noah sifts through the clothes, fingers plucking past plastic hangers as they click and clatter against each other. finally, he finds his family's sizes- but he finds himself lacking confidence when determining his brother's.

"you wouldn't do that." noah hums, the blue lilt of his voice cocksure. "don't you wanna change into these before we get onto the plane?"

a curtain of poochyena print drapes over his arm like a waterfall of jungle plants. he moves to the counter with kyle.

"i'll pay you back. thanks." noah leans in, pecking his boyfriend's cheek. "remind me to buy your rents souvenirs in johto, okay?"

kyle lopez

"hell yeah i want to. life's short, man."

noah says through the shirt smothering his face. with a brisk shake of his head, the shirt falls into his hands. blades of dark hair slide quietly across his forehead.

"i wanna do all the cute couple stuff with you."

there is earnesty in the way his voice softens to a hush. as if it were a confession one makes to themselves on some restless summer night, noah finds his face growing hot.

noah takes the changing room next door, and with a laugh, he calls into kyle's stall: "let me know if it's a size too small!"

kyle lopez

noah is quick to change. shifting shirts and falling out of garments is second nature to him— and as he dons his new tropical camouflage, noah slips past kyle's changing room curtains as if dashing through brush. and like some jungle flower, his head blossoms through between the curtain flaps.

"you like?" noah chirps.

to steady himself, noah's hands hold either side of the stall's frames. the embellishment the sleeves startle him—

but his stare settles quick. it brightens with daring, and as soon as he whips out his phone, he snaps a picture. "nice."

the habit is learned. he pockets his phone quick as if it were a gold nugget.

"not a bad look, man." noah clears his throat and nods his head away. "we're gonna be late, so..."

kyle lopez

noah is a stubborn blockade. a snickering barricade that seals kyle's discomposed charm for his eyes only; however, the man physical protest is enough to overtake him.

"oof, hey!"

he stumbles back. clutched in a flailing hand, the fabric of his old shirt swings like a white flag. the hold on his neck clamps around him like cuffs, and as he's hauled away, noah's shoes squeak against the grey flooring.

"we're gate 47, right?" noah says, his feet momentarily waltzing around like tangela vines. he murmurs a bit and nestles his cheek against the nook of kyle's arm. "your arm's comfy, y'know... maybe i don't need a neck pillow after all."

in the air above, announcements call for boarding of various planes.

kyle lopez