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"So, what do you like the most about me?"
It was morning when Nathan had asked that over a cup of coffee. The steam was slightly covering his face features (well, it was more like a very thin and revealing veil than anything- but it was already way too much. Youssef didn’t like having to use his memory to remember how perfect Nathan looked when the man was right in front of him). Youssef hated that he had to ask this at that time of the day. Not that he could think of a better time. Youssef also hated that question. Mainly because "everything" didn’t look like a correct answer, and also because he couldn’t think of anything else.
"Your... eyes. They’re nice." he said, and immediately felt utterly disappointed at his own lack of eloquence. How could he ever hope to get a chance with Nathan when he couldn’t even express himself like a grown man?
But Nathan smiled, the lower part of his face disappearing behind the cup as he took a sip, and Youssef remembered why he loved his eyes so much. Shining in the sun, drops of amber infused with joy and art and love and beautiful things Youssef couldn’t wait to know. He took a deep breath and felt the familiar warm weight soar in his chest up to his throat. He felt it escape in his breaths and regretted ever breathing in the first place. This feeling was so much better than when the weight was wet and cold and pressing down on his heart. He had talked to his therapist about it, and she had told him to feel those things deeply (love and sadness) because that was how he would feel better. But he liked love a lot more and that was why he preferred to spend most of his free time with Nathan.
"And you, what... me? What do you like?" Youssef immediately hated that sentence. Hated hated hated. He hated that his cheeks were hot and he hated that he was nervously fiddling with his shirt sleeve buttons and he especially hated that Nathan made him feel like that all the time AND he hated even more that he loved every second of it.
But Nathan smiled again, bigger this time, and everything was forgotten.
"Everything." He quietly answered.
Oh, so "everything" WAS an option then. That was great, Youssef wasn’t mad at all at the fact that his answer had been stolen because he didn’t know the exact rules of the conversation.
"I like it when you get all grumpy", Nathan continued. "Could be scary to a lot of people for sure, but not for me. Your eyebrows are all furrowed and you have a small, almost invisible pout. It drives me crazy every time. But what I love even more is your smile. So imperceptible, so small most of the time, I have to look for it like I looked for treasure chests when I was 5. But see, something I also love is I know you now. I know when you smile even when your lips are perfectly still. There’s something in your eyes, a sparkle, I don’t know. But i see that you’re happy, or even content, and it makes me even happier."
Youssef had a lot of trouble trying to hide his deep blush (oh my god, did he just turn into a schoolgirl? This was ridiculous) but Nathan didn’t seem to care and kept on talking.
"Oh, and I love how you love. There’s something about how you quietly care. Yesterday, when you took me to that coffee shop you remembered how I don’t drink animal milk but don’t like oat milk either. Hell, once you bought me a gold necklace and hid it in my stuff so you wouldn’t have to give it to me directly- I’ve got to admit, sometimes it’s too much. But I wish you knew how much I love it when you show me you love me. I don’t know what or who made you believe you would be mocked if you showed people how you felt, but I can promise you’re safe with me."
Youssef’s gaze was now directed at his hands, unable to meet Nathan’s. This time he seemed to notice how flustered the other was, and gently picked up his hands, as if not to break them, like he was made of porcelain. Youssef liked that.
"Use your words instead of internalizing everything, darling. What do you want to say?"
"I...uh..." Youssef began, his brain having seemingly lost any clue as to how to talk. "I wanted to say 'everything' first, before you said it. That’s not fair."
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Was that it? Was it all he was able to say, after such a confession? He felt awful. Nathan didn’t react, though. He didn’t look hurt, or annoyed in the least. Youssef took a deep breath then:
"You’re so beautiful, and kind, and smart, and everything that I don’t want to like... scare you away. If I look like a stone and act like one, people can’t think I’m too much. I want to feel more and be more, but sometimes I think you might hate me if I show more of myself, because then you’ll be overwhelmed by how much I love you and you’ll realize you don’t love me half as much and you’ll get annoyed. I’m quiet about my gifts because I must be humble with my affection if I don’t want you to know just how deeply I care for you."
A familiar feeling started rising in his throat, pressing on his vocal chords. Fear. He was about to let it take control of his mind and shut him down, but Nathan didn’t let that happen; instead he placed his hands on Youssef’s face. The latter felt his fear slowly dissipate, and he would be able to talk if it wasn’t for the breathtaking view of Nathan’s face, perfect and forgiving.
"What I love is not the mask you put on every day so people can tolerate you. What I love is what’s inside, the bits of you that you show when you think no one can see. I didn’t fall in love with a stone, I fell in love with a man, his name is Youssef Farouk and he loves me so so much. I won’t get annoyed because you love me, and whoever made you believe that is completely dead to me."
Youssef was quite alright, his face cradled by his boyfriend’s hands. It was weird and kind of uncomfortable if he was honest with himself (one wrong move and their coffees would be on the ground, and both of their backs were arched so they would be as close to each other as possible), but the heat of the contact and Nathan’s loving gaze on him made him never want to leave ever. If his destiny was to suddeny become hot wax and melt on Nathan’s hands, he would happily accept it. He would feel guilty of staining his partner’s hands, but the latter was already used to paint and glue getting on his skin- maybe his lover’s care would be an alright form of art.