||FINISHED|| Pink Roses (JSAB Fresh x Reader)

Fried Chicken Solves Everything

'Fair enough.'

...

"Mind if I sit closer?"

'What?'

"Mind if I sit closer to you?" I yelled this time.

He hesitated. 'Why?'

"It kinda hurts my throat yelling from over here"

'Alright, it's not like anybody's sitting here anyways.' He said after a moment, like he was surprised and wasn't expecting this at all.

I stood up and relocated myself to a chair near him.

"So, did you-"

'My name is (Y/N)'

"...What?"

'I said, my name is (Y/N)'

"Wait, Sweetheart, you're telling me your name?"

'Well, duh, what else would I be doing? What's yours?'

He laughed.

"Just call me Fresh."

'What's your real name?"

"Fresh, that's my real name."

'Who names their kid Fresh?'

"Why'd you decide to tell me your name, by the way?"

'Because you gave me Fried Chicken. Think of it as a "Thank you"'

"Fried chicken."

'Hey, it was good fried chicken!'

"...You decided that you'd go against your word that you'd, and I quote: "Doubt I'd ever be interested in your name but okay" just because I gave you fried chicken"

'Like I said, think of it as a Thank you'

"I can already tell that you're a very food-oriented person, Sweetheart"

'Can you stop calling me that now?'

"Why?"

'Nobody's ever called me Sweetheart before"

"Well, there's a first for everything, isn't there?"

I held my forearms close to my body. I don't like short sleeves.

"What... are you?"

There are other ways to respond to that question than yanking someone's arm from their body, and placing it on your own chest. Countless other ways, but Fresh decided that that was the best way to answer that question. His large right hand closed itself around my wrist firmly, and placed it flat against where his heart would be. And Oh god, why is his skin so Hot? It felt like there was a sun underneath there.

What point was he trying to get across? What was he trying to say? And why couldn't he just say it with his own mouth instead with his actions?

'You feel that?'

"Feel what?"

'Okay then,' He relocated my hand to his neck. Why was he doing this? He doesn't seem to be ignorant of the fact that in this position, I have every ability to strangle him to death, it's a position far too dangerous for him. He should know this, he's smart enough, and yet he still does so anyways. And his neck is really really hot, is this normal? Does he have a fever?

'Fell that now?'

"What're you trying to say? There's nothing to feel-"

And that's when I realised it.

There's nothing to feel.

There's literally nothing to feel.

"You... why don't you... You don't have a pulse..." I finally blurted out after moments of silence.

'That's what makes me... well, not human.' He smiled. 'That's what makes me an abomination, a monster. I don't have a heartbeat.'

"Your body is hot though"

'Really?' He sniggered, breaking up the word with his own laugh. I think a blush went to his face, but with his skin as pink as it is, I can't easily tell. 'Well, I'm glad someone's paying attention'

"No, like, not in that way, temperature wise, how is it hot if you don't have a heartbeat?"

'Dunno. I've just really accepted it at this point.' He smiled and let go of my wrist. It immediately raced back to my own chest, wrists inwards protectively. What the hell was his problem?

He looked at my head. Not my face, but rather the sides of my head. "Nice headphones, by the way."

'Thanks.'

The Headphones he was referring to was the pair of headphones covering my ears, connected by a single grey band arching over my head. They had a (F/C) coloured heart shaped design. Once someone turns sixteen, they receive a pair of headphones, to mark their adulthood. They're always grey, the only thing setting itself apart from all the other headphones is the custom design over the ears, with its colour the wearer's own choice. A couple of people have modifications to their headphones, I knew someone who had a microphone implanted to the side of theirs, and I've seen people with cat eared headphones, but that costs a lot of money. It's a great part of our culture, our society, if you break or lose yours, you're shunned from society until you fix it or find it again. All of the corrupted I've seen has had their headphones turn from a grey to a black, and no matter what the colour of their design originally was, it always turned pink. Strange thing is, Fresh is older than 16 and yet he doesn't have a pair himself. Did they not do this ritual back in his day?

"Where's yours?"

'Well, it's-'

Before he could finish, there was a knock at the door.

'Come in'

A woman walked in, and Fresh smiled.

'Ah, Barracuda! Honey! Welcome! Please, come in.'