Feliks and Toris
"Earth to Feliks and all who inhabits your mind?" called Toris as he carried out a heavy plate of pancakes, dripping in maple syrup. Mornings in Poland's house was most of the time like this; where Feliks would run off somewhere right when a meal is ready, and would come back out of nowhere right as Toris would have set the table and was sitting down himself to eat alone.
"Feliks!" he called once more, slipping his apron off from over his head and draping it over the back of the maple chair and to take the hair band out of his chocolate locks to see the impossible blond coming in from somewhere down the hall from the bedrooms, sliding to a halt in slippers, a blue tee – shirt and plaid flannel pants, his hair hanging in a wild bunch in front of his tired face, rubbing his turquoise eyes and pushing himself off the doorframe. Toris strode over with a sigh and a smile, combing his fingers through the Polish's hair and behind his ears.
"'Morning…" he grumbled.
"Good morning, sleepy head. Did you forget to get out of bed this time?" he joked, guiding his companion to the dining table, small enough for just the two of them, and sat him down gently and patted his head.
"Naw, I was just up for longer than I intended last night. The question is how you got out of bed this morning," Feliks looked up at the Lithuanian as he sat down across from the bed head. Toris looked up at his quizzically.
"What do you mean?" he asked, cocking his head, but he probably knew what he was referring to, and he was afraid of bringing it up.
"You should, but I'll tell you; you're having nightmares, Toris, and it's worrisome, especially when I can hear you whimpering in your sleep from the next room. Is there something that's bothering you?" the blond glanced out the window, evident worry in his eyes. Toris was expecting it, but he still jolted in his seat, heat coming to his face.
"I…." he wasn't sure what to say. He never did when he was put on the spot with questions like these. But he plastered a smile on his face and shook his head. "I'm fine Feliks, here's nothing to worry about, I promise." Remembering he had left the glasses on the counter, he got up to retrieve them and placed a glass of milk in front of him as he sat down with orange juice. Feliks sighed and stared at the fork he was spinning in his fingers.
"Anyway…I miss spending time with you. You're always leaving so early and getting home so late…" he stabbed his pancakes, pouting. Toris looked at him solemnly.
"I have to make money somehow, you know that," he replied. "At least Mr. Jones doesn't need me every day, and gives me breaks and coffee." He smiled sheepishly, and Feliks looked up at his lover, agreeing a little.
"Yea…I mean, how does that man need his house cleaned EVERY DAY? Like, either he's lazy, he needs a life, or I gotta slap him into next week…" the Polish huffed, and stuck a mouthful of breakfast in his mouth. Toris giggled at his sense of humor and sipped his juice. Then Feliks slammed his fork down, causing it to clank rather loudly on the plate.
"I GOT IT! How about while you get dressed, I'll do all the dishes and stuff, and then we can do something together before you go!" he smiled triumphantly at his splendid idea.
"Feliks, I'm already dressed, and I have to go in fifteen minutes," Toris mentioned bluntly, causing the other boy freeze, and scream while pulling on his hair. Toris cowered into his chair a little. It always made him guilty after crushing the crazy boy's dreams saying that he doesn't do it often. Still watching, he wiped his mouth and picked up his plate, never really having an appetite in the first place and put it on the counter, cringing when he heard Feliks bang his head on the table, groaning.
"I'm sorry…" he mumbled, but he knew that he was heard when the groaning stopped, and the legs of the chair screech on the tile floor as be began to leave. Knowing what was coming, he turned to his heart throb, only to get embraced mid-turn, but he forced his way around and draped his arms around Feliks.
"Don't be sorry….I'm just an idiot…" Toris stiffened, his grip tightening on his companion, his face dropping.
"No, you're a very smart boy, Feliks, please don't feel bad. I promise I'll try my best to come home early tonight. I promise," he whispered, stepping back to see Feliks's face fully, whose turquoise eyes were smoldering with guilt, longing, worry, and sadness. Toris only smiled lightly and kissed the blonde's forehead, stepping away to retrieve his coat, but was pulled back by the sleeve and into a much needed kiss, and they stayed like that for a while, until they both decided oxygen was necessary.
"I love you, remember that!" Feliks breathed, his face flushed. "Be careful, you got it?" he followed Toris till he was out the door, but not without one last hug.
"I'll be back later, don't worry, Toris reassured softly and pulled the door open, not daring to look back at the Polish boy's face because he was pretty sure what it would read.
"Love ya Feliks!"