"Kiss me." He picks me up and kisses me again.
His hands on my waist, my hands in his hair and my lips all over him.
I think I don't have a crush anymore.
I think i'm in love.
We break the kiss and he looks at me, "I'm so fucked aren't I my Val?"
︶꒦...
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I wake up to the warmth of my blanket smothering me. Now you may be wondering what happened- nothing.
When Demetrius declared his obsession (he asked for a kiss) I simply did what was normal and declared how severely I needed to use the toilet or else he would not want to kiss me.
To my dismay, he did not respond with a look of disgust but with a nonchalant chuckle.
What a loser.
After I brush my teeth I head out of my room to see Hanzo at his usual post.
"Operation brown is a go," I declare, locking eyes with Hanzo, who nods in acknowledgment. Cue the classic James Bond spy audio, and our mission is officially afoot. My hand poised on the whisk, Hanzo appears disgusted.
In a dramatic twist, the moment arrives—the final opportunity for disaster.
Hanzo seizes the container of salt and dramatically inserts it into the cake batter.
"Now we can confirm if Demetrius is a good guy," I proclaim, placing the cookie batter into the oven.
"This is too harsh," Hanzo retorts, glancing at me, and suddenly, we find ourselves erupting in laughter.
As the cake batter morphed into what could only be described as poison -cough- cake, Hanzo and I found ourselves standing there, watching the lackluster transformation unfold.
"I say I replace his shampoo with jam," I suggest, contemplating another mischievous prank.
Hanzo, however, responds with a note of caution, "As funny as that would be, I want to stay alive, and anyway, why are you doing this in the first place?" Hanzo's question prompts me to look down in embarrassment—I mentally wince.
"Well, you see, Demetrius' little romantic moment was nice, but I'm worried it's all just words. I'm afraid I'll get attached to him, and then, boom, I'm dead," I confess to Hanzo, expressing my fear.
"I can assure you that's not the case," Hanzo reassures me, offering a comforting perspective.
"Perhaps I'm scared as well, thinking about what will happen in the future. This bubble I have is great, but sooner or later, the truth will come out, and I'll lose you guys," I admit.
He squeezes my shoulders in reassurance. "There's no way you're losing us; you're the closest thing to happiness we've got here, silly."
"Thank you, but I'm still going to continue the pranks. I'm thinking a pregnancy scare next," I declare with a mischievous glint in my eye.
"I am going to retire," he laughs, acknowledging the absurdity of our ongoing antics.
I finally hear the satisfying ding, signaling that the cake from hell is done.
As we pull it out of the oven, Hanzo and I exchange grins, proud of our devilish creation.
With frosting in hand, we transform the abomination into something that could pass as Pinterest-worthy.
