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Adrian wasn’t a slob. If the flat truly needed sorting out, it was a sign of how busy he must have been.
Eric left Matteo to his book and moved on, a man on a mission. First, he’d kiss Adrian to within an inch of his life, followed by a stern reminder to take better care of himself—if not for his own sake, then at least for Eric’s peace of mind. Granted, it wasn’t every day Adrian organised a festival, and as a covert perfectionist, he was guaranteed to concern himself with details better left in the hands of the event company.
Fuck, Eric should have stayed. Yes, family mattered, and Adrian had told him to go. But he should have stayed.
He paused briefly in front of the swing door to the kitchen, just long enough to confirm that it was Max and Lucas laughing. Eric would tell them hello later, or tomorrow. For now, he kept moving through the dining room, illuminated in rainbow colours by the festival lights that shone through the windows. The floorboards outside the staff rooms creaked a welcome. He took the stairs to the flat two at a time. Weak light trickled through the thin gap between door and floor as he fished his key out of a side pocket of his bag.
One bloody week.
It had been one bloodyweeksince he’d last seen Adrian, the longest he'd been away since meeting him. Well, properly meeting him. Not everyone got that distinction, but those who expected Adrian to be as promiscuous as his retired alter ego usually received a response along the lines of “Sorry, mate, but I’m a one-man show now. Meaning I perform for an audience of one man only.” It mostly did the trick. For anyone who needed a harder jab, Eric had beenpolishing his possessive boyfriend act until Kojo at least stopped laughing at him.
When Eric unlocked the door, silence greeted him, frayed around the edges by festival sounds that filtered in through the open living room window. The lamp on the piano shed its glow over a familiar mix of old and new furniture that included a couple of pieces shipped over from London. Eric dropped his key on the antique hall table that had made the journey, set his bag down next to it, kicked off his shoes, and moved on quiet feet towards the bedroom.
In the weak glow of the bedside lamp, Adrian was sprawled on the bed, one leg hanging off, his head pillowed on a pile of laundry. Each slow breath made his chest rise. His eyes were closed, lashes fanned out as charcoal smudges against his cheeks.
Tidying up, indeed.
Eric’s stupid heart caught in his stupid throat. Must be the fact that, after a week apart, his body had reverted to love-struck teenage mode around Adrian. He spent a minute simply looking at him, the buzz under his own skin quieting by the second. Then he went to switch off the piano lamp in the living room and returned, shucking his jeans before he clicked off the bedside lamp. After curling up against Adrian’s back, he inhaled deeply.
“Eric?” Adrian sounded barely awake, shifting closer as if on instinct.
“Hey, babe.” Eric draped an arm around Adrian’s chest. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“‘S okay.” Adrian’s hand covered Eric’s, fingers tangling. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Well, rumour has it you were running yourself ragged.”
“Lies and slander,” Adrian mumbled.
“That’d be a lot more convincing if I hadn’t found you conked out on top of the laundry.”
“Was only resting my eyes.”
“Fair.” Eric kicked the laundry to the ground and draped a sheet over them before he tightened his hold. “Now rest them some more.”
“Okay.” A snuffling breath. “Glad you’re back. Love you.”
“Me too,” Eric told him. He wasn’t sure Adrian was still awake to hear it, but it didn’t really matter—Adrian knew.
Outside, the music set a temporary counterpoint to the quiet that Eric had come to cherish, a vivid illustration of the hotel’s evolution since he’d first set foot inside. But then he wasn’t the same, and maybe Adrian wasn’t either.
Good.
With another deep intake of air, Eric tucked his nose into Adrian’s hair and closed his eyes.
Truly home now.
