// spark //

"You don't smoke."

Chris leans against the wall and watches Justin, hands cupped around the lighter. A quick flick-hiss, a tiny twist of blue-orange flame, his eyes narrowing to slits as he draws in deeply.

"I do now." A curl of smoke twining around his words, and he won't meet Chris' eyes.

"Of course." Chris pushes himself away from the cool stucco, and walks over to the half-open sliding door. "All part of the new, improved you." The room has a spectacular view of the ocean, the deep blue of the water curving sullenly into the paler blue of the sky, unbroken by cloud nor wave. Flat and smooth as glass, harsh and slickbright, and it hurts his eyes after just a few seconds.

"Fuck you." Spoken low, at his shoulder, and when he turns, Justin's looking right at him. Close enough to smell pale ash-gray breath, close enough to see even the barest lie touch his lips, but he won't, Chris knows, not anymore.

"Why now?" he asks, and watches Justin's eyes flutter closed like they've done a thousand times before on a thousand other days. But this time- this time Chris feels something deep inside shift and change and fall neatly into place, and he waits. He's already waited a long time; he can wait a few minutes more.

Justin is silent for a moment, and then he flicks away the half-smoked cigarette, watching it drift to the ground. "Because I think I'm in love," he says, and when he turns, sunlight freeze-frames his silhouette in burnished bloodgold.

"Then you should go to her," Chris says softly, running his thumb over the curve of Justin's throat, and he can feel the pulse skittering just beneath the warm skin.

Justin's hands flutter in mid-air for barely a moment before wrapping around Chris', pulling him closer, holding them in place, and the kiss is clumsy and awkward and not how it's supposed to end at all.

say you don't want it again and again but you don't really mean it

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