Deathshipping one shots

On the Metro

Sooooooooo I have a draft of Christmas one shot (she's uncompleted lolololol)

buuttttt since I'm already late I figured I'd post it later when its completed and stuff. I felt like y'all deserve that much at the very least.

so, here's this thing I wrote the other day. Idk, Ryou wears a scarf in it, so...Christmas?

Ryou carried his books close to his chest, forcing him to use the side of his body to push open the door. His mind drifted along as he dragged his feet across the pavement. He thought about dogs. He saw a lot of them while he was out, watching a woman walk her golden retriever. He saw another guy with a corgi, and he frowned. Corgis were the queen's dogs, now he felt homesick all over again.

            The homesickness was not a desired feeling; any distraction would do. Everywhere he looked---the grey city buildings, the metro, the smell of smoke, the busy streets---he was reminded of London again and again. He wanted to curl up in bed, close his eyes, pretend he was still there. He missed his old school, the familiar blocks and shops, the routinely stroll down to the library with a warm beverage.

            He pulled his scarf to his nose, the cold not quite the same as it was up north. Ryou hugged his books tighter to his chest as he boarded the Metro, in order to get to his makeshift home.

            His nose buried in the book he read. Fortunately, he found an empty seat, the bus rather vacant at this time of day. Picking up where he left off, he was soon enveloped in a love story that he wanted for himself.

He snakes his arm around my shoulders. I smile at him; he smiles at me. And it's good.

The bus came to a stop after some time, letting passengers on and off. Ryou glanced up at the blinking lights overhead, seeing that it wasn't his stop. He returned to his book.

He kisses me, his soft, warm lips pressed to mine. I'm smiling again. I just can't help it.

            A cluster of civilians boarded the bus, taking up seats until a few people had to stand. Someone sat next to Ryou, making him shift so that he wouldn't take up any more room. He didn't look up from his book, he was in no search of a conversation.

His hands glide up my shirt, my bare back in his hold. I want to stay like this forever.

            Ryou could tell that the two lovers were probably going to take their encounter a little further. He didn't mind these sort of scenes in books, but his face went red at the thought of someone looking over his shoulder and seeing what he was reading.

His body presses into mine, his skin feels hot and his build is firm. My insides are sparking up; my breathing grows heavy.

Alright, that's enough, he thought, putting in the bookmark. He glanced up and around to see if anyone was reading it too.

            Out of the corner of his eye, he made out the shape of someone at his side. A man sat slumped in the seat. Earbud cords trailed down his shirt and into his jacket pocket. Ryou assumed he was sleeping, which gave him enough boldness to turn his head for a better look.

            Ryou knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn't help but observe him. There was so much to take in from one glance, he couldn't help it!

            His complexion made Ryou think of this coffee shop his mum took him to after school---she would buy him a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and chocolate sauce---and the structure of his face, Ryou thought of a towering oak tree, its branches firm and prominent. His hair color took Ryou back to the sandboxes at the playground, where he would dig his finger in the grains and watch it pour onto the ground again.