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Wifies’ parents always said that he was an observant kid growing up.
He had the talent of always picking up on things easily, and tended to be three steps ahead of his peers.
He learned things with quick haste, adapted to new things quickly, making even the most complex subjects easy enough to grasp.
And he still does. With all of that effortless skill in academics, of course it affects his daily life as well. He notices. Everything.
He picks up a lot of things,
Like the way Saparata’s ears twitch towards the sound of his name,
When Wifies asks him a complex question, it would take just a hot second till Saparata’s inch towards his pale locks, then down to their ends, curling the longer strands with his fingers—something to help him think.
Sometimes Wifies questions Saparata out of the blue just to count from one to three, because that’s how long it takes till Saparata starts fiddling with his hair again.
The way his tail goes still when Wifies’ brushes his fingers too close.
And the way Saparata usually kept space between himself and other people. The way he angled his body slightly away in daily conversations. But despite all of that, he still had this unique aura that attracted people towards him.
So when Saparata is offered a hug, Wifies doesn’t spare them a single glance, fully expecting that Saparata would just pull away, shake his head and refuse politely, then go about his day. Maybe go back and focus on him, as he always should.
Wifies feels it immediately in a heartbeat, even from across the room. His eyes flick to the source. It wasn’t even obvious, no one else would’ve noticed it. But Wifies’ hands curled into fists anyway.
It was a quick and brief hug, nothing anyone else would think twice about. But Saparata didn’t hesitate to reciprocate it. He didn’t pull back from the hug right away, he lingered and embraced another person’s warmth.
He feels his heart twist into unimaginable pain. He feels the beating muscle getting ripped into pieces, then getting thrown away like trash. It feels as if someone poured a fizzy drink over a deep wound.
Wifies couldn’t picture why it bothered him so much. As much as he tried to piece the puzzles together in his head, he still felt the image burnt into the back of his head tugging at his heart strings so fiercely.
He only knew that it did.
◡◡◡◡◡◡ ୨୧ ◡◡◡◡◡◡
It had been a week ever since Wifies’ discovered that something as simple as a friendly hug would have bothered him so much.
They were in Wifies’ house for the night. At first it was just a normal study session, then they got too carried away with studying for an upcoming quiz the following day, and then time passed by quickly, the sun setting, moon replacing the harsh rays with a soft, moonlight glow—-it seeped through the blinds, dividing the living room into dark and light.
When they noticed how dark it was outside, they agreed that Saparata could stay the night. It was pouring cats and dogs outside.
Saparata wouldn’t even be able to go home even if he wanted to. Worst case scenario: ‘you’d get lost in the thick fog of the night and heavy rain, then you’d drive off a cliff and die’, something Wifies said when he kept pestering Saparata to stay.
He didn’t need to persuade him for long, though it was surprising from how forceful Wifies had sounded. Saparata had already made himself at home—-shown by the contents of his bag trashed all over the place. They’d clean everything up tomorrow.
His arms rested against the velvety flesh of the sofa. His fingers twirled around the loose fabric at the armchair, attempting to rip out a few from the couch ever so often—the quality of it didn’t matter too much to him. He had something else on his mind right now.
Saparata had just come back with a bowl of popcorn accompanied with two diet cokes squished between his arm and his ribs. He arranged them carefully on the coffee table, “One for you,” The first can was placed with a clink. “And one for me!” He shakes the can in front of Wifies. A few beads of condensation landed onto his own face. Wifies noticed that before he did.
The fabric had dampened where the cola cans sat, and a shiver wracked through his spine when he wiped the cold condensation off of his wool sweater. Despite growing up in a cold area, he had never gotten used to it. He plopped onto the couch—melting slowly into the soft velvety cushions. He opened the coke with a sigh, taking a sip before turning to Wifies. He opened his mouth agape to speak, hesitant. But in the end, he decided against prying.
The TV hummed to life, and Wifies grabbed the remote in one swift motion and chose a random movie—Saparata turned to him in confusion, his ears shooting up when he saw Wifies’ sour expression. He stared back at the movie playing on the screen.
Wifies had spent his entire week trying to get over it.
He kept telling himself it didn’t matter. That it was small, forgettable, and barely even worth thinking about anymore. He repeated it enough times that it should’ve settled by now, should’ve faded into something dull and unimportant.
But it didn’t.
It stayed. Not just loud—It was overwhelming. Constant, sitting somewhere in the crevices of his ribs. The feeling was persistent, and the only thing Wifies had done about his feelings was the image burned into his mind, manifesting into something worse. A sight that would rip his heart into pieces forever.
Saps’ arms around someone else's, tight, unwilling to let go. Someone else’s arms around Saparata, on his waist, on his cheek, then a slight brush of their fingers. Then the thoughts came flooding in, holding hands, intertwining fingers.
Then a free hand coming up to push Saparata’s hair to his side, just to see that face. Then pulling him into another hug, maybe a kiss, then fingers on Saparata’s chin, his hips, his hair, exploring. Hands that aren’t his. Hands that should be his.
And what if Saparata did the same? Hands that should be on him, exploring him, only for him?
He tried to ignore it anyway. He had tried to push the feeling away, like he always did when something similar like this happened.
But this time was special, because not only he couldn't, in fact, he didn’t want to.
He wanted Saparata to be aware about how he felt about all of this, forbid him from doing the things he just thought of. He wanted to show Saparata exactly how he could worship him, take care of him, and show him how Wifies’ was the only person Saparata needed.
The feeling had been building throughout the week, exactly like a rollercoaster you’d see at an amusement park. It had ups and downs, loops and circles that would make you hold your vomit until the end of the ride.
And Wifies had thought a few days ago that he had gotten over it, only going back to square one when he noticed Saparata texting someone while they were walking to their next class.
He pushed everything away until it became impossible to push down any further. It pressed at the back of his thoughts, bled into everything else, until even the movie playing in front of them lost all its meaning.
In the corner of his eye, Saparata grabbed the diet coke from the coffee table, and it left a ring of condensation on the glass. Wifies didn’t register the screen flickering, voices moving, because all he could think about was that one singular moment.
His emotions get the best of him.
In one smooth motion, he inches towards Saparata’s spot on the couch, and Wifies’ pins one of his arms behind Saparata’s head. Saparata instinctively puts the can on the floor and a choked gasp escapes from Saparata’s throat—their legs interlock, one of Wifies’ knees in between his thighs and their fingers intertwine, and the feeling that it gives buzzes through Wifies like a jackhammer. “W—wifi-..”
Saparata cuts himself off, stifling a whine. His heart beats in his chest and this whole predicament excites him. His ears twitch in delight at the following noise Saparata makes, and Wifies’ wants more.
He wants to erase the one thought that kept on pestering him—the lingering trace of someone else’s touch on Saparata, the memory of that brief, careless hug. To overwrite it completely, replace the feeling and the warmth of someone else’s on Saparata’s skin with his own, something that can only be his. Only his.
He stares at him without action, but his grip on Saparata’s arm loosens, just enough for Saparata to slip through the gap if he wanted to-–enough for Saparata to know that he wasn’t being held here against his will.
Wifies’ watches him closely. He scans Saparata’s face to look for any sign of discomfort—for any sign for him to pull away, but nothing comes from it. Saparata doesn’t pull away, his expression still the same.
Wifies’ gaze into his eyes lingers a second longer as he goes closer, like he’s waiting for something that never comes. Permission, or refusal. Either would have made this easier.
His breath brushes against Saparata’s neck—warm against the cold—and it’s the first physical reaction Wifies gets. A shiver runs down Saparata’s spine, his body tensing for just a second before settling again, impossible to ignore.
Wifies notices—of course he does. He notices everything Saparata does.
For a moment, something flickers across his expression—hesitation? He looks at Saparata properly now, meeting those gold-colored eyes through the fall of pale lashes, and for a second, it feels like he could lose himself there if he lets it go on too long.
His breathing goes heavy and a free hand lifts almost unconsciously, brushing a loose strand of hair away from Saparata’s face—just enough to see him more clearly. Like he needs to be sure. Like he needs to remember this.
He’s aware, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should pull away. That he’s already too close. But Saparata still hasn’t moved. Hasn’t said anything. Hasn’t given him a reason to stop. And that—that's what makes all of this worse.
He realizes the proximity and something tight twists in Wifies’ chest, sharp and sudden. Regret, or the fear of crossing a line he can’t uncross. It’s more than enough to make him hesitate—enough to make him start pulling back, ready, forming an apology,
but then Saparata’s hand catches his collar, firm and certain. “Why—” his voice falters, catching somewhere in his throat. It comes out thinner than he expects, uneven, and he stops, jaw tightening slightly as he exhales to calm his heart.
He clears his throat, trying to steady himself, but the words don’t come as easily this time. “Why are you trying to stop?” he finishes, quieter than before.
If anything, his grip tightens—enough to force, just enough to keep Wifies there, close. For a moment, Wifies’ just looks at him—really looks this time—with wide eyes, like he’s trying to understand if any of this is real, and reality hits him. “What?” He says in disbelief. Wifies ears are pinned flat to the back of his head.
Saparata wasn’t just only letting this happen. He’s leaning into it. He wants this. He wants him.
Wifies’ gaze flickers, dropping just slightly—just enough to catch the subtle shift in his eyes. The way his pupils have widened, dark against gold, swallowing the light instead of reflecting it. His tail thumps against the couches arm rest.
His eyes were focused, present. On him, and only him.
His breath catches. For a second, everything else fades—his surroundings, the noise, the lingering, thick tension from earlier. All of it was replaced by this realization, settling heavy and undeniable in his chest. Saparata wants this, all of him, maybe. And all he feels is his heart palpitating, crashing into his ribs.
His grip falters, not pulling away, and his previously sour expression twists into something he’s trying hard to hide, but his lips quiver and his arms shake. He almost crashes into Saparata face-to-face before he pulls himself back up.
He feels a red crimson blush rush to his cheeks, “…you—” he starts, but no words follow, because he doesn’t know what to say to that. His eyes flick back up to Saparata’s, searching, disbelieving—like he’s still waiting for it to change, for him to pull away, for this to turn into something he misread.
It does, but it’s only his lips curving into a sly smile. And that’s what undoes him. Wifies exhales shakily, his expression changing, far less controlled. “Don’t stop.” Saparata says. The words come out low, unexpected, and just like that, whatever distance had been holding between them disappears. Wifies halts in his tracks and freezes like a deer in headlights.
“Dude...—Just kiss me already!” Saparata scowls and he closes the distance in one movement—teeth clashing together as they kiss with fervor, like they’ve been holding themselves for far too long. Saparata’s other hand travel to the dark locks in his hair as if forcing him to stay,
And Wifies melts into the kiss immediately. His legs feel like jelly.
The kiss, all of this, it’s hungry—definitely animalistic, driven by something deeper than a human thought, a human desire, something instinctive. Like claiming one's space. Wifies’ hand tightens instinctively against Saparatas, pulling Saparata closer by the waist without thinking, like he’s afraid he’ll lose him and Saparata would fade, disappear, and this moment would end if he doesn’t hold on tighter.
Whatever restraint he had left dissolves into nothing, replaced by want, unfiltered and immediate. Wifies leans into it without thinking, meeting him fully now, like he can’t afford to hesitate anymore.
He pulls Saparata closer until their chests are pressed flush together, closing whatever space was left between them until there’s nothing but heat, saliva and sweat and the overwhelming yet addicting presence of each other. Wifies' other hand brushes against his collarbone, and Saparata whines when Wifies’ hands dig into his waist.
Neither of them want to pull away.