10-2

Matthew is sitting on the edge of the windowsill, clutching a battered green walkie talkie to his chest, when he realizes that he might have a problem.  

A five foot seven problem with a crooked smile and braces.

“Breaker 1-9.  Birdie, come in Birdie,” the walkie talkie rumbled to life and Matthew almost dropped it.  “Do you have your ears on, over.”

“I thought we agreed my handle was Eagle One, over.”

“Birdie is cuter, over.”

“You’re full of crap,” Matthew said, even as he flushed.  “Over.”

He could almost see Gilbert shrug on the other end.  He knew it would look casual, easy, and just a little bit cheeky.

“I’m still right.  Over.”

Matthew huffed and leaned further out the window but the street was empty.  

“You’re still full of crap.  And you’re late.  What’s your 20?  Over.”  

“I’m still on Springfield, over.”

“That’s three blocks away!”  Matthew readjusted himself.  “I’m going to get caught, over.”

“Then lower your voice, over.”

“I’m going to get in trouble,” he hissed.  “Over.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”  He could hear the crackles and pops of interference as Gilbert hurried.  “Start climbing down and I’ll be there to catch you.  I promise.  Over.”

“I don’t need you to catch me,” Matthew grumbled, tucking the walkie talkie in the front pocket of his oversized jacket and reaching for the tree branch outside his window.  

The truth was, he probably did need Gilbert to catch him.  His bedroom was on the second floor of his modest suburban home and the tree did not have any branches lower than eleven feet.  Even if he hung off the lowest branch before letting go, he would still fall five feet and twist his ankle.  Again.

He pulled himself into the tree and started climbing down anyway.

Matthew had more than one problem, really.  He had several and all of them had something to do with his best friend.  Gilbert made him reckless.  Gilbert made him do things he would never dream of doing on his own.  Like sneak out at midnight on a Thursday.  

Gilbert chipped away at his reservations and made his knees weak when he smiled.  He made him stutter and trip over his own feet.  He made him blush.

Matthew was a mess when Gilbert was around.

But Gilbert also made him laugh.  He made Matthew feel smarter and stronger than he actually was.  He made Matthew feel like he could do anything if he put his mind to it.  

Gilbert believed him when no one else would.  

He always believed in him too.

Matthew did not understand where his unwavering faith came from but it made his heart ache.  It made him want to be there for Gilbert.  No matter what.

Even if that meant climbing out of his window on a school night.  

Matthew focused on shuffling along the branch before lowering himself to the next one, and the next one.  It was hard work and the rough bark of the tree scraped the palms of his hands.  He was sure there were at least a dozen leaves tangled in his hair.  

He turned to look down when he heard Gilbert approaching.

“It’s about ti-”

The branch underneath him suddenly snapped with his shifting weight and he was falling, falling, and oh, shit, this was going to hurt so much and he was going to be grounded for a month if he did not end up in the hospital and…

Gilbert caught him around the legs with a quiet ‘Oof!’ and then he was falling again, forward this time, into his arms.

He landed on top of Gilbert.

“I, uh, are you okay?”  He whispered a little too loudly, leaning back and looking for injuries.

Gilbert blinked up at him for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face.  The moonlight glinted off his braces and, oh, Matthew knew he was still in trouble.  He had always thought braces were ugly and embarrassing until Gilbert came to class with a mouth full of metal last year.  

Now they made his stomach tighten uncomfortably.  

“I promised I’d catch you,” Gilbert hummed lazily.  “Over.”

Matthew glanced at the walkie talkie in the grass to his left.  Gilbert must have thrown it when he ran to catch him.  

“You’re so full of crap,” Matthew snorted before he could not stand it anymore and he ducked down to press his lips against Gilbert’s teeth.  His braces were warmer than he had imagined but, then, Gilbert was kissing him back and it was awkward and uncoordinated and a little bit perfect.  

He never wanted it to end but he eventually pulled back to study his best friend.  His ears were bright red and he looked a little dazed but he did not seem upset.

“I think I like you.  Like, ‘like like’ you,” he said.  Gilbert slipped his hand into his back pocket and squeezed.

“10-2.  I’m reading you loud and clear.  Over.”

Matthew knocked their foreheads together, a little too hard, before kissing him again.  

“Over and out.”

Depth Over Distance

For my favourite person on her birthday. Happy birthday, Maplevogel!  You said you wanted a domestic piece so I hope this counts.  A little bit of sharing and caring and patience.  

Inspired by the song ‘Depth Over Distance’ by Ben Howard.

Depth Over Distance

The hinges on the door squeaked in warning as Canada pushed it open.  The house was stale and dim but he could hear the ‘click, click, click’ of an oscillating fan in the distance.

“Gilbert…?”

He slipped out of his shoes and dropped his suitcase on the worn hardwood.

“Gilbert?  I’m home.  Where are you?”

He squinted into the kitchen as he passed and sighed at the pile of cardboard boxes and garbage. The stove was blackened, the coffee pot was filled with noodles, and the sink was stacked with unwashed dishes.  

He knew what that meant.

Canada squared his shoulders and marched up the staircase with his heart in his throat. Kumajirou was sitting outside their bedroom door with his nose scrunched up in displeasure.  Canada tapped him on the head twice before pushing the door open.

The hinges seemed to screech even louder than before in the silence.

“Gilbert?  Are you in here?”

“No,” the bundle of blankets on their bed replied.  

“Are you sure?” Canada asked, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.  Prussia had drawn the curtains but he could see piles of clothes and more unwashed dishes scattered around the room.

“No,” the blankets repeated.

Canada bit his lip and tried not to laugh.

“No, you’re not here?  Or no, you’re not sure?”

Prussia peeked out from under the covers and blinked at him.

“…  Both?”

Canada chuckled, he could not help himself, and reached out to smooth his tousled hair.

“Bad day, then?”

“Bad week,” Prussia pouted, but he leaned into his hand.  “I missed you.”

Canada hummed in understanding.  He had missed Prussia too.  But he knew that it was more than that.

“Are you going to get up?”

“…  I don’t want to get up today.”

Canada clucked his tongue and nudged Prussia until he scooched over.

“Then move,” Canada said.  “I want in.”

Prussia raised the corner of the blankets and Canada slithered underneath.  He wrapped his arms around Prussia and pressed wet kisses to his shoulder and collarbone.  

Prussia clutched the back of his suit jacket.

His hands were shaking.

“I’m sorry you had a bad week,” Canada mumbled against his skin.  “You should have told me.  I would have come home sooner.”

“I know.  That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

Canada smiled even though he felt like crying.

PruCan Week

Day Four:

This is going to be similar to last year in that I am stringing the days together to create a longer love story that takes place over several years.  You have Em to thank for that.  And also for the tattoos.

So I suppose that these are dedicated to her.

(This chapter is suggestive and I am going to tag it as NSFW just to be safe.)

Indelible

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes.”

“We could wait…”

Matthew laughed and dragged Gilbert towards his unmade bed.

“I’m ready.  We’re ready.  I want to do this.”

“What if…  What if it’s bad?”  Gilbert hissed anxiously.  “What if I hurt you?  Or you hurt me?  Or I pull a muscle and start crying and you’re not attracted to me anymore and, and, and…”

He trailed off as Matthew pulled his sweater over his head and raised a challenging eyebrow. Why was he always shirtless when they had important conversations?  That hardly seemed fair.

He gulped.  

“That’s not fair. You’re cheating.”

PruCan Week

Day Three:

This is going to be similar to last year in that I am stringing the days together to create a longer love story that takes place over several years.  You have Em to thank for that.  And also for the tattoos.

So I suppose that these are dedicated to her.

Indelible

“Have you decided on the colours yet?”

Matthew was curled forward as Gilbert traced the outlined skull of a deer in the centre of his back.  The birds on his shoulder had looped around to land on the antlers and there was nest with three eggs perched on top of the skull.  It looked almost like a crown.

The antlers were tangled with twine and cornflowers.

Gilbert ran his fingers over the cornflowers and grinned.  Matthew had chosen to tattoo his favourite flower on his back.  It made him feel surprisingly flushed and warm.

He pressed a gentle kiss to his spine.

“The bluebird should be blue,” Matthew offered sagely, waving his hand in lofty circles.  Gilbert pinched his side and twisted until he squirmed.

“Thanks, jackass. I had no idea.”

“The crow should be black,” he continued.

“You’re a genius,” Gilbert wiggled his fingers and Matthew bucked, giggling.  “The greatest mind of our generation.”

“The string should be red.”

Gilbert stopped tickling him and stared at the outline on his back.  The twine wrapped around the antlers and cornflowers.  His cornflowers.

“Uh, I’m not an expert but…  I think that, uhm, red string symbolizes…  Fate.”

“Soulmates,” Matthew nodded.  He turned around to look at Gilbert.

“But I thought the cornflowers…”

“They’re for you.”

“But…”

“The red string is for you too.”

“I…”

“You’re my soulmate, Gilbert.  You were my soulmate before we ever started dating.  You’ve always been my other half.”  He cupped his face between both hands.  “The two years you left me behind to go to college were the hardest years of my life.  I was so happy when you asked me to move in with you.”

Gilbert swallowed. Matthew looked so serious, so focused, and it felt like he was falling into his eyes.

“I, uh, missed you too.  A lot. But…”

“And I was so happy when you asked me out.”

“But…”

He smiled softly and kissed him on the forehead, the nose, the lips.

“I love you.  I have always loved you.  I will always love you.  And, no matter what happens to us, that is part of who I am.  I want it to be part of my tattoo.  Forever.”

Gilbert closed his eyes and tried to remember how to breathe.

“That is ridiculously sappy,” he muttered.  

Matthew kissed him again.

“I know.”

“You’re embarrassing.”

“So are you.”

“You’re sooo embarrassing,” he stressed, but he was just as happy with how things had turned out.  Matthew completed him.  He filled in the gaps he did not know he had and smoothed his rough edges and Gilbert wondered why it had taken them so long to figure it out.

They were meant to be together.

They always had been.

“So you’ll do it, then?”

Gilbert pulled back and reached for the red ink.

“You already knew I would,” he laughed, shaking his head.  “I’m wrapped around your little fingers.”

Matthew grinned.

“Good.”

PruCan Week

Day Two:

This is going to be similar to last year in that I am stringing the days together to make a longer love story that takes place over several years.  You have Em to thank for that.  And also for the tattoos.

So I suppose that these are dedicated to her.

Indelible

“How was your exam today?”

Matthew looked wryly over his shoulder at him.

“Let’s just say that this hurts less.”

Gilbert snorted and focused on the tattoo unfolding under his hands.  

That single line from a year ago had become a brilliant array of stained glass pieces that crawled up his arm.  It was hard to see the pattern at first but the pieces started to come together into colourful birds on his upper arm before the stained glass exploded into feathers and more realistic birds as the tattoo looped around to his shoulder blade.

Gilbert was working on a dove at the moment.  

“That good, huh?”

“Worse.”

PruCan Week

Day One:

This is going to be similar to last year in that I am stringing the days together to make a longer love story that takes place over several years.  You have Em to thank for that.  And also for the tattoos.

So I suppose that these are dedicated to her.

Indelible

“I want a tattoo.”

Gilbert rolled over onto his stomach and stared at Matthew.

“You’re fourteen.”

“So?”  Matthew frowned.  He was drowning in his oversized sweater and there was a pimple on his chin where it jutted out in defiance.  He looked too young to know what he wanted.

“Well, I mean, how do you know what you want?”

“I don’t know what I want yet.  I just want a tattoo.  My cousin has one on his wrist.”

Gilbert hummed and studied the posters on his wall.  The two of them had tacked them up last summer and the words ‘I WANT TO BELIEVE’ were crooked because neither of them could agree on whether it was straight or not.  

“Your cousin is an idiot.”

“You’re the one who kissed him.”

Gilbert jolted upright.

“Yeah, when we were nine years old!”

Matthew chuckled and rubbed his nose on the sleeve of his sweater.

“Francis said you asked to kiss him.  He said you wanted to practice.  He said you’re a terrible kisser!”

“Francis is a dirty liar,” Gilbert growled.  “And he wet the bed until he was seven!”

Matthew burst into shocked giggles.

“He did not!”  He sounded so scandalized that Gilbert forgot what they had been talking about and beckoned Matthew closer.  He cupped his hand against his mouth and leaned in.  Matthew twisted towards him.

“Do you know what else Francis did until he was seven…?”

Making Friends

Marshmallow-Manju gave me the prompt ‘magic, snails, and bruised knuckles’ and this is what I came up with.

Making Friends

Matthew flicked the snail back into the cauldron and straightened his pointed hat with his other hand.  He squinted at the grimoire floating in front of his face.  

“Snips, and snails, and puppy dog tails...”  He muttered, turning the page with a flick of his wrist.  “That can't be right...”

His mentor had told him to go out and make some friends his own age.

He had taken her advice to heart.

“Oh well.”

He stirred the bubbling pink mixture counterclockwise and lowered the heat until it popped and simmered and darkened.  It was almost red now.  He stood on his tiptoes and peered into the cauldron.  

He had never had a friend before.  His parents had brought him to the old witch when he was four years old and the magic started leaking out between his fingertips and toes.  He lived with her in a thatched hut in the forest and the children in the nearest village laughed whenever the two of them passed through with bundles of dried flowers and clinking, clacking bottles.

So he would just have to make a friend from scratch.

The cauldron started to tremble and shake and Matthew stepped back, raising his arms when it flashed a brilliant white, and tripping over the hem of his cloak.  He toppled backwards into shelves of mint and ragweed.  The jars crashed around him.

“Are you okay?”

Matthew gasped and pushed his hat back into place.  

There was a naked boy standing in the cauldron.  He was paler than he should have been, maybe, and his eyes were the same colour as the bubbling mixture but he was grinning at Matthew.  His elbows were scratched and rubbed raw and his knuckles were bruised.

He looked just like all the little boys in the village who fought and climbed trees and rolled around in the grass.

“Yes!” Matthew scrambled up and helped pull the boy out of the cauldron. “I'm sorry!  Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

Matthew draped his cloak over his shoulders.

“Do you have a name?”

“I don't know.  Maybe.  I feel like I have a name.”

“You can pick!  My name is Matthew.  I didn't get to pick.”

The boy closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and cackling.

“Gilbert!”  He said.  “I feel like a 'Gilbert'!”

“That's a wonderful name.”

Gilbert put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest in pride.

“Of course it is.”

“Do you...”  Matthew bounced and fidgeted with nervous excitement.  He really liked Gilbert.  He wanted Gilbert to like him too.  “Do you want to be my friend?  I've never had a friend before.  You would be the first.”

Gilbert puffed up even more.

“Then I'm going to be your bestest best friend ever.”

Teacher’s Pet

This is just a little vignette for the comic Maplevogel posted yesterday because she likes to put ideas into my head.  I might post more as she adds further details.

Teacher's Pet

Matthew huffed and scrubbed his face with his left hand.  He was exhausted and his coffee was bitter and cold but the classroom was still a mess and he had promised himself he would clean it before heading home.

“Alright.  Alright.  I can do this,” he said, squaring his shoulders.  The sooner he started, the sooner he would finish, and the sooner he could catch up on his soap operas.  

And drink an entire bottle of wine.

He washed down the countertops and organized the cabinets and scraped the gum off the undersides of the desks.  He left the more interesting graffiti sprawled across the top and cleaned the rest of them.  He filled out his lesson plan for tomorrow.

The sun was setting behind him when he reached for the skull sitting on his desk and dusted it off.

“It's just you and me again tonight,” he told the skull, smoothing his hands over the cracks.  He had inherited the skull when he took over the classroom in September and he found himself talking to it in between classes.  It was a bit pathetic but he liked the company.  “I'm sure you're not surprised.”

He traced the maxilla and mandible with his fingers.

“It usually is.”

He lingered over the teeth.

“But thank you for sticking around.”

He raised the skull to his lips and pressed a sentimental kiss to the well worn teeth.  The skull was cold and unyielding against his lips until, suddenly, it was not.  It was warm and wet and his fingers slipped backwards through hair that had not existed a minute ago.

And when he opened his eyes, he was kissing a man.  A very pale, very handsome man.  A very heavy man.

Matthew collapsed under his weight.

“Oh my fucking...  Shit!  Fuck!  Who the hell are you?”

The man just blinked at him before sweeping his gaze across the classroom and looking down at his bare chest.

“Why are you naked?!”  Matthew shrieked.  He tried to push him off but he was running his hands over his chest, stomach, and lower.  He examined his fingernails with a strange mixture of horror and wonderment.  

“I'm alive,” he croaked, and it sounded like he had not used his voice in years. His hands fluttered to his throat.  “I can talk.  Oh my god, I can talk.”

“Who are you?  Who are you?  What are you?”  Matthew repeated over and over until his attention snapped back to him.  He grinned at Matthew and started touching him instead.

“You kissed me!”

“I did not!”

“You did!”

“I definitely did not!”

“You did!  You said 'thank you' and you kissed me!”

The pieces started falling into place but it did not make any sense.  He must have been dreaming.  It could not... He would have...  His mind reeled with possibilities.  

“You were a skull,” Matthew said slowly, trying the words on for size.  “My skull.”

“Yes!”

“And now you're not.”

“Exactly!”

This was a dream.  

This had to be a dream.

But the man felt real enough in his lap.  He was heavy and warm and his knees were digging into his sides.  It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

“I don't understand...  You can't...”

Matthew fainted.

Ridiculous Prompts

And so on...

Matthew sat up and squinted at the time on his alarm clock but, no, it was two in the morning no matter how he looked at it.

And someone was pounding on the door of his apartment.

“Oh, for the love of...”  Matthew rolled out of bed and reached for the baseball bat his brother had insisted on giving him as a housewarming present when he moved out on his own.  He had even hammered a couple of nails through it. 

Matthew was preeetty sure it was just his neighbour at the door but he might as well hit him with the bat on principle.

He padded across his apartment in loose sweatpants that used to be green, or blue, and peeked through the peephole.  Gilbert hopped up and down on the other side of the door with dark circles under his eyes and a strained, manic expression that spoke volumes.  Matthew sighed as he opened the door.

“Gilbert,” he gestured towards his ensemble.  “What the fuck?”

He was wearing clear, plastic coveralls over a pink tracksuit and rubber boots with polka dots.  His hair was pulled back with a large bow.

Gilbert grinned at him.

“Hey, hey, you have a bat!  That's neat!  Neato!  I didn't know you played baseball.  But, hey, do you have any chloroform?  I need chloroform. For reasons.”

Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Why, exactly, do you need chloroform at two in the morning...?”

“I can't tell you!  But it's not illegal.  Probably.  At least I don't think it is.”

Matthew studied his neighbour as he bounced and twitched and muttered under his breath.  He actually really liked Gilbert.  He had these crippling depressive lows and fantastic highs that surprised Matthew but he was never boring.  He was always kind to him.  Thoughtful.  He checked in on Matthew, brought him leftovers in the evenings, and invited himself over for coffee on the weekends.

He really, really liked him.

“Okay, well, can I come with you?”  He should probably try to keep him out of trouble.  More trouble.  Jail.  “While you do, uh, whatever the fuck you're doing?”

Gilbert stopped bouncing and narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“Why? Do you know someone who has chloroform?”

“I might,” he admitted.  As a matter of fact, Matthew could think of a few people who might have access to dangerous chemicals.  He apparently needed to make new friends.  

“Oh!” Gilbert brightened.  He grabbed his hand and started pulling him down the corridor.  “Well, okay then!  You can come!  But you have to keep it a secret!”

Matthew waved towards his open apartment.  

“Can I, can I at least put on a jacket?!”

Gilbert shook his head, puffed out his chest, and pointed ahead like a brave explorer.

“Time is of the essence!”

“I'm still carrying a baseball bat!”

“Bring it!  We might need it where we're going!”

Matthew groaned.  He already knew that he would have several new stories or broken bones when the sun rose in five hours.  Or possibly both.

“Y’know, that actually doesn't make me feel any better...”

Ridiculous Prompts

So I thought I would continue these…

“I’m going to do it again!”

Matthew spluttered and reached out to stop Gilbert from throwing himself off the cliff.

“I think your arm is broken,” Matthew grabbed the elastic of his soaked underwear and dug his heels into the dirt.  Gilbert continued to pull him forward.  “You’re bleeding!”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Gilbert waved him off with his left hand.  His other hand dangled at his side as he marched towards the edge.  It was twisted in the wrong direction.  “I’m fine.  I feel great!”

“That’s the adrenaline!  We have to go to the hospital!”

“You worry too much,” he scoffed.

“You don’t worry enough!”

Gilbert had glanced over the edge of the cliff, shucked off his clothes, and taken a running leap into the lake before Matthew had even stepped out of the car.  He was wet and bloodied and his arm was turning an interesting shade of purple.

Matthew tugged harder on his underwear.

“You’re going to kill yourself!”  He shrieked.  “The water isn’t deep enough!  There are rocks!”

“I made it last time.”

“Barely!”

Gilbert started to wriggle out of his underwear and Matthew tackled him instead.  He wrapped his arms around his stomach and dragged him backwards until he was sitting in his lap.  He was slippery.

Gilbert turned around to look at him and cocked an eyebrow.

“If you wanted to try a new position, you could have just asked.”

“Fuck you,” Matthew snarled, gesturing towards his right hand.  “Look at your arm!  We didn’t go camping so you could kill yourself!”

Gilbert slowly turned his attention to his arm for the first time and blanched.

“Yeeeah, no, that’s not supposed to bend that way…”

“That’s what I said!”

“That doesn't look good. You should prooobably take me to the hospital now. Maybe.”

“Then shut up and get in the car!”

Matthew helped Gilbert stand up and led him towards the car.  It had all happened so fast that the keys were still swinging from the ignition.

He pushed Gilbert into the passenger seat and buckled him in.

“Hey, Matthew…?”

“What?!”

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Gilbert scuffed his bare feet across the mat and fiddled with his seat belt.  Matthew blinked at him.  He grunted.

And then he kissed Gilbert so hard that their teeth clacked together and he bit his lip.

“Don’t do it again.”

PruCan Week

Day Seven:

I’m stringing these chapters together into a single love story that takes place over twenty years.  I chose ‘Proposal’ for the seventh, and final, day of the challenge.  The characters are twenty five and twenty six years old and it’s been two decades since they first met on the playground.

Proposal

“Fuck!”  Gilbert barked, clutching his hand and hopping backwards.  “Oh, shit, that hurts!”

Matthew dropped the toolbox and rushed to his side.

“Are you okay?!”

Gilbert looked at him, shamefaced, and showed him the cut on his finger.  He had sliced down the inside and into the palm of his hand.  He was bleeding.

“I, uhm, missed a spot.”

PruCan Week

Day Six:

I am stringing these chapters together into a single love story that takes place over twenty years.  I chose ‘Cooking Dinner’ for the sixth day of the challenge although it still counts as domestic.  The characters are twenty four and twenty five years old now.

Cooking Dinner

“Are you, uh, sure you don’t want any help?”

Gilbert cursed as another pot boiled over on the stove and turned up the radio to drown out the noise.

“No!  I’ve, fuck, I’ve got this!”  He splashed sauce across the tiles.  Then he stepped in it.  It was hot.  “Everything is fine!  Nobody panic!”

“I’m not panicking, you’re panicking!”  Matthew shouted from the dining room.  Gilbert had lit candles, spread out their best tablecloth, and pulled out a chair for him but he refused to let Matthew help in the kitchen.  He wanted to cook their anniversary dinner by himself.  “…  Should I be panicking?”

PruCan Week

Day Five:

I am stringing these chapters together into a single love story that takes place over twenty years.  I chose ‘Seasons’ for the fifth day of the challenge.  The characters are twenty one and twenty two years old now.

Changing of the Seasons

Matthew stumbled out of his lecture, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck, and searched the wilting trees and lawns of their campus for his boyfriend.  The university was a collection of big, old stone houses with stained glass windows and creaking wooden doors and newer, sleeker facilities crowded around a shared courtyard.  They usually met in the Commons between classes.

Gilbert waved at him from beneath a sprawling, gnarled oak with initials and love letters carved into it.

“Hey, there.”

“Hey yourself.”

Matthew flopped down beside him and kicked his backpack into the pile of red and orange leaves Gilbert had collected. 

PruCan Week

Day Four:

I am stringing these chapters together into a single love story that takes place over twenty years.  I chose ‘Fake Dating’ for the fourth day of the challenge.  The characters are fifteen and sixteen years old now.

(Honestly, they had no idea they were already dating…)

Matthew dropped two cafeteria trays onto their usual table and slipped in beside his friends.  Gilbert was late.  Again.

“Where is your ‘boyfriend’?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he responded dryly, automatically, as he reached for an apple and buffed it against his sweater.  Francis and Antonio glanced at each other.  Francis raised an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure he’s your boyfriend.”

PruCan Week

Day Three:

I am stringing these chapters together into a single love story that takes place over twenty years.  I chose ‘First Kiss’ for the third day of the challenge.  The characters are eleven and twelve years old now.

First Kiss

Gilbert crawled up onto the mattress and sat across from Matthew with his legs crossed.  He studied the curve of his lips in the darkness and frowned.  Matthew squirmed.

“I don’t get it,” Gilbert mused under his breath.  “I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone.  Ever.  But Roderich kissed Elizabeta behind the bleachers yesterday, and Antonio kissed Bella two weeks ago, and Francis has kissed all of the girls in Grade Six at least twice.”

“Do you think it hurts?”  Matthew whispered curiously.  His pajamas were wrinkled, crooked, and his hair was a mess of tangled blonde curls.  It was past their bedtime.