Special Needs [2/5]
Title: Special Needs
Author: elizabeth21r
Pairing(s): Tom/Bill
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Warnings: OOC
Author's notes: I know this is a tricky subject and I might be horrible at describing it, so I'm sorry in advance. I was inspired by my little cousin who has been through a lot the last couple of years because of his disability. I dedicate this to him.
Thank you so so so much littlemrstom for the beta, I owe you ♥ Also, thanks to whoever offered me help with this short fic and of course, to every reader :) I'll be posting a chapter every other day so this will be completed by next week!
Banner made by chicaintcheap.
Summary:
"There are people out there who can see more than whether you can walk or not."
Bill hadn't met any of them in his nineteen years but Tom was determined to burst his bubble.
Bill finally called Tom almost a week later and that happened with a great amount of effort; Tom never found that out, but the phone call definitely caught him off guard. So many days had passed, and he had been sure Bill was never going to call him.
When they finally spoke - and Bill's voice was soft and gentle and just a tiny bit shy and Tom was grinning like an idiot - they arranged a meeting at the closest cafe to Bill's house, since Tom didn't want to disturb him and possibly tire him with a long distance. He hoped Bill didn't think he was trying to help him out of sympathy or something like that.
They lived relatively close; it would take Tom almost half an hour to drive there. Tom owned a car and a house and lots of money that not many people his age had. His parents left him a shockingly large fortune when they died, and since he had no grandparents or other close relatives alive, Tom was, as an adult, the only inheritor.
The first thing he did once the money was his own was deposit it all in a bank account and then buy a car. Since his parents weren't there anymore, he didn't have to be afraid of anyone.
Tom had never had the best or closest relationship with his parents. It's not that they exchanged harsh words or anything; they were just rich, trapped in the world of business, and didn't really have much time for their only son. When they died, Tom couldn't say he was sad, or that he felt anything. He was completely empty, and back then, he thought he just didn't care. He thought it would be the same to him whether his parents were dead or alive.
It wasn't, of course.
A few months after their death, Tom had decided that the best thing for his nineteen year old self was to study abroad. He didn't know what he wanted to do, all he knew was that he was financially in a great position and could pay for anything, so he just left. Almost five years had to pass for Tom to travel back to Germany as another person, completely different and much more experienced than before. He had a new personality, and the freedom of complete independence helped him figure out who he really was and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life.
Tom was gay.
Sometimes he even found himself wondering how it happened; how he found out he was truly attracted to males. Countless times had Tom lied down on his bed at the end of the day, pondering over so many things that he had done in the past, wondering how; how did this happen, how did that happen? Sometimes he'd wonder how he managed to take a marvelous picture, or paint something amazingly beautiful on his wall, or have sex with a man that was utterly pretty. Just like Bill was.
Tom felt very confused, he couldn't tell whether he felt a deep interest for Bill's personality and his love for photography or if he was extremely attracted to him. It was usually pretty simple for him to deal with his feelings. Tom liked thinking and pondering about stuff, but he wasn't the type to overanalyze things and try to find a reason for everything. He always saw life in a raw and realistic way, but not necessarily a dry or cold one.
He'd known since the first time he had laid his eyes on Bill. His stare had stayed just a tiny bit more on Bill's face than it usually did, he had found it difficult to swallow, his hands had felt almost limp on his knees. He knew he liked Bill.
He didn't care why. He didn't wonder if it was his pretty face, this feeling of fragility he radiated, the way he gently moved his hands while he spoke, his long black hair, or his tiny, slender body. Maybe it was a mixture of all these. Tom couldn't care less about why.
Tom noticed how he paid extra attention to his outfit, how he took much more time looking at himself in the mirror, how he kept smiling stupidly. Judging by all of these, it was obvious to Tom that Bill wasn't stuck in his mind because of sympathy.
~~
"I... don't know what to say."
They were sitting at a cafe, or maybe it was a small bar, everything was so quiet and calm that Tom felt impressed. He didn't know these kind of places really existed in Germany.
"You don't have to answer now," Tom said, looking at Bill who seemed too focused on his small cup of coffee. "It's just a thought."
The young boy took a deep breath, and after several minutes of shy silence, he looked up at Tom. "I feel very flattered by all of this, of course... I'm just not used to being in front of the camera."
They had been there for quite some time, maybe hours, talking on and on. It was as if something clicked between them every time they were in the same room, and they couldn't stop talking. Even Bill's definitely too timid attitude disappeared every time Tom started a conversation.
Bill had told Tom how he had albums with countless of pictures back home, pictures he had taken as the years were passing. Tom had of course asked to see them, and Bill had lowered his head, adding how he didn't "think they are half as good as the ones you've seen by your colleagues." Tom wasn't entirely sure this was true.
"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable," he told Bill, looking straight in his eyes as he always did. "I just... I don't know. Every time I look at you, I feel this strange flow of inspiration inside of me. I'm not sure; I think it's something about your face. I believe it's perfectly symmetrical."
Bill laughed at that and brought his fingers on his forehead. He remembered how his mother used to tell him again and again about her cousin, a plastic surgeon, who kept telling her how Bill had a face of "perfect symmetry".
"You found that stupid, right?"
"No, no!" Bill answered immediately. "I just remembered something, that's all."
An uncomfortable silence hung between them but neither of them seemed to be afraid of it. Tom toyed with his cell phone, swirling it around in his hand while Bill kept drinking his filter coffee sip by sip.
"You know," Tom finally said after a while. "I don't get why all of this stopped being a part of your life. I mean, I could understand if it was something you never did, but you said you have albums with countless pictures. It must have been your whole life. Why did you have to stop now?"
As soon as the words left his mouth Tom could tell that Bill felt uncomfortable. He almost hit himself; he shouldn't have asked such a personal thing. They didn't know each other that well anyway.
"I guess... I guess I got tired."
"Understandable", Tom told him immediately, raising his arms in the air. "Completely understandable and I apologize, I shouldn't have asked such a personal question."
"Nah, it's okay," Bill hurriedly comforted him. "I'm fine with it, don't worry. I don't want you to be careful around me or feel sorry-"
"Of course I don't feel sorry for you!" Tom almost shouted, trying to reassure Bill about that. "Have I ever given you that impression?"
"No, Tom, relax!" Bill laughed, reaching out and touching Tom's hand. "I just mentioned it, it doesn't mean anything. All of this, it's a part of myself," he added, his hands touching the metal of his wheelchair. "A part of my life since the day I was born." He stopped a little, smiling, and took a breath. "I've finally made my peace with it."
As Tom heard Bill's words, he decided he'd never felt such admiration for anyone. He could never live without the ability to walk; he couldn't imagine himself rooted to the ground, basically a prisoner from all those simple and ordinary things. Suddenly everything he took for granted held a brand new effort: leaving the house, making a cup of coffee or reaching out to grab a glass from the top cupboard.
He couldn't find the words to describe how terrifying and brave at the same time Bill's life seemed to him. At least, Tom thought, he never had the ability to walk. It would be more than devastating to suddenly lose something like that.
"As for your proposal," Bill finally said, "I am perfectly fine with it. If you think that will help your exams, then I gladly accept to do it!"
They both shared wide smiles, before taking a breath and going on with their conversation.
~~
"Sure you're okay to do it here?"
Tom looked around, observing Bill's room. He could feel his throat clenching every time he noticed each drawing on the wall. The room was painted everywhere, from the ceiling to the floor, with all styles and shapes one could ever imagine. It was the most beautiful thing Tom had ever laid eyes on; thousands of times better than his own room. Each corner had a little something; there was not a single bare part on the walls.
"Bill, it's perfect, more than what I could ever ask for," he answered, smiling at Bill. "The lights might be a problem, but nothing that can't be fixed."
"We can dim them as much as needed," Bill suggested, moving his chair towards the closest wall and touching a round light switch. "Look."
Turning the switch, the lights of the room changed from dimmed to bright depending on the direction Bill moved it. Tom didn't take his eyes away from Bill's face, observing the way the shadows fell on his skin. He asked Bill to let go of the switch when the light was excessively soft and gave the walls a pretty, golden shade.
"So…" he started, grabbing the chair's handles. "I want you…" he went on, looking around him. "Here!"
He let go off Bill's chair in front of the most spacious wall of the room, a surface where Bill had painted a big feminine face with really rough features and an indifferent expression. Bill stayed there playing with his fingers, while Tom was fixing his camera's white balance.
"So, tell me," Bill said when Tom got closer. "What exactly is this project about?"
Tom got down on one knee and brought the camera in front of him, looking through its lens. "You know, photography studies usually take up to three years," he said, turning the camera's lens to find the exact spot to focus on, on Bill's face. "But I liked it so much that I decided to go for post graduate studies and learn as much as possible."
click
Tom moved a bit closer to Bill, reaching out his hand to him. "May I?"
Bill nodded and Tom brought his right hand's fingers on the boy's face, moving it a few inches to [in] the direction he needed it to be. "At the beginning it was a bit boring. We mostly photographed objects, you know, estimating curves and shadows."
"Mhmm."
click
Tom brought his hand on Bill's face once again. "The good thing was that we learned how to develop and print them on our own, you know, in big rooms with the dimmed red light and all the chemicals."
click
"It must have been really nice," Bill commented, trying to stay as still as possible. "I've always wanted to be in such a room."
"I'll take you if you like."
click
"It became more interesting later on," he continued, moving in the opposite direction to photograph from another point of view. "You know, we had projects on the road, with themes we specified ourselves."
click
"Sometimes it would be buildings; then it would be people, animals or objects. I really liked that because it gave me freedom to visit places I wanted and find what I was looking for."
click
Bill was listening to Tom carefully, trying not to move at all but he usually failed. Tom again moved Bill's face with his hand.
"This is what I miss the most," he whispered, focusing his glance at the curtain on the other side of the wall in an attempt to stay still. "Going to the places I want, taking pictures of everything."
The sound of Bill's nostalgic voice made Tom lower his camera a little and look at him. "Bill, I really don't understand why you stopped doing that anyway."
When he received no reply, he raised his camera once again and focused on Bill.
"Tell me more."
click
"We've been on many trips with my class," Tom went on. "Mostly capturing traditional habits or trademarks of each place." He walked to Bill and turned his face towards another direction, moving the wheelchair to achieve the exact spot he needed. "Could you close your eyes?"
Bill nodded.
"Now, for the final exams, we were asked for portraits," he continued explaining. He stopped for a moment, observing how calm Bill's face was; eyes closed, long eyelids and half parted lips allowing air between them. Tom swallowed with effort. "I believe I'll have the best project."
click
Bill smiled, with his eyes still closed.
Moving slowly, Tom found himself really close to Bill, intending to move his head a bit on the left so the light would outline his face while also gently coloring the sketch on the wall. Strangely enough though, all he managed to do was reach out his hand and rest it on Bill's face.
Bill stayed still and his face held no expression for a moment, waiting for Tom's hand to guide his head towards the direction he wanted it to be. When that didn't happen, he frowned in confusion and Tom's hand began to caress the skin on his cheek.
"Tom?"
"Do not move," Tom ordered and began gently moving his fingers on Bill's skin. He brought his own face a bit closer to Bill's and breathed in his scent. Bill breathed faster each second that passed but he didn't move. Something in Tom's voice made him obey.
"You're so beautiful."
click
Bill's grip on his chair got stronger and stronger, his knuckles turning white from the effort. Tom's fingers moved lower, reaching Bill's collarbone. "So much that it makes me want to… do things."
He moved Bill's face towards him, something that made Bill finally open his eyes. They locked gazes and Tom was, once again, speechless by the honesty and beauty in Bill's eyes. They were so big and confused and scared and true.
"What kind of things?" Bill whispered, barely audible; maybe it wasn't in his plans to actually ask the question out loud.
Tom licked his lips, bringing his fingers to Bill's. With his other hand, he moved his camera to his right, having both of them in front of the lens. "I… I'm not sure."
click
The light flashed right on their faces but neither of them closed their eyes or moved away. Tom's fingers found their way above Bill's lips, feeling how soft the skin was under his fingertips. So soft that he felt the need to kiss them, but he could never do such thing without Bill's permission. Could he ever ask for said permission though?
Their bodies held such a bizarre pose, making them perfect for a picture; one of Tom's hands were reached out to one side, while the other was touching Bill's face, his body almost kneeling. Bill hadn't even blinked as long as they were lost in each other's gaze; both their breaths hit Tom's fingers.
Tom took the brave decision of closing the gap between their faces but before he even had the chance to touch Bill's lips, the boy had turned away. Tom lowered his head a bit as a sign of defeat, or maybe disappointment, but soon enough his lips found their way to Bill's neck, kissing it softly while he gently wrapped his hand around Bill's arm.
"Tom…"
"Bill?"
Simone's voice echoed in the room and the lights were suddenly so bright, but neither of them made the effort to move. Tom thought he should move away, but the grip on Bill's arm only became stronger.
"I brought you something to drink," Simone said, her voice sounding happy, as if she was smiling. Tom breathed in deep and stood up, turning his around and walking across the small room, closer to Simone.
"I think I'd better be going," he told her, smiling gently. She seemed disappointed and ready to utter something, like "Can't you stay a bit longer, I made coffee," but Tom only added a simple "Bye," and left Bill's room, almost running. A few seconds later the sound of the front door closing echoed in the air.
"But…" Simone said after a few moments, confused. She was standing in the middle of the room, a tray in her hands with two cups of coffee and two pieces of toast on it. "What's gotten into him?"
Bill was staring hard at the door of his room, confused with thousands of questions running through his head, and sad and just… he didn't know how he felt or why he felt it. "I have no idea," he replied to his mother, reaching out his hand to her. Simone lowered her body and Bill grabbed one of the cups of coffee, gulping it all down at once.
~~
Hours later, Bill was tucked up in bed, unable to sleep. No matter how much he'd try to deny it, Tom's behavior had confused him a lot and, as a result, he couldn't close his eyes and rest. He played the scene of Tom's fingers touching his face over and over again in his mind, Tom's breath tickling his skin, the look of his face inches away from Bill's own.
Why on earth was this happening to him?
Bill had had no such things planned, especially for this year. He really didn't want to start any kind of romantic relationship with somebody, be it a man or woman, before he was able to find himself. He couldn't even imagine loving somebody else, when he almost detested his own self.
It just didn't make any sense. Bill wasn't even gay, or so he thought, anyway. Not that he had much experience to give credit for.
Breathing out in an almost angry manner, he again closed his eyes and tried to convince himself to sleep. It was more than likely that Tom wouldn't make an appearance in his life any time soon. Or at least Bill thought so.
God knew how long had passed when he finally almost fell asleep; he didn't quite make it though. His eyes opened tiredly, looking at his lit cell phone. He had received a text.
He reached out slowly and took his mobile, half closing his eyes due to the sudden bright light. He almost felt like falling asleep again while waiting for the text to load. Reading it, he frowned and felt more awake than ever.
'I can't sleep'
He didn't even give it much thought. Grabbing his mobile with both of his hands, he started typing.
'me neither'
A few moments had passed and he hadn't received a reply. Bill started losing his patience; it was really late; Tom had been the reason he had stayed awake and Tom was now the reason he wasn't able to sleep, and he couldn't even text him back? His brows narrowed in stubbornness and he grabbed his mobile once again.
'what you did was not funny at all'
Before he even had the chance to panic for sending the text, Tom had already replied.
'it wasn't supposed to be funny so it's okay you don't think so :)'
Bill smiled. He didn't try to think of a hundred ways to explain himself and pretend he didn't care. Fuck, did he care.
'then why did you do it?'
'because I like you, obviously'
Bill stared in astonishment at Tom's completely honest reply. He tried to think for a good long minute of what to reply back, but he could find anything that sounded right in his mind. It was too late to find arguments and change Tom's mind.
He didn't even know if he wanted to.
'goodnight, tom'
His mobile lit up one last time and Bill put it back on the night stand, smiling and closing his eyes ready to sleep.
'goodnight'
Author: elizabeth21r
Pairing(s): Tom/Bill
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Warnings: OOC
Author's notes: I know this is a tricky subject and I might be horrible at describing it, so I'm sorry in advance. I was inspired by my little cousin who has been through a lot the last couple of years because of his disability. I dedicate this to him.
Thank you so so so much littlemrstom for the beta, I owe you ♥ Also, thanks to whoever offered me help with this short fic and of course, to every reader :) I'll be posting a chapter every other day so this will be completed by next week!
Banner made by chicaintcheap.
Summary:
"There are people out there who can see more than whether you can walk or not."
Bill hadn't met any of them in his nineteen years but Tom was determined to burst his bubble.
Bill finally called Tom almost a week later and that happened with a great amount of effort; Tom never found that out, but the phone call definitely caught him off guard. So many days had passed, and he had been sure Bill was never going to call him.
When they finally spoke - and Bill's voice was soft and gentle and just a tiny bit shy and Tom was grinning like an idiot - they arranged a meeting at the closest cafe to Bill's house, since Tom didn't want to disturb him and possibly tire him with a long distance. He hoped Bill didn't think he was trying to help him out of sympathy or something like that.
They lived relatively close; it would take Tom almost half an hour to drive there. Tom owned a car and a house and lots of money that not many people his age had. His parents left him a shockingly large fortune when they died, and since he had no grandparents or other close relatives alive, Tom was, as an adult, the only inheritor.
The first thing he did once the money was his own was deposit it all in a bank account and then buy a car. Since his parents weren't there anymore, he didn't have to be afraid of anyone.
Tom had never had the best or closest relationship with his parents. It's not that they exchanged harsh words or anything; they were just rich, trapped in the world of business, and didn't really have much time for their only son. When they died, Tom couldn't say he was sad, or that he felt anything. He was completely empty, and back then, he thought he just didn't care. He thought it would be the same to him whether his parents were dead or alive.
It wasn't, of course.
A few months after their death, Tom had decided that the best thing for his nineteen year old self was to study abroad. He didn't know what he wanted to do, all he knew was that he was financially in a great position and could pay for anything, so he just left. Almost five years had to pass for Tom to travel back to Germany as another person, completely different and much more experienced than before. He had a new personality, and the freedom of complete independence helped him figure out who he really was and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life.
Tom was gay.
Sometimes he even found himself wondering how it happened; how he found out he was truly attracted to males. Countless times had Tom lied down on his bed at the end of the day, pondering over so many things that he had done in the past, wondering how; how did this happen, how did that happen? Sometimes he'd wonder how he managed to take a marvelous picture, or paint something amazingly beautiful on his wall, or have sex with a man that was utterly pretty. Just like Bill was.
Tom felt very confused, he couldn't tell whether he felt a deep interest for Bill's personality and his love for photography or if he was extremely attracted to him. It was usually pretty simple for him to deal with his feelings. Tom liked thinking and pondering about stuff, but he wasn't the type to overanalyze things and try to find a reason for everything. He always saw life in a raw and realistic way, but not necessarily a dry or cold one.
He'd known since the first time he had laid his eyes on Bill. His stare had stayed just a tiny bit more on Bill's face than it usually did, he had found it difficult to swallow, his hands had felt almost limp on his knees. He knew he liked Bill.
He didn't care why. He didn't wonder if it was his pretty face, this feeling of fragility he radiated, the way he gently moved his hands while he spoke, his long black hair, or his tiny, slender body. Maybe it was a mixture of all these. Tom couldn't care less about why.
Tom noticed how he paid extra attention to his outfit, how he took much more time looking at himself in the mirror, how he kept smiling stupidly. Judging by all of these, it was obvious to Tom that Bill wasn't stuck in his mind because of sympathy.
~~
"I... don't know what to say."
They were sitting at a cafe, or maybe it was a small bar, everything was so quiet and calm that Tom felt impressed. He didn't know these kind of places really existed in Germany.
"You don't have to answer now," Tom said, looking at Bill who seemed too focused on his small cup of coffee. "It's just a thought."
The young boy took a deep breath, and after several minutes of shy silence, he looked up at Tom. "I feel very flattered by all of this, of course... I'm just not used to being in front of the camera."
They had been there for quite some time, maybe hours, talking on and on. It was as if something clicked between them every time they were in the same room, and they couldn't stop talking. Even Bill's definitely too timid attitude disappeared every time Tom started a conversation.
Bill had told Tom how he had albums with countless of pictures back home, pictures he had taken as the years were passing. Tom had of course asked to see them, and Bill had lowered his head, adding how he didn't "think they are half as good as the ones you've seen by your colleagues." Tom wasn't entirely sure this was true.
"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable," he told Bill, looking straight in his eyes as he always did. "I just... I don't know. Every time I look at you, I feel this strange flow of inspiration inside of me. I'm not sure; I think it's something about your face. I believe it's perfectly symmetrical."
Bill laughed at that and brought his fingers on his forehead. He remembered how his mother used to tell him again and again about her cousin, a plastic surgeon, who kept telling her how Bill had a face of "perfect symmetry".
"You found that stupid, right?"
"No, no!" Bill answered immediately. "I just remembered something, that's all."
An uncomfortable silence hung between them but neither of them seemed to be afraid of it. Tom toyed with his cell phone, swirling it around in his hand while Bill kept drinking his filter coffee sip by sip.
"You know," Tom finally said after a while. "I don't get why all of this stopped being a part of your life. I mean, I could understand if it was something you never did, but you said you have albums with countless pictures. It must have been your whole life. Why did you have to stop now?"
As soon as the words left his mouth Tom could tell that Bill felt uncomfortable. He almost hit himself; he shouldn't have asked such a personal thing. They didn't know each other that well anyway.
"I guess... I guess I got tired."
"Understandable", Tom told him immediately, raising his arms in the air. "Completely understandable and I apologize, I shouldn't have asked such a personal question."
"Nah, it's okay," Bill hurriedly comforted him. "I'm fine with it, don't worry. I don't want you to be careful around me or feel sorry-"
"Of course I don't feel sorry for you!" Tom almost shouted, trying to reassure Bill about that. "Have I ever given you that impression?"
"No, Tom, relax!" Bill laughed, reaching out and touching Tom's hand. "I just mentioned it, it doesn't mean anything. All of this, it's a part of myself," he added, his hands touching the metal of his wheelchair. "A part of my life since the day I was born." He stopped a little, smiling, and took a breath. "I've finally made my peace with it."
As Tom heard Bill's words, he decided he'd never felt such admiration for anyone. He could never live without the ability to walk; he couldn't imagine himself rooted to the ground, basically a prisoner from all those simple and ordinary things. Suddenly everything he took for granted held a brand new effort: leaving the house, making a cup of coffee or reaching out to grab a glass from the top cupboard.
He couldn't find the words to describe how terrifying and brave at the same time Bill's life seemed to him. At least, Tom thought, he never had the ability to walk. It would be more than devastating to suddenly lose something like that.
"As for your proposal," Bill finally said, "I am perfectly fine with it. If you think that will help your exams, then I gladly accept to do it!"
They both shared wide smiles, before taking a breath and going on with their conversation.
~~
"Sure you're okay to do it here?"
Tom looked around, observing Bill's room. He could feel his throat clenching every time he noticed each drawing on the wall. The room was painted everywhere, from the ceiling to the floor, with all styles and shapes one could ever imagine. It was the most beautiful thing Tom had ever laid eyes on; thousands of times better than his own room. Each corner had a little something; there was not a single bare part on the walls.
"Bill, it's perfect, more than what I could ever ask for," he answered, smiling at Bill. "The lights might be a problem, but nothing that can't be fixed."
"We can dim them as much as needed," Bill suggested, moving his chair towards the closest wall and touching a round light switch. "Look."
Turning the switch, the lights of the room changed from dimmed to bright depending on the direction Bill moved it. Tom didn't take his eyes away from Bill's face, observing the way the shadows fell on his skin. He asked Bill to let go of the switch when the light was excessively soft and gave the walls a pretty, golden shade.
"So…" he started, grabbing the chair's handles. "I want you…" he went on, looking around him. "Here!"
He let go off Bill's chair in front of the most spacious wall of the room, a surface where Bill had painted a big feminine face with really rough features and an indifferent expression. Bill stayed there playing with his fingers, while Tom was fixing his camera's white balance.
"So, tell me," Bill said when Tom got closer. "What exactly is this project about?"
Tom got down on one knee and brought the camera in front of him, looking through its lens. "You know, photography studies usually take up to three years," he said, turning the camera's lens to find the exact spot to focus on, on Bill's face. "But I liked it so much that I decided to go for post graduate studies and learn as much as possible."
click
Tom moved a bit closer to Bill, reaching out his hand to him. "May I?"
Bill nodded and Tom brought his right hand's fingers on the boy's face, moving it a few inches to [in] the direction he needed it to be. "At the beginning it was a bit boring. We mostly photographed objects, you know, estimating curves and shadows."
"Mhmm."
click
Tom brought his hand on Bill's face once again. "The good thing was that we learned how to develop and print them on our own, you know, in big rooms with the dimmed red light and all the chemicals."
click
"It must have been really nice," Bill commented, trying to stay as still as possible. "I've always wanted to be in such a room."
"I'll take you if you like."
click
"It became more interesting later on," he continued, moving in the opposite direction to photograph from another point of view. "You know, we had projects on the road, with themes we specified ourselves."
click
"Sometimes it would be buildings; then it would be people, animals or objects. I really liked that because it gave me freedom to visit places I wanted and find what I was looking for."
click
Bill was listening to Tom carefully, trying not to move at all but he usually failed. Tom again moved Bill's face with his hand.
"This is what I miss the most," he whispered, focusing his glance at the curtain on the other side of the wall in an attempt to stay still. "Going to the places I want, taking pictures of everything."
The sound of Bill's nostalgic voice made Tom lower his camera a little and look at him. "Bill, I really don't understand why you stopped doing that anyway."
When he received no reply, he raised his camera once again and focused on Bill.
"Tell me more."
click
"We've been on many trips with my class," Tom went on. "Mostly capturing traditional habits or trademarks of each place." He walked to Bill and turned his face towards another direction, moving the wheelchair to achieve the exact spot he needed. "Could you close your eyes?"
Bill nodded.
"Now, for the final exams, we were asked for portraits," he continued explaining. He stopped for a moment, observing how calm Bill's face was; eyes closed, long eyelids and half parted lips allowing air between them. Tom swallowed with effort. "I believe I'll have the best project."
click
Bill smiled, with his eyes still closed.
Moving slowly, Tom found himself really close to Bill, intending to move his head a bit on the left so the light would outline his face while also gently coloring the sketch on the wall. Strangely enough though, all he managed to do was reach out his hand and rest it on Bill's face.
Bill stayed still and his face held no expression for a moment, waiting for Tom's hand to guide his head towards the direction he wanted it to be. When that didn't happen, he frowned in confusion and Tom's hand began to caress the skin on his cheek.
"Tom?"
"Do not move," Tom ordered and began gently moving his fingers on Bill's skin. He brought his own face a bit closer to Bill's and breathed in his scent. Bill breathed faster each second that passed but he didn't move. Something in Tom's voice made him obey.
"You're so beautiful."
click
Bill's grip on his chair got stronger and stronger, his knuckles turning white from the effort. Tom's fingers moved lower, reaching Bill's collarbone. "So much that it makes me want to… do things."
He moved Bill's face towards him, something that made Bill finally open his eyes. They locked gazes and Tom was, once again, speechless by the honesty and beauty in Bill's eyes. They were so big and confused and scared and true.
"What kind of things?" Bill whispered, barely audible; maybe it wasn't in his plans to actually ask the question out loud.
Tom licked his lips, bringing his fingers to Bill's. With his other hand, he moved his camera to his right, having both of them in front of the lens. "I… I'm not sure."
click
The light flashed right on their faces but neither of them closed their eyes or moved away. Tom's fingers found their way above Bill's lips, feeling how soft the skin was under his fingertips. So soft that he felt the need to kiss them, but he could never do such thing without Bill's permission. Could he ever ask for said permission though?
Their bodies held such a bizarre pose, making them perfect for a picture; one of Tom's hands were reached out to one side, while the other was touching Bill's face, his body almost kneeling. Bill hadn't even blinked as long as they were lost in each other's gaze; both their breaths hit Tom's fingers.
Tom took the brave decision of closing the gap between their faces but before he even had the chance to touch Bill's lips, the boy had turned away. Tom lowered his head a bit as a sign of defeat, or maybe disappointment, but soon enough his lips found their way to Bill's neck, kissing it softly while he gently wrapped his hand around Bill's arm.
"Tom…"
"Bill?"
Simone's voice echoed in the room and the lights were suddenly so bright, but neither of them made the effort to move. Tom thought he should move away, but the grip on Bill's arm only became stronger.
"I brought you something to drink," Simone said, her voice sounding happy, as if she was smiling. Tom breathed in deep and stood up, turning his around and walking across the small room, closer to Simone.
"I think I'd better be going," he told her, smiling gently. She seemed disappointed and ready to utter something, like "Can't you stay a bit longer, I made coffee," but Tom only added a simple "Bye," and left Bill's room, almost running. A few seconds later the sound of the front door closing echoed in the air.
"But…" Simone said after a few moments, confused. She was standing in the middle of the room, a tray in her hands with two cups of coffee and two pieces of toast on it. "What's gotten into him?"
Bill was staring hard at the door of his room, confused with thousands of questions running through his head, and sad and just… he didn't know how he felt or why he felt it. "I have no idea," he replied to his mother, reaching out his hand to her. Simone lowered her body and Bill grabbed one of the cups of coffee, gulping it all down at once.
~~
Hours later, Bill was tucked up in bed, unable to sleep. No matter how much he'd try to deny it, Tom's behavior had confused him a lot and, as a result, he couldn't close his eyes and rest. He played the scene of Tom's fingers touching his face over and over again in his mind, Tom's breath tickling his skin, the look of his face inches away from Bill's own.
Why on earth was this happening to him?
Bill had had no such things planned, especially for this year. He really didn't want to start any kind of romantic relationship with somebody, be it a man or woman, before he was able to find himself. He couldn't even imagine loving somebody else, when he almost detested his own self.
It just didn't make any sense. Bill wasn't even gay, or so he thought, anyway. Not that he had much experience to give credit for.
Breathing out in an almost angry manner, he again closed his eyes and tried to convince himself to sleep. It was more than likely that Tom wouldn't make an appearance in his life any time soon. Or at least Bill thought so.
God knew how long had passed when he finally almost fell asleep; he didn't quite make it though. His eyes opened tiredly, looking at his lit cell phone. He had received a text.
He reached out slowly and took his mobile, half closing his eyes due to the sudden bright light. He almost felt like falling asleep again while waiting for the text to load. Reading it, he frowned and felt more awake than ever.
'I can't sleep'
He didn't even give it much thought. Grabbing his mobile with both of his hands, he started typing.
'me neither'
A few moments had passed and he hadn't received a reply. Bill started losing his patience; it was really late; Tom had been the reason he had stayed awake and Tom was now the reason he wasn't able to sleep, and he couldn't even text him back? His brows narrowed in stubbornness and he grabbed his mobile once again.
'what you did was not funny at all'
Before he even had the chance to panic for sending the text, Tom had already replied.
'it wasn't supposed to be funny so it's okay you don't think so :)'
Bill smiled. He didn't try to think of a hundred ways to explain himself and pretend he didn't care. Fuck, did he care.
'then why did you do it?'
'because I like you, obviously'
Bill stared in astonishment at Tom's completely honest reply. He tried to think for a good long minute of what to reply back, but he could find anything that sounded right in his mind. It was too late to find arguments and change Tom's mind.
He didn't even know if he wanted to.
'goodnight, tom'
His mobile lit up one last time and Bill put it back on the night stand, smiling and closing his eyes ready to sleep.
'goodnight'