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Freodore is so close to fainting, it’s not even funny.
He’s been staying up all night tidying up the Livehouse and he hasn’t taken a bath yet. His hair is out of place, he has long forgo his gloves and he can feel the sweat on his palm as he dug through the property box in their storage room, resulting in his clothes being dirty from all the dust. Zeal has been a helpful hand, he’s working silently by Freodore’s side when he could be home like, hours ago. Just like Freodore, he no longer wears his gloves nor his rings, he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and puts up his in a half-up ponytail—a rare occurrence since he only does it when he’s at home.
“Remind me to ask for more helping hands next time when we have a big event coming up,” Freodore murmurs, “I thought it’s gonna be easy since we’re only been open for a year, but why do we have so much stuff piled up already. And we still haven’t found that one jacket, I need that specific one for Kaelix’s performance.”
“Maybe we forgot to pick it up from the laundry?”
Freodore groans into his palm. “That’s even worse .”
“Hey, hey, let’s take a break, okay? How about we take a seat—” Zeal immediately pulls out a small foldable chair and lays it out next to Freodore, “Here, there you go. Do you want a drink?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay.”
Zeal disappears into the open door and he’s back almost immediately with a glass of water that feels so refreshing to Freodore’s scratchy throat. He feels like breathing again, finally.
“Thank you,” he says, “I feel bad that we’ve been trapped here for a while now. I think we should go back home soon.”
“I agree. We can do the rest tomorrow—or, um, today actually. Seible will be available so there will be three of us. Three pairs of hands are definitely better than two.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Suddenly, Zeal crouches in front of him, matching his height on the chair. “Can I fix your hair?”
“Um, yeah, sure.”
Upon receiving the permission, he softly brushes Freodore’s hair away from his forehead, his eyes showing the kind of fondness that Freodore knows it’s only reserves for him and in a way, it starts making his heart thumping a tad too loud for his liking. They’ve only been dating for a short while, and Zeal has been really patient and cautious with Freodore’s boundary about skinship and stuff. He never fails to ask if it makes Freodore comfortable or not, and while he’s fine with it, the close proximity still makes him a bit nervous sometimes.
He starts licking his dry lips—you don't exactly have time to reapply chapstick when you’re busy doing your work—and Zeal’s eyes not so subtly follow it. When he gazes back to Freodore’s eyes, he sees something different swirling on his violet iris, but as fast it comes, it fades in seconds too, which confuses Freodore.
“Okay, let’s go now, it’s getting late—”
“You’re not gonna kiss me?”
The question surprises both of them, even more so to Freodore since he doesn’t expect for it to just roll out of his tongue.
“I—” Zeal sighs, “First of all, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You know that.”
“...Okay.”
“Yeah, second of all, really, Freo, our first kiss in the dusty storage room?”
Now that Freodore thinks of it, it’s true, though. He must be looking grimy too, not exactly one you want to kiss out of the blue.
“...Now you take that back.”
“What—”
“Of course I want to kiss you, I like you so much you have no idea how bad I want to do it all the time.”
Freodore must have been murmuring his thought out loud because now Zeal has the kind of face that’s even hard for Freodore to read on. “Um, sorry.”
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m not accepting your apology. I need to make it up to you.”
“What do you mean—”
Suddenly, Zeal’s hand cups Freodore’s face gently, his eyes looking for permission this time, and when Freodore simply closes his eyes, he feels a warm breath and soft lips meeting his. People say your first kiss can be anything—a firework exploding at the back of your mind, a butterflies in your stomach, a thunderbolt that flashes with a bang, but Freodore’s first kiss feels like a cloud fluttering in the sky, like a gentle caress that embraces him warmly. He lets Zeal lead him, and he does so in a way that makes Freodore melt into his touches. The swipe of the tongue that silently asks for a way inside catches him off guard, but all he needs is to wrap his arm around Zeal’s neck for him to give him the green light to go.
It must have been a while, because when Zeal pulls away, his hair is a mess and it’s no longer tied up—Freodore must have played too much with—and he takes a long, deep breath before he says, “Anymore than this, then I can’t see myself stopping. And it’s… close to 5 AM now, I believe.”
“We still have time,” Freodore retorts back.
“We don’t.”
“We have.”
Freodore never tells anyone aside from his family, but he’s born with an… ability. It’s nothing special, but as far as he can remember, he’s able to rewind time for 15 minutes once a day. Just for a quarter of an hour he’s able to do more stuff, but the down side will be him feeling a little more tired than usual—not something he can’t handle so he’s been using it now and then if he really needs it.
There’s no specific spell, an incantation to fill in the air, he just needs to concentrate—and there.
“Yeah, second of all, really, Freo, our first kiss in the dusty storage room?”
“Yes.”
Zeal blinks rapidly. “What?”
“I don’t mind kissing you here.”
First kiss doesn’t come twice to many people, but it’s possible for Freodore so he shall not take it for granted and be sure to once again engrave how it feels on his memory as he pulls Zeal’s closer by the neck and closes his eyes.