it would appear as though Vuk wasn’t very interested in him. Dražen knew better, though. Vuk was too focused to try and get all up in his personal space. It was appreciated by Dražen, as he wasn’t one for excessive physical contact. As little as he cared for historical movies, he picked them the most whenever they decided to have a lazy date at home. It kept Vuk happy and occupied, and gave Dražen space.
(He was also learning a bit of history every time they watched something and liked being able to give actual input to Vuk’s rambles, but Vuk didn’t need to know that.)
The film was nearing its end. He looked completely captivated by it. Typically, Dražen would find the sight adorable and would express his feelings by lightly poking fun at Vuk for his intense interest. However, he had other plans. It was best not to get too distracted.
As the credits began to roll, Dražen leaned over, throwing his arm around Vuk’s shoulders. The shorter man flinched in surprise, as if snapped out of a trance. He looked up at Dražen, a small smile breaking out on his face. “What?”
“Hello,” Dražen replied softly. He squeezed Vuk’s shoulder, tugging him close. “Did you enjoy the movie?”
“For the most part,” Vuk replied, absentmindedly angling his body towards Dražen. “There were a few inaccuracies, though.” He then had a very genuine look in his eyes. “I can tell you about them.”
Dražen almost felt bad knowing that he was going to shut him down. Vuk always made such a sad ‘understanding’ face whenever his rambling was rejected. Still, he had to persist. He brought his other hand to Vuk’s face, gently cupping his cheek and stroking his thumb along it. “I would love to hear it, but,” he started, bringing his own face closer to Vuk’s, dropping the hand on the other man’s shoulder to his waist, “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind all day, Mišić.”
Disappointment washed across Vuk’s face before becoming something more surprised and flushed. A confident little grin etched its way into his face. “Is that so?”
Instead of answering verbally, Dražen bumped his nose against Vuk’s. He could faintly feel Vuk’s breath on his lips. It was admittedly challenging to remember that he had a mission in a moment like this. Part of him wanted to kiss Vuk stupid and then some, forget about the whole thing and move on for good. It would probably make his life easier, even. Still, he was capable of self control. Dražen’s lips parted as he inched his head closer. Vuk followed suit.
Then, before contact was made, his hand flew up to his neck. Immediately, Dražen let go of Vuk’s face and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers. Vuk let out a startled noise of surprise, pulling his head back. He tried to tug his hand away a few times, a look of frustration beginning to appear on his face.
This exact scenario had happened hundreds of times, and Dražen still couldn’t figure it out. Most times, he would see Vuk’s irritation and wordlessly let him go, but he wouldn’t this time. He needed to get to the bottom of this weird quirk. With great difficulty, he managed to mask his analytical expression with one of affection. He leaned in close to Vuk, attempting to speak in a more soft, reassuring voice, “There’s no need to be so nervous.”
Vuk blinked at him, eyes widening in surprise. His frustrated expression vanished, becoming replaced with something more flustered. He stuttered for a moment before spitting out a rather unconvincing, “I’m not nervous about anything. What are you talking about?”
Aha! Dražen felt a surge of victorious pride swell inside him. There was no way Vuk would reject the idea of nervousness if he wasn’t actually, truly nervous! He was getting somewhere. Good. He kept the distance between their faces close, poking the tip of his nose against Vuk’s. “What do you think I’m talking about? You’re always scratching your neck before we do anything. You’re getting nervous, aren’t you, buba?”
Despite Dražen pulling out his ultimate trump card and utilizing one of the more sickeningly sweet pet names he had for Vuk, the other man appeared to be unaffected. Huh? In fact, strangely, an unfamiliar look came to Vuk’s face. He looked concerned, but there was something else there that Dražen couldn’t identify. “That’s not what that is.” He squeezed his eyes in a harsh, manual blink, as if bothered by his own words. What?
Dražen’s eyebrows twitched, confusion blooming in his mind at the reaction. Using pet names always softened Vuk up. What in the world was happening? Dražen replied, audibly baffled, “What?”
Suddenly, Dražen could identify the look in Vuk’s face as it became more clear. Fear. Fear? What was he afraid of? He couldn’t possibly be that nervous, no? They’d kissed hundreds of times by now. They’d done more than that, too. What was so important about being able to touch his neck? It couldn’t be that reassuring for him, could it?
“I just,” Vuk started, swallowing thickly, “I just have to do that. Okay?” His eyes darted round the room, trying to look at anything except for the man in front of him.
It didn’t make any sense, really. It didn’t appear to be nervousness. But what? In his puzzled state, Dražen subconsciously loosened his grip on Vuk’s hand. Vuk quickly pulled his hand free, snapping Dražen out of his thoughts.
Vuk managed to touch his neck, but Dražen dropped all of his tact from earlier and caught up with him, grabbing his wrist and trying to yank it forward, producing a “Hey!” from Vuk. He didn’t care, though. What was he—
Dražen’s chest tensed at the sight before him. Held tightly in Vuk’s hand was a thin metal chain. A necklace chain. Vuk wasn’t the type to wear jewelry, but Dražen knew that he always wore an Orthodox cross necklace, kept tucked away under his shirt.
A million thoughts flashed through his mind.
Dražen was not a religious person. He did not believe in the slightest. When he was a child, his lightly religious parents would take him to church, but it was never anything that he felt inclined towards or was pressured to believe. He understood why people would believe, of course. Either being taught to believe from birth, having some sort of revelation at a low point in life, or however else belief might come to a person. He never found religious types obnoxious, either, so as long as they didn’t try to insist upon their belief. He was entirely neutral.
It made getting to know Vuk a unique and curious experience. He hadn’t clocked him as religious for quite a while. The thought never crossed his mind, to be fair, as he didn’t necessarily find it important to figure out whether or not someone was religious as, again, he felt neutral towards the whole thing. However, Vuk was oddly hidden with it. The way he spoke about things and the goings of life never implied that he felt any which way regarding belief. Granted, the things he spoke most passionately about typically regarded history, but still. Dražen never assumed that he was religious, but he never assumed that he wasn’t, either. Again, it didn’t really matter to him.
Still, it was a strange sense of shock when Dražen found out. When the two of them were growing into close friends, and Dražen finally squashed down the part of his ego that told him to never be the one to ask to hang out first, he had asked him if he wanted to take a nice walk with him on a Sunday morning. Vuk said he couldn’t. He had to go to church.
At the time, Dražen had stupidly sputtered on the phone in surprise before acting as if he already knew that about him and simply forgot. He had hung up in a rush, thoroughly embarrassed with himself. Vuk sounded so confused on the other end of the line, too. Had he been under the assumption that Dražen knew? Possibly. The topic never came up again, but the newfound information remained in Dražen’s mind. He always found the information to be vaguely important, but he never looked further into it.
Why would he? If Vuk believed in a certain way, there would be no possibility of them becoming frequently tangled in each other’s bodies.
So why was he gripping his necklace chain with an unfamiliar God fearing look in his eyes? A look that Dražen had never seen before in all the years he had known him?
Dražen’s mouth felt dry. In spite of his screaming mind, his voice came out in a controlled and flat tone, “Is it for comfort?” He tightened his hold around Vuk’s wrist. “Do you need to feel closer to God before you kiss me?”
Vuk blinked uselessly. Did he honestly think this conversation would never, ever come up? His mouth opened and closed like a suffocating fish before he stupidly croaked out, “I don’t do that.”
“Then what?” Dražen hissed. “What do you do?”
Vuk’s lost, frightened expression became replaced with a hardened one as he answered, “I take it off.”
A cold and tense feeling found its way into Dražen’s chest.
He takes it off.
He takes it off?
Dražen wasn’t an idiot. He knew what that implied. Immediately, he dropped Vuk’s hand, fully pulling away from him. He stood up, standing over Vuk with a hurt and confused expression, hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Despite knowing the answer, he spat out, “Why the hell do you do that?”
Vuk shrank into the couch. His expression looked almost furious. He dug the necklace out from under his shirt and his hand came to the cross, gripping it tightly. “It doesn’t matter!”
A feeling of disgust settled at the bottom of Dražen’s core at the sight. “Mišić!”
Vuk flinched at Dražen’s raised voice. A short moment of quiet passed between them before Vuk boldly spoke again, saying, “We’re both men, Dra. I can’t kiss you and—!”
In an instant, Dražen felt as though he had no idea who the man in front of him was.
While the shorter man spoke, Dražen unclenched his hands, stuffing his face into them, not knowing what to do with his body as the other uttered the worst possible words. He quickly interrupted him to save himself from any further damage, spitting out, “Shut up. Shut up.”
The other’s mouth clamped shut at that. Dražen peeked at him between his fingers, watching his tense, afraid, yet determined form fidget uncomfortably whilst sunk into the corner of the couch.
Dražen felt like gagging.
Did an inward part of the other man hate their relationship, despite his honest and expressive love for him? Did he secretly detest the fact that they were together? Dražen wondered if they had been together long enough for the other to attend confession. If he did, did he talk about their relationship? Did he express disgust with himself? With Dražen? Did he talk about how much they loved each other despite how wrong it was? Did he even love him?
An ugly, choked sound broke Dražen’s rambling train of thought. His head snapped up, fingertips now grazing his chin as he looked at the sight before him.
The other man gripped his hair in his hands, as if having lost control of the nervous quirk that made him run his hand through his hair. He looked pathetic. Disgusting. Quietly crying uselessly.
Dražen felt angry with himself when bubbles of sympathy and pain swirled around his mind. He didn’t like seeing him in such a state, even with his newfound distaste for him. Still, he didn’t touch him. He remained standing, staring down at the other as he unraveled.
When the other man released his hair, thoroughly having turned it into a tousled mess, Dražen decided to speak again, voice cracking slightly, “Why are you even with me, then?”
Sucking in a shaky breath, the man wiped his eyes, replying in a crackly voice, “I love you.” Despite his words, he refused to look up at him.
Heart squeezing, Dražen tried his best to remain collected. His reply came out in a whisper, “Alongside your belief?” He paused. “Or in spite of it?”
The other man didn’t respond. Dražen pressed his lips together in a thin line. Of course. Of course. Of course.
Finally, the other man took another breath, weakly replying, “You’d never understand it.” Another breath. “It’s not black and white like that.”
Eugh.
Dražen’s lips curled into a sneer. He crouched down, grabbing the shorter man’s chin and turning his face up and towards him. The other flinched in shock, staring up at him with a startled expression. His pupils seemed to dilate and then shrink when he saw Dražen’s cold face. Gripping his chin much too hard, Dražen spoke lowly, “I find it very comprehensible, actually. It’s not very complex.” He narrowed his eyes. “It bothers me that you think I can’t understand something like this.”
The other’s face contorted with frustration, then genuine sadness. He gripped the couch beneath him. He sounded throttled as he replied, “I love you.”
Fuck. Dražen’s face twitched, his carefully crafted expression faltering. He hated the way his voice sounded when he replied, “Mišić—“
“I love you so much,” the other man spoke in a whisper, simultaneously sounding as if he was trying to hide his words from God but also as a way of keeping such earnest words private and loving and genuine towards Dražen. “I love you. And I wanna get married in a church. But we can’t. We can’t. And I feel like- I think- I—“ he abruptly stopped, cutting himself off with a sharp inhale.
As he spoke, Dražen’s senses numbed themselves, becoming focused on one particular set of words. A unique, new sentence that had never been spoken between the two of them. A unique, new sentence that had never once crossed Dražen’s mind despite their relationship reaching a toddler’s age. A unique, new sentence that bloomed feelings of spring flowers in his stomach, both wonderful and poisonous, but life nonetheless.
The man in front of him was confusing, incomprehensible, frustrating, horrible, rude, cruel, and lovely, funny, and soft-hearted.
Vuk continued to spout things that were difficult to understand. Dražen reached forward with his other hand, pinching the cross of Vuk’s necklace between his fingers. It wasn’t very comprehensible. It was very complex.
He leaned forward, bumping his nose against Vuk’s. Vuk immediately ceased his rattling, staring at Dražen with wide eyes. Neither of them moved.
Dražen then parted his lips to speak, but was cut off by the brash crash of Vuk’s lips against his own. Dražen blinked once, twice, three times before returning the gesture.
His eyes remained open, still. His gaze momentarily flickered to the cross in his hand, the necklace it was attached to still worn around Vuk’s neck.
He stayed kissing him, climbing back onto the couch and hovering above Vuk’s lap, thinking to himself that they were due for further conversation. But his mind remained unsettled and incapable of producing anything of the sort. This conclusion felt simultaneously satisfactory and absolutely terrible.
Still, he released the necklace, wrapping his arms around Vuk’s form and pressing their bodies together, the cross between them, touching both their chests.