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Boombox loved physical affection. It was something Subspace had quickly come to realise since they’d become… whatever they were. Partners? Partners sounded right. He’d long known that Boombox was generally inclined to physical interaction between anyone he considered a friend, from playful smacks, to arms around shoulders, leaning against one another.
For some reason, he’d never considered that becoming partners would essentially thrust open the gates of Boombox’s overwhelming everything. He’d pull him into a hug here, and kiss him on the cheek there. More annoyingly, it’d always happen when Subspace least expected it too, which certainly didn’t help settle the pounding of his heart.
The most glaring thing that Subspace noticed, however, was the overwhelming burn that came with said affection. His skin always tingled at the contact, and Subspace often had half the mind to shove the other inphernal away at the irritation that bubbled underneath it.
However, at the same time, he was loathe to admit that he almost craved it. Some part of him deep within wanted to hold Boombox, to lose himself within his all-consuming warmth. He wanted his lips on his skin, over his rot, over his own. The realisation left him reeling.
Whatever Boombox gave him, he wanted ten times more. Was he greedy for that? Maybe. It was a little embarrassing to admit to himself, in all honesty. He’d lived 30 years of his life with minimal physical contact, and now that he’d gotten a taste he almost couldn’t hold himself back. But sometimes Subspace would still yearn for more even when Boombox had already showered him in affection. Just where did the end to his desire lie? It was a question he often wondered guiltily. In fact, one of the main problems was that Subspace didn’t know how to tell Boombox such in the first place.
Subspace had already established to himself that the longing was weird and unusual. Boombox had certainly never brought up feeling any amount of intense want while dishing out hugs and kisses. So maybe, Subspace assumed, he was an outlier in the first place. He didn’t know whether to chase the feeling or attempt to flee it in fear of his health, or perhaps, and much more appropriately, sanity.
In the moments where Boombox would pull him into his comfortable embrace, Subspace almost wanted himself to be consumed by the feeling of those warm, secure arms around him. Maybe Boombox specifically was his weakness, or certainly the first to allow such fragility to make itself known. Subspace had never had such intimate interactions with other inphernals back in Blackrock besides the fleeting brush of hands as papers were exchanged between classmates or colleagues. The pull that Boombox had on him was wholly alien.
And so Subspace, trapped in a state of internal conflict with himself, took to hovering in the space around Boombox awkwardly, silently. Whether he was working on his music, doing the dishes, cleaning, regardless of the action, Subspace would plant himself a few feet away and simply watch as if there wasn’t an itch under his skin, as if there wasn’t vehement want buried within his bones.
Occasionally, Boombox occupied the quiet air between them with conversation, and other times Subspace would scoot away as if he’d never been there in the first place. The predicament puzzled Boombox, conveyed through the way in which he would shoot Subspace fleeting, questioning glances, somewhat amused in his confusion.
Subspace refused to mention it, and was glad that, so far, Boombox had held his tongue as well. Embarrassment seized him at the recollection of his actions, a total stranger to expressing his want for such intimate gestures. Perhaps he was a little too lax, though, because it didn’t take very long for a confrontation to finally occur.
“Alright, tell me what’s up. You’ve been doing this… hovering thing for the past week,” Boombox eventually expressed. It was late morning, and Boombox had busied himself with the stove, preparing a breakfast for himself. Subspace had planted himself a couple paces behind, and watched the way Boombox bobbed his head to the beat of his gear, the way his arms moved to hold utensils, how he so desperately wanted them around his own frame.
Subspace almost jumped at the sudden address, and looked off to another area of the room as Boombox swivelled around with a start.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Subspace replied, and prayed his voice didn’t betray the insincerity of his words.
They were both still for a couple seconds, but Subspace couldn’t help but shuffle his feet slightly under Boombox’s gaze, curious and searching.
“Come here,” Boombox eventually stated, and Subspace’s eye snapped back to him, a dread filling his stomach.
“Why??” he asked, genuinely confused.
To be fair, Boombox didn’t look angry in any way, nor did he have that one disappointed look he’d adopted whenever Subspace said something unintentionally scathing about his friends. Subspace’d never had the intention to encourage such looks, but he found it difficult to discern the line between genuine, legitimate anger and simple mild frustration. His stomach always twisted itself into a multitude of knots when he saw the downward tug of Boombox’s lips, and he’d swiftly follow up his words with a “I didn’t mean that”, which the musician found needlessly funny.
“Just come here!” Boombox beckoned, and Subspace grumbled before he shuffled a little closer, so that there was no less than a foot of distance between them.
Subspace froze when he suddenly found arms around him. Warm. Comforting. He couldn’t resist the sigh that left him as he returned it, wrapping his arms around Boombox and letting his head droop. The height difference meant that Subspace largely slumped over Boombox, but the musician didn’t seem to mind, and hummed contentedly.
“This what you wanted?” Boombox asked quietly after a while, and Subspace swore that he’d have been able to fall asleep right then and there, if not for the fact that he wished to cherish the moment for as long as possible.
“Never said that,” Subspace argued, somewhat affronted that he’d been so easily read, though there was no fire behind it. Boombox chuckled at the reply, and Subspace felt its genuineness in the way his whole body shook in his arms with the force of his laughter.
“You know you can just tell me when you want a hug, right?” Boombox said, humour evident in the lilt of his voice, and Subspace felt a surge of embarrassment bubble beneath his skin.
“Of course I know!!” he exclaimed, and held on a touch tighter.
“Okay,” came Boombox’s reply, quiet and soothing.
Subspace wanted to stay there forever, to devour every inch of physical affection Boombox was willing to serve him. He wanted to be surrounded by the warmth and security carried by Boombox’s arms forever, feel the tingle of his skin ease in the tenderness of their embrace. It was strange to think that someone like him could ever be awarded the small mercy of another person’s touch. Touch that was safe and non-violent, at that.
He both felt and heard Boombox hum along to his music, and the soft vibrations from his throat reverberated through Subspace’s chest. His heart felt as though it were soaring, light and engulfed by the other inphernal’s compassion. They held one another for a little longer, revelling in each other’s presence, before Boombox pulled away, and Subspace watched the way his LED eyes widened comically as he spun back around.
“Shit! My food!”
Subspace then proceeded to observe Boombox’s futile attempt to save his burnt breakfast.
It was late at night, and Subspace was nestled within the soft covers of Boombox’s bed as he watched the other scroll on his phone. He’d long since placed his book on the bedside table, especially since that fervent want had made a reappearance under his skin, an itch that wouldn’t leave no matter how many times he wrapped his own cold arms around himself.
Boombox’s visor was off, as it had been many times of late within the comfort of his own, or more appropriately, their own room. He wasn’t so bothered by other people seeing him without it on, but rather the prospect that he’d catch his own reflection on a surface and have to meet eyes with a part of him that prompted painful memories. He’d explained such to Subspace, and while he couldn’t quite understand the reasoning, he still respected the musician’s decision.
Subspace’s gaze traced the outline of the other inphernal’s eyes, the way his lashes framed them, topped with thick eyebrows. Other inphernal’s looks had always meant little to him. As long as they could get the job done, he hadn’t a care about someone else’s appearance. Presentation, however, was a different thing altogether. Subspace had always thought less of those who didn’t keep their uniforms neat and tidy, a disgrace to Blackrock and terrible examples of the genius that was his nation.
Now, though? Subspace would confidently say that he liked the way that Boombox looked. He enjoyed the round of his cheeks, the fall of his locs after freeing them from the cap on his head, his hands that were slightly larger than Subspace’s own, enough so that they could slot together like puzzle pieces.
Boombox’s words had circled his mind since he’d mentioned that Subspace could ask for affection. Didn’t that seem embarrassing though? He couldn’t understand how Boombox didn’t cringe at his own words in the moment, and asking seemed a little childish, in Subspace’s opinion.
Boombox didn’t push. He hardly ever did in the first place, and Subspace was grateful for the fact that he hadn’t brought it up again since the other day. He couldn’t help but fidget at the thought of opening his mouth and actually voicing something like that.
“I’m cold,” is all that he could muster up, breaking through the comfortable atmosphere between the two of them. It was a stupid thing to say, really, and a very obvious excuse as well. Subspace naturally ran cold, and Boombox had gone to the appropriate lengths, that is, buying more bedding, to ensure that he stayed as warm and comfortable as possible.
“Hm?” Boombox hummed in question as he shifted his gaze from the bright light of his phone screen to the scientist beside him.
Subspace shuffled slowly, almost awkwardly, across the bed to him, and watched the way Boombox’s eyebrow raised as he came closer. Subspace couldn’t help but worry at his lip as a heat rose to his face, but he’d already come that far, so he figured there was little point in backing out and causing further humiliation.
He gradually wrapped his arms around Boombox, who welcomed the hug as he dropped his phone to the side. Subspace felt vulnerable, conflicted, but he craved the contact like a freezing inphernal craved warmth, like Boombox was fire to his own frigid ice.
“You’re warm,” he explained, like the justification was less embarrassing than if he’d simply stated what he’d wanted in the first place.
“You’re always cold,” Boombox rolled his eyes with a giggle, and Subspace felt a squishy feeling surge through his chest. It felt like love.
“Shut up. Accept my excuse,” Subspace remarked, and he felt those caring arms he so treasured circle around him and pull him close, so that Boombox’s head could rest atop his shoulder. It was warm, and it might’ve resembled burning, but Subspace wasn’t afraid of the compassionate body against his own. If anything, he’d want Boombox there next to him for as long as he’d have him.
Boombox, with his loud music and ceaseless chatter. Boombox, who chided him when he was a little too biting towards others. Boombox, who cared for him when his body was failing, who took him into his arms with a smile and a laugh.
Subspace felt a heat crawl from his neck to his face, but he decided to keep his mouth shut, and just enjoyed the way the tingling of his skin settled as comfort consumed him.
“Alright,” Boombox replied, and Subspace could hear the smile in his voice.