Chapter Text
That's how it has been. Subtle, warm, gradual - real. Just like everything long-lasting, it grows little by little. He had met Gawin a long time ago, back when some desires could be just that: desires. Since the first time Gawin’s voice reached his ears in their singing class, since the first post he wrote about him congratulating for a cover he did, since the first unfamiliar thought slipped through, Joss had been hungry for something. Years went by with that same longing, which now had a space all to itself inside him, and which, little by little, was ceasing to be merely longing. Joss has this quality to him: he is patient. Whether in the way he keeps his body healthy, or in how he waited years for Gawin to finally choose him too.
Joss concealed his love by performing it. As much as Joss wanted it to be real, that was also what frightened him most: the weight of the silence he would have to keep folding around himself. He would never put himself in this situation for anyone. And yet, there he was.
By now, Joss’s apartment already knew Gawin: his nighttime routine, the strings of his guitar buzzing with the movement of his fingers, his laugh, his eyes always avoiding Joss's because it was too much, the space that opened up so Gawin could feel safe. Joss's apartment had stopped being his own some time ago. Late nights weren't Joss's habitat, but he began to visit them quite often, because Gawin was the soft and familiar silence that fills every house when emptiness takes over, as much as he was the honesty that only the night could carry. Gawin was all of that and…
- Hey J, where were you just now?
- Hm?
- You look distracted.
And that’s uncommon of you.
- I… Sorry, G… Were you saying something?
- No. You just seemed lost.
He, indeed, was. Lost in the whirlwind of everything that could be more than it already was. At 2 a.m. in his own apartment, everything felt heavier and more possible. Easy to blame on sleepiness, harder to lie about in a moment that had already turned vulnerable. Joss looking at Gawin under the yellow glow of the lamps. Gawin on the couch, Joss on the floor. His fingers were digging into his own knee and he hadn't decided to do it.
Gawin got up from the couch, leaving his beloved guitar behind and heading toward the record player he had left at Joss's place a few months earlier. An old turntable that used to sit unused at Gawin's house and now rested on a small table in Joss's living room, almost like an altar, with the records beside it waiting to be handled, just like Gawin himself. He picked up a jazz LP feeling the weight of the other man’s gaze on his body, which was covered by an oversized shirt and a pair of pajama pants - both Joss's.
The idea of ownership had become a very ambiguous space in their relationship. Everything that's yours is also mine. Ambiguous when it came to objects, food, spaces, but never when it came to each other. "Joss is mine" was what he wrote at a fanmeeting when someone asked. What a specific kind of possession. Gawin had felt the desire radiating from Joss since the first kiss in the first series they acted together. By that time Gawin thought the waiting would end quickly. Maybe he was overly hopeful, or just presumptuous, but he expected Joss to finally close the space between them. The day Joss would open up and tell him how he truly feels... Well, he wanted to be prepared for that.
But now Gawin was listening to jazz in Joss's living room, turning to look at him sitting on the floor like a puppy waiting for something, waiting for his owner to say the word.
Joss would never do anything that Gawin wouldn't like, so his steps were calculated, his desire controlled, always at the edge. Everybody knew Way-ar's name, but it was on the tip of Gawin's tongue that he wanted it to stay. Knowing Gawin entirely was his old wish, sown daily, hidden between his self-control and his highly organized routine, it was the chaos that lived on the roof of Joss's mouth. That's why, when Gawin turned to him after setting the record spinning on that turntable, his eyes told the whole story. For a brief second he saw that same need mirrored in Gawin's eyes.
For almost a second he hated Gawin, and then loved him even more.
Joss was a moth being drawn to a flame, forcing himself not to fall into that fire.
- You're danger, G.
The silence grew charged, filled with all of their unsaid words. Gawin moved closer. Slowly. And Joss stayed there, not knowing what to do with himself, waiting for the moment he'd be inside Gawin - a oneness that went far beyond sex.
- Joss.
- Yeah?
Why did he…
- Why did you call me that night?
Yeah. That night. Of course.
That’s a good question. He knew what that meant. Joss knew exactly what he was talking about. That one reckless day, calling Gawin in the middle of the night, only 2 days ago. He assumed Gawin had just brushed it off, found it odd or atypical, but brushed it off all the same, not noticing how aware of him Gawin constantly was.
- I had a nightmare and woke up crying, that's- That's why I called you…
Exposed. Defenseless. Tender. Gawin was already seated on the couch in front of Joss, watching he bare his soul in front of him. Not beside him, but in front of him with that intentional distance that danced on Joss's tongue. This is getting too vulnerable. Too intimate. He thought.
- Crying?
I didn’t notice that when he called me.
Silence.
- G… You feel it too, don’t you?
Of course I do but...
- Joss, what are we talking about right now?
Everything. Nothing. Them. The record Gawin had chosen kept playing, on the second-to-last track, and everything hung there, suspended. What they were. What they would come to be. Everything. Just like dust, suspended in the air. Still. Motionless. Because maybe if no one moved, no one would get hurt. If no one talked, nothing would change. A mystery caught in a photograph. But what was he really talking about, anyway?
- About what won't let me be at peace. - Fragile, almost unhearable.
- Joss -
- Do you even think about me?