Ejiro looked outward, toward the sky. He looked back at Obiora. The desperation Obiora felt in his chest was mirrored in Ejiro’s eyes.
Then Ejiro nodded. Thank fucking God, he nodded.
He grabbed his sketchbook and pencil, then took Obiora’s hand.
Obiora felt the contact from the tips of his hair all the way down to his toes.
It felt like coming home.
“OH MY GOD, OH MY God, oh my God,” Ejiro repeated over and over as they walked quickly through the winding streets. His eyes darted wildly around, like he expected Ameri to materialise out of the crowds and grab them. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Honestly? Me neither.”
“This was your idea!” Ejiro exclaimed, but he was laughing.
The sound of his carefree laughter, his pure uncontained joy, made Obiora laugh as well, giddy with it. He felt like a child on Christmas day, his stomach doing literal somersaults. It didn’t help that after they’d jumped the fence and made it onto the street, Ejiro had hooked his arm through Obiora’s, blushing as he’d said, “We need to stay close so we don’t lose each other.”
Obiora had gladly taken the excuse to sidle closer, so their bodies were practically glued together, side by side.
Now, here they were, walking with their arms linked, like a Victorian couple. By some silent mutual agreement, they wound through the streets aimlessly instead of heading straight for the canal, as though they wanted to soak in their stolen moment of freedom for as long as possible. If he did so hard enough, Obiora could pretend that they actually were on holiday together, just the two of them.
He felt the loss keenly when they finally got to one of the bridges overlooking the canal in full view of the sunset, and Ejiro let go of him, rushing to the edge of the bridge and pulling out his sketchbook.
Ejiro laughed breathlessly, giddily, his eyes taking it all in, as if he was unsure where to start.
He glanced back at Obiora, his dark eyes shining, reflecting the golden light of the sunset. “Thank you for dragging me out here.”
Obiora moved up until they were pressed together, side by side, the crowd of tourists around them fading to a distant hum.
“No problem. Now, go on; take your picture.”
Ejiro grinned, and did just that. It took him a few moments, just taking in the scenery, his hand poised on his sketchbook, waiting for inspiration to strike. He was stiff at first, like he was hyperaware of his audience, of the fact that they weren’t alone on the bridge, people taking photos, laughing and talking.
Which was why it was obvious the moment he finally found his zone.
His shoulders relaxed, his breaths slowed. His lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed into a cute little frown of concentration. The world seemed to disappear around him when he began to draw.
Obiora could feel his chest expanding again, his ribs too small to contain his heart. He remained quiet, unobtrusive as Ejiro’s hand flew across the page.
Obiora didn’t know how long they stood there, Ejiro lost in his world, and Obiora lost in him. The sun had set completely, and the crowds had fluctuated, thinning, then thickening, then thinning again.
Finally, Ejiro heaved a heavenly sigh and slid his sketchbook shut.
“Yeah?” Obiora said, voice pitched low for only Ejiro to hear. He nudged their shoulders together.
Ejiro pressed against his side, his smile a soft, beautiful thing. “Yeah,” he echoed.
His hands clenched around his sketchbook for a second, before he spun abruptly and flung his arms around Obiora, hugging him tightly.
Obiora’s arms immediately went around him. He buried his face in Ejiro’s throat, inhaling the sweet, buttery scent of the shampoo in his hair.
“Thank you,” Ejiro whispered. “I’ll never forget this.”
Obiora swallowed with difficulty, holding him tighter. “It was my pleasure, honestly.”
They pulled apart slowly, so slowly it was excruciating. Their cheeks brushed. Obiora felt the touch like he’d been struck by lightning.
Their faces were so close they were practically breathing the same air. Ejiro was staring at his mouth. Obiora’s own eyes dropped to Ejiro’s lips, his stomach turning molten when those sweet peach lips parted slightly in invitation.
