Work Text:
Bzzzzz.
Robbe’s belly fluttered as he checked his notification.
Sander.
It didn’t matter what the message said, just the thought of Sander made his pulse quicken and the butterflies roosting in his stomach roar to life. They were always there, those butterflies, always ready to leap into action and take his stomach from calm equanimity to a free fall, the immediate uneasiness akin to falling off a cliff.
The butterflies lived for Sander. Loved Sander.
Robbe had loved him for so long that it was hard to remember a time when he didn’t want to be near him, to hear from him, to touch him.
It had come on slowly at first–best friends since they met at a scout camp when they were ten and twelve, always supportive of one another even as their interests diverged. Sleepovers, hangouts, and movie nights, they’d been inseparable, so much so that when Robbe’s mother’s mental health had taken a downturn in high school, Sander’s parents had basically adopted him. He’d spent the autumn of his third year with Sander’s family, visiting his mom on the weekends.
The feelings truly hit him then. It had been a perfect storm of terrible–losing his mother and her emotional support while realizing he was not only gay but also in love with his best friend, who, being the amazing person he was, always had a girlfriend or boyfriend.
The feelings hadn’t been new. He’d felt that way forever. He just hadn’t known what it was. He hadn’t realized that those weren’t “best friend” feelings. Best friends didn’t agonize over every text and then wait with baited breath for each response. Best friends didn’t stare at the photos they’d taken earlier that day for hours, zooming in on different features. Best friends didn’t want to caress each other’s knuckles, kiss their wrists, or run their fingers through their hair. Best friends didn’t imagine each other’s faces late at night with their hand in their pants.
Best friends didn’t have a fucking hoard of butterflies living in their stomach ready to soar at the mere mention of their name.
No. It had been embarrassing. And awful. And so fucking painful. It had taken him months to relearn how to act normally around Sander again, but he had; and they’d remained inseparable because that mattered more to Robbe than anything else.
Sander could never love him back, not like that at least–because of course his best friend loved him as a friend. It didn’t matter, though. Robbe had decided he would be content as long as they remained close.
He was fine. He would be fine. Everything was fine. Because he was still the most important person in Sander’s life. Boyfriends. Girlfriends. Crushes. Art school. Family problems. Coming out. Friend drama. They’d survived it all.
They were the closest of best friends, practically family, which was why this had been the worst summer of Robbe’s life.
Instead of having a summer of fun and freedom after Robbe’s second grueling year of uni, Sander had spent the summer in Florence, taking advantage of an amazing opportunity to study the Italian masters during the summer term while Robbe had spent the summer in Antwerp. With the Broerrrs.
Ugh.
He loved Jens, Aaron, and Moyo, but they weren’t Sander. With the Broerrrs there were expectations. He had to act a certain way, talk a certain way, be interested in certain things. It wasn’t exactly horrible, but it was annoying. As a gay man, he couldn’t really contribute to their long monologues or banter about hot girls. As someone not in a relationship, he couldn’t exactly share his experiences with sex. About the only things they had in common were football and skateboarding, but the older they grew, the more their conversations veered towards girls and sex and then more girls and more sex.
And it just grated on his nerves.
They knew he was gay, but it didn’t change their interests, which was fair. They could be into what they were into, just like he could.
With Sander he could be himself. No posturing. No false bravado. No censoring his thoughts because his straight friends might feel uncomfortable.
He could be.
And that’s why Sander was worth the heartache, worth the relentless longing.
Robbe unlocked his phone and opened his message.
Sander: I’m home
Sander: Wanna head to the park tomorrow? Around 14? I’ll bring food and we’ll make it a picnic
Finally, Robbe thought. Sander had landed in Brussels hours ago, and he’d been waiting for him to reach out.
Looking at his phone, he swallowed his disappointment about not seeing Sander that very day and began typing a response.
Robbe: Sure
Robbe: Should I let the Broerrrs know? Or will you message them too?
Dots appeared and disappeared on the screen for nearly two minutes before Sander’s response came in.
Sander: No. I was thinking just us.
Robbe: Oh
Robbe: Sure
Robbe: Okay. Sounds good.
Robbe: Glad you’re back!
Sander: Me too
Robbe stared at their text thread for far too long before finally locking his screen and wandering into the kitchen to distract himself.
Tomorrow. He’d see Sander tomorrow.
***
“Robbe!”
Sander dropped the enormous duffle he was carrying in the grass and raced towards Robbe as he rolled into the park. He wore his signature leather jacket—which, c’mon Sander, it’s the dead of summer!—over a purple t-shirt and blue skinny jeans. His platinum hair flopped with each stride, long, fluffy bangs falling to his eyes. That was new. Sander’s artfully gelled spikes now flowed loosely on the top and front over shaved sides, like a soft Mohawk.
Robbe kind of liked it.
He braked his skateboard, sliding to a stop, just in time for Sander to slam into his chest. He wrapped his arms around Robbe and yanked him off of the board, whirling him around in a circle.
“Fuck,” Robbe laughed, hugging him back.
“I missed you, sorry,” Sander said, chuckling bashfully as he set Robbe back on his feet.
“No, it’s good. I missed you too,” Robbe said, steadying himself with a hand on Sander’s shoulder. “I’m glad you were free today.”
Ruffling his hair, Sander smiled. “Free today. Tomorrow. The next day. I’m all yours until summer’s over. And even then…most of the time.”
Whoosh.
And there went the fucking butterflies. One little statement, innocent and not meaning what his racing heart wished, set them off. It was exhilarating and overwhelming, a mixture of nausea and giddy excitement, uneasiness flooded with hope. The problem was they hadn't gotten the memo yet. Sander didn’t mean it that way.
While his insides raged, the hope-filled adrenaline fighting with his logic, he schooled his expression and said, “Good. We have a lot to catch up on.”
Sander beamed. “C’mon.” He grabbed Robbe’s upper arm and started pulling him towards the abandoned black duffel. “I have a surprise.”
“Fuck. Just. Wait–” He turned, looking for his skateboard, not sure where it had gone when Sander had whirled him around. He spied it under a bench. Sander must have grabbed him with a considerable amount of momentum because it had rolled a good ten meters away.
He jogged over and picked it up, tucking it under his arm as he made his way back. Sander rolled his eyes, then swung an arm over his shoulder, and led him back to his bag.
“So what’s the surprise?” Robbe asked.
“Well, I can’t tell you yet. That would ruin it.”
“Would it? I’m already here. I’m going to see it in a second.”
“Yes, but–” he reached over with his free hand, placing a finger under Robbe’s chin to lift it up, eyes sparkling with a mock serious expression on his face, “–it’s about the presentation. The experience. The mood.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Robbe snorted, pushing him away. “I see you learned something in your months away.”
“Of course.”
“Fucking artists and their aesthetic .”
“Hmm. Dramatic much?” Sander cupped the back of his head, giving it a quick squeeze, before thrusting his hand up through his hair, knocking Robbe’s head forward and tossing the long waves into his eyes.
“No.” Robbe lunged at him, but Sander danced away, grinning with the bag held up like a shield. “I don’t always like your surprises.”
“Rob-be,” Sander said in a long put-upon sigh. “I’m not fourteen anymore. There are no snakes in this bag or water balloons filled with paint.” He cautiously strode back towards Robbe, eyes wary as the corner of his mouth twitched. “Though the water balloon one was worth your mom’s phone call.”
“For you!” Robbe stormed, trying to look fierce instead of breaking out into the laughter that threatened. That had been a good one. “You only filled your half of the balloons with paint. You were just wet. I had to walk all the way home with fucking rainbows dripping down my legs.”
“What can I say? I was a fortune teller.”
Robbe shot him an unimpressed look, but it didn’t hold. He snorted, sputtering until it turned into a full-chested laugh.
Sander, smiling smugly, took the opportunity to sidle back up and throw his arm around Robbe’s shoulder again, tugging him into a tight side hug before loosening to lead them further down the tree-lined path.
“That was terrible,” Robbe said when he could finally speak.
“And true.”
“That’s not how it works. You can’t foreshadow being gay.”
“You can if you’re talented like me.” Sander squeezed him again and dropped his arm to let his hand run up and down Robbe’s spine, robbing Robbe of his ability to think.
All he got out in response was a breathy, “Idiot.”
“You love it,” Sander answered, bringing his hand up to massage the back of Robbe’s neck.
“Hmm,” was all Robbe could say.
Embarrassing.
So fucking embarrassing. But this was his life.
They walked for another five minutes before Sander found what he was looking for–a patch of grass underneath the shade of a tree, a bit off the main path.
Sander pulled a thick, green and white striped blanket out of his bag, and, with a flick of his wrist, he opened it and laid it flat on the grass.
“Fancy,” Robbe said.
“Shut up,” Sander responded, but he smiled softly to himself as he rummaged through the rest of the bag. Without looking up, he pointed to the blanket and said, “Sit.”
“Yes, sir!” Robbe said, snapping to attention before diving onto the blanket. He laid on his back, just to be contrary, and closed his eyes. He could hear Sander moving items around and feel him setting them on the blanket nearby, but he kept his eyes closed, mostly with the intent of masking his confusion.
Nothing that had happened so far that day had been normal. Yes, they spent a lot of time together. Yes, they hung out at the park. Yes, they did so without the Broerrrs.
However, Sander didn’t hug him like that. Sander didn’t touch his face, lift his chin, or mess with his hair. They sure as fuck didn’t have picnics.
Robbe’s racing heart and flock of winged demons struggled to separate what it felt like was happening with what Robbe knew was happening. It looked romantic. From the outside, someone might think they were dating.
Whirling hugs? Gentle cheek caresses? A hand at his back? A picnic on a blanket?
But Robbe knew better even though his body did not. It, being an asshole that hadn’t learned a thing in the last few years, was reacting violently to how the moment felt –quickened pulse, shortness of breath, anticipation, adrenaline, hope.
He was such a fucking mess.
He took the time to slow his breathing and give himself a pep talk.
Sander was home. Everything was fine, back to normal. None of this meant anything. They’d been best friends for nearly a decade now. Things weren’t suddenly going to change. Life wasn’t like that. If Sander was going to fall in love with him, it would have happened long before, maybe when Robbe came out. They were set in their ways now. It would be foolish to hope for change, let alone expect it.
He inhaled and exhaled through his nose, willing the nervous excitement to leave him, sending it out with each breath. He needed to get his shit together. They’d only been apart three months, but his body’s reactions were making up for it with a vengeance.
Sander didn’t deserve that. He deserved to have his best friend, a best friend who acted normally (and not creepily).
“Having a good nap?”
Robbe jumped at the sound of Sander’s voice, all the work he’d done calming those damn butterflies for naught. They’d awoken with a vengeance and fluttered enough that they might as well be flying him over to Sander.
Fuck.
He opened his eyes, meaning to glare at Sander, but instead found himself having to bring his hand up to shade his eyes. Because sunlight.
Sander chuckled, and Robbe pursed his lips in annoyance. “Asshole.”
“I’m the asshole?” Sander asked, raising his hand to his heart in mock hurt. “I, the one who made you this glorious picnic and brought you out–”
“–into hell’s oven full of sun flare lasers–”
“–into this beautiful park–”
“–the same park as usual–”
“–on a perfect summer day when you would normally be holed up inside like a hoodie-wrapped opossum, playing a game. You’re welcome.”
Robbe rolled his eyes and smiled. “You’re right. Thank you for making me sweat out and reacquaint myself with the many bugs who live outdoors.”
“You shit. Stop being purposefully contrary and sit up, so we can enjoy ourselves. This is a good surprise.”
Robbe made a face to show that he was thinking about it, and then said, “Okay, fine,” and popped up to a seated position. Sander nodded in approval and then sat cross-legged in front of him, sweeping his arms wide in a “ta-da” like gesture.
For the first time, Robbe turned his gaze away from Sander, taking in the picnic spread out before him with open-mouthed wonder. Sander had gone full out. There was an unopened bottle of wine sitting in a cooler with a six-pack of beer. There were about 5 different kinds of cheeses, three different styles of crackers, and an assortment of dried meats and fruits set up on a fancy, wooden board. A container of kalamata olives and a bowl of salad lay next to it.
He’d even brought real tableware. There was a cheese knife and some tiny fork thing on the wooden platter, and ceramic plates and real cutlery sat behind them, ready to be used.
“I told you it would be nice,” Sander said, finally breaking the silence.
“It’s–Wow, Sander.”
Their eyes met, and Sander smiled bashfully before ducking his chin, his dark eyelashes fluttering closed. “I’m glad you like it.”
“I do.”
Sander tilted his head and looked up through those divine eyelashes, their eyes meeting again and holding. His lips bloomed into something soft and pleased.
Robbe’s stomach fluttered at the intensity of Sander’s expression, at the feeling behind his eyes, and the words flew out of Robbe’s mouth before he could catch them: “I missed you.”
“Fuck,” Sander exhaled on a laugh. “I missed you too.”
Robbe wasn’t sure if he should be happy about the admission or sad that his comment had broken the delicious tension between them, but it was now gone. Sander had returned to his easy, light manner.
He chatted easily while asking Robbe what he wanted first, not letting him do a thing. Sander piled cheese, meat, and crackers onto the plate (with fucking tongs that he’d brought) and even insisted on opening his beer for him.
Robbe ate every bite smiling and laughing. It was delicious, and even more so because most everything here was Robbe’s favorite. Sander had bought his favorite salami–Salami Milano; his favorite cheese–cranberry goat cheese; and his favorite crackers–sesame. Hell, he’d even brought Robbe’s favorite beer and olives, and Sander hated kalamata olives. He always said they were too salty.
This whole picnic was for Robbe, designed especially for Robbe.
“This really was a good surprise,” he said when there was a lull in the conversation.
“Oh this isn’t the surprise,” Sander answered with a smirk.
“It’s not? What–”
“Patience, Robbe, patience. All in good time. Right now, we eat.” He gestured to Robbe’s half-full plate.
Robbe did as he was told. He’d learned long ago that it was pointless to fight Sander when he had a plan. They continued to eat companionably until most of the food was gone, and Robbe was ready for another beer.
Sander opened it for him, but instead of handing it to him, he said, “Come here.” He adjusted himself so that he was facing away from the food, legs in the grass, knees bent to the side. “I wanna show you something.” He didn’t move to pull out his phone, though.
Robbe gave him a quizzical glance but then crawled over to the space behind him, meaning to sit and look over his shoulder.
“No. Here.” Sander patted the space right next to him, beside his legs.
Robbe threw him another confused look, but all Sander did was shrug as a smile teased at his lips. Robbe shook his head but complied again, standing up to move around Sander’s legs before sitting down where he’d indicated.
“Good.” He passed the beer over Robbe’s shoulder, and Robbe took it, taking a deep swallow before stretching his arm out to rest it on his knee.
“So…” Robbe said, his voice husky from proximity and confusion, “What did you want to show me?”
“Well,” Sander said, leaning back onto his right hand. His left hand grabbed Robbe’s shoulder, pulling him back into his chest before reaching out over his shoulder to point into the distance. “I wanted to show you that.”
“What?” Robbe narrowed his eyes. All he saw was a family of five, playing Frisbee in the hot sun. The trees towered above them, swaying in the breeze, their vibrant green leaves fluttery and shimmery in the bright sunlight. “I don’t see anything. Just your typical park stuff.”
His voice far too close to Robbe’s ear, Sander said, “There’s beauty in the mundane.” The puff of his breath sent shivers down Robbe’s spine, igniting those damn butterflies again, and he shifted in his seat, trying and failing to keep his weight off of Sander. “Look again,” Sander said, tugging Robbe back to lay fully onto his chest.
So much for that.
Robbe fought to control his breathing, terrified of showing any sign of how much this all affected him. What the fuck was even going on? This…was different, so different. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to recenter himself, and then looked out again at the view.
The grass rippled in the breeze, and what had initially looked like a flat field turned out to be a series of tiny hills, rising and falling all around them.
“Do you see it yet?” Sander breathed in his ear.
“See wha–.” His words were cut off by a loud yelp, his own yelp, followed immediately by him dropping his beer onto the grass. “Fuck!” he yelled, lunging forward to pick it up.
As he did so, Sander’s hand, which was under his fucking shirt, resting against the skin of his stomach , gripped tighter, stopping his momentum and causing him to drop it again. This time, though, instead of landing in the grass, it fell into his lap, the liquid exploding out of the tip onto his shirt.
Only then did Sander move his hand.
“Shit,” he said. “Sorry. Sorry. Here, let me help.” He rose onto his knees, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it into the grass. In one deft pull he had his t-shirt off as well and began pressing it onto Robbe’s damp front.
“Wha…what?” Robbe sputtered, now staring up into Sander’s bare chest, the butterflies revving like a stalled motorcycle engine. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning you up obviously.” He dabbed ineffectually at Robbe, grinning. “Aren’t I multi-talented?”
“You’re a fucking ass! What the hell is going on? I thought you said there was a surprise.”
Robbe had had enough. His already frayed nerves had reached their limit—Sander finally home, taking him on a picnic, hugging him, touching him, breathing on him, holding him close, standing over him half naked.
It was too much, too confusing, too close to what he wanted and could never have. He was insulted. It wasn’t like Sander to play with his affections like this. He put the half empty beer down on the blanket. “Sorry. I– I gotta go. I’ll–”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, how can you be so dense?”
Before Robbe had a chance to process what Sander could possibly mean, Sander’s hands had grabbed his shoulders and flipped him over into the grass on his back. The beer, the one he’d only just salvaged, was knocked over again, only this time it emptied itself into the grass far out of Robbe’s field of vision.
Because who fucking cared.
The only thing he could see was Sander, shirtless, platinum hair falling into his eyes, all that creamy skin on display, hovering over him with a half exasperated-half nervous expression. “I’m about to kiss you, you daft idiot. You have exactly three seconds to protest.”
Robbe didn’t give him the chance to start counting. He reached up, hands framing both sides of Sander’s face, and pulled him down into a kiss. Sander grunted in surprise, but his lips and jaw softened immediately, practically melting into Robbe’s mouth. Their lips slid together softly at first, exploring and tender. Sander’s tongue tentatively swiped across the seam of Robbe’s mouth, and Robbe opened to receive him. Their tongues touched briefly again and again in light kiss after light kiss, Sander shifting each time without lingering. Robbe attempted to chase his mouth, to hold him in place, to demand more, but Sander only smiled and continued dropping small kisses onto his lips.
After an agonizing amount of teasing, Sander began to deepen the kiss, finally letting their tongues slide together in a long drag that had Robbe moaning into his mouth. Sander tasted divine, bitter from the beer, salty from the food, and sweet from the fruit, a perfect balance.
From then on they left all gentleness behind. Years of pent-up desire, years of want, years of devotion and love spilled out of them, and they kissed furiously, lips and mouths and tongues exploring.
It was heaven.
Robbe’s hands roved, first moving up into Sander’s hair, gripping the silky strands, then finally trailing over his shoulders to tentatively run his fingers up and down Sander’s arms.
Sander laughed into his mouth. “That tickles.”
“Should I stop?” Robbe asked.
“God, no.” He leaned down to capture Robbe’s mouth in another kiss, but this time he kept it short. Not moving his lips away from Robbe’s, Sander said, “By the way, this was the surprise.”
“What? Tackling me?”
“No. Finally kissing you.”
“Fuuuuuuck.” Robbe fisted his hand in Sander’s hair and tugged as his tongue dove deep into his mouth, desperate for more, desperate for more proof that he wasn’t dreaming. Sander matched his need, and they kissed frantically until they needed to breathe.
“If you wanted to kiss me, you could have just said something earlier.” Robbe snagged Sander’s lower lip between his teeth and sucked on it before letting go to add, “Instead of putting on this whole show of maneuvering me about and making me stare at the grass like a moron.”
“I thought…” Sander dropped three soft kisses onto his lips, “that the whole romantic picnic thing was a dead giveaway.”
“Not obvious.”
“And the whole shirt thing. That’s like straight out of a bad romantic comedy. C’mon.”
“I can’t believe you did that. However…” Feeling bold, Robbe released Sander’s face and, reaching down, ran his fingertips up and down Sander’s sides and back, stroking the soft skin and reveling in all the bumps of bone and muscle he’d only ever explored with his eyes. “I am eternally grateful that you are not wearing a shirt right now. Fuck, you feel amazing. You look amazing. If we weren’t in public, I’d probably be doing this with my mouth.”
Sander hissed in response, his eyes closing as his mouth slacked at the thought. “Please.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have attempted this in public,” Robbe teased, palms now sliding over the bumps of Sander’s ribs, over the dip at his waist, and finally cupping his ass over his jeans. He tugged, forcing Sander to fall fully on top of him.
“While I am happy that it worked,” Sander said breathily, “I am somewhat regretting that aspect right now.” He readjusted his arms to balance better on his elbows and then lifted his hand to push a stray hair off of Robbe’s face. “You have no idea how much thought and planning went into this.”
“I can guess. You did pack all of my favorites.”
“I’ve done nothing but scheme and plan since I left in May.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you just tell me in May if you knew? And okay.” Robbe’s pursed his lips seriously. “When exactly did this come on? Because I am pretty sure that you had a girlfriend when you left and weren’t at all interested in me.”
“Oh Rooobbe.” The name came out almost guttural, a long groan. “I’ve always been interested. I mean– It’s always been you. I knew it on some level, but it became more and more obvious as you grew up.”
“Then why the fuck didn’t you say anything!”
“I– You were so young, and you’d only just come out. I didn’t want to seem creepy, and honestly…” He kissed Robbe’s forehead and rolled off to the side, pulling Robbe down with him so that they lay side by side, face to face. “I wanted you to choose me.”
“I did!”
“I wanted you to choose me after you’d seen and experienced life, not when I was the easiest or only option.”
“You…fucking…” Robbe lay speechless. That was both sweet and…infuriating. He shoved Sander’s upper shoulder. “You asshole. I’ve been in love with you for years, fucking years, trailing after you like a love-sick puppy, unable to even look at another man; and you wanted me to go out and experience life? With whom? Some rando WHO WASN’T YOU?”
“I–”
“No.” Robbe placed a finger against his lips. “Obviously, I forgive you. But what the hell, Sander? I’ve been pining after you for years, hiding my feelings, hoping to see some sign of interest, watching you date other people, waiting, assuming you’d never love me, that you couldn’t, that I wasn’t good enough.”
“I didn’t know you liked me until the day I left, not like that.”
“I don’t like you. I love you.” He grabbed Sander behind the neck and pulled him into a fierce kiss, doing his best to spill years of devotion and love into him.
Sander pulled back but kept his hand on Robbe’s cheek, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone. “I knew you loved me, asshole. You’re my best friend. I just didn’t know you wanted me…you know, like that. I thought you loved me the same way you loved Jens or Moyo.”
“Oh. My. God. No!” Robbe shook with laughter, wishing they could sit up so that he could vehemently shake his head no. Instead, he just repeated it. “No…No. No….No,” in between barking laughs.
“Well,” Sander gave him an exasperated look, “How was I supposed to know?”
“How didn’t you know?” Robbe countered then paused, lips pursing crookedly. “Okay. I take that back. I did work really hard not to let it show because I thought you weren’t interested. In fact, what changed? What did I do that you suddenly noticed?”
Sander grew serious, reflective. “It was your face. That day.”
Robbe frowned. “I thought I held it together well. I was really proud of myself.”
Sander’s thumb brushed across his lips, and his fingers pushed Robbe’s hair back over his eyes. “You did. It was when you thought I wasn’t looking. There was a moment when I turned to hug my mom on the train platform that you must have thought I couldn’t see you…because you let it all show.” He tilted forward and placed a kiss on Robbe’s brow. “Your mask dropped, and I saw everything. How upset you really were. How much you didn’t want me to leave. Your love.” He kissed Robbe again and then pulled him into his chest, hugging him tightly. “It was your eyes. They were somehow ferocious and sad. You stared at me like you wanted to devour me while at the same time wishing to break apart into a million pieces. My heart nearly exploded.”
“That is how I felt. Essentially,” Robbe whispered into his neck. He threw his upper arm over Sander to hug him back, nestling himself deeper into the softness of the skin under his ear. “I didn’t want you to leave, but I also wanted you to have such an amazing opportunity. I wanted you to love me enough to stay, but I knew that you needed to go, that that was what was best for you. It was a mind fuck. Feeling like I wasn’t enough for you while also so proud of everything you’d accomplished. I felt selfish.” He squeezed tighter, his hand sliding up into Sander’s hair to draw his face closer, and Sander rewarded him with a kiss on his collar bone. “All the time. So selfish.”
“It wasn’t selfish, Robbe. Above all, you are my best friend. You’re allowed to have complicated feelings. I didn’t want to leave you either, not after I saw your face, not after I realized that you wanted me back. My whole world shifted that day.”
Robbe smiled weakly against his skin. “And I’d thought my world ended.”
“Very dramatic of you,” Sander said, pulling back with a teasing grin, clearly trying to change the tone.
“Well,” Robbe booped their noses, “I did believe that the love of my life–who I was convinced would never love me–was leaving me behind to go off and do great things, so…”
“I would never leave you behind. I’ll always come back to you.”
“Always?”
“Always.” Sander stood, reaching out a hand to pull Robbe up into his chest. Hands hugging him tight, he gazed into Robbe’s eyes, expression serious. “Nothing’s better than you.”
Robbe let out an embarrassing hiccuping sob, and Sander crashed their mouths together, forcing Robbe to push away his fears and worries from the past and focus on their future. Together. A lifetime of love and kisses and devotion.
When Sander finally released him, Robbe grabbed his hand and said, “Let’s clear this up. I think we need to be somewhere more private.”
Sander beamed. “Yeah we do. Let’s go.”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
As they left the park hand in hand, he noticed that for once the butterflies were quiet.
They weren’t gone; he’d later learn, but with their change of relationship status, they now came alive for completely different (and more enjoyable) reasons.