Tropes And Treasures

Chapter 4

It was 11am. Carter, Mattias and Marcel are slumped on the couch, snoring—well, Marcel was. Ethan and Tamir are sitting on either side of Mattias, the former on Mattias' left, and the latter on his right. Ethan was leaning forward, his focus and attention all on the game he was still playing; Tamir was leaning against the backrest with his arms crossed, watching Ethan play the game. Mattias, subconsciously looking for warmth in his sleep, leaned against Tamir who, out of spite, shoved him forward with his shoulder so he would fall against the blondes instead. The said blonde, intently playing the horror game, flinched and yelped when he felt the sleeping Mattias' body fall on his back, losing control of the, well, controller, and causing the antagonist to jumpscare him, giving him an additional heart attack on top of the one he just had.

He sat up, gingerly pushing Mattias to lean against the backrest. He then stared at the game over screen, the black void with slowly flashing red text staring back at him tauntingly, though at the same time tempting him to hit restart. He groaned and furiously rubbed his face. Goshdarnit, he was about to win!

There was a low rumbling sound. Ethan perked up and turned his head to the source of the sound. Tamir is glaring blankly at the floor, avoiding the blonde's gaze, his cheeks tinted pink and his arms curled around his stomach as if hiding it from a slew of prying eyes.

"You hungry, Curly?"

Tamir's gaze snapped to him right after hearing the nickname, his glare practically boring holes into Ethan's head. The singer chuckled and stood up, turning his body to look the (hopefully) former mafia boss up and down, noting how the latter subtly shrunk in on himself as the other man's green eyes swept over him, keeping his own eyes on him tentatively as if waiting to see what the singer will do next. Sigh. Having been a mafia boss and living with Ethan and the other three, you know, away from his original home, one wouldn't exactly assume he'd act like that. His aunt really did a number on him, huh? God, and it's been almost two years too...

"Come on," Ethan went to close the game and turn off the tv, "let's eat out. You haven't left the house in a while, you're getting paler and paler by the second." The fair-skinned man went upstairs to change, putting on an additional navy blue beanie, a grey mask and shades (not the green-heart-shaped one with the gold frames and temples, he'd be recognized almost immediately!). After that, he went downstairs and saw Tamir doing something on his phone. He wasn't able to get close enough to see what it was before the curly-haired man heard him approaching and put his phone away, but whatever it was, it was colourful.

The black-haired man stood up, furrowing his brows at the sight of the singer's... accessories. Ethan almost felt offended. Could it be because the media got him used to getting nothing but praise and approval ever since he was sixteen? Nahhh, that's not it. "You didn't change."

Tamir snorted and took off the singer's jacket, ignoring his protests and putting it on after the latter resigned to his fate and let him take it off. He was wearing a t-shirt and a flannel underneath it. Horrendous. For someone who supposedly has to keep a pretty image, he has horrible fashion taste. A scarf on a jacket over flannel over a t-shirt? Really? The mask and the shades he understands, but why the scarf and unnecessary layering? It's not even that cold outside, if at all. "There. I changed."

"Hmm..." Ethan squinted, putting his thumb and index finger on his chin, and putting his other hand on his hip. The boyband member took off his shades and put them on the younger man. "There we go! Now we wouldn't be easily spotted by your nemesises!"

Tamir chose not to comment on his incorrect grammar, as that would just get them off-track. "What nemesis?"

"You know, the enemies you garnered being a mafia boss since like... eighteen?"