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Parrot pushed open the door to Wifies’ apartment without knocking, the soft creak of the hinges announcing him instead. He had been here more times than he could count, and it was practically second nature for him to just barge in without verbally announcing himself.
He had been here more times than he could count, and already the familiar, warm scent of the place rushed over him, fresh laundry mingled with the faint aroma of wood polish and the ever-present whisper of whatever Wifies had been cooking last.
It was comforting in a way Parrot couldn’t put into words, like stepping into a version of home he didn’t have to maintain himself, didn't have to put up this... glorified persona of himself, forever dignified and calm, always ready to help somebody out, even when he didn't really want to.
“Hey!” Wifies’ voice called from the kitchen, bright and eager, like he'd been expecting him, and knowing Wifies, which he did quite well, he probably was. "You’re just in time, bro. I was hoping you’d get here before this burned.”
Parrot instinctively kicked off his shoes and let his shoulders loosen, a weight he didn’t even know he was carrying rolling off the moment he stepped onto the soft carpet. The living room spread out before him, cluttered with little comforts—a half-charged Nintendo Switch, still plugged into the TV, a woolen blanket tossed over the arm of the couch, empty mugs on the coffee table, a controller barely peeking out from between the cushions.
Parrot wouldn't call his apartment... messy, but it definitely was cluttered, a few dozen picture frames littered each wall, each one carrying some significant weight to them, each one different than the last, all of them sentimental, likely to both of them.
He wandered into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, watching Wifies stir a wok full of sizzling vegetables. The blinds were open a crack, letting the sun's bright, white lights peer through, the light catching on Wifies’ black hair and making it glow, it reminded Parrot faintly of a halo—If anyone was that close to divinity, it would have to be Wifies, I mean, weren't angels supposed to be beautiful?
Wifies was humming under his breath, some unrecognizable tune, likely made up on the spot, and yet the sound settled into Parrot’s chest, deep into his ribs, a pressure now occupying the holes there, making his chest swell with... something. He wasn't sure.
“Oh, I'm making stir-fry,” Wifies said, glancing up with a grin. “It’s not fancy or anything, but I think it’s turning out okay. But, uhm, you'll tell me if it’s bad... Right?”
Parrot chuckled and shook his head. “Dude, you know I won’t. I’m just here for free food.”
"Riiiight,” Wifies teased, huffing, rolling his eyes in that way he did when he was pretending to be annoyed. “Well, honorary taste tester, your meal is almost ready.”
Parrot sank into one of the barstools, propping his chin on his arms as he watched the rhythmic motions of Wifies at work.
He talked as he cooked, not that Parrot was exactly listening to the words, taking to instead intensely stare at the way Wifies' arms moved as he stirred, his hands moving as he talked about... Parrot wasn't listening at all, something about statistics, maybe.
The excitement in his tone has definitely found its way into deaf ears, however. He spoke about lighting adjustments and terrain shaping with the same enthusiasm most people reserved for life-changing events, and Parrot… he just nodded along, despite Wifies not being able to see him.
He didn’t really have to perform here. He didn’t have to be clever or constantly engaging or think about how he sounded when speaking. Wifies’ voice filled the space, and Parrot let it, the corners of his mouth softening into a real, genuine smile.
There was a moment, as Wifies set a steaming bowl in front of him, when everything started to feel like it was suspended in golden light. The kitchen, the smell of soy and garlic, the sound of traffic only faintly filtering through the walls.
Parrot felt something start to bloom in his chest, an ache so tender he almost laughed at himself. It felt raw, unnerving almost.
It was just… affection. That’s all.
Affection for his best friend.
“Eat up,” Wifies said, snapping Parrot out of his thoughts as he slid into the seat next to him, bumping his shoulder with an easy familiarity.
The touch sent an electric shock down Parrot's spine, making him suppress a lengthy exhale.
...
That was odd, maybe he was coming down with something. Hopefully not though, he had already planned a hangout for tomorrow afternoon with Wifies as well, but if worst comes to worst, Wifies could come over to his house.
Parrot picked up his fork with shaky hands and took a bite, it was definitely a little burnt, but he could tell that the food was made with love—
Platonic love. Yup.
At least, that’s what he told himself as that warmth in his chest quietly refused to go away.
Parrot continued to poke at the stir-fry with his fork, the vegetables glistening faintly under the kitchen light. He didn’t even feel hungry anymore. The warmth from the food drifted up in soft, curling wisps, but it didn’t quite reach the knot in his chest. He could feel Wifies moving in his periphery—always so alive, so casually radiant—and it made him feel… jittery, on edge.
“You’re quiet today,” Wifies said, leaning forward a little, elbow on the counter, brow furrowing.
Wifies was used to Parrot being the one filling the silence with dry comments or soft laughs, and now he was just… silent. It wasn’t like him. “Hey, bro,” he tried again, voice lighter this time, “what’s wrong?”
Wifies reached out without thinking, placing his hand on Parrot’s shoulder. His skin was warm from cooking over the stove, his palm settling naturally against his best friend’s hoodie, which was merch from one of his favorite artists, he doesn't usually wear it out unless he's comfortable enough to.
But as of right now? Parrot was anything but comfortable, he knew that Wifies didn't intend for this, but the touch on his shoulder hit like a truck.
Parrot flinched—he didn’t mean to, actually, he meant to stifle it, only register it with a faint noise at the most, but his whole body betrayed him, a sharp shiver running down his spine. He could feel his face start to burn, reddening maddeningly as he averted his gaze, focusing on the empty corner of the room rather than Wifies’ gaze on him.
The flinch stung more than Wifies expected. He froze for a second, then frowned, his body trying to move close enough to see Parrot's expression.
"I-I just…” Parrot stumbled over the words, the lie forming clumsily. “I didn’t sleep well, I dunno. Just… off day, you know?”
He hated how his voice wavered. He hoped Wifies would accept it, that he wouldn’t notice the heat rising up Parrot’s neck.
"You sure?” His voice softened, like it always did when he was trying not to push too hard. “You know you can tell me anything, right? We’ve been close since, like… forever.” Wifies didn’t pull his hand away, he didn't feel like he could. Instead, his thumb started to trace small, unthinking circles into the fabric of Parrot’s hoodie.
He meant it—Wifies had always meant it, come hell or high water, he'd be by Parrot's side,—but he couldn’t help the tiny knot of worry forming in his stomach. Something was off, and he didn’t know how to fix it, he couldn't know how to fix it until Parrot actually told him what was wrong.
But Wifies was not a man who pried into other people's lives, so he stayed silent. Parrot was obviously uncomfortable—At least he thinks Parrot is, it's hard to tell when you can't see a person's facial expressions.
Parrot's heart thudded unevenly, each slow, soothing circle of Wifies’ fingers making it even worse, it felt like torture, maybe even worse than torture, each small rub of incomprehensible pattern making his breath feel heavier, his chest rise with more feverency, the flush on his cheeks becoming even deeper, more saturated.
He tried to breathe steadily, tried to will his stupid blush to go away. “Sur—Yeah. I know, bro,” he mumbled, eyes on the plate again, the words tasting like a white flag waving its surrender rather than genuine reassurance.
He could feel Wifies watching him, but there was no judgment in it, it was more a mixture of concern and patience that was very clearly about to snap. Parrot bit the inside of his cheek and let the quiet stretch on between them, pretending to focus on the food. The warmth in his chest refused to leave.
Wifies still didn’t push. He didn’t want to spook his friend more than he already had. Instead, he tried just letting the silence... settle, maybe a few minutes of just pure nothingness would make Parrot feel more okay, more at home.
His hand still resting softly against Parrot’s back, tracing idle circles like he always did when they were close together.—Parrot only allowed him to do this when they were alone, for some reason, the first time Wifies had attempted to merge his personal space with Parrot's own in a public area he was playfully berated. Wifies sulked for a while after Parrot had snapped at him, whether he meant it harshly or not, Wifies remembered the tone that was full of... not fear, it felt more akin to nervousness.
Parrot’s fork clattered uselessly against the counter as he fumbled them, his shaky hands refusing to cooperate. The metallic noise of the fork hitting the marble countertop jolted him even more awake, it was a sharp crack against the quiet that made his heart leap into his throat, a pressure forming between his collarbone.
He shouldn't look at Wifies.
No, he couldn't look at Wifies, not when the warmth in his chest had begun to travel, it felt like a white-hot iron had been placed over his chest, an unbearable heat that crawled all the way up to his brain.
"Wif—I—uh,—I’ll be right back,” he quickly mumbled, voice tight and uneven, already pushing himself off the bar-stool.
“Parrot?” Wifies’ voice was soft, uncertain, carrying that same fragility that had always been his undoing. He said it like Parrot would break if he raised his voice, he had said it like Parrot was much more than just a friend to him.
Parrot didn't know how to deal with that.
The scrape of the stool legs against the tile followed him like a reprimand as he stumbled toward the hallway, his hoodie sleeves pulled over his trembling hands. A thin layer of sweat stuck his black hair to his forehead.
He didn’t wait for Wifies’ response. His heart was pounding too loudly, each beat echoing in his ears like someone was incessantly prodding inside of his ribcage, a pressure dispersing through his veins, too imminent to ignore. He needed—well, he didn’t know what he needed, actually, but space felt like a good start.
Behind him, Wifies stood halfway out of his chair, hand hovering in the air as if to catch him, “Parrot?” he tried again, softer this time, the syllables stretched with worry. His brows knit together, his entire posture leaning toward the hallway as if torn between giving his friend space and following to make sure he was okay.
Parrot barely registered the way his socks slid against the tiles, the muted hum of the apartment surrounding him like a cocoon; suffocating would be a more fitting word.
He just knew he couldn’t stay in that kitchen, not with Wifies’ handprint still burning into his shoulder and that tender ache still clawing its way up his spine.
It was dangerous; Wifies was dangerous.
He ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, and pressed his back to the wood. His shaky breath hitched in the stillness, knuckles hitting against the door with a thud. He felt ridiculous—like a dumb kid running from nothing at all—but his chest wouldn’t calm down.
Parrot slid down the bathroom door, back pressed against the wood, legs folding in on themselves like he could make himself disappear. His breath hitched, uneven and shallow, and the cool tile beneath him felt like the only thing keeping him tethered.
What is wrong with me?
His hand pulled away from the door, now curling into the hem of his hoodie, knuckles turning white. He could still feel Wifies’ hand on his shoulder—warm, steady, tracing those absentminded circles. The ghost of it was louder than his own pulse.
It’s just Wifies. Just Wifies, like always.
Except it wasn’t like always.
A memory flickered: Wifies leaning over the back of his chair, chin brushing his hair as he pointed at the game on the screen. 'You’re actually cracked at this, bro. What would I do without you?' His voice had been light, teasing, but there had been almost a sense of warmth under the joke, like he meant what he'd said back then,
Parrot had laughed at the time. He remembered brushing it off. But now, in the quiet, alone, on the tile floors of his best friend's(?) bathroom, his chest twisted in something wretched, something so unbelievably shameful that it made his brain fuzz at the edges.
He remembers late night on the bus, the city lights smearing into blurs against the windows. Wifies had nodded off on his shoulder, breath soft and even, his weight comfortable, grounding. Parrot had stared out the window, pretending to scroll his phone, pretending his heart wasn’t thrumming so loud it might wake him.
He pressed his fists to his eyes, pressure forming behind his eyelids, God, how long have I been feeling this?
There were so many moments. Wifies hyping him up for no reason—' Honestly, you’re, like, the best person I know.' Wifies’ sending him random memes in the middle of the night with a half-asleep, 'Had to show you, bro.' Wifies sticking by his side at every party, every hangout, like it was just the two of them in the whole world.
And honestly, it might have been.
...
Oh,
Oh.
Oh God.
He's in love with his best friend.
Through the door, he thought he heard the faint creak of the floor—Wifies pacing, probably worried. He pictured him standing out there, head tilted, that soft furrow in his brow. He always cared too much. He always made Parrot feel seen.
The feelings came in broken, shattered pieces, overlapping, all of them blurring together:
Parrot’s chest ached. His skin still burned from that single touch, but underneath the heat was something softer, a torrent of feelings he couldn’t smother anymore, couldn't just ignore.
He loves him. Fuck, he loves Wifies.
The words felt like a fact, like how the sky was blue, and Parrot was in love with his best friend. Each fresh torrent of these thoughts began to press even more harshly against his ribcage, making it harder to breathe. He pressed his forehead against his knees, trying to will himself invisible.
Because if he opened that door right now, he didn’t know if he could keep the truth from spilling out.
He didn't know if he could hide it from Wifies.
God, would Wifies even reciprocate it? Would Wifies love him back? What if they aren't friends after this? What if he's disgusted by how Parrot feels and never wants to talk to him again?
And Wifies was right there. Close enough to knock. Close enough to hear him if he broke. Close enough to touch him again and unravel him completely... Parrot is pretty sure that he would like that; he'd like it too much.
Parrot can hear Wifies clearing his throat through the door, the sound small but sharp in the still air, and knocks on the bathroom door.
The first knock is hesitant, almost apologetic, like he’s afraid even the sound of it might push Parrot further away, like Parrot is some sort of scared, frightened mutt on the side of the street.
“Hey… yo—you okay in there?” Wifies' voice is quiet, rough around the edges. Fragile.
Parrot swallows hard. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, a constant, brutal rhythm that makes him feel like he’s vibrating.
He can’t answer. It wasn't a matter of wouldn't or shouldn't, his throat was tight, locked, like any word that comes out will betray the truth he’s been shoving down for years—He physically, mentally, spiritually couldn't answer him.
And yet, he pushes himself to his feet, legs trembling, gripping the edge of the sink like it’s the only thing holding him up. His vision dances with speckled salt-and-pepper colored dots as he stands.
He splashes cold water onto his face, but it doesn’t help—the heat crawling up his neck, the flush in his cheeks, the burn in his chest, they’re all still there.
He stares at the mirror, water dripping from his chin, his reflection stares back at him without empathy. He hates what he sees, his dilated, scared eyes, like a cornered animal, his dark-brown hair sticking out every which way. He hates that he knows why he feels like this.
He’s in love. With a boy. And even worse, with Wifies.
And that’s not supposed to happen. Not to him. Not with his best friend; never with a man.
Just the thought of it coils tight in his gut, sick and pathetic. It feels wrong and perfect at the same time. He can’t stop remembering, piece by piece, every stupid little thing that made these stupid feelings start to stir deep within his core. He remembers the times when Wifies would just fall asleep on his shoulder, Wifies cackling at his stupid jokes, Wifies just existing in a room and somehow making the air feel less stale with his presence.
His breath trembles. He grips the sink until his knuckles ache. He doesn’t want to open the door. He doesn’t want to see Wifies’ face and feel everything boil over. He doesn’t want to ruin what they have.
But the longer he stalls, the louder his own heartbeat gets, and the more he imagines Wifies out there, worried, pacing. He can feel him through the door, like the gravity of him is pulling Parrot apart.
With a shaky inhale, without thinking, he unlocks the door and opens it.
Wifies is right there, practically being framed in the hallway lights like some kind of unfair dream. His eyes are wide, soft with worry, his mouth parting just slightly like he’s ready to speak—but no words make it out. He just looks at Parrot.
It's too much for Parrot.
Parrot’s chest twists painfully. He can’t stop registering everything—how the light catches in Wifies’ black hair, how his stupidly long lashes start to cast shadows on his cheeks, how his shirt hangs loose on his narrow frame, exposing too much skin for Parrot to handle, even just a sliver of it being able to make Parrot's brain blue-screen.
He’s beautiful. Stupidly, unfairly, achingly beautiful, is the first thing that floats into Parrot's mind. And Parrot has no right to think that. Not about him. Not about his best friend.
They stand frozen. Wifies’ mouth opens, closes, opens again, and closes for a second time. He looks like he wants to say a hundred things and can’t say any of them. His hand twitches at his side, like he might reach out—but he doesn’t.
And Parrot… Parrot feels like he’s falling, in more ways than one. He can feel his heart drop, beat faster, and skip a beat at once, all within one second. He wants to tell him everything, and he wants to run. He wants Wifies to pull him in, and he wants to disappear. The pure amount of shame and longing starts to twist together until the line between each feeling is blurred, now something raw and hot, bubbling up under his skin, clawing at the spaces between his ribs.
He thinks about what it would mean to give in to this. It's dangerous, he knows what could happen if he does actually tell Wifies.
He could lose his best friend, the one person who had comforted him when he was stressed over the stupidest shit, the one person who had stayed, the one person who worried about him. He thinks about Wifies’ face if he ever found out, if he ever knew. Would he be disgusted? Pitying? Would he walk away? Parrot can’t survive either option.
His hands are shaking at his sides, nails digging crescents into his own palms. He feels stripped open, like Wifies could see all of the love, the fear, the pitiful desperation. And yet, he can’t look away, either. Can’t stop memorizing him. Can’t stop wanting.
The silence begins to stifle both of them, it suffocates Parrot with its heaviness.
Wifies’ eyes search his face, and Parrot feels something in his chest lurch violently, like he might break apart if either of them moves, Parrot's hand still on the doorknob, trembling, until—
"Wifies, I—I think I'm in love with you."
...
Parrot is the stupidest person alive, actually, he doesn't deserve to live at all, maybe he should just run away to a remote field and start living off of cicadas, it wouldn't be all that bad.
He wished the world had ended right there and then, that way so he didn't have to feel the newfound weight of Wifies' gaze on him.
Parrot's head dips to the ground, afraid to look Wifies in the eyes.
His chest heaved, his breathing uneven and shallow, each inhale catching in his throat. He could feel the burn in his eyes, he swore he could see droplets of sweat, or maybe tears, start to fall to the floor. Pieces of brown hair start to block his vision, his bangs unsticking to his forehead. The prickling heat of tears threatened to fall, and he hated how much his hands shook at his sides, how he couldn’t stop the tremor coursing through him. He wanted to run. He wanted to perish right there and then, he would deserve it anyway, it would've been a mercy.
But Wifies just… stared.
Wifies’ wide eyes locked on his shaking form, dark, fathomless, and unreadable. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, and the stretch of seconds felt like an eternity.
Parrot’s vision blurred as a tear slipped loose, trailing hot down his cheek. He blinked rapidly, trying to pull air into lungs that refused to work.
Then Wifies stepped forward, a singular footstep loud in the otherwise quiet hallway.
Parrot instinctively flinched, head lolling upwards, his shoulders jerking as he stumbled back a half step, hand letting go of the doorknob, his heart pounding so hard it ached. For a fleeting, irrational instant, he thought Wifies was going to lash out, to shout, to shove him away—he braced for it, shame and dread clenching like a fist inside of his gut.
But... nothing like that came.
Instead, Wifies reached for him, slow and deliberate, until his warm hands enveloped Parrot’s cooler, smaller ones.
Parrot froze, chapped lips parting in a trembling breath, as Wifies’ fingers slid between his own, intertwining them. Parrot never realized how much bigger Wifies' hands were, if only by a little bit.
Parrot really couldn’t help the choked sound that escaped him, a wet hitch in his throat as tears finally brimmed in full. His breath faltered, ragged and uneven, his chest rising and falling with a shaky amount of urgency.
Wifies’ eyes were wide, dark pupils blown with something that made Parrot’s stomach twist. His cheeks were flushed crimson, his short, black hair tousled, and for a moment, he seemed just as overwhelmed as Parrot, his lips parting in awe or disbelief. And then… slowly, like a sudden beam of angelic sunlight breaking over a once sun-starved land, a smile had spread across his face.
It wasn’t teasing or patronizing or confused. It was... soft. Unbearably warm.
Parrot’s knees practically gave out as Wifies held his hand.
“Hey,” Wifies whispered, voice low and careful, like he was holding something fragile. His thumbs brushed over Parrot’s knuckles absentmindedly, soothing, anchoring. “Don’t cry, Parrot… I—Dude, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.”
His breath hitched again, a shudder wracking through him as the tears threatened to spill faster. He squeezed Wifies’ hands back, desperate and trembling, like he was afraid they’d be ripped away.
Parrot felt the world tilt as Wifies’ hands found his, although, it was probably just his vision continuing to blur from tears. Wifies' fingers began to weave through Parrot's own with a careful, practiced, gentle, amount of softness. He could hear his own pulse in his ears, blood rushing as a hammering echo that drowned out everything else, even the sound of Wifies’ own voice. The warmth of his palms was grounding, and yet it made Parrot’s chest ache in an almost unfathomable way.
He didn’t resist as Wifies began to slowly pull him into his arms, it was almost like Wifies was giving him time to pull away if he wanted to; Parrot didn’t want to. Not really. The moment his cheek brushed the familiar fabric of Wifies’ shirt, the tears he had been holding back threatened to spill again. The faint scent of him, a mixture of laundry soap and something warmer, something that smelt faintly of candle smoke, wrapped around Parrot like a comfort. It was overwhelming. Comforting; Terrifying. Was there even a difference at this point?
His heart stuttered unevenly, caught between panic and relief. He could feelWifies’ chin rest against the top of his head for a brief moment, feel the almost hesitant shift of his breathing. His voice came quieter than Parrot had ever heard it.
"It’s okay… you’re okay,” Wifies murmured, words low and steady, like he was trying to anchor him to the present. “You’re so, so dear to me, my Parrot. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear this.”
The words sank into him slowly, like stones dropping into deep water. He didn’t know if he could believe them at first—not really. They felt too big, too heavy to hold. But Wifies said them like they were simple truths, like the sun rising or the air filling his lungs. And for just a second, Parrot let himself believe.
His chest felt too tight for the air he was breathing, emotions beginning to flare up and mix like vibrant watercolors. The shame of his confession still lingered at the edges of his brain, raw, sharp, and all-consuming, but it was... dulled, in a sense, by the warmth of Wifies’ presence and the soft, persistent cadence of his voice. Parrot’s body trembled in his arms, his fists clenching and unclenching Wifies' own hands.
Wifies’ hands shifted slightly, one moving up to cup the side of Parrot’s face; Parrot mourned the lost for a fraction of a second. Wifies' touch was unbelievably steady, tethering his soul back to his body, the tingle of physical touch making Parrot’s breath hitch, his damp eyelashes fluttering as he leaned—just barely—into the contact. He could feel the heat still thrumming deep within his face, the way his pulse began to hum beneath his skin.
"There’s nothing wrong,” Wifies whispered, almost like a secret. “Parrot, I love you too.”
Parrot closed his eyes, letting the words catch up with his brain; letting the moment stretch. He could feel every thread of the hoodie tug where Wifies’ hand rested, every faint vibration of his breath where their bodies met, the smallest twitch of Wifies' hand against his cheek.
The tears slipped free again, tracing already carved paths down his flushed skin. He didn’t bother to wipe them away. He let himself shake, mouth slightly agape, leaning into Wifies' hand. He selfishly let himself exist in this fragile, Elysium of a space where his chest didn’t feel quite as heavy, where the steady presence of the person he loved was enough to keep him from splintering apart.
The palm on Parrot's face begins to lift his chin, and the smallest amount to the left, making Parrot tense.
He certainly didn’t expect the warmth of Wifies’ lips to be the thing that stopped the fog in his head—Or maybe the haze worsened with the touch of his lips, he couldn't really care less.
The first kiss was soft, chaste, so careful it barely counted as a kiss at all, just a brush of warmth against his slightly damp cheek. For a second, he froze, a startled hitch in his breath escaping him.
Then came another, a little firmer, lingering on his skin just long enough for Parrot to feel the faintest curve of Wifies’ mouth, the gracefulness in how he moved, the pure adoration in how he carried himself.
And before Parrot had fully registered it, Wifies was pressing soft kisses to each damp trail of tears, surprisingly unchapped lips pressing against his cheeks.
Parrot hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding himself until his shoulders started to loosen, until his knees felt weak with the sudden, unfamiliar comfort of being cared for like this.
He doesn't remember the last time he'd been pampered like this; cared for. When he tries to remember, the first thing he can remember is when Wifies fell asleep on his lap about two months ago. He felt worshiped then, truly and utterly vulnerable.
He sluggishly blinked, startled, when Wifies brushed his brown bangs back with the gentlest sweep of his fingers, tucking away the short, soft strands that had fallen over his forehead. Parrot’s heart stumbled.
…He hadn’t realized how close they were until he could feel the faint heat of Wifies’ breath across his face, how intimate the moment had grown without either of them realizing—At least, Parrot hadn't realized. Wifies was currently raving with complete and utter joy with how close they were right now.
The next kiss landed just beside the corner of his mouth, feather-light and fleeting, and a small, involuntary sound slipped from Parrot’s throat. It wasn’t exactly a laugh, not yet, but the very start of one, the beginnings of something start to bubble up against the weight in his chest. His cheeks burned with a heat that had nothing to do with crying. Embarrassed.
Wifies continued like this, as if he had all the time in the world, as if there was nothing else in existence but trying to make Parrot smile. He kissed along Parrot’s cheekbone, the bridge of his nose, the soft dip just below his eye.
Wifies was so steady, so unbothered by the near breakdown that Parrot had just undergone. It made Parrot's chest ache in a different way. He had never imagined that someone could touch him like this and not flinch away, could see him in his most pitiful state and answer with affection instead of a look of despondent pity.
A laugh finally slipped free, shaky and wet around the edges, breaking the quiet. It startled even Parrot, and he felt his lips twitch up into a smile he hadn’t fully meant to show the other. Wifies pulled back just an inch, enough for their eyes to meet, and his own grin bloomed instantly in response.
“See?" Wifies started, still in a hushed tone, his eyes blown wide with delight, brown colored irises now crescents around an expansive, black void, "It's alright, Parrot."
The heat in Parrot’s face deepened, but it wasn’t the same feeling of pure, utter, searing shame as before. It was almost softer now. Lighter. He let his eyes close for a moment, breathing in the warmth of the moment, squeezing Wifies' hand in acknowledgement
Parrot’s chest rose and fell with uneven beats, every inhale now shallow, every exhale on the verge of trembling.
Despite the lack of tears falling, the hallway around them started to blur at the edges. The lower half of Wifies' face is buried deep within the crook between Parrot's neck and shoulder. Wifies’ hands were still cradling his own, and the weight of that touch sent pulses of heat spiraling up his arms, pooling in his chest like unfettered molten light.
The silence stretched on, and Parrot could feel, hear, and practically taste each and every heartbeat that resounded in the space between them.
Parrot's pulse pounded so loudly in his ears that he swore Wifies could hear it too. He sort of hoped he could.
As Wifies pulled back, Parrot's eyes betrayed him first, dipping to the curve of Wifies’ mouth. A subtle movement—a nervous flick of his tongue across his own lips—slipped out before he could stop it. He felt too exposed just for that, like Wifies could see every thought unraveling behind his eyes, every forbidden hope clawing its way free. His chest started to ache with the sudden weight of it, a pressure that felt like it could break him open at any second.
Wifies noticed. He always noticed. That bastard.
A small, knowing smile ghosted over Wifies’ features, two dimples appearing with it, soft but laced with something Parrot couldn’t quite name—a quiet confidence, maybe even mischief, that only made his knees weaker. The air between them seemed to thicken, hot and tender, and Parrot swore he could hear the faint hitch in his own lungs as Wifies began to move.
The hand on Parrot’s cheek drifted down slowly, fingertips tracing the line of his jaw like they were memorizing the path. Every millimeter of movement set his nerves alight, sparks beginning to set aflame from his skin to the center of his chest, and into his very core. His breath caught, and he felt his lashes flutter. His entire body started to thrum with anticipation, with fear, with longing so sharp it bordered on painful.
Parrot’s thoughts began to spiral, tangled and frantic.
He’s too close. God, he’s so close.
Parrot could probably guess that Wifies could see him visibly shake. He could probably feel it. His eyes darted up to Wifies’, and what he found there only made the world tilt on its axis. Deep, dark, and unbearably gentle—full of warmth that burned hotter than shame ever could.
The slow press of time became unbearable. His skin tingled where Wifies’ fingers lingered, his jaw stiff beneath the careful hand, and he could feel his heart hammer against the walls of his chest, begging for release. He wanted to say something—anything—but the words tangled in his throat, choked by the sheer force of what he was feeling.
Then, without verbal warning, Wifies closed the last inch of space between them.
The kiss was soft, almost teasing, a whisper of warmth against Parrot’s lips that made his entire world collapse inward. His eyes went wide in shock, breath catching in his lungs. For a heartbeat, he froze, heartbeat surging, brain flooding with an overload of kaleidoscope-esque feelings disbelief, and relief, and raw, shattering, unbelievable joy. And then, slowly, instinctively, he let his eyes fall shut and kissed back.
It was tentative at first, trembling, his lips moving with uncertainty, but Wifies’ steadiness anchored him. He felt his hand untangle from Wifies’ own, only to drift upwards, fingers threading into familiar, medium-length black hair, clinging like it was the only thing keeping him standing. His other hand settled weakly on Wifies’ shirt, closer to his shoulder, clutching the fabric, feeling the faint rise and fall of his breathing—slow, calm, a sharp contrast to Parrot’s own frantic rhythm.
Wifies' other hand traveled to Parrot's lower back—This was the farthest thing from unwelcome, Parrot had to stifle some interesting thoughts—the other one stationary on his cheek, occasionally dipping lower to his jaw to pull him closer into the kiss, making Parrot gasp for air, before going right back into the kiss.
When they finally pulled back, only far enough for a last breath, Parrot let his forehead rest against Wifies’, neck, breath hot and unsteady. His chest still trembled, he didn't stop wanting to cry.
Ah,
There was no use denying it now, was there?
He was likely in love with his best friend.
…He was definitely in love with Wifies.