Hey, Blue

3 - Longing

"--ow could you–" "--aria it's not what you think!–"

The box flickered, the light reflecting off Emrys' face in Marley's peripheral. On the screen, the two main characters argued– as was typical in any romance-comedy movie they ended up watching—about what Marley couldn't tell, as his focus was solely on Emrys.

They were curled up on their two-seater pleather couch, thrifted from some old woman's garage sale two years prior, with a large blanket covering them both. Marley's legs were folded beneath himself, and he had rested his head on his knees up until that point.

Emrys had a mug of cider in his hands and was leaning forwards in his seat, the blanket falling off his shoulder and resting on his lap. Enraptured.

"--eft me! On Christmas Eve! To hang out with some slag fro–!" ~a door slams

Marley resisted the urge to pull the blanket back up onto Emrys, worried that in doing so, he'd alert his friend to the fact that he'd been staring at something else than the TV screen.

Frankly, though, how could he not? When Emrys was sitting right next to him, pressed against his side, and practically glowing in the blue light?

Surely, Emrys wouldn't be upset for Marley's lack of attention. The man never was. He understood, he was so—so very good like that. So wonderful and lovely in a way that made the cold Marley felt, feel so much less so. And so, he let himself indulge.

That night, Emrys' hair was down. Typically, Emrys wore his hair up—or, half of the way up, and out of his face. But that night, it lay down and messy, framing his face in curling strands that practically begged, begged, for a hand to brush through them, to push them back.

As if to still his thoughts, Marley wet his lips and wrapped his arms around his knees, firmly. Tugging the blanket over himself a bit more. Emrys didn't notice.

A woman talked on the phone in the background, there were multiple other voices in the room

In fact, Emrys' eyes—a chocolate brown and deeper than any chasm Marley had thought about throwing himself down before—had yet to so much as even flicker from the screen.

He liked Emrys' eyes; they happened to be his favourite.

~a door creaked open "ohn?--" "--aria..." "John!"

Emrys jolted, "Finally!" he said excitedly, turning so fast to face Marley that he hardly had enough time to turn away. Looking just in time to see the couple on screen share a very, very passionate kiss.

As if he'd been watching, Marley looked back to Emrys, avoiding his eyes. "Took them long enough." He commented.

Emrys laughed, wholesome and warm, turning back to the screen, holding the remote. There were 45 minutes of the movie left. "Can't rejoice yet though–"

He exhaled a deep breath through his mouth, before inhaling. "It's a rom-com. They've got about four more miscommunications to go through before they work things out. You know that." He teased, leaning into Emrys' shoulder.

Emrys seemed to think about that, putting the movie back on play, before responding with a poke to Marley's side.

"Hey!–" "Shhhh—"

The movie continued playing, and for a couple of minutes, Marley stared at the screen without processing it. Suddenly grateful for the dim lighting, because he could only imagine how deep the colouring on his face might have been.

Marley picked at the frayed edge of the blanket, absentmindedly twisting the loose string between his fingers as his thoughts drifted. The sounds of the movie—more arguing, more misunderstanding—faded to nothing but a murmur. His gaze lingered on the screen for a moment, but his mind had already wandered far from it.