Cassian swore he saw a glimpse of it - that flutter of a veil, Vincent’s internal debate on whether to lower or keep the mask lifted. His stomach turned somersaults over it, wondering where his friend would land, wondering if he’d even be able to tell for sure again. They’d lost eye contact now, and Cass watched apprehensively as the other studied the ceiling. A small part of his mind wondered (in a really vapid way) if he’d said the wrong thing. The fact that Vincent let the silence linger, and steep, and surround them was telling. The brunette never went completely speechless, after all. Is this what anger looked like on him?

Unfortunately for Vince, Cassian had no trouble with prolonged silence. He rarely felt the need to fill it, even in situations like this, where the silence weighed oppressively on the both of them. The young Gryffindor would always bend, not break. But he certainly felt trepidatious - he chest ached from the breath he held in as the other stirred again, waiting for the backlash, for the shove, for the deflection and that smooth, polished mask.

This trepidation only grew as Vince turned to catch his gaze this time. True to his promise, Cass kept it. You will be seen, he steeled himself with resolve. More than that - his expression implored the other to respond. And… respond he did.

The blonde let out a short sigh against the feather-light touch on his cheek, not expecting it, and again shaken by the kinetic energy that so easily surged from deep in his gut into the small amount of space between them. Vince moved into it like a moth attracted to flame, and Cass’s mouth couldn’t form the words to stop him. So he closed his eyes, not willing to see the moment of impact, the moment where everything risks getting undone.

The kiss felt…

Cassian groaned softly into it, conflicted as he lay perfectly still against the feeling of the Slytherin’s arm hooking around his neck to bring them closer. The move parted his lips slightly, which deepened the kiss quickly, and there was no telling who started it. Cass had kissed plenty of girls before, this was beyond anything he’d experienced. This felt uniquely, strangely, so acutely different from all of that.

It consumed him, to the point he couldn’t string together a coherent thought at all, like a part of his brain had decided to shut down completely. It was in this fugue-like state that Cass lowered down to his back, tugging the other along over him.

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   Vincent Iago