Blatantly Obvious

Comfort

For some odd reason, Pick's unable to forget the hug that Rome and he had put on display for Peen. They've hugged countless or times because Rome's clingy like that with the people he considers his close friends. But why had this particular hug seem so different? He couldn't stop thinking how perfectly well Rome had fit into his arms, tucked against Pick so closely that he could smell the particular perfume the younger male had sprayed on for that day. White pear. Rome's now favorite scent after Pick had gifted him with that particular Jo Malone scent last year for Christmas.

Pick stares at the screen of his laptop where he should be working on one of his reports that was due next week, but all he could think of was how nice and right it had felt to hug Rome. He hadn't even bothered to check if Peen had witnessed their hug. Then again, even if she did, Pick doubted that it would be enough to stop her. She was...persistent, and not in positive way. 

He hears the click of the door opening and Pick pretends to type something, hearing the soft pad of Rome's footsteps entering the room. Next comes the soft creak of Pick's wardrobe opening, Rome performing his usual routine of going through the t-shirts in Pick's wardrobe since he's never bothered to bring any over whenever he sleeps over at Pick's house. Pick has long given up on nagging him about it because he's starting to believe that whatever is his belongs to Rome.

Not that he minds actually. Porshe says that Pick just lets Rome get away with whatever the hell he wants, and hey, he's not going to refute that. He's got the fucking softest spot for his best friend, considering that they go way back.

''Do you think P'Peen saw us just now?'' Rome asks conversationally.

Pick twists around in his chair and finds that Rome had picked out one of his older soccer jerseys to wear as a sleep shirt. It's been worn to the point that the name and number at the back was already fading away, but Pick couldn't bear to throw it away since it was the first jersey that he had received back during his freshmen days. Besides, he can't help but notice that Rome seems to like how comfortable it is to wear as well.

''Maybe.'' Pick's really not sure since he had been too fucking busy trying not to sniff at Rome's hair like a weirdo. ''Anyway, I thought of something.'' The idea had just only popped into his head after seeing the other in his jersey. ''I think you should come watch me at the final school game next week.''

Rome uncaps the bottle of moisturizer in his hand, ''I always come to the games that you play in, P'Pick.''

''I know. But you've not been to any games where you're wearing my jersey.'' Pick points out, waiting for Rome to realize what he's getting on. 

''Oh.'' Rome obviously gets it. ''Huh, that's actually a great idea.''

''What's with the 'actually'?'' Pick demands as he crosses his arms against his chest in a mock-affronted manner. ''Hey, I'm capable of churning out great ideas too.''

''Yeah, it's just that you hang out with P'Porsche so much that I sometimes worry about you losing majority of your brain cells.'' 

Pick's afraid that there might be some truth to those words.

Pick leaves his chair and joins Rome where he's sitting cross-legged on Pick's bed, wordless taking the moisturizer from him. It's some fancy schmancy brand with a weird ass name that Pick can't even pronounce. He's learned the hard way not to dip his fingers into the moisturizer (because Rome's so fucking particular when it comes to skincare), so he snags the mini scooper in Rome's other hand.

Before doing anything else, he asks, ''Did you apply your toner already?''

Rome nods his head, looking exceptionally pleased. ''Wow, I'm impressed, P'.''