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“Can I kiss you?”
Emery was leaned against Amari’s side, an earbud in his right ear. It was rather inconvenient, stretching the cord more when Amari was sitting on their left side with an earbud in his own ear.
The wanderer paused for a second, his eyes slowly moving over to look at Emery. He opened his mouth slightly and paused for a second. No sound came out, until he turned his head to cough into his hand awkwardly. His hand pretended to itch his face, poorly hiding his blush. “Sorry, um, what?”
Emery shifted slightly, sitting further up on the dingy couch in their cabin. He pursed his lips, wondering if it was worth the absolute embarassment to repeat it. Sure, they got past the whole “Hey, I think I like you,” phase, and the holding hands, and the physical touch Emery so craved with other people, but… kisses weren’t a casual thing. Mostly because he was too afraid it’d offput Amari. They didn’t want to bother the wanderer, or make him uncomfortable, but they didn’t want to kiss him and make him uncomfortable anyways .
They could keep it to theirself, couldn’t they? For Amari.
Emery shook their head and settled back into Amari’s side, feeling only a slight twinge of disappointment at their own hesitance. He cleared his throat. “It—It was nothing, Mari. I was just asking if I could skip the song.”
The feeling of Amari’s tensed shoulders slowly lowering gave him a sense of peace (bitter, alongside the disappointment); the taller nodding and giving him a shrug. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
“Thanks.” The feeling of Amari shifting beside them was a comforting presence—the arm that proceeded to wrap around their shoulders even moreso. God, they really were in love with this guy.
This pretty guy, with freckles as a replacement for constellations in Emery’s eyes, that made his face shine just as bright and beautiful. This guy, who muttered curses whenever he was frustrated, and played everything off with a scoff. This guy, who’s face grew red whenever he actually had to be honest for a second and it made him embarrassed.
Emery didn’t even notice they were staring at Amari until jade eyes glided over to look back.
The chaotic thrum of a guitar and metal music cut off his thoughts, and he tore his eyes away.
Amari wasn’t sure if he misheard something before.
Sure, he was experienced. But that kind of didn’t apply when it was a guy. Like, was he supposed to do the same thing as he did with his exes? Just know when to lean in and kiss her, or sling an arm around her shoulder “casually,” or use those fucking corny flirty lines on a guy? It must be somehow different.
Sure, they had their first kiss already, and sure it was okay. (It was more than okay. It was great and light and fluttery and made him feel like one of those cheesy schoolgirls with their crush, and it made his face heat up because why in the world was Emery so damn pretty and handsome and god, he really wanted to kiss them again—)
But was there different rules? Did he constantly have to ask whether or not to kiss him beforehand? Was it like that? If what Emery asked earlier was true to his ears and he didn’t mishear anything, then surely it must be some kind of thing. With girls, all he had to do was talk a little, and then one or both of them would lean in—and the rest was history. It was easy. It was familiar. It didn’t require as much thought as he was currently giving to one handsome magician.
Intimacy was a strange thing. You had to cradle it and care for it like a newborn fire, blow softly on it to watch it grow. But for Amari, sometimes that fire was too much in and of itself—and he was too afraid to be burned. Or sometimes, he’d be doing the burning himself, recoiling, unavailable. The fire withered away, and sometimes he still found himself thinking maybe love is never meant to last forever. But God, he wanted it to, he really did. He had wished it with Achara. He wanted that with Emery (as hard as it was to admit it, at first. He was embarrassed at how much he realized he liked them. It was a lot.)
His head snapped up as Emery entered the bedroom, the magician stretching their arms above their head. They sighed contentedly and lowered their arms back to their side as they walked to the bed. Amari was given a small, endearing smile. “Hey, Mari.”
“H-Hey,” the stumble in his words was enough for him to cringe internally, desperately wishing he could get enough of a grip on himself and his attachment to this person that he wouldn’t stammer like an idiot. (Jeez… he really was like some young teen girl who just got her first crush.)
Emery didn’t say anything about it, thankfully, and settled onto the other side of the bed, discarding his shoes on the floor before he pulled his legs up onto the mattress.
Amari looked away, feeling his face flush. He stared at a crooked piece of wood on the cabin floor and tried to take his mind off what he’d been thinking. The cool night air of the mist permeated through the cabin’s thin walls, providing a nice relief to his rather warm face, but chilling the rest of his body. His hoodie was bundled up beside him where he sat with his legs hanging off the bed, and he briefly pondered whether or not he should grab it and put it back on before he tried (and failed) to sleep, or just play it off. Something pressed up against his back, hair tickling the back of his neck like it always did, and he flinched when something freezing wrapped around his torso, grazing his bare stomach.
“Jesus, Em!” He exclaimed, his back straight and rigid. Amari very well had to repress the instinct to tear Emery’s hands off from where they were linked around his waist from behind, instead settling for just holding their wrists. An empty threat that he’d reject the attempt at affection.
Emery chuckled. The sound was light as always, with an undertone of exhaustion. Their smile was just as soft as the one they gave him when they walked in, just a tiny bit of teeth showing as their eyes crinkled. It made him frown in return, though, considering the context.
Speaking of, their hands distanced themselves just a bit from his stomach, thankfully ridding him of the coldness, but leaving goosebumps along his skin in its wake. “Sorry.”
“Why’re you always so fuckin’ freezing…?” Amari grumbled underneath his breath, letting go of their wrists and crossing his arms against his chest. He could only feel slightly annoyed at Emery as he settled his head in the junction where Amari’s shoulder and neck met, his curly hair falling now brushing against more of his bare skin.
“Maybe because it’s cold?” Emery offered jokingly. Amari was able to feel the vibrations of their voice on his shoulder, and could only describe it as comforting. “How’d you even get rid of your hoodie? It’s freezing!”
“ You’re freezing,” Amari repeated. He had the mind to add, ‘Not my problem,’ but decided against it, because he liked the contact. The goosebumps were still there, but with every minute they slowly started to fade away, as the places Amari and them touched became less cold.
“Yeah, but you’re warm.” Emery talked as if it was the easiest, laziest thing in the world. Just like when he performed shows for the survivors in friendly rounds, or ranted to Amari about practically anything. It showed he was comfortable. Not at all like when they were frantic finding him injured, or when he was anxious, or the times he was a little nervous about approaching Amari. The tone switched, and their arms slowly started to pull back.
“…Does—“ they cleared their throat quietly, lifting their head; then Amari couldn’t feel the vibrations of their voice. “Does it bother you…?”
His hand flew embarrassingly quick to hold onto one of their wrists, the hand now not-so-cold as it had been before. In an attempt to keep a cool head and play it off, Amari cleared his own throat, shaking his head minutely. He could feel his face heating up again. “…Nah. It’s fine.”
In the corner of his eye, he caught Emery’s small, closed-lipped smile as he settled back by Amari’s shoulder, leaning on him. It was kinda worth it. (It was really worth it. He’s just lying to himself.)
Their arms settled back comfortingly (and closer than before, when they’d been keeping their distance) around his waist, their hands still linked together in the nice silence.
The silence, however, turned out to be counterproductive to Amari’s previous goal of distracting himself from the very magician sitting beside him. The fact that they were in such close contact didn’t help either. He turned his head slightly so he could (at least attempt to) study their face settled on his shoulder, only able to get a glimpse of his side profile. His eyes were closed as he leaned against Amari, a hint of a smile quirking at his lips. They felt him turn his head, and he watched their eyes flutter open, smile spreading wider—but still soft, still gentle, still pretty—this man was going to be the end of him looking at him like he was one of the very constellations they always raved about.
On pure instinct—rather, impulse, because if his mind weren’t frazzled or he wasn’t second-guessing himself, maybe he would’ve just kept quiet and awkwardly sustained himself on the near-constant touches and hugs and hand-holding and arm-linking—he asked, “Em?”
Emery’s eyes widened in the slightest, blinking fully open. He was still smiling. He answered, “Yeah?”
An uncomfortable heat prickled at the back of Amari’s neck, burning from his face to his ears. He started to sweat, but it’d be weird if he started to backpedal then , he means—he already called for their attention as if to ask a question; it’d be weird to just dismiss it. He bit his lip to stall. The coppery taste of his piercing was a familiar, grounding comfort in the midst of his god-awful awkwardness and contemplation of whether or not to just spit out what he was thinking earlier. Fuck, it really was worse being in the moment. If this is how it was like with guys, Amari wasn’t sure if this was worth the sheer amount of embarrassment (Emery was, but that was besides the point.)
Embarrassing, embarrassing, cringy-ass—fuck, he almost just shut up and dismissed it. But to spare just a bit of his pride, he turned his face slightly away from Emery’s.
“W-Would it, um, be…fuck, can I…” Amari lifted a hand to drag it down his face, taking a deep inhale to calm his nerves. He’s done this a billion times. Can’t be that awkward. (It was. It was that awkward for him.) Emery’s arms squeezed around his torso comfortingly, and he relaxed a fraction. That was enough for him to finally blurt,
“Can I kiss you?”
The heat that still pricked and poked at his neck like pins and needles was uncomfortable enough, but the silence that followed was so bad he thought he might walk out of the cabin and into the Slasher’s knife right then and there. He was about to get up and tell them to forget it when the arms around his waist pulled back. At least Emery had the same idea; he moved to get up—
Those arms came back in the form of two hands grabbing onto one of his own. “Mari, no, wait—“
His voice sounded amused, and that was enough for Amari to turn to give him a defensive frown. The magician was smiling still, a blush dusting their cheeks, and they were grinning even wider than before. Amari huffed indignantly, sitting back down. But this time, he was more turned towards them, directing a half-hearted glare towards them.
“Wait,” Emery repeated; softer, quieter, this time.
Those hands that had kept him from leaving squeezed his hand, then lifted to cup each side of his face. They were gentle as always, thumbs gently stroking each cheekbone like he was meant to be treated with the utmost care—like he wasn’t some runaway who partied every night and had too many points and sharp edges to count; had too much of a tendency for flight for even the most patient of girls.
Emery giggled (that same, stupid, cute giggle that Amari loved to hear, but felt more patronized than anything at the moment). But he didn’t feel as patronized anymore when they murmured, “Mari, you don’t even need to ask,” and then lips were touching his and it was everything he wanted again and more.
Maybe it was worth the absolute embarrassment to have Emery holding his face like this and kissing him . Maybe it was worth the awkwardness to realize he looked at him like he did the stars, lingered close enough that it became routine; their usual. Maybe he liked it. It was worth it, to have their fingers move back and brush the hairs that grew just past his ears and curled by the back of his neck, making him let out a contented hum.
He kissed back. He wrapped his arms around their lower back. It wasn’t much different from the girls he’s kissed—but it was , it really, really, was , because this was Emery.
Maybe he’d be able to suffer through the embarrassment this time.
Maybe just this once. (As in, many more times, because he was in love and he was hopeless.)