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Tonight, like every Friday night, Ness knocked delicately on Kaiser’s door at 5:55 PM.
Kaiser deigned not to answer, instead watching as Ness waited approximately three seconds before unlocking the door with the key he gave him and gently pitter-pattering into the room.
“You’re late,” he quipped.
He wasn’t, but Kaiser had been bored lately.
Ness’s face crumpled at the scolding. “Sorry Kaiser.”
“I suppose I expected too much.”
Ness curled further into himself, looking like a kicked puppy. Kaiser took pity. He clicked the remote, starting a movie he had prepared.
“We’re watching this one tonight.”
Obediently, Ness nodded and didn’t put up a fight. He settled into the couch, taking the far side that he always took, leaving plenty of space between him and Kaiser.
Kaiser didn’t know much about this movie, but he looked up enough reviews to know it was devastating. Thanks to his prodding earlier, Ness was likely to be festering already. He just needed a good push to land where Kaiser needed him to go.
Not even fifteen minutes in, Kaiser could hear a weak sniffle from next to him.
He avoided looking over. Ness was sensitive, and trained well. If he had even an inkling that Kaiser was annoyed, he’d clam up and Kaiser would never bear witness to his favorite sight again.
The movie continued, albeit with a few quiet sniffles from his side. Kaiser sighed silently, irritated by the movie’s slow pace. Naturally, he skimmed it beforehand, and while he could tell it was a tragedy, there was still a bit to go until the climax.
Until then, Kaiser entertained himself by sneaking glances at Ness, observing the glow of the screen flickering over his features. Magenta eyes, magenta hair—he was stunning in his own right. If blue roses were impossible to find in nature, then magic was even more so. And yet, it was all Kaiser could see when he looked at him.
But with that realization of beauty and impossibility came the urge to smother it—to break apart something so wondrous piece by piece until it became an ugly, unrecognizable mass that he could throw away like it were meaningless.
However, Kaiser was an emperor, and there was a certain grace he would allow for his most devoted follower.
So, he settled on a compromise.
Kaiser watched with barely-contained glee as the climax ensued. Ness’s pupils shrank in horror, his body going stiff.
Kaiser’s heart thrummed in his chest, lungs buzzing as the curtains opened on his favorite show.
Then, like clockwork, Ness’s eyes filled with tears. They dripped down his cheeks, leaving shiny trails that caught in the light. From the glow of the screen, Kaiser could just make out the beginnings of a flush on his face and the red rimming his eyes. His chin trembled as he tried to quiet any disparaging whimpers.
God, he was perfect.
Ness’s eyes went wide again, no doubt because the writers had managed to twist the knife somehow, and the tears fell from his face like a soft rain. Kaiser hadn’t looked at the screen in quite some time, too enthralled by the sight before him.
Ness had given up on being silent, quiet hiccups spilling from his sobbing lips. His hands clutched at his chest, digging into the fabric just over his heart.
It was breathtaking.
On schedule, Ness became more self-aware. Kaiser looked away, settling his expression into something bored just as the other looked over anxiously, no doubt realizing he had been noisy.
Kaiser flicked his eyes over to Ness’s, as if he hadn’t been watching him— as if he could look away— and raised a brow.
Ness shrunk into himself a little, looking guilty. Kaiser rolled his eyes.
“There’s no point if you can’t keep yourself together, Ness.”
Ness’s eyes watered in that oh so promising way, and Kaiser, ever the showman, lifted an arm like it was a burden.
“Come here if you must—”
Ness sprang to his side, curling under his arm.
This was out of character for them both, but Kaiser needed a bit more tonight. Perhaps the arrival of Blue Lock had worn them both more than they cared to admit.
Ness shifted from where he had hidden in his side. He peered up at him, like he wasn’t almost at his height, but was rather smaller, weaker.
Dewdrops stuck to his lashes, eyes still shining with unshed tears. He looked so, so pretty. Wordlessly, Kaiser stroked his hair, taking them both by surprise. Ness’s eyes widened, and then let out another teary rain, this time onto his shoulder.
Kaiser mused that if Ness’s tears were rain, his hair must be a puffy rain cloud.
And so, encouraged by the showers yet to come, Kaiser continued petting Ness’s head, urging every drop from his weepy cloud.
Blue roses and magenta storm clouds—both impossible in nature, and yet, here they were.