#e writes

Romcom is becoming a bit serious, but I'm glad the muse is back after a couple of harsh days.

“He’s a hard man, your dad.”

“Hard as a hand he raised us with.” Robert says without thinking and Aaron’s expression morphs into a frown, and Robert backtracks so fast he might as well get a whiplash, “He’s a tough guy, I mean.” he clears his throat, “Would you like to go to the town for a few? Nothing crazy, I’m not that much into day drinking, but-” his brain actually freezes now, and Aaron watches him for a moment, intense and searching, before giving him a slow nod.

“Alright, then.”

They go back to the living room, where Aaron announces that he’s stealing Robert away, taking all responsibility for their early exit.

“Thank you for the lovely meal. You have a wonderful home.” his arm drapes around Robert’s shoulders as if it was created to do so, “No wonder-” he tugs Robert closer, looks at him in a way that could honestly earn him a BAFTA, “- no wonder that you raised such an amazing son in here.” he says before leaning in, the touch of his lips just a brush against Robert’s, and yet it feels spine-splintering, oddly genuine and almost not like an act at all.

This week doesn't bring joy, but I had a short but nice writing session with 'get somebody to be your always', so here it comes.

“Will be a second, mate.” a disheveled bartender who looks barely over eighteen murmurs apologetically, and Aaron nods at him, embarrassed by a surge of annoyance he feels. He needs to get a grip. He needs to calm down, so maybe then he will start sleeping through the nights properly and stop acting like an idiot. 

Aaron is an idiot and he is selfish, and he can’t help himself - he turns around, and his stomach drops while his heart swells and jumps into his throat.

The chair Aaron has left maybe three minutes ago is now occupied by some bloke wearing a green button up and a charming smile. His hair is dark and soft-looking, and he’s leaning towards Robert with his elbows resting on the table, and something swirls in Aaron’s, hot and dark and paralysing. 

His blood thuds in his ear, the pulsing of his own heartbeat mixing with music, and Aaron can barely hear through it, barely registers the bartender tapping his shoulder, gesturing at the ready pints. The glasses are cold and slippery, and Aaron’s fingers feel weak and unsure in the way he isn’t used to. 

He doesn’t know what to do. 

Aaron’s gaze trails the line of Robert’s shoulders, notices that the sleeves of his shirt are now rolled up, and his mouth burns bitterly. He can’t see Robert’s face, and for one insane moment Aaron debates just staying back for a while longer. But then, the bloke leans even closer, his smile flickering with something warm and intimate, and Aaron feels insane with the need to drag this man as far away from Robert as possible.

I've survived the 6h drive across the country in my old blue rocket (23 yo VW Polo), brain melted and desire for robron very strong, so here we go with the romcom! Holiday was good for the muse, crying that it's over.

“It was different with Max, you know. Because we were friends first. I didn't even know how it happened. I just once looked at him over one of the tables downstairs, and I just knew. The oh, it's you moment.”

It's so bittersweet, it makes Robert's tongue tingle.

“Were you together for long?”

“Four years.” Robert breathes out through his nose slowly, “We lived together, were talking about moving away for a while, figuring our future out. Or I was thinking about the future, at least, him not that much since he dumped me out of the blue.”

Now, that hurts still, a little bit.

“Honestly, I should have seen this coming. Never was very loveable, me. I still think I deserved better than it's not you it's me horseshit, though.”

Aaron is quiet for a moment, and Robert feels silly in this pathetic, laughable way.

“I'm sorry.” Aaron offers, soft and compassionate, and Robert's eyes start to burn.

He turns to his side, feels Aaron shuffling on the other half of the bed, and he can't remember the last time he felt so incredibly lonely.

“It’s good to see you.” Robert says, the love swelling honestly in his chest, “Vic, um, this is-” he turns his head, oddly relieved that Aaron is still here, a pleased smile on his face, “This is Aaron. Aaron, Vic.”

“The famous sister.” Aaron says smoothly and Vic’s smile turns blinding.

“I wish I could say the same, but this one here-” she pokes Robert’s ribs unnecessarily hard, “Barely tells me anything!”

“What can I say, I like my man mysterious.” Aaron adds with a wink and Robert might pay him extra if he keeps on delivering bangers like that.

“I need to know everything-” Vic starts, but is interrupted by Matty, who appears to kiss her on the cheek, masterfully handling four drinks, hugging them to his chest.

“Give them a breath.” he says fondly, tilting his chin down, and Robert picks a pint from his arms, “I’ve bumped into Diane, she told me to leave your bags upstairs, apparently you’re staying here at the pub, yes?”

Blood rushes to his cheeks, his fingers hurting from how his grip tightens around the glass. His stress didn’t kill him, but embarrassment just might. He comes back after years and he won’t even be able to stay at home. His room has probably been turned into a gym or something, so Andy can do his push-ups and gloat about occupying yet another space that used to be Robert's.

Aaron doesn’t wait for the water in the shower to heat up, letting himself shiver, letting the heat be washed out and swirl down the drain like any last remain of his strength, and he sways on his feet, his forehead bumping against the shower wall, his hands a second too late as he places them on the tiles, unable to stop the blow. 

We should come and say our goodbyes. 

Say goodbye. 

Robert is dying. Aaron’s mind is free of his presence, of the horrible, pale shadow made of something stronger than anything he has ever felt before. 

Robert is dying, and Aaron should be glad; instead, he’s barely able to breathe.