The sparkly buggy, made from mica stones, crumbled apart as a clumsy newsboy slammed into it. The other boy, sitting in the filth that was his carriage, stood up, frustrated, and marched over to the klutz.
The one whose transportation was ruined, Gilbert Beilschmidt, wore fancy clothing fitting for the noble that he was.
"Verdamnt, idiot, get up," commanded Gilbert, stretching his hand down to the paper boy. The noble's menacing, handsome red eyes glared unconcernedly to the violet ones, covered by sooty specs, which had come to meet his. "Don't just break my stuff like that."
"O- okay, your Highness," squeaked glasses boy.
Gilbert heard roaring laughter from the townspeople, directed at his disheveled appearance and totaled ride. His cheeks came to match his eyes, which had been widening by the second. These people, these commoners, were laughing at him? The teenager decided he could never show his face around here again.
Then, as if on cue, the common boy with the eyes like those purple-y flowers in Gilbert's garden (not that he paid attention to them or anything), took the royal by the hand and led him through an alleyway, succumbing to a forest, arriving at a clearing.
The specs panted once the two stopped, chin length, wavy hair the color of diluted apple juice falling in his face. Gilbert fell over, weary from the running, and gazed at his companion. Kinda cute… thought he. Then of course realized what he'd mused and pushed in out of his brain. The super awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt thinks of nothing as "cute."
"A- are you okay?" asked the blonde. Gilbert nodded. He rolled over to where his kidnapper (?) had sat.
"Uh, like, who are you and why did you embarrass me, then kidnap me?" Gilbert asked. He started to fiddle with a few loose threads on the boy's pants. He began to ponder, this dude looks about the same age, sixteen-ish, I guess? Whatever, if he doesn't have a good answer for my question, I'll ask the prince to ban this unawesome guy from the country. Wait, but I couldn't go back to tell him. Shi-
"I'm Matthew Williams," he replied, finally, "I embarrassed you because it was an accident sorry, and I kidnapped you because I didn't kidnap you, I saved you."
"You didn't save me."
"Actually, yes, I did." Matthew scooted down, once again looking into the fiery eyes (of doom?). "I am a witch. Anyone who looks into my eyes will go poof"—he gesticulated a pop—"unless they… they, uh… It's embarrassing."
By now, Gilbert was intrigued with Mattie (a brilliant nickname if he said so himself), not knowing if the guy was pulling his leg or absolutely serious. He decided to give the "witch" the benefit of the doubt. And with an upward cock of his lips, "prove it."
Matthew's index finger shot up, and a small ball of light gathered at its length. An impressed Gilbert's mouth gaped, and his train of thought rapidly added coal to its engine. Whoa, this guy is for real. I wonder if he could make me taller. Wait a second; I looked into his eyes, so that means I'll… Oh crap, when am I going to go poof? How? What is it I have to do to prevent that unawesome thing from happening?
"Hey Mattie, I believe you now, so what do I have to do to get rid of-" he finished his sentence with the poof gesture from earlier. His hands ran through the choppy silver hair that completed his albino status. He panicked.
"Cuzyougottakissme," Matthew's face was flushed, troublesome eyes averted.
"Wha-"
"CUZYOUGOTTAKISSME."
The second time, Gilbert heard the speedy whisper. No sooner had he heard than were his lips on the other's. A pair of cursed, cute eyes shot him a look of panic, but crazily enough kissed back. The silverette took notice, deepening the kiss he certainly hadn't wanted for an amount of time now. They kissed with wanton fervor, strangely strong emotion. 'T was weird for having known each other only for how long they did.
Gilbert pulled back, staring as deep into those eyes as he damn well felt, "There aren't any more strings attached I should know about, are there?"
Matthew shook his head, yet spoke, soft and nervous like Gilbert had come to know in forty-five minutes, "Y- you wouldn't say no, though, if I asked you to stay with me, here in the forest?"
Another kiss, this one of abundant "of course," was made between the two.
Gilbert then noticed then, that despite his getup, Matthew was most surely not a newsboy. He was, quite literally, magic.