Lukas looks up from his composition sheet as Steven stumbles into the room. Fencing must have been rough because, ouch, havenât seen the guy like this before (or this roughed up in general). He places his pencil on his desk and silently watches as the latter falls onto his bed with a muffled thud. It must have been really bad. He flinches at the sound of Stevenâs voiceâ tired and drained. Damn, it really was bad. âUh,â he pushes himself up and looks around the room, opening their fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. âWe have⌠a cold water bottle?â He hands it to the poor boy. âItâs half frozen? That count as ice?â
He rubs the nape of his neck, unsure of what to say or how to coax his roommate. âEr, was todayâs practice really that bad?â He kneels to the ground and props his chin on top of the mattress. âYouâve never⌠really come back this⌠bad?â
He didn't know which part of him ached the most, but even so, he managed a soft laugh, wincing almost immediately as his chest felt like it would burst from such a simple act. With a small groan, he rolled onto his back -- somehow -- and held his hand out for whatever his roommate could give. "It wasn't -- it wasn't...any kind of practice," he mumbled, having half a mind to push himself up to a sitting position so that he could remove his shirt to assess the damage done there. His jaw still stung to the point that he knew he'd be in a world of pain if anything touched it. Maybe he suffered some kind of concussion, but he almost found it...funny. "I...didn't know you could get beaten up in the laundry room, but..."
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[ sms: cutie pie ] good morning, lil sunshine!! i hope you were able to get enough sleep, in other words, i hope you didnât stay up last night! ;;
Send â for a loving text
[ sms: cutie pie ] hey, lukie! i hope youâre having a good day so far. always remember to eat and drink enough because i canât always be there to take care of you. stay happy all of the time, and remember that i love you and that youâre important to me!
Send â for a rushed text
[ sms: cutie pie ] LUKAS[ sms: cutie pie ] I HOPE THAT THIS GOES THROUGH BECAUSE MY PHONEâS GONNA DIE[ sms: cutie pie ] THIS IS MY MIDLIFE CRISIS[ sms: cutie pie ] DO ME A FAVOR AND STAY HAPPY AND PRAY FOR MY WELL BEING[ sms: cutie pie ] I LOVE YOU
âAh, Iâm sorry, I could have sworn you were an angel.â
⼠Are you macaroni? Because that was cheesy.
Amelia Grace Fujimoto is quite known to have some sort of charm to her or was it that she takes after her mother and grandmother, who have been proven to possess aesthetically pleasing visages causing her to receive interesting attention. Anyhow, whilst living alongside the beach, Ameâs had her fair share of receiving compliments when sheâs out for her daily walk or when running errands for her family. Sheâs never the one to dismiss them, she even finds them wildly entertaining.Â
Ame was enjoying some leisure time in the courtyard before her next class, she took in the crisp air and a smile grew on her face when a light breeze passed by as she was stretching. However, she felt someone staring at her and she retreated back into a hunch. Her gaze glanced around her vicinity, finding a boy with reddish, auburn hair smiling as he made his way towards her.Â
âAh, Iâm sorry, I could have sworn you were an angel.â
With a chortle at the boyâs attempt, the small girl stood up and slung her backpack onto one shoulder and turned to him with a smile, âNice try but youâll have to try harder.â And within seconds, she was on her way to her next class.
(` he blinks at the boy, opens mouth then closes. what the fuck ) Are we talking about  pictures or is thisâŚ? Why are youâ (` pauses and pouts, ponders on what heâsâ fuck, thatâs what he meant  ) Wait a minuteâ are you bloody shitting me? Thatâs⌠thatâs⌠are you a cannibal?
No, weâre talking about people. You know how âdeer reasonâ we hunt deers? Why is it called âtourist seasonâ if we canât hunt tourists? (` tilts his head in thought, finger lightly tapping on his chin.) Iâm not a cannibal- oh! that brings up another question! If weâre not supposed to eat humans, then how come weâre made out of meat? Meat is like, a gift from the gods, you know.Â
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A plastic bag hung from her wrist; it contained a box with freshly made lunch that she prepared for herself. She hadnât realized she had made too much until finishing one third of it and not being able to continue. So, why not give the rest to her big brother, right? Right. Now if only she knew where he was. See, it would have been much easier to text him, but she walked out of her dorm in such a rush that her mind slipped, forgetting to grab her cellphone.Â
âIâm not going to find him at this rate. Maybe I should go back,â she murmured to herself, eyes staring down at her feet. What a bad idea that was. Because of her thoughtless action, Joyce collided with another student, resulting her feet to stumble backwards. (She didnât fall though, and the lunch was safe, thank God.) Her eyes immediately averted to the other individual. âOh no, oh no. Iâm so, so, so, sorry. I should have watched where I was going!âÂ
73. Our muses are destined to fall for each other in an artgallery.
Steven rarely fancies himself an art connoisseur. He merelyhas an inclination to all things beautiful and, when the occasion arose (read:when and where he didnât have to smile and wave and be confident like a perfectlittle prince), he quite enjoyed admiring them. Granted, this was not a momentwherein he could drop the act and go back to being as broody as he wanted tobe, but it was a nice event nonetheless.Â
Hands were shaken and greetings wereexchanged. Art was admired after the people were.Â
He found it tedious.
But there he stood, in the back of a small group, paddle inhand and ready to add another piece to a collection he would never display. Asmall yawn escaped him; jetlag had always been the enemy.Â
So great was his fatigue that he almost didnât notice themale that skidded to a stop next to him, all disheveled hair and concernedfurrow of a brow and what looked to be a cheap suit. Steven didnât judge; theevent was by invite only, and if this man was invited, then he was not out ofplace. StillâŚ
A small comb was promptly taken out from the inside pocketof his blazer, and he extended it to the male with a small grin. âItâd help youstand out less,â he whispered, leaning closer to the stranger so that his advicecould be heard over the light muttering of the crowd and the seller in front ofthem.Â
âOh, thanks.â British.The corner of Stevenâs lips quirked upwards; he liked their accents. He had tooheavy a European one, too hard to place. âDo you reckon I look alright?â
He nodded, amused. He could listen to this man forever âeven while the other was combing down the loose locks that flew everywhere.Mustâve been the running. âAre you late for a date, my friend?â
âYou could say that â but itâs not what you think!â Thecrowd around them quieted down some, and colour immediately bloomed upon theprinceâs cheeks until other conversations began again. âSorry. Uhm â yeah, itâsa friendly date, for support. Sheâs one of the artists. Her boyfriend couldnâtbe here. Iâm just a stand-in.â
âIâm glad,â Steven replied without really thinking, and as the other meaning sank in, so did hisembarrassment. âI â I mean, uhmâŚthatâs â I mean, not that itâs great that youârea stand-in, just â uhâŚâ He laughed nervously, rubbed the back of his neck, and jerkeda thumb over his shoulder. The stranger gave an amused grin. âSo do you haveanywhere else to be until you find this friend of yours, or can I steal you fora little while? To have company of my own.â
âOh, yeah, sure thing. She hasnât replied to me yet, anywayâŚâ
âAh! Iâm Steven, by the way.â A hand was extended towardsthe stranger â well, not so much now, once it was shaken.
âLukas. Lukas Radcliffe.âÂ
The comb was forgotten, tucked away in Lukasâ pocket, neverto be found until the night after. It was perhaps unfortunate that his friend endedup leaving before him, but Steven found that he thoroughly enjoyed Lukasâcompany â perhaps a little too much â and the slacks where the comb was kept wasdiscarded along with all else. The prince did not truly mind theslightly-cramped flat, or the music, or the dogs (they took very well to him,as animals often did). He didnât mind Lukasat all, and frankly, he was glad that the feeling was mutual.Â
Parting was such bittersweet sorrow, and for once, Stevenfound that he did not want to leave.Â
He hadn't meant to forget his phone in his room. It was probably silly, being in full fencing attire, running along the hallways. Once he opened the door, however, he didn't expect to see another male there, and smiled brightly behind the helmet. "Hello," he greeted, before realising it was probably rude to have something obscuring his face, and he took the helmet off and tucked it under his arm as he approached the male, his free hand extended for the other to shake. "Hi! I'm guessing you're my...roommate? O-oh! But if you aren't, I'd be happy to help you find your room."