pop punk perfection

                                    -- a little DESPERATELY, honestly.

he had barely even been to his apartment. he only went to drop off his suitcase, then came directly to cody’s place to see the other. to say cody was on his mind would be the understatement of the year. the  mixed reaction from the other leaves spot a little bit uncertain, but he’s eager to catch up with the other; eager to hear how they’ve been, how  the school’s been. swallowing thickly, he ruffles the hairs on the back of his head. “is... is that okay?” he asks, wanting to make sure the  other wasn’t offended that he came over with absolutely zero notice beforehand.

       it was awful. he was so at ease where he was -- so comfortable. snuggled comfortably on a bean bag chair underneath the GREEK MYTH section of the library. it wasn’t long after he sat down when down came a poorly managed stack of books that rested on top of the shelf. thankfully they were mostly short, soft cover story books, but in the shower of pages came one particularly sharp-edged book. “yowch!” he lets out a small yelp, hand quick to press against his wound. after a few moments of trying to get his shit together, he looks up to the other that approached. “yeah it’s mostly floppy books but...” he uncovers the wound, wincing a bit. “is it, uh, bleeding?”

“i--...” seeing the other’s reaction, he knew immediately this was a shit  thing to do. eyebrows tug together as words fail to escape his throat and slip from his mind. he felt so dumb standing there, hair trimmed nicely,  face shaven, tie pulled up to his neck. he swallows thickly, frowning, and begins to shake his head. “this... this was a bad idea. i--...” he takes a  step away from the entrance of the apartment -- the familiar apartment, where they’d woken up for so many mornings. but that all felt a million miles away at this point. “i should’ve texted you, or something. facebook. i’m gonna--...” he pauses, frown settling heavily on distressed features.  “i should go--”

                                                “ -- jesus christ.” 

oh, no. oh no oh no. this wasn’t the best idea. this was terrible. he wasn’t ready for this. but there he was -- knocking on the  other’s apartment door after a year and six month transfer to fucking BARCELONA to teach kids elementary english. there’s  a small, neatly wrapped gift in his hands, and jacket smells  vaguely of cheap cologne. they’d put their... whatever they  were on pause and now... now it seemed, it was time to read- dress what they had. it’s just... been so long. 

“hm?” he murmurs distractedly, forcing his eyes to avert from the text he was trying to type out. admittedly, it was hard for him to actively text and focus on his surroundings without messing up. he sets his phone down next to him, glancing curiously at the other. “what’d you say?”

    gaze flickers across unknown faces. in the midst of party lights     and raving sounds, and with a fortification of bodies, he’s NEVER     felt more on edge. today wasn’t his day. he should... he should     go home. index finger lightly traces the rim of his solo cup, before     he makes a small sound. a mumble of frustration.

huh, quiet one. nervous? confused? surprised? “the moon,” he says, with only a tad bit of judgment. as the conversation strengthened, he scoots a bit closer to the other. “you gotta work with me here a little. what about the moon?  i need details. i could just ask you a bunch of intrusive follow-up questions, if you WANT me to.” 

“mm,” he murmurs in agreement, offering a nod to the other as they waited in line. “you’re still so comfy,” he says with a bashful sort of smile. a bit of red rises to his cheeks as he gets the taller one -- he knows very well he won’t be able to drink the whole thing, but he sure could try. “oh, right next to the bridge.” he mumbles in awe, staring at the river scene. “this is perfect.”

“aw, fine.” he murmurs, his hold on the hug lessening, but without him completely pulling away. “nope. if you won’t SAY it, i need more love to last me longer.” 

with good response, too. spot had been with a jacket for the past few weeks, but up until recently had it begun to become a little bit too light for the season. now it was getting cold, but he had no other jacket. perhaps another reason being home would be better for him. “thank you,” he murmurs, though it is ambiguous if it was for the warmth or paying. as they enter, he squints up at the menu. “they’ve got hot chocolates, right?”