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KKM AU: Drabblethings
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alarielle made me do it! By writing! Things!)
.bad habits.
He found Ken on the rooftop, perched on the rail with his legs dangling as if daring gravity to claim him. When he shut the door behind him the other young man turned, and, seeing only Lukas, smiled and returned his attention to the streets below.
"It's nice, this little place," he said thoughtfully. "I could get used to it here. There's even a garden."
Some botany-inclined neighbor had decorated the roof with troughs of dirt filled with leafy plants, too large for any of the apartment building's narrow balconies. Lukas didn't often come up here, but he didn't have the same habits that Ken did: perching, and smoking.
He was surprised to see the cigarette in his lover's hand-- They'd hardly had a month together, but this was the first time he'd had any hint that the Sage enjoyed that sort of thing. There were no packs hidden in his room and never any scent or taste of tobacco clinging to him.
Ken caught his look and grinned ruefully. "I'm not a smoker," he said. "But it helps sometimes when I'm stressed."
"I have a better idea," said Lukas. He leaned over the rail, wrapping arms around his lover's waist to keep him from wafting away, and kissed him. The acrid flavor was unfamiliar -- almost, he decided, exotic enough to be interesting -- but more importantly, Ken lowered the hand with the cigarette, dropping it to the cement roof and shifting to touch him.
Next time, Ken doesn't bother with the cigarette.
.heroes.
Ken lies on his back on the couch with a cat on his chest and watches the news sideways. It doesn't matter to the newscasters, who go on grimly telling stories about government scandals and resource shortages and wars in other parts of the world. He catches himself wondering what the Maou of Earth thinks of this or that or the other thing, and says aloud, "Not my business." The cat's ear flicks, thinking he might be talking to her.
The TV turns off with a dying *zap* sound. He cranes his head around, frowning, to look at Lukas over the back of the sofa. "I was watching that," he protests.
"It's none of our business," Lukas says, shrugging, "this time."
He tosses Ken the remote, and turns to leave again, probably returning to the serene Chinese dragon that's coiling in oil paint by the bay windows. It seems to be more his style these days.
alarielle made me do it! By writing! Things!).bad habits.
He found Ken on the rooftop, perched on the rail with his legs dangling as if daring gravity to claim him. When he shut the door behind him the other young man turned, and, seeing only Lukas, smiled and returned his attention to the streets below.
"It's nice, this little place," he said thoughtfully. "I could get used to it here. There's even a garden."
Some botany-inclined neighbor had decorated the roof with troughs of dirt filled with leafy plants, too large for any of the apartment building's narrow balconies. Lukas didn't often come up here, but he didn't have the same habits that Ken did: perching, and smoking.
He was surprised to see the cigarette in his lover's hand-- They'd hardly had a month together, but this was the first time he'd had any hint that the Sage enjoyed that sort of thing. There were no packs hidden in his room and never any scent or taste of tobacco clinging to him.
Ken caught his look and grinned ruefully. "I'm not a smoker," he said. "But it helps sometimes when I'm stressed."
"I have a better idea," said Lukas. He leaned over the rail, wrapping arms around his lover's waist to keep him from wafting away, and kissed him. The acrid flavor was unfamiliar -- almost, he decided, exotic enough to be interesting -- but more importantly, Ken lowered the hand with the cigarette, dropping it to the cement roof and shifting to touch him.
Next time, Ken doesn't bother with the cigarette.
.heroes.
Ken lies on his back on the couch with a cat on his chest and watches the news sideways. It doesn't matter to the newscasters, who go on grimly telling stories about government scandals and resource shortages and wars in other parts of the world. He catches himself wondering what the Maou of Earth thinks of this or that or the other thing, and says aloud, "Not my business." The cat's ear flicks, thinking he might be talking to her.
The TV turns off with a dying *zap* sound. He cranes his head around, frowning, to look at Lukas over the back of the sofa. "I was watching that," he protests.
"It's none of our business," Lukas says, shrugging, "this time."
He tosses Ken the remote, and turns to leave again, probably returning to the serene Chinese dragon that's coiling in oil paint by the bay windows. It seems to be more his style these days.
no subject
*vows to write still more and perpetuate the cycle*
I love this so very much and Lukas takes up more of my mind every time.