#so sorry this is late btw lyyyy!!

[sonderthroughthestreets]

@robbesdriesen you chose 4! So here it is 😌💫

4. “I can’t believe you!”

Dialogue prompts!

Edit: it says he’s halfway across the world and that’s because he was supposed to be in New York but I’m dumb and wrote Paris 🙈

✧ Happy one year anniversary of us being friends bb!! ✧

He was flipping pages back and forth and not a single word was going into his head.

It was raining outside, the pitter-patter of the droplets hitting the window, slowly making their way down to the pane and the sky was as grey as ever, clouds engulfed in each other blending into a hazy wash. Robbe thought it some cruel pathetic fallacy mocking him for the way he felt because he felt rather gloomy on this particular day. His mother was out and wouldn’t be back until later in the evening and though he had some studying to do this weekend, he still felt restless and incomplete.

It also didn’t help that the love of his life was halfway across the world right now.

But it was okay. It had to be.

Because when Sander had told Robbe about this brilliant opportunity to showcase his art internationally, he couldn’t contain his excitement and the sparkle in his eye as he envisioned it all already. His face had lit up completely because “Robbe you don’t understand out of all the students, they only choose three!” and “This is like the opportunity of a lifetime” and “This could mean so much for my career, it’s gonna be so great I can feel it in my bones.”

Then came the doubt. “But what if I’m not good enough?” and “What if they don’t like my work and I slaved away for these pieces for nothing and what if this was all a mistake and they hadn’t even meant to choose me?” and then finally as he had looked down, his eyes losing all that spark, “And it means leaving you.”

Sander might have thought that Robbe didn’t understand the weight of those words, but he did. He knew that even though Sander was leaving now for about three weeks to London, New York and Paris, a week in each city, if he was successful, he’d move onto bigger things. He’d gain publicity and he’d be asked to be present in more showings and if fate allowed it all, then pretty soon he wouldn’t be here much or have much time for him. But Robbe was ready to except that because this was Sander’s dream. This was literally what he’d been working for this whole time. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

“You should go,” he had said, encasing Sander’s hands in his. “You have to go because Sander, your art is breathtaking and it deserves to be seen and even if it means leaving, I know you’d do the same for me.”

And Sander had squeezed his hands back, his heart and gut wrenching at the thought of it all and with the utmost sincerity, with absolutely no hesitation, he’d whispered back, “I would.”

So, he’d packed up for London, the first city in his mini tour, and he’d endured his mother’s fussing while simultaneously mentioning how proud of him she was and he’d trapped Robbe in the longest hug he could possibly maintain before boarding his plane, his head peeking back at the gates, bleached hair falling over his forehead.

That was about three weeks ago and Robbe had just learned that Sander’s stay would be extended for one week more. While they’d FaceTimed whenever they could, Robbe couldn’t stop the ache in his chest, the burning longing that tingled as soon as he woke up, lingering still after a night out with his friends, soaking into him as he fell asleep. And he still felt it now as he sat there at his desk, textbook open but his thoughts diverting to soft hair, the lashes upon his green eyes, the moles on the side of his face. Just as he was about to try to really focus on the letters of the page to get that feeling out, he saw his phone light up beside him.

It was Sander calling him and he felt his soul replenish a little at the sight of his name.

“Hey,” he smiled into the greeting, lifting his phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Robin,” Sander’s voice came through, deep and raspy and filled with a static haze.

“You’re not gonna FaceTime me?” he asked him. He heard more static, some shuffling around and it was a while before he responded again.

“Uh no, no FaceTiming this time,” replied Sander, the hint of a smile already present in his voice. “I mean we won’t need to for now.”

Robbe was now suspicious with his cryptic words.

“What are you up to?” he asked, knowing his boyfriend was capable of the most outrageous shenanigans. And even though he was technically in Paris right now, that didn’t mean he didn’t send him videos of the stupid shit he’d be doing in the hotel lobby.

Unfortunately there wasn’t enough time for sight-seeing and Sander had said it ‘keeps him busy’ to which Robbe had laughed and said ‘don’t fuck it up and get in trouble.’

He still hadn’t answered as more shuffling proceeded to sound through the phone.

“How’s your day been?” Sander asked. He probably hadn’t heard him.

“Good. Would’ve been better with you here,” Robbe chuckled.

“Same.”

There came more shuffling and breathing, like Sander might’ve been lightly jogging. It made Robbe all the more curious.

“Sander are you out right now? What exactly are you doing?” he asked again.

He heard his laugh shimmer through the phone, low and enticing, and it made him long for him even more.

“Patience, Robin,” he said and Robbe could practically see the smile that was probably stretched across his lips.

“Precious coming from you,” he teased.

Sander let out a real laugh now, faded and a bit distorted from the line that for some reason didn’t seem to want to connect very well today, but Robbe still wanted to drown in it.

“Just...hold on a sec. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Robbe asked. But Sander was already bidding his goodbyes. “Sander, no, what do you mean?”

He sighed as the line cut, but then suddenly there was a loud knock mimicking the beat of his heart and the look of confusion across his face turned into anticipation as he slowly put the pieces together.

Opening the door, he failed to let his eyes adjust to what he was seeing. He even blinked a few times just to be sure.

No way this was real.

Because there was Sander standing in the doorway in his black leather jacket and his Doc Martens splattered slightly with mud, his bleached hair a little damp from the mist of the rain and his eyes shining bright with a smile.

‘Missed me?” he said.

And Robbe couldn’t help but pull him in, pull him closer and envelope him in an embrace that was sure to break a few ribs. His arms wrapped around him tight, wrinkling his jacket as Sander’s hands returned the gesture, holding his back, fingers grasping softly at the fabric of his dark sweater. Robbe breathed him in. He was almost certain he was forgetting what Sander smelled like and the shirts he’d loaned him weren’t nearly enough. The thing about rain though, is that it always heightened a smell, made it stronger, heavier. The faint scent of leather and cologne and something sterile that smelled of airport clung to him. He buried his nose in the ends of his hair and squeezed him even tighter. He felt Sander do the same, face hidden in his dark curls.

Robbe slowly pulled back but only to lightly smack his arm.

“I can’t believe you!” he exclaimed with the biggest smile on his face, his sentence breaking off in laughter. “You said you’d be back next week.”

“Are you really yelling at me because I came back early? I’ll go back to Paris, the hotel was pretty nice there,” Sander pointed his thumb toward the door.

Robbe just laughed with him, shaking his head, not quite believing this was reality and not a dream.

“I missed you,” he said.

Sander pulled him in, his finger delicately running along his jaw, his thumb tracing the supple skin of his cheek. His eyes flickered from the deep browns in Robbe’s down to his lips still curved at the corners, a residual of a smile. He leaned in and then just waited, playfully delaying this moment.

Fucking tease.

When his lips met him, it was soft and airy, light and feathery, like a barely-there press against his skin. He took his time with that first kiss. The second one, however, devoured him and deemed him senseless. It was urgent and needy, it was tongue tracing into his mouth, it was unspoken words of their love, it was deep and driven and maddening, maddening. Over and over and over and over again.

They pulled away with breathy sighs, lips lingering near the other. Robbe pressed another light kiss to his mouth and their hands travelled slowly, Robbe’s from his neck to his shoulders and Sander’s from his hair to his waist.

“I missed you, too,” Sander whispered into him.

He gave him one more sickeningly sweet kiss.

“Come on, let’s get you warm and then you can tell me all about your showcase,” said Robbe, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from Sander’s forehead.

They got settled in and Robbe heated some leftover lasagna from the fridge and they ate leisurely under the glow of the kitchen lights. Or rather, Robbe ate while Sander took a forkful only to settle his hand near the plate as his other one gestured the words he was saying, talking excitedly about his trip.

“It was amazing, Robbe! There were so many great pieces and the others who were chosen, Elise and Oscar, right? Their stuff is so cool. I think I took some shots before we left, but some of them should be up on the gallery website anyway and I was like,so fucking nervous,” he then looked over at Robbe. “Like I truly wished you were there to hold my hand and I reached for it before realizing you weren’t there and instead I almost held hands with Elise and then she gave me a really weird look after,” he rambled.

Robbe just watched him with all the love in his heart and all the adoration in his eyes.

“That’s cute,” he said leaning closer to him, palm in his cheek.

“No, it was so fucking embarrassing,” Sander gave him a look.

Robbe refused to believe Sander got embarrassed about anything, but after being with him for more than a year, he knew that he tended to get really nervous when it came to art showings. It’s not that he cared about his art being on display, it was mainly the people and the atmosphere and some sense of pretentiousness he couldn’t handle.

He sighed, finally taking a bite of his lasagna.

“Enough about me, though,” he said. “How have you been?” he asked like he didn’t text him that every day. “And where’s your mom? I didn’t get to say hi.”

“I’ve been good. Just studying and missing you and my mom’s out for a bit but she’ll be back,” Robbe chuckled.

Sander nodded.

Then, something settled in the air as Sander forked his lasagna, sticking the metal in the dish this way and that. His lips curved into something, some sort of bittersweet emotion Robbe couldn’t get a grip on.

“It was good, Robbe,” he said quietly, talking about the showcase. Some longing was seeping into his voice. “I mean it was really good.”

Robbe put a hand over his as his stood up with his empty plate (he’d been done his food for a while).

“That’s good,” he smiled, trying to convey with his eyes that he meant it and that whatever insecurities or doubts or irrational fears he had were all in his head because Robbe supported him. He knew how much he wanted this.

He walked over to set the plate in the sink, a chore for later once Sander finished his slice, and then he stepped back slowly grabbing onto Sander’s shoulders, his navy hoodie wrinkling under his fingertips and swung his legs around him as he sat his in lap. Sander let him, holding his thighs to balance him.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if I actually make it. If I actually somehow become an artist,” he said as Robbe leaned into him, his face drawing close.

“You are an artist,” he smiled.

“Yeah, well,” Sander snorted. “A well-known artist, then.” He brushed his nose across his, playfully nuzzling it up. “I’d take you with me next time,” he said.

“We both know you can’t do that,” Robbe let out a rumbling laugh.

“I’d take you anywhere with me,” Sander now stroked his arm, pushing up the sleeve of his sweater a bit, exposing the skin on Robbe’s wrist where his heart pulsed rapidly.

“Hhmm.”

“Would you come with me?”

“You know I would.”

And then there weren’t words left between them anymore. The space had closed and it was lips on each other once again, heads titling and mouths tasting. They mostly tasted of salty and savoury, a bit of leftover grease from the lasagna. But Robbe wouldn’t have it any other way. He wrapped his arms around him tighter, smiling into the kisses he gave and received.

And it went like so for a bit.

Being absolutely overwhelmed with a need for other. Waves inevitably crashing into rocks as they crashed into each other. Some hollowed form being filled by each other, moulding and meshing and weaving and intertwining. It was some kaleidoscope of colours bursting at the seams, some devastating desire and want.

It was

I love you

Me too

I missed you.

I know.

I miss you.

I’m right here.

And suddenly, Sander was lifting him off the chair, barely making it to Robbe’s room in the mess of giggles and kisses adorned with love. His plate of lasagna was still untouched but it was fine because Robbe got the feeling Sander was hungry for something else.

A hunger filled with yearning and joy passion and warmth.

And like he could imagine him saying...

Who was better than Robbe to satiate such a feeling.