Чувствую себя эгоисткой... Приятное чувство, надо повторить)
читать дальшеKazu exhaled heavily and pulled his hat onto his head. New Years Eve, and he was alone and bored. His parents were overseas, and his sister was spending the night at her friends’ house. He turned on the TV and turned it to one of the news channels, watching the giant clock.
Ten minutes left until the New Year.
He heard a knock on his door, two quick taps, and he shuffled sleepily to the door, clicking the ‘off’ button on the TV. Opening it, he saw Ikki standing there, with the same bored exprеssion on his face. “Steak night,” he said, “the girls went out.” Ikki raised his eyebrows at Kazu, seeing the house empty. “Your sister left you alone?”
Kazu blinked and nodded. “I’m used to it,” he said.
Ikki shook his head and walked inside Kazu’s house, slipping out of his tennis shoes at the door. “Well I’m staying,” he commented offhandedly, but firmly. He plopped himself on the couch and looked expectantly up at Kazu, who sighed and sat down and turned the TV back on.
Five minutes left.
Kazu looked at Ikki and frowned, realizing he had walked to his house. “Why didn’t you wear your AT’s here?” he asked, concerned that Ikki may have broken them again while practicing. He didn’t want to have to lend Ikki anymore money, he was broke too.
Ikki raised his eyebrows and pointed out the window, where large fluffy clumps of snow were falling. “That’s why,” he said simply, and tilted his head back on the back of the couch. “You were seriously just gonna sit here and stare at a giant clock all night? How boring…”
Two minutes left.
Kazu turned his face slightly away, looking again at Ikki’s shoes. Ikki…He’d been Kazu’s best friend for a long time, and he knew how Kazu felt about him now; Kazu had told him a couple of days before Christmas. Kazu swallowed at the thought; The Crow hadn’t rejected him…he’d almost seemed happy that Kazu…loved him. Kazu reddened at the thought, embarrassed by his own feelings. He pulled his hat a little lower down on his head and looked back at the TV.
One minute left.
Kazu looked over at Ikki, who was still staring at the ceiling. Ikki seemed to feel Kazu looking though, because he tilted his head to the right to look at him. “What?” he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. Kazu just shook his head, feeling the color rising to his face as he looked away.
Thirty seconds left.
Ikki’s eyebrows pulled together a little into a frown, but he didn’t question the blonde any further.
Twenty seconds...
Kazu shifted a little, intensely aware of how close to Ikki he was.
Ten seconds...
Kazu shifted again, turning slightly towards Ikki, his eyes lowered slightly towards the floor. Ikki raised his eyebrows.
Five seconds...
Kazu’s hands tensed, and he scooted closer to Ikki.
Three seconds...
Kazu lifted his face up to look straight into to Ikki’s puzzled face.
Two seconds...
Kazu moved his face so close to Ikki’s that their noses were touching…
One second…
Kazu tilted his head to the side…
Zero.
Kazu pressed his lips to Ikki’s, his eyes clenched shut. He lingered there until the second round of fireworks were fired, then Kazu fell back, his face bright red. “S-sorry,” he mumbled, staring at the ground, completely stunned at what he had just done. He felt Ikki move a little, and assumed he was going to leave.
Ikki suddenly tilted Kazu’s face up towards his again, and Kazu’s eyes widened. “Is that all I get, after coming and keeping you company?” asked Ikki with mock sadness.
Kazu blinked. “Wha-…?”
As soon as Kazu had opened his mouth to speak, Ikki had bent over and closed the gap between the two of them, Ikki’s mouth moving eagerly against Kazu’s. Kazu’s eyelids lowered, and then closed tight as Ikki’s arms pulled him closer. Ikki slowly leaned forward, pushing Kazu down onto the couch with him, not letting their mouths separate, and Kazu started moaning Ikki’s name into his mouth. Ikki pressed himself closer to Kazu, his tongue nudging Kazu’s mouth for entrance. Kazu parted his lips slightly, and Ikki took advantage of it.
“Mmm…Ik-Ikki…” Kazu mumbled into Ikki’s mouth. Kazu squirmed a little underneath Ikki and the Crow finally pulled back for a second. Kazu panted, his eyes still shut. “I…couldn’t…breath…” he said in between breaths, opening his eyes to glare at him.
Ikki chuckled and propped himself up on his elbows. “You started it,” he said, grinning. Kazu flushed a deeper shade of red at this, and Ikki chuckled again and rolled off the couch. Kazu sat up halfway and licked his lips a little, because he had enjoyed the kiss, and Ikki knew it.
Ikki bent down again, but this time he put his mouth up to Kazu’s ear. “Happy New Year,” he murmured into Kazu’s ear, and then the Crow turned to the door, waved slightly behind him, put on his shoes, and left the house, leaving behind a very confused and red, but pleased, Kazu.
читать дальшеThursday
2040 words
10/14/07
FruitsandCandy
It was times like this that made him feel like his life was a bit like an obtuse circle of repeated unoriginality. Because at every morning somewhere between the chirping of the birds and the sunshine that leaked annoyingly from the tattered blinds, there was that ridiculous ring that sounded a bit like an out of pitch swallow coming from the bedside table. He could sleepily feel the white covers shift between his arms, as the other inhabitant moved to swat at the bedside table until he found the alarm clock’s off button.
And then, they would stay in silence, in those awkward few moments between sleep and half-awake senses, tangled in each other’s arms and the warm covers. In those moments where he knew he didn’t want to get up; and he’d rather stay there and sleep for the rest of the day.
It was always like this.
Sometimes he hated it, the difficulty to move, to even want to get up, and the fact that he knew this couldn’t last. He wasn’t sure which was more painful. More for the fact because he, himself, knew this couldn’t last, and yet here he was, holding on to last threads, just because he simply needed it. He wasn’t sure if he could live without it, this utter passion.
… “We should get up.” He heard Spitfire mumble into his neck. Hypocrite. He probably still had his eyes closed.
He blinked blearily. “We should.” He agreed, not making a move either.
…
Again, there was that mindful struggle where he knew that he should move, and there was that nagging voice in his head that told him he needed to go. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration, he didn’t want to move. Not now. And certainly not ever.
But even if both would rather stay like this, after another five or so minutes, the better and more logical and passion-less part of their minds began to overtake in the struggle, and both moved. Of course, Spitfire had already moved to the bathroom, wash his face, probably take a shower, and grapple for the half empty toothpaste, an easy daily routine. While Nue practically tumbled out of the bed, blinking at the white ceiling before finally moving to find his school uniform.
School, just the mere mention of the thought sent the boy into shudders.
It was even worse than the daily routine they had going on. School was just too organized, and too predictable, aside from the occasional fire drill or the idiot who brings the gun to school and it turns to be a fake. Other than that, it was gym in the morning, (which he was particularly good at) Math, Language Arts, History, just about crap really. Crap he didn’t want to sit through, but had to.
After tugging a decently fitting sweater, and tumbling into the kitchen while fixing his pants and brushing his hair simultaneously, he plopped onto the kitchen stool facing the island. He looked up from his wrinkled pants, eying an all too colorful for this morning bowl of rainbow colored fruit loops that was being handed to him.
Nue blinked. “What am I, twelve?”
“You’re still a kid.” Spitfire reminded, sending a twang into Nue’s heart. As if he didn’t know already. This was illegal.
“I am not.” Nue huffed indignantly. “I’m already sixteen.”
Spitfire sighed. “Just eat it.”
So, whether he really wanted to or not, a spoonful of lactose milk (because he couldn’t drink otherwise normal milk so Spitfire went out to buy it despite his protests) and slightly soggy but crunchy artificial fruit tasting rings. Which actually turned out to be pretty good, he had realized after taking another spoonful. Spitfire already knew he would do this, smirking triumphantly as he shot Nue a look that said, “I’m older, you know I’m right.”
And as illegal as this relationship may be, the two of them must have only been, eight or nine years apart, Nue being newly sixteen, and Spitfire twenty-five. And he was still wearing that rider jacket, with the fur that surrounded his neck-wait. Rider jacket?
“Aren’t you going to work?” Nue asked around a spoonful of cereal. “It’s Thursday.”
Spitfire rolled his eyes. “The Salon closes on Thursday and Sunday.”
Oh, that’s right.
Nue slumped. Whether in a pout or annoyance it was hard to tell. “So that means I have to go to school but you get to go around riding.”
Spitfire ruffled his hair affectionately, smoothing out the askew hairs on the top of his head. Not even the best hair gel in the world could get his spikes to stay down. Not even crazy glue either, because of course his team had tried that, protesting that it was a second grade science experiment. But just the fact that Spitfire’s warm palm had lingered on his lavender hair just a little longer than it really needed to, and the sweet smile he had on his face was enough for his heart to flutter.
But the moment wouldn’t last, as Spitfire looked at the clock. “You’re going to be late.”
“Shit.” He mumbled, jumping off the island stool and sprinting quickly to the door, grabbing his backpack. “Bye!”
“Bye.” Spitfire called after him.
He re-adjusted that stupid plaid vest that the Academy made him wear. One of those fleecy things, and he was well aware that the school he went to was some preppy class place; all of the teachers were utterly American. Even his school uniform was from America, a white long-sleeved polo and a vest that had plaid diamonds crossing on the front, and khaki pants that should be ironed but he didn’t have the time-or particularly the money-to get one.
But as high-paying as AT were, they couldn’t compare to two high-end parents paying for you. And Spitfire had often asked if he ever needed anything, quite the rich man himself even though he lived in a tacky furnished (which Nue promptly changed) bachelor pad on the eighteenth floor of some building. But still, he never knew his parents, if he even had any, and he never needed them before so he wouldn’t need them now.
School was a bore, as per usual.
The teachers had already begun to be amazed at his work, because for some apparent reason, he was particularly smart. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was a Gravity Child or for some other genetic reason. The jocks liked to glare at him, because they couldn’t say they were better at sports because he was, by far. The people who knew about AT were flocking to him in hordes, because he was Thunder King and everyone wanted to meet him in person if they could. He must have signed ten note books today, found four or so pink laced cards fluttering from his locker, and countless asking for tips.
Throughout the boring hours that were school, he always thought of Spitfire; and what would he do when he got home.
He could never call himself homeless; he sheltered so many other Gravity Children much younger than him, that he had enough money to support most of them, and their craving for random flavored ice cream.
…
But his favorite part of the day was when, after much debate, decided to walk back to Spitfire’s house instead of his own, eyes bleary and tired from the day and he just knew he’d need coffee to keep him going for the parts war later on that day.
He’d stayed at Spitfire’s house long enough to know that he kept his spare key in his dead plant Mr. Sparkles, and that the seventh stare was broken.
The door opened slowly, but loud.
He didn’t even need to talk to let Spitfire know he was home.
“You left your armor here, have fun lugging that thing down the stairs.”
He could hear the sarcasm in Spitfire’s voice, coming from the kitchen. The smell of delicious food was so good; he had to come in, even if he really didn’t want to. This was illegal, more so than AT, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting to come back.
“Smells good.” Nue commented, seating himself on the bar stool on the island.
Spitfire chuckled. “It’s store bought, I’m just heating it up.”
“Oh that’s right.” Nue frowned, brows furrowed cutely. “You can’t cook.”
“Unless you want terribly burnt pot-stickers.”
He stirred the pot slowly; there was a wrapper from the store a few blocks down. Some Chinese soup, but even if it was probably highly fat and artificial, it actually smelt really good. Nue thought that Spitfire was a better cook than he actually let on. In fact, Spitfire was one of those Gravity Children that seemed to blend in with the rest of the humans, sinking into the routine slowly, but still keeping some sort of creativity. Maybe that was what attracted Nue to him in the first place.
“Here,” He stuck the spoon right next to Nue’s face. “Try it.”
Begrudgingly, he opened his mouth and tasted the soup, which actually tasted decently good.
He pulled away. “It tastes good.”
“Does it?” Spitfire smiled at him, watching as he tried to lick the sides of his mouth that still had soup on it.
Nue couldn’t reach it though, annoyed that there was still a small splotch of cream colored soup-whatever kind it actually was. But, he had blushed profusely as if making a fool of himself trying to lick up the soup wasn’t bad enough, as Spitfire leaned forward and licked the soup of himself. It was a cute picture, if one wasn’t Nue, who had turned as red as a tomato. When Spitfire craned his head back, he had a lop-sided grin on his face.
“It does taste good.”
Nue turned away eyes averted and a horribly pink blush on his face.
“Don’t tell me your embarrassed.”
Nue didn’t answer, instead, childishly turning his head even more to the side, arms cross and a leveled pout on his face. Spitfire couldn’t help it, he laughed. Nue was such a kid sometimes, even if he always seemed so tough in a full armor suit and a black cape, followed around by little kids who looked like ghosts. But right now, he was so much different than that boy-no, he was a man-but now, definitely a boy. A cute little boy, whom he just happened to be dating.
“You’re just like a little kid.” Spitfire chuckled.
Nue frowned at that even more. He didn’t want Spitfire to think that he was a little kid. I…I’m old enough for this. I’m not just some little kid! He thought to himself, arms folded tightly. He didn’t want to be a little kid-he didn’t want to be compared to on either-he was old enough for this. He really was. And that’s why it always annoyed him when Spitfire said he was like a little kid. It was as if Spitfire thought he wasn’t old enough.
Spitfire did a double-take when he noticed that Nue’s adorably pouting face had turned into a sad frown. He wondered what was bothering him.
Well, maybe Nue didn’t think his little teasing was all that funny anymore.
“Hey,” He said softly, leaning over the island to look into his eyes. “Are you okay?”
Nue had averted his eyes, lips sealed shut but it was easy to tell there was something eating him up from the inside. He bit his bottom lip. It was his problem, there was no point in getting Spitfire involved with it, then he’d only get worried and worried until something in him broke, and he’d end up telling him.
“I’m fine.” He grumbled out, blinking his eyes.
Spitfire wasn’t easily fooled. “No you’re not.”
He didn’t receive a reply.
“Look, I don’t actually mean that you’re a little kid Nue. You’re very grown up, and I know that.”
Nue didn’t reply for a moment. “…really?”
“Of course.” Spitfire smiled happily, now that Nue had a rather hopeful look on his face.
“Aishiteru, Nue-kun.”
He told him, sincerely, watching his eyes light up and a heated blush sprinkle on his face.
“I love you too, Spitfire.”
Ten minutes left until the New Year.
He heard a knock on his door, two quick taps, and he shuffled sleepily to the door, clicking the ‘off’ button on the TV. Opening it, he saw Ikki standing there, with the same bored exprеssion on his face. “Steak night,” he said, “the girls went out.” Ikki raised his eyebrows at Kazu, seeing the house empty. “Your sister left you alone?”
Kazu blinked and nodded. “I’m used to it,” he said.
Ikki shook his head and walked inside Kazu’s house, slipping out of his tennis shoes at the door. “Well I’m staying,” he commented offhandedly, but firmly. He plopped himself on the couch and looked expectantly up at Kazu, who sighed and sat down and turned the TV back on.
Five minutes left.
Kazu looked at Ikki and frowned, realizing he had walked to his house. “Why didn’t you wear your AT’s here?” he asked, concerned that Ikki may have broken them again while practicing. He didn’t want to have to lend Ikki anymore money, he was broke too.
Ikki raised his eyebrows and pointed out the window, where large fluffy clumps of snow were falling. “That’s why,” he said simply, and tilted his head back on the back of the couch. “You were seriously just gonna sit here and stare at a giant clock all night? How boring…”
Two minutes left.
Kazu turned his face slightly away, looking again at Ikki’s shoes. Ikki…He’d been Kazu’s best friend for a long time, and he knew how Kazu felt about him now; Kazu had told him a couple of days before Christmas. Kazu swallowed at the thought; The Crow hadn’t rejected him…he’d almost seemed happy that Kazu…loved him. Kazu reddened at the thought, embarrassed by his own feelings. He pulled his hat a little lower down on his head and looked back at the TV.
One minute left.
Kazu looked over at Ikki, who was still staring at the ceiling. Ikki seemed to feel Kazu looking though, because he tilted his head to the right to look at him. “What?” he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. Kazu just shook his head, feeling the color rising to his face as he looked away.
Thirty seconds left.
Ikki’s eyebrows pulled together a little into a frown, but he didn’t question the blonde any further.
Twenty seconds...
Kazu shifted a little, intensely aware of how close to Ikki he was.
Ten seconds...
Kazu shifted again, turning slightly towards Ikki, his eyes lowered slightly towards the floor. Ikki raised his eyebrows.
Five seconds...
Kazu’s hands tensed, and he scooted closer to Ikki.
Three seconds...
Kazu lifted his face up to look straight into to Ikki’s puzzled face.
Two seconds...
Kazu moved his face so close to Ikki’s that their noses were touching…
One second…
Kazu tilted his head to the side…
Zero.
Kazu pressed his lips to Ikki’s, his eyes clenched shut. He lingered there until the second round of fireworks were fired, then Kazu fell back, his face bright red. “S-sorry,” he mumbled, staring at the ground, completely stunned at what he had just done. He felt Ikki move a little, and assumed he was going to leave.
Ikki suddenly tilted Kazu’s face up towards his again, and Kazu’s eyes widened. “Is that all I get, after coming and keeping you company?” asked Ikki with mock sadness.
Kazu blinked. “Wha-…?”
As soon as Kazu had opened his mouth to speak, Ikki had bent over and closed the gap between the two of them, Ikki’s mouth moving eagerly against Kazu’s. Kazu’s eyelids lowered, and then closed tight as Ikki’s arms pulled him closer. Ikki slowly leaned forward, pushing Kazu down onto the couch with him, not letting their mouths separate, and Kazu started moaning Ikki’s name into his mouth. Ikki pressed himself closer to Kazu, his tongue nudging Kazu’s mouth for entrance. Kazu parted his lips slightly, and Ikki took advantage of it.
“Mmm…Ik-Ikki…” Kazu mumbled into Ikki’s mouth. Kazu squirmed a little underneath Ikki and the Crow finally pulled back for a second. Kazu panted, his eyes still shut. “I…couldn’t…breath…” he said in between breaths, opening his eyes to glare at him.
Ikki chuckled and propped himself up on his elbows. “You started it,” he said, grinning. Kazu flushed a deeper shade of red at this, and Ikki chuckled again and rolled off the couch. Kazu sat up halfway and licked his lips a little, because he had enjoyed the kiss, and Ikki knew it.
Ikki bent down again, but this time he put his mouth up to Kazu’s ear. “Happy New Year,” he murmured into Kazu’s ear, and then the Crow turned to the door, waved slightly behind him, put on his shoes, and left the house, leaving behind a very confused and red, but pleased, Kazu.
читать дальшеThursday
2040 words
10/14/07
FruitsandCandy
It was times like this that made him feel like his life was a bit like an obtuse circle of repeated unoriginality. Because at every morning somewhere between the chirping of the birds and the sunshine that leaked annoyingly from the tattered blinds, there was that ridiculous ring that sounded a bit like an out of pitch swallow coming from the bedside table. He could sleepily feel the white covers shift between his arms, as the other inhabitant moved to swat at the bedside table until he found the alarm clock’s off button.
And then, they would stay in silence, in those awkward few moments between sleep and half-awake senses, tangled in each other’s arms and the warm covers. In those moments where he knew he didn’t want to get up; and he’d rather stay there and sleep for the rest of the day.
It was always like this.
Sometimes he hated it, the difficulty to move, to even want to get up, and the fact that he knew this couldn’t last. He wasn’t sure which was more painful. More for the fact because he, himself, knew this couldn’t last, and yet here he was, holding on to last threads, just because he simply needed it. He wasn’t sure if he could live without it, this utter passion.
… “We should get up.” He heard Spitfire mumble into his neck. Hypocrite. He probably still had his eyes closed.
He blinked blearily. “We should.” He agreed, not making a move either.
…
Again, there was that mindful struggle where he knew that he should move, and there was that nagging voice in his head that told him he needed to go. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration, he didn’t want to move. Not now. And certainly not ever.
But even if both would rather stay like this, after another five or so minutes, the better and more logical and passion-less part of their minds began to overtake in the struggle, and both moved. Of course, Spitfire had already moved to the bathroom, wash his face, probably take a shower, and grapple for the half empty toothpaste, an easy daily routine. While Nue practically tumbled out of the bed, blinking at the white ceiling before finally moving to find his school uniform.
School, just the mere mention of the thought sent the boy into shudders.
It was even worse than the daily routine they had going on. School was just too organized, and too predictable, aside from the occasional fire drill or the idiot who brings the gun to school and it turns to be a fake. Other than that, it was gym in the morning, (which he was particularly good at) Math, Language Arts, History, just about crap really. Crap he didn’t want to sit through, but had to.
After tugging a decently fitting sweater, and tumbling into the kitchen while fixing his pants and brushing his hair simultaneously, he plopped onto the kitchen stool facing the island. He looked up from his wrinkled pants, eying an all too colorful for this morning bowl of rainbow colored fruit loops that was being handed to him.
Nue blinked. “What am I, twelve?”
“You’re still a kid.” Spitfire reminded, sending a twang into Nue’s heart. As if he didn’t know already. This was illegal.
“I am not.” Nue huffed indignantly. “I’m already sixteen.”
Spitfire sighed. “Just eat it.”
So, whether he really wanted to or not, a spoonful of lactose milk (because he couldn’t drink otherwise normal milk so Spitfire went out to buy it despite his protests) and slightly soggy but crunchy artificial fruit tasting rings. Which actually turned out to be pretty good, he had realized after taking another spoonful. Spitfire already knew he would do this, smirking triumphantly as he shot Nue a look that said, “I’m older, you know I’m right.”
And as illegal as this relationship may be, the two of them must have only been, eight or nine years apart, Nue being newly sixteen, and Spitfire twenty-five. And he was still wearing that rider jacket, with the fur that surrounded his neck-wait. Rider jacket?
“Aren’t you going to work?” Nue asked around a spoonful of cereal. “It’s Thursday.”
Spitfire rolled his eyes. “The Salon closes on Thursday and Sunday.”
Oh, that’s right.
Nue slumped. Whether in a pout or annoyance it was hard to tell. “So that means I have to go to school but you get to go around riding.”
Spitfire ruffled his hair affectionately, smoothing out the askew hairs on the top of his head. Not even the best hair gel in the world could get his spikes to stay down. Not even crazy glue either, because of course his team had tried that, protesting that it was a second grade science experiment. But just the fact that Spitfire’s warm palm had lingered on his lavender hair just a little longer than it really needed to, and the sweet smile he had on his face was enough for his heart to flutter.
But the moment wouldn’t last, as Spitfire looked at the clock. “You’re going to be late.”
“Shit.” He mumbled, jumping off the island stool and sprinting quickly to the door, grabbing his backpack. “Bye!”
“Bye.” Spitfire called after him.
He re-adjusted that stupid plaid vest that the Academy made him wear. One of those fleecy things, and he was well aware that the school he went to was some preppy class place; all of the teachers were utterly American. Even his school uniform was from America, a white long-sleeved polo and a vest that had plaid diamonds crossing on the front, and khaki pants that should be ironed but he didn’t have the time-or particularly the money-to get one.
But as high-paying as AT were, they couldn’t compare to two high-end parents paying for you. And Spitfire had often asked if he ever needed anything, quite the rich man himself even though he lived in a tacky furnished (which Nue promptly changed) bachelor pad on the eighteenth floor of some building. But still, he never knew his parents, if he even had any, and he never needed them before so he wouldn’t need them now.
School was a bore, as per usual.
The teachers had already begun to be amazed at his work, because for some apparent reason, he was particularly smart. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was a Gravity Child or for some other genetic reason. The jocks liked to glare at him, because they couldn’t say they were better at sports because he was, by far. The people who knew about AT were flocking to him in hordes, because he was Thunder King and everyone wanted to meet him in person if they could. He must have signed ten note books today, found four or so pink laced cards fluttering from his locker, and countless asking for tips.
Throughout the boring hours that were school, he always thought of Spitfire; and what would he do when he got home.
He could never call himself homeless; he sheltered so many other Gravity Children much younger than him, that he had enough money to support most of them, and their craving for random flavored ice cream.
…
But his favorite part of the day was when, after much debate, decided to walk back to Spitfire’s house instead of his own, eyes bleary and tired from the day and he just knew he’d need coffee to keep him going for the parts war later on that day.
He’d stayed at Spitfire’s house long enough to know that he kept his spare key in his dead plant Mr. Sparkles, and that the seventh stare was broken.
The door opened slowly, but loud.
He didn’t even need to talk to let Spitfire know he was home.
“You left your armor here, have fun lugging that thing down the stairs.”
He could hear the sarcasm in Spitfire’s voice, coming from the kitchen. The smell of delicious food was so good; he had to come in, even if he really didn’t want to. This was illegal, more so than AT, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from wanting to come back.
“Smells good.” Nue commented, seating himself on the bar stool on the island.
Spitfire chuckled. “It’s store bought, I’m just heating it up.”
“Oh that’s right.” Nue frowned, brows furrowed cutely. “You can’t cook.”
“Unless you want terribly burnt pot-stickers.”
He stirred the pot slowly; there was a wrapper from the store a few blocks down. Some Chinese soup, but even if it was probably highly fat and artificial, it actually smelt really good. Nue thought that Spitfire was a better cook than he actually let on. In fact, Spitfire was one of those Gravity Children that seemed to blend in with the rest of the humans, sinking into the routine slowly, but still keeping some sort of creativity. Maybe that was what attracted Nue to him in the first place.
“Here,” He stuck the spoon right next to Nue’s face. “Try it.”
Begrudgingly, he opened his mouth and tasted the soup, which actually tasted decently good.
He pulled away. “It tastes good.”
“Does it?” Spitfire smiled at him, watching as he tried to lick the sides of his mouth that still had soup on it.
Nue couldn’t reach it though, annoyed that there was still a small splotch of cream colored soup-whatever kind it actually was. But, he had blushed profusely as if making a fool of himself trying to lick up the soup wasn’t bad enough, as Spitfire leaned forward and licked the soup of himself. It was a cute picture, if one wasn’t Nue, who had turned as red as a tomato. When Spitfire craned his head back, he had a lop-sided grin on his face.
“It does taste good.”
Nue turned away eyes averted and a horribly pink blush on his face.
“Don’t tell me your embarrassed.”
Nue didn’t answer, instead, childishly turning his head even more to the side, arms cross and a leveled pout on his face. Spitfire couldn’t help it, he laughed. Nue was such a kid sometimes, even if he always seemed so tough in a full armor suit and a black cape, followed around by little kids who looked like ghosts. But right now, he was so much different than that boy-no, he was a man-but now, definitely a boy. A cute little boy, whom he just happened to be dating.
“You’re just like a little kid.” Spitfire chuckled.
Nue frowned at that even more. He didn’t want Spitfire to think that he was a little kid. I…I’m old enough for this. I’m not just some little kid! He thought to himself, arms folded tightly. He didn’t want to be a little kid-he didn’t want to be compared to on either-he was old enough for this. He really was. And that’s why it always annoyed him when Spitfire said he was like a little kid. It was as if Spitfire thought he wasn’t old enough.
Spitfire did a double-take when he noticed that Nue’s adorably pouting face had turned into a sad frown. He wondered what was bothering him.
Well, maybe Nue didn’t think his little teasing was all that funny anymore.
“Hey,” He said softly, leaning over the island to look into his eyes. “Are you okay?”
Nue had averted his eyes, lips sealed shut but it was easy to tell there was something eating him up from the inside. He bit his bottom lip. It was his problem, there was no point in getting Spitfire involved with it, then he’d only get worried and worried until something in him broke, and he’d end up telling him.
“I’m fine.” He grumbled out, blinking his eyes.
Spitfire wasn’t easily fooled. “No you’re not.”
He didn’t receive a reply.
“Look, I don’t actually mean that you’re a little kid Nue. You’re very grown up, and I know that.”
Nue didn’t reply for a moment. “…really?”
“Of course.” Spitfire smiled happily, now that Nue had a rather hopeful look on his face.
“Aishiteru, Nue-kun.”
He told him, sincerely, watching his eyes light up and a heated blush sprinkle on his face.
“I love you too, Spitfire.”
