Y’all Can’t Convince Me That Matthew Daddario And Noah Centineo Are Not Made Out Of The Same Soft

Bleeeeugh om niom niomniom blereegh

humalien said: the sound in this room is so strange…

So this has been stuck in my head ever since I heard it three days ago.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

WE HAVE NO GAYS AND MANY BROKEN TOILETS

aesthetics in the parallel universes

skam: every day is special, hoodies, messy look, online 24/7, blind trust, rainy and cold weather, oslo, modern life style, cabin vacations, strong friendships, acceptance, slow smiles

skam france: long nights, grey days, soft touches, slow love, pastel colors, supporting friends, nights spending watching netflix, paris, paint fights, tousled hair, bright eyes, lazy mornings

skam italia: colorful life, beautiful and ancient architecture, bright laughter, curly hair, soft touches, pastel flowers, loud music, party till dawn, roma, sunny afternoons, summer dresses & warm nights

druck: grunge, final exams stress, photographs, capturing memories, bromance, studygram, graduation activities, crew love, berlin, warm baths, music everywhere

“Nursey?”

Nursey blinks once, and then a second time when things are still blurry. He swivels his desk chair to face the doorway where there’s a smear of orange on top of gray that resolves itself into Dex after several more blinks. He’s wearing sweatpants that are a slightly different color gray than his sweatshirt. The only pops of color are the smears of purple under his eyes, the flush of his cheeks–pink and sweet like embarrassment–, and, of course, the nest of hair he’s forgotten to have cut for at least two months now.

Sometimes–fuck, but sometimes Nursey forgets how in love he let himself get. The fact that he has at least four different poems he could quote right now, a separate poem writing itself the longer he stares. He wishes he knew how it would feel to brush his thumb across that blush, to tuck his nose into the flyaway hairs behind Dex’s ear. He wishes he knew how to love without it ruining his goddamned life.

Really. It’s way too late–or early, god, what time is it–and Nursey needs every last braincell he’s got left to finish this scene for the script-writing class he somehow let Farmer talk him into but all he wants to do is sit here and watch a sleep deprived Dex blush as he lists into the door frame.

Before Nursey can think something utterly ridiculous like, oh, to be that door frame, he blinks really hard and asks, “What’s up, Dex-a-doodle?”

Dex must truly be exhausted because he doesn’t say anything about the nickname. “Are you–” he gestures vaguely in the direction of Nursey’s laptop.

Nursey spares a glance for his scene, which has remained six pages long for the past thirty minutes despite his best efforts. He closes the lid and turns back to Dex. “I’m free, what do you need?”

Sheepish, Dex pulls a stack of papers from behind his back. Nursey sighs. Really, he ought to bluster, ought to act annoyed and refuse to help, make Dex offer him any number of things in return for reading some of the worst writing he’s ever been unfortunate enough to have put in front of him, but–but it’s very late and Dex is soft and sleepy and illiterate and Nursey can’t argue himself out of simply wanting Dex to stay.

He holds out a hand. Dex grins, the slow, crooked thing he didn’t turn on Nursey until the end of their softie year, and he puts the essay into Nursey’s outstretched hand and takes a seat on Nursey’s bed while he waits.

Nursey turns back to his desk, reaching out idly for his red pen while he starts scanning the intro paragraph. After the first two rounds of edits, it doesn’t make him cringe immediately. There’s a typo here or there and a missing comma in the second paragraph, but Nursey finds himself smiling by the end of the second example. The thesis changed dramatically since the last time he read it–the second round of edits ended with a long, lengthy, and loud discussion of the subject material, during which Nursey may or may not have provided a caffeine-induced rant about the misreading of Shakespearean plays and despite the rather dazed look in Dex’s eyes upon the conclusion of said speech, some of it seemed to have made an impact.

“It’s good,” Nursey says, as he finishes reading, smiling to himself. “Now, don’t get too excited, it’s good for a STEM, but–” Nursey cuts himself off as he turns to find Dex asleep on the bottom bunk. He’s tipped the wrong way, feet resting beside the pillows, his neck bent awkwardly as his cheek presses into the quilt.

Nursey huffs a laugh at himself for the fierce swell of affection in his chest. He puts down the essay and the red pen and crosses to the bed, gently moving a pillow under Dex’s head. Out of it as he is, he doesn’t even stir, simply settles back down as Nursey pulls away.

Nursey turns back to his desk. He put the essay down on top of his laptop and he picks it up as he turns his computer back on. He skims the first page again, stupid smile on his lips. Who would’ve thought that Dex was actually listening to him, all this time.

The Word document pops onto the screen, shining too-bright light into the room. Nursey places the essay to the side and rereads the last two pages of his scene, finding himself continuing it effortlessly when he reaches the point he’d left off. He makes the page count before the hour is up and saves without rereading it, shutting the laptop and sending him back into a softer light. He braces himself and turns.

Dex sleeps away peacefully. Arms wrapped around himself, one leg pulled up towards his chest. Nursey lets himself watch without feeling guilty–he’s too tired for anything more complicated than fondness. Sometimes it really does feel so simple.

The truth; tonight Nursey is going to get ready to sleep as quietly as possible and somehow manage to trip on his way to the bed, and Dex will wake up, bleary and pink, make to sit up, make to leave, and Nursey will press him back down and tell him to, “Stay. Dex, just–stay,” and Dex will, because sometimes Dex listens, and Nursey will fall asleep counting the soft breaths below him.

The truth; Dex has really horrible takes on Shakespeare, and Emily Dickinson, and most literature up to and including the Magic Treehouse books, but he never stops Nursey’s rants, and continues to ask for Nursey’s help, and his essays get nothing but better.

The truth; one day, Nursey is going to tell Dex about all the poetry, quoted and written, that Dex inspires in him, and Dex–Dex is going to listen.