Chapter 154 Chapter 155

Chapter 154 Chapter 155
He sobbed quietly once, twice. Then he wailed. Denis pressed his hands against his mouth, horrified with himself as his body shook in the desolate corridor. He was too loud; the hallway filled with his sniffles and whimpering. Flexing his hands, he attempted to muffle himself completely, hands clamping over his mouth. Tremors wrecked his body, tears sprouted from his eyes; he was a sorry mess.
It had been five years. It shouldn’t hurt like this to see him. It shouldn’t hurt like this to realise that Ravi had done exactly what Denis had asked of him. 
Please. Just be happy. Move on. Play rugby.
He was such an idiot. Such a stupid fucking idiot.
“Hey, Denis.”
He jerked, head shooting up from the dark protection of his knees. Ravi was in front of him, crouching down, looking as effortlessly beautiful as always. His eyes traced him, elbows resting on his thighs, hands hanging loose and big. Denis could see veins running down the back of them. 
He was quick to bring his hands up, horrified that Ravi was seeing him like this, all unravelled. Christ, what would he think of him? Wiping the tears was a losing battle. For years, Denis hadn’t cried, so now it appeared they were making up for lost time, sprouting like waterfalls down his pale cheeks. He kept patting his wet face despite the futility, praying for godly intervention. 
“Sorry,” he said. “I am a bit of a mess. Sorry.” Funnily, their roles had come to be reversed. Here was Denis, fumbling, messy, and there was Ravi, cool, collected. Only, it wasn’t funny, and nobody was laughing. 
Ravi tilted his head, a few dark strands falling into his face, the curls teasing his eyebrows. “Denis, can I hold you for a bit? Would that be alright?”
The blonde didn’t think it would be all right. He thought that if Ravi held him because of some guilt-ridden reason and then let go, he would never be able to mend himself, not completely. The rugby player had already collected so many pieces of Denis, if he took anymore he’d leave naught but a husk behind.
Of course, he said yes – to the hold you bit, not to the alright bit.
“Yes. Please.”
Ravi plopped down next to him, big hands fitting around him with ease and pulling into the V of his legs. The blonde yelped in surprise even as his body relaxed instantaneously, allowing itself to be manoeuvred. Ravi’s touch was hot-wired into his brain. As soon as he felt it, he couldn’t do much else than melt. Limbs arranging themselves however Ravi saw fit. 
He was pressed into a chest, his nose filling with cedarwood, a hint of wet grass, and some fancy cologne. Denis hadn’t allowed his hands to cling to the nice suit, but they did. Crinkling the luxurious fabric, he held on with everything he had. Ravi moved him further up, guided his damp face to the crook of a muscular neck, pushing his body flush against the rugby lad’s torso.
His head spun.
This was too much. It felt too good. Denis pushed his lips against the base of Ravi’s throat, hot skin beneath his lips. He wanted to leave kisses, wanted to bite into the sun-kissed column. He held himself back by the skin of his teeth. 
Big hands settled on his trembling back, rubbing soothing circles as they pressed him close. Ravi was everywhere, both of them entwined. It was impossible to tell where one started and the other ended. Denis felt the moment with everything he had; he mapped out the feel of fabric beneath his hands, the faint beating of a pulse against his face, and the hands rubbing his lumbar region. He shuddered, curling into the sensation as his violent breathing calmed.
They remained, each moment a fight against fear and desperation. Fear for Ravi to deem him well enough to function without being coddled, desperation to get closer. He wanted to bathe in the moment forever, wanted to pretend that they were two uni students meeting up between classes – in love and unburdened. After this, Denis could ask Ravi to go with him to his dorm room, offering to make pancakes. Ravi would laugh, saying something about how he’d handle the cooking. They’d kiss. He could remember it now, Ravi’s lips.
The present was bleak compared to the past. And as all know, time waits for no man, its beat is constant. 
Ravi moved him, making him sit straight. Not forcing him away, but untangling them. Denis’s eyes were puffy and stung, but the salty river was bled dry. He sniffled, carding a hand through his tangled hair in an attempt to look anything but pathetic. The smile he forced out was wobbly at best. 
He still couldn’t read the lad, his emerald eyes guarded by ramparts of platinum. It hurt, knowing that Ravi had put up a wall between them. It made sense, of course, but it hurt nonetheless. 
“Sorry. I think today was a bit much. I just-”
Ravi interrupted him, fitting his paw of a hand against the side of Denis’s face. The blonde stopped talking, pressing into the palm like he was touch-deprived. A thumb stroked the damp beneath his eyes, the motion gentle enough to suffocate you. He chipped for breath, taking care not to move, not break the tension.
“What’s wrong, Denis?”
He glanced at Ravi’s face, their eyes catching, holding. There was concern in those eyes, glittering like a fretting green ocean. His cheeks heated, his hands coming up to loop around strong wrists. He could feel the tendons beneath the skin, the strength in the forearm below. With each swipe of Ravi’s thumb, muscles moved.
For once, Denis was quite at a loss for what to say. 
He pushed through regardless, the notion baffling, but he’d faced worse. He had, had he not?
“Long week,” the lie flowed easily on his tongue. He stopped, pinching his eyes shut as silence settled in the abandoned corridor. “Sorry, it has been a long week, but that’s not what’s wrong.”