[Fiyero laughs, and it makes something throb in Koby's chest, something he hates, because it whispers to him just how simple it would be to laugh along. That maybe he could relax into the silly, carefree, careless warmth that exudes effortlessly from Fiyero, like a corona around the sun, like the scent of poppies in a field, pollen on the air, sleepy and hazy. Koby could let himself fall headfirst into the crooked curl of that smile and forget about everything else and then --
What? And then the project would end and the requirement that they spend any time together would be released, and the crowd of shinier, happier, more fun people would swallow Fiyero back up again. Koby's heard them in the halls, in class, whining about papers and finals and deadlines, whispering about parties he's never been invited to and never will be. It's a different world, one he doesn't belong in. He knows that. He's fine with it.
And yet -- there's a touch over the flaring blush on his cheek, and Koby can't help but wear every, every emotion on his sleeve, on his face, vivid as the rising sun, eyes flicking up to catch Fiyero's for a moment before he clears his throat and pushes his glasses up.] I seem to remember that you grabbed my books off my desk before class had actually been dismissed, then pretended not to hear me telling you that you didn't need to carry them, all the way to the next class.
[But he sets down his pen, gives Fiyero the full focus of his intent, unflinching gaze.] This project is important. It's important to me and, because despite everything you haven't missed a single study session, I think it might be important to you. So, let's make a deal -- you finish summarizing this, [here, he taps at the printed-out article that's been sitting untouched in front of Fiyero for the better part of an hour] and then I'll listen to whatever it is you have to say about "fun". Okay?
no subject
What? And then the project would end and the requirement that they spend any time together would be released, and the crowd of shinier, happier, more fun people would swallow Fiyero back up again. Koby's heard them in the halls, in class, whining about papers and finals and deadlines, whispering about parties he's never been invited to and never will be. It's a different world, one he doesn't belong in. He knows that. He's fine with it.
And yet -- there's a touch over the flaring blush on his cheek, and Koby can't help but wear every, every emotion on his sleeve, on his face, vivid as the rising sun, eyes flicking up to catch Fiyero's for a moment before he clears his throat and pushes his glasses up.] I seem to remember that you grabbed my books off my desk before class had actually been dismissed, then pretended not to hear me telling you that you didn't need to carry them, all the way to the next class.
[But he sets down his pen, gives Fiyero the full focus of his intent, unflinching gaze.] This project is important. It's important to me and, because despite everything you haven't missed a single study session, I think it might be important to you. So, let's make a deal -- you finish summarizing this, [here, he taps at the printed-out article that's been sitting untouched in front of Fiyero for the better part of an hour] and then I'll listen to whatever it is you have to say about "fun". Okay?