28

Jason points to a store in the distance and Winston holds a hand over his eyes, squinting into the distance. The lights are inhumanly bright in the mall---to the point that he almost wants to officially complain to someone---but he catches sight of the sign eventually.

"There [insert shop name?]?" he asks, just to be sure.

Jason says, "That's right," and they continue down the path laid out, the mall rather like a labyrinth. He's not entirely sure where the entrance is anymore.

Winston smiles up at Jason, and Jason's answering smile is soft and gentle and Winston's stomach flutters. He tightens his grip on Jason's arm, their arms entwined, and his hand lays on Jason's wrist, squeezing every time he has to step out of someone way.

At the shop, they go through the same routine they have the entire day; Jason and Winston spend about half-an-hour browsing through the store's entire selection, looking for the most expensive clothes that Jason likes.

Then they purchase them all.

Jason holds up a shirt to his front and asks, "Do you think I should try it on first?"

"No," Winston answers after a moment, tilting his head. "I'm sure they'll let you return to it if you don't want to keep it."

Jason hums in thought, looking at the neon pink shirt for a moment before he shrugs and they continue to the checkout counter.

When they leave, they're burdened by yet one more bag.

They're now carrying a total of eleven bags.

It's possible they've gone slightly, just slightly, overboard.

It's not like Winston even likes shopping; he never does it if left to his own devices. The money in his bank account keep going up because he never really buys anything at all, and the apartment, for all it's faults, isn't especially expensive.

But they've been at this for hours and Winston's stomach keeps fluttering at the oddest moments, his heart keep vaulting over itself when Jason smiles at him, the tingles in his hands spread up through his wrist when Jason turns to him with yet another piece of clothing and asks what he thinks.

By the time they trudge out the doors, it's been five hours and they're loaded with almost too many bags, Winston's feet aching and his arm's straining under the weight. He didn't know clothes could weigh so much. They stumble out into the daylight, the murky clouds high above and the parking lot gigantic. Winston exhales softly, looking around and trying to determine which direction the bus station is in.

Jason audibly sighs beside him, and Winston glances at him; Jason visibly hesitates for a second before he turns sideways and goes to the wall, a bit from the entrance where there aren't many people, and leans against it. Settles some of the bags by his feet, and a part of Winston's flinches in horror at that. Who knows how dirty they might be now?

Shuddering slightly, he joins Jason by the wall, staying silent for a moment. Just breathes. Stares up at the gray sky and after a second, lets some of his own bags slide off his arms and land on the ground.

"Tired?" Winston asks after a moment, the strain in his body blooming.

Another sigh, then Jason looks to him and says, "This is... a bit more than I had planned." There's a pause, and Winston looks right back at him, examining his eyes and spotting the tired slope of his lips. Jason adds, "But I got everything I need." He smiles, leaning down and Winston stays breathlessly still as Jason kisses his cheek. "Thanks for joining me," he murmurs into Winston's hair.

Winston swallows heavily, eyes shut for the briefest second. Finally, he drags in a huge breath, looks up at Jason, and says, "No problem," he hooks his lips into a smile, "I enjoy spending time with you, you know."

Jason presses his lips tightly together but it's not enough to hide his smile, and he ducks his head a little and slumps against the wall again, Winston joining him. Winston looks at his date---boyfriend?---for a couple of seconds, studying the slope of his neck, the curl of his shoulders, the flicks of hair falling over Jason's forehead.

"I do, too," says Jason, instantly wincing a biting his lip. He adds, "I like spending time with you, too."

"That's great," says Winston, mind blanking. Jason looks at him again, raising an eyebrow, and Winston bites his lip. Feels like he could blush, but probably doesn't because his skin doesn't work like that. He doesn't know why; wonders what exactly blushing actually is.

Winston says, "It's great we like spending time together," because this is the hill he dies on.

Jason laughs but---it's kind. He holds a hand over his mouth as he giggles, and he tilts his head against the wall, displaying the line of his throat that may or may not have popped up in Winston's dreams. Winston exhales shakily, breath unsteady, and he feels... something.

"Yeah," Jason agrees once his laughter has subsided, but he's still smiling as he looks up at the sky. Eyes half-mast, half his face in shadow; Winston aches to immortalize this moment. To take a picture. To paint this view on the back of his eyelids.

He doesn't ever want to forget, he realizes.

Winston licks his lip. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, Jason freezing, and he doesn't know why he says it. Has he told Jason how pretty he is? He doesn't know and that mere fact feels like a crime; Jason is incredible, and Winston is but... well. Winston is just Winston.

"Thanks," breathes Jason, voice rough. He rubs the back of his neck and then shoves his hands in his pockets, foot scuffing on the ground. He licks his lips, Winston's eyes following the motion, and Jason says, "You look good too, you know."

"Mhm," Winston hums, shutting his eyes. There's a cold breeze in the air, but it's not evening yet, not even the streetlights turned on.

After a moment, Winston scoots a little closer to Jason. They're not quite touching yet, but they're close and even with his eyes shut Winston imagines that he can feel Jason's warmth.

After another second, Jason closes the final bit of distance between them, their arms pressing together. Winston exhales slowly, opening his eyes after a moment and gazing out at the parking lot. It's not an especially pretty view, but his stomach still flutters [it's been fluttering a lot this chapter, fix that!]. His breath still hitches in his throat when Jason nudges his arm.

"This okay?" Winston asks, can't help it, could never help it. He gazes up at Winston, their eyes facing each other (?) and he stares right into Jason's eyes.

"Yeah," rasps Jason.

Winston bites his lip. He looks ahead again and after a moment he sees Jason doing the same out of the corner of his eyes. Winston waits another moment, waits for somebody to say something, to move, but nothing happens. So he, painfully slowly so Jason can move if he wants to, but Jason doesn't.

So Winston rests his head on Jason's shoulder, the jacket's fabric digging into his ear for a moment before he adjusts his position.

He exhales, spine like jelly.

Turns his head a little to hide his face in Jason's shoulder, and after a second, Jason's arm rises and curls around him. It's warm. Scorching. Winston's stomach is bubble of warmth, and he presses closer to Jason without conscious input.

Breathes in the smell of Jason's cologne, of the old fabric in his nose, of the rain in the cold air.

Jason's arm stays around him, keeping him close. Winston doesn't move for a long time.

He might be in love.