Through the Screen

"i'm sleep," abel whines in a childlike manner, pushing his face further against noah's neck and attempting to get closer to him even though it doesn't seem possible when they are already pressed against each other too firmly. the darkness of the sky outside and the time on the clock seems increasingly irrelevant—abel isn't sure how they have managed to just. . .stay in each other's presence for so long without making any kind of conversation, or eating, or using the bathroom, because he is quite sure that neither of them have moved an inch in the past three hours. he isn't even sure if he has working limbs right now—but that's probably the sleepiness talking.

"sleep?"

"sleep,"

"you're cute," noah laughs softly. somehow his fingertips aren't tired of tracing paths across abel 's body, or searching through the wild forest atop abel 's head—he is just as addicted to the feeling of abel as he was three hours, three months and three years ago. he can swear on his life that time hasn't moved, neither has he to be fair, but he can't tell if it's midnight or morning, if it's cold or hot, if it's awkward or boring—noah can just tell that abel is finally here—real, breathing, here.

"debatable,"

"don't test me roberts, i have valid points,"

you get my last name wrong again i'm

"fine, lester,"

"okay, roberts,"

you are doing right now is very gay," noah raises his eyebrows in mock confusion and abel looks

that's because i haven't done anything gay in three

bit closer so their noses are touching and the sharp intake of abel 's breath makes him almost

brain—all he can see right now is noah, so in a classic tale of how-not-to-meet-your-husband-after-years—he leans forward and let's his

neck, his thumbs pressing into abel 's cheeks softly as the familiar pattern of his mouth burns a figurative hole in his chest. it isn't reassuring—on noah's part—it tastes like acid disguised as honey, it feels like betrayal disguised as love, it feels like whatever they are doing

as he pushes them harder into abel 's skin but it just hurts, everything hurts in a way that it hasn't hurt

although he can feel the desperation behind abel 's hands that bunch his shirt into tight fists and he can feel abel 's raw admiration as he traces his tongue softly