“Oh, good,” Jayme sighed in relief. His eyes widened at the compliments, and he had to look away. “Um, th— thank you.” The gleam on Bathory’s face seemed to have seared itself into his brain; it was as if he were still gazing at it. He picked up his fork and returned to eating.
He was not sure how he was feeling now. Anxious wasn’t the right word anymore, something more on the lines of frazzled. At least the food was good. He just did not know what he was doing half the time. He reminded himself to breathe, to relax. Not everything was as bad as it seemed.
A soft chuckle slipped out of him. “I suppose I can’t, partner.” He smiled, but it faded slightly as his gaze moved to the other man again. “You… you have a handsome smile, too. By the way.”
If only Neci had one of those photograph things, then he would take a picture of Mister Ashton and those heavenly eyes. Better yet, if he was good enough for painting, he would paint them. They are so beautiful to look into.
Words don't come easy to him in such a moment like this. "Oh….your welcome." When has he ever experienced one like this? Is it normal to want more? Yes his stomach is twisted in knots and he isn't sure if he should eat more even though he can already internally hear his mother telling him to. And yes he is sure he had sweated from the heat generated from his chest, but it is worth it to him.
Out of all the times he has been told that he has a handsome smile, this one has made his heart stunned. Matter of fact, he stayed in his current manner for a second or two like a statue. He had to blink order to bring himself back to reality, but he could have sworn that this was some sort of dream.
But this isn't a dream. "Thank you, partner," He breathed. "It's not the first time someone has told me that, but this is the first where it has been taken to heart and I just want to compliment yours so then I can see it more."
When Jayme looked back down, he found his plate to be empty. He blinked, then set his fork down and washed the food down with a few sips of tea.
“Of course,” he said when he finished. Something made him bite his bottom lip as he stared at Bathory. “Oh, is that it? I suppose… I suppose it’s the same way for me.” He looked away again. Could he look at his partner while saying this? He wasn’t sure. “I want to see it more too. I want to draw it. I want to draw you all the time…” his voice quieted. His heart began to pound.
Why did Mr. Bathory make him feel this way? Sure, he was handsome, but there are a lot of handsome fellows in the world. At least he felt somewhat better about saying these things, since they weren’t working. His eyes traveled up to around Bathory’s chin and throat. They were so perfectly curved, the skin so soft-looking. Jayme wanted to draw it too.
Food was one of the last things on his mind. Mister Ashton and his lip biting were the first things on his mind. Neci was not able to comprehend how such a mannerism can leave him with a gaped mouth nor the way he just kept staring at Ashton's lips. He rubbed the back of his neck then looked outside a window. His breathing became heavy and quite unsteady.
Only once Ashton finished speaking could he look back at him. Despite wanting to look into those dreamy eyes of his, Neci had a hard time composing himself to do so. I want to draw you all the time… The words made every in him shut down. It brought him back to when they first saw each other and all the glances since that moment.
What is he supposed to say? What is he supposed to think? He caught Ashton staring at him, but he knew it's not the same way it was earlier. He swears. It is hypnotic. It is blissfully troubling. He wondered what it meant, what it all means to him and just the two of them in general.
Standing up, he took the chair and placed it on the side beside his partner. Neci gently sat down. His lips curved into a soft grin and he quietly asked, "Is it the same for you?" Carefully he took Ashton's hand then slowly guided it from the side of his face to his throat and neck. "If you want to draw me all the time, then….you should get a better feel of my features so your drawings can be more detailed and complete."
He wanted to draw him. And perhaps not just with a pen or a brush. Perhaps with his fingers, or lips. But he would not admit that to himself. He could not. It was, quite literally, the first day Jayme had seen him in person. Why was he feeling like this? Already? Something must surely be wrong with him. That is the only thing he could think of.
His heartbeat spiked when Bathory moved to sit beside him. Nothing could prepare him for what happened next, but even then some warning might have been appreciated. Jayme’s cheeks flushed as his fingers brushed over Bathory’s skin. His chest tightened.
“Sh— should I?” He murmured. “Perhaps… I wonder how long it will be until I can draw you from memory, then.”
His hand had stayed still, pressed against the side of his partner’s neck, but now he moved it back up again until it was cradling Bathory’s jaw. Could something be so soft, and yet look so sharp at the same time?
“Texture is something I could improve on,” he said, almost absentmindedly. His chest was still tight, his cheeks still flushed, but he seemed to have forgotten about them. His heart still pounded. “This would be good for that. I’m actually feeling what I want to show on paper. How… how amazing would it be if I could draw you, draw this—“ his thumb rubbed against Bathory’s cheek, “and it look like I could reach out and touch it, l— like I am right now?”
All the walls drew in closer to him. Each labored breath was heavier than the last. He must be melting. Everything is just so hot and he cannot cool down. How else is he constantly losing his track of thought or his typical relaxed manner?
A rather slow yet steady nod gently moved his chin up and down. Words cannot suffice; they cannot stand against Ashton's voice for they are not worthy enough. Oh how he wants to ask Ashton to talk again. To hear him talk endlessly sounds like a dream, but Neci believes he is living one right now.
Somehow having Ashton's hand on his cheek made sense to him. It is as if his cheek was made for this as a place for his partner to rest his hand. To touch, hold, and brush. He can only imagine leaning towards Ashton, feeling his partner's breath on his lips. Shivers ran down his back at the previous thought and the one to follow.
A sinner. He is a sinner for having such thoughts, for having a hopeless heart. Priests and nuns have told him so and so has that disgrace of a father he's supposed to claim. Even with their words that have sent fear into him, it all must be true. It must be true, is it not? But if it is, he wants to know why he feels at peace, in a heavenly place with an angel. He wants to know why Ashton and his presence have such a hold on him already.
Neci wants to fight against the urge to react to the thumb rubbing against his cheek. God believe him. The soft gasp smoothed into a longing sigh. "Why don't you let the thoughts in your mind….the thoughts in your heart help you paint?" He breathed to give himself a second to collect his thoughts. "Let more than just your eyes perceive what you see in front of you as you draw and paint."
For once, Bathory’s silence did not make him anxious. The question had been mostly rhetorical and they were both caught up in the moment anyway. For once, he didn’t care as much as he normally did. Jayme smiled faintly as he watched Bathory nod. He didn’t know why. This was so strange.
His eyes glittered like a pool of rippling water. Jayme could not stop looking at them. Something in his belly churned, telling him to look away, but he could not make himself do so. Almost subconsciously, his thumb then traced Bathory’s bottom lip.
He let out his own shaky sigh. His cheeks burned. “I do. I do that. But… I have to be careful. Especially when I know other people will see what I create.” His voice was low.
Suddenly Jayme was sad. Sadness loosened the tightness in his chest and slowed his heart.
Deviant. He had known for some time that he was a deviant. There was a time when he considered admitting himself to an asylum, but he must say that he’s glad that he did not. But this… this was so heavenly that it seemed like hell in disguise. Whatever this was, it was something he was not allowed to have. However beautiful this man was, he had to stay away, looking from afar.
Briefly, he let his other hand reach into Bathory’s hair. He didn’t want to mess up the hairstyle, so his fingers just smoothed over the dark hair before he pulled back. He leaned away from his partner and forced himself to look down at his empty plate, feeling tears sting his eyes. He didn’t think he could speak, but he apologized over and over again in his mind.
Everything he was taught swirled around his mind. Their words shouted at him while his heart was shouting back. A war of everything he has ever known was going on and he worried about turning away from it. If God had made him in his own image, why does he feel like he was accidentally made the way he is now?
But somehow, for some reason, he is here now. He was about to melt away from the brushing of Ashton's thumb against his lip. It nearly took all the air from his lungs. It shattered his thinking. But that light gentle voice roped him back in. Thank God it did; he would have been lost in his imagination.
He grinned, "You are clever and you are an excellent painter….You shouldn't have to worry with caution. Maybe those other people will fall in love with what you see and put onto painting." Glee surged through him as he spoke, yet it disappeared when he watched Ashton.
Sometimes words fail to do their own job; he knows this all too well. But of course, sometimes one doesn't need words to communicate with another. The two are blessed, lucky enough to speak without them. Now, Neci believes he knows what's being told to him, but he wants to speak. He wants to tell Ashton that he is sorry for being a devil, for making him stressed and upset. Ashton doesn't deserve that, he deserves things much more better than some odd immigrant with a decent face that is making him upset.
He placed a piece of lángos on Ashton's plate….Then he had placed another. Neci only moved off the chair a little to grab the fork he was using, and placed it down close by. His left hand reached out to grab his partner's hand, yet he hesitate. Is such comfort a sin? Is it wrong to comfort someone in this manner of wistful hope?
And yet, he did. He let his hand gently grasp Jayme's wrist. "Look…." Neci managed to whisper. "I believe that we both know something is going on….And you have been so wonderful to me already…but I will leave if you want me to. I do not want to make you uncomfortable or upset, that is the last thing that I want to do."
Jayme sighed, Bathory’s grin taking his breath away. “Well, I have to be worried sometimes,” he murmured, half to himself.
He watched as Mr. Bathory filled his plate. It was kind of him, though Jayme was not hungry anymore. He just wished he wasn’t such a fool. If only he could ignore such perverse desires. Slowly, a tear slipped out and dripped onto his cheek.
He looked up at his partner, his heart surging at the touch to his wrist. Emotions roiled in him, coloring his cheeks and tensing his muscles. Despite himself, he moved his hand so it was clasped in Bathory’s. He shook his head.
“No… stay, please. It’s not your fault.” He wiped the tear away. “It’s mine. I should just… stop myself before I do something I’ll regret.” A sad smile grew on his face. “Have I really been… wonderful to you?”
No, he did not want him to leave. Not like this. It was too painful, now. He felt there had to be some sense of resolve before anything else. For now, holding Bathory’s hand was enough.
Sitting at the edge of his seat, he waited for a response. His heart froze with anticipation. He hoped that Ashton won't let him go. Neci also hopes that Ashton eats a bit more; it must be something that he got from his mother, and if not, he is going to leave the lángos here in case Ashton wants some later.
Was he really using lángos to get his mind off of Ashton and whether or not he should wipe the tear away? Not to mention how he wants to put Ashton in a tight embrace as forgiveness and for comfort. Then again should he really be wanting such a thing?
A weight dropped onto his heart as he looked down at their hands. His hand must be stuck or turned into stone. It probably is best to move it, but he can't. It is also probably not good for him to smile at the sight of Ashton's hand on top of his. The sight of their hands has made him lost his fluency in English, but he also forgot everything else that he knew except for the fact that he doesn't mind this.
Neci glanced back up at Ashton. He blinked, looked down at their hands, looked at Ashton, then repeated this three more times before he figured out what it is that he wanted to say.
"Well…uh…you didn't turn me down when you heard my voice…and you haven't fired me yet for being an immigrant..Oh and the way you looked at me when we first saw each other…It was memorable," He smiled while laughing a little. "This is has been wonderful so far. You….you have been wonderful and I don't want to leave, but I also don't want to hurt or make you uncomfortable."
He couldn’t help but chuckle softly, watching Bathory hesitate. If it didn’t also make him rather nervous, it would be almost… cute. Ah, even now he could not escape these feelings. He couldn’t help but love his smile.
Jayme’s eyes widened. “Oh, but Mr. Bathory, I love your voice. And you were the only one who answered my advertisement, I would be a fool to fire you just because you’re an immigrant. And I—“ his cheeks flushed, and he looked back down at their hands. “Oh. Yes…” he exhaled. “Mr. Bathory, you do not hurt me or make me uncomfortable. Actually, I think we’ve become too comfortable these past couple of minutes. I feel that I have to hold myself back around you since I…” he stopped. Where was he going with that? He shook his head. “Well, I mean to say that… you have been wonderful to me too, and I don’t want you to leave. I just… I, I’m afraid. Of myself. That’s all.”
He hung his head. Cold shame dribbled down from his head and into his chest, all through his arms and legs. But even when it reached his fingertips, he did not let go of Bathory’s hand. Well, he had wanted to discuss feelings, didn’t he?
"Really?" That has to be the first time he has heard such a thing. Neci could not find anything else to say; did Ashton just say that he loves his voice? Initially, there was no way that he would believe it, and yet, this all has to be true. His chest is tight, there's butterflies in his stomach, and he keeps thinking of things that he knows aren't right to think of, but he continues to smile at every single thought.
Despite not being able to get over the quiet laughter or seeing Ashton and his face warm up, he felt relieved at hearing that he isn't terrible. "Afraid…of yourself?" He muttered to himself. It does and doesn't make sense to him.
What he does understand is that he believes the same, yet there is a part of him that is curious. Then again, Neci does not understand the point of living this life without pushing beyond the boundaries they know?
Regardless, their hands are still touching. The sight of it blocked all other thoughts in his mind. In that moment, hand holding with Ashton is all he ever wanted. It feels abnormal to want such a thing, then again, he doesn't care now. In this moment, the whole world is just him and Ashton in this kitchen right now.
"How would you ever live if you are afraid of yourself? What is there to be afraid of in a world like this?" Lifting his chin up, he glanced over at Ashton. The light in his pupils brightened. "I like this," He admitted, "Us….holding hands…I feel strange but it's nice. Knowing it's you….makes it feel as if this makes sense."
Neci wasn't sure what he was saying nor if any of it made sense. Never has he ever had a time where his hand is being held by someone suchlike his partner. It feels wrong and it feels right. He doesn't want to let go. While it will happen sooner or later, he doesn't want Ashton to let go.
“Yes,” Jayme nodded. “I think it’s another reason why I don’t mind when you talk a lot. Your voice is lovely and easy to listen to, even though English is not your first language.”
He stared at Bathory for a few seconds, his glittering eyes and his gleaming smile drawing him in. Then he sighed. Something made him squeeze Bathory’s hand a little, maybe because it felt good and he needed the pressure on his skin.
“Ah, perhaps I worded it wrong. I… I am afraid of who I really am, I suppose. I have created a version of myself that is… more acceptable and less scary? It is like putting on a mask, you could say. And when I am around you, I want to take that mask off. But I’m afraid to,” he tried to explain.
Once again, words were useless. He wasn’t even sure if his explanation was even accurate to how he felt. People put on masks all the time, don’t they? They keep what is inappropriate on the inside and let the appropriate things show. But he was a deviant. It felt different. As if he was being inappropriate all of the time, even right now, as his eyes traced over Mr. Bathory’s form. It was something he had to fix. People didn’t fix what was inappropriate, they just saved them for when they became appropriate at certain times. But he had to fix this. It was wrong. Warped. And yet…
His blush deepened. Squeezing his hand again, he murmured, “I like this too. I know what you mean. I don’t know why, but… I feel as if I— I need this. Is that… is that okay?”
He was about ask "really" again, but he did not want to repeat himself. It was unbelievable at first. It was unbelievable how he just kept smiling and staring back at his partner. The hand squeeze made his heart leap.
Ashton's words made sense to him. Neci just wished that Ashton knew that his true self is not scary, but he wondered if it is odd to think such a thing when they have only known each for so little time. Nevertheless, he understood and he didn't want either of them to be afraid.
"The version of yourself that you hide is not scary," Neci assured, "I think I might know what the version of you without the mask could be, and I hope it is one where you can accept me without the mask."
The walls were closing in on him. Were they or is he overwhelmed with inner turmoil? But he has always imagined things, always daydreaming about them too. The word "no" crawled up. It's not what he wants to say, but rather it's what he was taught. He couldn't have been taught the wrong thing, or maybe he was.
Reality pulled him out of his thoughts thanks to Ashton squeezing his hand. "Yes….it is," He managed to finally say. "I just hope it is alright for me to need, to want this too. I have been told it is wrong, but this doesn't feel wrong. Not at all."
The doubts in his mind rose up against Bathory’s words, but his voice was calm and assuring. Perhaps that’s all that Jayme needed. “Me too,” he sighed. “I believe I would.”
He watched his partner, a little scared again. He would understand if Bathory said no. He would apologize, take his hand away, and get back to work. He practically expected him to say no, and yet he was afraid that he would. Perhaps then, it would be a sort of confirmation of his wickedness. For indeed, that is what he saw his hidden self as; something wicked.
But then he didn’t say no. Jayme’s mouth dropped open a little. “Oh.” He took a shaky breath. He almost wasn’t sure what to say. “I… it is. It is alright.” He looked down at their hands. “No… it feels… really nice.”
He almost want to draw this. Just their hands clasped together. Bathory’s hands just looked so… perfect. Well made. Soft, yet calloused too.
Would he ever regret not saying no? His mind struggled, jumping through so many thoughts and conclusions. The pressure on his chest still remained, although it did not feel like the walls were closing in on him.
And on another note, he meant every single word. The fact that he did was something rather shocking to him. Neci had always hold himself back from what he truly wanted to say, but it's just the two of them. It's just Ashton with him.
If Neci wasn't so full with worry, he would have said something else, something more. Lowering his chin, he kept staring at their hands. Ashton's voice competed with the sounds of his heart beating. His own feels rough, a bit worn down from all the years of work and the war. Against it is Ashton's own delicate, soft hand.
"Good….I am glad," He breathed, "But it is okay, it's just the two of us." Lifting his head back up, he looked at Ashton, smiling. "You have me and I have you."
Jayme took a breath, trying to calm himself. Everything was okay now, right? Did he and Bathory understand each other now? Maybe. He wasn’t sure. Maybe a little more than they used to.
He wanted to know him more, though. His muscles shivered, trying to shake some unknowable feeling off. Unsure, but hopeful.
“Just the two of us…” he echoed, looking back up at his partner and meeting his gaze. His smile was so handsome on him, it made Jayme smile a little too. “Ah, Mr. Bathory, you’re too kind to me. It’s… it’s rather miraculous that you found my advertisement.”
His eyes traced over his face for what felt like the millionth time. Every curve, every divot in the skin. He found himself leaning closer, reaching his free hand out to touch it. “Is it alright if I…?” He murmured. His fingers brushed against the smooth, ivory skin of Bathory’s cheek. It was warm with blush, tickling the microscopic ridges in his fingertips. Jayme let out a longing sigh, and he moved them to trace over Bathory’s lip again.
"I wonder if God or someone had planned for this to happen. Miraculous is an understatement to what has happened and to what will in the future," He smiled then soon added, "But please, call me Néci. I don't have to call you by your given name if you don't want me to, but as your partner in painting, modeling, and us, I want to be me….I want to be called by a precious thing that was given to me, my given name, Néci."
The eyes, they never lie. While the tongue always equips people to verbally communicate in any way, it's the eyes that always give away as to what one is truly saying or what they want to. And with Mister Ashton's, it's one detail of the painter that Néci cannot stop thinking about. How they are caressing him just by looking and observing him. They casted sparks all over him.
But the thing with Ashton is is that he doesn't have to try creating sparks. God, Ashton doesn't even have to speak or look in his direction to make him feel so, so different. Just before Néci could open his mouth to say something, he was interrupted by the whimsical feeling of Ashton's fingers softly drifting against his cheek then down to his lip.
His heart jumped up into his throat. He swallowed. Tension built up then collapsed like waves. Next thing he knew, his eyes flickered from Ashton's face to his lips. His thumb slowly drifted across his partner's bottom lip. Watching as he did so, he moved forward a little then brought his forehead to touch Ashton's.
Jayme blushed faintly, still a little unsure. “Oh…” for a moment he was distracted by the other man’s smile. Wasn’t calling each other by first names more personal than professional? He wasn’t sure, really, he never had a model who wasn’t a relative or family member before. He remembered how much he had wanted his job and this environment to be professional, and how quickly that idea just fell apart. Oh well. Besides, it is what his partner wanted, so it doesn’t matter all that much.
“Néci,” he repeated. He tried to say it in the same way he did, the same voice inflections and tone. “Of course. I… suppose I do not mind if you call me Jayme or Mr. Ashton. You can call me Jayme, if you’d like.” He grinned. “I think you do like to, considering that accident earlier.”
He couldn’t stop looking at Bathory’s— no, Néci’s, face. He was a work of art, and not just when Jayme was painting or sketching him. Even now, he tried to suppress his thoughts, but his fingers gliding over his partner’s skin only tempted him to do more. His heart began to pound again, drumming in his ears as he felt Néci’s thumb on his lip. He shuddered.
The moment their foreheads touched, Jayme paused. He was unsure, yet his heart seemed to be beating faster than it already was. He cupped Néci’s jaw again.
“Should we… go back to work? Or… I don’t know. We— we could keep going. I wouldn’t mind,” he whispered.
Every now and then, he would hate his real name as much as his legal one. The way certain people would say it made him wished that he was someone else. But now, with the way Jayme says it, Néci believes that he won't ever hate hearing it again. As long as Jayme is comfortable of calling him by that, it's all that he is asking for.
"It is true, although I am sorry for the accident," He lightly laughed, "I like your name, Jayme. It is modest and handsome. A perfect fit for you, I can't see anyone else with your name."
Jayme…Jayme…Jayme…Néci kept repeating the name in his head. How feasible it rolls off the tongue. How it leaves his body and mind at ease. There is power in a name that can do such a thing to someone. Maybe he will only call Jayme "Mister Ashton" around others; it makes sense for him to.
Work? Did he forget at he is at work right now? He must have. It is funny how he forgot and it is funny how this feels more like a date really. Even beforehand, it was work, but Néci was enjoying it. Okay he will also admit that half of the time he was blushing and staring at Jayme, yet still he loves work. As much as he loves work, Néci also loves being this close to Jayme. While his mind is trying to make sense of what is going on, it keeps thinking that this is a dream. A beautiful dream that will all be over when he wakes up, but that is not true, he knows it so. He hopes, by God, he does.
"We can always go back to this, Jayme, whenever you like. I do not mind going back to work. It probably would be best to so then you can get further on the painting."
A shiver passed through him when he heard his name cloaked in Néci’s voice. “Don’t be. I really didn’t mind.” His face felt so warm. How long had he been blushing like this? “I like your name too, Néci. I have never heard one like it before, just as I have never met anyone like you before.”
A foreign feeling twisted his brain. Had he forgotten about work as well? He only remembered it as the words left his mouth. That never happened. At least, Jayme couldn’t remember a time when that had happened. Work had always been the first thing on his mind. But now, he found himself reluctant to return to it. Some self-loathing roiled in his belly. He couldn’t be lazy. He had to get things done. And yet, he didn’t want to stop touching his partner’s forehead or his cheek. Why was he suddenly being like this?
He let out a slow breath and leaned away from Néci. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I…” he shook his head. “Thank you very much for bringing lunch. It was wonderful.” He allowed a small smile to grace his lips. “We should clean up first.”
He stood up from his seat and took their cups to the sink.
He gave Jayme's hand a little squeeze. The other hand went to cup his partner's cheek. Jayme's skin felt soft underneath his slightly rough hand. Not to mention he could feel how warm his partner's face is. Hopefully he isn't going to give Jayme a fever with all of this blushing and warmth.
"Our names go well together, you know. Jayme and Néci….They just sound lovely together." His chest felt fuzzy. His knees still continued to feel wobbly. And all the while, he is sitting here experiencing a dream too good for reality and too good for himself.
Confusion sparked as Jayme leaned away. Everything in him had become static as he watched his partner. Néci stood up from the chair just to rush over to him. "Oh Jayme, I didn't mean to I-……You don't have to be sorry. It's alright," He assured. "We don't immediately have to go back to work. I just don't want to be a distraction or hold you back. I want to do what's best for you, but we don't have to go back to work now…"
He looked over at the table. Putting the leftovers back into the container, he took the plates over to the sink. "Or we can continue in a little while or so…." Néci stood beside Jayme. He sighed then asked, "Would it be alright if I rest my chin on your shoulder, like I did before?" A soft smile rested on his face just as he looked down at the floor.
After Néci touched his lip, Jayme nearly thought he wouldn’t touch him again. He melted when he felt the hand squeeze, and the hand on his cheek only made it flush more. He almost lost the ability to speak. “Yes…” Jayme and Néci. Jayme and Néci.
But now he flushed from embarrassment more than fluster and excitement. He turned to Néci as he rushed to him, blinking in confusion. “O— oh…” Had he interpreted his partner’s words as some kind of rejection, when in fact they were nothing of the sort? Suddenly Jayme wanted to apologize again. His heart pounded painfully in his chest. “Ah… that was— that was my mistake, I— I didn’t under… understand…” he tried to calm himself, taking a deep breath. “You’re… you’re not holding me back, I promise.” He nodded, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “U— um, yes. We can continue in a little while.”
Looking back at the cups, he saw there was some tea left in his. He drank the rest, which seemed to do better at calming him down. He then turned on the sink to fill the cups with water to rinse them, then dumped the water out and grabbed a small rag to dry them. But before he did so, he turned to Néci. “Oh…” he honestly did not know how to feel at this point. “I wouldn’t mind that.” He smiled a little and started drying the cups.
Néci stood straight, staring back at the puzzled look on Jayme's face. In the back of his mind, he questioned whether or not he said something incorrectly. He waved his hands in assurance. "It's alright…It's alright-"
It was a simple misunderstanding, a mistranslation. He understood completely for it has been a little mistake that he has dealt with all his life. Only minimal relief had come to him. At least he isn't holding Jayme back. He worries for what else can and if he can help.
"Okay…." was all that he could manage to say in response. His eyes gravitated back to the floor. Néci started to fidget with his fingers, not knowing what else to do at the moment. He has to be useful somehow. The instant he heard Jayme respond, his head shot up and he returned the little grin with one of his own.
Standing behind Jayme, he watched his partner drying the cups. As he wrapped his arms around Jayme's waist, he whispered each step as he put one over the other. "Right arm….then left arm…." Then finally, he rested his chin in his partner's shoulder. "And of course…chin," He laughed a little. Silence soon fell upon him. Rest assured, he was more than fine. His body was completely relaxed.
Jayme’s cheeks burned. Embarrassment and regret and giddiness boiled in his blood. It seemed it would boil forever, as long as Néci was beside him and looking at him with that unmistakable expression that told him that this had happened before. Jayme wished it had not happened once again.
He forced himself to turn his gaze to the cup and rag in his hand. Once he was done drying, he set it aside for it to be put away, but froze. His partner’s voice and the feeling of his arms around his waist washed over him. He had said that he had done this before, but Jayme did not remember it. His heart squeezed, and he tried to forget the misunderstanding and the wave of sorrow from earlier, that feeling that he didn’t deserve whatever this was. For a moment, as Néci’s chin rested on his shoulder, he was the opposite of his partner. Not fine, not relaxed, blood boiling and heart pounding. Then, something deep in him shivered. Jayme felt Néci’s warm breath on his neck, and he calmed. He dried the other cup.
Soon he was silent too. He moved on to the plates, and once they were washed and dried, he let Néci hold onto him while he moved to put them in their cabinets. And just for a moment, it even felt natural for them to be touching like this.
