He's Something Special

Stories

He acts like he has to think it over, even though we both know be would say yes either way. He's determined to hear the story and from previous reactions, he didn't seem to mind last time.

"Do we have a deal, Mr. Boo?"
"Yes, I'd say we do (Y/n)."

We talk in fancy accents just because. He falls down on the bed with his back flat against the bed. Since he's criss cross this time, I have a bit more room at the top at the pillows. I climb onto the bed and get situated.

"You don't have to pee or anything, right? Because I'm not stopping."
"Wait I do actually- I'm kidding."

He tries to get up but I just pull him back down. We had a deal.

"Alright, without further ado.. here's what happened."

And then I tell him because I'm too lazy to write it all out and this update is already way too late.

~

"Huh."

That's all Ranboo said when I was done. He was also very quiet during it. I know he's thinking about something, but I just told him everything. Mindlessly playing with his hair, braiding little tiny braids and then taking them out again.

"What? Why 'huh'?"
"Nothing- nothing at all."
"Come on! I just told you everything."
"Well.. not everything."

The way he put so much emphasis on the last word, everything, confused me a little. Like I left something out? I thought I was thorough and clear the whole time. When I tell a story, I tell a story. It's important to have all the details.

"What do you mean? What did I leave out?" I stop playing with his hair and look directly into his eyes below me. He glances up once I'm done asking my question. He gets up and sits right infront of me.

"You said you and him had a 'talk'. What was the talk?"
"Right. That. Uhh, well.. it was just about.. school.. stuff."

I answer the best I could with him staring into my soul. He looks so serious. Why does he want to know so badly?

"What's goin' on?"
"Why can't you tell me?"

Fuck. Excuse me, but god I hate that question. That's one of the worst questions to answer because you know you shouldn't answer but it so makes you want to answer or you'll feel bad.

"I did tell you..?"
"Was that a question or an answer?"
"Answer..?"
"Oh my gosh. (y/n)!"

He almost evaporates from laughter. I didn't think I was that funny but I'll take the compliment. He turns his head towards his shoulder as he practically wheezes.

"What's so funny?" I ask with a playful smirk.
"Nothing, just," he suddenly stops laughing and turns back towards me, "just tell me what you were talking about with Wilbur."

"Fine. I was.. taking about.. someone. Okay- that's it! It's personal so bow you can shush because I'm not saying anything else."
"Fair enough. I'll just ask again later."

I hate how he's right.

I stare into his eyes for only a second. I never took it in that I was actually in his room with him. Again. I wonder if he thinks his parents think something is going on. That would be weird. Why am I thinking that? Shut up.

I notice his hands are placed on his knees. I can see scars laying on the back of one of his hands. I don't think he's told me about those yet. I zone out, thinking, and pick up his hand. I lightly run my finger over the biggest one and feel his knuckles.

Then I realize what I'm doing. I rush out a "sorry" and he laughs awkwardly. I hold my own hands to prevent it from happening again.

"It's all good, no worries. They're from a bicycling accident. Fell over and really messed up my hands."

I guess that's the story then. I nod and end up staring at them again. Now picturing him on a bicycle, strolling through the more quiet streets. Then running over a rock, and crashing onto the ground. The bike bouncing beside him, landing a few feet away.

I snap out of it so I don't weird him out. When I do though, he offers his hand. I look up, questioning him, and he gestures it closer. I can't help but take it more carefully than last time. Like it would break if I were to drop it, even on the soft mattress covered in a comforter.

I take the chance to look over his other scars, placing it flat against my palm. My other free hand runs over his skin. His right hand on my left. I can feel his hand shake and hear him breathe through his nose. But I ignore it. Lost in thought.

I'm found when he rearranges our hands so his fingers are in between mine. He pushes them down so they cover my knuckles. The next thing I know, I copy him.