Just A One-Night Stand - phan

2

The black-haired man looked at Dan's face, taking him in. In the half light, he was just as beautiful as he had been the night before, under party lights with eyes glistening with anticipation behind the haze that could be found in the eyes of every drunk person. Unconsciously, he reached up and touched his own fringe, which happened to be a mirror image of the younger boy's, going over his right eyebrow instead of his left. 

Dan himself was utterly speechless. He had promised himself that he would never let this happen again. The morning after was always the worst. The awkward "can I get you a coffee"s that concluded with silence standing around in the kitchen for the kettle to boil, and Dan could not forget the "of course I remember your name"s, followed by a conversation bitter with the taste of the lie as names were avoided altogether. In his mind's eye, Dan could see how this particular morning was going to pan out. The stranger would get out of bed, and slowly pull on his clothes, avoiding Dan's eyes and looking at the floor. He would take as long as he possibly could, and then Dan would ask him the same thing he always asked- "Would you like a coffee or anything?" The stranger would shake his head, maybe smile apologetically- "No thank you, I have to get home". Dan would inwardly sigh his relief, and offer to show the man the door.
"I'll show you out."
"That would be nice, thank you." His manners would be impeccable. Dan would walk him to the door of his apartment, down the flights of stairs, pulling a hoodie over him that he had collected from his bedroom floor as they walked through the house.
"I had a really nice night, Dan," the man would say as Dan opened the door for him.
"Thanks, I did too."
There would be no mention of numbers or of keeping in touch, and Dan would have no reason to say the strangers name, or, even worse, admit that he did not know who this man was at all.
"Have a good morning."
"You too."
The man would leave, and Dan would close the door, feeling the crushing weight of the reality that a) the man knew, remembered, Dan's name while Dan did not know his, and b) Dan would never see this blue-eyed stranger again. They would both go on with their lives, the night that they spent together fading into distance memories. Maybe they would be looked back on with fondness at one point in either of the men's lives, maybe regret, and possibly embarrassment, but ultimately they would be shoved in the "Don't Repeat This" folder of Dan's brain.

Dan was pulled out of his reverie by the black haired man touching his messy hair. With a start, Dan realised that his hair was extremely similar, in fact, almost identical in style to Dan's own. This small, simple fact resounded with him, like a gong sounding deep in his gut with the reverberations rippling and disrupting and impacting and shaking Dan down the marrow of his bones. 

The man looked at Dan quizzically, and Dan realised that he had been standing stock still for a solid minute, his chest barely moving with his shallow breathing. Gathering his somewhat dulled senses, Dan spoke to the man. 

"'Morning." 

The man smiled, and slowly swung his legs over the edge of his bed, just how Dan had envisioned it. Instead of pulling of standing up and putting on his clothes, however, the man just tapped the edge of the bed with his thumbs and looked up at the brown haired boy. 

"You're going to think I'm a complete and utter twat," he said softly, "But I don't think I ever bothered to ask for your name."  

Despite himself, Dan burst out laughing. The black haired man's face reflected his confusion, "Did I say something wrong?" 

Dan shook his head, "No, no. You're...fine. It's just that..." How on Earth was he going to tell this...stranger...that he had been stressing over not knowing his name, when now he was doubtful that they ever exchanged such trivial facts in their drunken states? 

"It's just...?" the man prompted. 

"Well...I have to admit that I don't know your name either."