novels. { on hold }

ii: dramatic

"there're rules against that, you know," ezra sighed. he closed the creaky door behind him and fixed his eyes on the guilty-looking man sat on their couch.

"but it smells like warm blankets."

"dec, we've talked about this before. the guidelines explicitly say, 'no open flames in dorm rooms'".

the charcoal-haired man picked at a loose thread on one of their pillows; pikachu's ruby-red nose was unravelling. he was unnervingly childlike at times. ezra had wondered many times how he maintained his naive cheerfulness in a world as messed up as the one they lived in. in fact, ezra had based a character off of declan once, and his professor loved it. that instance further cemented one of ezra's mantras: there were two kinds of people in this world: writers, and the people they wrote about.

"but, ezra! it smells like warm!"

ezra rolled his eyes and grinned in spite of himself. he crossed the length of their teeny living room in two strides with his freakishly long legs and flopped down onto the couch beside his friend. "what does that even mean?"

"it's comforting!"

"warm isn't a smell, dec."

"yes, it is. here."

declan grabbed the candle off the coffee table and shoved it under ezra's nose. the flame flickered wildly as he took a breath.

"okay, you may have a point." the creamy yellow candle smelled like home; or, what ezra believed a proper home would smell like.

"exactly," declan said triumphantly as he placed the candle back on the table with a careless thud.

"you should be more careful with those at least." ezra stifled another smile. they were infectious when he was around declan.

"oh, you have room to talk! i've walked in on you burning paper countless times!"

"it's a part of my creative process," ezra defended. "if i deem the words unsatisfactory, they must burn."

declan threw his head back and laughed. "you're so dramatic. what is it with you literary types?"

he didn't want a real answer, but ezra gave one is his head: they saw and felt everything too strongly, in excruciating detail.

they sat quietly for a moment before declan's face lit up in remembrance.

"i knew there was something i wanted to ask you!" he waggled his eyebrows and smiled.

ezra eyed him uncertainly. "if it was about whether or not that would be a successful seduction technique, the answer is no."

declan ignored him. "i saw you talking to a girl earlier!"

"yes, dec. we, as humans, do occasionally converse with other humans."

"dude! be serious! who was she?"

ezra shrugged. "just some girl from fiction-writing."

"really? you can elaborate on the smell of dying roses for multiple paragraphs, but now you're choosing to be vague?"

"what do you want from me, dec?"

he bore a striking resemblance to an over-enthused puppy. "have you ever talked to her before? what do you know about her? what's her name?"

"nope. nothing. don't know." ezra stood and grabbed his backpack before heading to his room. they were fortunate enough to have secured apartment-like dorm accommodations, one of the few perks of being upperclassmen.

"ezra?"

ezra paused and turned halfway around, feigning annoyance. "yes, dec?"

"at least promise to tell me if you talk to her again."

the man looked so hopeful and pure ezra couldn't find it in himself to say anything other than, "sure."

"or if you dream about her, or think about her, or-" declan's tongue poked out in a teasing smile.

"okay, okay, that's it, i'm leaving!"

ezra left declan giggling in the lounge and closed his door behind him before flinging himself onto his bed.

he'd sooner read poorly-written parodies of his favorite novels before admitting this to declan, but he was already thinking about her. he couldn't stop.

maybe dec was really on to something with his half-hearted analysis of the dramatic literature-student trope.