Slowly, he opened his eyes. Though it felt like they were being yanked out of his sockets, he forced himself to look around. The clothes on the floor in a pile by the bed. The dark red curtains that covered the window and prevented the daylight from penetrating the room. The blinders behind them. Thank God, he had actually managed to get home last night. But judging by the cold, empty spot next to him in bed, his fiancé hadn’t and probably wouldn’t until he begged him to.
When would he turn his back on him for good?
He just laid there for a while, staring absently up at the ceiling. His grayish, sometimes seemingly black, eyes outlined by dark lashes took in the smudged painting and he suddenly remembered that he had been meaning to repaint it months ago. Another promise broken. Why did he even bother making them? He cast a glance at the picture of him and Sebastian in a frame on the nightstand. They were holding each other, laughing at the camera. Their faces glowing with joy.
What had changed?
He swallowed hard. Like he didn’t know. He shut his eyes, knowing that face would be there. Those lips curving in that knowing smile. Those strong hands moving across his body; kneading muscles, caressing skin, making him reach out, wordlessly begging for more. He had wandered into the deepest pits of his heart and soul, places Sebastian never had wanted to go. He wondered what he was doing now. Was he thinking of him too? His soul calling out, craving his like it had back then?
They had really screwed everything up, hadn’t they?