“I don’t want you to go home tomorrow after work.”
Samuel’s eyes opened. He lifted his head slightly, his gaze finding Gael’s profile in the shadows. The line of his jaw was tense, his expression serious even in repose.
“What do you mean?” Samuel asked.
Gael turned his head on the pillow. Their noses brushed. He looked at Samuel for a long moment, his dark eyes searching his face in the dim light. The silence stretched, filled only with the sound of their breathing.
“I want you to stay,” Gael said finally. “I want to wake up and see you right here, just like this. Every day.” He paused, his gaze unwavering. “I want you to stay.”
Samuel blinked. His mind, lulled by wine and warmth, went blank for a second, stumbling over the meaning.
Stay. Not for the weekend. Not until Sunday morning. Every day.
He was talking about moving in. Living here. Making this bed, this room, this space, theirs.
“Are… are you sure?” Samuel’s voice was small. “I…”
“Yes.” Gael’s answer was immediate, unequivocal. He shifted, turning more fully onto his side to face Samuel, their bodies aligning in the dark. He reached up, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from Samuel’s forehead. His voice dropped to a whisper, intimate and raw. “Yes, I am. I don’t want to miss you.”
The words sank in, past the shock, past the doubt.
Samuel’s bottom lip trembled slightly. His eyes grew hazy.
He thought of his life before Gael. The silent apartment that had never felt like a home. The long, empty evenings. The profound, aching loneliness that had been his constant companion for so long he’d almost stopped noticing it. He thought of the dark, and how it had felt like a physical presence in those rooms.
And he looked at the man beside him, at the fierce, quiet certainty in his eyes. He thought of waking up to this. Every day.
He didn’t want to go back to that other place. He never wanted to feel that hollow cold again.
His hand rose from where it rested on Gael’s chest, his fingers tracing the line of his jaw, his thumb brushing over his lower lip. He leaned in, breathing him in; the scent of his skin, his soap, them.
“I don’t want to miss you, either,” Samuel whispered.
A smile broke across Gael’s face. Wide. Bright. It transformed his entire face, smoothing the stern lines, lighting his eyes with a joy so pure and unguarded it made Samuel’s breath catch in his throat.
And then Gael was kissing him again.
Sam sent out a small prayer, that he would never stop.
