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Neil lay sprawled across his bed on his back, toying with his phone lazily as he held it above his head. Dark, curly bangs were falling unevenly away from his forehead, but frankly, he could care less.

He was bored, no denying it.

"You really should be studying, you know."

He groaned and sat up on his elbows, eyeing the other boy who sat up straight and neat against the headboard; a book open on his knees.

"You're one to talk, Oliver," He retorted. "You're reading Land of Teapots and the Washable Marker, not a textbook."

He rolled his green eyes, "It's 'Land of Stories: The Wishing Spell,' by Chris Colfer."

Neil raised an eyebrow, "You mean that guy that you sound like you're doing a perfect impression of every day?"

Oliver shook his head, true their voices were alike, but he didn't think they were exact, "Yes, him."

"Huh," Neil sat up, crossing his legs. "I never knew he could write."

Oliver looked down at his book once again, "This is his first novel, so not many people do."

A mischievous smirk crept across the dark-haired boy's face as he rolled onto his stomach. "You know what I'd rather be doing?" He began to crawl towards the younger boy.

Not noticing him, Oliver asked absentmindedly, "Band practice?"

"Not exactly..." Neil had reached him and rose up to his knees.

The book was swiftly moved from Oliver's lap. "Hey, I was-!" He was silenced by a kiss.

Neil used Oliver's moment of surprise to press him tighter against the headboard of his bed, running a hand up the inside of his leg.

Pinned between Neil and the bed, Oliver felt obliged to sink into the kiss, although he knew they really should stop; Neil hadn't even touched a textbook yet.

Breaking the kiss, Neil's eyes looked Oliver up and down. Everything he wore was form-fitting and flattered him nicely. Not to mention his natural features; flawless, porcelain skin that was so touchable, long, dark eyelashes, bright emerald eyes, and silky brown hair.

"We...We really should be studying," Oliver said, his voice nothing more than a whisper. It was as if Neil had taken all of his breath away, which, in a certain sense, he had.

He shook his head, "No, I'm not losing this moment, you look impossibly pretty right now."

Oliver looked a little surprised, "You think I'm...Pretty?"

Neil cupped the side of the younger boy's face with his hand as he pulled him in for another kiss; inhaling the familiar vanilla scent as Oliver's soft lips were pressed against his.

When he pulled away, he was smiling, "I think you're perfect."

Oliver laughed a little as he looked down, "Nobody's told me that before."

"I'm surprised, you're really amazing."

"No," He shook his head. "No, I'm not."

Neil could hear the sincerity in Oliver's words; the boy really thought he wasn't anything special. That lowered his spirits. A lot.

"Hey," Neil said, bending downward slightly to meet Oliver's eyes. "Look at me."

Glancing upward, Oliver was met with bright blue sapphires of eyes.

"You're beautiful, Oliver," Neil told him.

Oliver shook his head, "Neil, I'm really-"

A finger was brought to his lips; then lowered once he was silent. Neil took both of Oliver's hands and squeezed them reassuringly as he looked at him, saying, "I mean it. You are, so beautiful."

Looking from their intertwined hands and Neil's honest eyes, Oliver knew he was being genuine. "...Thank you."

Neil smiled and hugged the other boy tightly. "I love you, you know. Even if you weren't beautiful, I would still love you, with all of my heart and soul."

Oliver wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that, so he gave Neil a kiss on the cheek, as his way of saying he loved him as well.

There they sat, holding each other in a perfect embrace, neither one wanting to break it.

Oliver was left thinking about what Neil had told him. The way his eyes had shimmered when he spoke made him believe it had to be true.

You are, so beautiful.

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