A Tale of Two Omegas

Chapter 8: Sunflower

Gulf stood back to observe himself in the mirror, a musing expression woven into his features.

Okay... Freshly showered? Check.

Shaved?... Check.

Teeth brushed?... Check.

Hair styled?... He plucked a few dark strands loose to effortlessly fall over his forehead, then smiled. Check.

Nice outfit?... He hummed thoughtfully and turned from side to side to contemplate the appropriateness of his clothing choice for the evening--simple white t-shirt, black jean jacket, a pair of dark blue jeans, complete with an admittedly ratty pair of white Vans.

Gulf's smiled bowed into a frown, his shoulders hunching ever-so-slightly in defeat. Check, I guess...

He didn't own many 'nice outfits' or date-worthy clothing items. In fact, it could actually be argued that he didn't own any such niceties. Much of his so-called 'disposable income' went toward extra funds for his shop in the case of potential emergency.

So this was, sadly enough, the best he could do in terms of a well-put-together outfit.

A knock on the bathroom door then suddenly startled him out of his thoughts.

"Gulf, are you okay in there?" Mew called, his voice muffled by the barrier separating the two of them.

Gulf's heart lurched in his chest, and he had to place a calming hand over his sternum as nervous energy began to well in his lungs and surge through his blood. "I--yeah, I'm fine," he stammered. "I'll be out in just a second."

He stared into the mirror, gazing into his own reflection's eyes.

Okay, you can do this, Gulf. It's just Mew... You know Mew; he would never judge you, he assured himself.

It's just Mew, he internally reiterated. Mew... Who's currently waiting to take you on a date--

Gulf nearly unleashed a groan of exasperation, but just narrowly stifled it. Why was he so anxious all of a sudden? Last night, and every hour of today leading up to this very moment, he'd been shamelessly flirtatious and mischievous with Mew. Now, he was practically on the verge of melting down to his very core over the prospect of actually going on a date with him.

Truthfully, it would help if he knew exactly what Mew had planned for the evening. After all, there weren't many things they could do, or places they could go, without risking a public disturbance. It wasn't that Gulf didn't trust Mew--the man, despite tending often toward stubborn recklessness, was quite possibly the smartest person Gulf knew; Mew would never do something to put either of them needlessly in danger.

Yes, certainly Gulf trusted Mew, but evidently, the hermit-like introvert in him, which feared spontaneity and uncertainty in social situations, was practically screaming for answers as to what they were going to do and where they were going to venture.

"Gulf, if you're not feeling up to it tonight, we can do it another day. I really don't mind," Mew offered after a few minutes.

"No!" Gulf's body moved in that moment of its own accord, flinging the door open and finally stepping out into Mew's line of sight-- "I-I want to go, really. I just, I--um... Wow. "

That last word was barely even a whisper ghosting off of Gulf's lips. His dark, caramel-shaded eyes were wide with wonder as he looked Mew up and down, admiring the simple yet perplexingly beguiling nature of his outfit.