Boboiboy Oneshots

Hands (Pt. 5)

The Protective Hand Hold

Pulau Rintis was cold, seeing as it was almost Christmas.

The place was quiet, everyone having gone to bed at night in preparation for a new day.

Everyone except one boy, who was sitting by the curb in front of his house, sighing deeply every once in a while and idly drawing imaginary doodles on the ground using a stick.

Lately Boboiboy was feeling under the weather for reasons unknown. He no longer felt excitement when there was an upcoming mission... only weariness and the want to finish it quickly to continue burrowing himself under the covers.

Stuffing his face with food didn't seem appealing anymore. Yaya's biscuits tasted bland, Boboiboy sometimes asking her for packets and munching the tasteless crackers away, not paying any mind to the horror plastered on his other friends' faces.

Arguing with Fang seemed tiresome and always a bother, so he usually responded with a monotone and turned away before Fang could retaliate with something clever or annoying.

Everything seemed gray and colorless. He couldn't explain this sadness that suddenly attacked him.

When Ochobot scanned his watch to check for anomalies there was nothing wrong with his powers.

Tok Aba said it must be the blues. He said consolingly it was okay to feel sad for almost no reason. Boboiboy must have been tired being happy he needed to feel other emotions for a while, and his friends understood that.

They would sometimes include him in conversations but if they saw he was listless and barely responding, they'd continue on and respect his alone time.

In all honesty, Boboiboy greatly appreciated that. Friends knew each other's boundaries and didn't cross the line.

Something warm draped onto his shoulders, the boy snapping out of his stupor and tilting his head up to see a familiar face, easily recognizable even when upside down.

"Yaya," he breathed out, the girl clasping his shoulder for a second before moving to sit beside him on the curb.

Boboiboy instantly missed the warmth that enveloped his shoulder. He knew it was cold out, but only now did he realize how he was shivering, having been up for a few hours already.

Yaya was in light green plaid pajamas, her head still wrapped in her hijab though it was slightly rumpled, as if she had done her hair with not much care than usual.

For a moment he wondered how she came to be here, but Boboiboy remembered how Yaya was his next-door neighbor. She must have been up studying books and memorizing theories.

But it was odd to see her still awake at almost 3am.

Boboiboy's hands reached up to feel the material on him, instantly recognizing it as a blanket.

He was about to remove it when Yaya held his arm, shaking her head with a smile.

"You obviously need it more than me. I'm guessing you've been here for hours, drowning in your thoughts."

Boboiboy shrugged helplessly, a rueful smile gracing his lips at being found out.

"I guess you could say that," he settled on saying, hands grabbing the edges of the blanket to pull it tighter against his body. "And you? What's keeping you up?"

"Late-night reading and lots of coffee pots."

Boboiboy only hummed, giving Yaya a signal he had heard her and was responding to her statement.

"I couldn't sleep," he admitted, looking at the stick in his hand and throwing it to the road. "The early hours of the morning sure are something. I guess now I could say I understand why people are still awake at this time. Everything's quiet and it feels like you've got control over your life, even if it's just for a few hours."

Yaya beside him was a comforting presence. It wasn't foreboding or forceful; just there to give assurance and be a rock in his intangible mind of emotions and uncertainties.

"So that's why you're still awake?" she asked softly, leaning to better see his face.

They met gazes, Boboiboy nodding with a soft smile and feeling a bit better he had someone to share his thoughts with.

"It's tranquil, and people use this time to get things done."

Yaya smiled gently, Boboiboy noticing how her features appeared softer and more delicate in the moonlight. It brought him an odd sense of calm, one that started by his chest and spread throughout his body, even reaching his fingertips and toes.

Even if he was the one with the issues to resolve, he wanted to protect this girl from any harm and hurt the world prepared for all of them. It came out of nowhere, but he guessed the night had something to do with it.

He glanced at his hand, the lines on his palm apparent even with their dark surroundings.

He offered it to Yaya, who looked at it in confusion.

"May I hold your hand?" he asked quietly, preparing himself mentally for a possible rejection and swallowing nervously.

His answer came in the form of something warm and small touching his palm, his eyes zeroing in on the sight of Yaya's hand on his own, their palms kissing.

His eyes traveled back to her face, the breath knocked out of him once he saw her affirmative smile and non-threatening features.

Why did she have to look so adorable at this time?

Why did his heart have to respond by beating at a faster rate?

"I don't see why not," she chirped. "Touch is something humans can't live without, and if one isn't touched enough, they can suffer physiologically."

Unknowingly, his fingers closed around her dainty hand, marveling at how hers was smaller and could be easily grasped by his own bigger and wider one.

How fascinating.

Yaya responded by grasping his hand in a gentle and reassuring hold, her thumb rubbing small circles on his skin.

It shouldn't affect him much, but it did.

Boboiboy felt dizzy with a certain kind of euphoria, scooting closer to Yaya and laying his head on her shoulder, nuzzling more into her when she didn't push him away and only moved closer to him.

"The stars are brighter tonight," Yaya said, her hand still on top and giving Boboiboy strength to continue on living. "We're going to be okay, Boboiboy. Maybe not tomorrow or the day after that, but someday."

And that, he believed.