Back again. :) Inspired by the song "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" by Lady Antebellum. Onward—KG64


I look over at the figure lying next to me. He's sleeping, and he'll be sleeping for a considerable amount of time longer. It's just after five in the morning, and I can't fall back to sleep. With his pale blonde hair, his effeminate features, his pale skin, and the currently-hidden, pale grey eyes, he's almost ethereal. Something not of this plane of existence. I don't know what I ever did to deserve him. But here we are.

I just watch him, watch the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional flutter of his eyelids or twitch of his fingers. He's beautiful. Something from a dream.

It's six thirty when I finally crawl out of bed and go to the kitchen to make breakfast. Cereal. And then I go back to the master bedroom, where I watch him some more. He's switched positions, so that he's no longer lying on his back, but on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow at an awkward angle. He's so cute. I have to suppress a giggle.

He's still so much the kid I met three years ago. I was shopping for a Christmas present for my then-boyfriend. He was standing awkwardly with a girl his age, but I could tell. He didn't like her as anything more than a friend, no matter how much she liked him, no matter how pretty she was. As I walked past, I smiled at him. He blushed a beautiful shade of red. I heard him tell the girl, "I have to go. I've just seen the friend I came here to meet."

"Okay, see you later."

And suddenly he was walking next to me. "Not on a date?" I asked him.

"No. God forbid. She keeps trying and keeps trying and keeps trying. She just doesn't understand that I'm not…"

"Into girls?"

"I was going to say interested, but yeah," he agreed, blushing at my bluntness. I was already beginning to wonder what it would be like to kiss him—not exactly a good plan, since he was maybe fifteen and I was twenty. But he had the girlish figure, these crazy long eyelashes, and this adorable little giggle. Not to mention the blush.

"My name's Eli," I said.

"Hunter," he answered. "Why are you here?"

"Shopping for my boyfriend."

His face fell, and I wanted to kiss him even more. Make that unhappiness go away. But a twenty year old kissing a fifteen year old in the middle of a crowded mall? Not the best idea. Especially when the twenty year old is in a, er, happy relationship. So I didn't.

But I did give him my number. "Call me if you need anything."

And he did call me. He called me, asking me for a place to stay when his dad freaked out about him being gay. He insisted that it wasn't a permanent thing, that his dad just needed time to cool off. Not that it mattered to me.

It mattered to Ted. He flipped and broke up with me on the spot when he found out a fifteen year old gay kid was moving in with me. It was almost a relief, honestly. I wasn't in love with Ted like I had been, but he was such a habit that I didn't know how to end it.

But then Hunter was there. Every day. And it was only about three weeks of having him there before it was too much and I kissed him. I immediately pulled away. "I'm sorry. That was inappropriate."

"But it was good," he assured me, blushing furiously, but refusing to look away.

I shook my head. "You're fifteen, Hunter. I'm twenty. You're not legal."

"I'm almost sixteen," he answered. "That's the age of consent."

I had been forced to point out that just because he was sixteen did not change the fact that I was over eighteen. But he was stubborn. It was so cute, watching him. He tried to seduce me so many times. I somehow made it more than a year before I gave in—probably because he'd pass a certain point of undressing and he'd become a stuttering mass of nerves and I'd realize what I was doing.

But he was eventually successfully, shortly after his seventeenth birthday and shortly before my twenty second. I should have known from the beginning that Hunter was trouble. But by then I was in love with him, and I hardly cared. We kept our relationship quiet. We were just roommates, nothing more. And then, on his eighteenth birthday, we slowly began being more open. Until we came to where we are now.

Which means people look at us oddly because we're gay, but there's nothing anyone can legally do about it. I sigh and leave the room to put my cereal bowl in the dishwasher. When I come back, Hunter blinks blearily at me. "Why're you up, Eli? It's only seven thirty. Come back to bed."

I laugh. "You sleep too much."

"You keep me up too late," he accuses.

"Hey now," I object, falling in bed beside him. I take his face in one hand and kiss him gently. "Who seduced whom last night, eh?"

"Shut up," he says, turning his back on me.

So I reach out and start tickling him. He shrieks. "Eli! Don't! That's not fair! Stop!" I silence his laughing—or screaming—by pressing my lips to his again, this time a bit more passionately. He melts against me.

The kiss is slow and lazy, none of the fervor from last night. I swear, that kid is a wolf in sheep's clothing. He looks like an angel, but he can seduce me like nobody's business. And he does, too. He doesn't stutter anymore, either, which means by the time I've realized what he's doing, we're both naked and I'm on top of him.

He pulls away and whispers, "Don't leave me, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," I assure him. "You're far too beautiful."

He blushes, as I knew he would. He hates it when I compliment his looks. Although I'm sure that one of these days I'm going to break him. He's so delicate. Physically, at the very least. Once he got comfortable around me I learned that he has got a sharp tongue. And wits that are hard to match.

I sigh and stand. "I have to shower. I have work, unlike some people we know."

"Hey," he objects. "It's not my fault I have school."

"Speaking of…"

"Cancelled."

I shake my head and go into the bathroom, undress, start the shower, and get in. It's only a minute or two before Hunter joins me. In the steam caused by the almost scalding water, he looks even more otherworldly. "Beautiful," I repeat. The blush returns.

"You're one to talk," he retorts. But he's wrong, and he knows it. I can pull of handsome, cute, on occasion sexy or hot. But I can't pull off beautiful with the easy grace he does. And he knows I know that. Which just makes him blush more. I lean in and kiss a flaming cheek.

"Beautiful," I whisper one last time before getting out and drying and getting dressed for work. I am only able to leave because I know I'll get to see him when I get home.


Okay, so that totally didn't go where I thought it would. Whatever. Let's be honest. It really didn't go anywhere. Whatever. It's kind of cute. I kind of like Hunter and Eli. I might come back to them if I ever need a long story (like, after Rule 11 and/or The Matt Story are done). Oh well. Thanks for reading.

Kiyoshi'sGirl64 and Kiyoshi