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He’d preached it for months, now, unendurable talks of a healthy lifestyle that would have brought nothing but an insurmountable sense of levity to his gray, cloudy days, days when Espresso was not even able to lift his head from the desk as if that required such strain. Not that he’d even proved of being particularly lively, even at his best, although the whole ‘coffee and study until I pass out’ situation had gotten out of hand: one day, the blonde was left no choice but to take matters into his own hands, lest he would later be involved into the investigation of his roommate’s sudden death. Could someone perish from too much work? He was not sure of that, though true or not, it was the caffeine and constant sleepless nights that had him looking like a ghost straight out of a haunted house. Nothing worse than walking around your own dorm, past your own roommate, and wondering how many days are left until he’s found dead on the couch like an old, grumpy cat. Except the lovable felines had an expected lifespan of fifteen to nineteen years: Espresso had yet to turn twenty-two and could be easily mistaken for an adult that had seen decades of a boring company job behind a desk and at least one war. At least.
His mission was clear, the objective one and specific: the methods, however, still remained unclear, like everything else in his life up to that very moment. Finding an indefectible tactic was not as easy as he had originally pictured it, with every idea that popped up in his mind came counterarguments and possible outcomes of failure.
Forcing him to rest?
‘And with what exactly?’ Madeleine had thought. Tying him up was creep behavior, and he was no such monster. That option had been selected out on the first round of hard thinking, for obvious reasons. Sure, he could forcefully wrap him in a blanket like a messed-up burrito and sing lullabies until his friend fell asleep, but could he do it without dying or losing a limb?
Hiding his textbooks?
Higher chance Espresso would first beat him up to death and then turn the dorm room upside down to search for them. It was the first part, especially, that had him shivering and shoving aside yet another option: a pretty model face like his could not be ruined. Surely, he’d let him snap his legs like twigs, but shoulders and above, it was out of discussion.
Courteously asking him to fix his schedule?
Lol, as if he’d comply.
No matter how many roads he seemed to take, they would all eventually lead to Rome, hence, a proper dose of every single of the consequences listed above. Not a single safe option was provided to him, at least, as long as the blonde would choose the most direct option to have his roommate take a break from the challenging position he constantly put himself in. Until he was able to solve the problem himself, Madeleine had resorted to simply talking to his roommate about it, casual hints about how he should cut coffee, go to sleep earlier (or go to sleep at all), although nothing seemed to be getting to him. Espresso did not seem to mind his body practically screaming for help, for keeping his grades up was the top priority, and it hurt to see him silently destroying himself.
Madeleine had then sworn to himself that he’d make his friend’s life better, a huge dose of unsolicited advice, verbal and practical, nagging the other until he’d eventually become so exasperated that Espresso would actually listen to his words. He’d always done it, surely, and if increasing the dose of it was deemed to be necessary, he totally would. At some point he even clearly remembered having almost succeeded in dragging him to a party in order to unwind. Key word, almost, he’d gotten proud of himself too soon to celebrate. One’s strict comfort zone is terribly strenuous to breach. Small steps were taken, and that was all that mattered, then.
Small steps towards the goal, and everything would be fine. And he would have reached it.
No obstacle was immune to perseveration.
So, in the end, he got what he wanted.
He’d preached it for months, a debate he was not willing to lose, and now the hypocrite was Madeleine, finding himself unable to even close his eyes for a split second, jittery and tense as if something might poke out of every corner, stressed over the cosmic nothingness. Or was it really nothing? Distress chewed his stomach from the inside out; the little creature was now a persistent companion in his life, feasting and finding solace in devouring every tiny crumb of what remained of his bright and striking self. It could not starve as long as he fed it his own remorse and shame.
The last hues of twilight peered shyly into the room, bouncing on the freshly painted walls that had managed to save them from the RA’s inspection just a few weeks prior, almost terrified to be caught interrupting such an intimate moment between the two men. After all, instants with little to no fights were unique, even more so if the tranquility of the place could be achieved by sorting things out maturely and blowing off steam before it turned into verbal aggression. Immaculate, was the silence, Madeleine could hear his own breath, no, his own heartbeat. And Espresso’s heartbeat too, which he swore was louder and more relaxing than his own.
Clothes were thrown haphazardly around the floor, a terrible reminder, like a crime scene of something had had happened so fast but so clearly at the same time, putting two and two together would have been child’s play, along with the bigger part of the picture, of course: the two lay on the couch, the previously mentioned clothes, consequentially not on them, bodies instead covered by a warm blanket neither of them knew who it really belonged to. His friend’s head rested on Madeleine’s chest, breath tickling his skin in a feather-light caress, snuggled so close he could hardly tell where he ended and he began. Espresso’s desk had remained untouched throughout the night, the pen and papers in the exact position they were in the night before. And the owner of it rested peacefully in his arms, free from worries.
He didn’t need to get completely wasted, just a little tipsy, or a ‘shot for courage,’ like he repeated into his own mind like a prayer that wasn’t being listened to. It was an additional encouragement he did not really require outside of situations like these, he’d get along with practically everyone, and if some feared social anxiety, it was the latter that ran from Madeleine. If all he needed to end up in bed with his roommate was a single shot, or more accurately, glass of Vodka, which he didn’t even like, (the Vodka, not the roommate), it just made his situation worse: not a single ounce of regret from both sides, and the lingering thought that he had indeed adored it. And that Espresso was fully sober and knowing thorough the whole thing. He needed a prayer, maybe two, a bath and perhaps spend the next two hours on his knees pouring his feelings out to a stranger in the local church’s confessional as if he hadn’t been in that exact position the night before, like a supplicant, in front of the man he..
loved?
Ensuring the priest and himself that the blond was simply confused, that it was the pressure from school. The old man would believe it and wish the best upon him, while Madeleine remained unsure, debating whether he was also lying to himself or not. The visits had started becoming more and more as time went, insistent, begging for answers about his own mind, as if someone else with a title apparently given by the Divine himself could know him better than he did. Seeing his current condition, it was highly feasible. Madeleine struggled to write down a thesis for the messy yarn ball that was his heart, sought understanding from someone else’s side, that never gave him the answer for which he was hoping.
And what exactly that was, he did not know. Did he want people to call him deranged and scandalous? He’d fix himself just right, no biggie. Though at the same time, he felt there was nothing to fix, really, and what he had always felt for the opposite gender was the exact same he was feeling now, just, well, for a man. If Madeleine had never met anyone like him before, no one was talking about this peculiar attraction, could that mean he was, in fact, the wrong one? Surely he was not ready to face the discussion of such a topic, with anyone, by the Divine, not even Espresso himself, though, when he woke up, he’d obviously have something to say.
The worst case yet was the one with his beloved family.
He remembered last year when he returned home for Christmas, facing four expectant faces waiting for the news he had to share about his experience in the school so far, and another topic that had dominated the dinner table since he was old enough to understand the concept of love and relationships: the infamous talk, the urge to know if he had met a potential girlfriend yet. He did not mind those discussions at all, au contraire, felt proud in admitting his charming personality that earned him an amazing reputation with the female students, and a few obsessed stalkers. It started getting uncomfortable from that specific year on, when he realized he no longer basked in his fan’s attention like he used to, in fact, he’d purposefully invent new routes to avoid them and chase after a certain someone instead.
Friendly speaking, of course.
Since then, he’d give vague answers to his aunts, until last Christmas, when the usual ‘When will you bring a girl home?,’ oh-so-original question was asked, and one of them jokingly punctuated it by adding ‘or boy’ at the end. He had almost choked on his own breath, then, very much aware that what he insisted to call a ‘close friendship’ for the whole time, was starting to turn into attraction from Madeleine’s side, while the other gave him the cold shoulder, as always. Nothing to be surprised by. His aunt had been scolded, that time, for even making such a crude comment, while his mother had remained silent, with an expression so unreadable he was not sure if she had managed to silently get the truth out of him, an unsuspected one, or was still trying to get the joke.
He didn’t speak to them until evening, not because he felt disrespected, he was thinking. Thinking about if he could truly love his own friend, male friend, and when he got to his conclusion, spent the entirety of his holidays with uncertainty and deep-bone terror. It wasn’t the usual kind of ‘sick;’ he hadn’t gotten a cold since he was six. This was a different kind of sickness, and he didn’t know what had caused it. And the only sickness he felt he didn’t need to heal from, all the thoughts that told him otherwise were quickly silenced by the warmth of the body he was cradling in his arms, tranquil, not a single worry plaguing him, snuggling closer every thirty seconds, likely afraid the other would mysteriously vanish into thin air, leaving nothing but the ghost of a night spent together. Of the first night. And perhaps the position they were in at the moment made it hard for Madeleine to notice (and an extra, to think straight), but his roommate was indeed sleeping, after almost a day and a half of having not taken even a single nap.
Truly sleeping for once, and not against his will.
Sleeping next to him, with him, had only proven the blond that Espresso felt safe with him.
And had he never noticed the reciprocation of his feelings? He could not be so gullible, purblind to certain signs that he sure must have missed. Either his beloved had hidden it until the very last moment, until Madeleine gave clear signs of a foreseeable ‘let’s fuck’, or he too had been distracted, too focused on swooning after him like an unstable teenager. It mattered very little how they had gotten to this point. And he’d wait for him to wake up and hopefully share some sober words, the first words after such a… lascivious bonding experience. After all, he wasn’t sure he’d managed to keep his ideas coherent last night, when now everything he could do was kill time by forcing his mind to reminisce something, anything.
“I just don’t understand you, sometimes.”
Espresso was leaning against a countertop, a damned book still in hand, as if glued to it, it had been his constant companions for days now. Madeleine wondered if he slept with it too, only for him to remember that his roommate did, in fact, not sleep at all, and had not done it in almost a day and a half. Wearied, he turned the pages slowly, his eyes scanning through the lines, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, threatening to fall from how angled his face was. The student paid little to no attention to the textbook, he was looking at him. At the charming blonde, whose body had fallen idly on the couch, sapped and scrawny, silently breathing (somehow) with his face tightly pressed against one of the plush cushions. It was not too late, he wasn’t one for coming back at midnight, or something of the sort. Nine was fine, just enough for him to take his precious time and get ready for bed. Tonight was no different, except he did not seem just as responsive.
No answer did the shorter man receive from the pillows, so he insisted.
“This version of yourself is the closest I’ve ever seen to defeatism.”
Utter silence, he stepped closer, the laying man’s frame jolted up, as if startled awake from a very bad dream, of an episode of sleepwalking. Espresso’s nose scrunched up instinctively, eyes darting from his still perfect hair (how, he did not know.) and his face, which told him a complete different story.
“You’ve been drinking.”
Not a question.
“You never do it.”
Disappointment, was it? Or perhaps curiosity, genuine interest in his sudden change? Madeleine was not able to tell in his current state, although the dosage of whatever he’d taken had surely been enough to make him dizzy just right, but not entirely clueless of his surroundings. He hadn’t even liked the alcohol, too bitter, way too bitter for his taste. He’d even tried washing it away from his tongue, nothing really worked: if anything, now his throat felt like it was being scrubbed with acid, burning shame leaving a trail of ticklish droplets of sour that had him constantly swallowing in distaste. He cleared his throat for the tenth time since he came back inside their room, unconscious of the fact he was doing it once again.
“Not really, it was just a glass, I just wanted to try..”
“Because someone has pressured you to, am I right? Or was it your idea and yours only?”
He shot an answer back, unhesitatingly ever, he didn’t need to know anything else about the situation, the answer didn’t initially seem rhetoric, but it was. Yet Madeleine would not leave the last word to the opponent, dishonor at its finest, not coinciding with the values he was brought up with. He opened his mouth again, hoping his vocal cords would not disappoint him, but Espresso was faster to talk. The man plopped down on the couch, stiff as always, although a hint of exhaustion forced him to exhale through his nose as he felt the soft gentleness of the couch compared to a whole day sitting at his desk.
“Insomma, guardati.”
He whispered, more to himself than to Madeleine, previously in front of him, now trying to curl himself as far as possible from his friend, nearly toppling over the couch’s armrest like a cornered animal. He too had tensed up at the sudden proximity and balm of the other’s voice: not every day could he be blessed with a tone of voice that wasn’t either irritated or straight up rude as a consequence of his appalling sleep schedule. He had no idea what Espresso had just said, but it surely sounded nicer than whatever curses he’d endured in the past. Some of the most creative ones usually had him whip his head around in horror to. This was different, this was still him, just a more distant side, that had finally gathered up the courage to show itself. And wasn’t Madeleine the one who was supposed to gather courage?! He was beat to it once more, such a shame.
“You criticize me for not taking adequate care of myself, while this is you now.”
Espresso reached out for his friend, practically curled up in a ball: for suck a bulky man, he surely knew how to make himself smaller, but to no avail. Cautious hands wrapped around his face, scorching hot, soothing his cheeks, and for the first time since Madeleine had gotten back in the room, he was truly looking at him. Every graze felt like he was melting in a pot of boiling water, steam rising and clouding his senses, more than they already were from the little transgression he’d allowed himself. Curious, considering he, himself had winced away from Espresso’s touch in his daily life, his hands were usually freezing cold, and the latter used it to his advantage to jokingly bother Madeleine, palming the back of his neck to get the most hysterical reactions out of him, goosebumps and everything (“Ah! Cold, cold! You’re like a corpse!”)
It wasn’t like he resented his touch, quite the opposite, if he were to be honest with himself. Ever since the first time he’d confessed his feelings to the Divine, though, he hadn’t been able to be honest to himself anymore. He wouldn’t oppose if he could be honest to himself, if he could indulge in it, he would. He didn’t loathe his touch, he felt sick at the idea, but at the same time found himself trying to resist the temptation to go out of line again. Espresso was striking, smart, fashionable, all the positive adjectives he could think of on the spot, but was all of that worth another trip to the confessional? To lie to people and at himself at the same time? But there was one truth to it, to the whole situation he was in, that the Divine always forgave sinners. He’d ask for forgiveness later, that counted, didn’t it?
“I should be of example.. yes.. I’ve told you to go to sleep multiple times.. I usually tell you lots of things.”
He let his head fall sideways, embraced by his friend’s hands, feeling his eyelids getting heavier by the second. He would’ve been over the moon if he hadn’t been to tired to speak his elation aloud, the fleeting realization that his beloved was this close to him, and had expressed his concern for him, was enough to put his heart at peace. And neither of them was pulling back.
Espresso, eventually, sat back properly on the couch, his hands going back on his lap, head thrown back as he stared at the white, hypnotizing ceiling. It was rare to see him se relaxed, even in his personal space, semi-alone. Madeleine was left speechless for a moment, doubting and adapting to the sudden change, the hands that his skin already missed dearly, the hands he’d do anything to feel on himself again, wherever Espresso chose to-
“You do tell me a lot of things, nag.”
A pause.
He wasn’t serious. And neither was he when, attempting to suppress a snicker, he spoke again, more to himself than the man next to him, whose gaze was no different from a lost puppy’s.
“Just so you know, you’re not that exasperating, even if it might seem like it. I mean, I’m not saying you’re completely innocent, but I definitely shouldn’t treat you like an inconvenience that just happened to be around.”
And although his voice was reduced to a mere whisper, in Madeleine’s ears that declaration was forever seared into his brain like a brand, unable to shake of his words, even for how much he wished to do so. He was making it difficult for him. To do what, he didn’t know, but he was in great strain, stuck between that sentence and the ever present need to bolt out the room with a petty excuse. Confrontation was the last thing he needed, especially when he’d promised, promised to stop his heart from doing a backflip every time Espresso spoke to him. The latter could have disrespected him in the worst way possible, throwing insults at him, breaking his heart, all the words sounded the same, Madeleine would not care, he’d eventually end up on his knees for him, sooner or later, either burning with shame and regret or a newfound sense of yearning.
His words seemed genuine, and Espresso didn’t drink, except of course from coffee. He was certainly aware of his words and the impact that they had on his roommate.
“You know I’m not drunk, right? Just a little bit tipsy, I’ll remember everything next morning. Not a very smart move.”
The words slipped out of him before he could forcefully shove them back down his throat, he’d blurted them all out at once, not bothering to glance at the other until he heard him laugh. An actual laugh, and if Madeleine hadn’t turned around almost immediately, he would’ve thought Espresso was dying of asphyxiation. Just when the hysterics subsided into small giggles was he able to talk properly, still wiping tears that had formed at the corner of his eyes.
“What was so funny about that? I know I have the memory span of an ostrich, but I can assure you..- “
“It’s just that it can be easily taken out of context. I doubt you would ‘remember everything next morning’ anyways.”
A beat passed. Perhaps two, but in that very moment, counting up to that number seemed to be an insurmountable wall, an obstacle so great, for he had way bigger priorities to focus on. He burned hotter than it had done before, when his face was being held just so tenderly, he was steaming. It had indeed taken him a second to reveal the implications behind his sentence, and when he finally did, he’d sworn all blood instantly poured down below his waist, while now his brain was left without oxygen. He must have looked so birdbrained, right there and then, mouth slightly agape like a fish staring out of its aquarium. All he would’ve needed now were fins and the imitation was complete. He hadn’t just said that. He hadn’t, he hadn’t, he couldn’t have. He was hearing things, he’d stop with the alcohol, even though he hadn’t even properly begun, it was having a huge toll on his nervous system. Espresso didn’t flirt; he would have rather impaled himself than admit he had a lovable side like that.
Silence fell inside of the room, one of the loudest moments of stillness he had ever heard, not the first but not the last. Abashed, was the blonde, deeply so for even having pictured the lengths his brain would not allow him to go, for being so debauched in his mind while the object of his desire was right in front of him. Yep, he couldn’t ask forgiveness for this.
“Test it then, ‘scientist’.”
And not for this one either.
How had they even gotten to that point? Gradually, like every other thing in life, but that hadn’t been gradual. One second, Espresso whipped his head to the side to face him, incredulous, and the next, they were quite literally on each other, pressed impossibly close in a heated kiss.
Madeleine didn’t like bitter things.
Espresso tasted bitter, but it was a different kind of it. It wasn’t repulsive, he would get used to his taste, one way or another.
Madeleine didn’t like bitter things.
But for him he was more than willing to try.
In the end, laying on the very couch they’d slept on, he was indeed able to recall most of the night prior, especially considering that his other half was still cuddled close, basking in Madeleine’s warmth as if it were his last lifeline. At peace, both of them were, while the remains of what had happened still lingered in the air, around, in the guise of messy clothes scattered around, stains that would not go away from the pillows and that they hadn’t thought about, they could be rinsed, washing away fluids and lust that still stuck to the two men’s skin. Madeleine sighed, one hand reaching for Espresso’s hair, running his fingers through the dark brown locks, the sudden contact making the latter shift positions and bury his face in the blonde’s neck, eliciting a small moan from him.
Was this what he had been afraid of for all this time? Of love? And was he still afraid?
He hadn’t closed his eyes since the evening before, and while his beloved could manage such a struggle, Madeleine found it hard to break from his usual routine. A night spent contemplating whether his wrongdoings deserved punishment or acceptance was a night wasted on pointless stress, he craved rest, feeling the weight of every blink. And to sleep next to someone he felt safe with, was a whole other experience, for he felt himself drift off slowly, embracing the body of the man he…
Loved.
But perhaps he could choose one option only. He certainly did love Espresso but was not able to go to sleep just yet, for a cruel joke of the universe.
Quick stomping noises echoed in the hallway, and all throughout the open spaces, which, at barely 7 in the morning of a Saturday were both a nag for the poor souls who wanted to rest, and abnormal as a whole, for no one sane would ever wake up so early just to disrupt someone else’s peace. Not everyone had the patience to deal with such troublemakers, the most adamant were quickly humbled in two days or less: you really start noticing how much people value their quiet time only when a student that’s been brought to his limits threatens to throw boiling water at those who walk too loud. Not pleasant news, it happened last year, but Madeleine can’t help but still shiver at the memory of that accident. Thank the Divines he wasn’t involved.
Madeleine’s head perked up from its resting position, trying to locate the source of the steps, just for him to realize that they were getting dangerously close to wherever they were heading, hence, near his dorm room, apparently. He held his breath, intently listening to every single creak and breath, until the cacophony stopped, and tranquility fell dominant of the space again.
He huffed a sigh of relief, breathing all the air he’d kept painfully stored in his lungs.
Then the door flew open.
He was brought up with class, the decency to knock before entering a room that is not yours he was taught, and the sheer audacity of some people truly left him speechless. His words, nonetheless, were lost, but for a different reason. Had it been any other context, he would have just asked the intruder to respect boundaries, or worse, if Espresso were to be awake, a war could have started, but the taller man had seemingly forgotten than he had no clothes on and was cuddled under a blanket with a man: the perfect picture that just cannot be misunderstood.
“Good morning Es! Listen, I know, it’s early, but I really, really need your help with this stuff.. Between us you’ve always been the brightest, and I can’t begin to express my gratitude, gosh, I owe you actually, you’re an angel, I knewyou’dsayyes- “
He could do nothing but remain petrified in place like a marble statue, staring ahead at the woman trotting in like she owned the place, a stack of papers in one hand, a folder in the other, balancing it all like a circus monkey, all while mindlessly looking around, everywhere but in front of her, talking so fast that Madeleine could barely keep up with her discourses. And unfortunately, she wasn’t blind nor foolish, almost immediately after she stepped in she froze on the spot, the folder dropping from her hand and on the floor with a dry thud, as a consequence of her perfect balance being lost, eyes so wide he could’ve sworn she was seeing ghosts instead. Paper documents scattered around the floor like an oil spill, she seemed to be at a total loss for words, eyes darting from the two men and the condition that the room was in. Caught red-handed and not only that, this was no crime scene, the crime was still ongoing, the victims right there.
Either side didn’t dare speak for what felt like an eternal amount of seconds, until Latte eventually broke the mortifying quietude.
“Nope.”
She waved her hand in the air, trying to grip the door handle while dubiously attracted to the sight in front of her, one she could not take her eyes off, but how she wished she could. When she could get a hold of the desired object she shut the door with a force that could’ve easily torn it from the hinges, and the sigh that Madeleine let out as she disappeared behind the smooth wooden surface was not of relief. Surprisingly, the loud bang hadn’t been enough to wake Espresso up, and although the idea of disrupting his sleep pained him, Madeleine knew he should be informed of whatever the hell had just happened. He firmly shook him from his shoulders, his own hand quivering, his knees feeling like mush, which had nothing to do with the activities of the night before.
The poor man huffed in annoyance, jolting awake as if he had just been brought back from the dead, instinctively trying to reach for his glasses, too far even on a nearby coffee table. With a movement so harsh he feared his spine would snap in half, the blonde put his hands up in defense as Espresso turned around to face him, hair still ruffled and breath labored; judging his expression, he wasn’t overjoyed to having been woken up so suddenly, and while he did act tenderly towards his friend the evening before, it didn’t grant the latter a golden pass to overstep any other limit he already had.
“Che c’è?! Oh my.. And where are my glasses?! I swear I- “
He sucked in a large amount of air, almost chocking on the nothing when the door opened once again and Latte stepped in with a renewed sense of courage, dramatically pointing her finger at her brother.
“No, I swear! I mean, you never told me?! That’s pretty important, don’t you think?”
She repeatedly drew an invisible arc with both her arms, gesturing at the dorm room and the obvious thing that was the center of attention. Espresso clutched the blanket to his chest, his other hand holding its other side down firmly: Madeleine wasn’t sure if the man’s face was that red out of humiliation or he was simply livid. Either way, rage was a better reaction than whatever he was doing, unable to speak at all, huddling closer, now painfully aware of how small the blanket surface was. Making it all worse was the fact that he could certainly not interrupt a fight between two siblings, lest he’d be dragged into it as well.
“Do we not knock on doors anymore? Have some decency at least! And lower your voice, you’re disturbing..- “
Espresso hissed out through gritted teeth, barely reaching the end of his sentence, that she was already bouncing back with her voice twice as loud just out of pure spite.
“Decency?! Would you take a look at yourself and at the position you’re in?”
A pause, she turned towards Madeleine with a large, dreamy smile, clasping her hands together, her voice softening significantly, a creepy sight to witness that had him squirm in unease.
“No, I mean, this is really wholesome, you two are adorable..”
Then back at her brother, she turned, her tone going back to ‘normal’.
“But come on! A shame I had to find out myself, and like this! At least lock the door, whore.”
She whispered the last word, covering her mouth with one hand as she giggled away. Had it been anyone else, Espresso would’ve felt deeply disrespected, though since it was her, he was allowed to respond even worse to the blatant provocation. A good dose of fun never hurt, except the brother took his arguments very seriously, if only he could find his goddamn glasses and see properly, he’d read a list of horrendous names aloud. Madeleine could not do much except try to soothe both of them, which, once again, did not include the use of words, just vague gestures ranging from hands raised in mid-air and an arm extended towards Latte, preventing her to get even closer. They would not stop on their own, pride was a curse, and the two had fallen victims of it: whoever had the last word would be the undisputed winner.
“Taci! How dare you?! You have to knock! And why did you even want to be informed?! I wouldn’t give you a rundown of my sex life, ever.”
“Dunno, I could’ve brought you a ‘congrats’ cake.”
She shrugged, while seemingly remembering that she had yet to pick up the documents scattered on the floor, bending down to start gathering it all, humming to herself with the solace of someone that hadn’t just walked in on that display. Meanwhile, Espresso was not even near being done, even if his spent speech suggested otherwise, running out of words to use was not enough to deter him.
“Congrats for what, exactly? You.. you!”
“You, you you..! At least I don’t st-st-stutter!”
She taunted him relentlessly, piling up the folders in a neat stack, before kicking the door open and lingering on the step just enough to be able to speak, not leaving Espresso time to reply, mouth still open as he was stopped by her voice reaching his ears before his own did.
“That’s all, I suppose, and just to let you know, I absolutely support whatever it’s going on between you two. Madeleine, take good care of him, and be gentle, he’s a delicate little flower, seeyouaroundIgottago!”
With the last hues of mockery present floating in the atmosphere, she bolted out happily, almost bumping in someone else that was passing by right outside, and she couldn’t bring herself to apologize properly, seen she’d wasted all her breath on that dramatic exit. As the door finally clicked shut, Espresso forced out an exhale, showing his palm to Madeleine.
“My glasses, please.”
Defeated, he asked, and it took the other a moment to snap out of his trance, physically recoiling back a little.
“Your.. oh, right, right!”
He chuckled nervously, rummaging around to search for the object, while the shorter man watched intently, lost in daydream. Finally, after retrieving them from the table right in front of the couch (he could’ve sworn they weren’t there when he had looked for the first time), Espresso snatched them out of his hands and forced them on himself so fast he’d actually ben scared to poke himself in the eye. He blinked twice towards the void, then turned around, hands still rumpling the fabric of the blanked for the sheer amount of stress. Being it all to quiet, the blonde tried to inject some humor into the situation, as if it hadn’t been downright shameful.
“That was.. something, though! I mean, she wasn’t revolted, now..”
Rubbing his eyes beneath the lenses, Espresso shot him a dubious glance, already starting to reach for his clothes on the floor.
“Exaggeration. She was even too buoyant, if you ask me.”
A beat passed in silence.
“Though she did manage to say something right while blabbering. You have taken good care of me, no?”
Madeleine’s face burned hot with renewed craving, swallowing hard as he held his hands together, a shaky smile on his face. He knew he sounded way too calm after such a scene, if he hadn’t wanted something, he’d be already complaining while pacing back and forth. And honestly, this morning he didn’t have to go anywhere, not even to church anymore. He didn’t need to apologize for anything. Not for treating someone with they love they deserved.
“I always do. Always willing.”