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lana: I never said I didn't want to date you.. I just think I'm missing a certain.. appendage

lana: YES. only if we can order in something to eat.. and have all the lights off and just candles.

lark: almost like you think i'm gay

lark: i have a like

lana: i was thinking..

lana: do you want to come over to my place for a dinner and movie night?

lana: it's not a date don't worry ;)

lark: wow i can't believe you don't wanna date me lana :/

lark: can we watch leprechaun

she gets up and stands next to him, looking over the camping grounds as if she’s hoping to spot a mouse residence just like that. of course that’s not the case. maybe she’s overly excited about seeking out the wildlife around them, but she’s not entirely serious in her belief that they’re gonna return to silver lake with a flock of animal companions. she just hopes that’s what’s going to happen. “i should’ve brought my cat, he’s always bringing me mice as a gift whenever he manages to get outside. and birds.” not exactly what they want (a dead mouse is going to be awfully hard to train), but patton oswalt’s mouse spotting might still have been helpful. “you wanna just… run off into the wilderness?” she gestures vaguely towards the pathway into the woods, reassuring in its presence because they’re not going into actual no man’s land. “i promise i’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

     lark glances down at mia as she looks to google for an answer, his head shaking in mild disbelief—even if he had brought his phone, the last thing he’d think it capable of is connecting to the internet in the woods. he doesn’t say anything about it, though, just moves on when mia decides that the mice could probably have a little chocolate. “we could just stick to the nuts. i vote to see which they want more—you know what, the m&m’s aren’t even chocolate. i used peanut butter. guess they’re getting nuts either way.” he’s talking mostly to himself as he goes on, sifting through a bag for the trail mix.

      lark loses some cool when juno comes to feel out the yarn, the ghost of a laugh slipping through faintly parted lips. her wonder passes onto him all too easily. “i don’t have any either.” he’s relieved once he’s regained some space, finally letting himself smile. an assenting nod is coaxed out by her question—funkytown is probably ranked third out of lark’s top five thrift shops. it’s rare that he’s let down there. he brings himself away from the counter, wanders slowly to the island as he listens. “that would be sick. i’ll definitely support you in the venture.”

He sat down finally on a little cement ledge, puffing away at the joint and allowing the change of subject. Lark’s first question took him by surprise, but not nearly as much as the second one. “This?” he held the joint up, surprised into laughter. “What the fuck do you think I’m smoking, meth? It’s weed, my dude, and you are more than welcome to it if you’re suddenly feeling ballsy or whatever. As for the zoo,” he continued, not missing a beat, “if you’re looking for something to psychoanalyze you can start with my parents smothering the fuck out of me. I would guess that attributed to some kind of empathy I felt for something being stuck in a cage.” He leaned back against the bars, pulled his legs up and crossed them. “I mean that’s just life, though, I assume pretty much everyone feels like that most of the time.”

      he’s a few steps closer now, thumbs hooked into back pockets as he crouches down in front of matt, leaving about a foot’s worth of space in between. there’s no need to feign surprise this time around; matt runs with an answer that’s so misguided lark can’t help but laugh along with him, eyes widening as he listens. ‘almost like you expect people to think you’re on meth,’ is what he wants to say, but no space is left for interjection, and he’s not the type to interrupt without good reason. 

      the continuation leaves him staggered, yet curiosity lights up tired eyes nonetheless. this image of matt, a cloistered little boy swathed in the shadow of overbearing parents, isn’t something lark could have seen coming—it’s an odd feeling, to be seemingly so familiar with, and to know so little about the man perched before him—though he doesn’t know what, if anything else, he could have expected. 

      brows furrow as he sinks down onto the concrete, legs folded upright in front of his chest, arms draped lazily around them with fingers clasped in front. “depth of thought, courtesy of matt russo,” vaguely derisive, the words roll off lark’s tongue, a light bob of his head in tow. “not an ounce of megolamania in sight.” he glances off to the side, the hint of a smile playing at his lips; if he didn’t think matt could handle it, he’d keep his observations to himself. 

lana: I told you that in confidence don't use it against me.. meanie.😉

lana: it was a really good time..

lana: but i'm not.. i've never... felt.. things..

lana: is that normal?

lark: ouch my feeling is hurt 😥

lark: ahhh i could make the argument that almost anything could be classified as normal

lark: sexuality can be fluid

The jelly was quickly forgotten when Lark’s fingers accepted the offering of Landon’s hand. His heart thumped clumsily in his chest, and Lark’s words gave pause to Landon’s thoughts. He was eager, like a child who’d tasted ice cream for the first time and wanted enthusiastically to try more, and he wondered if Lark meant it in a welcoming way. He wasn’t going to push his luck, and pressed his lips together, still smiling in wordless response. Yes, I am. It had been a very long time since he’d felt anything quite like this– that warm flicker of hope that made him forget all about the cool that had been creeping up on him.

Landon nodded quietly and took a slow, deep breath when Lark began to detail quietly what he was going to do. There was a gentle calm that descended on him as he listened to Lark’s words, almost hypnotized. The sound of his voice was the canoe Landon’s mind floated on, breathing a little slower now to calm the little flare of nerves he’d had moments ago. A gentle nod came, though his deep, midnight eyes still didn’t open.

Lark’s fingers trailed along his palm, and Landon’s easy smile tugged again– this time because the contact tickled a little bit until the letters began. His face relaxed, though his expression remained warm, and with each letter, his heart felt like it was melting. Landon could almost see Lark’s handwriting in his mind’s eye as the fingers traced over his skin. When the three words were spelled out, his eyes opened slowly, just barely, and he watched as Lark’s head dipped down gently, pulling Landon’s hand up to those soft lips.

Let me taste.

Please.

Taste me.

It felt like he was in a dream, and he didn’t want anyone to pinch him awake for fear of this all having been a figment of his active imagination, but he knew it was real. The warmth of Lark’s soft tongue sent a gentle jolt throughout his body. His blood hummed in his veins, and he wondered if he was vibrating, or if it was all in his head, but he didn’t want Lark to stop. The kisses grazed down along his long fingers, and for an instant, it felt like his heart wanted to stop– like all time wanted to stop, in fact, and savor this tender moment that was such a rarity in his life. Lark was so beautiful and ethereal, with the moon still bouncing off of him while he kissed that hand, but Landon slowly closed his eyes again. Lark had requested for him to close his eyes, after all, and he didn’t want to commit the crime that Orpheus of myth committed when he looked.

Landon realized he’d forgotten to breathe and took in another slow, deep breath, his soft lips parted ever so slightly. His mind shut off all other thoughts, and focused on Lark’s honeyed kisses. Landon didn’t want him to stop, but the desire to taste them with his own lips was rising like a gentle tide that couldn’t be held back for much longer.

      a small piece of him, despondent in nature, waits for landon to pull away from the tender display; lark slowly makes his way to the top of landon’s palm without so much disturbance as the twitch of a finger. he pauses, draws himself back just enough to look over opulent bone structure, in search of any affirmation he can get to quell the dismal feeling that trickles through him. 

      landon looks peaceful at first glance, the immeasurable depth of cerulean eyes shielded from lark’s inquiring view. he’s glad, in the moment, that he’s not being watched. there’s always a rush of nerves that filters in during his more intimate moments, but it feels different this time, nestled within the confines of something he has trouble finding words for—the thought’s not turned over for long.

      curious eyes trace over silhouetted lips, whose subtle parting gives way to a gentle yearning lark readily welcomes. he wants to fill the space in between with his own lips, to spend more time getting to know luscious curves, and the way they’d move against him. with a slight sense of regret, he glances down to their hands once more, turns them over as he lowers them, and leaves landon’s to rest on the soft fabric just above his knee.

      the backs of fingers brush lightly overtop landon’s hand before an open palm is brought to his chest—thin cotton doesn’t mask the trembling of the boy beneath—reposed over a beating heart. if any affirmation were still needed, this, lark thinks, would be enough. “keep breathing,” he says through a soft smile; a reminder. “in through the nose, out through the mouth... relax.”

      little space is given for the words to settle before lark’s other hand rises up to caress one side of landon’s warm, angular jaw. the gentle movement is followed, as he leans further into the other’s space, by another succession of lustful kisses; generous lips trail along landon’s jawline with a quiet urgency. 

lana: i'm sorry.. i'm sorry

lana: oh fuck. do you wanna wake up and then i can like... vent at you?

lana: i'm messaging because i feel like i can talk to you about this okay? not that any of my friends would judge.. they might just.. not understand it...

lana: i went on a date the other night...

lana: ... with a woman.

lark: no apologies no apologies

lark: uh, yeah just give me a few i'll like... maybe today can be a coffee day. no iv drip in sight, hopefully a mug does the job 🙃

lark: you went on a date? i'm trying to figure out the tone

lark: was it...

lark: i guess was it a good time, or no?

lark: or is that even relevant?

      he’s crouched down near the middle of his mat, a few fingers running over the supple, honey colored fabric. not a typical activity after session’s end, yet here he is, heeding a suspicion that bubbled up during a particularly slippery downward dog. “hm?” brows pull together as lark looks up, and with the slightest of smiles, settles his gaze on sulley. graciously, he nods. “yeah, go for it.” he straightens himself out, glances down to his fingers as he rubs them together. his mat could use a good clean; its oily residue gets wiped off on his shirt.

Lana: I have.. a really big question for you..

Lana: It's kinda weighted..

Lana: I dunno It's a question and its big..

Lana: Maybe I'm just overreacting

Lana: I really feel like I need to be hiking right now...

Lana: Oh my god am I bothering you?

Lana: Sorry I just don't know who else to text with a question this big..

Lana: How... when...

Lana: How do you know if you're like.... into the same sex?

lark: slow down turbo

lark: sorry sorry, i'm joking, barely awake. you're definitely not bothering me

Despite the chill that crept through the night air, there was a warmth shared between them that Landon couldn’t get enough of. He didn’t want to leave, but neither did he want to stay too long. There was a balance between having enough of a good thing and too much of a good thing. Tonight, Landon knew he wouldn’t sleep immediately, and that he’d do quite a lot of introspection, but there was this flicker of hope that now glowed where that gentle flame had long been absent. Lark hadn’t pushed him away, nor had he pulled him in too quickly.

There was a gentle ease in the way they gravitated towards one another that made Landon feel comfortable, and feel vibrant even. As the two sat up and faced one another, he noticed the way Lark’s curls rebelled against moving too much, and the way his hair fell over his forehead a little. Landon wanted to reach out and push it away, ever so slightly– just enough to show more of the other’s fair face. But he refrained and  looked down instead, blissfully– and perhaps unfortunately– unaware of Lark’s private thoughts in regards to where he could be.

Lark’s admittance made Landon’s heart beat a faster, and his gaze came back up to meet the other’s. He was sure that if Lark drew any closer, his heart would jump right out of his chest into the other’s, and he’d give chase to it with his lips. There was a happy, curious wonder behind the other’s verdant gaze, and a small, easy smile appeared on his lips. “No. I don’t think it’s bad. I don’t think about time much at all when I’m with you, either,” he replied in kind, his voice a little quiet. “But raspberry peach melba is pretty damn tasty,” he quipped, chuckling quietly when Lark did. When he said he wanted to try it, Landon nodded and gazed at their hands. No jam could ever be as good as the honeyed sweetness of Lark’s company, but underneath it all, he needed a little time and space that allowed his mind a respite to process everything that transpired between them tonight.

The light taps to the back of his hand naturally coaxed him to turn his palm up, offering it just as the mirthful request came. Landon smiled, noting how different Lark seemed in the moment. Where he was normally withdrawn and contemplative, he was now playful and even a little mysterious. Landon felt absolutely charmed, and relinquished his hand easily to the slender fingers that sought it. Without question, he closed his dark blue gaze.

      rarely does lark share the intimate details of his experience; these intricacies, for good reason in his opinion, more often than not get sorted neatly away into the folds of his mind, some to be looked at and others to be forgotten. the fragile thought slips past his guard and he’s quick to move along, even with the knowledge that the sentiment isn’t his alone. he wonders, for a passing moment, what landon does think about when they’re together, though he supposes he knows enough for now.

      “melba,” the lowly hum lays to rest as easily as it comes—so that’s what he missed. one measured breath passes, and his mind wanders to a more promising affair; warmth trickles down from a hand delicately cradled in his. lonesome fingertips trail lghtly along soft palm creases. “you seem eager,” he mentions, if only to savor another moment’s worth of this gentle serenity. he might stall indefinitely if given the chance, but of course, he’s not so lucky. “i’m gonna write something in your hand, just... breathe, focus on the shapes. picture them if you can.” 

      as soothing as it is to hold landon’s hand in his, nerves of a softer variety drone on. he takes a moment to acknowledge the sensation this time around, and refocuses on the idle movement of his finger. the trailing comes to a stop in the center of landon’s palm, where lark begins to trace slow, careful letters over smooth skin; let me taste. his mind’s nowhere near the jam, no matter how much landon vouches for it. there are other things he wants to try first.

it’s easy to get swept up in somebody else, which is like... it’s normal to an extent, but sometimes the value we place on our relationships gets to be higher than the value we place on ourselves. 

i’ll forget to breathe, sometimes. it’s really awesome, i love it. 

i think about like... i think about hands a lot? i wouldn’t say they’re my favorite, like i don’t categorize body parts under like and dislike, but they’re cool to have.