43 Days

(10) ENZO: JUNE 15TH, 2020

ENZO: JUNE 15TH, 2020

Every time he stops at a red light, Enzo finds himself looking through the rear view mirror just to see what Leo and Malachi were up to.

The last red light, Leo was trying his hardest to guilt trip a hug out of Malachi. The one before that, Leo was taking a nap, being pushed away by Malachi each time he came too close to slumping against his shoulder as he read a book.

At the current one, they were talking quietly, their conversation fairly easy to listen to due to the small area. "I was thinking of this," Leo was murmuring, pointing at something on his phone screen. "It's a cat. Isn't it cute?"

Malachi was quiet. Then, "Leo. Isn't that a cat meme — ?"

"And what about it?" Leo pulled his phone back and lifted his chin to glare down at Malachi. "You have a problem with cat memes, Mal? Are you catphobic?"

"That's not a thing."

"Yes it is. If you hate cats, you're catphobic. Do you hate cats?"

"No. I don't hate cats."

"Hmm. I think you hate cats, Malboro."

"I literally don't hate cats. Please shut up."

"Sounds like something a catphobe would say."

Malachi stared, then abruptly pushed forward to wrap his hands around Leo's throat. He immediately started making unholy screeching noises, acting as if Malachi was trying to kill him, when it was obvious he was putting zero pressure on his throat. Drama king.

Enzo stopped paying attention when the light turned green. As the commotion behind him gradually settled, he found himself lost in thought. As of that day, he was drowning in gay ass thoughts. His brain woke up and chose the extreme queer level instead of the normal mode.

As soon as he opened his eyes in the morning, he came face to face with Leo's. He had still been sound asleep, lips parted, cheek smushed up from where it lay on his pillow. His hair was a mess, barely being held together by a flimsy hair tie, a few strands being blown by the soft breaths escaping him.

Enzo had to fight the urge to tuck his hair away, to cup his cheek or hug him to his chest. He didn't want to risk waking him up or weirding him out. Especially after the kissing situation.

               When he sat up, his eyes then caught Malachi's form, shirtless and searching for a new shirt to wear. A birthmark ran up the middle of his back, right over his spine, and something feral in Enzo's brain said: kiss it. Like, right the fuck now. Thankfully, Enzo wasn't completely unhinged.

                His back looked soft. There was no distinct muscle, just slight pudge and smooth skin that Enzo really wanted to touch. He blamed it on having just woken up, so he couldn't control his extra gay imagination.

                Enzo had immediately flopped back down and pretended to still be asleep once Malachi pulled the shirt on. He didn't want to be caught staring, because he knew it would make Malachi uncomfortable and most likely insecure.

                 The dressing room ordeal was an example on its own.

                  Enzo thought having to focus on driving for the next few hours would distract him. But that wasn't the case. He still found himself daydreaming about what it would be like to hold Malachi's hand again, but when he genuinely wanted to. When they were actually a couple or something.