the storm inside | kitty (boyxboy)

35 | The Jäger Twins

Kit slipped on a set of pyjamas that Julian had gotten him. Julian had very bad taste. He had gotten Kit pants with bananas all over them and a shirt that said "I'm going bananas for you". Which was worse, Julian's fashion sense or the pun, Kit was still debating.

It had proved to be an extremely awkward situation when Kit realised their huge, luxurious bedroom only had one bed. Kit supposed he could've asked for another one, but he didn't really want to pass up the chance of sharing a bed with Ty. Ty hadn't said anything either, so they just left the matter at that.

It was a very bad decision for Kit's teenage hormones.

Kit's teenage hormones wanted the... the s-thing. It was a bit hard to control himself when his very perfect and tempting boyfriend was just inches away from him. Also, it was very difficult when Ty started to undress in front of Kit.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Kit stammered.

"Changing into my nightclothes?" Ty said confusedly. "Sorry, is that a problem for you? I'm used to changing on my bed."

Kit's face took on the exact shade of a tomato. Without the leaves. "No, not a problem. Please continue—I mean, whatever you were doing! Not that I meant to ogle at you—stare at you—argh! Have my eyeballs in your general direction! While you were undressing!"

"Okay, okay, no need to get so worked up," Ty snickered. "You're cute when you blush."

It was all Kit could do to not dig a six-feet hole and bury himself in it. Survival instincts, maybe. And a lack of the required materials. But he did bury his face in the covers, and he did let out a groan. "Urrgggggggggggghh." It was a very long groan.

Ty pulled on a thin cotton tee, but it wasn't really helping because Kit could still see Ty's abdominal muscles through it—Kit looked down at his own shirt and silently judged himself.

Kit sank further under the duvets. "G'night," he mumbled through a mouthful of cotton, which only further reminded him of Ty's t-shirt. "Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs or whatever creature that's been stalking our love life bite."

He thought he heard a poof from under the bed.

Kit felt arms wrap around him as he lay on his side. Ty pulled Kit up against him, resting his head on Kit's blond curls. "Aw, don't get mad," teased Ty. "I'm kidding; you know that."

They spoke in hushed tones, voices a murmur, because everything was always too loud for Ty. Kit respected that. If he peeked over Ty's shoulder, Kit would be able to see Ty's headphones lying on the bedside drawer. The headphones were a pair of simple, black ones, comfortable and noise-reducing.

There were several pieces of furniture in their hotel room. For starters, there was the large, flat-screened television that Kit and Ty wanted to use to watch the Sherlock Holmes documentary that aired daily, but they had come back too late from dinner and missed the show.

There was the mahogany dining table, a porcelain vase sitting atop it and carnations inside the vase. The sparkling crystal chandelier that dangled gently above the dining table, and the wonderfully furnished kitchen. Kit and Ty didn't intend to use it, though, for Magnus had strongly opposed to any sort of cooking, saying something along the lines of "this hotel will not burn down under my watch".

Yet, despite the elegance of the hotel room, the only thing that made the room beautiful to Kit was that Ty was in it.

Kit turned around to slip his hands around Ty's neck, where Ty's headphones had rested moments before. He could feel the intensity of Ty's gaze on him, raking up and down, scrutinising, the same way Ty would analyse everyone else—cold, unforgiving, merciless.

Still, though Ty's eyes were flat and piercing, there was a certain quality about them that Kit didn't quite know how to describe, that made them terrifyingly attractive. Like a vacuum, sucking you in until at that was left of you was dust and shadows.

And, in the dimness, with only the bedside lamp as a source of light, Ty's eyes did seem to come alive, like ashes dancing in the remnants of a fire that used to burn brighter than anything. Kit thought, as he had always, again and again:

Beautiful.

Reaching up to tug at Ty's waves of black hair, Kit found himself reaching for Ty repeatedly, like a drug addict who just couldn't get enough. As he drowned in the sensation of Ty's lips meeting his, he knew then, that no matter how many times he saw Ty, how much he kissed Ty and murmured Tiberius over and over, it would never be enough.

Kit awoke to the sun glaring back at him, as if to say: "Great job! You made it to today without dying! Here's some insufferable waves of heat!"

Grumbling disgustedly at the ball of flame, Kit wasn't surprised to see that except for himself, the bed was empty. Ty had always risen earlier than he had.

Instead, he did find Ty sitting quietly on the leather sofa, reading a copy of The Hounds of Baskerville. His headphones were lying snugly around his neck. Ty was wearing a black jacket, a black shirt and black jeans. Seriously though, what was up with Shadowhunters and mornings and eternal darkness? Were they always this depressing?

Deciding to blatantly rebel, Kit brushed his teeth and pulled a plain white t-shirt over his head. He contemplated wearing Bermuda shorts just for the fun of it and to protest against the heatwaves, but opted for a pair of washed out blue jeans in the end because, as much as he wanted to stand out, it did look quite silly if he actually wore that amongst a sea of black. Quite an eyesore, actually.

Together with Ty, Kit met the others at the lift lobby. Bri had gone back long ago after the fight with the demon, but somehow, she was present again because Eli had gone missing and she wanted free breakfast. Or so she said.

They were eating breakfast when there was a sudden commotion. Bri's chair scraped against the floor as she stood up suddenly, and Bri Version 2.0 walked in.

Well, the male version of Bri, at least. He was around the same height as Kit, his hair the same tousled blonde as Bri's. His eyes were a luminous green, and Marks swirled around his arms, legs and neck. His left hand was clutching a bag; in his right was a dagger.

"Eli!" Bri yelled, and ran forward to meet her brother.