bambi eyes || tradley

22. just the way you are

"You are going to do great today," the curly-haired boy promised Tristan. He slid two hands over his boyfriend's shoulder and gently massaged his sore muscles due to the murderous training the day before. The twenty-one-year-old sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, allowing his head to drop forward onto Bambi's shoulder. "You cannot fall asleep, silly. Training has yet to start."

"'m so tired," he muttered, snaking his arms around the smaller boy's waist and pulling him into his chest. Brad smiled at the sudden closeness and pushed his weight onto his toes, pressing a kiss to the taller boy's mouth. Out of the two days of Tristan and Brad's forced relationship, the blond realised the brown-eyed boy really liked kissing him. But Tristan wasn't exactly complaining. He liked kissing him, too and holding him and just being around him. Their situation was just rather strange.

"Focus, lovebirds!" James sharply said, voice thickly laced with irritation. Tristan and Brad whipped their heads to the shirtless man fearlessly standing in front of the paintball machine.

"Tristan," Joe called from behind the machine, "watch the way James avoids the paintballs. He's going to show you in various ways that you can pick tips up from. Got it?"

Tristan wanted to mention the fact that a chip was implanted in the man to make him as quick thinking as he was, but he remained silent, slowly nodding his head in response.

"Always remember," James told the dark-haired boy as Joe pulled the lever and the machine started up, "be aware of your surroundings."

His eyes were glued on Tristan as he said this, but as the first paintball shot out he'd simply ducked before sliding his way out of the next one. Every movement he made seemed easy as he rolled out of the way, squatting down, jumping up, even doing a bloody backflip. Tristan could only watch with wide blue eyes whilst he successfully dodged each one, sending them splattering against the wall. The twenty-one-year-old felt even more shit about himself. There was no way in hell he could even mimic any of his actions. He wasn't as quick, and he surely wasn't anywhere near worked out.

"And if you happen to turn away from the enemy," he said, turning his back to the machine as a demonstration, "you can't turn your mind away with it."

His eyes widened even more as James somehow avoided a paintball with a handstand, even though he couldn't even see it. Tristan narrowed his eyes as Joe switched the machine off, proudly applauding the man.

"What is this? Is he a fucking gymnast?" Tristan angrily questioned.

"Something like that," James replied, laughing along with Connor. He wiped his sweaty forehead on the back of his hand. "Okay," he said, stepping out of the way, "your turn."

"Um"-Tristan nervously darted his eyes towards the shorter boy who only looked up at him with warm brown eyes-"I don't think I can do that."

"We don't expect you to do the extra stuff," James reassured him with a laugh. "Just try to avoid being shot. The backflips were just thrown in for show."

"Oh, okay." Tristan would've let out a sigh of relief if he weren't scared shitless. He was already painted in bruises from the paintball machine the morning before and was still struggling to get green paint out of his hair. But he reluctantly stepped out in front of the machine anyway, nervously licking his lips, because Bambi looked at him with so much confidence in him. Tristan wondered how he could believe in him. After the many times the twenty-one-year-old had fallen on his arse, it was a mystery to him why the curly-haired boy held so much faith in a human being so helpless.

"Be alert!" Brad reminded him. With a deep breath, Joe pulled the lever, not even giving Tristan time to get his head together. He inhaled deeply, narrowing his eyes at the machine before the first ball of paint flew out at him. Tristan tried jumping out the way, but the stupid paint hit his shoulder. He angrily knitted his eyebrows together, placing a hand over the orange.