Roland's not sure what is he doing. He's not all that sure how did he wind up in a situation like this. One thing led to another, and before he realized he was on his bed with Curt to the side, propping his head with one hand and running the another up and down his upper body, feeling for every one of its curves and shapes.
The budding desire is hardly an outline in the dim light. The flesh and muscle is reacting to every touch and stroke, however gentle; Curt's fingertips tracing the shape of the other's blushed lips in a fashion nothing short of worship...
Reach out and make me complete, even if it was to be just a short stop in your run, for every fiber of my flesh and every spark of my life had never belonged to anybody but you, just you ...
... but should he allow him to keep going? There's a mess in his head as he reaches out and runs his hand through the short hair of Curt's. He kind of misses the unruly bangs he once had, his rat tails and how he would spend so much time in the evening, sifting them through his fingers while Curt nodded off with his head on his lap, or how the bangs would stick to his sweat slicked forehead when they two...
He's still trapped in his head, conflicted within himself beyond human perception; tight in the clutches of suffocating nostalgia .What exactly went wrong? Where did we make a mistake?
Somehow it feels like it was bound to happen at some point, though.
He's dizzy, he feels like crying; of despair and of happiness at the same time. It's time to move on, you don't need him for anything more. You buried the hatchet, but this is where a line has to be drawn, his subconscious says. Still, neither that less reasonable part of his mind nor his very body are having any of it, though. His heated, nervously shifting body is desperate and aching all over for him.
Roland's actually dying for his touch everywhere, especially where it now begins to feel quite hot, tight and tender. It's been too long, too long since he's been truly, deeply dying for someone. It's only now when he realizes how much he missed Curt around; how much he'd been pining for him and how too proud he was to admit it.
Yet somewhere deep inside, a shred of hurt pride still lingers.
'Feels really good to finally... become worth your time.' he sighs wistfully, cupping Curt's hand which has by now reached his neck with his own. The other man raises a brow as he pulls away, giving him a dirty look and awaiting explanation.
'Why, you sounded pretty sure back then when you told me I wasn't.'
'So have you-- when you kindly informed me that you wasted so much of yours on me and wished we never met. Good riddance , wasn't it?' Curt snaps, suddenly rising himself to swing his legs off the bed. 'Oh- I almost forgot to ask; is your Virgo in my Neptune yet? Have you checked your crystal ball for it?'
'You should see your face right now,' he comments, looking at Roland's broken expression; his voice resentful and hurt. 'You wanted a taste of your own medicine? There you have it.'
The silence that falls between them is overwhelming, and for a moment Roland is sure he's completely wasted it all, that this precious second chance they decided to give each other is gone. With tears welling up in his eyes, he crawls from behind; closer to Curt and wraps his arms around him, like a hopeless, forlorn child.
'Out of all things... is it all we can remember?' he murmurs, barely holding back a sob as he tightens his grasp; just as if his whole life was to depend on it, on this one desperate embrace. 'I didn't want... I didn't mean... that. We can do better than that. Much better.'
Their gazes met each other as Curt turns around just slightly, and Roland's heart skips a beat when he realizes that nothing has changed in these eyes he used to see so much fascination, admiration and desire in. It's clear and sharp a feeling, and he's sure of it like he's possibly never been of anything. A lot must have though changed when he wasn't around, but what he can see now is the same thing; a glimmer of love he thought he lost forever.
