Viscount Streetlove (boyxboy)

[15] Date?

 Happy (late) birthday xOhStopItYou <3

     There was something weird about holding a man's hand. It filled more of Lorn's fist, felt somehow... different, like the difference between gripping a small tit and a bigger tit. The sensation is different, but awesome in both cases.

     Lorn was comparing Verger's hand with boobs and the date had only just began.

     They were walking down an alley made of stands selling all sorts of junk since it was garage sale day. Whenever the two friends would pass an acquaintance, Lorn would try and free his hand only for Verger to squeeze it, but no one frowned at them, just brushed it off as a silly joke.

     Troy, however, chose to look into the case. The fact that he was, in turn, holding a girl by the hand made things slightly awkward.

     "Look at you..." he said calmly with a half smirk, on the side of his beauty mark. "I'd say I'm surprised, but not after seeing you guys at Nigel's party."

     "Why don't you go poke Liam's glasses." Verger teased, at which the blond scoffed faintly.

     "What does that mean?" Troy's girl companion asked with a thin lowered eyebrow and a confused smile.

     "Beats me, I don't speak fággot." Troy blinked slowly and started walking, with a pat on Verger's chest. "See you tomorrow at streetball."

     The two friends kept walking, the air a little thicker than before. Lorn risked a glance at Verger and, as expected, saw a sad smile aimed at himself, as if he was trying to cheer himself up.

     He squeezed his hand a little. "You know he wouldn't have called you that if he knew you actually are one." Verger gawked at him and Lorn stuttered. "I meant gáy, not f- shít. You get what I'm saying."

     "Yes." Verger breathed out. "I know, it just ah. Don't know, it strikes a cord." he glanced down at his big skate shoes.

     Lorn sighed deeply, glanced left and right to check for anyone he knew. The street being small and all, he met a couple gazes, but they weren't of significance, and so he quickly bent and planted a peck on his friend's cheek.

     Pecks... he had the feeling he'd come off as less gáy if he straight up kissed him, pecks felt just ridiculously childish. But it did the job, he watched with a grin as Verger's nose scrunched up and a smile forced itself on his lips.

     "You smooth bastard." Verger said, glance stolen by a nearby stand with rows upon rows of miniature figurines, placed on a wooden shelf on top of a table.

     "I bet you're about to get smoother..." Lorn murmured wearily when Verger tugged him there with a glint in his eyes.

     "Why'd you give all of those away?" Verger curiously asked the old man. "It looks like a lovely collection.

     "Ah, my wife's saying I should let the war go." he murmured, glancing at the tiny soldiers. "I suppose it annoys her whenever I recreate scenes..."

     "You... you were in a war...?" Lorn asked.

     "Yes, right by Hitler's horse." he moved his left arm behind his back, about to raise the other before Lorn gently kept him from it. "Here, I'll show you." he bent over the shelf just in time for Verger to snatch his hand away. "Here's me and here's him and here's Napoleon Bonaparte, great pal. Oh, but where could the white horse be? Must've sold it. So we come from East with grenades between our clattering teeth..."

     The two friends were well away by then, snickering between themselves like two little punks.

     "I swear, just when I thought I saw everything in Viscount Street..."