#* ft. florian

     “YOU STILL HAVE this up?” arlo’s pointing to a wall in florian’s room— it’s covered in pieces of paper that contain sketches of the parisian skyline, each 8.5x11’ paper forming the bigger picture with the eiffel tower in the forefront. arlo had even poked holes in the pictures so dainty fairy lights could poke through and twinkle, as if the city were alive. the lights are off at the moment but the pictures still hang. he figures it’s probably a pain in the ass to take them down but he also likes the idea of florian liking something he’s done. it’s not all that fantastic, in arlo’s opinion— it took days to actually do, and he’s much more skilled at sketching portraits rather than buildings and landscape. he’d sketched it for florian as a birthday present and even had someone sneak him into the house after florian left for vienna, so he could see it upon coming home. it kind of warms arlo’s heart to know the man hasn’t taken it down yet, kind of like how florian has yet to take off the necklace that arlo gave him what seems like ages ago.

     HE KEEPS TELLING himself to keep his cool but the fact of the matter is, arlo has it pretty bad for florian. but alas, there’s a lot of factors going into their... whatever this is you’d call it. he has to ease back into it with caution, given the fact that florian had arlo’s heart in his hands and had the power to so easily shatter it with just a mere lie, arlo’s certain he has to be more careful now. and it’s hard, you know? it’s hard to love timidly when throwing yourself into such a thing is all you know. and it’s rather sick, but arlo and florian taking things as they come is only making arlo more lovesick than before. it’s like a school boy crush, the way his heart races when he sees the man’s face. of course, he can’t quite see it right now as he lays on the ground in florian’s bedroom, allowing for a tiny kitten to walk across his chest. arlo’s laughing as it happens— as someone who has never really had a pet, he sure loves other people’s and little marie antoinette is absolutely no exception.

     HOW IRONIC IT is to look at something so beautiful that you want it to be the last thing you ever look at, yet at the same time, you want to see it burst into flames. fresh air was much needed for arlo just a few days after the halloween party— it was a fun time, but he’s the kind of person to dwell on one negative aspect and let it control him. despite getting drunk and having fun with his friends, arlo can’t shake the fact that those words— je ne t’aime pas— actually were uttered from florian agreste’s lips. to be fair, arlo had beckoned the confession out of him but it didn’t mean it hurt any less. it makes him want to skip town. lay low. disappear for a little.

but now he’s flipping through his sketchbook to take a stab at a scenic drawing. while he flips through the pages, he passes the very first few sketches he’d ever done of florian, those days in which he was desperate to have any time with the other man, have any excuse to look at him for a long period of time. but now, looking down at that face feels wrong, like it doesn’t belong to arlo anymore and thus shouldn’t be in his possession. he wants to throw it out; god, all he wants to do is rip it up and throw it in the trash like confetti stuck on the floor after a party but he knows he can’t. he could never do that to florian, not even after everything the man had put him through.

lick- sihyun. part of me is inclined to say sam but it’d be a big reach, literally. maybe leo? is he into that? someone let me know, it’s for science

suck- florian. desole, mon amour. i know he’d turn red if he knew i said that but i’m just being honest.

bite- roman. i have a feeling he’d like it? a consented bite, of course. i’m not a monster

     TIME SEEMS TO slow. and here’s the thing: time can’t fucking slow down, it’s the most constant thing this world knows. and yet the thought, the sound, the sight of florian agreste seems to make arlo question everything he’s ever known about the functions of the universe. and perhaps he’s being dramatic— after all, arlo tends to catch feelings quickly and messily, to the point that it engulfs his consciousness and molds his behavior like a lump of clay. things between them are so fucking delicate that arlo’s afraid to use the wrong words— hell, he’s afraid to speak louder than a whisper. he’s finishing a cigarette: a real sign of how stressed he is. he’s grateful that florian had agreed to meet up after arlo had quite unapologetically stated that they needed to talk. because, well, they do.

there’s a lot to unpack between the two: the fact that florian admitted he was falling in love with arlo despite having a very public girlfriend is just the tip of the iceberg, but it’s definitely the thought that’s weighing the heaviest on him. sitting on the beach late at night, the moon watching from high above him, arlo looks up as he hears footsteps. he puts his cigarette out in the sand and watches as florian sits next to him. “mon amour,” he greets him. “est-ce que tu m'évites?” his voice comes out small as he asks the question, almost terrified to even speak the thought into existence. “if you didn’t mean what you said at the fundraiser, florian,” he fidgets a bit in his spot, shifting his weight and turning to face the heartbreakingly beautiful man next to him. “we can fix this. we can just go–”

     ARLO REGRETFULLY HASN’T stopped thinking about florian agreste ever since he got that faithless text that broke things off between them. the thought made him sick, the heartache so strong he could taste it in the back of his throat like smoke exiting his lungs. if life has managed to teach arlo one thing it’s that love isn’t easy, no matter who claims otherwise. it’s this ruthless beast that grabs you by the throat and squeezes until you can’t breathe, then drops you mercilessly to the ground in the dark while you scramble to get your bearings. and he’s trying, you know? he’s trying so hard to just move on and keep himself busy until he forgets to feel the pain in his chest. but of course, kaos is a small place and arlo knew very well he’d see florian and when he does, his heart grows so heavy he thinks he’ll collapse. it’s while he’s at the edge of the bar, sipping on a gin and tonic while dancing with a group of friends and people he’s never met before.

[ groom ] your muse adjusting mine’s appearance , such as straightening a tie , fixing their hair , or buttoning their shirt for them , etc .

    ARLO KNOWS NOT one thing about fashion. and it’s ironic, isn’t it? that he’s ended up getting involved with a man whose life revolves around such a thing? he can appreciate it, of course, and he learns more every day just from watching florian. as he steps out of the dressing room, decked in a pair of navy slacks, a matching blazer and a soft powder blue button-down, arlo’s squinting his eyes and trying his best to analyze it. after all, he tried his best picking this one out. his eyes meander down florian’s body and land on the ends of the shirt, untucked from his slacks. he takes a few steps forward and without warning, starts tucking the shirt into his waistline all around. reaching the front, arlo raises his brows and presses his lips together as maybe his hand lingers a little too long but he pulls away and unbuttons two of the top buttons of the shirt.

“qu'est-ce que tu penses?”