《heart》vernon

1、第 1 章

　　They're out in the street at eight in the evening, Colin in a button-down shirt and a pair of trendy trousers and Bradley wearing a sweater that he'd yanked from the bottom of his suitcase. It's about a year and a half old and frayed at the sleeves but it's comfortable and looks great with anything.

　　They look so out of place amidst the swarm of people trickling in from all directions -- women in beaded skirts with dyed hair and red fingernails, men with tattoos and nose rings gleaming silver in the streetlight.

　　Standing there in the street, huddled into a wall, Bradley rolls his eyes at Colin and says, without any real heat, "I can't believe you dragged me into this. Remind me again why I agreed to come with you."

　　Colin holds up Bradley's ipod, stepping forward into what little space separates them, and smiles, eyes crinkled, trying not to laugh. Bradley snorts and says, "Oh. Yes. You held my iPod hostage, I remember now," swiping at his iPod halfheartedly until Colin pockets it again and steps back, inhaling the moist night air and folding his arms around himself.

　　"I'm glad I didn't wear the football shirt." Bradley says after a moment. Colin looks at him, and their eyes catch and they both laugh, and Bradley swings an arm round Colin's shoulders to kiss the top of his head. Colin turns pink just a little because he's always thrown off guard whenever Bradley is affectionate in public. Colin remembers their conversation earlier and how it had gone, how Bradley stood shirtless in the doorway, skin moist with a sheen of sweat, and dug through his suitcase haphazardly, crouched on the floor.

　　"Don't wear a football shirt, Bradley." Colin said, watching him pull one jacket after another and toss it over his shoulder.

　　Bradley rolled his eyes and flung a sweater at him, and Colin recognised this one from when they'd first met and read lines together for Merlin. He picked lint off the sleeve, before handing it back to Bradley who snatched it from him quickly, mouth twisted and said, "Oh, this is just so pretentious, Colin, and you are the most pretentious person in the history of pretentiousness."

　　"That doesn't even make sense." Colin said.

　　"It doesn't have to make sense." Bradley said, before wrestling into the sweatshirt and walking over to him on the bed. "You're so pretentious." he murmured and Colin shrugged and leaned back on his palms and Bradley nudged him on the knee, spreading his legs apart. He tugged Colin forward by the arm, dipped his head just as Colin tipped his, back. Colin looked up at him through his eyelashes, and Bradley cupped his face, rolled his eyes and flicked him in the ear.

　　"Ow!" Colin hissed, rubbing at it violently. "Bradley!"

　　Bradley laughed and insisted that was what pretentious people get in return for holding other people's iPods hostage. But later in the elevator, he kisses it better, nosing the soft underside of Colin's ear and murmuring into his neck. Bradley sighs and digs his hands inside Colin's trouser-pockets as Colin wonders aloud about the local band they're going to see, a four-man folk band hailing from the south of France with a former opera singer on lead vocals. Even later, they walk hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder, heads ducked together and laughing.

　　Now here they are, joining a queue of people talking in a different language and outfitted in clothes they probably made themselves or bought off thrift stores. There was a man in a green coat with brown dreadlocks, smoking a cigarette in the corner street and tapping the heel of his boot on the asphalt.

　　While they wait, somebody in line cuts in front of them, knocking sharply into Colin's side and jostling him on the shoulder. Bradley steps forward and cups the bloke in the back and says, amiable, "Mate, if you want to get in, you're going to have to stand in line like the rest of us."

　　When the man shuffles off, Bradley turns to Colin who is rocking on the balls of his feet. Colin says, shrugging his shoulders, "That was very chivalrous of you, your highness." Bradley rolls his eyes and elbows him in the ribs sharply. "I was standing up for you, you minger. You're so ungrateful, Colin, really. I mean, here I am being a good boyfriend, and you mock me for it. Not even a thank you for defending you? Pfft."

　　Colin laughs at him and shakes his head. "Later." he says, soft ,and loops an arm through Bradley's. He clasps the back of his hand gently, feeling the shell of it fit perfectly against the curve of his own. "I'll find a way to thank you later." he says.

　　The line is moving and they walk along, arms linked, listening to the steady stream of conversation around them -- all of it in French. Bradley sighs dramatically, dipping his head to speak closely into Colin's ear. "I can't believe I'm standing here about to listen to French people bang on drums and play tambourines like roving gypsies." he says. Colin presses his lips together, trying his hardest not to laugh. It's rude but -- he giggles a bit and snorts, shaking his head in amusement and casting Bradley a quelling look.

　　"It's music Bradley." he says, thumping Bradley gently on the arm as they walk along. "It transcends language. You don't have to understand it completely to like it."

　　Bradley pauses. He starts laughing with his head thrown back and his mouth opened wide and baring teeth, and Colin sort of just stares at him, blinking.

　　"It's kind of like you, Colin, isn't it?" Bradley says and bumps their shoulders together gently. Colin bumps back but with less force, pressing close to Bradley's body heat.

　　"What do you mean?" he says. "I don't get it. Did I miss something?"

　　"Nothing." Bradley says and grins. "You didn't miss anything, Colin."