Coffee Stains and Rainy Days;;
.onesided. oneshot. BL.
To sum up how Lambo felt it varied from a sharp petulant sting of lust grazing over to the hazy feeling of insignificance. Even if both had a severely negative undertone, he still embraced it without question. What was left in the misinterpretation, was up to those picking up the pieces to decipher. Reborn, however, wasn't one to dawdle over these pieces and often stepped over them, completely ignoring the honesty placed in every word.
Clutching his fists Lambo attempted to steady his gaze. Not liking the hostile feeling rising in his chest he tossed around the idea of calling out, asking for an apology, if he was lucky maybe he wouldn't get overlooked. Staring intensely at the tip of his boot he wondered how one person could hold so much cruelty in them.
Nonchalance seemed to whisk him by just fine, and heeled boots were always traipsing their way to his office. It must've been the fact he was a Mafioso that made him so arrogant and egotistical. Smirking as dark orbs swim with taunt, Lambo knew he should put his foot down, or at least try to. Opening his mouth to speak he raised his head only to find Reborn completely out of sight.
Considering how standing around and pouting about things never quite solved things, he sped off in attempts to find said man. Shifting his gaze he felt like a child for some reason, it was an unofficial game of hide-and-seek. For some reason he knew once he found Reborn though, it would end up being an entirely different game filled with rules he could only begin to fathom and with inconsistencies that were too complex to cumulate.
The defined casually arched back and proud broad shoulders that belonged to the object of his demented affections turned the hall once more and from the caustic sideways glance Lambo knew he was being toyed with and that even if he managed catching up, he wouldn't be able to say a word. Letting his right eye droop close, he scrapped the innards of his brain for justification as to why he insisted on chasing after and adoring such a malicious and sadistic man.
With a muffled choke he managed his name. Reborn paused, back stepped and shifted his eyes to fall on Lambo once more. "This is the third time today you've attempted to begin a conversation. Spit it out you dumb cow." Torn between pulling a face of hurt and trying to push the lump growing in my throat down he heard his voice crack.
Lips tugging into a full-on antagonistic sneer, he seemed like he was going to laugh, mock him if you will. Fully meaning what was said, he was a complete and utter ass in his reactions. Something about that drew Lambo to him. Feeling the masochism overpowering his control, the clicking of his tongue perked attention.
"Since you've been so persistent, I just can't help but bring myself to say that," Breaking off with an exceedingly large pause, he shifted the weight from one foot the other. "I don't return the feelings." It was a silenced chuckle and he was back to his original objective. Standing in the middle of the hall like a complete fool, Lambo pondered whether or not he should continue following him and insist that he accept and return his feelings.
Letting go of a breath he was unaware he was holding it seemed to crash around him; loud, vibrant and filled with enough pain to suffice the world. Bringing his hands to his chest, he traced his knuckles and fingered the ring on his middle finger, symbolizing his loyalty.
Irises burning and feeling rather defeated, Lambo left the building listlessly. Silence pushed against his chest. It wasn't like any were meant to be said, there was no gushing lover attached to his arms and his plans to make Reborn fall hopelessly in love with him trudged on with out avail. It was an idiotic idea to even hypothesize the other's recognition and for it to be mutual. Reborn was, in fact, a very uncaring man. So it was only natural he continued to not care about those around him and do as he pleases. This meant undeniable suffering on his end and fleeting glory on the other.
Groping his vocabulary for all the synonyms he could possibly even begin to start describing what he felt Lambo felt cumbersome in guilt. Reborn, being the callous asshole that he was, had the tendency to selectively forget certain situations so, perhaps the anticlimactic confession would be brushed off as another futile pillage of the castle; broken down, stabbed and leaving with more pain that needed.
Their relationship was like taking the first puff of a cigarette. It hurts and you're hacking your lungs out yet you still become addicted. Cancerous and filled with longing, you brace yourself for the life-draining symbiosis unfurling before your eyes, depicted as billows of smoke.
Fin.
I'm a faggot. Forgive me. I try to use big words to sound cool. We all know I'm just a dumbass.