Sometimes, Daichi doesn’t quite get that safety is one thing, but happiness is an entirely different matter.
The silence between them was loaded and heavy, heavier even than the clouds on the horizon. Suga liked their colour, usually, could see a certain kind of beauty in them rather than a foreboding sense of rain. Today, though – today, even a clear blue sky would have only weighed down on his mood.
“What’s going on?”, Daichi asked him, finally, and Suga clenched his fists and looked down at them in his lap. Not only had he spent the majority of his day scooped up in his own home without being able to do anything worthwhile for the people in the city, now he had been forced into … into this.
And how was he supposed to talk about it with Daichi, of all people?
“My parents, they …” He absent-mindedly rubbed at the green on his fingertips, caused by all his fussing with herbs ever since the talk this morning.
“Not now, Phil.” He heard her hard voice coming from the chair to his right. He could tell she was clenching her teeth; another sign she was trying to keep her emotions in check. She couldn’t fool him.
"HEY! My hair is long and luxurious like chocolate, and silky as fuck. YOU are just jealous."
“ Yes, obviously I am quite jealous of your locks. If only someone would make my dreams of having your hair come to life. But alas, there can only be one princess with lucious long chocolate hair and we know that isn’t me. Sadly. “
WestAllen is one of those disgustingly cute couples who’d wear shirts like ‘The Minnie to my Mickey’ and 'The Mickey to my Minnie’ with arrows pointing at each other or 'If lost, please return to Iris’ and 'I’m Iris’