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Crap. Crap! CRAP!
But don't worry. The small kitchen fire was quickly extinguished by a water bucket.
Purple sighed, letting his head fall. Dinner was going poorly if the blackened mess in the pan was anything to go off of, and the scorched wooden planks would have to be replaced. He put the pan in the sink and set about doing so, patching up the floor of his jungle treehouse. Bread again. Purple morosely chewed his loaf as he wiped up the kitchen counter, but all he did was spread the char. He set down the bread, furrowing his brows and trying his best to scrub the muck away, using up two other hand towels to do so. He tossed them in the laundry basket by his bed.
Speaking of laundry, it was starting to pile up. He'd been afraid of this. The last laundry attempt hadn't gone so well, and he had to enlist the help of Blue—swearing him to secrecy—so that his clothes, the fineries, the silken shirts and expensive waistcoats, would not be ruined. He had even rigged up a washing machine made with redstone for Purple to use, easing the process. But he still had to be careful. If he had t-shirts, jeans, and hoodies, he could just throw everything in all fine and dandy. But no, he had linen blouses, wool trousers, and satin jackets. They had to be cleaned gently and with great care, and absolutely none of it could go in the dryer, lest they shrink from the heat.
But, dude, the drip was worth it.
He carefully separated out his things, gathering like materials and colors before starting the first load, his underwear, which was the only thing he could just toss in and forget about about. The rest though he set on the gentlest cycle. It was as he was putting his shining bright, white shirts on the clothesline over the balcony that he heard a voice.
“Purple! Oh, Purrrplllle! Where is my sweet prince?” Purple went back inside, finding Green sticking his head through the trapdoor. “Purple!” Green said in a cheesy voice, grinning. He scrambled up and shut the trapdoor, sweeping Purple into a hug before he could say anything. “I missed you!” he said, planting a multitude of kisses onto his boyfriend's cheek in quick succession. Purple couldn't help but return the grin, putting his arms around Green.
“You just saw me this morning,” he said.
“I can still miss you,” Green said, running his hand through Purple's long hair. “Also I brought snacks.”
“Thank cursors!” Purple said, squeezing tighter. “I had to have bread for dinner again.”
“Why?” Green pulled away and frowned at him. “You need to eat a balanced diet, so you keep up the rock-hard abs.” He rubbed circles over Purple's slim waist, which was entirely free of abs, with his thumbs.
“You say that as if you don't eat cake all the time,” Purple said with a raise of the brow. He stepped away to look into the sink, picking up the pan of his burnt dinner.
“Yeah, but I eat other things, too,” Green replied. He took the pan from Purple's hand and examined it. “What was this supposed to be?”
“Cod fillet with crème fraiche.”
Green looked at him. “What is that?” he asked.
“It's just fish with like a sour cream type sauce.” Purple took the pan and set it back in the sink. “Clearly my cooking skills leave a lot to be desired.”
“Maybe you're trying too difficult of a recipe,” Green said lightly, opening the fridge. “I mean, who's ever even heard of cream...what was it?”
“Crème fraiche.”
“Yeah, that.” Green began pulling ingredients out and setting them on the counter. “You gotta start simple. Blue told me to pick something super easy and get really good at it before trying something harder. That way, when your crème fraiche burns,” he pointed at the pan, “you have something else to fall back on. We'll make a stew!” Unbeknownst to Green, Purple's eyes grew bitterly wet.
His face remained entirely neutral, though, and he had half a mind to send his sweet, doting boyfriend away so that he could be angry in peace, but he didn't. He just stood there watching him wash mushrooms in the sink. Did Green know just how fortunate he was to be born unfortunate?
“Come on,” Green said, “I'll show you my favorite.” Purple stepped beside him, watching more carefully now, committing this recipe to memory as they cut and seasoned the ingredients together. Purple got to be the one to stir the stew, Green standing just behind him, arms around his waist. “Don't be upset,” he murmured, settling his chin on Purple's shoulder.
“I'm not upset,” he said in a calm voice.
“It's okay to burn one dinner.”
“But it's not just one dinner!” Purple finally aloud themselves to shout. Those stupid tears were back. “It's literally every dinner, Green. I just suck at everything!”
“Hey,” Green said softly, holding Purple tighter, and rocking him slightly. “You don't suck at everything. You're good at singing and playing the violin. And you're good at dancing and swordplay. And you dress really cute.” He pecked Purple on the cheek.
“None of that really matters though.”
“Yes it d-”
“I can't cook or clean,” oh no the tears were starting to fall, “or do anything that any normal person can do! I...” He quieted, wiping a tear away. Green took the ladle from Purple's hand and pushed the soup onto a cool burner, turning off the stove. And then he just hugged him, nuzzling against his head.
“No one is expecting you to know how to do everything,” he said softly. “You've had servants all your life. I'd be surprised if you did know everything.”
“That's not an excuse,” Purple said miserably, hooking his fingers on Green's forearm.
“That's okay. You don't need an excuse.” There was another minute or so of silence. “I guess I'll just have to teach you everything!” he said in a chipper voice.
“Shut up,” Purple said, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “You're not my nanny.”
“That's not what you said last night.”
“What?” Purple looked back at him, giving a watery laugh. Any scenario involving Green treating Purple as a nanny would, innocent or otherwise, certainly had not occurred the night before. But Green grinned.
“There's a laugh,” he said.
“Don't say stupid things,” Purple replied, turning back to the stove.
“But they make you smile!”
“Let's just have dinner, okay?” Purple laughed again.
They ate their stew, and then Green helped him hang up the rest of his wet clothes. He was a lot more careful about it than Purple, saying he didn't want to ruin anything. Purple was amused at first, but, watching him delicately place a silk sash over the line, frowned. Did Purple dress...too ostentatiously? Well, that was a definite yes, of course a prince would dress the way he did. But the rest of the color gang dressed so casually. Purple must've stood out quite a bit. He was dying to ask Green if he thought it was weird, but bit his tongue.
Purple grew increasingly more aware of his appearance the next time he joined the color gang on their escapades. They were in a desert biome, looking for clay shards. Yellow wanted to assemble them just to see what they would do. Purple had a sneaking suspicion that they would just turn into pots, but who was he to rain on Yellow's parade?
The desert wouldn't rain on them either, leaving the boys all sweating despite dressing lightly. Yellow and Blue were tucked under the shade of the desert well they were digging out, Second and Green were constructing a shelter of sandstone blocks, and Red crept alongside a stray camel, trying to hide in its shadow. Purple leaned against the side of the well and pulled a folding fan out of his inventory. It was a delicate thing made of beaded organza. He snapped it open and began fanning the heat away. The sound made Yellow and Blue look up.
“Where did you get that?” Yellow said.
“I've had it for a while,” Purple said with a shrug. The villagers of the kingdom he used to rule (the ones that had thrown him in prison after the whole Ender dragon incident) had given it to him when he was still young. He had several hand fans, but this one was his favorite.
“Oh.” Yellow and Blue went back to dusting for shards.
Oh? What did 'oh' mean? It had been said in such an off-hand way, but it sounded like the kind of off-hand way that hid a deeper judgment while maintaining politeness. Purple had heard such an 'oh' many times before from his court.
“How's it going over here?” Second asked while Green ran up to Purple, demanding he fan him. Purple did so, feeling a bit silly, but his boyfriend seemed pleased.
“We found the arms up and mourner shards,” Yellow said.
“This feels nice.” Green closed his eyes, and Purple chuckled as he sent a gentle breeze his boyfriend's way.
“But we still need to find love,” Yellow continued.
“Okay, let me fan you now!”
“You don't have to,” Purple said, but he allowed Green to take the fan and treat him with cool gusts of air.
“I think we might be able to assemble the first pot,” Yellow went on.
“But you're my sweet prince!” Green insisted.
“We'll have to find another well, though,” Blue said.
“I'm not really a prince anymore.” Purple gave him a wry grin.
“I think there was one on the way back home,” Second said. “A few chunks north.”
“But you're my prince!”
“Can you guys go play prince and princess over there?” Yellow frowned up at them. “We're trying to do actual work here.”
“Oh, right,” Red scoffed. He was riding the camel now. “'Cause clay pots are soo important.”
“Well,” Yellow returned irritably, “they're important to me. And,” he turned back to Purple and Green, nodding at the fan, “why did you even bring such a fragile thing to the desert anyway?” Purple's face fell, but the others didn't notice.
“It's a fan,” Green said as if this should be obvious, “and we're in a desert.” He hid the lower half of his face behind the fan, giving Yellow a dramatic look over the top of it. “Purple is the most prepared out of all of us.”
“Can I have a turn with the fan?” Red asked with a grin. But Purple scowled.
“No,” he said, snatching the thing out of Green's hands and stowing it back in his inventory. He turned and began walking toward the little shelter they'd built as Green assured him that Yellow was just being a hater.
“No,” Purple said again, gaze falling to the ground. “He's right. I'm not really dressed for the desert.”
“Isn't this, like, linen or something?” Green said, picking at Purple's sleeve.
“Yes,” he replied sullenly.
“That's desert appropriate.”
Purple shrugged. “I guess.”
“Do you wanna trade clothes?” Green asked with a grin. “Just to see the difference?”
“No.”
“But you wear my clothes all the time!” Green pouted. “I should get to wear your clothes, too.”
Purple gave him a look. “You're twice as broad as I am!”
“He's pretty broad in the head, too,” Red said, camel moving across their line of sight to the well.
“What does that even mean?” Green demanded, scowling at him. Red laughed. “Whatever.” He looked back to Purple with a childish frown. “Even though my boyfriend is being super mean to me-”
“Wow.”
“-I'll still let him wear my clothes because he looks good in them!”
“Do I?” Purple said flatly, giving him a dubious look.
“Yes, of course.” His frown became more pronounced. “It's totally unfair.” Purple mulled this over as they looked back to where the others dug out the well. They had just found a new shard, looking at it excitedly.
“Should I...” Purple trailed off, prompting Green to look at him. “Should I get clothes that look like yours?”
“Ooh, yeah!” he said, just as excitedly at the others over their archaeological find. “We can match!”
“...Okay.”
A few days later, Purple and Green found themselves in the outernet, walking through a thrift store. Green said that's where all the “heat” was at. Purple would take his word for it.
“What do you think of this?” Green said, holding up a graphic tank to his chest. It was hideous.
“Yeah, I like it.”
Green pursed his lips. “You don't have to pretend,” he said with a chuckle.
“I'm not pretending!” Purple insisted.
“Well, it wouldn't hurt to try on.” Green tossed it in the cart with the other clothes they had picked out. Purple was of the opinion that all of this would look better on Green. In fact Purple would adore seeing these pieces on him. And he figured that Green would like seeing these on Purple instead of his usual flamboyant outfits. As he tried them all on, he could only give his reflection a blank stare, all he could muster. But when he stepped out of the dressing room, he plastered on a smile.
“You look so cute!” Green said. And Purple's smile felt a bit more genuine. They bought the clothes, and Purple had to figure out how to style them.
The rest of the color gang was confused at his appearance when they later met up.
“Oh my gosh,” Red said, looking at the slouchy jacket and distressed jeans Purple wore. “You look so weird.”
“No!” Green said, throwing an arm around Purple and pulling him in tight. “He looks cute.”
Red raised a brow at them but shrugged. “Okay,” he said, unconvinced.
The next day, Green took Purple out on a date. It wasn't really out, just a movie night on Alan's PC. He seemed surprised to see Purple in another casual outfit.
“I thought you'd be more dressed up,” he said, tipping his head as he looked down the vibrant hoodie. And then Purple was embarrassed. This was a date!
“I-I can go home and change,” he muttered.
“No,” Green laughed, tugging him down onto the couch. “You're already here. And you look cute.”
However, over the next week, Purple was a bit confused at the way Green was acting. He was confused because Green seemed confused too, asking why he was dressed differently than usual, almost as if he was not there when they had shopped for new clothes together. But then he would move on from his confusion and give Purple a kiss. The kisses were worth looking like a total idiot. As long as Green was happy. But Purple wondered if the clothes were enough.
He sat with the color gang as they took part in what Second called “parallel play” on the bottom bar of the desktop, Second and Yellow working on a redstone creation, Blue and Red tending to the farm, and Green plucking out a tune on a noteblock as he sat beside Purple on the couch. Purple looked at all the others, engrossed in their work, and made an unfortunate realization. He twirled a lock of his long hair around his fingers, the vibrant amethyst stark against the black band tee he wore.
“Should I cut my hair?”
Everyone began speaking at once.
“No!” Green said in a panic, grabbing his arm.
“Please for the love of Alan, don't!” Blue cried.
“That's literally the worst idea I've ever heard!” Yellow insisted.
“I will pay you money not to cut it!” Red said, actually reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bundle of cash.
“It's so beautiful,” Green went on with pleading eyes. “Please don't.”
“Purple,” Second clasped a hand on his shoulder, his expression bearing the gravity of someone who had just witnessed death. “For all of our sakes, don't cut it.”
“I didn't realize you guys felt so strongly about my hair,” Purple said, startled.
“It's just...” Green ran a hand through it with a look of longing. “You look so nice how you usually do. But...I guess you can cut it if you want.”
“No!” Red said. “He doesn't want to! You don't want to, Purple!”
“Don't tell him what to do,” Green snapped at him, scowling.
“Alright, I won't cut it,” Purple said in the height of confusion. “It was just a thought.”
“Unthink it,” Blue pled.
Purple, hearing how frightened everyone, especially Green, was about it, decided to keep his hair long, which was a relief because he liked it long.
Two weeks later, Purple was sitting on his bathroom floor in tears. What was he doing wrong? Was this the end of his and Green's relationship? Green had become increasingly distant, looking down at Purple with disappointment whenever they met up. Did he want to break up? This thought brought a fresh wave of tears. Green was his everything. Green was the reason Purple had turned his life around and had helped him repair his relationship with Mango. Purple probably even loved Green. And now everything was going to end. But he sucked in a shaky breath, standing up and looking into his red eyes in the mirror. He could still fix this.
They had another date tonight, dinner at a small diner in the outernet. They'd been there several times before and both enjoyed it. Maybe Green was sending him off with one last comforting meal. He was sure that was what was happening because when he arrived, looking trim in a white button down and slacks, he gave Purple a rueful look.
“We look like each other,” he said with a soft laugh, but it was without humor. Purple looked down at himself, at the color-blocked t-shirt, skinny jeans and faux leather jacket. Truth be told, he had hated even putting the outfit on, but that didn't matter. Green liked it. He was wearing it for Green.
“Come on,” he said gently, taking Purple's hand. “Let's get dinner.”
The meal was fairly subdued, Purple waiting for him to land the final blow, and he couldn't bear the agony when Green asked what was wrong.
“You're crying,” he said, concern soft in his voice and on his face. A tear dripped down Purple's cheek.
“Please just get it over with,” he said brokenly.
“Get what over with?” Green said, alarmed.
“If you're gonna break up with me,” Purple sucked in a sharp sob, “just do it already.”
“What?! What are talking about?!” The outburst drew the attention of the other patrons, and he drew a deep, shaky breath. “I don't want to break up with you, Purple,” he said calmly, but with conviction. “Do you want to break up with me?” Purple shook his head vigorously.
“No,” he whispered because if he spoke any louder, he would begin to cry in earnest.
“Then why are you saying this crap?” Green implored, reaching across the table to take Purple's hands.
“You've...seemed like you're not interested in me anymore,” Purple admitted. “You always look upset to see me.”
“That's because I'm worried about you.” Green began rubbing circles into his palms. “You're not yourself. You look unhappy all the time.” And then his face twisted into an expression that killed Purple. “Are you...not interested in me anymore?” His voice broke on the last word.
“Of course I'm still interested!” Purple quickly said. “You the only person I've ever been interested in.”
“Okay,” Green drew another deep, calming breath, “you're still interested in me, and I'm still interested in you. So everything can go back to normal.” His eyes dropped to Purple's chest. “Please.”
“Okay,” Purple whispered, nodding.
But things did not go back to normal. He tried his best, taking care in dressing exactly how Green would like him, and he could tell that Green was trying too. But instead of disappointment at seeing his boyfriend again, he just looked resigned.
Another week after the near disastrous date, Green helped Purple clean his bathroom. Purple tried to talk him out of it, didn't want to strain anything further, but Green insisted. As this was a cleaning day and not a formal hangout, Purple opted for an old tunic and cotton lounge pants. Both were soft and worn in as old as they were, and just right for a day of chemicals and scrubbing. Shockingly, from the clothes and the occasion, Green was delighted to see him, holding him at arms length and looking down at his dreadful outfit.
“You look so cute!” he said, laying it on thick. Purple scoffed.
“Really,” he said.
“Yeah,” Green replied, grinning in that lovesick sort of way. He kissed Purple in a most distracting manner, and both found themselves unable to start cleaning the bathroom for a good while as this new task took priority. But eventually they had to pull away and actually do what they had set out to do that day.
Purple scrubbed the toilet as Green cleared off and wiped down the counter. He scrubbed the hopper that was the sink as Purple began on the tub. With a wire coat hanger, he fished out clumps of long hair that had sat in their own bacteria for who knows how long.
“How come you don't dress up anymore?”
Purple looked up at him with irritation. “While cleaning the tub?” he asked, pulling out the nucleus of matted hair. It smelled disgusting, and he had to use a square of toilet paper to put in the trash. “I don't think that'd be very practical.”
“No, I mean in general.” Green frowned. “You used to be my little prince.”
“I'm still your little prince,” Purple said with a huff, plunging the coat hanger back down into the drain. “I thought you liked how I dress now.”
“I just want you to dress how you want to.”
“Look,” Purple yanked out the last strand of slimy purple hair, “Can we have this conversation another time? We still need to scrub out the tub.” He was sweaty and gross and really wanted to be done cleaning without being interrogated about his appearance.
“Do I still get to spend the night?” Green said. “We can talk before bed.”
“Fine,” Purple said, “whatever you like.”
“...Okay.”
They finished cleaning and each showered up before dinner. Green changed into the pajamas he brought, an old comfy sweatshirt and pants printed with a fun creeper pattern. Purple had on a satin robe as he dug through his drawer for something Green might like to see him in.
“You should wear your silky ones,” Green said, taking the bright tank top out of his hands and dropping it on the floor.
“You mean my 'business suit'?” Purple said with a grin. That was what Green had called the matching set when first seeing them. To be fair, the top buttoned up and had a chest pocket.
“You said that was your favorite,” he said, pulling out the rolled up pjs. Purple took them, so soft and so shiny, and set them back down.
“I want to wear what you like,” he said, picking another bright tank top.
“Well,” Green took this one and put it back, “I want you to wear what you like.” Purple stared at him and Green stared back, his face too serious for such a pointless conversation. “Why have you been dressing so differently?” he asked.
“I just said,” Purple looked away, down into his drawer. There was a clear divide between his favored clothes and the newly acquired ones. “I want you to think I look nice.”
“I already thought that,” he said. “I like seeing you dress fancy. And I know you like dressing fancy too.”
“I don't care how I dress,” Purple said with a frown. Could his eyes stop watering?
“Yes, you do,” Green said. “You carry yourself differently. Before, you were so confident. But whenever you wear this stuff,” he picked at the tank top with a grimace, “It's like...you're trying to hide yourself.” He looked back at Purple, leaning into his line of vision, but Purple would not look up at him. “Do you even like these clothes?”
“I like them on you,” he said.
“But they're not on me. Answer me honestly,” he said. “Do you like them on you?”
“Well, not really-”
“Then why do you wear them?!” he said.
Purple looked up at him, another tear dripping down his face, and feeling like he was about to be dumped again.
“I want to look good for you,” he said in a small voice. Green gave him a look of absolute incredulity.
“Just tell me to go screw myself!”
“What?” Now it was Purple's turn to look incredulous.
“Tell me to go screw myself!” he repeated.
“I'm not going to do that!” Purple said. “I don't want you to think I'm upset with you.”
“Who cares what I think?!” Green said.
“I do!” Purple said exasperated.
“Just say it!”
“No!”
“Say it!”
“Go screw yourself!” Purple screamed. By this point, the tears would simply not stop, and Green had to take Purple's face in his hands so he could wipe the tracks away with his thumbs. “I thought you would like it if I dressed like you,” he said quietly.
“Purple,” Green's voice was softer now. “My opinion shouldn't matter. You shouldn't change yourself for me. But if it does matter to you so much, I like how you dressed before. You were my sweet prince. Now you're trying to make yourself look like a bum off the street!”
Purple dropped his gaze just past Green's shoulder, taking a breath.
“Do you really prefer when I look so...flamboyant?” he said in disbelief.
“Yes,” Green insisted, “because you look happier.” He smiled softly. “If you were happy dressing similar to me then I would like it, too. But you're not. I like when you're happy.” Purple sighed.
“I guess I...do feel more myself in my usual style,” he admitted quietly.
“Here's what we're gonna do,” Green said, prompting Purple to look back up. “Tomorrow, I'm going to take you out on a picnic, and you're going to wear an outfit you feel absolutely bangin' in, okay?”
“Bangin',” Purple said, brows raised.
“Yes.” Green's smile was growing. “Something so fancy, and ridiculous, and impractical for any occasion ever. But it has to be something you feel hot in.” And now Purple was smiling. “Ooh! And bring the peacock fan.” Purple laughed.
“But it's huge,” he complained, but his heart was not really in it, smiling too brightly at the thought of carrying around the hand fan made of long, shiny peacock feathers. “I guess it does fit all of the criteria, though.”
“Even making you feel hot?” Green asked, grinning. Purple blushed.
“Yes,” he said, “even that.”
“Good.” Green kissed him, and that kiss convinced Purple that all of what he said was the truth. Purple wore his silky pajamas that night.
The next morning, he banished Green from the treehouse promptly as six in the morning.
“I have to get ready for our date,” he said, ushering him down the trap door.
“But it's at noon!” Green said, putting a foot on the top rung of the ladder.
“You can't rush perfection!” Purple said, crossing his arms. At that, Green smiled.
“Can't I just stay and watch you get ready?” he asked, raising a brow in an almost challenging look. But Purple shook his head.
“No,” he said. “I want it to be a surprise.” Green chuckled.
“Okay, fine,” he said, putting another foot on the ladder. “I better be blown away—if you want me to be, I mean.”
“Oh, you will be,” Purple said, flirtation coloring his tone. When was the last time he had actually flirted with his dear boyfriend? Since before he started dressing differently at least.
“Can't wait to see it,” Green said with a wink. He left, and then Purple was panicking.
What would he wear? What would he wear?!
The were three routes he could go: standard royalty that he was, billionaire playboy, or slutty vampire. Which would Green like? No! Purple was dressing for himself. He had to wear what he liked. He knew that he was taking the peacock fan with him, so he decided to play off of that. But first, before any scrap of clothing could touch his body, he had to prepare his skin.
Despite having bathed the night before, he took an everything shower. He used his finest soaps and shampoos, the delicious scents sure to attract all manner of insects, and then prepared his face, he'd definitely been slacking on the skincare, before adding the barest hint of makeup. Green would not notice the difference, but Purple certainly did. And that's what mattered. Hair next. His arms hurt at how long he held the blow dryer over his head and had to resort to flipping upside-down to dry his three feet of hair. It took a skilled hair dresser to get the kind of volume he was after with so much hair, but, as bad as he was at cooking and cleaning, he was good with his hair. He sprayed on so much hairspray that a single lit match would set his head ablaze. Perfect.
Now he could focus on his clothes.
He looked at the peacock fan, at the way the feathers glistened, and realized it was his duty—nay, his pleasure—to out-dress nature's most fabulous bird. Slutty vampire it is. He chose a sheer silk blouse the shade of crushed blackberries and paired it with champaign wool trousers for a nice contrast, but the contrast would not even be seen because he added a corset around his waist, one of a violet so bright that it rivaled his hair. There were even cute little grape motifs embroidered onto it, green complimenting the purple. He finished the look off with a teal ribbon tied around his collar and a pair of fancy riding boots that he never wore for fear of dirtying them. But now was not the time for fear.
He was ready, and just in the nick of time, too. Purple traveled to the cherry blossom meadow where they had agreed to meet, and seeing the look on his boyfriend's face was worth all the time it took getting ready.
“Oh my goshaaahhh!” he shrieked, jumping up from the picnic blanket and bounding toward Purple. “You look amazing!” Purple laughed, letting Green take his hands and swing them side to side.
“Thank you,” he said, suddenly feeling bashful. “I feel amazing.”
“Good.” Green kissed him, and Purple wondered why he had ever bothered dressing any differently in the first place. “My sweet prince,” Green said happily between kisses. “My beautiful boyfriend.”
“You're my beautiful boyfriend, too,” Purple said, entirely too pleased with the attention he was receiving.
“Even though I look like a bum off the street?” Green asked, but he didn't seem as if he would be offended either way.
“Especially,” Purple said with a grin, “because you look like a bum off the street.” Green giggled.
Their picnic was wonderful. Purple wasn't sure if it was wonderful because it simply was or if it was wonderful because of the low period he had been in just a day ago. But, as Green played with the giant peacock fan with delight, he decided he did not care. He especially did not care about that as Green gave him dreamy looks for the duration of their picnic. Purple was certain he was giving him dreamy looks right back. Street clothes really did suit his dear boyfriend, didn't they?
As glad as Green was to see Purple dressed the way he liked, the rest of the color gang were even gladder.
“Thank the cursors you're back to normal!” Second cried when the couple showed up later on the PC. “Green has been so annoying about it for weeks!” Purple gave an embarrassed chuckle.
“I apologize,” he said, “if my...brief bout of mania caused you all such distress.”
“It's cool,” Second said with a sigh, “but please don't do it again.”
“Don't tell him what to do,” Green said, frowning, but he could not keep the frown on his face. “Tell him to go screw himself, Purple.”
“Go screw yourself,” he chuckled, covering his face with his hands.
“Wha-If I can't tell him what to do,” Second said in mock offense, “then you can't either!”
“Yeah, Green,” Purple said to him, lowering his hands. “Go screw yourself!” Green only laughed.
“I'm so glad you're back to normal.” He kissed Purple's head.
“Me too.”