"Well, after I connect these cables," Strong Bad demonstrates, "then we'll have an internet connection." "And then we can download new games to play?" Homestar asked excitedly, as Strong Bad nodded with the slightest of smiles.
"Five papew planes, five daisy chains, five words fow you.," Homestar sang quietly, running a "hand" through his love's thick blue hair, who was fast asleep against his chest. "I will love you fowevew."
"Owange isn't a bad colouw. It's not weally a good colouw fow you, I like wed and black bettew," Homestar observes, his eyes raking the lithe form of Strongbad, who was trying on a loose-fitting, pumpkin orange button-down shirt. Hardly flattering. "Do they have it in black?"
"Stwong bad…?" He asked cautiously, peeking around the corner into their shared bedroom. "Yeah?" the blue-haired male inquired, turning a bit. Homestar stepped tentatively into the room, settling onto the bed and looking meekly at him. "I have a question," he supplies, pausing thoughtfully. "What is love?" While taken with surprise, Strong Bad blushes faintly, getting up from the computer chair and sitting softly next to him. Hands entwined, he smiles a bit, and says, "This is."
While yes, Homestar did annoy him sometimes, Strong Bad had to admit. Nobody annoyed him quite like Homestar – and he wouldn't have it any other way.
"You said you didn't want to see me!" He cries, both furious and heartbroken, his voice choked with tears. "No, stupid, no," emerald eyes flash with desperation. "I was planning a surprise for you. I didn't want you to see." He tugged at a pale hand, pulling him into the basement, where a cozy blanket fort, complete with munchies and videogames, was in progress.
"Oh. It was just this pawk I had a dweam about once. Like, Fanta-soda. Or somethin'." Strong Bad laughs, "You mean Fantasia?" "Oh! Yeah!"
"We can't have a puppy, Homestar." Strong Bad starts, and is confronted with a wailing noise from his paler counterpart. "But puppiesssss, they'we so cute!" Strong Bad waved his hand dismissively – he was more concerned with the fact that the dog would get in the way of… other things.
"So like, and then, they got lost!" Homestar cried, arms flailing for emphasis, "and then there was mowe to the stowy, but I fowgot. I think." "Hah, okay. Maybe we can make up more, tomorrow morning," Strong Bad murmurs, fingers grazing underneath the red fabric of the others' shirt.
It wasn't as if they had anything else to do. "Come on, wash your hands, I'll get the apples." The blue-haired boy murmured, pulling a bag of apples from the refrigerator, washing both them and his hands. "Now, first, we make the crust, okay?" He guides pale hands through the steps, and then cuts the apples himself, for the others' safety. "Tch, ow!" He cries softly, rinsing his hand under water. Before he can dry his cut hand, however, Homestar kisses the wound. Strong Bad changes his mind – he does like making pie after all.
There wasn't really any denying it at this point, he decided. His fingers had never fit between anyone else's so perfectly. He'd never felt so at home curled up next to anyone else. He'd never been so comforted by familiar lips, soft and inviting. And he'd never been so content with anyone else in his arms, and he'd come to the final conclusion. This was fate, there was no other explanation. This was love.
Opening the front door of their shared apartment, Homestar half expected to find his lover here, ready to greet him, but he was not. After setting down his equipment in the cupboard next to the door, he wandered around the unsettlingly quiet dwelling. Strong Bad was nowhere to be found, it seemed. Maybe he was back at the hospital, getting medicine or something. That would make sense, after all, because he'd been so ill as of late. Homestar decided to distract himself for a bit, watching television, and after losing track of time, he heard a quiet knock at the door.
After turning off the television, he got up and answered it. A familiar blonde in purple dress was standing there, looking rather… well, sad. The two had a somewhat normal, albeit strained friendship, after Homestar had told her he was in love with Strong Bad. "Uh… Mawzipan, what'we you doing hewe?" Marzipan sniffled a bit, wiping her eyes. "Well, Homestar," she started, "Strong Bad had to be hospitalised again this morning. And…" Homestar stopped, blinking slowly. No. This wasn't what he thought it was. She began to cry, "He didn't make it. I'm sorry." Handing him a sealed envelope, she stuttered, "I'm so sorry." And left.
In a daze, Homestar made his way to the couch, meaning to sit on it, only to miscalculate the distance and land heavily on the floor. No, he couldn't be gone – he hadn't been that sick, had he? No, not his Strong Bad. No, this was wrong, this was a bad dream. He was still asleep, and he'd wake up soon, go to work, and come back to an alive and well, blue-haired, emerald-eyed Strong Bad.
Fumbling to open the letter, he pulled the paper from inside the envelope, reading the carefully hand-written message. He recognised the handwriting at once. Strong Bad's.
If you're reading this, Marzipan's already told you. I would have called when I got here, but I could barely speak. I didn't want to worry you, either, just in case it wasn't anything serious. Turns out, I was wrong. But anyway. Do you remember what I'd said the other day? We were talking about important words, and vows, and stuff like that. I wanted to tell you this then, but I wasn't ready. I'm not really ready now, but it's now or never – literally. I wanted to ask you to somewhat… marry me. I suppose. I just wanted to tell you, and to thank you… for everything. I don't think I've loved anyone like I have you, even though we weren't exactly on friendly terms at the beginning, but I've grown up since then. We both have. And I wouldn't change a thing. I got to grow up, and see the world, and spend every precious moment with you, and that was always more than enough, more than I deserved, more than I could ever have asked for in a life. I may not have been the best person for you to spend your time with, but I hope it was what you wanted.
Homestar, I just want you to be happy, so please do me a favour. Don't mope around once you're finished reading this. Don't give up on living, don't do anything stupid. Stick around, for me. So I can watch you. I'll always be with you; I hope you know that, even if you may not see me for a while. I will never leave you lost and confused, and when you are, remember me. I hope that's enough – you were - are - the best thing that has ever happened to me. Don't forget that. If it weren't ending this way, I'd have asked you to stay with me forever. And I think maybe… you would have said yes.
Till death do us part (this sounds awful, really), so, with more love than you could fathom,
"This is supposed to be like, a manual introducing you to your new laptop. Or something," Strong Bad hands Homestar a thin, flimsy pad of paper, "I guess." Taking the box the laptop was in, he opened it, plugging it in and turning it on. "So," he begins, "it's not hard to use, and I shouldn't have to explain much, since you've had a laptop before." Homestar didn't need any explanation, or demonstration – but he kept quiet. He just liked to hear Strong Bad talk.
"It's too bwight outside, Stwong Bad," he mutters sleepily, crawling into bed next to the tan, shirtless boy. "Too light. I like it bettew in hewe." His hands wrap around the somewhat muscular form of Strong Bad, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. "Sleep, Homestar…" Strong Bad grumbles, tangling their fingers together, "and stop talking, the quiet is nice sometimes."
It was dark now, and in a tangled mess of limbs and blankets, the warmth of each other hanging in the air. Soft kisses, hungry but tender, were exchanged, touches and quiet moans breaking the silence of the night. If there was a better way to spend the evening, there wasn't any space in Strong Bad's brain to think of what. This was bliss.
It'd been a while since they'd talked… months, actually. And, it was pouring rain outside – Strong Bad's least favourite weather. His thoughts drifted back to that day. It'd been somewhat of a fight, and Homestar had left. It wasn't as if Strong Bad didn't know where he was – he was at his own home, but the fact that Homestar wasn't with him left a hollow ache in his heart. How stupid, though, he knew it was his fault. He just hadn't swallowed his pride and gone to apologise. But, today, he realised he couldn't take the loneliness anymore.
He got himself to knock at the door. At this point, he was drenched. He couldn't even remember what the fight was about, or how to say sorry, or what he would actually do if Homestar answered the door. He waited, and knocked again. He wasn't aware of how long he'd been standing there anymore. Maybe an hour. He knocked one last time, about to turn and leave, when the door creaked open. Blinking slowly, in disbelief, the paler of the two observed, though somewhat surprised, "Stwong Bad,"
"I'm sorry," came a choked apology, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I miss you." The blue-haired boy paused again, noticing he wasn't even wearing a coat, "I'm sorry. Please, come back."