Charles exhales with a bit more ease. This odd answer doesn’t require any damage control, so he switches to his conversation with George.
00:05 GEORGEWhy is my first 2019 night with Hannah disrupted by my sister and your fake wife panicking over your whereabouts?
00:13 GEORGE *missed call*
00:24Am alrightt Im with someone aweeet sweeet like Alex!!!! Miss you Gergee go tomoorrow (FRench have maSSIVE LOOONG PILLS! GO Spurs ;!!!!!.
00:27 GEORGEI guess this effusive drunkenness is a good sign but call Elsy she’s really worried
Charles’ stress shoots up again. He clenches the butter knife to click the end of its handle.
23:24 ELSYWhere did you go?
23:32 ELSYPhil told me <3
23:44ELSYWhere did you go now?
00:09ELSY*5 missed calls*
00:15 ELSYI’m about to call the Ledwell landline and I don’t give a fuck the consequences you’ll have to face!
00:22Nooo don’t call that house theyre dickheads. Im someqwhere safe you can chiiiiiiill but am not cold anymore love you.
00:25ELSY*missed call*
00:26 ELSYChill?? I’ll behead you with a fork it will be slow and excruciating you’ll see how chill I am!
00:42 ELSYI paid for your tab and collected all your clothes you dickhead junior!
‘Damn it…’
‘How bad?’
‘Not too bad, but I’m a moron.’
Charles rubs his throbbing temple as guilt seeps into his relief. He didn’t give himself away, but he broke a very important clause of his agreement with Elsy. They never disappear on each other without warning.
07:42I’m so sorry Els. I’ll provide the fork myself! I don’t remember what time your plane takes off but let me know when it’s alright to call you.
He texts George that he will arrive shortly before the football match, then he sets up his phone on top of the microwave, exhaling what’s left of the surge of nervousness he underwent.
Loris has redirected his attention to his drawing. His profile is extremely tense. It’s not artistic concentration, but Charles can’t decipher his expression. He has no badly-typed summary ofwhat he put Loris through. So he chews on more coffee and toast, hoping to recollect what happened. Unfortunately, the light coming from the ceiling is dancing on Loris’ shoulders, making it harder to focus. Every time Charles is about to grasp a clear picture of Loris’ reactions to his confessions, it disappears behind the live painting happening on his back whenever he moves his arm.
The more he tries to remember what he’s done to Loris, the more he imagines what he’s yet to do with him.
Charles isn’t craving bread and coffee anymore. He’s yearning for Loris’ taste. And it doesn’t matter how much he got to enjoy it last night if he has no memory of it. But at least, his drunk-self took the plunge. Nothing stands between them anymore. Every second spent wanting Loris without trying to indulge this desire is now plain masochism, and Charles is done being the main player in his own misery.
Shaking crumbs off his hands, he inches towards Loris and only stops a step behind him. Loris straightens up with a deeper breath in, completing a pencil stroke with a comma gesture. His heart going six miles a minute, Charles lifts his hand to trace a comma between his shoulder blades. Loris shudders as their chests heave in sync, but he carries on drawing, flicking his wrist to create short arabesques that Charles reproduces along the relief of his muscles.
When Loris tilts his head to the side, Charles presses his mouth against his neck, incapable of waiting any longer. Loris comes to a complete stillness, increasing the impression that the flat is spinning. Time stops and Charles parts his lips, but Loris drops his pencil and turns around. Charles is forced to move back, and this total lack of physical contact between them makes him realise he had never truly missed anything before.
Loris’ eyes are flaring, but it’s impossible to tell what these flamesare fanned with.
‘I’m sober now…’ Charles barely hears himself over the pulsating blood in his ears. ‘And I… I’m not sure what I said when I wasn’t, but if I haven’t apologised for being terrified to want you and acting like a selfish…’
He notices the impulse that thrusts Loris forwards, so when their lips meet, his mouth is still open, but he’s already forgotten what word was meant to come next. And all of a sudden, he recalls how they kissed last night. But this kiss is better, on every single level, because he’s fully present, reacting to every brush of Loris’ tongue, to every caress he gives or moans from. He feels everything, overpowered by a lust he would be frightened by if he hadn’t waited years to want something so badly, freely and consciously.
He would betray his country for more of Loris right now, so when Loris breaks the kiss, revolt twists his stomach.
