Michael and Dante

If you're offended by this kind of relationship, go away. :3 I don't need your flame-throwing kind here. If you like it, please read and review. Constructive criticism is welcome. As for the way it's written line by line, I like it and I probably won't change it. (I usually only do poetry, if you can't tell) .-.
So this is kinda like prose or something. X3

(And just so you know, there's not supposed to be a huge age difference between them. I was thinking 17/18 and like, 20 something. But if you'd prefer there to be, don't let me rain on your parade!) >D

Enjoy my first ficcie! :D

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The light turned green and the car hummed beneath them again.


He looked down at the hand tightly grasping his; out of sight between the seats.
He blushed slightly thinking about it, the warm tinge plunging him deeper into his reverie.
The mellifluous voice brought him back. "Michael, you're turning red again. Cut it out, you cutie." Hearing that man use such sarcastic pet names usually irritated him… but he knew Dante meant it this time.
Naturally, he glowed even brighter with that in mind. How did it all happen, anyway? This unlikely scenario playing before him―a once unattainable daydream. (Who says boys aren't allowed to daydream? They still think about love, adventure, s--- No! He wasn't going to let his mind go there... not about his teacher!)

His teacher.
The one sitting next to him, holding his hand.
Holding his hand and showing no signs of discomfort or wanting to let go.
Michael used his free hand to reach in his pocket, looking for something to fidget with.
There it was. That small, palm-sized vessel of love.
This is where it all began.
His hand closed around the item, making that crisp crinkle only important paper can make.

He could still see those beautiful, beautiful words written in scratchy blue ink.
Michael closed his eyes for a moment, trying to take it all in.
If they weren't so competitive and immature, they never would have made it here.
It all started with that stupid crane.
No, not stupid.

So Dante was pretty good at origami.
So Michael was secretly gentle and careful.
So what?

Dante swore it was impossible to unfold a piece of origami without tearing it.
"On the contrary," Michael said teasingly, "I can do it easy-no-problem, you noob."
Dante only laughed. "What, you don't think I can? Write something secret you haven't told anyone on the inside of that piece of paper and fold it. If I can unfold it without a single tear, I get to read the message."
Seemingly out of nowhere, Dante's smile faded. "Deal," he muttered, suddenly serious. A pen scribbled a hidden message, one that may be unknown to the world forever.

As Michael watched Dante fold that small peach paper, he realized he'd never attributed such dexterous skill to his clumsy, awkward teacher. The one who tripped on the same box every day.
Equal angles, equal side-lengths, pulling sides and corners and making flaps and wings and a head and--- Michael was feeling dizzy. No wonder Dante was so good at math and science. Michael thought with a smile, “No wonder he teaches it."

Dante carefully set the graceful pink bird on Michael's outstretched palm.
Michael gave an affirmative nod, not even thinking about what could be written inside; he focused only on the task at hand.
"Done and done!" he announced after what, for him, was only a few moments. For Dante, an eternity.
Michael had almost forgotten about the message until he saw the blue-ish smudge on his finger.
Looking down, he felt like someone had plowed over him with a Mack truck and tossed him in a cold shower.
"I have the biggest crush on you ever, and you may never know."


He could only stare at it.
Could it be--?
"This..That's not funny, Mr. ---" Michael looked up.
Dante was flushed like Michael had never seen him.
"You… you're not joking, are you?" he asked softly.
Dante regained his composure and jabbed Michael with his meter stick.
"I don't suppose I am," Dante offered somewhat shakily. Not nearly the dominant presentation he'd expected it to be.

With confidence he didn't know he had, Michael slowly stood up, not taking his eyes off of the man before him. He slowly made the four steps to his teacher and took his face in his hands.
Still staring into his eyes, Michael let his fingers caress Dante's cheeks.
His eyes quickly glanced down at those beautiful, trembling lips.
"So kiss me," Michael whispered, pulling Dante's face closer to his own.
As their lips met, Dante let his hands move to Michael's back, hugging him close.