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The last of the popsicle slowly drips down the flat wooden stick and down his sun kissed skin. Minghao watches it with some weird interest as it reaches down to the elbow and then finally falls to the floor. Mingyu licks his hand, lapping up the excess sweetness, and wipes down his arm with his t-shirt, staining it a temporary blue.
“That’s dirty.” Minghao says, making a disgusted face at his friend.
“Whatever. I’ll toss it in the laundry later.” Mingyu replies, and they leave it at that. It’s too hot to bicker playfully for too long. Mingyu gets up from the sunbaked cement and pats his bum off of any pieces of dirt or tiny rocks that could have hung onto it. He plucks the stick from Minghao’s reddening fingers before heading off towards the trashcan. It’s a useless act, seeing as Minghao will follow him there every time, but Minghao appreciates the gesture anyway. Mingyu flings the sticks into the trashcan and flashes Minghao a V-sign. He finds that there’s sweat gathered up on his forehead threatening to fall. Minghao digs into his shorts for the red handkerchief he always keep at hand and pats down the taller’s perspired face.
Mingyu sneers, then mocks, “Isn’t my sweat dirty?”
“Not to me.” It really isn’t by now. Minghao looks up and finds Mingyu staring at him with an intensity that urges the weather to heat up even more.
Even though Minghao follows Mingyu out into the sun everyday, somehow, Mingyu’s beautiful bronze hands still manages to create a pretty contrast with Minghao’s heavily summer tanned ones. Minghao is tall and Minghao has nice hands: slender fingered and big palmed. It’s infuriating how the other easily tops him in his most confident features. Mingyu towers him and his hands engulf his own, making him feel small.
“Let’s cool down.” Mingyu whispers.
“Okay.”
Mingyu leads him down the familiar path to his home. Minghao knows the way by heart now, could even find it blindfolded, but Mingyu doesn’t let go of his hand anyway. It’s a shame, how sweat easily gathers onto Mingyu again, even though Minghao had gotten rid of it just minutes ago. He uses his free hand instead (handkerchief too drenched by now), to catch a few stray beads of sweat before the fall into Mingyu’s t-shirt. Mingyu flushes, asks, “Whassut for?”
“You were sweating again.”
“Not gross even with your hand?”
“No.”
He’s not sure what Mingyu is looking for in his face, but it seems to satisfy him by the way his brown orbs soften and how there’s a small, relaxed smile fitting nicely onto his lips. He turns back to the road, hand still holding onto Minghao’s sweaty ones as they walk through the neighborhood.
They enter the house, empty of both of Mingyu’s parents, and walk straight up the stairs to his room. Mingyu finally lets go of his hand and fiddles with the dinky old fan in the corner of his room. When he finally get the thing to work he joins Minghao on his bed, much too small now.
“You’re too close. It’s too hot,” Minghao groans, shoving the other away from him.
Mingyu pouts and leans back in, whining, “C’monnn!”
“We’re in a heatwave. You asked to cool down fool,” Minghao replies. He actually doesn’t care, just wants to put up a fight because he can.
“Can I kiss you?”
Minghao doesn’t reply. They both know that means yes, so Mingyu leans in and kisses him without a second thought. It’s slow and lazy, both too tired to make any more effort in the sweltering weather. Minghao finds Mingyu’s hand on his chest, gently pushing him, urging him to lay on his back, so he does, separates from the kiss for a moment, then feeling soft sheets underneath him. Mingyu hovers over and recaptures his lips, restarting their slow pace. The air conditioning is of no use now, bodies too close, and mouths too hot to properly cool down. It’s innocent, but not really. They kiss without sexual intentions, they kiss because they like it, like each other. He ponders how it’s unusual that what they’re doing is the usual. They throw heat aside momentarily and kiss and kiss. Minghao doesn’t mind, didn’t mind it yesterday, or the day before that, or the day before that day, and he won’t mind it tomorrow even when he’ll feel sticky and gross.
It’s intimate, in an indescribable way, even when lazy, passions from one lips easily find place to another. Minghao thinks that sometimes he can hear Mingyu telling him he loves him even though he can really only hear the buzzing of the old air conditioner (or the heater in other sorts of weathers), and the quiet smacks of lips against each other. He tries to convey the same message back, but he’s never sure if he’s doing it right.
“Mm. S’ too hot now,” Mingyu mumbles against his mouth. He separates the kiss, and gives one last peck before flopping onto his back right next to Minghao.
Minghao props himself up on an elbow and pulls out his melted chapstick from his pocket. It’s gross because it’s got residue of Mingyu’s sweat from the handkerchief. He uncaps it and cups Mingyu’s face in one palm as he applies the material onto his cracked lips.
“Sorry, did it feel bad?”
Minghao shakes his head, “It felt good.” He applies some to his own lips, then replies, “Your lips will crack more and bleed if you don’t moisturize them. Then you’ll go and complain to me!” He caps the tube and tosses it to the floor.
Mingyu smiles and tugs on his wrist to bring him back to laying next to him. “Guess you’ll have to watch over my lips now don’t you?”
Minghao rolls his eyes before mumbling, “Guess so.”
He really doesn’t mind.