#p: decklin

[gabecabrera]

Midnight Kiss | Decklin & Gabe

He'd been planning this methodically for days. It had become his go-to whenever things got to be a bit too much to handle, every time he felt like breaking down. Christmas made it clear to Gabe what mattered most to him in his life, how surprisingly easy it would be to get rid of everything he owned and start fresh. But there were a few things he wanted to carry over past midnight. 

T minus three hours until Operation: Tabula Rasa began. 

Gabe nervously checked his watch. He'd be here soon. But every second that passed upset his perfectly scheduled night. He wasn't that much of a stickler most of the time, but he had so much at stake here, it made his heart hurt. "You can do this," he hummed, glancing at the door. "You can do this."

[gabecabrera]

The Fourth Day of Christmas | Decklin & Gabe

It had sprung on him suddenly, though Gabe had recognized the symptoms building up inside of him. This marked his first Christmas without his family, the first time he hadn't gone home, hadn't had the traditional Christmas eve dinner, or opened presents under the tree. He felt alone. And terrified. So far, he'd managed to avoid the bad feelings that came with his situation, pushing them all deep down -- he was a pro at hiding behind a sunny disposition, at least for a while, until it all got to be a bit too much. Knocking gently on Deck's door, Gaberiel forced himself to acknowledge that he was in over his head. Biting down on his bottom lip, he pressed his forehead against the wood of the door, waiting for a response, unwilling to be presumptuous by letting himself in.

[gabecabrera]

Soup's On | Decklin & Gabe

It'd be a genuine lie if Gabe said he wasn't into Decklin. It hadn't been very long that they've known each other, but he was the person he got along with the best in the manor. Now, here was was less than seven days into a friendship, and he was struggling to carry a bowl of hot soup down a seemingly endless hallway to give to said sick friend. Clearly, he hadn't thought this through. A good chunk of the soup was landing on his shoes as he staggered and swayed, staining the edges of the bowl with a milky yellow colour. 

Until he reached Deck's door, his concentration was paramount. Only when he arrived did he let that slip slightly, using applied butt pressure to open the door, stepping backward into the other boy's bedroom. "Hey, sicky head," he said, turning his head with a wide, genuine smile forming on his face. He liked seeing Decklin. This was easily the high point of his day, and it had already been a pretty good one before this. 

He approached the bed, setting the hot bowl of soup on the nightstand next to it, clearing a bit of a spot off by pressing away the digital alarm clock. "Soup's on. It's hot, though. Scalding. And there's a lot of it on my shirt and pants. But, like I said, old family recipe. Soup and water. I'll be incredibly offended if you don't eat it and don't like it."