Madonna del Padiglione, Botticelli, 1493
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Warmth. Lying in bed with Josiah's chest pressed against his back, Isaac felt overwhelming warmth under a plush duvet. He shifted around so that he could examine the face belonging to the boy lying so close to him. Being an artist though, he never simply looked at what was in front of him. Instead, he made observations of the most insignificant things, like the small beauty mark in the corner of his eye and a faded scar just above his dark brow.
In his mind he enjoyed making up stories for how these little imperfections were created. He pictured a young Josiah, having received little affection from his parents, becoming adopted by the sun. The sun would embrace him with warmth in their place, kiss his cheeks gently. That's how his beauty mark came to be.
His scar, however, was a result of a much less tender football game. It happened at the start of his athletic career, in which he wasn't the graceful and enchanting swan of the field, but instead the fuzzy ugly duckling. He laughed at the thought of a small Josiah tripping over his feet diving headfirst into the muddy grass, and the crowd gasping out loud at what they'd witnessed. Rather than crying when he rose, he'd smile brightly, completely ignorant to the crimson ink dripping down the side of his face and creating abstract art on his jersey.
Josiah wasn't the perfect masterpiece everyone made him out to be. No, he was far from it in fact. But the more Isaac learned about the boy and his imperfections, the greater his own desire became to draw him. One day, he told himself.
He glanced at the clock, noticing that it was already noon. "Josiah," he whispered in a lame attempt to get him to rise.
The boy next to him stirred, eyes opening slower than molasses. His smile was weak, but genuine. "I could definitely get used to this."
He smirked. "Used to what?"
"Waking up to you."
"Shut up."
"I'm serious," he teased, quickly pressing lips against his then pulling back. "I loved last night."
Warmth—Isaac felt his body become radiant with it. "I did too."
Before he could rise, he was pulled into a tight, inescapable embrace. He basked in the scent of hotel soap and shampoo exuding from both their bodies. "Tell me something about yourself. It's been months since we talked like this." Josiah had surprised him with his words. "And even then, moments like these were rare."
"What do you want to know? I feel like I've told you a lot."
"Dunno. Like your favorite color or movie. Your biggest pet peeve. I want to know the little things. I want to know you."
Isaac thought for several seconds. "Well...I guess my middle name is Jade."
"That's lovely."
"I'm embarrassed of it. It'd make more sense if my eyes were green or something, but they're the color of polluted smoke."
"I love your silver eyes. It's like there's always a fire within you ready to be let out."
"Now that's cheesy."
"I know," he laughed, intertwining their legs. "Tell me more."
He hesitated again. Although casual, Josiah seemed to be directing this conversation a certain way, like he was waiting for Isaac to open about something. Is he not afraid of being hurt?
"While I was away..." he slowed "...I worked as a model."
"Right...I heard about that." He couldn't help but notice a hint of bitterness in his tone and immediately regretted bringing up his job. It's not like there was much else to discuss, and he certainly wanted to forget about pleasuring himself with a certain silk scarf.
"I liked it a lot, actually. Getting paid to be beautiful," he mused.
Josiah's laugh was quiet and distant.
He knows, was Isaac's conclusion. He knows about Jesse. He pushed off of Josiah and looked straight into his eyes. To his surprise, they weren't prying eyes. They weren't angry, either. They were gentle eyes.
It's okay, they told him. I'm scared to find out, but it's okay. I promise.
"I...I was really lonely without you," Isaac quietly muttered. "He praised me...and for a brief moment, I felt like I was actually worth something. I've always been like this. Maybe I really am the lustful devil everyone makes me out to be. I'm so weak."
Josiah pulled him tighter and stroked his golden locks. "You're not weak Isaac. Not at all."
"Yes I am."
"You're much stronger than me."
"Bullshit."
"Isaac, I've lived my entire life doing what my parents told me to because I was scared. I told myself that if kissed enough girls my attraction to boys would disappear, and I haven't seen my own mother in almost a year after I came out to her. I'm a pretty big coward."
"How many girls did you kiss?" Isaac asked with a cracking voice trying to direct the topic from himself.
"Only one. I knew my plan was a failure when I couldn't bring myself to do it again."
"Will you ever see her again? Your mother."
"Maybe. I think she'd need to reach out to me first though. Genuinely. With no intentions to try and cure the gay out of me," he sneered.
"Does.." Isaac trailed off.
"Does my dad know? As of now, I don't think so, and honestly I hope it stays that way."
"It seems like the entire universe is against us, doesn't it?"
At this, Josiah fell completely silent. It was as if he was afraid of the question and its answer. Isaac pushed himself up onto his elbows to get a better look at his torn face. "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing. I...I..." He bit his lip so hard he feared it would burst. "I..."
"You're leaving soon." Isaac placed a hand against his cheek, running a thumb over the beauty mark under his eye. "I know you're going to America."
"M-my dad really wanted me to graduate early to study abroad. I didn't want to, but it was the only way to get him to agree to leave you alone." His smile was weak as he gently pressed lips against Isaac's palm. "I told you I'm a coward."
"When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow."
"Oh." Isaac swore he felt his heart sink.
"I'm sorry again, but I would never forgive myself if I left you here thinking that you meant nothing to me. I only wish I didn't waste so much time wallowing in self pity instead of coming after you right away."
Tomorrow, he said. Josiah was leaving him again. Except, this time, Isaac knew for both of their sakes he had to let him go.
"I hate when you wallow in self pity; do me a favor and never do that again. Self-pitying Josiah is not the same Josiah I know and adore. We're both so young still. I'm not going to beg you to stay, even if I want to desperately, so I beg you to flourish in America. Take advantage of the fact that you're seven thousand kilometers away from your rubbish parents. And when you come back, I want to fall in love with you all over again."
"What about you?" he asked through sniffles. "What will you do when I'm gone?"
He smirked. "Dear, I've already been on my first magazine cover. My careers only just started. Granted, I need to find a new agency to work under."
"Yes you do," scoffed Josiah. "But if I'm going to work my arse off in America, so will you. I want there to be a day when I can say that I have a supermodel boyfriend."
He flushed. "I like the sound of that."
"What? Supermodel?"
"Boyfriend."
Josiah grew flustered. It was clear the term had slipped from his mouth accidentally, but now he had no way to take it back. "Uh...I...um..."
Isaac held out his slim fifth finger. "One day?"
The beet red boy held out his and intertwined the two. "One day."
"One day we can live in Paris like the hopeless romantics we are."
"And own a dog. My parents never let me have one and I feel deprived."
Isaac beamed, though with glassy eyes. "Yes! But that is for the distant future. We must focus on the short time we have now."
"What should we do then?"
"Isn't it obvious? I want to take advantage of every second I have left with your beautiful body." He pulled Josiah in for a passionate kiss, one involving moaning and whimpering and lip biting and hair pulling. "We are going to make love until we no longer can, my dear."
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✦ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
They spent their last hours together in a cab ride to the airport, hands locked whenever they could, softly brushing together when they couldn't. Isaac couldn't take Josiah past security without a ticket, so he held him in his arms for as long as he could, figuring such an action was acceptable when seeing someone off.
"Stay safe," he whispered.
"I don't want to leave," Josiah said in return. "Please don't let me leave."
"I have to. But I'm not going to say goodbye, because that's not what this is."
"I know."
They embraced for minutes, clinging to each other's physical existence before it became only one in memory, and Josiah was forced to leave for his gate. Isaac watched every step he took, until he disappeared behind a poorly painted grey wall.
Isaac left the airport that day feeling melancholic, but also with a strength he'd never had before. Yes, he was upset that they'd had so little time together, but Josiah had found a way to save him from the black abyss he was falling mindlessly into. He'd been given a purpose in life, and that was working towards a future with the pretentious prefect whom he'd grown affections for.
Isaac knew that no matter how much time had passed, he'd be able to fall for him all over again.
All he needed to do was work hard to ensure that Josiah felt the same.
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