Anwar wipes his hand on the sheet and says, "Don't worry about it."
Untitled.
Pairing: Anwar/Anthony
Notes: I'm back, bitches and hos.
Anwar's always been fascinated by miracles. In the bible, his favorites stories were always the ones where the moment when everyone believes that all hope is lost is the exact moment that extraordinary events occur to save the day. It gives him faith to read of the falling of the walls of Jericho and the splitting of the seas in times of utter distress.
Anthony, he thinks, is too light for someone who has practically come back from the dead. "Recalled to life", he thinks, proud of himself for remembering the Dickensian phrase of high school English long past. Anthony is light, that is, except for the dark shadows that lurk in the crevice of his scar. Anwar presses his palm flat against the space and Anthony sucks in a shallow breath. Anwar's eyes dance across his skin and hair and he's never felt so comparatively dark in his life. Anthony, he believes, is fascinating.
+
They have this connection that even they will admit is strange. It began in Hollywood when Anwar reached over in a rare moment of fear and grabbed the closest thing to him. Anthony's hand was warm and instead of pulling away, Anthony had simply looked down at the contrast of their skins and squeezed reassuringly. Anwar thinks he remembers the fluttering feeling that crawled up from his stomach into his throat, almost choking him with surprise.
Every Wednesday night, Anthony knocks on Anwar's door and Anwar lets him in without asking any questions. They watch Leno because Anthony's mother learned English from late night talk shows and Anwar knows it reminds Anthony of home. Anthony plays with Anwar's hair and Anwar holds Anthony close to his chest and lets him fall asleep after shedding only a few of the tears that consistently well up in his eyes.
+
Anthony has a girlfriend so Anwar tries to tell himself that whatever is happening between them isn't sexual. At least, he didn't think it was sexual until the night that Anthony first stripped off his shirt before crawling into Anwar’s bed.
"You're not warm?" He asks, "It's so warm in here."
"Yeah," Anwar swallows hard and nods, pulling his own shirt over his head and letting Anthony lay against him until they fall asleep, "It's warm."
+
Anwar feels like he’s got every plane of Anthony’s body etched into his memory, which he thinks, is weird because they haven't even kissed. He's allowed to touch though when they're both so sleepy that the certain unspoken boundaries they’ve set up for themselves can be crossed without mention.
That is why it's all right when Anwar’s hand slips down past where it's allowed to be and Anthony's breathing gets irregular. Anwar lays over him on his side and watches Anthony’s face and soaks in his tiny gasps and knows that even now their connection is still not all that sexual. They don't kiss. Anthony squeezes his eyes shut and takes a single, deep, shuddering breath. Anwar can't take his eyes off him. He can't stop watching him breathe. Fascinating. He thinks, Anthony's just so fascinating.
"Thanks," he says, minutes later. Anwar doesn't move, doesn't talk, doesn't blink until Anthony meets his eyes and they stare at each other for a long time. Too long. That extra second of too, too long.
Anwar wipes his hand on the sheet and says, "Don't worry about it."
+
It is Bo who finally says something. He and Anwar sit on a bench outside the studio during break from rehearsals. Nadia and Constantine smoke cloves over by a tree stump. Anwar thinks they must have cut down every tree in LA.
"How's your boyfriend?" Bo smiles, nudging him in the arm. If he were anyone else, it would have been obnoxious. Instead, it's just Bo.
Anwar cringes, "He's not my boyfriend."
Bo flips back his hair, popping open a can of root beer and letting the fizz spill all over the sidewalk in front of them, "Do you want him to be?"
"It isn't like that." Anwar says, playing with the end of a stray dread, "It's not even...a...thing."
Bo pats him on the back a little too hard though Anwar knows it's meant to be friendly, "Seems to me like it's something."
+
When it is Anthony's turn to go home, he spends the entire night with his face buried in Anwar's shoulder. Anthony’s breath is hot against his neck because he's been crying and Anwar tries to run his hands soothingly over his back. Anthony hiccups.
Anwar says, "I'll miss you." because they haven't spoken yet and he feels like he should say something, at least.
Anthony doesn't understand the significance completely, "You'll be okay, you know." He says.
Anwar sighs and smoothes up his back, letting his fingers rest in the back of Anthony’s hair. The flesh runs under his fingertips and he takes too long in admiring the darkness of his hands on Anthony's pale skin. "Will you?"
Anthony raises his head to look at him for the first time that night. Their eyes lock as usual and that same sick, fluttering feeling bursts into Anwar’s stomach and lungs. He feels like he can't breathe. The irony only makes him sicker.
"Please just..." Anthony says, pausing as if to think about his words but instead settling on a small, simple smirk, "Kiss me."
fin.
Pairing: Anwar/Anthony
Notes: I'm back, bitches and hos.
Anwar's always been fascinated by miracles. In the bible, his favorites stories were always the ones where the moment when everyone believes that all hope is lost is the exact moment that extraordinary events occur to save the day. It gives him faith to read of the falling of the walls of Jericho and the splitting of the seas in times of utter distress.
Anthony, he thinks, is too light for someone who has practically come back from the dead. "Recalled to life", he thinks, proud of himself for remembering the Dickensian phrase of high school English long past. Anthony is light, that is, except for the dark shadows that lurk in the crevice of his scar. Anwar presses his palm flat against the space and Anthony sucks in a shallow breath. Anwar's eyes dance across his skin and hair and he's never felt so comparatively dark in his life. Anthony, he believes, is fascinating.
+
They have this connection that even they will admit is strange. It began in Hollywood when Anwar reached over in a rare moment of fear and grabbed the closest thing to him. Anthony's hand was warm and instead of pulling away, Anthony had simply looked down at the contrast of their skins and squeezed reassuringly. Anwar thinks he remembers the fluttering feeling that crawled up from his stomach into his throat, almost choking him with surprise.
Every Wednesday night, Anthony knocks on Anwar's door and Anwar lets him in without asking any questions. They watch Leno because Anthony's mother learned English from late night talk shows and Anwar knows it reminds Anthony of home. Anthony plays with Anwar's hair and Anwar holds Anthony close to his chest and lets him fall asleep after shedding only a few of the tears that consistently well up in his eyes.
+
Anthony has a girlfriend so Anwar tries to tell himself that whatever is happening between them isn't sexual. At least, he didn't think it was sexual until the night that Anthony first stripped off his shirt before crawling into Anwar’s bed.
"You're not warm?" He asks, "It's so warm in here."
"Yeah," Anwar swallows hard and nods, pulling his own shirt over his head and letting Anthony lay against him until they fall asleep, "It's warm."
+
Anwar feels like he’s got every plane of Anthony’s body etched into his memory, which he thinks, is weird because they haven't even kissed. He's allowed to touch though when they're both so sleepy that the certain unspoken boundaries they’ve set up for themselves can be crossed without mention.
That is why it's all right when Anwar’s hand slips down past where it's allowed to be and Anthony's breathing gets irregular. Anwar lays over him on his side and watches Anthony’s face and soaks in his tiny gasps and knows that even now their connection is still not all that sexual. They don't kiss. Anthony squeezes his eyes shut and takes a single, deep, shuddering breath. Anwar can't take his eyes off him. He can't stop watching him breathe. Fascinating. He thinks, Anthony's just so fascinating.
"Thanks," he says, minutes later. Anwar doesn't move, doesn't talk, doesn't blink until Anthony meets his eyes and they stare at each other for a long time. Too long. That extra second of too, too long.
Anwar wipes his hand on the sheet and says, "Don't worry about it."
+
It is Bo who finally says something. He and Anwar sit on a bench outside the studio during break from rehearsals. Nadia and Constantine smoke cloves over by a tree stump. Anwar thinks they must have cut down every tree in LA.
"How's your boyfriend?" Bo smiles, nudging him in the arm. If he were anyone else, it would have been obnoxious. Instead, it's just Bo.
Anwar cringes, "He's not my boyfriend."
Bo flips back his hair, popping open a can of root beer and letting the fizz spill all over the sidewalk in front of them, "Do you want him to be?"
"It isn't like that." Anwar says, playing with the end of a stray dread, "It's not even...a...thing."
Bo pats him on the back a little too hard though Anwar knows it's meant to be friendly, "Seems to me like it's something."
+
When it is Anthony's turn to go home, he spends the entire night with his face buried in Anwar's shoulder. Anthony’s breath is hot against his neck because he's been crying and Anwar tries to run his hands soothingly over his back. Anthony hiccups.
Anwar says, "I'll miss you." because they haven't spoken yet and he feels like he should say something, at least.
Anthony doesn't understand the significance completely, "You'll be okay, you know." He says.
Anwar sighs and smoothes up his back, letting his fingers rest in the back of Anthony’s hair. The flesh runs under his fingertips and he takes too long in admiring the darkness of his hands on Anthony's pale skin. "Will you?"
Anthony raises his head to look at him for the first time that night. Their eyes lock as usual and that same sick, fluttering feeling bursts into Anwar’s stomach and lungs. He feels like he can't breathe. The irony only makes him sicker.
"Please just..." Anthony says, pausing as if to think about his words but instead settling on a small, simple smirk, "Kiss me."
fin.