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It was a warm summer day in the Flower Feather Clan. The breeze swept over Ifa’s face, brushing against the coolness of his own sweat.
He pushed his hair out of his eyes. And when he looked up, he saw that the sky was blue. So empty, and so vast. Calling not the clouds, but the people who dared to meet its scorching gaze.
Ifa wanted to fly. To accompany that empty sky.
But alas, he was looking up not to promise, but to recite the network of glands in an Iktomisaur. He was using the blue to block out distractions.
But his efforts were not particularly effective, because he was fully aware of his good friend behind him.
He looked over his shoulder, seeing Ororon perched on his bed, flipping through a thick book about medicinal plants in the whole of Natlan.
Ifa remembered reading that book, but when he wrote what he learned, he barely filled three pages.
Ororon’s gaze finally met him, and he took this cue to give up on his desk entirely. He stood up and settled next to the boy. “You reading that?”
Ororon giggled. “You can’t just use me to stop your studying. I said I'd wait.”
Ifa grunted. His mind had stopped studying 10 minutes ago. “If I did let you wait, you'd be sitting here for four more hours.”
Ororon looked at the wooden clock with a handcarved saurian beside it. It was an hour past afternoon. “I could stick around.”
“And have Granny scold you?” Ifa snorted. “I don’t want to trouble *three* adults at the same time.”
“But you're a good boy, Ifa. Granny would trust you a lot.”
His brows furrowed. “Emphasis on ‘would’.”
They were fifteen that time. Young, but not enough to graffiti lawns. Ifa would say they’re growing up. But Ororon disagreed. They were always children from the start, and ‘till the very end, just with more sense.’ Ifa slowly nodded.
“Will you teach me this book?” Ororon offered, but his friend groaned.
“The last thing I want to see is another medical book.”
Ororon decided to put it down and focus on the shelf by Ifa’s bed. It was filled with another clutter of books. The ones stacked to the right were finished, the colorful bookmarks jutting out of possibly every page. Then the unfinished stack. Shorter now, with brand new purchases.
How long has he been reading nonstop? He’s lucky he goes outside at all.
“Does that make you a bookworm?” Ororon asked. Ifa realized he said that out loud.
He considered that for a moment. “Bookworms are…immersed in what they read. I’m just browsing through words.”
Ororon’s head turned to the same pile of finished books, and Ifa knew he quietly disagreed. “I think you’re the book worm.” He countered. “You always tell me about new Natlan history whenever you walk out of the library.”
“I don’t eat books everyday like you do though.” Ororon called as he reached for something way below the shelf.
Ifa scooted to the other side of the bed, watching as Ororon's shrinking figure pull out a dusty hard cover, blowing at the top to reveal some title:
‘The housewife.’
Oh, he remembers that. It was about a housewife that went crazy from injustice and discrimination and killed everyone.
Ifa thought Ororon would read it. But the boy kept it in his lap as he looked at the ceiling. “Do wives always stay at home? Wearing aprons and waiting for you at the door after you go to work?”
Well, after that story, his eleven year-old brain learned a very important lesson.
“I think that’s just a common belief. It’s not necessarily true for all wives.” He shifted on the mattress. “My mom isn’t a house wife, she always finds ways to go outside and work with my dad.”
“That’s true.”
Silence fell over both of them.
Ifa watched as Ororon seemed to be thinking deeply. He thought the boy was culture shocked, or something.
Ifa itched to fill the silence. “I haven’t really thought about getting a wife. I don't even know if I could marry after all this studying.” He rolled on his back and looked at his wooden ceiling.
“Really?”
“I mean, I'm still young and exploring, so..”
It was quiet again. Ifa looked at his face and wondered what could possibly be in his head.
Ororon always has a moment to think. Which, he didn't mind of course. He just doesn't know when he’d be silent again, or what that silence could mean.
In the quiet, the squeals of children playing were lost to the faint breeze. Echoing softly in Ifa’s dark, but comfortable walls.
“I know what to do now.”
Ifa ignored the way Ororon sounded possessed. “What is it?”
“Let’s play house. I’ll be the housewife, you’ll be the overworked husband.” He said.
“Huh??”
Ororon stood then, a smile on his face telling Ifa all he knew.
He is being serious about this.
He looked at him in resignation. “House, out of all things?”
“I thought you don’t want to indulge in books? Now, where can I borrow an apron?”
Ifa fully sat up, laughing as Ororon opened the door. “You’re just making an excuse to play housewife!”
***
The doorknob twisted, and the door slammed open. IFa stepped inside, his tie crooked, glasses tilted, and eyes bloodshot (always been that way) after a long day of work.
At least that’s what Ororon instructed him to be.
“Honey, I’m homee..” He announced, dragging his voice.
From across the room, in one of his short shelves, Ororon turned with a ladle in hand. “Oh, welcome home dear!” He was wearing a pink apron with his navy hair tied in a bun, the lower section draping gracefully on his shoulders.
Ifa slowly hung his coat as his wife grabbed the things for him.
“You’re home early,” he muttered. Even behind his exhaustion, all he could focus on was his wife.
His ‘wife’ gave him a warm smile. “You deserve a break, you know? And I cooked your favorite~”
Seriously, it’s hard to ignore his radiance when Ifa feels like he came from the dead.
Without waiting, Ororon returned to the shelf and placed the warm bowl of soup on his desk. The desk had been littered with letters and books and whatnot. But Ororon tidied them (Or, tried to, he was just pushing them to corners), showing not the stress of school, but the warm concoction of radish soup.
“Awe..” The husband melted, he could just drop to his knees. “you really didn't have to darlin’..”
Ororon huffed, placing a hand on his hip. “We talked about this, you don’t have to do it every day.” His chin jutted out defiantly. “If I want to take care of you, I will take care of you.”
It was hard to take Ororon seriously with his soft voice, but Ifa gave in, instinctively patting Ororon's shoulder before he settled on his chair. The wife stood behind him, his looming figure a warm shield from the world’s evils.
He looked up, the back of his head pressing against his belly. “What are you just standing here for? Come eat with me.”
Ororon gladly settled next to him, and with an extra bowl, they shared the warm soup cupped in their hands.
The steam rolled onto Ifa’s face, and he was reminded, once again, that he was loved, and that there was always a home he could go to.
…Wait, since when did Ororon make this?
***
It was fun while it lasted.
Ororon fell against the bed while Ifa followed suit, their weight bouncing. “Amazing, your acting skills are really good!”
Ifa snorted, his gaze kept on the ceiling. “I genuinely thought you loved me like that with all that ‘care’ thing.”
“I do love you, though.”
Ifa didn’t say anything for a moment. He carefully gauged his friend’s reaction in his peripheral vision, but he sensed no discomfort.
His gaze followed the ceiling again. Watching as the sun’s glow cast dark shadows between the lines.
Ororon. He’s like a thick surprise egg sometimes. When you shake it, you could hear that something is inside there, and you get this itching feeling to just know. To crack it open, and see what it’s been hiding.
Except Ifa doesn’t, or couldn't. He could only watch as it gave him a sprinkle of his mystery, an…interesting, sometimes confusing thing to receive.
But despite his colorful complexity, this mysterious egg could say the simplest words without restraint, born from his very mind.
Is there any deeper meaning to those words? Or, maybe they are just as simple as they appear to be.
“Yeah…” Exasperated, he couldn't help but smile. “I love you too, bro.”
Maybe he and Ororon looked at each other at the same time. Because he could just study Ororon’s face.
The natural furrow of his brows, the length of his lashes, and those vibrant eyes that seem to pull him strangely in. The lines that circle his pupils, the way Ororon would simply look at him, and never pull away.
He could just get lost.
He thought, if Ororon willed it, he would easily get hypnotized in a fight. What an unfair advantage.
His eyes went lower, to his pink lips, and he found the little fangs peeking out. Ororon must be talking about something, but Ifa managed a hum white the little devils flashed at him.
The lips pressed into a soft line, and Ifa’s gaze shot back to his.
“What do you think?”
Ifa blinked, he didn’t listen at all.
“What do I think about…what?”
Ororon’s brows furrowed just a little more, but whatever thought he had, he let it pass. “Were you listening?”
“Sorry.”
His friend hummed and pointed at the birds out the window. They were stuck to each other as they sat on the windowsill. “Nevermind. But look at those birds.”
Ororon sat up then, and Ifa watched as the light blinded him from his figure.
Ifa propped himself on his elbow. Even as he listened this time, his gaze never left those lips.
He was kinda curious.
What would it feel like to kiss someone?
Wait, what? he quickly stomped that thought down.
Ororon’s mouth pressed into a line again, except now, his eyes were completely on Ifa.
“Alright, bro.” He shuffled back, sitting closer again. “What's on your mind?”
Ifa sighed. “Sorry man, that soup was too good. When did you make it anyway?”
“It’s a secret.” Ororon shrugged. “But a bigger secret is why you’re avoiding the question.”
Ifa spread his arms. “What? I said what's on my mind. It’s a question I've been meaning to ask since earlier.”
“Hmm..” Ororon’s finger hovered over his lip, and when Ifa forced his gaze back, Ororon was eyeing him again.
Archons. He didn't like getting caught like that. Lying at this point is effortless.
“Fine.” He slumped, he was dejected to spill his embarrassing thoughts. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but I wanted to know what kissing someone could feel like.”
“Really?”
He looked away, afraid of Ororon’s reaction. “Yyyep.”
“And…you want to find out through me?”
“Wha-” he sputtered. He sat up so cartoony that Ororon snickered. “No! Wha- of-of course not..!” he sighed. “Not if it's uncomfortable for you.”
Ororon was quiet, his eyes intent on Ifa. They were calm, scarily so, just studying him for a moment longer. But eventually they left the squirming Ifa. “I don’t know if I’ll give a similar sensation as other people do. Since I'm a friend.”
“Now we’re talking about this psychologically?”
“But it’s true isn’t it? I probably can’t make you feel butterflies and stuff.”
Ifa never considered that before. What he was after is what it physically feels like, and..you know, *how* they usually do it.
“I don't really need the butterflies I guess- ugh! I can’t believe we’re talking about this like we’re doing it!”
“Yeah, It would be weird if I stole your first kiss.”
Ifa…didn’t agree. At least, he didn't think it’d be weird. “It’s not like it’s important..” he mumbled. He saw Ororon's ears flick, and he knew he heard him.
“Well, this wouldn't count as an *emotional* first if you’re just trying things out-”
"Only if you’re okay with it.” Ifa pointed.
“ ‘Only if I'm okay with it.’” Ororon echoed a chuckle. “And I am.”
Seriously? He’s willing to try?
Ifa was fine with it too, but he didn't want to cross a line when it comes to Ororon. This boy is just so unreadable sometimes.
“Are you sure?”
He saw the way Ororon’s gaze shifted, but it softened back, like he was sure again.
“I don’t think I have much to lose.” He leaned closer. He was slow, and he was waiting. “Do you?”
If Ifa somehow ruins this, of something goes wrong, it means something weird will happen to and-
He shook his head. This is just an experiment. It's not like they’re strangers or anything.
If Ororon is really doing this, then the consequences will fall on them both.
At least.
He looked at Ororon one more time. And all he could see was his friend.
His heart didn't race, he didn't feel nervous, or that strong anticipation that leaves you sweating. He was worried. More about Ororon teasing him if he kissed badly.
They were inches from each other. Ororon’s breath tickled against his skin, the warmth of it, his familiar scent of the cool night..
Ifa’s hand reached for Ororon's cheek. He watched as his eyes fluttered.
His lips were hovering over his, and…
Ororon’s lips were warm.
It bloomed across Ifa like a soft flower.
His hand cupped lower on his neck. The navy strands draping across his fingers. Ororon was so warm. It was so hot. The sudden touch on his shoulder sent an electric pulse across his body, and his free hand shot to his other cheek, cupping it, tilting his head as they kissed again and again.
Suddenly, he pulled away. “Is this okay?” Gosh he couldn’t help but ask.
The pink spread across Ororon’s pale cheeks, and it was so new to Ifa than to him. “Yeah..”
His pale hand, that had been on his shoulder, moved to the back of his neck, almost *tugging* him back and-
Their lips met again, frantic and desperate. Ifa didn’t know what to do, but somehow Ororon did. Ororon licked against his teeth like he’s asking for permission. Ifa, unsure, parted them, and in a second his tongue was against his.
Ifa nearly melted as their tongues danced hotly between their lips. The room was getting dizzy. It was too stuffy between them, yet Ororon’s arms were encircled around his neck, unwilling to let go.
He might have to ask Ororon about this later.
Ifa pushed Ororon until his back hit the bed, and Ororon’s leg hooked against his waist.
Archons, they were the closest they have ever been.
One thing about Ifa was that he was a quick learner, and when they parted, their breaths heavy against their skin, Ifa dove back with equal passion, copying the things Ororon did to him, except maybe he did it correctly, because Ororon moaned, and he felt it in his own mouth.
Holy cow.
It was almost instinctive. Ifa pulled away, his elbows braced on either side of Ororon as he studied the boy below him.
Ororon’s eyes were hazy, looking into his like he consumed a weird plant. Ifa’s gaze went lower, and Ororon’s lips were swollen, the little fangs peeking out like a cool reminder of what they did.
They stared like that for a moment. Their heavy breaths filled the room until it calmed down. Until Ifa’s heart was back to normal.
Ifa wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Y-you’re crazy..”
Ororon laughed. “I could taste the crackers you were eating earlier.”
The boy's cheeks flushed darker, and Ororon giggled even more. “That’s what you’re focused on??” God that's so embarrassing, who knows what that tastes like.
When Ororon’s laughter died, Ifa finally rolled onto his side and next to him again.
“You’re a fast learner though. 7/10.” Ororon said, and Ifa’s blush never left him.
“Yeah sure, but how did you learn all of that??” His eyes were stern as he poked Ororon in the cheek. “I swear you knew what you were doing.”
Ororon didn’t look guilty. He merely gave him a toothy grin as he admitted: it was his first too.
Ifa was…more impressed than surprised.
At least nothing complicated happened between them.
Right?