The only way to describe the patterns that fountained from his pen was with that word. They crossed the page, touching and overlapping, indifferent of the borders that defined their fellows. Some were crisp in their curvature, others wobbled with wavy lines and repeated strokes to suggest they were, in fact, round. And still others were neither of these, mixtures of the two in such a way that one had to strain to see them, missing their conglomerate character among the mess of circles.
“I drew it for you.”
Ivan seems lost in the cascading circles. He holds the crisp stock paper in his hand, running a single finger across its surface as if to find some treasure hidden in the slight creases the point of the pen had made.
“Well, drew because of you, really,” Geoff clarifies.
Brown eyes glance up from the black and white page and meet with Geoff’s own deep blue.
“Because of,” he starts. “Because of me?”
A slight smile tickles the edges of Geoff’s lips, but the intent is fully realized in his eyes. He continues to stare at Ivan, even as the designs on the paper steal back his attention.
“It’s like what writers do, y’know? They look at something for inspiration and just put the pen to the page and write. It doesn’t matter what comes out, because it will always be connected to their inspiration somehow. “
“So, what you’re saying is that when you think of me…” Ivan’s voice trails off, leaving a brief, silent pause. Looking back up at Geoff, he continues, “…you think of circles?”
“You can’t explain those sorts of connections, Ivan. I felt it. I let those feelings flow from me freely, and that’s what you’re holding in your hand.”
For once it is Ivan who is at a loss, unable to catch even his own train of thought. Hopefully it would come again soon, or he’d have to find a different one.
Geoff hadn’t averted his eyes once. Had he the ability, he probably wouldn’t have been blinking through the entire exchange, either.
“I can’t take this from you,” Ivan finishes simply. “I just, I– I mean…”
As his words fail he ceases to speak, instead returning Geoff’s intent gaze. But Geoff’s eyes are closed, hidden from sight.
Rejection. You blew it with the touchy-feely stuff, kid.
With his eyes still screwed shut, Geoff makes to leave.
And now Geoff can’t finish a phrase, but that’s because he’s found his lips pressed against Ivan’s. He accepts it as a dream and keeps his eyes closed; he accepts it as a fantasy and paints pictures on the blank canvases his eyelids create. As quickly as those lips had brushed his they fell away, a dream lost in the darkness.
“Are you alright?”
Ivan’s voice is a whisper, his face a breath away from Geoff’s own. Eyes open and the persistent dream is realized, accompanied by the smile from before.
“Yah, I’m fine.”
With that Geoff finds his smile matched, and the edge of stiff card paper scratching at the small of his back, Ivan’s arms wrapping around him.
Thank you, Ivan starts to mouth, but his intentions are stolen as Geoff leans up to offer his own form of thanks, stealing his words just as Ivan had stolen his.