[The door's unlocked because the second their call got cut, Toby was on his feet. Up and over to the door and waiting as if Dorian was about to come around the corner. He even opens the door a few times to see if his boyfriend is close by. It's only after the third time that he makes himself step away to get a cigarette for himself. A cigarette that's long since gone when the younger immortal arrives.
He's waiting silently in the sitting room when Dorian finally sweeps in. Dressed different than last he saw the man, but still him. His gait. His hair. His heartbeat. His scent. His soulmate. If his own heart still beat, it might've stopped again from seeing him standing there.]
Dorian. [His voice is still small as he shuffles over, feet like lead weights and the end of his legs for how hard it is to push his way through the dream-like state he feels. The whiskey's not helping, and he doesn't care. He needs to put his hands on this man. Or at least be close enough to feel his breaths on his face the way he's been wanting for so many months.
He stops just in front of the man, lifting a hand to brush across his left shoulder. A strangled chuckle of delight leaves him.] Holy shit. You're here.
[Maybe he's still dreaming, but at least if he is, it's a good sort of dream. He could use one of those after so many months of being miserable. He reaches to grab hold of one of Dorian's hands and hold it gently, so very gently, in his own as tears start to build in his eyes.]
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He's waiting silently in the sitting room when Dorian finally sweeps in. Dressed different than last he saw the man, but still him. His gait. His hair. His heartbeat. His scent. His soulmate. If his own heart still beat, it might've stopped again from seeing him standing there.]
Dorian. [His voice is still small as he shuffles over, feet like lead weights and the end of his legs for how hard it is to push his way through the dream-like state he feels. The whiskey's not helping, and he doesn't care. He needs to put his hands on this man. Or at least be close enough to feel his breaths on his face the way he's been wanting for so many months.
He stops just in front of the man, lifting a hand to brush across his left shoulder. A strangled chuckle of delight leaves him.] Holy shit. You're here.
[Maybe he's still dreaming, but at least if he is, it's a good sort of dream. He could use one of those after so many months of being miserable. He reaches to grab hold of one of Dorian's hands and hold it gently, so very gently, in his own as tears start to build in his eyes.]
It's you. It's you.