Stuart falls silent at this declaration. He suddenly isn't angry. "What?" he asks softly, worrying that Anish might break into laughter, that he was merely making a cruel joke.
But he doesn't. Instead, a tear rolls down Anish's face, and he says, "All of this... it means nothing. I don't need the black, or the pink or any other stupid fucking color." He cards a hand through his hair and sighs, "God, I'm so stupid."
Stuart's heart skips a beat. For some reason, he doesn't question Anish's words anymore. The raw emotion he was witnessing from the man was... startling. All this time, he'd thought they were enemies, bitter rivals.
And yet here they were.
Before Stuart can even comprehend trying to respond, Anish sniffles and tells him, "I should go." He fumbles for his belongings, discarded on the studio floor, looking so vulnerable and broken.
"No," Stuart finds himself saying, causing Anish to pause in his rush, "I... I don't want you to."
Anish straightens and wipes at his eyes, "Why? After everything I've done to you how can you stand to be near me for another second?"
Stuart swallows hard, feeling a deep ache in his chest at Anish's self hatred. "I didn't know why you did all that. How could I? Besides, I... I shouldn't have let it go so far. They're just colors, and I didn't realize what was... really happening."
Anish scoffs, "What was "really happening". Why do you feel the need to shame me?"
"No, that's not what I mean at all, Anish!"
"Then what do you mean?"
Stuart can't help himself from kissing the other man. It's sudden and Anish stumbles a bit, his hand's landing on Stuart's lower back.
They break away, all flushed cheeks and heavy breathing. Anish stares at him in shock and Stuart smiles before whispering, "The blackest of all blacks is nothing compared to you."
