“Nicolàs's hands slid to his hair, letting dark curls tangle between his fingers. Peter’s feelings had been messy before; now, with the warmth of these lips against the heat of his own, they were chaos. Chaos, an earnest and utterly chaotic entropy, yet nothing like the destructions of storms and arsons. That chaos, he knew. This was different.
It was harmless, and lovely. The quiet disorder of old shipwrecks, of wild flowers and paint-stained fingers, of vibrant mosaics covered in scarlet sand. It was Nicolàs — who was so honest and so brave, stupidly selfless in every choice he made — and Peter — a mess of a man who'd forgotten long ago what happiness felt like.
He'd forgotten, but kisses like that, abandons of heat and warmth and aching tenderness, kissing Nicolàs had to come close to the real thing. An echo, a trace. A little bit of make-believe.
But it was a good bye kiss, still.”
I saw this [reference] and immediately thought of the “kiss under the rain” scene in Letters from the Underside. (Idk how to draw raindrops? at all? and i didn’t have the patience to spend more than a couple of hours on it, but other than that it was fun!)