When they finally pulled apart, Hans rested his forehead against Adrik’s, breathing him in.
“This feels… good,” he murmured.
Adrik nodded, eyes half-closed. “Yeah. It does.”
Hans let his hand rest on Adrik’s chest, feeling the steady beat beneath his palm. “We don’t have to rush anything.”
“I know,” Adrik whispered. “I just… didn’t want to stop kissing you.”
Hans smiled, his heart doing that stupid flutter again. “Good. Because I didn’t want you to.”
They stayed like that for a while—close, warm, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. No pressure. No expectations. Just two men who’d been carrying too much for too long, finally letting themselves breathe.
After all this time, Hans felt something he’d not been allowing himself to feel. Hope.
They sat on the couch, near enough for Hans to feel Adrik’s warmth, but not in a way that seemed too intimate. The kiss still lingered between them—warm, electric, impossible to ignore—but now there was a quietness, a carefulness, like they were both aware of the invisible lines they weren’t ready to cross.
Adrik leaned back, one arm draped along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing lightly against Hans’ shoulder. It was casual, but every point of contact sparked.
“You’re quiet,” Hans whispered.
“So are you,” Adrik replied.
Hans shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just… thinking.”
“About what?”
Hans met his eyes. “You.”
Adrik’s lips twitched, not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. “Yeah. Me too.”
He hadn't expected the admission to affect him so profoundly.
Instead, he shifted closer, letting their shoulders touch fully. “This is nice,” Hans said.
Adrik nodded. “Yeah. It is.”
They stayed that way for a while. Hans could feel the tension between them, not the sharp, electric kind from earlier, but something deeper, quieter. A pull. A curiosity. A wanting.
But also, a wall.
Adrik broke the silence first. “You know… I’m not really the type to talk about myself.”
Hans huffed a soft laugh. “Good. I’m not either.”
Adrik looked at him, something like relief flickering across his face. “So we’re on the same page?”
“Yeah,” Hans said. “We don’t have to explain anything.”
Adrik nodded slowly. “Good.”
Hans didn’t want to ruin the moment. He didn’t want to scare Adrik off. And honestly, he wasn’t ready to spill his own secrets either. Not about Dirk. Not about the hurt he still carried.
So they stayed in that comfortable, fragile space—close enough to feel connected, distant enough to stay safe.
After a moment, Adrik reached out and took Hans’ hand, his grip warm and steady. “I’m glad you came today.”
Hans squeezed back. “Me too.”
