That makes two of us
Sun Jul 23, 2017 15:02

He couldn’t hold back a snort at Holland’s explanation. “Yes, I know that nails are small, do not worry,” he said in a tone meant to be mock-reassuring, nudging hen playfully with his sock-padded toe. “I think what I mean is… thinking that it must be small, and then actually holding it-” Ruben punctuated this with a small wave of the brush “-are two very different feelings of what small means.” He could see how the size of the brush matched up against his own nails, but it seemed absolutely miniscule held in his long, calloused fingers, whereas his nails on the same fingers were a normal sight.

Straightening up a bit, rocking his shoulders to squish the cushion into a better shape, Ruben listened attentively to Holland’s instructions, nodding along as hen demonstrated on a polish-free finger. He didn’t actually care about painting his nails. Like, whatever. They were nails. But guessing from Holland’s serious approach to it, nail-painting was obviously a bigger topic than he first gave it credit for, and the least he could do was follow along like a decent friend ex-boyfriend friend who was also a boy and wouldn’t be entirely opposed to sticking those two words back together sometime.

“To start on the left would be probably easier.” Ruben wasn’t really seeking verification; he was just thinking out loud, and proceeded to follow his own opinion, splaying the fingers of his left hand out on his bare knee for better stability. He dipped the wand into the foul-smelling bottle, careful not to knock it over from its far less stable position sitting on his thigh, and began brushing outwards as Holland had advised. The blonde quickly decided that this was both easier than expected (the paint went on pretty smoothly, and was pretty easy to wipe off with his thumb when he accidentally got it on his finger instead of the nail) and more tedious than desired (because yes, again, nails were small).

“Oh?” Finishing a first layer on his left hand, Ruben glanced over to the overstuffed sleeping bag Holland had indicated. “Hah, yeah, we kept it more classy than that.” And now he was thinking about dating Holland again. Great. This really was the most annoying thing about being the dumpee instead of the dumper. “Maybe that is why Marissa wanted to have this party,” he suggested with a grin. “Although I am sure that they are not the only ones thinking about stuff like that tonight.” He cast Holland a sidelong glance before turning back to his hand.

Then Russell showed up, because why wouldn’t he? Ruben liked to think they had an unspoken agreement; he pestered Russell whenever he felt like it (usually when the two boys ran into each other alone in the halls), and in return, Russell left him alone. It was an ideal situation. Having Russell pop up and start babbling on was less than ideal.

Ruben had caught his lookaround, though, and quickly pieced it together when he saw Emmett standing in the background. Why was Holland still friends with this moron? Jealous and a coward, too, apparently.

“Your mouse is scared of my nails?” Smirking, he arched a thick eyebrow at Russell. The guy couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. “This nail, do you mean?” Ruben held out his hand, palm-down, and slowly rotated it around while tucking his fingers in such that there was only one finger upright facing Russell (and Emmett behind him). It was the type of finger that could say a lot. Especially when it was now illuminated by the glowing sheen of polish… huh, now that was a real benefit to this nail-painting thing.

There was a threat on the tip of his tongue, but the whole reason Holland had ended their relationship was because of unnecessary violence or something ridiculous like that, so Ruben held it back and instead waved his finger around a bit more at Russell (Emmett). “Leave. Or did you have anything to say to your friend’s… slave, or dog, or whatever role Russell is playing?” He scooted closer to Holland as he asked this and moved automatically to put his arm around hens shoulder, but caught himself in time and propped his elbow on the pillows behind them instead. Eh, not great, still got the point across. Emmett obviously wanted him gone, but Ruben wasn’t going anywhere. Good luck with that.

  • I don't want there to be a me, either - Russell Drew, Sun Jul 23 13:51
    Russell’s ability to avoid thinking about how much of a Bad Idea this was lasted for exactly two-and-a-half steps. His left foot actually froze in midair when the sudden wave of oh dear hit him -... more
    • That makes two of us - Ruben, Sun Jul 23 15:02
      • Or three - Holland, Sun Jul 23 22:45
        Ruben said he thought it would be easier to start on the left, like someone who had never tried to paint their nails of their dominant hand while the polish was still drying on the other one. Maybe... more
        • ...Motion carried - Russell, Mon Jul 24 20:17
          Russell didn’t think that he’d ever had such a sudden reversal from burning-face-of-awkward-shame to freezing-face-of-awkward-death as when Ruben flipped him the finger. Hot and cold were opposites.... more
          • This pleases me - Ruben, Mon Jul 24 21:38
            Still smirking, Ruben made a whining noise in the back of his throat when Holland whapped him. “Really?” His hand dropped soon after this. He didn’t wait to push his luck; in some ways, he was... more
            • Can’t say I disagree - Holland, Tue Jul 25 16:47
              Russell had seemed terribly nervous before Ruben told him to get lost, so maybe Holland should have been a little nicer when they talked to the boy. Or maybe not; after all, he’d decided to come... more
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