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"A crunchy taste, but still sweet like an apple just, as I had hoped. He's exquisite. However, he shouldn't be underestimated, since it's merely an external appearance. On the inside he's a ripe apple: fresh, ready to devour the world and prove how wrong they are about him. I can see it through the surface of his sky-blue eyes, like an innocent fire that grows no matter what."
Rook becomes silent behind a hunter smile. He closes his eyes for a moment, just like he does with the book on his lap.
"All right, mon cher… Tell me wholeheartedly, what do you think?"
Epel gasps— his small face is overshadowed by the size of his big eyes when he opens them. His lips are a tiny line across his face.
Why is Rook... so Rook? Why is he like that? He isn't bad, no. What Epel is trying to say is… uh, in fact, he doesn't know either. It's too much.
"I…" Epel hides his face behind his bangs. Rook gives himself permission to softly sliding the boy's hair behind his ear.
Epel wants Rook to continue. "You…? Tell me…" but Hunt doesn't. He's still silent. Maybe Epel believes that Rook is being scary again?— no way. He isn't. Epel is afraid of his own words and feelings.
"What the hell…" he thinks. He almost wants to run away from Rook or like, just, cut the butterflies' wings flapping in his stomach.
"... Hm, I mean, it's pretty. You have talent and that, so…"
"It's for you."
I know— Felmier thinks to himself.
"Yeah but…" then, Epel curls up on the grass, hugging his legs and frowning a little. "I'm not used to those things… y'know? It feels weird."
Rook doesn't answer. His right hand slips down through the path from Epel's ear to his neck, landing on his back where he caresses it slowly as he moves. There is no space between both of them, and no doubts when he quietly responds:
"Don't let your concerns take over you. Your silence… it delights me as much as it lets me know how much this means to you. After all, you are my muse, mon petit pomme. Feeling your heart beating at this moment is more than enough."
It's a kiss on the ear, a tingling that leaves him burning, no matter how much he wants and dreams about forgetting or not talking about it. So… that's how being flattered feels? And how the power he wants, the respect he wants, between sweet words and love, feels? Epel doesn't want to be corny, even when he's trying to show his feelings, but Rook knows how to look for that side of him patiently— and catch it like a prey.
Even when he's a crunchy, cold apple in the trees.
But he is his sweet apple, his intrépide Epel.
And perhaps, Epel will rest his head on Rook's shoulders, looking for a hug and a secret kiss. So that he can feel the good old days on Rook's lips, the power and respect that Rook lovingly teaches him to have not only for him, Epel, as his boyfriend, but as a friend as well. Epel loves Rook and Rook loves Epel. That's enough and beautiful.