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yolandekleinn[This ficlet is not part of a larger work. I don't have any other stories involving these characters. It's just a fun little story written using the three prompt words in the subject line. I very much hope you enjoy it. :)]
Passage, Winter, Collection
"It's beautiful." Beni doesn't know shit about art. He doesn't have the first clue what he's looking at beyond the fact that he enjoys the colors. It's abstract. Blue and purple and faint hints of magenta.
He genuinely likes it. There's no need to pretend for the sake of politeness.
Julian shifts beside him, the barest movement as weight eases from one heel to the other. Nothing restless in the change, so far as Beni can tell. It's hard to picture Julian as anything but calm, cool, easy in any setting. He's seen glimpses to make him suspect there's more—glimmers of more passionate reaction beneath the surface—and those teasing hints would be enough to make him stick around even if he weren't already enamored to an alarming degree.
At least the fascination seems to be mutual. Surely Julian wouldn't have weaseled Beni's phone number from a mutual acquaintance otherwise. Surely he wouldn't have called less than a week after their first awkward meeting if the spark beneath Beni's skin had been entirely one-sided.
Surely Beni would not be standing in this private gallery, amid Julian's small but not at all modest collection of art.
"You really mean that, don't you," Julian murmurs with obvious pleasure. "You're not just humoring me."
Beni turns his head, finds the man watching him instead of looking at the art. The attention makes his face warm and his pulse nudge faster. Ridiculous. He feels like a teenager with a crush. It's been a long damn time since anyone left him this off-balance.
He likes it even more than the art.
He smiles despite the flutter of feeling in his chest—or perhaps because of the shimmer of sensation—blushing fiercely, hoping Julian won't notice.
Small chance of that. Another heartbeat and Julian's smile widens. He is making no effort whatsoever to mask his delight.
Beni turns aside, self-conscious, and his attention lands on the window at the far end of the room. It's the only window, and it must be specially coated, UV-protection for the valuable pieces in Julian's gallery. The clear panes offer a bright glimpse of the world outside. Daylight. Smooth gray.
It's snowing.
Beni knew winter was closing in. Impossible to miss the substantial dip in temperature, the fact that he is cold all the damn time. But this is his first glimpse of snow for the season, and something about it catches and holds his focus.
Three months have passed since he took a chance answering an unknown number and heard Julian's voice on the other end of the line. Three months, and Beni still finds himself wondering if this can possibly last. If Julian will come to his senses. If this is all just an unlikely detour and tomorrow Beni will be alone again.
He is gradually, grudgingly learning to ignore those insecurities. Julian is a good man. An honest man. He wouldn't toy with Beni's heart, and he certainly will not vanish without warning.
"Everything okay?" Julian's voice is soft with a hint of concern, and he quietly eases into Beni's space. Not quite touching. Obviously wanting to.
"Yeah."
It's so easy to look at Julian—to focus on the distractingly handsome face Beni already spends far too much time thinking about—and he offers a small but sincere smile of his own.
"Yeah," he repeats, and takes Julian's hand. "I'm good."
"It's beautiful." Beni doesn't know shit about art. He doesn't have the first clue what he's looking at beyond the fact that he enjoys the colors. It's abstract. Blue and purple and faint hints of magenta.
He genuinely likes it. There's no need to pretend for the sake of politeness.
Julian shifts beside him, the barest movement as weight eases from one heel to the other. Nothing restless in the change, so far as Beni can tell. It's hard to picture Julian as anything but calm, cool, easy in any setting. He's seen glimpses to make him suspect there's more—glimmers of more passionate reaction beneath the surface—and those teasing hints would be enough to make him stick around even if he weren't already enamored to an alarming degree.
At least the fascination seems to be mutual. Surely Julian wouldn't have weaseled Beni's phone number from a mutual acquaintance otherwise. Surely he wouldn't have called less than a week after their first awkward meeting if the spark beneath Beni's skin had been entirely one-sided.
Surely Beni would not be standing in this private gallery, amid Julian's small but not at all modest collection of art.
"You really mean that, don't you," Julian murmurs with obvious pleasure. "You're not just humoring me."
Beni turns his head, finds the man watching him instead of looking at the art. The attention makes his face warm and his pulse nudge faster. Ridiculous. He feels like a teenager with a crush. It's been a long damn time since anyone left him this off-balance.
He likes it even more than the art.
He smiles despite the flutter of feeling in his chest—or perhaps because of the shimmer of sensation—blushing fiercely, hoping Julian won't notice.
Small chance of that. Another heartbeat and Julian's smile widens. He is making no effort whatsoever to mask his delight.
Beni turns aside, self-conscious, and his attention lands on the window at the far end of the room. It's the only window, and it must be specially coated, UV-protection for the valuable pieces in Julian's gallery. The clear panes offer a bright glimpse of the world outside. Daylight. Smooth gray.
It's snowing.
Beni knew winter was closing in. Impossible to miss the substantial dip in temperature, the fact that he is cold all the damn time. But this is his first glimpse of snow for the season, and something about it catches and holds his focus.
Three months have passed since he took a chance answering an unknown number and heard Julian's voice on the other end of the line. Three months, and Beni still finds himself wondering if this can possibly last. If Julian will come to his senses. If this is all just an unlikely detour and tomorrow Beni will be alone again.
He is gradually, grudgingly learning to ignore those insecurities. Julian is a good man. An honest man. He wouldn't toy with Beni's heart, and he certainly will not vanish without warning.
"Everything okay?" Julian's voice is soft with a hint of concern, and he quietly eases into Beni's space. Not quite touching. Obviously wanting to.
"Yeah."
It's so easy to look at Julian—to focus on the distractingly handsome face Beni already spends far too much time thinking about—and he offers a small but sincere smile of his own.
"Yeah," he repeats, and takes Julian's hand. "I'm good."
