Nuss 11:00PM
ok i need ur help
FuckThePopo❤ 11:07PM
Ayyy bby
u wan sum fuk ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Nuss 11:07PM
WOAH
NO
FuckThePopo❤ 11:08PM
SHIT wrong number
oky bae i gotchu
whatchu need
Nuss 11:09PM
i wanna ask lucas out on a date
FuckThePopo❤ 11:09PM
awesum
did u tell him
Nuss 11:10PM
i did
but i didnt tell him it was a date
were goin 2 the movies 2morrow
FuckThePopo❤ 11:12PM
lemme guess
they ran out of movie tickets
np i got connections
Nuss 11:13PM
thank god no
we have tickets
but i wan him to tri n make the 1st move
wat r some ways i can ease him into it w/o looking desperate
like
leaning into his sholder?
iM freakin out help me
FuckThePopo❤ 11:15PM
srsly ness
fuck dat subtle shit
assert yo dominance
grab him by the face and french him
Nuss 11:15PM
NO
THATS WAY TOO FFAST
FuckThePopo❤ 11:16PM
then tell him to slow down ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Nuss 11:17PM
...why did i text u
im gonna go text paula bye
FuckThePopo❤ 11:18PM
dude
open yo suitcase
Nuss 11:20PM
wHAT
now im scared
what did u put in my suitcase
Nuss 11:43PM
Popo?
.
.
.
~Chapter Twenty-Five~
I Fall Off Rainbow Road
.
.
.
Every year on Christmas and on my birthday, Popo makes it his mission to give me prank gifts. Their every premise is just as stupid and ridiculous as the last.
And every single time, they've proven to be infuriatingly USEFUL.
On my 15th birthday, he bought me tissues and coconut oil. And last Christmas, he bought me a pack of toilet paper, because somehow, he'd known that we'd run out later that night.
So this year, on the year of my gay, I expected something explicit and embarrassing. Like a vibrator. But Popo couldn't have bought me one, because Red had already beaten him to the punch.
The day before we left for the condo, Red surprised me by showing up at our door with his perpetually deadpan stare. I thought he was looking for Lucas, except that Lucas had been out on a meeting with Master Hand, and Red should've seen him pass by. The matches were over until next summer. There was no reason for Red to visit me, much less talk to me, so I figured hey maybe he wanted to chill.
That is, until Red handed me a hot pink dildo wrapped in a flamboyant red ribbon. All for a subtle go fuck yourself.
I guess I passed under Popo's radar this Christmas.
Wrong.
Strewn in the wreckage of wrapping paper, I continue to stare agape at the contents of Popo's Christmas gift. I don't know which was more surprising, the fact that Popo had bought me a box of books, or the fact that he expected me to read. But now, glancing at the revolting mix of covers, I'm not sure if I want to touch them.
When the hell did Popo sneak these into my bag?
I eye the pile of shounen-ai mangas like they're about to bite my hand off. Altogether, the books are somehow lighter than they look. Showing off their flashy colorful covers, one or two of them are about animes that I've never seen before, but the rest I quickly recognize as Nesscas doujins.
There's a reason this stuff has a big rep for shits and giggles in the Mansion. One, we're Smashers. And two, it's pretty much accepted that all smashers are privy to a plethora of fanart and fanfic. Which can be both kinda flattering... and kinda awkward. Because RULE 34: If it exists, then there is porn of it. And with the number of One Direction and KPOP self-inserts on Wattpad these days, I wouldn't be surprised if people already started shipping other celebrities together.
Yeah, I'm talking about you, Fanfiction Readers. We all know that shipping exists. We usually don't mention it. Even Nesscas. Or Lucess. LucNess. Less. Whatever people call our pairing these days.
It's not worth arguing over.
So basically, I turn a blind eye to it.
Again, no hate. If you're a shipper, then great. If you like writing/drawing/what-have-you about our fandom, then great. If you're a furry, fucking whatever. You do you. I'm just gonna stop by to grab my cheap pornos and carry on with my business in the other corner. I only have one request. Please, whatever you do, take all the rabid fans and paparazzi with you. My little sister gets enough harassment from my stalkers without me trying to hunt more down. Why people get so worked up over fictional pairings, I don't know, but hey when did I ever understand the hate that was mainstream tumblr.
As Lucas nicely puts it: People are dicks, and social media is stupid.
This is why we can't have nice things.
Cutting to a quick disclaimer: I don't know much about yaoi. Or manga. Or doujinshi. With a fangirl sister, all I know is that yaoi is some fetishized gay porn people jerked off to, and that shounen-ai is just its watered-down version. This trashy shit is the same stuff MY LITTLE SISTER likes to read.
So it stands that my natural reaction to yaoi is plz no. Like hell I'm ever reading about my sister's wet dream fantasies!
Having said this solid conviction, I gingerly push aside the cancerous pile with my toe.
Not five minutes later, I'm pouring through the fluffy shounen-ai mangas like it's my life, because fuck, they're addicting. I'm a sucker for stellar graphics. I've had high expectations ever since I splurged on that latest issue of Marvel the day I turned 13, and let's face it, I like to keep it that way.
But fuck does Popo not disappoint. He's actually got good taste, because all the art styles in this collection are fly. What's more, all of Popo's stories make sense. Even the weird R-rated ones. So long as I skip over some of the uh, extremely detailed sex, those were okay too, I guess. They're certainly a damn good source of guilty pleasure for teenage girls. Half-naked boys sprawled over each page? No wonder my sister goes crazy over this.
Japan is really milking out the fanservice these days.
It's only then I get the courage to pick up and open a Nesscas doujinshi that looked relatively harmless.
Shit, it's good. Mouthwatering good. The art was good, the plot was good, and the character buildup was so sweet that halfway through I swore I caught diabetes. By the end, I was left staring at the back of the manga, wondering why this wasn't my life.
It's really good.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Okay, I'll admit that the doujinshis have so far exceeded my expectations, but I'm still not sure why Popo bought them for me. Is this his way of saying, grow a pair and go for it bro? Or geez Nessie you need to work on your moves?
I don't know.
So I read on.
But the more doujinshis I skim, the emptier I began to feel. If there's one thing that many of the doujins failed to capture, it's keeping us in character.
Not to say that Popo hadn't done his work. He's definitely weeded out the trashier ones, but even with his SAFE SEARCH filter, I was left with a mixed assortment. Most of the Nesscas doujinshis were decent. Kinda cliche and corny, but tolerable. At least, until the plot took a sudden nosedive and turned me into an uber bad boy or pervy rapist that put Popo to shame.
A few times though, the artists came close to the real deal. A lot of the fluffier ones involving nightmares and calming Lucas down reminded me of my younger self, and made me smile once or twice in spite of myself.
But that was the thing. The characters were good, but they weren't us.
The artists seemed to have a harder time drawing out Lucas's character onto the page, because of the ones I'd perused, Lucas was no better. Over half of them depicted him as this helpless wimp who cried over everything, and the other half drew him as this unfeeling, angsty, die-hard fuck-you-Ness-you-don't-understand-me-and-my-tragic-past prick.
Lucas is neither.
His dad was stubbornly set on raising him on tough love, and it shows. Lucas is independent. Lucas guarded his heart, only because he was afraid of getting hurt. Lucas didn't smile often, but whenever he did, it was endearingly awkward, and brightened up his face in a manner his smirks failed to do. Lucas might have been a crybaby once upon a time ago, might have learned to overcome it with the stoicism I wished I could've learned, but I loved him for whom he was because only he could make me go all fuzzy and jittery inside.
It was how Lucas had changed over the years. Emotional trauma, he said, was a good catalyst for growing up, and I know I've done my own fair share in the past month.
Lucas isn't flawless. Lucas isn't two-dimensional. Lucas is just Lucas.
That's enough for me.
I have no idea how long Popo stood in that yaoi aisle, weeding out shitty Nesscas doujins, but after skimming through pretty much all of them, I could tell that each manga had been selected for a clear purpose.
In short,
NESS STOP BULLSHITTING AROUND AND GO FOR IT.
When the shower turns off, I hastily sweep the mangas into my luggage because forgive me if I don't feel like having this conversation with Lucas at this time. Not ever. Not yet. Not soon. I'm not desperate. I don't want Lucas to get the wrong idea. I've seen how sex at the wrong times for the wrong reasons has destroyed relationships, and while neither of us are quite at that stage yet, we're both mature enough to talk things through.
I like Lucas no matter what he does.
And I don't think he's used to me telling him that.
Dead mom and brother aside, I don't think he's used to ANYONE telling him that.
That's not okey.
So when Lucas walks out of the bathroom fully-dressed, I clamor after him, sneaking in a hug and a quick I-love-you before he pushes me away with a 'not now, my hair's wet.'
"You're going to get your shirt all damp, and then it's gonna smell," Lucas says, rummaging for his hairdryer.
"But I want a hug now."
"A few seconds waiting won't kill you."
I give him what I hope is a pleading look.
"I'll be right back," Lucas reassures me, unfazed by my sad puppy dog eyes, and returns to the bathroom. Roommate, friend, or otherwise, he's become desensitized to my persuasion tactics.
What a cold-hearted soul.
Puffing up my cheeks, I wait for Lucas in the living room.
With my mom and sister off shopping, we had the rest of the day to spend together alone. Even better, I got a kick out of watching Tracy wail in horror the entire time mom dragged her to the car, because Tracy hates shopping with an ungodly passion. She hates it almost as much as I do. Understandable, considering that she's the sister of a gamer with fine taste. I would've felt bad for bailing on Tracy, but if my mom hadn't taken her away, she would've dumped my little sister on me. And as much as I love you Tracy, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to take one for the team.
Because I'm taking Lucas out on a date. The classic couples choice of the century: The movie theatre. Followed by a lazy stroll through AsiaTown, because they're holding some sort of pre-celebratory food festival for Chinese New Years.
And as you know, I'm always down for good food.
I unplug my phone from the charger, and the screen lights up with all my missed texts.
PSI Paula 7:01AM
I wish you PK Luck on your first date!
(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
King Poo Panda 7:45AM
Paula sent me text massage
I pray for good wishes
Though for what I do not understand
But dates taste good
And who is this "Lucas"
is he your sworn enemy
&Donuts 8:24AM
GASP
first date?! ! :O
omG
WHY U NEVER TELL US ANYTHING U MEANIE DX 😒😭
plz post cute pics on bubblechat :D :D :D
&Donuts 8:29AM
Sorry, that was Tony.
We're both rooting for you!
FuckThePopo❤ 10:11AM
yo heres a free coupon for XL popcorn
and heres a link for corny pickup lines
FuckThePopo❤ has sent you an attachment (2)
now go tap that ass ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
I hastily send a wave of generic responses back before turning the ringer off, because while their well-wishes are appreciated, shit do I know that other texts are to follow. We should take off before word takes my other friends by storm.
Lucas walks into the living room on his cell, but glances down when I wrap my arms around him in a sneak-attack. Surprise hug, ha. He shouldn't have lowered his guard so soon. "Hello? Yes." A pause. "Oh, okay. I'll let him know." Another pause. "I'll think about it. Yup, my pleasure." Click.
I peer at his phone screen. "Who dat?"
"Peach quit patrol duty. She wants to know if you can take some of her shifts next month."
But my January's all packed. "Aaah, I don't know..."
"She says that she'll put her cookies on the table."
...I think I can squeeze in a few shifts.
"Okay, but it's gonna suck because hers are usually on the weekends." I nudge my head under Lucas's arms to sneak in another hug. "What's Peach doing for community service?"
"She's an instructor for ballroom dancing."
"Let me guess. She wants to recruit us."
"They need more guys."
Why am I not surprised. "Are you gonna join?"
"I told her I'd think about it."
Clever response. At least it saved Peach the trouble of hounding after Lucas for the entire day.
I grimace. Between Marth and Peach, I have yet to decide who has scarier college recruiting skills. They're each persistent in their own way, but given her sneaky cupcake and baked good bribes, Peach is definitely the larger threat. I mean, she hands out FREE FOOD. How can I say no to that?
But college classes cost money, and heck if I'm spending moolah to twirl and make a fool of myself in front of a gaggle of girls. I value my street cred.
I spare Lucas a glance. Despite slouching so much, Lucas actually has a nice form. In the rare instances I've seen him act his age, goofing around the bathroom mirror before noticing me and turning bright crimson, I've wondered if Lucas would genuinely enjoy living the normal life. Study to his heart's content. Try out new hobbies. Learn all sorts of subjects. Science. History. Music. Art. Heck, even dance. I mean, okay, Lucas looks stiff and awkward as hell, but that's because you've never seen him fight. It's crazy. Once he gets into the flow of the battle, he's surprisingly fluid, what with his long, lanky limbs and impeccable sense of rhythm.
Then again, I have no doubt that Lucas would do well in anything he put his mind to. He puts his all into everything, and thrives in a challenge. I'd be pretty fucking hopeless in college, but Lucas?
It's really a shame that he had to drop out of school.
We jump when my phone goes off in a loud flurry of high-pitched dings. Aw shit, don't tell me. I forgot to turn my ringer off.
Lucas's eyes laugh at me. "Somebody's popular." Another ding. "Very popular."
I feel my face heat up. "Let's talk on the way," I sputter, pushing Lucas out and stuffing my now-silenced phone back into my pocket.
We ride the inter-city Metro to the movie theaters.
I know what you're thinking.
And you can cross that thought out of your head.
The ride is far from romantic. The Smash City Metro's a crappy, beaten-down ripoff of a bullet train. It's so full to the brim with people that we're stacked against each other like canned sardines, and at every station, it stops so abruptly that I bowl straight into the window. It gets better when we manage to snag two empty seats out of sheer luck, but the initial jerk almost always catapults me out of my chair. I sneak a glance at the faces around me, because while we're bundled up in layers of layers, Lucas outright refused to wear his sunglasses.
"Better safe than sorry," Lucas says, fixing his eyes on another rustle of movement - an old woman struggling on board with a cart of groceries. He offers her his seat before I can. Puffing up my cheeks at the loss, I stand up anyway and sock him goodnaturedly in the shoulder.
Still, when Lucas rakes his eyes over the Metro in bemused disinterest, I know that his composure is a facade. Lucas has been on-guard since Porky's appearance. If he's risking his cover in favor of his telepathy, it's says a lot about his current mindset.
Reflective lenses block his mind reading powers.
And Lucas wants to be prepared in case things go south.
So I nudge myself against his side, then grin wider when he glances down at me. "I'm keeping watch too," I say seriously.
In response, Lucas's shoulders relax.
.
.
.
~oO0Oo~
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.
.
I wanted a perfect first date.
But the weather had other ideas.
When we step out of the metro station around noon, the dark sky gives an ominous rumble. And then, five blocks down from the movie theatre, the sky gives me the giant fuck u and starts raining.
Let me rephrase that.
It's pouring cats and dogs. Each droplet is like the size of my fist. Except that the temperature is cold as fuck, so instead of rain, we have this gross slushy sleet that pelts us in the face and soaks our socks.
We dash to the movie theatre before the worst of the storm hits. As we shake off our sopping jackets, I notice some stares directed our way. I'm that good lookin'. It can't be helped. But to our luck, no one comes to bother us, because hey, this is Smash City. On a good day, the odds of bumping into a celebrity here is like one in ten. We might get more looks the longer we stay, but most people here are used to seeing smashers do everyday life stuff.
Besides, Urfbound. The chances of us bumping into somebody from our smallass fandom are hit or miss.
On the other hand, some better-known smashers can never catch a break.
"-and there we go," a familiar blonde says, bending over to smile into the phone. Taking a selfie, the last delighted fan shakes the bounty hunter's hand before eagerly scampering away to her smiling parents.
"Samus!" I call out.
She turns around with a painfully forced smile. "Sorry kid, duty calls, that's the last selfie- Oh." Relief floods Samus's face when she recognizes us. "It's you."
"Yes. It is indeed me, in the flesh." I joke, taking out my i-phone, "Can I have a selfie too-"
"Bugger off, I'm on patrol," Samus grunts.
Huh. She must be in a bad mood.
I give Lucas a pleading glance. "I'll text you a coupon for the popcorn. Can you...?"
"I'll go grab the snacks," he offers, walking away to leave us in peace.
Once he's gone, I sympathetically shift closer to Samus's side. "Bad day?"
"You wouldn't know half of it," Samus mutters, sheathing her electric whip. "I'm covering for Peach this week. Guess she asked you for help too."
"I heard that Bayo bailed. Is she really...?"
"A school sub."
"That's crazy."
"I know. Kids are the worst," Samus groans. "But hey, who am I to stop her. Bayo does what she wants. She told me that she wanted to help out, because Jeanne teaches at the local high school here, but between you and me? She's got a soft spot for children. I think Bayo's been dropping me hints to sub in too, but ugh, nooo thanks. She's already adopted Cereza. She might as well open a up a new daycare for strays and get it over with."
"She'd be good with kids," I agree, glancing around the movie theater. I lower my voice. "What do you think about the new Hands-Off Act?"
"What about it?"
"It'll ban us from patrol duty. Do you think Master Hand will cave?"
"Who knows. He's under a lot of hot water from the makeover you gave Porky - don't you dare apologize, he was trying to blackmail Lucas," she adds with a scowl. "But the act has a good chance of getting passed into law."
"I shouldn't have punched him."
"You shouldn't have, but you did. Don't repeat the same mistake twice," Samus says bluntly.
"That's what Lucas told me-"
"Then he's right. Or even better, tell me next time so I can beat the bad guys up for you," Samus smirks, and I laugh. "Kidding. Not really. Anyways, you should start looking around for other jobs in case the act gets passed. I might stick with bounty hunting if things don't work out."
It's not just Bayo and Peach who've found a change of heart. I've noticed more of the smashers leaving patrol duty in favor of the service sector. Wii Fit Trainer now earns money as a professional workout trainer. Wario's opened up his own business consultant firm. I'm not sure about how getting a job or going to college counts as "community service," but I guess it's Master Hand's way of saying, live a normal life for once, damn it.
In other words, Master Hand wants us to see Smash City as a second home.
And it is.
Because Onett will always be first place in my heart.
"But we're not hurting anybody in patrol duty," I protest. "We've caught more criminals that way-"
"Not always. Sometimes we interfere with the police force, and the collateral damage-" Samus grimaces. "Master Hand's been getting daily reports about property damage ever since Sonic accidentally demolished that Bank of America on 7th Street. We might have experience saving people, but in the end, we're just athletes and normal do-gooders with fancy powers... we're not an official police force." Samus slides on her helmet. "That's another thing, by the way. You."
"Me?"
"Your age," Samus clarifies. "Everyone thinks that you and Lucas are too young to be dealing with crime."
"Tell that to Red."
"Him too. We've gotten complaints from a lot of parents. Letting you compete in the tourney was already a stretch. But patrol duty? It's dangerous. All the parents think that we're exposing innocent kids to second-hand violence and trauma. So yes, 'kids' also includes you."
"I'm not THAT young," I scowl. "I fought Giygas when I was like eleven. Gimme a break, I'm turning 18 soon."
Samus smirks, flicking the brim of my cap. "Tough luck. You're always gonna be the youngest of the Elite twelve, kiddo. But maybe the public's right this time. Go live a little. Explore the world - OH NOT ON MY WATCH, YOU LITTLE FUCKER! STOP RIGHT THERE!" Samus grabs her electric whip in a livid fury. "Enjoy the date, I gotta dash."
She storms off after the terrified hooligan, who screeches and drops a stolen purse in his haste to escape. Noticing her, a horde of reporters with mikes and flashing cameras scurry after her. Now I see why the paparazzi haven't bothered us yet. They've got bigger fish to fry. Poor Samus.
"What did I miss," Lucas asks, two drinks and a bag of cheese popcorn tucked under his arms.
"Nothing much. Just Samus being a badass." I frown at the drinks in his hands. "Hey, you bought everything."
Leaving no room for argument, Lucas smirks and presses the empty soda cup in my hand. "You pay for the tickets, I pay for the food. What are you in the mood for."
"I dunno. Coke, or Sprite?"
"Your pick."
Hovering over the soda machine, I contemplate over my choices for an extra second. Can't decide? Simple. I slide the plastic cup underneath each canister and mix the two sodas together.
"Hey, drink this," I say, sticking a straw into the cup. When Lucas leans over to take a sip, he coughs and turns away.
"That's disgusting," Lucas complains.
"What?" I take a good mouthful. Sweet and bubbly. Not sure what the hell his problem is. "Tastes like ginger ale," I comment.
"More like ginger fail."
"Well then, you should've made up your mind sooner-" I eye the interesting green shade of his own drink. It's got ice and some bouncy-looking jelly. "That looks freaky. What're you drinking?"
"Matcha boba. It was on sale."
I stubbornly make grabby-grabby motions with my hands. "Lemme taste."
As a true sign of my awesomeness, Lucas complies, lowering his drink to my face. Except he misjudges the position of the cup and my sudden speed, so the straw pokes into my right cheek.
Rubbing my cheek, I make a face. "Wow, you're so graceful."
"Thank you, I try."
"That wasn't a compliment!"
"Even the best of us make mistakes," Lucas says graciously, pretending to look the other way, but I know too well that he's struggling to suppress a smirk on his face.
"All right, c'mere you," I break out furiously, reaching for his face, but before I can, this lil fucker pokes my other cheek with the boba straw.
"Oops," he snarks.
I wrestle him into a headlock.
Moral of story: we're both immature little fucks to each other.
"You're so easily provoked," Lucas notes when we sit down at the farthest end of the movie theatre. "It's a wonder how you haven't ticked off the press before now."
"Uhuh, and you have fail taste in sodas," I say grumpily.
Lucas nudges my arm. "Cheese popcorn?" he offers, and shit if all my resolve has melted at the sight of food.
Nice try. He's good, I'll give you that. But I'm above such temptations. Nothing can sway me to the dark side.
Not even free food.
...
...
...
"Gimme." I reach over and cram an entire handful into my mouth. "Mmm, eet gud."
Turning away into the corner, Lucas is busy stifling a laugh into his hand. I'd puff my cheeks up, except that they're already stuffed with popcorn. Oh well. I'll get him back another time.
Instead, I settle for making another face at him right before the lights dim.
In the eight or so years I've known Lucas, he's never mentioned his twin brother to me. Not even once. If there's one thing I know about Lucas, it's that he can keep things in for years at a time.
But when I feel him nudge me in the shoulder as if to say sorry for being a dick, I fumble for his hand under the handrail and hold it tight. He'll make the first move when he's ready. Not before, nor after.
Then the screen lights up with the Dreamworks logo, distracting me from any further thoughts.
.
.
.
~oO0Oo~
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.
Nuss 1:02PM
hELP
FuckThePopo❤ 1:04PM
wats wrong
fuk did u screw up again
Nuss 1:04PM
how do u kis someone during a movie
FuckThePopo❤ 1:05PM
hahaha omg ness
ur hopeless
Nuss 1:05PM
im getting super nervous and sweaty help me
FuckThePopo❤ 1:06PM
i fuckin luv u ness
all the bromo
gotta go now bae ciao
Nuss 1:06PM
POPO HELP ME
.
.
.
~oO0Oo~
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.
.
Nuss 1:15PM
hi Poo
how do you kiss sommeone you like
King Poo Panda 1:31PM
I cannot answer this question, Master Ness
go ask your mother
.
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.
~oO0Oo~
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.
Nuss 1:17PM
Samus
Badass Sister 1:40PM
If you need to learn how to talk to a lady, ask your mum
Nuss 1:43PM
bAYO STOP TROLLING ME
.
.
.
~oO0Oo~
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.
Nuss 1:25PM
Mom i have a question
Nuss 1:26PM
actually nevermind
.
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.
~oO0Oo~
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.
Nuss 1:18PM
Jeef
r Tony
either or
can u tell me how tu kiss someone
like during a date
&Donuts 1:21PM
Brain chemistry says that falling in love is the same thing as being drunk. Don't worry, you'll still remember everything tomorrow.
&Donuts 1:26PM
mOVE OVERJEFF
OMg a kiss?! 😍😗(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻
What type of kiss? ?! :D :D :D
Nuss 1:35PM
say what
&Donuts 1:36PM
A lingering kiss? Eskimo kiss? French kiss? Butterfly kiss? If you want something more platonic, id go for the foreheadkiss (⌒▽⌒) 😍😍
if u want tongue, then do french (づ￣ ³￣)づ
peck him on the lips
then gently swirl your tongue if he opens his mouth
Nuss 1:37PM
THERES MORE THAN ONE WAY TO KISS SOMEONE?!
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.
~oO0Oo~
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Nuss 1:46PM
Paula
PSI Paula 1:48PM
Are you texting me during your date? ಠ_ಠ
Nuss 1:49PM
...no
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.
.
~oO0Oo~
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.
.
In the end, I learned that kissing is complicated. Sometimes tongue is involved, other times it's not, then you have kisses that aren't fucking romantic, and I'm so confused because I've usually kissed Lucas on the forehead like what if he thinks it's all platonic and fuck, I think I've been doing this entire dating thing wrong. But I don't go around kissing (up to) everyone, and while Lucas might be oblivious to most social cues outside of the platonic field, he knows that I like him because I straightup told him. He can't possibly be that dense.
Can he?
"Maybe we should've watched a different movie," Lucas muses when we exit the theatre.
"Really? I love How to Train Your Dragon, and I thought you did too-"
"You were on your phone the entire time." I look down, suddenly sick to my stomach. Glancing away, Lucas sheepishly scratches the back of his neck. "I'm getting hungry. Do you wanna eat-"
"Let's kiss," I blurt out. Lucas's eyes widen as if to say right here? and I fluster. "Well, someplace else I guess. If that's okay! With you. Aha. Hahaha." I bury my face into my hands. "God, why am I so weird-"
"You're not weird." To my surprise, Lucas slowly offers his hand. "I'm not big on PDA, so this will have to do for now until we go home," he says, suddenly finding his shoes interesting.
Then it occurs to me that Lucas might've had other thoughts in mind back in the movie theatre as well. Avoiding the paparazzi. Choosing the darkest corner. Sitting at the back of the theatre where no curious eyes can watch us.
Maybe Lucas was trying to make the first move.
I just didn't notice it.
A hot spike of warmth shoots up into my face. "O-Okay," I stammer, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him past the pedestrian crossing. "AsiaTown's having a huge food festival on Saigon Street, let's go there, they have lots of cool food and I like food food tastes good do you like food too okay I'll stop rambling now-"
In contrast to the dark cloudy sky, AsiaTown is alight with noisy color. Warm red, yellow, and white paper lamps dot the pathway streaming across several blocks. Street food stands are everywhere, with people hollering to TRY THIS and TRY THAT and HOW MANY CURRY DUMPLINGS WILL YOU LIKE TO BUY, with customers bustling around in makeshift pop-up restaurants demanding the NUMBER ONE WANTON MEE, with the mouthwatering smell of soups and stews warming up my face. A giant paper-mache dragon snakes around the block, breathing fake fire, and the children scream in delight, pointing at its jade teeth and glowing eyes.
We taste a little bit of everything. Wasabi peas that make my eyes water. Sweet rice crackers that crunch and crackle in my mouth. Li Hing Mui Strawberries that feel and look like ordinary sour patch gummies (warning: they're not). Boiled chestnuts in a paper bag that sting my fingers and send hot steam spiraling into the cold air. What Lucas doesn't buy, I stubbornly offer to share. Occasionally, some people notice us and ask for autographs. Or clamor for us to try more of their samples for free. We still pay for the extra.
There's also some freaky stuff that neither of us wanna sample, but I think I've made my mom proud for trying this many dishes. Though when Lucas points out grilled insect grub, I can't help but wonder how Toon can snack on a whole bag of that stuff. No wonder people BUG him. Haha. Nevermind.
Stuffed on pork bao buns, toppoki, takoyaki, and other food with stranger names, I regretfully glance at the untried soup restaurants. While I'm tempted to sit in for a meal after walking most of my stomach off, it's getting late. Mom's probably bringing back dinner too.
No, not probably. This I know, because I'm reading her text on my phone.
But damn does that tonkotsu ramen look GOOD.
"We should head back, it's getting dark," Lucas agrees, looking into the sky, and I grin because he looks his age holding a sparkler in his hands. Catching the look, Lucas uncertainly glances at the sparkler. "Uh, what do we do with this?"
I steal the sparkler from his hands. "I got you covered. Tada!" I say, conjuring up a PK Magnet and swallowing up the sparks. Around me, people start clapping and shouting my name, and pleased by the attention, I give a deep bow. "Thank you for watching, ladies and gentlemen. There's more where that came from."
"Show off," Lucas snorts, and I playfully elbow him in the side.
The trip back to the condo is long. Swiping the metro card. Walking across the dark streets. Climbing the stairs to our condo.
But it's not so lonely with somebody else at your side.
No one's home yet, but we somehow find ourselves crashing back in our bedroom. While Lucas fumbles with the condo keys, dropping them on the cabinet with a clatter, I camp out on the edge of the mattress and glance out the window. The full moon looks brighter than ever tonight. Wow, that was corny. Embarrassed, I press my head against Lucas's side. He smells like the outside and ramen and grill smoke. I can hear him breathing, slow and deep, before he rests his head on top of mine. Guess I won't have any kisses today. Just cuddles. Lots of cuddles. That's okay. Cuddles are good. Cuddles are nice.
"How are you feeling," Lucas suddenly says.
I stir sleepily. "Pretty full, all things aside-"
"No, I mean, how are you feeling."
Whaaat. I stop to stare at him blankly. "Feeling?"
"Yes."
"You want to know how I'm FEELING."
"Did I stutter."
"Woah, wait wait hold on. You want to talk about FEELINGS?!" I stress out, fanning his face in half-worry and taking his temperature with the back of my hand. "A-Are you okay?"
"I'm not. I'm still getting over my brother's death," Lucas says seriously, and I drop my hands when he meets my eyes. "But your opinion is important, and I care about what you have to say."
"I have no idea what I'm thinking half the time. Like, I'm serious, what if I'm not thinking of anything at all?"
"Oh, that explains everything." Scowling, I sock him in the shoulder, and Lucas breaks into an apologetic grin. "You know what I mean."
"You're a jerk. Stop smirking. See, I speak my mind. You know that."
Lucas pauses. "Normally, yes. But I haven't been able to figure out what you've been thinking," he says carefully. "Ness, I know that I can come off as callous. I'm not an easy person to talk to. I have a hard time talking about my feelings. I'm trying... but it's not easy. That's why you need to be more direct, because I'm not sure what you want."
"This sounds so weird coming from you."
"Deep down, I'm actually a sensitive person."
"Well, you don't show it," I grin.
"I try not to," Lucas says frankly. His eyes flicker to the side. "I probably wasn't giving you the easiest time, but I promise I wasn't trying to ignore you. I've been thinking a lot lately. I don't know where this... this will go. I still don't know. And I'm working on it, but I'm not ready to tell my dad yet-"
"If it helps, I wouldn't be either."
Lucas lowers his head. "You-" he swallows. "You deserve better. I keep hurting your feelings-"
"Yeah, and I did too. Shitty excuse if you ask me." When Lucas doesn't respond, I gently wrap my arms around him. "I love you."
"That's because you never gave yourself the chance to see other people," he says quietly. "Too many people make the mistake of starting relationships with people they shouldn't. You might be more compatible with someone else. Hasn't that ever crossed your mind?"
I don't need to mull over it. "'Course it has. But I still like you. I think that you're cool. And if you're okay with it... we could give it a shot. See if stuff works out. Take things slow." I hopefully peer up into his face with a grin. "Are you happy?"
"I am, but that doesn't matter-"
"Believe it or not, you being happy actually fucking matters," I say seriously. "I'm not dating myself. This isn't the NESS ONLY zone. You're a part of this too."
Lucas exhales. His shoulders slump over, and with it comes the root of his insecurities. "Ness... I can't make you happy," he says plainly, but my throat clogs up just from hearing those words.
...Is this what he was so worried about?
He's such an idiot.
He's such a silly, silly idiot.
I poke him in the temple. "Hey." Lucas's face turns a delicious shade of pink. He's not looking my way, so I trap his face with my hands. "Hey, you. Stop running away."
When Lucas slowly reaches for my wrists, I half-expect him to push me away, but he lets out a breathy laugh and lowers his eyes. "I'm an idiot."
"It's okay, we're both idiots."
Lucas frowns as if struggling for the right words. "I want to... to say-" he fumbles, but I guess his brain's gotten a 404 error too, because his Proper Grammar button has shut down. "...Want to make you happy," he ends lamely instead.
And shit do those words make my chest ache, because somewhere, my heart's doing this gross laughing-crying-sobbing in the corner of my ribcage and I can't seem to make it stop, but at the same time I'm smiling so hard that I didn't think it was possible for my face to hurt so much. "What are you talking about, I'm already happy, you dingus."
"Liar. You're holding back."
It's my turn to swallow in anticipation. "You... Do you..." My voice dies in my throat, unable to finish the question.
Lucas's eyes meet mine. They're a faint sheen of bright blue in the dark, and when Lucas squeezes my wrists, applying a slight pressure, for once I know what he's trying to say.
Slowly, I reach out to cup his face. When I will the magic into my fingers, his eyes reflect off the violet from my own glowing eyes. Then I breathe in, just once, and press my palms against his cheeks.
Lucas's empathy link opens up under my touch.
And instantly I'm caught in a sudden rush of feelings.
As comical as it probably looks, my mouth's hanging agape from wordless shock because all of a sudden, I can feel what Lucas is feeling. How vulnerable he feels. How scared he feels. How warm and fuzzy and lightheaded he feels whenever he's around me, and I'm surprised at how transparent he really is.
Underneath my hands, Lucas's cheeks have turned a faint pink, and they're reddening with every passing second. He's letting me read his feelings. He's letting himself be vulnerable around me.
So I do the right thing.
I kiss his face off.
Before I know it, we're pressed up against the wall, making out like the world is ending. I push him against the wall roughly, urgently, desperately, and he's so much taller than me that he ends up sliding down the wall.
"Really, Ness," Lucas gasps from beneath me when I finally let him up for air, but since he does let me lightly kiss the freckles on his nose afterwards, I don't feel too bad for him. Stopping only to shift my weight over his legs, I feel my own face burn up, because he's watching me intently, his hair disheveled, his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes burning with a bright intensity.
And fuck if that isn't attractive.
My heart leaps.
I want to touch him. I want to break his composure, I want him to make more of those flustered expressions. Licking my dry lips in anticipation, I crawl over and slide my hands under his shirt, but Lucas suddenly stops me, gripping my forearms. His breath is hot and unsteady against my face. I can feel his exposed stomach quiver underneath my hands.
"Too fast?" I whisper.
Shaking like a leaf, Lucas gives me a meek nod, and I awkwardly pull away. I'm a little disappointed in myself for killing the mood, but I have to remember how far Lucas let me go today. Letting me read his feelings. Opening up. He really is trying, and it's the best I can do to be there to help him out of the closet.
I swallow hard. Fuck me, I want to touch him. I want to touch him SO BADLY, because he's here, flushed and breathless and mine for the taking, and I want to run my hands up his sides, I want to feel down his back, I want to do anything and everything, but I hesitate because I don't trust myself to stop if I start. I don't want to overwhelm him. I don't want Lucas to feel more vulnerable than he already is.
So instead, I reach for his wrists and guide them over. Lucas throws me a nervous look when I place his hands on the sides of my waist, but it's more of an are you sure? nervous than a HOLY FUCK RUN FOR THE HILLS I WANT OUT nervous, so I guess I'm doing something right for once.
"You can touch me," I say softly, and encouraged by my words, Lucas slowly gives my waist an experimental squeeze. I bite down on the bottom of my lip. Shit, I'm growing hard. Noticing my mortified expression, Lucas lets his eyes trail downwards. He makes a soft 'oh' underneath his breath before an amused smirk spreads across his face. Dying of embarrassment, I bury my face into his shoulder, feeling like I'm drowning very slowly, because Lucas is still laughing under his breath, and his smile widens at the pointed bulge in my shorts. "Why, hello there, P-Ness."
"Fuck," I manage to squeeze out.
"I think it's cute," Lucas says helpfully.
"Shut up, no, this isn't cute. Puppies are cute. Girls are cute. My dick is not cute."
"No, really, I-" Lucas awkwardly shifts against me, and I involuntarily let out a choked whimper. Though I can't see his expression from the crook of his shoulder, I bet Lucas's face must be bright crimson again, because an immense embarrassment radiates through our open empathy link. "Uh, I-I think you sound amazing," he stammers.
His voice has gone all dry and throaty. I can't help but break into a silly grin against his neck. He's just as turned on.
Fuck that noise.
I turn him on.
This is the proudest fucking moment of my life.
A hint of curiosity tickles our empathy link. My hips stutter slightly when Lucas feels up my back, pressing his fingers against the curve of my spine. The shaking from his hands has died. He's just as horny as I am, but he's nowhere near as vocal. He's too quiet, much too infuriatingly quiet, so I whine and sink my teeth into the dip of his shoulder. Rearing back against the wall, Lucas gives a sharp hiss, his nails digging into my sides, and when I turn the tables on him, trying to tease out another noise from his throat, quick footsteps enter the apartment, and our bedroom door bursts open.
"It's time for dinner!" Tracy yells, and instantly, Lucas shoves me off.
Scowling as if my own face isn't burning beet red, I stand up. "GODDAMMIT TRACY," I shout after her.
"Language!"
"...Sorry mom."
"Aha, I knew it! You ditched me!" the lil shit whirls around, cutting me off. When my mom directs a biting rebuke onto her, Tracy shrugs it off and storms away.
Well, that effectively killed the mood.
I pull a horribly mortified Lucas to his feet. "Sorry about that," I mutter.
"It's okay," Lucas says quickly, but his face is burning bright red. He's determinedly looking at everything other than me, and snorting with laughter, I grab him over by the face.
"Hey, I'm not done with you yet."
"Your mom's waiting," Lucas feebly says, sounding exasperated, but I steal another peck on his nose anyway.
Turns out, it's not time for dinner - not even close - and that there's an actual reason why Tracy was being MORE of a nosy asshole.
"I wish I can go shopping without her, but what else can a mother do," Mom says, setting down the groceries. Looks like it's homecooked steak for dinner. Aw yiss. "Tracy had to tag along today. She's growing taller, and school uniforms don't buy themselves. Lucas, I'm sorry you had to see that-"
"No, don't be. I just hope Tracy's okay."
"What did she do now?" I ask my mom, and she furiously shakes her head.
"Oh, don't get me started on your sister," my mother huffs, slapping the raw steak down onto the cutting board with vindictive fury. "Your sister started sulking because she missed talking to you-"
"That's not true," Tracy's muffled cry escapes from her confines.
"-and you know how much she loves your attention. She was in such a sour mood when you texted me instead of her. What will we ever do with that girl? Just leave her alone. She'll come around soon."
I warily glance at the shut bedroom. "Mom, you know that Tracy hates shopping-"
"Then she can go to school buck naked for all I care," Mom snaps crossly before turning to the stove.
I throw Lucas a wince. My mom's got a point. Even during my last visit home, I hadn't really paid Tracy much attention. I'd been so hung up over Lucas that I'd kinda neglected her. Knowing how possessive Tracy can get, even if it was still a shitty move on her part to cockblock me, I suppose that I'll have to make amends somehow.
But despite her upset, something about Tracy's obstinate denial makes me grin. She acts like she doesn't care about me, but oh little sister, you try too hard.
Guess that's one trait we share in common.
I cross over and rap the door with the back of my knuckles. "Erm... Tracy?" She ignores me. Okay, fine. I loudly raise my voice. "You see, little sister, when two people love each other very much-"
"Nooo, I don't wanna know," she cries as if clapping her hands to her ears. At least she's not ignoring me anymore.
"Come on, Trace. You heard mom. You needed new clothes, so don't give her the long face-"
"Easy for you to say. Mom didn't make you go through like fifty dresses." I hear someone shifting on the other side of the door. "I can't believe you dumped me for your date," she says miserably.
"Don't be stupid, I didn't dump you-"
"I texted you like a thousand times for help, but you only messaged mom-"
"Look, it's not, AgH-" I say, messing up my own hair with a hand, because how am I supposed to explain that? Asking my little sister for kissing advice is just... no. Never. When Hell freezes over.
"You know how much I hate shopping, you traitor," Tracy wails, breaking into frustrated tears, and it must be a pretty big deal if I can hear her miserable sobfest echo through the door. "My big brother no longer loves me. All he cares about is kissing his stupid boyfriend-"
"Trace-"
"Nope, I'm never talking to you again. Big brother is the worst!"
"Then you could talk to his stupid boyfriend," Lucas helpfully steps in, and while he's more or less humoring my little sister, his words make me feel all light and giddy like a fucking chorus of angels just descended to sing hallelujah-
Aha, right. My sister.
When Tracy pauses with a sniffle, I breathe out a sigh of relief. Lucas has always managed to get through to her whenever I can't. Or really, Tracy flounces over to take refuge with Lucas whenever she's ignoring me. Sneaky little sister knows that I'll suffer if she effectively steals my best friend. Too bad Lucas is MY secret weapon. Tracy will cave in for sure.
She can't stay mad at me forever, right?
Fat chance.
"You're even worse. You'll tell Ness everything," Tracy cries, and Lucas gives me a helpless sort of shrug like well, she's got me there. Curses, that method is shot.
I nervously clear my throat. "Tracy, we are um... I mean, I am very sorry-" Please forgive me, pleaaase. "-and want to make up for it by spending tonight doing... whatever you wanna do."
The door opens a crack. Rubbing her red eyes, Tracy suspiciously peers around the door. "Whatever I want?"
"Yeah."
"You'll do anything?"
"Course, sis."
Eyeing both of us, Tracy slowly opens the door wider. Then in a flash, she grabs Lucas by the arm and tugs him over. "Then he's mine for the evening," she declares.
"You can't do that," I say horrified.
Tracy puffs out her cheeks. "Why not? You never play video games with me anymore because I always win-"
"Not true!"
"And Lucas acts way nicer than you when he loses and lets me braid his hair-"
I raise my eyebrows at the revelation. You let her braid your hair?
Lucas feebly shrugs again as if to say do I really have much of a choice? and I can't help but grin, because really, no matter how good of a gamer Tracy is (and she's pretty pro too), Lucas goes soft on my sister. I'm sure that Lucas lets her win a fair share of their games.
"I like it," Lucas says simply, but I can feel him fluster through our empathy link. Oh this dork.
With a peaceful pact grudgingly having been made, my mom's hollers that she has about half an hour of cooking time left. When Lucas offers to help, Mom vehemently shoots him down, and we end up connecting the Wii motes to the TV for MarioKart. Predictably, Lucas loses to Tracy in the first game, though he still makes sure to finish ahead of me. It's brutal too. He CRUSHES my ego by being a dick and knocking me off the mushroom gorge on the last lap. I mean, dude, what asshole does that?
"...Did you let me win?" Tracy adds suspiciously.
"I let Ness lose," Lucas suggests, and Tracy giggles. Stupid blondes, conspiring against me. But I don't take offense, because Lucas's intended joke has nicely done the trick: Tracy's no longer upset at me anymore.
When mom isn't looking, I flip them off. "I hate you both."
Satisfied by her victory, Tracy lets go of her Wii Wheel. She sits behind Lucas to braid his hair, and in the meantime, I challenge Lucas to a rematch. When Tracy makes her finishing touches on the tiny French braid poking out behind Lucas's ear, she flounces over to my side.
"...Ness?"
"Uhuh," I say absentmindedly, too busy drifting my kart - HELL YES, SPEED BOOST. Lucas is in second place. Ha, take that, sucker. This match is MINE.
Tracy quietly hugs me. "I'm sorry I interrupted your alone time. I was a selfish prick, huh?"
Maneuvering my nunchuk over, I awkwardly pat her on the back. "Uh, that's okay. Just don't do it again."
"I won't."
"Then we're even."
Tracy's fingers pause on my braid. "I don't know what you two were doing in there... but at least it sounded like you were having fun," she snorts, and I choke, accidentally swerving baby Mario off Rainbow Road. A loud wail emanates from the screen at the same time Lucas crosses the finish line.
Oh, goddammi-
"Language, Ness!"
Author's Note:
I did my research. In general, a lot of slash fanfiction/fanart/manga seems to follow a "seme/uke" trend? I suppose it's to show who's top/bottom, which can be an important factor for compatibility in gay relationships. But this won't carry any weight in this fic, because I'm interested in writing T-rated stories, and because I'm more focused on treating this fic as a character study. While sex scenes can elevate writing, they aren't necessary to explore the themes I have in mind.
This chapter acts as a jab at my own pre-2015 writing where I first painted Lucas as a sad wimpy kid because I had no idea how to paint quiet characters.
Happy reading!
*Dates are a sweet fruit, often dried and seasoned with honey by Ancient Romans before eaten like a snack.