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closed roleplay with my besties
Private
Princess of Pop



“hallo, herr langdon.”

klavier gavin’s words echo around the clinically dull hospital room. tate stops in his tracks, throat thick—with what? anticipation? fright? worry, about the state of the man, about his health? or worry about what he thinks about tate now… tate gazes at klavier gavin, the famous rockstar, his newfound friend: his competitor in the tater throwing competition. the competition that seems so far away now, so unimportant compared to the current situation. the current situation, in which tate is standing, staring, forgetting to answer the man in front of him. 

“h-herr klav—” tate stops himself from addressing the man too casually. “herr gavin…” he breathes, wondering why his voice suddenly seems so weak. klavier just looks at him, his beautiful face unreadable. is he mad? tate tentatively steps forward, unable to stop himself from wanting to get closer to the other man, yet cautious, unsure of how welcome he is right now. given the situation, tate thinks klavier maybe should yell at him, tell him to get out of there, to never show his face near him again. but klavier says nothing, just looks at him. tate is scared. his heart, beating hard, nervously—just because he’s scared, nothing else… making his way to the bed, tate notices how klavier’s gaze follows him, dark eyelashes covering his blue eyes while he blinks, slowly.

“um…” tate starts. klavier looks at him, waiting. “...how are you feeling?”


Private
Princess of Pop



@Klavier 
5star
Popstar



what
Klavier
Minister of Pop



pees
Klavier
Minister of Pop



as the other man opened his mouth and began to utter my name, an unavoidable smile just about threatened to crawl onto my face. until the word was cut off, replaced with a tentative "herr gavin". the previous warmth wasn't there, and i felt a tiny bit smaller. i couldn't do much but stare, somewhat confused, at the man in his seemingly very nervous state as he made his way over to my cold and lonely cot.

he spoke again; a simple "how are you feeling?". the question which i was already struggling to answer, but with this new presence in the room, it suddenly felt that much easier. the smile finally found its way onto my face. "i feel wunderbar, now that i have someone to hear my spoiled whining and a pair of eyes to look into, hm?". it might not be the complete truth, as the pain was still coursing through my body and my dark thoughts had yet to settle down, but herr langdon didn't need to know that.
Klavier
Minister of Pop



heeey @encrede haha!1aaa hahaaaa ahaaha
Private
Princess of Pop



cold and lonely cot pls stop being good and using fancy words
Klavier
Minister of Pop



encrede wrote:
cold and lonely cot pls stop being good and using fancy words
GHAJKSJDBVJK i was giglging so hard while writing that specific line.      and the rest too. i cannot stop giggling
Private
Princess of Pop



"i feel wunderbar" klavier said.

tate tried his best not to seem taken aback by the warmth shining from his tanned, sculpted face. the man smiled, and it was as if some of tate's worries melted away at the sight of it. he wasn't mad... tate exhaled, his breath spilling out of his pink lips, whole body finally relaxing. with a simple smile, klavier gavin had untied the knot that had been growing in his stomach.

the man continued."...a pair of eyes to look into, hm?"

at this, tate took another breath, heart rate suddenly spiking, breath caught, a smile made out of pure relief forming on his face. he felt so much: relief, for the man seemingly not holding any grudge against tate for hurting him; happiness, seeing he was alright; and another feeling, hard to put into words... but with the other mans words, accompanied with his intense gaze, seeming to look right into the deepest depth in tate, tate felt like he was floating. warmth flooded his chest, and his cheeks burned, most likely turning pink, given how pale he was. he hoped klavier wouldn't notice too much. eyes lingering on the perfect curve of those perfect lips, tate let out a small laugh.

"o-of course! herr—klavier... im so happy you're alright..... i was so worried....." tate swallowed, eyes darting up to the other mans eyes to gauge his reaction and await his response. "im so—im so sorry klavier..." tate clenched his fists and let go, unsure what to do with his hands, who seemed to live their own life, drawn towards klavier, wanting to touch, somehow... craving physical reassurance that the man was there, alright, not angry with him. had tate been less shy, younger, less worried about hurting the mans broken klaviericle, he would've hugged him right there and then. but tate wasn't so brave, heart pounding, trying to keep himself together, for the sake of klavier, and maybe his own pride.
Private
Princess of Pop



Klavier wrote:
heeey @encrede haha!1aaa hahaaaa ahaaha
@Klavierhey... bites lip
Klavier
Minister of Pop



i tilted my head at the heartfelt apology. "sorry?" i had to chuckle, once again just a tiny bit confused. "you have nothing to apologize for, liebling." reaching out to still herr langdons restless hands with one of my own, i tried to digest his words. he... was worried. that fact made me feel a strange mix of timid nervousness and warm anticipation. "some fool simply got careless with their tossing technique, and i had to take the blow. you're the last person i would blame." his hands felt warm in mine, and i hoped that the smile on my face was able to mimic that feeling as i gave them a slight squeeze.
Klavier
Minister of Pop



encrede wrote:
Klavier wrote:
heeey @encrede  rede haha!1aaa hahaaaa ahaaha
@Klavierhey... bites lip
hey... @enc enc enc enc bites teeth
Private
Princess of Pop



Klavier wrote:
encrede wrote:
Klavier wrote:
heeey @encrede  rede haha!1aaa hahaaaa ahaaha
@Klavierhey... bites lip
hey... @enc enc enc enc bites teeth
:333333
Private
Princess of Pop



"liebling."

tate's heart stopped. 

then it started beating again, hard. klavier's touch was like the electric shock of a defibrillator to tate's heart. the warmth of the other man's impossibly smooth skin, his long fingers graze his own, the man's perfectly tan hand contrasting his own pale, smaller hand. tate tried, quite desperately, to reason with his heartbeat, but was ultimately unsuccessful. something about the man, perhaps his undeniable charm, his apparent perfection, his fame and reputation... tate felt unusually comfortable around him, but at the same time, he was nervous. painfully aware of his own hand, he held it completely still, unsure of what to do, but not wanting this to end. like sitting completely still when a cat sits in your lap... afraid that any movement might scare them away...

"some fool"  the man said, and tate winced at the words. they were said softly, without any aggression, but he still feared the worst. tate really was a fool... being so careless as to hurt klavier, unable to control his tate power... tate felt sad, digusted at himself. angry. but why wasn't klavier blaming him? he didnt seem sad or angry at all. could the man really be so forgiving? "some fool"... the words echoed in tate's head as he tried to understand. then the man continued. "you're the last person i would blame"  klavier spoke with warmth, squeezing tate's hand, and tate understood. realisation hit tate like a potato, and he felt his stomach drop, flushed warmth replaced with mute horror. klavier didn't know... he didn't remember who threw the godforsaken, terrible, unforgivable tater. he didn't blame tate... because he didn't know it was him. tate's heart, still beating fast, now beat even harder, feeling so much. fear. shame. distracted by his realisation, he didn't even process how unusually long klavier held his hand, how intentionally he squeezed it, looking at him, smiling. tate couldn't even blush, wanting to cry more than anything. he was at a loss for words, not sure how to proceed. does he dig further, making sure that klavier really doesnt remember? does he admit his guilt? does he pretend like nothing, choosing his greedy desires when it comes to the other man, over being truthful? the last thought disgusted tate, and he unconsciously pulled back from klavier, their hands falling back, silently. tate stood, unable to look the man in the eyes, the room's silence, deafening. he had to say something.

"herr... klavier..." tate began, staring intensely at the mans chest, too distracted by his fear to feel embarrassed about seeing the slightest hint of the mans bare skin showing by the deep cut of the hospital gown. "...how much do you remember about the incident?"
Private
Princess of Pop



@Klavier =3
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