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Now, Choso was all too familiar with the way people judge based on appearances alone. After all, he was subjected to this very thing daily. And while it was a little disheartening to notice people shifting away from him on the subway (surely subtle attempts, but he was the type to notice nonetheless) or follow his movements with their eyes as if anticipating him to flip his lid over nothing, he refused to compromise.
Yes, he could dress in dress shirts, cotton pants and leave the eyeliner and chunky rings, but that’d be worse than the treatment he got now. With all that in mind, one would assume Choso knew better than to judge others for their looks, and he did, really, he did. Until he met you for the first time.
You, so utterly intimidating. He could barely explain why, after all you were smaller than him both in height and certainly in stature, surely the type to disappear into a crowd with ease. Neither your clothes nor your make-up was particularly out of the ordinary, so by all accounts you should be just another face to him, one of the many fellow students that passed him by every day.
But that was just the thing, your face. Never before had he met someone for whom the description of having a death glare fit so well, it was like the word had been created just for you. It wasn’t just him who was affected, not judging by the way the mass of students seemed allergic to your presence, getting out of your way without a word, popular girls, nerds and burly athletes alike.
He was almost scared to never meet you again, because despite the apprehension he felt, there was an undeniable curiosity welling up inside him. Just who were you? From that day on, he’d spot you around campus almost daily, mostly just fleeting glances but enough to keep his mind preoccupied with you without pause. None of his friends could help him, everyone giving him the same dissatisfactory answer: Everyone knows you, but nobody knows you.
One time, Choso spots you in the library, the seats next to you empty despite how overrun the place normally is. He would’ve sat next to you, he really would have, had he not gotten a call from a friend right then, inviting him to a café instead.
The universe itself seems hellbent on getting into his way, roadblocks to just being near you popping up left and right. Thankfully, Choso wasn’t superstitious, because the amount of signs not to make contact with you were staggering. Granted, some of those were his own fault; his nerves kept getting the better of him. Who could blame him, with those icy frowns of yours that made him shiver on even the brightest summer days?
In the end, your first meeting (if you could call the few seconds of interaction that day a meeting) happened entirely by chance, maybe a small apology from the universe for the previous difficulties. Choso was on his way back from his last course of the day, texting a friend, head juggling both the lecture he had just endured and his friend’s demands to party with him this weekend. So distracted, that he rounded a corner faster than usual, bumping into something with a surprised groan. No, not something, someone.
A pair of stormy eyes drags him out of his reverie, and he swore he could feel himself falling flat on his ass. A look down told him just the opposite had happened, since you were the one on the floor, hissing under your breath as you rub your wrists who had taken the brunt of the fall. He stares at you for a moment, vaguely aware he must look like a colossal asshole right now, just watching you.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I was completely out of it…you alright? Wait, let me-“
He manages to will his body forward, holding out his hand to help you up, his hand that you pointedly ignore, instead getting back on your feet by yourself, barely acknowledging his hurried apology. He’s muttering more apologies, at least he hopes the disjointed words tumbling out of his mouth, product of his nerves flaring up, make some sense. If they do, he’ll never know, since you simply push past him and merge into the crowd of gawking students that must’ve formed around you during the brief exchange. Some looked almost disappointed, like they were waiting for you to blow up at Choso or tear his throat out right here in the hallway.
Honestly, he was half waiting for that himself. Hoping for it, even, since it would’ve meant any sort of proof you existed to him. No, you wouldn’t give it to him so easily. Maybe you had sensed him seeking you out in the crowds, sensed his cowardice as he fought between instinct and want. A silent challenge, then? ‘You won’t get to be part of my days as long as you’re not determined enough?’ Determined, or desperate? At this point, the distinction wasn’t relevant to him anymore, whatever would have you see him, really see him.
A week later, Choso was ready to put it all on the line. His battlefield of choice was the cafeteria, since that was the only place beside the library he had seen you semi-regularly. Now that he thought about it, that makes him sound like a stalker, which had him groan in embarrassment. He couldn’t explain to anyone why he was so fixated on you, let alone himself, but it was bad. The term ‘battlefield’ might also sound wholly exaggerated, but it certainly felt like life or death to him.
Funnily enough, it weren’t the teasing-yet-well-meant pep talks from his friends that finally pushed him to approach you, no, it were the needling comments from his deadbeat uncle. He had a way of getting under his skin, but this time, Choso might have to thank him for a change. ‘You’re getting ahead of yourself,’ he tells himself. This can all go horribly wrong still.
A tray in hand, he finds your by now familiar face at the usual table and makes his way over, repeating his opening phrase, or rather phrases, like a mantra.
‘Is that seat taken?’ or ‘Can I sit down here?’. Either one was fine, he thought. Maybe even both back to back.
‘Is that seat taken?’ he repeats in his mind. ‘Can I sit down here?’
Showtime. He’s in front of your table, your head still hung low as you poke around in your food, either unintentionally or wilfully ignoring his approach. He opens his mouth-
“Can that seat down here?”
Oh, Jesus. The look you gave him in response was more than warranted. He swallows hard, opening his mouth for another attempt.
“Can I sit with you?” Not quite the charming line he had prepared beforehand, but at least it was a proper question, which was about as much as he could ask for right now. There’s a twitch in your eyebrow, although God knows what that means with your visible range of emotions. He’s halfway to excusing himself and retreating when you nod.
“I don’t mind.”
Now that knocks the wind out of him, leaving him standing there like an absolute idiot, because whatever he had imagined your voice to be like was miles from the truth. Soft, almost tender, so completely unfit for your scowling face, your expression passing for ‘severe displeasure’ at best. It takes another twitch of your eyebrows for him to notice his idling there and he promptly sits down, putting his tray down a little forceful.
You don’t give him the curtesy of a comment, instead popping another bite of food into your mouth. That’s when Choso realized he never planned for what to do after sitting down. Somehow, that miniscule part of the plan had slipped his mind. Instead, the two of you sit there, silently eating your food, which wasn’t exactly how he had envisioned this to go. He was frantically trying to come up with a conversation starter that wasn’t downright inquisitive or creepy, but he was drawing a blank.
By the time you’re done with your food and stand up to bring back the tray, he’s still scrounging together something to say, noticing too late that you’re gone. When his friends later ask him how his little pursuit went, he doesn’t even give them a response because the fact he actually managed step one and promptly fucked up every other part of what was supposed to be your first real conversation had him feeling worse than if he’d never sat down.
To his shame, he didn’t succeed on the second try either. Nor the third. To your credit, despite the strange routine of him asking to sit at your table at lunch, then neither of you saying anything until the first person finishes (usually you) and leaves, you didn’t stop him from sitting there with you. It wasn’t like you were warming up to him either, at least judging from your never-changing expression, but at least it wasn’t getting worse?
He was halfway to giving up on his fourth attempt, the day already going horribly, horribly wrong. From forgetting an umbrella for the rain showers of that day, to getting less than favourable feedback on an important assignment, the day wasn’t exactly one for the history books. Fate seems to sneer at him when he can’t find you in the cafeteria, your usual table empty. He decides to sit down and can’t help but sigh deeply. What was he thinking of getting out of this? For all he knows, you barely tolerate his presence and that’s that. It wasn’t like him to be so stubborn about getting to know someone.
He's lost in thoughts, the food good but also so predictable by now, when someone steps up to the table in his peripherals.
“Can I sit here?”
He hopes he’s not staring up at you like an imbecile, but the chances were low. No matter, because you just talked to him again, of your own volition. You, also drenched from the rain, a few stray strands of hair plastered on your forehead, looking like you’re ready to take it up with the big man in the sky himself.
He can only nod, trying not to stare as you sit down opposite him and begin to eat.
“Forgot your umbrella too?” Holy hit, he actually did it. An opener. And maybe what he endured earlier that day was all for this moment.
“Yeah…was in my other bag.”
He allows himself a smile, not that you return it, but he figures that would’ve been shooting for the stars. Fate wasn’t done with him, because for the first time, the two of you finish your food in the same moment. As you put away your trays, him next to you, Choso isn’t entirely sure whether it’s awkwardness or excitement that makes his heart beat faster than usual.
Another rainstorm passes through, so you’re forced to linger by the cafeteria doors, neither sure of whether to risk going out now or waiting. He’s stealing glances at you, hopefully subtle, as you check your weather app, which results in a sigh.
“I can’t afford to wait.” That’s all you say before stepping out into the rain, hurrying off to one of the lecture buildings. You’re remarkably fast, so much so he barely has time to shout a ‘Bye!’ after you.
By the time he reaches the subway, he’s soaked all the way through, but he finds himself grinning stupidly to himself all the same. You talked. More than one sentence. You replied to him. He said goodbye to you. Okay, you still look at him like you wouldn’t mind him dropping dead, but he had gotten used to that.
The weekend passed entirely too slow, each of those days meaning zero chance of seeing you. No luck on Monday either, not on Tuesday…shit, maybe he had it all wrong and you were avoiding him after all? His crisis was short-lived, thankfully, when the two of you found yourself sitting at the usual table the next day. He was talking himself up to starting a conversation when your eyes flickered up at his face, an expression he couldn’t place on your face. Were you about to tell him off?
“I like your style. I think it’s cool.”
Wait, what? His inner thoughts must be plastered over his face, because you repeat yourself.
“I think your style is really cool. Do you do your own eyeliner?”
From the way his cheeks felt hot, he was blushing. Blushing because you gave him a simple compliment and asked him something. Oh, right, you asked him something.
“Oh, yeah. Got years of experience under my belt.” Honestly, he had hoped to get a chuckle out of you, but you simply nod and go back to eating. As does he, cheeks still feeling a little warm.
“I’m Choso, by the way.” It seems your compliment has made him bold. Which sounded ludicrous, seeing as he only introduced himself, but even that had felt so impossible with how high your walls were. His wager pays off when you give him your name in return.
“Choso…” you repeat to yourself. He barely catches it, having half a mind not to sigh hearing you say his name.
Like taming a wild animal, he’s careful not to push too hard too fast to avoid risking withdrawal from your side, and with your reactions being as hard to read as they are, it makes him even more careful than usual. You eating lunch together becomes a regular thing, and soon you run into each other in other parts of campus, exchanging a greeting or a quick ‘How are you?’. Nothing major, but it makes Choso’s day each and every time.
As deadlines for college assignments come creeping up, the two of you find yourself in the library most afternoons, Choso always making sure to save a chair for you next to him. You’d work alongside each other without speaking much, not that the library was a prime location for casual chatting, but it was some of the most fun he had doing assignments.
Choso always matched your timetable, leaving whenever you left no matter his progress, not wanting to miss the chance to walk a few more minutes with you until your ways parted, making light conversation. He was getting comfortable with you, hoping it was the same way for you. Not that he could tell from your expressions, he could count the amount of clearly positive reactions you gave on one hand, but you also never brushed him off or denied him company, so he prayed that was a slam-dunk when it came to you.
You’re the first to see the notice at the main doors of the library.
“Closed indefinitely due to issues with the pipe system. Apologies for any inconveniences.”
You’re still in front of the doors ten minutes later, furious over this turn of event. At least that’s what Choso assumes as he steps up to you, judging from the way your gaze is icy enough to make hell freeze over. He reads the notice and sighs.
“That’s a shame.”
You don’t answer immediately, so he risks a question.
“You got somewhere else to study in peace?”
“No…” you sigh. “Got two flatmates. Both are in fresh relationships and not concerned about their, um- let’s call it noise level.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he can barely hold back a chuckle.
“Oh, got it. A café then?”
“Too loud, too crowded. And closes soon, I’d guess.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest, thinking for a while, unsure of whether his next offer would be too forward for you.
“Just a thought…you could come over to my place. No distractions there. But if you-“
“Okay.”
He freezes.
Wait, you agreed?
You turn around to him, giving him an eyebrow raise as if to say ‘Can we get going already?’.
“Great. Yeah, let’s go then. We’ll have to take the subway, but it’s just two stations. I can bring you home if it gets dark before you finish the assignment, so no worries.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Oh, right, good. That’s good.”
The subway is busy, but you don’t bother looking for seats for the short ride. For the first time, you care about the looks you’re receiving, some people openly judging, surely drawing conclusions about every aspect of your life just from what they can see on first glance. Not for yourself, but because you wonder how many pairs of eyes are on you, and how many on Choso. Or maybe it’s the combination of the two of you together, both intimidating in different ways?
Choso has no capacity left to worry about that, since he’s freaking out on the inside. It somehow had slipped his mind that his apartment wasn’t in prime visitation condition, with laundry strewn all around the living room and old boxes of take-out in the kitchen. Not the good first impression he wanted to give you, but it’s not like he could turn tail and run now.
Opening up the door to his place, he turns around to you once again, shooting you a sheepish look.
“Could you give me a few minutes?”
You shrug. “One of my flatmate’s a guy. Can’t be worse than his room.”
That’s only a small relief, so he still puts away his dirty laundry and old take-out boxes in record time, returning to the door a couple of minutes later to let you in and close it behind you.
“Okay, so, first things first. Living room’s on the left here, bathroom the door to the right. My room is at the end of the hallway to the right; the kitchen is at the end to the left. Just get settled in the living room, okay? Want something to drink?”
When he returns to the living room, two cans of soda in hand, you’ve made yourself comfortable at the coffee table, your laptop already open. You look up over when he sets the soda cans down and give him a small ‘Thanks’, to which he returns a smile.
“So, we’re working in silence? Or are you the type who likes to have some music running?” he cautiously asks after a few minutes of keyboard clicking filling the living room, only quieting down when one of you takes a sip of their drink.
“Silence is good.”
With that it’s settled and you’re both back to working away at your respective assignments. Choso was preparing for the silence to turn into tension, oppressing and uncomfortable, but it just doesn’t. Instead, every time he steals a quick glance at your concentrated face (by now he was in tune with you enough to differentiate your ‘concentration’ face from your ‘general displeasure’ face), the only thought on his mind was how well you fit into his place. How natural it felt to sit at his coffee table, quietly typing alongside each other. That, and how much he wanted to have you here again, and again, and again.
Apparently, hours pass, at least according to the clock on his laptop. It might as well have been minutes with how fast time seemed to go.
“Can I grab another soda?”
He looks up, you already standing by the door. “Course. Make it two?”
You nod and walk through the hallway, noticing a few picture frames along the walls. There’s Choso, along with a younger boy and two older men, one looking ordinary, the other anything but. You remember Choso complaining about some loser of an uncle of his, deciding that must be one of them. More surprising is the fact everyone save for Choso has an usual hair colour, maybe a light pink?
After getting back to the living room and swapping the empty soda cans with new ones, you’re back to working in comfortable silence. Another hour tops and you’re done, leaning back on your hands. When Choso’s gaze lifts and you see an apology form on his lips, you’re quick to dismiss it.
“Don’t rush.”
About half an hour later he finally hands in his finalized document and sighs, happy to be done before midnight by a good hour even. Meanwhile you’ve scoped out the living room, your eyes landing on a shelf under the TV, something covered by a black sheet on top of it. He follows your path of vision, wondering what caught your attention.
“Oh, that…it’s a record player.” What he hadn’t expected was how you seemed to positively light up, definitely the most outwardly happy reaction he had ever seen you make.
“Can I see?”
“Yeah, be my guest.” He watches as you pad over, carefully lifting the cover and making a whistle sound. It’s a classic record player, in a beautiful dark wood casing. You open the cabinet below, where dozens of records are housed. You crouch down to flip through them, occasionally pulling out some to look at the front and back, always careful in handling them.
Metal, Alternative, Rock…you make a mental note on recurring bands. “No surprises here.”
He chuckles, looking over your shoulder. “If the shoe fits, right? You listen to some of this?”
“Yes, actually. Sadly, just digital. Can I pick out some music next time?”
“Next time,” he repeats. Like a puppy seeing their owner return, he perks up and smiles. “Yeah.”
A quick round of pleading later (from his side) and you agree to have him bring you back home. No, neither his nor your neighbourhoods were particularly high-risk, but it was more time to spend with you, so he felt compelled to try his luck.
“Just give me a quick minute, I’m gonna take off my eyeliner. I got a feeling I’ll be too lazy once I return and sleeping with it on isn’t the brightest decision.”
“Can I watch?”
That makes a sliver of confusion appear on his face. You look at him expectantly though, so he finally nods.
“Uh, sure. If you’d like to?” Honestly, whatever gives him even a couple more minutes with you in his vicinity, he wouldn’t say no to. So, he finds himself in front of his bathroom mirror, using a cotton pad to carefully take off his eyeshadow. For or a moment it feels weirdly intimate to have you see him without the usual eyeliner. But that’s not what makes you tilt your head, it’s what remains on his face.
“Wait, it’s a real tattoo? I just assumed it was eyeliner, and you were really good at replicating the shape every day.”
That draws out a soft laugh from him, making him shake his head. “I’m flattered you think that highly of my make-up skills. No, it’s a tattoo. I’ve got a couple more, actually.”
“Yeah? Can I see?”
That makes his cheeks tint with a strawberry hue, his hand coming up to nervously scratch at the back of his head before making a decision. “No problem.”
You only now figure that maybe you should’ve asked first where said tattoos are located, but by that point it’s too late. He pulls his shirt off, revealing a toned chest and back, firm muscles interwoven to form a beautiful picture of a man. You have half a mind not to start gawking at him, his pale skin contrasting with the dark tattoos on his lower waist (unbeknownst to you, he wouldn’t have minded in the slightest).
“I have one more on the back…” He turns around to show you, and before you even become aware of it, your fingertips are tracing the design that spans from his neck, over his shoulder blade and stops at his lower back, featherlight and curious. It makes his muscles flex involuntarily, a subconscious reaction to your touch. ‘I’m not a damn virgin,’ he tells himself, almost ashamed to be so flustered over your gentle exploration of the ink on his skin, but as with every other small thing you do, it drives him crazy. He catches himself almost sighing in frustration when you draw back your hand.
“I was always thinking about getting one myself sometime.”
He perks up at that, using the moment to put his shirt back on, since anymore of the shy glances you cast at his body would probably make him unable to sleep soundly for the entire week.
“Really? What’s stopped you so far?”
You tap your chin thoughtfully. “Ah, just…I’m a little sensitive when it comes to pain. Plus, I can be pretty indecisive. What if I regret it down the line?”
He nods understandingly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Nah, I get that. Wanna know something? I ruminated for weeks before my first one, even though I already had it picked out, an appointment and so on.”
“Are you serious?” Your voice doesn’t hide your disbelief, and he can’t blame you. “They look so natural on you, like your body was made for them. Does that make sense..?”
He chuckles, shooting you a grateful smile. “Love to hear that. But yeah, I was close to blowing the whole thing off at least a dozen times. The usual doubts, will I like it, how are other people going to react, you get it. It sounds almost stupidly simple, but at one point I figured breaking my head over it won’t help. I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure I’d love it, but sometimes you gotta accept there’s a risk.”
He suddenly notices how that may sound in response to you and quickly adds more. “Not that that means everyone should just do it. If there’s a chance you might come to regret a decision like this, there’s no shame in thinking on it for longer.”
He gives you another warm smile. “Just an offer, but if you ever decide to go through with it and are worried about the pain, I could come with you so you could squeeze my hand. Or punch my shoulder, if you think that’d help.”
The mental images make you grin a bit, so Choso’s right back to feeling a little flustered just watching you, watching that rare smile he loves seeing so much.
“I could introduce you to my guy, too. He doesn’t mind first-timers, works fast and clean.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks, Choso.” Yeah, those two words just made his entire month. He probably spent a good minute replaying the words over and over again in his head, only coming back down to earth when you reminded him of the fact you needed to catch the next subway.
“Um, right…let’s get going asap.”
‘Not a date,’ he reminds himself. Just two friends hanging out. You were friends by now, right?
You’re sitting in a café, the sun beaming in the deep blue sky, already on it’s way downward as afternoon turned into evening.
“I actually made you a playlist with my favourites, sort of a sampler platter, y’know?” Current topic of discussion was his vinyl collection again, because if there’s one thing Choso could talk about without pause it was music. Judging from your frequent nods, little ‘ah’s and ‘mhm’s, you were just as interested.
“I can send it to you, if you’re comfortable giving me your number?” he asks, still fixated on those cute noises you made listening to him talk and talk.
“Sure.”
He can’t quite believe his eyes, seeing your name and number in his chats, wondering if he could get away with saving it with a heart without anyone seeing. There’s just something about this day that makes you keep ordering drinks and slices of cake until you’re getting stern looks from the staff who want to end their shift on time, understandably.
He’d have been fully content leaving it at that, probably having heard you talk more this day alone than the entire first month he got to know you, so when you suggest going on a walk through the park, he has to mentally scream at himself not to pinch himself to check whether he’s asleep right now, dreaming this up.
By the time you’ve made a lap around the park it’s getting dark, just a few joggers and teenagers left strolling around.
“You got full grades on your current course? Crap, you’re way smarter than me. I think- nah, hope is a better word, that I’ll scrape by this semester,” he sighs.
“I’m sure you’ll manage. You put in a lot of hours studying lately.”
‘Half of those spent dreamily looking at you,’ he thinks, glad he didn’t impulsively say it out loud. Or maybe he should have. Maybe, at the very least, he should finally kick himself in the behind and ask you what you really think about him.
“If I say or ask something stupid right about now, we’ll blame it on the starry night, ‘kay?”
“Where is this going?”
He decides there’s never a better time to drop the bomb, or maybe there was, but Christ, he needed to get it out of his system. “Do you hate me?”
You stop abruptly, turning towards him with your mouth in a surprised ‘oh’. “Wait, why do you think that?”
“You sorta look like that sometimes- no, most of the time, if I’m honest,” he admits with a nervous laugh.
You’re quick to shake your head, making him feel a little guilty for assuming it. “Um, if I’m honest, I think you’re really cool. So much so that I’m a little nervous being around you, so I never know what to say or when to say it and end up not saying anything at all.”
“Nervous?”
You nod awkwardly.
“Wait, then what about the ‘go to hell’ looks?” Now he’s done it, making your cheeks flush, strong enough it’s visible even in the dim lantern light illuminating the walkway.
“I swear, I don’t mean those. What’s it called again, resting bitch face? Nine out of ten times, I look like I’m ready to stab someone, but that’s not it, at all! It’s just my neutral face, honest to God.”
The coin finally drops, and Choso is moments away from facepalming himself, hard, because my God, had he been dense. Twofold, since he knows better than anyone what it’s like when others make unwarranted assumptions, yet it had never occurred to him he was doing the exact same to you.
“Shit, I’m sorry, I really am.”
“No, no you don’t have to be-“
“I do, and I also want to be sorry. Wasn’t my smartest moment,” he gently interrupts you, before kicking around a few pebbles lining the sides of the walkway. “I’m glad I was wrong.”
Being glad is a conservative way to describe the absolute euphoria coursing through him right now, not just having definite proof about you not hating him but even liking him enough to be nervous around him and mull about your interactions.
Euphoria that apparently made him ready to risk it all.
“Can I talk to you about something else?”
The shift in tone is immediate, palpable even, for both of you. Whatever was about to come was going to change something, with no way to make it to how it was before.
“I’ve got to tell you something as well,” you say, words almost getting stuck in your throat, which feels horribly closed up.
With absolutely no evidence to back it up, the two of you suddenly decide that the other must be about to reject you, God knows why.
“Let’s…say it together, on three. Sound good?” That way, it’ll be over quickly. It’ll hurt all the same, but at least it won’t be any more awkward than necessary, you reason with yourself.
Choso nods, his fingers nervously playing with his rings. “Got it. On three.”
You count down, tension making you dig your nails into the palms of your hands. “Three. Two. One-“
“I like you.”
Oh.
Both of you are too stunned to speak for a moment, Choso regaining his composure first, at least enough of it to take your hands into his and wait until you meet his eyes.
“I…want to date you. Officially. Be your boyfriend, make you happy, learn more about you. You don’t have to answer-“
“Me too.”
He blinks, once, then twice, then nods fervently.
“S-so, that’s a yes?”
You return his nods, holding his hands in yours against your chest. His eyes light up with pure exhilaration as he leans a bit closer.
“Can I kiss you?” He’s sending a silent prayer to the sky you’ll say yes, feeling like he can’t go one more day without learning what you taste like, wanting to feel your breath on his face, making your face flush and your heart stutter. But first it’s his own heart that seems to jump out of his chest as you give him a quiet ‘yes’, your eyes determined despite your nerves making your breath shaky.
It's almost a challenge of biblical proportions not to crash his lips against yours in an instant to kiss you senseless, wanting, nay, needing to find out what kind of expression you’d make in that state, but your slight shaking makes him pause inches away from your face. He extracts his hands from yours to rest them on your shoulders instead, hoping the gentle grip steadies your nerves alongside his.
“Take a couple deep breaths for me, okay?” He whispers, giving you a nod when you do. “Good. You can close your eyes, if it makes you feel calmer.”
You’re thankful he seems to have realized your inexperience, guiding you through the process without the slightest hint of teasing.
“Tilt your head a little…yes, just like that. Don’t forget to breathe.”
He starts out slow, pressing a first kiss to your lips before instructing you to part your lips a bit, making him capture your bottom lip between his, sucking on it before reminding you to breathe again. Despite his numerous reminders, your body just forgets everything the moment he’s close to you.
He opens his eyes for a second, the only thought in his mind upon seeing you, cheeks and nose dusted pink and eyebrows furrowed a little, being ‘adorable’. Once he feels your shoulders relax, his kisses become needier, lasting longer and not as clean as before, tugging on your bottom lip and running his tongue along it. His hands travel to your neck, thumbs carefully holding your face. A few more kisses, then he wills himself away from you, noticing how despite his coaching, you look like you just ran a marathon. It makes him laugh, a deep and warm sound that seems to seep right into your own body. He decides to explain himself upon seeing your eyebrows twitch in confusion.
“It’s just…You look so fucking cute, it still feels like I’m dreaming this.”
On your side, embarrassment is quickly replaced by affection, all your earlier nerves forgotten. You pull him into a tight hug, your face pressed against his chest, revelling in the warmth of his body.
“There is one small thing I’d like to ask of you…” he begins, waiting for a ‘okay’ from you to continue. “I’m still struggling to read your expressions at times. It’d help a ton if you could communicate when something ticks you off or makes you uncomfortable, okay? Same goes for happy moments. Or I could ask more, if that’s easier.”
You nod firmly. “No, I get it. I’ll try to be more vocal. Okay?”
“Yeah, perfect,” he assures you, giving you a grateful smile.
A couple days later, after a study session in the library, you invite Choso over to spend the evening at your place, knowing your roommates were both out for the day. The two of you are matching today, both wearing band tees and baggy jeans, him having drawn on your eyeliner since your hands were still too shaky to get it right. You stop by a convenience store to stock up on snacks and drinks, quickly filling a basket as you’re debating on what to watch later.
“Just a sec, I’ll choose some ice cream. Any favourites?” He walks over to the freezers while you continue to pick out some chips two aisles over, stuck between different flavours.
As you’re trying to choose, you overhear a conversation between a couple of men further up the aisle. Although ‘overhear’ might not be the appropriate word, seeing as they make no effort to keep their voices down.
“See the weirdo over there? Guys won’t like her with that scowl on her face.”
“Maybe she’s one of those freaky quiet ones?
“No way dude, she looks like she’d bite down on your dick if you made her suck it.”
“With a face like that, I’m sure she doesn’t have friends,” one of them sneers. “Think she’d be up for some fun?” His lewd hand gestures clearly convey what his definition of ‘fun’ entails, making you grit your teeth as you continue racking your brain over which flavour of chips to choose. Or try to, anyway.
Choso rounds the corner, ice cream tub in hand, immediately putting two and two together upon seeing the stares you’re receiving, the snickers and your insistent ignorance of the group of men.
And it’s immature, it’s petty even more so, but Choso can’t help himself, walking up behind you, giving the men his best death glare and hugging you from behind, eliciting a small gasp from you and then a pout.
“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Sorry, sorry…you were deep in thoughts deciding on snacks, huh? My girlfriend is so cute…”
Utterly, utterly petty, and still it felt so rewarding to him to hear the men grumble and walk away, not wanting to risk a confrontation with him. He slips the ice cream into the shopping basket.
“You didn’t need to do that…” you begin. It makes him freeze a little, giving you a sheepish look when you turn around in his arms to face him. He opens his mouth to apologize for the move, but you’re not finished yet.
“…but I appreciate it. It’s sweet you’re mad about people talking bad about me.”
“Of course I am! And you have every right to be, as well!” he protests.
You look around quickly, seeing that the aisle is empty safe for the two of you, and get on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips, hoping to soothe his mood.
“Come on, let’s pay and get back to my place. I’ll do the noble thing and let you choose what we watch.”
“Two tickets to the horror nostalgia special?” the lady behind the counter asks upon eyeing the two of you. Choso quickly corrects her, instead buying two tickets to a new romance movie said to be the next big thing.
“Ah, ladies’ choice then..?” she says with a well-meant grin. While Choso doesn’t seem annoyed by the assumption, there’s a frown passing your face. For him, not for you.
“You’re not frustrated by all the presumptions?” you ask him as you’re standing in line for popcorn and drinks. “Because I am.”
He shrugs, thinking for a moment. “I’m just used to it. Correcting it all takes up too much time and effort. People who know me, really know me.” He turns to you. “Aren’t you the same way?”
That makes you halt, because yeah, when it comes to yourself, you also accept that strangers just assume a lot of untrue things.
“It’s cute to see you worked up about it, though,” he adds with a grin.
“You have no right to talk after last time at the grocery store,” you counter, which makes him lift his hands in mock surrender. After getting your snacks and finding your seats, the light soon dims, the plethora of voices of the audience dying down as the movie starts to play. Choso leans closer to you, whispering into your ear.
“I just hope it’s not too sad. I’m not good with anything besides good endings.”
The universe surely must’ve heard him, since he found himself fighting back tears two hours later, the last heartbreaking scene playing out on the big screen before them. Several times already he had needed to concentrate so he wouldn’t start snivelling, the movie tugging on his heartstrings more and more.
The swell of the piano in the background proves too much, and you hear someone quietly cry. Choso, you quickly realize.
“You alright..?” you whisper.
“Y-yeah, just…told ya, not good with sad endings…” he presses out between barely contained sobs, his pretty dark eyes wet with tears.
“Is that big dude crying..?”
“What a pussy, jesus…”
You’re not oblivious to the jocks behind you, almost sure they intended from the start to be heard by you. Dragged into the movie by their girlfriends, you’re sure, complaining every now and then in a tone too loud for the cinema. Choso seems to tune them out, still sniffling and wiping a tear from his eye, but you feel a sudden need to show him how much you appreciate his refusal to hide his emotions. You interlock his arm with yours, patting it, and lean your head against his shoulder.
“Thanks…”
"Not for that."
“Cho?”
Ah fuck, that nickname always made him forget to breathe for a moment. It’s been almost a month now that you’ve been together, finding out each other’s little flaws and quirks, spending time almost every day. You’ve stayed late a couple of times, but never the night. He didn’t mind, never minded when you needed to slow down or felt unsure of taking a step forward in the physical department. He’d wait months if that’s what you need, just as long as he gets to be with you. Looking back, it was laughable how dense he’d been not to notice how utterly and irrevocably infatuated he had been with you from the first time you spoke to him, maybe even before.
“What is it?”
You’re over at his place again, after eating out and grabbing dessert on the way back.
“Can I stay over today?”
Oh. He freezes in his tracks, his head whipping around in your direction. “Of course!”
Hopefully you didn’t notice just how eager his voice was, surprising even himself. A month in, and he was acting like a lovesick puppy, just like on the first day. You decide on continuing a drama you’ve been watching, soon settling on the couch, sharing a blanket and snacks. A few episodes and countless wild theory discussions on what was going to happen next, your head ended up on his shoulder, side pressed against his, his arm around your waist stroking your side.
“One more episode?” he asks quietly, not unaware of how you seem to almost melt into his side. Your eyes peek at the clock on the TV, then over to him.
“It’s a bit late…and I had something else in mind, too.”
“Something else?”
You lean over, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his lips, his chin, his neck, not stopping until he’s laughing at your non-stop assault, pressing you down so you’re caught between his strong arms, legs nestled between his thighs.
“Payback time,” he smirks, starting his own barrage of kisses until he gets stuck on your lips, unable to tear himself away as you bite his bottom lip, earning you a low groan. “Jesus, you’re a quick learner. Maybe I should think twice about showing you these things.”
“Maybe,” you agree, threading one hand through his messy hair and pulling him close again, this time not satisfied with just his lips. You’re actually the one more eager between the two of you, Choso being the one to take his time, almost torturing you with slow and sensual kisses. God knows how he manages that level of restraint. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t expect things to go further, just sneaking a few touches of your waist and stomach here, a teasing brush against your chest there.
“Cho?”
“Yes, baby?” he responds immediately, ready for whatever you want, ready to give you what you ask for.
“Carry me to your bed?”
“Sure thing.”
He hoists you up easily, almost throwing you in the air before securely catching you in his arms, smirking at the gasp that draws out of you. “Couldn’t resist,” he explains when you throw him a glare. He carries you over to his bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot and setting you down on the bed.
“Do you want to change into something more comfortable? I can get you some of my clothes-”
“Not yet.”
That makes his eyebrows lift slightly, doubly so when you pat the bed in front of you. He obliges without asking, sitting down before you and letting you pull him down on top of you, his elbows framing your face. He brushes a few unruly strands of hair out of your face before pressing a kiss to your nose. You put your hands at the back of his neck to pull him down again, returning to your previous routine of heavy kisses and fleeting touches. Only this time, you grow bolder.
Your hands trail down his chest and don’t stop until they’re at his hips, following his v-line until you reach the hem of his jeans. His breath catches in his throat, his kisses turning more hurried. You’re continuing along his sides and back down his lower back, again hitting the hem of his jeans.
“Baby…” he rasps, hot breath hitting your ear. “Believe me, I do not mind this one bit, but if you continue like that, I might need to excuse myself to the bathroom.”
You let out a ‘hmm’ as if weighing your options, deciding both aren’t to your liking, not with how brave you were feeling this evening. Instead, you gesture for him to give you a little space before promptly pulling off your top, leaving him to stare at your bra. Honestly, it felt amazing knowing how much you affected him.
“Can I..?” he quickly asks, moving back a little so his head is level with your chest and leaning down at your nod to press wet kisses to your breasts directly. He can’t stop himself from pressing his head into the valley between them for a moment, sighing deeply before going back to licking over the sensitive flesh and sucking hickey onto every inch.
“Wanna take it off?” you whisper, already letting the straps of your bra drop from your shoulders. Without stopping his markings, one of his hands snakes behind your back and undoes the clasp of your bra, dropping the article of clothing beside his bed. His eyes flicker up to your face to make sure he’s not overwhelming you, but when he sees how flushed you are and how your lips are slightly parted, breath growing heavier, he concentrates back on your chest, teasingly running his tongue over your nipples. He only stops to take off his own shirt, almost doing the same for his jeans but holding himself back for now.
Your hands move back to his chest, feeling the ridges between his abs and teasingly brushing over his upper chest. “I wanna help you, Cho…”
“Help me?” he repeats, short of breath.
“Yeah, like…here.” You make your intentions clear when your hands slip into his pants, making him groan.
“Guess I should’ve taken them off after all,” he laughs silently. You manage to work open his zipper and button, helping him pull them down until he kicks them off his feet.
“Sure about this?”
Instead of answering, you trace the hem of his boxers with one index finger, finally taking in the sight of him in his underwear. And what a sight for sore eyes that was. He positively flinches when your fingers ghost over the outline of his member, swallowing hard when he sees how your eyes widen a little upon gauging his size. He gently grabs your hands and helps you pull down his boxers, his dick bobbing up to hit his stomach. For a couple seconds you just look, admittedly making him even more desperate to be touched by you.
“Wait, did it just- did it just twitch?”
At your shocked expression, he can’t help but shake with laughter, despite his head clouding with desire and need. “It tends to do that, yeah. I’m sorry, that reaction is just too adorable. Sorry, baby, please don’t pout!”
His laughter dies down in an instant when your hand wraps around it, as if to test his girth, replaced by a guttural grunt. Your eyes concentrate on the way his face scrunches up in pleasure as you begin moving your hand, for now slowly following along his length from up the tip where a sticky substance coats him (precum, you guess) all the way down to his balls.
“There’s lube, um, in the top drawer next to- hah, next to the bed,” he pants out, tripping over his words like this is his first tine. It might as well be, with how every small thing you did made him curse under his breath. You nod, leaning over to fish it out of the drawer and coat the tip of his dick with it.
“It’s a bit like frosting.”
The deadpan way you say it makes him laugh again, squeezing your waist in revenge. “Did I tell you already that I love how your brain works?”
He’s shut up again when you use both hands to spread the lube around, making sure to coat both his length and your hands in it, as well as cupping his balls and lightly squeezing them. You’re trying it all out, filing away both the obvious and subtle reactions you’re able to draw out of him, feeling accomplished when he lets out a low whimper or even a moan. On his side of things, while he was beyond happy to see you experimenting with what felt good for him, it was also a fight for his life not to come at any given moment.
His breath hitches when you intentionally trace a vein along his cock, applying just the right amount of pressure while your other hand played with his balls. For all your prior hesitance, you took charge now, and God, did he love it. The capacity of his to think drops to zero again when you start whispering into his ear as you’re working him, your voice more closely resembling a purr than anything else.
“You like my hands around your cock, right? Because I do. Hearing you whimper when I do it just right, having you catch your breath. You love when I tease the tip, don’t you? Tell me, Cho, tell me you like it-“
“I fucking love it, don’t stop- ah,“ he begs, clearly not in a sound state of mind right now.
“Good boy,” you coo, continuing to stroke him in a steady rhythm, noticing how his chest is heaving with each breath. He couldn’t hold out much longer, that much was sure to the both of you, and before you could comment on that fact he comes with a deep groan, his head dropping down to rest in your chest, his cum splattering onto your stomach and panties. The two of you decide simultaneously that a moment to catch your breath is in order, after which Choso wills himself up, grabbing some tissues from beside the bed to clean up your hand, pressing kisses to your knuckles once he’s done.
“Did you like it?”
“Did I like it?” he repeats with a chuckle. “I was ready to debase myself just to keep you going, so I think I liked it. Can I return the favor?”
His hands play with your panties already, slipping under the hem at the sides, ghosting over your covered pussy. Once you give him the go-ahead, he instructs you to lift your hips for him, allowing him to slide them off. He can’t help himself, pressing a kiss to the skin right above your clit, whispering about how pretty you looked. Deciding to acclimate you bit by bit, he starts out by parting your folds with his fingers, a pleased smirk on his face as he sees clear as day how drenched you are by this point. Not that he’s in any position to judge.
“Let me clean you up a little,” he suggests, barely waiting for your nod before lapping up your arousal with his tongue, making sure to make little noises of approval as he swallows it down. Oh, that got you to blush all right. He decides to take it a step further, using his thumb to play with your clit, rubbing careful circles and pressing down on it while his tongue becomes more aggressive, dipping in and out of your core.
It doesn’t take long for your abdomen to tense, your legs instinctually trying to press together, only to be stopped by his face buried between them. He licks along your pussy once more before looking up at you, lips glossy with your slick.
“You okay with getting on top of me?”
You stare at him a little dumbfounded, but before you’re even aware of it, your mouth opens in a needy ‘Yes’, which makes him roll onto his back, pulling you along with him until you’re positioned above his face, your thighs quivering to keep yourself from collapsing onto him. He continues to tease and prod at your pussy, his hands squeezing and kneading your ass at the same time. It’s not enough for him, your scent driving him a little crazy.
“You can sit down, baby,” he purrs against your core, smirking at your hesitant face.
“What if-“
“If you actually smother me, I’ll make sure to give you a sign, m’kay? Don’t worry your pretty head ‘bout it.”
It takes you another second, then you sink down on his face, until his nose is pressing against your clit and his tongue thrusts deep inside of you, eliciting a reply close to a mewl from you. You lean a little back, originally to steady yourself on your hands, but the angle has him hitting a particular spot inside of you that makes you throw your head back with a desperate whine. He hears it, of course he does, making sure to hit that spot again and again until your whole body is shivering, sure he’s got you right on the edge.
Right then, he stills.
“Choso!” you complain. “Don’t stop- hah, shit-“
Just as you start to complain, he attacks that sweet spot inside your pussy again, the sensation along with his hands on your bottom enough to push you into an intense orgasm, making you grip the bedsheets and squeeze his head between your thighs inadvertently. You swear you can hear him moan, most of the sound swallowed up by your body on top of him. With some effort, you manage to roll off him and onto your back, gasping for air. Choso seems to have evolved past the need for that, since he chases after you, showering you with desperate kisses.
With how shaken up the orgasm got you, you would’ve been fine calling it a night here, but one look at Choso made it clear you weren’t done yet, absolutely not. His dick is rock hard again, pressing against your thigh as he crawls on top of you.
“We’re gonna work on your stamina from now on, ‘kay?” he coos, making sure you feel every inch of his slipping lazily through your folds. “For tonight, ‘s fine if you relax and let me handle the rest.”
You nod, your stomach still feeling fuzzy, certainly not complaining about being in pillow princess mode for the rest of the night. Spreading your legs for him once more doesn’t carry the initial hesitancy anymore, and you’re allowing yourself to become more vocal as he takes his time preparing you for him, working up from one to three of his long digits. Every whimper and every barely contained moan seems to fire him up more as he’s stretching your entrance, always making sure to keep teasing that special spot of yours.
“Right, baby, you’ll be good and focus on relaxing now…”
You’re not sure what you expected, but he goes real slow once his dick is lined up with your pussy, drawing back every now and then only to push himself inside another inch, further and further, then out again, further still, out, back inside-
He groans as his balls press against your taint, your warmth enveloping him feeling like heaven. Maybe that’s blasphemy, but right now that was the least of his concerns. He almost stops moving, it just feels that damn good to be all the way inside you. The thought of having to pull out is already making him frustrated, so he decides to keep going slowly, wanting to draw out his orgasm as long as possible. Which is a hellish task, especially with those breathy whines you keep torturing him with. Every drag of his cock along your tight walls makes him bite down on his lips, knowing if his concentration slips up for even a second, it’ll be over.
He keeps muttering out curses as he ruts inside of you, his pace growing erratic as his mind fogs up with a need to finally come, knowing with absolute certainty he’s already addicted to the feeling of you and him and being so fucking close your sweat is mixing together. No doubt about it, he’d do this every night if you’d let him.
A particularly pitchy moan from you derails his train of thoughts, his mouth hanging open in a silent ‘O’ as he comes, his biceps flexing and abdomen tensing as he feels his warm seed trickle inside your cunt. He feels your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer so every inch of your skin is pressing against his as you let out an airy sigh.
“Feels real good, Cho…”
You nuzzle your nose and cheek against his neck, his natural scent and sweat mixing together to create an irresistible fragrance. Neither of you moves for a couple of minutes, both coming down from your highs and alternating kisses against each other’s foreheads and noses, a blissful smile on both your faces.
It takes a great deal of willpower for Choso to finally pull out of you and push himself up on his knees to grab some more tissues from the bedside table, cleaning both himself and you unhurriedly. He can’t resist pressing a few more kisses against your thighs and knees before sighing.
“As much as I’d love to bury you underneath me and fall asleep, we should get properly cleaned up. ‘M not gonna risk you catching a cold or something.”
You bury your face beneath your arms, grumbling. “Really..?”
He laughs softly. “Yeah, really. Does a bath sound good? If you fall asleep, I’ll make sure to pat you off and roll you up into a blanket burrito.”
“An offer I can’t refuse,” you remark with a serious expression, reaching out so he can lift you into his arms, showing once again how strong he is when he carries you over to the bathroom, casually switching to a one arm hold as he lets hot water run into the tub and adds some bath essence.
You sniff the air a bit as the scent of it spreads out, your expression relaxing. “Lavender?”
“Yeah. You said you liked that smell.”
“I’m starting to think you made a list of everything I like so you won’t forget a thing,” you joke. It turns into less of a joke when he keeps his face turned away from you, making you poke his cheek.
“Cho, did you make a list with everything I like?”
“Maybe.”
‘Cute,’ you mouth to him, accentuating the word with a kiss.
Once the tub is full and he gently lowers you into it before getting in behind you, carefully positioning you between his legs, you let out a content sigh. For a while, you both simply enjoy soaking in the hot water, before Choso helps you shampoo your hair and you do the same for him. There’s a different kind of intimacy to it, softer and lasting longer than the sexual kind.
“You should bring over some essentials next time, so you don’t need to use my shampoo if you don't like it. Or wait, if you give me a list I’ll drop by a store tomorrow.”
“I’d ask you for a list for your things, but I figure we won’t be spending many nights at my place.”
“You think?” he teasingly asks. “Am I not good enough to meet your flatmates?”
“It’s not you, it’s them,” you counter, which makes him groan dramatically.
“That’s what they always say.”
You mutter out an amused ‘Idiot’, which makes him tighten his grip around your waist.
“What was that?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
As the water turns lukewarm, you’re forced to get out, likely a good thing since despite his grand promises, Choso was starting to fight sleep just as much as you. You barely manage to dry off body and hair, change into sleepwear (he had insisted upon you wearing his clothes) and fall into bed.
Your yawn is infectious, eliciting a yawn from him as well, the both of you getting hit with the full extend of your exhaustion. No matter, you were under the blankets by now, your arm around his waist and face buried in his neck, breath hitting his ear in steady intervals. It’s Choso’s first time being the little spoon (you had insisted upon that), and while the position had needed a little getting used to, nothing had made him feel as safe and loved before.
In fact, he was starting to think switching it up every now and then would be anything but bad.