Blue Canvas, Open Door
The loft smelled like turpentine and old dreams. Adrian sat beneath the dim glow of a naked bulb, sleeves rolled up to reveal his pale wrists, while Nico stood in the hallway with a bottle of wine and a nervous smile. Adrian had known Nico for a month and ten days, enough time to watch him slowly unravel the performance he presented to the rest of the group: charming, guarded, smiling at the edges of every sentence.
Nico said he was going to play it cool, but his hands kept brushing against the wall. Adrian wondered if he could remember the last time he'd been invited to a party where people actually knew who they liked. Adrian liked him, in the way he liked a lot of people, but Nico had been circling around the edges of attraction, staying just shy of crossing the threshold. Adrian liked that he was trying. Adrian liked that he was trying to be better.
The loft had become their place. Nico rented the space for a private get-together, not because he had roommates, but because he liked the sound of empty walls. Adrian arrived with a bottle of wine and two reasons for being there: one because he liked Nico, and two because he had been secretly hoping Nico would say something. Nico liked him too, Adrian realized, not because he thought Adrian was good-looking, but because he liked the idea of being known.
"Do you think they'll notice if we stare at the same painting for too long?" Nico asked, stepping into the loft with a glass of wine. Adrian looked up from the canvas and smiled. Nico had chosen a painting of a woman with dark hair, blue lips, and a gaze that seemed to follow them. Adrian liked the woman, disliked the artist, and suspected Nico had chosen it on purpose.
"Yeah, I think they will," Adrian said. "But if they do, they'll notice we are both ignoring the party."
Nico laughed softly. Adrian liked that sound, the warmth of it, the way it warmed through his chest. Nico liked him, Adrian decided. Nico liked him enough to stay, enough to be brave, enough to say he liked Adrian, even if Adrian wasn't entirely ready. Adrian liked that Nico was brave. Adrian liked that Nico trusted him enough to be honest. Adrian liked that Nico trusted him to stay.
The party downstairs buzzed with laughter and the low murmur of good conversation, but upstairs, the silence felt different. Adrian set his wineglass aside and watched Nico's reflection in the window. Nico had chosen the loft because it let people pretend they weren't listening, but Adrian liked that Nico chose him anyway. Adrian liked that Nico chose him over the party, the anonymity, the safety. Nico stayed because he liked him, because he trusted Adrian enough not to leave. Adrian liked that honesty. Adrian liked that Nico trusted him with the truth.
Nico wandered over to the window and stood beside Adrian. The city lights seemed to shimmer under the practical lamplight, reflecting on the glass. Adrian stayed quiet for a moment, watching the way Nico's fingers curled around the edge of the frame, then moved to Adrian's wrist where Adrian had rested his hand. Nico looked at Adrian and smiled, a real smile, not performance. Adrian liked that smile because it looked tired, like Nico had been holding it in for longer than he should have. Adrian liked that Nico finally let it go.
"Do you want to leave?" Adrian asked. Nico hesitated. Adrian knew the question was loaded. Nico liked leaving because it let him pretend he could walk away, that he could stay guarded, that he could leave Adrian behind. Adrian liked Nico because he chose to stay. Adrian liked Nico because he chose Adrian over the party. Nico liked Adrian because he trusted him not to leave. Adrian liked that honesty. Adrian liked that Nico trusted him to be brave.
Nico stayed put, even though the invitation had been open for leaving. Adrian liked that Nico understood the question without needing to explain. Nico liked being brave in small ways, and Adrian liked watching him do it: the way he chose honesty over performance, the way he admitted what he wanted without making it sound complicated. That was what Adrian liked best. That honesty. The party below continued, distant now, like the soundtrack to a memory Adrian had chosen not to leave. Nico's hand still rested against Adrian's wrist, warm and deliberate, and Adrian liked that Nico did not remove it.
The loft looked abandoned except for the untouched wine and the empty chair beside Adrian. Nico's gaze moved from Adrian's face to the untouched canvas across the room. Adrian watched him watch it, waiting for the question mark that had been trailing behind Nico's every move. Nico finally asked, not plainly, not with the caution Adrian had come to expect, but with the same care Adrian used when choosing a sentence. "Do you think I'm brave for staying?" he said. Adrian liked that question because it did not sound performative. Nico did not ask if Adrian approved. Nico did not ask if Adrian approved of him. Nico asked if Adrian approved of Nico staying because he wanted the same care Adrian had chosen for himself.
Adrian liked that Nico admitted wanting the same care. Nico liked staying because he trusted Adrian not to leave. Adrian liked that. Nico liked Adrian because Adrian trusted him. Adrian liked that. Nico liked that. Adrian liked that. Nico looked at Adrian then, really looked at him, not through him, not around him, not with the caution of someone who understood that leaving was allowed, leaving was safe, leaving was fair game. Nico looked at Adrian with the care of someone who chose honesty because it frightened him less. Adrian liked that fear because it made Nico realer. Adrian liked that Nico trusted him.