#& I'm not sure why?? I was completely calm & not acting scared at all-- my pulse was even 106 instead of above 110

[reinemichele]

Okay, I had my cardiologist appointment today but unfortunately all that was was scheduling for tests on my heart, I'll have 2 in the beginning of September and then a follow-up for them later in September (unless the results are concerning)

But he did prescribe me a beta-blocker and said I can continue taking zyrtec-d since I need to take it, which is reassuring (and also nice that he took me at my word about my allergies... Altho maybe I sound wheeze-y and sinus-y lmao 😭 either way I can't breathe so I'm going to take it rn)

[animebaby00]

I Don't Deserve It: Chapter 2

Summary: When Shoto gets a nasty stomach bug, Izuku stops at nothing to help and take care of him.

But Shoto can't help but wonder...

Why?

(Link to Chapter 1) ⬇️

Shoto wasn't sure if he was actually awake the next time he opened his eyes considering that when he did so, it was oddly dark in the place he currently resided. He had to blink a few times and weakly rub at his eyes to help his vision become accustomed to his surroundings. But even after doing so, he still wasn't sure where he was.

Upon casting his eyes to the right, he could see the thin outline of sunlight coming from between a pair of closed curtains. He felt a soft weight on his legs and torso from what he could assume were sheets and maybe a few blankets. But everything else looked a blur.

In his best attempt, he tried to focus on the events from earlier. He had woken up, feeling absolutely terrible, and that in itself hadn't changed. Shoto could still feel the underlying pressure of a headache pounding in his temples, his skin still felt sticky with sweat, his body felt like it had been trampled by a stampede of elephants, and his stomach was tight and queasy. 

And it was then the moments in the bathroom slowly began to enter back into his mind. 

He remembered collapsing against the sink, how nauseated he had felt, and how his body simply wouldn't listen to him as it completely gave into the last thing he had wanted to do. He had collapsed by the toilet, waited those few last agonizingly anticipated seconds before everything he had eaten the day before came back up in a half-digested mess. 

Shoto couldn't exactly remember the last time he had thrown up. The last memory he had was when his father had punched him in the stomach due to weakness. Though the feeling had felt somewhat the same, it also carried many differences.

The the quick puddle of bile that had left his body in comparison to the painful dry heaves, the chills in comparison to the tears, the fearful, small frame of his mother buy his side as his father barked orders for him to get up in comparison to...the warm hand he had felt on his back while another hand kept his hair away from his face.

The person that had actually...helped him.

Midoriya.

A sound that was an odd combination of a groan and a scoff left Shoto's throat. How could he let himself get to this point? Sure, Midoriya had helped him in the past, but that had been during situations that were near the serious point of life and death. Not a stupid little stomachache.

That at least he would admit, as Shoto didn't know many people who threw up from a fever. But even so, this was not something he needed help with. He'd been enough of a burden in the past and he'd rather lose a finger than be one again.

He gathered up as much strength as he could and hoisted his body to sit up from what he could assume was a bed due to the soft, plush feeling under his legs and torso. However, just like that morning, his body disagreed with his movement as a sharp pinch of dizzying pain shot through his head while at the same time, an unsettling wave of nausea bubbled over in his stomach. The combo of both made him grimace rather loudly, and with his perfect luck, a person emerged from a door located across the room right after his sound of discomfort.

"Oh, Todoroki !" A voice said, their tone sounding highly relieved. And it was then that Shoto identified the person as-

"M-Midoriya…?" He rasped. Good god this throat was dry. It sounded like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper, but thankfully, Midoriya didn't fret over it.

"I'm happy you're awake." he said, thumb flipping a light switch on the wall as he walked over to his desk. He had something in his hand that he placed down on the wooden surface, something that Shoto couldn't recognize before he turned his head, a soft smile on his face, "I was really worried about you earlier. How are you feeling?"

Shoto disregarded the question, and resulted in asking one of his own.

"How did I get here?"

Shoto noticed his friends' slight flinch, "Oh ! Yeah, I imagine you were probably a little confused. Sorry about that." he sheepishly scratched the side of his face and turned back around. Shoto furrowed his eyebrows from the sudden dripping sound of a liquid as Midoriya continued talking.

"After you threw up in the bathroom, you passed out and I wasn't exactly sure what to do. I decided to wait for a few minutes, hoping that you would wake up, and I got scared when you didn't. Luckily, Kirishima and Tokoyami came into the bathroom shortly after. I told them what happened and then they helped me clean you up and take you back to my room to rest."

Shoto's eyes widened.

His classmates...saw him ? In such a weak state? No...how could he have let this happen? How could he be so...so..."

"I-I have to go…" Shoto uttered quickly, maneuvering his body to stand up despite the twisted feeling in his stomach "N-now."

"Oh, to the bathroom ?" Midoriya inquired, turning around hastily with a worried look on his face, a wet rag in his hand, " Do you feel sick again ? Here, let me help-"

"No !" Shoto exclaimed. He inhaled a panicked breath in through his nose, head throbbing so badly he thought it would burst, " I- I need to leave. We have class and training and-"

"Hey, don't worry." Midoriya moved closer, hands raised up in a calming manner with the wet rag still dangling in the crease between his thumb and index finger " I already asked Kirishima and Tokoyami to excuse us for today. They'll get us the assignments we missed and we can make them up later. Everything is fine."

Shoto's pupils dilated to the size of the tip of a toothpick. No. No. Everything was not fine.

"I-I can't Midoriya...I can't...I have...to-"

He tried to stand, but just like earlier, his body acted completely against him and he stumbled forward.

"T-todoroki !"

Midoriya acted upon instinct and lunged forward, rag falling from his hands and caught Shoto's limp body in his arms, easing themselves down to the ground.

"W-what are you doing ?! You have to take it easy !" He exclaimed, leveling Shoto so that his back was laid up against his bed. The sick male was breathing heavily, skin prickling once again with sweat and an uncomfortable heat. Midoriya laid his hand on his forehead again, a heavy frown on his lips.

"Your fevers up again...come on." He urged softly, "You need to get back in bed."

Shoto moaned through his lips with full intent to battle against the demands he didn't want to succumb to. But even thinking about getting up again caused his eyes to shut tight due to the excruciating, throbbing pain in his head, crossed over with another, familiar…sickening feeling. God, please not again.

He tried to quell it, deep inhales and exhales through and out the nose. But he knew deep down it wasn't going to work. It was coming too quick.

"M-Midoriya…" he whispered, teeth gritted.

His answer was quick, "Yes ? W-what is it?"

"I...I need the…" he swallowed thickly, "the...mmph!"

Shoto pitched forward, hand over his mouth, and Midoriya's eyes widened.

He knew exactly what was about to happen, and if he didn't hurry…

Green irises darted around his room until they landed on the small waste bin sitting in the corner. He moved so quickly in haste to grab it, one would have thought he was using the speed of One For All, but it was simply just to ensure he could aid his sick friend...and so he wouldn't be scrubbing out his carpet for an hour.

And he was just in time too, because almost as soon as he placed the bin under Shoto's chin, a wave of vomit spewed from his mouth in a violent gag and splattered into the bin.

Shoto duo colored hair fell into his face the moment he buried his head into the hollowed plastic, his only care at the moment being to pitifully give into his body's demands and rid himself of the toxins that had taken him over.

He had been sure that his bout of vomiting from earlier was the end of it, thinking it almost impossible that his system had anything else to rid itself of, but he was sadly mistaken. Bile and chunks ran passed his lips in an endless cycle, on replay, in a painful manner that tipped his mind in thinking it wasn't going to end.

However, just like before, that tiniest bit of comfort came forward in the gentlest of actions that though Shoto deeply appreciated, wished didn't have to occur. Midoriya's hand on his back, rubbing circles into his shoulder blades, whispering hushed and soft words of comfort into his ear while his other hand combed his hair away from his sweaty face.

This felt worse than earlier. He had had more in him the first time, leaving less room for empty gags and dry heaves, but this time, he was taken over with dry coughs and mouthfuls of stomach acid as his chest heaved with painful gasps from the relentless pulses of his stomach. No doubt the dry heaves were the worst, each one making him feel like his stomach and intestines were in his throat, close to coming out through his esophagus in a vile heap.

Thankfully, things started to slow down after about five minutes, and Shoto was finally able to pull his head up from the bin without fear of his stomach acting against him. A soft voice flowed through his ringing ears immediately after.

"Do you think you're done ?"

Shoto caught the slightly worried look on Midoriya's face out of the corner of his eye.

"Y-yeah…" he mumbled lowly, "...F-for now…"

Midoriya nodded, setting the waste bin aside, "Okay...here, let's get you up and back into bed."

He extended his arm with intent to assist his sick friend, but was shocked when his arm was pushed away.

"S-stop. I c-can get up by myself."

Midoriya opened his mouth to speak, but he hesitated, and watched with saddened eyes as Shoto gave a very weak attempt to heave himself up. His movements were deathly slow, cautious, as if any extra motion would trigger another episode. He exhaled a small, shaky breath and rested his forehead on the edge of Midoriya's bed, eyes half lidded in utter exhaustion.

Then, using his forearms he tried to pull himself to his feet, but his muscles ached and burned when he moved. He couldn't even get onto his knees.

Midoriya couldn't take it anymore as he scooted forward and put a hand on his friends' back.

"Hey, come on...that's enough. At least let me help you up. Take my hand."

Shoto shook his head as he once again declined "No. I-I'm fi-"

"But you're not, damn it!"

He turned his head, vision wavering as he set his eyes on Midoriya's face. Though he had sounded mad, his expression wasn't angry. It was more a cross between concerned, confused...and hurt.

His lips were pressed together thinly, eyebrows were furrowed, and his green irises were glazed over with additional emotions of something close to fear and bewilderment. His lips loosened themselves in preparement to speak, his next words sharp in tone, almost demanding.

"You're not fine. And I'm not going to sit here while you say otherwise, Todoroki. You're clearly not well and I'm not sure what it's going to take for you to see that. But I know I can. You're sick, and denying it and me won't do anything ! So please…" he grabbed Shoto's wrist, green gaze piercing into his.

"Let me help you."

Shoto blinked slowly, his foggy mind doing the best it could to process each word and syllable Midoriya said. Something became activated within him, a feeling of some sort, one he's never felt before.

The feeling that someone actually cared about him and his well-being. There was a person who wanted to set aside their time, when they could be doing a plethora of other things instead, to help him.

It put a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest, and he wasn't sure if he liked it...or hated it.

Clearly, he wasn't going to get anywhere, as he knew Midoriya to be very persistent. So with a sigh of defeat, he closed his eyes and let his tired body go slack, allowing the freckled boy to move closer to his side.

He felt an arm envelope itself around his upper back, while his own arm was positioned to drape around Midoriya's shoulders for added support.

"On three okay ?" Midoriya confirmed, taking the answer of Shoto nodding against his collar bone, "One, Two, Three…"

With a gentle heave, Midoriya was able to get Shoto on his feet, though his knees were bent and his legs were trembling underneath him like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. His balance and strength were gone, his energy was totally diminished. By the time Shoto was leveled on the bed and his head was resting on the pillow, his consciousness had faded into an oblivion just like before.

Midoriya grabbed the blankets that had been pushed to the end of the bed from Shoto's movements and proceeded to cover up the sick boy to hopefully rid him of his body's shudders and occasional shivers. And while doing so, he was really able to see fully just how sick Shoto was.

Even in the dim room, Midoriya could make out his pale face, it's usual warmer tone gone save for the flushed red splotches on his cheeks and across his nose. His skin was shiny with a new layer of sweat, likely caused by his radiating fever.

His fever.

Oh ! The rag !

Midoriya turned around and grabbed the rag from off the floor that he had dropped earlier from when Shoto had nearly collapsed. He walked over to his desk and submerged it once again into the cool water, squeezed off the excess, and folded it to fit on Shoto's forehead. Once at his side, Midoriya carefully swept his red and white bangs aside and set the fabric against the male's heated skin.

He let his hand linger, moving to feel Shoto's scalding cheek with his knuckles. He was burning up.

The shock of cold to hot must have triggered something in Shoto's troubled rest, for his eyebrows furrowed in clear discomfort. He mumbled something incoherently and subconsciously pressed his face into Midoriya's hand, desperate for comfort in his fevered state.

Midoriya frowned. Seeing Shoto like this...made him feel absolutely terrible.

This wasn't the Shoto he knew, even despite his illness.

He had helped him before, during the incident with Stain, during some drill in class, even with simple stuff like homework

So...why was this any different? Why did he seem so hesitant and so...ashamed?

He had a lot of questions, but they would have to wait. He didn't want to impose so much on Shoto right now, especially in his state. That was the last thing he needed.

Midoriya looked at the spoiled waste bin next to his bed.

He had other things to do.

His arm extended to grab the bag lined rim of the plastic container, and once it was in his possession, he proceeded to his bathroom to clean it out, leaving his sick friend to get some additional much needed rest.

[thomastair]

Could you do a kitty first kiss fic pls?? I'm having a really bad day and I need something to light up my mode

I posted this on ao3 a while ago and I’ve been meaning to post it on here so here you go! 

Sparks:

Kit jumped from a rafter hurling a butterfly knife into a target with one hand and drawing a sword from its’ sheath with the other. He rolled into a somersault and came to a halt, panting.

He glanced at the target. The knife was stuck quivering a few inches from the center. He was getting better at that. A few more weeks and his aim would be perfect.

I’ll still never be as good as any Shadowhunter that’s been training since they could hold a knife. He thought dejectedly. He pretended it didn’t bother him, but there was a part of him that regretted the fact that even Tavvy was going to be a “better” Shadowhunter than him one day.

He flicked his sweaty hair off of his face just as a boot collided with his back. The impact sent him sprawling and soon after the weight of another boy was pinning him to the warped wooden floor of the training room.

“Ack!” Kit choked out. He twisted to see Ty’s solemn face staring down at him with a hint of amusement.

“You’d never be able to take a break in a real fight.” Ty said. Sunlight was shining down onto his hair which was distracting, because Kit really didn’t need to see Ty’s face surrounded with a golden glow right now.

Ty stood with the grace of a cat and held out a hand to Kit. Acting out of impulse Kit wrapped his hand around Ty’s and yanked him to the ground. He pivoted so his entire weight was on Ty’s chest.

“You’d never be able to help someone up in a real fight.” He laughed. Ty grinned up at him. His hair was feathered on the floor and Kit became uncomfortably aware of how close they were. He would only have to crane his neck a little to press his lips to Ty’s.

Woah where did that thought come from? Kit could feel his face burning.

“Kit?” Ty asked. His voice still had a trace of laughter in it. Kit realized he had been staring at Ty’s lips for ten seconds longer than he was supposed to. He forced himself to make eye contact with Ty.

He was surprised to see that Ty’s cheeks had a hint of pink to them. Nothing to compare to his undoubtedly cherry red face he presumed, but still.

He watched as Ty’s lashes fluttered. Kit still half expected them to make dark smudges against his cheek bones when Ty blinked.

Ty shifted, moving to rest his hands on Kit’s hip bones. His dark grey eyes filled with curiosity.

It was suddenly very important to have space between him and Ty.

Kit jumped up, startling a small breath out of Ty. He stood awkwardly over the taller boy, not quite sure what to do with his hands. He wiped his palm on his gear and held out a hand to Ty.

As Ty’s fingers closed around his Kit imagined sparks traveling from his hand to Ty’s. Some spark of attraction that only they could feel.

As soon as he was able to he let go, shaking his hand as if that would make him forget the feeling of Ty’s skin. He cleared his throat awkwardly trying to calm his hammering heart.

Ty looked confused. “Did I do something?” He asked, as if worried he had scared Kit away. No no Ty, it’s all me. Kit wished he could say, but he just shook his head.

Hoping his laughter didn’t sound forced, he swatted Ty on the arm playfully. “Nah man come on. It’s just that we’d never be able to stay still that long in a real fight.”

Ty was sitting on his bed. The pages of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s book providing a relaxing rustle. Panic! At The Disco filtered through his headphones as Ty absorbed himself in Sherlock’s world.

He found himself thinking back to the training room earlier that day. What had Kit been thinking? He’d definitely been uncomfortable, but Ty didn’t think that he’d done anything.

And Kit had stared at his lips a little too long. What was that supposed to signal? Social cues were exhausting sometimes, though everyone else seemed to pick up on them quickly.

Ty groaned, tossing his book to the side and stretching onto his back. It was much easier observing people instead of decoding his own feelings.

I bet the internet has answers. He thought. Ty had barely used the computer since Livvy’s death. She had been the only one who could work it as well as he could.

Thinking about Livvy stabbed something deep inside of him. Every time he went to sleep he saw Annabel burying The Mortal Sword into her heart. Blood spraying across the tiled floor, Julian’s scream of disbelief, and the numbness that had overwhelmed him when he realized that his other half was gone. And they were going to become parabatai. You agreed too late and now she’s gone. He thought angrily, digging his nails into his upper arm.

Joints popping, Ty heaved himself into the worn chair in front of the computer. He went through the motions as if this task had a series of steps he needed to check off on a list.

1. Open Google2. Search: What does it mean when someone looks at your lips?3. Search: How to know if your friend likes you?4. Search: How do I know if I’m attracted to someone?5. Search: How to kiss????

“Whatcha doing?” A voice behind Ty asked.

He started, heart hammering. Ty quickly closed all tabs of incriminating evidence and turned to face Kit.

Kit was leaning on the doorframe. He looked like he had just taken a shower and water droplets dripped from his hair to his collarbone. Ty swallowed. “Uhh, just googling stuff…” The lie didn’t sound believable at all.

“Wow, stuff!” Kit remarked sarcastically. He crossed the room and flopped onto Ty’s bed. His wet hair left a dark stain on the quilt.

“Nice to see you using the computer though.” Kit murmured quietly. Ty stiffened.

“Yeah I haven’t really felt like it.”

Kit gazed up at him. “Not since Livvy died?” His voice caught on Livvy’s name.

Ty nodded. Desperately avoiding eye contact. He had a sneaking suspicion that he would start crying if he looked at Kit.

He felt Kit wrap his hand around his. Ty hadn’t realized that he’d been twisting the blankets around his fingers. Kit’s hand was warm and Ty laced his fingers through the other boy’s.

Reminded of the night on the roof in London when Kit had held him tight Ty laid his head on Kit’s shoulder. Kit froze for a second before relaxing into the embrace.

“I miss her too.” He heard Kit whisper as he fell asleep a while later. “I miss her too.”

Kit didn’t know at what point he fell asleep. He didn’t know exactly what time he got up. At that moment he didn’t think he cared.

Ty was sleeping next to him. Kit watched as his chest rose and fell softly. A lock of Ty’s hair had fallen over his eyes. Kit reached over and brushed it to the side.

Ty let out a soft sigh and shifted so his body was even closer to Kit’s. Kit’s heart pattered. Ty looked relaxed, all worry had been smoothed out of the lines of his face by the hand of sleep. No one could have known that he was a seasoned warrior who had lost his parents and twin.

Seized by a sudden inexplicable urge. Kit leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Ty’s forehead. A feather light kiss that Ty would never know about.

Kit eased himself out of bed, tiptoeing to the door. He had to go somewhere to clear his head. Somewhere no one would look for me. He made his way to the library, being careful not to wake any other residents of the institute.

In the early hours of the morning Kit could pretend he was completely and utterly alone. No other life moved through the halls and the library was abandoned.

He climbed onto a lower bookshelf and leaned against an old dictionary of runes. Diana had made him memorize it when she’d started tutoring him. Consequently he had retained a healthy dislike for it.

After staring at the floor for what seemed like ages Kit heard someone else enter the library. He looked up to see Ty, still wearing a rumpled shirt and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

His heart caught in his throat. He’d thought he’d have a little more time to cope with his feelings before seeing Ty again.

“You left.” Ty’s voice was groggy. Kit swallowed and gestured to the bookshelves.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Ty nodded. He strode to where Kit was sitting and tilted his head to look up at him.

“I didn’t think you’d come to the library.” He said softly. His eyes were very grey, and while they were always intelligent, right now they were a different kind of intense.

“I just-” Kit started to say. Ty had put his hands on Kit’s knees. No matter how tentative the touch was Kit’s tongue stopped working.

“Can I kiss you?” Kit asked, fearing that he was ruining the only real friendship he’d ever had. For a brief moment Ty hesitated. Kit let out a nervous breath.

Instead of answering Ty reached up and pulled Kit to him. It was a gentle, lingering kiss. Ty smelled like ink and books and Kit could feel his pulse on his neck.

They stayed in that position for a while until Ty pulled away, breathless. He smiled at Kit. For once Kit had nothing to say. He had kissed lots of girls before, even some guys, but this had to be the best kiss yet. Because it was Ty.

After the library Ty wandered towards the kitchen. He wasn’t surprised to see Julian there. He had noticed that his brother had gotten up earlier since Livvy’s death.

Ty sat down. He smoothed the rough material of his jeans. He stared at the way Julian’s hands deftly chopped vegetables. He felt unexpectedly nervous. He didn’t even really know what he was going to ask Julian. Was he going to tell Julian about the kiss? The lack of course of action made him agitated. He twisted his right hand around his left wrist, finding small comfort in the pressure.

“Why are you up?” Julian had turned around and was in the midst of dumping onions into scrambled eggs.

Ty shrugged. He figured he shouldn’t say anything if he didn’t know what exactly he was doing here.

“Can I ask you something?” He blurted before he could reason himself out of it. Julian wiped his hands on his sweatpants and sat down across from Ty. Ty could see Julian was trying his best to exude confident “big brother vibes.” It didn’t ease his nerves.

“Sure,” said Julian. “What’s on your mind?”

Ty bounced his leg under the table. Julian had dark circles under his eyes. Had he gotten any sleep lately?

“Um, yeah. I was wondering if-” Ty could feel heat rising to his cheeks. Keenly aware of how his pale skin would make his blush all the more apparent he continued quickly, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible. Why did he ever think this would be a good idea?

“-if you know how to tell if someone likes you?” His voice cracked on the last word and he cursed himself in his head. In hindsight he thought that since Kit had kissed him, he must have some feelings for him. Ty really didn’t know what he was doing here.

“And you like this person?” Julian asked. His face was probably redder than Ty’s.

“I think so.” Ty deadpanned. He didn’t really want Julian to know he liked Kit. Not yet.

Julian shifted, clearing his throat. “So have you acted on this- attraction?”

Ty looked down at the knot of his hands in his lap. “Does kissing count?”

Julian looked horrified. “Since when are you kissing people?”

Ty groaned, burying his face is his hands. “It’s just hypothetical.”

Julian wasn’t convinced. Ty could see his mind whirring, trying to figure out who exactly Ty would have kissed. Finally he looked resigned and Ty let out a breath. He hadn’t realized how hard his heart had been beating.

“Well if you’ve kissed them already Ty, I guess you just have to ask.” Julian mumbled, as if not sure his advice was sound.

Ty had made that deduction five minutes ago, but he wasn’t going to tell Julian that. He made to leave before Julian asked who exactly he had kissed.

His chair scraped against the tiles as he got up. The sound was unpleasant. It reminded Ty of when people got up too quickly and left things unresolved.

“Good luck.”

Ty turned to see Julian standing at the sink. He wasn’t looking at Ty, but Ty could see that Julian looked pained. A stab of guilt tore through him. Julian had never had time for relationships, thanks to his parental duties. Ty had his suspicions about Julian and Emma, but that wasn’t open to the public, so it didn’t count.

Stepping out into the hallway Ty tucked one headphone into his ear. Glancing back over his shoulder he muttered, “Thanks…”

He walked away before Julian could make it more awkward.

The waves lapped quietly against the beach below The Institute. Kit stared out at the roiling mass of deep blue green, so much like the Blackthorn’s eyes, and buried his feet into the cool sand. The sky was overcast with a cool breeze coming in off the water. The cool weather meant there were less tourists. The beach was quiet around Kit, filling him with a sense of calm.

The soft pad of footsteps startled him out of his reverie. Ty settled on the blanket next to him. The breeze lifted his dark curls and they blew across his forehead in an unruly tangle. On impulse Kit brushed the hair out of Ty’s eyes.

Ty reached up, grabbing Kit’s hand and holding it between them. He wasn’t looking at Kit’s eyes, but his silver grey irises were focused on their locked palms. Kit was certain Ty could feel his pulse through his wrist.

He swallowed, feeling heat coming from where his skin touched Ty’s. Sparks only they could feel. Kit moved their hands down to settle on the blanket he had dragged out in a “romantic” attempt at a first date.

“Tell me about your dad.” Ty said. His eyes were serious. Kit rolled his head back, staring at the clouds.

“What do you want to know? He was a pretty mysterious dude- and all that.” Kit said, attempting to ignore the pang in his stomach that came with any mention of his dad, along with the memory of the ripping sound he had made when torn apart.

Ty let out a disappointed breath. Kit was filled with the urge to tell him anything about the father that Kit knew he hadn’t really known at all.

“He used to tell me to make lists about the people that I met,” Kit murmured. “To take note of their mannerisms and shit like that.” Ty had turned his head to peer curiously at him.

“You have a list for me?” He asked. Kit’s breath caught. He nodded. Far overhead a seagull cried.

Ty looked at him expectantly. The late afternoon light made his eyes almost glow.

“You don’t like big crowds because it’s a lot of information all at once, you find facts comforting because they’re consistent, you don’t like people touching you unexpectedly but you like pressure because it grounds you.” Kit babbled all at once. A part of him wondered if it was creepy to know those things about a person, another part of him wanted to present Ty with details.

“You’re good at reading people’s body language but not voice inflections, you sometimes worry that a social cue is supposed to be obvious so you prefer teaching yourself, you like hunting for clues in books when we’re trying to figure out what demon attacked someone, and you don’t watch too many movies because you like books better,” he finished.

Ty gave him a lopsided smile, his hands had started playing with Kit’s fingers. And you’re still learning how to perfect kissing because you never kissed anyone before me. Kit thought, thinking back to the library and the smell of ink that Ty seemed to carry around with him.

As if picking up on Kit’s thought process, Ty leaned forward and kissed him.

Ty tasted like ocean water. The wind blew his hair into Kit’s face and Kit’s free hand tangled in the dark curls. The kiss was gentle. It seemed like a promise. I’ll never abandon you Ty Blackthorn.

At some point during the kiss they had fallen onto the blanket. Ty’s weight was pressing him into the soft ground. Kit’s heart expanded with a feeling that made him want to drag Ty around the world with no restrictions. A feeling that made him want to kill whoever hurt Ty.

He pulled away. Those feelings were something of a shock. He’d never felt anything like it before. It scared him, this deep longing for something that he really shouldn’t burden Ty with.

Ty was looking down at him with something like puzzlement. He let Kit stand up, brushing off his own jeans and folding their blanket. Kit could see that Ty’s cheeks were pink. The observation filled him with a sense of accomplishment.

He held out his hand to Ty, who was carrying their blanket as they climbed the road to The Institute. Ty’s fingers laced through his and, as their grip tightened, Kit imagined sparks.