#wtock

“Cliche?” he repeated, sipping his wine. “That word usually means death in art circles.”

Robbe grinned and Sander couldn’t help thinking how goddamn beautiful he was. He’d known it since the first time he’d seen Robbe, all those months ago, but he was still struck sometimes by how much he could love Robbe.

“Mulled wine at a Christmas market,” Robbe said, gesturing around them. “Can’t get more cliche than that.”

“It’s romantic,” Sander protested, sliding his arms around Robbe’s neck instead, catching the way his eyebrow went up, almost challenging. “Twinkly lights, crisp, cold air, delicious food, and a beautiful boy to round it out.”

Even in the dark, he saw the blush on Robbe’s cheeks, but Robbe didn’t shove him away, tugging him in closer by his jacket.

“It is romantic,” Robbe agreed finally, and Sander couldn’t resist kissing him, careful not to let his wine spill as he pulled Robbe closer with his free hand.

“Should we go ice skating?” Sander asked when Robbe finally broke away to exhale against his chin, leaning into him, and Sander couldn’t help smiling at Robbe’s weight against him. It felt so natural, like this was how it was supposed to have been all along.

He and Britt had never really gone together. There had been a moment, early on, where maybe he’d thought. But with Robbe, something had clicked that this was how it should be. It should always have been Robbe’s tiny frame leaned against his, the scent of Robbe’s hair in his nose, the feel of his old, puffy jacket under Sander’s hand as he slid his arm around Robbe’s waist.

Robbe smiled at the question, biting his bottom lip as he glanced over at the ice rink set up in the middle of the market.

“Do you know how to ice skate?” he asked, and Sander pretended to be insulted.

“Of course I don’t,” he assured Robbe, tugging him toward the rink. “Which is why this is going to be a disaster.”

Robbe laughed, but he let Sander pull him along.

He was so lucky, Sander thought as he glanced back at Robbe, hand in his. He was so lucky Robbe had walked into that warehouse that night, that he’d come to the beach that weekend. He was lucky Robbe was here with him right now, eyeing the rink uncertainly, meeting Sander’s gaze, warm and soft and filled with a love Sander had never really felt before.

“What?” Robbe asked when Sander looked too long, standing at the side of the rink, not paying attention to the other people on the ice.

“I love you, you know,” Sander said, serious for a second, pressing his forehead to Robbe’s. He could just barely see Robbe’s smile in return.

“I love you too,” Robbe murmured, leaning up to kiss him softly, as though he wasn’t afraid anymore. Sander didn’t get to deepen the kiss, tilt his head and lick into Robbe’s mouth as Robbe pulled back, finishing what was left of his wine. “You sure you want to try this?” He nodded at the rink.

Sander nodded simply. “I want to try everything with you.”

Robbe didn’t blush this time, tossing his cup in the trash and taking Sander’s hand.