32. singe

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

SINGE

—

"So... What do you think?"

A satisfied hum came from Tariq's direction as his eyes wandered around the room, scanning every single corner of the room, before his eyes finally landed on Dmitri.

"I can see your floors," he finally said, the smile that had been dancing on his lips since he came over still not leaving, not even for a second. "Your entire floor."

Dmitri smiled, partially because he was proud of himself, but mostly because Tariq was smiling. Or maybe it was a fifty-fifty, he didn't know.

All he knew was that his room was clean, fully clean, not even a sock out of place.

He had even gone as far as to change his sheets from their usual white to a new set of sheets, a pale blue one that Eden had given him for his birthday the previous year.

Shit. That's coming up. Never mind, I don't want to think about that.

"I know," Dmitri agreed, the pride in his chest for himself, for once, almost making it hurt. "I cleaned the mirror, too!"

Tariq let out a laugh at that as he looked up into the mirror, his eyes finding his face and flitting to Dmitri's for a split moment, before he grinned and said, "Now, all that's left is your cupboard. But honestly, fuck cupboards, you don't have to—"

"I cleaned it!" Dmitri chirped before Tariq could continue, pulling the doors of his wardrobe open and showing him the inside of it, the clean shelves with clothes that he had folded neatly, instead of shoving them away.

He didn't know why he had done it. Cleaned his entire room. Claire had said that he needed to clean his surroundings because 'only when your environment is clean can your mind be clean'. Or so she had said.

Of course, Dmitri had shot back a quick, 'You sound exactly like my mom telling me to get rid of the boys in my environment, because they were making me impure,' because he couldn't do therapy without constantly making jokes about his surprisingly temporarily stable mental health to cope.

"Very sexy of you," Tariq stated. Giving Dmitri another smile, he seemed to be giving him a lot of those lately (not that he was complaining), he sat down on the freshly made bed, pulling his legs up to his chest and saying, "Did you go to church today?"

Typically, Dmitri wouldn't have wanted to talk about church. Because fuck, was it horrible to deal with sometimes. Most of the time.

Today, however, it wasn't entirely horrible.

Mostly because he had switched to a church that was slightly further away, and as much as he missed his previous church, this one was so much more accepting, and he wasn't even out to anyone there.

"Mhm." Taking a seat right next to Tariq, he leaned his back against the wall behind his bed, since he had no fucking headboard. "It was nice. The pastor dude is super cool, he's like— he's not a cool priest, thankfully, those guys are fucking weird. He's just chill. And the choir is cool. Oh, and the church is really fucking pretty. Homophobes just make places less pretty," he rambled on. Am I talking too much?

Tariq smiled, nodding. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Dmitri echoed. "I accidentally swore in church though. That was fun."

Barking out a laugh, Tariq shook his head, reaching his hand up to push his hair out of his face. "How the fuck did you manage to do that?" he questioned, turning around to face Dmitri.

He had the nicest fucking features. And fuck, did it hurt to see them up close. God, were they close.

His lips were definitely the nicest. Though that was probably because he wanted to kiss them.

"Okay, hear me out," Dmitri began, shaking his head to get rid of the very queer thoughts encircling it. "The church is like, really fucking pretty. Like, unbelievably pretty. And me being me, had to voice my opinion on it, so I said 'holy fucking shit' out loud. Didn't expect the whole ass church to hear it."

Luckily for him, the people at this current church didn't have a permanent stick up their asses, so the people seated next to him had just laughed it off and treated him just the same for the rest of the mass.

"You're something else," Tariq muttered under his breath, breathing out a laugh as he removed his socks, he had claimed that they were trapping his feet. "Only you can go to a new church with completely new people, and have the first words that leave your mouth be holy fucking shit."

Dmitri shrugged. "Not like they haven't heard a fucking curse word before," he stated in nonchalance, watching as Tariq reached over him to grab his charger, plugging it into his phone.

Over the past few days, he had gotten so comfortable around Dmitri. A blessing and a curse, all at the same time.

A blessing because Dmitri was awkward enough for the two of them, especially— no, only because of his recently developed more-than-a-crush. If it wasn't for his crush, he would have been perfectly fine.

A curse because Tariq being comfortable meant him touching Dmitri practically all the time, constant light touches to his thighs and his shoulders, ones that he didn't even realise he was doing.

Sometimes, he would place his fucking head on Dmitri's shoulder, and just keep it there, and sometimes, he would go as far as to whisper shit into Dmitri's ears, place his hand right next to his ear, move his mouth closer and closer to his face, and—

"Oh, I read the history book that I borrowed the other day!"

Snapping out of his thoughts for the second time that day, Dmitri turned his head around to face Tariq. "Yeah? And?"

That was another thing. Another thing that Tariq kept doing that just made Dmitri fall faster, faster, faster.

The constant interest in his interests. Every time Dmitri spoke, Tariq listened. Listened in excitement, too.

Even showing up to his house today, that wasn't something that they had pre-planned. Dmitri had called him in an excited frenzy, telling him that he had something to show him, and that he had to come over.

Tariq had just agreed. With zero questions. He had just said, 'Yeah, be there in twenty,' and had showed up at his house with two minutes to spare.

Everything that Tariq did made it harder for Dmitri to keep his more-than-a-crush to himself.

"I mean, you know that I hate history," Tariq started, drawing out a laugh from Dmitri. "But as I've mentioned before, it's cool to read your notes in the corners. Even though your handwriting sucks ass."

Another laugh left Dmitri's mouth as he accepted the book from Tariq, getting up to put it back in its shelf with all the other books, ones that he barely used anymore.

"Can't help the bad handwriting, it's 'cause I'm queer."

Tariq grinned, slinking further down into the bed, his t-shirt riding up in the process. No matter how many times Dmitri had seen him shirtless before, it never got easier. Especially now.

"Fuck off, you can't use the queer excuse," Tariq huffed out with a half-cough, half-laugh. "I'm gay and my handwriting is fucking flawless."

Dmitri couldn't even do anything but laugh at that. My cheeks hurt from smiling. Fuck. This is so fucked up. "You have the worst handwriting I've ever seen," he muttered, handing Tariq a bottle of water. "Drink."

"Bitch, get your eyes checked before you make comments on my handwriting," Tariq shot back, his voice taking a slightly serious tone as he said, "Your eyesight's fucked, go get an eye test. I'll even pay for it, if money's the reason you aren't getting one done."

"I booked one!" Dmitri defended with a laugh. "It's tomorrow morning, so I'll be late to work. Maybe I can get out of the morning rush and everything."

Tariq frowned. "Wait, but then you won't be the first thing I see every morning."

He knew. It was so fucking obvious that Tariq knew exactly how Dmitri felt and he was just fucking with him. Because there was no way that Tariq would be this oblivious, it just wasn't possible.

"Shut up, you gay fuck," Dmitri stated, heart picking up just slightly (or maybe more) when Tariq laughed, one of Dmitri's favourite Tariq Laughs.

The one that was so loud and so genuine, that sounded like it came straight from his chest, the one that made him smile every single time he heard it.

Taking a seat in the chair next to his desk, he propped his socked feet up on the bed, poking Tariq with his toe. Just to piss him off.

And by the sounds of it, it worked, Tariq letting out the deepest, most annoyed sigh and inching away from Dmitri's foot.

"All you do is piss me off and—" He stopped for a second, mouth still open, like he wanted to say something. Then, he shook his head and said, "All you do is piss me off."

"I turn you on, too, I know it."

Why the fuck did I say that? Oh my god, this is exactly why I shouldn't—

"And what about it?" Tariq asked, so fucking calmly, without batting an eyelid.

Wait, what? "I don't know what the fuck that means."

Tariq just shrugged, getting out of the bed and standing up, grimacing at the audible crack in his knee as he did. "Jesus. That's fucking weird. Anyway, can I close the curtains? I like the dark."

Was he not going to say anything about what they had just spoken about?

Another thing that proved that Tariq knew what was going on in Dmitri's mind.

Even when they were younger, this same exact thing had happened. Tariq had found out about his crush, and had flirted so much until he came out with it— figuratively and literally.

If he was doing the same thing again, that only meant one thing, and that was that he was waiting for Dmitri to tell him.

There was no way in fucking hell that was happening though.

"I mean, if you want to be your own version of Edward Cullen, who am I to stop you?" he asked as Tariq instantly went to draw the curtains, the room becoming unnaturally dark for five in the evening. Though I would prefer it if I could see you, he wanted to add, but of course, he didn't.

As soon as it got dark, Dmitri got sleepy, and his inhibitions got low. That was just how it was, and there was no exception to that fact now, when he yawned, shaking his head immediately after.

"Man, you're literally a grandpa."

"Guess dead people really do manifest as other people."

What the fuck is wrong with me, oh my god.

Tariq let out a slightly concerned huff as he said, "I genuinely don't understand you sometimes, but you know what, you do you. Make your dark ass jokes. As long as it makes you happy, I guess."

Rolling his (very tired) eyes, Dmitri shrugged as he stood up, just so that he could wake himself up a bit more. "It makes me very happy."

"Then... I'm good. You do you." With pursed lips, Tariq made his way back to the bed, sprawling out on the entire bed, as if Dmitri hadn't just made the bed. God, he's fucking annoying.

"I just don't wanna see your face," Tariq justified, and even though it was dark, Dmitri could see enough to make out the smile on his lips.

"You love my face."

And as soon as the words left his mouth, Dmitri regretted it.

For a second, the both of them were quiet.

Completely silent.

Then, Tariq sat up in the bed, and said, "Dmitri."

Fuck. He's going to tell me to stop making comments like this, because we're just friends and nothing else. "Sorry, that was—"

Cutting him off before he could continue, Tariq let out a groan, a frustrated one. Then, he stood up from the bed, making his way towards Dmitri and looking him dead in the eye.

Well, as in the eye as he could, since he was a whole six inches shorter.

"Dmitri, you don't fucking understand how much you affect me," Tariq muttered, taking a step forward, and then another. "It's so fucking frustrating, because you say the most ridiculous shit, and I don't know if you mean it or not, but fuck, it just makes me want to kiss you more and more. And I genuinely don't know if you want me to or not, because everything that you say is so confusing to me, and I'm literally never confused. You know that."

Mouth working faster than his brain, Dmitri just nodded, before saying, "Well, do it."

"Huh?"

Tariq was right. He had never seen him confused before.

It was cute.

"Kiss me."

For a moment, Tariq just stared at him. Then, he said, "I literally can't reach you without standing on my tip toes, you're going to have to bend to kiss me."

"Always making me do the work," Dmitri muttered with a breathy laugh, the situation fucking surreal to him. So surreal. "You can do it yourself, brat. Fuckin'—"

Before he could get any further, finish his sentence, Tariq's fingers were curling around the collar of his t-shirt, yanking him down.

And Tariq's lips were on his.

And fuck, if they weren't the softest lips Dmitri had ever felt on his. The only lips that Dmitri had ever felt on his.

Somehow, it was different though. It was still rough, it was still warm. It was still perfect. None of that had changed.

But now, there was a fire in his chest, one that he had never felt before. And it was burning, in the best way possible, each soft nip down on his lip just adding fuel to the fire.

Bending his head down, he raised his hand and placed it behind Tariq's head, guiding him to the cupboard and pressing their bodies against it, Tariq taking charge as their lips moved in complete synchronisation.

After all, Tariq's lips were the most familiar thing about him.

"You mind if I kiss your neck?" Dmitri breathed out, head hanging low, still not opening his eyes in the fears that everything would disappear once he did.

"Please," Tariq murmured, and that was all the confirmation that Dmitri needed to plant his lips on Tariq's neck, holding onto his neck with one hand as he kissed his skin, over and over and over, until—

"Dmitri," Tariq breathed out, a soft gasp escaping his mouth. Instantly, he moved his mouth away, opening his eyes, only to find Tariq undone. Breathless.

Again, he just said, "Fuck, Dmitri," standing on his tip toes for the second time that day and capturing his lips in the roughest kiss he had ever given him, his hands reaching up to tug at Dmitri's neck, pulling him even lower, sending him soaring even higher. Fuck, I need to—

"Wait. Wait, I'm sorry." Pulling his lips away from Dmitri's, Tariq glanced up at him through hazy, glazed over eyes, blinking once, then twice. Are those tears? "Sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— fuck. I'm so sorry."

Exhaling, he choked out a weak laugh, which bled into a small sob. A weak one. What looked to be a painful one.

"What's— uh, did I do something?" Dmitri asked softly, his mind almost aching from confusion, but Tariq just frantically shook his head, shooting him a watery smile and sniffing. What the fuck is happening?

"I'm fine," Tariq mumbled, hastily wiping at his eyes. "Sorry. That was uncalled for, I didn't—"

"Hey," Dmitri murmured, taking Tariq's hands away from his eyes and gently holding them down. What's going on? "Is something wrong? You can tell me."

God, I hope nothing's wrong. I hope he's okay. Did I do something?

"I can't— I can't do this," Tariq admitted softly, his voice cracking on the last word. Ouch. "My ex cheated on me, Dmitri. I can't do this, I'm sorry. Fuck, I'm so sorry."

Then, he grabbed his bag, grabbed his phone and left the room. And all that he left behind were his polka dot socks and the gaping hole in Dmitri's heart.

—

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AN: um😳 anyway👯

more angst???? akriti how could u do this??!?!? u promised !!!!!!

y'all rn:

so yea😳 thank u all for reading!!💓 as always, i hope everyone has/had a good day!!💞💞