Synopsis: Just Aesop crushing on Eli and doing his makeup.
Something Aesop could have never imagined: Eli in his room and Aesop doing his makeup. Shaking, his gloved hands brushed back Eli’s fluffy hair and pinned it back leaving his face beautifully unobstructed. Aesop had never seen such beautiful eyes. Sparkles seemed to dance tirelessly through waves of pale blue. Aesop glanced at the discarded blindfold and wished he could see Eli’s eyes more often. The morning sun encased their faces in gold, and Aesop took one more long glance at Eli’s soft face before gathering his brushes.
“Close your eyes…” Aesop said. Eli politely nodded and obeyed, his long eyelashes resting upon gold-tinted cheeks. Aesop could not stop himself from admiring Eli for two moments too long. Embarrassed, he quickly snatched a brush and nervously swept his hair out of his face. His heart sped up as he leaned in closer to the man who had been plaguing his thoughts for months. He thought of the first day Eli had come up to him and started a conversation. How neat his clothes and mannerisms were in contrast to his messy brown hair. How Aesop had always wished to see his eyes and feel his hair.
A small smile emerged as Aesop pushed those thoughts away. Aesop carefully brushed Eli’s face, but not a moment later Eli laughed! Aesop stiffened. Why was Eli laughing? He could not have messed up this early!
“I’ve never had my makeup done before. It is… quite nice.” Eli said, leaning closer to Aesop. Aesop leaned back in return; Eli was making him nervous. Too nervous. He liked it? Aesop had hardly done anything, yet he says he likes it. Aesop scrutinized the other’s smiling face and returned more relaxed to his work.
By now, there was nothing left of the morning sun’s rays except the warmth on the men’s faces. Aesop had pulled the gold right from the sun and draped it over Eli’s eyelids, so he shimmered with every move. Eli had always rivaled the sun in beauty and vitality, so Aesop conquered the sun for him. He traced the gold over the scars as well intimating an illuminated god.
“Open your eyes.” Aesop said softly.
“Do I look pretty, Aesop?” Eli asked. Aesop froze once again; of course, Eli was pretty, way more than pretty. He was the morning sun, the clearest ocean, and the brightest stars. Eli was the world. His beauty exceeded eathly descriptors, but how could Aesop say anything like this? Eli’s usually steady smile wavered. Aesop remained silent. Eli cautiously called out Aesop’s name.
“Yes, very pretty.” Aesop curtly replied. The sparkle in Eli’s eyes faded just a touch at the brevity of Aesop’s words. Aesop’s face contorted in worry, knowing he said the wrong thing. Eli quickly thanked Aesop and left, taking all the light in Aesop with him. Aesop felt empty. He could have told Eli every last thing he saw and felt, but he did not. He sat and stared into his empty room, eyes focused on something beyond physical. He stayed that way for a while.
Aesop let his eyes drift through his room. A flash of yellow. His gaze landed on the single yellow rose in the corner of the dull room. He delicately held the rose and slowly picked the thorns off. Then he scoured his room for paper and began to write. He wrote and wrote and wrote. Aesop filled the page with every thought and memory he could. Aesop then hurriedly shuffled to Eli’s room and set the letter and rose before his door. He rapidly knocked three times and then disappeared down the hallway. Aesop hoped that now Eli could see how much light he brought into Aesop’s life.
