Purple-orange Night
The night sky was purple in these lands. It played well with the bonfire. So Klogg thought. He had only seen the Neverhood “sunsets” a couple of times, but he was sure that this blend of orange and violet would make the Sunsetter green with envy.Huddled in his blanket he stared into the fire, listening to the tea kettle bubbling, waiting for his companion to return from his evening jog.
He was half asleep when footsteps woke him. Nike was coming back. Klogg rubbed sleep from his eyes and set about making a cup of tea. Chamomile, they called it. Apparently good for sleep. Nike hadn't been sleeping well for the past few days.
When the hoophead made it to the circle of light, he was given a steaming cup.
“Thank you,” he said. He sniffed it. “Is it a new flavour? Have we run out of black tea?”
“No, we've still got half a tin.”
“Then why did you waste money on more tea? I'm not going to be carrying it around for you either, you know.”
Klogg pouted. “There's no pleasing you.”
“Of course there is,” Nike mumbled as he sipped the tea, basking in the heat of the fire.
It was a few minutes later that Klogg asked: “Like what?”
“Huh?” Nike looked up. Breaking from his musings he backtracked. “Oh. What pleases me. Well. This.” He made a general gesture around him.
Klogg was not satisfied. “Earlier today. When we asked that old guy for directions and he was babbling about the perfect life. You were drinking his every word.”
Nike shrugged. “It was interesting.”
Klogg snorted. “Finding a wife? The ideal girl, with big boobs and big heart, who will give you five beautiful strong children? Living somewhere with her, in a red-roofed house with a garden? May I remind you, you had that. Gave it up.”
The hoophead regarded his companion over the rim of the cup. “So?”
“Nothing. What's your ideal girl look like?”
Nike stared off into the distance. “My ideal girl,” he repeated. “Well, she ought to be strong. Honest, brave. She would be able and willing to follow me wherever I went, whatever I did. And I'd make it worth her time. Over and over again, every day, she would know that she was my queen and that I'd do anything for her.”
When it was obvious he wouldn't say anything else, Klogg bore his eyes into the fire once more. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself. What had he been expecting. Nike had just answered his question, nothing more.
Still, it bothered him.
“So you prefer girls.”
“Depends what for. Mines? Not really. House? Why not.”
“Relationship.”
“No preferences there.” Nike stretched his legs and walked over to sit next to Klogg.
Slightly upset Klogg asked: “That's it?”
“Yes. What's on your mind?”
“You were drooling over living with a wife in a red-roofed house.”
“Minus the red-roofed house. A tent is fine, I can't carry a red-roofed house around with me.”
“So you admit it, you'd like such a life.”
“And you're jealous.”
The abruptness and certainty took Klogg's next words away. He opened his mouth, closed it, and instead focused on the fire.
“To set your mind at ease, I don't think I'll be finding a pretty wife soon, or ever. I'm already in a relationship with you.”
It took a while until these words burrowed through Klogg's mind.
“...What?!”
“We kissed the other day, didn't we-”
“I was drunk! That doesn't count.”
“Then what about-”
“I don't want to hear about the spooning incident.”
“I wasn't going to bring that up-”
“You know what? Just shut up,” Klogg said, feeling redder than usual.
Nike grinned a little and sipped his chamomile tea. Klogg was throwing furtive glances at the hoophead. Then he got caught by Nike's eyes and the tall Hoodian gave him a smile.
Klogg mumbled something about a cold night, unwrapped the blanket around himself and draped half of it over Nike's shoulders. The hoophead shuffled closer, pulling the quilt tighter around their bodies. Their elbows were touching now.
Precariously slow, Klogg rested his head on Nike's shoulder. Just as gently, Nike rested his cheek on Klogg's forehead.
“About that kiss,” the hoophead began softly.
“...Hm?”
“When we're in the tent, would you like to try it again?”
“...Hm.”
It wasn't an answer, really. Just acknowledgement. With no refusal added.
They scuttled closer. Nike was still hugging the half empty cup when Klogg hugged him under the blanket and hummed happily.
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)
