#hitbeats

@hitbeats @voidhunting

“WHOOOOA, HEY!! DON’T YOU DARE, DUDE!!”

It nearly puts him into a panic; the pile of boxes in the corner of his room piled up rather high, a new one recently added before he takes the newest box from Sett’s hands forcefully, nose wrinkled and brows furrowed slightly.

“I—I’ll get to it eventually! I just gotta cross out the name and address and other shit on there—The guys don’t gotta know what I’m ordering in detail—!” Unless they decided to subscribe to his only fans, which was exactly what all of these things were for. “I don’t tell YOU to clean up YOUR shit!!”

Relationships were not something that Ezreal had typically pursued. A few one night stands here and there were nothing—it was easier that way. No strings attached. The fear of abandonment was deeply rooted within the young pop star’s heart since the possible passing of his parents—coiling around the muscle in his chest while the doubt in his brain wiggled around like some sort of parasite. No, a relationship was never in the cards for him, he thought—

And then he had joined this band and met him.

Ezreal didn’t know what to think. At first, he was a little afraid of Sett, despite the guy checking a lot of his boxes off in regards to what kind of person Ezreal was into. From the way he looked to his personality—Sett was the most ideal….On the other hand, Sett had intimidated Ezreal a lot ( unknowingly, obviously ), and despite the guy being Ezreal’s type, he didn’t pursue anything. Partially from the fear of rejection, partially from…well, he didn’t really know. He couldn’t ok point why he was so nervous.

There was that day where Sett had to go to court because of an altercation with paparazzi that wouldn’t leave him alone. Cameras all up in Ezreal’s face and the first thing that Sett would do—it happened so quickly—was clock the guy who wouldn’t leave the pop star Prince alone. it was that moment, however, that Ezreal had had come to the conclusion of something very important:

He was in love with Sett.

Time had passed since the —late nights becoming more normal as he stewed on it—trying to figure out what to do with this feeling. How to handle the rejection if it came—how to handle a positive reaction if that had happened instead. Ezreal didn’t know what to do—he didn’t even know how he would tell him—searching online for advice on how to confess to someone when your anxiety was trying to choke you out like demons that wanted to consume you whole. Avoiding Sett had been the easiest thing to do right now until he figured it out—though the knock at his door Al had him jump nearly several feet out of his bed, hearing Sett’s voice on the other side of the door laced with concern.

“Ez, you good? Haven’t really seen you in days, lil’ guy.”

He swallows thickly. “Uh, hold on, dude!” Ezreal scrambled from his bed, smoothing out his shirt and his shorts before unlocking the door and swinging it open, blinking up at those bright blue eyes that held concern within them, watching as red curls bounced as his head tilted to the side. He could feel the heat rise to his cheeks and he closed the door behind him, minimal space between the two them. “Uh…Sorry, I’ve just been real busy with stuff, I uh, didn’t think you’d be so worried.” Ezreal’s hand rubs the back of his neck—his heart beating within his chest like a wild animal trying to escape it’s cage as anxiety started to curl itself around whatever it could—his throat, his mind, his lungs.

He had to rip off the bandaid. It was the only way.

“I—was trying to figure some stuff out.” His words were so fast—something he had a tendency to do when he was nervous. He couldn’t even look at him, gaze glancing away as hands came up to fidget with each other. Of course, Sett would be confused. Ezreal noticed those furry red ears on top of his head twitch from his peripherals, a deep, shaky sigh leaving him. “I just—I like you a lot, dude. Like—a lot a lot. And not just as a friend, more like—“ come on, rip off the bandaid.

“I…wanna go out! With you! Like boyfriends or—or something, okay?? I don’t know how to ask these things ‘cause I’m awkward as hell and I—“

“Ezreal.”

Golden eyes blink as quick words are cut off, golden gaze nervously looking upward to the bigger man before glancing around him first—noticing that little tail wag before he looked back up to see ears perked and the expression on his bandmate’s face soft and no longer laced with concern anymore. Opposite of Ezreal, who still looked so nervous. He watched as Sett leaned closer down to him, causing Ezreal’s back to be pressed against the door to his room, glancing at a large hand that was gently pressed next to his head. He could still feel his heart pounding. “Uhh—“

“Can I kiss you?”

The vastayan’s soft, gentle words rang through his mind like an echo, eyes widening ever so slightly as lips brushed slightly against his own. ‘Holy shit, this is happening.’ He thought, breathing in sharply. “Yes. Yes you fucking can, dude.” He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Neither of them had wasted any time—as soon as the words fell out of Ezreal’s mouth, the two of them had closed the gap; lithe fingers curling into red hair as a strong hand had moved to rest on his smaller hip and give it a light squeeze. A content sigh left Ezreal’s nose; wanting nothing more to stay like this for as long as possible, blinking as soon as Sett had pulled back from him, hands dropping slowly to rest on the others chest instead.

“Sooo…that’s a yes to going out, orrrr…”

Sett’s laughter rang through Ezreal’s ears as he ruffled the smaller’s hair. “Yeah.” He grins. “Pick a time and a place, and I’ll be there.”

Ezreal watched as Sett had turned and left down the hall, no longer worried about the pop star prince who had eventually slid down the door, dumbfounded at what had just happened, now sitting cross legged on the floor.

He didn’t think he would get this far.

He was glad that he did.

“Oh. Okay. Hold on a sec big guy—“

There’s a hand that moves up to Ezreal’s own mouth and he coughs into it, clearing it—and now he’s doing his attempt at an impression off his beloved vastayan.

“Ezreal, stop telling people I eat plastic! It was one time!! But I’M allowed to tell the world that I EAT DIRT. BECAUSE—THAT MAKES SENSE.” His voice had cracked and gone back to pitch half way through that, fingers inching the bridge of his nose as he gave out a deep sigh. This isn’t unsurprising. He’s used to this by now, really!

Pink tints the cheeks of the smaller, unsurprised by his lovers reaction; Ezreal’s tongue running along his front teeth, feeling how the two in the middle were a little longer then the ones next to them, then his canines that were small, but still sharp. It usually didn’t bother him so much—but man, could the Press be mean.

“You think so?” Ezreal’s gaze falls back to his phone to look at the article he had been reading. “Like…Listen to this! ‘Ezreal Lightfeather of HEARTSTEEL, formally the idol who came out with the popular song ‘You’re my Museum’ ( before he had joined the band ) has gained popularity once again—But with how much money he makes, why hasn’t he gone and FIXED his teeth?” His nose wrinkles slightly as he reads it out loud, shifting awkwardly in his seat. ‘Man, why does it matter…?’ He thought.

“I dunno why they even pay attention to them.” There were pictures of Ezreal throughout the article, taken from his instagram, though most zoomed income his face or his teeth. He cared far too much about what other people thought.

“Man…I like being successful and all, but sometimes I wish these guys would just leave me alone.” A pause. “A—Anyway, are we still going to your moms tonight? I gotta figure out what to wear.”

“Ah gravity, it is getting stronger- specifically here- urg..”

He was just minding his own business—He had just pulled his box from his recent pastry order from earlier that morning out of the fridge; opening it and staring at the strawberry & cream filled croissant that rested amongst other strawberry pastries. Tongue wets Ezreal’s lips as he reaches in to grab it and bring it to his mouth before he feels a weight pressing against him.

“Wh—whoa, hey!!” His body starts to bend closer to the counter, fingers slightly gripping firmer onto the delicate pastry in his hand, nose wrinkling as he turns his head upwards to look up at Sett. He could feel the weight increasing—hands pressing against the counter and the croissant that was in his hand now crushed underneath it, causing a mess to the countertop and for Ezreal to give out a whine in disappointment.

“Man, get off of me!!! You just ruined my lunch, dude!!!”