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“Let's play ten fingers.”
Halo's suggestion earned a round of applause.
“And the one who is the first to run out of fingers needs to answer questions from all of the others. Like a Truth or Truth.”
Hangman squinted at the Squad and flipped the toothpick with his tongue.
“Can I skip it?”
“What, you are afraid that your dark little secrets may be revealed, Bagman?” Phoenix rolls her eyes.
Well.
Actually.
He kept his eyes strictly forward and clenched his fists under the table to avoid looking at a certain brunette.
“Just think it would be boring is all.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
“Let's do it.”
Hangman snapped his head to the source of this voice that's too familiar.
Although he's probably addressing the whole table, Rooster was staring at him pointedly, his brown honey eyes totally unreadable.
He gave another bored shrug, but his heart was beating frantically in his chest.
Come on, Jake, put yourself together. It's just a normal stupid game.
It's nothing but a normal stupid game.
The questions, if he hadn't known better, sounded like they were meticulously plotted.
(“Never have I ever grown a moustache.”I mean, could you be more obvious, people?)
(“Never have I ever played 'Great Balls of Fire' on the piano in Hard Deck.” Oh, they actually could.)
Rooster, amiable as ever, just shook his head with an amused grin and put down one finger, and Hangman just loved him a bit more.
His turn. He cleared his throat.
“Never have I ever worn glasses in my life.”
Bob let out a small groan and put down one finger.
Hangman flashed his teeth at the poor guy. Sorry, man, Seresins always got perfect eyesight.
Another three questions, and Rooster only got one finger left.
Hangman was not anxious. Not at all. He just got sweaty palms and speeded heart rate and…
OK, he was anxious.
A chance to ask Rooster questions which he could only answer the truth.
What did he want to ask?
What do you think of me?
Do you think of me at all?
Sometimes I think you were looking at me, but when I turned, you always looked away. Were you really looking at me?
Why did you look at me?
Will you punch me if I kiss you?
Do you like me?
He was too caught up in his own thoughts that he almost missed Yale's statement.
“Never have I ever had a crush.”
“No way!”
“That's not true!!”
Despite the protest, the Daggers still reluctantly put down their fingers.
OK.
So Rooster had had a crush before. Or more than one.
No big deal. Totally, totally no big deal.
Hangman was so jealous that he could explode on the spot.
Fritz whistled.
“Rooster!!”
And then they chanted (like the bunch of idiots they were).
“Rooster, Rooster, Rooster—”
“All right, all right.” There was a faint blush high on his cheekbone. “Shoot your questions.”
“So, regarding your crush, or crushes.” Phoenix wiggles her left eyebrow. “Do you still have one right now?”
The blush reddened. Rooster gave a curt nod.
Uh-oh.
“Have you told them?”
Rooster sighed. “No. Don't think they are interested.”
He sounded defeated and wishful. So Rooster really liked this lucky bastard.
Engine failure. Repeat, Engine Failure.
“Can you describe them?”
“They are… ” There were some faraway looks in Rooster's eyes, like a daydream. “... Not the traditional version of warm or kind at the first sight. Aggressive, competitive, arrogant. An asshole, to sum it up.” He chuckled, and Hangman’s heart contracted a bit. “But as time goes up, they kind of… grow on you. Deep, deep down, they are actually loyal and sweet. Brilliant as hell, too.”
Silence.
Hangman's heart didn't exist any more.
“So…” Beside him, Fanboy made an attempt to ease the tense in the air. “I take it that they are beautiful?”
Hangman focused on the glass on his hand.
“The most beautiful person I have ever seen.”
OK.
That's it. He couldn't stand it any longer.
He stood up so abruptly that his chair was knocked over. Rooster's eyes snapped to him.
“Need some air. Sorry.”
He gestured vaguely and escaped like the heartbroken coward he was.
“Hangman, you OK?”
Damn Rooster and his big kind shiny heart.
He didn't turn around. The sky was quite grey today.
“Finally finished waxing poetic about your stupidly perfect lover?” He spat despite himself. “Never took you for a romantic, Rooster.”
When there was no reply behind him for one minute, Hangman shut his eyes and sighed. Driving away the only person he had ever loved with this bitter jealousy? He would definitely die alone, thank you.
“You haven't asked your question.”
Hangman startled.
“Well, if you still can't catch it by now, I don't have the faintest interest in your unrequited love, Bradshaw—” He turned around and was taken back by the hurt in Rooster's eyes.
God. Why was he always like that?
He rushed to apologize, but Rooster just shook his head and repeated.
“You haven't asked your question.”
They were standing quite close, Hangman realized dimly.
And Rooster was gazing at him with his gorgeous eyes.
“Were you talking about me just now?”
Wait, what?
WHAT?
Oh shit. He said that aloud.
Shitshitshitshitshit.
Oh god.
He squeezed his eyes shut and was unwilling to see the disgust on Rooster's face.
“Yes.”
God, he's going to hate me for…
Wait.
WHAT???
He opened his eyes.
There was only an inch between them and there was something akin to hope in Rooster’s eyes.
“What?” He whispered.
“You can only ask one question.” Rooster whispered back, his breach caressing Hangman's lips.
“Then can I switch to dare?”
“It depends.”
“I dare you to kiss me.”
And then Rooster's lips were on his. And then everything was perfect and perfect.
“So, I grew on you, huh?”
“Don't get so smug.”
“I am the most beautiful you've ever seen?”
“Oh for god's sake, shut up, Seresin.”
“Make me, Bradshaw.”
Everything was truly perfect.