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Pound and Fireball sat on either end of the dining table, with Pound nibbling away at his sandwich while Fireball practically inhaled his third bag of chips.
"Fireball, I'm pretty sure that that's not good for you," Pound's voice was traced with slight concerns, but the corners of his lips were slowly lifting into a soft smile, clearly amused. Fireball stuffed another handful of Hot-Cheetos in his mouth.
"Shinse wmhenm?" Fireball attempted to ask half-mindedly, but his mouth was filled, so his words came out warped.
Pound giggled, somewhat confused but mainly amused by it.
"I can't understand you when your mouth is stuffed like that!"
Fireball just nods, and started chewing. A silence misted upon the two, except for the ticking of the clock mounted on the living room wall. Pound opened his mouth to speak, but Fireball raised a finger to signal to be quiet, and Pound followed. Fireball then reached for the nearby bottle of cooking oil and chugged it down. Pound's eyes went wide with fear.
"F-Fireball! What are you doing??!??"
Despite the concerns, Fireball kept going until the entire thing was emptied out, with Pound's jaw slowly dropping each moment. Fireball, who looked insane, slammed the bottle onto the table and yelled out something incomprehensible.
"Fireball! Stop doing that! It freaks me out!" Pound scolded, rubbing his other arm and turning his gaze. Fireball just rolled his eyes in reply, then quickly moved on to conversation. He didn't like to dwell on one thing for too long.
"So, uh, what're ya doin' today?" Fireball asked. Pound just shrugged.
"I dunno. I was just going to read my book. Make some tea, maybe visit Glitchy?"
Fireball hummed in response, thinking about what they both could do today, when he noticed how dark it was.
"Why don't you ever open the blinds?" Fireball followed up, twisting the plastic bars that hung at each window. A bright sunlight peeked through, shining on everything that it could. With the rest of the blinds halfway open, the contrast was surprisingly stunning. Everything caught in the sun's rays glimmered and twinkled, as though it were covered in golden glitter. And Pound, who had finally finished his sandwich, now sat down on his sofa, with beams of light reflecting off him. Even if it was just an average afternoon, it felt bewildering for a few moments. As though time stood still, but only for a couple moments, before the sunlight gradually dimmed due to a passing cloud outside.
"The sun always gets right in my eyes, and it's really annoying whenever I try to do something and the light would bounce off of me," Pound explained, answering Fireball's question.
"Well I think you look nice with it," Fireball mumbled inaudibly, but he was still heard. Pound's face glowed a desaturated pink when he registered the compliment, but he didn't say anything.
Fireball diverted the conversation away from the totally non-embarrassing thing Pound did not just hear him say, with him opening window and letting the faintest breeze shower him with icy air. He normally never got overheated, like how Princess Hat probably would, since he was a literal walking ball of heat. He did like to just... Breathe, every once in a while. Let the air pour over him. Sure, it left a strange chill in his spine, but it felt rather refreshing to him. But no way would he tell anybody else that. They didn't know what it was like to be a walking fire hazard. A walking fire hazard that liked the cold, but couldn't really experience it.
Pound reached over to the side table, nabbing the particularly thick novel on it, and dove into the pages. Fireball shook his head and sighed. Pound always said he would do some 'light reading,' then end up finishing at least 2 books in one sitting. Without even looking up from the book;
"Don't give me that look."
Pound loved reading; especially during particularly bad weather. He loved the anticipation, the smell of the pages. A pattering of raindrops on the windows, loud bangs of thunder to spook him awake. And the hours stretching throughout the days and nights. He remembered when he was scared of thunderstorms, hated rain, hated it all, until the second grade. Before she passed, his grandmother told him that whenever thunder strikes, it's because the clouds are having a parade. The rain was because the Earth wanted a drink, she said, as a young Pound slowly emerged from the covers of his bed.
"Really?" the small coin asked, to which the elder replied, "Yes! What is there not to celebrate about thunder?" She threw her hands up, as though she were excited for something.
"Because they're loud, and scary!" Pound clutched his dinosaur-patterned blanket which he cherished, hiding his entire body except for his eyes.
"Yes, they're loud, but have you ever been to a quiet party?" she chuckled at her own words, to which Pound mumbled no.
"B-but they're still REALLY scary!"
"Well, what's stopping scary things from being anything besides scary? Why can't they be pretty, like roses? Or fun, like roller coasters?"
Pound's grip on his blanket loosened and he giggled at what he thought was a mistake. "But roses aren't scary!"
His grandmother leaned in, her voice lowering. "Oh, yes, they are. They may look nice, but if you try to hold them, they can hurt you. They grow thorns on their stems!"
"Do they, really?" Pound asked, raising a brow. He'd seen roses, but he hadn't actually inspected them from up close or touched them. Whenever he did see them, they were trimmed, or their stems were obscured. His grandmother nodded.
Just at that time, another loud bang hit, and the blinds of his bedroom flashed. He instantly hid underneath his blankets fearfully. His grandmother, already growing tired of this, just snatched the blanket right off of his body. He reached for the blanket, but she held it high in the air where he couldn't reach.
"Pound, just look!"
With her other hand, she pulled on a string, and the blinds shot upwards to reveal a streak of lightning, as well as billions of raindrops running down the partly-foggy window. Pound, despite his fear, darted his eyes away from his blanket and grandmother to see it. It was terrifying to his eight year old self, yes, but also somewhat... Exhilarating. To see so much happening in just one scene, one singular second, yet for it to feel like it was stretching on for forever. And then the light faded as quickly as it had flashed. Pound gave up entirely on getting his blanket back into his grasp, all his attention now on the window and what was happening beyond the glass. He saw his hand reach out to the window in front of him, then felt the mattress shift under his weight as he crawled towards the headboard where the window had been placed. He felt a smooth, cold feeling as his fingers traced the rain, which fell to the windowsill. Another light flashed, straight in his eyes this time, but he didn't even wince. Just stared, as if in a trance, with the corners of his lips turning upwards.
And suddenly, it wasn't as scary anymore.
Pound hadn't actually registered what was happening in the book anymore, mind someplace else even as he turned the page.
Fireball turned away to focus on his own business, which would involve anything besides sitting around Pound's home all day. He gathered up his things, which were placed in a neat pile in a corner by Pound. Since Fireball was a late riser, Pound typically left his things in little stacks like these whenever the group had sleepovers at his place. Fireball thought it was sweet; just one more thing that nobody else could know about, especially not Pound. He stuffed everything into his fireproofed duffel bag that he brought almost anywhere and everywhere.
Pound was jolted out of his nostalgia when he heard Fireball's heavier footsteps getting closer to the living room, and assumed that he had packed up his things and was getting ready to leave.
"Heading out?" Pound asked, gaze slightly lifted from the novel as Fireball confirmed his suspicions and approached the front door.
"Yup," Fireball answered, unlocking the door and opening it.
"See you later, then!" Pound called out as Fireball stepped out and closed the door behind him. He walked down the vast hallways, doors lining each wall, until he got to the elevator. He pressed the buttons next to it on the wall, and in just a couple seconds, the doors opened and he walked inside. He lingered in his thoughts as the elevator carried him down to the lobby floor of the apartment, which resided right above the underground parking lot. You may be wondering: What was he thinking about? Well, it's not a matter of what, but a matter of who.
The exact who that he just walked away from.
He'd had his mind on Pound for quite some time now; but didn't exactly know why.
Why?
He scavenged through as many memories as he had with Pound - which were burned into his brain for some reason - and found no clue as to why he could never stop thinking about him. The only lead he had was that he was friends with him, which he wasn't with a lot of people. Best friends, even. And that he was nice, but more to him, it felt like. And always stood up for him. And was the only person who was ever truly concerned for him. And that he thought his voice was somewhat soothing. And that he always managed to make him laugh, even when he's angered to the max. And that his smile seemed to brighten his day no matter what. And that he always felt this weird pit in his stomach, like he was afraid, even though he wasn't, but also excited(???) whenever he was near Pound.
Oh.
He felt himself heat up, but obviously because of the cooking oil he had chugged earlier, and certainly not because of Pound.
He groaned.
He may be stupid, but isn't that stupid to not know whether he's...
No. Drop it.
Fireball ultimately decided to completely ignore it and push it aside, even with the knowledge that it would indefinitely hurt him in the future, but he didn't want to dwell on this here. Or now. He could think all he wanted once he got home. Except, when he stepped out of the elevator, he noticed how foggy the windows were, and heard a distant splashing.
Oh no. Not now! C'mon...
He rushed to the door, praying he was wrong, but no, he was hit with icy, moist air, and watched in horror as the rain poured down on everything in front of him.
He checked his phone; sure enough, the predictions stated that there was an upcoming rainstorm that was supposed to stretch on for the rest of the day.
Of course it was raining in the middle of summer, right outside Pound's apartment, and on the one day he forgot to bring his emergency umbrella.
And right after he realized something really important, too.
Pound said goodbye to Fireball right as he closed the door, sighing. He was disappointed having to watch Fireball leave. Mainly because he didn't really want him to. He wished for him to stay. He deeply enjoyed his company, is how he normally excused it. But he was pretty sure that he was lying to himself. Recently, after he finally decided enough was enough and cut his parents out of his life, Pound had been coming to terms with the fact that he might like Fireball. He did like Fireball, always has, just not in a way such as this until now...
And now, whenever Pound had the chance, he'd try to dedicate as much time as possible to spending time with his... Was he supposed to be referred to as his crush now? Okay, so Pound just now realized that. Cool.
Of course, Fireball would obviously never reciprocate his feelings. Who would like Pound anyway? Certainly not Fireball, the hottest guy around (GET OUT CHEESY).
Right?
No, totally.
Except a tiny part of Pound thought otherwise, and gave him a false hope, that maybe Fireball did like him back. But even if he did, what then? Would they be, like...
Pound's face burned bright red at the thought of him and Fireball. Together. As a thing. As a... Couple.
Trying to play off his own emotions, Pound stuffed his face in his book.
But he was too deep in his thoughts to even comprehend anything he was reading, and after about only 5 minutes of being trapped in a cycle of trying to focus, reading, then going back because he kept thinking about Fireball, he just slipped his bookmark in the page he was on and closed the book shut.
Placing it on the table, he crossed his arms and bickered with his brain. He wished he could just forget about everything sometimes. More often than he thought was normal, he had faced situations like these, where he was lost in his thoughts, alone in a silenced room, bored with nothing to occupy his mind besides whatever his brain could conjure for him. It infuriated him, but at least he had the ability to be able to just sit with himself like this. It was like a sort of self reflection, and sometimes he didn't mind - but also hated how self aware he had become. Maybe if he didn't care this much about the stupidest things, then maybe he wouldn't have to think about things this hard.
Startled by a knock on the door, Pound nearly jumped out of his seat.
"Coming!" Pound announced loudly to let the stranger know that he was answering the door. He hopped off the sofa and stood on the tips of his toes to reach the doorhole since he wasn't too tall, but he didn't see a stranger on the other side of the door. Instead, he saw Fireball, who scratched one of his arms in a seemingly nervous motion.
"Oh! Fireball!" Pound cheerily opened the door, gesturing his hands towards his living room as he always did.
Fireball just stood in the doorway for a couple moments, clearly lost in thoughts of his own, before he shook his head to jolt himself to reality and stepped inside.
Locking the door, Pound began the conversation.
"So, er, what brings you back?"
"Rain," Fireball replied, something about his tone seeming really off and honestly, out of character to Pound. He turned around, but instead of asking the question he wanted to;
"Is it, really?" he walked up to a large window and forced open a couple blinds so he could see. To only Pound's surprise, it was, indeed, raining. Pouring really hard today, too.
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry Fireball! I should've checked the weather before hosting the sleepover," Pound apologized, face in a frown. Fireball's expression was completely blank, which again, looked really wrong, but he still replied.
"It's not always right anyway."
"Yeah, I guess that's true..." Pound agreed, although he was still upset at himself for not even trying to take the precautions. Now Fireball was... Stuck at his place... Holy crud, Fireball was stuck at his place. HOLY CRUD, his crush was trapped with him. Pound's face flushed a bright red at the realization, and he quickly escaped into the kitchen, where he said he was going to get more snacks. It was just an excuse to totally freak out. Pound had no idea how to feel - Sad? Excited??? No, he should definitely feel bad for Fireball. But...
"What're ya makin'?" Fireball asked, attempting to act casual despite every molecule in his body telling him to spill the beans already.
"Heh? OH!! UHM! I uh, don't really know. I was going to make us both tea, but can you even drink it?"
"Yeah, I can drink basically anything, but it has to be through a straw, otherwise I might get extinguished." Fireball explained, placing his duffel bag next to the sofa.
"Got it," Pound responded, nodding as he poured water into a kettle and turned on the stove tops to boil it. He then set out cups and tea bags for when the water was done, and added a straw to the cup that Fireball was going to drink from.
Pound then sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, hands folded into his lap as they both just sat there awkwardly in silence.
Say something, the pair repeated in their heads over and over again, yet no sound came from their mouths.
Both lost in their thoughts about each other, Fireball turned his head away while Pound hid his face in the novel once more as they both blushed.
Then, a giant bang of thunder scared Pound awake and caused him to jump to the other side of the sofa, squealing like a mouse, as he dropped his book to the floor.
"EEP!"
Right next to Fireball.
Way too close to Fireball.
They both sat there in silence, before Pound felt his face get hot. He knew he should move away, but what did his brain give him instead?
A goddamn pickup line.
Obviously he didn't say it out loud, but still.
What the hell was Pound thinking???
He scooted away, very quickly, scrambling to get his act together as he internally freaked out, hugged himself, and then bashed his head against a metal pole.
After even more silence besides the ambiance of rain (and now thunder), it was all broken by a loud whistling coming from the kitchen.
"L-looks like the water is done boiling! Let me go get that." Pound excused himself, walking to the kitchen with a grimace on his face. He twisted the knob on the stove, turning it off, then cautiously poured the water into each cup. Dropping the tea bags in, he carried them back to the end table where his book would've been and placed them there gently. He picked up his book and placed it lazily on a nearby shelf, with it partly hanging off the edge, before he sat back down at his respective side of the sofa. Taking his cup, he just stared into the hazy water as it dissolved the tea leaves. Once it was done, they both would actually have a reason to remain silent. You can't chat while you're sipping tea.
"So-"
Pound, once again startled by noise, jumped a little, causing some of the tea to spill onto the floor. Thankfully, it didn't quite reach the perfectly white carpet that laid in front of them. Pound, not wanting to move as he was now comfortable in his seat, just let it be and waited for Fireball to continue talking. But he instead heard stifled giggles coming from the other. Pound placed his teacup back to its original spot.
"What's so funny?" Pound crossed his arms in an attempt to be intimidating, but it had the opposite effect.
"It's- it's nothing..." Fireball looked like he was about to burst into a fit of laughter.
"Then why are you giggling like a madman???"
"S-somebody's jumpy today..." Fireball could barely contain himself.
Pound, now embarrassed and flustered, basically glowed a neon pink. He mumbled some sort of excuse and was suddenly very interested in the lamp next to him. Fireball thought it was hilarious, to see him like that, and also sort of...
Cute.
His laughter died down, and another silence coated the air for a couple more seconds, before Fireball remembered what he was saying.
"So I was thinking, since I'm gonna have to stay for a while, why don't we, uh, w-watch a movie or something?" Fireball blushed ever-so-slightly, rubbing his arm, nervous as ever. Pound's face was now officially glow-in-the-dark, and he barely stuttered out an answer.
"Uh-I, uh, er, I, uh, so, uh... Y-yes, of-of course..." He dug through the cushions, feeling for the remote that had always managed to end up wedged between them. Pound typically tried his absolute hardest to keep his place clean, being a neat-freak of sorts, but no matter what he did the remote found its way back. He did find it, and his fingers wrapped around it as he reeled it back up, but when he pulled it out there were crumbs falling from his hand.
"Ew."
He snatched the remote using his other hand and shook the one that had been covered in crumbs, allowing them to fall where he could vacuum them up later.
"So, uh, what movie did you have in mind?"
"Hm... Ghoul-hunters is a good one."
Pound nodded and pretended to act like he didn't care, but in reality, he hated horror movies. Especially anything involving, well... Death. And ghouls were, er, dead. He didn't mind reading about it, but with movies, he could see it happening in real time. Whether it's gory or not.
He made a silly excuse that he was cold and dashed into his bedroom to drag out a blanket, when really, blankets were his go-to whenever he felt like he needed to hide away from something. In this case, the contents on the screen. He came back out and plopped back down into his seat, now wrapped in a blanket burrito.
With trembling fingers, he pressed play.
He winced, pulling the blanket closer to himself, but the movie was only barely turned on. Fireball furrowed his brows, confused.
"Dude, are you good?"
Pound nodded.
"Just chilly still," he lied.
It was silent for a couple moments once more, until all the air around him began to rise in temperature, with Pound feeling something wrap around him through the blanket. He blushed a burning bright red almost instantly.
"F-Fireball?"
"What?"
His grip tightened as he felt Pound trembling in his grasp.
"Why?" is all Pound could utter out, barely able to function.
"You said you were cold?"
Oh. Right.
"OH! Uh, y-yeah."
"Well, are you good now?"
"Uh. Yeah," Pound answered, embarrassed. He felt Fireball smile, even through the blanket, hugging him slightly tighter.
OKAY, SO MY CRUSH IS LITERALLY CUDDLING ME. NO BIG DEAL. NOTHING OUT OF THE ORDINARY. THIS IS TOTALLY NORMAL FOR FRIENDS TO DO. RIGHT? RIGHT?????
Pound was no longer focused on the movie, similar to what had happened earlier with his novel.
Fireball had now latched onto him, actually... Was he- WAS HE NUZZLING HIM RIGHT NOW???
"Holy cheese sticks," Pound whispered under his breath. Although, Fireball could probably hear him, given that he was LITERALLY BREATHING DOWN HIS NECK. He just prayed he couldn't hear his heartbeat too, because if he could then he'd have gone deaf.
Fireball crawled across the sofa, careful not to startle Pound, and wrapped his arms around him. Thankfully, Pound typically used fireproofed blankets, so he didn't have to worry about burning him. He felt him shaking, probably from the cold, and tightened his grip. Why was he doing this? Well, obviously to help Pound. Right? Yup! That's the reason he's beginning to nuzzle him, obviously to warm up his best friend! Nothing else!
Fireball actually found it quite comfortable, leaning into Pound even more.
And now he didn't want to move at all.
Pound was confused and dazed beyond comprehension. Fireball would never do this with anybody. He's not the touchy type, that's for sure. Once, Princess Hat just wanted to sit near him to warm up, and he stood in a corner for the rest of the day. He was always strict with boundaries - whether it was about his or somebody else's. So why in the world would he be doing this, really???
Pound wasn't buying the whole warming him up thing, because even then, he could've just sat near him and let it be.
But no.
He was holding him like a stuffed toy.
Who are you and what did you do to Fireball?
But then again, this was still Fireball, or at least somebody who looked and sounded exactly like him, so obviously Pound is still going to malfunction like a robot you just dumped 16 buckets of water on.
The movie still progressed, with it being about half an hour in.
Half an hour of this nonsense.
Pound actually found himself leaning into the warmth now, making himself (and Fireball) quite comfortable.
Fireball, drowsy, comfortable, and relaxed, felt his eyelids droop...
Pound felt his grip loosen, with him slumping slightly. He peeked outside of the blanket, and there lay Fireball, now sleeping soundly, his face painted a faint blue. Next to him was the person wrapped in his arms.
Holy crud.
If it weren't for how sleepy he was, Pound would've totally been freaking out.
But no.
Fatigue beginning to swallow him, Pound instead turned to Fireball and hugged him back. It was rather nice - the company, the comfortability, and the... Friendly affection. He melted into the warmth, with everything dimming to black as the movie blurred into the background and the rain and thunder quieted. Pound sighed contentedly as he slowly drifted off in Fireball's arms.
And suddenly, Pound was relieved he hadn't checked the weather.
Maybe it wasn't such an inconvenience.