"You are going to do great today," the curly-haired boy promised Tristan. He slid two hands over his boyfriend's shoulder and gently massaged his sore muscles due to the murderous training the day before. The twenty-one-year-old sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, allowing his head to drop forward onto Bambi's shoulder. "You cannot fall asleep, silly. Training has yet to start."
"'m so tired," he muttered, snaking his arms around the smaller boy's waist and pulling him into his chest. Brad smiled at the sudden closeness and pushed his weight onto his toes, pressing a kiss to the taller boy's mouth. Out of the two days of Tristan and Brad's forced relationship, the blond realised the brown-eyed boy really liked kissing him. But Tristan wasn't exactly complaining. He liked kissing him, too and holding him and just being around him. Their situation was just rather strange.
"Focus, lovebirds!" James sharply said, voice thickly laced with irritation. Tristan and Brad whipped their heads to the shirtless man fearlessly standing in front of the paintball machine.
"Tristan," Joe called from behind the machine, "watch the way James avoids the paintballs. He's going to show you in various ways that you can pick tips up from. Got it?"
Tristan wanted to mention the fact that a chip was implanted in the man to make him as quick thinking as he was, but he remained silent, slowly nodding his head in response.
"Always remember," James told the dark-haired boy as Joe pulled the lever and the machine started up, "be aware of your surroundings."
His eyes were glued on Tristan as he said this, but as the first paintball shot out he'd simply ducked before sliding his way out of the next one. Every movement he made seemed easy as he rolled out of the way, squatting down, jumping up, even doing a bloody backflip. Tristan could only watch with wide blue eyes whilst he successfully dodged each one, sending them splattering against the wall. The twenty-one-year-old felt even more shit about himself. There was no way in hell he could even mimic any of his actions. He wasn't as quick, and he surely wasn't anywhere near worked out.
"And if you happen to turn away from the enemy," he said, turning his back to the machine as a demonstration, "you can't turn your mind away with it."
His eyes widened even more as James somehow avoided a paintball with a handstand, even though he couldn't even see it. Tristan narrowed his eyes as Joe switched the machine off, proudly applauding the man.
"What is this? Is he a fucking gymnast?" Tristan angrily questioned.
"Something like that," James replied, laughing along with Connor. He wiped his sweaty forehead on the back of his hand. "Okay," he said, stepping out of the way, "your turn."
"Um"-Tristan nervously darted his eyes towards the shorter boy who only looked up at him with warm brown eyes-"I don't think I can do that."
"We don't expect you to do the extra stuff," James reassured him with a laugh. "Just try to avoid being shot. The backflips were just thrown in for show."
"Oh, okay." Tristan would've let out a sigh of relief if he weren't scared shitless. He was already painted in bruises from the paintball machine the morning before and was still struggling to get green paint out of his hair. But he reluctantly stepped out in front of the machine anyway, nervously licking his lips, because Bambi looked at him with so much confidence in him. Tristan wondered how he could believe in him. After the many times the twenty-one-year-old had fallen on his arse, it was a mystery to him why the curly-haired boy held so much faith in a human being so helpless.
"Be alert!" Brad reminded him. With a deep breath, Joe pulled the lever, not even giving Tristan time to get his head together. He inhaled deeply, narrowing his eyes at the machine before the first ball of paint flew out at him. Tristan tried jumping out the way, but the stupid paint hit his shoulder. He angrily knitted his eyebrows together, placing a hand over the orange.
"This thing is fucking satan," the dark-haired boy muttered to himself as it suddenly spat out another colour at him. He'd tried to capture James's movements, crouching down to the ground and squeezing his eyes tight, already knowing that it wasn't going to work out. James was too perfect with every movement he did, and Tristan was sure if Brad stepped out in front of the machine his reaction would be the same way. Tristan was just too ordinary and untrained. He knew he was going to be shit at this from the start, and six days just couldn't change that.
"Yes!" he heard Bambi cheer from beside him. He furrowed his brows, realising that he wasn't shot. He was fine, actually. The paintball hadn't hit him.
"I dodged it!" Tristan happily realised, pulling himself onto his feet and happily throwing his hands into the air. Brad enthusiastically clapped for his boyfriend, accompained by Connor's whose recognition seemed way less genuine. Tristan was proud of himself, anyway. He stuck his leg out, rolling his hips. "I did it," he happily sung. "I did it. Suck it, motherfuckers!"
The machine spat out another ball of paint, hitting him in the ribs and knocking the twenty-one-year-old to the floor.
. . .
Training once again ended with Tristan bruised from head to toe, stumbling back in the house with the curly-haired boy alongside him. Tristan's back once again ached. After being thrown by Bambi four days before, he just had to slip as he ran through the darkness, sliding on the heel of his shoe before dropping backwards. The younger boy was of course immediately by his side, making sure he was okay. Tristan would've seen this as annoying if it were anyone else, but the dark-haired boy believed Brad was the only reason why he was still somehow making it through all of this. He had no confidence left in himself. Bambi was the only reason he saw all of these challenges worth attempting.
"Does your back hurt, Tris?" the smaller boy questioned, gently running his fingertips down his spinal cord. Tristan wondered if he realised what he was doing, how insane he was making the older man. He just wanted to grab him and pounce on top of his small body. But the twenty-one-year-old contained himself, giving his boyfriend a terse nod.
"I have analgesic gel you can use," Connor informed them. "Want me to get it for you?"
"That'd be nice," Tristan replied whilst plopping down on the couch beside the curly-haired boy. Brad instantly snuggled into his side, hiding his face in the twenty-one-year-old's neck. Tristan smiled down at him. "You're like a puppy."
The curly-haired boy frowned.
"No, it's a good thing," Tristan told him. "Puppies are cute."
Happiness quickly captured the saddened expression on his face. "You think I am cute?"
"Yes," he easily replied, poking the younger boy's nose with a finger. He giggled and pecked a kiss to his boyfriend's lips. Tristan realised it wasn't going to take a while to get used to this. He wouldn't mind being kissed by him every single second of the day.
James happily entered the room, water bottle in hand. His smile instantly dropped once he laid eyes on the two boys snuggling on the couch. "Ugh," he said, turning away and disappearing back into the kitchen.
Tristan let out a laugh at the man's reaction. "What's his problem again?"
"He is protecting himself," Brad explained. "He does not want to feel alone."
"That doesn't make a lot of sense," the twenty-one-year-old muttered.
The brown-eyed boy shrugged his shoulders, a small smile on his face. "I have learned that people are rather confusing, Tris."
"Which reminds me," Tristan quickly said with a smile, "I have a surprise for you, Bambi."
Bambi quickly grew excited at the word. "A surprise?"
"I have to ask Connor if I can borrow his car, though."
His best mate suddenly entered the bedroom with a transparent jar in hand, blue gel visible inside the circular container. "You take my analgesic gel, and now you want to take my car?"
"Please," Tristan pleaded the younger boy, "we'll only be gone for a bit."
Connor playfully rolled his eyes as he chucked the jar at him. Tristan's face caught it causing his friend to burst into laughter. "I know, I was only joking, Tris."
"Come on, boyfriend," Bambi interlaced their hands, pulling the taller boy onto his feet alongside him, "let us relieve your pain."
Connor once again let out a laugh for some unknown reason as the couple disappeared into a large room. Tristan furrowed his brows as the light flicked on, illuminating a toilet, which was strange according to the computer hooked up on the far left of the large space. Bambi locked the door behind them and placed his boyfriend onto the stainless sink. The dark-haired boy didn't know how he felt with him just randomly lifting him from the floor. It honestly slipped his mind all the time how strong the small boy actually was.
Brad rolled Tristan's shirt up in his hands. "Lift your arms," he instructed his boyfriend. Tristan followed his instructions, allowing him to pull the patterned tee shirt over his head. "Tell me where it hurts, Tris."
"Does everywhere count?" the dark-haired boy questioned. Bambi smiled and screwed the lid off, running his hand through the jelly and working it into Tristan's shoulders. The twenty-one-year-old jumped at the unexpected coolness.
"Does that hurt?" he asked, frowning.
"No, it's just cold." Tristan quietly answered, distracted by his boyfriend's hands running down to his little biceps and massaging the blue analgesic gel into his muscles. "You're hot."
The curly-haired boy furrowed his brows. "What? But I actually feel kind of cold."
"No, I didn't mean it like that, Bambi." He laughed. "Like... you're kind of sexy."
"No." He shook his head, motioning for the blond to turn around. Tristan hopped off the sink and turned his back to him, crouching down to the tiled floor so Brad could reach him. "I am a whole lot of sexy."
Tristan laughed loudly at his reflection as the small boy rubbed the gel into his shoulder blades, and then down his spine. "Sure, Bambi."
"I asked Connor about french kissing last night," Bambi told him. "I do not really understand it."
"I can help you understand it," Tristan said, wiggling his dyed eyebrows at the mirror. It was meant to be a joke, but the curly-haired boy actually looked excited.
"You would do that for me, Tris?"
"Um, what?" He widened his eyes. "No, I'd rather do that with you actually knowing what you're doing. If we're going to be in a... romantic relationship, I'd feel more comfortable taking it in baby steps."
"Like your training?"
"Yeah, like that."
He frowned, nibbling at his thin lips. "Is it because I am stupid?"
"What?"
"I do not know much of anything like most people do," he sheepishly explained. "I did not know anything of romantic relationships, and there are more things I do not know of."
"That's not your fault."
"I know," Brad muttered, "but I hate it. I hate... myself."
"What the fuck?" He jumped up from his crouching position and gripped the smaller boy by his shoulders. "There is nothing wrong with you, Bambi. I like you just the way you are. No, I-I love you just the way you are. You are perfect no matter what you know, and your smart is different from other people. You don't have to know how to recite the encyclopaedia to be smart. You're more smart about life and seeing more than what's in front of you. Not a lot of people have that ability, but that's what makes you special."
His lips tugged into a sheepish smile. "I am special?"
"Yes, anyone with a sight can see it."
"You make me feel special," his boyfriend quietly confessed. " I also love you just the way you are, too, and your belly button is cute."
Tristan let out a laugh at the abnormal compliment. "What?"
Bambi shrugged his shoulders in response, turning the sink's faucet on and running his hands underneath the warm water. Tristan squirted hand soap in his palm for him. "Tris, I want to tell you something that may sound strange."
"That's all you ever tell me."
"You are right, but this is something different."
"Okay, go for it."
"I do not know who put me in your trunk, but I would like to thank them," the brown-eyed boy said with a small smile visible in the mirror. "I do not remember my life before, but I am sure with you I am the happiest I could ever be."
"Aww, Bambi." He smiled at his reflection in the mirror. "Thank you."
A blush crept onto his tan cheeks. "I am just telling the truth."
He pressed a kiss to the top of his curls. "And for the first time in five years, with you, this has been the most adventurous, exciting, and happy days I've ever lived."
. . .
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MICHAEEEL SOB I REMEMVER THE DAYS YOU WERE SIXTEEN THAT WAS SO LONG AGO RITE
BUT I HOPE THE ENDING WAS CUTE ENOUGH FOR YA BROTHER LOVE U HUGS KISSES JAZZ HANDS