Work Text:
“I admire you.”
Onion looks up from his desk, “Sorry, what did you say?”
Apple is watching him sketch out a drawing of his family on a piece of lined paper. “I said I admire you, Onion.”
“Why’s that?”
Apple smiles, though he’s visibly confused, “What do you mean?”
“Why do you admire me?” Onion brushes off eraser marks from the paper and continues to sketch the top of his dad’s head. Apple leans in closer and scoots his chair next to Onion’s side. “I’ve done nothing special to be admired for.”
“I like the way you draw,” Apple says.
“You draw just fine too.” Onion shrugs.
“I like the way,” Apple grins, “You- like, sketch very lightly so when you mess up you don’t have to do that much erasing. Or when you roll your eyes when your drawing smudges because you’re left handed. It’s a weird struggle, and-”
Apple stops rambling for a moment to collect his thoughts, “You complain about it so often, when you show me your drawings. How it messes up the quality. But I think they look just fine.”
Onion’s face had gone completely red by the time Apple stops talking. His hand has stopped mid sketch, head fuzzy and focused on the way Apple speaks about him so fondly. It’s entirely too much for him to handle.
The worst part is that Apple doesn’t seem to realize how happy it makes him.
“Apple,” Onion smiles awkwardly, eyes cast off to the side, “You’re embarrassing me.”
“Am I?” Apple asks, “I’m only telling you.”
“I appreciate it.” Onion’s hands have yet to move, “Thank you.”
“But- But that’s not the only thing though,” Apple says, “I admire the way you play basketball, and how you’re so easy with it. You can shoot a basket into anything!”
“T-that-”
“And I like your cooking! It tastes really good, I like the way you make spaghetti too, and you always remember to put extra cheese without me asking. It’s so good it always puts me right to sleep afterward. Is that on purpose, Onion? Is that why you only make spaghetti for dinner? So that I’ll fall asleep easier? Oh, another thing-”
And it seems like Apple can go on and on forever about the things he likes. It’s so much, too much for Onion to bear. He rambles about how smart he is, how talented he is, how kind he is. By the time Apple’s looked at Onion, he’s radiating so much heat the apartment’s become 3 degrees warmer.
“Onion?” Apple shakes him by the shoulder, “Are you okay?”
“You’re being too nice to me-” Onion’s voice comes out in a strong quiver. At some point, all of the love got to his head and caused it to flop down onto the table where the drawing sits untouched. “It’s overwhelming. I think I’ve gone into sensory overload…”
“Oh no, I’m sorry!” Apple stands up from his chair, “Wait here, I’ll go get a cold cloth. Don’t die, please! ”
Onion finds he can finally relax when Apple leaves the room, though the intense fluttering in his heart is still hitting him with harsh waves. It’s not that Apple has never complimented him, he gets more of those than he could ask for. But for him to go on such a long tangent…
“Here, put this on your face,” Apple hands Onion the cloth, but his hands can’t move to take it.
“Oh, wait, right.” Apple wastes no time applying the cold washcloth to Onion’s face after removing his glasses. “I’m sorry, Onion. I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. I was just trying to let you know how great I think you are.”
“It’s okay,” Onion smiles, “I liked it a lot. It made me happy.”
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Onion’s eyes close, “It was nice.”
“I…know you’re overwhelmed right now.” Apple says, voice guilty, “But, another thing I admire is how forgiving you are. Even when I mess up and make things worse for you, you’re still my best friend.
Onion’s heart does 60 backflips in a minute. “Thank you, Apple.”
“Oh, be quiet.” Apple mumbles, “I’m the one who should be thanking you.” He removes the washcloth and helps Onion with his glasses, looking down at the ground in shame. I buttered you up and got surprised when slipped from my hands.”
“Well, now I’m up again,” Onion smiles, but frowns when his eyes catch a glimpse of the paper. ”Aw, now my drawing’s all smudged.”
“Turn it over and start again,” Apple encourages, “This time make it even better.”
And as Onion starts from the beginning, Apple scoots his chair so that they’re touching and leans his head into his side. Onion enjoys it, enjoys the closeness of Apple, how he isn’t afraid to touch when he wants. He loves when Apple cares so much and loves so hard Onion just might pop.
He adores Apple. He wishes he could know just how much it affects him.
The drawing is soon finished and hung up on Onion’s side of their room for him to remember. Apple spends a good two minutes simply staring at the work of art on the wall before declaring he’s hungry, and that a trip to the store is in order.
Onion loves that Apple is so unnecessary.
. . .
It’s strange how easy they’ve slipped into comfortability. With the way their lives have merged as one, a day without Apple feels empty, incomplete. Onion starts his day off with Apple, spends his evenings with Apple. The last thing he sees before bed is always Apple. Even when he dreams of visiting family back home, or bike rides at the park, somehow, in some way, Apple is always there.
Apple is Onion’s best friend. But he’s become so much more than that. It drives Onion just a little bit crazy how much he adores him, how much he wants to spend every minute with him. How much he wonders where his life would be without him.
Call him crazy for being a little bit smitten.
“Onion,” Apple asks, drooping spaghetti in the cart. Onion sees it as a sign of what he wants for dinner tonight. “If you had to be resurrected as an animal, what would you be?”
“Where’d that question come from?”
“Just wondering.”
“I don’t know,” Onion thinks for a moment, “Probably a cat, so we can still be together. You’d probably be much happier with a cat as a roommate anyway.”
“That’s sweet,” Apple says, “I feel bad now because I was gonna say a worm.”
“A worm?”
“Worms are wicked. They can’t die.”
“Worms can die for a number of reasons-”
“Worms can’t die don’t ruin this for me.”
He’s oblivious, Onion knows that. Apple hates when things aren’t explained and loathes when they are. He can never have a perfect balance of the two.
Ignorance truly is bliss.
Onion leaves the store with bags full of ingredients. Apple leaves the store with two full bags of various snacks and sodas to store for the next 6 months. Neither leave with a cent to spare for the next shopping trip. Onion would facepalm if his hands weren’t full.
“I’m cold,” Apple whines, “How much farther until we reach home?”
“Probably not another 5 minutes,” Onion says, “Why didn’t you bring a scarf with you?”
“It’s the middle of October. I don’t need to wear a scarf.”
Onion frowns. “It’s the middle of October, so you’re supposed to wear a scarf.”
“I’d rather not.”
Onion sets his bags down on the sidewalk and unwraps the plaid yellow scarf from his neck. “Here, you can borrow mine for the rest of the walk home.”
“But won’t you get cold?”
And sure, Onion could outright admit that the idea of Apple being swallowed up by Onion’s large scarf that’s still warm from the heat of his breath is the most breathtaking image he could imagine, but that doesn’t sound like a very best friend-like thing to say.
“I’ll be alright. It’s only a 5-minute walk. Here, take it before it gets cold too.” Onion throws the catch for Apple to catch.
“Your scarf is so large. I can’t believe I never realized.” Apple comments as he wraps it around his face.
Onion is definitely staring.
He was right; the scarf is much too big for Apple, but the color yellow against his red works so beautifully Onion has to tear himself away and pick up the bags before he finds himself staring forever. “Let’s hurry. I’m scared I might catch a cold.”
“Do you mind if I borrow this scarf?” Apple says, “It’s warm, and it smells like you.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Onion has to walk faster to stop his heart from leaping out of his throat. “Sure!”
“Slow down, I can’t walk that fast!”
“If we walk faster,” Onion huffs. The cold wind is hitting his face much harder without the scarf blocking it, “We’ll get home in 3 minutes rather than 5.”
They get home in 7 minutes; Apple had nearly passed out from having to jog to keep up with Onion’s speedwalking. By the time they get home, Onion’s nose is running and Apple looks to have one foot in the grave.
“We really shouldn’t have walked that fast.”
“Agreed. You better make that pasta extra hot.”
So he did want spaghetti for dinner. Onion knew Apple like the back of his hand.
“Will do.”
. . .
He’s still wearing it.
Apple is oblivious, Onion knows that. But the scarf is still wrapped and tucked tight on him, and whenever Onion thinks he’s finally going to take it off, he doesn’t. It’s not particularly comfortable, just something he got one day when thrifting at the shops.
Onion can’t focus.
Apple eats the snacks he bought with the scarf on. Apple sits at the table while he waits for dinner with the scarf on. Apple eats dinner with the scarf on.
“Are you sure you didn’t catch a cold?” Apple casually asks, “Your face is still red from earlier.”
A noodle falls onto the scarf. Onion watches Apple pick it off and eat it like the scarf isn’t even there.
“I hope not.” Onion lies. “Why are you still wearing my scarf?”
“Oh, your scarf?” Apple shrugs, “I don’t know. I just like it. Did you want it-”
“No!” Onion blurts out suddenly. Apple raises an eyebrow, “I mean, you can keep it on if you’d like. I don’t mind.”
“Thanks,” Apple says. He continues to eat the spaghetti as normal.
Apple is Onion’s friend. Apple is Onion’s friend. Apple is Onion’s friend.
Why does he want so much more than what friendship can offer? Why is this suddenly not enough for him?
He loves being Apple’s friend. He doesn’t want anything more than that. He can’t give him more than that, not the way he so desperately wants to. Why does he want more than that? What is going on?
“Are you okay?”
Onion blinks up from his plate. “Huh?”
“You’re not eating. You’re just kind of sitting there and staring at your food.” Apple takes a bite into more noodles. “If you’re not hungry, I’m happy to eat the remains so it isn’t a waste.”
Apple is Onion’s friend. Onion’s oblivious friend. “I think I will eat it, actually.”
“Bummer,” Apple laughs, “I love your cooking.”
So, so oblivious.
“Apple?”
It’s late at night. Onion had gone to bed after dinner a few minutes before Apple decided to join him. It’s just that after everything today, the compliments, the scarf, dinner. Onion feels like he has some things he needs to work out. Why not do it with the person who’s the part of the problem?
Part of him worries and thinks he should probably keep his mouth shut. But Apple, though one eye has begun to droop from sleep, turns over to face him when his name is called. The moonlight spills from his window, and the crickets chirp by the door.
It’s a conversation he needs to have.
Best case scenario, Apple is too sleepy to remember any of it tomorrow.
“Yeah?”
It’s only when Onion tries to speak that he’s aware his throat’s run dry.
“Do you ever wonder if we’re more than just best friends?”
Apple is very, very quiet. “No, not really.”
And Onion’s heart sinks. “Oh.”
“Is that something you wonder?”
Every ounce of Onion’s body is screaming at him to lie. Pin the thought on someone else, call it off, turn it into a joke. It’s not too late to back out of it. It’s not too late to save himself from the embarrassment of a confession. It’s not too late to lie.
But he can’t. He can’t do that to Apple.
“I,” Onion breathes, his voice soft and face red, “I do. Sometimes.”
“Is that why you weren’t eating tonight?”
Onion nods.
Apple seems more alert now, both eyes wide open and locked on Onion, whose eyes are locked on him. “So you like me romantically?”
Onion shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, what does “more than best friends” mean to you?”
Apple’s question is left with silence. Onion is left wondering if he should explain.
“I like being your friend, Onion,” Apple says. Onion listens, “But I’ve thought about doing more with you. Things couples do, like holding hands and kissing. Sharing clothes and compliments.”
Onion’s eyes widen.
“I thought I was weird for it at first. When I started noticing every detail and pointing it out to you. I didn’t think it was allowed” Apple whispers. “It’s not very-”
“Best friend like?”
Apple averts his eyes. “Yeah.”
“That’s what I thought too.” Onion says.
The two lay in silence for a while. Apple’s blanket is hung tight around himself, his face blank and quiet. He’s definitely lost in thought. Onion can’t blame him; they’ve just admitted a lot.
“I’d like to kiss you.” Apple finally says. Onion blinks.
“Okay,” Onion says, “You can.”
“And we’ll still be best friends when we pull away?”
“Yeah, of course.”
And so two steps and Apple has shuffled off the bed, three steps more and he’s approaching Onion’s side where he’s sat up and adjusted his glasses so he can get a better look.
After a total of 5 steps and a cup of Apple’s cheeks, Onion finally gets his very first kiss.
From his best friend.
It’s hard, because Onion has never kissed someone before, not someone like Apple who he wants to give his entire world to. Not someone he loves with his entire being. So he tries to show that and deepens it, presses forward with all the love in his heart that he can. Apple’s hands rest on his knees.
They pull away. Onion is panting softly, his breath still tastes of mint from when he’d brushed his teeth.
“Do you feel any different?” Apple asks.
“I feel like I just kissed my best friend if that counts.”
“I meant emotionally.”
“Then no,” Onion asks, completely breathless, “I feel…okay.”
“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Apple admits. “Did I do good?”
“Yeah,” Onion says, “I’ve never kissed anyone either.”
“Can I do it again?”
“Please.”
And Apple kisses him again. And again. And again until Onion melts and just takes each one after another. Onion, in the past 3 minutes they’ve been kissing each other, has already grown to adore the way Apple kisses, as if he’ll just take and take until there’s none left. Onion will let him. Onion loves it.
“I adore you, Apple,” Onion pants between each kiss, “I love when you’re completely oblivious to everything, like how worms can die, and how long spaghetti takes to boil-”
Apple shuts him up with another kiss. Onion can hardly breathe. His skin is hot all over, his hands are so sweaty and yet he doesn’t know what to do with them when Apple’s the one taking control of the kiss, so he grips the base of his leaf.
Apple laughs a bit. Onion blushes.
Apple is Onion’s best friend.
His very oblivious best friend. His very knowledgeable best friend. His very kissable best friend.
Onion is in love with his best friend.
Apple is in love with his too.
Very little changes after that. Onion still sleeps in his own bed and cooks their dinner every night. Apple still spends money on things they don’t need. But now and then, Onion will press a kiss to Apple’s lips, and Apple will sneak into Onion’s bed if he wants extra cuddles that night.
And when they’re sharing snacks on the couch Apple will kiss him right then just because he can. And when Onion visits family Apple will make out his goodbyes instead of saying them. And when Apple has a nightmare he’ll kiss his worries away until he falls asleep once more.
When they’re coming home from the store, Apple wears Onion’s scarf, holds Onion's hand and it means something more.
But it’s forever just the two of them.
What more could they ever ask for?