Yeah, Treavor jumped a little at the sound - oh shit, is somebody here? is someone breaking in? - but the startle turns into a smile, because look at that, everything’s all right all over again! Treavor doesn’t have to wait around wondering, because Alice is here already.
Alice is taking in the sun, maybe, maybe actually taking a moment to chill out? There’s a half-moment’s hesitation: what if he just walked in on Alice’s got-to-be-important alone time? What if Alice is having some peace and quiet, and Treavor’s just busted in and broken the whole thing?
Alice doesn’t look annoyed. Or he didn’t when he turned, gave that little sorta-smile through the glass. (Sent Treavor melting, dizzied by even this trace of pleasure. Alice is a guy who should smile more. Alice is a guy who needs reason to smile more, and at some point in the past few weeks, Treavor’d parenthetically decided to dig up reasons for those smiles and give this guy whatever bit of bright he can.
Weird, to think Treavor can give anyone a bit of good feeling or a reason to smile, actually honestly smile.)
He slides open the door carefully, not too wide. Enough to stick his head and a shoulder out. Enough to note the strains of easy blues, good fuckin blues drifting on the air. Enough to register Hope loafed up in a mini-hammock, holy shit she’s got her own fucking hammock. Enough to catch the scent of lingered weed, and heyyy, hold the fuckin phone, did he know Alice was into the stuff? Well shit, good for the guy!
This vantage is also enough to afford a better view on Alice stretched on in a hammock, looking for all the world like he’s slipped the stranglehold of work and worry, like he’s on the cusp of melting into the light. Like he’s kept soft and safe in that t-shirt (look at the guy! so casual, hey whoa, it’s almost a shock he owns a t-shirt) (the pant cuffs come as less of a shock, that’s just Alice all over), like everything right where he is, in that hammock, is absolutely fucking perfect.
When Treavor opened the door, he’d had a mind to apologize, to ask whether he was disturbing anything, maybe mention he’d just come by to drop the bottle off and could be out and away again without - hopefully without - collapsing the ease Alice seems to’ve found. Now that Treavor’s out here, though (half-way out here; sort of out here; still lingering half-in the apartment just in case it’s better for Alice), those words escape him. He’s left with the soft radiance before him and the way it feels so good - so fucking good - to see Alice relaxed. To see that the guy can relax, and that he’s given himself some time away from worry.
Treavor would like to step out on the balcony. To stand beside Alice, hey, maybe crouch or even kneel beside Alice, just watch the way the sun settles over the man, wraps him in a glow. Would like maybe to take Alice’s sun-wrapped hand, to press that hand against his own cheek. (Wouldn't mind kissing the guy's own cheek, nuzzling that cheek, and he wouldn't mind the beard's itch at all.) To stay like that for, oh, a while. Hours, maybe. All day, if he could, and if Alice wouldn’t mind.
Treavor’d also settle for standing right where he is and recording every detail of Alice’s ease, what the guy looks like when he’s not caught up in ceaseless activity. Treavor will take this image and hold it in his mind, at his chest. Will turn it over and over for weeks on end, thinking how right it looked to see Alice relaxed, thinking how this - along with smiling - is something Alice could use more of.
Guy needs a goddamn break, huh?
Guy’s getting a break, and Treavor’s smiling at him, pleased and surprised and admiring, then speaking hushed and a little daft— ]
no subject
Yeah, Treavor jumped a little at the sound - oh shit, is somebody here? is someone breaking in? - but the startle turns into a smile, because look at that, everything’s all right all over again! Treavor doesn’t have to wait around wondering, because Alice is here already.
Alice is taking in the sun, maybe, maybe actually taking a moment to chill out? There’s a half-moment’s hesitation: what if he just walked in on Alice’s got-to-be-important alone time? What if Alice is having some peace and quiet, and Treavor’s just busted in and broken the whole thing?
Alice doesn’t look annoyed. Or he didn’t when he turned, gave that little sorta-smile through the glass. (Sent Treavor melting, dizzied by even this trace of pleasure. Alice is a guy who should smile more. Alice is a guy who needs reason to smile more, and at some point in the past few weeks, Treavor’d parenthetically decided to dig up reasons for those smiles and give this guy whatever bit of bright he can.
Weird, to think Treavor can give anyone a bit of good feeling or a reason to smile, actually honestly smile.)
He slides open the door carefully, not too wide. Enough to stick his head and a shoulder out. Enough to note the strains of easy blues, good fuckin blues drifting on the air. Enough to register Hope loafed up in a mini-hammock, holy shit she’s got her own fucking hammock. Enough to catch the scent of lingered weed, and heyyy, hold the fuckin phone, did he know Alice was into the stuff? Well shit, good for the guy!
This vantage is also enough to afford a better view on Alice stretched on in a hammock, looking for all the world like he’s slipped the stranglehold of work and worry, like he’s on the cusp of melting into the light. Like he’s kept soft and safe in that t-shirt (look at the guy! so casual, hey whoa, it’s almost a shock he owns a t-shirt) (the pant cuffs come as less of a shock, that’s just Alice all over), like everything right where he is, in that hammock, is absolutely fucking perfect.
When Treavor opened the door, he’d had a mind to apologize, to ask whether he was disturbing anything, maybe mention he’d just come by to drop the bottle off and could be out and away again without - hopefully without - collapsing the ease Alice seems to’ve found. Now that Treavor’s out here, though (half-way out here; sort of out here; still lingering half-in the apartment just in case it’s better for Alice), those words escape him. He’s left with the soft radiance before him and the way it feels so good - so fucking good - to see Alice relaxed. To see that the guy can relax, and that he’s given himself some time away from worry.
Treavor would like to step out on the balcony. To stand beside Alice, hey, maybe crouch or even kneel beside Alice, just watch the way the sun settles over the man, wraps him in a glow. Would like maybe to take Alice’s sun-wrapped hand, to press that hand against his own cheek. (Wouldn't mind kissing the guy's own cheek, nuzzling that cheek, and he wouldn't mind the beard's itch at all.) To stay like that for, oh, a while. Hours, maybe. All day, if he could, and if Alice wouldn’t mind.
Treavor’d also settle for standing right where he is and recording every detail of Alice’s ease, what the guy looks like when he’s not caught up in ceaseless activity. Treavor will take this image and hold it in his mind, at his chest. Will turn it over and over for weeks on end, thinking how right it looked to see Alice relaxed, thinking how this - along with smiling - is something Alice could use more of.
Guy needs a goddamn break, huh?
Guy’s getting a break, and Treavor’s smiling at him, pleased and surprised and admiring, then speaking hushed and a little daft— ]
Nice day?