BLUE [BXB]

FIFTEEN

   "Babe," Katrina drawled out, tugging at Ethan's sweater. He rolled his eyes, reluctantly pulling away from the display of art supplies he'd been observing. "I really don't have time for this."

   The pair were Christmas gift shopping at the mall, as the holiday was less than a week away. Ethan wasn't worried, though. He'd picked out what he wanted to get for his family and Mason a long time ago—Stephanie treated gift-giving like a damn ritual—but there was still a certain somebody that Ethan had no idea what to get, hence the way he was eyeballing the art section like a pervert.

   However, Katrina seemed to be on the other end of the spectrum; to say she was fretting would be an understatement. Her manicured nails were digging into Ethan's flesh as she went from store to store, moving as if a serial killer were on her heels. She looked on the verge of tears, and Ethan was torn between laughing at or comforting her.

   Ever so passive aggressive, he settled for a shrug, deciding that it was none of his business and he wasn't going to get involved. "Katrina, I gotta be home soon. We have guests coming over for dinner."

   The guests were actually Vincent, but she didn't need to know that.

   "You can't just leave me alone here, Ethan!" she protested, tugging at his arm yet again. He scoffed, prying away her iron grip.

   "I'll give you a ride home. Don't be so dramatic."

   "I can't leave now! I haven't bought any gifts yet!" she exclaimed, and Ethan felt like ripping his hair out.

   "Call one of your barbies or something. I don't know, Katrina, but I really need to get home," he retorted, his tone leaking with exasperation. 

   She huffed, moodily crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Fine, but it's going to be your fault if Christmas is ruined."

   Ethan rolled his eyes, but he knew this was the best he'd ever get out of her, so he took it. It was really her fault for leaving this till the last minute, and even she was aware of that. But who would actually expect her to pass up the opportunity to blame someone else?

    Finally pulling up in front of her house, Ethan had to hold back a sigh of relief. It was almost funny how the otherwise short, fifteen-minute ride felt like eternity to the poor boy. Katrina had not stopped talking since they sped out of the parking lot, her voice high pitched and annoying as she drawled on about the shallowest things. She didn't even care that Ethan seemed to be completely unresponsive, not once sparing her a disinterested hum. Add that to the unbearable stench of her heavy perfume, Ethan found himself wishing to be anywhere else.  

   Katrina leaned in seductively, pressing a lingering kiss to Ethan's cheeks with sticky lip gloss. He all but cringed, thanking his lucky stars she'd at least had enough decency not to kiss him on the lips. 

   "So nice of you to finally show up!" Stephanie scolded as Ethan took of his shoes. "Vincent's been waiting in your room for who knows how long."

   Immediately, he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. Vincent must've been so pissed that Ethan had insisted he show up, only for him not to be there.

   "Shit," he cursed, ignoring the pointed look his mother gave him. He leaned in and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, rushing to the stairs where he took the steps two at a time. "I'm sorry, Mom. I'll make it up to him, promise."

   He burst into his bedroom, halting as he took in the sight before him. His heart dropped to his stomach, provoking the butterflies and driving them mad. Vincent was curled up in Ethan's blanket, on Ethan's bed, in Ethan's room, sleeping. He had never seen anything so cute his whole life, and he didn't care how weird that sounded. Vincent was cute, and anybody—gay or straight—would admit that.

   Suddenly, a strange wave of possessiveness surged through him. He was overcome with weird, startling thoughts of locking his bedroom door and keeping the boy in there forever, for Ethan's eyes only. He was the only one that was allowed to see him like that, and the realization that other people saw Vincent in that way unsettled him, stirred up an ugly green monster he was not familiar with. 

   Throwing all caution to the wind, he stepped forward, reaching his hand out and running his hand through Vincent's sandy brown hair. It was just as fluffy and soft as he'd always imagined, and Ethan felt he never wanted to stop caressing it. But, as Vincent began to stir and his eyes began to flutter, Ethan found he valued his dignity even more, so he pulled away before he was caught in this comprising situation. 

   "Ethan?" Vincent croaked out sleepily, sitting up and tiredly rubbing his eyes. "Shit, did I fall asleep?"

   Ethan chuckled, reaching out to flick the boy's forehead. "Yeah, you did. Hogged up all the blankets, too."

   Vincent blushed, and Ethan had to bite his lip to refrain from pouncing on him. "...Smelled like you," he whispered, and Ethan almost thought he misheard him. 

   Not knowing what else to do and desperate for an excuse to touch the other boy, Ethan gripped his chin gently and brought Vincent's face closer. The latter tensed, thinking Ethan was going to kiss him, but quickly relaxed as he felt the tips of Ethan's fingers brush against his cheek. He almost scoffed at the outrageous thought that Ethan would want to kiss him.

   "Does it hurt?" Ethan mumbled, eyes trailing over the fading bruise.

   "Not really," he answered. Then, he raised an eyebrow and taunted, "Looks like I'm not the only one with a bruise."

   Ethan retracted his touch, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

   Vincent smirked, nodding towards the fresh hickey on Ethan's neck. The jock mentally cursed Katrina, having forgotten that she'd left that there—despite his protests. That marked the second time Vincent had seen him with a hickey, and, for some reason, that didn't sit right with him. Strangely, he scrambled for an excuse, wondering why he felt slightly guilty.

   Before he had the chance to speak, Ethan was interrupted by Vincent who spoke indifferently, "So you and Katrina, huh?"

   The seemingly nonchalant tone he employed was, in fact, hiding the sadness that bit at him. Vincent tried not to let it affect him, tried to remind himself that he'd been expecting this all along. Popular boys never went for nobodies in the real world; Ethan would never go for him. Vincent could only believe that the reason Ethan was making any effort to get to know him at all was because he pitied the pathetic nerd that barely had any friends. The loser who would rather spend his time painting in empty classrooms than going out like regular kids. He questioned how he ever believed Ethan was attainable, as it was alarmingly obvious to anybody and everybody that he was way out of Vincent's league.

   "No, it's really not like that," Ethan protested, effectively pulling Vincent away from his pity party. "She just likes to mess around with me sometimes. But can you blame her?" he teased, gesturing at himself.

   Vincent rolled his eyes, smiling. "Gee, aren't you just dripping with modesty today?"

   Ethan jumped at the chance to make an innuendo, a wolfish smirk adorning his features, "No, but I'm pretty sure you can have me dripping with something else if you really want to."

   Vincent turned beet red, making Ethan roar with laughter. Unable to help himself, he reached out and squished Vincent's cheeks, making the boy's lips look ridiculously attractive. Before Ethan could do something stupid like kiss him, he was saved by the bell,

   "Boys! Dinner!"