Reno hummed. “I’ll strip you naked, but I have to get moving on my look if we want to make your ten bus.”
“Stay far away from me then." Luka turned his head and found Reno close enough to kiss. He leaned forward, tasting sweat on Reno’s lips then sweetened coffee when he sighed into Luka’s mouth. “We’ll never leave if you get me naked.”
“Tempting," Reno said against Luka’s lips before pulling away. “But, no. I’ll get ready and—oh, I promised to play for you.”
“Tonight?” Luka asked. “I’d like for you to take your time with it.”
“I play for hours for you if it pleases you.” Reno smiled then backed away. “Drink your coffee, I’ll be in the office. It’s the door on the other side of the bathroom.”
“Okay.” Luka watched Reno walk away, enjoying how muted his light, pink hair was in the morning glow and how gracefully he moved through his space. He wished he had the courage to paint Reno again, but he knew he needed to be more secure in their relationship for him to do that—if he painted Reno now, it wouldn’t be as a fan, it would be as a potential partner, and that was too much for him to handle.
When Luka emerged from the shower and found Reno in his office, the sight of him was shocking. The office was entirely pink, other than the white desk and vanity, and Luka realized the bulk of Reno’s vlogs were filmed in this room. The overlap of watching videos of Reno giving guitar tutorials, skin care routines, playing and losing at video games, and Reno standing in the center of it all made Luka feel like he was both intruding and the luckiest person to exist.
Even stranger, though, was Reno with black hair. A long ponytail rested between his shoulder blades, and his brows were filled in darker, making him look older and more angular. He wore a dress, the form tight around his torso before giving wayto layers of thin, flowing fabric that shifted when he turned to look at Luka. His lips were a dark red, almost burgundy, and his eyes were a light, steel gray framed by sharp liner.
“Think these sunglasses would help?” Reno held up a pair as he asked and Luka suddenly became extremely aware he was standing stupidly in the doorway with only a towel around his waist and his hair dripping down his back.
“S-sure," Luka stumbled out before saying, “wow.”
Reno tilted his head and the ponytail went with it, swishing across his back where the dress cut low enough to show off his shoulder blades.
“I’m going to fuck you in that dress.”
“Excuse me?” Reno snorted, then burst out laughing.
“I said, the sunglasses will look good.” Luka took in a deep breath, then turned on his heel to find his clothes. They would never leave the flat at this rate if he didn’t pull himself together.
When they finally found the right bus to lead them to the tour, Luka was immensely proud of himself for managing to get Reno out the door without ruining his carefully applied makeup. And the rest of the trip to and from Stonehenge was everything Luka had hoped it would be.
Reno indulged him, buying him a silly tourist-trap keychain, never rushing him from one point to another, and letting him sit whenever he wanted for as long as he wanted. Even if it was in the grass by the stone circle during the private tour and was also a little damp, Reno never complained about taking things at Luka’s pace.
They watched as the sun set over the site, turning everything orange and purple as Reno happily chatted his ear off, telling him about the trips he used to take with his dad—then, after the car accident, he’d gone with his mom before moving away at eighteen. He held Luka’s hand the entire time, asking where he’dlike to go next; if one day, he wanted to see the places Reno used to go, too.
Luka really was starting to believe Reno when he said he’d make it happen, if Luka just asked for it.
The train ride back was uneventful, and Luka spent most of it with his head on Reno’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and drifted for the hour or so ride, listening to the sound of the train and people talking around him while Reno occasionally poked him awake to show him funny things on his phone.
It was getting late by the time they got to Reno’s flat, and Luka leaned on Reno as they made their way up the stairs, feeling his feet and his hips ache from walking most of the day. When Reno opened the door for him, he ushered him inside, then sank to the ground to untie Luka’s shoes for him. Luka stumbled and Reno had to brace him before pulling the second shoe off and setting it to the side.
He led Luka to the couch and made him sit. When he returned with water, he sat on the ground next to the couch, put his arms on the cushion to prop his chin on his forearms, and took a long look at Luka.
“I see," he said, and Luka tried not to feel guilty. “You rest, no more standing for you today.” Reno ignored the way Luka pouted and instead stretched his back one way, then the other, an arm over his head to pull on himself, and Luka followed the long line of his body from his wrist to where the dress hit his upper ribs.
“But," Luka started and Reno pursed his lips at him.
“No," he said so gently, shutting down any protest. “Let me get this wig off, then I play for you. My neighbors will forgive me this once, as long as I stop before nine.”
Reno leaned forward into Luka’s space and hovered there, his face too close for Luka to make out anything but the curve and glitter of his eyes. He pressed his nose against the side ofLuka’s and hummed lightly before moving away and out of the room.
When Reno returned, he picked up his violin and tuned it. He had tied his hair into a messy bun and clipped his fringe away from his face. The contacts and makeup were gone, but he’d kept the dress, and the figure he made was like something out of Luka’s dreams.
The delicate bend of his wrist, the strength of his forearms, the straight line of his back, and the tilt of his chin slotted together in Luka’s mind as something so fragile, but powerful, all at once that it was awe-inspiring.
There was something breakable to the way Reno stood when he played violin, like if someone stared too openly, if someone put their hands on him, he would crumble.
It ached to witness.
It made his chest clench to watch Reno, who played guitar with such energy and bravado, look so vulnerable with an instrument in his hands. He saw why Reno kept it hidden—why this part of him was intimate—and he could see in every song Reno performed the weight of the years on his shoulders worn openly.
