Wyatt & Boxhead Hector — Arm (pt.2)
NOTES: i struggle with writing dialogue from other characters i haven’t made. swearing. slightly suggestive. wyatt is my self insert character. i’m scared of sharing my writing & am rusty on writing so it may be quite bad, my apologies. may be cringe. boxhead hector belongs to @flanisland (pls tell me if you want your @ removed.) all art is mine :)
It had been about two days since Wyatt met up with Hector in the attic. He decided to give him space by distancing himself from him for two days so he can calm down & not be blamed himself for a minor ‘injury’ he gave him.
He, himself, is still tying to process how somebody can be so insecure of themself that their last resort is to hide their face behind cardboard.
Wyatt managed to bring him downstairs today & into his living room to sit on the couch by him. He tries to make small talk.
“So, Hector, was anything inside of the box before you it on?”
“No, I could never bring myself to possibly break any of your things.” He replies.
“That’s good,” He sighs. “Look, I know I need to clean up there & sell old things. I just have a hard time getting rid of things.”
“I can tell,” Hector says. “You have a lot—& I mean a lot—of boxes up there.” He pauses for a moment. “But there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s fine to hold onto things.”
“Yeah…” Wyatt quickly falls silent, not knowing what to say back. Hector picks up on that.
“What things do you keep up there, anyway?” He asks, trying to help Wyatt get back to talking. He likes hearing Wyatt talk. It makes him feel good to know he’s happy through his voice. He used to be the talker until his voice lost its confidence outside the grates.
“I can tell you one thing: the box labeled for Christmas,” He starts. “My mom used to make me set up her Christmas village of little glass people & wooden homes & shops. I hated that. But I keep doing it every year because it reminds me of home, even though I hates it at home..” He trails off, not wanting to think about it.
Hector doesn’t force him to continue. “It’s sweet that you keep up the tradition, Wyatt.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble on like that. Sorry, Hector.” He apologises twice in one sentence.
“No, you’re fine, my love; I like hearing you talk.” Hector replies, trying to be reassuring.
“But I like hearing you talk too!” Wyatt says in reply to his point. He’s flattered though. Somebody likes to hear him talk.
“You aren’t…Disappointed in my voice?” Hector asks well over thirty seconds after Wyatt complimented him with his statement on hearing him talk. He didn’t mean to say that out loud. He doesn’t even realise he asked.
“Huh?” Wyatt questions, genuinely confused by what he means. “Why would I? Your voice is calming.”
“You didn’t like it better how it was before?” Hector shoots back.
Wyatt shrugs. “It sounds better now. I like your voice, Hector.”
“…I like your voice too, Wyatt.”
Wyatt lays his head on his shoulder in a very sudden movement, almost as a natural instinct. Hector’s body stiffens up & the room begins to heat up ever so slightly.
“Careful, I may burn you again..” Hector warns.
“I know. I’m fine, though. To me, you’re just really warm.” Wyatt replies, reassuringly, still resting his face against his shoulder.
“I don’t want to hurt you, my love. Not even by accident.” Hector admits.
Wyatt closes his eyes, basking in the warmth radiating from Hector’s body. the room progressively warms up the longer Wyatt rests there, as does Hector’s body.
Speaking of his body, Hector’s left arm awkwardly sits between his body & Wyatt’s, unsure of what to do with it (if anything at all.)
Wyatt feels his hand shift around fidgety. “Hector… you alright?” He looks up at him, still not moving his head.
Hector nods quickly. “I’m fine.”
Wyatt sighs. “You know you could just put your arm around me, right?”
Hector chuckles softly & hesitantly puts his arm around his shoulder. “Okay then.” He looks down at him with a loving expression.
Wyatt enjoys the silence between them, creating an intimate moment. He opens his eyes halfway & is facing Hector’s neck directly, creating a chance for him if he can get past his metal collar.
Wyatt leans in & briefly presses his lips to the exposed skin without thinking it through much, making the moment even more intimate. Hector’s breath hitches & he gasps softly.
“Wyatt…I..” Hector trails off, muttering out his name like it should be worshipped.
“I’m sorry, that was wrong of me..” Wyatt answers, pulling back slightly before Hector’s arm shifts him back closer to his neck.
& so he does. Wyatt peppers his neck in kisses, his lips occasionally lingering longer than necessary. his hand now moved & gently rubbing on his inner thigh and his other hand now cupping in on his waist.
Maybe the box isn’t so bad of a thing.
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