Seymour Smith had been working on his useful helmet most recent setting idea all day and was still now at much too late times of night. He had blanched wearily, dark circles lingering under his eyes, and was scarcely in presentable clothes. After all, the merciless heat had proved itself unrelenting, rendering Seemore in just his boxers and striped socks- yet he was still sweating loads. It was a real wonder that the incredibly detailed blueprint of his wasn't soaked and unintelligible yet. Impatiently, he intricately traced along with a perfectly sharpened pencil, connecting one of the precise lines to another. If this didn't work, he would probably be required to completely restart over- after almost twenty four hours of exerting work. Seymour squinted determinedly when his usually sharp hand, terribly clumsy from awful exhaustion, jerked to the left, ruining it. Ruining the entire blueprint. Seemore went completely rigid, fervently struggling the vehement urge to weep as he screwed up the vacuous paper. He banged his head against the hard table frustratedly as hot tears spilled anguishedly from his blind eyes, blurring his manifested vision from his green helmet. After the unusual lack of sleep recently, he was both a physical and mental wreck. He sobbed pathetically, overthinking his vacuous failures painfully. Weakly, he inhaled raggedly, outragedly musing to himself to please pull himself together like a real man (even though he wasn't, still) and bought out a new, fresh blueprint to get started with. Shakily, he selected his immaculately sharpened pencil and, gritting his teeth, went to try again.
Only for the pencil to be plucked straight from his shaking hands.
"Honey, you're crying, an emotional wreck and even Mammoth's pet rat could beat you in a scrap right now. Stop,"came Elliot Knight's glorious voice from behind him.
"No…! I-I… wanna finish!,"Seemore moaned childishly, his immense weariness practically tangible.
"Well. You aren't,"Kyd Wykkyd said simply, already lifting up a futilely struggling Seymour bridal style.
"M-meanie,"Seemore whimpered weakly, threateningly placing his hand on his useful helmet's dial,"I- I… shoot you."
Kyd raised his eyebrows exasperatedly, shaking his head dolefully. Gently, Elliot tugged off Seymour's helmet, tossing it carelessly to Seemore's small, pastel green bed, as Seymour moaned disorientatedly, squirming weakly. Kyd grimaced anxiously- he fervently abhorred seeing Seemore in such a poor state. He wandered silently to his own bedroom, right on the bottom floor, getting inside and locking it only to tenderly dropping his smaller boyfriend on the comfy, double bed. Due to the strange fact Elliot could easily handle very cool temperatures comfortably, his own gothic room was intelligently situated at the bottom level, where it was at its coldest- unlike Seymour, who struggled vastly in the cold and reveled in the heat. Seemore was soon shivering violently, half asleep still. Kyd sympathetically grabbed a large hoodie even for himself and pulled it over Seymour, who was practically drowned within the soft material. Elliot felt himself immediately melt at the adorable scene, sitting besides his smaller partner and squishing him in a tight hug. Seemore blushed profusely, cuddling back affectionately.
"Love you,"Seemore cooed fondly, yet also fatiguedly.
"See? I know what's best for you, silly. You- you were crying, honey,"Kyd sighed dolefully, softly kissing Seymour's blushing cheek.
"Bu- but i… I was doing it. My helmet…,"Seemore whispered tiredly, clutching his taller partner's broader shoulders pleasantly.
"Your health matters more than your helmet ever will. Anyway, I am always here to protect you if it ever malfunctions, I won't let anyone hurt a hair on your head. Ah! You're just so cute, so precious,"Elliot hummed kindly, lifting up Seymour's smiling face up by the chin.
Seemore giggled drowsily, especially as Kyd lightly kissed the tip of Seymour's nose, before pressing his pale lips tenderly to his. Seemore leaned upwards more, struggling to reach Elliot's pale lips easily, when he hummed gratefully as Kyd lifted him up from under his thighs. Seymour cupped his narrow, pale face in his smaller hands, ensuring Elliot would remain nicely close. Kyd opened his amber eyes relaxedly, watching Seemore with his pretty blush, sweet, dopey smile and overall cuteness- even though he knew you weren't supposed to peek in a romantic kiss. Seymour pulled away sleepily and curled up comfortably, so soon he was bundling into Elliot's larger chest. Kyd held him securely, gently caressing and peppering the smaller figure with soft kisses, before lying onto his side himself, still ensnaring the exhausted boy to himself.
Honestly, Kyd knew he was really being selfish. But he just couldn't help himself. He didn't allow anyone to even touch him. Just Elliot Knight was allowed to caress his adorable face, to hear his sweet giggles, to squeeze his skinny waist and to press his lips to his. Only Kyd Wykkyd was allowed to carry him bridal style, to soothe him, to nuzzle into him and to tenderly caress him. Only Elliot Knight, Kyd Wykkyd, Seymour Smith's boyfriend was allowed to call Seemore his own.
"I … love you. Night night... Lovely, cute…honey,"Seymour muttered lovingly from somewhere on Kyd's lissom torso and hidden in the way too baggy hoodie.
"Ahh, you too. I'm not letting you leave me all day tomorrow,"Elliot teased playfully.
"Good… as… long as you gimme kisses… huggies… and… hmmm,"Seemore giggled lethargically, drifting off asleep already.
"I'll make sure I won't disappoint, love,"Kyd promised committedly.
"So amazing, Ellie,... you… really are,"Seymour mumbled caringly, finally delving asleep.
Elliot blushed profusely, feeling himself swell proudly. Seymour was the amazing one. Seemore was the one who made Kyd exhilarated, who had made him relish life even more than he had ever before. It was amazing to know he meant something to someone to such a voluminous extent.
It was amazing to know that no matter how the world turned against them… they always had each other.