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M&M’s scatter across the carpet in a broken rainbow of color. Strewn about the floor lies crumbled pieces of paper, pencil shavings, and empty composition books Shiro and Adam were given last month for logging their science experiment – you know, the one they haven’t started yet.
Shiro shifts in his spot in the gray bean bag chair and his stomach moves with him. Uneasiness unfurls in his gut as Adam clicks on the stereo and begins to play Lofi Hip Hop – Chill Beats to Relax and Study To, but as the music streams into the air like the dust floating in the light cascading through the window, Shiro knows the feeling isn’t because of Adam, or their procrastination.
Checking his phone, he tries and fails to hold back a groan as he sees the date on the top of his screen, along with his own annoying reminders.
“What’s up?” Adam asks from across the room. He’s standing by his desk, glaring down at the humming printer as it spits out the pieces of paper that are supposed to save both of their lives. He glances over at Shiro, eyebrow raised. “Don’t tell me you have to go.”
A short laugh bubbles out of his chest and he shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I told Gramps we’re on the brink of a breakthrough.” He rolls his eyes at himself. “He’s excited to see how far we’ve come with the project.”
There’s a beat of silence as they both glance towards the ten packets of king-sized M&M’s, four cups of pudding, and a handful of cake balls Adam's moms designed for them. Adam sighs and turns back to the printer. He stacks the paper on the desk, movements precisely irritated. Shiro pockets his phone, ignoring the YOU HAVE NINE DAYS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON YOUR PHONE??? notification he left for himself.
“It’s fine,” says Adam once he plops down on the opposing bean bag chair. He adjusts his glasses on his nose as he scans the sheets of paper he’s collected. “We just have to manage our time better, okay? It’ll be great.”
Shiro snatches the warm paper from Adam’s hands, ignoring his offended sound of protest. His eyes flick across the calendar Adam printed. He can’t stop himself from staring at the red star on Friday the 21st. He decides to close his eyes, toss the stack of paper to the floor and groan instead of memorizing their schedule.
“What were we even doing for the last four weeks?”
“Are you asking me or God?”
“Whoever will answer first.”
Adam snorts. “Shut up. Come on, we have six days to do the testing and two days to move the data to the poster board,” he assures as he swats Shiro’s knee with the back of his hand. Shiro groans again but he doesn’t move or open his eyes.
There’s another pause, and the air grows still. Then, Adam flicks his nostril.
“Ow!” Shiro’s hand jumps up to rub the life-threatening wound. He glances over at Adam with a glare. “What was that for?”
Adam rolls his eyes, a crooked smile teasing at the corners of his lips. For a weird second, something flutters in Shiro’s chest. It’s like the anxiety in the pit of his stomach grew warmer and inched higher at the sight – not exactly a pleasant feeling, but... it wouldn’t be entirely wrong to say it’s nice, for the fleeting moment he feels it.
“We’ve got this, Takashi,” Adam promises and then nods his head backward, a gesture to the floor where the snacks await. “So, c’mon. There’s no point in waiting any longer.”
For a moment, the only thing Shiro can do is stare at Adam. Half of what’s twisting inside his chest might be shock, but the other half... the feeling is too foreign to pin a name to. The only thing coming to mind as his tongue grows heavy in his mouth is that up close, Adam’s eyes aren’t brown. They’re hazel.
Face contorting into something curious, Adam tilts his head to the side. “...Why are you looking at me like that?”
Shiro swallows down a gulp and he tears his eyes away from Adam’s, looking past his shoulder and towards the beginnings of their mess of a science fair experiment. He hopes he doesn’t look as queasy as he feels.
“I just really don’t want to try those cake balls.”
Adam blinks before his expression falls into one of distress. “Yeah.” He shudders. “Me neither.”
>>>
The experiment goes like this: everyone has an idea as to what something will taste like according to its color. If someone sees red food, they might think of something spicy. If there’s a brown colored snack, they wouldn’t be wrong to assume its chocolate. But the question is, can you taste color?
“This is dumb,” Shiro says as he finishes jotting down the experiment's question. “Color doesn’t have a taste. You probably just taste dye.”
Adam hums as he scribbles in his journal. “You’re telling me red apples and green apples taste the same?”
He scoffs. “No, but the color is just due to... uh. Apple genetics or something.”
“Is that what you’re going with?” Adam asks as he sets his pencil down. “Apple genetics?”
“I’m not an apple farmer.” Shiro shrugs. “But it isn’t the color that makes it taste different.”
“Rookie mistake.” Adam looks down at his journal and presses his lips together. “So, that’s your hypothesis? You can’t taste color?”
Shiro nods his head and writes that down. “I don’t think you can, no. You’re going the opposite direction?”
“Guess I probably should.” Adam wipes the eraser shavings off his journal before he dots the punctuation of his sentence. He sits up and grabs the stack of papers with the guidelines of their experiment and skims the words before tossing it to the side. “Now we have to...try the pudding.”
Shiro winces. “This was a mistake. Is it too late to pick another experiment?”
It is, and that question is the reason Shiro is forced to observe the four cups of pudding in front of him. Each cup is a different color, going from red, green, white, and brown. As much as he loves pudding, he knows there’s a chance this won't be appetizing, and with the way Adam is grinning at him, braces flashing, there’s no way he’ll survive.
“Aright, Mr. Colors Don’t Have Taste,” says Adam as he readies the camera and snaps a few pictures of the snacks. “I’m going to give you a flavor, and you have to predict which pudding tastes like that and eat it. We’re going to start with...sour.”
Shiro picks up a spoonful of white pudding and eats it. As soon as the pudding hits his tongue, his face twists and he holds back a gag. Adam snickers as Shiro’s forced to eat the salty pudding and he laughs harder as Shiro shudders.
They go through the other two flavors. For sweet, he picks brown and is cursed with a terrible pungency on his tongue. He then picks red for bitterness and relishes in the candied taste. He’s left with green, and Adam doesn’t have to prompt him before he takes a spoonful into his mouth.
“Oh, Christ.” Shiro screws his eyes shut, face growing red. He should have remembered there was going to be a sour flavor. As Adam chuckles at his misery, he hands him a water bottle and only cackles harder when Shiro chugs half of it. “That’s so bad. This is horrible. You chose this on purpose. I hate you so much.”
“You’re such a moron. You didn’t pick any of the right ones!”
“Now you have to eat it.”
“I already know the answers!”
“We still have to document it, Adam!” He says, but mostly so when Adam eats a spoonful of each flavor, Shiro can understand why he was laughing so much.
>>>
It’s 10 p.m. when he realizes how completely screwed he is.
They went through the series of randomly colored cake pops where they both ate one at the same time and had to quickly jot down what they thought their flavors were. On the red cake pops, Shiro thought it tasted of cinnamon, and Adam thought it was cherry flavored. On the blue, Adam said vanilla, and Shiro said medicine. Over the next eight cake pops, they both shouted random flavors, cackling at the weak defenses the other made for their answers.
“What... what does medicine flavor even taste like?” Adam gasps through his giggles.
Shiro’s face burns red as he watches Adam toss his glasses aside to wipe the tears from his eyes. There’s no reason for it to be as funny as it is, but the bad tastes mixed with the boredom of their work made everything hilarious. A few minutes ago, Shiro had sneezed once and it sent Adam into hysterics, which only made Shiro start laughing too.
“I stand by what I said. Your mom had to have made that cake pop with Nyquil,” Shiro says with a weak shrug.
He runs his fingers across the carpet as they both take a quick break to let their addled minds wander. Shiro avoids looking at Adam and instead stares up at the ceiling. The swelling in his chest seems to grow with each laugh slipping past his mouth, and even though it’s only been a few hours, he thinks he knows what to call this feeling.
It leaves the weirdest taste of the night in his mouth.
Shiro doesn’t know what to do with his hands, now that he’s lying on the floor. The next test is to blindly eat M&M’s and guess what color they are, but his stomach hurts and he’s getting too comfortable not paying attention to anything – or anyone.
So his mind wanders a bit too far, leaving him dazed and a little tired. Without putting much thought into what he’s doing, Shiro reaches out grabs Adam’s glasses. Adam makes a sound, something that translates into, what are you doing?, but Shiro doesn’t say anything back as he settles the frames on his face.
Everything grows blurry as he looks through the lenses. The lights on the ceiling fan morph into glowing orbs, and though he can still separate the blades of the fan apart from the ceiling, everything’s hazy. But, if he’s being honest, that feeling isn’t entirely new.
“Your head’s ginormous,” Shiro says as he rolls his head to the side.
Adam’s already looking at him, eyes small like he’s squinting to get a clear look at Shiro before he gives up. “My ginormous head needs those to see, moron.”
“You’re telling me.”
As Shiro takes off the glasses, his hands tremble. Adam’s already reaching out to him, ready to take them back, but instead, Shiro finds himself sitting up and scooting over to him. Adam props himself up on his forearms, a quizzical look stretched across his face. He can tell Adam’s about to ask what he’s doing, but as soon as Adam opens his mouth, he closes it with a small pout.
Shiro gingerly places his glasses on Adam’s face.
“How about now?” He asks softly.
Adam blinks, eyebrows twitching as he stares up at Shiro. There’s a weird sparkle in his eyes, and though it could easily be the reflection of the lenses, the thought is swept away with all rhyme or reason as Adam breathes out a chuckle and darts his eyes away. The dim lighting in the room isn’t what makes Adam’s cheek darken, he’s sure of it.
“...A lot better, actually,” Adam mumbles.
The swelling in Shiro’s chest doesn’t stop and he decides since his common sense is on vacation, he might as well just ask, “Why were you looking at me like that?”
Except...Adam groans at the question. His cheeks grow even pinker. “You’re so smart, why are you being so stupid?” He asks himself before he squeezes his eyes shut and asks, “Why do you think, Takashi?”
Shiro swallows around his heart in his throat. “I don’t know.” He mumbles, pressing his brows together. “My hypothesis might be wrong.”
Finally, Adam looks back at him. The gleam in his eyes hasn’t left.
“Trust me,” Adam says, hazel eyes moving back and forth between Shiro’s own. “It isn’t.”