InsaneJournal

hwylie: middle of the night conversation.

Conversations with Wylie were never, Krishna had to say, predictable. Given that he hadn’t intended on pushing any buttons, he had been quite surprised to find that he accidentally had; the ensuing debate — if it could have even been called that — ended up going nowhere, at least in Krishna’s opinion. It felt like they were talking in circles, with Wylie seeming unexpectedly offended by Krishna’s viewpoints. All things considered, the most effective solution Krishna could come up with was sex. It wasn’t exactly the most mature or healthy distraction, but with them, it was a guaranteed fix.

So they wound up having sex. And they were unquestionably good at it.

Although Krishna could have easily gone back to Lola’s, he instead took Wylie up on his offer to spend the night. This was mostly because he was exhausted, but there was a part of him that chased the illusion that sleeping in Wylie’s bed offered him. It was really getting to be a problem, but he’d be leaving for the next leg of his tour in a few days. What harm could it do to let himself lounge around in an attractive older man’s house for one night?

He fell asleep to the sporadic sound of page turning (Wylie was reading something), but when he woke up it was dark, and he was alone. Reflexively, anxiousness crept up his spine, but he forced himself to relax. He didn’t have to know Wylie all that well to know Wylie didn’t sleep much. It was likely he was just doing something — getting a drink, reading a book or his scripts, walking around. Krishna sat up, squinting in the dim light, and pushed a hand through his sleep-messy hair. It was eerily quiet, especially since he’d grown used to the hum of the bus’ engine as white noise for the past month.

After hesitating only briefly, he got up. His boxer briefs were conveniently slung over the dresser, and he put them on; had he been in his own apartment, he wouldn’t have bothered, roommate or no roommate, but here in Wylie’s house, which felt big and unnerving at night, he was strangely skittish about it. He wandered down the hall to the kitchen, and when he got there he stopped short, caught off guard by the sight of a figure pacing beyond the sliding glass door. But it was just Wylie, he realized after a second. Wylie, standing outside gesturing, the silhouette of his mouth moving.

Krishna padded further into the room, grabbing a glass from one of the cupboards and filling it up. One sip, and then he was pushing the door open. LA’s mild beginning of fall weather met him immediately, unexpected even though he knew it what the temperature was.

He didn’t interrupt. He brought the glass to his mouth again and sat down in one of the pool chairs, studying Wylie with interest while he went through lines.