I think I can manage being collateral damage
Through the thin windows, Everest heard every word Mateo shouted—and though the timing and volume made his skin prickle, he didn’t flinch. He was prepared. He had known Mateo would come. He had calculated how many minutes it would take to get from the plaza to his building. He had even laid out both his running clothes and the easier-to-manage clothes he would wear if he chose to shift instead.
Still, it took him an extra thirteen seconds to move.
By the time he stepped out into the hallway, Ever was dressed in soft grey running pants and a navy blue long-sleeved shirt, the seams aligned exactly along his arms, his shoes double-knotted to within a millimetre of evenness. He paused at the door—checked the latch once, twice, thrice—then opened it carefully, scanning the corridor before stepping out. Descending the stairs required counting each step under his breath (twelve, turn, seven, turn, six) to keep the rising noise in his mind from cresting too fast. It helped a little.
Reaching the street, he found Mateo immediately—flamboyant, overdressed for the task, and blindingly unbothered in a way Ever could never hope to be. He approached, slower than necessary, movements small and rigid. His eyes didn’t lift higher than Mateo’s chest.
"Of the two options, running is preferable." He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. "An orgasm would involve... variables I am currently unable to accommodate." He hovered awkwardly for a second, then looked pointedly at the horizon, at the break in the street where the plaza opened up. "What is the route?" he asked, because if he didn’t know, the uncertainty would eat him alive.
Still, it took him an extra thirteen seconds to move.
By the time he stepped out into the hallway, Ever was dressed in soft grey running pants and a navy blue long-sleeved shirt, the seams aligned exactly along his arms, his shoes double-knotted to within a millimetre of evenness. He paused at the door—checked the latch once, twice, thrice—then opened it carefully, scanning the corridor before stepping out. Descending the stairs required counting each step under his breath (twelve, turn, seven, turn, six) to keep the rising noise in his mind from cresting too fast. It helped a little.
Reaching the street, he found Mateo immediately—flamboyant, overdressed for the task, and blindingly unbothered in a way Ever could never hope to be. He approached, slower than necessary, movements small and rigid. His eyes didn’t lift higher than Mateo’s chest.
"Of the two options, running is preferable." He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line. "An orgasm would involve... variables I am currently unable to accommodate." He hovered awkwardly for a second, then looked pointedly at the horizon, at the break in the street where the plaza opened up. "What is the route?" he asked, because if he didn’t know, the uncertainty would eat him alive.
Even if I had to lose you to know you I'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through
