wolfie.
â he is the devilâs hellcat, â wolfie insists, choosing to look at apollo as he says it instead of tyson, too afraid to look him in the eye in case theyâre both talking about two completely different things. his face will give it all away if there was any doubt he has talking about tyson, he never was great at disguising his emotions, most of all around the one person heâs never felt the need to disguise himself around. heâs got used to having his guard down in his presence, and it would be a difficult adjustment to start putting it back up again. â that makes you the devil, by the way, â he tacks on, the smile on his face exceptionally playful. he doesnât want tonight to get heavy, like last time. he wants to keep it light so it doesnât have to hurt so much to be around each other. itâs kind of an experiment, to see if theyâve got what it takes to be friends without the suffering. so far, things are looking promising for them. â alright, alright, â he agrees reluctantly, reaching behind his back to tempt apollo with his fingers by drumming them on the back of the couch as tyson speaks. every time tyson uses his full name it feels intimate, maybe because besides his parents nobody else ever really does. most of the time, itâs being used when somebody has something serious to say, or when heâs in trouble, but tyson uses it like a pet name. he likes the way he makes it sound, but he also likes the way tyson makes cuss words sound, so has less reflection on the word itself than it does on the speaker. â no laughing, no slasher movies, no food on your fluffy blankets⊠god, youâre such a diva, â he mutters, in his best imitation of a scummy tabloid writer. itâs so far from the truth that he almost breaks his first rule by laughing out loud, but heâs quickly silenced when tyson throws a blanket over him and curls up even closer than before. he can feel his body heat radiating through the many layers that are separating them and practically forgets all about the blanket until prompted. â much better, yeah. thanks, â he replies, running his hand over the soft material in appreciation whilst his mind wanders to how easily he could reach over and so the same to tyson, a thought which is much more appealing. tonight is a real practice of his ability to make rational decisions, and wolfie passes the test for the time being as he also turns his attention to the screen. an ominous tune is playing but itâs being drowned out by his own heartbeat and internal monologue. his voice of reason sounds a whole lot like darcy, which makes it much harder to ignore, especially when darcy is known to usually ( and by usually he means always ) be right. given, darcy also encouraged him to come over to tyâs tonight, so she evidently has more faith in him to not fuck up than he does in himself.Â
tyson likes that heâs the devil in this scenario -- not because heâs got some goal to embody lucifer himself but rather, simply because the teasing is making him feel more comfortable. itâs familiar without getting too achingly nostalgic. itâs fun and almost possible not to think of it as flirting. almost. even as he shuffles around the room to grab things, he canât help but steal glances at wolfie. his ex looks equal parts natural and unnatural curled up on his couch, playing with their cat much to apolloâs delight. the catâs tail is twitching playfully but he looks one well placed scratch to the ears away from crawling into wolfieâs sushi bag as a ploy to get him to take him home. this apartment, half-barren and depersonalized, has never been home. not for apollo and certainly not for tyson either. âleak my diva antics to the media and itâll be the last thing you ever do,â tyson threatens absently, now back in his seat and glaring fixedly at the television screen. he nearly had used wolfgangâs full name again but he was already feeling a bit fluttery at the familiar taste of it on his tongue that he knew saying it a second time would likely make him blush. theyâre both kidding -- wolfie would never disclose tysonâs habits to a tabloid and tysonâs antics themselves hardly qualified as âdivaâ but a bit of lighthearted play between them felt right. its immediately harder to pay attention to the movie when wolfie starts petting his hands over the fabric of the blanket theyâre sharing, so close to accidentally brushing against tysonâs body. heâs distracted by long fingers and gentle touches, wishing, hoping, praying wolfie strays away from the absentminded stroking, if only for a second. every touch at the after party had felt like fire, igniting him from the inside out. tyson wants to burn now, and not just with the force of the flush upon his cheeks that he can feel rising to the surface. he does fairly well for the first few scenes of the movie, he reasons. he only flinches a few times and manages to focus on eating his sushi and taking sips of miso soup alongside the sparkling water wolfie had brought over (carrying two with one hand since the other had carried apollo, now that tyson remembers -- fuck, why couldnât he stop thinking about wolfieâs hands?). he might even have considered the start of the movie a success up until that first jumpscare. itâs not even a creepy face or a spectre, just some spooky scenic work and yet tysonâs eyes are going wide and heâs immediately defaulting to pressing tightly against wolfieâs side. his face hides against wolfieâs forearm and his whole body curls in towards his ex boyfriend, seeking protection while his heart practically does damage hammering in his narrow ribcage. âmerde,â he hisses under his breath, not daring to unfurl from wolfieâs formidable figure. âwhat happened to the warning!â









