The worst part about being in love with your best friend, Salem decided as he watched the other boy shimmy loose from his jeans out of the corner of his eye, was sleeping with him.
The average person might make the mistake of thinking that would be the best part of it, since you got to snuggle up in a not-nearly big enough bed with the guy you’ve loved for as long as you could remember. And yeah, back when they were kids it was nice being that close to him. Back before Salem thought about things like lust, and sex, and making Casper moan his name as he pounded him into the mattress.
Yes. There were reasons why Salem had grown hesitant to be so close.
“So, uh,” Salem glanced at Casper before quickly looking away again, a shiver of warmth running through him, “You gonna take a shower tonight?”
The other boy made a small clucking sound, and Salem turned to meet his eyes. Casper shook his head lightly, a slight smile dancing across his lips.
Salem looked away, sighing slightly. Apparently this was the start of a not-talking day…
Mirae rolled over onto his back and tiredly opened his eyes to look up at the mottled beige ceiling. He stared at it for nearly a minute before groaning and burying his face back in the pillow. His medicine had worn off, if the flaming salamander scampering across the room was any indication.
He lay there for several minutes, slowly breathing in the soft scents of laundry soap and shampoo that permeated the pillow, trying to ignore the sharp giggles coming from the far corner of the room, and the quiet scuffling under the bed.
He sat up suddenly, sitting back on his legs. Nothing would change or go away if he didn’t make it. That’s how things had always been.
The giggling got louder as he moved, until it was almost painful.
“Stop it…,” he murmured shaking his head, his eyes slipping shut, “Shut up!” he shouted, covering his ears and gritting his teeth. The room fell nearly silent, with only soft whispers to replace the cacophony.
Mirae slowly opened his eyes and lowered his hands.
He hated it when his medicine wore off before he took the next dose.
Taking advantage of the quiet, Mirae slipped off his bed and shuffled down the hall to the bathroom. He hesitated slightly at the edge of the carpet before padding gently across the tile, hissing slightly under his breath from the cold.
His medicine was in its usual spot, on the counter next to the sink.
“Fuck, if I were a real musician I’d write a song about this,” the Raven said, taking a long drag off his cigarette. The nicotine did nothing to calm him down. If anything it made him even more frazzled.
“I’d say you’ve screwed yourself out this time, Karasu-chan,” Snow White said, delicately crossing his legs and smoothing the thin skirt which covered them. Raven exhaled, letting the smoke slowly leave his mouth. Let it make its own shapes, for once he wasn’t in control.
You may be right, Raven thought in response to his friend’s words. He didn’t say it out loud. Never out loud. Never let him think he knew things. Never let him get the idea he might be smarter. Never let it go to his head.
So many nevers… They made the Raven’s head spin. Never jump off a bridge; you’ll bust your pretty head. Never start smoking, you’ll never stop. It was almost funny. Almost.
“Tch,” Raven scoffed with a confidence he didn’t currently possess, “You’re never right, Himi.”
Himitsu threw him a condescending smile he was so good at giving before responding,
“Never say never, dearie. Isn’t that something you like saying?”
Occasionally it occurred to Quinn that he had no idea how he and Han’i had ended up on the island, but the thought had never bothered him. It was just the way things had always been.
For as long as he could remember, he’d woken up every morning with Han’i beside him. Sometimes he was still asleep when Quinn awoke, the thin blanket slipping down to his waist. Other times he was awake, sitting in front of the television with a mug of hot chocolate gone cold.
It was a nice existence. Simple, without the stresses that Quinn had often suffered through. What those stresses had been, he couldn’t recall. But that also didn’t bother him. Why worry about things without correlation to your life, when there were more pressing matters at hand?
For example, Quinn’s drink was gone. That was certainly what he’d consider a pressing matter.
Raven looked up in alarm as someone all but fell into the seat next to him. People fell into bus seats all the time, what with the sudden stops and bad driving, but this was his first time almost having someone land in his lap.
“Sorry,” the person said, gritting their teeth, “nowhere else is open.”
Raven opened his mouth to say that he didn’t mind when an overpowering wave of blood-scent washed over him.
“You’re hurt,” he blurted out instead. The person looked up at him, and he could tell despite his pretty features that he was talking to a boy. He was also very young, fourteen at the oldest.