Work Text:
Vincent couldn’t remember what led up to the admission- any and all thoughts were blown to oblivion the second the words left Eugene’s lips.
“I think I’m developing a crush on you, Vincent,”
His lungs as good as collapsed that very moment, as if the softly spoken words had somehow pierced right through them like paper. Vincent babbled, slightly dazed, unsure if he had heard him correctly (There’s no way he actually meant–). His mouth just hung open in an ‘o’ shape, a gently prodding ‘what?’ caught in his throat. Eugene looked up at him with something remarkably tender in his gaze.
“I suppose that makes me sound quite childish, but it’s the right term. What isn’t childish about feelings like these?”
Arguably more childish, Vincent thought in hindsight, was his own inability to respond to Eugene with anything more than a confused stare. It couldn’t be true, not about Vincent Freeman of all people. Not the fumbling, graceless, nerdy invalid that Eugene had to put up with day in, day out. He couldn’t name one thing in his mind that could have possibly charmed Eugene so much; it didn’t make any sense.
Of course, he’d be lying egregiously if he tried to claim he wasn’t similarly charmed by Eugene. It was an inevitability from the moment he laid eyes on him- he was flippant, abrasive, terribly sarcastic and unjustly handsome; a devastating combination for Vincent’s heart. That , however, made perfect sense to him. The same story was repeated again and again in every TV show or book Vincent managed to catch a snippet of. An invalid head-over-heels for the main character, a listlessly perfect valid, who was quickly shunted to the side for someone with passable genetics. The pinnacle of unreachable affection, as much of a dream to be laughed at as Vincent’s aching for the stars. He wondered, sometimes, how those stories went before gene-sequencing took over every corner of the world.
They didn’t go like this, surely.
“Eugene, I–”
“Don’t say anything. I don’t want you to say anything,”
Eugene cut him off before Vincent could even decide what he was going to say, let alone what words he would use to convey it.
With his hands trembling ever-so-slightly, still numb from the shock of emotions that had rattled through him, Vincent picked up his book and his coffee, trying to remember where he had been headed before Eugene had knocked his course askew. Absent-mindedly, he nodded. He decided the stairs were his best option, up to the safety of his room and his desk and his stars, where the conversation had no way of reaching him.
Eugene watched him, with a terrifyingly truthful longing in his face.
Not thinking about anything at all, Vincent leaned down and kissed Eugene’s cheek. It was nothing but the softest press of his lips, but it was warm and dizzying and all-encapsulating in a way Vincent never expected.
He caught a small smile out of the corner of his eye as he scurried up the stairs.
They didn’t talk about it for a week after that. To the hour, possibly even the minute- Vincent wondered if Eugene had timed his unsubtle prompting of the conversation just like that. He was unusually quiet as Vincent arrived home, barely acknowledging him until he flopped down into his usual chair, pulling out some papers he had to look through. A few minutes of silence, save for the occasional shuffle of paper, before Eugene piped up from his workbench.
“You’ve seemed… odd this past week,”
Odd was one way to put it. Ever since Eugene’s out-of-the-blue confession, they could hardly stand two minutes in the same room as each other. Awkward ‘good morning’s, ‘how was work?’, ‘what do you want for dinner?’. Any accidental eye contact was immediately met with furious blushing and one of them soon fleeing the room. It was a partial miracle this conversation was even taking place.
“What’s on your mind?”
Vincent almost scoffed at that- what else could possibly be on his mind?
“Can’t you extrapolate?”
Eugene smirked, still not meeting Vincent’s eyes, and Vincent knew he had been long planning this interaction.
“I’d like to hear it from your lips,”
“What do you want to hear? Last week you didn’t want me to say anything after dropping that bombshell on me–” He cut himself off before he said something unsalvageable. He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but after a week of dancing around each other, he just wanted Eugene to say something straightforward. Not more of his cryptic, indirect quips.
“Oh, so it has been about that,” Eugene responded, sounding awfully smug.
Vincent was half-minded to just give in and kiss that god-awful grin off his face. Instead, he re-approached the conversation the other way around.
“How’s your crush going?”
Eugene sighed. “Oh, good, bad; it depends on your point of view,”
Another nonchalant reply of nothing but meaningless words. Vincent said as much.
“God, Vincent, I still– you’re still my– it’s developing. I don’t know, I haven’t felt like this about someone for years! And then you come along, so merry and hopeful and wonderful, like a physical embodiment of everything I don’t deserve, and everything’s just gone tits up–” Vincent had gotten up from his perch during Eugene’s spiel, now placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Eugene relaxed at the touch. “I’m almost thirty, not thirteen. It’s ridiculous. I thought I was over catching feelings for every good-looking man who was nice to me, but I suppose I just hadn’t met any for a while. And here I am again. I could have sworn my parents would have removed any genes for homosexuality or hopeless romanticism. Not that the rest of it amounted to anything,”
Vincent was somewhat taken aback, taking a moment to take all of that in. No-one had ever called him ‘wonderful’ before- to know Eugene thought as much of him burned like embers in his cheeks. ‘Good-looking’ was new as well; that had a much more devastating effect on his heart. Not to mention the horrible implications of Eugene’s words- as a lot of them often had- or the wishing for the removal of a non-existent gay gene.
It took everything not to wrap him up in a hug and tell him he was so much more than his genetics and a number on a screen.
“Can I say anything this time?”
“No. Not yet,”
Not the response Vincent had wanted to hear, but it was something. A ‘not yet’ was better than nothing at all- for Eugene, he would wait until the end of the world.
With much more confidence this time, Vincent leant forward and kissed the very corner of Eugene’s mouth. In a strange way, it felt so different to the last kiss. Vincent’s cheeks tingled with the desire to feel Eugene’s lips moving against his, like little ripples of electricity in his skin. It was quite overwhelming, but as he leant back he realised he wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Eugene, jaw slack, lifted his hand to his lips, feeling the ghost of Vincent’s own right there. His eyes sparkled and his cheeks flushed pink as he met Vincent’s fond gaze. It was an adorable sight. Vincent loved to see Eugene drop his guard, emotions clearly written on his face. Flustered Eugene was quickly becoming Vincent’s favourite Eugene.
Nothing more was said as Eugene picked up his equipment, preparing them for another sample. He didn’t clear his face of his happiness, however, and offered a twitch of a nervous smile before pretending he was very interested in the empty sachet in his hands.
Vincent shrugged his shoulders with a quirk of a smile and turned his back, leaving the conversation behind again.
Confessing his feelings to Eugene Morrow was something Vincent had imagined dozens of times. He couldn’t be too optimistic about it, even his own fantasies, he thought, typically wondering what the nicest way Eugene could reject him after an accidental confession would be. On the rare days, however, when he just wanted to find some comfort in himself, he’d let himself indulge. He imagined how Eugene’s hair would feel raked between his fingers, how his skin would feel underneath his palm, how his lips would feel moving softly against his. His favourite thing to imagine was holding Eugene flush to his chest, whispering sweet words and telling him how much he meant to him. Eugene never said anything back.
That was, of course, until Eugene so brazenly turned that all on its head. Now Vincent could remember, in startling clarity, the feeling of Eugene’s cheek, his mouth, against his lips. Vincent took extra care filing those precious memories away, should he never get to feel that warmth again. He hoped desperately that he would.
His lonely nights were now punctuated with those memories- sparingly, so they wouldn’t lose their shine- and wondering what was in store the next time either dared to broach the subject.
It only took three of said nights before Eugene brought it up again.
They were considerably less awkward around each other in the intervening days this time around. Conversations trailed into soft gazes and mumbled words, and Vincent was beginning to understand Eugene’s description of these feelings as ‘childish’- not that he cared. The warm feeling in his chest made a wonderful companion as they sat across from each other, only half-concentrating on their individual work.
“Vincent?”
(Hearing Eugene call him that still made his heart flutter. The whole ‘Jerome’ fiasco was quickly dropped after the inciting incident. Vincent wouldn’t want to confess his love to himself either, he supposed.)
“Mhm?”
“Have you ever fallen in love?”
Ah, that particular line of conversation, searing and blinding in its wholeness.
“Many times… have you?”
“That’s what I’m trying to work out, Vincent. What does it feel like?”
Eugene never could stick to non-abstract questions, could he? Vincent considered the crushes of his childhood, soft and unattainable, the lovers of his previously unshared life, long forgotten. Vincent considered the stars. He considered Eugene.
“It feels like everything, Gene. Everything all at once. For one moment you are so much more than you have ever been,” Abstract questions received abstract answers. Vincent couldn’t summarise the way Eugene made him feel in one small thought. It was everything, truly. “It’s warm. Like being surrounded by stars,”
Eugene laughed- a beautiful sound, Vincent decided.
“Of course you’d compare it to space. Can you only think in terms of planets and moons and stars?”
“I’m afraid so,” Vincent smiled.
“Well,” Eugene shifted his hands, fiddling with his equipment. Before the past week-and-a-bit, seeing Eugene nervous and bashful would have been an impossible sight. Vincent very much liked this soft side to him. “That sounds about right. Come over here,”
Vincent complied, walking around the desk to stand next to Eugene. A pale, nervous hand reached up and traced along his jaw.
“It feels like I’m flying too close to the sun,” The words were quiet, fragile.
“Nothing bad will come of it. Not of this,” Vincent promised.
Eugene met Vincent’s gaze with ardent adoration and utter hopefulness.
“You can say something now. If you’d like,”
Finally–
“I love you,”
With that, Eugene curled his hand into Vincent’s shirt, just over his heart, and pulled him down to meet his lips. Vincent knelt, melting into the lingering kiss. As Eugene pulled away, eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips, Vincent could do nothing but smile. Gentle, calloused fingers smoothed over the material of Vincent’s shirt before cupping his face and pulling him in again.
Eugene’s lips were every wonderful word Vincent could think of, locking against his like nothing had ever fit together so perfectly.
“I love you too, Vincent–” The words Vincent never expected to hear, breathed sweetly over his lips. “I love you too.”