Gellert's gaze trailed Albus's, and he felt all too self-satisfied at the way Albus's thoughts were written too visibly across his face. He did not strike Gellert as the sort of man who wore his heart on his sleeve, which only made the situation all the more interesting. Was it just with Gellert, then, that he laid himself so bare? And was this something that had been present throughout the entirety of their friendship or was it surfacing only now, after their relationship had dissolved and Albus had become so stiff and uncomfortable in Gellert's presence?
How easy would it be, to get Albus from where he stood by the desk to that narrow bed, sprawled out on his back with his cheeks flushed and his eyes gleaming as they gazed up into Gellert's? Gellert's heart thudded a little more quickly in his chest as he took that final step forward, bringing them so close that he could feel Albus's sharp, shallow little exhales against his brow.
"Four, five years?" He reached out, let his hand rest ever-so-lightly on the cuff of Albus's sleeve, his thumb grazing the back of Albus's hand. "That's not so terribly long."
Albus's skin was cool and smooth, and Gellert wanted to feel more of it. He wanted Albus's pulse beneath his palm as he tore him open and picked through every last fibre of his emotions. To bring Albus under his domain once and for all, completely, dragging the knowledge of his future out of him and watching as Albus destroyed himself for love of Gellert.
God, he craved it.
Gellert's hand slipped down to lace his fingers with Albus's own, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Who is to say we could not be...friends again?"