He squirms on the spot, and his blush rises; he clears his throat, sounding flustered. “Do you… do you always have such a dirty mouth?” he asks suddenly, eyes laser-focused on the pan, like he can’t quite look at me when he asks. I freeze, then laugh, leaning close enough that my breath brushes the shell of his ear. “Um, no, actually. I don’t really know where that came from.”
I mean, I do know. It’s him, the sounds he was making drove me wild.Hedrives me wild.
His hand falters on the spoon, cheeks flaming. It’s unfair how much I like seeing Gabe flustered by his own question. “I didn’t expect it,” he mumbles, eyes on his feet now. “Or that I’d… like it so much.”
Fuck. I lean in until my chest fits against his back, careful to keep space below. He trembles, and a gasp leaves him. God, he’s so responsive.
I drag a line of wet kisses along the juncture of his neck and shoulder. “Good. Because I don’t think I could stop, even if I wanted to. You’re too tempting, baby. I want to tell you every sweet and filthy thing that pops into my mind.”
That finally earns me his eyes. Heated, shy, but more confident than usual.
I step around him to turn the stove down so the risotto doesn’t burn, only to circle behind him again, letting my hands rest lightly on his waist. He melts against me. “That song,” I start, running my hands up over his chest, “the one you were humming, whose it by?”
“Band called Picture This.”
I move my hands to his hips and turn him so he’s facing me. “Will you hum it for me?”
His laugh is breathy, a little nervous, maybe, but he doesn’t move away. “Why?”
I cup his jaw and press a light kiss to his lips. “I wanna dance with you, and I liked the sound of the song.”
His eyes take on a glassy look, and a sniffle leaves him. When he speaks, it’s below a whisper. “My mom and dad always danced in the kitchen.”
I love how sensitive he is—his soft heart, his gentleness, the way he feels things deeply instead of turning away. And I love that he feels comfortable enough with me to show those parts of himself.
“I remember.” I hold his waist, moving further into his space, his arms coming over my shoulders. “The first time I saw them do it, I thought it was so strange.” I chuckle at the memory, “My parents never did anything like that, they constantly fought. I never once saw them being affectionate toward each other.” There’s sadness in his eyes as he listens to me. “Each time I saw your parents dance, it made me so happy. Happy to see two people so in love. Happy they let me be part of your family.”
Gabe’s hands move to my nape, fingers playing with my hair. His eyes are lined with unshed tears. “Noah.”
There’s pain in his voice that’s for me, for what I missed out on. But I don’t feel like I missed out on anything, not when his family gave me so much, not when I have him in my arms.
“I always hoped I’d find my person to dance in the kitchen with. Can we do that, baby?” It’s a thinly veiled love confession. I’m not sure if he can see it, but I’ve just given him something I could never give to anyone else.
A tear falls down his cheek as he nods. He brings his temple to mine, and we start to sway, holding each other tight. I expect him to start humming, but instead, he starts singing the song. His voice is deep and soft, the words pouring out so low that if his mouth wasn’t by my ear, I might not hear them.
I press my face to his hair, breathing him in. His scent is grounding; it soothes some deep yearning in me, and I think, not for the first time, that I’ve never wanted anything this badly. This feels like comfort, belonging. It feels like home.
The lyrics wash over me as they fall from his lips. They’re about all the things someone’s never been brave enough to say out loud, about wanting to give the person they love the whole world.
The song’s about daydreaming of places you might go together and realizing it doesn’t really matter where you end up, once you’re with them. It’s about the kind of love that feels like home more than any place ever could. My eyes burn as I listen to him. The chorus keeps circling back to the same thing, not wanting that person to change, not needing them to be anything other than exactly who they are. “Never Change.”
It’s just a song, but with Gabe’s mouth close to mine and his fingers combing through my hair, I can’t help but hope the words are for me.
I wake to a sound that makes my stomach drop instantly.
A choked, strangled noise that pulls me straight from my bed, heart pounding as I fly into the hall.
“No—no, don’t—please, please, I’ll be better, I promise, I’ll be good—”
Gabe.
My blood turns to ice. I’m through his door before any thoughts beyond fear even finish forming, bare feet slapping against the floorboards. His voice carries through the room, cracked with sobs.
“Stop—stop—please don’t touch me, don’t hurt—”
Moonlight filters through the room, highlighting the burgundy walls. He’s caught in the sheets like he’s fighting for his life. His limbs jerk, hands clawing at invisible demons, nails catching on fabric. His face is twisted in terror, sweat beads his forehead, tears streaking down his face. Every ragged plea ripped out of him makes my chest splinter further.
“Please, I’m sorry, I’ll—just don’t—don’t—”
