the flower boy.

seven.

gabriel woke up at the first flush of the morning, when the slivers of pale daylight filtered in the small window above his bed. at first, he was confused as to why there was a shortish kid tangled in blankets huddling by gabriel's chest, his hand interlaced in his reddish-blonde hair, mumbling about dogs. sam! he remembered, the events of yesterday coming back to him.

sam shifted, turning around. "bonjour, mon œuf," he murmured, his eyes still closed.

gabriel laughed breathlessly. "did you just- did you just call me an egg?"

he yawned and buried his head in gabriel's chest, much to his flustered surprise. "french class... boring..." sam muttered, his voice muffled.

gabriel scoffed. "i'll have you know that french is a beautiful language, le rustre."

sam giggled into gabriel's chest, a precious, pure sound that sent giddy sparks coursing through his veins. he looked down fondly at sam, who meekly raised his head to meet gabriel's green-y gaze.

"your eyes are pretty." gabriel commented, staring deeply into the pools
of brownish haze.

sam was slightly glad that the room was mostly shrouded in darkness; a heavy blush had spread across his face. he looked downwards, scooting an inch or two away from gabriel.

"no, really, they are," he crawled after sam, reaching up and cupping his face, "pretty brown. like coffee, and... chocolate."

sam wasn't used to people complimenting him. usually, they just ignored him, passing through him like glass. he often felt like he was just watching other people pass, waving through a window, waiting for someone to wave back at him.

gabriel waved a hand in front of his face. "hel-lo? are you awake?"

sam blinked. he hadn't realized he had zoned out. "maybe i should go put some coffee on..."

"no," sam grabbed gabriel's wrist without thinking, meeting his gaze. he dropped it, glancing away bashfully.

gabriel felt oddly touched. a small smile curled the ends of his lips. "well, maybe i can do something else that will wake you up,"

and then suddenly his lips had crashed onto sam's, his hands wrapping around his waist. sam fell down onto the bed with a small squeak before he was plunged into the kiss once again. it wasn't like the others; no, it wasn't a ghost of a kiss this time, it was something entirely different, something incredible, something that ignited a plethora of feelings in sam that he couldn't quite put into words.

but the most shocking thing wasn't the kiss itself.

no.

it was the fact that
sam was kissing him back.

———

sorry

ive been bingewatching glee all day and honestly im at that point where i feel like giving up on something—because ive already gotten inspiration for something else entirely but thats not the point. the point is that literally every single story ive started always ends up discarded or discontinued, with the exception of winter break, my first romance-type story—it was also super gay—and, let me tell you, that document has been buried in dust.

and my tears.

sincerely,
me.