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Z. Luc Haust // Apollōn (radiantdelphi) wrote in paxletalelogs,

Luc stopped when he reached the doorframe, swallowing hard against the tightening in his throat when he turned around to look at Joaquin one more time. His pale eyes alighting over the other man's features for a long, tensely silent moment before he reached up to cup the darker-haired man's cheek, thumb sliding over the skin there. Just like he had in the car in Vegas when he'd found himself unable to say exactly how he felt about everything.

“I'll call you,” he found himself promising again, and it was almost like he had to say it again to reassure himself, not Joaquin.

He let his hand fall to his side and took a step back, not wanting to initiate any more physical contact between the two of them – well, he wanted to (and the more he looked at Joaquin, the more he did want to), but it just didn't seem.. well, it didn't seem right right then.

“Thank you again, for everything – you're amazing,” he said with a weak smile as he ducked out the door, moving towards the elevators – and it was almost like there was more to that thanks than just the paintings. Probably because there was.