#love how Aaron is like 'love is in the air' and then Zoë pushes him while Senne almost breaks his phone ♡

[zoennes]

“Love is in the air tonight, guys.” 

12 OKTOBER, 2019 ❤︎ ZATERDAG, 21:43

[ghosttotheparty]

say my name and say it twice

32. also on AO3 chapter thirty-one

Lucas drifts off after Jens leaves, after hearing the front door shut behind him and Zoë. He’s anxious for him, knowing how nervous he must be. 

There’s a strange silence after the door shuts, an empty, lonely silence. As he buries his face into the pillow, pulling the blanket up over his face (it smells like Jens), he thinks maybe he’s somehow just never realised how quiet the flat really is. He usually isn’t up this early, and even when he stays up late, he tends to have his headphones on, or he’s on the phone with Jens, the two of them whispering and giggling to each other. But in the early morning, the air in his room chilly outside the thick blanket on top of him, it’s quiet. 

He can hear his own heart beating, can feel his pulse in his wrists on his neck, can hear his own breaths. It feels like something is missing. At first, he thinks it could be a noise, any noise, maybe rain or wind, or noise that he usually wakes up to, like Milan playing music from the kitchen or Senne walking past his room. (Though he’s fairly certain that Senne left early this morning for classes.) 

Lucas moves the blanket off of his face and lets the cold air wash over his face. He sighs, opening his eyes for a second before letting them fall closed again, rolling over and tucking the blanket under his chin, curling into himself, his knees drawing to his chin. The sweater he has on is light, and even under the blanket, he shivers.

He realises what he’s missing. 

After Jens came back to bed after talking to Zoë, Lucas had immediately drawn him in, pulling him close and feeling his arms wrap around him, his face press to Lucas’s chest, his legs entwine with Lucas’s. They spent the whole night like that, tangled together. It was warm. 

Eventually, Lucas drifts off. He doesn’t know when or how, especially with his shivering and restlessness, but he wakes up to Milan’s music quietly playing from the kitchen. Lucas opens his eyes, rolling onto his back and stretching, and sighs. 

Then he grins. 

He throws the blanket off of himself, getting up from the bed, stopping for a second after standing up too fast, and then grabs a pair of sweatpants from the floor, stumbling as he pulls them on while heading to the door. 

Milan is dancing by himself, swaying his hips as he flips a pancake at the stove, and Lucas pauses in the doorway, trying to push the smile off his face before going in. 

“Good morning,” he says, a little more brightly than he intended. 

“Morning, lovely,” Milan responds, turning slightly to shoot him a smile over his shoulder, reaching across the counter and turning down the music. “How are you doing today?” 

“Uhm, I’m good,” Lucas says, understating the condition of his heart at the moment. “And you?” he asks as he sits on the table, setting his feet on the chair in front of him. He pulls the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands, bunching them up in his fists. 

“I’m having a very good morning, very chill. Maybe it’s because Senne isn’t here,” Milan teases, and Lucas snorts. 

“I’m gonna tell him you said that.” 

“He wouldn’t be surprised.” 

Lucas chuckles lightly, watching as Milan flips a pancake before taking it off the pan and setting it on a plate, on top of a pile of pancakes Lucas hadn’t noticed. 

“That’s a lot of pancakes,” he says, trying not to laugh. 

“I’m making a lot so Zoë and Senne can have some when they get home,” Milan says, carefully ladling some batter onto the pan. 

“Kind of you.” 

“If they’re not grateful, I’m eating all of them.” 

“What about me?” 

“You can have some, I guess.” 

“Thanks.” 

Milan sets the ladle in the bowl and turns to look at Lucas, who has to push another smile off his face. Milan puts his hands on his back, resting it against the counter. 

“You’re shiny today,” he says matter-of-factly. 

Lucas raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, confused. 

“Your spirit,” Milan clarifies. “It’s shiny.”

The smile finally breaks through and Lucas has to look away, grinning as he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 

“What’s going on?” Milan asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “You’re up to something.” 

“Uhm…” Lucas sighs, twisting his mouth to the side, trying to figure out to tell him. “There’s something I need to tell you.” 

“Okay…” His eyes narrow more and he turns his head. “Is it good or bad? I’m assuming good because you can’t stop smiling.” “Good. Definitely good.” 

“Okay, tell me.” He crosses his arms, an apprehensive smile forming on his face.

Lucas sighs again, grinning, and looks away, leaning back. 

“You’re gonna hate me and love me,” he says. 

“Oh my god, just tell me!” Milan says, laughing.

“Uhm…” “Lucas!”

“Jens and I are dating,” he bursts. 

“What—”

“And we’ve been together for a while, we met before the get together where I met all the guys, but he wasn’t out, and he wasn’t ready, so we just pretended—” 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Milan interrupts, waving his hands and closing his eyes like he’s clearing the air. “Start over.”

Lucas giggles, feeling his face heat up under Milan’s gaze. He adjusts his seat on the table, turning more in Milan’s direction. 

“So—” 

“Wait, you guys already knew each other?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“I don’t get credit for this?” 

“No, I’m sorry.”

Milan let out a disappointed “Ah,” and turns away, seemingly distraught, before grinning and running his hands through his hair. 

“Oh my god,” he says in a high-pitched voice, almost a squeal. “I’m so happy for you guys.” 

Lucas beams, his shoulders lifting into a bashful shrug, but they drop when he hears sizzling. 

“Milan, your pancake is burning.” 

“Oh, shit.” Milan turns around, quickly grabbing the spatula and flipping it over. “That’s fine, we can give that one to Senne.” Lucas rolls his eyes. “Okay anyway, tell me everything. I want details.”

“Uh…” Lucas sighs, wondering where to start. “You know I like wandering around the city and taking photos and stuff…”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“One day I just stopped outside, like, a convenience store, and a bunch of people came out of the building next to it, and there was this one boy…” Lucas is smiling wistfully at the ground, reminiscing, remembering how beautiful he was, standing there with his friends. “And we just kind of made eye contact…” He trails off, looking up to see that Milan has his back against the counter again, smiling at Lucas like he’s watching him take his first steps. Lucas lifts a hand, shrugging. 

“And that was it? That’s how you met?” He sets the pancake on the plate and turns back to look at Lucas. 

“Actually, he left and we didn’t say anything, so I kind of… went back there every day at the same time for a week, and—” 

“What?” Milan cackles. 

“And,” Lucas continues, “eventually he was there again and we hung out.” “You went on a date that soon?” 

“Well it wasn’t really a date, we were just hanging out, but eventually he asked if I wanted to get coffee with him, and we just…” Lucas sighs, leaning his head back and grinning, his legs swinging happily. “And obviously we exchanged numbers and we call, like, every night. Except for the ones we spend together,” he adds, quieter, but he catches Milan’s head turn to him sharply. 

“Together?” Milan asks, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms. “And when— when has this happened?” he asks like he’s interrogating Lucas, who laughs and scratches the back of his neck. 

“Last night…” 

“Wha— I did not approve of this!” 

“Milan, I’m seventeen. And he’s my boyfriend.” 

He doesn’t respond, crossing one arm over his waist and covering a growing smile with his other hand, setting his chin on his palm. 

“Your boyfriend,” he says fondly. 

“My boyfriend,” Lucas agrees, nodding. 

“Who made the first move?” Milan asks after they spend a second just smiling. 

“Me,” Lucas says, laughing. “I asked him to hang out, and I kissed him first. But then he kissed me.” He thinks for a second. “He said ‘I love you’ first.” 

“He said—” Milan squeaks, slapping a hand over his mouth and sighing. 

Lucas grins, kicking his feet in front of himself. 

“Can I have a pancake?” he asks after a second, and Milan drops his hand.

“Oh, sure,” he says, turning and grabbing one from the plate. He tosses it to Lucas and Lucas just barely catches it, the tips of his fingers snatching in the air before it can fall to the ground. He hears Milan chuckle to himself and he looks up, furrowing his brows and jutting out his chin. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” Milan says, still laughing to himself, and he turns back to the griddle, lifting the ladle from the bowl of batter. He carefully pours some in a circle, smiling at the sizzling. “You said you wanted one.” 

“On a plate, dumbass.” 

“Just be grateful.” 

Lucas makes a face at him even though he isn’t looking and takes a bite out of it. 

“Is it good?” Milan asks. 

“It’s definitely a pancake.”

--- 

Lucas doesn’t remember to tell Senne about everything until Jens is already knocking on the door. It’s been days since Lucas told Milan, who’s hassled him every chance since, “When is Jens coming over?” “Where’s your boyfriend?” “Do you spend any time with him at all?” Lucas has avoided telling him they haven’t seen each other much lately because Jens has been spending so much time practising and rehearsing for his recital. 

Lucas is excited about the recital. Since Jens asked him to go, every time he’s thought about it, his stomach has swooped like a roller coaster car. He’s even got his outfit out and ready for it, ready for when Lucas assumes he’ll wake up hours before he needs to, ready to meet with Robbe, Moyo, and Aaron tomorrow evening before the recital. 

“Who’s that?” Senne asks at the same time as Milan’s gasp, and Lucas pauses on his way to the door. 

“Uh… You’ll see.” 

Lucas catches Milan sending Senne a broad grin and shakes his head before leaving to the front door. 

“Hey, beautiful,” Jens says when Lucas swings the door open. 

“Hi,” Lucas says back, immediately stepping close and falling into him, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before letting his head fall to Jens’s neck. Jens wraps his arms around him, swaying slightly and sighing. 

“Okay?” Jens asks, and Lucas hums, kissing his neck briefly. 

“Uhm,” he says when he stands up straight, tugging at Jens’s jacket, pulling him inside and out of the brisk afternoon air. “Milan is very excited to see you.”

“God, I love Milan.” 

“I know. He loves you too.” 

“It’s a good thing he does,” Jens says, taking off his jacket and hanging it up next to the door. “I don’t know what I’d do if he didn’t.” 

“Come on,” Lucas says after laughing lightly, grabbing Jens’s hand and pulling him down the hall into the living room. Jens lifts their hands and twirls him, dropping his arm over Lucas’s shoulder and leaning close to kiss his temple. 

“Hi,” Jens says as they enter the living room, his face brightening ups seeing Milan lounged across the sofa, his legs across Senne’s lap. 

“Hey!” Senne exclaims, surprised. He drops his phone and lifts a hand, pointing at them, a silent question hanging in the air. Are you…?

“Yeah,” Jens says, pulling Lucas in closer and kissing his head. Lucas’s face flushes and he smiles, wrapping his arms around Jens’s waist. 

“You’re so cute,” Milan says, and he turns where he’s laying, twisting his back and lifting his phone to take a picture. Jens lifts a peace sign and Lucas hides his face in Jens’s chest. “What are you doing this fine evening?” Milan asks after lowering his phone. 

“Hanging out,” Jens says, looking down at Lucas. “Getting ready for tomorrow.” 

“What’s tomorrow?” Senne asks, still smiling. 

“I have a ballet recital,” Jens says simply. “Lucas is helping me prepare.” 

“Am I?”

“Yeah, so I don’t have, like, an anxiety attack because I’m… stressed.”

“Oh, okay.” Lucas drops his head against Jens’s chest. 

“A ballet recital?” Senne says, his expression identical to Milan’s, their brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Yeah, I got the solo this year.” (Lucas grins proudly.) “I’ve been practising every day for the past few weeks and now I just need to…” He sighs. “Chill.” 

Lucas lets go of his waist and grabs his hand again, walking backwards out of the room and pulling Jens with him. 

“Ohhh…” Senne says, watching them with a sly smile. He calls, “Be safe!” as they turn the corner, out of sight, and Lucas leans back in to make a face and lift his middle finger to him. He can still hear his and Milan’s giggling as Jens shuts his bedroom door behind them. 

“Hi,” he says again as Jens pulls him in, slipping his fingers into his hair as their mouths meet, their lips part, their tongues press together. Jens hums lowly, sliding his hands over Lucas’s waist, under his pale blue hoodie and pressing against his skin. His fingers are cold. 

“I have a question,” Jens says when they part, after a quiet gasp. 

“Mm-hmm?” 

There’s a beat of silence before he asks. 

“Will you paint my nails for tomorrow?”

Lucas pulls his face away, looking into Jens’s eyes in surprise. 

“You want me to paint your nails?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He trails off, looking away, his cheeks turning pink. “I always thought it would be nice for a recital. And most of the girls do, so I figured…” He looks back at him. “Why not?” 

“Do you know what colour you want?” Lucas asks, starting to smile. Jens shrugs, tilting his head at Lucas and letting his arms gently drape around his waist. 

“Something dark, if you have it. It’ll go with what I’m wearing.”  

“Yeah,” Lucas says, kissing him once more before letting his arms fall from his neck and stepping back. “You still haven’t told me what you’re wearing,” he says as he grabs the red box of nail polish by the handle, lifting it and setting it on his desk. He shoots Jens a look, one eyebrow raised, as he opens its and begins rummaging through, finding all the dark bottles. 

“It’s a surprise.” Lucas scoffs, letting a bottle of black fall into the box with a clatter, remembering it’s gone dry and clumpy. 

“Robbe says you’re going to love it, though,” Jens continues. He crosses the room from where he was standing and sits on Lucas’s bed, cross-legged and watching him fondly. 

“So you’ve shown Robbe but not me?” 

“Mhmm.” Lucas glances up and Jens is nodding, smiling. “He says you’re going to love it,” he repeats. 

“I mean, I believe him.” 

“Good. I think you’ll love it too.” 

“Oh?” Lucas tilts his head, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together. “I’m excited.” He smiles when he hears Jens giggling. Lucas rolls his eyes and shakes his head and he cracks the window open and turns on the small fan on his desk.

He makes his way to the bed with several bottles of polish in hand, sitting across from Jens, mirroring him, his legs crossed. 

“Okay, these are all the good ones.” 

“Why did you just bring the box over so you can put the ones we don’t use away?” 

Lucas stares at the bottles in his hand before looking up sharply. 

“Don’t question me.” 

“Okay,” Jens says, snickering as he takes the bottles from Lucas’s hand and analyzing them in the light coming from the window. Lucas rests an elbow on his knee, putting his chin in the palm of his hand and watching Jens fondly, how his brows draw in as he looks, how he lifts them closer to his face, how he turns them in his hands to see how the colours shift. 

“I think I like this one,” Jens says softly, disrupting Lucas’s thoughts. He holds up a cylindrical bottle, the polish dark purple with subtle blue sparkles. Lucas smiles and holds his hand out for it and when he has it, Jens turns, leaning backwards, and places the rest of the bottles on Lucas’s bedside table, carefully standing them all up. Lucas smiles, watching. 

“Okay,” Jens says, huffing slightly as he sits straight again. He holds his hands out, palms down, and looks up at Lucas hesitantly. 

“Ready?” Lucas asks, hitting the bottle against the palm of his left hand. Jens watches curiously and nods, looking up and smiling softly.

“They’re going to be wet for a while; anything you want to get out of the way first?” he asks, looking at Jens with a knowing shine in his eye, and Jens grins, leaning across their crossed legs and grabbing Lucas’s face, sliding his fingers over his cheeks and jaw and neck until they’re buried in his hair. His teeth capture Lucas’s lower lip and Lucas smiles, closing his eyes and dropping the bottle (still closed) into his lap as he holds Jens’s wrists, leaning closer when Jens starts to pull away.

 He reaches up and presses his palms to Jens’s cheeks, feeling the lingering twinge of cold on his cheekbones and moves closer, feelings Jens’s breath against his slicked lips when Jens pulls back to gasp before leaning in again. 

Lucas’s legs uncross and he moves closer, his legs moving to either side of Jens, moving closer, closer, closer, until their chests are nearly pressing together. Jens’s hands move from his hair to his shoulders, pulling him in before he wraps his arms around Lucas’s neck. Lucas gently tugs at his hair, revelling in the small sound that escapes from Jens’s throat. 

They pull away with gasps, and Lucas leans in and presses their foreheads together, smiling. 

“I love you,” Jens whispers breathlessly, and Lucas bites his lip, closing his eyes again as he smiles and runs his hands through his hair. 

Jens says it every chance he gets now, every time they hang up, say goodbye. Every time Lucas texts him I have to go, I’ll text you later, Jens responds with something like okay I love you <3. Every time there’s a pause between their kisses or a moment of silence as they hold each other, the words are there, whispered in the air. 

And Lucas always says it back. 

“I love you too,” he says, pulling away and pressing a kiss to Jens’s forehead. He lets go of his hair and picks up the bottle again as Jens’s arms pull away from his neck. The chilled air from outside hits Lucas’s neck and he shivers slightly,  trying to pull the hood of his hoodie over his head with one hand. Jens smiles, reaching up and doing it for him. 

“Thank you,” Lucas says bashfully, opening the bottle of polish, and Jens holds his hand out, tucking the other in his lap. After carefully placing the bottle in his lap, Lucas takes his hand, gently stabilizing his fingers. “This might need two or three coats… Yeah,” Lucas says, stroking the brush against his nail, leaving a pale, translucent shade of purple in its wake. Jens leans forward, tilting his head to see around Lucas’s (he doesn’t realise how close he leans to focus), and smiles. 

When the polish is on properly, after Lucas has expertly wiped it off of the skin around Jens’s nails, Jens leaves his hands on Lucas’s thighs, trying not to move them. They’re not quite dry, just slightly tacky, and Lucas pulls his lips away from Jens’s every time they shift.

[ghosttotheparty]

say my name and say it twice (cotton candy skies)

26. also on AO3 chapter twenty five 

Lucas is nervous, if he’s honest.

Nervous about accidentally looking at Jens too long, about giving Milan or Robbe or Moyo or Aaron a hint at what they have, nervous about sending him too soft a glance, too familiar a smile.  He’s had to smother his nerves, stop his knee from bouncing up and down, his fingers from twisting his ring (though this happens without his noticing). 

Milan is excited, seemingly too excited to notice Lucas’s nervous fidgeting. He puts out a few videos games, a few movies, a few bowls of chips, a plate of fruit, a few beer bottles, a few soda cans, and all the while Lucas twists his ring a few times, tugs his curls a few times. When Milan finally looks at him across the living room, as Milan is tossing cushions onto the sofa and Lucas is laying on the other sofa, his legs kicked over the armrest, kicking the air. Milan grins, and Lucas’s fingers stop fiddling with his ring. 

“Excited?” he asks, watching Milan step back and analyze the sofa before going back in and moving all of the pillows up against the back. 

“I’m so excited.” Milan’s voice is shimmering with eagerness. “It’s not often that all of them come over, especially because Robbe moved out.”

“Mm.” 

A few minutes later, Milan is in the kitchen, doing something. Lucas doesn’t know. Maybe he’s getting cookies out of the oven, maybe he’s setting up a bunch of flowers on the table. Lucas is a little distracted. He tugs at the sleeves of his sweater, staring up at the ceiling, still kicking his legs. There’s a storm of excitement and nervousness and anxiety. He’s excited to see Jens again but unsure of how he’ll act. How he’ll greet Jens. A handshake? A nod? A quick muttered “Hey”? A smile? What kind of smile? Lucas’s fingers drum over his stomach as his eyes dart across the ceiling, avoiding the light bulb. 

His eyes only move away from the ceiling, going to the door as his head turns on the sofa when he hears voices outside. His hands and legs still and his eyes widen, glancing to the kitchen door, waiting for Milan to appear, but he doesn’t, and there’s a knock, startling Lucas. 

“Luc, can you get it?” Milan’s voice calls from the kitchen, and Lucas huffs, pushing himself so he rolls off the sofa, landing on the floor and standing. He pushes his hair back but doesn’t bother trying to straighten or fix his sweater. 

He opens the door to Moyo, who grins. 

“Luc! What’s up?” He holds his hand out and Lucas slaps their palms together, smiling. 

“Not much, you?” 

“Hanging with my bros.” 

Lucas laughs and steps to the side, pulling the door open for them to enter. Aaron does the same as Moyo, hits their palms together and lets their fingers hook momentarily before stepping past him to the living room. Robbe’s next, greeting him with a “How are you?” and Lucas responds “I’m doing okay, you?” and Robbe grins before saying, “Great.” He does look great, his eyes shining under his growing curls, one hand behind him, laced with Sander’s. 

When Sander’s passed him, after a smile and a “Hey,” and a handshake, Jens appears, and Lucas suppresses his smile into a casual greeting smile. 

“Hi,” he says, softer than intended, and Jens’s smile grows. He holds his hand out and Lucas shakes it, the same as he did with the others, ignoring the urge to pull him in close. Jens squeezes his hand gently before letting go and stepping out of the way so Lucas can shut the door. Lucas catches Jens shoot him a wink as he follows the guys into the living room. 

Jens sits next to Moyo, in the corner of the sofa Milan was trying to decorate earlier, farthest from when Lucas sits after he enters the room. Sander is on Moyo’s other side, Robbe on the floor between his legs as Sander’s fingers comb through his hair gently. Aaron sits on the floor under Jens, who has his legs pulled up in front of himself like he’s trying to look small. Lucas wonders if he is. If he always is. 

“Hello, my darlings,” Milan says as he enters, tearing Lucas’s gaze away from Jens. He’s carrying another bowl, a smaller one filled past the brim with grapes. He sets it on the coffee table before going around, pressing kisses to everyone’s cheek, starting with Jens, and Lucas feels the quick sharpness of jealousy that he can do it, but Lucas can’t. 

He considers texting Jens. But he wouldn’t know what, or if the notification would come up if Moyo would see it sitting next to him. So he doesn’t.

The boys chat with Milan for a bit, but Lucas is only half listening. 

They play some video games, but Lucas is only half paying attention. 

His eyes keep reverting to Jens sitting in the corner. From the angle he can see his profile, occasionally constricted by Moyo’s hair as Moyo leans forward, focusing on the game. Jens is smiling, the corner of his eyes crinkled up as he laughs at Moyo losing the game to Aaron. There are loud “No-o-o!’’ shouts, and Lucas laughs along with the others, looking to the television before looking back at Jens.

He draws him in his head, gentle, curved and harsh, sharp lines forming his profile, and he almost smiles, knowing exactly what brushes he would use to paint him. (He hasn’t painted him yet, but the collection of drawings hidden in the dictionary on his desk continues to grow. He’s been drawing constellations around him lots lately; either that or music notes and flowers.) He’d use the small, angled brush to paint his skin, the old frayed brush to blend the shading of his cheekbone and neck. The tiny, thin brush would work for his lashes and brow. The thick, tapered brush would work for his hair, but he’d go over it again with the thin one to do stray strands. 

Lucas forces himself to look away, watching the game on the television for a little bit, listening to the boys shout and laugh, until he’s bored, and he looks down at his phone. He scrolls aimlessly, pausing to read memes and watch videos, and he doesn’t notice Jens glancing at the guys before looking at him, doesn’t notice Jens smile softly. 

“Lucas!” Milan says after a while, when the room is quiet, strained with Moyo’s and Aaron’s focus, and Lucas looks up, startled. “You should show Sander some art.” Sander, Robbe, and Jens all look at him, and Lucas will his face not to burn up pink. 

“Oh, yeah!” Sander exclaims, looking at Lucas, his eyes wide. 

“I can get some paintings from my room,” Lucas says, slowly lowering his legs off the sofa, and Sander nods. As Lucas walks across the room, toward the door, he’s acutely aware of Jens’s eyes following him. 

When he comes back, two canvases and two papers in hand, Sander sits up, shifting in his seat, and Robbe moves back on the floor, away from Sander’s legs so Lucas can place the canvases in his lap. They’re both landscapes done in oils, photos he found online, and Sander analyzes them both carefully, quietly. Lucas stands to the side awkwardly, and he glances up to see Jens looking at him, not the art. They both suppress smiles, and Lucas is longing to reach out and touch him. 

Lucas stoops and picks up a beer bottle from the table after a few seconds, when Sander finally speaks. 

“How the hell do you keep the paint layers so thin?” He looks up at him and Lucas cracks the bottle open. “When I use oils it ends up with globs of paint, and it takes, like, months to dry.”

Lucas laughs, taking a sip. 

“I have no clue, honestly, I just paint.” 

Sander shakes his head, looking bewildered, and looks back to the paintings. 

“I love this post here,” he says after a second, pointing to a fence post covered in snow. Lucas smiles, That’s his favourite part of the painting, the snow on top of it, the shadow underneath it. Blending the colours was fun, if a little tedious, making sure the perfect shade of greypurpleblue, making sure not to go over the line of the shadow too many times so it didn’t blend with the white of the snow. 

Sander carefully places the paintings on the coffee table in front of him before he looks at the drawings Lucas brought. One is the portrait of  Zoë, the other a portrait of a woman he found online, her tongue sticking out, her freckles standing out against her skin, box braids falling over her shoulders. 

“Holy shit,” Sander says, lifting the latter to look closer. “Her braids!” 

“I’m proud of that one, it took a while.” 

“You should be.” Sander holds it out to the side and Robbe cranes his neck, cooing as he scans the paper. 

“Is that Zoë?” Robbe says, looking past it to the drawing still sitting on Sander’s lap, and Sander lifts it. 

“Yeah,” Lucas says, lowering the bottle after taking another sip. “She makes me think of Girl With a Pearl Earring, so…” 

“Jens, look,” Sander says, holding it up so Jens can see past Moyo, who is staring intently at the screen. Jens lifts his head, looking up from his phone in his lap and just barely glances at Lucas before looking at the drawing. 

“Oh, shit,” he says, and Lucas just manages to suppress a laugh. “That’s incredible.” He looks to Lucas, raising his brows in earnest, and Lucas cheeks heat. 

“Thank you,” he says, looking to the ground. 

Sander and Lucas continue talking about art, even when Lucas sits on the other sofa, drawing his legs up in front of himself and leaning against the armrest, holding the bottle between his torso and his legs. Robbe moves back in front of Sander and within seconds, Sander’s fingers are back in his hair, combing through the strands as he tells Lucas about the classes he takes, about what projects he still has to complete. 

Lucas listens intently, nodding and sipping his beer, absentmindedly rubbing the glass of the bottle, the same way he rubs the fabric of his pants or his sleeves when trying to pay attention in class, the same way he does when listening to Jens talk about ballet. 

While focusing on Sander, he doesn’t see Jens peering at him over Moyo’s shoulder. 

---

When the bottle in Lucas’s lap is empty, he doesn’t realise until he goes to take another sip and nothing comes out. He lowers it, looking to the guys, who are almost all watching Robbe compete with Aaron (who won the last round, much to Moyo’s dismay), and sees that their bottles seem to be empty too. He stands, tossing his phone to the sofa. 

“I’m gonna get another beer, do you guys want anything?” 

“Can I get a beer too?” Moyo asks, looking at him, and Lucas nods. 

“Robbe? Sander?” 

Robbe doesn’t look away from the screen, his fingers moving over the controller quickly, but says “Can you get me one too?” 

“Yeah. Sander?” 

“No, thanks.” 

“Aaron?” 

It takes a second for him to respond, his eyes wide, staring intensely at the screen. 

“Uh… Yes, please.”

Lucas laughs lightly and looks at Jens, who is already looking at him, and jerks his chin up. Jens shakes his head. 

“No, thank you.” 

Lucas nods and heads into the kitchen, carrying his empty bottle. 

He tosses it into a plastic bin under a counter, wincing as it clatters loudly against other containers, bottles and plastic boxes. The bin was his and Zoë’s idea. Senne had gone out and gotten it the same day, and Milan didn’t notice it until after he’d gone out and gotten another one. Lucas stole this one, put it beside his desk, where it sits almost full of discarded paper. 

He gets more beer from the fridge, and as he’s placing the third bottle on the counter, about to reach back in to grab an extra for Milan, the kitchen door opens and he glances over the fridge door to see Jens, turning and closing the door quietly with both hands. 

“Hey,” Lucas says casually, trying not to grin.

Jens turns and steps toward him, grabbing the bottle out his hand and placing on the counter before tossing ht fridge door shut and placing a hand of Lucas’s hip, pushing him so his back presses against the counter. 

“Hey,” he murmurs before pressing his mouth to Lucas’s. Lucas gasps, his hands flying up to hold Jens’s neck, and Jens pulls him in, his fingers tightening on his hip as his other hand grips his shoulder. Lucas lets out a quiet hum when Jens’s tongue sweeps across his lip. 

“Thought you were gonna repress the urge,” he says quietly when they pull away for a breath. 

“Can’t,” Jens replies, sliding his hands up to Lucas’s neck, pulling him in and biting down on his lip. Lucas’s heart glows, glad to know that Jens was struggling as much as him. Part of him wants to slip his hands under Jens’s shirt (or pants), but another part of him half expects the door to the kitchen to swing open. 

“You don’t think this is a little dangerous?” he whispers when Jens pulls away. Lucas tilts his head and presses his lips to Jens’s jaw, gently, slowly, kissing down his neck, and Jens moans, low in his throat. Lucas smiles, biting his skin softly, and kisses to the neckline of his sweatshirt, a red one with an abstract design on the front. (Lucas loves it. If he has the opportunity next time he’s at Jens’s, he’ll steal it.) He opens his mouth, licking a stripe up Jens’s neck, and then pushes him back. Jens steps away, opening his eyes and looking at the ceiling, smiling resignedly. 

“Can’t be too long, they’ll get suspicious,” Lucas tells him, his voice still lowered just in case. He opens the fridge again, feeling Jens watch him, and grabs two more beers, handing one to Jens and turning to pick up the others from the counter. 

He pecks Jens’s lips lightly before stepping past him to leave, and Jens follows, huffing dramatically.

“You didn’t say if you wanted one or not, so…” he says when he hands a beer to Milan, who smiles gratefully and takes it. Lucas hands Milan Aaron’s beer as well, and Milan places it on the floor next to him. 

When Lucas is sitting on the sofa again, beer opened and in his lap, a leg hanging over the armrest, his phone buzzes. He has to reach behind himself to get it, having forgotten to pick it up from the sofa before dropping himself onto it. 

It’s a text from Jens, and Lucas looks up at him, suppressing a smile. Jens shoots him a glare, weakened by a soft smile, before looking at the television, laughing and smacking Aaron’s head as he messes up.

why would you do this to me

Lucas balances the bottle in his lap carefully before responding. 

:)

It’s a few seconds before Jens looks at his phone, still laughing as Aaron curses at Robbe. When he does, Lucas sees him roll his eyes, smiling, and almost laughs out loud. 

fuck you

Lucas takes a swig from the bottle, grinning. 

maybe later

He looks up at the television as he sends it, and pretends not to hear Jens clear his throat, a recovery from choking on his beer. 

He only looks over, faux concern across his face, when Sander says “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good, I just— breathed it.” 

“Been there,” Milan says, shaking his head in sadness as he looks away from Jens back to the screen, and Lucas snorts. 

They don’t text for the rest of the afternoon. 

But, of course, there are lots of stolen glances, longing gazes. 

---

“So,” Milan says, shutting the front door. Lucas looks up from his phone, up from a ill call you tonight text from Jens, to which he responds counting down the seconds. 

“So,” he repeats as Milan enters the room. Milan leans against the door frame, and Lucas feels like he’s his father, about to have a Talk with him. 

“You like the guys?” 

Lucas lets his phone fall to his chest. He’s laying on his back on the sofa, his legs over the armrest, similar to how he was before they arrived. 

“Yeah, they’re cool. Sander is really nice to talk to.” 

“I thought you’d like to talk to him,” Milan says, smiling. “So what about Jens?” 

Immediately, Lucas heats up. He can feel his face flush with anxiety, feels his shoulders suddenly feel too light. 

“What about Jens?” He tries not to stutter. He also tries not to fidget, keeping his hands still on his phone, though he wonders if the complete statuesque stillness could also be suspicious. 

“I saw you stealing a few glances at him…” Milan tilts his head and narrows his eyes. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I don’t…” Lucas can practically feel red radiating off his face, unsure of what to say, what to do. 

“Do you like him?” 

“Milan—” Lucas sits up, setting his phone to the side, but he’s interrupted by a squeal. 

“Oh my god! You do!”

“Mi—” 

“Oh, Luc, I’m sorry,” Milan interrupts again, suddenly looking sad. “I’ve only known him to date girls.”

Lucas stares.

“But,”  Milan continues, “He had been known to cuff his pants so maybe there’s hope.” 

He tries desperately not to laugh. 

“Okay,” Milan says, clapping his hands together and crossing the room to sit on the floor in front of Lucas. “Tell me.” 

“Tell you...what?”  His heart is pounding. 

“Tell me why you like him. I know you’ve only met him like twice but go on.”

“I— I don’t know,” he says, shifting so he’s facing Milan, crossing his legs on the sofa in front of him. “He’s pretty.”

And sweet. And nice, and kind, and funny, and supportive, and encouraging, and considerate, and gentle, and careful, and everything Lucas could hope for. And more. 

“He seems nice,” he adds.

Milan’s face breaks up into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his nose scrunching. 

“Do you think you might have a crush on him?” he asks, almost signing it.

“I don’t know, maybe.” 

Milan seems unreasonably excited about the prospect of Lucas having a crush on Jens, but Lucas won’t complain.  He feels giddy with it, with being able to talk about Jens (even if he can only talk about the interactions they’ve had in the flat) (and not even all of them), with having someone that’s this supportive and excited about it. It feels like this is what he should have had, all though middle and high school, this experience of sitting with someone else, and just talking, openly, freely. 

He never told anyone (except Noah, right before Lucas moved) about his crush on Kes. It was a secret, a burden, a stone to carry in his heart until it eroded away. So he tells Milan. He tells Milan everything. About Kes, about how his crush developed in middle school, how he fell for him hard, but hid it away, hoping, praying even, that it would just disappear. About the whole situation with Isa, about how badly he felt. He tells him about how he’s hardly spoken with Kes, with Isa, with Jayden, as of late, even though the whole mess from that year was behind them, even though Kes and Isa, as far as Lucas knows, are friends again. He tells him about how he’s scared of it, of losing contact with his friends, but somehow he’s at peace with it at the same time. 

And Milan listens. 

This goes on for a few hours. 

Zoë comes home in the evening, finds them sitting on the sofa together, still talking. She goes to the kitchen and comes back with glasses and a bottle of wine. 

If he could draw this moment, he would. He watches the two of them, Milan talking and Zoë sipping her wine, Zoë talking and Milan sipping his wine, them both looking at Lucas as he talk, the way they look at each other when they laugh, the way they hold their glasses out as they do, careful not to spill it on the sofa or the rug. Memorising it all. He would draw the whole day if he could. It’s been a good day. Sneaking looks at Jens (not so subtly, apparently), exchanging secret smiles, laughing at how the guys interact. 

He could paint it later. Something abstract. The idea of this day. Something with lots of reds.