like real people do | dreamnotfound

9

9 - asymmetry

~

the brit had meticulously crafted an asymmetrical armour for clay, made out of iron and covering clay's withered - but still functional - arm. and the two didn't really plan on doing anything today, more of a rest day than anything else. george was sat on a chair, reading a book, while clay fiddled with whatever his hands could touch, though george felt okay, clay felt a little awkward. the brit didn't want him to strain himself because of his injury. "hey, george?"

"yeah? what's up?" george asked, closing his book but not before placing a bookmark in between the pages he left off. clay sat up, observing the brit's features, the latter's head was slightly tilted in confusion.

"can you, uh, teach me how to bake?" clay asked sheepishly, getting nervous and staring down at his lap. "you're quite a good baker and, i actually want to eat something other than dried noodles for once."

george perked up, looking at clay and searching through his expression. "of course! i'm glad you think i'm a decent baker." george said, shy and yearning, yet flustered and weak.

they went onto the small kitchen, and clay wordlessly helps as george prepares and portions the ingredients. george gently instructed clay to mix the dry ingredients, working on the crust first. they had small conversations, mostly about clay's life; he told george about nick, wilbur, techno, and wilbur's younger siblings - tommy, and tubbo. clay also found himself talking about his dad, he really missed the old guy. phil, clay's father, was very supportive when clay came out, same with techno when he came out to his father as aromantic and asexual. no matter what, phil loved his boys and would do anything for them.

after talking, clay and george worked silently, with the latter teaching the blond how to make the pie filling. and it was inevitable, the two boys could only smile softly whenever their hands grazed against each other; the touch wasn't unwanted but it felt electrifying all at the same time.

they were lost souls, with poetry painted across their limbs and unheard cries of lovers long gone etched into their collarbones. though they belonged from different worlds, they found home within luminous spheroid plasmas held together by gravity and adoration. and as george taught clay how to bake, sometimes placing his own hands over the blond's larger fingers; fairy gloss and rose saccharomyces surrounded them, protecting them with gentle aesthete and grace.

george stared at clay's eyes lovingly, after they had placed the apple pie inside the oven george made months ago, and as george drowned within clay's gaze - he felt his ribs turn into knots and ropes of constellations. clay smelled faintly of lavender, and sunlight dripped onto his honey complexion, and if george didn't know any better he'd think clay was the son of the sun. the blond was beautiful; with golden locks and forest green eyes which caught the sun's gaze whenever they went out, and the freckles gently dotted across his body, clay looked like a masterpiece - someone's magnum opus.

sometimes, george felt like icarus, and that clay was the sun. he felt something for the latter, and wanted to make it work, he wanted to reach towards the taller boy's arms and melt within it. george didn't mind if his wings of wax dripped down his back, he didn't care if it was hot, painful and unbearable - still, george wanted to reach his arms out and touch the sun.

clay was apollo, coming down to george's pseudo universe with golden, curly locks and sun kissed skin, george hoped his faux wings could endure the heat. george despised it, he was icarus and he'd surely go crazy if the boundaries of their world didn't approve of their love for one another, just because of their origins, or their gender, their differences or their place in the fucked up hierarchy - george would fight the world just to have clay, but was clay willing to do the same? george stared up at clay, at his sun, though it blinds him - it was worth it for he was the most beautiful thing george has ever seen.

he, clay, was the sun, and george hoped and prayed to god that the blond won't just stand and watch him fall, for the only thing within george's heart and mind was his desire to hold the sun.

-

the protector's lips were against the god's neck, the latter giggling as plant life grew all around them. the former yearned to stay with the god, though they were lines of code, he yearned and dreamed and wished. the protector fell for the god of nature, and the latter has flown too close to the sun, but the protector caught the flower-ridden boy within his arms.

they were meant to be, but fate was merely cruel. reprogrammed, the world they were in was reprogrammed to fit someone's needs, and the flower boy disappeared - wiped away along with the other lines of useless code. the protector tried to convince himself that it wasn't worth it, erasing his lover just so the world can accommodate a comatosed patient's needs. the trees and the birds told the protector that his lover wasn't worth it, the flower boy wasn't worth his godhood and he surely wasn't worth losing honour for. fingers traced the XD etched on his mask, through the floating rings circulating around his head; god, he missed his icarus so much.

icarus and apollo, the boy and the sun. the waxen bird was long gone, caught up in flames and mercilessly purged out of this world.

and as the protector gazed upon the land, seeing the boy work on making a new home for himself - he couldn't help but see remnants of his past lover on the mortal's face, he thought that maybe - just maybe, he'll do just fine. he won't wreak havoc on the boy's new life, he will, however, do his best to do his job; protect.

--

03/11/21