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Derapchu shakes white, fluffy pieces of snow as he pushes the door to school open. He doesn’t really enjoy the winter and finds t-shirts and popsicles much more pleasurable, but it’s not that bothersome when he gets to see this.
Wifies is standing in the halls with his coat still on, snuggled in a fleece-lined jacket that’s way too big for him. There are white patterns on the sides and the hood droops over his rosy face. He looks like a freezing puppy left out in the cold, and for that, Derapchu laughs.
“It’s not funny. Dude, I hate winter. It’s too cold.” He bitterly grumbles, taking his coat off and shoving it inside his locker. It’s filled with books and color-coded folders, notes that make Derapchu’s head spin when he thinks about it.
Wifies’ face is too pale. It makes the stinging red pop up through his skin too clearly. “That’s too bad, you look great in wintery colors.”
“Thanks, though, I prefer autumn. It's perfect weather, it’s not too cold or hot. Plus, it isn’t all muddy like spring.” Derapchu imagines Wifies in that sweater he’s so fond of, standing in a park surrounded by orange and gold leaves. He thinks his monotone palette would pop out against the crimson.
“You’d look epic in that. Since fall’s like, eight months away, do you think I could bribe Squiddo to draw it with butter chicken?”
Wifies waves him off. “Nah. I’d much rather you use your bribes on something like homework answers, since you’re nearly failing every test.” He chuckles while the other pouts. “I need to get to class. See ya.”
Derapchu blows a joking kiss to him as a goodbye, and double checks his calendar for his first class. Unfortunately, his first period today is gym. Of course, after having a good moment in his life, the universe immediately has to balance out the day.
The path to the gym is slow, his steps dragging. Derapchu, very obviously, doesn't like waking up early, and he hates waking up early just to be screamed at by a balding man to run faster even less.
But of course, he does, because when has life not been cruel towards him? At least Parrot is there, even if he’s only laughing at his suffering. Apparently birds are naturally fast, so the only thing Derapchu has on him is that his bulk makes it easier to lift things, which isn’t even that helpful. All it means is that he has to help out his parents with the groceries.
“Bro, the student council elections are actually pissing me off so bad. They start in March, but I already have to plan out my speech and everything so I don’t end up getting left behind.” He complains, moving the hair from his face.
He scoffs. “You don't have to be the president, y’know. Just because you’re not overseeing every meeting doesn’t mean you aren’t one of the smartest people around.” The teacher’s making rounds, numbering them and directing them around the gym to different teams. Luckily, he gets stuck with Parrot.
“If I don’t run, then who’s going to make sure that Lettuce doesn’t micromanage the entire school? He’s a freak, I swear. Dude, he literally tried to propose a time limit on how long you can stay in the bathrooms!” his hands wave around animatedly.
The teacher starts the game, and instead of racing towards the dodgeballs like everyone else, Derapchu stays back and observes the game lazily. “A time limit on pissing is crazy. How have the teachers not tried to stop him?”
“None of them care! They think he’s some sort of golden boy, just because he has all these fancy posters and tattles on Wemmbu when he’s caught playing Clash Royale on school wifi.” Parrot sidesteps to avoid a rolling orange ball. They’ve never been terribly interested in watching the more athletic members of their class whip balls in each other's faces.
“I need a break. Like, I’m probably going to pass out if I have to cite another wiki’ article.” The other boy groans, before Derapchu slaps him on the back.
“Well, suck it up. The only holiday anytime soon is Valentine's Day, and we don’t get a day off for that.” He watches a girl attempting to hang back be sniped by the opposing team, and knows that his time is coming soon. Best to simply accept his fate.
“Right, the day of love. Are you going to be confessing to anyone anytime soon?” It seems like a genuine question, but Derapchu’s known Parrot long enough that the inquisitive tone in his voice is too high to be normal.
“No, obviously not. I don’t like anyone?”
Parrot seems disappointed. Derapchu doesn’t know why, since for every year more he’s single, that’s another year’s worth of teasing. “Really? What about Wifies?"
“What about him? I’m not in love with Wifies, dude.” He’s confused on how Parrot came to the conclusion that he liked him, especially when, despite coming a long way from fighting over him at the start of their friendship, they still bicker quite a lot.
“Really? Sorry, it just really looked like you had crushes on each other. You two would be a cute couple. Like, he’s all non-chalant and stuff and you’re super loud and everywhere, but you two still match each other’s freak.” He comments casually.
Derapchu is left gawking because for some insane reason, the birdbrain is right about the last part. Wifies does compliment his personality extremely well, despite his calm demeanor. He’s still frozen when a ball whips hits him on the side of his arm, and he half-mindedly shuffles to sit at the benches.
It clouds his mind, the pure notion of a guy like Wifies being in love with him.
-*-
He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about brown hair and violet-toned eyes again. Contrary to popular belief, Wifies’ eyes are purple and not black. They’re very dark, yes, but still contain flecks of amethyst that shine the brightest when the sun’s out.
Derapchu’s work is only half done and he knows he’ll have to rush it when he gets home, but it doesn’t bother him that much. No, what’s worse is that he keeps thinking about Wifies. It seems that after Parrot pointed out such a thing, he’s come to actually start thinking about dating him.
He knows objectively that Wifies is attractive. It’s kind of hard not to understand when he’s receiving confessions left and right, being dragged out of breaks with their friends more times than Derapchu has fingers.
The purple strip of fabric that sits above his eyebrows, the elegant way he stands and poses and exists, it all has infuriatingly invaded his mind over the past few days since Parrot said that. He’s on the school council and has millions reading the stories he publishes online, he’s the person everyone wishes they could get in group projects, and he’s still not completely insufferable on top of it.
The bell rings, and students crowd the door. It’s lunch, and the convenience store near the school is going to be filled with people if they don’t get there fast.
Everything’s so stupid. Derapchu packs away the paper and slinks out of the room. He needs a break from his traitorous head. If he misses meeting his friends at the stairs though, they’ll panic.
“Derap’!” Pangi greets. “Did you hear? Wemmbu and Flame got into another fight.”
“No, but it’s not some new thing.” He drops down into the corridor outside the science classrooms, since the lunch tables are always crowded. The chance of fire is too great for anyone annoying to intrude as well. “They’ve been duking it out behind the school for months.” While the two are definitely friends, they still fight against other pairings and each other. It’s common knowledge of the betting rings on them.
“Yeah, but the teachers finally caught them.” Jumper comments, taking a bite of salad. Derapchu straightens up at this. “They have after-school detention until probably March.”
“Bro, that sucks. Oh, Parrot is going to be so pissed.” He snickers to himself. The filming for their little movie series is going to get delayed like hell.
A voice pops up from behind his shoulder and startles him. “What did you do?” Next to the avian, Wifies drops down and sits cross-legged. For some reason a warm feeling floods his body, and he squashes it down because Wifies is his friend, damn it.
“Wemmbu and Flame got in detention for like, two months.” Pangi informs him, and his hand goes up to fly to his forehead. Parrot starts ranting about how egotistical Wemmbu is and how hard it is to write the script with him constantly trying to add more explosions.
“We don’t have that in the budget! He pays for most of it, but he’s still a high school student! We’re not spending over a hundred dollars on firecrackers!” Finally, he pauses to breathe, while Jumper pats the wings that jut out from his back pitifully.
“Dude, like, stop crashing out. How about you be more nonchalant like Wifies?” Derapchu says, taking a bite of his sandwich. “You’re both smart, you both make good stories, it’s just that he has a better personality and is pretty.”
It leaves his mouth thoughtlessly like most of his comments, and Jumper eyes him down. Wifies keeps his head down and murmurs, “It’s good to know you think I’m pretty.” Derapchu’s forced to pretend he doesn’t hear that.
Parrot seems more shocked about the first part, luckily. If he notices how his hands have started sweating, then he doesn’t mention it. “There’s no way you’re talking to me about being nonchalant. Bro, do you realize how hypocritical you’re being?”
In typical Pangi fashion, he’s recording the entire thing. Of course, he has to catch every single one of Derapchu’s fuck ups on his phone to send to the entire school, except this time it bugs him a little more. Maybe because of how he wants to grab moisturized hands.
-*-
It’s two in the middle of the night, and he’s uncomfortably hot. He’s always ran warmer than most people, but it’s awful when his mom turns up the heater in the middle of winter. After spending too long staring at blank walls, he sits up and grabs his computer.
Of everyone in his contact list, he phones Pangi first. It’s a pathetic attempt to ignore the fact that his eyes draw a little lower down the list, but he doesn’t pick up. Therefore, Derapchu’s left guessing who’ll pick up and listen to him ramble about games.
Parrot obviously won’t pick up, and neither will Ash. Derapchu really doesn’t want to see Squiddo’s neon middle school boy looking-ass pajamas over call if she even responds, and Jumper is busy with her homework. The next person on the list is Wifies, so he phones him.
He picks up.
“Hmm? What’s going on?” He queries. He doesn’t sound asleep at all, but his voice is still rough with underuse. “You don’t call me this late.”
“Have you been awake the entire night? I only called because I couldn’t sleep.” Neither of their cameras are on, but he knows that Wifies can hear the incredulousness in his tone.
“I have insomnia. I can’t turn my brain off, so I end up not falling asleep unless I haven’t slept in a while or I have a headache or something. I’ve been drawing for the past few hours though, do you want to see?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be gaming too, though.” He boots up one of the horror games in his files, and Wifies sets his camera up to show the pencil sketches on note paper.
They’re messy, but he can tell they're well made. Descriptions are neatly printed next to the different frames of the body, and smudges of eraser swarm the page. “This is a character I want to try for my new series. Y’know how I’ve never made a series yet?”
“Yeah?” His character moves through the map, looking for stations to decode. “Avery? You should make him super good at fighting. Like, he can swing a sword really well.”
“It would make sense, since Derek, the other protagonist, has high intelligence.” Wifies continues to ramble about his characters and Derapchu absorbs the information like a sponge, because of course he does. He’s just being a good friend, okay?
The hunter turns a corner behind him while he’s decoding a cipher, and he yelps. “What the-! Shit, shit!” His voice is still quite low, but it’s become more panicked. He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed the purple icon notifying him of their arrival.
“Hmm? Is that from your game? It’s the one with that one character based on the King in Yellow, right?” He guesses correctly, though, the character chasing Derapchu around the winding map is not the same.
“It is. I really hate playing against this character, though. How am I supposed to dodge her when she has a harpoon for fuck’s sake? I’m not even playing a kiter, I’m a decoder! Bruh, where are my teammates?”
“That sucks. They’re just abandoning you like that?” Wifies tuts. “I would help you out. It makes most sense for the more athletic characters to be chased, right?”
“Obviously.” He takes too much damage and ends up passed out and carried off by the hunter to the execution spot. It seems that by twisting around and juking them out, he’s forgotten about the area of effect damage they have. How careless.
Wifies’ hands trace the shape of a face out of ink. “Is there a character good for working with yours? Or some sort of duo we could learn to play?”
He’s tied up to the chair, and it seems that Derapchu’s teammates are either decoding slowly or being chased and chaired as well. They’re not winning this round, it seems. At least it isn’t ranked.
“There’s lore surrounding every character, but there is a duo. It’s a couple, I think they’re like, a doctor and her patient who she’s experimenting on? I’m pretty sure they escaped an asylum too. Jumper probably knows more about the lore, she likes that kind of stuff.”
“I think I would fit the role of the doctor. Doesn’t seem that random for me to torture people," he points out as if it doesn’t make Derapchu’s skin crawl at the thought of his friend doing human experimentation, “so would you be my test subject, and mine only?”
He can’t tell if this is Wifies’ incredibly fucked up way of flirting, but for some reason, his voice gets loud and squeaky and he wants to shrink in on himself. Alright, he needs a check-up on his mental health. Getting flustered over a guy asking to do experimental brain surgery on him is messed up, even if he’s handsome and his friend and it’s not actually going to happen(hopefully).
“Oh, umm. Yeah, I would. I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t like spending time with you, y’know?” Derapchu sputters out nervously, but Wifies doesn’t comment on his sudden change of volume. In fact, he seems to get even comfier.
“That’s nice to hear. If you can’t sleep again, let me know, since I’ll always pick up.” After a few moments of silence, he simply goes back to rambling about his characters as if he didn’t just give Derapchu new heart problems.
He just said he’ll always wait for me. “Thanks. I might just start sleeping later just so I can talk to you.” When he brings his hand to his face, the skin is warmer than usual. It’s just the heater working overtime.
-*-
“Hell no. There is no way I am ever going to wear that. I would honestly rather eat worms or something.” He scoots as far back from the monstrosity as possible.
Why did he even agree to come today? They’re at Wemmbu’s house because it’s massive and probably costs more than his body would sell for on the black market, and they’re hanging in the living room with two TVs.
And for some unfathomable reason, Zam is shoving a dress in his face.
“Come on! It’s really pretty and the fabric is the good kind!” She giggles. “At least take the cat ears!” They’re pink and fluffy, and while he has nothing against them, it’s the bunched up white skirt he has a problem with.
Parrot’s tapping a microphone, Spepticle’s doing his scarily accurate Labubu song impression, and Yungy’s jumpscaring Squiddo with his spider hat. No one is coming to his rescue.
“I’ll wear it. Derapchu gets the ears, though.” Except for Wifies, apparently. Zam nods and hands him the bundle of tule, and he gets rushed off into one of the bathrooms. When he comes back out, Zam claps their hands for everyone’s attention.
“Drumroll please! Presenting, Princess Wifies!” They move away from the doorway, and there is the purple-eyed boy in a dress. It’s Alice in Wonderland themed, and the layers of sky blue over white are pretty. With the thin shoulder strap, Derapchu can see the moles that dot his shoulder.
The first to react is Pangi, who starts snapping photos while Pili asks him to send them so he can draw Wifies. Squiddo and Bacon compliment him on it, Wemmbu and Spoke laugh cockily, and Jumper chuckles normally. Clowpierce and Flamefrags are then being ushered into Wemmbu’s closet by Zam and now Ash, who’s found the appeal in making the buffest members of their friends dress cutely.
“Do I look like a pretty princess?” He jokingly asks Derapchu while sliding into the seat next to him. “You still have to wear these, by the way.” His hands raise above the other’s head, and now he has animal ears on. It could be worse.
“Eh. I wear this constantly,” he tugs at his blue pikachu hoodie like how Wifies tugs at his heartstrings, “so it’s not much different. I get called a furry either way. Thanks for wearing it for me, by the way.”
The last part comes out more hushed, as if it’s a sentence just for them. It probably is, despite how it’s just a few words of gratitude.
He grins. “Anytime. Though, you do look cuter with the pikachu hoodie than you ever would in this, I got to say.” It’s so nonchalant and random that he doesn’t even know whether he actually means any of it. He can never tell with most people, let alone the stone wall that is Wifies.
Before Derapchu can respond, music starts playing. Parrot is belting out heart-breaking Laufey lyrics with such emotion that Spoke tears up and starts bawling to Squiddo about doomed lesbians or something.
Wifies is humming along politely, the corset hugging his figure. Derapchu’s never been a huge fan of feminine clothing, but the color fits nicely on him. It goes well with his pale complexion, and helps let the color in his face—Why are his ears and cheeks so red? He must be embarrassed over the low cut, though, he hasn’t said anything about hating the outfit—pop out.
Faintly, he wonders if Wifies would look good in his blue hoodie. As soon as the thought gets a little too clear, he forces himself to tune back into the live show Parrot is so wonderfully rocking. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Clownpierce and Flamefrags back, this time bearing red and pink ballgowns.
The music ends with loud bursts of compliments and applause, and once silence is no longer a requirement, Flamefrags goes up to Wemmbu and demands an answer for why he owns so many dresses.
“Bro, I like being fashionable! Plus, the more fancy outfits I own, the more I can catfish discord mods for money.” He rolls his eyes. “Have you seriously never noticed how I’m always in cool outfits? I wear a tiara around, for fuck’s sake!”
“Okay, shut up. I’m busy!” The two devolve into bickering and mockery, but Pili and Pangi drag them away from each other before they end up causing property damage.
Ash and Squiddo have now taken the metaphorical stage, basically yelling the lyrics to Call Me Maybe while everyone else either snacks or joins in, and Derapchu is no exception. It’s a lot louder than Parrot’s quiet audience, instead, it’s very lively.
He still tries not to think about how close his hands are to the boy next to him, or how he can hear the low pitch of his singing, or his tiny titters, or the pretty moles that he wants to touch.
Derapchu lasts several songs with his forced obliviousness as well! He makes it through the insufferable couple’s—could that be me and Wifies—song, he makes it through Wemmbu screeching idol songs while dancing, and he even makes it through Spoke and Pentar screaming Mother Mother.
Yet, when Parrot and Flame are forced onto the stage together singing a cover of a Laufey song—that Flame claims only to know because his friend Lomedy listens to the band, he cracks.
Wifies is laughing. It’s not composed and polite, it’s soft and adorable and makes the checkered cloth that hugs his stomach ruffle and crease. The joy on his face is beautiful.
Derapchu really wants to kiss him, and with that thought, he can’t deny it anymore. He’s in love with Wifies.
That when I talk to you, oh, Cupid walks right through
And shoots an arrow through my heart
And I sound like a loon, but don't you feel it too?
Confess I loved you from the start
God-fucking dammit, Parrot was right. It’s so annoying that he has to be right about everything.
-*-
It took two weeks after his best friend pointed out he was in love with Wifies for him to realise it. The thought makes him angry because all it does is prove that he really is just a chungus. Parrot realised it before him, and he’s not even the one with the stupid feelings!
Derapchu does not know what to do. How does someone even go about approaching a guy like Wifies and asking them out? He’s got everything, and Derapchu has about as many redeeming qualities as a lobotomised sunfish.
He’s funny. He’s semi-good at video games. That’s really about it, and he’s not even that funny. He doesn’t possess good grades, he’s not conventionally attractive and is chubby, and he’s awful when it comes to sports.
Wifies is a deity compared to him. He’s funny intentionally, he’s got the best grades in the entire school, and he’s passionate about the things he likes. He’s popular, he’s pretty, and he’s charismatic.
Out of options, he calls Parrot. “Bro, I think you were right.”
“About what? What did I say?” He responded. “Bro, I have like, five minutes to call, I’m busy with running the Valentine’s Day events.”
“I like Wifies. As in, like him. What the hell do I do?” He groans into his shitty laptop microphone. Parrot is completely quiet on the other end, too shocked to speak, before he sighs. The nerve of this man to sigh, when Derapchu is the one suffering.
“Bro, just confess. It’s easy. Or just keep flirting until he does.” He answers, as if it’s that simple.
“Why would he accept a confession from me? Actually give me some advice other than “be yourself”, or any other bullshit like that.”
“Have you seen the way he looks at you? I swear, he actually becomes expressive around you. Like, I’ve never seen that before. Just confess. Worst case scenario, he’d just apologise and let you down gently.”
Derapchu groans, hitting his head against his desk. “I know, it’s just… I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” The thought strums uncomfortably in his head.
“I get it, but I don’t think that’ll happen.” Parrot sounds sympathetic, if sympathy is also incredibly stressed out. “Dude, just talk to him. Look I need to go, so how about you lock in and I can get back to my work?”
“What? No, I’m not calling him? Parrot, wai-” he gets cut off by the end of the line, and then, the guy who’s causing his latest crisis is calling. Fuck, this is worse than the time he got hit by a bike.
Still, he can’t leave him ringing with no reply, so Derapchu sucks up his feelings and tries to sound like his affection isn’t spilling from his hands. “Um. Hey, Wifies.”
“Derapchu? Parrot texted and said you needed me.” He sounds anxious. Probably “needing someone” could mean needing to rant to someone, or him actually being in a hospital bed.
“That’s just Parrot being a dipshit again as usual. You really didn’t need to check up on me, I’m fine.”
He lets out a breath, quiet and slow. “Okay, good.” A pause of hesitation or thought, he really can’t tell with this man. “Do you want to play something and we can talk again? Like that one night, a week ago.”
“Yeah. That was”—intimate—“nice. Are you going to show me your characters again? Derek and Avery?” He clicks on the icon with damp fingers.
“Nah. I want to hear more about you. Could you screenshare?” After a few minutes of setting everything up, he’s now streaming games to Wifies while the other works on “a surprise”.
“Why can’t I know? Please bro, I swear I won’t tell anyone.” Derapchu sifts through the list of characters, trying to find one that works well in the carnival setting.
“Sorry, but it’s really important that nothing gets spoiled. No one knows, not even Parrot. That character, the one with the cool toolbelt.”
“This one?”
“No, the one next to it, on the left. It looks cool.”
Derapchu hates playing that character. He’s always been better at passively staying in the background than running around with a madman—or woman! He’s not misogynistic—chasing his tail. Besides, he can never get the timing of their shock ability quite right.
Still, he clicks anyway. Half a week into realising he’s in love with his friend and he’s already this sappy. How awful.
-*-
The sky is blank white with a tinge of gray. He’s pretty sure he sees a piece of sticky tack stuck to it over his classmate’s head.
You probably won’t wonder, how the absolute fuck is sticky tack stuck to the sky of all places? It’s just air and water, there’s nothing solid in there.
Well dear reader, that’s because poor Derapchu is hallucinating. The sky is really just his classroom ceiling, and it’s an awfully long science lab where his only job is to yell out to Jojo every thirty seconds so she can record the temperature of their experiment. MrCube is too paranoid over the possibility of Derapchu dropping a flask—it was one time, holy shit—that he forces him to hover over the counter a meter away.
“Time!” He yelps out half-heartedly again, before his mind slips back to thinking about games and late-night calls. The flower petals stuck in his throat squeeze his heart painfully.
He wonders faintly if he could play off asking Wifies out on a date as simply hanging out. He doesn’t know his exact drink order, but he knows that he adds oat milk. Derapchu also knows it’s not very sweet.
“We’re done!” Jojo taps him on the shoulder, jolting him out of his crush-induced haze. “Bro, ‘Cube actually carried. If we didn’t have him, we’d be cooked.”
“I know. He’s genuinely like, so smart.” Derapchu admits, but he’s not really paying attention. He’s too busy pondering what Wifies drink order is. Sure, they won’t go out anytime soon or really ever, but he can daydream.
“Derapchu? You haven’t been listening.” She points out when he snaps back out of his head, and he rubs the back of his head awkwardly and chuckles. Though, she isn’t very swayed.
“Alright, don’t tell me what’s going on. Though, you seem a little down. Talk to me if you need to, okay?” She splits to the right hallway and waves for Pili’s attention. Derapchu takes a few lefts towards the stairs.
There, Reddoons is doing a dramatic retelling of his overnight baseball team trip to Ashswag, who nods every time he hears about the other scamming people out of their money for contraband candy. And there, sitting next to Parrot with half-lidded eyes, is Wifies.
Derapchu takes a seat at his other side and taps him. His finger presses against the soft, cold skin of the back of his hand. “Dude, you alive?”
“Hmm?” He grunts, very clearly tired. From closer, Derapchu can see the piece of folded paper in his hands. That’s weird, he thinks, because Wifies doesn’t fold his notes.
“If you need to sleep, do it.” He scoots a little closer to offer his shoulder. “What’s that?”
“I’m gonna nap, okay? It’s just tradition to read this out. It’s stupid, but the drawings are kind of cool.” He places the letter in his lap and curls up with his head on his knees. Derapchu unfolds it and takes a look, before his stomach clenches.
It’s another love letter. There are drawings of roses scribbled in the margins, and happy faces dot the “i”s. It smells of sweet, cloying flowery perfume. The text is printed out neatly in purple pen on blue lines, and every sentence is something romantic and poetic in a way that he could never think of.
Because Derapchu isn’t that elevated shade of brimming crimson and angel pink and composed cuteness. He’s the same shade as the sunrise melting into the shades of blue orchids, loud and everywhere and dancing with the violet stars.
“Hey, pass it over,” Pangi rips it away from him, thank fuck, “I want to see. Dude, it’s at least well made, I can’t lie.” He starts reading it out for everyone to hear, and it unsettles Derapchu in the same way that it always does.
It’s not jealousy as he once thought it was. It makes sense for him to be jealous, right? The way Derapchu’s stomach feels sick and his brow curls is not the same as the heartripping fire that makes him want to shrink whenever his classmates talk about getting an A+.
A weight lands on his shoulder, he looks over, and it seems that Wifies has stopped trying to fight off slumber. His eyes are shut and his hair smushes against blue cloth. Parrot’s eyebrow raises, but his lips just curl and he turns away to take another bite of banana bread.
Perhaps, everyone else has glitter ink and smooth sketches of flowers, but he has this moment. Maybe, the heat radiating off Wifies’ cheek is enough proof that he doesn’t need to be the best.
-*-
“Hey. Let me see that.” Derapchu raises his finger, which has a thin slice of red blooming around the left. “Why didn’t you bandage this up?”
“I had other stuff to do.” Wifies lies back on Derapchu’s bed, because his own parents are annoying and too hung up over the fact Wifies doesn’t want to be a doctor like they want.
“Ugh, don’t you know what an infection is?” He stands up from the mattress and grabs a pack of bandaids from the bathroom. He takes his hands into his own, gently, and rips open a pack of Cinnamonroll ones because they’re Wifies’ second favorite after Tuxedo Sam and he does not have those.
His hands are cold. They are, quite often, but they typically aren’t as dry—which he sadly only knows because they swing around Derapchu’s shoulders when he gives him a piggyback. On the other, Wifies is attempting to hide a second cut by his ring finger.
A cute pastel wrap goes around the first. Then the second. His skin is too pale and too close, and every individual shade of pink is visible to Derapchu. “Why are you hiding them? You need to take care of your hands more.”
“It’s a surprise. They’re just paper cuts, but It’s taken me a long time to finish it. I haven’t really been taking care of my hands recently because I’ve had no time, I guess.” Wifies’ tells, though, it just makes Derapchu more curious over what could be so important.
“Dude, please. I just need to know. Please? I promise I’ll like, never bother you ever again. I won’t tell anyone, I’ll be like a vault.” He begs, pouting and trying to get his way.
“You’ll find out in a couple days, okay? I promise.” Wifies smiles and reaches up with his hands to squeeze his cheeks, which are burning compared to the cold tips of fingers. The bandaids scratch against his chin. “You really are cute, aren’t you?”
His voice comes out muffled. “Hey!” His eyebrows furl, but he’s grinning hard enough to make his face hurt.
-*-
The hallways are decorated in hearts and teddy bears, the bathrooms are all hazards for unnamed fluids, and Derapchu runs past a group of people posing in matching pink and red outfits. It’s Valentine’s Day.
Nothing really happens around the start of the day, but that’s mostly because he’s running late. He rushes into his classroom seconds before the teacher finishes taking attendance, and the rest of the day is filled with the fumbling of papers and losing his good pen, the one with smooth threads of ink.
He only really notices the grandeur—if it can really be called that—of the special occasion when lunch rolls around, and Ash and Squiddo are missing. Pangi’s lamenting over the fact they’re happily in love and he isn’t, and Spepticle is comforting him over it by feeding him sweets.
“Bro, I’m pretty sure I haven’t even seen Rek’ today. He’s too busy being thirsted over,” Woogie mentions, opening a lollipop. “What kind of highschooler has abs? Abs! He’s even nice, so I can’t hate him.”
4CVIT shudders. “You don’t understand what I went through last year. I was basically just third wheeling Glitch Duo since me and Squiddo were hanging out and Ash pulled up. I had to watch them share a parfait.”
Derapchu is just watching the people around him confess and run around and be happy. He finds himself left quiet, unable to make a joke. The only one he wishes to share these feelings is missing, too caught in the web of everyone else's red threads.
It’s not anything downright awful, but it’s kind of lonely. He doesn’t like this.
People continue talking at the stairs and don’t notice that he isn’t speaking nearly as much as he usually does. The red hearts a passerby kid accidentally drops beside him are reminders of the feelings he is too afraid to express.
“Derapchu!” He hears his name, in that typically monotone but now excited tone, and turns. His hair brushes against the corner of his mouth, and the sewed on yellow ears flop around with motion.
And there is Wifies, rushing towards him.
His hair is messy and the strip of purple ribbon that sits below brown strands. His hoodie has a sticker stuck to it of a bow and arrow, and he looks awfully disheveled. He stands in front of Derapchu, and offers a hand. “I was looking for you. I’m sorry I’m late, I kept getting stopped by everyone.”
“It’s okay.” He was coming for me. It makes his hands reach out instinctively, just a little. “You wanted me?”
“Yeah. Come with me. It’ll be quick.” He helps pull him up from the floor with cold fingertips and as they’re walking around the corner, Pangi starts whining about how everyone has to flirt in front of him again. Derapchu ignores him, because his mind is rushing too much.
“Derap’,” Wifies starts without meeting his eyes, “could you meet me in the park after school, the one two blocks away from Spawn Street with the playground? I won’t be able to walk you there, but I’ll come. I need to grab something from home, I’ll be quick.”
“Yeah, of course.” He agrees. A beat passes before a thought bubbles up and through his mouth like soda pop. “I’d always wait for you.”
“Oh. Thank you.” They’re left in an unsaid stillness for a few seconds, before Wifies checks his watch. “I need to leave, I’m helping Kenadian and Wato with some of the coding club’s workload. Bye, Derap’.”
After he leaves, Derapchu slowly turns back towards their friends and shuffles. It’s left his cheek heated unlike the leftovers in his lunchbox.
“So, how romantic was it?” Spepticle asks. Bacon has replaced him in caring for Pangi, telling him to suck it up but still giving him pieces of candy.
“Romantic was what?” He goes back to eating, though, the cerulean hood droops lower over hair trying to hide his smile.
Spepticle looks confused. “His confession!” His hands wave around wildly, one of which brushes against Pangi’s spiky brick-colored hair and messes up some of the hair gel in it. The other doesn’t notice.
“He didn’t confess shit. He just asked to meet up after school, that's all.” Derapchu rolls his eyes. Spepticle looks to be lost in thought, his face scrunching up in a childish way. When he tells Parrot in their shared gym class later, he laughs and calls him an idiot, but doesn’t elaborate.
-*-
It’s cold while he waits. The park is empty since every couple in the area is out at fancy restaurants and bowling, and every child is at home playing dolls with a nanny. His hands are bundled inside his pockets while he rocks gently on the swing.
It’s been twenty minutes. Wifies sure is taking his goddamn time, because unlike Derapchu who has to catch the bus for thirty minutes every day, he lives barely a street away from the school.
A visible puff of warm air escapes from his lips, and Derapchu really has to think about what Wifies is going to show him. He doesn’t have rocks in his head instead of flesh, he obviously knows that this is the surprise Wifies has been working on for two weeks.
It’s just that he doesn’t know what it is.
The snow doesn’t fall from the sky, but it does bury the ground in a thick layer of blinding ivory that crunches beneath his feet every time he steps. It’s very soundless except for the occasional creak of metal chains.
He hears someone approaching from behind. As subdued and slow their steps are, nothing can stop the sound of compression and wet boots. He turns, again. Wifies is there with something behind his back. Derapchu spies a peek of blue, but nothing more.
“I didn’t expect you to notice me.” He won’t stop looking ahead, right into brown eyes the same shade as the soil by the feet of summer trees and the acorns that squirrels snack on in the fall.
Derapchu gets off his swing and stalks towards him until they’re a little less than a meter apart. “Bro, why did you even bring me out here anyways?”
“To show you something. Close your eyes.” He doesn’t want to, but he does and waits. Something scrapes against Wifies’ jacket and his hood shuffles off.
“Open them.”
He does, and the first thing he sees is blue. Light cobalt, vivid cyan, colorful cool-toned petals sprout out from green stems, and when Derapchu focuses more, he realises that the entire bouquet is made from paper. It’s not a massive bundle of flowers, instead, it’s of average size but still filled with pain-stakingly made folds.
Derapchu realises why his crush has been walking around with unmoisturized, cut up hands and why he’s been falling asleep at school recently even though he doesn’t no matter how bad his insomnia gets. He’s been busy making this.
“Umm, I like you. Actually, I think I love you.” He admits, and the words drip unevenly from his lips. “I have for a really long time. I just really need to tell you, because I don’t think I can stop thinking about you, Derap’.”
He only pauses for a second before he realises that Wifies, who is scared of rejection and yet still offering up his intentions, is waiting for an answer. “I like you too! I like you too, and it’s probably not as much as or as long as you’ve liked me, but I do!”
It comes out fast and panicked and loud, and Wifies listens to it and relaxes. He hands the paper flowers—orchids, Derapchu realises because Pili sketches them out next to him sometimes—to him and grabs his palm. It’s a stinging red like his face, and Wifies brings it up just a few centimeters below his mouth.
“Can I kiss you?” He grins and his voice has mellowed out back into how it normally is, but he can hear the twinge of joy in it. Derapchu nods, and they press to his knuckles. His heart won't stop fluttering but he doesn’t dare let his mouth speak until it’s over.
“How are you the one being more flirty?” He blubbers out. “If I knew you liked me back all this time and knew that I liked you back all this time, then Parrot wouldn’t have the ability to be a smartass and say “I told you so” or whatever.”
“Really? I thought I was being obvious.” Wifies has moved his hands to intertwine with his own. “After all, can’t you see my face right now? I can’t help blushing when you do something cool.”
Derapchu grips the blossoms a little tighter. “You think I’m cool? And doesn’t everyone always get runny noses in the cold?”
“I don’t. Get runny noses, I mean.” He clarifies. “It just doesn't really happen to me. Also, you are cool. If I didn't find you interesting, then why would I ever be around you?” It means that Derapchu has to think for a second.
He recalls from the years that they’ve been at the school, that Wifies does not get red noses in the winter. But he did starting last fall, back in the start of their second year. And that winter, and in the spring, and over the summer when Derapchu hugged him at Parrot’s birthday party.
He also remembers that Wifies didn’t hate him when he got overtly possessive over Parrot. He knows that Wifies helps him with his homework when he asks, and that he covers for him when Derapchu forgets his wallet. He knows that he caught Wifies staring a few times, and immediately went to wipe at his face, thinking there must’ve been a stray grain of rice or a piece of snot sticking to the bottom of his nose because why would he ever stare at Derapchu?
It seems that he’s been blind to the blooming affection hidden behind Wifies’ chest this entire time. He should be mad that he’s been made a fool of once again, but he isn’t.
Instead, they sit on the swings next to each other in a field of snow, Derapchu holding cobalt paper orchids and cold fingers. Their hands sway in sync. Winter may be wet, cold, and miserable, but it’s less noticeable when Wifies’ thumb passes over his.