macchiato | blake yumi

9. blue hair

your ceiling fan toys with the idea of swinging off its hinges as it tries to soothe the sickly, sweet july heat. your duvet ditched on the floor, reminiscent of the way your best friends occupied the usual space that's now vacant. peaceful, and you're not sure you like it that way.

not much can lighten up your bedroom as the 3am early sun only begins to crack the darkness, and all you can think of is him. his hair and his hands and his voice an- all too much consumed by blake. it's nothing new for you though.

you're interrupted, like always, from your door cracking open. "mi.. how about we share the AC? i can't live in my spongebob house anymore - it's like a desert i just can't mi." blake slurs, stumbling into your room and taking extra care to not topple over and just sink into the floor.

you can't stop the smile from cracking through your cool façade. he ignores the way you lay on your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows just to look at him. "sure, mi." he grins and grasps the AC remote, calling the cool air to you. oh, to be that stupid remote.

he collapses on the right side of your bed, following suit as you try to push away his now much longer hair from his forehead, being greeted by sweat, sure, but electricity too. "ow!" you say in unison. deciding not to tempt the forces of being electrocuted, you decide to lay next to him, closer than close.

his shaky hands, for stupid reasons find their way dancing across your face, "it's so hot, blake. why? why please i just. i want to evaporate." you feel the vibration of his laughter, "uh. would you like me to call up the heat? ask it why?" you both laugh. "you're stupid." "for you. duh."

the beginning of his stupid moustache is visible in the pale light, and he looks edible. like you could kiss him for ever.

giggles drown out the heat and that night, after 5 specifically hot nights, you both slept like it was the middle of december. all thanks to each other. the aircon is an excuse, not that either of you would ever admit it.

blake silently thanked the universe for letting isaac be asleep in his room, with airconditioning that actually worked. if he was here, in the bed as well he thinks that he might have gone crazy.

the morning you wake up much cooler, you have a place to be. blake was very intrigued when you walked out of the bathroom still damp. "and where are you going so early?" you dodge his question- "why and how on earth are you up this early?!" you smile at his lilac shirt that has tiny flowers, and the way his hair looks when it's curly and wet.

"pancakes when you're home?" "of course."

you're in a car with isaac, on a hunt for the perfect things to include in a 4th of july party. your idea, because you also managed to get that one streak of blakes hair a dark blue, in such good spirit. "okay and if you take a left- here, there should be a dollar tree!" isaac scoffs at you.

"do they call you like, uh, genius in your spare time? i wouldn't have ever known that there was a dollar tree if it wasn't for the big fucking turning sign! but hey, thank you for the heads up."

"fuck you." you cough out. "oh how i'd love to, mimu" isaac breathes out, hands dancing along the steering wheel. you purposefully act like you never heard that. you don't want to go feral, but you also don't want to hurt him when you tell him that blake will always be first, but you also audibly gulp.

you do get a shopping cart, but make ample effort to run Isaac over with it, every chance you get. you pick up sparkly, silver party hats and paper plates, party poppers and confetti. "is all of this necessary? it's one party, mi." "is. i'm going to act like you didn't say that. go and get the brownie mix!" you flip him off.