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Forums > Roleplay > 1x1
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Tea x LackadaisyFebruary 7, 2025 08:37 PM


Lackadaisy

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Posts: 686
#3086778
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Kyyre’s heart slammed against his ribs as the car lurched forward, carrying them away from the school, away from structure, away from the safety of routine. His fingers curled tighter in his lap, gripping the fabric of his sleeve as if anchoring himself, grounding against the creeping tide of panic that always came when he made a decision without fully thinking it through.

This was okay.

It was okay—wasn’t it?

His parents weren’t expecting him home for a while. He should be in class. Should be sitting at his desk, taking notes, doing something productive. If they somehow found out he’d skipped…

His stomach twisted violently, the familiar dread settling in his gut like a lead weight.

Would they find out?

Would someone notice he was missing? Would someone tell them?

The thought sent a shudder through him.

Johannes’s voice pulled him back before he could spiral any further.

"You’re okay with going to my home?"

The words my home made something in Kyyre’s chest tighten, his breath catching ever so slightly. He’d never been invited to Johannes’s house before. He’d barely been to anyone’s house in years, let alone a place as overwhelming as the royal estate. It wasn’t just a home—it was a palace, a fortress, something out of a storybook that felt like a different world entirely.

And he was going there.

His fingers twitched, the instinct to shrink nearly overwhelming.

He forced himself to nod, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

His gaze flickered up to Johannes, searching his face, trying to reassure himself that this wasn’t a mistake. But then Johannes kept talking—kept reassuring him in ways Kyyre hadn’t even realized he needed.

"We don’t have to do anything that… that you don’t want to."

"Doors can stay open."

"If your parents want there to be an adult, I can ask..?"

Kyyre inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat as tension coiled tight in his chest. He hated how easily those words soothed him, how the simple acknowledgment of his fears made him want to melt into the seat.

Johannes knew.

Maybe not everything, maybe not how deep it ran, but he understood enough.

And the fact that he wasn’t pushing, wasn’t brushing off Kyyre’s nervousness or treating it like an inconvenience—it made something ache deep inside him.

He swallowed hard, nodding again, this time with a little more certainty. “I… I think it’s okay. I mean. Yeah. It’s fine. I mean, I-I don’t mind. We can do what you want. Door open. Door closed. Door out the window. Um. Anything’s fine.” His voice was quiet, careful. “U-Uhm.. no one will find out, right?”

That was the crux of it. The real fear beneath everything else.

If no one found out, there’d be no punishment. No consequences.

But if someone did—

He exhaled shakily, shoving the thought away.

Johannes’s voice was softer now, gentle in a way that sent warmth curling through Kyyre’s chest.

"Tell me if you change your mind. I’ll tell Maciej to turn around, no questions asked."

The sheer casualness of the offer was staggering.

He wasn’t used to having that.

His parents didn’t ask if he was okay with something. They didn’t offer him choices. Once something was decided, that was it.

Johannes was giving him a choice. A real one.

That realization alone made the tightness in his chest ease just a little.

Kyyre exhaled, forcing himself to sit back against the seat, though his posture remained tense, his shoulders tight with lingering unease.

“I won’t change my mind,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to Johannes.

He couldn’t change his mind now.

Not when they were already on their way.

Not when his heart was pounding so hard at the thought of being alone with Johannes—really alone, outside the safety of school, away from prying eyes, in a place where nothing was stopping them except Kyyre’s own fragile courage.

The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

He pressed his lips together, fingers still curled against his sleeve, trying to steady his breathing.

He was going to Johannes’s home.

It was already happening.


Edited at February 7, 2025 08:38 PM by Lackadaisy
Tea x LackadaisyFebruary 8, 2025 02:51 PM


The Tea Drinkers

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Johannes’s brow furrowed at Kyyre's question, and he paused, trying to understand it.
"No one will find out?"* he repeated, wanting to be sure he grasped the concern fully. "No one at school? Or your parents? Or mine? I can promise you that no one has to know. I'll sort it. I always do."
His tone was unwavering, filled with an assurance that came naturally to him. Johannes wasn’t sure *which* set of people worried Kyyre the most, but it didn’t matter—he’d handle all of them if he had to. If the school asked, he’d have an excuse at the ready, something effortless and irrefutable. If the principal wanted a lecture, Johannes would sit through it with his usual detached composure. If his own parents took issue, well, that was nothing new—he was used to their disappointment, and his mother would never blame a guest. It would be Hasse’s fault, as usual.
Kyyre’s parents were the real unknown. Johannes had no clear plan for them, but he was certain he’d find one. He had connections, influence, and a way of making things *work*. A well-placed word from someone important could smooth things over later, could soften whatever backlash Kyyre might face. It *had* to work. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, betraying the sliver of nervous energy creeping into his carefully composed exterior.
Traffic was light for late afternoon, and Johannes was grateful for it. He felt *too warm*, and the proximity of the pale boy beside him only added to the suffocating heat coiling in his chest. There was something about the car ride, about being *stuck* in this small space with Kyyre, that made him hyperaware of every shift, every breath. He forced himself to look out the window as the car rolled up the long, winding, covered drive that led to the manor.
For some reason, bringing Kyyre here felt... strange.
Not *wrong*, exactly, but something about it sat awkwardly in Johannes’s chest, like he was doing things out of order, like this was a step in a process he hadn’t fully considered. It wasn’t as if he *cared* what Kyyre thought of the manor, but... he did feel a flicker of unease.
The car stopped at the main gate, and Maciej was already muttering something to the two guards stationed there. Johannes grimaced and turned back to Kyyre, voice carefully measured.
"Oh. They're going to screen your criminal record or something,"he said slowly, as if it were an afterthought. "And you'll have to sign an NDA, or something along those lines. For the safety of the country, that's their excuse. I'm sorry. They'll look at your parents' stuff too. Nothing really personal—they don’t have the clearance for that. Just to make sure you’re not a family of psycho killers or something."
He finished weakly, pausing to watch Kyyre’s face for a reaction, but before the other boy could say anything, Johannes pushed open the car door and stepped out.
The gravel crunched beneath his shoes, grounding him in routine. Some things about coming home never changed—some *couldn’t* change, or he’d lose his footing entirely. Slipping into autopilot, he glanced back to make sure Kyyre was following before heading toward the door.
Once inside, he kicked off his shoes but picked them up immediately—habit drilled into him from childhood. He stepped around a table that had once belonged to some 13th-century monarch (or something along those lines—he’d never bothered to remember), mumbled a few words to a maid, and exhaled.
It occurred to him that he *should* ask Kyyre what he wanted to do next, but the other boy had never been here before. He wouldn’t *know* what to do.
Johannes turned to face him fully, expression softening just a fraction.
"Don't worry. The whole place isn't this uptight. They do tours, you see. Appearances, and all. Follow me?"
Without waiting for confirmation, he headed up the grand staircase, moving quickly, half out of habit and half because he wanted to get this part over with. The hall was lined with portraits—an unbroken timeline of Johannes’s life, from infancy to the present.
He barely glanced at them.
But Kyyre did.
Johannes could feel his gaze lingering on this year’s portrait, the one he *loathed* the most. He’d finally been allowed to stand with Magnus in it, which was the only redeeming part, but it still felt stiff, unnatural. The problem with portraits was that they weren’t real—not *really*. They were curated, frozen moments meant to show something perfect and complete, when in reality, everything about his life was neither.
He still didn't understand why they couldn't do pictures, but his parents had always said that it connected them to the Royal Families of the past to do the same.
He sighed, pushing open his bedroom door.
"See? Normal room. Well, normal-ish, I guess."
The space was distinctly his, though its design leaned toward restraint rather than indulgence. Soft neutral tones dominated the walls, and while the decor was understated, the wall of books gave it a sense of personality. Thick blankets were folded neatly at the foot of his bed—a necessity, not an stylistic choice.
Johannes was *always* cold.
"Sit anywhere," he offered, tossing his shoes towards the bureau.

Edited at February 8, 2025 02:54 PM by The Tea Drinkers
Tea x LackadaisyFebruary 8, 2025 04:20 PM


Lackadaisy

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Kyyre’s breath stilled in his throat the moment Johannes repeated his question. His stomach turned, his fingers twitching against his thigh, and he barely stopped himself from pulling at the sleeves of his sweater—his usual nervous habit. He felt exposed, like he’d said something he shouldn’t have, like the words had given away too much of what lay just beneath the surface.

"No one at school? Or your parents? Or mine?"

All of them.

Every single one.

But especially his parents.

That was what truly mattered. Not the school, not the lectures, not the possibility of detention—he could survive that. But if his parents found out, if they knew where he was, what he was doing, who he was with—

His stomach clenched painfully.

Johannes’s reassurance was quick, firm, and confident. "I can promise you that no one has to know. I'll sort it. I always do."

It should have been comforting. It was comforting.

But it also felt impossible.

Kyyre had spent his whole life walking on eggshells, knowing that no matter how careful he was, his parents always found out. They always knew when he had done something wrong, when he had made a mistake, when he had strayed even an inch from their expectations.

How could Johannes be so sure?

How could he know that Kyyre wouldn’t get caught?

He swallowed hard, nodding slightly even though the doubt still gnawed at him. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Johannes—it was that he didn’t trust the universe to be kind to him.

The ride felt too quick and too slow at the same time, the weight of anticipation pressing down on him. He barely noticed the towering gates and the armed guards until Johannes mentioned them, his tone deliberately casual.

"Oh. They're going to screen your criminal record or something."

Kyyre stiffened.

"And you'll have to sign an NDA, or something along those lines. For the safety of the country, that's their excuse."

His fingers dug into the fabric of his sleeves.

"I’m sorry."

An NDA.

A background check.

His parents' records.

A sharp, cold panic clawed up his throat, seizing his breath, making his skin feel too tight around his bones. He hadn't thought about that. Hadn’t even considered it. The idea of someone looking into his parents, into his family—

What if it flagged something?

What if they saw something they shouldn’t? What if it got back to his parents?

Kyyre felt small, like he was shrinking into himself, folding inward. His hands curled into fists, his nails pressing into his palms, and he forced himself to nod, even though his mind was screaming.

"Nothing really personal," Johannes had said. "Just to make sure you’re not a family of psycho killers or something."

He knew it was supposed to be a joke.

But Kyyre couldn’t laugh.

He wasn’t from a family of killers, but he was from a family that controlled him. That had spent his entire life dictating what he could and couldn’t do. That had taught him to be afraid.

And this—this could unravel everything.

The door opened, and the moment Johannes stepped out of the car, Kyyre hesitated.

The panic was right there, threatening to consume him, to make him tell Maciej to turn the car around, to run.

But he didn’t.

He forced himself to move, to follow Johannes, even though his legs felt like they weren’t entirely his own. His body was too light, his head too heavy, the world spinning at the edges of his vision.

He barely registered the grand entrance, the towering ceilings, the historical artifacts and expensive decor. The weight of history, of importance, settled on his shoulders, making him feel even smaller than before.

Johannes moved through the house with easy familiarity, mumbling a few words to a maid, his presence commanding without effort. Kyyre, on the other hand, felt like an intruder.

The portraits caught his attention before he could stop himself.

A timeline. A life.

Johannes, younger. Then older. Then older still.

And this year’s.

Kyyre’s breath hitched.

Johannes and Magnus, side by side.

It was official, posed, but even in the rigid formality of it, Johannes fit. He belonged. This was his world.

Kyyre didn’t belong here.

His chest ached at the thought, and he forced his gaze away, turning back just as Johannes opened a door.

"See? Normal room."

Kyyre hesitated on the threshold, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides.

It was normal. Or at least, normal for someone like Johannes. It wasn’t overly extravagant—it was controlled, restrained, just like him.

Johannes was already moving inside, tossing his shoes toward the bureau.

"Sit anywhere."

Kyyre lingered in the doorway for a second too long.

His body screamed for him to take up as little space as possible, to find a corner, to shrink.

He moved toward the bed but hesitated before sitting. Instead, he perched at the edge, his back straight, his hands clasped in his lap. He still felt too big for the space, like he was out of place, like he shouldn’t be here.

His chest felt tight.

His fingers twitched.

The NDA.

The background check.

Would it come back clean? Would his parents find out?

Would he be punished for this?

Kyyre pressed his lips together, trying to push the thoughts away.

He was here now.


Forums > Roleplay > 1x1
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