bambi eyes || tradley

6. familiarity

"You're leaving," the young boy sadly noted. "Why are you leaving?"

Tristan slowly pulled one strap of his bookbag on a shoulder, furrowing his brows at the sadness pooling in the curly-haired boy's eyes. "I'm just going to class, Bambi. I'll be back in ninety minutes, like I said."

"You're tricking me," he assumed. "You're letting me stay here, because you're not going to come back."

"That's not true," the blond attempted reassuring him.

"This isn't new to me. If you want nothing to do with me, just say so."

Tristan thought about reminding the small boy of the numerous times he told him to fuck off. But he decided against it, realising nothing can get through to the curly-haired boy's thick skull.

"What do you mean, 'this isn't new to me'?" Tristan questioned, his brows furrowing once again at him.

The upset boy just looked at him. "I mean what I mean," he simply replied.

"What?"

"Please do not leave, Tris," he pleaded, casually ignoring Tristan's question and locking his fingers around the taller boy's wrist.

"I'm coming back!" Tristan widened his eyes at his abnormally strong grip tightening around his wrist. "Ow! This really hurts!"

"Oh no"-the smaller boy loosened his tight hold, frowning at the older boy's discoloured wrist- "I forgot that you're weak, Tris. I apologise."

The twenty-one-year-old paused, trying to figure out whether he should feel offended or not before his mind was wiped entirely from the unintentional insult as Bambi unexpectedly pressed his lips to Tristan's wrist. A strange feeling washed over the light-haired man and twisted inside his stomach, like the stranger's lips oddly weren't unfamiliar.

"What are you doing?" Tristan asked, attempting to pull his arm away from the young boy.

He questioningly looked up at Tristan, and then redirected his brown eyes back down to his wrist before gently kissing it again. "I am trying to make it better," he nonchalantly explained.

"I'm fine," the blue-eyed boy attempted reassuring him. He placed a hand over Bambi's face, blocking his lips from coming in contact with his skin again, and gently pushed the smaller boy backwards.

He furrowed his brows. "But I hurt you, Tris."

"My wrist is -" Tristan widened his eyes as he caught sight of the time printed on the microwave. "Fuck," he shouted, "I have to go to class!"

The blond wondered why he even tried waking up earlier than usual, like he'd actually arrive to class on time. Usually the twenty-one-year-old was somewhere near ten minutes late to everything, anyway, and a delay kind of should've been expected with Bambi in the house.

Tightening his fingers around one of the straps of his bookbag, he quickly headed towards the doorknobless door, his fingers already scrambling to unlatch the lock.

"You promise to come back?" Bambi anxiously asked as the taller boy pulled the door open to the most perfect weather. It was somewhere between cool and warm - Tristan's favourite.

"Yes, I promise!" Pausing, the twenty-one-year-old rushed back inside the house, yanking open the refrigerator door and pulling out a little paper plate with a large slice of chocolate cake coated in vanilla icing resting on it. "Here, eat this."

"Food?" the boy excitedly questioned, instantly intrigued by the dessert offered to him.

"Yes, food." Pulling out a bottle of strawberry milk, he placed it on the counter beside Bambi's plate and patted the top of his messy curls. "No touching the stove, no leaving the house, and no answering the door, understand?"