Thin Skinned [Boy x Boy]

Chapter 32

Cuts P.O.V

I don't like Horn's new tattoo, even if it's not on his skin. Of all the things in his imagination, he had to choose a honeycomb. Just the thought of it makes me nauseous.

Horn agreed to refrain from giving himself any honeycomb tattoos. Hopefully, he sticks to his word. Unfortunately, at the end of the day, it's his body and his tattoo. He decides what it is and how it will look. I can't exactly stop him.

"You really hate it, don't you?" he asks, turning off his phone so I won't have to see the photo any longer.

"My trypophobia makes it very uncomfortable for me," I answer honestly.

"I won't do any honeycomb on my own skin, okay?"

"Good."

Horn pulls me close and kisses the top of my head. I smile and desperately try to forget his new work of art. It's most likely because I'm pregnant, but looking at it gives me the urge to vomit.

We end up falling asleep on the couch for a good bit. I don't have any nightmares tonight. It's rather surprising. I've been having them nearly every night. It's never fun to wake up on the verge of tears, holding a scream captive deep in your throat. Luckily, that didn't happen tonight.

When I wake up, Horn is already up. I can tell because I hear him making an awful racket in the kitchen. By the sound, I would presume that he dropped five pots or pans. He doesn't always have the easiest time in the kitchen.

I get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen to see what on Earth Horn could possibly be doing. I make myself comfortable on the counter, watching him look for something in one of the lower cabinets. Chances are that whatever he's looking for isn't even there.

"What are you looking for?" I ask after several moments of watching him search.

Horn quickly sits up, smacking the back of his head against the edge of the cabinet, something I've done countless times myself. He swears and sits up, rubbing the back of his head from the unexpected pain.

"For the skillet, we make pancakes in," he answers.

"You broke that two months ago," I remind him.

We had a nice, large pan that we used to make pancakes. It was pretty old to begin with and the metal was weak. Horn, while trying to show off by flipping a pancake out of the pan, managed to break off the handle. He obviously forgot that happened.

"Damn. I really wanted pancakes."

"This is why I do the cooking." I hop down from my seat on the counter. "I don't break or burn as nearly as much stuff as you do," I tease.

Horn rolls his eyes at my comment and hugs my waist as I get a smaller pan to make breakfast in. Until we get a bigger pan, the pancakes will have to be a bit smaller.

Horn eventually detaches from my waist and helps me cook breakfast. Our kitchen is rather small, so there's not a lot of room for movement when both of us are in it.

When Horn and I first started living together it was quite a hassle to be in the kitchen at the same time. We would run into each other, mostly ending in dropped food or dishes. It was something we didn't think we would get used to. Luckily, our collisions became few and far between over time.

We successfully make breakfast with no collision and no broken dishes. Maybe not an accomplishment now, but it certainly would have been one when we first got together.

At the moment, I have a love-hate relationship with our apartment. I love it because it's the first place Horn and I have lived together. It has a lot of good memories that I don't want to leave behind. Unfortunately, it's just too small to raise a family in. As much as I hate to leave it behind, we'll have to. There's no way that Horn and I can raise a child in a studio apartment.

"I wish we didn't have to move," I say softly before taking a bite of my breakfast.

"We don't have to," Horn suggests.

"Do you want to raise a child in a studio apartment?" I ask in a serious tone.

Horn sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "No, of course not."

"Then I rest my case."

He looks around the apartment and sighs. I can tell that he doesn't want to leave either. There are so many memories here that neither of us wants to lose. The precious, unappreciated moments that now mean so much to us. Those are irreplaceable. They can never be replicated. They're special to this particular place.

No house will ever have the same feel as this minuscule apartment. It's pathetic size wise, but comfy and familiar to us both. We used to hate it because of how small it was. We've grown to love it. Nothing will ever compare.

"I'm going to miss this place," I mumble softly.

"Yeah, so will I."

Horn and I will miss this apartment. I'm sure we'll be happy in a new house, but we'll still get some small amount of nostalgia; visiting our child's dorm or first apartment. That's when we'll remember all the good times we had in such a small place.

Hopefully, our child will come to appreciate the small things in life. Whether those things are small when it comes to importance or when it comes to size. I want them to be able to create the loving memories that Horn and I share.

From everything I've heard, children grow up much faster than anticipated. That's how all parents say it is. I suppose Horn and I will get to experience that for ourselves. It's going to be strange at first, but just like the size of the apartment, we'll get used to it.