Chapter Text
It's like the time around Boboiboy skids to a stop.
He stands there, stationary, shell shocked, eyes blown wide.
Fang is in front of him, laughing at something Ying said that Boboiboy hadn't caught.
The ravenette's eyebrows raise up in delight and his eyes turn up with a smile as he lets out a sound of delight, and goddesses above, he won't even try and describe how amazing Fang looks, because he's sure he'll sound like the cheesiest man on earth.
I'm… so down bad.
The realization hits him like a truck.
He's completely, absolutely, most definitely, really, really, in love with Fang.
And… probably has been for the past 4 years.
"Oh no," Boboiboy whispers, to himself in particular.
*
Boboiboy refuses to even look in Fang's direction after that.
He refuses to be anywhere near him, and pretends not to hear his mind shouting at him, 'He's so cute!' and 'I'm so down bad!'
No. Nope, he certainly hears nothing of the kind.
Denial, thy name is Boboiboy.
*
To be honest, the most shocking thing to the elemental user isn't that he's in love with Fang, but how long it took him to notice.
Four whole years. If Boboiboy does the math, which he does while he's Solar instead because his brain is as flat as a plate without the elemental enhancements of his watch, that's.. 1,460 days.
1,460 days has he spent his life hopelessly pining after the literal love of his life, who he had casually thought as 'handsome' and 'good looking', thinking that anything as ridiculously non-platonic as that was normal bestfriend thoughts.
A whopping One Thousand, Four Hundred And Sixty Days.
Maybe his brain constantly reminding him about it reduces the shock value of it, but my god, whenever he reminisces his younger self doing absolutely nothing but staring at Fang across the room, blush dusted across his cheeks like a schoolgirl, he wants nothing more than to reach into the memory and slam his past self into the nearest wall.
*
"What in the world do you think you're doing, young man?"
Boboiboy pays Ochobot no mind, continuing to secure chunks of dirt in his hands.
He pointedly ignores Ochobot's wince as he slaps the dirt onto his cheeks and smothers it into his pores, maybe just a little bit off his rockers.
"What does it look like?" He asks, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "I'm letting the earth reclaim me."
"Oh, my god." Ochobot doesn't bother to lower his volume. "He's finally lost it."
"My life would be so much better if I was just dirt in the ground. In my lane. Happy. Vibing, even." At this point, Boboiboy looks like a stone age caveman.
"And I vow to never, ever, fall in love with another chunk of dirt and complicate literally every damn thing for no reason." He tacks on.
"Okay." Ochobot says, like he has an inkling of a clue of what in the fresh hell Boboiboy's rambling on about.
He slowly lowers his grime covered face down into the dirt, laying face down.
"Being dirt is so fun."
Ochobot has a lot of things he wants to say, but he opts not to instead.
*
"Nice to see, good to hold. Once broken, considered sold."
"Nice to see, good to fantasize about, once I accidentally reveal it eventually, I'll ruin everything."
He tugs his cap down over his eyes.
"Life is so complicated."
*
I've been in love with you since year 6 when you almost killed everyone in our friend group, ahaha, no biggie, so what?
That is the most horrible way to open a confession.
Fang. I'm in love with you. Whisk me away, be my prince charming, and let's start our own runaway life in a cute cottage in the woods, and own two cats! One will be named Sabre, after you! And —!
Too weird.
'Prince charming'? 'Runaway life'? Fang is not the love interest of a Disney Princess, nor does Boboiboy think he would be interested in indulging Boboiboy with his ridiculous fantasies.
You are perfect.
You are gentle, unlike warfare, yet you are warm like fresh blood.
You are the diamond that forms from pressure, the one who blossoms even under disaster.
You have eyes that kiss in the corners, and glow like the fireflies that lead the way.
There's no need for me to choose from either you or the sun, because you are the light that graces me.
You are the right kind of sinner to release my inner fantasy.
You are my love this lifetime, the final piece that makes my heart complete.
I'm madly in love with you.
So choose me, like I always have for you.
Number one, that's the cheesiest thing Boboiboy's ever had the displeasure of wasting exactly 20 minutes of his life thinking up.
Number two, reciting a love poem as a confession to someone would only work in a unrealistic romance book.
Worst of all, it'd paint him as a total nerd.
Or maybe I can just do a hands on approach and straight up kiss him, He thinks.
It might be too direct, and also a bit of a shock, but it's the easiest and most efficient way to convey his feelings, isn't it?
The only thing in his way now is the nerves.
*
Here lies Boboiboy, 2007 to 2022.
May he rest in peace. He was a very good man, to his father, to his mother, and most importantly to his grand dad.
His will is that his best friends will inherit pretty much all his things. They can pick and choose what they want.
Boboiboy simply allows the monologue to flow in his head.
He's been silently waiting in the hallway infront of Fang's room, not a single word uttered, shoulders pulled taut with suspense.
It was very tempting, in fact, to stand up and take his leave and act like he'd never spent what felt like half of his life sitting in front of this depressingly non decorated iron door.
He hasn't even thought about how he'll incorporate his down badness as a speaking topic.
Does he start the conversation off with this right off the bat, or simply slide it in casually like a fact?
And speak of the devil, here he comes.
Boboiboy can spot the source of all his recent mid life crisises easily with his signature spiky, slicked back hair, and the familiar heart throb face.
His heart beats agaisnt his ears and he wonders idly if it's loud enough for Fang to hear it.
"Oh, Boboiboy!" Fang's face lights up at the sight of his friend, very much the opposite of Boboiboy's frozen reaction, staying rooted to the spot.
"Uhh, Hi, Faaang," He says, entirely unnatural. He prays to the above that the floor will just open up and swallow him whole.
Anything to get away from this conversation, that he's sure will definitely go downhill from here.
"How… has your day been?"
It sounds like he's reading off a book. Oh god. He's sure he will die, now and here.
I'M SO SCREWED.
"Normal, I guess. Kaizo got a little irritated on our mission… I had to get an earful." A sigh escapes the ravenette.
Sudden anger shoots through Boboiboy at that. "I'd punch him for you." He doesn't know what prompted that.
"I'd punch him, twice. One for me, one for you." He vows, blankly, wondering why his brain to mouth filter isn't working normally.
Fang stops in his tracks to load his items on the floor, sending a look at Boboiboy.
"Hey, Boboiboy… Are you okay? You're acting kind of strange."
Boboiboy's smile is hollow and etched on to his face. He knows the three words he has to say, but it's stuck in his throat.
Fang's warm hands come up to press against his forehead, sideswept bangs being brushed away by his fingers.
Too close. Way too close.
"I'm," In love with you.
"I'm okay."
"Just dandy!" It's far too late to back out now.
"And I doubt that," Fang raises an eyebrow. "You're burning up."
"Readings say that your body temperature is above average." At that, Boboiboy flushes even redder.
Yeah, I'm probably burning up, but not… not because I have a fever.
"Oh, and abnormal heart rate too."
"Your visor reading thing? It's a snitch." His brain feels sloth slow.
Fang laughs, and Boboiboy wishes he would just lower his hands off from where it's cradling his head gently, because he feels like he'll melt where Fang's skin meets with his.