Boys In Love [Solangelo One-Shots]

It Goes Like This: I Want and I Want and I Want

It starts like this: he's waiting where he always is, right outside of Aroma Mocha, leaning against the pillar that keeps the overhang from crashing down on top of him. He always has a sense of casual grace about him; one foot crossed over the other, the toe of his beat-up sneaker resting on the ground next to its pair, head tilted to the right so his dark hair falls partially over one eye. He's looking out across the street, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, eyebrow furrowed like there's a complicated math problem painted on the front of the Aeropostale and he's trying to figure it out.

Nico di Angelo is a complicated math problem, though, and I've never been able to figure him out, so I can understand why he would look like that. Like he's kind of amazed, but also sad and frustrated, because he knows he'll never actually be able to get what he wants out of it.

He looks up--brown eyes wide in surprise like he hadn't expected to see me--when I approach, and then he pushes himself off the pillar, disentangling his legs in the process, and gives me a bashful smile, brushing hair out of his face. All in one smooth motion, like it's choreographed movement and he's practiced the dance over and over until it looks like poetry reads.

"Nico," I say, and this always the part where he steps forward and knocks his knuckles softly against my jaw. He always has to reach up to do it, and that hasn't changed in the past week.

"Hey, Solace." And that's always what he says because we've got this down to an exact science. Up until this point, that is, because I always want to lean down and kiss him, but I never do, and that always leads to me tripping over my own tongue and saying something that makes him laugh.

"You..." I mutter, and one side of his mouth tilts upward, which only serves to confuse my emotions even more, "...have got..." And now he's raising an eyebrow and he looks like he really wants to laugh, and I want to hear him laugh, so I say, "...a leaf in your hair," which is not what I was going to say at all, and is also not true, but it gives me an excuse to push my hand through his hair--which somehow manages to be soft and tangled at the same time--and it also makes him laugh and shove at my chest, so I figure it wasn't a bad thing to say at all.

He grabs my arm and starts pulling me down the street, so I lengthen my stride to catch up to him, which is when he lets go and also when I realize that I didn't want him to.

"I was thinking," he tells me, tugging on the end of his scarf, and I smirk down at him, because I can't help it, and say, "Yeah, people tend to do that sometimes. Even you, Nico."

He shoots me a playful glare and shoves my arm half-heartedly with one hand, "I was thinking that we should go somewhere different today."

Nico is looking straight forward, which I should be doing too, I guess, but I can't stop looking at him. And I want him to look back at me, but I guess one of us has to actually watch where we're going, so I take the opportunity to study him, "Oh?"

"Yeah," he whispers, and he makes it sound like something dangerous and exciting.

I want to pull him aside and kiss him, I want to reach out and take his hand, I want him to run his hands through my hair and tell me that he wants me too. I want and I want and I want what I can't have. "And where is that?"

He looks up at me, smiling like he knows something I don't, "Ice skating."

"Nico!" I exclaim, and his smile is widening by the second, "Have you forgotten what happened when I tried roller blading? How do you think it's going to turn out if you put blades on my feet and throw me out onto the ice to fend for myself?"

He can't stop laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing up at the sky, and then down into his scarf, trying to muffle it, when I shove him and tell him he's a dick. He's still laughing, and his face is turned away from me, a high flush on his cheeks, when says something I don't quite catch because it's rushed and overlaid with laughter and all of this is muffled by the scarf around his neck.