In Hues of Blue & Yellow

We vibed in the grocery store. By the stove in the sticky kitchen. In the closet to make up for "outfit performative" anxiety.

Two queers with music. A pair of fuzzy kitty-eared pink headphones. A ratty excuse for some airline earphones with an adapter to bring it back up to this decade of devices.

Did you know that most of our communication methods are non-verbal? Sometimes it's better that way. Enough people yel-talked at them anyways. This way they could focus on each other without all the other distractions and inconveniences. Like how instead of noticing the stares, they noticed the eyelash resting on their lover's cheek.

Make a wish

An outstretched index finger with a curved line of hope on the end, a cool blow from Chapstick-ed lips, a wish blown into the universe.

What did you wish for?

A raised eyebrow dipping into the other with a wiggle, a smirk, an inaudible laugh.

Let's get outta here

A gentle tug at the other's plaid shirt sleeve, with a hand finding its way into the other's leading them out of the dodgy lame-ass supermarket. They got enough of what they needed anyhow. Time to go home.

Sweaty palms reach towards a worn doorknob, the thump against the frame to get it to open, an off-balanced stumble in.

A chuckle and playful shove at a shoulder. A shaking head with a smile splayed cross.

Every time. We should get that damn door fixed.

It's all part of the little joys of life. The simple fumbles. Of coming home together.

One heaves the grocery bag onto the counter, the other grabs stuff to put away in the bathroom, the bedroom, wherever it belongs. Maybe not even in those places. But somehow, in this home, everything belongs in its own little way.

~