150 » too much time in the limelight
[ He's a little late, but he figures it doesn't really matter as he adjusts the brim of his cap so that it sits lower over his eyes and shakes his delicate wrists a little so that his bracelets fall into place. He pulls out his boxy shirt so that its oversized folds drape more sensually over his lithe, delicate frame. Despite everything they've been through together, Aether still feels like he has to look good for his boyfriend, much as he knows that his own definition of good isn't necessarily what people even expect of his partner's partner. Aether's always been a little rough around the edges, a little sporty, a little boyish. The fact that the Game happened while he was in his school uniform was a bit of a fluke — and sometimes he wonders if he would have seemed so pure and charismatic if he hadn't been in his collared shirt and his plain brown cardigan at the time.
As Aether nears the fountain where he and Alhaitham agreed to meet, he finds himself unsurprised to see that the man has once again won himself the attentions of whispering women with wandering eyes.
"You ask him if he's single," one girl titters, playfully pushing the other.
"No way! Come on, think about it — he's clearly waiting for someone!"
"This is your only chance with a guy that hot —"
"I have zero chance! I have zero chance to begin with!"
Part of Aether almost wishes he could have pity on these young women, but he knows Alhaitham well enough to know that they are, in fact, correct: neither of them have any sort of chance with the scholar on account of the fact that the man is very much taken, and they would be swiftly rejected if they tried.
Alhaitham himself is seated upon a bench as he reads near the fountain, his legs crossed one over the other at a distance respectable enough that his book won't get spattered by stray droplets from the artificial falls. The soundproofing on his headphones must be on, since he barely even pays the girls any mind — small wonder he always wears them when his face and body earn him so much scrutiny, each and every time he goes outside.
In his infinite mercy — he's magnanimous like that sometimes — Aether figures he'll put the girls out of their misery. Sate their wild curiosity. As he beelines straight for Alhaitham, bending low over his book, he lifts his cap just slightly so that it doesn't bump up against the man's forehead as the pretty young blond claims a kiss.
And there's always a lot of questions when people see the sporty blond and the bookish secretary together, but Aether doesn't think that they owe anyone any answers.
Besides, it's hard to explain that you met your boyfriend and forged an undying pact of loyalty with him after being kidnapped by a shadowy organization and forced to play a Death Game with your lives on the line.
Pulling away from his lover's lips, Aether smiles and tips his head slightly to one side. He's considerate enough to make sure that his shadow isn't falling over the creamy pages of Alhaitham's book. ]
Hey, baby. Five hundred and you can do whatever you want.
[ ...It's a joke. Though, the girls nearby can hear him, and they're gaping. ]
As Aether nears the fountain where he and Alhaitham agreed to meet, he finds himself unsurprised to see that the man has once again won himself the attentions of whispering women with wandering eyes.
"You ask him if he's single," one girl titters, playfully pushing the other.
"No way! Come on, think about it — he's clearly waiting for someone!"
"This is your only chance with a guy that hot —"
"I have zero chance! I have zero chance to begin with!"
Part of Aether almost wishes he could have pity on these young women, but he knows Alhaitham well enough to know that they are, in fact, correct: neither of them have any sort of chance with the scholar on account of the fact that the man is very much taken, and they would be swiftly rejected if they tried.
Alhaitham himself is seated upon a bench as he reads near the fountain, his legs crossed one over the other at a distance respectable enough that his book won't get spattered by stray droplets from the artificial falls. The soundproofing on his headphones must be on, since he barely even pays the girls any mind — small wonder he always wears them when his face and body earn him so much scrutiny, each and every time he goes outside.
In his infinite mercy — he's magnanimous like that sometimes — Aether figures he'll put the girls out of their misery. Sate their wild curiosity. As he beelines straight for Alhaitham, bending low over his book, he lifts his cap just slightly so that it doesn't bump up against the man's forehead as the pretty young blond claims a kiss.
And there's always a lot of questions when people see the sporty blond and the bookish secretary together, but Aether doesn't think that they owe anyone any answers.
Besides, it's hard to explain that you met your boyfriend and forged an undying pact of loyalty with him after being kidnapped by a shadowy organization and forced to play a Death Game with your lives on the line.
Pulling away from his lover's lips, Aether smiles and tips his head slightly to one side. He's considerate enough to make sure that his shadow isn't falling over the creamy pages of Alhaitham's book. ]
Hey, baby. Five hundred and you can do whatever you want.
[ ...It's a joke. Though, the girls nearby can hear him, and they're gaping. ]

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There's no one noteworthy in the vicinity, either; no reason not to enjoy reading in peace. More specifically, that so-called Game isn't a residual inconvenience.
But Alhaitham lifts his gaze when his reading is interrupted, wordlessly at first, merely to blink languidly like a cat at ease before his lashes briefly lower, his mouth shaping its welcome against Aether's soft lips. Aether's scent brushes his nose, pleasant, if subtly different beneath the familiar. The changing room showers, he surmises.
As the kiss ends and Aether draws back, one hand closes the book, resting atop its cover; the other has found its way to the dip of Aether's slender waist above one hipbone, where it slots into place with comfortable self-assurance. Alhaitham's fingers press against Aether's side through the loose fabric of his oversized shirt. ]
Can you reach my wallet?
[ Yes, it's a joke, or five hundred wouldn't even begin to cover the full extent of whatever you want that they've already accomplished. ]
no subject
Aether reciprocates. As much as he should in public, anyway — not that it matters to Alhaitham, who has never cared what the masses might think of him. In private, Aether might move to loosen the secretary's tie; in public, he settles for resting one hand on the swell of the man's chest, instead. He feels comfortable and content and soft.
(Nothing will ever top the intensity of their first kiss, when he'd begged Alhaitham to take the last of his regrets, because he wasn't afraid of death, but if he did die then he didn't want to die having never known what it was like to kiss someone else —)
They're past that now. They're at peace, now, and Alhaitham clearly likes the way he smells. The man is so catlike most of the time; it makes Aether smile down at him when they part, watching the man blink, alert yet languid at the same time. So cute. Alnyaitham. ]
You can pay me later. [ He presses a kiss to the fine line of Alhaitham's nose. ] Did you wait for me long?
[ It's a rare thing for Alhaitham to agree to a date, but he does like to go out with Aether on occasion — mostly to eat fine foods and indulge in good drink. Then they go straight home, because there's little that Alhaitham likes more than to be at home. ]