⊹ ࣪ ˖ Christmas confessions ! ⋆.˚
Summary: Christmas time is approaching, what a time to confess! Gender neutral reader x tkatb men, Geo is aroace , crowe is a tad ooc
WC: 6.3k (approx 1500 for each except they get longer and longer)
Disclaimer: no actual warnings but for legal reasons, don't actually attempt to put solid ice in a snowball irl, this is fictional, you will get seriously hurt.
The snow crunched under Crowe’s boots as he rounded yet another winding street corner. It continued to fall, glittering flakes drifting lazily down from the sky and landing on the expensive wool of his scarf, dotting the material with fragments of white. The chill just about bit through the layers of his clothing, flushing his cheeks and nose pink.
He’d been planning the confession for weeks, carefully precise, detailed it down to each word that would leave his lips, and your responses in turn. Turning the thoughts over in his mind again and again until the colourful sparkle of Christmas lights strung from porches blinking dimly like spots in his vision did little to settle his jumping nerves. This would go fine. He knew that somewhere deep inside the corners of his mind. He was as strategic as he was confident, yet now, with nerves sparking low in his veins, he started to doubt just how much planning could go towards conveying emotional intimacy.
The anticipation had him wound tight, muscles taut under his coat, gloved fingers clasped tightly around the leather strap of his satchel like he was viable to take off in the next seconds.
Crowe’s body was functioning on autopilot, feet carrying him past festively decorated front gardens and under snow cloaked street lamps with single minded determination. The way to your house was burnt into his brain at this point, every corner, every prominent house scored onto the back of his eyelids if he blinked hard enough.
Whilst he was running through the plan once more for the mental equivalent of liquid courage, the amber glow of your front porch light came into view, bathing the snowy street in warmth. Your silhouette outlined by the subtle flare of marigold, sat on the worn wood of your front step, bag resting against the closed door behind you. Twinkling bulbs of red, blue and green swayed listlessly in their place, strung above your head like a sea of multicoloured stars.
Your arms were wrapped tightly around your folded legs, head resting against them as you stared out into the waiting snow like it would give you an answer to a question you hadn’t even asked.
Crowe hesitated for one lingering moment, fingers abandoning the strap of his bag to flex with uncharacteristic uncertainty at his side before he took a singular deep inhale, and stepped closer.
The crunch under his feet intensified as gravel mixed with frost, alerting you to the figure striding up to the porch. He watched your head turn up, then your expression shift from absent minded daydreaming to lit up recognition.
“Crowe!” Your smile was small, but it was soft, gentle. You shifted, gesturing to the space cleared beside you in invitation.
“Hey you,” He dropped into the position, dumping his bag down unceremoniously, lacking his usual grace, as if that enigmatic facade had faded away with the setting of the sun.
“Took you long enough, I thought I’d have to go digging through the snow to find you soon,” You remark, gaze drifting back to the blanket of white piling thicker in the distance, “I mean, it does look deep enough for you to hide in at this point.”
He laughed, a short quiet huff of pale amusement at the tempting idea you’d unknowingly just given him, following your line of sight across the horizon, noting the bright burn of the stars prominent in the jet black of night. He could notice the faint formation of a constellation in the corner of his vision, but now wasn’t the time for an educated lecture on astrology.
“Well what sort of gentleman would I be if I left you to wander the…” He paused briefly, attempting to find a somewhat less insulting way to phrase his sentence, “... mediocrely assembled Christmas market alone?” That comment rewarded him with a sharp bark of laughter from you and he secretly relished in the sound of your delight.
“Not much of one” You replied.
“Exactly, at least now we can suffer through expensive yet watery hot chocolate together.”
He noticed your smile grow in the corner of his eye, amusement glinting in your eye like a star reflected.
You reached behind you and moved to grasp your bag, going to stand when you were halted by a hand on your wrist.
“Wait a second though,” He released his light grip on your arm when you sank back down onto the step, “Can I talk to you about something first?”
He watched an eyebrow raise in puzzlement, before you dropped back into the recently vacated spot, angling your body to face his, so close he could practically feel the warmth radiating off you. He clears his throat before beginning, “I’ve never been able to say this before and maybe now isn’t the right time but, if not now then maybe I’ll never say it.”
“Crowe?” The confusion is clear as day on your face and he notices your hands start to fidget in their place on your lap. With a split second of hesitation, he rests them on top of yours, drawing soothing circles on the back of your palm. Your gaze meets his, flits down to where his soft skin meets yours, and then back up at him with wide eyes.
“Look I like you, love you even. I know it’s a lot, but whether or not you feel the same, I had to tell you. I know we’ve known each other for years and believe me the last thing I want to do is ruin what we have now, but, well it's the holidays so why not give myself another reason for existential dread.”
Utter silence greets the confession. Shit was that too self depreciating? Not sincere enough? Fuck, Crowe doesn’t even want to meet your eyes for the next ten years. This is about to be the most humiliating moment of his life that the oh-so perfect timing can now associate with Christmas time.
Despite the burning embarrassment making his face flush even redder than the cold had made it, his hands still rest on yours, and the fact you haven’t moved him off snags in his mind. For the briefest second, Crowe allows a faint spark of hope to ignite in his chest.
Reluctantly, he makes a subtle movement to turn his face up, only to be taken aback by the feeling of your hands leaving his, cupping his jaw with delicate adoration and planting a soft kiss on his lips.
…
Wait a kiss. You are kissing him.
He feels your lips curve against his when his hands flail in mid air for a minute, unsure of whether your hips are too promiscuous of a place for your first kiss. Instead, he settles for resting them tentatively on your waist, touch featherlight, like you’re a fragile glass ornament. He makes a sort of strangled sound against your mouth, somewhere between a moan and an exclamation, and you break away to laugh out loud.
His brows furrow in a childish pout before his lips seek yours again, arms fully intertwining around your back to draw your bodies flush. You gasp softly into the intensity of his mouth moving against yours.
After a few long moments, you both reluctantly separate for air, foreheads resting against one another as you laugh in unison.
“Took you long enough” You murmur.
“What?” It’s now Crowe’s turn to throw you a perplexed look.
“You really hadn’t noticed? I’ve had the most obvious crush on you for like- years.” He simply blinks in response. Once, then twice, before bursting into more unrestrained laughter.
“You’re not kidding? I’ve been stressing over a plan to confess to you for literal weeks.” You smile, saccharine sweet, and press a firm kiss to his jaw.
“Well now we have all the time in the world to make up for it.”
Sol’s apartment was more of a cluttered art studio with a bed than a functioning house. Paint tubes and brushes stained in vibrant shades ranging from a sort of burnt sienna colour to neon blue were strewn across every spare surface, ones that weren’t already occupied with half finished canvases.
Sat in one barely empty corner was a sparsely decorated christmas tree, mismatched baubles dangling precariously and tinsel strung around the branches, though it was almost impossible to notice, surrounded by hastily shoved aside cardboard boxes and camouflaged in an already colourful space.
The homeowner in question was already inside, crouched down by the chaotically arranged kitchen cupboards, green and black strands of hair falling into his face, to search for what you assumed was the hot chocolate you’d been promised earlier when he’d invited you over - with a minute amount of red faced stuttering.
You kicked off your snow coated shoes by the doorway, followed by attempting to pile your coat on top of the already crowded rack and hoping it didn’t fall off, the last thing Sol needed was your stuff sending the mess rates of his home up even higher. The kettle switch flicked in the kitchen, drawing your attention.
“Need any help?” You wandered over, past a canvas portraying a half finished portrait of what looked like a mediaeval executioner and a figure not yet started.
“Uh- no it’s ok I can make it.” His fingers drummed restlessly on the countertop behind him, silver rings tapping rhythmically against the surface, gaze not meeting yours.
You hummed in response, “Mind if I look around then Picasso? You have so many interesting pieces here…” Your words trailed off as your eyes wandered the paint splattered walls, lingering on each canvas and mural filling the space. Some of his paintings belonged in a museum, with their realistic nature, each brushstroke thin and ornate. No wonder he was in art class, although now you were starting to grow embarrassed of your own skill in the face of his obvious mastery.
“Oh sure, It’s not much though…” He looked around his own living room for a minute, noting his works down in some sort of mental order you noticed by the calculating look on his face.
What you didn’t see though, was the way his eyes widened as he watched you head for the dark wood desk across the room. You slid your fingers along the smooth surface, skimming over multiple sketchbooks smudged with charcoal fingerprints and scattered pencil stubs. A certain book caught your eye however, deep forest green with an unlocked silver padlock on the side. Interest piqued, it found its way into your hands, dusting the cover off with featherlight fingertips.
You flipped it open gently, examining the uniqueness of the gold trim on the first page, yet surprised that this notebook in particular seemed to bear no marks of use like the others you’d seen, no smudges, paint marks, indents. Nothing at all to indicate the use.
Sol’s gaze followed your every move from his place leaning back on the black granite of his counter, arms braced behind him. A deep rose coloured his cheeks, eyes tracing the contours of your body as your fingers stretched out to graze along incomplete paintings, examining them. He couldn’t help but feel slightly self conscious at the thought of being the subject of your scrutiny, yet giddy with love and perhaps something darker as the thought coincided with another, sharing this piece of himself with you.
He’d seen your apartment, obviously, yet whilst lacking any artwork of your own, it hadn’t escaped his notice that the rough sketch he’d made for you hung on your bedroom wall still. Just thinking about it, tangible evidence of him in your room, made him bring a hand up to his face to smother the look of sheer adoration he wore.
Yet this lapse in concentration would cost him.
You flipped the next few pages of the book, eyebrows raising as you observed all the sketches on the uncharacteristically pristine pages were of… you? You weren’t sure whether to be a little creeped out or maybe flattered he had such an obvious crush on you, now you’d come face to face with the evidence. Emotions aside, the drawings really were some of the best you’d seen, detailed realism on every page, every feature captured perfectly with haunting raw emotion.
You heard the panicked sound of footsteps a little too late.
One second the sleek green book had been resting in your open palms, the next it had flown out of your grasp and into the pale , black-nailed of another. Sol, for clarification.
You turned instinctively, hips colliding with the smooth edge of wood now behind you, tilting your head up to glance at the man hovering above you. You hadn’t thought it possible for someone’s face to turn such an alarming shade of crimson, yet Sol had now claimed that world record. His hands trembled slightly where they made contact with the hardback cover, and you felt the need to reach out and steady them.
“P-Pumpkin it’s not-” You cut him off with the gentle press of a finger against his lips. You could feel them part beneath your touch before you withdrew and his head leant forward, as if he was unconsciously seeking out the feeling of your skin on his.
“It’s fine Sol, it’s … kinda cute? I’m flattered at least.”
“Really? Well that’s- that’s good…” The blush was spreading steadily down his neck now, however his hands weren’t shaking with as much intensity as before, as if your words had soothed over his initial worry.
“If I’m being honest, this makes it seem like a good time for what I wanted to talk to you about anyway.” You hesitated for a moment, attempting to work yourself up to the daunting task though seeing the numerous drawings of yourself featured in his sketchbook had given you some ground to believe he felt the same. He merely closed the book still open in his hands and placed it carefully on the desk, strategically avoiding any wet paint, before leaning back against the desk beside you, like he was trying to make you seem like equals.
Figures he knows what you're about to do, for someone who knows how much Sol prefers to just observe, you should’ve seen this coming.
“You don’t need to say it if it makes it any better?” He offers up the suggestion, tone quiet and gentle, like you’re a wounded animal he’s comforting. Ironic, considering he’s the predator.
“Of course you know,” You huff out a sigh, something between irritation and relief “I don’t know.. I feel like I should anyway? Clarity and all that.” Your arms hang at your sides, fingers twitching with the need to do something in a feeble attempt to dismiss the awkwardness hanging in the air - much like the wintery fog gathering outside and forming condensation on Sol’s lofty windows.
“Ok- I’ll just get this over with, I like you Sol. Not that you didn’t know.” That didn’t feel as clarifying as you’d expected.
You look up. He’s still the same shade of vibrant red he was minutes ago, matching one of the discarded paint tubes lying on the desk behind you both. Yet this time, he’s sporting one of the fondest expressions you’ve seen on his face before.
“Was it not obvious enough pumpkin? I’ve loved you since I laid eyes on you, since you walked into art class-,” He pauses upon seeing you flush bright scarlet and turn your head away from his watchful eye. “Sorry, was that too much? You’re cute when you blush like that though..” You feel your cheeks burn even hotter. He decides to continue anyway.
“So does that mean we’re… dating? Together?” You blink. Face him again. “Yes Sol, it does. If you’d like that, I mean.”
Did you even have to ask?
You sprinted across piling dunes of powder thin snow, willing your legs to carry you as fast as you could away from the impending attack. As if in warning, a clump of hardened snow landed a mere inch away from you, skimming your side. You didn’t waste time examining it. You bounded across the open space, ducking like your life depended on it, avoiding stray boulders of ice flying in every direction.
Finally, after what felt like hours, you found a pile of snow high enough to conceal your form if you kept crouched low. Your knees sunk into the floor, and taking one glance down at yourself presented you with the sight of pure frost white coating every inch of your clothes. You would’ve laughed at the state of yourself, would it not have given your position away to the enemy, although with every exhausted breath leaving your lungs you would’ve bet on the fact Hyugo was probably creeping up behind you somehow anyway.
With that thought, you dared to rise back on your haunches, tentatively peeking your eyes above the mound of snow to scan the open horizon for any signs of movement. Empty. Not a single frost bitten twig shifted in the evening breeze. The sun dipped low in the distance, brushstrokes of brilliant vermillion and rose painting the sky like something straight out of the Louvre. Still, no sign of Hyugo.
Where even was there to go out here? You’d located a huge open space near the edge of the forest, void of any people, to commence what had turned out to be the most brutal snowball fight you’d ever been in, and probably would be in for the rest of your life.
For all his sweet smiles and sunny demeanor, Hyugo was brutal on the battlefield of snow. You’d convinced yourself at one point he’d started adding solidified ice into his weapons, considering the fact you’d all but fallen over when one particularly large snowball had hit you in the hip. This was like a match of paintball, if paintball forfeit the guns and simply handed you boulders of rock solid destruction instead. Fuck, you just knew your body was covered in bruises already.
You ducked back down below the hill, snapping yourself back into the present before you got knocked out by the violent maniac running loose. Maybe you shouldn’t have suggested this in the first place… In your humble defence, you were completely unaware Hyugo took snowball fights as serious as a fight to the death.
Speaking of the devil in disguise, where was he anyway? It had been at least ten minutes since you’d last seen a glimpse of that ocean turquoise hair. As if on signal, you heard the faint sound of a leaf crunching underfoot. Behind you.
In sheer terror for your life, you spun around with a speed you hadn’t thought yourself capable of, coming face to face with satan himself, stood over your crouched form - arms hoisted above his head and holding a legitimate boulder of snow - the kind of thing that could cause landslides.
He blinked, slowly - calculating - as if debating whether getting caught should prevent him from breaking out the winning move, or if he should find some empathy in his heart and spare your life. You think the desperate look in your eyes softened him - for a split second - but a split second that allowed for your escape either way, scrambling out from beneath his legs and making a mad dash into the open space.
Fucking RUN was the only thought your mind could process in that moment. Screeching, you pelted, kicking up clouds of powdered snow as you went. You heard Hyugo’s hoots of unrestrained laughter echoing behind you, getting louder and louder as he pursued your fleeing form. You couldn’t help but begin to laugh yourself at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, you, shrieking and running for your life, chased by a man turned weapon of war.
“You can’t run forever!” He shouted after you, sentence interrupted by rambunctious fits of laughter and the occasional heavy breath as his stamina wore thin. He was in fact, right, as you halted to an abrupt stop towards the edge of the clearing. There was nowhere to go now, any further and you’d be stepping out of the pre-agreed boundaries - which would mean forfeiting the ‘game’.
Hyugo stood opposite you, manic grin stretched impossibly wide across his face, cheeks flushed rosy with the freezing cold you hadn’t even noticed nipping at your skin, sea foam hair slipping loose from the low pony tail he favoured. Both your chests were heaving, breath leaving your lungs and clouding in the air, bodies positioned to flee at any second.
He took a single step forward.
You went to run again, yet in the next 0.5 of a second you felt the impact of his body colliding with yours with an audible thud as you got full on rugby tackled into the pile of snow behind you. The impact of two entangled bodies landing sent a whoosh of crystalline snowflakes flying up into the slowly darkening sunset.
Your remaining breath left your lungs in one swift exhale, forced out by the weight of him settling on top of you in an indistinguishable tangle of limbs.
“Told you there was nowhere to go.” His tone was soft now, quiet like the fight had left him upon feeling your body press into his. He shifted himself off you, though only to the side, leaving one arm still limply intertwined with yours.
You slipped your fingers between his, intertwining them and feeling the warmth of his skin radiate into yours. “I didn’t realise a harmless snowball fight would develop into a full scale war, in my defence. It was run or get my skull crushed by that insane weapon you had back there” You mused, keeping your gaze trained on the sky, admiring the variety of colours fading into one another for the first time this evening. “Well now you know why I took so long, that was like my ultimate k.o move” he replied.
You hummed in response, squeezing his hand once to signal you’d heard him. The fatigue had started making itself known in your body now, limbs heavy like lead weights with the combined pain of bruises created in the crossfire and the ache of running around for hours.
“This was nice y’know…” Hyugo’s voice rang out into the silence, “Just, hanging out. Not having to really think about anything.” His tone was uncharacteristically soft, barely audible even inches away from you.
“Yeah it was…” You weren’t sure where this 180 in mood had come from but you followed along anyway, too exhausted to really think too much about it.
“Would you- What would you do if you really liked someone but your best friend was like obsessed with them?” The question caught you off guard truthfully, causing you to tilt your head in his direction, only to find him staring absently into the sky as you had been moments before.
“Uh..I’m not sure? It depends, I guess, circumstances and all that.” Where did this even come from? Did Hyugo like someone? You attempted to push down the sinking feeling you got from that thought, suppressing it as far as humanly possible. He didn’t reply, but you felt his grip on your hand loosen, as if he was preparing to withdraw. You already missed his touch at the feeling of it leaving, leading you to turn and clasp his hand between both of yours. The position was uncomfortable, half on your front and leaning on your own arm, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to move away.
“Hyugo? What’s with the cryptic question?” He finally turned his gaze to you at the prompt and you were surprised to see the vacant look in his eyes. Your brows furrowed, what brought this on? His free hand came up, smoothing out the crease formed, a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes forming on his face.
“Nothing, just… a hypothetical.” Yeah right. You threw him an unimpressed look at the denial, cocking your head in disapproval. He avoided your eyes, turning his face up to the sky again. You released his hand, cupping his jaw delicately and turning him to face you again.
His cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink at that motion, though you could’ve sworn you felt him turn ever so slightly and press his cheek into your palm. You felt a blush of your own begin to heat your face. You were both alarmingly red, and the fact your body was hovering above his, knees bracketing his thighs, made it no better.
“Please?” You hoped the look on your face was inviting enough to lure out whatever obscure secret he was trying, and failing, to hide.
You could practically see the cogs turning in his head, calculating the risk and reward of whatever this internal debate was actually about. Eventually, after a long winded minute of contemplation, he returned his gaze to yours - sitting up slightly - braced on his forearms.
“Fuck- ok.” You hear him inhale and mutter something under his breath, steeling himself for… something?
“I like you. Like a lot.”
Oh. Oh. Your grip on his face fell slack. You were still suspended above him, blankly staring down at his flustered face, silence hanging heavy in the air like a cloud of awkward tension.
“And I didn’t want to even have this conversation because you know Sol is like crazy obsessed with you and-” You cut him off with a gentle kiss to his still-flushed cheek, a firm, brief stamp of reciprocated affection. He stopped mid sentence, gawking at you with wide eyes like you’d just committed a cardinal sin.
“What? I can take it back if you don’t want me to kiss you.” If you’d thought he couldn't stare harder, you would be wrong.
“No! Don’t take it back!” His reply was frantic, as if it wasn’t an empty threat.
You rolled off him with a thud, only now starting to register the deep rooted ache in your muscles again. Hyugo followed, reversing the roles and eclipsing your form with his, pressing his - freezing - lips to yours. A soft gasp of surprise left your mouth and he swallowed the sound, taking the opportunity of your lips parting to slip his tongue into your mouth and deepen the kiss.
Well this escalated fast.
You hadn’t expected your Wednesday evening to turn into an impromptu military grade yoga session, but here you are - in the spotless open space of Geo’s private gym - twisted into positions you never thought your body could manage. The air is cool, settling down onto your skin from the open window on one side of the room as you watch the delicate beginnings of snowfall outside.
“Pay attention.” Geo’s voice snaps you back into focus, drawing your concentration back to the sharp cut figure standing tall above you. His midnight purple hair hung into a perfectly styled hime cut, the length tied into a meticulous low ponytail hanging down his back. A tight black t-shirt clung to every inch of muscle on his impeccably toned abdomen, highlighting the fruits of all his rigorous training. And damn, did it pay off.
A sharp tut snapped you out of yet another reverie, clearly being in the proximity of the dictator of self control inspired daydreaming in you. Geo was staring down at you with a less than impressed expression, one eyebrow raised in disinterested question.
Any onlooker would have most likely assumed you were under intense scrutiny, yet you know slightly better. Yes, he was still the biggest encoded enigma - if a person could come with triple padlocks and seven different encrypted codes - geo would be the human equivalent of the pentagram. But beneath that outward detestment and general , obvious, distaste for everyone and everything ; he did have a relative amount of tolerance and dare you say - acceptance - of the presence of a few. Crowe and Deryl for one, and you’d like to count yourself in that list too.
“Are you actually here to learn or are you just going to waste time checking me out?” You sharpen your glare in response. “I am not checking you out, thank you very much.”
“Sure you’re not. If you want to prove you have a brain, pay attention for once.” You just barely resist rolling your eyes but that would probably end up getting you kicked out.
That instinctive dominating tone made its way into every word of his sentence, verbally forcing you into listening to him. Was it his general distaste for company yet allowing you into his space the thing single handedly compelling you to keep up as composed a facade as you could even as your muscles screamed for relief and your legs tremored with the task of holding your weight up despite the strain? Or was there something else lying dormant in your brain, refusing to be acknowledged that was fuelling your desire to prove your self control?
He circled around behind you, pressing a firm hand in between your shoulder blades, forcing your front half down onto the rigid yoga mat. You braced yourself on your forearms, preventing yourself from falling face first into the hard floor. You flailed as Geo lifted one leg by the shin, positioning you so your body weight rested on one leg and the other - bent at the knee - was suspended in the air above you, momentarily supported by the secure hold of Geo’s hand spanning the surface of your thigh.
“You lack precision, your stance is unstable and you apparently can’t comprehend simple instructions of where to put your hands,” he commented, “If you want to improve you need to actually try.” You winced mildly at the criticism, the words themselves didn’t bother you but the bored tone of his voice hit a little harder than you’d expected when you’d agreed to join him. You knew he was a strict teacher, he didn’t indulge momentary fun during his strict routine, Geo was the personification of composed, unrelenting structure and control, yet the harsh exasperation laced in the comment stung more than you were prepared for.
He withdrew his touch, letting you hold the position yourself. You didn’t bother with a response, locking your muscles as best as you could and letting your mind wander to whatever else would smother the feeling of self pity welling up in your chest. Maybe he wasn’t as tolerable of you as you’d originally believed.
As you tilted your head to watch the snow grow heavier and heavier, internally planning the mountain climb that would be your walk home, you heard the quiet huff of a sigh from behind you and the zip of a bag. Focus disrupted, you accidentally dropped your leg and lost position, giving up and sitting back on your knees, ignoring the trembling ache in your bones. His yoga mat was neatly folded and tucked into its original bag, the matching one for the mat you still occupied resting in his hands.
You stood, moving to begin folding your own up, “Don’t. I’ll do it, go shower.” You didn’t meet his eyes, simply nodded and took your discarded duffel bag, leaving the room. His default expression of neutrality shifted ever so slightly into a frown.
…
When you returned, you could spot the top of Geo’s head over the back of his sofa, slouched back into the seats with the bright light of his phone illuminating his face. Taking a good look at it now, the apartment looked the same as it always did, minimalistic, void of clutter or dirt and despite the season, also void of anything even remotely linked to the holiday, only dimly lit by the occasional glow of a lamp. Not that you expected anything but. A fairy light or two might’ve been nice but oh well.
“Um, thanks for today. I’ll see you later…” You say, not really even looking in his direction as you head for the shoe rack. The disappointment of hearing the tone of his voice directed at you earlier still stings and in truth you can’t really find it in you to challenge him, it wouldn’t do much, and for what? So he can apologise and spare your poor feelings, yeah no thanks.
“Wait.”
You pause, hesitant, turning his way regardless. Something in you still wanted to listen either way, personal feelings aside. “Yeah?”
“Are you seriously going to walk home in this?” He gestured lazily to the long window spanning from floor to ceiling to his left. You paced closer, looking down at the city below the luxury of his apartment block, finally noticing the weak snowfall from before had clearly built steadily until inches of white blanketed the ground below.
“Well yeah, I guess so. What other choice do I have?”
“Just stay here, I don’t mind if it’s just for a night or whatever.” You weighed the decision, spend the night at the house of the man stirring up the sickening mixture of emotions in your gut, or brave the tundra outside in the sake of saving your dignity.
“It’s fine, look I don’t want to invade your space more or-”
“Ok what is actually going on with you right now? Why are you so fucking on edge around me?” His gaze sharpened scrutinizingly, pinning you down beneath the intensity of his glare. “Ever since earlier you’ve barely said shit and now you’re making excuses to leave like you don’t usually jump at the chance to occupy my space.”
You stiffen, caught out. Maybe it’s the fact you’ve come to the completely mortifying realisation that you do in fact, have an embarrassingly large crush on the stern man sat in front of you, or the fact that that epiphany makes his earlier comment sting all that much worse.
“It’s nothing Geo, just- whatever.” You deflate, defeated, and drop unceremoniously into the empty space beside him. You sink as deep as physically possible into the firm cushions of his sofa, desperately trying to ignore the warmth radiating from his body inches from yours. His phone now rests on the smooth mahogany wood of the side table, discarded in favour of his attention being laser focused on you. You can feel the imposing pressure of his gaze lingering on you, despite your refusal to even blink in his direction.
You cross your arms across your chest, curling into yourself as if it’ll make him forget you’re even there. Wishful thinking.
“It’s clearly not nothing though is it, you’re acting like I’ve just sentenced you to life in prison the way you’re acting. Look at you- you’re hiding in the corner like the air has personally offended you.”
“Nothing is wrong!” You snap, finally letting your emotions spill free. You regret it the second you say it, but you can’t take it back now. You risk a glance in Geo’s direction, surprised to see a - still limited, but there nonetheless - hint of shock registering on his face. “Sorry…” you mutter.
“Is this because of me?” He doesn’t sound pissed, which was not what you expected.
“No.” … “Maybe a little.”
He’s closer now, shifted ever so slightly in your direction, not directly touching but close enough you can feel the phantom brush of his thigh against your own. You feel your cheeks heating, both at the proximity and the sheer mortification that there is no way the ever observant Subaru Oogami hasn’t figured you out by now.
“You know I don’t really…feel that way, most of the time.” You do know, if not by the mob-like hoards of admirers he’s brutally rejected in the time you’ve known him, then by a certain brown haired man's penchant for gossip. “But I’d be willing to try, for you.”
“Geo you don’t have to make yourself do something that you don’t have any interest in for the sake of sparing my pathetic feelings.” This conversation feels pointless beyond making your friendship awkward and steeping you in more embarrassment than needed.
“Who said I had no interest? Just because I don’t really get… romantic feelings much, doesn’t mean I never feel that way at all” Oh. Did that mean? You chanced another glance up at him then, finding him much closer than you’d noticed prior, face tilted down in your direction and the corded muscle of his thigh pressing solidly into your own.
“Oh.” The silence shifted slightly, no longer as awkward as minutes before, now settling into the comfortable familiarity of your regular rhythm. “How long have you known?”
“A while. I needed to figure my own emotions out first, I didn’t want to give you false hope before I knew how I wanted to go forward.” That was actually…pretty considerate? It might’ve been mean if he’d known all along and not bothered to address it, but in the light of his own situation, it was kind of sweet if you thought about it. Honestly, the mixture of irritation and hurt that had been building inside you since earlier was slowly dissipating. You didn’t want to ignore it so easily, but you didn’t feel like bringing up either. Maybe it was a topic for another day.
You tucked your legs up underneath you, reclining back into the dark teal of his sofa, tension bleeding out of your body as the atmosphere lingering in Geo’s apartment lightened with emotions bared. You felt the shifting of cushions and then after a moment of what was possibly hesitation, an arm came to rest across your shoulders. You tensed briefly, taking a second to relax into the freshness of physical contact like this.
“So…where do we go from here?” You didn’t mind really, but if either of you were attempting a relationship sort of thing, well communication is key right?
“Does it matter? We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah, we will.”
A/N: Tad sick of writing smut rn icl to u all, so fluff fics until at least next year o.o Also why are tkatb characters so hard to characterise? these fuckers r complex -_- for the record i have no idea what constitutes a yoga pose and i totally made that shit up
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