[Tales of Symphonia] Weak Link
Weak Link
Author:
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Prompt: "wrongness with Genis and Mithos," I believe?
Word Count: 932
Notes: well, I never promised these would be good.
....................................................................................
Springtime shined hot on the crown of Mithos's head in a way he hadn't felt for nearly an eternity. With his crystal willed to dormancy he felt everything, almost too much: sweaty hair prickling the back of his neck, rocks pushing into the soles of his shoes, a brush across his knuckles because Genis wasn't paying attention while he talked and their hands bumped together every few strides. The road down to the bay from Altessa's house was narrow and fenced in, bordered by a few trees whose shadows pooled around their roots and leaned in the other direction.
"We'd have gotten back sooner," Genis was saying, looking up to watch a heron fly over them on awkward wings, "but Raine had to copy the inscription, and she rewrote it three times. She got that bump on her head because she was trying to read while she walked."
Mithos didn't have to fake his laugh. "My sister once tripped over her own feet trying to get to a rare strain of elfroot. I believe you."
They talked about sisters and their weird habits until they got to the shore and jumped the fence to sit under a tree some way off, where they wouldn't be bothered by seagulls. Pine needles prickled his hands and poked through his clothes when he sat down and leaned back against the trunk. He used to like the thick sap smell of pines, but the day was so hot even the tree felt warm, and the scent was as cloying as rotting fruit without the crystal to dull it.
Genis fell silent after a while, and Mithos watched his eyes track a pair of cranes across the sky. "You like her," he said when it became clear his young friend wouldn't resume the conversation on his own. "That girl, Presea."
The tips of Genis's cute little ears turned pink, and he turned his face away. "It isn't like that."
A dozen sarcastic responses leapt to the tip of his tongue. Mithos knew an infatuation when he saw it. He'd watched Yuan make a fool of himself over Martel, watched Kratos destroy himself for a human woman. Lloyd reflected his father like a mirror. "Good thing," he said. "Tethe'alla doesn't like it when it looks like half-elves are going to breed."
Genis turned as red as his best friend's coat. "I-it's definitely not like that!"
Mithos leaned back again, folded his arms behind his head, and went uh-huh, sure, and made disbelieving noises whenever Genis tried to lie his way out of embarrassment. "Just kiss her," Mithos said when the other boy blew his cheeks out and glared. "If she likes it, you have a chance. If she blinks at you and walks away--" the most likely scenario, he thought, "--then too bad."
The way Genis's eyes widened, he may as well have suggested seducing her. "I-- no, I can't. I've never... I can't."
"I haven't either," Mithos said. It wasn't even a lie. "But it can't be that hard."
"Are you crazy?"
Some would say yes leapt to his tongue. He watched Genis through the fall of his bangs, eyes mostly closed. Mithos could hardly believe he'd ever been like this - shy, stuttering, prone to turning red at the right jab from the right person. Yuan used to call him the weak link; you think you're strong, he said once, when they were alone, but you'll break the moment someone points a blade at your sister's throat.
"If you want," Mithos said, letting his eyes truly close, "we can practice."
He heard Genis choke on his own spit and bit his lip hard to keep from grinning. It didn't work. The laugh bubbling up from his throat sounded almost hysterical but he let it go, covering his mouth with both hands and sliding into Genis, who shoved his shoulder and sounded, from all the sputtering, like he was red as a lantern. Mithos laughed until his sides hurt and Genis started giggling into his shoulder.
Every party had a weak link. Every circle of friends.
Mithos pulled in a deep breath to calm himself and twisted onto his knees, pressing his friend's shoulder into the tree with his own weight. "Really," he said, using his slight advantage in height to make sure he leaned over Genis. He let his hair slide in to tickle the other boy's chin. "It's just a kiss. I don't mind."
Genis stared at his lips. "U-um... "
Mithos couldn't tell what was going through the boy's mind, but the direction of his stare said he was considering it - or too shocked to respond. And twelve was awfully young. Too young, maybe. They'd known each other for three days. Was it too soon? Was this not how it was done?
He sat back. Heat crept into his face. Mithos met the other boy's gaze for one moment before looking away and faking a laugh that sounded too shaky, not right at all. "I meant on the cheek."
"Oh! Um. Oh." He heard Genis shift, heard pine needles crinkle. "Right, I know, I just--"
Right, right. Mithos fiddled with the ends of his belt. "Maybe later."
"Yeah." Genis sounded out of breath. A seagull's shadow dashed across the dry grass, followed by the echoes of its cry. And then he muttered again: yeah.
Victory.
.
Author:
Fandom: Tales of Symphonia
Prompt: "wrongness with Genis and Mithos," I believe?
Word Count: 932
Notes: well, I never promised these would be good.
....................................................................................
Springtime shined hot on the crown of Mithos's head in a way he hadn't felt for nearly an eternity. With his crystal willed to dormancy he felt everything, almost too much: sweaty hair prickling the back of his neck, rocks pushing into the soles of his shoes, a brush across his knuckles because Genis wasn't paying attention while he talked and their hands bumped together every few strides. The road down to the bay from Altessa's house was narrow and fenced in, bordered by a few trees whose shadows pooled around their roots and leaned in the other direction.
"We'd have gotten back sooner," Genis was saying, looking up to watch a heron fly over them on awkward wings, "but Raine had to copy the inscription, and she rewrote it three times. She got that bump on her head because she was trying to read while she walked."
Mithos didn't have to fake his laugh. "My sister once tripped over her own feet trying to get to a rare strain of elfroot. I believe you."
They talked about sisters and their weird habits until they got to the shore and jumped the fence to sit under a tree some way off, where they wouldn't be bothered by seagulls. Pine needles prickled his hands and poked through his clothes when he sat down and leaned back against the trunk. He used to like the thick sap smell of pines, but the day was so hot even the tree felt warm, and the scent was as cloying as rotting fruit without the crystal to dull it.
Genis fell silent after a while, and Mithos watched his eyes track a pair of cranes across the sky. "You like her," he said when it became clear his young friend wouldn't resume the conversation on his own. "That girl, Presea."
The tips of Genis's cute little ears turned pink, and he turned his face away. "It isn't like that."
A dozen sarcastic responses leapt to the tip of his tongue. Mithos knew an infatuation when he saw it. He'd watched Yuan make a fool of himself over Martel, watched Kratos destroy himself for a human woman. Lloyd reflected his father like a mirror. "Good thing," he said. "Tethe'alla doesn't like it when it looks like half-elves are going to breed."
Genis turned as red as his best friend's coat. "I-it's definitely not like that!"
Mithos leaned back again, folded his arms behind his head, and went uh-huh, sure, and made disbelieving noises whenever Genis tried to lie his way out of embarrassment. "Just kiss her," Mithos said when the other boy blew his cheeks out and glared. "If she likes it, you have a chance. If she blinks at you and walks away--" the most likely scenario, he thought, "--then too bad."
The way Genis's eyes widened, he may as well have suggested seducing her. "I-- no, I can't. I've never... I can't."
"I haven't either," Mithos said. It wasn't even a lie. "But it can't be that hard."
"Are you crazy?"
Some would say yes leapt to his tongue. He watched Genis through the fall of his bangs, eyes mostly closed. Mithos could hardly believe he'd ever been like this - shy, stuttering, prone to turning red at the right jab from the right person. Yuan used to call him the weak link; you think you're strong, he said once, when they were alone, but you'll break the moment someone points a blade at your sister's throat.
"If you want," Mithos said, letting his eyes truly close, "we can practice."
He heard Genis choke on his own spit and bit his lip hard to keep from grinning. It didn't work. The laugh bubbling up from his throat sounded almost hysterical but he let it go, covering his mouth with both hands and sliding into Genis, who shoved his shoulder and sounded, from all the sputtering, like he was red as a lantern. Mithos laughed until his sides hurt and Genis started giggling into his shoulder.
Every party had a weak link. Every circle of friends.
Mithos pulled in a deep breath to calm himself and twisted onto his knees, pressing his friend's shoulder into the tree with his own weight. "Really," he said, using his slight advantage in height to make sure he leaned over Genis. He let his hair slide in to tickle the other boy's chin. "It's just a kiss. I don't mind."
Genis stared at his lips. "U-um... "
Mithos couldn't tell what was going through the boy's mind, but the direction of his stare said he was considering it - or too shocked to respond. And twelve was awfully young. Too young, maybe. They'd known each other for three days. Was it too soon? Was this not how it was done?
He sat back. Heat crept into his face. Mithos met the other boy's gaze for one moment before looking away and faking a laugh that sounded too shaky, not right at all. "I meant on the cheek."
"Oh! Um. Oh." He heard Genis shift, heard pine needles crinkle. "Right, I know, I just--"
Right, right. Mithos fiddled with the ends of his belt. "Maybe later."
"Yeah." Genis sounded out of breath. A seagull's shadow dashed across the dry grass, followed by the echoes of its cry. And then he muttered again: yeah.
Victory.
.