Clad in a pastel yellow hoodie, Sky looked like a walking sunflower, bringing cheer and brightness wherever he went. The sleeves of the hoodie were long enough to envelop his hands, his small delicate hands. On the left leg of his baggy jeans, delic...
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Prapai woke up with a new outlook on life. Unfortunately, that outlook was through blurry, sleep-filled eyes.
When the world finally comes to focus, the first thing he notices is the neatly wrapped bandages adorning his arms, their pristine whiteness contrasting against the sterile environment that surrounded him. An odd fascination flickered within him, finding a twisted beauty in the morbid elegance of the bindings.
(Maybe it's because they remind him of how Sky would carefully treat his wounds, making treating wounds look like an art form. He's not even being a ridiculous simp about it, even Phayu agrees with him on it.)
The pervasive scent of disinfectant snaps him out of his thoughts, filling the air that invaded his nostrils, assaulting his senses, and bringing him back to his current predicament. He blinked around the room, wrinkling his nose at the sterile white walls. In fact, now that he noticed it, everything was white, besides the soft and fluffy chocolate blanket that covered him. He was glad, honestly, he was really starting to hate the color.
"Mm, Prapai."
A soft mumble broke him out of his musings. His eyes landed on Sky, sleeping in what looked like an uncomfortable plastic chair, his upper half leaning on the bed and looking absolutely adorable. Seriously, how the heck can somebody be this adorable, especially at god-knows-what-time? Prapai was going to have to conduct a research study if Sky kept this up.
His boyfriend was a vision of ethereal grace draped in an oversized white hoodie that swallowed him—and damn, Prapai took back whatever he said about the color white. Because Sky looked like the fucking angel that he was in white. Prapai wanted to tuck him under his ribcage and keep him safe next to his beating heart, or keep in in his coat pocket all the damn time because Sky was Cute with a capital C.
And because his boyfriend was the epitome of cuteness, Prapai felt that nobody could blame him if he spent a while admiring the way the sleeves of the enveloped Sky's delicate hands, forming adorable sweater paws that tugged at Prapai's heartstrings like the strings of a guitar. Actually, fuck that, his heart was a bloody orchestra right now, with how much it was jumping up and down in happiness.
At that moment, his previous aversion to the sterile surroundings dissipated, replaced by the sheer loveliness of Sky's presence. Sky was an antidote for all of his aches, Prapai wondered how other people could live without having a Sky in their lives. Every time the other man was away, he always had a Sky-shaped hole in his heart, everything reminding him of his beloved's glaring absence.
Sky's form seemed both gentle and vulnerable as he rested his head upon his folded arms, a position that speaks of his unspoken but unwavering devotion despite its apparent discomfort. And that thought, the notion that Sky could be in pain while Prapai was around, brought him out of his staring. A surge of concern washed over him, and he tried to move and shift Sky to a more comfortable position.
