[ it's really not every day you find yourself in possession of one bougie-looking kid who's just about your age but acts like he is from not just another country but another time period entirely. milo blinks a few times when he spies the tufs of silvery hair beneath blankets on his ( comfortable, thanks much ) couch, still in bed himself. he yawns, stretches one way, stretches the other, and eventually pulls himself out of bed.
he runs a hand through teal hair, not that it helps or anything, but it at least momentarily gets the longer ends out of his face as he shuffles over to take a better look at the temporary resident in his little studio. a european, he thought, but that doesn't seem entirely right because there is something otherworldly about him that he can't quite put his finger on.
huh.
he had a dream about this, he's pretty sure. it was cold and someone was lost and it had been up to him to help but – how? ]
Hey.
[ he leans over the couch, one hand on the backrest, and gently shakes the other's shoulder, jostling both the boy and the blankets that cover him. whatever mat is wearing right now doesn't look like the sleep clothes he lent him last night. huh]
( mathias dreams, too — but his dreams involve crystals speeding across the fjord, expanding and spiderwebbing until the entire surface of the water turns solid in his wake, sturdy enough to carry him; he runs with desperation, adrenaline alone carrying him across the surface as he tries desperately to escape. he dreams of a woman's cries, anguished and afraid, the sound of magic crackling in the air, the winds picking up speed as they whirl around him, carry swirls of storm as though that may offer some form of a protective barrier. it's no use, though — there's a loud crack and a hole opens up before him, and he isn't fast enough to stop his feet from skidding over the edge, from plummeting deep into the frozen depths, from flailing his arms as he tries desperately to break the surface again —
and then there's hands. hands that grab hold of him, his shoulder, and could he be saved? no, he's being shaken, and that's enough to yank mat suddenly from his slumber with a jump and a gasp, heart racing in his ears and breathing rapid until he sees ... that teal hair, that shy kind of smile. milo — the boy who'd saved him.
mat is embarrassed over his own reaction, scooting back to sit up against the arm of the couch and fingers curling into his blankets and drawing them over him, tugging them up past his chin and covering his whole body (including the pajamas he wears that are decidedly not the comfortable sweatpants and old secondary school t-shirt he'd been generously given, a pair of deep, royal blue satin pajamas in their place, lined with white trim).
did the temperature suddenly drop in the living room? )
Good morning, Milo — I'm, mm. Sorry for reacting so strangely.
( he smiles sheepishly, even if he can't quite shake the prevalent feeling of loneliness that hangs heavy in his heart, like something, someone, is missing. )
[ he knows exactly what it looks like when you wake up from a dream that is more than just a dream, the stunned expression, the blown-wide pupils when someone or something pulls you out of your fitful slumber. looking down at him, he starts to piece together his own premonitions, the flash of silver hair, the feeling of loneliness ...
... oh, and the cold. that part is the hardest to forget.
milo doesn't bother hiding a shiver as he squats next to the couch where his pajamas no longer look like his pajamas. maybe he just isn't awake enough for this. his lips curl into a toothy grin; his mom always warned him about being too trusting and he really isn't, not when he hasn't been living by himself for very long, but there was something about this lost boy he had essentially run into ( nearly barrelled over honestly since he had been in a rush ) that he finds endearing and kind and strange. this city is full of odd ones but he's even odder than that.
folding his arms over the cushion edge, he tips his head to one side like a curious dog might, watching him for a beat or two. ] Bad dreams are best remedied with breakfast. You hungry?
( milo's broad, overbright smile directed precisely up and at mathias is enough to make his cheeks warm to the extent that he feels even more inclined to draw those blankets up over them, surely still shaken from his dream and not particularly ready to let a new friend, even one so kind and hospitable, see him quite so vulnerable. he isn't exactly sure what he feels the need to keep to himself — especially considering there are still so many things about himself that feel incomplete, like he's forgotten something important.
hm.
bright blue eyes immediately spot that shiver though milo doesn't act as though he's bothered, even though a cursory glance brings the goosebumps up his arms to mat's attention. he frowns briefly at that, still concealed, but his expression turns more than a little surprised at milo's suggestion. how had he known — ?
nevermind that. there are more important things at hand. )
Oh — breakfast sounds wonderful. ( mat's pulled down his makeshift shield at last, untucks his feet, and sweeps the two blankets, one thinner, the other thicker and fluffier, over milo's shoulders, insisting all the while: ) But first, here. Please take these.
[ he worries too much about everything and he tries not to, with his tendencies to tuck them away for later, grinning a gummy grin instead because his dad always told him that was the best way to help put yourself in a better mood. usually it works, at least for a moment or so. it's not advice he'd offer anyone else, not wanting to come across as flippant, but it's certainly helped him along the way.
mathias is a curiosity, so proper in his speech and mannerisms. he's caught off guard when the other places the blanket around his shoulders, but it doesn't feel right to protest the cute gesture. it's done so earnestly and his smile becomes a small, goofy thing instead. ]
I'll warm up soon. It's always cold when you get out from under the blankets first thing in the morning, [ milo assures him instead, though he makes sure to hug the blankets around his shoulders for a few beats for good measure. ]
( well, mat certainly looks pleased as punch as milo draws those blankets tightly around him, happy to have paid his host even some form of kindness, however small it may have been — despite the fact that they are milo's blankets to begin with. his smile stretches wide, teeth threatening to peek through, and —
oh, if the temperature in the room hasn't already settled into something almost pleasantly cool, less biting.
he finally scoots forward so his legs can swing over the edge of the couch, hands folding in his lap and toes curling into the soft carpeting on the floor. )
I feel favorably towards oatmeal — but only if you'll let me help.
( cooking doesn't really feel like something that he's particularly good at for whatever reason, but there are most definitely some ingredients that he's going to scour milo's pantry for regardless; he has a good feeling about them. )
[ he just about melts inside when he sees the corners of mat's mouth quirk upwards and they sit there across each other much longer than they should, especially given that he's asked a question that implies that he's just about to get up anyway. the blankets are no longer necessary at this point, but milo is perfectly cozy sitting beneath them, grip tightening around the thick material for a second before he pushes himself to his feet. ]
You, [ he says, turning in his blanket cape, ] can mix the Nutella into the oatmel when I'm done.
[ as majestic as he surely must look, it's sort of detrimental to standing over a stove and milo wouldn't trust himself to do any of that. stumbling back, he drapes the sheets over the back of his couch, flashing another crooked grin before heading right into the open kitchen area, preparing their simple but sweet breakfast. ]
Oh and – you can prepare whatever drinks you want? [ he mentions over his shoulder. ]
( mathias's eyebrows practically skyrocket upwards at the mention of nutella, and the lightbulb that immediately goes off in his head is surprising. )
Nutella... is that like — Nugatti? ( he doesn't even know where this word is coming from, but it feels right. his mouth hangs open as he stands up, the very glimmer of excitement sparkling in his eyes. ) That's always how I've eaten my oatmeal. How did you know?
( it's such a silly thing, but it makes mat feel a little more at home, even if he doesn't exactly know where home is or what it's like. there's a pleasant warmth that bubbles up inside of him as he follows milo into the kitchen like a lost puppy (because that is, essentially, what he is), looking quite regal in his silken pajamas, an equally warm smile curling across his mouth, and he asks himself a little dreamily: ) How could you know?
( but regardless, he's keen to help out with their meal, even in a space so unfamiliar; it takes a few tries at opening cabinets until he locates what looks like a moderately-sized tub of chocolatey goodness, and his face brightens even further as he pulls it down from the shelf and immediately unscrews the cap, inhaling the glorious smell. ) Wow.
[ his dark eyebrows disappear behind the fall of blue hair when mathias reacts to his breakfast suggestion. ] You can't recall where you came from but you remember Nugatti? [ of course he sounds amused. it's impossibly endearing like everything else about this mysterious, etheral boy who has made a space for himself in his humble abode. whatever helps him feel more at east, milo supposes, turning the stove knob to get the water boiling beneath his pot.
it's homey. domestic for two near-strangers. he can't say he minds any of it because as much as he enjoys his independence, single-living can be ... lonely from time to time.
mat is so cute. he is so cute.
biting his bottom lip, milo looks away from him, adding a touch of almond milk and a pinch of cinnamon to the water as it heats up, the oats sitting close by. ] Good, right? You can get a spoonful of it first if you wanna be daring.
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sforzinda
no subject
Date: 2019-02-08 05:53 am (UTC)he runs a hand through teal hair, not that it helps or anything, but it at least momentarily gets the longer ends out of his face as he shuffles over to take a better look at the temporary resident in his little studio. a european, he thought, but that doesn't seem entirely right because there is something otherworldly about him that he can't quite put his finger on.
huh.
he had a dream about this, he's pretty sure. it was cold and someone was lost and it had been up to him to help but – how? ]
Hey.
[ he leans over the couch, one hand on the backrest, and gently shakes the other's shoulder, jostling both the boy and the blankets that cover him. whatever mat is wearing right now doesn't look like the sleep clothes he lent him last night. huh ]
no subject
Date: 2019-02-09 07:46 am (UTC)and then there's hands. hands that grab hold of him, his shoulder, and could he be saved? no, he's being shaken, and that's enough to yank mat suddenly from his slumber with a jump and a gasp, heart racing in his ears and breathing rapid until he sees ... that teal hair, that shy kind of smile. milo — the boy who'd saved him.
mat is embarrassed over his own reaction, scooting back to sit up against the arm of the couch and fingers curling into his blankets and drawing them over him, tugging them up past his chin and covering his whole body (including the pajamas he wears that are decidedly not the comfortable sweatpants and old secondary school t-shirt he'd been generously given, a pair of deep, royal blue satin pajamas in their place, lined with white trim).
did the temperature suddenly drop in the living room? )
Good morning, Milo — I'm, mm. Sorry for reacting so strangely.
( he smiles sheepishly, even if he can't quite shake the prevalent feeling of loneliness that hangs heavy in his heart, like something, someone, is missing. )
no subject
Date: 2019-02-10 01:31 am (UTC)... oh, and the cold. that part is the hardest to forget.
milo doesn't bother hiding a shiver as he squats next to the couch where his pajamas no longer look like his pajamas. maybe he just isn't awake enough for this. his lips curl into a toothy grin; his mom always warned him about being too trusting and he really isn't, not when he hasn't been living by himself for very long, but there was something about this lost boy he had essentially run into ( nearly barrelled over honestly since he had been in a rush ) that he finds endearing and kind and strange. this city is full of odd ones but he's even odder than that.
folding his arms over the cushion edge, he tips his head to one side like a curious dog might, watching him for a beat or two. ] Bad dreams are best remedied with breakfast. You hungry?
no subject
Date: 2019-02-11 04:37 am (UTC)hm.
bright blue eyes immediately spot that shiver though milo doesn't act as though he's bothered, even though a cursory glance brings the goosebumps up his arms to mat's attention. he frowns briefly at that, still concealed, but his expression turns more than a little surprised at milo's suggestion. how had he known — ?
nevermind that. there are more important things at hand. )
Oh — breakfast sounds wonderful. ( mat's pulled down his makeshift shield at last, untucks his feet, and sweeps the two blankets, one thinner, the other thicker and fluffier, over milo's shoulders, insisting all the while: ) But first, here. Please take these.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-11 06:27 am (UTC)mathias is a curiosity, so proper in his speech and mannerisms. he's caught off guard when the other places the blanket around his shoulders, but it doesn't feel right to protest the cute gesture. it's done so earnestly and his smile becomes a small, goofy thing instead. ]
I'll warm up soon. It's always cold when you get out from under the blankets first thing in the morning, [ milo assures him instead, though he makes sure to hug the blankets around his shoulders for a few beats for good measure. ]
How do you feel about oatmeal?
no subject
Date: 2019-02-12 03:23 am (UTC)oh, if the temperature in the room hasn't already settled into something almost pleasantly cool, less biting.
he finally scoots forward so his legs can swing over the edge of the couch, hands folding in his lap and toes curling into the soft carpeting on the floor. )
I feel favorably towards oatmeal — but only if you'll let me help.
( cooking doesn't really feel like something that he's particularly good at for whatever reason, but there are most definitely some ingredients that he's going to scour milo's pantry for regardless; he has a good feeling about them. )
no subject
Date: 2019-02-13 04:05 am (UTC)You, [ he says, turning in his blanket cape, ] can mix the Nutella into the oatmel when I'm done.
[ as majestic as he surely must look, it's sort of detrimental to standing over a stove and milo wouldn't trust himself to do any of that. stumbling back, he drapes the sheets over the back of his couch, flashing another crooked grin before heading right into the open kitchen area, preparing their simple but sweet breakfast. ]
Oh and – you can prepare whatever drinks you want? [ he mentions over his shoulder. ]
no subject
Date: 2019-03-03 07:18 pm (UTC)Nutella... is that like — Nugatti? ( he doesn't even know where this word is coming from, but it feels right. his mouth hangs open as he stands up, the very glimmer of excitement sparkling in his eyes. ) That's always how I've eaten my oatmeal. How did you know?
( it's such a silly thing, but it makes mat feel a little more at home, even if he doesn't exactly know where home is or what it's like. there's a pleasant warmth that bubbles up inside of him as he follows milo into the kitchen like a lost puppy (because that is, essentially, what he is), looking quite regal in his silken pajamas, an equally warm smile curling across his mouth, and he asks himself a little dreamily: ) How could you know?
( but regardless, he's keen to help out with their meal, even in a space so unfamiliar; it takes a few tries at opening cabinets until he locates what looks like a moderately-sized tub of chocolatey goodness, and his face brightens even further as he pulls it down from the shelf and immediately unscrews the cap, inhaling the glorious smell. ) Wow.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-08 07:05 am (UTC)it's homey. domestic for two near-strangers. he can't say he minds any of it because as much as he enjoys his independence, single-living can be ... lonely from time to time.
mat is so cute. he is so cute.
biting his bottom lip, milo looks away from him, adding a touch of almond milk and a pinch of cinnamon to the water as it heats up, the oats sitting close by. ] Good, right? You can get a spoonful of it first if you wanna be daring.