I'm sorry you feel so alone
It's like I told you, "You're better off without me, I'm sick of saying sorry."
So far from home.....
The young boy's lips parted softly as he exuded a sweet waft of life's breath into the surrounding atmosphere. The troposphere was clement, and droplets of saline sudor were forming on his alabaster brow. The man who was roosted abreast of him passed a hand gloved in obsidian leather across his own brow, and sussurated in exhaustion.
"It sure is hot out here, isn't it, kid?" the man vocalized, attempting to break the taciturnity that lay between the two, almost like something tangible.
The boy passed a slender hand through his argent-flaxen hair, and made a noncommittal sonance in his throat.
Snow, for the past several diurnal courses, had been struggling to construct a rapport between himself and the smaller, younger male that was seated adjacent to him. However, Hope continued to fix his beryl oculars in the opposite direction, and disdained him utterly.
"Uh..." The platinum-tressed male groped about in the recesses of his psyche, foraging for a topic upon which to base discourse. "Listen, I..."
"I don't want to hear it." After voicing this phrase, the youthful blond abruptly rose and was about to abandon the older blond in solitude, when Snow extended one of his onyx-gloved appendages and grasped the petite adolescent by the saffron sleeve of his garment.
"What is your problem?!" the raven bandanna-wearing male vociferated, agitating the juvenile's outstretched limb.
"What's my problem?!" the boy retaliated. "You're my problem, Snow! Everything's your fault! It's your fault that I've got no one left! It's your fault I'm alone! And even despite all of that, I still... I still..."
The older individual could see the torment in the boy's conflicted cerulean orbs, and he finally discerned the source of his misery.
"Hope..." the man murmured tranquilly.
He pulled the champagne-tendriled youth toward him, and, smoothly and sweetly, entwined him into the comforting embrace of his muscled, sinewy arms. He placed a digit beneath the younger male's porcelain-hued jaw, and placed a gentle osculation upon the dewy carnation petals that were his lips. The older male pulled back to see that the youth's formerly pallid cheeks were now tinted a delicate shade of coral.
The platinum-haired man pulled his lips back into a grin, displaying his gleaming, immaculate ivories.
"You're cute when you're angry."