31

Swinging their connected hands in the air between them, Winston and Jason leaves behind the restaurant their latest date had been at. It's late; night has already fallen. The sky is pitch black, the streetlights on är full force, the air cold. When he exhales, a cloud of smoke escape.

Winston has mittens on—Jason doesn't. Despite the late hour the streets aren't exactly deserted - it's a Friday night and the city is alive.

Winston says, "My apartment is kind of lonely," an continuation of a preexisting conversation.

Jason looks at him, then, nodding. "It's fine," he says and smiles, eyes bright under the streetlight, "my dorm is big and the guys are cool. So don't worry about it." He even winks.

Winston ducks his head, staring down at his feet. Is faced with his ratty old shoes that can barely handle winter. Bites his lip, and stays quiet for a long moment. Tries to think of a good turn of phrase to explain his reasoning, but it all rings hollow. He scuffs his foot on the ground, lips downturning.

"Do you worry about it?" Jason asks.

Winston looks up at him. Jason isn't smiling, expression flat without crossing into serious. He's eyes are square on Winston, and they've stopped moving, Winston notes. They're right below a tall streetlight, their shadows stretching out on the dark gray asphalt. When he breathes, the cold air stings his nose, the smell of gasoline on the air.

There's a metal bench not far and Winston moves towards it before his mind catches up with his intentions. He sits. Looks up at Jason, and moves to make room.

Jason joins him, Winston pressing his lips together tightly as he bends his head under the weight of Jason's attention.

"I don't want anyone to ever enter the apartment. And we're dating, so-" Jason hums in the pause, Winston inhaling sharply. He continues, "So isn't it a problem?"

"No," declares Jason.

Winston blinks. His eyebrows furrow, his mouth opening to say—something. Jason shakes his head and continues before Winston can intervene, saying, "You don't want me there. It doesn't matter what the reason is; if you're hiding something, have nosy neighbors, have a pet turtle you've kept secret. What matters is, the idea of me going there makes you uncomfortable. So I won't."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

Winston looks down at his lap. His hands are connected, pressing harshly into each other. He bites his lip, brows heavily furrowed. Clenched his eyes shut, and murmurs, "That's it?"

"Winston, I don't ever want you to be uncomfortable. If there's something I can do to ensure you're not, of course I'll do it. I really like you, you know." Jason is looking at him; Winston can feel it.

Winston licks his lips. He turns his face in the other direction, staring at a bush and a rusting trashcan full to the brim. He doesn't know what his facial expression is doing right now, hut he doesn't want it to be seen.

Seconds pass. Then minutes. Winston's breathing slow, after a while. His hands relax in his lap, and he sinks into the seat with soft breaths, chest rising and falling in a steady pattern. Looking up at the sky, he tries to spot a star. Can't find one, and so he looks to Jason, the man in turn looking right back at him.

"I really like you too, you know," murmurs Winston into the night between them.

Jason's smile is a small thing, and Winston's heart skips a beat. Eye-contact is in general not something that Winston has ever felt one thing or another about, but with Jason it's electric; lightning shoots up his spine and he holds his breath. Until his lungs ache, and then he inhales on a large note.

"I know," says Jason after so long that Winston has nearly forgotten what they're talking about, lost in Jason's beautiful eyes.

Winston blinks, breaking their eye-contact.

Standing, he brushes his hands on his thighs and smiles down at Jason. "Let's go?" he tilts his head in the direction to the bus station.

Jason follows him up, humming in agreement. It smoothly transitions into a song, a melody that with ups and downs that Winston doesn't recognize. They walk, again, a meandering pace that hardly gets them anywhere at all. But the night is clear---despite the lack of stars---and the air is cold but pleasant on his warm cheeks.

"What are you humming?" he asks after a moment, once he's listened for a while but is still unable to place it, and Jason stops.

"Sorry," Jason says, voice subdued, "I didn't realize I was doing it."

Winston glances at him, observing the slope of Jason's shoulders. "You're voice is beautiful," he says, catching the hitch in Jason's breath. He spots the rising flush on his cheeks, the steam in the air as Jason exhales in a ragged manner.

Licking his lips, Winston asks, "What song is it? Do you like it?"

Jason stares straight ahead for a moment, not even glancing at him, and finally says, "It's Pixie Boy by The Luminous Ghosts." His gaze skips over Winston quickly, and then he looks ahead again. Into thin air.

Winston wonders what he sees.

"And yeah," Jason murmurs, "I love it."

Winston tries to hum a few of the notes Jason repeated over and over again, but his his voice can't quite go that high. "I've never heard of them," he says after his futile attempt.

Jason blushes, bites his lip. Looks at Winston from below thick eyelashes, fluffy hair [what's Jason's hair-color?!] falling over his forehead and his plush lips twist into a small smile. He shrugs, then says, "The Luminous Ghosts is a gothic band doing mostly soft metal and rock and ballads. A lot of more gentle tones, kind of country and jazz but like... with an edge, you know. Kind of dark."

Jason looks at Winston's expression, and he shrugs again. "I like them," he mutters, lips down-turned.

Winston moves a little closer and knocks their shoulders together. "Play me something?" he asks, looking up at Jason from below his eyelashes. They're not nearly as pretty as Jason and the effect can't possibly be that good, but Jason reacts as though it is. He stares at Winston, gaze unreadable for a second, and then nods.

Winston smiles.

Jason pulls his phone out of his pocket, digging a pair of cordless earphones (?) out after, and hands them to Winston. While Winston is putting them in his ears---absentmindedly wondering how cordless headphones even work; is it like radios---Jason fiddles with the phone, tapping and swiping on the screen until music plays in Winston's ears.

He does recognize it. It's the same melody Jason was just humming, the chorus identical in rhythm, and Winston smiles on a puff of breath.

Closes his eyes and lets the music wash over him.

When the song has ended, he pulls the earpieces [what are they called??!] out and returns them, grabbing Jason's hand when Jason takes them. Jason freezes, and Winston looks at their hands. His mittens look a little ridiculous against Jason's bare skin, actually.

"It's a nice song," he says, glancing up at Jason.

Jason gulps. "I think so," he says, scrolling through the music app on his phone. "Want to hear another one?"

"Yeah," Winston grins.

Jason blushes---oh so prettily---and he shifts his grip on the earphones to clasp Winston's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and then lets go. Winston puts the earphones back in, folds his arm around Jason's, and breathes out a cloud of smoke.