It had ended with a kiss and Aaron remembers it all, every little detail; he remembers the way Jackson had started by casually bringing his hand to rest on Aaron's knee beneath the table, informal and inconspicuous but still enough to make Aaron feel uneasy. They were talking, laughing, making stupid jokes and Jackson was, without any doubt in Aaron's mind, flirting shamelessly. He should have been terrified and Aaron still isn't entirely sure what had stopped him running for the hills, but Jackson had made a joke, some stupid comment and Aaron had laughed, pretending he had heard, acting as though he hadn't been lost in his own head, amongst a tidal wave of thoughts.
He remembers the way Jackson smelled as he leant closer, shouting to be heard above the music that filled the bar that night, the bar that Aaron had become all too familiar with in the passing months. Jackson smelled of beer; it lingered on his breath, on his tongue even, as it poked out and swiped along his lower lip, wetting it has he continued to talk. Jackson had definitely smelled of beer, deodorant and something Aaron could only have described as pure lust. Aaron should have panicked then, panicked because it wasn't bothering him like it had, he was growing to enjoy the attention, the little smiles Jackson would send his way from across the bar, the subtle touches and even the hugs when they'd greet one another; yes, Aaron was slowly growing comfortable and for a moment, he had even allowed himself to think that he may miss those small, stupid gestures, if Jackson were to ever leave.
He remembers the way Jackson had slid an arm around his waist from behind, his hand coming to rest firmly on Aaron's stomach as they both stood, allowing Jackson room to squeeze past on his way out of the booth and to the toilets. Aaron remembers how his skin had tingled beneath his shirt, long after Jackson's hand had been removed and the way in which the touch had failed to alarm him, if anything, Aaron recalls, it had calmed his nerves.
Aaron remembers the way Jackson had smiled at him, seconds before it had happened, all teeth and cheek bones, his eyes had even lit up a little; Aaron swears it. Aaron had finished his drink and announced he was leaving, he remembers how Jackson had thrown him a look of disappointment and an offer to wait with him until his bus came, it had been raining when they left the bar and the two had found shelter beneath a shop canopy, not far from the bus-stop. Aaron recalls the yellow glow of the street light above them and a soggy Jackson stood in front of him, smiling like an idiot and reaching out to wipe away what Aaron had assumed to be a spot of rain on the tip of his nose. Aaron remembers smiling back, laughing and giving Jackson a playful shove, he remembers Jackson's hand around his wrist, fingers intertwined and a pair of lips against his own, he doesn't remember when he closed his eyes. The kiss was soft, chaste and quick but still enough for Aaron to taste the beer on Jackson's breath.
Aaron remembers how Jackson had smelled after the kiss, he smelled of rain and faintly of sweat and Aaron remembers knowing it was a scent he'd miss upon boarding the bus without the other man, he remembers Jackson's fingers remaining locked around his own until his bus came into view and the smaller kiss to the back of his hand that Jackson had planted before saying their goodbyes.
Aaron remembers boarding the bus and running a thumb across the back of his hand, smiling at the memory of Jackson's lips and the feel of them against his own. Aaron remembers Jackson's stupid smile, his stupid laugh and his stupid touch and he remembers how much he loves them, but most of all, Aaron remembers thinking that maybe he could be happy after all.