K Mag, Andrzej Seweryn

Harder Darker Freer Lover

He didn't push, he didn't rush anything, but he cared. 

Gideon cared about Jake so much, he'd found himself popping in here and there, but when he'd knocked--and found the door open--he'd gotten a bit worried, quietly padding through the house in his stocking feet to try to find his boyfriend (was that what they were? That's what Gideon wanted them to be, but he was taking it slow, because he cared so much, loved Jake even.) That's when he'd found him, asleep on a painting, face covered in paint, everything covered in paint.  He stood back, examining the painting. "T'his one is more abstract, isn't it? Isn't t'he point t'hat it doesn't look 'right'?" It shouldn't be a language barrier thing, but he's not sure he understands, and he finds most of Jake's work so beautiful anyway, this one, even with the obvious face mark near the bottom corner of the woman's shoulder gives it character. "It's still beautiful, even if you were trying for somet'hing else." 

And Jake's up, he's taking him into the bedroom, rifling through the man's dresser to find him some fresh clothes. "Here, change, you can't sleep covered in paint. I'll leave t'he room, close t'he door and you tell me when to come back, ja?" Gideon leans forward and kisses his forehead. That's when he notices the tears, the fear. He's on his knees in front of him, taking paint covered hands into his own, holding them to his chest. They hadn't done much together, but when asked, he doesn't hesitate with his answer.