World Cup [larry stylinson a.u.]

39.0

THE BOYFRIENDS

“Stop staring at me, it’s starting to become creepy,” I say.

“Make me,” he taunts me.

“Okay, you can stare,” I allow it, “As long as you don’t touch me.”

“Oh, are you challenging me?” he tinkles my sides, “I can touch my boyfriend whenever I want, can’t I?”

“Hey,” I warn him, “You are ruining my work.”

“You are just so cute when you spread jam on your toast,” he laughs.

“What I’m doing is an art, people just don’t seem to get it,” I keep my focus on the bread in question, “They just go around life throwing it randomly onto the bread, that’s just disgusting to me.”

“OCD alert,” he coughs.

“It’s not even my toast, I can’t eat carbs for breakfast anyways so,” I finish my task, “There you go.”

“I can’t eat carbs for breakfast,” he mocks me, “What the hell? You are such a princess, Harry,” he bumps my arm, “And ‘Aw’, you made it for me?”

“Speaking of being a princess and yeah,” I avoid the eye contact because, once again, I’m not sure if I’m overdoing it or not, “Or you don’t like jam?”

“I do like it,” he takes the first bite, “Thank you, bubu, that’s very sweet of you.”

“Is it good?”

“It’s perfect,” he keeps on eating.

“Do you now see how important it is to spread it well?”

“Yeah,” I don’t know why but he seems fake, “This is like,” he takes another bite, “The right amount of jam for the size of the bread. It’s like an explosion of flavors inside of my mouth, um, I have no words for how good this is. You should make a tutorial video and post in on YouTube.”

“The funny thing, bum, is that you are trying to make fun of me but I actually do think it would be great to share my talent with the world,” I tell him, half joking half serious, “People need to learn how to do it properly.”

“Stop it, you are being too cute. I wanna kiss you again,” he gets closer.

“Hey! There’s jam all over your mouth, take a napkin,” I stop him.

“I won’t take a napkin,” he gets stubborn and tries to steal a kiss from me, “Come on and kiss me.”

“No! It will taste funny,” I give him a disgusted look.

“Don’t you like jam?”

“I do but,” I frown.

“And don’t you like me?”

“I do,” I’m starting to see where this is going.

“What are you waiting for then? Come on and kiss me.”

“This could be interesting, come.”

“Haven’t you done it before?”

“Nope,” I wipe the hair out of his forehead. Why does the tourist always have hair there? He needs to wear a bandana or something.

“You’ll love it,” he kisses me in such a slow and sweet way. Not sweet because of the strawberry flavor though, it’s something about the pace.

“How was it?” he pulls away and I just stay there looking as stupid as possible.

“I’m not sure I got it right,” I pull him closer, “Let me try it again.”