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Somewhere on ANAKT’s grounds, something ached.
In the midst of a meteor shower, raining light and crimson, two hands released each other; a proposal of freedom was left behind, fleeing in the wake of uncertainty and something more. As he left, the other could only bear a bitter grin, as the hole in his heart yearned to be filled. Bathed in the scarlet light of falling stars, he could only stand there, abandoned and aching.
This is not their story.
Within the walls of ANAKT’s dormitories, something blossomed. A warmth and comfort that contrasted the cold reality of this place, this world. It was strange, unlikely, and yet it felt right. As if it was meant to be— even if it had been born out of shared bitterness. Like two seeds planted together in the same hole, surrounded by other unimportant seeds, with no room to do anything but grow. With tangled roots, sprouts intertwined under the leaves of the other taller plants.
Tall as they are, they will never be as important as the two seedlings are to each other.
- - -
The dorm glittered, washed in flickering red hues as meteorites fell across the sky, unreachable through the small opening, a sorry excuse of a window. The event did not go unnoticed; a boy falling in and out of a sleepless grasp had finally opened his eyes and paid attention to the shifting light. The walls were red, glowing crimson like he’d never seen before. As far as he knew, his dorm walls were white.
Thus, he threw off the blankets and scrambled upright, now sitting on top of the bed with his back nearly pinned against the wall. As his gaze flickered across the room, trying to take it all in and make some sort of understanding out of all this, he tried to compose himself. Needless to say, he was scared shitless by the sight, though the instinct to appear cool and collected was a little stronger— even within dorm walls. Not even they would catch him acting like a sniveling wimp.
Something sparkling caught the corner of his eyes, and Marty found himself looking at the small window. His confusion, let alone his initial shock and fright, had been answered. A meteor shower could be seen pouring from the heavens outside, fragments of starlight blazing across a deep, red sky; a clear, cloudless night, raining crimson for all the world to see… if the world was even awake.
Fittingly, Marty was starstruck, jaw slightly gaping in awe as he finally relaxed. When he wasn’t throwing blankets around like some kind of child, he had to admit that the spectacle was captivating. It was nothing like he’d ever seen before. Even from the small window he could tell that it reached all corners of the sky, and all crevices of the cosmos that looked down on him. Lights changing, flashing, twisting between red, scarlet, crimson, hints of little things like fire and starlight. Every meteorite that fell, died, and another one followed suit. But, they were quick, fleeting, with no intention to even consider where they were landing. Some fell in flashier fashion, some didn’t; some fell in solos, duos, trios, yet some of them didn’t die at the same time.
But there were a good handful that fell together, and remained together.
Marty’s thoughts, straight to the point and as sharp as ever, were sent off kilter by a slight interruption. Something stirred within the corners of his eyes, and as he peered away from the meteor shower before him, he was able to identify the source of the movement:
Across from his own bed was another; in it was another boy, wrapped surprisingly comfortably in a blanket as pale as the ceilings, walls, every piece of furniture that ANAKT had to offer (though it was important to note that even the blanket itself was bathed in red light). Although Marty himself found their assigned blankets tolerable at best, the boy, his dormmate, seemed rather… cozy. Marty couldn’t help but envy him; there was a chill that often made its way into the dorms, harsh and artificial in the way that it made him want to crawl under every inch of fabric he could find. Yet, in spite of its bothersome nature, he found that it was best to deal with it. He wouldn’t show it of course, but Acorn’s watchful gaze made it clear that his attempts were mostly unsuccessful.
…that, and the amount of times he’d complain about it. And yet, Marty would say otherwise.
And then, Acorn would just smile at him and say, “Sure,” soft, yet a little mischievous— only for Marty to scoff at him and display his disbelief in various forms and manners, such as, “Whatever.” Sometimes, he’d sneak in a little jab, but it was a jab so gentle that it was more like a nudge. Acorn would then give him a look, and then say something that was so… unlike him.
But it was always him. Marty knew the real him.
And the cycle would continue. Outside, inside, even here within the dorm.
Warmth lightly dusted his cheeks, and with a jolt, he snapped himself out of his thoughts. Alarm washed through him, accompanied by the prickling of annoyance surfacing due to the notion that he was lost in thought, eyeing Acorn like some kind of idiot. God— he knew Acorn didn’t have a sharpened tongue, but there would be rare occasions where he’d have something up his sleeve. Because he knew that Acorn found his slip-ups funny. Hilarious, even.
Marty was never sure to be annoyed or…
Movement caught his eye once more— oh, that’s right. Stars were literally falling and dying outside his window and he was here, thinking and acting all stupid over his friend. Who was doing nothing but sleeping— and comfortably, at that.
Turning back to the window, he found himself wanting to be a little selfish; concealing this experience to himself felt rather tantalizing, and using it as some sort of leverage against the other students was tempting, to say the least. They wouldn’t believe him (of course they wouldn’t), but at least he’d be able to sleep for a good week or two knowing that he had an experience that no one else could take nor squander. He was the only one brave enough to wake up and witness the spectacle; everyone else was too busy sleeping after a long day’s work of pretending to be talented and famous. As if they could even sing.
Yet… with Acorn, he found it difficult to be selfish.
A lot of his experiences with Acorn were often shared, but that was mostly because he would tag along and cling to him… which is what he would’ve said had it not been for the fact that he would invite (drag) him along. Anything that was deemed “cool” and “unique” would be reported to Acorn, only for him to be taken to the source. At the beginnings of their strange little bond, Acorn really was just a mere companion to Marty’s antics, but as they grew, Acorn’s absence was as an empty space in his world. As empty as the dark, night sky, and at a certain point in their bond, his presence filled said sky, turning it into a warm day. From that point onward, being selfish was far from his mind in the presence of his friend.
Dormmate. Whatever.
Gingerly, the boy crept his way towards Acorn, casting a long, lanky shadow among the shifting crimson hues painted within the dorm. Lifting a hand, he set it upon Acorn’s shoulder, shaking him slowly, gently as he hoped to gain some sort of response.
“Hey,” he whispered, leaning closer towards Acorn’s face. “Acornnnn, wake up— you gotta…”
Despite his efforts, Acorn’s face twitched and he brought up a hand to where Marty had whispered to him. He rubbed his face, only to turn over and face away from Marty, who had paused to watch his friend’s movement.
It was as if his whispering was a disturbance. An indignant, yet bemused hmph could be heard as he leaned back to consider his options: try again, or let Acorn miss out on an incredible cosmic light show. He could just give up, leave his friend in his slumber and watch the stars fall outside his window all by himself. It would be his own experience, all his and no one else’s. And it would be him, just him.
Alone.
…which, truthfully, didn’t sound all too pleasant. He could just let Acorn sleep, but he could already see his poor friend’s face in the morning, both in and out of classes, all around school grounds. He’d be all wide-eyed and dismayed, frowning as he pestered him with questions about why he didn’t wake him up, or why he didn’t try harder to do so. Knowing Acorn and the closeness he shared, it would take weeks for him to let it go; he was awfully persistent when he wanted to be.
While Marty could just not say anything about the meteor shower… well, how could he not? He’d bet no one had ever seen anything like this before— it would be awesome, and he’d get all of his classmates’ eyes on him— he’d be the star of ANAKT for years to come… or maybe a few weeks, give or take.
Besides— he found Acorn’s persistent side… endearing. His face would be so pouty, he’d tug at Marty’s sleeves and lean on him, then express how he would’ve wanted to see the meteor shower with him. He’d try to console his friend, of course, but Marty would only be able to look at his eyes, dark and brimming with gentle, playful upset.
It was almost… cute.
…cute?
The word brought his thoughts to a screeching halt, and he realized he’d been hovering over the side of Acorn’s bed for a little too long. He breathed inwards through his nose, indignant as ever. Cute— cute?! What did he even mean by that? Cute was a word meant to describe… other things, not his friend— no, dormmate! How embarrassing of him— and to think he’d have to endure all that in the morning? All day? Weeks, even?
The room felt a little too warm for comfort. Hastily, he began to shake Acorn again, this time a bit roughly. He’d whisper a little louder, this time with some urgency. “Acorn— Acorn!”
Maybe he could’ve been a little nicer with it, but one, he already tried, and two, he could not let whatever that was happen! And oh god— Acorn was also perceptive as hell. He could notice things that others often didn’t— he’d be suspicious! And there was absolutely no way in the history of ANAKT that he’d let Acorn try and read him like that.
Read what exactly? Well, there was absolutely nothing to read, nothing at all. He was just being an idiot.
Before he could stress even further about his own idiocy, Acorn jolted awake, inhaling sharply and almost choking on his own breath.
“Whuh— what’s going on?!” the boy sputtered as he scrambled upright, propping one arm under himself as he used the other to rub the sleep from his eyes. His bowl-cut hair looked more like a basket; his hair was messy, strands leaning in other directions except downwards— a sure-fire sign that he had been sleeping rather comfortably in his bed.
Before Marty could, regrettably, ponder even further about the intricacies of his friend’s hair, Acorn finally looked at him, blinking with confusion.
“Marty? What’s this about? Are you—“ It seemed like poor Acorn could not get a single proper sentence in, because as he focused on Marty he noticed that he was red— literally. Everything was red; the bed, the walls, the floor, everything, even him included. He’d never seen anything like this before, and quite frankly, it was a little frightening.
With a small squeak, Acorn lifted the blanket over himself and huddled underneath it. “Why— Why’s everything red, Marty?!” he’d muster out in a hushed, timid tone. “Is t-this one of your—“
“What? No! I didn’t do anything!” Marty huffed indignantly, although he was a little perplexed on why Acorn thought that this was his doing somehow. Sure, he’d make up a joke or two, set up small pranks here and there— but this? This was beyond his abilities… though he had to admit, this would’ve been a pretty damned good prank if he could come up with it.
“Just look out the window! It’s nothing scary— I think it’s pretty damn cool!” Marty would exclaim, glancing back at the window as he shook Acorn’s shoulder once more… only for him to shake his head from under the blanket.
“N-No!” Acorn’s voice was muffled under the cover of the blanket. In turn, Marty looked at him quizzically, as if he hadn’t been afraid of the sight when he first woke up.
“What do you mean no?!” He huffed, before leaning closer to where Acorn had covered his head. “C’monnnn, you’re going to love it! I promise.”
“No— it looks scary!”
Marty then sighed, leaning away from Acorn. His adamant refusal almost… frustrated him (it really shouldn’t). If Acorn didn’t want to see it, that wasn’t his problem. He could just leave him to the safety of the bed and watch the meteor shower all by himself. His friend wouldn’t join him, and the experience would be all his.
But something inside of him was determined, as if Acorn just had to see this. Even if he was just hiding under the blanket and wanting the complete opposite of that sentiment. Marty didn’t usually consider himself a persistent person, and yet…
Briefly he waited, up until an idea was formed in his mind. He looked back at Acorn before leaning towards him again and reaching for the edge of the blanket. He lifted it up gently, gingerly, as he peered under it so he could actually look at Acorn’s face— who was now looking at him with wide eyes.
“How about this— what if you close your eyes, and I take you over to where I want you to see? You’d have nothing to fear!” He’d suggest, before revealing a small grin at his friend. “It’ll be cool.”
Acorn hesitated, uncertainty flooding his gaze as he mulled the suggestion over. With a small sigh, he nodded with apprehension. “…okay— promise it won’t be scary?”
“Promise.”
At that, he closed his eyes as he sat up, removing the blanket from over his head in the process. Marty stepped back to give him space to stand up; Acorn couldn’t see it, but Marty was smiling— not that he would ever admit it. In fact, he wasn’t exactly sure why he was smiling. Yes, Acorn was actually going to see the meteor shower with him, and not hide under the blanket for the rest of the night. And Marty was so pleased with himself at his own idea, and the fact that he would share the moment with his friend.
No big deal.
Acorn stood there, a little awkwardly with a stiff, nervous posture. His eyes were squeezed shut while his arms were pressed against his sides, hands formed in tight fists. It was at this moment Marty realized that he would have to lead Acorn to the window somehow; obviously, he wouldn’t be able to even know where he was going.
“Here, I’ll take your hand. All you have to do is walk! Sound good?”
Acorn nodded, his eyes still remaining closed. Marty then extended his own hand towards him; it hovered over his friend’s sleeve only momentarily until he grabbed a hold of his hand, slipping his fingers through the fist he was making.
Acorn seemed to relax under the contact, shoulders loosening and hands unclenching. Noticing this, Marty stopped and lingered for a moment, wondering why seeing him relax the way he did made him feel… a certain kind of way. Truthfully, it was a nice feeling, but it also irritated him because it made the room feel really, really warm. Because apparently, the way Acorn’s hand fit around his own, soft and gentle to the touch— the way it radiated a natural, human warmth unlike the world around them— was almost enough to make him feel like he was melting (oh god, was he getting sick?).
Once again, defiant as ever, he disputed the idea with a quick, internal whatever; it was the way he rolled, after all, and he found that sometimes his thoughts, especially in regards to his friend, were simply silly and ridiculous. With that in mind, he finally led Acorn away from the safety of his bed and walked towards the window, gently tugging him along as he held his hand. In the process, Acorn used his other elbow to lift it over his eyes, presumably for extra cover. It was a little silly, but Marty didn’t say anything.
Thankfully, the dorm was free of any extra clutter in their way. It was probably the one time the dorms, as bland and empty as they are, actually served a purpose. Except, being led somewhere with closed eyes turned out to be its own obstacle; in Marty’s hurry to reach the window, Acorn would find himself stumbling over his feet a few times.
The two boys finally reached the windowsill, with Marty grinning at his friend. He released his hand and pointed right at the meteor shower beyond the window. Meteorites were still falling, followed by bright trails. “Look!”
Hesitantly, Acorn opened his eyes as his fingers gripped the edge of the windowsill. He was immediately greeted by the warm, red glow of the night sky, skin cast in crimson. Although he had been wary of the sight, of how red his world had become, his worries were squandered— not only by the beauty of the sky, but also, by Marty’s presence.
“This is… this is really cool!” he’d gasp; seeing so many stars in a single place left him breathless.
Marty watched Acorn, who was now practically beaming at the sky. He noticed the way his gaze seemed to reflect what was happening in the sky, like dark pools cradling the stars in their depths. For a moment, he wondered if he, too, could be lost in them. After all, the color of Acorn’s eyes, as dark as they were, had a kind of warmth to them; they were never too harsh to look at.
Realizing he had been looking at his friend for a little too long, Marty began to scoff, proudly placing his hands at his hips. “See? I knew you’d like it!”
Briefly, Acorn was practically lost at the sight of the meteor shower, up until he processed what Marty just told him. He faced him, eyes wide with a fretful kind of awe. “You should’ve woken me up sooner!”
“I tried! It’s not my fault you’re such a big sleepyhead,” Marty remarked, though his words were light and teasing. “You didn’t budge at all, like one of those wagyein!”
Acorn quickly shook his head. “You’re one to talk— you snore like a wagyein!”
The accusation, although light and ripe with the possibility of being correct, struck Marty; he gasped a little too loudly, indignant as ever. “I do not!”
“I can barely hear my own thoughts when we have to sleep!“
“No way! Says the one who makes so much noise! I’m pretty sure you’re the reason why your pillow is always on the floor!”
With that, Acorn playfully shoved Marty, who returned the favor by doing the same to his friend. The two boys began to giggle, laughter hushed by the concept that they should be asleep by this hour. Their muffled giggling subsided with a synchronous, happy sigh as they both watched the meteor shower together. They stood by the window in a comfortable silence; Acorn’s hands were still placed on the windowsill, while Marty’s were at his side. However, his hands then made their way towards the windowsill, placed right next to Acorn’s.
Together, they watched the meteorites fall from the sky, their blazing descent illuminating the night among others. They fell in singles, duos, trios, groups of many and more, fading, flashing and flickering in a cosmic rhythm.
Acorn was smiling through it all; Marty was smiling, too, and for a moment, he felt compelled to speak. He was never one for silence; usually long, wordless periods made him a little antsy, like something just had to be said. But the silence he shared with Acorn was one he could tolerate. It was nice, comfortable, as if they were still chattering away in their minds, if not the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed.
His company was fulfilling. He couldn’t ask for more than that. And yet…
Marty’s gaze landed on Acorn’s hands, which were awfully close to his own. One flick of his finger would be enough to brush against his skin— it wouldn’t take much for their hands to touch. Such a concept brought a kind of warmth to him, something giddy and sweet all around, yet it made him nervous and admittedly afraid. It was a little overwhelming; he could feel it in the pits of his chest, fluttering all around.
Ugh— what was wrong with him? He was feeling this way for a while now and it was starting to annoy him, as if he wasn’t already annoyed. Whether or not he was sick, he wasn’t sure; he felt warm and cold all the same. But something was definitely wrong with him, because this feeling worsened as he thought about how close he was to Acorn. He thought about how he was sharing this moment with his friend, and how he had shared many moments prior to this— and he could only hope they would share many more.
Unbeknownst to him, he had been looking at Acorn’s hands for a while now. He didn’t even realize it until it was too late; he noticed.
“Marty? What’s wrong?”
At the sound of his friend’s voice, Marty almost jolted. He looked at him almost innocently before vehemently shaking his head. “Nothing’s wrong! I’m feeling great, actually,” he added with a grin.
“A-Are you sure? You’ve been… awfully quiet…”
“Me? Quiet? I’m all good! I’m just…” Marty trailed off, absently scratching the back of his head as he avoids Acorn’s gaze— Acorn, who he knew was looking at him so innocently, with that worried look of his that made him wonder what he ever did to deserve such a look.
“…I’m really glad you could see this,” he’d admit as he looked back at Acorn. This time, his gaze met his friend’s. He happened to be right, Acorn was in fact looking at him innocently, all worried and concerned like he’d tend to be.
Except, there was also a fondness to those dark eyes.
“Thanks for waking me up… even if it took you a couple of tries,” Acorn chuckled, flashing a rather warm grin— a grin that, despite being small, almost made Marty want to topple over.
“Psh, it was nothing. Anything for you,” he said, shrugging with nonchalance.
Except, he started to feel… self-conscious. Marty could feel his cheeks flush with warmth; everything felt unbearably warm to him once more, to the point where he began to question whether or not he should get… whatever was going on with him checked out.
Unfortunately for him, for now he would have to tough it out. He turned his focus back to the meteor shower, an attempt to ignore whatever the hell was going on with him and try to cast it aside. Moments passed where neither of them said a single word. Except, the silence was rather loud— comfortable, yes, but it seemed like Marty’s words were echoing in his own skull. And it took a lot of strength for him to not run off and cover himself with his blanket.
What was wrong with him?! He had to be catching something, there was no way he was acting this stupid and weird on his own. He must have caught something from his peers, given that a good handful of them always seemed weird. If anything, Ivan was the weirdest out of everyone, so he had to be the one that passed whatever this was to him. Worst of all, it seemed to be getting worse with every second he spent with Acorn! Which, to him, was incredibly odd because he liked spending time with his friend. But the sheer thought of being in such close proximity with him was suddenly so overwhelming— and he didn’t like this thought either. He wanted to be with Acorn, spend time with him and do all sorts of things with him. But if he wasn’t able to, then—
Suddenly, he could feel something brush along his fingers. His thoughts came to a halt as he glanced downwards. Fingertips had gingerly made their way towards his own, reaching for him as if they wanted to find something— the pinkie was especially leading the search, almost curling around his own. He blinked, before looking back at Acorn.
Acorn, who was looking at him rather sincerely. His gaze, as soft and rich as ever, also reached out to him, beckoning him with a sense of warmth. A warmth that reminded him of sunlight.
Admittedly, at first the boy was confused on what his friend had intended. Yet, oddly enough, the soft touch of his hand eased his mind. With that, he grew to realize that this was a question for permission.
And before he even knew it, he found that he had the answer.
Marty wrapped his fingers over Acorn’s hand as he turned to face him. Their hands folded inwards, holding each other in an embrace that made his heart pound.
His friend almost seemed apologetic, and endearingly so. “S-Sorry… I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admitted.
Bewildered, Marty chuckled; he could feel the warmth return to his cheeks. “It’s okay. I-It’s nice,” he said, before looking away hurriedly. “I-I mean— it’s nothing. I knew you cared!”
As the words left his mouth, Marty could feel himself cringe inwardly. He was making himself out to be some fool in front of his friend, and he was almost certain Acorn thought he was being weird. He’d be wrong for that; he wasn’t weird at all, especially compared to the rest of their peers.
But Acorn was just smiling at him. Then, he began to chuckle; he didn’t look so apologetic anymore. In fact, he looked almost… mischievous.
“You’re so weird, Marty!”
Marty’s voice nearly shrilled as he pouted his friend. “I’m not weird!”
“Weirdo!” Acorn’s chuckle evolved into a light giggle; they reminded Marty of bells— the small ones they’d use to practice songs out in the field.
He’d be horribly enlightened to hear this rare sound from his friend if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t mocking him right now (teasing, actually). Normally, he would fight against these accusations and call Acorn weird in return. Except as of right now, he simply couldn’t fight back. He was powerless against the throes of Acorn’s laughter.
“Don’t laugh at me!” Marty protested. He could feel the warmth now pour into his face. So much so that he was glad that the meteor shower was still happening, let alone still bright enough to cast the room in a dark-red glow. His face just had to be red right now.
To his misfortune, however, Acorn didn’t heed his protests and proceeded to laugh. He laughed, and it chimed against the barren walls of their dorm— free of malice, but so utterly full of sweetness. It almost made him sick, as if he just ate several servings of sweets.
He wanted more, and that alarmed him. Because oh god— he could feel his chest swell. His face was so warm, he was almost certain it was redder than the meteor shower itself. Acorn was calling him weird, as if he knew what was going on with him— and that almost bothered him because Marty himself didn’t know what was going on.
Marty wasn’t one for hiding; he was confident and proud, and he had nothing to hide. Except, tonight, something had to be done. He let go of Acorn and shoved his own hands into his pockets, fiercely turning his face away. He couldn’t stand the idea of letting him witness… whatever this was.
He could hear Acorn’s laughter slow, and moments later, he heard him speak, though he heard the tiny hints of a chuckle bubble through his voice.
“S-Sorry, sorry, I just thought it would be funny,” he apologized.
He probably looked ridiculous, hiding his face in such a manner. It frustrated him, having to act like some kind of child instead of dealing with the problem himself. He would absolutely deal with it, but how could he deal with it if he didn’t even know what was happening? He couldn’t identify it, put a name to it and call it a night.
Yet, in spite of his troubles, his efforts to figure out whatever he had going on, there was something… nice about this interaction. Sure, Acorn was calling him weird— and he was definitely incorrect— but it was moments like these that brought a sense of tranquility to him. Which was quite ironic, considering that spending time with Acorn was also overwhelming him. He knew that he wasn’t like this around the others; it was a triumphant feeling, because he could see something that no one else could.
He wanted to… keep it all to himself. Cherish it, boast about it, just like the meteor shower.
With the warmth remaining in his face like sun rays, Marty laughed and eyed his friend again, grinning at him with that token nonchalance of his. Acorn almost appeared to have been worries, but the moment he saw his friend laugh, a smile had formed, before his own laughter joined in.
Marty then turned towards the window; the meteor shower was still ever present, alongside its dark glow, though it appeared that there were less meteorites falling from the sky. “We should keep watching. I don’t want to miss this,” he said, placing his hands back on the windowsill.
“Me neither” Acorn agreed, nodding as he also faced the window.
The two boys stood together, watching as the stars fell, repeating and forming new patterns all the same, interchanging courses in cohesion with one another. There were less of them now, though they still burned just as bright. The meteor shower as a whole was still shining, shimmering, glowing with all kinds of warm hues.
There was a weight upon Marty’s shoulder, and as he looked over, Acorn began to speak.
“…it’s really nice to be here— with you, I-I mean,” he shyly confessed. His head was resting upon his shoulder. In fact, he had crept a little closer to Marty.
It took a lot of effort from Marty not to do anything other than staying still. He was far from repulsed; the close proximity with his friend made him awfully giddy. However, the close proximity was also startling, because just as he almost seemed to have recovered, he felt warm again. It left him stricken with desire for them to stay together— not just now, but for as long as possible.
How ironic. Not too long ago, he had considered not waking him up. Keep the meteor shower to himself and all that.
“…it is nice, yeah,” Marty mumbled. As Acorn leaned against him, he had to stop himself from leaning into him in return. The closeness was a lot; it was startling, endearing, overwhelming, soft, soothing— it was too much, but he wanted more. This sickly-sweet feeling was taking its toll on him, because he almost rested his head upon Acorn’s.
It was almost nice. Nice enough that it almost drove Marty mad because he was still feeling all sorts of things. He had enough of this; he needed to get this checked out before—
“M-Marty..!”
Acorn suddenly gasped, his head nearly missing Marty’s chin as he stood straight; the latter flinched out of surprise and gawked at him.
“Y-Yeah?! What’s—“
“You’re shivering,” the boy fretted, his gaze fixed towards Marty. He raised his hands close to his chest, concern flooding his expression. “Are you cold?”
Marty almost scoffed; he was in fact, quite the opposite. Warmth was surrounding him, surging into his senses with inklings of giddiness and suffocating them twofold. “Cold? ‘course not!”
“But… I could feel you shaking! You were shivering— like a lot!” he’d stress even further.
“I dunno! Maybe it was… something else! Yeah! Like… uh…”
Marty trailed off, glancing at his surroundings as he tried to find a subject suitable enough to push the blame onto it. Except, all he could see was a nearly-vacant dorm and a very concerned boy looking right at him with those eyes of his.
“…I’m not cold!” he huffed, crossing his arms close himself. “It’s actually really warm right now.”
“…that doesn’t sound right, Marty.”
“Okay, well— it doesn’t matter! I’m fine.”
He wasn’t fine.
He was beyond whatever threshold that meant “fine.” Marty could feel the bubbling in his chest, fluttering like tiny insects trapped in the palms of some kid’s hands. The way Acorn had leaned his head against his shoulder, the way Acorn laughed, the way his hand fit nicely in his own, the way he looked at him… like he could reach out and hold him there. Like he was… everything.
Was he imagining this? Was it… the sickness?
The worst part out of all this was that he knew the dorm felt cold. Yet, his skin was warm all the same, as if he was embarrassed about something, a sense of shame that didn’t even exist. Because there was no way he felt embarrassed around his friend; he wanted this.
Marty shuddered; his body was already shivering anyways. “Acorn, I-I think I’m sick,” he suddenly admitted as he stared at Acorn.
“What do you mean?” He asked, his expression wrought with worry.
“I-I don’t know!” Marty admitted, and before he knew it, the words left his lips. “I feel… I feel weird. Like, really weird. I’ve never felt this before, and it’s only getting worse— ugh!”
Marty buried his face into his palms, clearly exasperated by his own dilemma. “It’s so annoying, Acorn…”
By his own dilemma, and by the fact that he ended up telling Acorn what was going on— at least, part of it. Some of it he didn’t really know much of anyways, and he didn’t really want a him to know that it could, potentially, involve him. He felt pathetic, having to succumb to all of this, and right in front of his friend. He didn’t want him to know, he didn’t want to ruin this for them.
He didn’t want him to worry. It was… too much. He didn’t deserve it.
Moments later, Marty felt hands slip under his palms, gentle and soft against his face. The touch made his cheeks flush; he could almost feel himself melt in it. His gaze met Acorn’s, lavender staring into something deep, dark and disquieted.
It bothered him. He didn’t want Acorn to look at him that way, and yet… he wanted to embrace it.
“Hey, hey— theres no need to get so worked up over it!” Marty flashed him a reassuring grin, though it wavered under the pressures of keeping it cool. “I’m fine!”
“I-I…”
To Marty’s surprise, Acorn stammered, briefly looking away, though his hands were still placed on his face. His friend seemed… nervous, embarrassed even, but before he could say anything about it, Acorn’s hands pressed against his skin a little harder— firm, yet captivatingly gentle.
“Y-You need to rest!” He’d blurt out, glancing at Marty’s bed. “You could get more sick!”
Marty’s fingers folded around his friend’s hands, though he was bemused by his sudden exasperation. “Acorn, I said—“
“Marty.”
Acorn’s voice was… firm, almost too firm; Marty was used to it being rather meek, soft spoken without an ounce of ill intent. Nonetheless, there was no ill intent to be found here either. In fact, his voice was, oddly enough, full of care. Admittedly, it was quite endearing to him.
But it did catch Marty off guard.
He began to chuckle, another attempt to be nonchalant about the whole ordeal. “Alright, alright,” he reassured, slowly removing Acorn’s hands from his face. “I’ll rest.”
Oddly enough, it felt like something was missing from his face. It was a cold absence of sorts, an act of comfort being replaced by the unbearable warmth of his own skin.
Acorn nodded as Marty left the windowsill and made his way towards his bed. However, as he tossed the blanket aside and climbed into the bed, he noticed that Acorn had followed him.
“…what are you doing?” He questioned, eyeing Acorn as he positioned himself on the bed to sit upright.
Acorn sat on the bed next to Marty. “I-I’m making sure you’re going to rest!”
At his response, Marty raised a brow at his friend. “Are you sure? Or are you afraid of the big scary wagyein of the dark?” He grinned at his friend as he raised his hands, imitating the claws— or teeth— of a beastly wagyein.
“I’m serious, Marty!” The boy protested, lightly shoving his friend on the shoulder, who’d begun to snicker. “Now scoot over!”
“Okay, okay… whatever you say.”
Marty moved aside, making room for his friend, who was now taking up the space that was provided for him. They were both sitting upright, backs leaned up against the wall with the blanket now draped over their legs. They sat in comfortable silence once again, although neither of them seemed to be really resting.
Marty in particular felt odd. The fluttering in his chest never really subsided, especially when Acorn had held his face. He found himself subconsciously raising a hand to his cheek, the warmth returning into his body as he looked to the side.
He wanted to scream. Why did he want to feel Acorn’s hands again?
A question nagged at him, and he looked at Acorn. Would the same thing happen to him? Would he also feel terribly confused? Would he feel the warmth, the fluttering, all of the symptoms that he’d felt when Acorn did it to him?
Probably not; this seemed like something the world wanted to torment him with. Regardless, he needed to try it out.
“Hey— let me… do that thing that you just did.”
Puzzled, Acorn tilted his head. “What thing?”
“The hand thing! The, uh…” To demonstrate, Marty cupped his own hands around his face. They didn’t feel the same. “This!”
Acorn blinked momentarily, before smiling, though he glanced bashfully aside. “O-Okay…”
Marty leaned over and placed his hands around Acorn’s face, holding him in place. He did his best to be just as gentle as Acorn was with him. His skin, like his hands, were soft to the touch; it radiated the same warmth he could feel from his presence alone.
Acorn watched Marty’s hands, before his gaze travelled back to eye-level. He was silent, but his gaze seemed awfully wordy— too many things for Marty to gather. Except, his gaze was still just as sincere as they’d always been, a profound sense of care and awe.
Marty didn’t seem to gather much of the information he was looking for. Instead, he was caught astray by the way Acorn seemed to soften against his touch. As if he, too, was melting. Against all his efforts to not think in such a way, it was cute.
…maybe he was imagining things.
Marty removed his hands from Acorn’s face, fingers briefly skimming the surface of his skin as he placed them back at his side. Acorn simply watched, both confused and amused by Marty’s antics.
The two boys were silent, staring into nothingness for a moment or two. Marty in particular was still ruminating on what he discovered… which wasn’t much at all, really. Except, he now realized that even holding Acorn had brought upon similar feelings. Just like when they held hands, both by the window and when he was taking him to see the meteor shower.
He also realized he wasn’t tired at all. So much for “resting.” In fact, how was he supposed to “rest” when his symptoms still persisted?
Acorn broke the silence. “…you’re still weird.”
Marty whipped around to glare at his friend, a glare they both knew was far from cold. “Are you kidding me, Acorn?!”
His friend began to laugh— the bells were ringing once again. This time, it was Marty’s turn to playfully shove his friend, who in turn, almost fell off the bed. Acorn yelped and clung to Marty, gripping his arm with both hands. The two boys giggled for a bit, until Marty finally stopped and sighed. He was warm all over again.
“…I think I’m still sick,” Marty admitted.
“You haven’t even rested,” Acorn reminded him. “You need to rest.”
“How can I rest when you’re calling me weird?”
“That’s because you are.”
“Whatever,” Marty scoffed, dramatically rolling his eyes before he smirked at Acorn. “You’re weird yourself.”
“I’m not weird!” Acorn immediately objected.
“Yes you are!” Marty retorted. “Just the other day you were telling me about this thing all the others were doing— something about pressing faces together or whatever. You probably made that up!”
“Why would I make that up? I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes!”
“Prove it.”
“Ugh!”
Acorn huffed, burying his face into his hands in exasperation. For a moment, Marty thought he had him; it was a nice feeling, distracting enough to ponder of other things in place of—
“Fine. I’ll prove it.”
Marty raised his brows, but then he chuckled. “Really?”
He couldn’t help but be skeptical, but it seemed Acorn was serious because he nodded, “really.”
Marty grinned. “Are you suuure?”
“Marty.”
“Okay, okay. Show me this ‘face-pressing’ thing of yours,” he’d snark.
Determined, Acorn let go of his arm and repositioned himself to face him. “So… first you look at someone, and then they look at you… a-and then…”
Acorn paused to think while Marty was watching him do so, a tiny hum escaping the former’s lips. Evidently, he was wracking his brain for the recollection of what he had observed, but to Marty’s surprise, he suddenly perked up.
“…you close your eyes! And you both have to lean forward until your faces touch— like this.”
Acorn made a face; he closed his eyes and slightly pushed out his lips, while his head was tilted by a tiny amount. The sight reminded Marty of the robotic fish found in the rivers and ponds throughout ANAKT’s field. He had to admit, Acorn looked ridiculous, making a face like that. He failed to suppress a rather amused snort at Acorn, who then opened his eyes to pout at his friend.
“I’m serious!”
Marty laughed before he grinned at him, teasingly. “Okaaay— then what?”
Acorn shrugged, “I dunno. I think you just to stay like that for a little bit, maybe lean back… but I’m not sure…”
This… activity was rather odd. Honestly, it was always odd to him from the very first time Acorn mentioned it to him— and apparently he was the weird one out of the two. There was no way their peers were doing that sort of thing. Even if they were, how did Acorn even get to see that? Though… it sounded simple enough, straight to the point and all that. He wasn’t going to back down from something that sounded incredibly easy. He could even be the best at it.
“Let’s try it then. It can’t be that hard,” Marty said, before repositioning himself to face Acorn and mimic his posture, now sitting cross-legged and face-to-face towards him. He gave him a smirk. “I still think it’s pretty weird, though.”
Unimpressed, Acorn rolled his eyes as he fixed his position, this time shifting over onto his legs and kneeling over them.
“Let’s do it on the count of three,” Acorn suggested, lifting three fingers.
“Whatever you say,” Marty replied. He was still skeptical over this, but at this point, he was playing along. Because it was either this, or having to deal with his “sickness.”
Though… now he had to wonder: was it contagious? Would Acorn have to deal this too? Or was it really only his problem at the end of it all?
Whatever. He wouldn’t want Acorn to deal with this. It was overwhelming, unbearable; there was no way Acorn would be managing it just fine.
“Okay— one…”
At the count of “one,” they looked at each other in anticipation, although Marty grinning.
“…two…”
At the count of “two,” Acorn closed his eyes; Marty did the same.
“…three.”
At the count of “three,” the two boys leaned towards each other, closing the distance between each other. It didn’t take long for their lips to connect, meeting a little clumsily, but otherwise right on the mark. Eyes closed, they lingered, leaning towards each other in this strange, yet captivating closeness.
The moment his lips met Acorn’s, he could’ve sworn the fluttering in his chest worsened. He could feel it surging through him, like it wanted to burst right out of his skin. He felt the warmth course through his body, flooding right into his cheeks. But, most importantly, it was like his world exploded into stars; in the inky darkness behind his eyelids, it was as though he had his own personal meteor shower, glittering and glistening as they fell, as he made contact with Acorn. His heart hammered through his chest, desperately trying to break free from his skin. It was so much to bear, too much to withstand— and yet…
Marty leaned back, gawking at Acorn, the latter matching his expression as he folded his fists against his chest. They both stared in silence, clearly shocked by their shared moment. Marty could feel the warmth dust his face, but it appeared that Acorn was just as starstruck as he was.
There was no way their peers were doing this out of fun. Did they do this with their other peers? Their friends? Did they end up wanting more?
“Can… can I, u-um…”
Marty blinked, Acorn’s voice snapping him out of his thoughts. And before he knew it, he found himself nodding.
“Y-Yeah.”
Acorn closed his eyes again, except this time, Marty watched as he leaned close, his gaze fixed upon his features. The way his skin looked so soft up close, the way he breathed, a little shakily, yet comfortably— the way seeing him made him want to melt.
And when Marty closed his eyes and closed the distance, lips connecting once again, he melted. Acorn’s warmth was too much for him; he could only swoon with emotion. It was hell to admit it, but he found comfort being this close to him. It burned him up inside yet he was far from burnt, because being this close to Acorn could never hurt him.
Marty just hoped he wasn’t hurting him.
His world, ever so cold and cynical, was brought down in one fell swoop, all thanks to the boy in front of him. His dear friend, Acorn.
This wasn’t weird at all.
The two boys leaned back, wide eyes flitting to the side in bashful avoidance. For once, Marty couldn’t be brave and look at his friend in the eyes. The silence remained, holding them in a rather shy, gentle grasp. Endearing, except neither of them really knew it. It was only until, seemingly, Acorn couldn’t take it anymore. He mustered a squeak and furiously pulled the blanket over himself, concealing himself from his friend.
The sudden motion broke their trance as Marty began to pull the blanket in response, only for Acorn to tug back in defiance.
“Y-You made this up, didn’t you?!”
“No I didn’t! I-I swear!” Acorn yelped.
“You liar!”
In spite of this upset of his, Marty was far from betrayed. It only further proved that he had the wonderful privilege of witnessing Acorn’s rambunctious side… even if it meant indulging into his antics.
There was a brief tussle over the blanket until Acorn suddenly threw it over Marty. He tried to make his grand escape, legs nearly swinging off of the bed, but arms wrapped around his torso and pulled him backwards. Acorn flailed his hands as he ultimately fell back with a laugh, landing on his friend’s midsection. Then, Marty shifted aside as Acorn turned over, settling down next to his friend.
“You totally made that up— you weirdo,” Marty smirked.
“I promise I didn’t make it up, Marty,” Acorn protested, until he pointed at him. “But that also makes you weird, you know.”
“Sure. And I want to give Ivan a hug,” Marty snarked as he made a face.
“I dunno… it could happen!” Acorn teased.
“Shut up,” Marty scoffed in amusement, gently elbowing his friend in the side. Acorn retaliated by nudging his shoulder, though he was more concentrated on hiding his laughter behind his hands. Not long after, he shifted closer to Marty’s body; before he knew it, Acorn was huddling up to him, yawning and burying his face into his chest.
Dumbfounded, Marty glanced at the boy, though he made no attempt to move away from him. If anything, he stayed put. He wanted to absorb the warmth Acorn radiated. After all, the dorm did get chilly, and a blanket could only do so much; having his friend with him would help. Thus, he fixed the blanket, making sure Acorn was able to get a good portion of it before he placed an arm around his shoulder.
“…hey Marty?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m… I’m really happy you’re my friend,” Acorn confessed, nuzzling his face into Marty’s shirt, right beneath his collarbone.
For about the millionth time this night, his heart began to pound and a blush crept back into his cheek. At least Acorn wouldn’t be able to tell… for the time being, that is. Perhaps the oncoming morning would be different.
“…me too, Acorn.”
Acorn smiled as he closed his eyes. “Goodnight, Marty. I hope you feel better soon…”
Marty rested his chin on Acorn’s head with a smile; he was still melting against his body. “…goodnight, Acorn.”
Eventually, his friend had fallen asleep before him, breathing soundly into his shirt in slow, rhythmic fashion. Sleep didn’t come so easily for Marty, but he was comfortable nonetheless.
Heavens above, Marty was absolutely sick.
And heaven almighty, maybe he was glad.
He glanced upwards at the windowsill; the meteor shower was finally starting to fade, and the dorm was absent of its dark red glow. It was darker now, but he could still feel the light burn inside of him. Despite being “sick,” he felt… oddly happy. Full of sweet things and fuffiness, fluttering in and out of his senses. He could never have his fill of the sweets he consumed on this particular night, even if they made him all gooey and jittery all the same. It was overwhelming, and definitely unbearable, but he could only welcome it. Welcome it, and the warmth that turned him into a puddle.
Most importantly, he felt alive. This world of theirs was already so cruel, so cutthroat— but Acorn was far from it. Sweet, gentle, kind all around. He could never hurt a soul, nor he would ever let any soul hurt him. He wanted to salvage this moment, savor the sweetness and warmth Acorn’s presence provided. He wanted to be like this forever, and he could only hope that Acorn felt the same.
He finally fell asleep, matching the rhythm of Acorn’s soft breaths as he selfishly wished that meteor showers could last forever. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, but he would do anything in his power to live this again, all across multiple lives. Forever and always. Just as long as he could spend them with him.
That night, Marty dreamt of meteor showers, sprinkling stardust and sweetness in a vast, moonlit field.
He also dreamt of Acorn, his dormmate.
His beloved and best friend.