#the gay angel was 'corrupted' because he fell in love OOPS

[dadbodsarehot]

bliss;

rating: lets say like teen idk. references to sex and drugs ( like actual ones that exist. i dont count bliss thats fake. but if people on bliss bothers you dont read this either ) but nothing super explicit 

pairing: summerseed ( john x tobias ) 

words: 1442 

summary: this was supposed 2 be the baptism fic and then it literally just was not i have no idea what happened. its still gay though. tons of yearning in this one if youre into that. if youre not what are you doing on my blog. this fic was supposed to be funny and that also didnt happen so much?? idk man but im vibing w it 

----------x----------

John finds Tobias right where he left him.

His eyes are dark, tiny rings of brilliant gold around pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates, his wet hair sticking to his face in platinum yellow disarray. The Bliss had sunk it's hooks into him- unsurprisingly, with how long John had left him in the water. Shame seeps into him, but it's not long before embarrassment takes it's place. Tobias is staring at him, now, enraptured- like a blind man seeing for the first time.  

It makes an uneven heat rise to his cheeks. Surely it's all in his head. A symptom of his desire, the same grasping desire that had led him to kiss him when this had all started, before he had run away like a coward. All at once he remembered the soft feeling of him, wet and warm and pressed against his body, the give of his mouth and the taste of water and purity on his tongue, the gentle touch of his fingertips running barely-there through his hair. It had felt like coming home. Like waking up. What had it felt like for Tobias? He didn't dare hope that-

"You look like an angel."

The words break John's concentration on his inner monologue and bring a fresh round of heat to his face, quiet on the night air in the painful way that only Tobias could be quiet. Like his voice itself was an apology for it's existence. And yet, there is no apology for these words. No second guessing, no shyness, no anxiety- only a drug-fueled certainty so potent that it almost tempts him to believe he means it.

There's nothing he wouldn't give for him to mean it. To be the angel that he deserves, instead of the flawed and broken man that he is.

He clears his throat, looking away with the vague hope that if he doesn't see Tobias staring at him, the tension- real or imagined- between them would dissipate. It's no use, though; he can still feel those slivers of captured sunlight burning into him like holy fire.

"Have you seen many angels, Tobias?" The question isn't as confident as he wants it to be. What is he afraid of? That the answer will be yes?

Tobias shakes his head, slowly from side to side, his eyes still riveted on John.

"I didn't think they existed. Not really. But now I do. Now I'm sure that they do. Because I'm-" He blinks in a long, slow motion, swaying on his feet with a shiver as the wind blows through the valley. The desire inside John- to covet, to cherish, to hold, flares up hotter than the gaze leaving vulnerable, aching holes in him. Tobias opens his mouth to resume his sentence, but stops, brows furrowing. "Because I'm..."

"Because you're what?" He's riveted on the candy coated, drug-induced words, on him, on the possibilities. Too riveted. Too involved. Too hopeful. He hates what he hopes for, because he can never have it. And he wants it more than he's ever wanted anything- more than he used to want his next hit, more than he wanted salvation, more than he wants to keep breathing.  

"I.....forgot what I was gonna say." The laugh that follows should be nervous, would usually be nervous, but is instead delighted. "Oops."

John laughs with him, if only for a moment. What else can he do but laugh? It sure beats giving into despair, into the feeling wrenching itself through his gut like a knife. What did he want him to say? No matter what he had said, it wouldn't change anything. The towel that he brought him hangs forgotten in his hand until he wraps it around the small mans shoulders, who pulls it around himself appreciatively and rubs the corner slowly against his cheek. "You must be cold. I'm......sorry."

Another shake of his head- blessedly, his eyes slip closed while he takes a deep inhale of the worn fabric.

"No. I feel... I'm so warm. It just smells like you. I like it. I like it a lot. You're all over me, like this."

John curses the way his heart skips a beat, and curses even more the next words that slip out of his mouth. "Come home with me."

And now those eyes are looking at him again, sparkling in the moonlight like he had plucked the stars from the sky itself- if it was possible, he would think his pupils had dilated further. Tobias tilts his head to the side, and strands of slowly drying, tangled blonde tilt with it. "Home? With you?"

He realizes what that invitation sounds like, at least to himself, and backtracks. "It's late, and you need to sleep this off. Change into some dry clothes."

Tobias looks down at his shirt, like he hadn't realized it was soaked and clinging to him indecently before John had pointed it out. He's lucky; John wishes he could stop noticing it, could stop thinking about leaning over and kissing him again or about stripping it off of him to see his expanse of pale skin glow damp and unhindered in the moonlight. "Okay....but only if I can keep the towel, too."

Again, John laughs.

----x----

The ride home was quiet, filled with staring and starlit skies and nothing but the chirp of crickets and the hymns on the radio to keep them company. Luckily, it was easy enough to convince him to give up his wet towel when John bribed him with one of his shirts. Tobias lays in his own bed, now, a button up trailing halfway down his thighs, pupils still wide even under the fluorescent lights. In another lifetime, they would both be under the influence. In another lifetime, he would pin him there, would leave marks on him, would corrupt this innocent thing with his own desire to fill his holes. In another lifetime, Tobias would be his.

But this is the only life he has, now- and it's one he should be grateful for. One he is grateful for.  

John covers him up delicately and turns to leave. And he would have left, too, were there not suddenly a hand tugging at his shirt, keeping him in place.

"Stay with me this time?"

John knows he should say no. He wants to say yes. It'd be selfish to say no; it'd be selfish to say yes. Was staying a gift for Tobias, or himself? No doubt he would regret falling asleep next to him when the morning came and the haze of Bliss fell like scales from his sunlit eyes. Would it be wrong, to enjoy being close to him in the time before that? He tried to think of what Joseph would do, if put in a similar situation, and all at once was sure he would say no. That he would pull out of the weak grasp on him, twist free from the bindings this man had slyly attached to his traitor heart, and spend the night on the couch regretting it.

It was the right thing to do.

But he is not Joseph, and he realizes in the next instant when he is already flipping off the light and sliding under the covers next to Tobias that he is not someone who does the right thing, either.

The younger man's body once more presses in against his own- if he's aware of the too-fast rhythm of his heart when he lays his head against his chest, he doesn't say anything. John can almost feel him smile when he wraps his arms around him like second nature- another product of his overactive imagination, he's sure.

"I remembered what I was going to say. Earlier. About the angels." It's muffled by his own chest, and growing smaller by the minute as sleep and relaxation easily take him.

"Maybe you should tell me in the morning." His heart squeezes painfully. Tobias' arm wraps around his waist, his fingers caressing his back in what felt to him like agonizing decadence. In the morning, he would pull away from him, as he should; Tobias, he can tell, is someone who does do the right thing. He would not think about the morning right now.

"I believe in angels...." He yawns, precious and small, and nuzzles his still damp hair against John's chest, mumbling the end of his sentence. It's almost incomprehensible, taken by sleep and drugs. But John chooses, for better or for worse, to believe what he only thought he had heard.

Just for tonight, he will say yes to this, too.  

"Because I'm in love with one."

#my writing #you're a revelation #pov fics kick my ass but i love hitting myself w heavy things until i die #anyway my bf said this was good so here i am #posting it #parkour bro #you ever depressed?? easy fix #just write almost 1500 words about a man you love yearning for you JKFLDSJKFL