That hair.
God, he loved that hair.
He loved the feeling of it. The feeling of the hair curled into – what were they called? – cornbows? Corn rows? Corn rolls? What?
Well, whatever they were called, Cheng loved it. He wanted to twist his fingers in them; to feel the thick and scratchy texture of each and every strand. He had only wanted to touch the hair after the boy came. Dre, his name was.
He could feel it under the "bully" cover. Cheng really didn't know why he suddenly wanted to touch Dre's hair - I just want to see what Mei Ying found so interesting. Deep down, Cheng knew it wasn't that, but he refused to admit it.
"May I touch your hair?" Cheng asked teasingly, a smirk plastered on his face. The familiar Mandarin accent and voice made Dre freeze and suddenly back off, starting to go the other way. "Where are you going?" Cheng continued to say, hand catching Dre's.
"Look, you and your buddies promised to leave me alone 'till the tournament, man," Dre argued quickly, walking backward. It didn't seem too bright for him; it was an alley – Dre had been walking home – and it was only him and Cheng. Oh, and the hobo sitting on the curb at the opening of the alley, but he really wasn't watching them.
Cheng's heart suddenly started beating a bit faster – Dre's foreign American accent, complete with the "man" amused him and quite possibly sparked something else.
"I am not bothering you. I am just asking to touch your hair. Like Mei Ying did," Cheng replied, smirk widening.
"C'mon, dude! I have a choice, righ'? 'Cause I don't wanna get beat up in an alley – if you're still mad about the maintenance guy thing, look, we can sort that out in that tournament thing, man!"
Cheng couldn't exactly understand all of what he was saying – Dre's voice was speeding up and it had risen a few octaves. But the red - induced by Dre's fear - that flushed through Dre's cheeks made Cheng want to touch his skin instead of his hair.
"I just want to touch your hair," Cheng stated matter-of-factly, shaking the thought out of his head, reaching his hand out to Dre's hair. Those kinds of feelings were reserved for pretty girls only.
"Whoa whoa whoa! Wait! No damn way am I lettin' you touch my hair! I mean, you ripped my hair when you fought me!" Dre shrieked, dodging Cheng's hand. "Why the hell do you wanna touch my hair when you wanna kick my ass later at the tournament thing?"
Cheng then answered curtly, "Zhùkǒu," before snatching a tuft of Dre's hair and digging his fingers in it.
Dre's face flushed and he tried to kick Cheng off, screeching a few curses. Cheng ignored the flailing boy and shoved Dre down, easily avoiding his futile punches. "Stay still," Cheng ordered, climbing over Dre's body and holding his shoulders down.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dre shouted desperately, struggling to get out from under Cheng's expert grip. "Zhùkǒu and stay still," Cheng repeated, and his left hand grabbed a hold of one of Dre's cornrows, yanking it.
A brief yelp of pain left Dre's lips as he flinched. The momentary silence made Dre realize how awkward the situation was; Cheng was straddling Dre's chest – just like he did before giving him a black eye the first day at the park – and Cheng had a hand in Dre's hair.
Cheng then suddenly twisted his other hand in Dre's hair, amused at the texture of his hair.
More silence passed, making the air heavy with discomfort.
"…Your hair feels strange," Cheng finally said, letting go of Dre's cornrows. Dre only stared angrily and embarrassedly at him.
Cheng leaned back, suddenly realizing the awkward position they were in. Dre, having seen the embarrassed look in Cheng's eyes, attempted to squirm out of Cheng's hold. The Chinese boy then held him down again, enjoying the brief rush of power. He could feel the shape of Dre's scrawny arms under his t-shirt.
The thoughts that were dashing back and forth in Cheng's head were very dirty and despicable, and Cheng let his mind continue, despite the fact it made him blush and his heart pound ridiculously fast.
"What do you want! I already let you touch my hair, man! Lemme go!"
Cheng felt a strange tingling in his fingers where they contacted with Dre's skin, and leaned down, causing Dre to widen his eyes and freeze, shocked.
Cheng leaned his head down further, lips brushing by Dre's. Some of Dre's cornrows were lying on his cheek; it also touched Cheng's skin, causing a searing heat to be left in its wake.
"…W-what are you doing…?" Dre asked uneasily against Cheng's lips – but in a moment he was silent again, lips responding to Cheng's.
When Cheng and Dre left the alley a few moments later, the hobo, who was sitting on the curb, patted both of them on the shoulders in an understanding way.
"Zhùkǒu" means "Shut up" in Mandarin. This fic is pretty much different from most of my other fics (I usually write a lot of angst and dark stuff) and it has fluff. :) Hope you like it and hope you find it cute. Personally I don't find it that cute - I think I'll write a more angsty fic when I find a proper prompt.~
(-orangish-)