Eros' heart was racing. It felt like his lungs didn't have enough room to breath, like, at any moment, his heart would run out of beats and he would die there, in the middle of his parent's penthouse. He thought crushes were supposed to be airy things, fantastical and euphoric. But, at the prospect of seeing Damon again, he felt a sickening anxiety, nausea that stirred the contents of his stomach.
Eros had not always felt this. The past few weeks, since Damon's confession and the start of their little romance, those ceaseless, borderline obsessive thoughts of Damon brought Eros an excitement better than any drug. Even his business was starting to feel the affects of his crush, as he had nearly killed him, his client and Peecho after almost causing a electrical fire, a mistake he would have berated himself for had he had a clear mind and a single, rational thought.
But, even as he profusely apologized to the client, the words felt meaningless. All that mattered to Eros was Damon, all that could bring him comfort and joy was the military man who enjoyed coffee with his parents on weekends. Even Peecho started to notice, as the raccoon chittered to Eros in an almost mocking fashion.
"Oh shut it. You'd feel the same way too if some hot lady raccoon wandered in here."
Now, Eros was sweating through his sweater in the midst one of his parent's famous, extravagant parties. The thing was holy, wooly and slipped past Eros shoulders, revealing the youth's slender, pale neckline. It hung over baggy jeans that had even more rips and holes. The look was not sophisticated, nor glamorous, as other Quillers might have dressed. But, it was comfortable, roomy, and Quillers were not known to be in a position to judge others.
He spotted Damon, and he felt his heart leap into his throat. He nearly forgotten the trinket he was holding in his hand, and almost dropped it at the sight of the soldier. Damon looked achingly handsome - with sharply cut stubble and a suit dotted in military regalia, emphasizing the broad boxiness of his shoulders. It stole the words from Eros' mouth, and when they locked eyes, he could feel his cheeks light up, as a small part of him wanted to run away and regain his composure.
But the thrill of seeing Damon, smelling the gun oil and sweat that clung to the soldier, feeling the tautness under that suit. Eros walked - stumbled over - and gave Damon a smile he hoped did not look as manic as he felt.
"Damon! Hi! Thank you so much for coming!" In the dredges of his words, his thought about how high and shaky his voice sounded. He coughed, dropped his tone a few octaves, to a forcefully lower, "cooler" voice. "So, uh, how do you like the party?" As he ran his fingers through his dirty blonde waves, feeling a little proud of how cool he must have looked.