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“Ah, Your Majesty, when will you stop being so reckless, I wonder,” and Wataru sighs softly, as his right hand gently brushes Eichi’s shoulders, red like ripe cherries. Eichi hisses between his teeth, but he still smiles, when Wataru loses himself looking at his skin turning white for a second, before it gains colour again.
“I’m sorry. I guess I’ve got a bit carried away,” and he chuckles behind his fist, his eyes glued to Wataru’s face, silver hair gently landing over his nose, brushing it. “It tickles.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” Eichi takes a lock between his hands, playing a bit with it, leading it under his nose and breathing his nice scent. “I like it.”
Wataru tilts his head, fascinated. His smile never fades, and Eichi wonders if that’s a magic as well, a mask hard to break.
He wish he could see what’s under it.
“Even your nose is red,” Wataru says, pushing a finger against it, so red and stud with brown, little freckles.
“Someone said that the Sun kisses those who are beautiful,” he jokes, laughing. He doesn’t expect Wataru to lean towards him to kiss his lips, a cascade of hair covering him to the eyes of the world. His lips are so soft, as they part to cover his mouth and brush it with the tip of his tongue.
“Not just the Sun,” Wataru laughs, the tip of his nose brushing against Eichi’s, before he sits next to him, eyes on the sea that rolls in waves and crushes against the water’s edge.
“Maybe you are the Sun, Wataru. It’s a role that would fit you well, you know.”
“You’e too kind, Eichi.”
And Eichi can’t see him, as he leans on Wataru’s shoulder and closes his eyes, but now he’s not the only one with his cheeks painted in red.
How silly.