They slashed through the night unhurriedly, cool wind blown their hairs and whipped through their jackets, kissed their smiling face softly. Riding side by side, chatting and chuckling across the bikes; Sander humming random pieces of lyrics or notes almost unconsciously, moving from one song to others as though he was creating his own music. There was no beginning and there was no end to their conversation, it just flow as natural as air or water, the way they always had. They finally skidded to a stop across a square, white building with a metal door in the middle.
"Just leave the bike here," Sander said, throwing his bike by the bushes.
Robbe followed his lead. "Where are we, Sander?"
"Not an empty house." Sander grinned.
They started to cross the street. "So, are we upgrading or downgrading in term of rulebreaking now?"
Sander laughed, "It'll be fine."
Like his definition of fine is ever fit the meaning of the word in dictionary.
He stopped suddenly and unzipped his shoulder bag. He took out two white mask and gave one to him. Robbe raised his eyebrow in question but Sander just grinned. He took it and wore the half-face mask, covering his nose and mouth. At least I know we are not robbing someone.
Sander was rummagging inside his bag, he took out a black baseball cap and offered it to him.
"What's for?"
"There might be security cameras at the front, should be deactivated by now, but better be safe than sorry." He said it in a nonchalant way in contrast with the weight of the sentence.
"Cmmon Sander, what the fuck are we doing?"
"Nothing dangerous."
"Your definition of the word is off!" Robbe laughed half-exasperately, because he couldn't help but loved him more than ever. He was also curious and he had always trusted him.
Sander laughed again, "It'll be fine. I wouldn't worry if it's just me." He put on his jacket's hood.
Robbe put on the cap and they crossed the street, alighted by the streetlamps. There was no one around, the area in front of the building was small parking lot which was currently empty. They approached the metal door. Breaking and entering, that's what we are doing.
"I join a street-art club some weeks ago." Sander said conversationally.
Very generous of you to inform at the last second, mister.
He tapped his hand on the door, three quick ones, stop, two slow taps, two more quicks. There was a click, and the metal door started to roll up. It stopped a quarter of its height and he gestured for him to follow before ducking through the space. Sander tilted his head in greeting to the boy who was guarding the door.
"Come." He gestured ahead of him.
Robbe rolled his eyes, but he followed him through what apperead to be some kind of parking lot, taking off the cap. The place was a silent beehive. There were kids miling around in small groups, talking quietly, others were standing on folded step ladders next to a truck, spray paint cans in hand. Let's add vandalism to the list. They went deeper, passing more garbage trucks in orange colours, or at least they were before being spray-painted with all sort of colours in words and pictures over the sides. The sound of shaking cans, the smell of chemicals and spirit of art, the thrill of creation tied up with rulebreaking, the sense of togetherness of it filled the air. Robbe found himself quickly flushed by the same excitement.
"Hey!" A pretty dark-hair girl walked up to them. Her coloring was all dark, from her shoulder-length hair, make up, her shirt, and skirt to her black boots.
"Noor." Sander greeted, pulling down his mask, they did a combination of high five and fist bump.
"Who is this cute guy you have with you?" She turned to him, smiling while giving him a friendly once-over.
Sander rolled his eyes. "This is Robbe. Robbe, this is Noor, my old friend."
"Not that old," Noor chuckled. They grinned at each other.
Robbe pulled down his mask, "Hi, Noor." They shook hand briefly.
"Oh, so you are that Robbe. I can see why now." Noor said and threw a cryptic glance to Sander.
"Why what?" Robbe asked, confused.
"Sander likes to talk about you a lot. He said—"
"Noor, come on. We don't even meet that often, don't exaggerate." Sander cut her off in a good-natured irritated kind of way.
The girl lifted her palms up in mock-surrender and chuckled. "Okay, okay, I'll leave you with your friend now." She said, emphasizing heavily on the word 'friend' for some reason.
"Nice to meet you, Robbe." She gave him a friendly smile.
"Nice to meet you, too, Noor." Robbe returned the smile.
The girl left after exchanging grin with Sander. They looked like really good friends. Robbe stared at her back, and thought of how he wanted to know her so that she could tell him the things she knew about Sander that he didn't know about. He followed Sander to a nearby truck, with half the side still unadorned. "What did she mean before? What did you say about me?"
Sander was climbing the metal stairs next to the truck. He shrugged. "That I am living outside for the moment, and you are my flat-mate."
Robbe stopped next to him, standing on a lower step, looking at Sander rummaging among the spray paints inside his open bag.
"That's all?"
Sander took one can out, and looked at him. "The truth, Robbe. That you are beautiful and kind and smart." He said it not in his casual flattery manner, but in a sincere tone, though also without any other implication.
Is that the only truth though? Robbe looked up at him, transfixed. There were windows along the walls, so the light of the moon from outside shone through into the spacious place, casted rays of silver on his platinum hair, pale glow along his feature, his eyes and skin looked almost transparent. He was the most beautiful thing he ever saw.
Sander turned back to inspect the truck. "What do you think?"
He asks me? "I am not sure." Robbe replied.
"How about if we make our version of life in space?"
"Together? Are you sure?"
"Why not?" He turned to him.
"I don't want to ruin your art, Sander. I am really not good at this."
"It doesn't matter. That's the thing about art, we can do whatever we want."
"Okay, if you are sure. I'll just stick in making the robot/monster thing."
"We'll just make a simple version of it, the space is not that big."
"Right."
"Come closer," Sander said.
Robbe climbed another step, so he was just right below him, his shoulder touched his arm.
"Okay, I have basic colors, green, black and silver. Just tell me what you want, and I'll get it for you."
Robbe nodded and they pulled up their masks. He started with black, shook the cans and waited for Sander's lead. They talked and laughed through it, the way it was when they first made it up in his room that afternoon. Robbe went on it cautiously and slowly, stuck to simple things only. Most of the work was spraypainted by Sander. They added silver waves on the underside, because it was fun and didn't have to make any sense. When they were finished, they stared at it and burst out laughing.
"What a mess.. I don't know what the fuck this is." Robbe giggled.
Sander was giggling too. "I think it looks awesome, authentic mess. Hey, what is that? You made that right?"
Robbe moved to look at it too and had ended up with one foot on the small flat area where Sander was standing with his body half-bent to poin at a small section.
"That's a hybrid of octopus and cylops," Robbe answered, peering at it.
"That explains the abstract thingy way it looks." Sander teased, cackling.
Robbe giggled in embarrassment and turned toward him. Sander's face was still painted in laugh when he turned to him also. They were on the same eye-level, their face was close, the space of one hand only, breathing the same air. Robbe stared into those silver-awashed eyes, feeling his pulse speeding up. Sander was gazing at him, he suddenly reached out and Robbe felt his thumb stroking his cheekbone under his eye softly. The touch sent pleasant tingle through his skin. Robbe glanced down, and saw Sander's lips parted, watching the movement of his tongue across his lower lip. Robbe was about to move closer, but Sander had dropped his hand.
"You got paint on you face." He said and smiled.
Robbe blinked, wondering if he had imagined the whole thing.
Sander straighten up and turned back to their picture. "All in all, it's a good job. Let's get back."
"Okay." Robbe replied, still half-dazed from the moment before. They stepped down the stairs and looked at it again from below. Robbe took a picture with his phone before they left.
On the way back to the flat, they passed the river. At one point, either he or Sander had dropped from the paddles and they started walking next to their bikes, strolling along the riverside. It was a fine night, the round moon was hanging on the sky, the face was full and clear of clouds, silver and blue on blanket of velvety black scaterred with twinkling stars. They didn't talk much, just enjoying the beautiful, peaceful world, the dark current of river rushed nearby. He wished he could hold his hand or kiss him under the starlight, slow and deep.
Robbe thought about everything that happened tonight. He thought of the way Sander had looked at him under the moonlight in that parking lot. At some point, Robbe blurted out, "Jens kissed me tonight."
He sensed Sander's footsteps faltered for a second. He said without looking at him, "Do you like him?"
Like? What liking somoene even matters if I love someone else? If I love you?
Robbe sighed. "He's drunk."
Sander turned to him, "Did he force you?"
That's what you care about? Robbe looked at him and spoke, "I kissed him back."
He could sense that Sander had tensed up next to him. Robbe kept watching him, waiting for him to show him his true feelings, to tell him that he hadn't imagining things. Sander had started walking again.
"He looks like a good person." He said quietly.
"That's all you got to say?!" Robbe shot back, feeling anger started to bubble up.
Sander stopped and looked back at him, saying softly, "What do you want me to say, Robbe?"
Say, you are jealous. Tell me, I mean something more to you. Anything, but this— this calmness, this fucking walls.
Robbe stared at him, trying to pierce through his surface; Sander was looking at him with a closed expression. Maybe I should just say it. If I ask him, will he answer? What if he runs again? What if he says no, what will happen to our friendship?
Looking at his mask wearily, Robbe finally said, "It's late, let's get back." He jumped back on his bike and started to ride away.