Pleat (Pick/Rome)

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Pick sighed as Rome went into another shop. He wasn't thrilled to spend his day walking around the massive shopping centre, and he started to get grumpy. His legs ached from the nonstop, aimless walking, and he began to get hungry, too. He followed Rome inside the clothing store, trying to spot the short boy hidden between the clothes racks. His junior was inspecting an emerald, short pleat skirt with great interest. Though he looked cute with his head tilted to the side, Pick's grumpiness won over the sight. 

"Hey, shorty, how long will you waste my time?" The sentence comes out harsher than he intended, but it fulfilled the purpose of attracting Rome's attention. The young guy turned to him with a shocked face. The expression changed in a moment, and now Rome glared at him. 

"I didn't ask you to come with me, P'Pick." He retorted, returning to inspect the skirt that caught his attention. Pick rolled his eyes, somehow annoyed with Romes's curt tone. He ignored his answer and continued to paster him. 

"You are taking too long. Can't you pick the damned thing already?"

"It's not a damned thing, but a birthday present for my best friend. And let me remind you. You wanted to come along. I didn't force you." Rome snapped back, arms crossed in front of his chest. Pick opened his mouth to respond, probably something stupid again, when Rome resumed his monologue. 

"You can't say a good thing to me. You always snap at me, though I haven't done anything wrong. You follow me around and then blame me for your discomfort. That's what I hate about you. You can go home for all I care. I don't need you here." The tears pooled in Rome's pretty eyes, and Pick felt like the biggest asshole. His tiny boyfriend's words hurt him, but he couldn't complain. He was right, after all. 

"Look, Rome. I am sorry." Pick sighed, taking a step closer to Rome. The younger stepped back, and Pick tried to ignore the pang in his heart. 

"I know I am an asshole."

"Yes, you are, and big one. I don't know why I love you." Rome sniffled, looking away. The confession summoned a smile on Pick's face, encouraging him to speak more. 

"I am not good with words and still struggle with this whole dating thing." He admitted. Rome nodded. 

"It's not that I don't want to be with you. I am just hungry, and my legs hurt from all the walking." Pick stretched his arm, capturing Rome's tiny hand in his, squeezing it lightly. Rome's fingers intertwined with his in a second. 

"You should have told me." Rome pouted as he dragged stunned Pick out of the shop. 

"We can eat first, rest, and then come back for the skirt. I think it would look good on Emma. What do you think, P'Pick?" 

"I agree." Pick smiled. Though he hurt Rome again, his boyfriend found his well-being more important than the pain he caused him. He only hoped Rome wouldn't tire of his moods and lack of communication skills. 

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