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eric is fifteen when his first girlfriend breaks up with him. she's pretty, all brown braids and tan skin, and she makes him smile even if he can't do the same for her. maybe that's why he doesn't get upset. she deserves better.
he doesn't know why she breaks up with him though, and when he thinks about it, he doesn't know why they dated in the first place either. maybe because her friends said they'd make a good couple. maybe because he likes her company. maybe because kyle suggested he should.
only, she doesn't give him butterflies when they hold hands walking to class, or make him blush when she kisses him goodbye. he doesn't even know if he is supposed to feel that way.
perhaps she doesn't know either, his mum tells him.
-
in the corner of his eye, juan is grinning. juan, who joined the school last year, who sits behind him in english, who who has the brightest, greenest eyes eric's ever seen. juan, whose hand brushed eric's when he asked to borrow a pen and then there they were, blooming like flowers in spring, the butterflies.
it's not like they haven't spoken before, but his heart is skipping in his chest when juan comes over. eric's here with a girl, because boys go to prom with girls. he even bought a lilac tie to match her dress. she's somewhere in the corner, taking selfies with her friends.
here, though, juan is talking, listening, laughing wildly at every joke eric makes, grabbing his wrist and pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. eric likes his hair, he figures, ebony curls that stick up in tufts without looking unkempt.
juan's lips are slightly parted and his eyebrow raised when he asks eric if he's into guys. eric responds with a very unsure, very slow, "i don't know." and juan's lips arch into a smile, so soft and tender. everything in him just radiates sunshine, from the sharpness in his eyes to the flush of pink on his cheeks, and it renders eric speechless.
(juan, the boy who takes eric into the photo booth at prom just to sit on his lap and kiss him until he sees galaxies behind his eyelids and his breaths are bubbling out as gasps against dimples.)
-
and then he knows.
-
he doesn't date juan. they speak in between lessons, but eric's too shy to hold his hand or kiss him. juan understands and he doesn't say anything, just nods sincerely. they're still young, naïve, puppets on strings restricted by inexperience.
it takes eric a little over a month to invite juan over after school. at first, it's only so they can work on this presentation they've been putting off for days. halfway through choosing a background colour, however, eric leans in and kisses juan on the lips, his hand flat against his cheek. juan doesn't expect it, but he adjusts to eric's lips crashing carelessly against his own just before eric pulls back, only to kiss him again. this time his hands migrate into juan's hair, and juan's hands fidget with the hem of eric's shirt. the kiss is longer, juan biting into eric's bottom lip and abandoning eric's shirt to tuck two fingers into the waistband of his jeans.
it's messy and awkward. they don't do much more than get each other off and make out until their mouths are aching, all there on the sofa in eric's living room. juan's gentle with eric, cautious touches and careful, calculated strokes. he can't tell if juan's done this before, get someone else off, but juan can tell he definitely hasn't. eric learns and relearns everything he thought he knew about boys; being with them, touching them, holding them. in the end, their presentation remains unfinished but they won't care because their bodies are sated and their hearts are bursting.
-
he doesn't find anyone quite like juan after he moves away. they're together, extremely on and off for a year and a half, until juan moves up north with his family. their attempts at a long distance relationship are nugatory, skype sessions and good morning messages diminish painstakingly slowly. until one morning when eric doesn't open the message to 'have a lovely day, beautiful' accompanied by a selection of emojis but to a short 'we need to talk.' juan never uses punctuation. then eric knows.
when the screen reveals juan's very pixelated face, eric wants to breathe a sigh of relief. they spoke three days ago, but now this is different. only, juan is still smiling, beaming like he did when they first kissed at prom. something in eric's stomach sinks and he starts biting at his nails. it's the first thing that catches juan's eye and he kisses his teeth, disappointed.
"don't do that, eric. come on."
eric reluctantly retracts his hand and listens as juan tells him that he doesn't feel this is working anymore, that he's met somebody else, that he loves eric but he's doing this for both of them. juan asks him if he's okay, and eric doesn't even recall a time he's been less okay in his life but he says "yeah, it's fine," and the last thing he sees before he ends the call is juan's smile. this time it is only pitiful.
he doesn't do anything long term after juan. he could probably count all his relationships on his left hand. everyone else is either a one night stand, or someone eric cuts off before he gets too attached. sometimes he knows their names, sometimes they're just a string of digits in his phone. most of the time, he doesn't fuck anyone he finds remotely interesting in the first place. to rule out any chance of mutual feelings, he'd say if anyone asked.
he meets harry when he's drunk one night and tells him all about juan, the boy with the sparkling eyes and warm hands. harry says that the first heartbreak is always the worst and wallowing in his own sorrow won't help. eric doesn't listen and he wakes up naked to a pillow that's too soft and a ceiling that isn't his with a throbbing headache for the second saturday morning in a row.
soon, he learns harry doesn't work or live too far from him and that he actually enjoys his company. they go for drinks together more often than not and have long, winded conversations about their past and future and everything in between over beers. eric goes to harry's to watch spurs games, and they scream at the tv for ninety minutes before switching to play fifa.
three weeks after he beats harry 7-5, eric finds himself at a club again, alone, a little tipsy. his drink is bitter and burns his throat more than usual, but he doesn't really think about it until someone slides into the stool beside his. eric doesn't catch his order, so he glances to his left to see who has decided to luxuriate in eric's presence for the night.
the man, if eric was generous enough to give him that, is definitely lanky. his hair is in tight curls on his head, his skin caramel brown, his eyes large and piercing. eric wouldn't look twice at him, usually, he's too gangly and boyish. but he initiates conversation; they drink, they talk, they flirt: it's any other friday night for eric. his thumb is resting somewhere on a foreign thigh and their faces are so close they're almost touching when he takes eric's bicep into his grip and leads him over to the dance floor.
they all start like this, but eric's usually too dizzy by now to remember any details. he knows he probably tramples on the guy's foot as they stagger there, that his hands are in all the wrong places and his hips are only grinding erratically to the pulsing music. the boy is laughing with his head thrown back and his mouth wide open, his fingers clenching eric's shoulders, and then his arms, his elbows, his hands.
they all start like this, eric's grey shirt clinging to his back as he slurs dirty talk into the boy's neck. he's giggling, clutching frantically at eric's waist, letting hands stray to graze belt loops and back pockets. the glint in his eye doesn't fade when eric watches him, spins him, clashes their hips together once more.
they all start like this, eric mumbling into a hot shoulder. "mine, let's go to mine." the boy nods. they share handfuls of each other and exchange wet kisses under neon lights, before stumbling out of the club. when they're at eric's, they waste no time in undressing, until they're all skin on skin and moulding together. he smells of sweat and tastes of alcohol and clings to eric with each and every thrust, like all the others. they fuck maybe twice, three times. and then they pass out on top of the duvets, legs knotted.
they all end like this, eric waking up to the sound of birds which worsens his headache. he notices one shirt and one pair of jeans on the floor amongst the floating black spots he was definitely seeing when he returns from chucking the contents of his stomach into the loo. he doesn't notice the scrap of paper on the bedside table until he wakes up two hours later. he'll read the number, the initial underneath, and forget about it. four days later when a wank doesn't suffice, he'll have already lost the number.
they all end like this.
-
eric says hi to harry's friend who they've bumped into in the coffeeshop before work. they shake hands, exchange names. he doesn't seem to recognise eric, so eric pretends that he doesn't know him, or how the only thing he remembers from last month was how good his lips feel around his cock.
-
dele meets harry's friend, the blond guy he sucked off and maybe most probably fucked last month, the details are still really hazy. eric doesn't remember, though, because he isn't returning dele's cheeky grin, so he plays along and introduces himself.
-
eric knows and slightly remembers that the boy's name begins with a d, but it escapes his mind completely until dele is getting coffee two weeks into december and apparently there isn't a reason why eric is being the good samaritan he's not and paying for dele's grande whole milk white chocolate mocha. harry can only shift from foot to foot, wide eyed and confused.
-
"we have got to stop meeting like this," dele nudges him in the ribs with a bony elbow.
"you see me like this every morning," eric pulls his beanie further over his ears. kindly smiling, he pays for his coffee and takes the cup, decorated in reds and greens to match the christmas theme.
"oh! are you one of those people who can't do mornings without coffee?" dele smirks and eric shoves him.
"he is," harry pipes in, very matter of factly. "he's the epitome of grumpy every morning."
"aww," dele coos and pinches eric's cheeks. eric swats him away, naturally, grumbling that dele's hands are cold.
they aren't, not really.
-
his froth of his cappuccino swirls in infinite halos when he stirs it. the barista who served him was called juan, he'd remembered from the name tag. when he said hi how can i help and smiled, eric saw no dimples, but the name wound back fond memories of the boy. memories of cuddling after school under eric's sheets before his parents came home. chaste, innocent kisses and fumbling hands undoing shirt buttons and belt buck-
"diet!"
eric blinks up from his coffee and searches for who called his…name.
not today, he thinks. not on my day off.
he knows it's dele before he even sees him, and he half regrets even looking up to search for him. not that the coffeeshop is plagued with people; it's half eleven and the place is, as predicted, idle.
dele's in the queue, behind two other people, waving. hesitantly, eric raises a hand in response, immediately returning to ripping into his croissant then scrolling through his instagram feed. by the time he likes kyle's recent post and he's spent a good few minutes on the dogsofinstagram page, someone drops into the seat opposite him, setting a drink and toasted sandwich on the table. eric rolls his eyes.
"really?"
dele beams and hunches up his shoulders. "i thought i'd keep you company," he replies. "what's that?" he leans over his food to peek at eric's phone, now showcasing the #dogs tag on instagram.
"dogs, dele."
he double taps on a photo of two beagles sleeping beside each other.
"that's cute," dele notes, sipping on his coffee. "so. what's the great eric dier doing having breakfast at midday on his own?"
"i'm not- did you just refer to me in the third person?"
dele frowns. "answer the question, eric. really."
"fine. day off." he turns his phone screen off, pops another shred of croissant into his mouth. "that smells good. what is it?"
"um. chicken and avocado. and like," he lifts one slice of his bread. "some other green stuff." dele's eyes light up for a moment. "day off?"
"yeah. i don't work on wednesdays." he says it before he realises that dele is basically a stranger and even though harry did formally introduce them after their fling, eric doesn't tell people about himself or anything that he does even after they've drunkenly fucked, even if they have pretty gorgeous brown eyes that were purely the definition of drowning, and even if their knees are skimming his own under the table.
"why are you here?"
eric takes a slow, deep breath and finishes his coffee.
"hmm? i said, keeping you company."
"no, i mean. don't you have things to be doing."
"lunch break," dele shrugs, chomping into the last of his sandwich and winking. "so, juan…thoughts?"
eric almost spits out his drink. it tastes bitter when he swallows it now, so he pulls a face at dele.
"what?" dele chuckles. "i saw you ogling him earlier."
"you.. i don't know."
"well, i'd give him a six point five. nice beard, really big hands. they can like, wrap around this entire cup." impressed, dele nods enthusiastically.
"so can mine?!" eric tests his grip on dele's cup, and his fingers nearly, almost meet. but dele is quick to slap eric's wrist.
"who said you could touch?" dele's already taking another sip of his drink and swivelling around in his seat to catch another glimpse of juan. eric watches dele instead, through half lidded eyes, breathing a little through his mouth.
dele turns back around and eric blinks; he's grinning, which is kind of cute, really, because his nose scrunches up and his face glows. his eyes are transfixed on eric's own blue when he says,
"so, your turn."
"um," eric swallows before licking his lips, holding dele's focus and replies, with all the strength he can muster, "eight."
-
(eric doesn't do attached, but the way his face lights up when dele breathlessly rushes in and waves at him next wednesday says otherwise.)
-
wednesday afternoons happen more often. eric's always there before dele, and sometimes, if he's feeling particularly generous, he buys a sandwich or a drink for him. conversation doesn't halt most days, but if it does, neither of them mind. company is enough.
eric forgets to draw the line between 'one night stand' and 'friend' with dele, but he doesn't need to know that. he's watching dele through the window as he buries his nose into the scarf he's wearing, pushes the door to the coffeeshop open and pokes his head around to look for eric. his expression brightens when their eyes meet, and eric thinks perhaps it was better that he never drew the line.
now, he's listening to dele talk about how the new waffle place nearer to his have giant portion sizes and that they should go sometime. dele is thrilled to hear eric say, sure why not, and, animated, he goes on to explain the sheer size of the marshmallows he had on his waffle last week.
eric doesn't mind, he would listen to dele talk about marshmallows for as long as dele wants to talk about them, but something in the back of his mind nags him with the gentle question of, since when?
-
dele doesn't want to pinpoint the exact moment he thought he knew he was falling in love. it isn't supposed to be like that, it's never been like that, not for him at least. it shouldn't take just one look at eric running his fingers through his hair and eyeing dele with those baby blues to set his heart off doing somersaults in his ribcage. only it does, and from then on dele doesn't remember a time he wasn't falling. he doesn't even need to spend days replaying it in his head because he knows, and a tiny part of him is insisting that he's always known.
-
dele sneezes and eric thinks it's the cutest thing he's ever heard. he giggles, spills another insult, and he is gifted with dele smearing avocado on his face.
"evil," eric mutters under his breath as he wipes the green mush off with his thumb then sucks it off. "you're evil, you know that?"
"i love you too, diet," dele smirks and for the first time, eric wishes he wasn't joking.
-
( "are you flirting with me?"
"may~be,"
eric doesn't blush, he stammers, but dele quickly says, "oh like i'd flirt with you. you're about as charismatic as a pavement slab. now hurry up, your waffle's getting cold."
and that was that. )
-
dele shuts his eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time that night. he tosses and he turns endlessly. as far as he knows, it's two in the morning, and nobody's awake at two in the morning. his eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling; he finds when he looks there for too long murky blots seem to scar his vision. it doesn't stop him from curling and uncurling his toes, squeezing his fingers, reaching over to check the time once more.
the blue gleam hurts his eyes, when he turns the phone on to read 02:17. he blinks a few times to adjust to it. no matter how many times he refreshes, his social media is still stagnant, so he scrolls absently through his contacts.
nobody's awake at two in the morning, he expects, but eric picks up after the fourth ring.
"are you okay?"
it catches dele off guard, because there is no hello, just eric's deep, languid voice sounding through the phone. he's just happy to hear a voice, happier that it's eric's. rolling onto his stomach, dele switches to speaker.
"um, yeah. no. i can't sleep." he plants his face into his pillow. it is cold and feels refreshing.
"aw, are you missing me, delboy?"
"like i'd miss you." dele scoffs, but he knows eric's more or less telling the truth. "why are you up?"
"same as you."
he turns over onto his back again, linking his fingers and watching the ceiling. he talks to eric about the weather, about work, about football, until four in the morning and he hears eric yawn. instantly feeling guilty, he insists eric goes to bed. when he hangs up, the empty feeling in dele grows like a disease until it lulls him to sleep.
-
danny pulls his sleeves over his hands and shuffles around on the spot. "go for it," he whispers, and anyone would think he's excited rather than cold. "i know you dele. what's the worst that could happen?"
"you obviously don't know me,"
"i know enough," coughing, danny hugs himself. dele looks on sympathetically. "excuse me," he's had the flu for a few weeks now.
"what do you think i should do?"
"tell him," danny mumbles into his tissue. "just tell him."
-
"i don't know, diet. i think we should make this a tradition."
dele seals the lid of his polystyrene cup after he's added three spoonfuls of sugar. eric can get his head around the mocha, the whole milk, but never the sugar.
"tradition? uh, no thank you. that is the last coffee i'll ever buy you."
"but eric. you're always buying me lunch." he persists, but eric is already leaving.
"i'm dead serious. breakfast is not lunch." dele's confused and hot on his heels when he exits the coffeeshop. eric sips timidly on his coffee, not looking when dele skips a little to catch up with him. it rained only a little last night, the kind that comes unexpectedly in may and disappoints kids and adults alike- it's meant to be sunny.
"fine, how about a drink?"
"that is a drink, you walnut," but he sees dele's hopeful expression and realises.
oh.
harry chose the wrong day to catch a cold.
-
dele turns up to harry's in the most hideous jacket eric has ever seen and he doesn't give him a second to breathe before the first insult tumbles out of his mouth. embroidered with streaks of orange, white and gold across each sleeve, it's eccentric, to say the least. so when dele asks eric if he likes it, eric bursts into peals of laughter, naturally, but slings an arm around dele's shoulders anyway and tucks him closer to his ribs. dele pouts and tries to wriggle out of eric's grip.
later, after the last monday night football of the season disappoints them all, eric and dele fall asleep on harry's sofa and he's too polite to wake either of them up and tell them to leave. in the morning, dele will find himself under eric's arm, but he won't snuggle any closer because it's eric, and he isn't taking any chances. he will shake pins and needles out of his leg and maybe blow a kiss to eric, because it's all he can do before eric opens his eyes.
-
eric opens his eyes when he hears the door slam shut and dele's not there anymore and his heart kind of breaks.
-
dele is twenty two and sitting opposite his best friend in the coffeeshop on wednesday afternoon. it's mid june and it's only just started getting warmer, nights shorter and trees greener. he is pinching himself because he really, really wants to kiss eric because they've sat by the window today and the sun is hitting him in all the right angles and he looks so, so radiant. but he doesn't, not even when eric pats him on the back of his hand to reclaim his attention.
-
eric is twenty two and sitting opposite his best friend in the coffeeshop on wednesday afternoon. it's mid june and it's only just started getting warmer, nights shorter and trees greener. he is pinching himself because he really, really wants to kiss dele because they've sat by the window today and the sun is hitting him in all the right angles and he looks so, so radiant. but he doesn't, and dele's still staring aimlessly out of the window, so eric pats him on the back of his hand to reclaim his attention.
-
there is dust dancing in the small amber beam of light coming in through the window. it's been like this for days now, endless sun and heat, because it's august, eric keeps reminding him. they are in dele's shared apartment, a tub of vanilla ice cream between them, both seperating and cooling their thighs. his flatmates aren't here and they won't be back for a while, he hopes. they're watching the first late kickoff of the season on saturday afternoon armed with two spoons and a healthy level of hatred for both teams playing.
the game started seven minutes ago and they're already yelling. in reality, they don't care who wins or loses because it doesn't even affect where spurs are in the league but that's irrelevant. seven minutes is too early for anyone to get booked.
"vanilla is really fucking boring," eric notes distractedly.
"but it's a classic! everyone loves it," dele says, equally as distracted.
"i'm not saying i don't like it. there are better flavours, that's all." the back of his hand brushes dele's ever so lightly when they reach into the tub at the same time. he wants to take dele's hands into his own and hold them, for no other reason beside he's too scared to say anything like i love you.
-
"i think i like dele."
"i know you like dele. you've never given anyone more than a seven."
kyle shoots him a look and eric doesn't bring it up again, partly because he knows kyle is right, partly because he can't believe it took him this long to realise.
and he doesn't even like dele. he's helplessly, desperately in love with dele but if he tells kyle that kyle may just drag dele here by the ear and force him to confess.
(in hindsight, that may not have been a totally awful idea.)
-
autumn and winter come and go like an illness. dele meets eric on wednesday afternoons, on weekends, evenings, and every free moment in between. seeing each other feels like a dream again, hearts fluttering and palms sweating, but they both do a decent job of hiding it. it's the craving, the yearning in between them that pushes them over the edge, but the fear of loss and heartache that reel them back in.
it feels the same every time they touch, like goddamn electricity, but dele doesn't want eric to know that. they're together now as friends, and if anything were to ruin this it would be his own recklessness.
for the next eight months they're joint at the hip. sometimes they go for walks in autumn, just to stamp in leaves and pet the dogs they see in the park. other times they order chinese and eat in eric's bed and watch reality tv until someone falls asleep. most of the time they don't care what it is, because they're unconciously erasing that line between friendship and dating but somehow still treading on it.
today eric's keeping count of the chin ups dele's doing, tomorrow they're watching the latest spiderman sequel, yesterday they went shopping in london. everything sits in dissonant harmony, because there is something asymmetric about all their touches and words.
(later, they'll realise that all their memories need readjusting, because they never lay parallel to the truth.)
-
"so i take it you've told him?" danny's eyes widen when he smiles, clearly optimistic. they're at danny's, and he's leaning on the kitchen counter with a mug of tea in his hands and jumper tied around his shoulders . it's april. he doesn't need it.
"told who what?"
"eric..?" he coaxes, nodding slowly, sipping on his tea. guilty, dele looks down at his hands and fiddles with the nail of his thumb. danny purses his lips, shutting his eyes for a moment. "you haven't?"
"i just can't. i can't find the right words."
"right. okay. show him."
"what?"
"just, hold his hand! kiss him! anything. i don't want to see that look on your face ever again."
"what look?" dele's eyebrows furrow and his oblivious expression doesn't give in. danny sips more tea and shrugs.
"you guys did have sex already right?"
dele nearly chokes on his own saliva when he sees danny's emotionless face. "yeah, i guess. we were drunk. he doesn't remember any of it."
"then stop dancing around the fact that you have feelings for each other."
"i'm not- wait, what do you mean, for each other?"
danny finishes his tea and smiles knowingly.
-
dele is standing on eric's doorstep, grinning, in a pastel pink hoodie and black jeans with slits at the knees. he has a white plastic bag in one hand and a pizza box in the other, and a navy cap on his head.
"you're looking nice, delboy," eric says in a pitch higher than necessary, which causes him to clear his throat and follow up with a low and very dishonest, "for once." dele rolls his eyes and lets himself in. eric's eyes linger when they shouldn't.
"aww, thanks diet. i tried, unlike some." he isn't joking, the top eric is wearing couldn't look any more discoloured and shabby.
"it's just you. i don't need to dress up." dele is already toeing his white trainers off and launching himself onto eric's sofa. spring is in full swing now, eric has his windows open and the curtains are billowing, there's a faint, dying sound of a tune from an ice cream van filling the room. eric falls into the space beside dele, who stretches his legs out into eric's lap and takes his cap off.
dele asked if he could come over today, that he had some news. theoretically, eric wouldn't care, because it's dele and his news is most likely something insignificant, like it always is. but because it's dele, eric agrees.
for a moment, they both sit in silence, but they both know it's mere anticipation. "pizza?" dele suggests, popping the lid of the tray open.
"yes, please," and eric reaches over to help himself to a slice. dele starts a story about how he'd gone with another pizza place this time and they'd got the order horribly wrong.
"pizza isn't too bad though," he says and eric agrees.
by the time eric's licking the tomato sauce off his fingers, his impatience heightens.
"what's the big news then?"
dele, whose eyes are glinting in the sunlight, nibbles at the pizza crust he has between his fingers. his lips part slightly, but only to stretch into a lopsided grin. "it can wait," he says, and pulls another slice apart.
eric tries his best to wait. after they eat, they watch a couple of shows, play a couple of games of fifa. dele thrashes him in the third game, so eric smashes him in the face with a sofa cushion. dele winces and curls up into a ball on the sofa, and eric takes this as his chance to completely batter him. somehow, dele manages to snatch up his own cushion, kicking eric in the thigh before thumping the cushion into his ribs. his revenge is as brutal as pillow fights get, and leaves eric cackling while dele hushes him between choked giggles, persisting that the neighbours won't appreciate the noise he's making, but eric doesn't even care.
he isn't even thinking when he jostles dele off the sofa, but he isn't expecting to be brought down with him also. his knee lands somewhere between dele's legs, and he has to use his elbow to steady himself or else he's probably cheek to cheek with dele and that's… what he wants. the bridge of his nose is grazing the sharp curve of dele's jawline, his other hand, still trailing on the arm of the sofa falls to dele's hip. they're silent, still panting and breathless from laughing, up until eric looks right back at dele and whispers,
"what's your news?"
the expression on dele's face seemingly melts, and then he's abandoning the cushion from his grip, his eyes darting from eric's eyes to his lips, then back. the only thing he can feel is the rise and fall of eric's chest on his own and he doesn't even hear himself breathing, just the crescendo of the background fifa song building just as he can hear danny's voice in the back of his head.
this time, dele isn't thinking, when his fingers float up to cup eric's face, to bring their lips together. the moment dele feels eric's breath get warmer on his mouth, everything seems to fall in place there and then, for little less than a second-
and yet.
eric isn't kissing him back. instead, he's pulling away, face twisted in an insulted expression. the rest of him is paralysed, and all dele can think is no, no this isn't what's meant to happen. this isn't the fairytale ending danny was talking about. he can't move, he doesn't really want to, but eric is untangling their legs and getting to his feet and pushing his fists into his pockets. his face is a bright scarlet. dele is sitting up, breaths away from bursting into tears.
all eric says is "go," but dele protests, like he always does. his voice is croaky and his words burn his throat but eric listens to none of them, opens the front door for him instead. and like that, he's gone, and eric drops to the floor and the sobs fall out of his mouth uncontrollably.
-
later that night it all settles together like puzzle pieces and he's repeating to himself in his head, over and over like a mantra, dele kissed me, but something bigger eats at his mind and burdens him with a horrid, churning feeling in his stomach; i didn't kiss back.
-
he doesn't get calls, messages, anything from dele, for seven days, at least. eric doesn't call because he's scared. dele isn't at the coffeeshop at all, not even on wednesday. it pesters as much as upsets him, and he only asks harry about it a week after dele tried to kiss him.
"to spain," harry repeats, because eric doesn't totally believe him. "he said he told you."
"spain?" his hands and voice are shaking when he says it back to harry there, and then again over the phone four hours later, when he has enough reason and courage to call dele.
"yeah. the big news." he chuckles, lightly, to brighten the mood perhaps, and eric wishes he could see him instead of just listen.
"you didn't say any-"
"eric please." it sounds like he may as well have been crying. eric wants to.
"how long?"
"i dunno."
"you can't even speak spanish," and now he's just forcing conversation, he finds, when dele says that he'll pick it up quickly and then that he has to go.
-
dele's stomach is turning and everything that he hears or sees or tastes reminds him of eric. he'd cried on the flight here, and then in the hotel, and at breakfast he'd tried really hard but danny was having croissants. we aren't even in france, he'd said, and danny had laughed and passed him a tissue.
"he does know you're going back, right?"
"i…didn't tell him we were leaving."
danny had shut his eyes and breathed. "dele. you are making communication sound like the hardest thing."
"it is!" he argued, then, stubbornly, "i'm not telling him either."
-
(kyle tells eric he's an idiot and eric agrees.)
-
three weeks later, he's lying in bed on a saturday morning with his fingers laced over his stomach and for once, he isn't thinking of dele but what to get for lunch. once he's back from his morning shower, he spies the flashing green light on his phone and opens the message.
it is one, single message from dele. it's a photo of himself: he's shirtless on a beach and really, really tanned and he's grinning, the little creases in his nose darker than before and his eyes are sparkling. the caption reads "miss you", and eric's heart drums against his ribcage for the next hour or so, until he gathers enough courage to reply.
he doesn't get anything back, but it's enough for eric. he's sighing and crying all at the same time and he wonders if anything could be more painful than heartbreak.
-
neither of them speak to each other for the next two months, or a little longer, neither of them are counting. dele says to danny over dinner one day that it's for his own good, ignoring the fact eric even existed, but after, danny will find him scrolling through his and eric's messages, sniffling.
june is almost over already and danny is lying on his back in the sand with dele beside him, a pale green towel slung around his shoulders, hugging his knees. he's just been for a swim, but every kick of his legs tire him and he realises, he just really wants to go home.
luckily, they're leaving in three days, just in time for england's hotter months, and dele hasn't felt so indecisive about anything in his life. he's homesick, yes, but he hasn't even found a new place to get his coffee yet.
"this is the worst thing i've ever done," dele mutters, but of course, danny hears and tilts his head slightly. "i can't believe i put eric through this."
"what?" danny sits up and peers at him from over the rims of his raybans. "don't act like you aren"t hurting too."
"i- i am. but he's been left totally in the dark. we are, were, whatever, friends." he plunges his toes deeper into the sand, sighing. "i wish i just told him from the start."
"what, that you fancied the pants off of him?"
"yeah." he chuckles a little. " then if he rejected me,"
"everything would've been fine." finishes danny, reaching for dele's arm. "let's go back, yeah?" dele nods calmly, helping danny up.
the walk back to danny's uncle's villa is short, but every step stings dele's feet with endless suffixes to endless maybes. maybe if he hadn't tried kissing eric he'd be here with them. maybe if eric were here things would be better, like things usually are when eric's around. maybe, maybe, maybe, he could even get eric to fall in love with him here in spain, and they'd be so in love and infatuated with each other they'd get married there and then.
only, he couldn't stop his stupid, stupid lips from kissing eric's stupidly beautiful mouth and ruining pretty much everything.
danny rolls the muscles in his shoulders out, pushes the keys into the lock of the villa and opens the door. he doesn't say anything, just squeezes dele's shoulder, then slips away into his own room.
"shower, then we can grab some lunch," he proposes.
dele's room is on the other side of the corridor, and his heart springs into his throat when he budges the door open and sees eric on the other side. his first instinct is to scream, but eric is crossing the floor quicker and taking dele's hands and telling him that danny knows i'm here, and please, please don't shout.
dele's eyes move weakly from their hands, to eric's eyes and something bubbles in his throat. eric has grown his hair out more, it's longer and floppier and suits him, dele thinks. he's smiling, in his massive grey t shirt and baggy navy shorts, and oh god, dele's missed this, he's missed him, he's missed them.
"what are you doing here?" dele asks, and his voice cracks unwillingly.
"i just really, really had to talk to you," eric squeezes their still moulded hands, "and see you," he adds. the corners of his eyes crinkle. dele's heart is thumping amongst his ribs and he's positive eric can hear it. he knows he can hear eric's.
"so you came to spain?"
"i had to, dele," and his name hasn't ever sounded sweeter rolling off anyone else's tongue. he wants to ask eric to say it again, and again. "why did you never call?"
"i- i don't know. i didn't think you'd want to hear from me," dele's eyebrows furrow together and something in his chest is bursting.
"dele," eric breathes, "don't ever think that. why didn't you say anything before you left?"
"i tried?"
"dele you kissed me. i never knew you even- you didn't say anything about-"
"i was going to! but you-" his stomach drops, and he tries to retract his hands but eric keeps his grip firm on his fingers. dele's eyes go blurry and he doesn't even know if he wants to say the words but they're falling from his mouth before he can stop. "i wanted you to come with me."
eric's expression softens and the lines in his face dissolve. every breath feels like he's been pummelled in the lungs, until then when everything fits so perfectly together. "you wanted me to- fuck. i've really fucked up."
"no! eric, this is my fault. i should never have kissed-"
eric's shaking his head. "no, no. i really had no idea you felt that way about me, god. dele it's you, okay? it's always been you, since you spoke to me about juan in the cafe. since as long as i can remember,"
dele's breath halts in his throat, somewhere, for what feels like eons but is mere seconds and all he can say is "oh-" before eric's stepping closer to him and his lips meet his quicker than dele finishes his sentence. his hands impulsively move to dele's cheeks, the nape of his neck, knocking the towel to the floor. dele kisses him back between tired sobs and desperate clutches and pure, tender smiles. eric tastes a lot like peppermint, but that's the last thing on dele's mind when they pull away and everything inside of dele just blooms, because eric's crying and grinning too and holding his face in the palms of his warm, supple hands.
eric is breathing like his heart mended itself with finality and goodness, with dele tumbling against his chest he just knows.
"why didn't you kiss me in april?" dele is gasping into the curve of eric's neck.
"i didn't know if i could love you," eric replies, truthfully, shutting his eyes and holding dele closer until their ribs clash and it isn't painful anymore. "i can. now i know i can."
he starts tracing circles against dele's bare back, relaxed, then asks, "you are coming back, aren't you?"
dele cups eric's cheek and presses his lips there, his voice barely audible when he says, "yeah. yeah, i was always coming back."
and finally, everything balances out right and spins on perfect axes. finally, they let themselves be in love.
-
it is october and dele is in eric's bed and he rolls over in the dark to feel for eric. he accidentally prods eric in the stomach, and he flinches, giggling. blindly, he moves on top of eric almost out of muscle memory, and even though he can barely see him, he knows eric is smiling.
"hey," he whispers, feeling for eric's lips with the tips of his fingers.
"hi," eric replies, taking dele's hand and kissing it, before moving his own hand down dele's hip to steady him and kissing him slow and languid in the dark. dele smiles against his mouth and buries his hands in eric's hair and they both don't remember a time they ever felt any warmer and complete.
-