19 Vhalar, 723
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“So…”
“There’s no way that happened, Kotton.”
“But it did!”
“Alright, okay, fine. I believe you. But even still, that’s impressive, considering you…”
Kotton narrowed his eyes. “Considewing I- what?” The ending word held unadulterated spice.
Worick paused for an indefinite amount of time before resurrecting the previous commitment he held toward finishing his sentence. “I don’t know. You’ve just been out of the game for so long, man.”
Kotton’s shoulders relaxed and a heavy breath escaped his lips. He thought his friend would have brought up his inability to hear as if it was a valid reason for being unable to acquire intimacy. Nevertheless, Kotton maintained his frown. He had expected Worick to be trusting and eagerly excited upon receiving any news from him. Hadn’t they been friends for years? Did that not mean anything? No- he did not have the time nor the energy to overthink this. He didn’t dwell on the so-called intuition he thought he had. Perhaps Worick was just being Worick.
“I know,” Kotton conceded, finding refuge in the plushness of his couch. He buried himself into the cushions of the sofa, a billow of dust protesting against him as he did. He hoped his friend didn’t see the dirt. He was a little behind on his normal cleaning routine. Being an addict sometimes did that to you.
“Still though,” Worick continued. “I’m happy you found someone. Any feelings?”
He shrugged. No, but yes, but also, wasn’t that kind of normal after having such a close experience with someone? Or was he being just a little too sensitive?
Kotton had been talking to his best friend about the most recent encounter he had with a young woman. Kotton had met her at the local tavern. She was drunk, he was drunk, and they both had hit it off exquisitely. After relocating themselves to his house, the two had undergone a night of romantic pleasure. But the night had left the young man with questions, naturally. Doubt and insufferable dubiety did that. Disregarding that unnecessary expenditure of his mental faculties, Kotton had found a new interest. He wanted to improve his ability to seduce those he was drawn to.
Kotton’s silence was loud. His pause gave Worick pause, which also posed additional pause to the current conversation.
“What is it?” Worick asked, furrowing one eyebrow whilst raising the other. “You seem to be deep in thought.”
Kotton scoffed. “You know me so well,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
“So tell me then.”
Kotton bit his lip, but resisted applying any additional pressure. He had bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood one too many times. It took quite a lot of confidence to speak his mind, even if his thoughts were ones being expressed to his most trusted companion.
“I want to be between… in bed. I was hoping you’d have some knowwedge on how to appeaw to women.”
The wisp of air that accumulated from the preordained uncomfortable trace of muteness- it was immense, especially after having succeeded such a palpable confession. What was actually only a few moments felt like an entire hour to Kotton. This gave him way too much time to deliberate and dwell and mull over what he had said and what he had previously been thinking.
Worick stifled a chuckle. It did not go without notice. Kotton fought to breathe. He wasn’t being made fun of, he had to remind himself. He wasn’t being made fun of. He wasn’t-
“I’m sorry to tell you that I am the absolute worst at communicating with women. Medical appointments withheld”
Okay, so that response wasn’t the one he had been expecting. In fact, it was so much better. Both men were in the dark when it came to the satisfaction of women. Kotton had more potential, being a man who was attracted to both sexes, therefore supplicating himself to the desires of both sexes. His friend on the other hand had no additional suggestion.
“Okay,” Kotton murmured. “Then can we pwactise togethew?”
Worick smiled with sceptical ingenuity. “You are really into this, aren’t you?”
Kotton returned his smile with an authentic grin of his own. “I am.”
“Okay.” Worick took a seat next to Kotton on the couch. He quickly faced his friend with a surprisingly seriousness neither of them could have predicted. “Do you want to begin or shall I?”
Kotton’s eyes widened with a mixture of embarrassment, hesitation and insatiable eagerness. “I’ll go fiwst,” he declared, brushing his shoulders of any residual dirt and straightening his shirt of any wrinkles. If he was going to do this, he wanted to make it as real as possible. He was willing to give as much effort as it took in order to learn the best way possible on how to make a woman like him.
“Youw eyes- they awe stunning,” Kotton whispered.
Worick bit back a smirk. “Nice,” he praised. “You’re mentioning her physical features. But what if she’s ugly?”
What the hell kind of a question was that?
“Umm,” Kotton stuttered, his lip raising into a sneer. Was he sneering out of confusion, irritation or discontent toward his lacklustre response? He hadn’t a clue.
“I’m just joking, brother,” Worick chuckled, shooting a playful punch toward Kotton’s shoulder. Kotton could only elicit a reply in the form of a nervous guffaw.
“Youw turn,” Kotton countered, desperately wanting the heat of the attention to no longer be on him.
Worick cleared his throat and threw his back into a straighter posture. He raised his head and offered a confident smirk. “Baby, the way you think about art is mesmerising.”
Kotton’s eyes grew two fold. His lips puckered, turning downward into a contemplative but acknowledging gesture. He stifled a laugh, trying to remain solemn, but nearly conceding.
“Damn,” he announced. “Do you pwactise wif youw piwwow at night?”
Worick rolled his eyes and gleefully threw another punch toward his friends’ shoulder. Kotton smiled at his response, resonating with comfort, experiencing gratitude for having such a strong connection with someone who could understand him during even his most vulnerable times.
“Okay, my tuwn,” Kotton announced enthusiastically. “I’m so happy to have met someone who can see the wowld as I do. And it only helps that youw face is as beautiful as the sun.”
Worick’s response? A stoic, if not troubling one. “Alright, so like, I loved the first part, but I don’t know, if it were me I wouldn’t like to have my appearance in the same sentence as an emotional observation, you know?”
Kotton nodded his head vehemently, jotting this note down in the invisible lines of scrap paper being held inside his mind. He could relate. He wanted to be seen as more of a soul and less as a physical embodiment of something that could or could not be construed as physically attractive. He believed that physical composition was not indicative of mental and emotional intelligence. Simply because someone did not meet the expectations of traditional values of beauty, did not necessarily mean that their mentality reflected the same shallow determination.
Kotton always tried to put himself in others’ shoes so to speak- as was his preconceived golden rule of wanting to be treated as you treat someone. He wanted to be seen not only physically, but also emotionally and mentally- traits that were invisible to the naked eye.
“Man, you totally went into a different realm. I could see it in your eyes,” Worick observed during Kotton’s sociological evaluation. Was it really that obvious?
Kotton blushed, guilty of the charges. He often found himself surrendering to authority of deep quandaries whilst in the midst of friendly conversation.
“My bad,” he admitted, attuning himself back to the present discussion.
“It’s your turn, brother.”
Kotton beamed. He needn’t a second before formulating his next set of words. He wanted the phrasing to be sensitive. He wanted his sentences to be carefully crafted. He wanted them to dote on each and every realm of placation that came with recognising someone’s worth.
He licked his lips, cleared his throat and spoke, “It’s not only youw eyes that are beautiful, but youw soul. Youw thoughts awe as enticing as the lips you use to speak. I wish to continue talking with you, pewhaps at my pwace?”
It took several moments for Kotton to descend from the clouds of his imagination. He looked to Worick who offered him nothing more than an approving nod.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself, friend.”
Kotton’s cheeks smarted as his lips curved into an impossibly sustainable simper. “Thanks,” he murmured. He couldn’t deny he was flustered.
“I don’t know if I can top that, if I’m being honest,” Worick admitted, folding his arms against his chest. His thick locks of golden hair radiated amidst the sunlight that peered in from the panes of the windows.
Kotton sighed. He was a regular at the self conscious parade, so situations such as this gave him no comfort until it's undying resolution. He had done well. As someone who held himself in such high regard, with expectations nearly impossible to ascertain, it was an ecstatic win to put under his belt.
“You want a beer?” Kotton asked. He watched his friend lower his arms to rest amongst the cushions of the couch.
Worick nodded his head. “I’d love one.”
The young man stood with the hunger of maintaining pleasant companionship. It had been an inscrutable time since he hadn’t been alone. Sure, he had Imogen; she was always skulking in the corner with the eyes of someone severely in need of sustenance- as if she had just been fed that very morning- but that wasn’t enough.
Kotton made his way to the kitchen. Once there, he hitched the cooler’s lid so it unveiled its heavenly treasure. He extracted two bottles of beer before closing it. Returning to the living room was a little strange. It was stupid, he knew, to be so fortunate at the presence of a friend. But here he was, sitting in the same room with someone he had known for years but had reluctantly been able to speak with in a neighbourly fashion. He relished in the company, not daring to waste a second worrying about anything else.
“Hewe you go,” Kotton said, offering a beer.
“Thanks,” Worick replied warmly. He graciously sipped from the lip of the glass.
Kotton adopted a warm, inviting sensation. Had loneliness caused him such a ridiculous sense of starvation for conversation? He would need to think this over later. For now, he enjoyed himself during the acquisition of living in the moment.
“This is nice,” Worick noted, throwing his head back against one of the armrests of the couch.
Kotton laughed. “I totally agwee. It’s been a while.”
In fact, it had been a long time since either of them had sat and talked and drank together. Kotton fluttered his eyelashes in the hopes of sending away the unwelcome onslaught of forming tears of nostalgia. He missed this. Why couldn’t it always be like this?
“Time sure does fly by,” Worick continued, taking another sip from his beer.
Kotton’s smile fell. “It suwe does.”
“There’s no way that happened, Kotton.”
“But it did!”
“Alright, okay, fine. I believe you. But even still, that’s impressive, considering you…”
Kotton narrowed his eyes. “Considewing I- what?” The ending word held unadulterated spice.
Worick paused for an indefinite amount of time before resurrecting the previous commitment he held toward finishing his sentence. “I don’t know. You’ve just been out of the game for so long, man.”
Kotton’s shoulders relaxed and a heavy breath escaped his lips. He thought his friend would have brought up his inability to hear as if it was a valid reason for being unable to acquire intimacy. Nevertheless, Kotton maintained his frown. He had expected Worick to be trusting and eagerly excited upon receiving any news from him. Hadn’t they been friends for years? Did that not mean anything? No- he did not have the time nor the energy to overthink this. He didn’t dwell on the so-called intuition he thought he had. Perhaps Worick was just being Worick.
“I know,” Kotton conceded, finding refuge in the plushness of his couch. He buried himself into the cushions of the sofa, a billow of dust protesting against him as he did. He hoped his friend didn’t see the dirt. He was a little behind on his normal cleaning routine. Being an addict sometimes did that to you.
“Still though,” Worick continued. “I’m happy you found someone. Any feelings?”
He shrugged. No, but yes, but also, wasn’t that kind of normal after having such a close experience with someone? Or was he being just a little too sensitive?
Kotton had been talking to his best friend about the most recent encounter he had with a young woman. Kotton had met her at the local tavern. She was drunk, he was drunk, and they both had hit it off exquisitely. After relocating themselves to his house, the two had undergone a night of romantic pleasure. But the night had left the young man with questions, naturally. Doubt and insufferable dubiety did that. Disregarding that unnecessary expenditure of his mental faculties, Kotton had found a new interest. He wanted to improve his ability to seduce those he was drawn to.
Kotton’s silence was loud. His pause gave Worick pause, which also posed additional pause to the current conversation.
“What is it?” Worick asked, furrowing one eyebrow whilst raising the other. “You seem to be deep in thought.”
Kotton scoffed. “You know me so well,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.
“So tell me then.”
Kotton bit his lip, but resisted applying any additional pressure. He had bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood one too many times. It took quite a lot of confidence to speak his mind, even if his thoughts were ones being expressed to his most trusted companion.
“I want to be between… in bed. I was hoping you’d have some knowwedge on how to appeaw to women.”
The wisp of air that accumulated from the preordained uncomfortable trace of muteness- it was immense, especially after having succeeded such a palpable confession. What was actually only a few moments felt like an entire hour to Kotton. This gave him way too much time to deliberate and dwell and mull over what he had said and what he had previously been thinking.
Worick stifled a chuckle. It did not go without notice. Kotton fought to breathe. He wasn’t being made fun of, he had to remind himself. He wasn’t being made fun of. He wasn’t-
“I’m sorry to tell you that I am the absolute worst at communicating with women. Medical appointments withheld”
Okay, so that response wasn’t the one he had been expecting. In fact, it was so much better. Both men were in the dark when it came to the satisfaction of women. Kotton had more potential, being a man who was attracted to both sexes, therefore supplicating himself to the desires of both sexes. His friend on the other hand had no additional suggestion.
“Okay,” Kotton murmured. “Then can we pwactise togethew?”
Worick smiled with sceptical ingenuity. “You are really into this, aren’t you?”
Kotton returned his smile with an authentic grin of his own. “I am.”
“Okay.” Worick took a seat next to Kotton on the couch. He quickly faced his friend with a surprisingly seriousness neither of them could have predicted. “Do you want to begin or shall I?”
Kotton’s eyes widened with a mixture of embarrassment, hesitation and insatiable eagerness. “I’ll go fiwst,” he declared, brushing his shoulders of any residual dirt and straightening his shirt of any wrinkles. If he was going to do this, he wanted to make it as real as possible. He was willing to give as much effort as it took in order to learn the best way possible on how to make a woman like him.
“Youw eyes- they awe stunning,” Kotton whispered.
Worick bit back a smirk. “Nice,” he praised. “You’re mentioning her physical features. But what if she’s ugly?”
What the hell kind of a question was that?
“Umm,” Kotton stuttered, his lip raising into a sneer. Was he sneering out of confusion, irritation or discontent toward his lacklustre response? He hadn’t a clue.
“I’m just joking, brother,” Worick chuckled, shooting a playful punch toward Kotton’s shoulder. Kotton could only elicit a reply in the form of a nervous guffaw.
“Youw turn,” Kotton countered, desperately wanting the heat of the attention to no longer be on him.
Worick cleared his throat and threw his back into a straighter posture. He raised his head and offered a confident smirk. “Baby, the way you think about art is mesmerising.”
Kotton’s eyes grew two fold. His lips puckered, turning downward into a contemplative but acknowledging gesture. He stifled a laugh, trying to remain solemn, but nearly conceding.
“Damn,” he announced. “Do you pwactise wif youw piwwow at night?”
Worick rolled his eyes and gleefully threw another punch toward his friends’ shoulder. Kotton smiled at his response, resonating with comfort, experiencing gratitude for having such a strong connection with someone who could understand him during even his most vulnerable times.
“Okay, my tuwn,” Kotton announced enthusiastically. “I’m so happy to have met someone who can see the wowld as I do. And it only helps that youw face is as beautiful as the sun.”
Worick’s response? A stoic, if not troubling one. “Alright, so like, I loved the first part, but I don’t know, if it were me I wouldn’t like to have my appearance in the same sentence as an emotional observation, you know?”
Kotton nodded his head vehemently, jotting this note down in the invisible lines of scrap paper being held inside his mind. He could relate. He wanted to be seen as more of a soul and less as a physical embodiment of something that could or could not be construed as physically attractive. He believed that physical composition was not indicative of mental and emotional intelligence. Simply because someone did not meet the expectations of traditional values of beauty, did not necessarily mean that their mentality reflected the same shallow determination.
Kotton always tried to put himself in others’ shoes so to speak- as was his preconceived golden rule of wanting to be treated as you treat someone. He wanted to be seen not only physically, but also emotionally and mentally- traits that were invisible to the naked eye.
“Man, you totally went into a different realm. I could see it in your eyes,” Worick observed during Kotton’s sociological evaluation. Was it really that obvious?
Kotton blushed, guilty of the charges. He often found himself surrendering to authority of deep quandaries whilst in the midst of friendly conversation.
“My bad,” he admitted, attuning himself back to the present discussion.
“It’s your turn, brother.”
Kotton beamed. He needn’t a second before formulating his next set of words. He wanted the phrasing to be sensitive. He wanted his sentences to be carefully crafted. He wanted them to dote on each and every realm of placation that came with recognising someone’s worth.
He licked his lips, cleared his throat and spoke, “It’s not only youw eyes that are beautiful, but youw soul. Youw thoughts awe as enticing as the lips you use to speak. I wish to continue talking with you, pewhaps at my pwace?”
It took several moments for Kotton to descend from the clouds of his imagination. He looked to Worick who offered him nothing more than an approving nod.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself, friend.”
Kotton’s cheeks smarted as his lips curved into an impossibly sustainable simper. “Thanks,” he murmured. He couldn’t deny he was flustered.
“I don’t know if I can top that, if I’m being honest,” Worick admitted, folding his arms against his chest. His thick locks of golden hair radiated amidst the sunlight that peered in from the panes of the windows.
Kotton sighed. He was a regular at the self conscious parade, so situations such as this gave him no comfort until it's undying resolution. He had done well. As someone who held himself in such high regard, with expectations nearly impossible to ascertain, it was an ecstatic win to put under his belt.
“You want a beer?” Kotton asked. He watched his friend lower his arms to rest amongst the cushions of the couch.
Worick nodded his head. “I’d love one.”
The young man stood with the hunger of maintaining pleasant companionship. It had been an inscrutable time since he hadn’t been alone. Sure, he had Imogen; she was always skulking in the corner with the eyes of someone severely in need of sustenance- as if she had just been fed that very morning- but that wasn’t enough.
Kotton made his way to the kitchen. Once there, he hitched the cooler’s lid so it unveiled its heavenly treasure. He extracted two bottles of beer before closing it. Returning to the living room was a little strange. It was stupid, he knew, to be so fortunate at the presence of a friend. But here he was, sitting in the same room with someone he had known for years but had reluctantly been able to speak with in a neighbourly fashion. He relished in the company, not daring to waste a second worrying about anything else.
“Hewe you go,” Kotton said, offering a beer.
“Thanks,” Worick replied warmly. He graciously sipped from the lip of the glass.
Kotton adopted a warm, inviting sensation. Had loneliness caused him such a ridiculous sense of starvation for conversation? He would need to think this over later. For now, he enjoyed himself during the acquisition of living in the moment.
“This is nice,” Worick noted, throwing his head back against one of the armrests of the couch.
Kotton laughed. “I totally agwee. It’s been a while.”
In fact, it had been a long time since either of them had sat and talked and drank together. Kotton fluttered his eyelashes in the hopes of sending away the unwelcome onslaught of forming tears of nostalgia. He missed this. Why couldn’t it always be like this?
“Time sure does fly by,” Worick continued, taking another sip from his beer.
Kotton’s smile fell. “It suwe does.”