Swift as a Coursing River | Ongoing

17. Swift as a coursing river

Vincent lives in a small and neat apartment above his store. It's not in the most touristic part of the centre, but not on the outskirts of the city either. He probably gets decent foot traffic out here. There's other shops nearby too, a clothing boutique and a comic store. Must be convenient for Vincent. He seems like the type who would avoid big chain stores.

Edwin presses the buzzer next to the shop window. The shutters are down and there's a thick metal grate in front of them as well. Vincent lets him up. The door to the downstairs hall is very heavy as well, with multiple locks. There's probably more risk of robbery here than out where Edwin lives. Especially as a watchmaker and jeweller. The outside is not very flashy, but that wouldn't be much of a deterrent to a robber who's picked the target beforehand.

Vincent is waiting for him in the doorway, dressed down in swishy white pants and a lilac sweater. It's still very feminine, with flower patterns, but understated. He looks good. Welcoming. Edwin had never thought he'd think that about Vincent, but here he is. More even than the plain look every time they've gone running, this is not meant for him to see. Intimate. It's Vincent's home. If Edwin will see what is true and what is exaggerated anywhere, it's in Vincent's own space, where he doesn't need to build a shield to hide the softer parts of him.

It also means Edwin feels out of place in a different way than at the gay spaces they've been. He's gotten to know Vincent much better in a casual way during the last few weeks where they've spent time together without any "teaching", but in Vincent's space, they can't be equals. They're not two gay people in a gay bar, two men running. They're not just sharing a space where he could be Vincent's equal, even if he doesn't feel it.

What if Vincent is different here, when they're not running in Edwin's neighbourhood? They're only watching movies, but it's still meant to teach him about queer history and culture. Vincent might not deliberately mock him if he doesn't know something, but he's still quick to laugh and tease and Edwin doesn't want to disappoint him or look stupid. He promised Ellen he'd talk about his hurt, but he doesn't want to break the fragile bond they're building.

Vincent's apartment is very full, with furniture and ... stuff. There's a faded russet couch against one wall, with woollen throws on the back, and pillows in a mishmash of colours. The distance to the TV wall is small enough that you can only just walk around the coffee table buried under a pile of comics, what looks like colouring books, and knitting needles with something in progress. The walls that don't have sideboards or cabinets have several plants and posters, trinkets and shiny jewel-like decorations. If Edwin had been asked to describe Vincent's living space, he wouldn't have said this, but somehow it fits. It's chaotic, loud, soft, visual.

Vincent offers a homemade cocktail and Edwin accepts. This is one thing outside his comfort zone that he's definitely willing to try and he likes tasting different foods and drinks. The glass looks very professional, with even a little garnish.

At his question, Vincent chuckles. "I followed a course, ten years ago maybe? I have so many random skills, but this one is very handy." Edwin takes a sip and it bursts on his tongue, a little sour and bitter. It's very nice, both light and full.

"So what are we watching?"

"Wait a few more minutes and you'll see, darling." Vincent winks. Edwin cracks a smile. He's starting to warm up to the petnames because he can hardly imagine Vincent without them. They're just fillers without meaning and they flow off his back, only stinging if he tries to fight.

They both sit on the couch because the armchair does not stand at a good angle to see the screen. Their legs don't touch, but they could so easily slide to the middle together. Edwin steels himself to not pay attention to Vincent's nearness. The air between them has the weight of a touch and he can't shut off his awareness, that Vincent is there and close and warm. He could lean over, casually touch. It's the perfect set-up for a date, to stop watching the movie halfway through and kiss. At least Vincent can't flirt while they're watching the movies. Probably. On second thought, he shouldn't count on that.