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Aleksandr grunted awake, rolling onto his side and letting his arm hang over the edge of the bed. He sighed heavily, not ready to face the day.
He heard some mumbling on the other side of the bedroom, and forced himself to crack an eye open, almost regretting it as the daylight practically blinded him. He saw Lasha standing in front of their mirror, fiddling with his shirt. Well, fiddling wasn't so accurate. More like aggressively fighting with it. He kept adjusting it and pulling on it, grunting and muttering frustrated words in Georgian that Aleks could only somewhat understand. After a while, he sighed sharply and tugged it off him, throwing it haphazardly on the floor, stomping his way to the closet to search for a new shirt.
Aleks didn't say anything, just watched with confusion swirling in his mind. Maybe that shirt shrunk in the wash, or maybe Lasha was simply in a bad mood that day.
He couldn't help but let his eyes wander. To his lover's wide hips, his full thighs, plump stomach, and that round ass he loved to grab in bed. Lasha was so beautiful, he always thought so when he looked at him. He was gorgeous in and out, and while he never outright said it, fearing it was too awkward, too forward or corny, he always made sure Lasha knew it.
The purple-haired man seemed to have finally found a shirt that satisfied him and went back in front of the mirror, putting it on. Again, he fiddled with it for a while, not as aggressively as the last one, but still. Aleksandr wondered what could possibly be wrong this time, the shirt seemed to fit just fine.
He sat up in bed, cracking his back before standing up and dragging his feet behind the other man.
"Good morning."
"Good morning." Lasha only said back, not even glancing at him. He seemed too busy to stare at his midsection and adjust the fabric around it.
"What's wrong?" Aleks asked, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder, a somewhat feeble attempt at comfort.
Lasha sighed again. "My shirts don't fit. I'm too big."
That made Aleks stop in his tracks. Too big? What the hell? Since when did he think that way??
Before he could say anything in response, the other kept going.
"I got bigger. Even some pants don't fit."
He tsked.
"Ikneb diet’aze unda davjde..."
(Maybe I should go on a diet…)
That was the last straw. He knew enough Georgian to understand what he meant.
"Woah woah woah, where did this all come from?" He asked, trying to make Lasha face him. "A diet? Really??"
He hated how upset he sounded. While he was upset, the worry he felt overpowered any anger, and he wished it would show through his voice more.
"Yes, really. Look! Look how much bigger I got!" He turned back to the mirror and pinched at his stomach. "This! I didn't have this much months ago!"
"Because months ago, we were starving in a basement!" Aleks said, almost snapped. "No wonder you're not as bony as you were, you're actually eating and not being malnourished!!"
Lasha frowned, his nose scrunching up and his eyebrows furrowing deeply.
"Ar maint’eresebs. Skhva artserti k’atsi ase ar gamoiq’ureba."
(I don't care. No other man looks like that.)
His heart broke at those words. So much so, he felt it hurt.
He didn't know what to do to knock sense into Lasha's head. He was so perfect, so beautiful, nothing could ever change that, yet he seemed to believe that more softness made him ugly and worthless.
That wouldn't do.
Aleks, without much thinking, turned Lasha back around to face him, hands sliding down to his soft hips, and fell to his knees.
"Ra- Ras ak’eteb?! Stand up!!" He sputtered, looking almost disgusted.
(What- What are you doing?!)
Aleks sighed and hugged his love, gentle. He needed him to see how much he was loved.
"Rat’om ak’eteb amas..." He then said, much quieter this time. "Why..?"
(Why are you doing this…)
"Because I love you." Aleks said with so much confidence he was surprised too. "All of you."
He pressed a small kiss to Lasha's stomach, making him flinch and look away with a sad scowl.
"You shouldn't." He said stubbornly. "I'm fat."
Aleks frowned, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down his waist.
"No you're not." He grunted. "Soft, yes. Not fat."
He was still scowling, but his scarred lips trembled and his eyes were getting glossy. He pressed another tender kiss to his skin, both hands over his hips, thumbs tracing his soft flesh. Never had he looked at Lasha's body and thought of such cruel words. He pressed his cheek to his belly, relishing in his sweetness.
He felt a tiny drop fall onto his hair. Then another.
He looked up… Lasha was crying.
"Lyosha..." He said, voice breaking. "Lyosha…"
He looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn't manage to get the words out. He put a shaky hand over Aleks' short brown hair, petting the top of his head.
Despite how much his knees hurt, Aleksandr stayed right where he was, hugging or holding onto the purple-haired man, pressing kisses after kisses onto his chubby stomach, his plump hips or soft rolls.
"You're so pretty, Lasha." He said, and he meant every letter. "All over. This is beautiful, you're beautiful."
He looked up, emerald meeting sage, and smiled at him.
"Iseti simp’atiuri" He said so lovingly, his accent strong.
(So handsome.)
Lasha sniffled and smiled back, a wet laugh mixed with a sob escaping him.
"You mean it..?"
Aleks nodded firmly, resting his cheek on his stomach again. This might be his new favorite spot…
"Oh, Lyosha… Miq’varkhar."
His heart fluttered in his chest, and a giddy smile peeked through.
"I love you too."