sockathan drabbles

bite your tongue

"i've got a fascination
with your presentation."

Alarm. Roll out of bed. Brush teeth, put on pants, grab a hoodie. Make some sort of halfhearted attempt with the hair. Jonathan's morning routine is entirely muscle memory at this point, and today is no different. He's in the final stages, frowning at his reflection and mussing with his bangs when...

"Sock?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you watching me?"

Sure enough, the demon floats in the doorway, fingers fiddling with one another in front of his chest. He looks taken aback by Jon's acknowledgement of his gaze, face contorting in a mix of faux confusion and shame. "What are you talking about?" Sock scoffs, clearly aware of exactly what Jonathan is talking about.

Jon isn't playing along, gesturing towards Sock's lingering spectral form in the door again and raising his eyebrows. "It'd be one thing if you were torturing me or something but you're just..." At a loss for words, he waves his hands in emphasis. "There."

"W-What else am I gonna do?" the demon retorts in a tone that tries for nonchalance but lands on nervousness. "Hit up the Ghosts Only Breakfast Buffet? I'm stuck with you as much as you're stuck with me." Sock crosses his arms, tilting his chin up and turning away.

That earns a snort from Jonathan. "Whatever. Just... stop being weird about it." The blonde turns back to the mirror, putting a bit more effort into the fruitless task of taming his wild bangs. Preoccupied, he doesn't notice Sock quietly peering over at him again.

He watches as Jon drags his fingers through his hair, revealing more of his dark brown roots, and briefly wonders what the boy once looked like with his natural brown. Sock imagines it grown out, bangs untouched by harsh bleach sweeping gently over Jon's forehead, framing his blue eyes with dark strands. The teen slings his headphones around his neck, the purple a comical match to the bags under his eyes. Gosh, those bags. Jonathan really should sleep more. It ruins his look, because he has some killer eyes. Lidded in a way that toes the line between exhausted and sultry, with long dark lashes. They shine extra bright in the morning light filtering through the window, like an ocean - no, that's cliche - a pond... a puddle? Sapphires? Maybe-

"Don't make me walk through you."

There are the eyes, along with the rest of Jonathan, looking thoroughly unamused directly in front of Sock's face. The demon jumps, or rather floats, and hastily turns out of the doorway, taking his typical place adrift behind Jon. The blonde casts him a confused glance over his shoulder as he heads down the hall, but Sock simply avoids his eyes.

You're pretty, you know.

The words linger on Sock's tongue, bubbling like popping candy and threatening to fly free. He doubts Jonathan does know, if the self deprecating jokes and careless morning routine are anything to go off of. Watching the boy scoop up his backpack from the living room floor, he opens his mouth.

Instead, Sock clutches the sides of his hat, pulling it more firmly over his ears and pressing his lips together. No sense in compliments. He had a suicide to induce.