"Hey..."

"Huh?"

"This is really all of a sudden but... I love you."

    Mikhail, out of the blue feeling a giggly butterfly in his stomach as he intentionally slipped a too-cheesy words for him to say out loud.
    Sweetness of him comes from action - a tender caress on the cheeks to a gentle kiss on the lips. Maybe just a small whisper of "I keen on you" to the ears, after a rain of smooches on the face.
   
    Afterwards, that's all he can do. The Russian himself is not a romantic type of companion as a stereotypical French man.
    And so, he always wonder why a specific one can handle saying sweet nothings with an incredibly straight face, in front of him, in front of everyone, publicly in anytime, makes him turning all red like a ripe tomato.

"Airhead, we've already been lovers."

    Here he is, that specific one, looking down on his no longer sober lover, letting Mikhail deepened him in his embrace around his hips while playing with the rim of the glass of wine.

"I just want to get drenched in you again." Aiden felt a hot breath on his shoulder, with a strong scent of alcohol.
He couldn't help but took that final sip of the glass then patting fondly on the other's head.

    Aiden always has better tolerance of the two. Obviously, indeed, Mikhail was just a freshman fresh out of "hell hole" and himself is one third of a grown adult.

    Thinking back of the time to their first met, about 5 months ago, he counted. Aiden ever caught a glimpse of a miserable yet fabulous young man drunk all of himself out alone. The smart took a step to have an idle talk with the man, receiving dozens of sniff and rant and— so long, kisses.

    He had no idea why he felt so tipsy, so drowsy, so light-hearted, nor would he lean in, carefree and flirtatiously guided him for a pleasure ride.

Well, things happened.

    And the aftermath is Aiden waking up totally taken aback seeing a barely naked Russian besides him while finding himself painted with a "f*ck load" of hickeys and bite marks.

    He's not going to tell he was the one who initiated, and the one who freaked out the most. Even the poor Mikhail - or say, the only victim here suffered all of a stormy sudden kick.

    Rubbing his eyes and his mind out to finally process anything was happening, his eyes widened larger than ever just to remember the whatever-called-crazy night before.

    And the utmost is his virginity, all sent to Jesus.

"You're not always this drunk. What's on your mind?". Said Aiden as he sighed a bit.

    Though the silence between them is enough for Aiden to compare it with the eternity, as it took a while to hear something coming from Mikhail.

"I miss you...". He landed a soft kiss on Aiden's nape.

    Drunk Mikhail is all from misery. And those 3 weeks separated, no letters, no contact really had him enough.
    Mikhail knows pilot is a harsh yet passionate choice of Aiden, he would not dismiss his lover's dream, or let it unfinished and sketchy like a piece of draft just with an air crash.

    It's just— Aiden had gone missing for that whole 3 weeks. Left him feeling so overwhelmed, hopeless, he had gone tipsy, horribly drunk as all he could do was nothing but waiting for a single light from the police.

    He lost half of his heart before, led him to endless nights struggling, messing his guts all around knocking his mind out until an American out of nowhere rushing directly into his life.

    Love is fragile to him. And to lose someone is to lose a crucial note in his life harmony, let it blanched, blank, empty for a long while till the day he could erase things out, or, could not take the misery any longer — he vanished.
    Mikhail was terrified of the sequence, of the scene that he stand still staring into nothingness after hearing his whole world passed away, and of himself jumping off a cliff.

    He was on an edge to cry, but he couldn't stop himself once he found out his tears is somehow falling, landing on Aiden's shoulder.

    Aiden turned to Mikhail, he caressed gently with his thumbs, kissing on his tears as he let out a little giggle to the soft side of a grumpy one.

"I'm here now. No need to cry."

    Mikhail embraced Aiden tighter, letting the other patting his back as if he was a crybaby.

    Mikhail fond of this, he love it when he could hold him, could feel him, could fall for him, drown in him.
    He passion this tipsy feeling, like Aiden is all of his joy, his happiness, his misery, his tragedy, his symphony, his sonata, his world, his life, his presence and— Aiden is his all his.

    He himself, is either Aiden's all. All the tipsy drunkenness pumping inside, all the comfy yet gentle touch always drive his heart like a roller coaster, all the things they've made just to get lost in the other's half lit eyes, in the other's arms, in the other's love.

"I want to get drenched in you again."

    They lean in for another kiss, not a soft one, but a passionate one.