"What would you like to eat?" I could hear my eagerness tinge at my voice, excited to do something for him, although I hated to cook. He looked at me with quizzical, dark eyes before he lifted the wine glass to his lips and swung the last sip of it down his throat. I swallowed as he did. His face suddenly changed, light and smiling. "Whatever you have, I'm not really that-"
"No," I stopped him jumping out of my chair. "We'll make something together, come on," I could see his resistance, shaking his head and insisting "no, no it's alright!" but I had already pulled him out of his seat. For nearly an hour, we danced around the kitchen, from the stove to the counter to the fridge, swaying next to each other at the sound of the music he had put on for us. It was beautiful and soft, like most of the songs he shared with me, a decade or two in age, like the wine we sipped, smooth voices sailing throughout the house, singing of summer and long nights and love. I engaged in doing most of the cooking, but I had him make our soup and salad. He was surprisingly sharp and fast with a knife.
And he was hungry, as I suspected him to be, eating quickly, so quickly I was afraid he would choke. I wasn't too hungry, having just ate dinner a few hours before his arrival, so I focused more on watching him instead. His jaw was strong and broad, clenching as he chewed. I felt as though as was dreaming, and many times did I have to remind myself that he was actually here, in my house. For me.
"This is good," he said with a mouth full of food, laughing at the sound of his own distorted voice and I smiled widely at the sound of the words. We talked about his flight and how he liked the city so far.. His eyes danced and glittered as he spoke. They were so alive, flickering like the black sky. He excused himself to the bathroom when he finished, and I put the dishes in the sink,washed my own hands, staring at my palms blankly, still processing he was here.  I turned the faucet off and pulled my sleeves down right to my hands, pushing my falling hair behind my ear and sighing before I went to go find him, preparing myself for another cascade of butterflies to be dropped inside of me.
He had left the bathroom and settled into the living room next to the fireplace. I smiled at the way he looked, laying on the rug with his arms underneath his head, his eyes closed. I crouched next to him, putting my hand on his chest, making his eyes flutter open, staring at me.
"Should I turn the fire on for you?" He smiled gently and nodded, his eyes still soft towards me. We left the warmth of the house to retrieve three logs and a matchbox from the shed. He wouldn't let me carry anything, so the logs rested in his arms, the matches between his teeth. "Don't crush them in your mouth," I said smiling. He bared his teeth at me, laughing. In a few minutes we were back inside, the fire blazing. He went back into the same position on the ground, sighing as his body eased once again. I sat against the couch on the floor, a few feet away from him.
I didn't want to talk in fear he was falling asleep, after all he'd been traveling all day, so I just watched him. His face was beautiful.. there was no other real word fitting enough for it. Dark eyelashes and impeccable bone structure, sculpted lips, a dark complexion like that of rich caramel or dark honey. His body was that of a God. Long limbs and a wide chest. Black jeans hung deliciously off of his waist, his soft grey sweater had been dragged up and I could see the carvings of his muscles in his torso and waist in his smooth skin. I cleared my throat and pulled my eyes away. It was like staring at a car crash.. I couldn't stop, but I felt like I had to.
"Why are you so quiet," I heard him say.
"You here right now is a lot of noise." I replied, unable to look at him. I hadn't noticed how nervous I was until this moment, now that the excitement of his arrival had died down.
He startled me as his upper body slowly rose off the ground and he crawled towards me, pulling me out of my position, saying "come here," while I laughed at the touch of his hands on my torso. Somehow I ended up on the rug next to him, still coming down from my laughter.
"Nicer like this, right?" He said, smiling at me with his beautiful, bright grin. It lit up even in the dark of the room. I was heavily aware of his body next to me, the way it fit next to mine, the warmth it radiated towards me. "Yes," I whispered, turning towards him. We talked for hours. His voice was captivating, pulling me into his stories as if I was there myself. The way he spoke was unnatural, almost as if he was reading from a book by a writer from the Heavens. I could have listened forever.
A pause came between us.
"Why did you come here?" I asked.
"I wanted to see you. I wanted to be with you."
I let the words soak through every pore of my body, like warm rain water. watching the flames' bright orange light flicker across the features of his face, My body fought between how nervous I was and how happy I was, both emotions burning throughout me as quickly as the fire next to us did. My eyes closed. Minutes passed, and I felt one arm go behind my head and the other under neath my legs. He seamlessly lifted himself and me off of the ground. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my head resting on shoulder. I was nearly asleep but I could hear his steady heart beat as he walked up my stairs, going into two different rooms before he found mine. He kicked the door open gently with his foot and came to the edge of my bed, removing one of his arms from under me, pulling my blanket off my mattress and laying me down carefully, covering me back up with it. I didn't feel him come into the bed for a while. I wanted to wait for him but I was painfully tired.. closing my eyes ready to fall asleep, an unnerving thought slithered through me. That I had dreamt the whole thing and he wasn't come back.
"Sevio," I sat up into bed.
"Sev!" I called out again, louder. Not even ten seconds past and he was back in my room, his shirt balled in his hand and his jeans unzipped and unbuttoned. He looked confused but concerned, and I immediately regretted what I had done. "Nothing, I thought-" I was lost staring at him, his arm against my door frame, his eyes laced with a very obvious need to know what I was thinking, as he always is.
"I thought I was dreaming," I said, uncertain laughter pouring out of me, my hands running through my hair. He smiled with furrowed eyebrows, unsure if I was being serious or not. "No, I'm here.." He said, his voice comforting.. and real. He was here. I swallowed and nodded, letting my head fall back against my pillow. He didn't move away from the door frame for a few seconds, though it felt like forever. But he did come, right to my bedside, on his knees.
"I'm here," he whispered, looking down at me, his hand touching my face, his thumb brushing against my jaw. My lips parted, wanting to kiss him. I itched for the taste of his own lips, the warmth of his mouth. He crawled over me suddenly, his arms on each side of me, looking down at me darkly. I shifted my legs underneath him, unable to breathe. His face came closer and closer to me, my lungs tightening with every inch he advanced. Please kiss me, already.