whisperback

A cold bookshop was not where Lewis intended to have the sort of revelation that changed everything. His hand was throbbing and the bandages were unravelling and his coffee mug was halfway to his mouth when he looked at that boy, Daniel Something, for whom the shop had been opened late.

Lewis blinked because it seemed like the least one could do whilst having a revelation.

Daniel Something was sitting, sprawled in an armchair in the Classics section. His face was half-hidden behind glasses and a copy of Edna Keyes’ latest translation of Virgil. He shifted slightly and the hem of his t-shirt rose up, just a little, so that Lewis could see the hard angle of his hipbone. Daniel Something was smiling very slightly and was possibly not even aware of it. He glanced, by chance, in Lewis’ direction.

Lewis dropped his mug because it seemed like the least one could do whilst understanding a revelation.

>>

Daniel was surprised when he fell in love in broad daylight.

After years of midnight fumbles and blanket hazes of smoke and desperation, he sat across from Lewis Knightley in a little English tea-shop, saw him as a dark gold blur against the pale sky and the summer roses waving in through the window, perfectly absorbed in a harmless academic conversation with someone else – it wasn’t even as though they were alone - and felt like a blind man shot with poetry. It was beautiful, of course, but there was no turning back, and the powers that be would not let him refuse it.

Danny’s first thought was god, he’s too young.

His second thought, which occurred only long after he returned home, was that he couldn’t possibly be, because Daniel wasn’t too old.

In the teahouse, Daniel watched Lewis, felt his long legs brush awkwardly against Daniel’s knees under the table, and surprised himself with the roses and sunshine and the heady rush of so this is what it’s like. Because, after all, it always happened in the most unexpected ways, and whatever Daniel had expected, it hadn’t been romance.