Six Degrees of Seperation (A GiriPan Fanfic)

Six Degrees of Separation | Chapter 1 | Japan

Six Degrees of Separation | Chapter 1 | Japan

"Greece?" The innocent way I say his name lingers in the air, bringing panic to my mind as I realize I am at his bedside trying to awaken him. This is so inappropriate!

"Mmmm...." The moan makes my heart jolt, the situation now even more awkward.

"Greece, prease wake up!" My words are rushed, my tone desperate. Please wake up before this situation becomes any worse.

"Mmmm?" This moan was much more innocent and so very confused. I could only imagine what he must be thinking is happening right now.

"G-Greece, prease I-" An overbearing hungry growl escaped from my small stomach, causing my eyes to clench tightly closed in embarrassment. I instantly bowed in apology and tried to hide my original words with a plethora of please. "I'm so sorry! Prease don't yell at me!"

A few moments pass, my heart thudding against the inside of my chest from sheer humiliation. Please let this all be a dream. Why does my best friend, my only companion, have to see me like this? He'll make fun of me for sure!

Instead I hear a low sigh and warm fingers swim their way through my gentle locks. "You're an idiot."

My eyes open, staring at him in disbelief. He wears a small, amused smile on his face and he is rolled over on his side with one of his arms reached out, still tousling my hair. "Huh?"

"Why are you apologizing because you're hungry?"

A valid question, and yet I didn't really have a valid answer. "W-Well I disturbed your rest, and..." I trailed off, not really knowing the best way to end my sentence right now. It was really just an excuse, anyway, so maybe it was best to just stay quiet.

Greece is not in the least bit annoyed or angry with me, which I find relieving. "I can nap later. You can make and eat whatever I have, you know."

"I know." He was so generous that I almost didn't know how to handle it. "I just didn't reary want to invade your kitchen without your permission."

A yawn escapes his lips and he moves his hand from my head so that he can stretch both arms far into the air before he collapses onto his bed. "You have permission to do whatever you please. You don't have to ask."

"Are you serious?" My ears perk with interest, though he probably couldn't see them through my bangs.

"Of course." He smiles at me. "You're my special guest, so you get all privileges."

He always called me that: his "special" guest. Was I any more special to him than any other guest? Did he call everyone special, or was I the true special person in his life? Was he special to me, too? Was it wrong of me to ask something so personal? "Why am I special?"

There wasn't much that surprised Greece, but my sudden question seemed to. I was about to apologize and tell him not to worry about it, my mouth hung open to utter the words, when he replied bluntly. "Because you're you. That's special to me."