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Johannes’s gaze never left Kyyre’s face, each breath a little more strained as he tried to hold onto the quiet storm building within him. There was a visceral need to stay close to Kyyre, to wrap himself in the warm, safe bubble that their hands together created. He couldn’t bear the thought of Kyyre, of anyone, feeling overlooked, undervalued. The weight of it all pressed heavily on his chest, and he was too aware of how deep the wound ran for his boy—how much Kyyre had carried on his own. The self-doubt crept in again, like it always did, and he had to push it back. Had things been different, had he not felt so lost for so long, would he have found his way to this moment with Kyyre? Would he have noticed the small, tender details that made Kyyre exactly who he was—those unique qualities that made Johannes want to dive deeper into his soul, to be there in every way possible for him? The thought of missing this, of not having Kyyre in his life at all, was almost more painful than anything he’d faced. But he knew this—this connection, this rare, fragile beauty they had found together—was far more important than anything he could’ve imagined before. This was real. And now that it was real, he couldn’t bear to think of Kyyre suffering, not being seen, not being loved as he deserved. And when Kyyre began to speak about his family, Johannes found himself unprepared. Kyyre’s words were calm, measured, but they held so much weight—expectations placed on him by people who couldn’t see past their idealized vision of success. Johannes couldn’t hold back the frustration bubbling up from within him. “They don’t appreciate you enough,” he said, his voice thick with anger and affection. “You're incredible. The way you work so hard, the way you care, and they should see that. It’s not fair that they don’t. You don’t have to be alone in this. You don't have to carry it by yourself. If I don't, you don't." The words tumbled from his mouth almost without thinking, driven by a deep need to fix things that weren’t his to fix. But Kyyre might be his. Someday. The thought of him struggling alone made Johannes’s chest ache. “Can I meet your parents?” he asked, his voice softening with sincerity, though it was clear he still bristled with frustration. “Just... as a friend if that’s better. I want them to know how wonderful you are. They need to see the effort you put in, the way your teachers see you. They should know everything about you, Kyyre. They should see you the way I do. Unless you think that would make it worse." Johannes didn’t realize his foot had started tapping with nervous energy until the rhythm had quickened, matching the quickening pace of his thoughts. His nails dug into his cuticles once more, but he caught himself this time. Instead, he focused on Kyyre—his fingers, his warmth, the way his skin was so soft and delicate, and yet, there was such strength in the way they held hands. The difference between them, the contrast in their skin tones, seemed like something fragile and beautiful in its own right. He didn’t look away. He couldn’t. Kyyre’s pale lashes, soft as feathers, brushed against his skin whenever he blinked, and Johannes found himself lost in those small, soft things he had never noticed before. Kyyre’s long hair framed his face like a fucking halo. Johannes had always wanted longer hair, but his mother had never let him. But he knew he could never wear it like Kyyre. Effortlessly. And Kyyre’s eyes—those haunting, pinkish eyes that Johannes never thought could be so mesmerizing—held his attention completely. He wanted to dive into them, lose himself in their depths. There was something so pure, so painfully beautiful about the way Kyyre’s gaze connected with his own. It was more than love. It was like Kyyre had opened up a world he had never been able to see before. "I want to kiss you," Johannes whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "Not just your lips, but... everything. Every inch of you. I want to kiss the bones of your wrist and the dip in your throat." His words hung in the air, raw and tender, as his heart ached with longing. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to show Kyyre that he was worth the world. That he was worth more than everything he had ever been told. “Please, love,” he whispered, the tremor in his voice betraying the depth of his feeling. “Let me help you. Let me show you... you’re not alone. Not anymore.” He loosened his grip on Kyyre's hands, wanting him to be able to pull back after that confession. He knew it was fast, probably too soon, and he wanted the boy to have full control over the situation. |
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Kyyre’s fingers instinctively curled into his palms, and he nodded quietly, his gaze distant as he processed the weight of Johannes’s words. Kyyre’s dad appreciated him, at least, but his mom? His mom never seemed to notice anything he did. She never acknowledged his effort, never saw his attempts to bridge the gap between them. Every tiny mistake—real or perceived—was always pointed out, amplified, and criticized. The constant barrage of disapproval was exhausting, wearing him down little by little, until it felt like he was running on fumes. And yet, that wasn’t the hardest part for Kyyre. The hardest part was realizing just how much worse it could be. Johannes, with all the weight of being a prince, living under constant scrutiny and expectation—it had to be a thousand times harder for him. Kyyre couldn’t even begin to imagine how suffocating that kind of pressure must feel. The idea of living under the microscope of the public eye, of every action being judged and scrutinized, was enough to send Kyyre spiraling. He couldn’t handle it—not for a day, not for a week, not even for a second. He’d be crushed under the weight of it all. And yet Johannes? He was still standing. He had made it this far, through everything his family, his title, and the world had thrown at him. That was something Kyyre couldn’t help but admire deeply. He respected Johannes more than words could express. How had Johannes kept going? How had he stayed so strong in the face of it all? Kyyre wasn’t sure he could have. The thought of introducing Johannes to his parents caused a nervous flutter in Kyyre’s chest. He flushed, the blood rushing to his face as the weight of what that would mean hit him all at once. His parents already had their suspicions, of course. They were far from blind, and Kyyre had long since learned to hide his more intimate emotions behind closed doors. But what would happen if they saw him interact with Johannes? What if they noticed how differently he acted around him—how his entire demeanor changed, how his voice softened, how his gaze lingered just a bit too long? It was already a risky game, and Kyyre wasn’t sure if he was ready to play it out in front of them. The thought of his parents discovering that he was gay filled him with a sense of dread so heavy, it made his chest tighten. He wasn’t ready. Kyyre was never going to be ready for that moment, the one where he had to face his parents and admit that everything they expected from him—everything they wanted from him—wasn’t the path he intended to take. He would never be ready for them to know the truth. If he had it his way, Kyyre would take his partner far away, maybe to some distant corner of the world where no one knew his name, where his parents could go on believing that he was off in America, making money and grandchildren for them. That was the life they wanted for him, after all. A neat, tidy life full of expectations and achievements. But despite all of that, despite the fear that twisted in his stomach, Kyyre found himself nodding. If Johannes wanted to meet his parents, then he would give it to him. Kyyre would give Johannes the world, even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone, even if it meant facing the consequences of his family’s expectations head-on. He would do it for Johannes. Kyyre’s gaze held Johannes’s for a long moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to read the emotions that danced in Johannes’s eyes—those deep, honey brown pools that held so much warmth and yet so many secrets. What was going on behind those eyes? Kyyre wanted to know. He needed to know. And then, as if the world had shifted and time had slowed down, Johannes’s words pierced through Kyyre’s thoughts like a soft, delicate thread pulling at the very core of him. "I want to kiss you." The words echoed in his mind, making his heart race, his face flush hot with an intensity that spread down his neck and across his chest. Kyyre’s body went red with heat, a flood of nervous excitement rushing through him. His eyes widened in disbelief, his breath catching in his throat. His jaw hung open slightly, utterly taken aback by the declaration. He didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to do with the rush of emotions flooding through him. It felt like the earth beneath him had tilted, like everything he thought he knew had suddenly been thrown into question. Could this really be happening? Was Johannes serious? Kyyre’s thoughts scrambled, his heart pounding wildly. A surge of anxiety shot through him, and without thinking, he leaned forward. It was a move so instinctive, so impulsive, that he barely registered it until his body had already taken the first step toward the kiss. He gave Johannes every opportunity to pull back, to stop him, but the uncertainty gnawed at Kyyre’s insides, and the question hung in the air like a fragile thread. What if Johannes didn’t mean it? What if this was all a misunderstanding, a fleeting moment of wishful thinking on his part? He couldn’t bear the idea of embarrassing himself, of misreading the situation. But something in him, something deep and quiet, urged him forward, urged him to take the chance, to trust Johannes just this once. The napkin crane in his lap fluttered down, landing softly in Johannes’s lap, but Kyyre barely noticed. His hands tightened around Johannes’s, pulling him in as their lips met in a gentle, hesitant kiss. The world seemed to hold its breath as Kyyre pressed into the kiss, his heart fluttering with a mix of excitement, fear, and a strange, dizzying sense of rightness. For a brief moment, nothing else existed but the soft brush of their lips, the warmth of their touch, the feeling of being seen in a way Kyyre had never felt before. And even though the kiss was shy, tentative, the emotions that swirled in Kyyre’s chest were anything but.
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Johannes had been terrified—utterly and completely. He had only known Kyyre for a few days, and already, he had let his heart run so far ahead of him. He had sent Kyyre flowers, left school just to see him, and now here he was, confessing with unguarded honesty how much he wanted to kiss the pale, beautiful boy sitting beside him. The words had spilled out before he could stop them, and now, his chest felt tight, his mind racing with every worst-case scenario. What if he had just ruined everything? But Kyyre didn’t pull away. If anything, he seemed flustered, his cheeks blooming with a faint pink that only made him more breathtaking in Johannes’s eyes. There was a nervousness in Kyyre’s expression, but there was also something else—a soft, hesitant leaning toward him, like an unspoken answer to the question Johannes had been too afraid to ask. That hope, fragile but powerful, was enough to spur Johannes forward. He shifted his body to mirror Kyyre’s, their frames tilting ever so slightly toward each other, and in that moment, the world seemed to quiet. This wasn’t like any kiss Johannes had imagined before. This wasn’t born of obligation, or duty, or his mother’s endless need to control the narrative of his life. This was real. This was love. His breath caught as he leaned closer, and when their lips met, it was as though the entire universe tilted into alignment. Kyyre’s lips were soft, warmer than he had imagined, and the sensation sent a rush of electricity through his entire body. Without thinking, Johannes’s hands found their way to Kyyre’s face, cupping his cheeks with a gentleness that belied the storm of emotions inside him. His heart pounded so hard it almost hurt, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. It was everything. It was nothing like the staged, hollow kisses he’d given before. This was sweet and thrilling and almost unbearable in its intensity. He wanted to pull back, to breathe, to process what was happening—but at the same time, he wanted to stay here forever, drowning in the warmth of Kyyre’s lips, the way they fit perfectly against his own. His thumbs traced the delicate contours of Kyyre’s cheekbones, marveling at the beauty Kyyre seemed so unaware of, and in that moment, wanted to give up everything, and only be known as Kyyre's. It didn't matter who he was, or what he would have to be someday. He didn't want to be known as anything except Kyyre's. And then, reluctantly, Johannes pulled back. His lips curved into a soft, breathless smile, his eyes searching Kyyre’s face for any hint of regret, for any sign that he had gone too far. There was a flicker of something unreadable in Kyyre’s expression, but no distaste, no rejection. Johannes’s chest tightened with a strange, aching relief. He took a slow, steadying breath, his hands lingering for a moment on Kyyre’s cheeks before falling to his lap. His fingers brushed against the paper crane there, grounding him as he tried to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him, and then he took Kyyre's hand, gently setting the crane into his palm, needing something to distract him from the overwhelming nerves that threatened to put him in an even worse position. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice slightly shaky, his lips still tingling from the kiss. He let the silence settle for a moment, both comforting and achingly full of possibilities. “I don’t regret anything,” Johannes finally said, his tone quiet but firm, as though speaking the words aloud made them more real. “Not skipping class, not being here with you. I want this—I want you. Always and forever. And I would kiss you again." |
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Kyyre could barely breathe. His chest was tight, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might bruise his ribs. He sat there, still, as if moving might shatter the fragile, spell-like moment they’d just shared. His lips were still tingling from the kiss, and it felt as though the warmth of Johannes’s hands had seared itself into his skin, leaving behind a lingering, almost ghostly sensation. He could hardly believe it had actually happened. Johannes had kissed him. Him. Not someone polished or perfect, not someone with their life in perfect order, but him—awkward, anxious Kyyre who never quite fit into anyone’s expectations. And he hadn’t just kissed him; he’d said things—things Kyyre wasn’t sure how to process, because the weight of them was too big to wrap his mind around all at once. - Kyyre stared at the paper crane Johannes had placed back into his palm, his fingers curling around it protectively. It felt oddly significant now, as if the little crane, with its imperfect folds, represented something bigger—something he wasn’t sure he could put into words. His mind swirled with emotions he couldn’t untangle fast enough, and when he finally looked up at Johannes again, his breath hitched. - The way Johannes was looking at him—it made Kyyre’s stomach flip in a way that was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. There was no trace of regret in his expression, no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just warmth and something deeper, something Kyyre wasn’t sure he deserved. - Kyyre’s face flushed, and he dropped his gaze again, his fingers toying with the edge of the crane. He couldn’t meet Johannes’s eyes for too long without feeling like he might unravel completely. The words Johannes had said—I want you. Always and forever.—kept echoing in his mind, looping endlessly and making his chest ache in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. - But even with all the warmth, all the sweetness, there was an undercurrent of fear running through Kyyre. Not of Johannes—never of Johannes—but of what this meant, of what might happen next. Because if this was real, if this was what Kyyre thought it was... then it was terrifyingly precious. And Kyyre wasn’t sure he knew how to hold onto something that mattered this much without breaking it. - He swallowed hard, finally lifting his gaze to meet Johannes’s again. His throat felt dry, his words sticking, but he forced himself to speak. “I don’t… I don’t know how you’re not scared,” he admitted quietly, his voice trembling with vulnerability. “I feel like my chest is about to explode just sitting here.” - He paused, his fingers fidgeting with the crane again. “But… I don’t regret it either. The kiss, I mean. Or you being here.” Kyyre’s cheeks darkened further as the words left his mouth, but he pressed on, his voice steadying with each word. “I just… I don’t know if I’m good enough for you, Johannes. You deserve someone who’s not… like me. Someone who doesn’t feel like they’re falling apart half the time.” - He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as he tried to organize the storm of emotions swirling in his chest. “But I don’t want you to stop. Whatever this is… I want it too. Even if I’m scared. Even if I don’t feel like I deserve it.” - Kyyre glanced down at their hands again, the sight grounding him. His fingers tightened ever so slightly around Johannes’s. “And… I’d kiss you again too. If you wanted. I mean. Not now—unless you want to. Or later. Or whenever. I don’t know.” He stumbled over the words, his face burning, but he refused to let go of Johannes’s hand, clinging to it like an anchor. - Kyyre took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Johannes’s eyes fully. “Just… promise me you won’t regret this later, okay?” His voice was soft, almost pleading. “Because I don’t think I could take it if you did.” - His heart skipped a beat as a memory resurfaced—Johannes had asked to meet his parents. He hadn’t given it much thought earlier, too caught up in the moment and overwhelmed by everything Johannes had said and done since they sat down. But now, the weight of it settled on his shoulders, and his mind reeled. - Johannes wanted to meet his family. His family. - Kyyre’s stomach twisted at the thought of bringing Johannes home. His parents didn’t know anything about his feelings—or about Johannes—and the idea of their sharp, judgmental eyes on him, dissecting every little thing about his relationship, was enough to make him feel like he couldn’t breathe. But then he looked at Johannes again, saw the earnest warmth in his eyes, the soft smile still lingering on his lips, and something inside Kyyre shifted. - He didn’t want to say no. He didn’t want to deny Johannes something so simple, even if it terrified him. Because Johannes deserved it—he deserved everything, really—and if this was something he wanted, then Kyyre would find a way to make it happen. - Before he could overthink it, Kyyre blurted out, “Tonight!” His voice came out louder than he expected, and his face immediately flushed red as the word hung awkwardly between them. Kyyre was suprised he hadn't morphed into a literal tomato from how hot he was. - Kyyre scrambled to explain himself, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You—you asked to meet my parents, and, um, I was thinking... tonight could work. If you’re free. I mean, unless you’re not ready. Or if you think it’s too soon. Or if—” - Kyyre cut himself off, realizing he was rambling, and pressed his lips together in an effort to stop himself from spiraling further. He gripped the paper crane in his hand tightly, his other hand still holding onto Johannes’s, and took a shaky breath before continuing more softly. - “I just… if you want to meet them, I’ll figure it out. I’ll do it.” He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look Johannes in the eye despite the heat creeping up his neck. “Because if this is what you want, I’ll make it happen. Even if it scares the hell out of me.” - Kyyre let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’m probably going to regret saying this later, but… yeah. Tonight. If you want.” - He braced himself, waiting for Johannes’s reaction, his heart thudding in his chest. |
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When Kyyre had said *tonight,* Johannes's mind spiraled, latching onto every possible interpretation, but of course, it veered into territory far less innocent than Kyyre likely intended. His cheeks heated at the thought, and he quickly pushed it aside. There was no way his pale boy wanted to move *that* quickly. Stolen kisses and hesitant touches would have to be enough—for now. Still, the thought of being invited to Kyyre’s home was exhilarating in a way Johannes didn’t expect. He could tell Kyyre had been hesitant about this from the moment Hasse had first suggested it, unsure of letting someone into the most intimate parts of his life. It wasn’t just a house, and it wasn't just meeting his parents—it was a glimpse into the world Kyyre didn’t show most people, a world that felt sacred and private. The significance wasn’t lost on Johannes, and he found himself chewing his bottom lip to stop from grinning too widely, or letting his nervous thoughts spill over. “Yeah. I’d love to,” he said, the words spilling out before he could even consider how they might sound. His enthusiasm was unfiltered, as raw and genuine as the joy bubbling in his chest. The excitement, however, was tempered by the weight of reality. Johannes knew sneaking out of class was one thing, but skipping a family dinner was an entirely different battlefield. And that’s exactly what tonight was supposed to be—a formal dinner with his mother, the kind of event where his absence would be glaring. His pulse quickened at the thought of what her reaction would be if she found out why he’d skipped. He could only imagine the silence at the table, Magnus on one end, the Queen on the other.
*He is not a credit to the family,* he could already hear her saying. “I’ll have to talk to my mother,” he admitted, his voice tinged with reluctant resolve. “She… won’t appreciate the lack of forewarning. But it’s fine. I want to meet your parents, and I can handle the consequences of my own actions.” Even as he said it, he couldn’t help the pang of unease that came with imagining her disapproval. Still, his determination didn’t waver. Kyyre was worth it. Every risk, every potential argument—worth it. He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against the soft skin of Kyyre’s cheek, grounding himself in the moment. His gaze softened, a mix of affection and quiet wonder. “I won’t ever regret anything about this. About *us.* This is the best thing that’s happened to me in years. If I hadn’t met you… can you even imagine? I’d be in Calculus right now.” He glanced at his watch and groaned, a small twitch in his eyelid betraying his irritation. “Ah. Never mind. Calculus would be done by now. It’s sixth period.” Johannes’s eyes flicked toward Maciej, who stood at a slight distance, his body language stiff and disapproving. His ever-watchful bodyguard was doing his best to give them space, but it was obvious from his posture that there would be consequences for taking so long. Johannes let out a shaky laugh and gave Kyyre’s hands a light squeeze. “Maciej is mad that we’re taking so long,” he said with a breezy shrug, as though it didn’t bother him. “I guess we should probably be going soon. But…” His voice dropped, softer, more vulnerable. “I still want to kiss you again. And I really don’t want to go back yet.” A breeze swept through the park, tugging gently at their hair and carrying the faint scent of wilting flowers. Johannes closed his eyes for a moment, tilting his face toward the sun and letting its warmth seep into his skin. When he opened them again, he leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest against Kyyre’s in a tender, almost instinctive gesture. “When I come to your house tonight…” he murmured, his breath brushing softly against Kyyre’s lips, “should I bring something? I want your parents to like me. I could bring flowers for your mother?” There was a slight waver in his voice. Despite all his bravado, he had no idea how this was going to go. |
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Edited at January 21, 2025 06:52 PM by The Tea Drinkers
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Kyyre’s watched with wide eyes as Johannes leaned closer, their foreheads touching, the intimacy of the gesture sending a warmth radiating through him that the cool breeze couldn’t touch. The words “I still want to kiss you again” lingered in his mind, making his heart stutter in its rhythm, and for a moment, he forgot how to speak. Instead, he clung to the grounding sensation of Johannes’s hands wrapped around his own, their fingers entwined in a way that felt both fragile and unbreakable. - When Johannes asked if he should bring something for Kyyre’s parents, Kyyre blinked, startled out of his reverie. Flowers? He wanted to bring flowers? The sweetness of the gesture made Kyyre’s chest ache, even as a flicker of panic settled in his stomach. - He could already picture his mother’s face, sharp and skeptical, dissecting every nuance of Johannes’s actions and words. Would she even accept flowers? Or would she find some way to twist the gesture into something condescending, something inadequate? And his father—he might be kinder, more understanding, but even his approval wouldn’t outweigh the inevitable scrutiny from his mother. And then there was the looming shadow of his older brother, far away in the U.S., but still very much a part of the expectations that weighed heavily over Kyyre’s household. - But despite all his worries, Kyyre couldn’t bring himself to dim the light in Johannes’s eyes, the quiet, hopeful determination that shone through every word he spoke. Johannes wanted to make a good impression. He wanted to try. And that meant more to Kyyre than he could say. - “Flowers…” Kyyre echoed softly, his voice carrying a mix of wonder and hesitation. He swallowed, his free hand fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve as he considered how to respond. “I think… I think that might be nice. She likes lilies. White ones. But you don’t have to, you know? Just showing up… that’s enough. For me, at least. And I hope enough for my dad. He'd be thrilled to se me making a friend, and..” Kyyre swallowed anxiously. "And.. a boyfriend?" The question had multiple layers—that if the offer of being Johannes's boyfriend was still on the table, that Kyyre would take it, and his own personal dilemma of whether or not his father would approve of that. Kyyre hoped so. He knew he mom wouldn't, with certainty, but.. maybe his dad could override that. Maybe he could have a boyfriend that his parents knew about. - His voice faltered slightly, the weight of the evening ahead pressing down on him. “I don’t know what she’ll say or how she’ll act, but… I’ll be there. I’ll handle it. You don’t have to worry about winning them over. You’ve already won me over, and that’s what matters.” - Kyyre’s gaze softened, and he leaned into Johannes’s touch, his fingers tightening slightly around Johannes’s hands. He could feel the nervous energy radiating off the prince, and he wanted nothing more than to take it all away, to make him feel as safe as Johannes made him feel. - He let out a small, self-deprecating laugh, his cheeks warming. “Tonight’s going to be… interesting,” he admitted, his voice tinged with nervous humor. “I mean, my parents barely know what to do with me most days. I can’t imagine what they’ll think of you. But…” He paused, his lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “You’re going to be great. I know you will. And if things get awkward, we’ll just… escape to my room or something. Deal?” - The thought of Johannes in his room, sitting on his bed, seeing the small, private corner of his world that no one else got to see—it sent a shiver of nervous excitement through Kyyre, but he pushed it aside for now. There would be time to worry about that later. - For now, he just wanted to soak in this moment, the quiet before the storm of introductions and expectations and potential disasters. He tilted his head slightly, his lips brushing against Johannes’s cheek in a fleeting, feather-light kiss before pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, his heart thumping loud enough in his chest that he worried the other could hear it. - “I’m really glad you’re coming,” Kyyre said softly, his voice earnest. “Even if I’m scared out of my mind. It means a lot, Hasse.” The nickname slipped out of his lips, and he wondered if Johannes was okay with it. He wasn't sure if it was anything personal, but it was on the card, so maybe that was what he wanted Kyyre to call him..? - And then, because the vulnerability of the moment was almost too much, he added with a teasing smile, “But if you bring flowers, I’m holding you personally responsible for every embarrassing question my mom asks about you.” |
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Spring Month: 2 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
