"You know what I still can't wrap my head around? Why were you so afraid of me? Do you really trust me that little or what?" I mused as we walked toward his place. There weren't many people out, and it was dark, so I didn't feel embarrassed when he held my hand. If Angel had been shy and uncertain, I might've felt like I was walking a child home from school. Funny thought. Angel was a giant kid, but the way he held my hand, like he was proudly showing off a world championship trophy, made it clear that he was anything but uncertain.
Ugh.
"I honestly don't care what people think about me," he began, his voice calm but earnest. "But the truth is, there's no one I feel comfortable with, no one I can talk to about everything. When I started feeling that way about a complete stranger, I suddenly realized I was terrified that if we knew each other in person, all of that would disappear. It'd just become another superficial relationship. So, I wanted to get to know you anonymously—even if it made me seem untrustworthy. I don't know. Something like that? Some of my actions are so irrational even I don't understand why I do them," he rambled, surprisingly coherently.
Actually, no—Angel always expressed himself in a way that made even the most nonsensical or unrealistic thing sound completely rational and logical.
"And I wanted you to know me before you found out about all the rumors about me. Prejudices are a bitch."
"Why didn't you ever stop the Allgood twins when they were spreading rumors about me?" I asked, glancing up at him. He met my gaze. In the darkness, his eyes looked black. It reminded me—I'd never seen them in proper light. What color were they? I had a feeling they were light.
"By the time I first heard about it, it was already too late—that's one. And two, it's not like I could change anything. If I said something, they'd just start saying you're screwing Blake and seduced him or something. The best I could do was just… show up. End of discussion. That's about it. And honestly, you didn't look particularly defeated. In fact, I found it kind of charming that you didn't let it knock you down. You don't strike me as someone who needs protecting. I can comfort you, give you a hand when needed, but if I put myself in your shoes, it'd feel pointless for someone to defend me unless I was literally about to slit my wrists. You know what I mean? Does it bother you that I didn't do anything?"
I liked when he explained things to me. About himself. About why he did what he did.
I squeezed his hand and smiled. "It doesn't bother me. I was just curious." If he'd ignored it and didn't care how it affected me, I probably would've kicked him where it hurts, called him an arrogant prick, and disposed of the evidence in the lake.
"And honestly? I was sulking because I was jealous. All your sweet talk about Miley was annoying. Especially since she's my lab partner and classmate. And I liked you. Do you know how many times I wanted to corner you in the hallway and kiss you until you forgot about her? Or pester you until you got Stockholm syndrome and fell for me?" His tone shifted slightly, growing animated, even slightly unhinged, as he gestured wildly with his free hand. It was funny. And endearing.
I burst out laughing, even though it probably should've scared me. I was dating a psycho.
But I liked him.
Just the way he was.
A perverted sociopath.
"I like you, Angel. Better?" I grinned at him and gave him a quick kiss. I didn't care if anyone happened to see us—no one knew me here anyway, and even if they did, people already called me gay. Might as well confirm it.
His smile lit up his face. "Of course. And now there's nothing stopping me from claiming you anytime, anywhere, in front of anyone, until you shove me away for my disgraceful behavior." He bent down and kissed me in return. Then another. And another. He grew more passionate with each one, and in the silence around us, the soft, wet sounds of our kisses echoed clearly. I was dazed. Especially when he pulled me closer and kissed me like we were in some cliché erotic movie.
So yeah, my knees buckled a bit under the intensity of how assertively and confidently he claimed my mouth. But I also started feeling a faint tingle in my lower stomach—and lower still—that warned me I was about to get hard if we didn't stop.
"Wait," I gasped, breaking the kiss. He looked at me like a hurt puppy but obediently stopped, pulling me tighter against him. Which, unfortunately, let me feel that his "fifth limb" was even less under control than mine.
Kill me now, please.
He looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing in the world. And probably the tastiest.
Uh.
"Why?" he growled, his voice rough. A shiver ran down my spine. How could I compare him to a puppy? Because puppies definitely don't look like sly foxes about to snatch up baby hedgehogs.
"We're in public," I whispered, lightly patting his chest to push him away.
"So?" He tilted his head, his eyes flashing dangerously, reminding me of that night in the hallway when he'd still been wearing his mask. I had to admit, even then, he was a deadly weapon for my eyes. And now? It was ten times worse. "If I'm like this in public, isn't it obvious that in private I'll be even more… demanding?" He practically purred. It was dangerous. Warning.
Then he laughed, pulled back, and dragged me by the hand toward his apartment building.
I swallowed hard.
What had I gotten myself into?
"Don't worry. I won't do anything you don't want," he said, turning to me while searching for his keys. The desire in his expression was gone, replaced by that playful Ari I knew so well.
I laughed humorlessly. How could I not worry?
Yet, surprisingly? When he dragged me into his cozy, impeccably neat apartment, the first thing he did wasn't pounce on me. Instead, we took off our shoes and jackets, and he briskly led me to the kitchen, sitting me down in a chair as he promised to make us hot tea to warm up.
"Don't want to stay the night?" he suggested, the sound of the kettle bubbling beneath his words.
I propped my head on my arm, unabashedly admiring the view. Honestly, Angel had an unfairly attractive physique, and with the lighting in his apartment, I could take in all the details. I'd never felt the need to ogle him before—I hadn't really known him—but now he was closer to me than anyone had ever been. Even his appearance evoked a sense of comfort and familiarity, something warm and inviting.
"Isn't that a bit… 'too soon'?" I teased, narrowing my eyes in amusement as he reached for mugs, his arm muscles flexing beneath his short sleeves.
"Not really," he shrugged. "It's not like I'm planning on having sex the first day we officially get toge—" He stopped mid-sentence and whipped around.
I tilted my head, confused. "What?"
"We're not officially together," he said, as though the thought had just struck him.
I frowned. What did he mean? Was he expecting some formal declaration?
Apparently, yes.
With an ear-piercing scrape of the chair, he turned it to face me, knelt in front of me, and clasped my hands in his.
"I have something to ask you. A question of life and death. For me, at least. Will you do me the honor and bring me immense joy by becoming my most beloved, most amazing, and utterly irresistible boyfriend?" His eyes were so earnest it felt like my refusal might actually kill him.
I couldn't help but laugh. "And I'm the drama queen?"
He scowled.
Clearing my throat, I grinned brightly. "Of course. Obviously, I'll be your partner for life and death."
"Wow, that sounded so genuine," he muttered, though his face lit up with joy.
"Now, get up. It's weird having you kneel in front of me," I said, tugging his arm to make him stand. Because really, it made my mind wander to far less innocent scenarios of him kneeling before me.
Or me kneeling before him.
He must've had the same thought, as a sly, foxlike smirk crept onto his face. He let go of my hands, straightened into a kneeling position, and slid between my knees. In this position, we were almost at eye level, which meant—for once—I could look directly into his pale gray irises.
How could light eyes look so smoldering?
"Better like this?" he murmured, his voice low enough to fan the flickering tension in the air.
My throat bobbed as I swallowed hard. My lips felt dry, and I instinctively licked them. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I mirrored the gesture, my eyes falling to his.
"Does this please you, sir?" he asked softly, his lips forming the words so tenderly they barely made sense.
I felt hypnotized. And clearly, Angel was a master hypnotist.
With a shaky breath, I rested my hands on his shoulders, leaning in to catch his lower lip between mine.
I felt him smile.
The kiss was brief, light. Yet the heat of his lips seared mine even after he pulled back, the kettle clicking off in the background.
"Are you staying the night?" he asked again.
Still dazed, I nodded. He didn't seem fully present either, lingering where he was and staring at my face, much like I stared at his.
Finally, he cleared his throat, got to his feet, and moved to pour the tea. Was he… blushing? I hadn't expected that.
I chuckled softly.
"What if we watched a movie?" I suggested, throwing out a possible evening activity. I wasn't planning to sleep anytime soon, and there were still hours to fill.
"Sure," he said, a touch absentmindedly as he poured the tea. "A neutral first-date activity," he added, glancing at me with a smirk. "Sugar?"
"None."
"Got it."
He set the mugs on the small table and dropped into the chair across from me. The table was tiny, just big enough for two people.
"I've got the perfect plan," he declared, gesturing dramatically with one hand and crossing his legs regally. "I'll make you the most exquisite instant noodles you've ever had in your life—so good you'll never eat anything else again. Then we'll freshen up, sit on the couch, and while you watch the movie, I'll relentlessly sexually harass you until you give up on the movie entirely. Then we'll make out until we fall asleep. Brilliant plan, right?" His grin was equal parts smug and playful, dripping with his usual irony. But something told me that's exactly how the evening might play out.
So I shrugged nonchalantly. "Fine. But for the sexual harassment, I might just have to report you to the authorities, sir."
"Not if you enjoy it, sir," he cooed slyly. I had the sudden urge to throw something at him.
"You're so obnoxious, Blake!" I rolled my eyes.
His grin widened victoriously. "That's the point."
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical.
His expression shifted, radiating a false innocence that was annoyingly captivating. "I want to make you snap."
I gasped in mock outrage. "Are you some kind of sadomasochist? Because at this rate, I will punch you, and geysers of blood will be streaming from your nose."
"You don't even need to hit me. Just strip, and my nose will bleed on its own," he quipped.
"Bleeding from perverted nonsense? You're such a creep!"
He burst out laughing, nearly choking on his mirth as I sat there, torn between anger and amusement. My heart raced, unsure if it was because I loved seeing and hearing his laughter or because I wanted to throttle him for his endless teasing—or maybe because if he stripped, I'd probably end up with nosebleeds of my own.
I kicked him under the table. He yelped in pain but continued laughing, gasping for air.
"I love you, Teo. So much," he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
My breath caught. How did he always do this? Play with my emotions so easily? One moment, I wanted to smack him, and the next, I wanted to kiss him.
"Yeah, yeah. Say that sometime when you're not provoking me with innuendos, please. Then maybe I'll take it seriously. I'm more about actions than words."
"Most people are," he replied softly, gazing at me thoughtfully. "What if I pulled you into school on Monday like a princess and staged a dramatic proposal?"
"If the homophobic principal doesn't expel us, then sure. Go for it."
"Deal."
The End