Raphael /BoyxBoy/

||Nine||

I peered in to see a collection of hair accessories and a miniature hair brush.

"Those probably belonged to someone's doll," he said, moving the box aside. "Ben usually knows the story behind each item. You should ask him about it."

Then we cleared an entire shelf of its belongings and swiped our rags across the surface, turning the pale wood into a darker color that shimmered under the old lightbulbs over our heads.

Occasionally, Raphael would go back to the gramophone and switch out the records. And I would watch him inconspicuously through the gaps between the other shelves, convincing myself that it was completely normal to be curious. That I wasn't only watching him because I liked the way the back of his head looked from this angle, or the way a tiny inch of his skin showed when he bent his head to read the back of a record. That I wasn't only watching him because those jeans shaped his legs so well, and then hid away under those equally distressed pair of sneakers.

He twisted around and I quickly reached for the closest item on the floor.

"Were you spying on me?"

"Yes, because you're oh so very interesting."

He hummed. "I'd like to think so."

"I didn't-"

"Jake, you're hogging the rags."

I handed him the one I wasn't using. "Was holding it for safe keep."

"Of course."

Then there were those moments where Raphael would know I was trying to catch the way his shirt hitched up whenever he stretched his arms over his head. So he would let me watch and stretch even farther, as if to buy me extra time, and I would give his stomach one last glance before looking away. 

And other times when he forgot I was there because I'd wandered off to pick up the phone or do something or other and I would quietly wander back and catch him humming to music. His voice a whisper in comparison to the instruments but so soft and gentle that I could have closed my eyes. But my shoes stepped on a loose floorboard, made a creak, and it was like he'd never been humming at all.

And when the dust on the shelves were too thick, he traced his finger over them, drew smiley faces and pictures of broken hearts before wiping them away. "J+N," he said, and I wiped all the dust off before he had a chance.

"You know," he said in that voice of his, and I never wanted to shut someone up as much as I did in that very moment. "Scarlet seems like a really good match for you."

I felt myself frown. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, she's pretty. And smart and funny and kind. Seems like someone who can help you get over Nate."

"I can do that by myself."

"How?" he asked, lifting a half broken vase and setting it on the most recently cleaned out shelf.

"I logged out of my email through the app on my phone," I said, "so I won't get notifications anymore."

He went quiet. "For how long?"

I shrugged. "Maybe a week? I'll tell him I took a vacation with 'Raphael' and we decided no phones were allowed."

"Why?"

"Because the internet is taking over the world and it's an electronic apocalypse where every click of a button is bound to have you cursed forever. And-"

"I mean why won't you email him for a week?"

I shrugged, playing with a loose string on the rag. "Just to test it out."