First of Many

May 24, 2011 20:34

“Is this seat taken?”
Pierre looked up from the scientific journal he had been reading and saw the bluest pair of eyes he had ever seen. The man in front of him awkwardly balanced his backpack on his shoulder while trying to flick at the fringes of his golden hair, which kept getting in his eyes.
“…so, is it?” He cursed inwardly for staring too long, and straightened his glasses in the way that he knew intimidated people.
“No. Go ahead.” He mumbled, feigning disinterest, as he returned to his reading and ignored the beautiful man that settled beside him. It was a difficult task, with the way his heart was hammering and his mind was racing for possible conversation starters. The blond man laid back beside him and started writing.

-0-0-0-

Pierre had been reading the same paragraph over and over and over again. He frowned in disgust because it was pathetic, that he knew more about the recipe that the blond man was making rather than the article he had been reading. At least he thought it was a recipe, unless there were other uses for chicken, pineapple and vinegar. It was already late in the afternoon and the sun shone directly into his window.
He gave up trying to read and closed the journal as he put on the tinted lenses for his glasses. The afternoon sun was setting and it was directly shining on both of them, making the other man’s hair look like spun gold. He settled down as if to sleep, but with his eyes wide open, gazing at the beautiful sight in front of him.
He saw him stop writing suddenly, looking out at the long stretch of sea just outside their window. The blue orbs had darkened, and there was sadness in them that stirred something primal in him. He realized he wanted to hear this man speak and see his blue eyes brighten like the sea in an endless summer day.

0-0-0-0-0

Pierre had been looking for a while when it had started to rain lightly, the late afternoon sky darkening only a little so that the orange of the setting sun turned redder as it streamed freely across the vast waters. The blond was also looking out into the light rain, his glazed expression suggesting maybe he was seeing something else.
And then he was turning back, looking at him. Looking into those blue eyes that had captivated him the first moment he had seen them. He was surprised at how wide they were, as if he was looking into the endless waters again.
His throat tightened as he gazed back, fervently hoping that the tint of his glasses would hide his … observation. Behind the blond were orange, red and blue and he was, right there, as he filled his vision with gold and more blue and white.
Brilliant bright blue as he smiled at him widely, those beautiful eyes lighting up. He was smiling.
He was smiling at him and his eyes were just as he had imagined, wide and bright and so vibrantly blue. He paused, needing a moment to breath properly.
“It’s rude to stare.” The blond man said, but he was still smiling without malice despite the words. He held a strong hand towards him, and Pierre subtly checked for any rings.
“I’m Aloise.” Something must be wrong with his stomach, the way something was squirming inside of him uncomfortably, like live bats had nested inside of him.
“I’m Pierre.” He was proud at how aloof his voice had sounded. How his dark eyes remained blank as he removed his glasses, and shook the other’s hand firmly. “So… you cook stuff.”
“Hell yeah, I'm a great cook.” He raised a thin eyebrow at the smugly grinning man beside him.
Their eyes met and they grinned almost in sync. And they laughed, and smiled and laughed all over again, and he realized that that beautiful laugh was what he had been waiting to hear forever.

gay literature, story, fiction

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