Listen (Boboiboy Poetry One-shots)

Blaze × Ice || Don't Play With Fire

     But what right had I to make him stop? That never-ending glee and carefree abandon was what defined Blaze; it made him special, as did everything else about him. My mind began wandering, oblivious to the world around it as I began to get lost in Blaze's crimson eyes. I began to imagine what it would be like if he ever returned my love — how his embrace would feel, how his mouth would move to tell me he loved me, how his lips would feel against mine. . .

     I got lost in that specific fantasy, my imagination running so wild the image felt real. I could almost feel the sort of bruising tenderness only Blaze would have, the passion surging as our mouths moved in sync. . .

     But it didn't take long for me to realize that I was not just feeling it in a daydream, but in the more tangible world. My icy blue eyes widened beyond a comprehensive reason when I realized that Blaze indeed was kissing me, and upon that realization my world basically crumbled, only to build itself up a million times better.

     He pulled away with a twinkle in his eye, and I fumbled to regain my senses. "Blaze. . ." I gasped as I took a huge breath, "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

     "I think I do," was his innocent reply as a smile lit up his face like a 500-watt bulb. "I know you like me as more than a brother, Ice, and I know that I like you in that way as well!!! And I'm supposed to show love to those I love, so I kissed you!!"

     It amazes me, the innocence and honesty one can always find in Blaze's statements, expression; in Blaze himself. I can never be that honest with myself. "But Blaze. . . we're brothers! And not to mention polar opposites!!! What if we hurt each other?!?!"

     "Then we'll just heal each other," he grinned as he moved to hug me again, and I could feel his warm breath against my neck. I never noticed that I was slightly taller than him, or how his cheeks were puffed in excitement. . . oh, well.

     Blaze quickly moved to kiss me again, and I gladly accepted and returned his affectionate gesture. It wasn't long before I was addicted to such a taste and sensation; before I wished our lips would never part and I would have to stop tasting such manna. I chuckled under my breath as he began to reach for my neck and pull me even closer.

     Why did I never before play with fire?

••••••

I

have an excuse for this not being poetry!!! Okay, it originally was a poem:

Then and there, as through his kisses
He showed me love and desire

I knew that I had been foolish
To have feared playing with fire.

But a classmate said it was better as a short story. And because the poem was originally about BlIce, I decided the story should be, too!!! I'm sorry if the language is too formal, being forced to speak in a British accent by five annoying as heck boys does things to someone.

Formal Attires Described:

I don't know who originally made them, but these were edited by 3_CipheRehpic_2.