#moldboy

I drew this more accurately than the mushroom boy.

I hope for Lunar, it isn't as bad as I drew.

From here:

He's just a little guy. He's just a little dude

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When Saki left for California, he didn’t expect the trip to end up with him back on Emrys’s shitty mattress. Whatever had been between them, however briefly, was meant to be abandoned back in Texas. He followed his family back to California thinking that if he ran far enough, nothing from that place could follow him. Then, two years later, Saki walked into a random bar and found Emrys behind the counter, topping off someone’s martini with an olive. If Emrys hadn’t noticed him seconds later, Saki would have found another, much worse bar to spend his evening at.

Instead, Emrys hauled him into a booth and talked until Saki found himself back here, half-clothed on Emrys’s bed, knees pulled up to his chest. He rests his head on them, watching as Emrys runs a few fingers over the length of his thigh, awestruck. It isn’t the act that has Emrys amazed into silence, though; they’ve done that before. It’s the fact that Saki is here at all, he imagines.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Emrys tells him, rustling the sheets as he reaches up to thumb at Saki’s cheek, marveling at the ability to do so. It should make Saki preen, the fact that Emrys is so subdued by the sight of him, but it just makes Saki feel nauseous. If Emrys has found Saki here, miles away, then what’s to say that worse won’t follow? 

Sinclair withers beneath Heathcliff’s harsh words, wringing his hands around Vogel with nervous anticipation. With Heathcliff, it was better to say very little; one wrong word and he’d bring his bat down on Sinclair’s head, and it would be just one more inconvenience for Dante. 

Even after Kromer, after everything, Sinclair still finds it difficult to stand on his own sometimes.

“Y-Yes…” Sinclair mumbles, sucking in a breath and reminding himself to speak confidently. Heathcliff would never respect him if he kept bending underneath the slightest pressure. Why Dante thought to pair the two of them together, Sinclair will never understand. Was everything Sinclair had been through not enough?

He readjusts his grip on Vogel, stepping over a mangled abnormality that Heathcliff had just brutalized with his bat.

Perhaps someone else would have been better suited to the job, but Don Quixote’s enthusiasm left his hair a mess and Gregor couldn’t very well manage, now could he? Besides, Heathcliff was one of the last to get off of the bus, making him easy to intercept. Hong Lu hardly notices the flush of pink creeping up Heathcliff’s neck when he holds out the ribbon with a serene smile and shoos Heathcliff back into his seat, perching himself on the edge with his back facing the other man.

“Why did I ask..?” Hong Lu hums as Heathcliff grumbles behind him, hands gentler than expected as he cards through Hong Lu’s hair. He supposes there wasn’t one reason much larger than the others. Heathcliff had simply managed to catch his gaze. “You’ve always been very reliable, haven’t you?”

Heathcliff openly balks behind him when Hong Lu turns to assess his expression. Had he always made that sort of expression? “Hm? Did I say something wrong?”

Then, as if in sudden realization, Hong Lu jostles the other man with urgency.

Saki gnashes his teeth at the remark, irritation prickling like a bad headache. If he weren’t so sore or so bruised, he might kick Emrys, just to watch him look stung. Instead, Saki glares at the back of Emrys’s head as the other man fiddles with a silver-doored barricade until it finally relents and gives way, clearing a path for the two of them. Emrys moves to crawl through it, but Saki catches him by the back of his shirt, fist curling into the fabric to keep Emrys in place. 

He’s gnawing at his bottom lip when he admits, “I’m scared, Emrys.” Saki regrets it almost immediately, but forces himself to stomach the nauseating taste of his own vulnerability. It’s not as if Emrys will make fun of him; they’re all afraid. Hell, Emrys will probably preen at the idea of Saki trembling against him. Not that Saki trembles. No, the fear has made him angry, and not much else.

“Me?” Saki whips around on Emrys, who is trailing a few feet behind him as they step over broken branches, knee-deep in tall grass. The other boy is carrying a bundle of kindling, face stained pink with the heat, sweat seeping through his shirt as the breeze brushes past the two of them. He stops as soon as Saki does, raising his eyebrows at Saki in challenge, his gaze taking in Saki’s considerably small stature. 

“You’ve done nothing but act like an ass this entire trip,” Saki complains as he turns around with a huff, denying Emrys the satisfaction of watching the irritation burrow under his skin, much like the burrs that keep wedging themselves into the soles of their shoes. He hears Emrys scoff behind him, gearing up for an argument. Saki cuts him off before it can begin, “Like, what’s even the point of fucking with Leland? Isn’t he your friend?”

Saki slows down long enough for Emrys to catch up, his long stride clearing the distance between them easily. “The thing is,” Saki hums, once Emrys falls in step beside him, sticks and tinder jostling in his arms. “Even if things between Leland and I went south, it’s not like I’d be interested in someone who starts a pissing contest while we’re looking for a dead girl.”

Missing, he corrects himself mentally. She’s missing. 

Saki reaches up and pats Emrys’s cheek condescendingly, a little harder than necessary. Even this small action has Emrys hungry and leaning into it, delighted by the promise of Saki’s attention, pulled away from Leland for a few moments.