The flat reminded me of him. The angular, jutting, bony him. Walking in there was like feeling our hipbones collide – something that makes you hiss in pain, but never cease the contact.
Our agent talked about the flat enthusiastically, but I was busy looking around. Sliding my hand over the windowsill, catching his eyes as they flickered to mine, while he was still nodding and smiling, supporting the conversation. They disappeared in the bedroom, Jonny throwing me glace over his shoulder, the same one he gives me each time I bite at his bottom lip too hard.
As soon as he was out of the sight I turned around and gazed out of the window, leaning in slightly, watching the London scenery. The window was narrow and I felt this sudden boyish urge to climb and sit at the windowsill. I started to raise my knee, but the muffled laugh from the bedroom reminded me that we were not alone.
Sliding my hand across the smooth wall I listened to the floorboards creaking under my feet, echoing in the empty room. There was an old bookshelf, a couple of books lying on it, a small film of dust covering the old pages. I recognized one of them and trailed my fingers over the title, just as they were coming out of the bedroom.
“The building is quite old, but it’s totally brick, and all the neighbors are quiet…”
“Yes…I think we’ll see a couple of other places and give you a call,” Jonny was rubbing his chin, too shy to reject.
“We’ll take it,” I said, turning to them and leaning against the shelf. The agent was mute for a couple of seconds. Apparently he thought that the decision would not come from me.
“Ah, well, I guess I’ll get the paperwork…Mr. Greenwood, are you sure?” he looked at Jonny, whose eyes were fixed on mine, a small amused smile playing in them.
“Well, he seems quite determined. I can’t really argue when he is in that state,” he said this not breaking the eye contact and we continued looking at each other as the man disappeared behind the door.
“So why did you decide to take a small dark flat when we have dozens of sun-filled, spacey, cheerful opportunities?” he walked slowly to me, his mood of being a shy and friendly costumer shaking off of him with each step. I watched the dark molasses pour into his eyes, his hand slide up my shoulder to cup my face, his whole body arching toward mine.
“It reminds me of you,” I said honestly, “It’s raw and lithe, and there’s lots of space to fill in. I can see books and records stacked along the walls, instruments lying here and there, pieces of note music scattered on the floor.”
“Mmmhm,” he grinned, showing me his teeth, his hands traveling down my sides until he picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my hands resting on his shoulders and foreheads pressed against each other. We looked each other in the eye as he slowly carried me to the bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot.
I caressed the back of his neck as he lowered me onto the bed slowly, as he sank his teeth savagely into my neck and began to work at the buttons on my shirt.
The bedroom looked lovely and I smiled, sliding my hand down his spine.
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