[ when justin first came to eudio, he'd had a plan and for the most part, it was simple: make a couple friends, hold a couple hands, fuck a couple strangers ( because he'd had it in his head that rule number one from home still applied - never fuck the same person twice - when it didn't, and it took him a little longer than it should have for him to realize that ), and then once the reps notified him that he'd generated his fair share of energy, he'd pack up and go home and ( most, if not ) all of his problems would be solved.
of course, plans that seem too simple always turn out to be far more complicated than anyone wants, and if you asked justin how he came to be here, sitting at the end of his bed next to raphael with his fingers pressed against the inside of his wrist and his heart beating fast enough and hard enough to make up for the lack of a pulse underneath his fingertips - he'd tell you that he didn't know.
he couldn't tell you what it is about raphael that he finds so interesting and captivating and charming, only that he is all of those things, and more. and even if he could tell you, he probably wouldn't, because he'd prefer to keep the mystery between himself and raphael.
justin looks at where his fingers are resting, light and warm against pale and cold, and it should probably bother him that raphael is so cool to the touch, but it doesn't. it hadn't bothered him the first time he'd touched his fingers to his jaw under pandemonium's flashing lights what feels like forever ago, and there's nothing about it that makes him uncomfortable now, either.
the sound of raphael's voice draws his attention upward, only high enough to watch his mouth as he speaks - because that's what you do when someone's speaking to you, isn't it? you watch their mouth?
you watch their eyes. you definitely watch their eyes, but perhaps what makes him the semi-decent artist he is is his ability to look at things a little bit differently.
justin's lips part just a fraction as he draws in a quiet breath. his eyes fall again, back to his fingers, back to his thumb as he smooths the pad of it over where raphael's pulse should be but isn't. the rest of his fingers press into and ghost across the center of his palm, but justin's always been a little handsy when it comes to raphael.
he wets his lips and then looks up, finding it surprisingly easy and difficult to look raphael in the eyes, and even easier to spread his fingers out until they settle in the spaces between raphael's before he leans in and gently presses their mouths together. ]
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of course, plans that seem too simple always turn out to be far more complicated than anyone wants, and if you asked justin how he came to be here, sitting at the end of his bed next to raphael with his fingers pressed against the inside of his wrist and his heart beating fast enough and hard enough to make up for the lack of a pulse underneath his fingertips - he'd tell you that he didn't know.
he couldn't tell you what it is about raphael that he finds so interesting and captivating and charming, only that he is all of those things, and more. and even if he could tell you, he probably wouldn't, because he'd prefer to keep the mystery between himself and raphael.
justin looks at where his fingers are resting, light and warm against pale and cold, and it should probably bother him that raphael is so cool to the touch, but it doesn't. it hadn't bothered him the first time he'd touched his fingers to his jaw under pandemonium's flashing lights what feels like forever ago, and there's nothing about it that makes him uncomfortable now, either.
the sound of raphael's voice draws his attention upward, only high enough to watch his mouth as he speaks - because that's what you do when someone's speaking to you, isn't it? you watch their mouth?
you watch their eyes. you definitely watch their eyes, but perhaps what makes him the semi-decent artist he is is his ability to look at things a little bit differently.
justin's lips part just a fraction as he draws in a quiet breath. his eyes fall again, back to his fingers, back to his thumb as he smooths the pad of it over where raphael's pulse should be but isn't. the rest of his fingers press into and ghost across the center of his palm, but justin's always been a little handsy when it comes to raphael.
he wets his lips and then looks up, finding it surprisingly easy and difficult to look raphael in the eyes, and even easier to spread his fingers out until they settle in the spaces between raphael's before he leans in and gently presses their mouths together. ]