Happy pride fellas!!! Friendly reminder that you're perfectly valid whether you're out or not and don't fall for rainbow capitalism (big corporations putting rainbows on their products just to get more money from us folks)!! also, pride is all year round ;)
Nathan
"Why do you have so many tubs of ice cream?" I stare at the haphazard pile in his freezer.
Ryder replies, "I stress eat sometimes."
"Ah." I pick a half-empty tub of Cookies and Cream, two spoons and join him on the sofa. A cooking show is on TV - I think it's MasterChef US because Gordon Ramsay is there, but it feels different. More . . . serious.
"What's this show?" I ask, spooning ice cream into my mouth.
"Hell's Kitchen," he replies, taking the tub from me. "Think MasterChef but more stressful, less cooking time, and more swearing."
Sure enough, Gordon starts uttering a string of profanities at one of the chefs. I grimace slightly at the sudden onslaught.
"That's a handful." I laugh.
He side-glances me, grinning. "You haven't seen the best ones yet."
He passes me the tub, with only less than a third of it left.
"My favourite insult from this show," he continues, "is - wait . . . it's, uh - " He trails off, looking fully at me with worry in his eyes. "It's quite a handful."
"I'm fine, don't worry."
"Okay." He clears his throat, then does a stunningly good impression of Gordon Ramsay: "Fuck off, you fat useless sack of fucking yankee stanky doodle shite."
My eyes widen. "He really said that?"
"Yeah, he was pretty pissed." He shrugs, sticking his spoon in his mouth. "Hell's Kitchen is literally hell."
"Would you sign up for this, though? I mean - without the swearing bits and all."
"Uh, no." He scoffs.
"Why not? Your cooking is really good."
"It's stressful as shit there. And I can't handle stress well." Ryder says in between bites of ice cream. "Plus, if Gordon Ramsay - or literally anyone, for that matter - shouts at me, I'll cry."
I let out a tiny laugh. "Me too."
On screen, someone gives Gordon Ramsay raw lamb, and he brings everyone to the storage room. Ryder winces very loudly at that and my stomach turns - I don't think that's a good thing.
"Uh," Ryder says as Gordon shouts at the red team, "I put off this season for so long because sometimes I get too emotionally attached to the previous season's contestants, so . . . you know you get that feeling where you can't let go of certain stuff and when you get to the next one, it doesn't feel right?"
I know - it happens to me a lot when I finish a perfectly good book and the characters stay in my heart for a really long time. Starting new books is hard; I can't let go of a newly crafted life and jump into another world that quickly.
I nod.
He's quiet now, staring at the TV. I'm starting to think we're not talking about characters and seasons anymore, but I don't know what. I can't help but wonder what's going on in his mind. Taking his hand, I squeeze it, and he shakes his head after a few seconds.
"Sorry, I . . ." He scratches his neck, distracted. "We, uh, ran out of ice cream."
The now-empty tub lies in his lap. I smile, putting the tub and our spoons away, and lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. "That's fine."
In the end, the red team didn't finish the dinner service because of yet two more raw lambs and they were sent out of the kitchen. Ryder entwines our fingers together, holding my hand loosely.
"This got weird real quick," he says quietly.
"Yeah."
He chuckles. "Hell's Kitchen isn't really a romantic thing to watch, right?"
"Why not? It's good for a very romantic TV-lit ice cream dinner."
He laughs again and kisses my nose. "Sure."
Ryder
At the end of the seventh episode, Nathan's fast asleep beside me.
"Aw, poor thing." I coo as I carefully wrap an arm around him.
He jolts awake from my touch. "Did I fall asleep?" he asks, adjusting his glasses. "I'm sorry!"
"Don't apologise, Nate." I kiss the top of his head and lower the volume of the TV. "Go back to sleep."
"Okay," he says, stifling a yawn.
I shift a little so he can rest his head on my lap, then I brush his hair out of his face. Nathan lets out another yawn and adjusts himself, then he's sound asleep. I keep my hand on his head, fingers stroking it lightly. All that's left is the sound of Nathan's steady breathing and the muffled voices of the chefs.
I wonder if I was in another life, would I still end up with Nathan? Damn. I don't believe in fate and destiny and all that cheesy shit, but what if this is my destiny? Is that the real reason why I couldn't jump out of the window and end my life so early? It wasn't my time yet, anyway. I wouldn't be here with Nathan sleeping with his head on my lap and his soft hair and cute laugh and steadiness and his pure soul.
My eyes suddenly snap back into focus; the 'Are You Still Watching?' Netflix notice pops up on my TV screen. I rub my eyes and yawn. God, all these existential crisis thoughts are making me tired. I wonder if that's how Nathan felt when he started talking about the universe and not mattering.
I'm about to get up and go to bed when Nathan moves, then goes still again. Should I leave him here or bring him to bed with me? But I'm sleepy and I don't think I have the strength to carry him all the way there. So I decided not to interrupt his sleep.
Slowly getting up, I put a cushion under his head and turn the TV off. He mumbles something in his sleep and turns to the other side. I watch him all curled up on my sofa - in that fucking adorable frog onesie - looking insanely precious in his sleep. My heart flutters in affection, and I lean down and plant a quick kiss on his cheek.
"Goodnight, love," I whisper.
*
Nathan crawls over me and plops himself down on my bed a long moment later, waking me up. I turn around to face him. The gentle glow of my moon lamp casts soft shadows on his face, his gold-rimmed glasses glinting in the dimly lit room. I bring him closer to me and kiss his forehead.
"Hey." I stroke his dark orange hair, smiling fondly at him.
"Hi," he says in a small voice, smiling back.
Nathan buries his head in my chest, his arm like a steel band around my waist. I press a kiss to the top of his head, messy curls tickling my face. We stay like this for a while, just listening to each other's heartbeat. Then:
"Are you sleepy?" I ask him.
"No," he replies, looking up at me.
"Do you want to sleep now?"
"No." He smiles.
"Do you wanna . . ."
"Sure."
"I mean- " I sit up and nervously tug at his onesie. " -if you want to. You don't have to if you don't wanna- "
He laughs softly, sitting up with me. "It won't be that cold, right?"
"I don't know, I've been sleeping like this for a long time, so I can't tell. Besides, are you. . . . Will you be okay?"
His eyes shift to a confident blue. "Yeah."
I hold back, still a little unsure, when he leans up and kisses me. Melting into his kiss, my hands find their way to his onesie again, slowly unzipping it. He's wearing a simple white shirt and a pair of shorts underneath. We only break apart so that he can fully remove his shirt. I carefully place a hand on his stomach, hoping the coldness of it doesn't startle him. But it does, and his breath hitches for a second.
"Cold," he notes.
"Cold? Oh, uh . . . I'm sorry."
Nathan shakes his head. "No, it is cold - the room, I mean. . . ."
In the warm glow of the moon lamp, I see the dusting of freckles all over his golden skin; along his arms that always stay hidden under countless sweaters; on his shoulders where I've always nuzzled into; on his face where I see stars. I see his big eyes behind his glasses, ever-changing and beautiful. I see someone full of light, always brightening the gloom of my soul as days go by. I see someone full of pure joy. I see someone as beautiful as the stars in the sky.
I see him.
The blue hue in his eyes I saw a while ago has faded, and brown takes over. "It's just . . . I haven't, um- I haven't shown anyone my body before."
Then I see the way his insecurities bite at him; the way he constantly fiddles with his clothes; the way he pulls his sleeves down to hide his arms; the way he always avoids reflective surfaces; the way he shrinks into himself like he wants to be invisible, be unnoticeable.
But I noticed him right from the start. I noticed the way his face lights up whenever we lock eyes. I noticed how our touches started out as an electric spark, igniting a flame now. I noticed how he stands taller when he's with me and becomes more sure of himself.
You are the ray of sun that brings life and colour to my days. You are the mellifluous harmony that fills my head with pleasant numbness. You are the water that hydrates my soul into being. You are always in the center of my universe. You are what I think about when I'm not thinking about anything. You are what I wake up every morning for.
You are what life's worth living for.
"You are so beautiful, Nate," I whisper, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. "You really are."
"Really?"
"Inside, outside and beyond."
Nathan
Ryder's dog tag is cold against my chest. His hand is on my stomach again - still cold, but not as cold - and his mouth is moving against mine. A few grunts escape from him, and I hold him closer to me.
He pushed me onto my back a while earlier, kissing my stomach, chest, neck, and finally my jaw. Then he held himself up over me, cupping my cheek with a soft look on his face. I put my hand over his, warming it. And Ryder leaned down to peck my lips.
I am absolutely in love with the way my mind constantly wanders back to the depth of your turquoise eyes; to the soft brilliance of your smile; to the subtle curve of your lips which plays well with the distinct strength of your jaw. My heart can't decide on a pace whenever I'm with you. It skips beats. And normalises. Then stops. And beats again. Always.
Ryder's lips are on my neck now, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses down to my shoulder. The feeling of his lean and gentle body close to me sends a wave of affection down my spine.
A chasm of insecurity opens up in the confines of my head and I'm left feeling alone. But just when I'm about to give up and give in to the self-doubts, your face suddenly appears, reminding me of the slight twinkle in your eyes and your lively laughter and your strong comforting arms. You always got me out of that demoralising pit of my mind. Every single time.
He mumbles something, then kisses the space between my neck and my jaw. I run a hand through his silky black hair and ruffle it. His flushed face resurfaces from my shoulder and he smiles.
"You're still wearing your glasses."
Confused, I reach for my face and sure enough, my glasses are there. "Oh," I say. "I didn't notice that. I suppose I need to see you in 4K Ultra HD all the time."
He chuckles, but as I'm about to remove them, he stops my hand. "You can just keep them on."
So I do - I'll just remember to take them off before we go to sleep. Ryder, who's now lying on his back beside me, takes my hand in his and brings it to his mouth, softly planting his lips onto my palm. Shuffling closer to him, I rest my head on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around my back. Warmth radiates from him, but his hands still beg to differ.
"Why are your hands always so cold but your body isn't?" I ask him.
He shrugs lightly. "Cold hands, warm heart."
I smile and place a hand on his smooth, toned chest. "Cold," I whisper.
Ryder gasps, vexed. "Nathan!" But he's laughing, and so do I.
"I was referring to your dog tag." I giggle.
He rolls his eyes at that. "Yeah, sure."
Our breaths are in perfect sync - the rise and fall of our chests like one. My finger starts drawing tiny flowers on his chest (mostly due to muscle memory from filling my notebook pages with flower doodles). Ryder hums contentedly and brings another arm around me, encasing me in a cocoon of warmth. A cocoon of love, which I don't know how to get out of, but I don't want to.
Not removing his arms from me, he murmurs into my hair, "Wanna do something fun?"
"Sure?"
"Let's talk."
I look at him, puzzled, as he frees an arm to bring the blanket over us. He kisses the top of my nose one last time as darkness envelops us.
* [a/n: the dialogues are alternating in sequence, so Nathan starts first, followed by Ryder etc., and the pauses are counted]
"It isn't that dark."
"I know."
" . . . So what now, Ryder?"
"We just . . . talk."
"About what?"
"I actually don't know. Let's try random facts. I'll start: Bananas are slightly radioactive but it takes eating about 10 million bananas a day to die from radiation poisoning. So eating bananas is completely safe - unless you happen to eat 10 million bananas in one go."
"That's, um . . . an odd conversation starter but I'll take it. My turn: In the 18th century, pigeon poop was used to make gunpowder so George I confirmed pigeon to be property of the British Crown."
"Gross, but cool. The first oranges from Southeast Asia were a tangerine-pomelo hybrid and they were actually green."
"Green oranges?"
"Yeah, isn't that cool?"
"Yeah, but green? That just defeats the purpose of the whole 'Orange Is Orange' thing."
"True. Anyway, it's your turn."
"Oh, um. . . . The sky is blue because sunlight is scattered in all directions by all gases and particles in the atmosphere. Blue light is scattered more than other colours because of its shorter wavelength. Thus, blue sky."
"Wait, what? I thought it was because the sky reflected the ocean or something."
"Well, um. I suppose it's the other way around. The ocean reflects the sky, but it's mostly because of blue light."
"Damn. This is giving me a migraine."
"Should we change the topic?"
"Maybe . . . do you want a crash course in Tagalog?"
"Oh, um, sure."
"Okay, uh. Let's start with basic phrases like mahal kita. Try it."
"Mahal kita . . . ?"
"The way you say it in your accent is so cute."
"Am I saying it wrong?"
"Uh, kinda. It's mah-hull kee-tah. Don't drag the vowels so much."
"Mahal kita. Did I do it?"
"Yeah."
"What does that mean?"
"I love you."
"Oh! Mahal kita, Ryder."
"Mahal din kita, Nate. [I love you too, Nate.] Mahal na mahal kita. [I love you so much.]"
" . . . "
" . . . "
"How do you sleep like this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Shirtless. It's like you can feel every single fiber on your skin, every inch of fabric."
"I haven't thought of it that way. I guess I'm already used to it."
"Oh, um. . . . Can I have another phrase?"
"Sure. Magandang umaga. Say it like mah-gun-dung ooh-mah-guh."
"Magandang umaga."
"I can't take you seriously with your accent. You just sound so adorable!"
"I thought it's more subdued now - I've only lived in Canada until I was ten."
"Maybe trying to speak Tagalog brought it back."
" . . . How's that even . . . ?"
"Dunno. Anyway, it means good morning, Nate."
"Ah. I'll keep that in mind."
" . . . "
" . . . "
" . . . "
"Zuriel."
"Zuriel?"
"Yeah."
"What's that?"
"My middle name, Ryder."
"You have a middle name?!"
"Um, no."
"Then . . . ?"
"I just felt that I needed to say something."
"That's a weird thing to say after cuddling, Nate."
"Well, I'm not good at conversations."
"So am I."
"So, should we just . . . ?"
"Yeah, let's just . . . ."
" . . . "
" . . . "
" . . . "
" . . . "
"That was fun."
"Ah, but the funny thing is that the snuggling part is more fun than talking."
"I thought the green oranges part was fun too."
"Sure you do."
"But green?"
"Why not?"
"It's weird, isn't it?"
"I still don't get what's weird about- oh, hi, Nate. That's my ass."
"Oh- Sorry! I didn't- I . . . got lost."
"Wha- How do you even get lost?"
"I don't know. . . . Sorry."
"You don't have to apologise for that, Nate. Besides, my body is yours."
" . . . Sounds like you're selling your soul to me."
"Maybe I am . . . ?"
" . . . "
"We really are awkward boyfriends, huh?"
"Yeah, very."
" . . . "
" . . . "
"Hey, Nathan?"
"Yeah, Ryder?"
"Are you sleepy?"
"Maybe."
"Me too."
" . . . "
" . . . "
" . . . "
" . . . "
"Okay, I think I'm sleepy."
"Yeah, me too."
"Alright, then. Goodnight, dear."
"Goodnight, my love."
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yall i have a question:
what reminds you of this book? (i'm curious) it can be a line, place, thing, time etc.
Once again, i love yall and stay hydrated, unclench your jaws and stop slouching too!