BLUE [BXB]

SEVENTEEN

   When Ethan woke up with a pounding headache, the unfamiliar setting he was met with did little to unsettle him. How could it, when he had never in his life felt more content? 

   He knew the strange satisfaction welling up in his chest could only possibly be attributed to the boy sprawled out cutely on the sheets next to him. His soft, subtle vanilla scent wafted into Ethan's nostrils, making him inhale deeply and slightly soothing his throbbing head. 

   Ethan wracked his brain, desperately trying to remember how he ended up in Vincent's bed. However, all he could come up with were blurry scraps that did little to help his case. He found though, that he didn't care, and settled for basking the foreign peacefulness that was Vincent's room and Vincent's bed and everything about him.

   This time, it was his body plotting against him. He felt his stomach flip, bile rising up his throat and burning a trail in its wake. Reluctantly, he peeled himself from the soft sheets and entered the en suite. There, he hunched over the toilet seat and heaved, breath becoming shallow as he struggled to puke out the toxin. He hadn't eaten anything since the previous evening, so he knew he wouldn't be vomiting.

   "Ethan?" 

   Said boy looked up at the soft voice that called his name. It took every shred of Ethan's willpower not to smile fondly at the sleepy, adorable boy who stared back at him with concerned blue eyes. "Did I wake you? I'm sorry," he croaked.

   Vincent smiled sweetly, disregarding the matter with a shrug of his shoulders. Ethan lifted himself off the floor and turned on the sink, splashing his face with ice cold water. When he looked back, Ethan was grateful for the tall glass of water that Vincent offered him. He took two Advil tablets, practically sighing in relief when the liquid soothed his sore throat.

   "You can take a shower. I'll put some fresh clothes out for you then get started on breakfast. Are pancakes okay?"

   "Perfect," Ethan replied. "Thank you, Vincent. Really, I don't know what to say."

   As soon as the hot water sprayed Ethan's lean body, he shut his eyes, allowing his cramped muscles to relax. His serenity couldn't last long, though, because his thoughts decided to go askew. Yet again—like he always seemed to be around Vincent—Ethan found himself conflicted: loving the guilty pleasures but hating the disgust that always followed. This time, however, was a bit different.

   Though the cynical part was still very much there, it was a surprise to see the optimism fighting back just as hard—if not harder. For the first time in a while, Ethan's mind was mostly at ease. There was something so calming about being in Vincent's presence, that even Ethan's paranoia and internalized homophobia couldn't deny it anymore. Maybe it was the aftertaste of his hangover, maybe it was that Vincent's eyes looked especially blue that day—Ethan didn't know. All he knew was that he would hold onto the warm and easy feeling Vincent seemed to radiate.

   Previously, Ethan had decided he'd work towards a steady friendship with the other boy. Now, though, he wasn't entirely sure that was what he wanted. How could it, when he constantly wanted Vincent so close? Wanted to ruffle his hair, hold him close and never let go? How could he settle for friendship when he wanted Vincent in all the ways he shouldn't want a friend?

   But what did it all mean for Ethan? Was he gay? Bisexual? He didn't know, and, frankly, he couldn't find it in him to care. Nothing was certain, only the fact that he had never longed for anyone the way he did for Vincent. This, of course, didn't mean Ethan would run around confessing his undying love to everybody, but it would allow him to see himself in a new light, open him up to possibilities. 

   When Ethan finished drying up and exited the bathroom, he found a pile of neatly stacked clothes on the bed. He picked the first things he saw: a black hoodie and grey sweatpants. To his surprise, they fitted him nicely. Although Ethan was only a few inches taller than the other boy, he was still a lot buffer.

   "Smells good," he commented, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

   The boys dug into the mouthwatering pancakes, stopping every once in a while to sip on their orange juice and exchange small talk. "They're yours? The clothes, I mean," Ethan suddenly asked, his curiosity breaking the silence.

   Vincent shook his head. "My dad's."

   Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "Oh...Are you sure he's okay with it? He seems kinda scary..." he trailed off.

   Vincent chuckled. "Don't worry, he's away on business. Won't be back for like a week," he replied casually, mouthing a forkful.

   "A week?!" Ethan exclaimed, horrified. "But what about Christmas?"

   Now that it was brought up, Ethan took notice of how bare the house looked. There weren't any Christmas decorations, not a single ornament. Having gotten used to the seven foot tree that'd been put up in his living room weeks ago, Ethan found it peculiar—and a little sad—that Vincent didn't have one.

   "It's never been that big of a deal for Dad and I," he stated.

   And your mom? Ethan wanted to ask but thought better of it. He'd noticed Vincent never seemed to bring her up, and the last thing he wanted to do was force Vincent to talk about something touchy.

   "You can't just not celebrate Christmas!" he protested. "That's, like, blasphemy!"

   Vincent chortled. "Chill, Ethan. It's no big deal. Besides, I like having the house to myself."

   Ethan hesitated before speaking. "Why—Why don't you spend it with me? I mean, me and my family."

   "No way. I could never intrude like that," he refused, determinedly shaking his head.

   "Don't be silly! My mom practically likes you more than me."

   Vincent snorted. "Can you blame her?"

   Ethan gave him a pointed look before continuing. "Come on, Van Gogh. It'll be great! You can have Christmas Eve dinner with us, and maybe...maybe you could—I don't know—stay over? I promise you'll have fun. Please?"

   Vincent sighed, mentally scolding himself as he could already feel his resolve breaking. "I don't know..." he caught an accidental glimpse of Ethan's puppy eyes and groaned. "Fine," he scowled, muttering under his breath.

   Ethan cheered, smiling wider than ever as engulfed Vincent in a hug. He lifted the skinny boy off the ground, twirling him in his grasp. When Vincent was finally set down, he was blushing madly, halfheartedly shoving at Ethan's chest. "Don't ever do that again, asshole."

   But Ethan was too happy to take offense. Instead, he threw his head back, roaring out a laugh. "It's gonna be the best Christmas you've ever had," he cooed, wrapping his arm around Vincent's shoulders. 

   Vincent scowled, attempting—and failing—to shrug the grip off. "I'll hold you to that."

   Ethan smirked cheekily, leaning in so his lips were hovering right above the other boy's ear. "You better."