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Matteo doesn’t normally do this. There's a naked boy on his bed.
"You okay?"
Matteo isn't sure. His head is still a bit fucked from that second shot of tequila. There's a naked boy on his bed, though.
"Yeah," he says. "I think so."
The guy smiles. He's wearing boxers. Matteo thinks that's nearly synonymous with being naked, anyway. It’s the closest he's been to a naked man in months, at least. The guy is really fucking hot. Matteo stands at the foot of the bed, watching him.
"Are you?"
The guy is leaned back on his elbows. "Yeah. Really good."
"Cool," Matteo says. He's feeling a lot more sweaty than usual, feels how a little droplet slides down his back. "You're really hot."
He's never said that out loud to anyone before.
The guy smiles wider. There's a blush on his neck, down his chest. "So are you."
They said hi to each other for the first time only an hour ago. Matteo had been sweating then too, because there hadn't been any AC in the bar, and summers in Berlin are only getting warmer every year. Jonas has told him that.
"Nice of you to invite me," the guy says.
He feels a burp building in his gut. He tries to hold it in because burping is probably the least sexy thing Matteo could possibly do in this situation. He blames Carlos. He'd kept buying more and more beers.
"You're welcome," he says, and instantly regrets it when the guy laughs.
They'd met in the line for the bathrooms. Such a fucking cliché. Matteo had noticed him the moment he'd walked into the bar, and their eyes had kept finding each other's over the course of the evening. When Matteo had seen him get in line for the bathroom, he'd taken the second shot of tequila and gotten up to stand behind him in line.
The guy raises an eyebrow at him now, and eyes the open spot next to him on the bed. He jerks his head. Matteo nods and sits down next to him.
"Hey," he says.
"Hi."
The guy puts a hand on his bare thigh. Matteo's only in boxers, too.
The touch feels a bit like heaven. He wants . Wants the guy to keep moving his hand further up. He also kind of wants to vomit. It's a bad combination.
"Sorry," he says, and makes a run for it.
The tiles on the bathroom floor are cold and harsh on his knees. He lets himself throw up. His abs starts cramping after a while. He's really a lot too old for tequila. It's the first time he’s had a naked boy in his bed in months and Matteo's scraping his knees on the bathroom floor. His insides feel rotten. He feels rotten. There's only bile left, in the end. In high school, they'd studied the four temperaments in history class. He'd learned something about bile, then. Not that he remembers it now. What he does remember is the guy’s eyelashes and how long and thick they’d looked, when Matteo had said hi to him in the line. Matteo had gotten close. Close enough that their hips had been right up against each other's. The guy hadn't backed away. That's when Matteo had known.
There's a knock on the door. "Are you okay?"
He keeps asking Matteo that. He doesn't even know Matteo.
He opens the door to him. He probably reeks.
"Sorry," he says again, because he really is sorry for the both of them. "Gotta brush my teeth."
There's a droplet of sweat again, sliding down his forehead this time. Matteo is freezing now.
"Okay."
"Sorry," he says, for a third time, nearly tipping over the cup with the toothbrushes when trying to reach for the toothpaste.
"Can I get you anything?"
He has a kind face. Maybe the kindest face Matteo has ever seen. His skin is dark and his eyelashes long and pretty, and Matteo wishes he'd at least gotten the chance to kiss him before all of this.
"You don't have to stay."
There's toothpaste on his toothbrush now. At least he’s managed that.
"Don't worry about that," he says. "Got a spare?"
"Uh." He rummages through the cabinet. He'd been supposed to clean the bathroom this weekend, but then Carlos had texted him, asked him to join him and Abdi for a drink. The rest had been history. There's a thin layer of dust on the basin, and even Matteo is disgusted by that. He's not exactly known for having high standards for cleanliness. There's a pack of toothbrushes hidden in the back of the cabinet. Bless Hans for always buying in bulk.
"Thanks," the guy says.
They brush their teeth next to each other.
"Sorry about the bathroom being so gross. I was supposed to clean it, but then I went out instead," he says, once they've both finished.
"Well," the guy says, "That's a small price to pay, in the grand scheme of things."
Matteo's not sure what he means by that.
"I think I need to lie down."
"Sure. I gotta," he nods at the toilet. "Back in a jiff."
Matteo lies down on top of the covers. He grabs a blanket from the foot of the bed, the one he's stolen from its regular place on the couch in the living room. It's a really soft one, snuggly and warm. It's probably made of plastic. Microplastics that will end up in the seas, and later in the belly of some poor and unaware fish. Jonas has taught him about that, too. The door creaks, and the mattress springs as someone sits down next to him. Matteo doesn't get it.
"You really don't have to stay."
The guy makes a sound like he doesn't agree. "Here," he says, and hands Matteo something. It's a glass of water. "I found a bucket in a closet. It's on the floor next to you."
Maybe he's an angel. Like one of the angels his mother had told about when he was young. He takes the glass of water, tries a few sips.
"Thank you."
"Rough night?"
Matteo hums. "Carlos’s fault."
"Carlos?"
"Yeah. And tequila."
"Ah," he says. "Tequila."
"Tequila."
Matteo sees the guy taking a few sips from the same glass he'd just offered Matteo. It's like a kiss, almost, Matteo's drunk mind thinks. Now their lips have touched the same glass.
"You seemed alright at the bar," the guy says.
"I felt alright," he says. "Thought so at least."
"Sucks."
"Yeah."
He leans his forehead against the guy’s hipbone. He's warm, but Matteo drapes the blanket over his legs and knees anyway.
"Thanks," the guy says, laugh in his voice. "Sweet of you."
"I think you might have been too hot."
The guy snorts. He puts down the glass on the bedside table. "What?"
"Yeah," Matteo says, shuffling a bit closer until his head is fully in the guy’s lap. After a beat, a hand appears in his hair. The hand cards through the strands softly. "Like you were too hot and I got nervous. And I'd already had too much to drink, so."
The guy giggles. "You threw up because I was too hot?"
Matteo smiles. He's already feeling so much better. "I'm pretty sure."
The hand keeps carding through his hair. Matteo's eyelids feel heavy.
"No one has thrown up because I was too hot before."
He drifts away, falls asleep to the slow rise and fall of the guy's body as he breathes.
There's sun on his face. No one closed the blinds the night before. There's something warm and heavy on him. A boy sleeping. He's draped himself over Matteo during the night. He feels warm, and sticky from sweat where their bodies cling together. He feels a bit dizzy too, because tequila, and looks up at the ceiling. The room isn’t spinning, but it feels a bit like someone has his head in a vice. The boy draped over him moves.
“Ugh,” the guys croaks, as he rolls away from him. “Are you always this warm?”
He doesn’t know, because he usually doesn’t have naked boys in his bed. “I think it’s you who’s warm,” he says.
The guy is lying on his back now, arms reached over head, his eyes still pinched together. It’s the most adorable thing Matteo’s seen in years.
“No, I’m never warm,” the guys says.
His voice is sounding a bit cranky, but not angry. Matteo doesn’t know what to do about it. Suddenly there’s a hand on his chest. A warm, and soft hand.
“It’s like you’re boiling,” the guy says, and opens his eyes and looks at Matteo.
“Shut up,” he says, because there’s an adorable man looking at him, and he’s only in his underwear.
The guy’s eyelids keep fluttering, as if he’s struggling with keeping them open. He smiles at him. Matteo smiles back. His heart beats faster.
“Feeling better?” the guy asks.
“Yeah,” he says, and puts his hand on top of the hand resting on his chest. “Thank you.”
The guy shuffles closer. “Fuck,” he says.
“What?”
“I really want to give you a cuddle, but it’s so fucking warm.”
There’s a guy in his bed who wants to cuddle him. Matteo gets up. The room does spin, then, but only for a second. He opens the balcony door. It’s a beautiful day outside. The sun is shining and it’s warm, but with a breeze that feels like magic against his skin. He lies back down on the bed.
“Better?” he asks the guy, who seems to be close to laughing.
The guy puts an arm over his chest, and a leg over his thighs. “A lot,” he says, and buries his nose in the space between his neck and shoulder. “Thank you.”
There’s been naked boys in Matteo’s bed before, a couple of times at least. None of them had ever thanked him for cuddling with them.
“No, thank you,” he says, and kisses the guy’s forehead, feeling a bit bold. “This is nice.”
“Mhm. Very nice.”
They lie in silence. The guy moves his hand over Matteo’s chest, shoulder and neck, in soft caresses. He puts his hand in the guy’s hair. Drags his fingertips through it. It’s thick, but soft, and he’s close enough to smell his shampoo.
“Sleep well?” he asks, because he doesn’t really know the guy in his bed but he really likes listening to his voice.
“Mhm,” he says, shuffling closer. “Really well.”
“Good.”
He drags his hand down Matteo’s arm, over his bicep, and starts drawing little circles with his thumb. Matteo wishes he would keep talking, but he doesn’t know what to say. The guy puts his head down on his chest, his nose right against his skin. Like he’s trying to smell him, almost.
“Sorry,” the guy says.
“What for?”
He squeezes his arms around Matteo, tighter and tighter.
“For being like this,” he says.
Matteo doesn’t get it.
“Like what?”
There’s a small laugh. “This hungover.”
“You’re hungover?”
He hadn’t really noticed.
“Mhm,” he says, “Really hungover, I think.”
It makes him laugh. “I thought you were just really tired.”
“No… well, maybe that, too. But there was vodka, last night.”
“Vodka? Christ,” Matteo says. He doesn’t mean to sound like some old lady.
“Yeah.”
“But you seemed so… sober,” he says. “Last night. You were being so nice to me.”
The guy giggles right against his skin. “Yeah, well.”
Matteo keeps stroking his hair.
“I was kinda drunk,” he continues. “Wouldn’t have taken all of my clothes off and just lied down on your bed, otherwise.”
Matteo had been drunk and bold in the bar. He’d said hi, gotten close, and started a small conversation about how hot the summer had been, so far. Then he’d asked the guy if he wanted a drink at Matteo’s place, and the guy had said yes. A short bike ride later they had been stumbling into the hallway, and stumbling into Matteo’s room. They’d barely touched each other. Inside Matteo’s room the guy had started taking his clothes off, almost in a hurry, before he’d lied down on top of the bed covers. It had been one of the sexiest moments of Matteo’s life, to be honest.
Matteo laughs. He hadn’t really been paying attention, it seems, the night before.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks, because he doesn’t want the guy to suffer through his hangover.
“Water would be really nice,” he says, smiling up at him.
“Of course.”
The guy is still holding him tightly.
“You’re gonna have to let me go, then.”
“Mhm,” the guy sniffles. “But you feel really good.”
It’s so cute that Matteo doesn’t know what to do with himself. He pats the top of the guy’s head a few times, almost the same way he would pet a dog.
“I’ll be back in a few seconds.”
The guy groans. “Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine,” he says, and releases his hold on him.
The glass of water from the night before is still on the bedside table, half full, and Matteo brings it with him to the kitchen.
Hans is making a sandwich in the kitchen when he gets there.
“Morning,” he says, smiling at Matteo like he has a secret.
“Morning.”
He empties the water in the sink, and rinses out the glass before filling it up with fresh cold water.
“Good night out?” Hans says, still grinning.
“Yeah.”
Matteo drinks a few sips of the water himself, leaning back against the counter.
“Did you bring a friend home?” Hans says, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Or maybe… a guy?”
Of course he knows. Hans always knows everything. Matteo sighs.
“There’s a new pair of shoes in the hallway,” Hans says, shrugging a shoulder. “So? Friend? Or guy?” He keeps raising his eyebrows suggestively.
“Nothing happened.”
Hans eyebrows knit together. As if he’s worried.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Matteo. Everyone’s had one night stands before.”
Matteo isn’t sure why that feels like a punch to his gut.
“Yeah, but,” he says, taking an other sip of his water. “I really embarrassed myself. Had to throw up, so. Nothing happened.”
“Oh, gross,” Hans says. “That sucks.”
“Yeah. Tequila.”
Hans shakes his head. “Fucking tequila.”
“He stayed, though. I’m not sure why. He was really nice to me about it.”
Hans smiles. “Aw. You should get back to him, then.”
“I should.”
He refills the glass of water. Takes a couple of ibuprofen with him from the old cookie tin, now turned medicine cabinet, on the counter.
“Maybe he likes you,” Hans says, as Matteo’s leaving. “Maybe that’s why he stayed.”
He shrugs, and shakes his head.
“I mean, it’s possible,” Hans says.
“Shut up.”
“I thought you were never coming back,” the guy says when Matteo sits back down on the bed.
“Sorry,” he says. “My roommate was asking questions.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
He hands the guy the glass of water and an ibuprofen. “Take this.”
The guy might be hungover but he still has a beautiful smile. “Thank you.”
He drinks the glass of water in big gulps, draining it in only a few seconds.
“That’s better.”
“Already?”
“Mhm.”
He sits up on the bed, next to Matteo, their backs rested against the wall.
“God,” the guy says. “I don’t even know your name.”
They burst out laughing.
“Shit,” Matteo says. “No, me neither. I mean, I don’t know yours either.”
“I’m so bad at this,” the guy says, hiding his face in his hands. “Just, the worst.”
“At what?”
He shrugs. “This. Hooking up? I don’t know.”
Matteo laughs, but he doesn’t find it funny. Hooking up feels like the wrong words, somehow. They don’t fit, and chafe against Matteo’s heart just like the tiles of the bathroom floor had chafed his knees the night before.
“I’m Matteo,” he says.
“David.”
Of course that’s his name. He’s even more beautiful than the statue.
“Cool,” he says, and feels a bit embarrassed, because that’s not really a reasonable reply to hearing someone’s name for the first time.
“Did you actually say that you threw up because I was too hot?” David says.
He feels a bit like he’s in an elevator that’s malfunctioning. Like he’s stuck inside, and the elevator is crashing down, down, down. He’d forgotten about that, right until this moment.
“Or was that some weird drunken dream of mine?”
He groans. “No.”
He lies back down. Grabs the soft blanket, and drapes it over his face.
“Not a dream.”
The sounds are muffled inside the soft cocoon of the blanket, but he can still hear David’s giggles. Light hits his eyes as the corner of the blanket is lifted. David lies down beside him, and drapes the blanket over both of them. Hiding them from the world outside. Their faces are so close, suddenly.
“You go to Humboldt,” David says. “Right?”
His heart beats a little faster. “How did you know?”
David sighs, and smiles. He shakes his head a bit. “I’ve seen you.”
His face heats up. He blames it on the fact that it’s really warm underneath the blanket.
“You have?”
“Uh-huh.”
The room is definitely spinning now, but not on account of Matteo being hungover. No. Now it’s all David’s fault.
“When?”
The question comes out a bit wobbly. He hates how his nerves always go for his voice first, fucking up his ability to speak like a normal person.
“Months ago,” David says.
David’s cheeks look rosy. That’s probably also because of how warm it is underneath the blanket.
“I, uh,” David says. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for ages, actually.”
Matteo’s back on the elevator now, but it’s going up, up, up, this time. He can hear his blood rushing in his ears.
“Seriously?”
David nods. “I was so nervous when you said hi to me last night.” He laughs a small laugh. “Thought I was going to faint.”
Matteo can’t help smiling. His face just moves for him. There’s a weird prickling sensation in the tips of his fingers. Before he’s aware of doing it, he leans in and kisses David. He feels David smiling into the kiss. They laugh, when they break apart.
David pulls the blanket down, and Matteo is blinded by the light.
“I couldn’t breathe under there,” David says.
Matteo takes a breath. It feels like his first breath in minutes. “Me neither.”
There’s a blush over David’s cheeks and down his neck and chest. Just as when he’d been lying in the same place the night before.
“I was telling the truth, you know,” Matteo says. “Last night.”
“About what?”
He’s about to embarrass himself again. He knows that. He feels like it’s going to be worth it, in the end.
“You were too hot.”
David laughs. “Shut up,” he says.
“Seriously,” he says, putting an arm over David and pulling him close. “I was so nervous I thought I was going to die.”
David puts his hand on Matteo’s arm, holding it in place. “But you threw up, instead?”
“I threw up instead,” he says. “Sorry for being gross.”
The curtains by the balcony flutter in the wind, and as the breeze hits Matteo’s skin, he feels entirely alive.
"That's okay."
David kisses him again, slowly. He sinks into the kiss, revels in the movements of David’s tongue, and the softness of his lips.
“I’m so happy that you stayed.”
David kisses him again, still smiling into the kiss.
“Yeah,” he says, placing small kisses on Matteo's cheek, on the bridge of his nose, on his forehead. “I'm really happy that I stayed, too.”