Big Dump

Humm

We are not dramatic men and we are not exactly classy, except when the mood strikes. At home Thom reads books and wears rather trivial jeans, drinks his usual tea and sits at the piano wearing simple white socks. He does the mundane things like cleaning and cooking with much detail, dividing the processes into stages that he completes with utter precision. He waxes the floors with much dedication and if it is the summer his shirt dampens from sweat, which doesn’t seem like the sweat at all – it is so completely out of place that it goes unnoticed until he tosses the shirt in the laundry basket.

He reads the paper during the breakfast or he walks around with the bowl in his hands because in the mornings he has too much energy. He opens the bottles of wine with a neat pop and pours the same amount in the glasses. It seems that he is completely stiff until he has the first drink.

At night I twirl his over-grown hair between my fingers as we sit at the table in the dimmed light in the warmth and I love the feeling of order that is around him, and I love the feeing of his still-shyness toward me. I speak of anything that comes to my mind and imagine that we are not in our house at all – we are sitting on some unnamed planet, with this warm light above our heads, and everywhere it is cold but here. He is wearing a blunt t-shirt and rather trivial jeans with white socks and with all the messages erased from his body he seems to be closer and more intimate.

We are practical men and one might think that there are no feelings, and frankly, we both do not understand how we came around. The clarity of our relationship was so visible that in the beginning we both wouldn’t have the guts to take the first step because it was so simple it was absurd. When Thom was leaning closer to me for the first time in our lives I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh and he smiled against my cheek and whispered a “Shut up”, which only made me laugh even louder.

We are not open men and at home we follow certain rules that are subtle and quite engaging. His voice is different when he wants me closer and he blushes sometimes when I catch it and come to his side. There are certain phrases that complete the communication without being voiced and there are gestures that are so rare they make us tremble. There’s an atmosphere around us, our very own and very blue, with meteorites burnt upon slightest penetrations and air that only our lungs can derive.