biblical times.

thats it for girls

more whizvin coz im soft

ive done a bad thing. a very very bad thing which i keep on doing over and over again. that would be a young man by the name of whizzer brown.

i pull the soft, white sheets up to cover my chest and turn to my left.

there he is, with the white light of the sun coming through the blinds stretched across his face.

he has long eyelashes which are perfectly curled and a centimeter thick at least.

his hair is wild across his forehead, shiny due to the heavy grease in his hair.

it should actually be illegal for a man to be this perfect.

"hey, it's time to get up," i drew my finger against whizzer's jawline.

whizzer pulled the white comforter over his eyes, "no, it's still dark, see?"

i scoffed and rolled my eyes with a chuckle, "it'll be bright when you open your eyes!"

"fucker, how about i don't get up," whizzer groggily whined.

i sat up and pulled whizzer up by his hips onto my lap, "christ, you're not a rag doll, hold your own weight."

"you did this to yourself, marv," whizzer smiled and put his head down on my shoulder, resting his whole weight on top of my chest.

i don't mind it. i like following his breathing pattern, it's relaxing.

his smile was wide and silly. whizzer had perfect teeth and small, delicate, raw lips. he would squint his eyes when he smiled. yet, taking away the sight of his glossy, auburn eyes was okay if it meant a smile.

"you want me to make tea," i asked, tracing my fingertips up and down whizzer's bare back, "coffee?"

"i just want tea," whizzer groaned into my neck.

"alright, you gotta let me go then," whizzer instead tightened his grip around my waist before finally letting go and flipping over onto his back.

i stood up slowly and threw on my large, grey, hooded sweatshirt.

walking out of whizzer's bedroom, my feet hit the cold tile of the kitchen floor.

i turned on the stove and placed a full kettle on the first burner.

whizzer only drinks green tea. also while its scorching hot. it doesn't phase him... even though i can't imagine the burning sensation in his throat as he tosses it back every morning.

"whizzer," i said from the kitchen while opening three cabinets.

silence.

"whiz kid, you up," i shouted, but still got no response.

"whizzer, carlson is at the window," i shouted. finally, whizzer shuffled out from his room in a hurry.

carlson was this dirty, brown cat which belonged to one of the tenants in whizzer's apartment building. the cat climbs the building and roams free majority of the day. whizzer, especially, enjoys the visits from carlson, often leaving him treats and water.

"you lied to me, how dare you," whizzer pointed at me as he sunk into the couch. "what did you want so badly."

"where the fuck do you keep your mugs?" i now has 5 cabinets open.

"you really are helpless, huh," whizzer stood up and walked over to the kitchen. he wrapped one hand around my waist from behind and grabbed my right arm with his. "right there," whizzer made my finger point to a strainer hung above his sink with.... only mugs in it.

"ah, why?" i ran over to the sink and pulled out two dark blue mugs.

"they're the nicest... in appearance so they get stored on display. who wants to see my knives and shit, a sadist?"

whizzer dances around me in the tight kitchen to grab a porcelain container of sugar cubes from the cabinet.

"go get dressed. i will drop you off at work."

"do you know how much sugar-"

"two. i got it. go get changed," i smiled and shooed whizzer into his room with my hand.

he's working as a barista right now, though he does bartending most of the time. he has an incredible memory yet can only get jobs in making drinks. he could do so much more...

the kettle screamed from the stove. i turned off the burner and poured two mugs of tea. one with one sugar cube and one with two... maybe that's indicative of something.

whizzer came back out in black jeans and a faded, purple polo shirt; hair fixed out of his face and slicked back as tight as the volume would allow.

i took my turn to get changed which was.. whizzer tossing me my jeans and me slipping them on.

we sat down on the couch and watched the birds out the window with our tea. whizzer sat in the crook of my arm, knees brought to his chest and head back slightly on my shoulder.

never would i define the relationship i have with my lover to be romantic. we don't communicate or appropriate each other in the ways a romantic couple would.

looking at him right now, drowsy and warm in my arms... this is the first time ive ever wanted to be romantic.

i want the long, quiet yet deep embraces and the long talks at night where you talk about absolutely nothing until 4 in the morning. i want things ive never even witnessed, i wonder if it's even real and not just in the movies.

yet of course, i do have a family. i do have a loving wife, amazing and brilliant son... why can't i feel this way at home?

"carlson," whizzer exclaimed. he put his tea down on the coffee table in front of us and ran to open the window.

then appeared a skinny, frizzy cat with wide eyes and a button nose. it sat carefully on the windowsill.

whizzer carefully took the backs of his fingers and pet the cat down its back.

his face displayed the same goofy smile as it usually did with pink cheeks and wrinkled forehead.

id be damned if i didn't devote the rest of my life to this man... but would he even want that?