Open your Eyes

"Steven, why are you moving?" Drew's voice was slurred and whispery, the product of too much alcohol and shouting over top 20 hits to be heard. Steven's head turned slowly to face Drew's.
"I'm gonna make it big, Drew. My name, up in lights..." he laughed quietly. Drew knew this. God, he knew. But any attempt to spend just a few more minutes with Steven was fine.
"Why can't you stay here? Act in my films. I'll give you the lead. I'll..." Drew trailed off, gazing at the messy remnants of Steven's goodbye party. In the dim light of the streeghtlights pouring in through the window, spilling over the lounge room, he could make out the distorted shapes of cans, bottles and food wrappers, strewn all over. It's going to take so long to clean all this up, thought Drew. But he didn't mind. It was Steven's party, he'd had fun; that was all that mattered. Suddenly, a wave of a wave of anger and frustration swept over Drew, pushing through his drunken haze. Steven was his. Why couldn't he see that? Every hug, every touch, every time he offered Drew a place to crash after a night out, all incessantly platonic. He would have to show him how he felt, if he couldn't figure it out by himself.

Drew looked up. The sight of Steven, dozing, bathed in moonlight, was enough to send him mad. He let his eyes linger on Steven's face; eyes, nose, lips, and a lock of hair curled under his cheekbone. To kiss that face, those lips... Better still, to have those lips kiss him back... It was all Drew could do to resist throwing himself on Steven's sleeping body. The scene played out in his head; Steven would wake up, Drew's face just inches from his. At first, he would be shocked by Drew's advances, then recoil. He'd stumble blindly from Drew's apartment, hail a taxi and be home in 10 minutes. Then, within 24 hours, he'd be on his way to America. He'd never talk to Drew again.

Drew shook his head, to clear it. His stupor was clearing, leaving a space for the mother of all headaches to creep in. Steven stirred. Watching his eyelids flutter, Drew could tell he was dreaming. If Steven's dreams were anything like his dreams had been the past few months, he didn't want to wake him. Realising how unlikely that was, he shook his shoulder.
"Steven. Wake up, I wanna tell you something. Wake up. Stevie!"
Steven's eyes flew open, then drifted shut again.
"What did I say about calling me Stevie? Marshall..." he murmured. Drew knew how Steven felt about his nickname, but the thought it was cute. And he loved the way Steven looked when that particular blend of annoyance and amusement crossed his face.
"Seriously. And if you can call me Marshall then I can call you Stevie."
"Whatever. What’s so serious?" Steven's eyes were still closed.
"Open your eyes." said Drew, bracing himself for the brilliant green that is Steven's eyes. He opened his eyes and sat up straight, looking at Drew expectantly.

Drew felt a rush of adrenaline. He felt happy, enthusiastic. Like he could make this work. He could go with Steven to L.A. and maybe get a job directing a film, starring Steven, of course. It wouldn't have to be big-budget...
"Marshall..."
Drew's mind snapped back to the present. He swallowed hard, tying to find a good angle to kiss him from. He bit his lip. This moment, this opportunity, what he'd been longing for for too long, was scary.
"Close your eyes. Please."
"Drew, what...?" Steven shook his head.
"Trust me." said Drew.
Steven closed his eyes, and Drew leaned forward.

The moment their lips met, Drew's head swam. Steven's lips were soft at first, but as he realised what was going on, they grew firmer. Their kiss was tentative at first, shy and polite. Steven's hand moved to the back of Drew's neck, his fingers entwining in his hair, pulling him closer, and the kiss intensified. Drew shuddered, letting out a moan. This was everything he'd imagined, and more. So much more. They kissed, long and full, until they ran out of air. Drew leaned back into Steven's arms. There was silence for a while, both of them listening to the other's heartbeat pounding in the dark.

"Drew." said Steven, almost as if he was saying his name just for the sake of it. "Drew, my plane leaves at nine. Nine, Drew."
Drew's wide brown eyes stared into Steven's, pleading.
"Don't go."
"It's not that simple." said Steven, his brow creased.
"It is. It's as simple as breathing, as kissing. It's as simple as lying here in each other's arms. It's as simple as the way you make me feel."
"Oh, Marshall." Steven leaned down and kissed Drew's forehead, holding him extra tight.
Their budding hangovers finally got the better of them, and they fell asleep.

Sweating under the midday sun that was pouring in the window, Steven woke up, slightly disorientated. Feeling Drew's weight on top of him, the suddenly remembered. Most of last night had been a blur; dancing, drinking, laughing, shouting. But one part stood out in his mind. Everyone else had gone home, ordered out by the cops for making too much noise. He and Drew were on the couch, slurring their words and surveying the damage. A wonderfully warm feeling swept through him as he remembered what happened next. That kiss had been the best kiss he'd ever had. Drew had begged him not to go...

"SHIT!" Steven leapt off the couch, sending Drew flying. "Oh fuck."
Drew stared up at him from the floor, blinking sleepily. "What are you doing?' he mumbled.
Steven groaned, falling back onto the lounge. Every ounce of that warm feeling had gone, far, far away.
"My flight..."
Drew sat up, running his hands through his hair.
"Isn't there another one?" Part of him was praying with all it had for Steven to say "no", but the other half felt genuinely upset for him. He knew how important this was to him. His "big break", he'd said.
"Nope. I'd postponed it as long as I could." He cast Drew a meaningful look. "The director said I was on thin ice. He'll fire me for sure. Oh God...That part. That movie..." Steven hung his head.

This was the guiltiest Drew had ever felt in his life. He felt so selfish. He should've told Steven to go, instead of keeping him here, for himself. He crawled up to sit next to Steven, placing a hand on his back. He wished he could turn back time, to before they'd kissed.
"I'm so sorry." was all he could offer.
Steven looked up, ready to tell Drew that no amount of being sorry could bring back his career, but one look at his face made him bite his tongue. His gorgeous eyes, full of remorse, those beautiful lips pulled into a frown almost made Steven forget all about what used to be his opportunity of a lifetime.
"Hey, don't be like that." he soothed, taking hold of Drew's hand. "Seriously, it's not your fault. Besides, it's not like L.A. is the only place they make movies. Australia's got a very good film industry; maybe we could work together. C'mon Marshall, lemme see you smile. I'll be fine."
"I'm sor-" attempted Drew, before Steven placed two fingers on his lips, shushing him.
"You're sweet." Drew murmured, burying his face into Steven's neck.
“It’s my shampoo.” joked Steven, leaning back onto the couch.
Drew came out of hiding place and sat up straight. “You postponed it. For me.“ he said, staring Steven in the eyes.
He nodded. “I didn’t want to leave you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Steven laughed, just slightly. " I couldn't do that to you. Can you imagine? Kissing someone like that, then jetsetting off to the other side of the world? It would break your heart, let alone mine. And if you didn't feel the same way? Where would that leave me? I couldn't bring myself to do it."
A small smile crossed Drew's lips. "I'm glad you did, Stevie." he whispered in to his ear.
Steven let out a lungful of air. Drew's breath tickled his ear in the most delightful way, and now, finally, he was able to enjoy it.