Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Come on, Robbe!” Noor is pleading, reaching her hands across the table to take one of his, squeezing it tightly. They’re eating brunch together—or maybe it’s lunch, what time does brunch become lunch?—outside a café and she is making a scene. It’d be embarrassing, if Robbe wasn’t used to it. “You’ll love him, I swear. You haven’t even let me tell you about him!”

Robbe gives her a blank look. “Because I’m not going on a blind date with some guy I don’t know.”

“Just give it a chance! He could be your soulmate!” When it’s clear that Robbe isn’t wavering, Noor pouts, pulling out her best puppy dog eyes. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Yeah, I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to go on a blind date just because you say so.”

Noor huffs, pulling her hands away from his and getting her phone out of her bag. She clicks away on the screen for a few moments while Robbe digs into his eggs, which are probably going cold because they’ve been doing too much arguing and not enough eating. 

This whole blind date thing had come out of nowhere. Robbe was under the impression they were just meeting for brunch, which is fairly normal, since he and Noor hang out a lot. He’d gotten there before her (also normal) and saved the table, ordering for her since he knew exactly what she wanted from this particular diner (always vegan eggs benedict), and then he’d waited for her. Normal. 

But when Noor got there, she’d come running up to the table, clearly giddy and excited about something. Robbe had matched her energy at first, eager to find out what she was so thrilled about. And then she’d dropped the blind date bomb. 

Apparently, Noor knows a guy named Sander who is perfect for Robbe. Of course he’d been instantly skeptical, hadn’t given Noor the chance to say anything about him before shutting her down. Robbe isn’t stupid. He knows blind dates always start off awkward and either end with a one night stand or someone making an excuse to leave early, and Robbe isn’t really up for either. He also doesn’t want to disappoint Noor if it turns out that he and Sander aren’t the soulmates she so clearly thinks that they are. 

Robbe really doubts this Sander guy is so great, anyway. He’s sure Sander is nice and all, but deserving of this much enthusiasm? It all feels a little off. Robbe hasn’t done anything to deserve the perfect man just being offered to him on a silver platter, so he doubts that’s what’s happening. It all just seems so far-fetched. 

“Look,” Noor says finally, showing Robbe her phone screen. She’s showing him a picture of a guy—Sander, he assumes—and… Well, Robbe will admit that the guy’s good-looking. He’s got a gorgeous face, pretty eyes, a really beautiful smile. His hair is bleached blonde, but not in the yellow way, in the silvery white way. Like Jack Frost. His skin is smooth and tan, flawless really, which makes his hair (and those eyes, seriously, Robbe can’t get over them) stand out that much more. He wonders if he’s that tan everywhere.

Okay, maybe Robbe’s mouth is a little dry. 

Noor smiles at Robbe’s silence, “Oooh, you think he’s cute! I fucking told you.” She takes her phone back, and Robbe shakes his head, trying his hardest to appear unaffected despite the fact he’s pretty sure he just saw a picture of Adonis or an angel. “And that’s not even the best thing about him. Like, obviously he’s just objectively hot, but his personality. He’s amazing, Robbe, seriously.”

Robbe narrows his eyes at her, pointing his fork accusingly. “Are you sure you shouldn’t be dating him? You sound like you’re in love with him.”

“Lesbian, Robbe.” Noor rolls her eyes, and then immediately goes back to that stupid smile. Robbe wants to be annoyed with her so badly, but he just can’t be when she’s this excited. “As I was saying, he’s great. He’s an art student at the Academie, he’s in my watercolor class, and he’s really, really talented. I saw his final project from last semester and it literally took my breath away. If I had pictures, I’d show you. And he’s kind, and really funny. Seriously, whenever I hang out with him, my cheeks start to hurt from laughing so much. And he’s impulsive, but in a cool way, you know? Like you’d never get bored with him because he’d always find some dumb shit to do, and he’d make it fun. You would absolutely adore him, Robbe. And he’d adore you.”

“Did you give him this kind of raving review about me?” Robbe deadpans. And it’s mostly a joke, so he’s surprised when Noor nods. 

“Yeah, of course! Britt and I both told him all about you. How you’re the sweetest person ever, have the biggest heart, just generally the human version of sunshine and rainbows. I told him that you like skating, I told him what kind of music you like—Sander is super into 70s and 80s rock, by the way, especially Bowie—and I told him about your YouTube. He specifically said that was cute.”

At first, Robbe doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t actually known that Sander was aware of his existence yet, though it makes sense now that he thinks about it. And if Noor has already spoken to Sander about him and they’re still asking Robbe for the blind date, that means Sander had to agree. That means Sander wants to go out with him. And Robbe doesn’t really know how to process that. 

But then he thinks about how Noor just said she and Britt told Sander about him, and that makes him take a pause. He’s not surprised that Britt knows Sander, because Sander is friends with Noor and Britt is Noor’s girlfriend, but apparently they know each other well enough that she had to convince Sander to meet with Robbe? Why would Britt have that much interaction with Sander, since Sander is only a casual school friend of Noor’s? Robbe doesn’t even know him.

So he asks, “How does Britt know Sander? Through you? I didn’t know you two were that close.”

Noor blushes then, looking a little sheepish. And Robbe goes on high alert because that look never ends well. “Okay, maybe Britt and Sander dated,” she rushes out, and Robbe feels his eyes widen because—what the fuck? Why would Britt try to set Robbe up with her ex boyfriend? “It’s not as weird as it sounds, I swear!” Noor defends quickly. “They only dated for, like, three weeks. And they broke up because they knew they were better as friends, so it’s all amicable. Well, I mean, that and the fact that Britt’s a lesbian. But my point is that Britt and Sander are cool, and it was actually Britt’s idea to set him up with you. So you have her blessing.”

“Noor…”

“Please?” Noor begs again, and Robbe resists the urge to reach across the table and chug her mimosa. “I promise you’ll love him. I’ve never met anybody who doesn’t like Sander.”

Robbe wants to keep resisting. He knows this won’t end well, can’t end well. This is the type of shit that gets fucked up and people make romcoms out of it. Nothing good can possibly come of this. Hell, he probably won’t even like Sander that much. 

But then he thinks of the gorgeous man in the picture, and he thinks of how Sander said his YouTube is cute, and how Britt—who hardly even knows Robbe—thinks that he and Sander would be a good match. 

And he decides… Fuck it. One date can’t hurt, right?

So he relents, “Fine, I’ll go on the stupid date. But you can’t be disappointed if it doesn’t work out.” He doesn’t think Noor hears the last part because of how loud she starts cheering, and he forgets to repeat himself while trying to shush her. 

He knows that he isn’t about to meet the love of his life in Sander. He knows this date will probably be awkward, and they’ll part ways at the end and probably never see each other again, except maybe in passing since they kind of run in the same circles. He knows Sander isn’t his soulmate. 

But Noor’s excitement makes it worth it. 

//

Robbe’s nervous. 

He didn’t think he would be, but he is. He keeps thinking about how gorgeous Sander was, and how highly Noor spoke of him. How he’s so cool and funny and interesting and the life of the party. Robbe doesn’t measure up to that. He’s not good enough. 

And he’s supposed to meet Sander at the bar at 7pm, and it’s 6:55pm now, and Robbe’s standing across the street like an idiot just staring at the bar. He’s suddenly second-guessing his outfit even though Milan swore his jeans looked good and his button-up shirt wasn’t too dressy. He’s shaky and anxious and a little bit sweaty, which only makes him more anxious. He’s so positive that Sander is going to take one look at him and be disappointed. 

Robbe wants to cancel. He wants to text Sander that there was an emergency, he’s so sorry but he can’t make it, and then run for the fucking hills and never let anybody talk him into a blind date again. 

But he promised Noor. And he doesn’t want to disappoint her, either. 

Robbe shakes out his limbs as if to shake out his anxiety, reminding himself that even if the date does go poorly, he never has to see Sander again. Noor will be happy for the effort, Robbe will have probably at least had a semi-decent night, and he can let the fact that such a pretty man agreed to go out with him be a stroke to his ego. It’ll be fine. Everything will be okay. 

He steels himself and then finally crosses the street, pushing the bar door open and stepping inside. He surveys the room looking for Sander, and discovers that his ice blonde hair is good for one thing: making him stand out in a crowd. He spots Sander sitting by the window, a napkin in front of him that he’s idly drawing on. His hands look a little shaky, and Robbe wonders if he’s nervous. 

But he doesn’t focus on that for long, because Sander is even more stunning in person. Robbe feels like he’s going to start drooling right here in the middle of the bar, or maybe end up on his knees which… Maybe he has to remind himself that a one night stand is definitely off the table, whatever. 

Another quick breather and then Robbe forces himself to walk up to the table, smiling when Sander looks up and notices him. “Hey, Sander?” Robbe asks, smiling even wider when Sander fucking lights up. 

“Yeah, yeah! Robbe, right?” Sander asks, standing up from the barstool and holding out his hand for Robbe to shake. 

Robbe expected Sander’s hands to be soft, but they’re calloused, probably from drawing, and for some reason that turns Robbe the fuck on. 

“Yeah,” Robbe says dumbly. He’s perfectly aware of the fact that he’s staring, but he almost doesn’t mind, because Sander is openly scanning his eyes over Robbe, too. “Nice to meet you.”

Sander smiles even wider, just staring for a second, before he startles and gestures to the table, asking Robbe to sit down. They go through the awkwardness of discussing their ages after Sander asks if Robbe’s going to drink, because he has to inform Sander that he isn’t old enough yet. Sander laughs and says that, as much as Noor and Britt told him about Robbe, they never mentioned that he was Britt’s age. 

Bringing up Britt makes Robbe a little uncomfortable. Part of him still feels like he’s crossing some sort of line, dating his friend’s girlfriend’s ex. He knows that he has no obligation to Britt, but it feels disrespectful to Noor to do something potentially disrespectful to her girlfriend. 

“About Britt,” Robbe begins, because he just has to, “are you sure she doesn’t mind that we’re seeing each other? Noor told me you two dated…”

Sander snorts, “Oh, yeah. Britt and I dated for two and a half weeks before we broke up. It was mutual, but she was the one who actually broke up with me. Turns out being a lesbian is a pretty good reason not to date a guy. And we’re better off as friends.” He locks eyes with Robbe, keeping his gaze fully on him. “I promise there’s no feelings on my end, either. If you’re worried about that.”

Robbe didn’t think that he was, but he finds himself relieved to hear Sander’s reassurance anyway. So he nods, and smiles back when Sander smiles at him. 

“So how do you know Britt? Just through Noor?” Sander asks, and Robbe goes through the entire thing about how they went to school together, she dated Jens, and then now she’s dating Noor. He explains how he didn’t meet Noor through Britt, and that just turned out to be a weird coincidence. 

Sander finds it hilarious that Britt dated Robbe’s best friend. He teases Robbe about how the two closest people to him have dated Britt, and how now he’s going on a date with a guy who has also dated her. Robbe admits it’s a little weird, but ultimately shrugs it off, laughing along with Sander’s teases. 

They order beers—or, Sander orders them beers—and they talk about themselves. Robbe finds out that Sander loves drawing portraits, that he’s into spraying graffiti, that his favorite music (besides Bowie) is Queen, that he has a healthy relationship with his parents, and that he has a younger sister. He also hears the story behind the scar near his eyebrow, and the story of how he came out to his parents, and about how his mom used to make croques (Sander’s favorite food) every Sunday for the family. He even gets a lecture on David Bowie’s career and discography. 

And Robbe has to admit that Noor’s right. Sander is fun. He’s gorgeous, of course, but he’s more than that. He’s funny, he’s interesting, he’s charming, and Robbe finds his face hurting from smiling so much. 

The best part is that it seems mutual. Sander asks tons of questions about Robbe, and listens diligently to all the answers. Of course Robbe talks about the YouTube channel, but he also talks about skating and video games and all about his roommates. He tells Sander a brief version of why he doesn’t live with his parents, and Sander doesn’t give him a pitiful look or a sad face. Instead, he just tells Robbe that he’s bipolar, just like that, like it’s nothing. Like Robbe’s done something to earn his trust. They don’t dwell on it because it’s none of Robbe’s business, but it still makes Robbe’s heart flutter. 

By the time their beers are empty and it’s nearing 9pm, though, they kind of run out of shit to talk about. There’s only so much conversation you can truly have on a first date without getting too deep or too annoying, and Robbe’s just finished explaining the multiverse theory— no, Sander, not like Spiderman— so he knows he’s toeing that line. 

But he doesn’t want to part ways. He wants to stay here forever, talking to Sander about anything and everything. Sander has a beautiful voice and interesting opinions and stories, and Robbe could listen forever. 

As they pay their tab and walk out to the street, lingering at the bike racks, Robbe realizes it is mutual. Sander doesn’t want to leave either. 

Sander sighs, chewing on his lip. “This was really fun, by the way. Thank you for agreeing to go out with me. Noor made it seem like it took a lot of convincing.” Robbe doesn’t miss the self deprecation in his tone, so he knocks his shoulder into Sander’s. 

“It wasn’t because of you. I’ve just… Never dated a boy before. Much less one so attractive.”

It’s a scary thing to admit, and even Sander looks a little startled. But he recovers quickly, and gives Robbe a sheepish smile. 

“Well, I hope I was a good first.”

Robbe nods, “You were. I definitely don’t have regrets.”

Sander chews on his lip again, looking down at his bike and then down the street before finally looking back at Robbe. There’s a mischievous look on his face, and Robbe feels excitement bubbling up in his stomach. He thinks of what Noor said: And he’s impulsive, but in a cool way, you know? Like you’d never get bored with him because he’d always find some dumb shit to do, and he’d make it fun. And he hopes that that’s what’s happening. 

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Robbe, I’m pretty awkward on first dates. I don’t do well with sitting and talking,” Sander says, and internally Robbe wonders how the hell he Sander thinks he was anything other than cool and charming tonight. But externally, he just smirks back at Sander, mirroring his playful expression. “I’m a lot less awkward when I’m doing something fun. Come.”

It’s a statement, not a question. Robbe hesitates as he watches Sander clamber onto his bike, but not because he doesn’t want to go with Sander. He does. He’s known Sander for two hours and he thinks he’d follow Sander to the end of the world. He hesitates because he wonders how the hell Sander knows that already. 

But then Sander is looking over his shoulder and asking what’s taking Robbe so long, so Robbe stops thinking. He just climbs onto his bike and follows Sander down the cobbled street, chasing whatever adventure Sander’s made up for the two of them. 

The bike ride is… some of the most fun Robbe’s ever had. Sander is loud and unabashed; yelling backwards at Robbe, singing Rebel Rebel and Heroes at the top of his lungs despite being an absolutely dreadful singer, and swerving back and forth along the pathway with little regard for obstacles or other pedestrians. 

Robbe mostly just giggles the entire time, feeling drunk despite only having one beer that he nursed for two hours, and it feels like he’s known this guy forever. 

He doesn’t know Sander’s favorite color, or his birthday, or his biggest fears, or his childhood trauma, or why his hair is bleached ice blonde. But as they race through the tunnel under the Schelde and sing Under Pressure together despite the fact that Robbe only knows some of the words, Robbe feels like all the stars are aligning. Something in the universe has shifted, and he doesn’t know what yet, but he feels it. Something tingling at his fingertips like lightning. Something he didn’t feel until they left the bar (though he definitely felt a lot of things at the bar, too). 

They skid to a stop in front of something Robbe doesn’t recognize in the dark. They abandon their bikes and Sander leads him inside, dragging him up the stairs with their palms pressed together, and Robbe couldn’t keep the smile off of his face if he tried. It’s a good thing they’re already on a date and Robbe doesn’t have to pretend he isn’t hopelessly attracted to Sander, or else he’d be up shit creek by how hard his cheeks ache. 

Once they reach the top of the stairs and the glittering pool comes into view, Robbe knows where they are. 

“Sander!” Robbe admonishes, voice hushed as he giggles, just in case there’s security or something. “Are we even allowed to be in here?”

Sander steps closer to the pool, shrugging. “I don’t know. Probably not, because the door was locked. Does it matter?” He turns to Robbe then, an adorably innocent look on his face that melts Robbe to absolute goo. Yeah, Noor and Britt were definitely onto something. Robbe can already see Sander making that face at him while they’re laying in Robbe’s room, and Sander’s pretending to be the perfect student even though he’s ignoring his homework to try and get Robbe to cuddle him. 

And that’s probably not a good sign, is it? That Robbe’s already imagining a domestic future?

Robbe shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess not, if you’re not worried about it.” 

He barely gets the sentence out before Sander is stepping out of his Docs, and then shrugging out of his jacket. Robbe watches in awe as Sander strips, half because he can’t believe it’s happening and half because Sander is sculpted like Adonis, too. Seriously, Robbe doesn’t know how he managed to score this boy. 

As soon as Sander’s down to his briefs, he gestures at Robbe, asking him to do the same. It takes Robbe a second to respond, a bit too wrapped up in staring at Sander’s body (yes, he is that tan everywhere) to notice. He blushes when he realizes he’s caught, but Sander seems unbothered, just smiling and waiting for Robbe to comply. 

Robbe looks around the pool. “What if we get caught?” He asks nervously, even as he starts working on the buttons to his shirt. 

“We won’t get caught,” Sander dismisses him easily. “Don’t worry about it, cutie.” He winks at Robbe, and it’s as if Robbe’s entire brain hits reset. His fingers fumble on the buttons, and it takes him a solid 15 seconds to reboot and successfully get his shirt off. 

His jeans are next, and Sander slides off his briefs while Robbe does that. Robbe tries his hardest not to look, no pun intended, and stands up to ask Sander what’s next. But in that same second, Sander takes off, cannonballing into the pool in the dark, butt naked. 

It’s certainly one hell of a first date. If nothing else, at least Robbe will always remember his first real date with a boy, and how it involved a felony or two. 

“Holy shit, Sander!” Robbe exclaims, still slightly hushed, as happy giggles bubble out of his throat uncontrollably. He watches as Sander surfaces from underneath the water, his breath fogging up in front of him, and Robbe’s reminded that it’s literally November and is definitely too cold for swimming. 

But Sander is grinning, lifting his hands above the water to try and goad Robbe into jumping in, too. “Come on, Robbe!” He laughs, with absolutely no hush to his voice. 

“Are you kidding? It’s fucking freezing!”

“You’ll get used to it,” Sander dismisses. “Now come on! Join me, young man!”

And, again, Robbe thinks he’d follow Sander anywhere. So he drops his pants and then, without taking off his briefs, makes a start for the water. 

He stops, though, when Sander tsks at him. “No, no, Robbe. Take it all off. All the way or no way.”

Robbe takes a pause. On the one hand, it really is freezing. And he knows that water will be a million times colder, knows that Sander’s lips and fingers are probably blue. He knows that he could just stay up here, be a little bit of a pussy maybe, and just watch Sander break the rules. 

But on the other hand, what fun would that be? Sander is fun, cool, impulsive. Robbe’s never considered himself any of those things, especially not impulsive. And aren’t you supposed to find people who pull you out of your comfort zone, convince you to do fun things you never would’ve done before? 

He quickly takes off his underwear, discarding it to the side before jumping in with Sander. The water is freezing, he swears he feels his entire body try to recoil into itself, and he gasps at it once he resurfaces. He tries to swim around to get used to it as Sander had said, but it isn’t working, and Sander is only laughing at him. 

“Can you swim, dude?” Sander is teasing, and Robbe stops, looking up at him. 

He splashes him before he can think of how juvenile that is. “Fuck you, I’m a great swimmer,” he laughs in return, though he does stop, treading water in front of Sander instead. 

He’s painfully aware that they’re both naked underwater, but he forced himself not to look. It’s only their first date, popping a boner is the last thing Robbe wants to do. 

“Oh, yeah? Prove it, then,” Sander challenges him, that stupid smirk still on his face. Robbe is suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss it until it goes away. “Let’s make a bet. I bet I can hold my breath underwater longer than you can.”

“Fine. What does the winner get?”

Sander shrugs, and when the action makes him sink further into the water, he has to overcompensate to bring himself back up. It’s so infuriatingly adorable that Robbe swims closer, so fucking tempted to reach out and just kiss him. “It’ll be determined by the winner. So, me.”

That breaks Robbe’s spell. “Fuck you,” he repeats, laughing so loudly, not even caring that they’re still breaking and entering. “You’re on.”

“Okay, on three. One, two, three.”

They both sink under the water, only a bit of space between them, and Robbe thinks that Sander shouldn’t still look so fucking beautiful when he’s underwater. This blue lighting shouldn’t be flattering to anyone, but Sander’s fucking glowing, looking like an angel there in front of Robbe. 

Robbe admonishes himself for ever thinking that Sander wouldn’t be the man of his dreams, and he wonders what the fuck he’s supposed to do now that he knows that Sander is. 

Sander reaches out suddenly, grabs at Robbe’s stomach, and Robbe quickly shoves his arm away. Robbe loves the teasing, but he’s also very competitive, and he’ll be damned if he lets Sander cheat his way into winning. 

That’s the same reason he still refuses to look down. He thinks Sander may be going through the same torture, because he’s seen Sander’s eyes flick down a couple of times and then immediately go right back up. It should be embarrassing, knowing that Sander could look down and see his dick, but it isn’t. Robbe almost wants him to. 

Sander moves again, this time moving closer and closer to Robbe. For half a second, Robbe thinks that Sander’s about to grab at both of his sides, maybe tickle him until Robbe is forced to the surface for breath. So he braces himself for that, hands out in front of him, ready to shove away. 

But then Sander’s lips meet his, and Robbe blacks out. All thoughts of the bet down the fucking drain. 

The only thing he knows to do is kiss back, hands coming up to Sander’s cheeks, pulling him closer and closer still. They’re still swimming, even as they finally come up for air, legs tangling together and hips bumping as they keep the kiss from breaking. 

Somehow—Robbe can’t be sure, he’s too wrapped up in Sander’s lips and his wandering hands and his thighs and his calves and his hips and his tongue—they end up pressed up against the edge of the pool. Robbe’s back digs into the edge as Sander pushes him into it, his hands resting on the concrete on either side of Robbe to hold himself up. Robbe uses Sander’s newfound stability to create his own, holding himself up by wrapping his arms around Sander’s neck. 

He’s tempted to wrap his legs around Sander’s waist too, but again, first date. This is already going father than Robbe expected. 

Sander doesn’t seem to have the same qualms. He’s diving into Robbe’s mouth, kissing and licking into it, barely letting Robbe catch his breath. They’re kissing like they’ve both been waiting for this moment their entire lives, even though they hadn’t even known each other until tonight, hadn’t even known about each other until two weeks ago. 

Robbe’s heard a lot about that stars-aligned, just know it’s meant to be gut feeling that people say they got when they first met their significant other. Robbe’s always thought it was a myth, but he feels it now, he knows what they’re talking about. He’s only known Sander for a handful of hours but this kiss feels like forever, feels like the beginning of something that Robbe never could’ve dreamed of in a million fucking years, feels like something he never would’ve dared to hope for. 

And it’s weird, being on this side of something so amazing, so magical, so unprecedented. And he hopes that Sander feels it, too. He hopes that Sander’s also choking on the weight of feeling like he’s known Robbe for years, and the feeling of wanting to know him forever. Robbe’s never believed in soulmates before, but he feels like Sander’s got a part of his heart already. 

Or maybe Sander’s always had a piece of Robbe’s heart, a token of his soulmate since birth, and he’s just been carrying it around until the day they met, when he could fit it in like a puzzle piece and Robbe could put his piece of Sander’s heart back, and then they’d be whole. Maybe Sander’s been his other half all along, and this meeting was predestined, written in the stars. Maybe they’ve both spent their entire lives waiting for each other. 

And that’s a lot for a kiss, for their first kiss, for their first make out. Robbe would feel silly and naïve, if it didn’t feel so… cosmic. Magical. He’s used that word a lot, but that’s truly how it feels. 

Sander pulls back suddenly, panting in the small space between their mouths. Neither of them speak for a moment, just nudging their noses against each other, trying to collect themselves. Robbe feels certain by now that Sander does feel the exact same, does feel like their heartbeats are meant to be intertwined, like two rhythms in the same song. 

“So,” Sander breathes out, and his voice is rough and his lips are swollen and red, and Robbe presses his fingernails into his palm to try and hold back any arousal. “Not to be too forward or anything, but I think I’m in love with you.” He’s teasing, and Robbe knows that, can hear it in his voice. 

Robbe teases back, “Am I that good of a kisser?”

Sander whines, ducking back in for a few more kisses. “Yes,” he murmurs, once their lips separate again, but it’s like it pains him to do it. Robbe gets that. “And also… I don’t know how to explain it, and I hope it doesn’t scare you away, but… I feel like. Ever since I first saw you, I’ve just felt like I had to get to know you. Like it was love at first sight. I don’t even know if I believe in love at first sight, I just— I just know how I felt. And how I feel now.” He licks his lips, swallows hard, and then looks up at Robbe with a terrified look in his eye. “Is that too much?”

“No,” Robbe whispers instantly. “I feel the exact same way. I didn’t believe Noor when she said you might be my soulmate, but… God, I owe her one.”

And that should be too much, but Sander just smiles and kisses Robbe again, and Robbe’s starting to understand the people who get married after only a month of dating. 

“When I first saw you,” Sander says against Robbe’s lips, “I thought you were her boyfriend.”

It doesn’t register at first because they’re still kissing, and Sander’s lips are soft and warm and taste like beer and strawberry chapstick. But once Robbe realizes what Sander’s said, he’s the one that pulls back, far enough to look Sander in the eye. 

“Wait, what?” He asks, while Sander just stares back sheepishly. “You’ve known about me?”

Sander nods, “Yeah. Noor and I go to school together, of course I noticed you when you came to pick her up from class. How could I not? It’s not everyday that the most beautiful boy in the world comes into my watercolor class.” Sander shrugs again, still looking a bit sheepish, and then reaches out to caress Robbe’s cheek. “So I found your Instagram, and as soon as I found out that you were not her boyfriend, I started working up the courage to ask her to introduce us. I was nervous about it because then she started dating Britt, so I eventually asked Britt’s permission, and Britt loved the idea. So she told Noor, and then… Here we are, I guess.”

Robbe’s blushing, he knows he is. Because the first time he picked Noor up from her watercolor class was in September, and it’s November now. Two months. Sander’s been crushing on Robbe for two months. 

It’s a lot to take in. 

“Wow,” Robbe muses, and there’s a fond smile on his face. One that makes Sander beam at him, bright like sunshine, warming him up despite the freezing pool. “So you’ve had a big embarrassing crush on me for two months, and instead of approaching me when I was at your school, you just stalked my Instagram until our friend agreed to set us up?”

Now Sander’s blushing. “Well, when you put it like that it sounds—” Sander’s interrupted by a bright light shining down on them, followed by a lot of yelling and a dog barking. 

The both of them swear loudly and scramble out of the pool, grabbing their clothes and taking off down the stairs. They get mostly dressed in the stairwell and then bolt to their bikes, pedaling hard down the sidewalk back towards the pedestrian tunnel. They’re both laughing so loud it’s echoing, shaking from the cold because they’re both still wet and their clothes are sodden now too, and Robbe thinks he could do this for the rest of his life. 

More than anything, he wants to go back to kissing Sander again. In a warm room, preferably. With a bed. Maybe. 

“Keep up, Robbe!” Sander yells over his shoulder all of a sudden. “The night is young! We’ve got so much to do!”

He has no idea what Sander has in mind, but he doesn’t care. He just pedals faster, keeps up with Sander, and laughs his way through their rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. And once they get back to the pedestrian tunnel, when they’re biking side by side because it’s so late now that there’s nobody else there, Sander reaches out his hand, an invitation. 

Robbe accepts it, lacing their fingers together in the space between them, and wonders if Noor will agree to be in the wedding party.