mcyt oneshots | smut/fluff/angst

he's my rose [i]

jschlatt

'no regrets. you live, you die, or you get stronger.

years ago, i had everything taken from me.

(even though i did nothing wrong!)

(when it comes to love, you can't go wrong!)

but it wouldn't have mattered what i did, because they

(bureau, police)

were out for me from day one.

i have been breathing fresh air for awhile now, and it's great!

i don't want to waste another minute!

i will soon be engaged to the prettiest boy in the world!'

---

it was best to start from the beginning. the minute where he realized his one life goal- the minute  that his eyes were locked on his soon-to-be significant other. it was as though the stars aligned that very moment, because if he was just a second late, their hands wouldn't have brushed, their eyes wouldn't have connected, and schlatt wouldn't have had his breath taken away.

december 12th, 2019. the holidays- a cheery time for the city of new york. it was always bustling, but people had flocked to the area in search of cozy, christmas holidays, and suddenly, schlatt was thankful to be cramped inside a quaint bookstore. no one read nowadays, so barely anyone stopped by, but this particular evening was different.

the bell had jingled.

schlatt looked up from his copy of flowers for algernon, gingerly grabbing his bookmark and slipping it between the pages. setting the book down, the brunet stood from his chair, looking towards who had walked in. the day had been slow, hell, the only customer they had was embarrassing: he was an older guy, holding a small copy of some shakespeare compilation pressed overtop a james salter novel. keyword, overtop.

seemed like the guy was almost embarrassed to read james salter, so he quickly grabbed a more 'acceptable' book and placed it on top. as if james salter was unacceptable- his prose was incandescent and not a word was overlooked, if anything, schlatt would've been impressed at such choosing when presented with it at the counter. alas, he was disappointed once again, so he had begrudgingly slid the books into a paper bag with a faux smile on his face.

with that being said, schlatt didn't have high hopes when the bell had rung, but his view had shifted when he saw his figure. lanky, but somewhat graceful. he was wearing a yellow turtleneck, sleeves bunched up at the elbows with black, skin-tight jeans to match. it almost seemed as though he walked on his tiptoes, though his heels were pressed flat to the tile floor.

'hello, you.'

"uh- excuse me?" schlatt was snapped out of his fantasy as the man had approached him, words eloquently spoken as well as being laced with an attractive british accent. now close up, he could make out his facial features. his nose was strong and pointed, cheekbones high and dusted with almost invisible freckles. his hair was a kinked, curly mess of brown, and his eyes swirled like honey tea. schlatt took notice to the way his lips were torn and chapped, calloused fingers tapping against the counter. he wondered how they got so rough.

"yes, sir?" schlatt replied, crossing his arms on the counter and leaning forwards.

"do you know where i can find homer?" he asked in that low, seductive voice of his, button nose scrunching as he sniffed.