story for hils
It was rare, really, that he had to take his shades off for anything. For almost his entire life he'd been wearing them like an ironic coolguy for so many years that seeing things through the shaded glass was just... how he went through life. Everything was tinted black, it was just the way things worked.
But this was different. The tint was fine usually, but... in this case he felt the need to see the sight before him in true color, the way the world was intended to show it.
He was glad he had. That skin. Those eyes. That hair. The person standing before him was just... perfect, in every way. His heart thumped faster- was this love? Non-ironic, authentic love? Fuck. He was too cool for this, he thought.
But it was Valentine's Day, wasn't it? Fuck. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and stepped forward, holding out a hand.
"Hey, beautiful. Wanna be my Valentine?"
Bro's image in the mirror, of course, had no choice but to accept.
It took hours to pick the glass shards out of Little Strider.
But this was different. The tint was fine usually, but... in this case he felt the need to see the sight before him in true color, the way the world was intended to show it.
He was glad he had. That skin. Those eyes. That hair. The person standing before him was just... perfect, in every way. His heart thumped faster- was this love? Non-ironic, authentic love? Fuck. He was too cool for this, he thought.
But it was Valentine's Day, wasn't it? Fuck. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and stepped forward, holding out a hand.
"Hey, beautiful. Wanna be my Valentine?"
Bro's image in the mirror, of course, had no choice but to accept.
It took hours to pick the glass shards out of Little Strider.