Reno stopped looking at the music in front of him and closed his eyes, and the melody that followed was different. It took Luka a while, lying on the couch and following the crane of Reno’s neck and the flight of his fingers over the strings, to understand he was playing his own compositions. Luka had watched Reno play guitar enough times to notice that the patterns, the wavering of strings, the haunting, soul-filled hooks were the same Reno wrote for Voltage, only transposed to fit the sound of his violin.
The very songs Luka had kept himself company with all these years in his headphones, the ones that pushed him through when he felt alone, empty, and hopeless, the same music thatflowed from Reno’s heart directly to his, was in the same room as him.
Luka didn’t know if he could ever admit to Reno that his songs had done more for him than any friendship, mentor, or lover had, in that when everything else fell away, the songs were still there to carry on beside him. They’d never abandoned him.
He remembered what Reno had said to him in New York.To have someone else love my music is like being seen. When someone like you loves it, it feels incredible. And, hearing Reno play his music, just for Luka, in a way that possibly no one else had heard before, made him truly understand.
Reno wanted to be seen and understood just as badly as Luka wanted to be valued and cared for.
A note sustained before faltering, and Reno lifted the bow from his instrument to take in a shaky breath. Silently, he placed the violin back on its stand and tucked the bow next to it. He didn’t look at Luka when he took his previous spot on the floor with his head on his forearms atop the cushion, his gaze distant and thoughtful.
Luka shifted to lie on his side and Reno finally looked at him. Luka wasn’t sure what to make of what he found in Reno’s expression.
After a beat, Reno asked, “What do you think?”
“It’s hard to find the words,” Luka admitted, having too many thoughts about what he’d just witnessed to pick only one to express. He reached out instead, his fingers brushing Reno’s cheek, before asking, “Will you lie with me?”
Reno nodded, so Luka scooted over to make room, letting Reno lie half on top of him so Luka could wrap his arms around him to pull him in tightly. He felt Reno take in a labored, deep breath and hold it for a few seconds before exhaling to relax his body into Luka’s embrace.
Luka kissed the top of Reno’s head and said, “I can’t say.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s really difficult to tell you what that meant to me.”
Reno made an agreeing noise and pressed his face against Luka’s chest.
“I’ll figure it out one day," Luka promised, hoping that was good enough. And, when Reno turned his head just enough to kiss Luka’s collarbone, he remembered Reno’s patience, his understanding, and knew he didn’t need to struggle to find the right words now. Reno, in all his unbelievable kindness, would wait for his answers.
Luka woke the next day to Reno tenderly kissing his cheek and apologizing for having to leave.
Luka pulled him back into bed and kissed him, asking how much time they had. Reno had his hand between Luka’s legs as an answer, and Luka wondered distantly if he was making Reno late for his dance class, but when Reno slid inside of him, and kissed him until he gasped from it, he found he didn’t really care.
It was becoming ridiculous how quickly Reno could make him come when he put his mind to it, and by the time Reno’s alarm was going off for the second time, Luka was a boneless mess on the bed, panting and dazed. Reno silenced his phone, kissed the inside of Luka’s knee, pulled out with a hiss, then apologized again.
Luka watched from the bed as Reno rushed around to get ready, packing a bag and telling Luka the details of where he’d be that day: dance studio, interview across town, then a writing session with Sebastian to end the night. Between traveling to and from all the locations, Reno would be out the whole day and Luka could tell just how guilty Reno felt about it.
Reno stood at the edge of the bed with his duffel bag over his shoulder and a baseball cap on his head, looking torn, like he wanted nothing more than to skip everything that day and return to Luka, where he still lay, a naked mess.
“Go," Luka said. “You have done your duty here; don’t be late.”
“My duty?” Reno looked like he needed a coffee.
Luka pushed himself up until he was on his knees in front of Reno and tugged him by the shirt collar into a wet kiss. “You can make me come again when you get back tonight.”
“How are you real?” Reno asked, his hands winding into Luka’s hair and tugging lightly. “How do I get to come home to you?”
Luka shook his head. “I could ask the same.” Then he easily pushed Reno away and made for the bathroom right as Reno’s alarm started chiming again. “Get out of here. This is my flat now.”
Reno exhaled and whatever look he might have given was cut off as Luka shut the bathroom door.
After a quick shower, Luka found himself alone in Reno’s flat for the first time—which meant he immediately set about snooping through everything.
How could he not? He was in Reno’s home, and Luka couldn’t fully put away the small thrill of being a fan in his favorite musician’s home alone and unsupervised.
Even though he might be falling in love with said musician.
He swallowed that fear until it sat heavy in his stomach, and started with the closet. He opened it and found it meticulously organized. Walking into it, Luka marveled first at just howbigit was, then started laughing to himself when he unzipped the first garment cover.
