Yeah, I'm thinking about heartless again. Gonna slam a fic here:
The room was silent. Neither Flint nor Eira wanted to say anything to each other. Yet, the silence was uncomfortable.
Eira’s eyes darted around the room, Trying his best to keep himself from glancing at Flint.
Flint’s mind was elsewhere though, so he wouldn't have noticed. He was thinking about the run-in they’d recently had with the jury. He and Eira had both fought well, and he wasn't worried, it was just… the way Eira had looked at him during the fight, the simple smirk. It gave him this weird, fuzzy feeling.
He stood up, deciding he needed fresh air, and walked towards the door on Eira’s “side” of the room.
Eira flinched as he watched Flint leave- well, he didn’t mean to watch. Flint was just suddenly there. And the door was right next to Eira’s bed, it's not like he wouldn't notice. Eira gave Flint a small awkward smile as he opened the door. Flint smiled back.
He put his head in his hands when flint shut the door, sighing, “how am I unable to have a regular conversation with someone I share a room with?”
Flint had made the right choice by heading outside. He rarely ever got to see Eira smile, and when he did it tended to be in battle. The fact that they weren’t in action gave Flint time to think about the fuzzy feelings he got when Eira smiled at him.
Flint nodded, saying to himself, “I’m definitely going to try and get him to smile more often.”
“What’s your favorite type of cake?”
Eira was suspicious of the question, but he answered, “German Chocolate, why?”
“I’m just writing stuff down, trying to get everyone’s favorite cakes into my memory,” Now, this wasn’t necessarily a lie. Flint had been planning on doing this. But, Eira was the only one he asked so far. Flint cleared his throat as he wrote down “Frosty likes German chocolate”.
“German chocolate is pretty good.”
Eira nodded, made the sort of humming noise you make when you agree with someone but have nothing to add to the conversation, and went back to reading his book. It was titled “The Seer of Angels”, and it was about a man cursed to grow 6 pairs of wings and lose his sight after trying to see into the future.
“Is that book any good? I mean, do you like it?”
Eira laughed, that warm laugh that Flint just couldn’t get enough of. “Yes, it's good. I don’t think I’d be reading it if it wasn’t!”
Flint looks at Eira in a way that almost shocks him. It's uncharacteristically soft. Eyebrows raised just slightly, head tilted slightly upward, a hand rested on his chin, and a slight smile- barely noticeable if you weren't paying attention. But Eira was, and he practically whipped his head around to hide his face in his book. He was certain he could feel his face getting warmer.
Flint was, reasonably, a bit worried, “Ah, did I look at you weird? I’m sorry- I really didn’t mean to”
Eira cut him off, saying “It’s alright, Flint.”
And so, that was that. The two went back to their routine of not talking to each other. But this time, the silence was comforting.
Flint was suffering. The team had taken a job in a desert of all places! Everyone was wearing fewer layers. Except for Eira. Was he insane?
“Dude, why are you still wearing that? It’s boiling!”
“Hm, I guess my body just runs colder? I’m not sure.”
Flint groaned. He really hated the heat.
“If you want, you can borrow my scarf. I’m certain it's affected by my temperature.”
Flint was startled by the gesture, but he accepted.
Eira handed him the scarf. Their hands brushed against each other, causing Eira’s face to heat up again. He quickly turned away. He muttered something under his breath that Flint couldn’t hear.
Flint was not convinced in the slightest.
