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Julian feels so ungraceful, straddling Landon.
It’s not that he’s unhappy with the situation; if anything, he’s ecstatic to the point of being numb. But looking down at Landon, who’s stretched out below him and all angles and sharp edges...he seems so relaxed compared to Julian. So much more comfortable with someone above him, looking down at him, with someone else’s hands resting on his chest. Julian’s hands.
Which are decidedly unlike Landon’s, whose hands are rougher and thinner, made for cooking and playing instruments and undoing the buttons of pants. He’s used to it, used to laying around in beds with other people. Julian isn’t; he’s used to the comfort of his own dorm and bed, with the sounds of Isaiah snoring on the far side of the room. Being so close to someone else seems so unnatural and foreign. His hands don’t feel like his hands, even if he can look down and see them, pale and pressed against Landon. The euphoric edge Julian felt only moments ago begins to fade, and the ache of his own nerves begins to replace it.
Even then, it’s more than his hands that feel so out of place. Julian is round and fat where Landon isn’t, short where he’s tall. The redhead’s so much more attractive that he can scarcely understand why he even wants Julian this close to him, above him, able to see him. It still feels faintly like a long-running joke, with a punchline Julian’s unable to understand. It would make more sense than someone feeling anything affectionate towards him; even if Landon hardly makes sense to him at the best of times, this seems beyond his normal antics.
Julian feels something wrap around his wrist. Looking at it, he sees Landon’s hand holding it gently. “Are you alright, Juls?”
No, he really isn’t. He opens his mouth to tell him that he is fine, though, before stopping; Landon told him before, a few weeks ago, that he should at least try to explain himself instead of just...shutting out everyone else. Julian wonders if Landon wishes he would have done this, years ago.
So instead, he looks up at Landon’s face. It’s flushed faintly, the red in his cheek pale in comparison to his hair. His eyes are trained on Julian’s face, patient and curious. Julian realizes that Landon actually cares about him. He already knew this, but being able to read it so easily on his face sends another shot of anxiety through him.
“I’m really nervous about this,” is all Julian says to him. Being here, this close, the suggestion of what could happen...all of it just feels so overwhelming to him, but worse of all is the possibility he could disappoint Landon.
Landon removes his hand from Julian’s wrist, and he realizes that he has disappointed Landon, that he’s moving to lay away from him, sit in another room, anything to get away from Julian. Tears well up in his eyes; they’ve hardly been like this for ten minutes, and he’s already ruined it.
He feels a hand on his cheek, and he feels sick as he looks up. Landon’s not looking upset, or angry, but worried. Moving to be close to Julian, not away. “If you’re not ready to do anything, Julie, we don’t have to tonight.”
Julian scrunches his nose up at the nickname. “I want to, though!” he says, desperately, because he really does want to go farther than this, farther than laying together and looking at each other. He wants to be as close to Landon as he can be, closer than he thought he’d ever want to be with another person, and he’s stuck worrying whether or not he’s good enough to be. It’s pathetic, and a small sob escapes Julian. He’s pathetic.
“Hey, none of that.” Another hand, now, under his chin. Pulling up his face so that Landon can look at him. “It’s fine, we have plenty of time. Another night waiting for my princess isn’t going to kill me, you know,” Landon says teasingly, poking a finger gently into his cheek. “Whenever you’re ready, you know I’m going to be waiting until that moment.”
“I’m tired of keeping you waiting for me, Landon,” Julian tells him. After years of running from him, ignoring him, he wants to make up for it. But he’s not ready to tonight, with his nerves a stranglehold around him. He wishes he was, wishes that he could live up to whatever Landon wanted of him.
The hand under his chin moves to rest gently on his side. “It’s fine, I promise, Juls. I want you to be happy, and I’m going to make sure that you are.” The other hand, now, wiping away his tears. “We can just sleep for tonight, alright?”
Julian nods; he’s too tired to fight, too burdened by his own anxieties to continue pushing himself. He falls down, unceremoniously, onto the pillows. He keeps one leg thrown over Landon’s waist, the other stretched away. His hands slide under the pillows, pressing up slightly. “As long as you make sure we don’t sleep in all day, Landon.”
He hears the redhead chuckle. “Of course, my dearest. I would never let such an important princess as yourself waste the day with such petty matters of sleep.” And then Landon is lying against him, chin resting on the top of his head. “Get some rest.”
Weakly, Julian kicks his foot into Landon’s side. “Not a princess! Good night,” he doesn’t bother to turn over and kiss Landon; even that feels like a mockery of what could have happened tonight. But he does feel one kiss, against his scalp. Even after the ruins of this night, Landon still tries to console him. “Good night.”
Was it good? Julian thinks about this, his face buried in his pillow. He feels restless despite his exhaustion, wanting to stretch out and move about the apartment. But if Landon’s snoring was any indication, the taller man had already fallen asleep. And he was still lying against him, warming the blond’s body. That was good, at least; being able to wake up with Landon, too, would be something good. And the promise of another night…
No, Julian thinks to himself. He’s tired and refuses to continue going in circles worrying about the same things for the night. Scrunching his eyes closed, he wills himself to sleep. Even if tonight hadn’t turned out as he wanted, as romantic and passionate as he thought it would be, he could salvage tomorrow. And for that, he would need to sleep.