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Kiss the Boy

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Lance has his routine. He never strays from it, regardless of homework, stress, or exhaustion. Every night at eight p.m. he turns on some song from youtube with autoplay on and does a facemask. And then another. Then two lotions. And some moisturizer as a cherry on top. Just as his skincare is consistent, so is his music; almost never straying from Beyoncé, Madonna, Rihanna, and the occasional guilty pleasure Panic! at the Disco song. The occasional song cover is allowed but this... this is unacceptable

He jerks out of his relaxation, flailing his arms and sputtering as he desperately tries to reach his phone.

"NO. No ew ew ew ewewewewEW. Disgusting, actual cancer get it away from me, I am just trying to enjoy my second nightly facemask and this is what I get?"

"You okay buddy?" Lance hears Hunk call from the other room.

"Yeah, I should be okay after three years of recovery time. Mind grabbing me some ice cream pretty please?"

"I would, but I'm researching for this paper, the professor kinda sucks at professoring."

Lance heaves out a sigh out of laziness and gets out of bed, dragging his feet to the kitchen. He grabs a tub of strawberry ice cream with a spoon and trudges back to his room, flopping onto his bed. He grabs his phone, curiously looking at the horrendous video that was playing. To his slight surprise, it was a lyric video, not showing the persons face at all. Intrigued, he presses play, being completely prepared to cringe. A husky voice starts playing out of his phone and if it wasn't covering what it was covering, Lance might actually enjoy it a little.

A guy like you, should wear a warning.

it's dangerous.

I'm falling.

One of Lances all time favorite songs, Toxic, was being sung, but it was...wow. It was, in lack of other words, edgy. And while edgy covers, especially of songs like toxic, would tend to have Lance running, it was something about this persons voice. It almost drew him in.

Compelled by curiosity, he clicks on this person channel; titled Homosamurai (which totally didnt make Lance chuckle. Not at all.) Tons of videos popped up, all punky edgy emo covers of the songs he loves. Torn between despising what he sees and being genuinely curious, Lance surfs this kids channel for at least a channel, only getting up to change face product.

By the time Lance is halfway through his seventeenth of this kid's videos, he constructs a plan. What is it you may ask? Well, Lance figures that if this Homosamurai was going to highly offend all lovers of good music, Lance has a duty to do the opposite. And so, that leaves Lance sitting in front of a decent microphone, planning, singing and editing a pop, could have been sung by Gwen Stefani, cover of The Balled of Mona Lisa, by Panic! at the Disco.

...

A few hours later, Lance stretches, neck and body sore from editing for so long. He made sure to keep his channel anonymous too, calling himself Sharpshooter, and never showing his face. He glances at the clock, and the digital reading of 2:27 shone back at him.

"Shit..." he mumbles, realizing just how late he stayed up. Feeling bleary, he decides in his sleep deprived haze to go to to a twenty four hour cafe down the street; he needs coffee, and soon. Sleepily, he uploads his video onto his newly made YouTube account and comments a link of his video onto Homosamruai's newest post, pulls on jeans and a hoodie that don't smell like a broke college student owns them, and stumbles out the door.

...

After about twenty minutes of searching under the dim lighting of the streetlights above him, he finds the quaint cafe, and Lance smiles at the pride flag hanging at the door. After seeing too many gay clubs he had wondered if there was something like that but quieter, with less sweat. Suddenly shy, he walks in, his feet still slightly dragging on the ground.

He opens the door to a small swell of music, and a stupidly cute barista with a bun lightly singing along and swinging his hips to the beat.

...show just how I feel 'cause people talk.

Don't want to worry 'bout whatever,

Just got to know your deal.

Lance bites back a smile. Cute Barista seemed to not notice his presence at all, just enjoying the sound of music; and the simple freedom of singing. The black apron he was wearing was cinched around his waist and looked too big on him, almost reaching his ankles.

See, half the time I'm wondering if this is real.

Why not say something's on my mind if I feel love?

Lance presses his lips together. He knows this song. He could easily sing along. Should he, though?

But when the moment's right I freeze,

Lance swears that he's heard this voice before. Where from?

That's how I know my heart is his.

Fuck it. It's not like Lance every actually thinks before he acts anyways. Momentarily closing his eyes so he can have enough balls to do this, he starts singing along with Cute Barista

So if you wanna kiss the boy, then you better kiss the boy right now,

Cute Barista notices him. He notices, and now he's turning while still singing, and wow Lance is-

And you aint gotta be afraid bout the words you wanna say right now.

Lance makes eye contact with Cute Barista, who stares back at him with a face of ice.

'Cause love is a game we deserve to play out loud,

Lance felt his voice effortlessly lift to the required higher note in the song while Cute Baristas didn't, but it instead took on almost a punk rasp. Fuck. Who knew that jamming out with strangers at god knows what time in the morning could be so sexually arousing?

So if you wanna, hey.

Then you better kiss the boy, oh you better kiss the boy right now.

Lance's voice fell out in the middle of singing, leaving just the voice of Cute Barista. Cute Barista then slides over to the ordering counter, drumming every surface he passes slightly with the tips of his fingers.

"So what can I get 'cha, pretty boy?"

It's been a while since Lance had legitimately hit on a stranger, and he momentarily panics. Not wanting to seem like a loser, he just swallows the surplus of spit in his mouth and slides up to the counter, not less than a foot from Cute Barista.

"Any recommendations?"

He sees Cute Barista smirk.

"Vanilla Latte."

what?

Cute Barista stares at him with the same expression for a solid three seconds before chuckling.

"I'm just fucking with you," he laughs out, eyes lighting up. "I'd say dark roast, it's got the most caffeine, but it's pretty bitter." Lance presses his lips together, and leans slightly closer to him.

"I'm sure I could handle it."

Cute Barista licks his lips.

"Dark Roast coming up."

Cute Barista presses in closer to Lance before pushing off the edge of the counter and making my coffee. While he was facing away, Lance takes a deep breath, feeling slightly out of his element. Exhaling, he walks to a chair facing a fireplace. Lance pulls out his phone, feigning casualty, but really just scream texting Hunk.

Ramenentrepreneur: BRO BRO BRO MISSION ABORT I AM SCREAMING LOUDLY MENTALLY.

10/10Mom: yes lance

Ramenentrepreneur: IM SO GAY YOU GOTTA HELP PLEASE IM DYING

10/10Mom: oh?

Ramenentrepreneur: nO HE STARTED IT HE HIT ON ME FIRST

10/10Mom: from past experiences im compelled to ask if youre sure. you once mistook a single glance as flirting, lance

Ramenentrepreneur: you wound me. bUT SERIOUSLY.

"Dark Roast?" Lance jumps slightly and puts his phone away in record time. Turning, he can see Cute Barista leaning against the countertop, cup next to his clasped hands. Lance walks up to the countertop, facing Cute Barista again.

Lance reaches out to take the drink on the countertop, when realization hits him straight in the nose

"Shit. I never paid." He sees Cute Barista lightly smile.

"Don't worry, It's on me"

"Thank you," Lance says, blushing.

"Don't forget to text me, pretty boy." Cute Barista murmurs, Lance barley caught what he said. Though, the way that he said 'pretty boy'...it brought a even worse blush to Lances face.

"I, uh, I dont have your number...?"

The way that Cute Barista chuckles gives Lance a valid reason to believe that Cute Baristas number is written on the cup in Lances hand.

"Oh," Lance breathes out, starting to walk backwards. He had to get out before he fucked it up. "I'll, uh, see your around?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Lance walks out the door before he could do something stupid like kiss Cute Barista like he wanted to. Checking the cup, he found a name and a number:

Keith

xxx-xxx-xxxx

enjoy the coffee ;)

Lance leans against the wall of some building next to him. Holy fuck. He has been so distracted with not failing his classes that he legitimately forgot how fun flirting is. Heaving out a sigh, he heads home

...

Lance flops on his bed, feeling vaguely exhilarated. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he checks his Instagram. It was a barren desert, as usual, which surprisingly got a laugh out of Lance. Yawning, he seen a notification for YouTube; and wondering what new video was up, he clicked on it. Instead of being brought to a new video, though, he was transported to his cover of The Balled of Mona Lisa. Wondering why, he scrolled down to the comments section.

Homosamurai: Its on bitch.

...