Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This is it, Gavin mused, red cup dangling between his fingers. I am bloody sloshed. What’s that fancy word that coppers use? Completely inebriating…inebriate? Ineribated? A sound escaped his mouth, something between a pitched giggle and a heavy sigh, as he got up unsteadily and accidentally spilled some unknown liquid onto the already stained carpet. Frowning in disgust, he pushed his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes. Where the hell am I, again? Off campus?  Gavin blinked slowly as he adjusted to his surroundings. His friend had abandoned him a while ago for a rather good looking bird, and the guy trying to get in his pants was nowhere to be found. Right shame.

The party was still going at full speed – the rooms were dimly lit, silhouetting a large crowd; Gavin could smell alcohol, weed, and a few other familiar things his addled brain couldn’t process at the moment. Bass was pumping from the living room at an unholy level and drowned out the noise of people drunkenly socializing, dancing, and fucking upstairs, probably.

I could have been having some brilliant sex right about now, he suddenly thought, but immediately reprimanded himself.

This is exactly why you shouldn’t have come, you git. Terrible self-control. You said you would be better this year.  

Head swimming, Gavin started pushing past the throngs of people in search for the door, already feeling the bile rise up in his throat. Just as his thin fingers closed around the cold doorknob, he saw a flash of blond hair out of the corner of his eye and groaned.

Gavin hurriedly whipped open the door, muttering “sod off” to the female voice shouting “Gavin, babe, where are you going?” behind him, over the music, and effectively cut her off as he shut himself out of the house.

The cool evening air hit Gavin’s face in a rush and quelled his churning stomach considerably as he breathed it in. Realizing he was still holding his drink cup, he chucked it into a bush and ignored the offended yell that came from behind it as the red plastic hit its target. Checking his phone and realizing it was half-past three in the morning, the more logical, less drunk part of Gavin’s brain decided it was better to call a cab than attempt to walk home. As he waited, he tried to remember how he got to…where ever he was, but came up empty. Frustrated, Gavin ran his fingers through his hair again, messing it up even more, and plopped down onto the grass lawn by the curb.

He was still plastered, and felt entirely unsatisfied with how the night went. And yet here I am, bloody hell. Didn’t even get to properly snog anyone, either. Even so, Gavin knew that getting home at this hour meant his flatmates would simply assume (which would be quite accurate, on the regular) what he had been up to, and he was so not about facing their silent but disappointed, judging looks right now.

“This’s your fault entirely” Gavin said aloud, to nobody in particular. “If youu didn’t go and get that…that smegging promotion at work, I would not be hereeeee right now.”

He was so much better off a year ago, dicking around with his B back in England, making videos and editing footage…he was more or less happy. But here in America, at the University of Texas of all places, Gavin felt insignificant and unfulfilled, even if he did put himself over here a year ago, in a moment’s decision fueled by bitterness and spite.

The nausea suddenly hit him hard, making him double over on the grass and wretch loudly, spilling the waste from his past few hours of hard drinking. His throat burned unpleasantly. Wrinkling his nose, Gavin wiped his mouth with his sleeve and ripped up some grass to cover up his vomit, flopping back down and childishly rolling away from the mess, towards the edge of the lawn. He laid there for a bit, listening to the familiar mellow thud of the bass coming from the house, the sound punctured by the occasional yell, scream or sound of something breaking; same old, same old. How dull.  

This was exactly why Gavin had told himself to stop doing these kinds of things, going out to random house parties and getting insanely drunk only to wake up in a stranger’s bed the next morning; he was sick of it. He’d given away too much of himself, and he wanted to take it all back. Be nobody. Stop socializing. And yet, why is it that he immediately jumped at the mention of the kegger tonight? And drank with at least twenty different people over the course of four hours? And got so close to that hot brunet? Speaking of which, he could’ve been in a bed with that guy by now, too; the man would have definitely been a catch. Gavin wet his lips. He bet he would have been good, too, fingers raking down his back as their lips connect breathlessly, skin against skin desperately seeking the friction they need to –

Abruptly sitting up again, Gavin violently shook away the thought through his dizziness and instead wondered if Barbara was still looking for him. Biomed Barbara, one of his only real friends in this forsaken place where most of his “friends” were more or less acquaintances who befriended him just to be able to declare that “I know Gavin, yes, that Gavin; we’ve chatted before” to other people. Moving here, Gavin had quickly realized just how grossly attached teenagers here were to the idea of popularity, but not before he had been sucked into its black hole. “But this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t come here,” Gavin whispered, flailing about.

Getting worked up again, Gavin tossed his hands up dramatically into the air, looking ridiculous, but he didn’t give half a gob in the moment. “Bloody Birmingham and studies and oh, Gavin dear it’s the proper thing to do, get a proper education!” he imitated his mother bitterly. Gavin had wanted to continue building up a portfolio for a career in cinematography in England, but his parents had shut him down at the first mention of it, insisting that he be more like his brother Jon, who studied business and had quite recently become a successful manager at a high-end restaurant back home.

Popularity. Prestige.

Gavin let his arms fall limply to his side just as a couple burst out through the side door of the house, giggling and clinging onto each other, messily making out and shrieking with laughter. Gavin closes his eyes, cab long forgotten.

He really shouldn’t have come out here tonight.

And so the taxi came and went, and four o’clock found nineteen year-old Gavin Free passed out on the hard ground, sprawled out with his phone lost somewhere in the grass nearby, nobody else in sight.

Some fifteen hundred miles away at a different party, on an entirely different university campus in a different state, a boy is kissing another boy for the first time. They’ve both been drinking, and god knows they needed it to work up the courage. They are hesitant at first, but the situation quickly devolves into sloppy kissing, hair grabbing and drunken whispers of upstairs, I know a room. The night closes on them panting, one riding the other heatedly until neither can go on, and that is how Michael Jones winds up losing himself in a haze of blissful blowjobs (yes, plural), even better sex, and unfortunate bad choices that eventually make themselves known and follow him home one day.

The boy in the grass and the boy in the stranger’s bed could not be further apart in this moment in time. They are strangers, and they don’t meet that night, or the night after that for that matter. Gavin Free remains in Texas, and Michael Jones remains in New Jersey, but life goes on to spin circumstances that eventually all cumulate in the two of them seated next to each other in an 8:30AM Physics lecture almost exactly six months from now.

They don’t meet tonight.

But they will.

Chapter Text

It began with a murmur, a murmur in Michael’s head somewhere past those thick curls that told him he fucked up, big time. Oh wait, or maybe it was the clinic that he just walked out of the other day and the judging stares pinned on his back that told him that. In any case, Michael knew there was no coming back from something like this.

He was a good Catholic; he said Grace at the table, he went to Mass regularly. His parents were satisfied with what they saw, even though Michael doesn’t give a shit about God at heart (Not that he’d ever let it show). But now he screwed all that up with one or two (or three…) bad choices all because his dumb fucking drunk brain decided to do its own thing the other night. He had probably sinned in every fucking way possible, God was probably ready to smite him, and the worst part was that there were people there to witness it – people who could tell other people, who could tell other people, who could tell his friends, his girlfriend, or even worse, his father and mother.

Michael could never trust people to keep their mouths shut, which is why he had to make a dumb life fucking choice to cover for all his other dumber life choices. And that is how he found himself in his current situation.

“You’re doing what?”

Michael cringed at the loud voice, setting down his coffee. He looked at the red-haired girl across the table, eyes pleading for her to tone down. This is exactly why he was against being dragged to a café of all places, but he couldn’t say no to her, especially on a day like today when he was going to do something like this. But he really should have planned better.  I should have told her at home, I should have told her at home, he chanted internally. Michael started fidgeting with the fraying sleeve of his hoodie as he tried to make more words come out of his stubborn mouth.

Lindsay, Michael’s long-time girlfriend, was waiting. When Michael said he wanted to meet up and talk to her about something, she didn’t expect heavy conversation like this to be suddenly thrust onto her. Is this really happening? She wondered to herself, continuing to stare at her boyfriend incredulously, as if unable to process what he had just told her. About moving. In the middle of his first year in college at NJIT. To a different state. By himself, no less. It wasn’t even as though his family was going anywhere, so –

“So why are you going?” She blurted, trying her hardest to not seem upset.

 “I just think I need to,” a whisper that she almost didn’t catch over the low background noise.

“But why?” Lindsay insisted. “Michael, you never talked about anything like this before, you’ve never even mentioned it! It’s just so out of the blue…Is it the program here? I know you don’t really like it, but you know you can just switch out…or take some time off. Nobody will judge you for it.” She stopped for a second, a thought dawning on her.

“It’s not your parents, is it? …Or did I do something wrong that you’re not telling me about? Is that why you’re leaving? It couldn’t be, right? It’s not…me?” Lindsay sounded so unsure and insecure in that last question that Michael almost let out a laugh at the irony and told her everything. Almost.

He tested some sentences out in his head.

Hey Linds, we’re not working out as well as we should have.

Hey Linds, remember that party I went to two weeks ago?  Yeah I fucked up.

Hey Linds, I’m scared of what my parents might find out about me.

Hey Linds, I’m scared of what you’d think of me if you knew.

Hey Linds, I’m not… I’m…

Michael cursed. How could he say it if he couldn’t even fucking admit it to himself in his head?

There was no fucking way. So instead, Michael said, “I just hate this town, this campus, and all the fucking dipshits in it. I’m tired of being stuck here and everything’s fine back at home but I just want to be my own person a bit more. I thought it would just be nice to, y’know, go somewhere different and try something new.” He paused.

Okay, Michael, now break up with her. Like you planned, because you’ll end up breaking her heart eventually anyways; it might as well be now.

Here goes.  “And hell, me deciding to move isn’t because of you. B-but I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the past few days between us has been k-kind of…” He faltered under Lindsay’s gaze. Fuck. So much for that.

Her eyes were shining, as though she knew what he was going to say and was mentally preparing herself for it. If there wasn’t a table between them, Michael would bet anything that her hands were clenched, shaking, on her lap right now. They’d been together for two years, long enough to him to know Lindsay’s mannerisms off by heart. He felt a pang of regret for what could have been a flourishing relationship between them if he didn’t go and fuck it all up with his stupid decisions. Lindsay, the upbeat, awesome woman who he fell for all that time ago, didn’t deserve this (just as much as he didn’t deserve her).

Michael felt a rush of warmth for his girlfriend, and went in a completely different direction than he planned on, cursing himself for his weakness.

Michael, goddamn it, don’t do this.

Carefully moving their mugs of half-drunk coffee and lattes out of the way, Michael leaned and reached over the table to gently touch Lindsay’s face. They stayed like that for a bit, Lindsay still high-strung in apprehension at their conversation.

You can still break up with her. Fucking open your goddamn mouth and say it.

Michael took a breath.

Don’t be a motherfucking idiot. Don’t do it don’t do it don’t –

“Hey Linds, I’m not breaking up with you just because I want to haul my dumb ass somewhere else,” he finally said.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“…You’re not breaking up with me?” Lindsay managed, two parts relieved and one part doubtful.

“I want us to stay together, as long as that’s what you want. Even if long-distance is a fucking pain in the ass.” Michael couldn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

Lindsay brightened considerably after that statement. It's clearly our possibly imminent breakup that was tying her stomach in knots, Michael noted miserably. He let Lindsay kiss his hand gently before pulling it back. A woman glared at them from the next table from over her laptop, obviously disapproving of their affectionate exchange in public. Or maybe it was the tension and loud voices from earlier. Oh well, to hell with her. What does it matter, when Michael had just fucked himself over entirely, again?

“In any case,” Michael continued, “I won’t be leaving until the end of the semester. Even I’m not so stupid as to leave in the middle of it all; I might as well finish these courses for the fortune I fucking paid to get into them.” And continue this charade as though I’ve done nothing wrong until I go, he added internally.

Gulping down the rest of her latte, Lindsay nodded in agreement. “I can work with that,” she decided. “There’s still a month before we’re done, and I can help you out with getting things planned out, shopping, and packing, too.” Her relief was still evident in her lightening mood and restlessness from the figurative weight lifted from her heart at Michael’s previous words. On the other end of the table, Michael’s eyes had glazed over, chest heavy at what he wasn’t able to do.

But while checking things off her fingers while listing things to do before the end of April, Lindsay unexpectedly froze. Apparently suddenly realizing something, she started motioning with her hands in excitement. “Michael!” Lindsay exclaimed, poking him in the cheek when he didn’t respond immediately.

Looking bewildered as his eyes refocused on his (still) girlfriend, Michael just stared back in confusion.

“I can help decorate when I visit!” She said with glee.

What? “Decorate…what?”

“You know,” Lindsay leaned closer, practically shaking with happiness. “Your new apartment! You have absolutely no sense of design, and obviously someone’s going to have to take care of that for you. We can have a housewarming party or something, get smashed and play video games…oh my god, I also just realized we’d have a place to ourselves when I come down. Forget me being mad about you leaving to go miles and miles away, that’s bound to happen eventually anyways, isn’t it? Anyways…” The redhead continued talking in increasing joy, previous despondence long forgotten. Michael tuned her out again, nodding on autopilot as his gut continued to sink.

This absolutely wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Driving home that day after dropping Lindsay off at her place with a quick peck on the mouth and a tight hug, Michael wondered how his plan fell apart so easily. He also wondered how the fuck he was going to tell his parents that he wanted to leave the state now. Originally planning to pin his breakup with Lindsay as the deciding factor in all of this, Michael was stuck back at square one once that went to shit.

It was not like he could pour all the bullshit he fed to his girlfriend to his parents; it had to be packaged nicely, dressed in innocent intentions and a desire to get somewhere in life. Michael couldn’t just tell them that he hated everything.

Pulling into the driveway of his house, Michael killed the engine and sat there for a couple minutes before knocking his head against the steering wheel in frustration. “Fuck it,” he said aloud, deciding that he’d deal with all of this later, like maybe in a couple of weeks. Or never. Maybe he’d just let himself get what’s coming to him. Maybe Hell isn’t all that bad. And I'm the fucking Pope. 

Michael got out of the car and went inside, greeting his parents briefly with a small smile and escaping upstairs to his bedroom where he played video games mindlessly, only stopping when his vision begins to blur. But the heaviness is still there. He curses, and shifts to assignments and studying to keep his mind occupied. The rest of the day is a mess; he goes downstairs to fix dinner, he chats with his family about mundane, easy topics, he says Grace, he eats. He returns to playing Xbox until it is finally four in the morning and he momentarily forgets everything that had been happening to him as of late.

Shit sucks, Michael thought. He rolled over and went to bed.

Chapter Text

Barbara and Gavin sat quietly, facing each other on two small armchairs crammed into a tiny corner of the UoT Life Science library. They were on the third floor by the window, but it was not as if there was a view; the day was dismal, wet and humid. There was a low hum of library chatter, complete with the sound of Barbara’s pen scratching frantically and a crinkle of a chip bag, courtesy of Gavin.

Completely different from two weeks ago, Gavin thought in amusement. He was in a fairly good mood; proud of himself for that night (of sorts). His head was throbbing, but that was nothing new to him. On the other hand, he did have a laptop balanced shakily on one leg, chips resting on the other, as he attempted to do research on some courses for the fall semester.

I could take this lovely cinematography seminar, but then I wouldn’t have room for my required weekly chem lab. On the other hand, if I moved this time slot over here and skipped half my molecular bio lectures, I would be able to get away with that elective… He found himself nodding off. Concentrating for maybe a quarter of an hour in all before he yielded to his impending migraine, Gavin didn’t make much headway. Not that he really minded – it was actually exam season, and far too early for him to actually be arsed about course selection.

Setting the laptop aside, the boy crumpled up his empty chip bag and reached for another, only vaguely aware that his untroubled, slightly disruptive demeanor was out of place under the heavy blanket of stress over the entire building and probably the other UoT libraries as well – Gavin’s noise indeed stood out amidst the typing, whispering, and writing of students desperate to catch a passing grade on their upcoming course finals. That included the blonde sitting across from him, but Gavin knew she was alright with a few minor disruptions.

“Remind me again why you’re not studying?” Barbara suddenly hissed lowly to her friend.

Scratch that.

Gavin just smiled widely at her, still in high spirits as he remembered successfully evading her the other night. He was even more relieved when he found that she didn’t hold it against him in the least. I had so much self-control. I even went home without someone telling me to, he thought proudly, even though that was only partially true. Gavin didn’t make it home until seven in the morning, when the guy who threw the party found him under the tree in his front lawn, asked if he was alright, and then promptly kicked him off the property. He continued munching on his chips happily at the thought, ignoring the pounding in his head from his current hangover. “Barbs, you know I’ll be just spiffy. Besides, finals are bloody eons away. Lay off it for a bit, hm?”

But the carefree statement only earned him another glare from Barbara, and Gavin (rightly) assumed that she would snap soon if he didn’t shut up. He informed her that he was having a kip, and asked for her to wake him when she was done cramming for the day.

“I’ll just leave your ass here to rot,” Barbara muttered, still furiously writing and not even bothering to look up. “And for the record, our chem final is only about a week away. Eight freaking days, Gavin. Eight. There is no freaking way I’m going to remember all of this. But then again, neither will you if you don’t study.”

“Well, that isn’t very nice.” Gavin yawned.

Barbara just made an unidentifiable, cross noise, followed by what sounded like “I’m not drinking with you for a month.”

A few minutes later, Gavin was fast asleep in his chair, limbs splayed out comically. Snorting at the light snoring emanating from the boy, Barbara shook her head with a slight smile and finally looked up, setting her pen and notebook aside. She was no longer irritated, mostly just drained from attempting to shove twelve chapters of chemistry into her brain in the span of four hours. It was quiet in the library; most people had relinquished their tables in favour of looking for some food to eat. At least, it was quiet apart from Gavin. But what was new?

Barbara looked at the boy, shifting in her seat somewhat uncomfortably. They’d only started meeting up outside of bars and parties recently as second semester rolled around and she discovered Gavin not only excelled at drinking himself into a stupor but also in understanding scientific literature. She managed to get him out to study with her and help a girl out with actually passing the fundamental courses of her program (shameful, yeah), but Barbara still found it somewhat awkward to be hanging out with the strange British guy who somehow managed to be even weirder when he wasn’t flat-out drunk. Something vibrated in her pocket, but she ignored it in favour of studying the sleeping figure across from her.

Gavin Free. What an enigma.

Tall, sandy-haired and bright-eyed, there was no question that he was a good looking guy, even if he did have a rather large nose. But that still didn’t explain the odd magnetism Gavin had; an overwhelming charisma that left him with more friends than any regular, practical person could keep. Barbara couldn’t even remember how she met him. One moment he was nobody, and the next day, practically the entire Biochemistry program knew who he was. Hell, half the year knew Gavin Free, and it wasn’t as though the University of Texas was a small school. But how? Her pocket vibrated for the second time. Stop, Barbara chided, ignoring the fact that she was trying to reprimand an inanimate object. I’m contemplating things, here. Anyways.

On top of that, even with the gaming, excessive partying and also sporting what seemed like a perpetual hangover, Gavin still found time to sleep and managed to never study. Ever. Barbara had never seen him crack open a textbook to read. But he’s nearly at the top of all his classes. He’s probably on the Dean’s list already. He probably doesn’t even need to go to his exams to pass. What demon pact did this boy make, and how the fuck can I get in on it? Barbara speculated, half-jokingly.

As she continued to stare curiously at the friend she realized she still knew next to nothing about even after a full year, she realized she was being a tad creepy and blushed, scanning around to see if anyone noticed. I’m nOT INTO HIM! I DON’T EVEN LIKE MEN, she wanted to scream. But that would probably make it worse, like she was trying way too hard to convince herself and other people. Good going, Barbs. Only you will ever know Gavin is actually just a friend. Sighing, she peeled her eyes away from said friend and decided to finally check her phone, which had buzzed yet again.

You have three (3) new message(s).

[2:32:30 PM] Kara Eberle: Hey girlie, drinks tonight? On me? (:
[2:49:11 PM] Kara Eberle: wait no shit you’re supposed to be studying IGNORE ME but please don’t actually
[2:49:28 PM] Kara Eberle: me>chemistry??

Fighting a grin, Barbara quickly packed up as she read the texts thrown her way, shooting one back promptly as means of apology for ignoring the other two.

[2:50:03 PM] Barbs Dunkelman: you bet your ass im comin for drinks, girl. I’m so done studying, orgo chem is melting my brain. All my fucks argon.

She snickered to herself. She couldn’t resist, but she knew Kara would love it regardless of how much the shorter girl rolled her eyes at Barbara’s stupid jokes. Closing her textbooks and throwing everything into her beat-up tote bag, Barbara took one last glance at the sleeping Gavin and took off, like she threatened she would earlier. She felt he probably wouldn’t mind.

Oh, but she did need to go seek out one lonely idiot to help DD for tonight (and get over his current, doomed crush).

There was a loud banging at the door of 201 Duren residence, echoing shortly in the narrow hallway of the dorm. Ray Narvaez Jr. wisely chose to ignore it in favour of plowing through his online lab submission, which was due in approximately ten minutes. He should just face it: he was screwed. He had no clue what the fuck the Shannon Diversity Index was supposed to show, let alone whether or not the number should be high or low. Was the answer 2? 55? 10,000? What was even a plausible answer? Maybe the automated marker would just assume he was a few digits off and give him the mark.

 “Oh jeez,” Ray groaned, burying his face in his hands after reading the next section of the lab. He also had to explain his answer and reasoning.

Nine minutes remaining.

The staggered, obnoxious knocking at the door only grew more persistent as it was ignored, Ray whipping his head around to shoot daggers at the offender behind it, even though they obviously couldn’t know that.

He really, really needed to pass this lab. Or else he’ll fail this Biodiversity course that he took to fill an elective in a spur of the moment decision. Well…he had actually taken it in a feeble attempt to get closer to this girl he met during frosh week, Tina, who he knew would be in the class. But that, too. Pathetic, I know. “In any case, yeah, you told yourself it would be easy. Ace the course, win over the girl. Pft, bio, what could go wrong?” Ray grumbled to himself as he resorted to googling the diversity index and finding out, to his horror, that there was not only an alpha diversity, but a beta and a gamma diversity as well. And he did not remember learning any of this shit.

Seven minutes remaining.

Halfway through the semester, Ray had the misfortune of winding up sitting next to Tina during one of the lectures and learning of her boyfriend, who he definitely didn’t know existed up until that point. It all went downhill from there. “Yep. Yeuuup.” Great. Now he was fully just talking to himself. “Who the fuck takes a science course for an elective? Ray fucking Narvaez Jr., that’s who,” Ray continued. “NOT ONE OF YOUR FINER MOMENTS, RAY.” The last few words were practically a shout.

The boy sneaked a peek at the suddenly awfully silent door suspiciously, still diligently googling all the definitions he never learned, punching letters out on his keyboard viciously. It’s okay. He could still do this. Just one more section, and he would be home free. Ray wistfully hovered his mouse over the SUBMIT button, wishing he was done already.

Five minutes remaining.

All of a sudden, there was an earth-shattering series of banging at the door that made Ray yell out in a rather high pitched shriek, slamming his hands down onto his desk and swiveling away into the safety of the corner of his dorm room. His glasses had flown off his face and landed onto his keyboard in the commotion, and his bio notes and papers were now floating lazily down to meet the floor. As his heartbeat started settling down, Ray vaguely noted that in his panic he had accidentally left-clicked his mouse, probably hitting send on his incomplete report. Wait. What? Ray completely froze, before scrambling back to his desk.

“That did not just happen. No. Nope. Nope. No–“He squinted at his computer, scanning the screen desperately. Blurry vision aside, he could still make out the small, mocking blue text on the top left of the newly loaded page quite well, to his utter dismay.

Thank you for your submission, Ray Narvaez Jr. A confirmation email has been sent to your address.

Aw, hell. Now I’ll never see Tina again. Or the light of day, once ma finds out I fucking failed my elective two weeks before the end of school, Ray thought morosely.

Defeat overwhelming the anger that had been bubbling up in his chest, Ray stood and stalked to the door anyways, still ready to dish right into the person who singlehandedly (?) caused his course mark’s unfortunate demise. Whipping open the door, he started:

“WHO THE FUC–“

Only to stop at the sight of Barbara Dunkelman looking brightly at him on the other side of the doorway, surprised but pleased that he finally decided to open the door.

Ray just stared at the blonde, mouth open, because he really couldn’t just shout in her face, even though his complaint (more of a whine or a sob, actually) was still lodged halfway up his throat. Barbara’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly as she took in Ray’s sullen, hunched figure and the way his glasses were crookedly perched on his noise, and thought for a second that maybe, just maybe she came at a bad time. But only for a second.  

“Hey Ray!” Barbara exclaimed, decidedly ignoring Ray’s defeated posture.

“What’s up?” He replied, ruffling his hair somewhat sheepishly. Because if we were being totally honest here, his bio grade was really doomed from the very start; Barbara’s raucous entrance was just the final tipping point of it all. At least he didn’t have to bother going to the final anymore. And Tina had her boyfriend anways.

Slightly thrown off by Ray’s abrupt attitude change, Barbara shrugged it off and went with it. “Did you want to go out to the bar tonight and just chill out a bit before exams roll in full-swing?" She asked, bouncing up and down. “My other drinking buddy was being a dick so I abandoned him, so you'd be the only one I'd be taking. Kara invited me, and she’s bringing a friend, so I figured you’d like to take a break as well from…all this.” She laughed, gesturing to Ray’s haphazard piles of notes and textbooks strewn across his floor.

Ray grinned. “So in other words, you need me to DD.”

“…That too,” Barbara admitted, looking not sorry in the least.

Ray scratched his short beard and straightened his glasses, thinking of the class he just failed and would have to retake next semester and about how his ma would never know if he just took a course overload. He also thought about how he had one less final to study for this semester. Ray laughed and grabbed his keys and hoodie from off the hook by the door, throwing an arm around an excited Barbara.

“Well, why the hell not.”

Chapter Text

Gavin was pissed.

She really did it, he thought, back screaming in pain and head still swimming. Barbara actually ditched his arse and left him lying there in the library, where he had only just woken up. The clock on the wall read 10:04 PM. He had been sleeping for at least seven hours. So much for a short kip.

The boy patted himself down, realizing his phone was nowhere to be found. “I got bloody robbed in my sleep!” he exclaimed, jumping to ridiculous conclusions and earning an automatic, disinterested look from the bored security guard making his rounds nearby. But Gavin paid him no mind as he shot up out of his seat to search for his phone, limbs flying and spine protesting. After half a minute of panic, Gavin finally shoved his laptop into its case and shoved his backpack away, flattening himself onto the ground. Why didn’t I check the floor in the first place? He wondered as his green eyes zeroed in on the green phone, flashing with notifications, lying innocently underneath the armchair.

Picking it up and starting for the door after shouldering his backpack, Gavin’s lips quirked up. The lock screen indicated that he had two missed calls and one new message, all from a couple hours ago. Yeah Barbs, you better be sorry. Mood lifting a bit, Gavin swiped his phone open expectantly. But instead, he was met with:

Two (2) missed calls from: +44 1865 428466 (Mom)

[5:06:58 PM] Mom: hi darling, how is your studying going? :-)

Gavin pulled a face as he deleted the notifications.

No new messages.

Well, whatever. Barbara was probably out somewhere with her other friends by now, staying true to her word of not including Gavin in any of her plans. Speaking of which, Gavin really, really wanted to just go out and get drunk, with or without the energetic blonde, but he was doing too well with pretending he wasn’t a complete wreck lately; he probably shouldn’t go frolicking around and partying with complete strangers (again). There was nobody else he really wanted to go have bevs with, though. Sometimes he wished there was someone else.

Gavin suddenly felt very alone and very small in the hallway of the silent, closing library and began walking home, plastering on a dopey smile once he was nearly there. The lights were on in the cozy two-storey house, and Gavin felt hopeful about going inside and spending the night gaming with his mates. Mostly, he was enjoying the notion of having company and ignoring everything else going on inside his head.

Once inside (after fumbling with the key for the umpteenth time), he spotted the broad back of his flatmate Geoff, and pounced on sight.

The older man turned, too late. “Oh hey Gav, is that yo–“ the voice was quickly cut off by a shout, followed by an alarming degree of choking as Gavin’s attack was carried out. Geoff tried to fling the younger lad off his back, but Gavin continued to obstinately hold onto his neck for dear life. The lanky boy squawked loudly, losing his grip just as a tattooed, fair-haired woman poked her head out from the living room to see what was going on.

She was met with the sight of a furious Geoff, impressive handlebar moustache frazzled, swiftly twisting around to tackle Gavin to the ground. “Welco–“ she managed, before getting cut off by a series of inhuman shrieks and hollers as Gavin was viciously tickled, tears streaming down his face.

After a minute or so, Geoff finally smoothed out his moustache and straightened himself up, assessing the boy lying soft-boned and face down on the carpet. Satisfied, he moved towards the woman standing with her hands on her hips a foot away, his hand automatically going around her waist. She smiled.

“Gavin! Welcome home.” She finally said, warmly addressing the corpse lying prone by the door as though he had just stepped in. “You’re home early tonight.”

“Hey, Griffon,” Gavin said weakly, voice muffled in the carpet. He was about to look up and talk, but moaned as he tried to move his abused body and thought better of it, deciding to just stay down in defeat instead.

“Well, now that that’s taken care of,” Geoff goes, “shall we go have dinner, babe?” Complete with a shit-eating grin. His girlfriend nodded in response, linking her fingers through Geoff’s just as Gavin’s head shot up. Well, shit. He had entirely forgotten that the older man had been planning an elaborate night out for Griffon. Of course, with Gavin’s luck, it would be today. His heart sank, piping up even though he already knew the answer to his question.

“You pair going out for supper?”

Picking up on Gavin’s discomfort that couldn’t be completely attributed to the play fight just earlier, Griffon replies with a “you’re welcome to join us if you want, dear” with a smile and a tilt of her head. But the British boy just shook his head, not wanting to get between the couple.

“I reckon Geoff would eviscerate me in my sleep tonight if I did,” he said, wishing it were a joke. Geoff gravely nodded his head in agreement, but Griffon frowned, jabbing her boyfriend in the side sharply.

“Ow! Shit, Griff. I mean, yeah Gav, you can definitely tag along, you dickwad,” Geoff winced, saying the last few words under his breath as he rubbed his side. But Gavin heard him anyways, and had already gotten the hint, besides. Groaning as he got up off the carpeted floor, he waved off Griffon’s protests and concerns and all but pushed them out the door. After some grumbling on Geoff’s part and an apologetic but clueless smile on Griffon’s, the older pair finally left, leaving Gavin alone once again. He scratched the back of his neck and sighed, resigning himself to some more schedule planning as he stayed in for the night.

In what he would call a productive evening, Gavin managed to draft a tentative course plan for his second year, fix up some dinner, organize his haphazard closet, as well as text his mother back and everything. He even called her back for once.

That conversation was strained – Gavin hated it, but he couldn’t bear to bare his negativity to his mother, especially knowing how badly she would take to it; he loved her, even if he disagreed with what she thought was best for him. As a result, all his responses were short and laced with a very generous dose of dishonesty.

“Yes mom, school is going great.”

“My classes are interesting.”

"Of course I've been attending all my lectures."

“Yeah, my professors are excellent, minus that one foreign functions and calculus teacher that I can’t understand for the life of me.”

And when Gavin’s mom ended the conversation half an hour in with a light but smug exclamation of “see, I just knew this – university – would be right for you, instead of that silly little dream you used to have about movies and rubbing shoulders with stars,” Gavin could only grit his teeth harder and hum in agreement forcefully.

Now it was midnight, and Gavin was cradling a glass of amber liquid between his legs, half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table behind him, the boy clearly distressed at the exchange he had earlier over the phone. His body felt heavy, and his heart hurt. He hiccupped.

So much for productivity (and staying in so he wouldn’t get drunk again). At least there wasn’t anyone here he’d need to resist wanting to shag. Thank god for the small things, Gavin thought sarcastically, as he took another sip of alcohol.

Gavin knew he had a problem. Or a couple. They seemed to all stem from alcohol and a raging sex drive that was only amplified when his inhibitions broke, and so that’s what he blamed his emptiness on. But if he could ever admit it to himself – which he couldn’t – it was always the other way around, really. He always found something to fill the hole in his gut temporarily, whether be it mindless chatter, someone warm in bed next to him, bad antics, his own dazzling smiles and generous peals of laughter, or with the all too familiar view of the bottoms of glass bottles. Like now.

He sighed, realizing he was more bothered by Barbs leaving him without a word earlier today than he originally thought. And she probably didn’t think it was all that bloody important, either.

Gavin usually liked it that way – people not knowing how much he cared – because it meant he could treat strangers and friends alike the same way. That way, everyone is important. Plus, it matters less when he loses a friend, or so it seems on the outside looking in. Gavin felt safe in that aspect. But sometimes, his purposeful lack of communication and sharing comes back to bite him in the arse. Like now. Gavin pouted, leaning back hard against his table. The Jack Daniels clinked loudly as it fell against his lamp, and he reached up to save it. Face becoming increasingly flushed, Gavin took one long look at the bottle before taking a swig straight from it.

Geoff will be in a right mood when he gets back and finds some of his whiskey gone, Gavin realized suddenly. But then, he noted in an excellent display of drunk logic, Geoff will also be better off as an alcoholic if he is down one bottle of Jack. Satisfied with his reasoning, Gavin determinedly avoided the nagging voice in his head that told him he was a worse drunk than Geoff by a long shot, really.

“I’m b-bloody pathetic,” the boy laughed, hiccupping again. His head was woozy and everything was more or less blurry, but the pang in his chest was now but a dull murmur of pain. He felt detached from it, and for that, he was grateful. Thank god for alcohol.

But if only everyone could see Gavin now, at rock bottom moments like these. Gavin fucking Free: secret train wreck and not actually as well put together as everyone seemed to think. He took another generous swig of whiskey.

In a haze of giggles, alcohol, rolling around and more alcohol, Gavin somehow managed to call his old friend Dan. He missed his B’s voice.

“Pleaaseeeeeee pick up,” Gavin sang, voice cracking wildly, only to be met with a series of ringing followed by an automated voice. He groaned, rubbing his temples and trying to focus. England, right. Bloody time zones.

The laptop flashed 1:28 AM, so that meant back over the pond it was…7:28 AM? Or was it 6:28 AM? Or was Dan actually behind a few hours? Is Tokyo ahead or behind a day? How do time zones even work, again? Gavin felt as though he could scream. He could almost feel tomorrow’s hangover already creeping up on him.

Forget about it.

By the time Geoff and Griffon made it home that night at quarter past four, Gavin was already asleep on his bed, empty glass bottle of Jack rolled just beyond his outstretched hand.

After dressing down and kissing Griffon goodnight, Geoff went to go check up on the lad before also retiring for the night. Feeling a pang of guilt, Geoff smiled sadly at the sight of the British boy dimly illuminated by the light of the hallway when he reached the bedroom. “Oh, Gav,” he murmured under his breath. “What is eating away at that head of yours?” He stood there for only a moment before retreating into the kitchen and returning with a tall glass of water in hand, a bucket as well for good measure. Not a new ritual, unfortunately. Silently walking into Gavin’s room, he gently set the water down on the bedside table and the bucket on the floor by the sleeping figure as he removed the bottle of alcohol and accompanying glass from Gavin's side.

He’d talk to the boy about his drinking another night, Geoff decided as he backed out, not missing the irony of an alcoholic lecturing another alcoholic. He smirked and quietly shut the bedroom door behind him.

A few streets down, Ray woke up suddenly and shot upright in bed, but not in his own bed. In fact, he was quite a way from the Duren residence, and actually wasn't even on the UoT campus. Skimming frantically over the top of the end table next to him, shaking fingers found cold plastic and the boy fumbled to put on his glasses as quickly as possible. Ray slid out from under the covers and off the mattress onto the cool mahogany floor with a soft thud, glancing behind him reflexively. He checked his watch, digital watch glowing 4:13 AM, muttering a curse under his breath as he grabbed at clothes and put them on blindly.

There were a few birds already chirping, and Ray was sure he didn't even know why he was so scared of being where he was. Or maybe he did know, he just didn't want to face it. Tugging on his socks, Ray cringed noticeably as he relived the events earlier that night disbelievingly. He wasn't even drunk, he didn't even drink! Barbara drank. Kara drank. R...that person Kara brought with her drank. And Ray Narvaez Jr. was completely sober the entire night. But then somehow this still managed to happen. And this was something foreign and new, and the Puerto Rican hated foreign and new. But the bed was warm and the room smelled of sandalwood and home, and those two things paired with the sound of deep breathing on the other end of the bed was almost enough to convince Ray to stay. But not quite.

For a second, Ray contemplated leaving a note, but immediately scoffed and dismissed the idea. Next thing he knew he'd be leaving his phone number and expecting goddamn roses in the mail or something. No, this was strictly a one-time deal. An accident. The boy shook his head at himself, grabbed his keys off the floor with a jingle, and headed for the door.

But some little, fucked love-struck part of his brain got the better of him, and Ray turned to look at the sleeping man in the bed before he stepped out. The man's face was nearly completely in shadows; what little light that got past the blinds became trapped along his straight nose and highlighted a cheekbone. A stray tuft of light hair obscured the rest of what the darkness didn't. Ray scrunched up his face and turned away, realizing too late that his expression had fallen through from one of panic to easy contentment. 

"Holy shit," Ray mouthed to himself as an unwelcome, fuzzy feeling hit him right in the chest.

Oh man did he need to get out of there. 

Chapter Text

It’s June.

Michael felt as though he were floating.

He doesn’t know how it happened, and he still wasn’t even one hundred percent sure that it actually did: He was really going to Texas.

Barely a week after he almost broke up with Lindsay, Michael met his first panic attack in the form of an all-too-familiar face in the campus crowd that he had hoped to God he would never see again. Bolting into the nearest washroom without sparing even a second, Michael had holed up in there and nervously emerged nearly an hour later only to see the boy of his nightmares patiently sitting directly in front of the stall he was hiding in. Perched on the countertop by the sinks, Chase (or was it Chris?) had looked extremely apologetic and almost sad.

But when the dark-haired boy opened his mouth to speak, Michael’s brain went haywire as he tried to block out whatever the guy was trying to say. On top of that, Michael’s breathing had abruptly gone funny, making him gasp for air as he doubled over in front of Chase/Chris. Shortly after that, much to his chagrin, Michael found himself promptly fainting.

He had woken up at the emergency clinic on the university campus, parents going out of their minds at bedside and demanding to know what had happened. Michael had frozen over completely, brown curls shaking in fear that his mother and father had met him. They didn’t seem to give any indication of it if they knew, however, and so Michael had stuttered and mumbled before eventually blurting out a feeble excuse concocted of stress from his engineering assignment workload (which was at least in some part true), worry over possibly letting his parents down (which was most definitely true), and hunger from not eating at all that day (which was just bullshit).

Mr. Jones had nodded, accepting his explanation, but his mother only swallowed two-thirds of the lie, insisting on being informed of what actual problems he was having on top of the usual student troubles. Too observant, as Michael had feared. She knew there was something wrong and she knew for a while now.

A day after that, Mrs. Jones happened upon Michael browsing through a list of universities and colleges in Texas on a Wikipedia page. She was surprisingly calm about it, just happy to find some way she could help her son get over whatever he needed getting over. If it meant him transferring schools and leaving home, so be it; he was twenty, and he could take care of himself. She sat him down that night and discussed options with him. Michael almost wanted her to pry.

And so in a blur, Michael was finished his final final exams at the New Jersey Institute of Technology; he had filed all the proper paperwork and transferred his completed credits to the University of Texas successfully. Like a dream. His father had been taken aback and confused at the suddenness of his son suddenly deciding to move down the country to Austin. But in the end, he was more or less alright with it all, too.

On top of everything, Michael didn't end up getting an apartment after all, marking one less reason for Lindsay to visit. He was able to squeeze into a dorm early for the summer before the fall semester even started. There apparently was a guy who had a double room all to himself for a couple months after his roommate dropped out and left. Said guy in giant room conveniently forgot to mention it to residence staff, the prick.

Michael remembered mumbling along in prayer at home when his parents looked to God to take care of him in the years ahead, and dazedly comforting a crying Lindsay as she sent him off at the airport. The mood had been heavy around him, but in the (almost) quiet of the airplane flying miles high in the air, Michael was determinedly at peace.

His family didn’t disown him. He still has a girlfriend. What few unmemorable friends he made at NJIT he was almost glad to leave behind. He buried the heaviness of his secrets deep, and abandoned them there. He drank in the sight of Austin, Texas coming into view.

A new start.

Two months later

“RESPAWN, YOU SACK OF SHIT, RESPAWN,” Michael hollered at the TV, eyes straying to the top half of the screen where his roommate’s character was currently getting slaughtered in Halo. “RAY, GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE. GO, GO, GO.” Michael jostled his leg up and down in nervous energy.

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Ray muttered, doing no such thing. Michael watched forlornly as the boy continued to expertly deliver headshots even as enemies continued to pile up and his health went down.   Covenant soldiers and Prometheans alike soon converged on the Puerto Rican’s player, making short work of him.

Aaaaand yep, they failed their mission.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”

“Now, dude, what did we say about saying the Lord’s name in vain?” Ray pointed out. “Thou shall not…whatever whatever.”

The curly-haired boy only glared at his roommate, angry look overshadowed by the grin tugging at his lips as he fingered the silver cross around his neck.

It had only been a month since he showed up at Ray’s door, hands thrust in his hoodie’s pockets. He had stood there looking at the barren, undecorated dorm door for a long time before it opened from the other side, Michael coming face to face with a scruffy, dark-haired boy with square glasses. Ray had stared and stared and stared before finally asking, “And who the heck are you?” to which Michael had only hmphed noncommittally and brushed his way into the small room, suitcase trailing after him. Eventually, Ray figured out that housing staff finally caught his ass with his one-person-short double room and decided to do something about it. Damn, he had thought.

It was another bit after that when Ray and Michael finally exchanged proper words for the first time. It was even longer before they both figured they could set up Ray’s Xbox between their beds and play together instead of going through the awkward ritual of grabbing the wrong person’s disk, loading up, playing, saving, and realizing too late that they had written over the wrong file. Ray gradually grew on Michael, and Michael’s antics and tirades were an endless source of amusement for the other boy.

On top of that, the Puerto Rican liked to stay in most of the time, only going out occasionally with the odd friend. He had a self-imposed rule of little to no alcohol and “definitely no drugs,” as Ray had firmly explained one night, and it suited Michael just fine.  

Michael couldn’t have landed a better roommate.

He leaned back on his chair comfortably, Ray already long forgiven. “Another round, yeah?” Michael offered.

“Hell fucking yeah,” Ray said, but was cut short by the sound of his phone’s ringtone. He looked at Michael apologetically after seeing the name on the screen, but Michael just waved it off and motioned for him to take the call. Ray pressed the green answer button, holding the phone to his ear and walking towards the door in annoyance.

“What’s up, Pattillo?” He goes, itching to get back to his Xbox. He notes the EDM playing in the background, frowning as he could already guess what the call was about, even though it was still pretty early in the night.

A deep voice replied loudly, straining to be heard over the music. “Uh, hey bud. It’s me, Jack. Your friend is passed out drunk over here, and I thought you might want to come get her. She’s in a bad way.” Ray groaned, but he already expected this. “Is it Barbara? I bet it’s Barbara.”

Back over by the TV, Michael took a peek at his roommate curiously.     

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Fuck, yeah just keep an eye out until I get there?” The dark-haired boy was muttering. “Thanks Pattillo, I owe you one.” With that, Ray hung up and walked back over.

Michael jerked his head questioningly, but Ray just shrugged. “I gotta go pick up a wasted friend. She’s at that big party I told you about the other day.”

“Alright, later then.”

The Puerto Rican tugged on a coat, noting that Michael didn’t sound particularly disappointed. Then again, Michael didn’t seem to care much about anything at all. Ray wasn’t even sure if his roommate liked him, or just tolerated him for the sake of keeping living together bearable. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to get the curly-haired boy to open up.

“You know,” Ray started unsurely, turning around to face Michael again. “It would honestly be fucking amazing if you could come along. Besides, might as well get out a bit and meet a few people?” Michael raised an eyebrow. Ray clammed up, but then forged on.

“And…I could use some help with Barbara? I can’t drive and make sure she doesn’t puke or die at the same time…” He said weakly. To his surprise, Michael started nodding slowly and made to get up.

“Alright, ya loser. Let’s pick up your girl. But we’re taking your car.”

A short car ride later, the pair pulled up in the driveway of a large property, Blink-182 blasting and feeling entirely out of place. A few people were milling about the front, smoking pot and cigarettes. A few jeered at the two new arrivals, and one girl squealed, evidently high out of her mind.

“Hey, hey babes you’re both so hot. So hot. Can I have you?” She called out, giggling. Grimacing, Ray got out of the driver’s seat, clearly not wanting to be here. “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, already wishing he was still back home. He glanced over at his friend. If Michael was uncomfortable, he didn’t let it show.

“Mhm.”

Ray checked his messages, quickly texting back.

[11:03:01 PM] Jack Pattillo: in the guest room r u here yet?

[11:06:33 PM] Ray Narvaez: just made it

Michael and Ray entered the house, immediately feeling the stifling heat of too many bodies stuffed in a house well over capacity. Michael was hit with a gross wave of déjà vu as he recalled the last time he was in a setting like this, and balled his hands into fists at his sides. He glowered as he looked around. The place was fucking huge.

“Yo dude, you stay here, alright?” Ray yelled to him, seemingly familiar with the place and already pushing his way through the people in the front foyer. But as much as Michael hated being here, he didn’t want to show any weakness.

“No, you’ll need some help carrying your friend’s drunk ass,” he disagreed, shouting just as loudly. “I’m coming with you.”

Ray mouthed an okay, and continued his struggle with getting through the masses of people that were completely ignoring his existence. He sighed frustratedly, noting just how far it was from here to the upstairs guest room. He definitely needs some help, Michael snorted, making his way over. He looked pointedly at the dark-haired boy, as if to say “look, this is how you do this,” and started unapologetically shoving people out of his way.

Wide-eyed, Ray followed in the wake of his friend (?), mumbling sorry to everyone turning to glare angrily at the pair. Michael offered no such apologies; he only ever glared back harder.

With great effort, the two finally reached the top of the stairs, Ray impatiently tugging the other towards the door at the end of the hall. “Barbs?” He called out. “Pattillo? You in there?”

A reply came in the form of some vomiting and another person chuckling tiredly. “Yeah Ray, we’re in here alright.” Michael trailed in after Ray, eyes meeting briefly with a tall, russet-bearded man.

“And who is this?” the older man inquired.

“Oh, this is Michael. He’s my new roomie,” Ray explained quickly. “Michael, this is Jack. Anyways, why the fuck was I called?” He frowned.

Jack paused to offer the bucket to a sickly-looking blonde on the floor, which she accepted gratefully. Holding her hair out of her face, Jack turned back to Ray and quirked an eyebrow. “You’re listed as her emergency contact?” There was a wet sound as vomit hit the plastic pail in Barbara's hands.

Ray was bewildered. “Me? She has better friends.”

“Of which are all drunk,” Jack pointed out. “You’re her only non-drunk friend.”

“Now that’s just abusing my abstinence,” Ray muttered, even as he crouched next to the blonde girl.

Jack shrugged, raising his hands once Barbara was done puking her guts out (yet again). “I’ll leave you to it, gotta get back to things.”

The Puerto Rican gave him a look of gratitude before returning to focusing his attention on his wasted friend. “You look like shit, Barbs,” he informed her. “Let’s get you home.”

“Mhhhnnnn.”

“Mmhnnnnn,” he mimicked, laughing.

“R..raaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAaay?”

“Yes, stupid.”

Michael watched the exchange amusedly before stepping in to help Ray lift the poor girl up.

It was considerably harder navigating the house with a nearly passed-out person, even with the help of Michael. But they eventually made it haphazardly down the steps onto the landing, and were almost at the door when Ray whipped around and cursed, Michael groaning as the entirety of Barbara’s weight was transferred onto him.

“What the fuck, dude?” he complained.

“My keys aren’t in my pocket!” Ray shouted. “I think they’re back upstairs, must have fallen out. Be right back!” He made to rush back up the stairs, only to be caught by the arm by a distressed Michael.

“Nope. I’m going. Your friend looks ready to hurl again, dude.” Michael eyed Barbara nervously. “I’ll go get the car keys.”

Ray twisted around at his words, frantically looking for something for his friend to puke into just as the girl started to dry-heave. “No, Barbara, wait wait wait-“ He yelled, grabbing her from Michael and steering her towards the front door.

Michael, glad to be relinquished of that responsibility for the moment, made his escape and rushed to the second floor.

But man was the house big. Whose place is this, anyways? Michael wondered as he made his way down the hall, eyes scanning the floor for a set of keys. Coming up empty, he was just about to enter the guest room when he suddenly stopped in his tracks at the closed white door. It hadn't been closed earlier. Was there someone in there? No, couldn’t be, Michael thought. We only went downstairs maybe fifteen minutes ago.

However, Michael could faintly make out the sound of someone talking and an odd squeaking noise from beyond the door, like the sound of bad hinges. Concentrating, the boy’s face quickly heated up as he realized what was going on.

“Oh yes, bloody hell yes, there there the– ohmygod yes yes yes” A slurred British voice was moaning, wanton noises growing loud enough to reach Michael’s ears in perfect clarity. It was coupled with the more faded sound of the crude slapping of skin on skin over bed springs straining (for that’s what the squeaking was), as well as the occasional grunt. Michael didn’t mean to listen in, really; it was practically auditory porn at this point, but he needed to get into that room sooner or later.  He opted for later, unwilling to interrupt, and so he continued to stand there until the door was finally whipped open a while later, revealing the semi-naked figure of a tall but lanky boy with windswept hair and twinkling sea-green eyes.

Michael stared at the practically glowing boy, mind momentarily wiped clean apart from a single observation: He's fucking beautiful. Like the goddamn sun or something. Realizing he was slack-jawed and probably looked like a fucking idiot, Michael promptly snapped his mouth shut and tore his eyes away.

Beyond the sunshine and the doorway, Michael spotted a completely tuckered out figure collapsed on the bed. Following his gaze, the mysterious boy laughed breathily. “Yeah, he won’t be getting up anytime soon,” he confided in Michael, winking. Never mind the fact that the boy was still shirtless and showing a generous amount of tan skin, Michael had been listening in on him having what sounded like fantastic gay sex like some fucking voyeur creep. And for much longer than he would ever like to admit to anyone. Ever.

There’s no fucking way I can talk to this guy with a straight face, Michael thought frantically, face flaming red.

But thankfully, he didn’t have to. The sandy-haired boy smiled widely at Michael for only a moment more before patting him on the head happily and walking past him out of the room. He swayed unsteadily as he moved, one hand gripping the banister tightly. Skin burning where the boy had touched him, Michael watched after him uncertainly, wondering if he’d be alright.

Suddenly, green eyes met brown and Michael had to violently whip around to face the other way to pretend as though he wasn’t just staring. He heard a giggle come from behind him and deflated. Forget not being a creep. I am such a fucking creep, Jesus Christ.

“Hey, mate,” a British accent rang out, causing Michael to turn back around warily.

“Yeah?”

Hair flopping every which way, the boy grinned wickedly at the other. He whipped something in Michael’s direction, object catching the light and glinting before it was reflexively caught. Staring down at his palm, Michael realized he was looking at Ray’s car keys. He had nearly completely forgotten about those.

Looking back up, Michael saw the cheerful British boy skip away and bound precariously down the stairs. He slowly followed after, spinning the keys on his index finger thoughtfully. But all of a sudden, Michael's movement halted completely and the keys flew off, ricocheting off the stairway wall to land by his feet with a metallic jingle. Michael paid it no mind; he could only gape as he watched the lanky figure with sandy hair work his way through the crowd towards someone he presumably knew.  Because that someone just called out the boy’s name. And Michael had heard that name before.

And suddenly, Michael could put a face to the name that he had been hearing nearly everywhere ever since he came to Austin nearly two months ago, long before he met the boy himself.

He tested the name on his tongue.

"Gavin Free."

Chapter Text

A splash of freckles. Unruly, curly hair. Beet-red face. Impossibly rich brown eyes. And that mouth, Jesus, he could let his imagination easily run wild with what he could do with that open mouth of his.

Those were the first things Gavin saw of the boy through the haze of his drunken post-sex high, so it was little wonder that he was having some pretty inappropriate thoughts about the guy as he innocently blocked Gavin’s way out from the bedroom. Or at least, that’s the excuse he tells himself.

Tattoos peeking out from under rolled-up sleeves, the shorter boy had what looked like a semi-permanent glower etched on his face, its effect lessened by the fierce blush across it. He was listening. He heard me come. Gavin grinned wildly. He’s definitely turned on. Drinking in the view of the curly-haired boy, he bit his lip.

He’s damn hot. Built, too. I bet he would be good in bed. I would let him rule me like a monarchy.

Gavin’s thought train was interrupted as he realized the guy was no longer looking at him, but staring into the room he had come out of, face still a brilliant shade of red. Huffing, the British boy automatically flirted, eager to get his attention back.

“Yeah, he won’t be getting up anytime soon,” Gavin said conspiratorially, winking in what he hoped was a clear hint that he was free for the rest of the evening. But the other boy simply continued to stand there, either unwilling or unable to speak. Gavin’s face flashed with irritation for a nanosecond before his lips tugged back up in a grin again, remembering what he had found earlier pre-fuck. What the boy had probably come up looking for in the first place.

Managing to coordinate his limbs well enough to sink his hand into the boy’s curly brown hair and ruffle it, Gavin brushed past him to go downstairs, cheekily anticipating the moment when he’d be chased down later for the car keys in his pocket. He vaguely noted the sensation of fluid slowly trailing down his leg inside his shorts, but dismissed it, telling himself he’d clean it up soon. Shouldn’t have let that guy come in me, though, he mused. I feel bloody disgusting.

Gavin not-so-gracefully started making his way down, only to frown as his eyes made contact with those of a very, very pissed off Geoff on the floor below. Bollocks.

“Change of plan,” Gavin murmured regretfully to himself. “Hey, mate!” He called back to the boy still glued to the floor at the end of the hall, laughing at the expression on his face that reminded him of a deer in headlights. Before Gavin could change his mind about it, he threw the car keys at the boy and spun away, missing his look of surprise as he caught it. Gavin giggled to himself at just how much trouble he was about to get into, running and taking two steps at a time down the stairs before slamming straight into his pseudo-father’s arms, head spinning.

“Geoff!” He grinned at the man’s stormy expression, already knowing what he was going to say. “I’m not even that drunk, I promise! Errything’s swell!”

To which Geoff only scoffed as he studied Gavin carefully. “Yeah, but you smell like a bag of dicks. How many blunts have you had?”

Gavin frowned, concentrating as he started counting on one hand, but the older man stopped him. “Oh second thought,” he interrupted, “I don’t even want to know.” A sigh.

To be quite honest, Gavin was pretty drunk, and high as a kite to boot. He didn’t remember why he had gone so hard tonight, but was deeply satisfied with the results. He loved the lightweight feeling of the mix, everything smearing together into a blur of motion, tastes, and feelings. No heavy thoughts. No anything. But now Geoff was ruining it.

“Why are you here?” Gavin whined, bouncing up and down. “And why aren’t you drunk?”

He received a stern, accusing look and no answers. As the British boy looked around for an escape route, Geoff noticed the curly-haired person halfway down the stairs who was blatantly staring at the pair. Who the fuck is that? He thought, meaning to tease Gavin about the dude, probably his most recent fuck. But Gavin had other plans. Bored with the short interrogation-turned conversation, he made to leave but Geoff grabbed him by the shoulders quickly.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re coming home before you kill off what few brain cells you have left.”

Gavin pouted.

“Sod off, Geoff! I’m having a damn good time of it and nothing’s gone wrong.”

The older man rolled his eyes. But that’s the fucking problem, kid. He wanted to shake the British lad. You can’t keep going on like this. It’s going to kill ya.

Head darting up, Gavin swiveled towards the rec room, apparently hearing something Geoff didn’t.

“Anywho, I’ll be seeing you, mate.” Gavin said, firmly prying himself away from Geoff’s grip, or as firmly as he could manage. “I think someone’s calling me, gotta run!”

Geoff watched as the lanky boy sped off again, unamused. “Someone’s always calling for you, you fucking dipshit.” He muttered, shaking his head resignedly as he gave up and headed towards the exit. Looking back up at the staircase, the strange boy watching the exchange was nowhere to be found. Weird.

Driving home gripping the steering wheel maybe just a little too tightly, Geoff was fairly disappointed in himself and how easily he gave in to the younger boy, but he told himself that he couldn’t just fix Gavin. You couldn’t fix people; they had to fix themselves. But he just wasn’t sure if Gavin even wanted to try to.

He stayed awake all night, thinking about the British boy’s self-destructive tendencies. He was still awake when he heard the front door open and Gavin slip in, stumbling upstairs noisily and collapsing onto his mattress in the room over. Groaning, Geoff slowly got up out of bed moments later after planting a kiss on a sleeping Griffon’s temple.

Same shit, different day.

Navigating the dark house with his eyes barely open, Geoff headed down to the kitchen to grab a glass of water for the kid yet again, small bucket in hand.

Gavin woke up the next day well into the afternoon, whimpering at the banging in his head. He looked at the tall glass by his bed ruefully, knowing that he owed Geoff an apology.

To be fair, he did cut a little too loose last night; Gavin couldn’t even recall most of the party, only some vaguely satisfying sex, a blurry, angry face, and Geoff coming to check up on him. Or maybe the angry face was Geoff’s. Whatever. He shrugged to himself, rubbing a hand over his face and sleepily trudging to the bathroom to wash up.

“Ack!” Gavin squawked, walking into the man himself.

“Don’t go looking so surprised, this is my house, you know,” Geoff grumbled, clearly still annoyed at the younger man. Gavin just made a noise as he walked through the bathroom door and shut himself in.

“Good afternoon to you too, fucker.”

About an hour later, a freshly-showered Gavin wandered downstairs with an empty glass, filling it back up and popping an aspirin. He looked significantly more presentable and amicable than earlier. Griffon looked up from the table and set down her book, smiling at him.

“Afternoon! How are you feeling?”

“Like shite,” Gavin answered truthfully, looking around. “Don’t remember much of last night. Where’s Geoff gone off to?”

Griffon smiled sweetly as she stood to help fix the boy something to eat. “To the office, he seemed a bit mad. But you’ll patch things up, I’m sure. You don’t remember anything?”

Gavin shook his head as he remembered that Geoff was a proper adult and adults have jobs, something he had somehow managed to forget recently. He felt even worse about bothering the older man so much as of late. “Nope. Nothing important.”

The blonde looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face for only a moment before it was gone. Gavin, too preoccupied with stuffing toast in his mouth in hunger, didn’t notice. He grabbed another glass of water before sitting down across from Griffon.

“Sorry,” Gavin apologized unexpectedly, causing Griffon to raise her eyebrows questioningly. “You know. For being an absolute git lately.”

She laughed softly. “And when are you not?” She asked teasingly.

The boy smiled sheepishly, messing up his hair as he looked away. “You know what I mean.”

“Let’s say I don’t. Tell me.” Griffon scooted closer to the table and propped her elbows up, chin resting on her hands.

Gavin was taken aback. This was not a conversation he was expecting to have now, if at all. And especially not with Griffon. Geoff, maybe, but Griffon? “I…” He hesitated. There was a very pregnant pause before Griffon broke it.

A tattooed arm shot out and she swiped at Gavin playfully before he managed to stutter out anything else. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Gav,” she said, changing her mind. She crossed her arms. “Just know that Geoff and I are worried about you, alright? Take care of yourself.”

Relieved, Gavin nodded vigorously. He grabbed some more toast and stood, chair scraping back.

“Cheers, Griff. I’m gonna go and hang out with some lads for the evening. See you around supper?”

The blonde smiled at him, stern look washing off her face. “Sounds good, see you later,” she waved, returning to her book.

Eager to go see some friends and hang out, strictly no bevs, Gavin headed out the door. He bounced as he walked, giddy at the conversation piece he had only narrowly avoided. He didn’t need his flaws pointed out to him; he was already well-aware. Besides, things were alright like this. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts, Gavin had just convinced himself that nothing needed to change as his fingers brushed against something plastic.

In confusion, the boy fished a keychain out of his pocket and eyed the rose imbedded in the clear resin dangling at the end. “This isn’t mine,” Gavin stated the obvious, flipping the plastic around to see R. scratched into it on the other side.

But whose was it?

He shrugged to himself and pocketed it again.

Click. Click. Click.

Michael clicked his mouse forcefully in annoyance, finalizing his course registration dutifully as he ignored the sound of his roommate grousing in the background. Ray had lost his beloved keychain at the party while he was playing hero for his drunken friend, and he’s still mourning its loss, a week later. Like it was his firstborn child or something. The curly-haired boy snorted. It probably fell off when the keys were lost upstairs that night, or maybe Michael accidentally knocked it off when he practically flung the chain against the wall.

Not that he’d ever admit to that.

Because admitting to breaking Ray’s keychain off would mean admitting to fucking up and not paying attention to the one thing he had gone upstairs in search for. And that in turn would mean admitting to being enraptured by one Gavin fucking Free. And there was no way. Ray could never know Michael probably lost his favourite keychain popping a boner for what seemed like the most popular person in the entire fucking university. The most popular guy.

He momentarily contemplated going on Ebay and buying his poor roommate a new chain, if only to just shut him up. What’s with him and that thing, anyways? At that moment, Ray chose to let out a particularly loud sigh, flopping around on his bed. Michael bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance and made a decision, swiveling in his chair to face the dark-haired boy.

“Yo. Ray. Let’s go shopping.”

No answer.

Michael blew out a big gust of air and strode over to Ray’s bed, dragging him up without further ado. They drove in silence down to the big shopping complex west of the city, Michael determined to find his moping buddy a new chain for his car keys.

And so, Michael Jones found himself meeting Gavin Free for the second time, in the parking lot of a mall (The word “meet” being used here as loosely as possible).

It was an uneventful encounter; Michael and Ray were on their way in, Ray considerably more cheery at the prospect of a new rose accessory. The two were chatting lightly when the automatic doors slid open in front of them to let out a large, boisterous group of people about their age. Michael and Ray automatically stepped back to make room for the crowd to leave.

Ray continued to talk as Michael caught wind of a familiar voice, accent standing out obnoxiously loudly in the centre of all the other students. His eyes widened and he subconsciously stepped closer to the passing group of people, scanning them for dirty blonde hair, a skinny figure, something. He didn’t even know why he was looking so hard.

A shock of static electricity burst from Michael’s shoulder as someone brushed up against him by accident, making him jump.

“Watch where you’re going,” one of Gavin’s (presumed) friends muttered as he pushed past.

“Fuck off,” Michael shot back automatically with an angry look. But then his eyes refocused past the douche and met with Gavin’s surprised ones. Michael stared in suspended animation, vaguely aware that his mouth was open again. The exchange only lasted for a fraction of a second, barely no time at all, before the British boy turned to his friend on the right to laugh at whatever funny thing she said.

Michael’s eyes narrowed in confusion and suspicion. It was probably something about me, he thought, stomach churning unpleasantly. But he didn’t even acknowledge me at all. Would think I deserve at least that much for the shit he pulled before. He stopped himself right there.

Why would Gavin fucking Free need to acknowledge Michael Jones in the first place? They were practically on two different planes of existence, as far as social status was concerned. That other night was only a chance encounter, Michael told himself.

Meanwhile, his roommate was still chatting beside him, oblivious to what had just occurred. “As I was saying, I think I might even go for a rubber or metal rose instead if we find one; they’d break less easily, right?” Ray continued to talk until he finally realized his friend wasn’t processing a single word of what he was saying.

“Michael? Yo, earth to Michael. You in there?” Ray leaned over towards his roommate, peering at his expression and following his gaze to the students that were now getting into cars, ready to leave. The Puerto Rican couldn’t help but feel like he had just missed something important, but Michael just grunted in response, looking less than pleased.

“Yeah. Let’s fucking go get your dumb keychain already.”

(The third time Michael Jones met Gavin Free was in Physics.)

Chapter Text

The third time Michael Jones met Gavin Free was in Physics. It was by sheer luck (or misfortune, whichever way you wanted to look at it) that Michael arrived too early to the lecture hall and fell asleep there as other students straggled in, all too intimidated by the aura the boy put off to sit next to him. It was in the early hours of the morning, so most were cradling coffee in their hands and had no inclination to have any sort of confrontation whatsoever.

The large lecture hall filled up quickly once 8:25 AM rolled around, but most people still gave the figure with the black hoodie a wide berth. So by the time the professor made his way to the podium and opened his laptop, Michael only had a small, apprehensive-looking guy seated (leaned the other way) on his right and an empty seat to his left.

Not that he would know, though, because he was still asleep at this point in time. Or more accurately, he was having a nightmare, but it started innocently enough.

Michael is back at home. He’s sitting on the couch fiddling with his clothes, waiting for his parents so they could go down to Mass. They are taking too long to get ready and Michael is getting impatient, but he doesn’t say anything.

There is suddenly a knock at the door and Michael gets up to open it. Lindsay is there, beaming at him, so he lets her in. She starts bombarding him with a multitude of questions about his new life with no room for Michael to even answer.

“Hi baby, how is University of Texas going?”

“Do you like it there?”

“Have you made any new friends? How is your roommate? Can I come meet them?”

To Michael’s alarm, the sentences increase in complexity as Lindsay’s cheerful voice twists into something sinister.

“Would you even ever want me to meet them? Aren’t you glad you got a new start? Have you met someone to replace me yet?”

Michael stared at his girlfriend and attempted to fend off the loaded questions as though they were tangible, backing up slowly. But the dreadful questions kept coming and Michael’s heart jack-hammered in his chest; he wished he could sink into the earth as he heard footsteps from upstairs.

A menacing Lindsey stepped even closer to the now cowering Michael. “Are you planning on making the same mistakes you did in New Jersey, or are you planning on making new, worse ones? When are you going to tell me that you stuck your dick somewhere it shouldn’t have gone?”

“When am I going to meet Chris so I can kill you both and send you two to the Hell where you belong?”

A shocked gasp travels to Michael’s ears from the top of the stairs, and he turns desperately to send a pleading look to his parents, who undoubtedly heard the entire one-sided exchange. Mrs. Jones looked shocked and ready to faint, crossing herself weakly. Mr. Jones looked positively thunderous.

“No, please, wait, this isn’t –“ Michael fumbled, nearly in hysterics; everything is too loud, too silent, too everything. But Mr. Jones swept down the stairs like a force of nature and Michael couldn’t turn quick enough. He caught a glimpse of a satisfied sneer out of the corner of his eye. He fell into darkness.

Michael wakes up six feet under, lying in the dirt. He realizes he can’t breathe, chest heaving erratically as his lungs desperately strain for oxygen. Staring up at the people looking down at him as they throw handfuls of dirt onto him, his adrenaline-fueled brain notes those present even as he is being buried alive.

His parents, of course. Miles and Kerry, old friends at NJIT. Lindsay. Lindsay’s friend whose name he couldn’t remember. Ray, staring down at him accusingly. And Gavin. Gavin fucking Free. A ripple of hopelessness ran through Michael like a chill, leaving him hollow. He closed his eyes. It was so cold.

Gradually, Michael noticed the presence of a gentle sensation sweeping hold of his tired body. It started on his right shoulder blade, but gradually pooled outwards. Calming down, he relaxed, heartbeat returning to normal.

Then he realized with a jolt and a shuddering breath that he was awake, staring at the inside of his own eyelids. The warmth remained as Michael returned to his senses, now aware of the droning voice of the professor and the dull murmur of conversation in the background. Right. He was in a Physics lecture.

He made to lift his face up off the desk, but froze as he realized the heat on his shoulder translated to a hand resting on him. The person to whom the hand belonged to seemed to notice Michael tense.

“…you alright there? Awake now?” A stage-whisper, as if the British voice wasn’t physically capable of lowering his voice any further than that.

And of course it had to be him of all people.

Michael jerked upright, shoving the warm hand off his shoulder viciously. He turned to his right to glare at the offender and sure enough, there he was: Gavin fucking Free, beaming like an idiot.

 “Brilliant!” The boy exclaimed, ignoring the way Michael slapped his hand away as though Gavin had burned him with it. “I was about to think you were bloody dead or something.”

“How could I have been fucking dead, you dumb fuck,” Michael snapped back in a burst of irritation. “I was breathing, wasn’t I? Could’ve at least been able to fucking tell that with your grubby little hand on me.”

Not perturbed in the slightest by Michael’s hostility, Gavin stopped to chew thoughtfully on the end of his mechanical pencil. “I suppose so,” he admitted, goofy grin returning.

Michael cursed to himself. How the hell did I get this guy seated next to me in a hall of five hundred students? He had no intention of getting mixed up with Gavin fucking Free and his bubble of chaos, but now he was forced to endure an entire hour and twenty-long lecture with him (that started at 8:30 in the morning, no less). Michael was too busy wallowing in his current predicament to notice that Gavin had started talking to him again, not even bothering to keep it down.

“Mr. Free,” an authoritative voice rang out, bringing everyone else’s quiet conversations to a halt. Hands still waving and eyes comically wide, the British lad shut up and turned towards the front of the hall where the Physics professor stood.

“Dr. Hullum!” He immediately shouted in response, drawing a wave of laughter from the other students.

The man’s mouth twitched upwards, but with some effort he pressed it back into a hard line. “You come in twenty minutes late to my first lecture of the year, spill coffee all over the carpet – yes I did see that, Mr. Free,” he emphasized to an affronted-looking Gavin. Another hum of amusement echoed through the hall.

“…And then you scramble up and down the walkways looking for a spot, and now  that you’ve finally found one, you’re talking up a storm. Mr. Free, would you like to relieve me of my duties up here and just teach the lesson for me?” Hullum finished, nearly all students’ eyes on the British boy at this point. Michael shrank back in his seat away from the spotlight, dying a little inside at the attention focused on Gavin right next to him.

The sandy-haired boy looked at Michael sideways. Then he winked. Michael sputtered, determinedly looking away and fixing his stare on the hall’s light fixtures.

“I would, Dr. Hullum,” Gavin replied honestly, returning to the conversation shrugging, ignoring the half horrified, half amazed looks he was receiving from his peers. “But it wouldn’t be quite fair, would it? I mean, I wouldn’t get paid for it. If anything, I’d be bloody paying to teach, and I would have to be off my rocker to do that.” He leaned back in his chair.

The crowd looked back and forth from the cheeky British boy and the Physics professor nervously, waiting for a reaction to Gavin’s unexpectedly bold remark. Silence reigned as Hullum stared at Gavin blankly for a full minute before he burst into booming laughter.

“You make a good point, Free.” The professor chuckled, straightening out the papers on his podium. “Fair enough, fair enough…”

The lecture hall burst into conversation, and Hullum had to gesture widely for several minutes for it to be calm again before returning to the lecture.

Gavin, looking quite pleased with himself, tuned Hullum out again immediately and turned to Michael, who was still cringing away and burning holes in the ceiling. “Anywho. Like I was saying before we were rudely interrupted, I’m glad you aren’t dead. I’m Gavin Free. Pleasure to meet you.” He extended a hand out for Michael to shake.

The curly-haired boy took the hand after a moment’s consideration and shook it. “…Michael Jones,” He finally allowed. “I’m not going to thank you for waking me up. And fuck you for that shit earlier.” The other boy grinned at the reply, all white teeth and crinkled eyes, and he was so fucking cheerful that Michael had to turn away.

Is he like this with everyone? Michael wondered as he opened his laptop and hit the power button, staring at the blank word document on screen. In any case, his introduction cleared a lot up; Gavin didn’t seem to remember their drunken meeting over the summer, and it was just as well. His face grew hot at the thought, but he shook it away. Nope. Forget that ever happened, he instructed himself.

But his mind rebelled, turning over how utterly open and shameless Gavin went about everything, going on like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was the exact, fucking opposite of himself. A flare of jealousy rose up inside Michael. He could never trust people as easily as Gavin did.

Michael suddenly snapped back to reality as the lecture’s presentation slides changed and he realized he had no motherfucking clue what was going on.

 I need some goddamn notes.

Turning to his left, Michael opened his mouth only to realize he really didn’t want to talk to anyone, much less a stranger who looked terrified of him, to bum notes off of. But he really needed to know what was going on so he wouldn’t fail this class. So he slowly turned to his right, unwillingly facing the humming British boy who was now lazily spinning his pencil around between his fingers.

“H-hey,” he muttered lowly.

Gavin turned at lightning speed, still beaming like the fucking sun. “Yeah, boi?”

Michael grimaced. Bad idea. “Boi?”

“Yeah, boi. You know, Mi-cool, like a term of endearment. You need one if we’re going to be friends,” Gavin laughed, shaking his head disappointedly at Michael’s apparent cluelessness.

The curly-haired boy just gaped, ignoring the fact that his name was just butchered.

It took me two fucking months to become friends with Ray. And then this motherfucker comes along and just declared us bois half an hour into knowing each other, Michael thought incredulously. But then a thought came to him.

Eh, it’s fine. I just need some notes. Besides, what are the chances that I ever bump into again?

The answer, of course, was very, very high. But with a lecture hall of several hundred, Gavin Free’s known popularity and Michael’s lack thereof, Michael was able to convince himself otherwise.

“Friends?” Michael said, at last. “Yeah, sure whatever. Listen, did you get anything down from what the prof has been saying?”

Gavin only smiled apologetically, lifting his blank notebook up by the corners to show his new friend. “Afraid not. I got in late and then spent the next while trying to wake you up, yeah?”

Michael groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Right.”

The two spent the rest of the lecture next to each other in near complete silence as they obediently followed along with the Physics lesson and took notes. Or at least, Michael did while occasionally glancing over at Gavin, who didn’t seem inclined to do anything of the sort. The British boy only lounged there, spinning his pen and turning around or leaning forward at the odd moment to chat with the people around him for a short while. An hour later, Dr. Hullum wrapped up with a reminder about keeping up with textbook readings, thanked them for showing up for their first lecture, and dismissed everyone, Michael sighing in relief.

He packed up in silence as the scared kid to his left streaked out before anyone else. On the other hand, Gavin was too preoccupied to even get up as he texted, slim fingers flying a mile a minute. Michael felt as though he owed him at least a little for waking him up.

“Hey,” he tried, hands stuffed in his hoodie. “Gavin fucking Free. Get the hell up. Class is over. Time to leave.”

The British boy didn’t move, still absorbed with whatever important conversation he was having. His lips twitched up into a smile, and suddenly Michael felt a little angry.

Michael growled, exasperation bubbling up inside him. He kicked Gavin’s chair, making the boy squawk and topple over onto the carpet. The phone flew out of the lad’s hands as he landed with an unforgiving crack of his elbow popping, and Michael almost smiled to himself in satisfaction.

“Hey, what was that for, Mi-cool?” Gavin whined.

“Time to go, fucking dumbass.”

“Oh!”

Fulfilling what he needed to do, Michael left Gavin sitting there on the ground without another word. Gavin rubbed his bottom and got up messily, stuffing his (perpetually empty) notebook into his bag and putting his pencil behind his ear. Frowning as he realized Michael had left without him, Gavin called out towards the leaving figure of the curly-haired boy.

“Mi-cool, I’ll see you Thursday morning! Cheers!”

I certainly hope not, Michael thought.

Chapter Text

Meanwhile, a couple buildings down in a programming seminar, Ray was having some trouble of his own.

The Puerto Rican boy sat hunched over at a computer in his spot against the wall, texting Michael and desperately hoping the dude was bored enough in his lecture to reply. 

[8:54:01 AM] Ray Narvaez: MICHAEL
[8:54:03 AM] Ray Narvaez: MIHCEAl im screwed hepl me
[8:54:29 AM] Ray Narvaez: im in my python coding sem and I need to get out NOW
[8:54:46 AM] Ray Narvaez: for the love of GOD PLEASE REPLY
[8:55:00 AM] Ray Narvaez: what if I get kicked out of school
[8:55:30 AM] Ray Narvaez: im pretty sure theres laws against this

He paused for a second as he became conscious of something. Michael hadn't even been there when all this shit went down; he only moved in near the end of summer and would have no clue what Ray was talking about. He was probably ignoring Ray out of sheer confusion.

[8:58:11 AM] Ray Narvaez: wait I just realized I need to explain context
[8:58:38 AM] Ray Narvaez: ok so this is what happened

Ray was tapping away at his phone, ready to unload his drama onto Michael when he heard a clap come from the other end of the seminar room, causing him to drop his phone on the floor with a clatter. 

Horrified at the loud sound, Ray quickly picked it up and stuffed it in his bag, determinedly not making eye contact with anyone as he pushed his glasses up on his nose.

He turned slowly, head somewhat lowered, to face the man who had just clapped (somewhat condescendingly, in his opinion). Doing his very best to not draw attention to himself, Ray practically shielded himself behind everyone else who had also collectively scooted their chairs around to face the other end of the room where a tall, blonde man was standing, waiting to begin the seminar.

There was a brief giggle and whisper exchanged between the two girls seated behind Ray as they unabashedly looked the man up and down appraisingly, but they quickly shut up when the man stared back pointedly. Ray rolled his eyes. Girls.

"Alright guys. First lab of the year," the older man said at length, shrugging his broad shoulders and flicking his hair back nonchalantly. "Hope you guys aren't all too excited."

There was a nervous chuckle or two, but most of the small class of fifteen remained silent, including Ray, who was more or less shaking at this point. The anxiety was building up so fast inside him at the thought of possible confrontation that he was actually contemplating just grabbing his stuff and making a beeline for the door.

And promptly switching seminar times.

Or maybe just dropping out of his program entirely.

The man continued. "If it hasn't been made obvious yet, I'm Ryan Haywood and I'll be your TA for this 9:00 AM to 9:50 AM computer programming seminar slot. God knows why you picked it - I was hoping nobody would - but here we are."

Ray wanted nothing more than for the earth to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. 

He was a good student who didn't deserve this. Never got so much as a detention in high school. Didn't get into fights. Didn't do anything stupid. Until now.

Yep, here I am, Ray thought. Stuck in a seminar for fifty minutes in close proximity with a hot TA that I had sober, mindblowing sex with over the summer when I didn't know he was a TA, much less a TA for computer science. Oh, and that he's probably a decade older than me. I have the worst fucking luck.

Because that's exactly what Ryan Haywood was: a tall, blonde, muscular and ridiculously good-looking Teacher's Assistant that Ray had spent a (more than satisfying) intimate night with, only to ditch the next morning without a word. And as far as Ray knew, Ryan still hasn't noticed him in here today, or maybe just didn't recognize him.

I mean, the guy is hot enough that he probably has one-night stands and people falling into his bed on a regular basis, right?

Ray ducked his head down just as Ryan paced slowly towards his end of the room and went back down the aisle as he explained the basics of the lab.

“We’re going to do some real simple stuff today since I doubt any of you have had a lecture yet,” the TA said. “I don’t even know why we’re here. Labs should be cancelled for the first week of class, in my opinion,” He tiredly rubbed his five o’clock shadow, continuing to walk about.

Ray stared at him out of the corner of his eye. That’s the same five o’clock shadow that scratched my collarbone when he had his lips pressed against my neck so forcefull- shut up. Shut up.

“In any case. You guys should remember how to make simple strings of characters in Python from Programming II last year. I want you all to open up a document and apply operator + to a string you make up, as well as a numeric value. It’s going to give you a type error if you do it properly.” Ryan explained, scribbling an example on the whiteboard.

“You should remember what addition and concatenation are, and when they occur. Find out what’s wrong with the first and second operand are in this example, and fix the function. Once you’ve done that and I write you off, you’re good to go.”

Finished explaining, Ryan Haywood sat down at his desk by the door as everyone got to typing, copying down the writing from the board letter by letter, symbol by symbol (everyone except Ray, whose eyes were still glazed over thinking about what a pickle he was in).

The clock ticked infinitesimally slowly; it would probably never be 9:50 AM.

Someone raised their hand suddenly, and Ray stared at the limb protruding out close to his face as if it was about to sprout wings and fly off. The offending student was sitting at the same stretch of table immediately to the Puerto Rican’s right and made no move to get up, instead waving his arm impatiently to get the TA’s attention. “Um…Haywood? Mr. Haywood!”

No, you motherfucker, NO JUST GO UP TO THE GUY PLEASE JUST GO UP, Ray internally screamed.

But it was too late – Ray could hear the sound of a chair scraping back distantly as Ryan got up to come answer the boy’s question.

“Stuck somewhere?” Ryan inquired in a low voice that sent tremors through Ray’s body.

Yeah, in this room with you. Get me out.

“Yeah, am I supposed to know what to do here? I feel like we haven’t done this before. I’m completely lost,” the clueless idiot to Ray’s right said, looking at the TA frustratedly.

Ryan just laughed, leaning over the boy’s shoulder to help type something in. “It’s alright; I didn’t expect most of you to get it on the first try anyways. The trick is in the parameters, here.” Ryan stepped closer to the other student, shifting his elbow so he could access the keyboard more easily when he accidentally brushed up against Ray, entirely too close. The dark-haired boy shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ll give you a hint, Python expects the second operand to be a string because…”

Okay, so Ryan didn’t notice, but by this point, Ray was dying.

His entire body was static electricity just waiting to give off charge and his heart was racing so fast he felt like he would have an aneurysm and die at the youthful age of twenty right then and there.

Ray tried to take a deep breath to steady himself, but that proved to be a bad plan when his brain was immediately clouded with the familiar smell of Haywood. 

Sandalwood, and some cologne that I hate. Or at least I think I hate it but he smells so good, what the fuck, Ray internally blathered, mind flashing back to that summer night when everything had been so much more potent and amplified in the quiet closeness of it all. He thought about the way Ryan looked as he slept peacefully and had to lower his hands into his lap to prevent them from shaking, entire body tense at the current proximity of his elbow to Ryan’s elbow, his shoulder to his torso, his arm’s reach to his coc-

Ray Narvaez Jr., you are not going to fucking get a raging hard-on in the middle of your class, Ray thought sternly, gripping his knees tightly.  And not for your TA. Not when he’s right next to you. Or ever. Your TA holds your grades in the palm of his hands. He practically holds your life in your hands.

This is an even worse idea than Tina, he reflected.

Ray felt a headache coming on.

He decided to just get this stupid seminar over with so he could get out of there and switch into a different time slot already. Mind on the goal, Ray brushed aside all his other whirring thoughts and put himself to work. Eyes darting back and forth between the screen and the whiteboard, Ray rapidly flew through the assignment, eager to leave. His hands glided easily across the keyboard, clearly in his element.

>>> ‘RNJR’ + 4
Traceback (most recent call last):
   File “<stdin>”, line 1, in <module>
TypeError: Can’t convert ‘int’ object to str implicitly

Satisfied with his code, Ray set out to explain his findings, muttering as he typed. “Second operand…should be string….but confused Python…because….it is…an integer. Apply…concatenation…to both strings.” He was so bent on finishing and getting out of there that he didn’t notice that Ryan was looking over at his screen, smiling.

Biting his lip in concentration, Ray finished up his last line and hit enter, nervous even though he was confident that the string would work.

>>> ‘Ray Narvaez’ + str(4) + ‘President’
‘Ray Narvaez 4 President’

Ray finally stopped typing, leaning back in his chair with a deep exhale, relaxing. The assignment took him less than ten minutes to complete, start to finish. Since he was done, he figured he could just grab his shit and book it out of there, leaving his screen on so that Ryan Haywood could just take a look after he was long gone and give him the grade.

“Nice job there.” A deep voice from Ray’s immediate right.

Ray felt the hope inside him shrivel up and die.

No such luck.

 He rotated his head around, eyes finally making contact with those of Ryan Haywood, his breathing shallow.

“T-thanks?” Ray squeaked. “I’m…done.”

Ryan paused, lips pursed in thought, searching Ray’s face for something. The Puerto Rican couldn’t take it, breaking eye contact and pushing his chair back to leave.

The older man broke out of whatever trance he was in and nodded, scanning Ray’s screen quickly. “…Seems so. But you need to save the file and submit it on the module before you leave.”

His hand reached out as if to jokingly push Ray back into his seat by the shoulders, but stopped about an inch short. Ray’s breath hitched. 

Ryan retracted himself with a slight smile on his face.

“Good work today though…” He glanced back at the boy’s screen. “…Ray.”

“Thanks, Haywood.” Ray said quietly back, swiftly sending in his work on his computer so that he could go already.

“Please. Ryan.”

Ray nodded as he got up, not being able to help but look somewhat crestfallen as Ryan turned back to helping the student on Ray’s right who apparently didn’t know the difference between a number and a letter.

The dark-haired Puerto Rican felt stupid for getting so attached to Ryan over one night, especially after it was evident he was nobody special the older man would remember two months later.

Ryan had treated him like any other student, and that’s what he was – just a student.

He sighed, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose again and scrunching up his face. It was whatever. He’d get over it, just like how he got over Tina last year, even though he hadn’t been looking forward to a repetitive year of crushes and heartbreak.

I just want to pass university, goddammit.

As Ray shouldered his backpack and pushed in his chair, passing his TA, he mumbled a bye. But the older man was preoccupied again and probably didn’t hear, still exasperatingly helping that one hopeless student step-by-step through the coding process.

Bummed out that he couldn’t at least get a proper goodbye before he quit this seminar for good, Ray walked down the aisle towards the door, shoulders hunched for a different reason than when he came in. He turned back one last time, and felt a wave of familiarity crash over him.

But this time it was different, because the room was bathed in incandescent light, not moonlight, and Ryan’s face wasn’t hidden in shadow. Ray could make out his features perfectly, from his fair hair to his dark eyebrows, to his dark eyes, to his straight, long nose and thin lips pulled into an easy smile. Ray frowned, wistful.

The worst fucking luck.

Without prompt or warning, Ryan craned his neck to stare straight at Ray by the doorway. Caught off guard momentarily, Ray didn’t even react quick enough to look away. He stared right back and swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. Then –

Ryan tilted his head almost an imperceptible degree as his light smile pulled into a full-blown knowing smirk, and Ray’s stupid heart skipped a beat before he bolted out the door at the speed of light. The asshole was just pretending earlier.

Ryan Haywood knew.

Chapter Text

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T SWITCH OUT OF THIS SEMINAR?”

Ray clutched at the edges of his desk, white-knuckled, as he pressed his face closer to the screen disbelievingly. “No, no, no….” he moaned. “This can’t be true.”

He thought about Ryan Haywood’s smug, shit-eating grin.

“I. CAN’T. GO. BAAAAAAACK.” The dark-haired boy exploded as he shook his table violently. The wood creaked ominously as he slowed and eventually slid down onto his knees to theatrically pretend to sob into his hands.

But in all seriousness. In Ray’s eyes, his life was pretty much over. The computer programming seminar was a part of a core course of his program that he needed to complete his undergraduate degree. And as he had just checked on the UoT website, there were no other available lab time slots he could switch into at the moment. He vaguely recalled Rya – Haywood, he corrected himself – mentioning how unpopular the morning seminars usually were; all the rest were around 1:00 PM, 3:00 PM, 5:00 PM…each displaying a full capacity of 18/18.

Ray revisited the possibility of switching programs, groaning loudly with his hands still over his eyes.

“Jesus, Ray, calm the fuck down,” Michael muttered from his side of the room.

“I AM – DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN.” Ray rounded on his friend, parting his fingers to shoot him a dirty look.

Michael didn’t even look up as he retorted, “I can, and I will. You’re being a prissy little bitch” while laying on his bed, texting his girlfriend Lindsay or whatever. Ray pulled a face. Michael had no right to judge the severity of Ray’s current dilemma when he’s in a stable, long-distance relationship with someone he loved. He looked enviously at the other boy who was smiling at something his girlfriend sent him, all dimples and smooth contentment. 

Finding out the person you like likes you back is like winning the fucking lottery, Ray thought. And I hate gambling. He much preferred just running away and never looking back when things went awry, but the world seemed to be working against him.

Ray’s thought process was interrupted by the sound of bed sheets rustling as Michael sat up, setting his phone aside.

“Hey,” the brown-haired boy said suddenly. “I totally fucking forgot, but what was up with your shitty slew of texts this morning? They made absolutely no fucking sense, by the way. What happened, you get reamed out by your prof the first day in?”

Ray cringed at Michael’s indelicate word choice. Something like that.

“Hey, I was trying to tell you in the morning, but someone was too fucking busy to reply,” he retorted. “What were you doing? And don’t tell me physics, because there’s no fucking way physics is interesting enough for you to ignore your current best friend, you dick.”

Now it was Michael’s turn to look uncomfortable. Ray’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Oh, wow, something really did happen? Dude, I was totally just fucking around, but what’s up?” he asked.

Michael muttered something incoherent before shaking his head and going, “nah, it’s nothing. Tell me about your supposed hellish seminar.”

Still curious, Ray smartly decided to drop it for now since his roommate didn’t seem willing to talk about it. Agitation welled up inside him all over again as he relived the morning, deciding how to tell the story and where to start.

Well,” the Puerto Rican began. “I walked into my seminar ready to do some fucking coding, right? I mean, gross morning, first day of class and of course I have a motherfucking lab before I even know what’s going on. So I sit at the end beside the wall, but then I see my TA and it’s –“ Ray stopped.

Michael cocked his head. “It’s who?” He urged.

Shit, Ray thought, frantically backtracking as a thought popped into his head midsentence. I fucking forgot. Michael is Christian, right? Like hardcore thou shalt not, silver cross, go to Mass with family every weekend Christian. It never really came to mind for Ray before this, mainly because Michael swore like an angry trucker and he never saw him pray before. But it was important now.

What if he’s homophobic?

Ray decided he couldn’t take the chance.

“W-well, I saw my TA,” Ray stuttered out. “And it was this g-girl I banged a few weeks back over the summer, could you believe it?” He threw his arms up in exclamation, cringing at himself a little bit. You’re overdoing it.

But Michael didn’t seem to mind at all, clearly not thinking of Ray’s behaviour as anything suspicious. The dude was weird as fuck usually, anyways. As a matter of fact, he seemed to find the entire situation fucking hilarious.

“You what? You fucking boned your TA?” Michael cackled, falling back onto his bed with a whomp.

Thrilled that he was out of danger of being outed, Ray continued in higher confidence. “Right? Holy shit man, I thought I was gonna puke. She just walked in and I could’ve shat my pants. I mean, have hi– her looking over my shoulder every week and breathing down my neck in class? No fucking way.”

The curly-haired boy on the bed was still laughing, fighting for breath, but managed to ask, “So what’s her name? Fuck man, can I meet her?”

Nope. Definitely not. Ray’s mind whirred as he cursed himself for not thinking that far ahead. “Oh, her name is, er, Ry..Riley.”

 “Riley.” Michael repeated. “That’s fucking classic, accidentally fucking your TA.” He burst into a new fit of laughter.

“She hot? Someone’s going to wind up noticing Ray Narvaez Jr. taking a lot of washroom breaks in the middle of her seminar sessions.” Michael snickered even harder, clutching his sides from laughing too hard.

Ray flushed red. Yeah. He’s hot, alright. Angry at himself for the thought, he whipped a pencil at his roommate’s face.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Michael.”

As Michael soon found out, going to university a few hundred miles away from home was the best thing he could’ve ever done for himself.

No pretending to pray to God and singing stupid hymns during Mass at church. No parents he needed to walk on eggshells around. No overhanging commitments or attachments to fuck himself over with. Oh, except Ray. But Ray was an exception – they were roommates and practically best buddies at this point. And Ray was the straightest guy Michael knew. So no problem there.

And besides, Ray was like a brother; they had good times together.

Best of all, there was no Lindsay. He could do with texting and the occasional Skype call, but he found it exhausting to put up a front with her while in each other’s company, and much preferred this. She hadn’t mentioned coming down to visit yet.

Michael soon found himself falling effortlessly into a routine, planning around whatever scheduled lecture or lab he had that day. He’d wake up late every day besides Tuesdays and Thursdays (fucking Physics), go to class, come home and play Xbox or chat with Ray if he was in, game alone if he wasn’t, go to more lectures, do a lab or something, and then dutifully (occasionally) text Lindsay to let her know how he was doing.

It was all pretty fucking fine and dandy.

What he didn’t expect, however, was Gavin fucking Free.

(But then again, who could ever predict Gavin Free?)

Michael began to dread his Tuesdays and Thursday mornings.

The happy British boy would, without fail, manage to search him out in the mornings of their Physics lectures, bounding up to him excitedly and plopping down in the next seat over. Talking a mile a minute, he’d disregard how utterly one-sided the conversation would be apart from the occasional slight nod or grunt from Michael and keep going.

Gavin fucking Free would always have a coffee or snack in hand, and as Michael soon noticed after a couple of lectures, never a writing utensil. Not for writing, at least. No, he’d spin his pen in his hand or irritatingly poke Michael with it, causing him to flip out in rage.

“MOTHERFUCKING HELL. Gavin fucking Free, I swear to God if you do that one more time I’ll fucking slaughter you where you sit.”

“No you wouldn’t, boi!”

Gavin would only ever giggle helplessly, face scrunched up in happiness as Michael hissed venomously at him for whatever he did. Michael didn’t fucking get it.

“Stop, stop! Mi-cool, you’re bloody killing me!” Gavin Free would shriek as Michael attacked him back. He’d pelt the skinny boy with erasers and pens before resorting to throwing his hoodie as well, jabbing the other boy without mercy.

Dr. Hullum, exasperated with the pair’s antics, stopped calling them out on their disturbances only a week or two in. Gavin and his angry, curly-haired partner soon became common knowledge for those who attended the twice-weekly morning Physics lectures, and funnily enough, (oblivious) Michael never noticed that Gavin’s friends never searched him out in that class. It was always just the two of them.

Though some days, Michael would show up in the morning with a migraine and refuse to indulge Gavin (“Mi-cool, what’s the matter with you? Not feeling top, boi?”), causing the other boy to sit there in boredom. He’d pout to himself for a good while into the lecture before wandering off.

Some days, Gavin would show up halfway through the class with only a bottle of water and a bagel looking like crap, but Michael would just assume he was hungover and relished the quiet those days brought.

Some days, Gavin fucking Free didn’t show up at all. Michael would ignore the disappointed hum in his chest as he sat alone and diligently took notes for himself and tried not to scan the crowd for a head of wild, dirty blonde hair (and he was most certainly not taking excellent notes for a certain British boy in case he’d ask Michael for them later when he showed up to class again).

But usually, Michael Jones would show up to class and Gavin fucking Free would appear soon after.

“Mi-cool, My boi! How are you this fine morning?”

“Shut the fuck up, fucking Free.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, I thought we were friends!”

“Go shove your face in some dirt.”

They continued interacting in that rocky, unstable manner of theirs, Gavin still all sunshine and Michael fending off any attempt at friendly conversation, until one day it hit Michael in the fucking gut.

He was enjoying getting mad at Gavin fucking Free. He had to put considerable effort into not liking the idiotic British boy.

And that never happened; Michael was good at holding people at arm’s length, but Gavin seemed to have a gift for not knowing where boundaries were and ignoring blaring social signals that told him to back off already. Perhaps Gavin knew deep down that Michael never really meant any of the things he said, even before Michael realized it himself.

And as these things go, there was a turning point. They were usually vague and indistinguishable, blurring into a jumble of events that held significance. But Michael Jones could pinpoint the exact moment when things began to fall apart in his hands.  

It began at the end of the Physics lecture one morning. Gavin had stolen the hard copy of his schedule out of his bag and was mischievously comparing it with his own, sprinting down the lecture hall to prevent Michael from taking it away from him. Michael, exasperated, didn’t even bother chasing after the boy.

“Gavin…come back here you motherfucker. Give my goddamn timetable back.”

“But you’re my BOI, Mi-cool! Bois need to hang out together, we can’t just keep meeting up in class like this!” The boy yelled as he grinned from across the lecture hall, people turning to stare.

Michael tugged at his curly locks in aggravation. But we don’t meet up, you fucker. You always come find me, God fucking knows how.

In any case, Gavin fucking Free discovered (with a squawk of happiness) that they both had a fair amount of time before their next lecture, Gavin to Biochemistry and Michael to Engineering Mechanics. Jumping at the chance, the British boy eagerly pulled the scowling Michael out of the hall to go to brunch with him at some place on the edge of campus.

“So tell me, Mi-cool,” Gavin said, staring at Michael sideways as he rested his head on the patio table, empty plate pushed aside.

“What?” Michael didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he was still cranky at getting dragged out by the tall, lanky boy who he seemed so out of place next to. People tended to stare at Gavin fucking Free, who drew attention like a flame. As always, Gavin glossed over it anyways, lips quirking up into an easy smile as he fixed his penetrating gaze on the other boy.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?” The curly-haired boy looked down, uncomfortable with the steady eye contact.

“You know, call me Gavin fucking Free.”

Michael didn’t know what to say to that, mainly because he didn’t quite know himself. Because I planned on hating your guts, he almost wanted to reply.

Frowning at the lack of a response, Gavin yawned as he stretched out across the table, fingertips almost brushing Michael’s chest. Michael jerked backwards. “I’ll take it, I suppose,” Gavin grinned as he looked lazily up at Michael, shaking his hair out of his face. “It’s better than nothing.”

Opting to stay silent, Michael took a sip of his coffee and glowered at the other boy.

He is so motherfucking cheerful all the time. It’s exhausting. I hate it, he thought to himself.

Pretending to be heartbroken at the treatment he was receiving, Gavin pulled a shocked face and twisted even closer, propping himself up by the elbows. “But was I wrong about you, Mi-cool? I thought we were bois. Don’t you love me?” Their faces were only about a foot apart now. Gavin wiggled one of his arms up to poke Michael on his pale, freckled nose, causing the boy to reel backwards and slap his hand away. Too close.

Panicking at the close contact, Michael became all too aware of how public of a place they were sitting in as a group of students walked by, chatting loudly amongst themselves. He pushed his chair back and distanced himself from Gavin, causing the boy's face to fall as he sat back up as well. Michael picked up his coffee and started to chug it, ready to leave.

Over the rim of his mug, he noticed Gavin turning around in his chair and standing to wave at a pair of people across the street, pointing towards himself and Michael and gesturing. The two shrugged, exchanging glances before sitting at a bench nearby to wait.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Michael suddenly blurted, setting his coffee down. “What people think?”

The British boy spun around in a circle to face the other boy with a quizzical look.

“Why on earth would it bother me?” He asked.

Michael looked at the carefree idiot incredulously. “Well, I don’t know, maybe because you’re basically fucking famous on campus and you’re hanging out with a loser like me?” He said sarcastically. “Besides, doesn’t this seem kind of like a…” Michael gestured to themselves and their table.

But Gavin fucking Free didn’t clue in. “Like a what?”

“Like a wot?” Michael mimicked in a high-pitched voice, throwing his hands up in defeat. “Fucking forget it.”

Maybe because you’re basically fucking famous on campus and you’re hanging out with a loser like me and this seems kind of like a date. And this is Texas. And I’m bisexual. And I don’t even know what you are, he finished in his head, furiously. But he decided to ask something different.

“But how the flying fuck do you know so many people anyways?” Michael paused.

“And in any case, you’re telling me nobody’s ever given you shit for the way you act? You’re fucking annoying as dicks, man, and – and you’d fuck anyone that’s living and breathing, he said silently – you really get around. I mean, people seem to fucking love you, but someone’s bound to hate you for…who you are.”

Gavin smiled impishly. “Of course someone out there hates me, but I figure I should be able to do whatever I want with my own life, yeah?” He made to get up, throwing a twenty on the table for the bill.

“Besides, I don’t have many real friends,” the boy emphasized to Michael. “And I don’t make any promises to anyone. In return, nobody should have to expect anything from me, and I’m alright with that. Not that many people claim to really know me, and to hell with whatever other people think about me, or claim to know. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours.” His green eyes were now ablaze.

Yeah, the rumors. Michael's heard a lot of those, interjected amidst all of his popularity - Gavin Free is a dumbass who only aces his exams because he takes it up the ass from his profs. Gavin Free fucks all his friends and then leaves them in the trash; don't get close to him. Gavin Free hasn't had a sober thought in fourteen years. Gavin Free probably has AIDS from how many people he's screwed. 

For every positive whisper, Michael has heard at least two that basically shat all over his reputation. But Gavin didn't seem fazed by any of it.

“I just do what I do. And for the record, Jones, I think you’re pretty swell. Don’t you dare call yourself a loser in front of me again,” Gavin commanded, arms folded.

Michael was taken aback at how serious the boy had abruptly gotten. “That’s fair, man,” he managed to mumble as the other looked down to stuff his wallet back into his bag.  

When Gavin looked back up, he looked like he was back to normal.

“Good," he said, pleased.

The heavy mood lifted as the default cheery smile made its way back onto his face, Gavin quickly skipping over to extend his tan arms to pull Michael into a hug. He smelled faintly of vanilla with a hint of musk. The other boy vaguely noted this in the back of his mind, inhaling as he subconsciously hugged back.

“I mean it, boi. This was great, let’s do it again sometime, yeah?” Gavin grinned widely at Michael reciprocating. He released the other boy and straightened himself back up. And with that, he spun on his heel and took off across the street towards his waiting friends, sandy hair flying in the wind.

Michael nodded weakly as he held a hand up to wave a goodbye before stuffing it back into the pocket of his jeans and leaving in the opposite direction. He ignored the buzzing going off in his backpack as he walked in a haze of contentment, reminding himself to check it later when he got home.

[10:40:31 AM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: Surprise!! Guess who’s in texas (;
[10:41:05 AM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: I know you have a lecture in like, 20 min, but I couldn’t resist.
[10:41:29 AM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: meet ya at your dorm after?? omg im so excited
[10:42:21 AM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: can’t wait to see you again (: <3 <3 <3

Chapter Text

By the time Michael got home, Ray (who was nowhere to be seen) had let the redhead girl in and she was sitting perched on the edge of Michael’s bed, legs swinging back and forth. Or that’s what Michael assumed, at least, because nothing else could explain how she got there.

When he came through the door, Lindsay immediately hopped off the bed and jumped into her boyfriend’s arms with a small sound of joy. Michael automatically wrapped his arms around her while his brain was still stuck trying to process what was going on. What the fuck is Lindsay doing here?

Sensing Michael’s confusion, she pulled back to study his face.

“You didn’t check your phone, did you?” She asked accusingly, smiling.

“Nope,” Michael admitted, still stunned. “It’s nice to see you, bu-“

“Don’t worry, I forgive you,” Lindsay murmured, snuggling closer. Michael fleetingly thought about how much he surprisingly missed his girlfriend’s softness and gentle touch as her hands gently fluttered up to his face. He hadn’t expected Lindsay to come down at all, and really wished she had given him some warning beforehand, but this somewhat made up for it. But then she slid one hand back to cup the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Michael barely reacted, kissing back mechanically. It was too sudden, too heartfelt, too genuine on her part, and it felt all wrong. He pulled away, a little too quickly.

He changed his mind about that missing her thing.

Michael realized his mistake a second too late. As he leaned back in to rectify what he did, Lindsay shook her head and stepped back, face falling.

Their online conversation and Xbox sessions together had been going great, and she had hoped that meant everything had been patched up from whatever had gone wrong from when Michael had been in New Jersey with her. However, things were awkward between them, if not even more so than before; there was no denying that.

“Are we…still okay?” She asked hesitantly, searching Michael’s face for answers. “And don’t lie to me,” she added imploringly. Michael opened and shut his mouth, no words coming out of him. The door creaked open behind them and shut as the couple looked at each other, tension rising in the silence.

Michael really fucking wished she didn’t come.

“Of course we’re okay,” he abruptly said, throwing an arm around his girlfriend’s waist and turning towards the door and the intruder, free hand scratching at his curly hair. “Sorry, I was still just a bit surprised that you were here.”

Lindsay frowned to herself, not buying it. But she bit her tongue and didn’t pursue it.

“That’s my bad,” Ray piped up, shrugging off his backpack and falling back into his chair, oblivious to the sour mood he just walked into. “She said she was your girlfriend, so I figured the worst that could happen was that she lied and I’d get brutally murdered by a really attractive woman. But it turns out, she actually is your girlfriend.” He pretended to look disappointed, hanging his head.

Michael glared, pulling Lindsay closer. She huffed in surprise, delighted with Michael’s low-key display of protectiveness. “Fuck off, dude,” he snapped at his roommate.

Lindsay patted him. “It’s alright, we’ve met. Ray, right?” She confirmed, brightening.

The Puerto Rican nodded, grinning at how agitated Michael seemed. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The three bantered back and forth for a while, Lindsay getting visibly more and more relaxed as time went on. Michael was still his moody self, but even Ray noticed that he was softer with his girlfriend around. Although, he did seem a bit on edge for some reason.

“Hey guys, why don’t we go out for tonight?” Ray interrupted, worming his way between the couple and throwing his arms around their shoulders. “Let’s go to the bar. I’ll invite some other people and we can have a good time of it?”

Michael looked uncertain. “I don’t know, man…” he muttered, just as Lindsay let out of a shout of happiness and clapped her hands together.

“That sounds great, Ray! Let’s do it! I want to meet your friends, Michael,” she said, beaming as she pulled Michael into another tight hug.

Ray snorted and refrained from mentioning that Michael didn’t really do friends. Shouldn’t she know that, his girlfriend and all? He wondered silently. In any case, he figured he could just invite Barbara, Jack, and a few others, texting them all.

“Yeah,” Michael said, finally. “Might as well show you around campus in the meantime. Come on, Linds.” He took her hand in his and looked over his shoulder back at Ray. “You coming?” He called.

“Hold on, yeah. Wait for me.”

Gavin was scowling. A rarity for the usually happy-go-lucky boy, Geoff noted with interest. They were sitting in a bustling bar in downtown Austin where he meant to have some casual drinks with the kid, just the two of them so that Gavin wouldn’t get completely shit-faced. Or at least wouldn’t go running off with someone. But they only barely got into any conversation before Gavin shut up entirely and a glower descended on his face.

Geoff himself was pleasantly buzzed, but that was gradually wearing off as Gavin’s agitation radiated outwards and rubbed off on the older man.

“What’s so fucking important?” he wondered aloud, sipping at his beer and scanning around. Gavin acted as though Geoff hadn’t said anything at all, causing him to exhale noisily. The older man tried again, rubbing his beard.

“Hey.”

“Hmmn.”

“Gav. Gavin. GAVIN.” The British boy’s head finally whipped back around towards Geoff.

“What the bloody hell is it, Geoff?” Gavin practically bit his head off, the older man raising his eyebrows and raising his hands in surrender.

“Nothing, nothing…you’re as snappy as dicks, jeez, sorry…” Geoff muttered, going back to scanning the crowd for whatever it was that was absorbing all of Gavin’s attention. If he wouldn’t say, then he just had to find out for himself. So the two sat there silently, looking like quite the odd pair as Geoff ordered beer after beer and downed them all while Gavin just clutched his like a lifeline, simmering with barely contained resentment.

A few tables down, a large group was drinking together, merrily chatting. Jack and two others were good-naturedly sitting back watching Ray and Kara argue over some TV show while Michael was laughing at a stupid pun of Barbara’s. It was so bad that it was good, and he could hardly contain his mirth at the blonde girl’s unapologetic expression over the joke she had just dished out. But he quickly sobered up, eyes nervously darting to the left where he recently just noticed Gavin Free was sitting.

Why the fuck is he staring? He won’t stop fucking staring. And why the hell wouldn’t he just come over? He thought uneasily, practically squirming as the British boy’s blue-green eyes shot daggers at him from across the room.

After a minute or two of consideration, Michael put his arm around Lindsay as he took another sip of his beer and turned his attention back to the group he was with. He was determined to make sure Lindsay was happy tonight and to not be a prick to her, so he absolutely couldn’t let Gavin Free get under his skin.

Gavin was furious.

He wished he wasn’t, but nothing dealing with Michael Jones could ever be that simple.

Barbs had shot him a text earlier today inviting him to come drink with her and a couple of her friends, but he had already promised to hang out with Geoff. So he declined. Honestly, what’s a missed outing or two? It was probably good for Gavin to not go, anyhow. Or that’s what he thought, until he plunked down with Geoff and only moments later, Barbara came into the bar as well, group of friends in tow.

He recognized Jack, Kara, Matt, and Michael, of course. There was also some kid named Jeremy tagging along that Gavin had met a year ago at an orientation event and another dark-haired boy with glasses he didn’t know, but they didn’t matter.

Who mattered was the fiery-looking redhead that came with them, laughing the loudest of all. She was glowing with happiness, hair shiny and eyes sparkling as she sat down, resting her head on Michael’s shoulder.

Michael has a girl?

Gavin’s vision blurred as his question was answered for him. Michael looked at the girl with the gentlest of smiles, dimples forming as his hand reached over to rest along the small of her back. She beamed up at him and threw her arms around his neck, lips meeting.

Gavin clutched his drink harder, gritting his teeth.

Bloody hell, Free, this can’t be happening to you.

It began with a lie. A lie spun and swaddled in so many soft half-truths over the course of the month that it probably wouldn’t even hurt for him to swallow; maybe that’s why it was so easy to believe. Gavin just wanted to friends with angry, introverted Michael Jones. Spewing profanities at every turn and otherwise just ignoring the rest of the world, he was a challenge to get along with and refreshing to be around. He didn’t pretend to put up with Gavin, and he most certainly didn’t try to get on his good side. Gavin bloody loved it. He loved becoming friends with Michael. 

Purely platonic, of course. (Hah)

But somewhere along the way, Gavin fucked up, as he usually would. He wanted more. The jealousy that flared up only confirmed his suspicions: Gavin Free fancied Michael Jones.

He knew for certain that he was done for.

Gavin downed his beer angrily, Geoff eyeing him in concern. He paid the older man no mind.

Michael was special. Even Gavin could admit that to himself at this point; he was more careful around the shorter boy and told him things so spontaneously that it surprised even himself. In any case, Gavin knew he couldn’t have him. For multiple reasons. He mulled over them gloomily.

Number one. Michael is bloody straight. And probably still hates me, sort of.

Number two. Michael has just barely started trusting me.

Number three. Michael is too whole.

Number four. I’m fucked up. I probably should never date.

 But now that the reasons grew by one in the form of a devastatingly pretty girlfriend, Gavin was slowly losing his mind. She made everything worse, every touch and kiss exchanged with Michael like a slap in the face telling Gavin look, this is what you can’t have. He never looks like that around you.

The worst part was that Michael looked genuinely happy with her, his laugh travelling through the noisy bar.

Suddenly, Gavin noticed Michael shift almost imperceptibly to glance over at him out of the corner of his eye and he froze. Bollocks, he noticed me. Gavin was about to give him a small smile and wave but the boy just paused for a moment before turning back to his girlfriend and squeezing her waist. He just completely ignored me, Gavin thought, dumbfounded. His hand was still halfway up.

A small part of his brain whispered that Michael ignored him on a regular basis anyways, but the rest of Gavin took great offense at the action and all of a sudden, he stood up from his chair with a clatter.

Bewildered and now more than slightly drunk, Geoff stared at the British lad with wide eyes, unsure of what to do. Gavin plastered a smile on his face, all teeth and no mirth, as he chirped a “be right back, Geoff!” to the older man before stalking towards the table where Michael sat. He left Geoff sitting there helplessly shrugging, watching the younger boy go.

Barbara spotted Gavin first.

“Gavinnnnnn!” She cried out, raising her hands into the air and giggling, obviously tipsy. Everyone turned to look at the newcomer, making Gavin stop short on his warpath and check himself.

Don’t make a scene, you knob.

“Evening, Barbs,” he grinned at her after a short pause. “Lads, gent, other lady,” he addressed the others less enthusiastically, making eye contact with Michael briefly before the curly-haired boy turned away.

Irritated again, Gavin forced himself to smile widely at everyone. “Sorry, don’t believe I’ve met some of you, but mind if I join? Geoff’s a right mess and his girlfriend’s coming to pick him up soon,” he lied easily. “Don’t want to waste a perfectly good night out.”

Jack glanced over at the lonely older man gripping a beer bottle on the other side of the bar and felt a wave of compassion wash over him.

“Why don’t you invite him over here too, while he waits?” He offered, pulling up two chairs.

“That sounds great, Jack,” Gavin muttered distractedly as he tried to stealthily text Griffon to come grab Geoff. He plunked down in a chair between Michael and Ray, earning a glare from the Puerto Rican boy while Jack got up to wave over Geoff. Slightly more satisfied with the arrangement he put himself in, Gavin smiled to himself as his phone lit up with Griffon’s reply.

[11:24:39 PM] Griffon O’Connell: im coming! tell Geoff he’s in big trouble ):<
[11:25:01 PM] Griffon O’Connell: are you coming back with us?

[11:25:12 PM] Gavin Free: no thanks Griff, I’m fantastic where I’m at right now c:

“Hey. Hey.” A whisper in Gavin’s ear from his right. Bingo. His lips quirked up as he turned to face the now familiar pale freckles and angry brown eyes of Michael Jones.

“Hi boi!” Gavin said with a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t boi me, you fucker,” Michael hissed. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean why I’m here? Barbs invited me earlier, so here I am. Being invited. Besides, why can’t I be?”

The boy furrowed his brow in response as he tried to work out a reply, realizing he had a point. "I didn't know you knew Barbara," Michael muttered to himself. Gavin, triumphant, craned his head to look past Michael to the girl beside him. “And who are you? Haven’t met you before,” he said with all the cheer he could muster.

“O-oh, I’m Lindsay! Lindsay Tuggey. I’m Michael’s girlfriend from back in New Jersey,” the redhead replied, glancing at her boyfriend and the scowl that appeared on his face.

Gavin nodded in reply. “Gavin Free, I have Physics with your boy here,” he said, ruffling Michael’s thick curls as the boy continued to glare at him venomously. Humming in contentment at sitting next to Michael, Gavin continued chatting with Lindsay as the rest of the group continued on doing their own thing, drunk Geoff now added to the mix.

“Cool, are you guys close? Michael’s never mentioned you before,” Lindsay admitted.

“We’re the closest! Aren’t we, Mi-cool?”

“Hmph.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Gavin frowned as Michael turned away, refusing to look at him.

He’s mad, Gavin thought. For what, though? Intruding on him and his girlfriend? But they’re all out in a big group anyways, so I would hardly think that to be it.

Slightly less satisfied now, the British boy bit the inside of his cheek and stared off into space. He didn’t know how to make this any better. Instead of casually taking up some of Michael’s attention like he intended, he just felt like an interloper. He felt guilty, and that felt bloody unpleasant.

As he mused, he heard a soft giggle coming from Lindsay as she whispered something into Michael’s ear. Gavin refocused his gaze to see the redhead place one hand on Michael’s cheek and lace the other with his fingers on the table out of his peripheral vision. Looking over in earnest, he watched as Michael’s face melt into something tender all over again as he smoothed Lindsay’s bangs out and said something back lowly. Lindsay quirked an eyebrow. Chest hurting, Gavin kept a steady stare as Michael laughed and leaned into her, right next to him.

Just as Griffon appeared with a mild greeting behind Jack and Geoff on the other end of the table, Gavin’s head jerked up and he became painfully aware of his staring and awkward third-wheeling.

Faintly registering the sound of a faint, contented sigh coming from the couple beside him, Gavin snapped.

The next thing Michael knew, his lips weren’t pressed against Lindsay’s anymore and he was being dragged forcibly away from the table by the wrist, led by a stony-faced Gavin. He saw everyone’s wide-eyed expressions as the British boy steered the two towards the exit, silently throwing the door open and hurtling both of them out into the crisp autumn air.

The two found their footing at the bar entrance after a moment and stood there in silence, Gavin’s hand still clamped around Michael’s arm. Cars whizzed past on the road and the air was buzzing with tension. Gavin kicked at a pebble with his converse sneakers, hair wild and green eyes smoldering as he met Michael’s eye only to cast his eyes downwards a second later.

The traffic light at the nearby intersection turned red.

Complete silence.

“What the fucking hell is your problem, Gavin?” Michael snarled, unable to contain himself anymore as he rounded on the lanky boy.

Gavin snapped back to his senses. Looking disoriented and appalled at his own actions, he let go of Michael’s wrist and stumbled backwards away from him as though he had the goddamn plague. Sea-green eyes met brown ones, brimming with panic. Gavin fell back onto the curb and tangled his fingers in his unruly sandy hair, groaning as he shut his eyes tightly.

“I don’t fucking know.”

Chapter Text

Everyone was flabbergasted.

“Did I miss something?” Ray asked, but everyone just kind of shook their head and shrugged back. Geoff and Griffon exchanged knowing looks, though. Or at least, Griffon tried to and Geoff couldn’t pull his face together to get a serious expression to work out. Lindsay just looked somewhat lost.

But it was soon apparent that the two boys weren’t going to come back inside anytime in the near future, so everybody just left it alone in the meantime for the pair to settle for themselves.

Speaking of which, Gavin and Michael weren’t doing a good job of that outside the bar.

Michael just stared. He stared at Gavin, who was still sitting motionless on the edge of the sidewalk not uttering another word, unsure of what he should be doing. Could he just go back inside? Gavin’s drawn-out groan made it apparent that he couldn’t.

And everything had been going so well for Michael, too.

“What’s the meaning of this, Gavin?” He asked the British boy, more softly this time. When he answered by burying his head in his arms, Michael heaved a sigh and sat down next to him on the curbside. A green eye peered at him.

“Come on. I can’t do anything if I don’t know what the fuck is going on.”

“Nothing. It’s bloody nothing. Forget it, I was being a git.” Gavin finally replied in a muffled voice.

“But why were you being a fucking git, as you call it?” Michael pressed, exasperated.

“…Because of you and Lindsay.” The curly-haired boy froze, causing Gavin to raise his head a little.

“What?” Michael whispered, tensing.

“You and Lindsay, alright? You two seemed so bugging happy and I do a piss poor job of dating and it’s rubbish, I know, but you two were just right there next to me and I was caught off guard, is all.” Head now fully lifted, Gavin’s mouth was running off with itself and its barely reigned-in secrets. Half-truths. Easier to swallow.

But Michael wasn’t concerned about the credibility of it all. His head was pounding, and Gavin’s voice reached him as though he were underwater. Muffled. Strange. Happy. The word reverberated inside Michael’s chest and lodged somewhere behind his eyes, blinding him. All his past faults came rushing back to him, at the hands of Gavin fucking Free, no less. He saw red.

Shooting back up, he looked down at Gavin with a sneer back on his lips. “So that’s what it was. Poor Gavin. Fucked too many people, now he can’t look at a couple without needing to tear them apart. Is that what it is? Why did I even bother staying out here?” His voice rose.

“I –“ Gavin started, biting his lip in distress.

“No. No, I don’t want to motherfucking hear it. I fucking hate you. What the fucking hell does any of this got to do with you?” Michael shouted, fists clenched at his side. People stared as they walked by quickly. Michael disregarded them completely, voice still heavy with rage. “Gavin, you don’t even fucking know me! I barely know you, you fucking cun –”

“What do you want to know?”

“What?”

Michael blinked, thrown off pace. His anger yielded to puzzlement.

“What do you want to know? You said you don’t know me well enough for me to warrant any of this.” Gavin repeated, calmly.

But for the second time that night, Michael found himself at a loss for words. This wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. The British boy always managed to throw him for a loop; he couldn’t follow his thought process at all.

Seeing that Michael wasn’t about to continue yelling, or reply, Gavin tilted his head up and continued, staring at the night sky.

“My full name is Gavin David Free. I love cinematography and filming slow-motion video, and I came to America to get away from my parents. My favourite colour is green. My best mate’s name is Dan. I’m pansexual. I think I have a drinking problem. I definitely have a shagging problem. I hate science. I hate being popular. And I’m deeply, truly sorry for what I just did. Won’t happen again.” He looked up at Michael with a rueful smile.

“Now you know more about me than anyone else on this side of the world. Is that enough, or do you need more?”

Michael still didn’t reply, mind going a mile a minute as he tried to process everything the lad just said. But you’re a genius in science. Or so I’ve heard. And isn’t Barbara your best friend? Isn’t anyone? A drinking problem? What’s shagging? Pansexual? Wait, no, that isn’t a surprise. …You have problems in your life?

He gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

At this moment, Griffon and Geoff chose to exit the bar. They tried to leave slowly, undetected, but the silence was too heavy and both boys turned to look at them. Griffon gave them both a small smile as she led Geoff down to their car, heart clenching as her eyes locked on Gavin’s. The boy was looking at her with a drowned look on his face, like the world was coming to an end.

But the pale freckled boy standing beside him with his hands dangling loosely by his side was looking at Gavin brimming with unsaid words, so Griffon chose to leave it alone. Gavin needed this – serious conversation he couldn’t run away from.

And Geoff always came first for Griffon.

She looked at her boyfriend tenderly, brushing a stray hair out of his face. “Let’s go home,” she told him, unlocking the car and soon speeding off away from the two boys still standing there.

“Well?” Gavin broke the silence. “Guess I’m not getting anything back, but I expected as much. Let me just ask you something, boi.” His voice dropped so low that Michael had to strain to hear the last part.

Michael studied him warily, but nothing could surprise him at this point. “Shoot.”

“You got mad.” Gavin said softly.

“That’s not a question.” Michael pointed out, but Gavin just smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. To be honest, it kind of freaked Michael out; what was Gavin if he was not his stupidly happy self? He didn’t know how to interact with the stranger in front of him.

“You got mad because I said something.” Gavin tried again.

“Right.” Michael couldn’t help but get irritated at this meaningless back-and-forth, pacing in front of him. “What’s your fucking point again?”

The British boy paused, looking at Michael with serious eyes and a hint of something else he couldn’t identify.

“You’re happy with Lindsay.”

The curly-haired boy stopped in his tracks, fists suddenly clenched again. He took deep breaths and turned his focus away from Gavin as he tried to calm down before talking again. Inhale. Exhale. For all Gavin knows, we’re the happiest motherfucking couple on planet Earth. We could even fool God. So say yes. Michael, you fucking piece of shit, just say yes.

Gavin stared pleadingly at Michael’s back as the boy refused to face him. He wished he would just reply.

Just answer me. Answer so I can be done with this and forget how hard I minged it tonight. I’ll go home and take a couple dozen shots until I don’t remember any of this. We can go back to how it used to be, he bargained silently.

Michael gradually twisted back around. He opened his mouth, and Gavin steeled his resolve. No more fucking with Michael. Just friends. He can do just friends. He can keep himself in check.

I think I can be okay with that.

But when Michael, finally confident with his answer, turned to look down at a small, hunched over Gavin on the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but notice with a pang just how vulnerable the usually secure, exuberant boy was. And as he crouched down under the bright streetlight at that specific angle, Michael saw something he normally wouldn’t have.

They looked like something akin to skuff marks, but they were faded and almost imperceptible – only a shade or two lighter than Gavin’s smooth, tanned skin. Thin streaks that bared themselves from under the boy’s slightly ridden-up shirt. They were too perfectly angled, too patterned to be any sort of accident. And as Michael slowly realized what they were, he felt that last bit of resolve chipping away; he couldn’t lie to Gavin Free.

The tipping point.

This was it.

Michael stepped closer to Gavin with a sort of finality to his expression. He opened his mouth to speak as the British boy stood with a start, wondering why the bloody hell it was taking Michael so long to finish it all.

They were standing so close that Gavin could count the freckles dotted across the other boy’s nose. Breathing shallow, he contemplated stepping back just as Michael abruptly grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer. Breath mingling in the air between them, Gavin thought for one, stupidly hopeful second that Michael was going to kiss him. But the boy’s hand just clenched cotton fabric tightly as brown eyes searched green and he finally spoke.

“No. No, I’m not.” Not happy. Michael’s hoarse voice cracked on the words.

And Gavin Free felt it. He caved as Michael caved, scared of what was happening because this wasn’t supposed to happen, Michael was supposed to tell him he was happy and everything was okay the way it was and that was supposed to be the end of it and yet now their foreheads were touching, their lips were only an inch apart and Michael was breathing heavily as he looked into Gavin’s eyes with desperation.

Help me, they said.

“Mi-cool –“ Gavin whispered, his accent growing even more pronounced with agitation as the curly-haired boy leaned in. He saw red hair and blonde out of the corner of his eye and gut twisting, he gently pushed Michael away from him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I just tried to do that,” Gavin said, voice travelling and mind whirring. “It was a bloody mistake. Forget all of this happened.” He stepped back, messing up his mop of hair even more in a show of distress. One part show. Two parts actual distress.

“Wha – Gavin?” Confused, Michael couldn’t keep up with Gavin’s sudden change of pace.

A pair of girls giggled at the two’s apparent lover’s quarrel as they walked by. Gavin noted in partial relief that it wasn’t actually Lindsay, Barbara or Kara, but two strangers that had just left the bar for the night. He also noted in the back of his mind that now, he couldn’t take back what he said. Even though a part of him wanted to.

Pursing his lips together in a thin white line, Gavin looked at Michael wordlessly for a long while with an indecipherable expression. Michael caught him mouthing words silently with a sliver of confusion. Not happy? But before Michael could say anything, Gavin seemed to make up his mind and took a step back, and then another. And another. And another. And then he turned, sandy hair fluttering in the evening wind as he walked away without another word.

 Michael stood on the edge of the sidewalk unmoving, stunned look bathed in the bar’s neon light as he watched the British boy go.

Lindsay came out a little while later, after an hour had passed and she realized they weren’t coming back. She found Michael still standing there motionless, shivering slightly. Not asking any questions, she gently took his arm in hers and steered him back inside with quiet words and concerned looks.

The boisterous group of friends quieted in conversation as they noticed Michael coming back in, but none of them could bring themselves to pry at the expression on his face. Ray just frowned, dislike for the shitty British boy growing even though he never even really met him, officially. Gavin, was it? Ray decided he hated his fucking guts.

Gavin Free stopped showing up to Physics after that.

Chapter Text

Is it wrong to assume that you missed me?
Because the look in your eyes says that you’re dying to kiss me
The touch of your lips is tasteful and forgiving
A part of the past that I don’t mind reliving

Geoff rolled his eyes at the pop rock blaring from the room upstairs. Although, he supposed he was lucky; the week before it had been complete radio pop trash, and the week before that it had been straight-up metal. Post-hardcore, or some bullshit. Screaming, growling, the whole bit. Griffon put up with it, shushing Geoff whenever he complained to her, telling him that Gavin needed this. But at this point, he wanted to march right up into the British boy’s room and tell Gavin three weeks was enough and to quit the melodrama.

As far as Geoff or Griffon knew, Gavin hasn’t gone to class for ages. In fact, he's stopped talking to the couple almost altogether and didn’t leave the house at all except to slip off to God-knows-where in the middle of the night, stumbling back in at the crack of dawn without explanation.

Neither of them really knew why exactly why Gavin had gotten worse with his responsibilities as of late, but at least Griffon had more of a clue than Geoff. Although, she refused to share with him, still somewhat cross that he had gotten drunk that night and failed to keep an eye on the kid.

Geoff grumped. He only hazily remembered seeing that curly-haired, freckled boy from the party all those months back and him disappearing with Gavin out the door of the bar, but nothing much beyond that. He assumed that boy was trouble, but in his year and a bit of living with Gavin, he had never seen him get hung up over anyone. So realistically, could that be what’s bothering him?

Nobody wants to, but everyone needs to come clean
While we break bad habits
Try to be good when you’re misunderstood
Trade one heart for another

…

Well it’s cruel to be kind, but you’re too kind to be cruel
And you’ve never had a problem with me playing the fool

“This song makes you sound like a lovesick moron, dickhead!” Geoff shouted.

It’s perfectly fair if you’re fully aw-

His eyebrows shot up in surprise as the music suddenly cut off.

“Bugger off Geoff, I like this song!” A muted yell came from behind a closed door upstairs. He grinned at the reply, silently celebrating even as the song started up again from the beginning. It’s something, I guess. He made to go upstairs when the doorbell rang, causing him to pull his eyebrows together.

“Who is it?” Geoff called, halfway up the stairs already. But the doorbell just sounded again. Growling, he plodded back down the steps to open the door and come face to face with one Jack Pattillo.

“What’s up, man?” The man smiled, causing Geoff to groan inwardly. It was the nice guy from the bar who saw him make a fool out of himself and helped him out anyways. Admittedly, Jack was pretty cool, but he never expected to see him again after that night out. There was no dignity to be taken back from that.

“Hey uh, Jack, it’s nice to see you again?” Geoff pulled the statement up into a question.

The russet-bearded man chuckled and straightened his glasses. “Yeah, you too. But I’m actually here for Gavin. He does live with you, right?” He inquired, mouth twitching at the boy band music emanating from behind the moustached guy.

“Oh, yeah. He’s been moping and shit upstairs though, don’t know if he’s in the mood to talk.” Geoff said. “First door on the left, though. Come in.”

“Moping? Thanks though, I’ll be quick. Just need to give him some work.” Jack took off his shoes and hastily grabbed some papers from his bag, running up the stairs to barge into Gavin’s room. He didn’t even bother knocking.

“I said bugger off, Geoff. I’m busy.” Gavin said as he heard his door fly open, not even bothering to turn around to check who it was.

Jack didn’t say anything back at first, too bemused to speak. There was his favourite British guy, sitting cross-legged in front of a computer screen playing Minecraft, looking in perfect health. Granted, there was an impressive array of empty beer bottles and a variety of hard alcohol labels, but that wasn’t anything new for the boy.

Assuming that he was alone in the room again when Geoff didn’t retort, Gavin happily continued building whatever he was building with blocks of wood and stone, clicking madly as he hummed to himself along with the music.

It’s perfectly fair if you’re fully aware
And I wouldn’t dare, it’s a secret, I swear
You’ve never been the one to let down your guard –

 “You’re not even sick!” Jack roared, throwing the papers he was holding at the British boy.  They hit him with a whomp and scattered across the floor, Gavin sputtering as he finally swiveled around in his chair, limbs flying.

“Wh– bloody hell, what is this?” He flailed, causing even greater chaos than before as he knocked his tea over onto the floor, soaking some of the notes. “Jesus–“ He glanced at the mess he made before looking at the man in the doorway at long last. “You’re not Geoff!”

“No shit I’m not,” Jack said wryly.

“Why’re you here, mate?” Gavin asked, turning down the music as he tried to clean up the pages on his floor, rolling around on his chair. Refusing to help, Jack crossed his arms and looked at the boy in mock surprise.

“’Why are you here, mate’, he says. Why am I here? Because you haven’t come to my class in a fucking month and I’m going to have to fail you if you don’t show up sometime, you shithead,” Jack said in exasperation.

“Oh, I see.” Gavin turned to continue building on Minecraft, abandoning his half-assed cleaning attempt.

Jack threw up his hands in frustration. “’I see?’ That’s it? Jesus Christ. There’s someone else with a bone to pick with you, too. You’re coming with me, right now. Pick up my goddamn papers.”

Gavin huffed. “At least let me finish this –“

“No.”

“Or let me save my progress on Minecraft –“

“No.”

“But Jaaaack! It took me so long to get this far!” Gavin whined, jumping up and down. “Please!”

Jack sighed grumpily as he started grabbing papers off the floor himself, now regretting throwing them everywhere. “Fine. But you better be ready to get your ass out the door with me in less than ten.”

“Deal!” The British boy grinned.

Half an hour later. Gavin bounded down the stairs noisily, a defeated Jack trailing after him with notes still dripping Earl Grey. Astonished, Geoff watched as Gavin put a jacket on and laced up his converse sneakers.

“Where the dicks are you going?” He demanded.

 “With Jack! We’re gonna go do some bloody work.” Gavin said in a mournful tone. “Save me, Geoff.”

 “Not a chance, if you’re actually getting your ass out of the house to be productive.” Pleasantly surprised, Geoff gave Jack an appreciative nod and the bearded man gave him a thumbs-up in response.  

“Eyo, it’s Ryan!” Gavin shouted, arms spread as he went in for a hug at the blonde man sitting at the library table. Unamused, Ryan stuck a finger out and watched the boy impale himself on it, chuckling as Gavin yelped and leapt away into Jack, rubbing his ribs. Students sent the three pointed looks and one even shushed loudly at them, reminding Gavin to lower his voice.

“Traitors, the lot of you,” Gavin muttered as Jack playfully shoved him away from himself as well.

“Hey, just cause we had sex once doesn’t mean you have dibs on me for the rest of your life,” Ryan said lightly. “Find someone else to bang you, you twink.”

“You didn’t have sex with me but I’m sorry Gavin, we never will; I’m just not into you,” Jack said, laughing as he pulled a chair out and sat down next to Ryan.

Gavin sulked as he slid into the chair opposite the older men, muttering something about how the sex was subpar, anyways.

“So let’s get on with it – why I’m here?” He abruptly said. Jack and Ryan exchanged looks before turning to face Gavin simultaneously.

“You, you piece of shit, are here cause you fucking abandoned our classes and you’re going to flunk out of them.” Jack said matter-of-factly. “We’re your friends and we love you but you fucked yourself over in the past month, Gav.”

“And you need to make up for that shit. Starting now.” Ryan finished, slapping a thick stack of papers in front of Gavin.

“Oooh, can I make up for them in sexual favours?” Gavin waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“No.” The two gents said in unison.

Gavin shrugged. “Thought I’d try. But if that’s all, gents, excuse me…” He proceeded to unceremoniously stuff the notes Ryan gave him into his bag. But it was clear that no amount of forceful shoving would help fit them all in his small backpack. Jack and Ryan watched amusedly as the British boy hauled everything back out of his bag with a huff. Miscellaneous things flew out with the papers, bouncing off the table and clattering onto the floor.

“Anyways, you can’t leave yet,” Ryan said, catching some of the stuff Gavin just dropped. “You’re gonna make up your lab time with me by dropping by during my computer programming seminars and finishing your assignments there. 9:00AM, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Same room as your usual lab with me. Plus, today –”

“Aw, Rye-bread, I would. But I have Physics at 8:30 on those days! Can’t miss that,” Gavin replied quickly, trying his very best to look at least a little sorry.

Hah, definitely could miss that. That’s my class with little Michael, Gavin thought.

As if he could read minds, Ryan fixed Gavin with a dark look. Or maybe it was because he cut him off midsentence. “Couldn’t you?” He said menacingly.

“…Yeah you’re right, I could,” Gavin muttered. “I’ll be there, fine.” Jack laughed heartily at the admission.

“Well, you don’t have to do anything for me except finish your damn assignments. I’m still waiting for that liquid render and diagnostic,” Jack instructed. “Better be done for me goddamn soon, kid. Anyways, I gotta run, have a meeting in ten minutes. Have fun with Ryan. See you guys!”  

Gavin pouted as the bearded man ruffled his hair and left, leaving him with the blonde man.

“So.”

“So nothing,” Ryan smirked. “I see you didn’t bring your laptop. I’m glad. As I was saying before you fucking cut me off, I want to see you finish at least one set of commands before you run off again today, so I guess you’ll be writing out your code now. By hand. You can transfer it later. Get cracking.”

Gavin groaned, giving the sadistic man a beseeching look as he fumbled for a pen. “Don’t do this, Ryan. I took your course as an elective.”

“That’s Haywood to you. Fucking start working before I shove something up your ass.”

“I’d like tha –“ Gavin began to say immediately, jokingly, but stopped at the expression on Ryan’s face.

Oh man, someone’s about to get completely minged, he thought.

“Hey Gavin, forget that work for a second.” Ryan toyed with something in his hand, contemplating something.

“Yeah, mate?”

“What the fuck is this?” The man looked more than a little threatening as he tossed the thing in his hand onto the table towards Gavin. Looking down, Gavin saw the stupid plastic keychain he found a while ago sitting there in front of him. Welp. It’s me. I’m about to get minged. But I don’t know why.

“Oh, that? Yeah, found it in my pocket a while back after a party.” He shrugged. “No clue how it got there.”

 “Not from a drunken fuck?” Ryan asked as he clasped his hands together in quiet anger, displeased at something.

“Don’t think so?”

Ryan evaluated Gavin as Gavin thought about it with his face scrunched up in concentration. “Alright,” the older man eventually said. Deciding Gavin was telling the truth, he reclined in his chair, intimidating aura diminishing.

Gavin looked at him in surprise. “That’s it? You looked like you were going to bloody off me there.”

“Hmn.” Ryan took the keychain back, studying the resin-trapped rose. He absentmindedly traced the scratched letter on the back with his thumb. R. He contemplated how to best go about returning the chain to its owner, or rather, how to get the most out of this unexpected opportunity. Ryan wasn’t anything close to a good Samaritan. He just did what he needed to in order to get what he wanted.

“Hell, it isn’t yours, is it?” Gavin suddenly (mistakenly) understood. “I didn’t have drunken sex with you again and forgot about it? Is that why you’re mad?” He looked to the blonde man for answers. Ryan just scoffed at him, rolling his eyes.

“How the fuck do you come to these conclusions? Don’t be an idiot, this isn’t mine. But I know whose it is.”

An idea occurred to the blonde man just as he finished his sentence and Gavin was about to open his mouth and ask for a name. As it were, the younger boy wisely decided against asking once he focused on Ryan’s facial expression once more. The man smirked to himself, twirling the rose keychain around on his finger as he stared off into space.

“Thanks, Gavin,” Ryan said suddenly, causing Gavin to stare at him in further trepidation. “You’re forgiven for skipping my seminars. Just show up on Tuesday.” Thoroughly satisfied with something, Ryan continued fiddling with the little charm in his hand as his wide smirk twisted into a wicked shit-eating grin, slow as molasses. The British boy just nodded, too apprehensive of his friend/TA’s dark smile to ask what for or why.

Bloody hell, Ryan can be scary.

Gavin ducked his head and quickly started scribbling at his work again, not about to get in the middle of whatever Ryan was planning in that maniacal mind of his.

Chapter Text

The Tuesday after was a clusterfuck of a lot of things, but most of it had to do with Ray suffering.

It was already bad enough that he couldn’t escape his twice-weekly seminars with his TA, Ryan Haywood, but the entire situation got a lot worse as Ray gradually realized just exactly how much of a rut he was in.

Ray knew Ryan knew about the two of them. He just had to – if his “accidental” brushes against Ray and his longer-than-normal looks were anything to go by, not to mention the tell-tale smirk from the first lab of the year. But Ryan was either too good at feigning innocence, or Ray was just imagining it all because he was into the older man. Either way, Ray couldn’t be 100% sure that Ryan Haywood knew knew.

So the dark-haired boy continued to pretend that his TA was just his TA (while Ryan played along, thoroughly enjoying himself).

But today, yeah, today is a new low, Ray thought as he sat in his chair in his usual spot against the wall. But instead of feeling comfortable, today he just felt trapped against the plaster as Ryan laughed from the other side of the table, knee occasionally bumping against his on accident. Frowning, Ray adjusted himself as Ryan’s low voice reverberated in his chest with words not meant for the Puerto Rican, but the boy sitting directly across from him. Gavin Free.

Ray’s computer made two angry beeping noises at him.

 The lowest.

Ten minutes into class, the tan British guy had walked right through the door with a cheery “morning” to Ryan, who was dozing off in his chair, disregarding the strange looks he got from the nearly silent lab of students clicking away at their keyboards. Ray recognized him as Gavin from that night out with Michael and his girlfriend. Also known as the walking disaster on campus that somehow got his roommate caught up in his whirlwind of fuckery.

Also the very reason why Michael had been even angrier as of late, snapping at Ray for the littlest things – like dropping crumbs on his side of the room, or talking too loudly on Skype with his mom, or breathing.

Ray only vaguely knew of Gavin and his reputation as a shameless flirt. The shithead probably tried to make out with Michael or something, and Michael would’ve freaked at that, he guessed. Ray didn’t really know what went down, but he did know that as Michael’s best bud here, he had a duty to shit on everything Gavin loved.

But now he’s shitting on everything I love, Ray suddenly thought, interrupting himself. Irony. Great.

Back to the beginning of class. So when Gavin had plunked down into the spot opposite Ray with a grin over the top of the monitors and an “’ello, mate! Mi-cool’s friend, right?” the Puerto Rican gave the guy his best withering look and flicked his middle finger before going back to his assignment. Surprised, Gavin had looked around before pointing to himself, mouthing “me?”

Ray had fought the urge to snicker as he thought about how much of a fucking idiot he was.

But soon, Gavin Free started up his desktop and logged into the session, working on something with concentration that looked entirely out of place on the goofy British boy’s face. Hearing his keyboard clack at lightning speed as Gavin muttered to himself, Ray could only assume the guy’s fingers were flying over the buttons without pause.

Curious but still determined to finish his own section of Python code, Ray had continued working while catching snippets of the other boy hissing under his breath.

“Evaluate…F=ma to calculate accel…mesh two separate en…bloody interdisciplinary custom physics engine work…”

Ray had rapidly worked out that Gavin was coding something drastically above the level of everyone else in the room, including himself. By extension, he grudgingly also realized that in this department, Gavin Free was, in fact, not an idiot.

At that moment, the TA finally chose to make an appearance. “What did you just say about the genius solo project Jack and I hatched, Gavin?” Ray jumped at the baritone voice behind him, ignoring the tingling in his spine as Ryan glanced over, passing by.

“I said I hate it, Rye-bread,” Gavin complained. The girl beside him turned to stare but quickly spun back around to her screen at Ryan’s warning look.

Ray didn’t have that issue because the two were right in front of him, past his computer, but he still couldn’t believe his ears. His eyes had widened as he peeped over his monitor furtively. Rye-bread? Please tell me he’s not going to get away with that.

But evidently used to the nickname, the blonde man had just chuckled without retort as he rested his arms on top of Gavin’s messy hair. Ray had felt a pang of jealousy at the action, realizing how close the two apparently were as they continued to banter back and forth.

“Ryan! Stop it, you git! I thought you forgave me yesterday after that toy you stole from me.”

The man had laughed, the sound pooling in Ray’s gut like fire. No, Ray Narvaez Jr., the dark-haired boy had thought furiously. You are not jealous, because you do not want Ryan Haywood. But then there was a sound of footsteps, and then an office chair rolling towards Gavin as Ryan made to sit next to the British boy. And then Ryan’s knee touched Ray’s under the table and he could’ve died.

Gavin went on to say something Ray didn’t catch, and Ryan laughed again, replying lowly.

Suddenly, two short beeps came from Ray’s computer, forcing him to refocus. Cursing, Ray realized that he had slammed his hand down on the shift key, turning on sticky keys as Ryan’s leg brushed against Ray’s almost teasingly.

(It was most definitely teasingly, but Ray didn’t know that. Ray wasn’t meant to know that, yet.)

And that brought Ray back up to the present.

“Hey, if we’re really going into technicalities, I didn’t steal anything,” Ryan Haywood was saying.

“Oh yeah?” Gavin challenged, leaning right into Ryan as he grinned. “Then what’d you do with the keychain?”

Ray’s mind glossed over the conversation, little jealous voice in his head protesting loudly at Ryan and Gavin’s closeness and how Ryan wasn’t pushing him away.

The fuck, do TAs and students usually act like this with each other? This can’t be normal.

Instead, Ryan grinned impossibly wide as Gavin drew close, Ray almost expecting them to start making out right then and there. Despite the fact that they didn’t, much to his relief, it was still the last straw. Ray actually started to genuinely hate Gavin. Not for Michael, but for himself.  

Gavin Free and Ryan Haywood. Ryan Haywood and Gavin Free. Ray cursed to himself, trying not to cry.

Why are you tearing up, you weak loser? You’re dumb. You spent half a semester making sure you were nobody to Haywood, he thought miserably as he watched Ryan dig into his jean pocket for something in response to what Gavin said.

“Ah, yeah it’s right here,” the blonde man said as he produced Ray’s beloved, long-lost rose accessory.

My keychain. Ray froze, all other thoughts in his head screeching to a halt. The Puerto Rican gave a small shout, standing and arm shooting out to reach for it before he could stop himself. But then he made eye contact with his perplexed-looking TA, and then he actually did stop.

Raising an eyebrow, Ryan tilted his head in (mock) confusion. The keychain was still in his hand, dangling just out of reach. “Sorry…Ray, was it? Did you need something? Stuck on a line?”

Ray opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, desperately wanting to reclaim his rose. He looked over at Gavin to see what his reaction was, but the British boy had returned to his work, humming softly as Ryan worked with his student.

I just want my keychain back. But I’d need to tell him it’s mine. How would I even prove that? AND WHY DID GAVIN FREE FUCKING HAVE IT?

Ray hated Gavin. For everything.

“It’s nothing, sorry,” the dark-haired boy mumbled, flushing as he slowly sank back into his seat.

Waiting until the lad named Ray disappeared back behind his computer, Gavin pulled a face at Ryan, now realizing why the older man had been so pleased with the stupid chain the day before.

“You totally just want to shag Mi-cool’s friend!” Gavin hissed under his breath.

Ryan smirked. “Already did that. This is sweet, righteous revenge for skipping out on me the morning after. Was going to ask him out, but then he went and did that. I’m just trying to woo the kid, alright?” His attempt at an innocent look failed spectacularly, the British boy studying him skeptically.

“You’re bloody awful,” Gavin told him after a moment.

The blonde man shrugged, unperturbed. He glanced over at Ray, who was determinedly looking down at his keyboard and screen and ignoring the two in his best attempt to not embarrass himself again. “It is what it is. Do what you want, Gavin. I’ll do what I do.” His lips twitched up impossibly higher.

“Ah yeah,” Ryan said in a normal tone of voice, albeit too clearly to be directed at just Gavin. “But anyways, I figured I’d keep this thing. Seems as though it’s meant for me anyways, initialed R. and all.”

On the opposite side of the table, Ray flinched a little, face heating up.

“Well, I did find it, and I did give it to you,” Gavin said mischievously, catching on and willing to play along. “So you’re welcome, love.” He threw his arms around Ryan, giggling, and this time, he wasn’t jabbed in the ribs for his efforts. The two guys hugged it out, the TA’s students now completely abandoning their assignments and shamelessly staring as they tried to figure out what the everloving fuck was going on. Ray seemed to be glued in place.

Ryan patted Gavin’s head affectionately and pulled back to fix him with a look.

“I might be an asshole, but you’re an even bigger piece of shit,” Ryan said lowly, so nobody else could hear. Gavin grinned in response.

“Don’t you know it.”

By the end of the seminar, Gavin had taken over Ryan’s desk and was critiquing the older man’s graduate work with small screeches and other, various strange noises. Ray was pretty sure the day couldn’t get any worse. But it was still only 9:50 in the morning, so what did he know?

The rest of the students in the class were pretty sure they wouldn’t be surprised by any type of outburst in the room anymore at this point, eager to clear out and head back to their dorms.

All fifteen of them were proven wrong in one way or another, however, when they heard the sound of someone running loudly down the hall in their general direction. Whoever it was, they streaked by in the flash of brown hair and pale skin before skidding to a halt and backtracking to the Programming seminar space.

“Yo Ray, you in there?” a gruff voice called out, sounding out of breath.

Ray pricked up his ears and whipped his head towards the entrance of the lab room. “Michael?” He said incredulously, clambering out of his chair eagerly. “Why are you here, man?”

“Thank fucking god this was the right room,” the curly-haired boy muttered, looking in at the fourteen-odd pairs of eyes staring at him. “Still creepy as shit, though. Came to see ya after class ended, dumbass. Stop fucking staring!” He snapped, causing people to hurriedly rush out past him.

A figure sank deeply into the office chair in his peripheral view, but Michael was more focused on not getting shoved back out of the classroom by the horde of people leaving.

Cheering up considerably, Ray almost skipped back to his desktop to pack up and join Michael. “Hell yeah, bro! Give me a sec.”

But that happiness was short-lived, the Puerto Rican boy having forgotten completely about the little white lie he told his roommate before about his seminar situation. “And who is this?” Ryan’s inquiry jolted Ray back to reality.

I FUCKED MYSELF IN THE ASS WITH THIS ONE, Ray screamed internally as he turned to his TA with a robotic smile in his face as he grabbed his friend by the shoulders and started pushing him back out the door, the freckled boy objecting loudly.

“Uh, this is Michael. Sorry, I guess he shouldn’t have barged in like that –“ Ray shot a glare at his friend. “– He can wait outside? I’ll show him out.” But Ryan raised his hand, stopping him. Ray’s heart sank.

No, Ryan. You don’t understand. You either need to let me kick him out right now, or you have to somehow transform into a woman. Right now.

“Nah, it’s cool. He can stay; the seminar’s over anyways, and you’re done, aren’t you?” Ryan pointed out, genuinely confused at Ray’s sudden panic. “I’m Ryan,” he directed a greeting to the scowling brunet as Ray retreated behind his desk to go grab his backpack.

“Michael Jones,” he said in a disinterested tone, looking around the room. “Are you the TA? Where’s the usual chick?”

Ryan quirked an eyebrow. “I am, in fact, the TA here.”

“Then where’s Riley?”

Ray was doomed.

“Riley?” Ryan, interested, rounded the table to stand by Ray opposite Michael. He looked at Ray for answers, mouth twitching. “Sure, you can tell him, Ray. Where is she?”

“Oh yeah, where’s the TA? Ryan, you know, Riley, haha…Yeah! She uh, had to go somewhere for a… research trip for a week or two and we got stuck with this guy here,” Ray rambled as he inched away from Ryan, knowing that he was already completely screwed. “Ryan’s uh, getting really fucking comfortable and forgets he’s not our usual, aha…”

Something clicked in Ryan Haywood’s brain as he put two and two together.

He flashed a wolfish smile, all teeth. “I’m comfortable, alright.” He noted how Michael was partially obscured by the large LCD desktop screens from where they stood. Perfect.

Michael furrowed his brow. “Shit, that sucks though, how your TA just up and leaves,” he replied, feeling like something didn’t add up. A research trip…for programming? What kind of fucking research needs to be done that can’t be done on a computer in that field? But Michael decided he was out of his depth and knew nothing about this shit anyways, so he let it be.

Without warning, Ryan slung his arm over Ray’s shoulder, the dark-haired boy jumping at the action as he replied lazily. “Yeah, but I get to enjoy some quality time with my new favourite student, right here. Am I right, Ray?” He smiled, turning to him.

Ray, face hot, couldn’t think at all. “Uh, y-yeah,” he stammered, mind focused entirely on the hand that had just begun leisurely travelling down his arm to rest just above his hip. He shook like a leaf. Michael hardly noticed, his view blocked by the row of monitors between him and the pair on the other side, Ray realized in his daze.

Even his thoughts only came out as a jumble.

Ryan’s a fucking sadist.

I can’t even say anything.

I’m going to die standing here.

I like this though. Or at least my lower half does.

Michael absentmindedly tapped at his phone, completely unaware of what was going on right in front of him. He was itching to leave, but didn’t want to be rude to Ray’s friend-slash-temporary-TA. But he also didn’t want to make stupid conversation. If there was no Riley to make fun of Ray for, there was no fun to be had here, in his mind.

“A-anyways Michael,” Ray said, stumbling over his words still. “Shouldn’t we g-GO?” He yelped, causing Michael’s eyebrows to shoot up into his bangs.

“Are you alright, dude?” Michael looked at him in concern. “You sound kind of off.”

THANKS MICHAEL, THANKS FOR NOTICING, Ray silently shrieked.

Ray felt that he could probably cook an egg on his forehead at this point. “Yeah, it’s all good! All good!” He insisted, trying to stay nonchalant as possible as Ryan’s fingers dug into the sensitive region just above his hipbone in warning. Oh god, I’m actually going to pass out. Or cum in my pants. I don’t know which is going to happen first.

The smirk on Ryan’s face now looked permanent.

Michael glanced at the two impatiently.

“Well, if you guys are going to stick around for a bit longer, I’m going to head back home,” he said uncertainly at the pained expression on Ray’s face. But the boy just waved him off, shooing him off frantically. What’s his problem?

Shrugging, Michael turned to go, leaving the aisle of computers he was in only to see a streak of colour beat him to the door and book it down the hall. His eyes widened as his brain processed bits and pieces. Union Jack converse. Sandy, ridiculous hair. Gavin Free.

Forget Ray and his creepy temp TA.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Michael yelled as he took off down the hallway after the lad, disbelieving that after a whole month of the guy disappearing, he finds him in a programming class, of all places.

“Get your fucking twink ass back here!”

Ray watched his last hope leave him, feeling almost nostalgic. The situation was reminiscent of when, as a kid, he would do something bad in front of his mom, but she couldn’t yell at him until all the visitors had left. But then they’d be alone, and all hell would break loose. This was it, right now.

Ryan was staring him down like a hungry lion waiting to devour his prey.

But when the man finally spoke, his voice was mild and light. “Ray, you know what’s funny?”

“What?” Ray said, voice crack betraying his almost-hysteria. He’s going to fucking kill me. I’m going to get my ass beat.

“I realize that sometimes I even forget how to spell my co-worker’s name, despite just knowing her so well.” Ryan grinned innocently, tilting his head. He spoke as though he didn’t just practically feel up Ray in front of his roommate less than ten minutes ago. Ray did not know where he was going with this.

“Hey Ray, tell me, what’s the name of the girl you told your friend you fucked and left?”

OH shit oh shit oh shi-

“Was it Riley, as in R-I-L-E-Y? R-Y-L-E-E?” Ryan paused with a smug smirk. “Or something more like R-Y-A–“

“Okay, okay, okay! Enough! Oh my god, I’m sorry, okay?” Ray practically screeched, whipping around to make sure Michael wasn’t still somehow in the room as his hands flew into his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say, but I’m sorry? For whatever I did? I can’t take it back! So I’m sorry! Is it because the sex wasn’t good, or I fell asleep in your bed, or, or –“

He was cut off mid-sentence into his babbling by a snort and an incensed look.

“You’re so fucking aggravating,” Ryan said lowly, advancing as Ray squeaked, terrified. Frozen like an idiot, the Puerto Rican couldn’t move as the older man took the glasses off of his nose, hastily throwing them off to the side. Ryan, firm and demanding, pressed Ray down into a chair without another word and crashed their lips together.

Ray’s brain immediately overloaded, drowning in the taste of Ryan on his tongue and feeling of his fingers trailing down his chest. In a lust-filled haze, he desperately pulled the man closer as he groaned into Ryan’s mouth, weaving a hand into his hair. Tugging at fine strands, he managed to extract a low growl from the blonde that went right to Ray’s gut. The two tangled together as the chair tilted back dangerously, Ryan running his teeth over Ray’s bottom lip and biting down before deepening the kiss again. Ray fought back a moan.

Ryan was rough and aggressive, and it was fucking hot as hell. And nothing Ray secretly fantasized about in class had been nearly as good as the real thing.

He didn’t know just how much he needed this until now.

But then abruptly, Ryan broke the kiss off and moved off of him, leaving Ray feeling much lighter and somewhat cold at the sudden lack of body heat. Wide-eyed, disheveled and breathless, Ray stared up at Ryan, who was pushing his hair back out of his face. The older man surveyed the boy in the chair with a satisfied expression.  

“See you Thursday, Ray.” He flicked something at him.

With a broad smile and a backwards glance, Ryan left with Ray still sitting in his chair dumbfounded with his rose-embedded keychain now resting in his palm. Looking like quite the sight, he was missing his glasses with his dark hair messed up beyond belief and his cheeks still flushed a brilliant red. Licking his abused lips as he flashed back to what just happened and fingering the plastic resin in his hand, Ray tilted his head back to face the ceiling, fighting a smile.

Today wasn’t so fucking bad.

Chapter Text

Michael cursed as he ran after Gavin. “I am so out of shape,” he muttered under his breath. “Gavin! Stop fucking running, goddamn.”

But the British boy was a speedy little shit and Michael soon lost him when he turned a corner.

Michael slowed to a walk, panting. From the outside, it probably seemed like he took off after Gavin because he was out to get him and potentially murder him. And the expressions the two wore probably didn’t help either; Michael looked sullen and irritated, and Gavin had looked comically frightened.

But hey, he’d take what he can get; nobody should be getting the wrong idea here. He followed him because he was angry and needed answers, not just because it was Gavin. And he most certainly didn’t bolt after him without a second thought because he missed the guy.

Michael scowled, thinking of his quiet, peaceful 8:30 AM lectures from the past month and the quality notes he took, not to mention his excellent lab scores. But then his mind traitorously flashed to lectures with Gavin, all chaos, laughter, sunshine and warmth. Carved out of him was the absence of stupid chattering and weird questions complete with his idiotic, cheery demeanor.

And Hell, he didn’t know how they fucked it all over so quickly, but Michael wasn’t sure if Gavin even considered them friends anymore, even though he seemed to consider everyone as such. But Michael knew that he would swallow his pride and even apologize if it meant things would be alright between the two of them. He cringed.

The British boy was avoiding Michael like the plague. Between Physics classes and labs and that odd house party Michael attended with Barbara and Ray, there had been no sign of Gavin anywhere.

Michael didn’t want to seem desperate, but he was slowly starting to panic about losing the guy he held such a fragile connection with. His eyes would subconsciously scan the room during his morning lectures for the sandy-haired boy, only to come up empty every time.

But no, he didn’t miss Gavin.

That would be stupid.

Why on earth would Michael Jones miss Gavin Free?

Pushing open the heavy door to the computer science building, Michael’s stomach flip-flopped as he half-expected to see Gavin sitting on the steps there, waiting for him with a flash of green and a bright smile. “Mi-cool!” The entrance was empty.

Mad at himself for thinking about it, Michael mentally kicked himself and started walking home, so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he almost got ran over while crossing the road.

“Jesus Christ, kid,” the driver shouted, brakes screeching.

Michael gave him an unimpressed look and continued walking.

But then the man got out of his car, all tattoos and dark hair and knotted eyebrows and Michael tensed, fists clenched as he sized up the guy. His eyes narrowed as he started walking towards him. His car was still running, idling in the middle of the road. What the fuck was his problem?

 “Hey, hey,” the guy scratched the back of his neck before swiftly holding up his hands, looking sheepish. “Not trying to start a fight here, kid.”

“No?” Michael shot back.

“Nope. Wait, you don’t recognize me, do you?” The scruffy-looking man had a sudden realization. “We did only meet briefly…once or twice I guess.”

Come to think of it, Michael did think he looked vaguely familiar but couldn’t place him. He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

A car honked behind them, causing the man to have a start. “What the fuc– oh shit, guess I should move that, huh? Give me a sec, kid.” Michael crossed his arms as he watched the guy book it back to his car and drive into the nearest parking lot. He contemplated just leaving.

By the time he decided this was a waste of time and he’d rather be spending it playing on his Xbox, the guy had jogged back to him already.

“Hey, so this is pretty fucking creepy –“ he started.

“Yeah, it is.” Michael said bluntly, cutting him off.

The guy chuckled, undeterred as though he had already expected that. “Here, let me at least introduce myself. Geoff Ramsey. I work with IT on campus. Saw you at the bar the other night with Jack Pattillo? But anyways, you’re friends with Gavin, right?”

Michael cocked his head. “Yeah, so? Isn’t half the world?”  

Geoff shook his head amusedly. “No, Gavin has friends, and then he has friends.” Before Michael could try and figure out what he meant by that, Geoff sped up his talking. “Hey, just do me a favour and text the guy, alright? He’s all bent out of shape and could do with some cheering up. You can probably help. Plus, my ears are going to start bleeding from his music.” He muttered that last part to himself, but Michael heard him anyways.

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, Michael stared at Geoff. “You stopped in the middle of a fucking road after almost running me over to tell me to text Gavin Free?” Michael asked in disbelief.

He didn’t understand why it had to be him who texted Gavin, and why the older man was taking so cryptically, the asshole. And he had no clue what music had to do with any of this. None of this made any sense.

 “Technically, you walked in front of my car on a red light,” Geoff said, nodding as he glanced at his car with an antsy look.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to lose his temper.

“Look, I don’t know what gave you the impression that me and Gavin are good friends, but I don’t even have the guy’s number,” he said, hoping that would get rid of the man.

Surprised, Geoff’s mouth formed an “o” as he fumbled for a pen and grabbed Michael’s hand, ignoring his indignant yelling as he scribbled some digits onto his palm. “Well, there you go. I’ll buy you drinks sometime if I see you again, alright?” He started rushing back to his car. “I’m going to get fucking towed if I park here any longer. Text him. Thanks!”

With that, Geoff drove off, thoroughly pleased that he ran into the curly-haired boy. He wasn’t sure if what he did would help, but went with his gut feeling. That angry kid meant something to Gav.

Michael glared at the car pulling out of the lot before resuming walking again, weirded out by the swift and unanticipated exchange. Sure, he got rid of Geoff, but the man replaced himself with something potentially far more problematic.

He stared at the ink on his hand.

737-428-3733

Later that night, Michael sprawled out in his bed and opened his palm to the same slightly-smudged numbers. He was bored. He played through some stupid indie games and hated every one of them, and Ray was out somewhere for the night. He screwed up his face as he made up his mind, reaching for his phone knowing he’d probably regret this.

“Fuck it. Might as well.”

[9:32:33 PM] Michael Jones: Gavin.

He almost dropped the phone on his face as it vibrated with a reply almost immediately.

[9:32:38 PM] Gavin Free: Stranger! (:
[9:32:45 PM] Gavin Free: how are you this fine evening

Michael snorted. Of course he would spout something so stupidly British and polite to a random text out of the blue. Does he get these often? He decided to just get straight to the point before he chickened out.

[9:33:01 PM] Michael Jones: could be better
[9:33:30 PM] Michael Jones: you’re fucking avoiding me and im doing something stupid again

[9:33:36 PM] Gavin Free: ???

[9:33:37 PM] Michael Jones: but here we are
[9:33:40 PM] Michael Jones: having a neat convo

[9:41:00 PM] Gavin Free: ...Michael?

[9:41:12 PM] Michael Jones: who else have you been fucking evading lately?

Michael could almost see Gavin squawking and freaking the fuck out over what to do, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards without himself noticing.

 [9:45:56 PM] Gavin Free: HOW THE BLOODY HELL DID YOU GET MY NUMBER

He laughed aloud, rolling over. Five whole minutes later, and that’s all Gavin was able to process? Fucking hilarious. Michael found himself smiling, unable to help himself. The top corner of his phone lit up with an icon, indicating a new Skype message from Lindsay. He ignored it, fingers hovering over his screen.  

Biting the inside of his cheek, he sent a text back in a flash of impulse.

[9:50:01 PM] Michael Jones: aw missed you too

[9:50:09 PM] Gavin Free: laksfhufjlkajfks djhkfsg’;hkgdklfj
[9:50:11 PM] Gavin Free: asjfkghg
[9:50:15 PM] Gavin Free: I have not missed you!

[9:50:48 PM] Michael Jones: that sucks
[9:50:59 PM] Michael Jones: thought we were friends

[10:02:20 PM] Gavin Free: we are?

[10:03:00 PM] Michael Jones: aren’t we

A minute turned into an hour, and then an hour turned into four. But there was no reply after that.

Michael almost rolled himself right off the bed, pissed. That could have gone over better. After over ten more obnoxious notification noises from Skype, he changed his status to Do Not Disturb and skimmed over his girlfriend’s probing messages without replying, feeling a headache coming on.

[9:45:59 PM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: hey babe! Come online and play some GTA with me? (:
[9:50:21 PM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: unless you’re busy.
[9:50:47 PM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: you seem pretty busy lately…

[10:28:32 PM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: I feel like you’re avoiding me

[11:59:00 PM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: you still haven’t told me about what happened between you and Gavin
[11:59:12 PM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: It seems important. I just want to help

[1:03:44 AM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: I love you

[1:30:07 AM] Lindsay Tuggey <3: goodnight Michael

Michael felt a pang of guilt, but couldn’t bring himself to reply. He convinced himself it was alright and that he’d text Lindsay later, since she was offline now. A big fucking lie, and he knew it. However, he was tired as fuck and still feeling shitty about Gavin, so he let it go, turning off the light and going to bed.

Moments later, Ray crept in and crashed, but Michael was already asleep by then.

As it turned out, Michael needn’t have been so anxious on the Gavin front – come two days later, the British boy slipped silently into the seat beside Michael at exactly 8:30 AM. Dr. Hullum had just begun teaching.

Gavin didn’t say a word; he just stared straight ahead at the podium and drummed his fingers on the desk nervously as he worried his lip to pieces.

Secretly thrilled that he showed up, Michael tried to act as nonchalant as possible as he continued to write notes on the Physics lecture while avoiding Gavin’s furtive sidelong glances. But his face was betraying himself. As his mouth creased into the barest of smiles, Gavin decided to take his chances.

“M….Mi-cool?” The British boy whispered timidly.

“Yes, Gavin?”

Michael thoroughly relished the flustered look on Gavin’s face; it was not often that he found him at a loss for words. It had always been the other way around. But then Gavin blurted out a question and Michael had to put down his pen.

“You’re not mad at me?”

He turned with a quizzical look.

“Why the fuck would I be mad at you?” He asked.

Gavin fidgeted with his hands. “Because…?”

The air between them became laden with unsaid words but as Gavin and Michael looked each other in the eye, they came to a silent agreement. Both of them thought about that night and their strained conversation. They were both unwilling to bring it up, so neither of them would.

Don’t discuss it.

If anything, I should be the one apologizing. Michael blew out a gust of air. He couldn’t believe Gavin had been dodging him for a month and skipping all his Physics lectures all for the sake of avoiding confrontation. Just because he thought he made him upset.

Granted, he was upset, and sort of still is. Just not at Gavin, specifically.

“I’m not pissed at you, you fucking dope,” Michael muttered, breaking the silence and the awkward air hanging between the two of them. The Physics lecture droned on in the background. He reached into his bag for a notebook, which he thrust in Gavin’s direction. “Here. I copied down some of the shit you missed.”

Eyes wide, Gavin accepted it hesitantly. “Oh.” He said softly. “Mi-cool, you didn’t have to –“ He looked up at Michael, eyes clear, sea-green, and affectionate as he eased up.

“Shut your mouth. I thought you were fucking sick or dying or something, alright?” Michael snapped, face flushing as he averted his gaze. “You’re probably failing the class by now.”

Clutching the binder in his hands, Gavin beamed at the back of the curly-haired boy’s head. He refrained from mentioning that he was doing just fine, thank you, and had perfect online lab marks across the board.

“This is bloody top, Mi-cool,” he exclaimed, flipping through the pages.

Michael, still embarrassed, refused to turn back around. “Whatever. I hope you know I have no goddamn clue what that means, though. At least you’re back in class now,” he mumbled, only to give a yell of surprise as Gavin promptly flung himself onto him to give him a hug.

“So we’re really friends, boi? We’re alright? Thought you hated me!” Gavin laughed as Michael tried to throw him off to no avail.

“We’re cool, boi.” Michael cracked a smile. “Friends. Yeah, ‘course.”

At the podium, Dr. Hullum stopped mid-lecture in surprise as he spotted the familiar pair laughing near the back of the class, voices carrying. He automatically opened his mouth to call them out but then decided against it as they settled down again.

The lecture hall gradually started bubbling with quiet conversation as Hullum smiled to himself, privately glad that Gavin and his friend were back together and that the British boy was attending his classes again. Clearing his throat, he gestured for his students to simmer down.

“Alright, alright. Now, where were we? The field theory unified Einstein’s framework of special relativity and Planck and Schrodinger’s quantum mechanics in…”

Michael did his best to pull his face into his usual frown, but couldn’t help but grin to himself as he took up his pen again. Gavin, who didn’t bring anything, sat with his chin in his hands and watched Michael’s expression contort out of the corner of his eye in amusement. Dimples would grace the pale boy’s face for a split second, only to smooth out again as his eyebrows knit together in concentration. And then they would appear all over again. Dimples. No dimples. Dimples.

Gavin swallowed a giggle as he shifted to see the lecture slides change, elated that he was actually talking to Michael again. He could hardly believe it – they just glossed over their interaction that cringe-worthy night and pretended nothing happened. It was more than he could have hoped for. He almost had a heart attack when Michael texted him unexpectedly after he ran away from him like the knob he was the other day.

(He had to rush out the house and find a friend to smoke with after Michael’s last text; he got home at one in the morning completely stoned and ate almost all of Geoff’s favourite snacks. Needless to say, nobody was really happy the next morning.)

Gavin chewed at his lip thoughtfully, again wondering how Michael got his cell number. He grinned widely as he imagined the scowling boy asking Barbara or Jack for it. No, he shook his head. That couldn’t have happened; someone must’ve given it to him.

Either way, they were friends again, and for real. He really thought he bolloxed it up completely and utterly this time, but Michael was full of surprises. The angry boy wasn’t as harsh and unapproachable as he tried to come off as.

Thinking about how he was probably one of the rare few people who got to see Michael for who he really was, Gavin smiled and giddily nudged Michael, causing a streak of pen to go up the boy’s paper.

“Fucking HELL –“ Gavin smiled even wider as Michael stopped himself and glared at him with a sigh. “What is it, Gavin?” Michael couldn’t help but drop his angry look as the British boy beamed brightly.

“Nothing, just feeling tippity top.”

“…Gavin.”

“Yeah, boi?”

“I still don’t know what that means.”

Chapter Text

[12:30:58 PM] Gavin Free: Afternoon Michael!

[12:49:01 PM] Michael Jones: yo

[12:49:05 PM] Gavin Free: how are you?

[12:49:30 PM] Michael Jones: im good

[12:50:11 PM] Gavin Free: fantastic (^:
[12:50:25 PM] Gavin Free: wanna grab some food w me? I’m lonely

[12:53:36 PM] Michael Jones: dont you have like 182974987 other friends

[12:53:51 PM] Gavin Free: they’re all busy
[12:54:00 PM] Gavin Free: Scout’s honour

[12:55:27 PM] Michael Jones: wow believable.

[12:55:40 PM] Gavin Free: 100%!!! busy!!!! Even Barbs

[12: 57:24 PM] Michael Jones: shes probably banging Kara

[12:59:59 PM] Gavin Free: nah, not probably
[1:00:19 PM] Gavin Free: they’re definitely shagging
[1:03:47 PM] Gavin Free: but are you up for late lunch?

[1:05:06 PM] Michael Jones: ya fine just come to my dorm im lazy
[1:05:33 PM] Michael Jones: we can order pizza and play shit

…

[7:31:00 PM] Gavin Free: hi hi hi

[7:32:49 PM] Michael Jones: whats up

[7:33:02 PM] Gavin Free: dunno m8, I’m bored. Want to hang out?

[7:35:28 PM] Michael Jones: ya boi GTA?

[7:35:55 PM] Gavin Free: !!! (^:
[7:36:14 PM] Gavin Free: Geoff’ll give me a ride over

[7:39:01 PM] Michael Jones: dont you have cell bio wed nights?

[7:39:46 PM] Gavin Free: pfffffshhhhhhh my boi is more important

[7:41:29 PM] Michael Jones: …
[7:41:40 PM] Michael Jones: see ya in 5

…

[9:01:06 AM] Unknown number: hey kid have you seen gav

[9:48:33 AM] Michael Jones: who the fuck is this

[9:49:28 AM] Unknown number: shit haha sry its geoff

[9:54:14 AM] Michael Jones: oh yeah hes at my place crashed here
[9:54:30 AM] Michael Jones: why?

[9:56:50 AM] Geoff Ramsey: nvm then
[9:58:02 AM] Geoff Ramsey: thought he was out partying again

[11:15:30 AM] Michael Jones: nah man
[11:15:59 AM] Michael Jones: just getting his ass kicked in halo rn

[11:21:44 AM] Geoff Ramsey: haha good

[11:47:18 AM] Michael Jones: he hasnt been going much lately

[11:47:50 AM] Geoff Ramsey: yeah ik
[11:48:01 AM] Geoff Ramsey: this is good for him
[11:48:12 AM] Geoff Ramsey: thanks kid

[11:51:03 AM] Michael Jones: np

…

[3:29:34 PM] Michael Jones: hey I finally bought that stupid game you told me about
[3:33:00 PM] Michael Jones: have no clue what the fuck im doing

[3:50:11 PM] Gavin Free: is that an invite to come help? :D

[3:50:53 PM] Michael Jones: THERES MOTHERFUCKING MONSTERS AT NIGHT WTF
[3:51:27 PM] Michael Jones: wait theres ones during the day too
[3:51:58 PM] Michael Jones: THE GREEN THINGS EXPLODE

[3:52:36 PM] Gavin Free: LOL

[3:55:02 PM] Michael Jones: I just wanted some goddamn wood

[3:57:44 PM] Gavin Free: (^; I’ll give you some wood, love

[4:00:42 PM] Michael Jones: shut the fuck up and get over here

[4:01:18 PM] Gavin Free: already on my way boi!

…

[8:39:43 AM] Michael Jones: why the fuck arent you in physics hullum is telling us the exam breakdown

[8:40:16 AM] Gavin Free: aw Michael I’m sorry ):

[8:40:42 AM] Michael Jones: i brought you a tea you dumb british fuck
[8:41:39 AM] Michael Jones: now i look stupid with two large drink cups in front of me

[8:43:03 AM] Gavin Free: I’m sick

[8:43:33 AM] Michael Jones: is that code for hungover
[8:43:59 AM] Michael Jones: because youre always hungover
[8:44:20 AM] Michael Jones: so fuck you and get your twink ass to physics

[8:44:20 AM] Gavin Free: no
[8:44:52 AM] Gavin Free: I’m so actually sick
[8:45:14 AM] Gavin Free: like on my deathbed sick my fever is a thousand

[8:47:02 AM] Michael Jones: is Geoff there with you?

[8:47:55 AM] Gavin Free: no, work

[8:48:50 AM] Michael Jones: youre fucking home alone?

[8:49:00 AM] Gavin Free: (^:…

[8:51:16 AM] Michael Jones: you fucking idiot
[8:51:34 AM] Michael Jones: what if you pass out or fall down the stairs or something

[8:54:48 AM] Gavin Free: hey, I have excellent coordination!

[8:55:41 AM] Michael Jones: shut up what if you actually die

[8:56:07 AM] Gavin Free: aw boi, are you worried?

[8:56:31 AM] Michael Jones: fuck off

[8:58:22 AM] Gavin Free: (^: don’t you fret my little Michael
[8:58:54 AM] Gavin Free: I’ll be toppers before you know it

[8:58:55 AM] Michael Jones: what is it with you and that fucking emote
[8:59:09 AM] Michael Jones: who puts noses on their smileys anymore
[8:59:31 AM] Michael Jones: is that another one of those obscure british things

[9:11:36 AM] Michael Jones: yo did you fall asleep

[9:17:44 AM] Michael Jones: Gavin

[9:28:01 AM] Michael Jones: ??? ???????? ??

Michael glowered at his phone. Fucking Gavin.

It took less than a minute for him to make up his mind.

[9:28:47 AM] Michael Jones: yo Geoff sorry if youre busy but whats Gavin’s address?

Throwing his coat and beanie on hastily, Michael took one look at Geoff’s text before leaving.

Swearing under his breath, he quickly made his way down the steps from the back of the room as Dr. Hullum was just starting to explain the marking scheme. Some people glared as he walked in front of them, blocking their view, but he challenged them with scathing looks back; they would shrink back into their seats, sorry they even tried.

Michael had a feeling that people thought they could fuck with him more in this class because of Gavin’s influence. The happy to his rage. He frowned, clutching the coffee cups in his hands harder as he exited the lecture hall and made his way across the snowy campus grounds.

Some fifteen minutes later, he found himself standing at the door to Gavin’s home significantly less sure of himself than he was earlier; he really didn’t think this through.

Maybe he should have brought something? The peppermint tea he bought Gavin had gone cold long since, and he finished his coffee on the trek here, not that Gavin liked coffee at all. And –

How the fuck was he going to get in if Gavin was passed out somewhere in the house?

Michael suddenly imagined Gavin’s crumpled figure lying at the bottom of the stairs.

No.

Heart pounding, he banged at the door furiously for all of ten seconds before it swung open away from him to reveal a sickly-looking but conscious Gavin Free. He was swaddled in a blanket and coughing slightly, face paler than usual with noticeable bags under his eyes, but he was also still very much alive.

Letting out a breath, Michael lowered his hand. Good, he’s goddamn fine.

He carefully set the cold tea down on the porch beside him before straightening up again and promptly punching Gavin in the face.

“Oh, it’s just you Mi-coo – gAH!” The lanky boy stumbled back a step.

“What the bloody hell was that for, you mingepot? I’m sick!” Gavin exclaimed, rubbing his face.

 “Wot the bloody ‘ell!” Michael imitated, scowling as he let himself in, closing the door on the wintery morning. “You stopped fucking replying, asshole.” I did not just overreact. This is normal.

“Replying?” Gavin gaped as he realized what Michael was talking about. “My cell died! Jesus, you came all the way here because I stopped texting you back, Mi-cool?”

“Bite me,” he retorted, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. 

“You’re absolutely adorable,” the British boy giggled into his blanket, tripping over it.

Michael’s hand shot out of its pocket on reflex, catching him by the arm. “Fuck, how you’ve stayed alive for so long is beyond me,” he muttered, cheeks pink, as Gavin wobbled and steadied himself.

“And for the record, I didn’t come here because I was fucking worried, alright? Geoff told me to come check up on you.”

A complete, utter lie.

Gavin deflated visibly, but then perked right back up again.

“Oh. Well, thanks anyways, boi! It’s lonely here all by myself.”

“Hmn.”

 “Anyways, Minecraft on Xbox?” He asked, grinning brightly before bursting into a fit of coughing, Michael awkwardly patting him on the back, feeling dumb. He really should’ve brought him something for his cold or whatever he had.

However, Gavin looked bright-eyed and energetic, still radiating happiness and warmth. Michael didn’t know how anyone could look this good while sick.

Gavin sure didn’t look like he was on the brink of death, as he said.

But Michael kept these thoughts to himself as he nodded and followed a blanketed Gavin into the living room.

“Mi-cool, where are you? I’m lost!” Gavin whined, bumping shoulders with Michael on the couch as they explored their Minecraft map separately. Michael snickered to himself, nudging Gavin back.

“Nowhere.”

“Where?” Pouting, Gavin turned to the curly-haired boy. “I’ll cough on you if you don’t come to me right now, I’ll get you bloody sick –“ He insisted, leaning closer threateningly before suddenly giving a little hop and sitting back up properly again as he spotted something.

“EYO,” the British boy shouted, sandy hair flying. “Hey boi! Mi-cool, I found you!”

Gleeful, Gavin pointed his character in Michael’s direction and started running towards it.

But Michael started cackling just as Gavin’s green eyes widened. “No, wait Mi-cool what are you –“

Gavin ran right into an unforgiving blade swing.

He screeched. “OH? OH. OH MY GOD. NO, MI-COOL WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GET AWAY FROM ME! JESUS CHRIST, SOD OFF. STOP. STOP!”

On screen, Gavin’s side of the screen flashed red as Michael’s character continued swinging a diamond sword, consecutively hitting Gavin’s creeper skin-clad one even as it ran away from him. His health quickly whittling down, Gavin abandoned his controller on the coffee table and resorted to hitting Michael.

There were tears in the brunet’s eyes as he leaned away while laughing breathlessly, still viciously attacking Gavin’s dying character.

“Mi-cool!” Gavin wailed as he flailed his limbs at the boy. “I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF! DON’T KILL ME.”

“Too late!” Gavin’s character disappeared from the screen, Michael promptly scooping up the spoils. Crowing, he turned to Gavin with a shit-eating smile, ignoring the weak punches the boy was still giving him. “Now look who has to start all over again,” he teased as he poked him in the side.

Gavin tried to look upset, but quickly broke down into laughter as he squirmed away from Michael and caused the other boy to fall right off the sofa.

“Shit, Gavin, fuck right off!” Michael’s voice came from the floor as he tried to get back up only to get whacked back down by a cushion. Hearing Gavin laugh even louder from above him, he couldn’t help but grin widely. Splaying his arms out, he gave up on getting up.

“Hope you’re happy,” he called up to the still giggling Gavin. “Fucking sore loser.”

“Yep!”

After a few minutes of easy silence, Michael deemed it safe for him to get up again. Hopping back on the couch, he found his character slain and Gavin happily frolicking around his constructed house with the reclaimed supplies.

“You little shit!”

The two played Minecraft into the afternoon, only stopping when Gavin’s stomach rumbled loudly. Neither of them had kept track of time; it was almost two when they finally got out of the living room and moved to the kitchen to eat.

Michael found himself in a new pickle as he flipped through the cabinets looking for something easy to prepare. He tried to be as casual about his search as possible.

He wasn’t about to admit that he couldn’t cook for shit.

Gavin watched on in amusement, huddled under his blanket at the table. Michael insisted for him to keep resting and sit; he said he would take care of lunch. However, the boy looked at a complete loss of what to do, his unruly curls growing messier and messier as he nervously ruffled them while pacing the kitchen.

“Mi-cool,” he called out.

“Shut up! I know what I’m doing, I can cook!” Michael whipped around with a glare, freckles standing out on his paling, panicky face. Gavin coughed into his hands, disguising a short laugh.

“I was just saying, I would love some noodle soup.” The British boy looked up at Michael innocently, all puppy-eyes and smiles. “They’re in the pantry over there.” He pointed to the corner of the room.

In obvious relief, Michael all but sprinted for the cupboard. Bringing out two cans of Campbell’s, he quickly read the instructions and exhaled. He could make this. Water in the pot. Add can of stuff. Bring to boil.

How hard could it be?

Michael felt pretty confident. Even if Gavin’s unwavering stare was slightly unnerving him. Pressure from the invalid as he cooked his meal, Jesus – there was no fucking gratitude. He muttered to himself under his breath as he brought out a pot and found a can opener in the drawer, preparing for the worst.

Gavin smirked to himself.

Half an hour and a smoke alarm later found the two back in the living room watching some shitty action movie with some mushroom soup and garlic bread between them, all courtesy of Gavin.

Michael scowled as he drank his soup.

“It’s okay, my little Mi-cool,” Gavin told him, breaking into a smile for the millionth time. “One day you’ll learn.”

“Fuck off.”

 They lapsed into silence as they finished their lunch and watched the movie play out. The storyline was god-awful, and the acting was average at best, but they had already gotten too far into it to stop. So they just suffered through it.

At least, Michael suffered through the rest of it; Gavin’s eyelids drooped lower and lower with every scene.

Just as the heroine inevitably announced her undying love for the male main character at the movie’s climax, Michael felt Gavin slump over onto his shoulder, asleep. Feeling the warmth seep through from the boy’s light body, Michael frowned.

Fucking hell, he’s burning.

He looked down at the sick British boy. “Hey,” he gently moved his shoulder, causing Gavin’s head to rock faintly. “This can’t be comfortable. Why don’t you sleep upstairs, huh?”

“Nuh-uh.”

Michael glared. “What are you, twelve? C’mon, bed. Doesn’t a bed sound nice?”

Mumbling something unintelligible, Gavin twisted his torso to snuggle closer and bury his face in Michael’s t-shirt instead. Michael sputtered as he slid from leaning against the back of the couch beside Gavin to lying down with the lanky boy practically on top of him.

Feeling heat rise up in his face as he felt Gavin’s light breath tickle his chest, Michael nudged harder. “Gavin. GAVIN. You gotta fucking move.”

But the boy either didn’t hear or didn’t want to, because he stubbornly remained unmoving.

In the background, the movie credits had just started rolling.

Michael sighed.

“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” He muttered, expression softening as he brushed sandy hair out of Gavin’s face. The boy’s face was smoothed out and peaceful as he snored softly, drooling a little onto Michael’s shirt. His one arm was dangling off the side of the sofa while his other rested on Michael, gripping fabric lightly. The blanket rested on the floor under the coffee table, neglected.

Michael shut his eyes as he shifted a bit, head falling back and landing softly on the armrest. He wasn’t going to be able to move anytime soon, so might as well get comfortable.

I’m going to miss all of my fucking lectures today for this, he thought.

But whatever, it’s alright.

Eyes still shut, Michael absentmindedly ran his fingers through the other boy’s hair before feeling his forehead again. Still scorching hot.

“Mmn, Mi-cool?” Gavin sleepily mumbled.

Completely giving up on the idea of getting Gavin into a proper bed, Michael whispered back.

“Yeah, Gav?”

 “…You’re my absolute favourite. Thanks for doing this.” Gavin yawned and shifted his head ever so slightly before going back to sleep.

Thinking of how utterly comfortable he was despite the odd situation, a faint smile graced Michael’s lips.

All at once, Michael felt the fatigue of the past few hours overtake him. He managed to take off his glasses and set them on the coffee table, subconsciously draping his arm over Gavin’s slim figure. The British boy’s heart beat against his, the rise and fall of their breathing nearly in sync.

Michael was only able to focus on the feeling for a brief moment before he, too, fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Gavin woke up in his bed upstairs with his duvet tucked over him, alone.

Looking blearily at his now fully charged phone, he realized it was late evening and registered the muted sound of Geoff and Griffon talking downstairs. There was some freshly made tea sitting on the nightstand.

You have six (6) new message(s).

Probably from Geoff or something. He tapped his phone impatiently. I feel so much better. Hardly sick. Wait – Gavin squinted at the too-bright screen.

[9:11:36 AM] Michael Jones: yo did you fall asleep

[9:17:44 AM] Michael Jones: Gavin

[9:28:01 AM] Michael Jones: ??? ???????? ??

Michael.

He ripped his covers off and sat up, too quickly. His head swam from suddenly being vertical again but he ignored it, heart rapidly sinking as he scanned the room widely. He remembered having an absolutely fantastic time with Michael when he popped by to visit earlier today. And falling asleep in his arms on the couch downstairs.

Did his stupid fever-stricken brain make all of that up?

Gavin bit his lip, hoping that wasn’t true. But then how and why did he end up upstairs? Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he picked up his tea gloomily and went down to see Geoff and Griffon.

“Gav! You’re up!” Griffon exclaimed upon seeing him trek into the kitchen, pulling him towards her. Checking his temperature, she smiled. “You look so much better than when we left this morning.”

“Yeah,” Geoff agreed, looking somewhat frazzled. “You don’t look gross as dicks anymore. I mean, not as much as before.” He smirked, but even that was lackluster, not that Gavin noticed.

The British boy just mhm’d, half-heartedly sipping at his tea as he glanced around the room.

Geoff and Griffon exchanged knowing looks.

“Looking for something?” The older man offered.

Gavin hesitated. “Uh. Is there – I mean – did someone – “ He didn’t want to make a fool of himself asking, especially if he was wrong about all of this. He hissed out a breath while Griffon giggled, putting a hand to her mouth.

He scrunched up his face in annoyance.

 “I mean, bugger it all – did you two have someone over today at all while I was out?” Gavin asked, unable to mask his hopefulness. The blonde woman giggled again and excused herself, returning to the kitchen table to sit.

“Nope!” Geoff almost too cheerfully replied as he made to sit down as well, patting the British boy on the back as he went and making him spill his tea.

Damn. Well, I knew it. It was too good to be true, Gavin thought miserably, barely wincing at the hot liquid.

“But you did!”

He looked up from his half-full mug. “What?” Gavin asked. “I did what?”

Geoff grinned at him, something oddly guilty about the smile. But before Gavin could pry into what his expression meant, the man replied and suddenly, Gavin didn’t really care about that particular mystery anymore.

“You did. Have someone over?” Geoff repeated, settling down next to Griffon. “He’s pretty fucking pissed you slept for so long, but anyways, he’s still here.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the living room.

Gavin practically took off in a sprint. He slowed unsurely just before rounding the doorway, anxious that maybe the older man was just pulling his leg to see his reaction. He glanced back, but Griffon just gave him an encouraging smile while Geoff pointedly looked away. He frowned but stepped into the living room anyways and sure enough, there was the curly-haired boy, sitting on the sofa alone.

Michael had his arms crossed and was apparently sleeping, brow still furrowed. There was a pair of empty beer bottles on the table and an Xbox controller. Passed the time with it, Gavin guessed.

As he waited. For me.

Face splitting into a happy smile, Gavin quietly bounced over and sat down cross-legged right next to Michael, leaning close. It looked like it hadn’t been a dream after all; Michael was very much real and in front of him. And yes – there was his blanket sitting on the floor by the tele. Gavin was so pleased with it all that he could hardly contain himself.

The lanky boy was just about to throw himself onto Michael, or at least try and smooth that stressed look out from the other boy’s face, when he suddenly realized the brunet had opened his brown eyes and was staring right back.

“Bloody hell!” Gavin shrieked, tumbling backwards and causing Geoff and Griffon to come running.

“Fucking – oh my god, Gav. No, it’s nothing! He’s being an idiot!” A fully awake Michael exclaimed, scooting away from the British boy as they stuck their heads around the doorway to see.

Once they realized nothing had happened, the older couple simply left with a wave and a warning look from Geoff that Gavin didn’t quite catch.

“Jesus Christ, how the fuck do you always manage to make a scene?” Michael muttered distractedly, biting the inside of his cheek as he helped Gavin sit up.

Michael does that when there’s something bothering him, the British boy reflected.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” Gavin pouted, flushing a little. “You scared the bejesus out of me, Mi-cool! Everything alright with you?”

But the brunet just rolled his eyes. “Scaredy-cat.”

“Am not!” Gavin protested, smile helplessly tugging at his lips as his previous concern washed away.

Michael’s here! We’re bois! I spent an entire day with him!

The boy’s silent happiness was contagious, and Michael found himself grinning widely right back.

Geoff frowned as he heard Gavin’s laughter travel from the living room, setting down his beer as Griffon put a comforting hand on his tattooed arm.

She knew what was bothering her boyfriend; it was the same general issue that plagued her when she first realized what was going on with Gavin, one that she still didn’t really have an answer to. And from the looks of it, neither did Geoff.

Neither of them could do anything about it at this point, so they had to leave it. Or they should have just left it, but Geoff didn’t; when Gavin was still asleep upstairs, the conversation between Geoff and the boy named Michael Jones had gotten more than a little heated. When she had gotten home earlier in the evening, they were already in the thick of it…

Two hours ago

“Wait, you have a girlfriend, kid?” Geoff was gruffly saying, tugging at his beard in anxiety just as Griffon came through the door.

“Yeah. So?” Michael easily replied, voice wavering but clear.

 But the lack of weight in Michael’s words seemed to agitate Geoff even more, causing him to jump up from his spot next to Michael and whip around to glare down at him.

“So? What the fuck do you mean, so? Dicks, does Gavin know?”

“It means I don’t have a motherfucking clue why you’re acting like I shoved something up your ass. What’s it matter to you – of course Gavin fucking knows!”

The two looked like they were doing alright earlier if the beers sitting on the coffee table and some co-op campaign running on the TV were any indication. But they definitely weren’t getting along when Griffon arrived – Geoff was standing with a fiery expression opposite Michael, who was still sitting on the sofa in bewilderment at the barrage of odd questions and even odder remarks.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, kid, but you better fucking quit it.” Geoff firmly said, his expression a rarity for the usually easy-going man.

Michael raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, throwing down the Xbox controller he had still been holding. “What, you’re Gavin’s father now? The guy’s twenty! What’s it matter if I came over and –“

“When you texted me, I thought it was ‘cause you wanted to give him some fucking work or –“

“Oh, excuse me for coming in and taking care of the idiot. Eat my entire ass.”

“What did you just say?” Geoff all but shouted in incredulousness.  

Michael and Geoff glared daggers at each other, momentary respite allowing Griffon to sneak in and set a warning hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder before he did something terribly stupid. But she had seen Geoff’s temple throb more than once and his expression grow more and more tense at Michael’s apparent indifference at what a mess he was causing just by being here and Michael was opening his mouth and then –

“Eat my ass. Gavin’s my friend.”

Geoff exploded, slamming his hands down on the coffee table with a bang. Glass clinked as the beer bottles rocked on the surface unsteadily.

“AND I’M TELLING YOU YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW WHAT THAT WORD EVEN MEANS, HERE.” He gritted at Michael, who seemed to suddenly be weighing in on the severity of this unexpected conversation.

(Because all of the conversations between the two seemed to be unplanned, and Michael never knew what was going on in any of them, but they always seemed important.)

Griffon glanced worriedly upstairs at the noise.

“…What?” Michael said, completely fucking confused at what word Geoff was talking about. “Friend?” He almost laughed, but stopped himself at the fiercely protective look on the guy’s face.

“You’re the only goddamn friend of Gavin’s to ever come to this house.” The older man spat out, almost venomously. “Now just think about that, and how I fucking found you guys all wrapped up in each other, and you better choose what you do next very carefully.”

Michael opened his mouth to protest about how it was Gavin who fell onto him, how Gavin was just sick and it just sort of happened, but Geoff shut him down even before he could get another word out.

“I don’t care what you have to say, Jones,” Geoff whispered, sounding less angry but rather wearier, more than anything else. Michael’s eyes flickered to Griffon’s for help, but she just subtly shook her head and stood there, mouth shut and eyes troubled.

“I just – Gavin’s like a son to me. He’s not…alright, and I can’t have you building him up only so we can watch him crash into pieces afterwards.” Michael gaped as Geoff continued.

“You can’t string him along like this.”

“But I’m not –“

“Honey, but you are.” Griffon finally spoke, softly.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples. “I. Don’t. See. What. The. Problem. Is.” He clenched his jaw, pissed off at the entire talk. “I’m b – I’m not gay. Besides, Gavin doesn’t like me like that. Gavin doesn’t date. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, Gavin doesn’t date.” Geoff agreed, but his body language was still hostile, his eyes still dark. Griffon gave him a look, and he returned it. They were both thinking the same thing.

Gavin doesn’t date. That is, until you, but you’re unavailable.

“So there we go,” Michael said with finality as he got up, ready to be done with the conversation already. He wanted to leave. Now.

“But – !” This time, Griffon didn’t have to stop Geoff; he stopped himself, frowning to himself.

Michael actually seemed clueless. Which was in many ways more heartbreaking than the alternative, but Geoff had a responsibility to ensure Gavin’s wellbeing, as fragile as that was. And that wellbeing had gotten better, alarmingly so, when this curly-haired ball of rage walked into the British boy’s life.

He thought about the way Michael looked at Gavin when he fell off the couch, and the way he picked him up without hesitation and turned to Geoff, asking where Gavin’s actual bed was so he could sleep somewhere more comfortable.

He thought about Gavin’s contented sleeping face, and thought about how it was the first time he saw the British boy look like that in months without the smell of alcohol or marijuana hanging over him like a dark cloud.

He thought about the absolute delight that would light up Gavin’s face whenever he texted Michael – the boy always thought he was pretty discreet about it, but he wasn’t in the least.  

Geoff made a decision then, in that moment.

He hated it, but he made it.

Michael Jones needs to stick around.

“Look, I’m sorry, kid.” He called out, throwing his pride away. Geoff lowered his defense just as Michael was about to turn and walk right out the door. “You’re right. You should stay.”

 “What the actual fuck, Geoff?” The brunet yelled, exasperated. He threw his hands up. “Make up your motherfucking mind. Am I staying or am I going?”

“You’re staying,” Geoff firmly said. For Gavin.

“Please,” Griffon added, out of the blue. Michael had almost forgotten she was there.

“Anyways,” Geoff said, switching to a lighter tone of voice that annoyed Michael to no end. “Gavin will probably be awake soon, so you can either wait here or join us in the kitchen?”

Michael just glared, lips pursed as he fell back onto the couch with a pointed look.

Sighing, the older man walked closer. “Hey, kid. I’m sorry. I got a little…defensive. Just be careful with Gavin, alright? He’s not all what you think he is. He’s human, too.”

The curly-haired boy almost snorted at that. Really, what else could he be but human?

He could be the sun. His thoughts betrayed him.

Without answer but satisfied that Michael wasn’t going to leave even after that shouting match, Geoff and Griffon left the boy seated there on the sofa as he thought hard, eyes shut. And that’s where Gavin found him an hour later, still sitting there, brow furrowed, stressed about everything Geoff told him.

Back in the present, Geoff took another sip of his beer in the kitchen while Griffon gently held his hand.

“I don’t get it, Griff,” he said hoarsely, as quiet as possible so Gavin and Michael couldn’t hear. They wouldn’t be able to, anyways; they were hollering at the top of their lungs playing some platform co-op game that was slaughtering them and the din they made drowned out everything else.

But Geoff spoke lowly anyways.

“I don’t ge–“ He repeated himself when he thought his girlfriend didn’t hear him, but the blonde woman squeezed his hand with a slight smile.

“I know, babe,” she whispered. “I know.”

Because Michael was human, like anyone else, with problems like anyone else. And they shouldn’t have expected him to be the solution to all of Gavin’s problems, because a person isn’t ever an answer.

But they both stupidly thought that he could have been, all because of the way Gavin looked at Michael.

Griffon and Geoff had never seen the boy look at anyone like that, drunk or sober, in all the time they’ve known him for. And yet there Michael Jones was, existing in Gavin Free’s house as though it were the most normal thing in the world, with the balls to announce that he was “just Gavin’s friend”.

Michael didn’t know, because Gavin didn’t want him to (and Gavin is very skilled at hiding what he doesn’t want other people to know), but also because he was just never looking. But Griffon noticed it immediately, and heck, even Geoff noticed by today.

It confused them both to no end though, because why Michael Jones?

Gavin looked at Michael as though he hung the fucking moon and stars in the sky.

He looked at him like he was the entire world.

Chapter Text

After that day, something shifted infinitesimally between Michael and Gavin. They both knew a threshold had been passed in their dynamic, but neither could express what it was.

Though, it really didn’t need to be said.

It was exam season again, and Michael was determinedly studying for his deathly engineering finals. (What motherfucking professor actually thinks it’s necessary to make an exam worth 50% of a student’s grade, really?) He didn’t go out much to begin with, but since he actually needed to stay in school, he didn’t even go see Gavin much anymore, let alone find time for other people.

But that didn’t stop the two; they texted back and forth constantly, fraying everyone else’s nerves.

Though, Gavin still sank into his habit of crashing parties and drinking whenever he got too bored or suddenly felt like it. But now, whenever he did on the odd occasion go out and get completely shitfaced, his feet would take him to Michael’s instead of wandering home.

He would go to Michael. His Michael.

(Not his, no, not entirely, but you really couldn’t simply call them friends.)

It’d be four or five or six in the morning, but Gavin would knock, and Michael would always answer.

He’d be wearing a beanie over his hair, glasses perched on his nose with bags under his tired eyes from studying for hours and hours, but he would smile. Gavin would stumble in, Michael would pretend he didn’t know or care that Gavin was intoxicated out of his mind and had just finished fucking or getting fucked by a complete stranger (or two), he would get the boy a glass of water and turn off his lamp, and then they would crawl into bed together.

Michael never asked about it – why he did it – so that Gavin would never have to answer.

Whenever he wanted to, he would think about Gavin’s carefully collected neon-glow looks and fading cut marks and the fact that he wasn’t hearing much about Gavin from people’s whispers lately, and that would be enough to convince himself to not.

But Michael suspected.

After a particularly stressful night of cramming for Analysis & Mechanics, Michael was completely spent.

Sighing as he set his textbook off to the side and rubbed at his eyes, he checked the time. 3:20AM. Glancing to the door, he wondered if Gavin would come by tonight. He hadn’t in a few days, but that really didn’t mean much; the British boy never had a schedule for these things.

A small part of Michael chastised itself for almost wanting Gavin to show up at the door.

His eyes wandered over to the other side of the room, landing on Ray’s sleeping figure. Biting the inside of his cheek, the brunet felt vaguely guilty. He didn’t know if it was just exam nerves, but he felt like shit.

Ray had been extremely distant as of late, either leaving for entire days only to come home to sleep without saying a word, or just putting on his headphones to study or play video games and determinedly avoiding Michael.

Maybe Ray was just trying to work, and Michael just had bad timing.

But he was pretty sure the Puerto Rican was mad at him for something.

Either way, Ray and Michael hadn’t had a proper conversation since the last Physics class Michael skipped, back at the beginning of December. Now, exams were almost over and it was the 10^th or something – there was definitely something wrong.

Michael was still thinking over what the fuck changed between them and how to fix his friendship with his usually talkative best friend/roommate when the Skyloft theme from The Legend of Zelda – Skyward Sword started playing from his pile of clothes in the corner.

Too tired from studying, Michael couldn’t comprehend for the life of him how the fuck his laundry was making music.

He glared at the offending pile, crossing his arms.

Ray rolled over in his bed, mumbling something incomprehensible as he started to wake, causing Michael to blink rapidly and realize that no, clothes could not in fact double as speakers, and that yes, that was his  ringtone.

Swearing under his breath, he scrambled from his chair and dove for his phone, hoping to shut it up before his roommate woke up and got even more pissed at him than he already apparently was.

Who the motherfucking hell calls at this time of – “Oh.” Michael said softly.

Incoming call.
Accept? Decline?

Skyloft continued playing.

Ray shifted, opening an eye to see Michael sitting on the floor, face illuminated by the glow from his phone. He watched as Michael mouthed something to himself and put the phone to his ear and say –

“Gavin.”

The Puerto Rican grunted in annoyance and turned back over, going back to sleep just as Michael turned around, wide-eyed, correctly thinking that he had woken Ray up by accident.

But Michael was far too engaged with the person on the other end of the call to think about whether or not he had to face a wrathful Ray the day after. He averted his gaze and quickly stood up, leaving the dorm to go talk in the stairwell in peace.

“Mi-cooooool!” Gavin’s cheerful voice came through the phone just as Michael gently shut the door behind him, wincing.

“What are you doing calling this late, boi?” Michael tried to ignore the fact that Gavin was obviously quite drunk.

“Wh-Why?” Gavin sputtered, the sound of laughter ringing out in the background behind him. “Why?? Do I need a reason to call my boi?” The pout could almost be heard in his voice.

Michael sighed, pulling off his beanie and running his fingers through his hair. “No, I guess not, but you’re still a fucking idiot.”

“Thanks, Mi-cool!”

Another round of snickers and hoots from Gavin’s end.

Irritated, Michael shoved a hand in his pocket. “Wasn’t a fucking compliment,” he snapped. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, ‘m…somewhere in a park. By the whoosh,” Gavin said vaguely.

“The whoosh?”

“Yeah boi! The whoosh and the…the pool. For swimmy bevs!”

Michael fought the urge to throw his phone against the wall. Gavin was smashed, yeah, but did he have to be so fucking incoherent about it all?

“E….deep eddy’s!” The British boy managed before entering a fit of laughter over something someone said that Michael didn’t catch.

Gavin didn’t say anything more over the phone, and Michael didn’t either. Leaning against the cold brick wall in silence, call still active with loud yelling coming from it, the curly-haired boy heard a door shut from downstairs and the sound of someone going up the stairs in his direction. He frowned to himself as a couple minute passed and there was still nothing from Gavin.

There was no point in staying here if residence staff were doing their rounds and there was no conversation to be had; Gavin seemed okay.

The idiot would come by later if he wasn’t, anyways.

Michael was just about to go back to his room and maybe even hang up on the British idiot when two things happened.

One. The stairwell door creaked open and a very pissed off, very sleepy looking Ray poked his head out and glared at Michael.

“Your girlfriend is calling, asshat. Skype fucking woke me up so you might as well go ahead and chat, I already accepted the call for you.” He muttered, squinting without glasses. “Good fucking night.” The door slammed behind the Puerto Rican before Michael could catch it.

This motherfucking timing, Michael thought. This is not great.

Two. Gavin’s end of the line suddenly burst out into noise, raucous laughter and shuffling scraping through Michael’s shitty phone speakers. Ray almost came over to investigate, but thought better of it.

Michael on the other hand, nearly jumped at the sudden sounds that echoed off the walls.

“Jesus fucking Christ Gavin, what the hell are you –“ He started, pressing the phone to his ear again.

The voices were now muffled and muted, as if heard from a distance. Michael heard Gavin giggle drunkenly amidst the talking, equally far away. Despite knowing that he should probably just hang up now that the British boy completely abandoned their conversation, he contradictorily only gripped the phone harder. Subconsciously holding his breath, Michael barely registered some cricket chirping in the background noise and the faraway sounds of traffic and water.

I should really be getting the fuck back to my room now.

Lindsay’s waiting.

“Hey pretty boy, want to take care of that for me?” Michael suddenly froze at the foreign chuckling voice over the call, one hand still outstretched towards the stairwell door handle.

He heard Gavin giggle breathily. “Mate, I don’t see why not.”

Does that motherfucker mean – Michael gripped the door, temple throbbing.

Ray was knocking angrily from the other side now, sound bouncing down the stairwell as residence staff shouted up – you shouldn’t be here at this time of night! – and his phone buzzed with Skype notifications even through the call, but Michael was too focused on what was coming through from Gavin’s end to bother with any of that.

Faint sounds, but clearly discernible as the group chatter died down and everyone presumably left. All except two.

A zipper being pulled open.

The sound of lips meeting flesh.

A satisfied groan.

“Fuck, Gavin,” the same low voice hissed as the British boy supposedly worked him over.

Gavin moaned, mouth full.

 Body igniting in white-hot anger and the barest hint of shameful arousal, Michael really did whip his phone against the wall this time. It clattered against the concrete steps and bounced down a flight, shards of glass and plastic flying everywhere. The call ended.

Michael breathed deeply, white-knuckled fists clenched at his sides. Inhale. Exhale.

Fuck that.

He whipped open the stairwell door, not bothering to pick up the remains of his demolished phone or acknowledge the now wide-eyed and very awake Ray still standing in the hallway as he strode back into his dorm room and crashed into his chair. “Hey babe, you’re finally here!” Lindsay’s familiar voice exclaimed from his laptop, red hair shining brilliantly in the bottom right corner of Michael’s screen.

Why the fuck was he so upset? Gavin had sex with strangers on a regular basis. For fucks sake, the first time he met the boy was after (or during, depending how you looked at it) a hookup. It was a Gavin thing. So why was he so motherfucking pissed?

“…Michael?”

“Oh. Hi Lindsay,” he muttered distractedly, tugging at his thick curls. “How are you? Something wrong? Why are you calling so late?”

Lindsay stared at her boyfriend through the screen. “Could say the same for you.”

“What?” He snapped, hand leaving his hair. She jumped, taken aback by the hostility.

“I mean, I figured I would call since you were still online,” Lindsay said, cautiously. “Still studying?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

She pulled a face at his noncommittal reaction. “So…you up for something before we both go to sleep?”

“Like what?” Michael stared off into space, eyes unfocused.

“Well, we haven’t been talking that much lately, so I just figured –“ The redhead sighed at her boyfriend’s far-off gaze. “I just wanted to spend some time together, that’s all.” She finished softly.

Michael finally refocused at that, clicking the call and making it full-screen. His eyes swept across, noting the tiredness of his girlfriend’s face and her almost forced cheery disposition. She wanted to Skype with him for longer, probably for an hour or two. He weighed his options.

One. Lindsay. Stay home. Skype with her like a good boyfriend. Don’t be a bad person.

Two. Gavin. Drunk, more than likely having outdoor sex by now and will wake up sometime after with no clothes on and a couple miles away from home.

He clenched his teeth, but a flash of bitterness passed through him as he recalled the graphic, contented noises the British boy made as he sucked some guy off fully aware of Michael listening in on the other end.

Lindsay. Why not?

He had been neglecting her as of late.

“No, I was just being fucking dumb. Of course we can, Linds,” Michael said, smiling as he pushed the lanky boy from his mind and opened an Xbox session between him and his girl.

Fuck Gavin Free.

Ray sat in the stairwell in his pyjamas with a sour look on his face.

He didn’t feel like going back into the dorm and third-wheeling for Michael and Lindsay; he knew he couldn’t fall asleep now. Too light of a sleeper for that.

So instead, his mind turned to what had just happened.

The stormy redness of Michael’s anger, a shattered phone screen, and something about Gavin. Of course it was something about Gavin. (What hasn’t been, recently?)

What the actual fuck was going on between Michael and Gavin Free? Whatever it was, Ray didn’t like it.

A part of him knew that it was because he was jealous of the cheery British boy; he was just so foreign and interesting and good-looking and goddamn if the guy didn’t steal away everyone close to Ray. It was already bad enough to find out in the fall that he was close with Barbara. It was worse to know that he knew Jack, and infinitely more devastating to realize he was practically intimate with Ryan Haywood.

And now Gavin’s moved on to Michael.

Ray hissed through his teeth in furiousness, ruffling his hair as he hunched over.

It took him, what, two months for Michael to get used to him? Two months of living in the same room, eating meals together, and playing video games. Strained, awkward conversation and Ray desperately trying to find common interests so they could be friends.

And then Gavin Free waltzes in, has one or two Physics lectures with the introverted curly-haired boy, drags him out for lunch or something, and all of a sudden Michael is going over to his house, having sleepovers, inviting the British piece of shit over into their dorm room without even asking Ray, and just generally having a fucking blast with his new best friend.

On top of that, Gavin would just randomly show up to their place in the middle of the fucking night, and Michael would let him in. Ray would wake up in the morning and find the two tangled together in bed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

What the fuck?

No, Ray reflected. He was definitely jealous. Not because he wanted to cuddle with Michael, but because Gavin Free was somehow able to. Michael didn’t even usually do physical contact. Michael never hugged. But then there was Gavin, and with Gavin, everything was fucking different.

At this point, he wasn’t even sure if Michael was dating Lindsay, or if he was more or less with Gavin.

Which was ridiculous, because Michael was straight.

But he sure doesn’t act like it around him, Ray thought bitterly, flicking at a stray piece of lint on his sleeve.

Gavin Free had so many people.

He couldn’t have Michael, too.

Suddenly, something vibrated disturbingly loudly from a flight below, causing Ray to flinch. The sound was oddly brittle. Standing up to investigate as the noises continued, he realized that it was Michael’s destroyed phone lighting up.

“How the hell do you still work?” He asked aloud in a disbelieving tone as he stepped towards it. “I can’t even drop my phone from my bed without it dying.”

Gingerly picking it up and doing his best to not cut himself on the broken edges of glass and frame, Ray swiped the phone open.

He snickered.  No password. Typical Michael.

But then his laugh fell short.

You have eleven (11) new message(s).

[4:14:20 AM] Gavin Free: Michaaaelllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
[4:14:35 AM] Gavin Free: are yuo  still there??/?
[4:14:41 AM] Gavin Free: sorru
[4:14:49 AM] Gavin Free: swear to god I didn’t know the thing was still on

[4:15:55 AM] Gavin Free: Micheal are you mad
[4:16:32 AM] Gavin Free: pelase dont be
[4:16:46 AM] Gavin Free: you’re my boi

[4:18:02 AM] Gavin Free: you make me happy
[4:18:19 AM] Gavin Free: but I needed this
[4:18:53 AM] Gavin Free: but I miss you

[4:19:22 AM] Gavin Free: please come ?

Ray bit his lip, weighing the crushed phone in his hands. Should he go return it to Michael? The guy was probably happily Skyping with his girlfriend, Lindsay, by now.

I have no fucking clue where Gavin fits in, in all of that, he suddenly realized, mind flashing back to Gavin and Michael cuddling in bed together. He grimaced. And he had no intention of actively trying to find out.

But even though he hated Gavin’s guts and would like nothing more than for the British prick to disappear from his life, Ray couldn’t help but feel oddly affected by the mood surrounding the pleas he sent to Michael. They seemed vulnerable. Open-hearted.

Please come?

The opposite of what Ray knew Gavin Free as; cocky, surefooted, invincible.

“Michael should probably know about this,” he muttered to himself, a small, terrible part of him whispering to just let it go, and to leave the phone where it was. Ray, it said. Gavin doesn’t need Michael wrapped around his finger. He doesn’t need that. Michael doesn’t need that. He doesn’t need to know.

But that last message weighed on him.

Please come?

Chapter Text

Please come?

Back in 201 Duren, Michael and Lindsay were having the best of times. (At least, Lindsay was.)

“No, you goof! Go that way, JUMP!” Lindsay screamed over Skype, laughing as Michael growled in anger and tore his headset off.

“Motherfucking shit on a stick,” he complained loudly, stretching. He took a sip of a Redbull he stole from Ray’s mini fridge. “Why are we playing this again? I mean, why am I playing this again?”

Lindsay beamed, putting her chin in her hands and leaning closer to the webcam.

“Because it makes me happy.”

Michael snorted. “Yeah, I knew that.”

Putting the energy drink down, Michael craned his neck to look at the door for a moment, frowning to himself. Ray still hadn’t come back in – what the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t be that pissed at him. A guy’s gotta sleep sometime.

The clock read 4:30 AM.

The Impossible Game continued running in the background.

 “Hey, but I wanted to talk to you about something.” Lindsay’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hmn, what’s up?” Michael tore his eyes away from the wall to face a nervous-looking Lindsay on his screen. She bit her lip and looked down at something off the camera that Michael couldn’t see, hesitating.

“Um, thanks so much for tonight?” She offered, squeaking a little.

Michael raised his eyebrows. She was acting fucking weird.

“Welcome? Linds, you don’t have to thank me for any of this,” he let out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s pretty hard working around our schedules and whatnot, but I’m really fucking glad we did this tonight. Should be thanking you.” He smiled.

Lindsay looked back fondly, fingers reaching up towards the camera as though to touch Michael’s dimples as they popped into existence.

“I honestly thought we were doing worse than we were,” the redhead admitted. She twisted her short hair around her finger. “Thought we were done for,” she said, voice soft.

“No, never,” Michael responded automatically. He felt a twinge of shame for his lack of enthusiasm in their relationship. But if it continued like this, he could do it, even if it meant somewhat faking it to make Lindsay happy. As if to prove his point, his girlfriend flashed another dazzling smile.

Just then, Ray burst back into the dorm room, flicking on the lights and blinding Michael.

“Holy fucking HELL RAY –”

“What’s going on?” Lindsay’s voice came through the laptop.

“– YOU DIPSHIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” The curly-haired boy shrank back and slapped his hands over his eyes, yelling profanities at the Puerto Rican and momentarily forgetting that they weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

The dark-haired boy just crossed his arms and walked over to his bed, grabbing his bag and a couple of other things before deciding to reply. He pursed his lips and turned to Michael.

“I’m going over to a friend’s,” he muttered. “’s already like, five, and I can’t sleep in here.”

An apology rested on Michael’s lips fleetingly before he pulled his face into a scowl. What was with the uncalled for guilt-tripping? It’s not like Ray had come back in and tried to go to bed at all or anything. But he wanted at least some fucking civility between the two of them, for God’s sake.

He tried again. “Well, me and Linds are almost done, so –“

But Ray was already changing, tugging his t-shirt off over his head in favour of a long-sleeve and a warm sweater.

“Forget it.” His muffled voice came from inside the sweater before he poked his head out. “You guys do what you do, tell Lindsay I said hi again.” He managed a tight smile.

The redhead, curious at what was happening off-screen, was bouncing up and down in her seat and tilting her neck, not that would help her see what was going on any better. “Michael?”

“Linds hold on, Ray just came in for a bit. He says hi,” he said, bothered by Ray’s strange attitude. Why is everyone acting so fucked tonight? He turned back to the Puerto Rican. “Dude, seriously, you don’t have to go. Sorry for all this.”

The two boys stared at each other, awkward tension from God knows where hanging between them.

“I already told them I’d be there,” Ray finally said, flushing a little as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Well, can’t say I didn’t fucking try.

Michael sighed and swiveled back to face Lindsay’s video call.

“Wait, yo.” Sucking in a breath in annoyance, Michael turned back.

Ray had a debating look on his face and seemed torn between something, eyes shifty. Inching his feet towards the door, he also looked positively ready to escape. Michael tapped his fingers on his armrest impatiently. “What the fuck is it?”

The dark-haired boy barely managed to rush out the words before bolting out the door.

“You have, uh, a ton of texts from Gavin.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Michael flew out of his chair and back out into the stairwell without another word, ignoring the confused exclamations coming from Lindsay.

“Michael, where are you going, what happened? Did Ray just say Ga –“

The door slammed shut behind her trailing voice, Michael running down the flight of stairs to pick his phone off the ground from where it had originally fallen.

Michael’s mind raced.

Never mind how his phone was still functioning as a phone, what did Ray mean by a ton? Did that motherfucker look through them? Michael wondered what the messages were about, and why the fucking hell Gavin even bothered to text him so many times.

Search: Austin texas deep eddys

       Deep Eddy Pool (Eiler’s)
       401 Deep Eddy Ave, Austin, TX 78703, United States

Directions: via W 24^th St. 57 minutes.

He hissed. “A fucking hour away?”

A voice in his head reminded him that he just ditched Lindsay on Skype without warning, and that he couldn’t just leave her there. Like earlier, it came down to the same thing. He clenched his teeth as he tabbed back to his messages, quickly scanning through.

Choose between Lindsay and Gavin.

[4:18:02 AM] Gavin Free: you make me happy
[4:18:19 AM] Gavin Free: but I needed this
[4:18:53 AM] Gavin Free: but I miss you

Either take the damn Skype call or –

 [4:19:22 AM] Gavin Free: please come ?

Without hesitation, Michael ran down the rest of the flights of stairs and right out the fire exit, alarm blaring behind him.

Back in New Jersey, Lindsay sighed to herself as her boyfriend’s webcam continued to run, an empty, still slightly spinning chair the only thing keeping her company. Some dumbass pulled the alarm but she could still hear the arcade game music running in the background, a wistful reminder of how nicely they were getting on just a little while ago. She pulled a face, brushing her red hair out of her face as she dropped her cheery expression. She heard Ray; he said something about Gavin and she saw it coming – just like that, Michael took off.

“I get it,” Lindsay whispered to herself. “I get it, I get it. God, Lindsay, just get over it.” She slapped her cheeks with the palms of her hands and shook her head forcefully, as if to throw these unwelcome thoughts from her mind.

She felt like she knew, ever since she visited Michael down in Texas.

But Lindsay, he might’ve just left because of the fire drill. He’ll be back. He will. A naïve part of her spoke.

Leaving the call window open, Lindsay finished the tea and rested her head in her arms on the desk. Her eyelids drooped as she waited for him to come back. But he didn’t show up for the rest of the night or even into the early morning, for that matter.

Lindsay eventually fell asleep at her desk and the Skype call continued running. Michael never bothered coming back to hang up.

The freezing water rushed below as Gavin sat on the dock’s edge at Eiler’s Park, the vehicles in the overpass nearby reduced to streaks of light in the night blur. He fidgeted as he ran his fingers through his hair, impatient and waiting for nothing.

It wasn’t like Michael was going to come – it would be ridiculous to assume that he would – and besides, he didn’t remember telling the boy where he was. He inched himself closer to the flowing water and glanced at his phone, heart sinking.

He hates me for sure now, anyways. Way to go, Gavin. You really minged it this time.

Alone in the park now, Gavin couldn’t help but think about how clichéd the setting was: loser, waiting for someone who wasn’t actually coming to save him from himself. That would usually be a boyfriend, a girlfriend, or something, right? Michael wasn’t any of those things. He was an almost. Gavin pressed his lips together, face falling as he corrected himself. A friend.

The British boy suddenly thought about how he was getting too sober for all of this.

He fumbled in his pockets for a lighter and lit up, resisting the rising thought of throwing himself into the river.

Blowing out a lungful of smoke, he heard a rustle coming from the bushes backing him. Weary and feeling extremely washed-out, Gavin couldn’t even muster it up in him to be scared. He didn’t even turn around when the sound of someone crashing through the wooded area became more and more pronounced until it finally stopped. Footsteps came towards him.

Gavin closed his eyes, feeling a thrill run through his body.

Alright, maybe I’m a tad scared, he thought as he threw his half-smoked joint into the water, wringing his hands together and blowing on their frostbitten ends.

He found himself shaking, shaking, shaking, and by the time the person reached Gavin he was shivering so hard his hair was swaying as he half expected to die, half wasn’t even sure of what to expect. Who would come to a park at this time of night in the middle of bloody December? And why weren’t they saying anything? Gavin flinched, hard, as a jacket landed on his shoulders with a heavy whomp. Twisting around and nearly throwing it into the river, he stopped at the sight of a breathless, t-shirted Michael Jones staring down at him.

At first, Gavin couldn’t even say anything, too surprised for words at the fact that he actually came.

Jesus, you are such a sight. The dazed thought popped up in his head unwittingly.

Michael, you’re great. You’re bloody brilliant.

“How the fucking hell am I brilliant? Fucking Christ, you make no sense.” Michael rubbed his tattooed forearms, face red-tinged from the exertion of running and from the cold.

Bollocks, did he just say that out loud? Gavin frowned. Maybe he wasn’t as clear-headed as he thought. “You came,” the British boy said, quietly. He pulled Michael’s jacket closer to him, relishing the warmth.

“Yeah, you dumb fuck. I walked for a fucking hour to get here, you better bet I came.” Michael huffed, messing up Gavin's dirty blonde hair.

Gavin’s stomach did a happy little flip. He felt queasy afterwards, but it was okay.

“Why?”

“…I’m not even going to grace that with a reply.”

Gavin hummed in disapproval, pulling Michael down to sit next to him. The curly-haired boy didn’t resist, settling down next to him as he was handed his coat back, content to say nothing further. They sat in companionable silence, listening to the water and watching their breaths collide midair and crystallize in the cold.

It was peaceful.

But Gavin soon grew restless. The problem with being drunk was that his face would go all numb, he would feel loose, and he would feel inclined to spill his guts out. Especially when Michael was around.

The better part of him always knew when bad ideas were bad ideas, but the rest of his overpowering, sloshed brain would encourage it, goad him on to do stupid things (like earlier) and open his mouth and give away his deepest thoughts along with the rest of him. Gavin bit his lip, thinking about the blowjob he gave that random, and how he was almost certain Michael had heard on the line. That didn’t mean anything – most of those things rarely meant anything – and Michael already held most of him, anyways, but he probably didn’t know that.

He really wanted Michael to know about him. It seemed like a good time. But he was fearful of the aftermath; he had never done this before. He had a persona. He was good at keeping it.

The words pressed against the insides of his lips, straining to escape.

Gavin, you git. Stop this nonsense.

“I feel like rubbish, Mi-cool.” He broke the silence in a small voice. Shrinking confidence.

Vulnerable.

Gavin felt heavy as he gave Michael a sidelong glance, shaking in anticipation. But the boy barely reacted, continuing to look straight ahead at the river as he replied. “I know, boi.”

That’s it?

“I mean –“ the British boy exhaled noisily before breathing in deeply. “I mean, I’m not really – not really alright. I’m sorry for earlier. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He held his breath.

Michael finally turned to look at him, eyes searching. “I think I fucking figured that out, Gavin,” he said with no malice, pausing for a moment. “But as long as you’re alright now, I won’t ask.”

Gavin almost broke down at that, disbelieving that the lad would be this gentle about everything and wasn’t even a little inquisitive. He looked at Michael’s freckles and his worried, dark brown eyes and thought about just how lucky he was to be alive and to have met him.

Michael looked away.

“What if I want you to ask?” Gavin whispered faintly, voice quivering.

Everything came in slow motion as his heart beat loudly in his chest, throat working hard. Michael’s head framed with thick locks of hair swivelling to meet puppy sea-green eyes demanding a reply. The brunet’s eyes widened, caught off-guard. “I –“

Michael hesitated, biting his cheek.

Gavin dared him with his eyes to continue.

Michael swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. He wasn’t expecting this, he didn’t know what to say – Gavin wanted him to say something, though, and was looking at him with that goddamn expectant look in his eye like Michael could do anything –

 “I saw – last time, I saw your…” he finally gestured to his own hip, talking as though if he raised his voice even a little, Gavin would shatter. But the British boy just laughed in bitter relief. Michael exhaled in a whoosh of air as the world didn’t end between them with what he said, Gavin raising his shirt and jacket for a brief moment to reveal his healed cut marks.

“Yeah. Those were from when…I didn’t know how to deal with myself properly.”

And I do now? Don’t kid yourself, Gavin David Free. You’re just better at hiding it, he thought to himself.

“Oh.” Michael reached out and stopped an inch from his skin as though asking for permission. Gavin nodding almost imperceptibly, he gently traced over the marks. The lanky boy shivered slightly at the cool touch, eyes half-lidded.

“I don’t know, Mi-cool. It was worse than it is now. I didn’t eat a lot. I either slept too much or not at all and it was just bloody hard to keep it all under wraps, especially when my ma stopped letting me produce videos and film stuff that interested me. She didn’t know, ‘course. And my best friend back in England, Dan, he knew. He tried to help – really – but you know, the novelty of it all starts wearing off after a while; staying up day after day past three in the morning to talk or sit with me in the park for hours until dawn.” Like this.

“Stuff like that. Feeling like a good person, helping someone, keeping a life together.” Gavin shrugged, ignoring the thought worming into his brain that this is what exactly what’s going to happen with Michael, too. His voice dropped further.

“It still matters, but the shock value is gone. It matters less and less; other things grow more important. People get tired of the same tragedy over and over.”

Michael stared at him, frowning. Gavin suddenly looked much older than his twenty years, serious look making him miss the lighthearted happiness the boy usually wore like a second skin.

How unfair it all was.

“It’s kinda fucked up, if you think about it,” Michael murmured at length, tracing over Gavin’s scars again before pulling away and tugging the jacket hem down over them. “It’s so much more acceptable to drink than do…that, even if you can fucking die from alcohol poisoning. And people just take it at face value and accept it. I mean, I did – nobody really stops you, either. But –“ He suddenly looked up, stopping.

Gavin cocked his head, fingering the edge of his jacket and missing the pale boy’s hand on his skin.

“We’re already too deep in the serious talks, boi,” he laughed. “Might as well spill it.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Michael fixed his eyes on Gavin’s with an anxious expression on his face. “I mean, I don’t know how to phrase it without sounding like an absolutely ignorant asshat but – sorry – you’re just so happy all the time. You’re like –“

You’re like the light to me.

“You’re like, the most carefree person I know,” Michael finished dumbly.

Gavin somewhat expected this.

Goddamn himself and the persona he carefully constructed.

“That isn’t it,” he said, almost impatiently. “I’m not bloody sad all the time. None of this ever meant that I’d be perpetually wallowing in sadness, yeah? That isn’t what depression is. He leaned into Michael, who didn’t move away. Neither of them pointed out that Gavin had, at long last, acknowledged what he had aloud. Major depression.

They bumped heads gently and Gavin turned his face into the crook of Michael’s neck. His breath tickled Michael as he spoke again.

“Most of the time, I just don’t feel anything. But a shag, a few drinks, or some pot helps me feel a bit more alive. I hate feeling so hollow. I want to feel something, Michael.”

Mi-cool.

Heart tugging, Michael swallowed heavily as Gavin’s slender fingers lightly ran down his arm and rested on his hand. He forced down all the words he couldn’t articulate.

I want to make you feel something, he wanted to say.

“I just want you to be happy,” he said instead.

Gavin made a noise that seemed to say, that’s laughable. “High standards, boi.”

They lapsed into silence and stayed there, shivering slightly in the cold hand almost in hand on the edge of the dock. Settling into a bittersweet sense of fulfillment, Gavin shut his eyes as Michael reached over and tugged him ever closer, savouring the moment. And if he opened his eyes and looked behind him at this very moment, the sky would be dawn haze, lightening purple-gray-orange gradient tone he couldn’t place on a colour palette for shit, but it would be brilliant.

He pushed everything else from his mind.

This is before the second thoughts and anxiety, before the jarring nausea and the letdown.

This is before everything.

Chapter Text

Half an hour away in the same dawn light, Ray was standing like a stone in an apartment lobby, still wearing his pyjama pants and looking entirely out of place. A woman gave him a strange look as she slipped out the door for her morning jog. It clicked shut behind her. Apparently, she deemed the Puerto Rican too suspicious to let inside.

Racist. Haven’t you ever seen a student during finals before?

Ray blinked, wishing he had a plan of some sort made up when he left his dorm.

“Where the fuck is Barbara when you need her?” he muttered, shivering. “No, she just had to go from this cold place to an even more freezing one and leave me to fend for myself, because she’s just that Canadian. Thought they were supposed to be nice.” The blonde woman had left just yesterday to go visit family for Christmas; she had deferred her exams and even wrote some early to do so.

Ray would be happy for her, except he was in desperate need of a place to camp out for the next little while after his sort-of dramatic exit from his own bedroom, and nobody else was available, so here he was. In the first place his dumb brain could think of.

Standing in a shiny lobby. Staring at the tenants listed on the wall. Hating himself.

He took a deep breath, and then punched in the code.

Here goes.

Ryan Haywood winced as his phone rang, too loudly.

“I’ll skin whoever’s calling this late alive,” he said under his breath as he groaned and got up from his desk to pick it up. Some papers scattered to the floor. He didn’t even bother bending down to save them. Never mind that the sun just rose and it was more early morning than anything else – to Ryan, until he fell asleep, it was still night. Period.

“And I still have thirty shitty reports to grade.” He ran a hand over his face, reaching for the receiver.

Hitting the green call button, Ryan was only met with silence. What a waste of time. Hold on – he strained his ears, hearing shuffling paired with a familiar static noise. Lobby call. For the love of everything, why? Sighing, he turned on the TV and set it to the proper channel.

The image of tousled hair belonging to a fidgety, half-pyjama clad Ray Narvaez Jr. stared back at him.

Ryan raised an eyebrow, mouth twitching up in sudden amusement.

Well, well. What are you doing here at six in the morning?

If Ryan didn’t know any better, he would have thought the lobby camera was stuck, but it was really Ray who was frozen in place, not saying a word despite having called up. Probably nerves, but the Puerto Rican was also very likely actually freezing. Was the kid going to say anything, or just stand there?

Unable to help himself, Ryan pressed a button on the phone pad, causing the lobby door to unlock with a click and the dark-haired boy to launch himself about three feet into the air in surprise before rushing through the doorway.

The older man laughed to himself, suddenly not so tired anymore.

“Really, Ray, you’re just too adorable.”

Ray could hardly keep still as he rode the elevator up. “What the fuck are you doing, Ray? Why are you here?” He hissed to himself, tugging at his sweater sleeves. “Should’ve just swallowed your pride and stayed in that room with Michael and Lindsay.”

Ryan probably let him in just to kick him out again.

Ray didn’t even know why he let him in, in the first place. It wasn’t like they were miraculously dating now or something. In fact, quite the opposite; Ryan had been interacting with him with an apathetic air, lately only talking to him or acknowledging his existence to mark his assignments or wish him a good morning the odd time. Sure, Ray bumped into him once or twice in the evening and they had coffee together, but that was about it.

Nothing’s happened between them since that spontaneous make-out session the older man pulled him into in the lab room. Absolutely fucking nothing.

It’s been driving Ray insane.

“Ughh.” He dragged the palms of his hands over his eyes as he stepped out onto the 3^rd floor. It wasn’t his fault Ryan Haywood was so damn attractive (and so smug about it). As if to emphasize his point, there the man was, standing at the end of the hall already waiting for him.

Ryan was wearing wire-frame glasses, smelling of coffee and looking like he hadn’t slept in ages. A flash of warmth flitted across the older man’s face before his dark, usual look settled back in again, leaving Ray no opportunity to comment on it.

But hell, if his TA didn’t look good.

“Are you coming in or not?” The deep timbre of Ryan’s voice cut into Ray’s thoughts. He jumped, hastily pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as he rushed through the doorway, mumbling a thank you.

Ryan followed closely after, shutting the door softly behind them. Ray’s spine tingled at the close proximity, resisting the urge to lean back into the older man’s arms. Instead, he kicked his shoes off and continued walking slowly until he reached the small table in the living space and sat.

“Coffee?” Ryan questioned, reaching for the coffee pot on the counter.

Ray shook his head. “I’m g-good, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Ryan was about to pour himself another mug, but apparently thought better of it as he took a gulp of black coffee straight from the pot. Ray watched both in admiration and disgust. But shit, Ray, look at his throat working. And that stubble. Fuck, he’s so hot –

“So, what brings you here?” The blonde man turned to him, taking his glasses off. “Surprised you remembered my address.” He leaned over the table, smirk as slow as syrup.

Ray flushed red.

“I-I, um, Michael was busy – my roommate was busy. With his girlfriend. And something was going on with that British guy, Gavin, wait – you know him, right – but anyways, yeah, Michael and him have been really close lately and I’m jealous and I didn’t want to be a part of it –“ God, Ray, listen to yourself, you’re fucking babbling like a dumbass.

Ryan laughed, setting the coffee aside. He muttered something that sounded like “Gavin, you hypocrite, turns out I’m not the only one trying to bone someone’s friend,” before turning his gaze to the Puerto Rican again. “Well, you’re free to stay for as long as you like. I have some shit left to mark, so I’ll be doing that.”

With that, the blonde man sank comfortably into his chair and gathered his papers, putting his glasses back on and retrieving a pen from the floor. He gestured to the rest of his small apartment. “I’m sure you remember where everything is.” Ray glowered into his own lap, flushing an ever deeper shade of red.

 “Not funny.”

Ryan just shrugged, lips upturned as he returned to his work.

The clock ticked on the wall as Ray sat there dumbly, watching his TA mark work. It occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t be looking on, especially since one of those was probably his, but the point was moot at this point. He was breaking about a hundred unspoken rules just by being here in Ryan’s apartment; the situation was odd, that’s for sure.

But it was fun watching Ryan do his thing. It admittedly turned Ray on to see the man so concentrated, glasses perched on his nose, not to mention the fact that Ryan kept up a constant stream of lowly muttered comments as he marked, accompanied by exasperated facial expressions.

“What? In what dimension does that make sense?”

“Yep, you were definitely drunk when you wrote this, Kdin.”

“…The fuck?”

“Ah, yes, something I can actually give points for.”

“No, no Joel, you ignorant weasel, that isn’t how any of this works.”

Ray tried not to disturb him. He really did. But a stifled laugh escaped from his mouth and he almost slammed his head on the table as Ryan looked up, utterly aggravated. “Don’t you need to sleep?”

“Don’t you?” Ray shot back, a bit proud of himself for his comeback.

Bemused, Ryan reached for the coffee pot again. “I’m a TA for computer programming and engineering,” he pointed out. “I’ve never even heard of sleep.”

Ray laughed in earnest as he tried to pry the coffee away from Ryan’s hands, spilling a little. “Better learn, then.” He licked the coffee trickling down his wrist, missing the darkening look in Ryan’s eyes as he watched. “Look, I’ll go to sleep if you do, too. Come to bed with me?”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, cringing hard. His hands let go of the pot as he shot up from his seat.

FUCK, RAY, WORDING. WORDING. JUST LAUGH IT OFF –

Ryan fixed him with a hard look as he stood up from the desk, glasses suddenly off again.

“Aha..ha...I mean –“ Please don’t kick me out –

Ray flinched and stumbled backwards as Ryan drew close, not sure of what to expect. Sandalwood and coffee, coffee and sandalwood – fuck, why did Ryan Haywood always have to smell so damn good? If his looks weren’t enough – suddenly, Ray felt his back against the wall. He looked up at Ryan, a shiver running through him at the raw, visceral look in his dark eyes.

With a low growl, the older man pressed a hand against Ray’s wrist and the other arm against the wall right by his head, effectively trapping him. He was so close Ray could feel the vibration in his chest from his words. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Breathing shallow, the dark-haired boy squirmed as Ryan angled his head to press his lips against his neck, blinding pleasure coming out of nowhere. His stubble scratched at his skin, familiar sensation making Ray shudder – Jesus, everything is happening so fast – and now Ryan was peppering small kisses up his jugular agonizingly slowly – he flicked out his tongue to lick the shell of his ear, grazing an earlobe with his teeth – oh god, oh god, oh god…

Ray struggled to bring his knuckle up to his mouth and stifle his groans, but Ryan firmly pinned that hand against the wall, too. He grinned darkly. “Now, now, don’t do that,” the man murmured, still carrying on with his ministrations. “I want to hear you, Ray.”

He felt heat pool in his gut at the lust backing the way Ryan said his name, impossibly turned on by the way he was being commandeered.

“Hnn – Ryan, I can’t –“ Ray twisted desperately and strained to free his helpless hands, feeling the friction from his growing erection. But Ryan ignored his plight, briefly glancing down with a smug look before trailing his teeth along the boy’s collarbone, leaving a trail of light red. In another motion, his lips crept over to the junction where neck met shoulder and he bit down, hard.

Ray felt like his entire world was on fire.

“R-ryan, stop…stop doing that – I want – please –“ Ray gasped, mind unable to properly process just how good Ryan was at what he was doing. The man’s smirk grew more pronounced as he straightened slightly, breath ghosting across Ray’s lips.

“Hmm?” Ryan whispered silkily. “Stop?”

“N – no, no!”

“Then you have to be a bit more clear,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss Ray. Palms light as they cradled the dark-haired boy’s face, it was such a departure from his previous roughness that Ray was almost too stunned to notice that his hands were free.

“I am –“ Ray managed between kisses, immediately tangling his fingers in Ryan’s soft blonde hair. “– am clear.” He gritted his teeth, determined to get his point across. Ryan threw his head back, groaning as Ray pressed his small body against his, heat flooding the nonexistent space between them – “Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,“ Ryan muttered – Biting down on the older man’s lip, Ray took a deep, shuddering breath before looking back up at him, eyes half-lidded.

“God, Ryan, just touch me.”

Chapter Text

Damn Ray Narvaez Jr. to hell.

Ryan fully intended to stop this in its tracks after just teasing the kid a little – exercise a little self-restraint that he apparently didn’t possess. But his reasoning flew right out the window when Ray looked up at him like that, so hot for him and so, so demanding.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” Ryan breathed, thumbing the dark-haired boy’s cheek maybe a bit too roughly as Ray bit him.

“God, Ryan, just touch me.”

The words hit the blonde man with the force of a semi; Ryan actually lost his train of thought for a second there. That never happens to me. I’m always in control. This contrasted against Ray’s usual quiet, reserved demeanor so deliciously that Ryan found his cool façade unraveling, just like that summer night so long ago.

Ray had been just as reckless with his words then, and just as enticing.

Ryan groaned at the memory. Between that and what was going on in front of him, he was already rock-hard. “Fuck, Ray –“ The boy threw his arms around Ryan’s neck like it was a lifeline and slowly ground slim hips against his.

“What are you –“ Ryan’s breath hitched as a wave of intense pleasure crashed over him, pulling away from Ray’s lips.   

“Taking matters into…my own hands,” The boy slurred, moaning.

Ryan clenched his jaw, head swimming in a haze. Pull yourself together, Haywood. At least –

“No, you’re not.” Ray whined in surprise as Ryan peeled himself off of him, the both of them breathless and disheveled. The sound went straight to Ryan’s groin, and he had to mentally punch himself to continue talking. “Bedroom. Now.” He practically growled the two words.

“Mn, okay.”

The pair made it there somehow, stumbling over each other every bit of the way.

Upon reaching the bed, Ray immediately threw himself onto it and sprawled out, dark hair matted to his forehead and face flushed. He reached out to Ryan with his arms, the openness of the gesture blowing him away.

“What’s the matter, having second thoughts now?” Ray teased with sudden confidence as he saw the older man falter, chest still heaving. “Was one time enough, or do you want more?”

Jesus Ray, you don’t know how much more I want.

But he stopped himself, if only to prove that he was still at least partially collected.

(But a part of him whispered that he wasn’t about to fuck Ray again when they weren’t together yet, and besides, the boy had exams to worry about – he couldn’t go home sore the next day from all this…but Ryan Haywood wasn’t soft, no.)

Ryan climbed onto the mattress and refrained from speaking his thoughts.

Any of them.

Instead, he gave Ray an easy grin as he ignored his hug and hooked his fingers in the loops of the boy’s pants, tugging them down. As he went to palm him through his boxers and lean ever closer, Ray’s eyes widened and the confident mask on his face dropped ever so slightly as he realized what the blonde man was going for. Is he…? Ryan grinned wider and tugged Ray’s cock free, bringing his lips down.

“Wait, Ryan, you’re not going to – ah, ah,” His entire length was swallowed by Ryan in one swift motion, Ray’s jaw working hard as he fought to bring himself upright. “God, shit..”

The blonde man smirked, lips still wrapped around Ray’s cock. He worked his way along the length, making sure to take him all the way down, teeth gently scraping and tongue working wonders on the boy. His own dick twitched as Ray managed to find purchase in his hair again, tugging mercilessly as he moaned loudly from the attention. 

 “Fuck, Ryan, I’m already so close –“ Ryan grunted in disapproval, the vibration sending Ray into another set of barely contained whines. He lifted his head, mouth letting go of the dark-haired boy’s cock. No, not yet. “Wait, what the fuck are you doing?” Ray almost shouted, sitting up. “You can’t just – nn…nghhhh –“ 

“Can’t what?” Ryan smiled good-naturedly as he wrapped a hand around Ray’s girth, stroking deliberately slowly.

“Can’t – fuck!” Ray landed on his back again with a thump, back arching as Ryan smoothed a thumb over his slit, smearing his leaking pre-cum.

Oh, he’s too cute. “Hmmm?” Ryan questioned, absentmindedly sliding his hand down to squeeze the base of his cock.

“Hnn oh god – you’re so doing this on purpose –“ Hissing, Ray put his hands over his face as he trembled, tremors wracking his body. Ryan thoroughly enjoyed the view; the dark-haired boy was coming apart at the seams, panting and nearly sobbing from the pleasure Ryan was inflicting on him. His lips were nearly chewed through, and a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face.

Ryan may be a sadist, but Ray was certainly a masochist for it.

Letting go for a second, Ryan stretched up to quickly peck Ray on the lips. “But Ray, my pet, didn’t you ask for it earlier?” He laughed breathily, bringing his hand back down again and flicking his wrist almost viciously. Ray quivered as he gasped aloud, a blinding flash of pleasure and pain coursing through him. “Fuck, I didn’t ask for this!”

“Didn’t you?” He stroked Ray’s hair back with a free hand, latching his mouth to his Adam’s apple and suckling, making sure to leave a mark. Not that he’d need that particular one; Ray’s neck was already littered with small hickeys from earlier.

“N-nnnnnnggh – I don’t think –“ Ray grasped at Ryan’s shirt with one hand while the other scrambled for his cock, desperate for release. Ryan only raised an eyebrow and smirked in amusement before slapping it away, earning another whine of complete frustration from Ray as a tear worked its way free from his tear duct. Ryan licked his lips.  

Problem was, Ray actually couldn’t think right now. His entire body was molten flame, vision too bright to see anything but Ryan Haywood and his spectacularly smug expression on top of him. He just needed to get something out and convince Ryan to take mercy on him before he completely lost it. He moaned again.

 “I – God, Ryan, please, I’ll do whatever –“

“No, no need for that. I just wanted to make sure.” Ryan cut him off, languidly gliding his hand back down again and tightening his hold.

Ray was sure he was going insane from the constant teasing and abrupt stops. He whimpered, still shaking from his intense sensitivity. “M-make s..ure of what?” The last word flew into high-pitch as he squeezed his eyes shut – Ryan’s fingers were suddenly on the tip of his dick again, they were teasing the underside of the head in that spot, oh Jesus Christ – he wanted to cum, no, he needed to –

Spots danced in Ray’s vision as he barely took in what Ryan was saying.

“Oh, I just want to make sure I heard you right, earlier.”

How the fucking hell is he so calm? Ray shivered in trepidation as Ryan gave him a wolfish grin, all good-natured pretense stripped away. Both of Ryan’s hands were on Ray’s dick now, one lavishing attention onto it while the other gripped tightly, keeping him from orgasm. Ray cried out, eyes glassy.

“Sorry, these were your exact words –“

I’m not going to make it, I’m not going to make it…

Ryan flicked his wrist three times in rapid succession, finger teasing across Ray’s slit again each time as emphasis.

 I’m actually going to die from this –

Flick, stroke. “Just.”

 Flick, stroke. “Touch.”

Flick, stroke. “Me –“ Without warning, Ryan started stroking at an alarmingly fast pace. Ray let out a high-pitched whine, yelping. “I did say that but – mnnn Rya –“ Smirking widely, Ryan loosened his hold on the base of his dick ever so slightly, causing Ray’s jaw to drop at the mind-numbing bliss swiftly overtaking him.

“– oh Jesus fucking Christ –“ His eyes rolled back into his head, fingers sinking into Ryan’s back as he blindly kissed him, losing himself to the white-hot pleasure from Ryan’s talented fingers –

Only moments later, Ray’s back arched off the bed involuntarily, screaming as he came. His cum shot into his sweater and sank into his shirt, but he could only blink dazedly as he sank back into the mattress, completely spent. Rolling his head sideways, he was just in time to see Ryan stroking himself and coming in his own hand with a quiet groan. Ray frowned.

“I could’ve taken care of that for you.”

Ryan laughed lightly as he reached for a tissue box. “Was getting too impatient for that.” He wiped himself off and offered the box to Ray, smirking. “Besides, it was more or less all about you today.”

Ray flushed, still tingly from his intense orgasm.

Suddenly, Ryan’s alarm blared out, causing the dark-haired boy to let out a shrill yell and curl right up into Ryan. “Jesus FUCK-“

Ryan knotted his brows together. It was already eight? “I gotta get to a meeting,” he muttered as he made a displeased face, realizing Ray had just made him all sticky with his cum-stained sweater. “Ugh, Ray, really?”

Giving him an apologetic look, Ray sheepishly scratched at his hair before quickly stripping himself of his dirtied garments. “I guess I uh, need some clothes.” Ryan raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down.

“Guess you do.”

Ray was practically swimming in the older man’s shirt he was given, but they smelled of him and they made him think of home, so he didn’t dare complain. And when Ryan said he’d give him a ride home, he also threw him his usual brown jacket without another word.

Ray fought the smile threatening to split his face in half.

Ryan Haywood’s a softie.

When the two arrived at Duren Residence a little while later, Ray was so giddy he was jumping all over the place, to Ryan’s endless amusement. While most of it could be chalked up to earlier events, Ray mused that a part of it probably also had to do with pulling an all-nighter of sorts and general sleep deprivation. He shook his head.

Anyways.

Ray, focus on the important things. I don’t fucking care if I’m acting like a twelve year old schoolgirl right now. Ryan was actually walking him to his door.

“So,” Ryan said conversationally as they leisurely strolled down the hall, shoulders bumping. “It seems like we actually made it into the morning without you disappearing on me this time.”

Ray glared. “Do you have to bring that up every time we ever talk for longer than five minutes?”

“I’m getting to it, Ray,” Ryan sighed, pretending to be exhausted at his stupidity.

“Oh.”

Ryan smirked at Ray’s crestfallen expression. “Anyhow,” he said, suddenly serious. “I figured I should ask you what I was going to last time, since I didn’t get the chance then.”  

The dark-haired boy froze in his tracks.

Ryan continued.

“I think that we should date. Do you think that we should date?" 

Ray’s eyes went wide as saucers. He whispered, “is that a trick question?"

Is he going to fail me from my course if I try to say yes? 

But I want to say yes...?

Snorting, Ryan ran a hand through his hair and leaned over to hold Ray’s chin in his hands and kiss him. “Oh, so now you’re coherent. You weren’t earlier when you were screaming my name as you came,” he reminded him.

Ray sputtered. “F…fuck you!” He turned away, face red again.

“Hmm, I guess I’m always willing to try new things,” Ryan mused, scratching his stubble. “But yeah, what do you say?” His tone was light, but there was a hint of something else there. Ray looked at him again, surprised at the fondness and anxiety dwelling in Ryan’s dark eyes.

The Puerto Rican almost rolled his eyes. It was unbelievable that Ryan Haywood of all people would feel insecure, perfect god that he was, as he asked out a complete potato of a person (him). Laughable, even. So what if it was only a joke? His python programming seminars were nearly over, with exams just around the corner. Ray would take this chance, even if it bit him in the ass later on, because there was no fucking way something like this would present itself to him ever again.

“No shit I’ll be your boyfriend, Ryan.”

Ryan’s eyes widened marginally as he broke into a genuine smile, no smugness or sadistic streak at all, just pure, unadulterated happiness. Ray was so surprised at the sight he was left gaping, mouth opening and shutting like a fish as Ryan exclaimed, “Great!”

That’s all he ended up saying about it, though. Ray collected himself enough to suddenly blurt, “but hey Ryan, how illegal is this, anywa–“ just before being interrupted by a gushing, loud, and obnoxiously British voice.

“No way Rye-bread, you actually did it? You’re an item? That’s bloody fantastic!”

And that would have been okay, if it was just Gavin. Ray hated Gavin, but he could deal with him.

Who he didn’t know how to deal with, however, was the stunned curly-haired roommate Gavin was holding hands with and practically latched onto. He started panicking.

Michael.

Shit.

Does he know me well enough to know this isn't my shirt I'm wearing?

Do I smell like sex.

I probably smell like sex.

No, haha Michael, Ryan and I are just really good friends? Fuck, Ray, that isn't going to fly. 

Wait - he backtracked. Michael Jones and Gavin Free, holding hands? Michael and Ray made eye contact, both of them simultaneously bursting into loud exclamations.

“You’re gay and going out with Ryan the TA?”

“What the fuck Michael, are you cheating on Lindsay with Gavin?”

Chapter Text

Michael winced as Gavin excitedly nudged him with a bony elbow.

“Mi-cool, Mi-cool. I’d recognize that anywhere, your mate’s wearing Ryan’s bloody shirt!” The British boy whispered loudly, hopping up and down in glee and dragging Michael’s arm with him. “And his jacket!”

Gavin’s green eyes were shining, face flushed, but Michael couldn’t spare a thought for that right now. Too many thoughts were racing through his head. Like how Ray wasn’t straight, and how he vaguely heard something about their relationship being illegal, which in turn probably meant Ryan was Ray’s actual TA and Ray lied to him and “Riley” didn’t fucking exist (“You’re gay and going out with Ryan the TA?”), how Ray vaguely looked flustered and messy in a post-sex kind of way –

“What the fuck Michael, are you cheating on Lindsay with Gavin?”

– And oh shit yeah, he’s still motherfucking holding hands with Gavin Free.

Michael ripped his hand away, scowling deeply. This made Gavin suddenly stop bouncing and turn to him in surprise. “Mi-coo –“ “I’m not doing anything of the sort, you fucking asshat,” Michael snapped at Ray, shoving his hands into his pockets and pointedly stepping away from a dejected-looking Gavin, ignoring him.

“Yeah?” Ray bravely challenged, trying to not look self-conscious about the t-shirt thing. “You guys were fucking stuck together like glue, you hold hands with all your friends, Michael?”

“Do you fuck all of your TAs?” Michael quipped back.

Ray turned bright red. “W-well, tech…technically we d-didn’t f-f –“ He stuttered as Ryan came up behind him, laughing at the entire exchange.

“Nah, I’m the only one that fucks Ray. At least I hope so,” the blonde man gave Michael and Gavin a shit-eating grin as he wrapped his arms around Ray, who was still stammering. Giving the younger boy a kiss on the forehead, Ryan tapped his watch and let go. “But I’m really going to be late, so I’ll see you kids later. Bye, Ray.”

The poor Puerto Rican was rendered speechless by Ryan’s casual announcement of their relationship (that only began approximately three minutes ago) and could barely lift his hand to wave goodbye, let alone actually say anything back.

But Ryan left in a hurry and soon, Gavin was jumping on Michael’s back whining – “Mi-cool, why are you being so cold all of a sudden? Thought we were getting on fantastically” – and Michael’s lips were quirking up, their audience partially forgotten, and suddenly, Ray was snapped back to the argument at hand. “Wait, wait. I’m serious, Michael.” He held up a hand. “Are you and Ga –“

“Yeah, me too, you fuck,” the curly-haired boy interrupted, determinedly bypassing the little fact that he was slightly choking from Gavin climbing on top of him. “Are you seriously gay, Ray?” Ray sighed loudly in exasperation.

“Yes! For the love of god, I’m queer, alright?” He hissed, throwing his hands up. I swear if he tries to sidestep this one more time… “Bisexual, actually, but you get the point. Is there a problem? No? Okay, now do you want to tell me what’s going on with you and the British twink you have sitting on your shoulders?”

“What, are you talking about me?” Gavin said, tuning in to the conversation with sudden realization. “Something about Mi-cool and… what were you mates sayi– aUGH MI-COOL, YOU COMPLETE KNOB.” He squawked as he landed on his back, hard, the brunet throwing him from his back without warning. Gavin twists to look up at Michael with an offended look, but he let it drop once he saw how his hands twitched warningly. And lord, the expression on his face.

“Fine, Ray. Let’s talk then, right now. Inside, alone.”

Michael’s voice dropped dangerously low – behind the calm words, there was a noticeable undercurrent of slow-burning anger and disquiet. Ray clamped his mouth shut and just nodded, disinclined to be the cause of Michael blowing his fuse in the middle of the hallway (in the morning, and during finals week, at that).

It occurs to Ray that he had never had to experience Michael’s actual anger firsthand before, only ever seeing him jokingly get frustrated or butthurt over video games, but right now, the curly-haired boy looked fucking furious. The hard set of Michael’s jaw and the sharpness of his flinty eyes that could probably slice a chunk out of Ray told him that it would be best if he just did as his roommate asked.

Or maybe soon-to-be-former roommate.

How come I’m the one feeling like I’m walking to my death when Michael was supposed to be the one getting fucking grilled? Ray wondered, heart sinking. He fishes out a key and unlocked the door anyways, expecting the other boy to follow right after. Instead, Michael turned to Gavin again. Ray hisses in annoyance.

“Sorry Gav, you good if I clean up some shit with Ray?” The dark-haired boy heard Michael say. “Kinda been a while coming. But it was…good tonight. Really.” Ray pulled a shocked face.

Gav?

Also, if Michael didn’t want him to think he was banging the dude, then why the flying fuck was he saying stuff like this that could be taken entirely out of context? He drummed his fingers on the wall impatiently.

“Michael, you coming?”

“Yeah, hold on.”

Gavin looked lost and small sitting there on the carpeted floor, so Michael helped him up, already feeling like a douchebag for throwing him off so forcefully. He looked at the British boy carefully. “Don’t do anything fucking stupid, okay? Get Geoff to come get you,” Michael told him, brown eyes to green eyes – still hard, but softer than flint. Shale maybe, Gavin thought. Or even softer still.

Michael purses his lips like he wants to say more, but he shakes his head to himself and mutters something under his breath and turns away.

“I’ll see you later?” Gavin couldn’t help the words from spilling off his tongue.

So dependent already, his inner voice mocked.

It was instantly quashed by the childlike, dimpled smile that lit up Michael’s face as he quirked an eyebrow, swiftly whipping around to meet Gavin’s eye.

“Of course, Gav.”

Michael shut the door behind him as he stepped into the dorm, all previous built-up anger more or less dissipated. Ray sat in his chair, hands clasped, waiting for answers. What was left between them was an awkward silence that neither wanted to initiate conversation in, so they just stared at each other for the longest time.

Both of them were inwardly too happy about their respective nights to really be pissed at one another.

Because if we were completely honest here, there was something hilarious about the entire situation – both of them found with the people they were trying to keep to themselves and under wraps, and by each other, of all people. The misunderstandings.

“So, I’m gay and going out with Ryan, yeah, sorry I lied.” Ray suddenly piped up, lips quirking.

But were they really misunderstandings?

“But hey, so about you an–“

“Jesus Christ Ray, I’m not fucking Gavin,” Michael hollered, yanking his beanie off and hurling it at Ray’s face in frustration.

The Puerto Rican caught it, laughing even though he knew he would regret it soon after. He gave Michael a huge grin, wagging his eyebrows. “But that’s exactly what someone fucking Gavin would say – fuCK“

Ray screamed in high-pitch as Michael rushed at him, tackling him (and his chair) to the ground with a loud bang and unapologetically punched him in the gut.

“Holy fuck, that hurt,” he groaned weakly, rolling over.

“I’m. Not. With. Gavin.” Michael hissed, face red, but a traitorous giggle escaped between his teeth at how ridiculous this entire conversation was.

Ray wheezed, still shaking with fits of laughter. “But you have to admit…that was…that was good. Yeah? Because, y’know, you and Gavin – oh sorry, Gav, how about Gavvy –” “Fuck off, Ray. Motherfucker –“

The two rolled from the toppled chair onto the floor, wrestling with each other. Mostly it was just Michael doing his best to get some blows in – he successfully landed at least one in the face – which devolved into vicious jabs and tickling and Ray trying to defend himself (and doing a poor job of it).

“Nah, you heard Ryan, I’m definitely a bottom –“

“I don’t need to know your icky details –“

“Eat a dick, Michael, you might as well know everything now –“

Michael’s frame was racked with giggles now, too; Ray’s hysterical laughter was infectious. But that didn’t stop him from hitting the boy again in earnest, all the while bickering loudly.

 “Oh, don’t you wish I would –“

“Mmn, yeah dude, suck me –“

“Holy fuck, shut the hell up before I motherfucking kill you –“

And somehow, during all of this, they wind up not-so-tangled up, Michael’s hands practically on Ray’s throat and Ray’s forcibly pushing (with all his small might) on Michael’s chest, atop one of their beds. Michael on top of Ray.

They come to this realization at the same time.

Michael bolts upright, hands flying off of Ray as he straightens. He doesn’t really notice that it actually makes the situation seem a lot worse – he’s more or less straddling the guy now – but Ray does. He sniggers, splaying his arms out beside him.

“Dude, this is super fucking gay.” He laughs, not looking all that bothered by the fact that his roommate was literally on his lap right now. But he stopped short, eyes going wide. “Holy shit!” He scrambled to get upright, shoving Michael right off of him and onto the floor.

“Ugh –“ The curly-haired boy groaned, falling on his ass. Keeping up with the joke, he yelled, “what, Ray, don’t want me to suck you off anymore? Is there a problem? Aren’t you super fucking gay?”

But Ray was internally panicking a shitton, because he forgot, he forgot –

Because wasn’t this the exact reason why he kept his sexuality from him this entire time –

But there he was, cracking totally homo jokes with him without batting an eye –

Michael’s Christian as fuck, isn’t he?

Isn’t he?

Ray stays frozen in place, unable to process how he hasn’t been fucking murdered yet.

Michael rolls his eyes at the silence, resigning himself to his doom. From the floor, he calls up again. “Jesus Christ, it’s legal now, if that’s what you’re worried about –“

“No!” The dark-haired boy shouts, popping his head over the edge to stare down at his roommate incredulously. “You’re supposed to be hardcore Christian, and you’re…you’re supposed to hate gays,” he accused as he jabbed at his roommate, all worked up. And for some reason, that sends Michael into giant convulsions of laughter as he rolled around on the carpet, positively cackling.

“I’m…supposed to hate gays? HahahaHAHAHA –“

Not exactly the reaction Ray was expecting.

“But dude, you have that cross and your famil–“

“I…I’m fucking – oh god, hardcore Christian – Jesus fucking Christ Ray –“ Michael gasped, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “What the everloving fuck gave…gave you that idea – I don’t even know where the fuck the church is here…” He dissolved into pitched giggles again, drowning out Ray’s protests.

“Heheheh…hating gays…oh my fuck – I’m dying – my sides hurt too much, Ray, send…send help…”

“Then why the fuck did you almost kill Gavin that one night he tried to make a move on you?” Ray shouted in exasperation, hating that he had absolutely no fucking clue what Michael found so funny.

“Mis…misunderstanding,” Michael managed to rasp, grin eating up half his face as he caught his breath. “Jesus, Ray, I’m fucking agnostic – my parents are Christian as fuck, but that’s about it. And fuck, I can’t hate gays, I’m fucking gay.”

“What?”

Ray felt like the earth could split into two right now and he wouldn’t even be surprised.

“Well, I’m bi, too, so I’m not gay gay, I guess,” Michael reflected. “Shit man, it’s nice to tell you, Lindsay doesn’t even know.”

Speaking of Lindsay, Michael glanced at his computer and suddenly remembered that he left her hanging last night. Well, fuck. But he could deal with that later, because Ray was chewing his lip and there was that expression on his face again, that smirk creeping up…

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Michael warned, sticking a finger up at the Puerto Rican. But the boy squeaked, air escaping from his mouth in a gust of laughter.

“So…SO YOU ARE FUCKING GAV– “

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT RAY, HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU –“

So as it turned out, Michael Jones and Ray Narvaez Jr. were both bisexual. It just happened that they just weren’t gay for each other, which was perfect (because a whole new set of complications would arise from this if they were, so thank God they weren’t).

Along with that, they realized that they actually knew fuck-all about each other. And promptly set out to fix that.

Between engineering and programming and exams and studying, Ray ends up gradually telling Michael all about Ryan. Most of them are spontaneous things he suddenly remembers that make him smile, and he could share them with his best friend now, so why not:

“Michael, dude, that thing he does with his tongue –“

“Oh my GOD, how many times do I have to tell you, I don’t want to know that stuff –“

And Michael ends up sort of telling Ray more about himself, and about him and Gavin. It always starts with a mixture of one-fifth reluctance, one-quarter longing, one-half God, I just need to tell somebody about this, and a small hash of a bunch of other emotions even Michael hasn’t bothered to figure out for himself yet.  

By the time three days have passed, Ray knows about New Jersey and he knows about Lindsay and he vaguely knows about Gavin, but it’s all kind of sketchy and Ray isn’t sure about it all. Though, Ray still catches Gavin and Michael in bed together in the mornings sometimes, and he still cracks jokes about them boning –

By the time Ray is finally finished finals and Michael only has one exam left over, they’ve had enough conversations, drunk and sober alike, that Ray doesn’t quite hate Gavin Free anymore and at some point, the jokes stop being just jokes and Ray is almost certain that Michael Jones is in love with Gavin Free.

And when Gavin came around the day before the Physics final to study and the three of them ended up abandoning all that shit for beer and shenanigans on Minecraft together – “Ray, quick, grab a bucket so we can sabotage Mi-cool’s den” – Ray decides that Gavin is pretty damn chill for an annoying British fuck after all. Ray secretly starts rooting for Michael and Gavin to do something – what something, he didn’t really know yet, he was still working on that –

With some miraculous stroke of luck (or at least, that’s how Gavin sees it), the British boy and the Puerto Rican start getting along spectacularly, and Michael is slightly jealous, but it’s okay, because he’s more relieved about it all than envious.

But then it was evening and Physics notes were scattered all around the dorm room, some wedged under the door and others crumpled up under the trio’s crossed legs, and Michael swears loudly because the exam is at motherfucking 8:30 AM tomorrow and they haven’t studied at all –

Michael and Gavin gather up all (read: probably only 70%) of their loose papers and run, laughing, all the way to the British boy’s house so that Ray could get some sleep. Though, Ray shows up at the door – which Geoff answers, looking tired and harassed – a bit past 5:00 AM with a thermos of coffee for Michael and a tea for Gavin and lo and behold, they’re still awake, struggling to cram as much Physics into their brains as possible.

Ray looks at Gavin suspiciously because he’s heard the rumours of his genius and Griffon brings them snacks with a spring in her step because she knows, she always knows –

Michael growls in frustration at the endless mock exam questions Gavin thrusts his way, muttering about how he’ll never be able to go through them fast enough and “fuck, we should not have played Xbox the entire day” –

Gavin beams, ignoring the fact that he was so bloody tired he could pass out in a nanosecond and that he already knows this material off by heart. He hums and pushes more papers towards his lovely Michael.

Chapter Text

Everything works out splendidly, or at least for the next little while.

Gavin and Michael make it to their exam on time and although they’re exhausted, they manage to finish it without much difficulty. Although, the two leave the hall looking like they hadn’t slept in about twenty-four hours – it was more like twenty – so they head out with the full intention of passing out for the rest of the day. It goes unspoken, but they head towards Gavin’s place together.

But those plans go more or less awry when the pair are stopped by one grossly happy couple meeting them just outside the entrance.

“Heyo, you guys made it!” Ray cheered, looking tired but pleased. He lets go of Ryan’s hands with an easy smile to take a running jump at an exhausted Michael.

“Jesus fuck–“ Michael scowls even as he laughs and catches the dark-haired boy anyways, because the post-Physics euphoria takes over his completely taxed mind and he’s bubbling with happiness and everyone can tell. But the curly-haired boy thinks to himself about how Physics was fucking hell, but then decides it wasn’t actually all that bad because he had his boi next to him. Speaking of which –

“Hell fucking yeah we did, right, Gav?” Michael calls out with a grin, only to lurch backwards as Ray nudges him and causes both of them to topple over backwards and Ryan to chuckle on the sidelines.

But Gavin is too zoned out to hear him or just doesn’t bother replying. Though, Michael doesn’t quite catch that because he’s too busy being tackled to the ground. Ryan does, but he only lifts a brow and doesn’t comment because the British boy abruptly throws him a searing look of betrayal even as he forces a smile on his face and finally replies.

“Y…yep! I could go for a brilliantly long sleep right now, thank you.”

Michael flashes a smile and brushes himself off, reaching towards Gavin. He helps him up and they say goodbye to Ray and Ryan and Gavin’s expression is back to normal again so quickly that Ryan could swear he imagined it, but he knew better than that.

And Ryan may be Ryan and he may have known Gavin for ages, but he admittedly didn’t understand the silent, uncalled-for accusation. Although, he doesn’t know everything and he’s never claimed to actually understand Gavin Free, so he shrugs as Ray jumps back towards him and links their arms. He leaves it for the meantime.

A week later, Michael leaves for New Jersey to spend winter break with family and Ryan swears to himself he’d keep an eye on Gavin because he’s acting weird, weirder than usual, but that doesn’t actually happen because he gets all caught up in his adorable boyfriend.

Besides, Ryan justifies, Gavin has more than enough friends to keep him busy for a week or two.

That’s exactly what Gavin struggles to remind himself of as he drags his arse up out of the chair to go to a bar for the night. He doesn’t go alone; he goes with Jack and Geoff, who are practically best buds at this point – Gavin didn’t know when this happened, but it was cool, so he rolled with it – but instantly regrets it. An hour in, Gavin hasn’t really gotten a word in edgewise. The two gents chat about things that the British lad has absolutely no interest in, so he ends up sitting there and miserably sips his beer, only lifting his head to pop in an occasional comment or ridiculous question.

The dim lights and light chatter around him makes him feel isolated and makes his heart sink, so Gavin inevitably finds his mind turning to coppery curls and brown eyes and upturned lips. Michael. He knows he’s getting too attached, but he can’t help it – Michael was just such a fantastically walking contradiction, hard exterior masking all that gentleness and warmth, that Gavin could only slide deeper and deeper into his feelings.

“I just want more,” Gavin whispers to himself, clutching his bottle.

It was infuriating how close Michael would get to him at times, leaning into him like it was nothing even though they both knew the short-tempered boy wouldn’t be caught dead doing that with anyone else on the planet (except maybe Ray). Gavin itched to close that last centimeter or two of space between them and have Michael, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

And it just made everything worse, because there was Ray and Ryan, all happy and smiling with their bloody established relationship, holding hands and everything. He knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, but it hurt – Gavin rooted for Ryan, and he got what he wanted, but here Gavin was. On his sixth beer, sitting in silence.

Bloody hell, this is depressing.

He almost laughs at himself, because these annoying revelations always seem to occur to him while he’s drinking at a bar (especially since he’s more or less stopped getting drunk every other day since he knew Michael hated it).

Gavin ends up so frustrated with his inability to stop thinking about Michael Jones that he ends up picking up a random, pretty brunette girl with slim hips and wide chocolate eyes and going home with her for the night.

And the days repeat, all the way up till Christmas.

Meanwhile, Michael is back in New Jersey, frowning because Geoff is texting him about Gavin’s sudden shift back into his old habits, but also because he had been so content with the past couple days that he had almost forgotten how badly he was mucking it up with Lindsay. He also wasn’t the type to confront problems head-on if he didn’t absolutely fucking have to, and he convinces himself he doesn’t need to.

Lindsay and his relationship is rocky and strained as all hell, but at this point they are more separated than together and the curly-haired boy can’t even bring himself to feel too badly about how that aspect of his life was quietly falling apart.

That said, it didn’t mean it didn’t completely fucking suck having to pretend while in the company of his parents, like right now.

“So, Michael, how have you and Lindsay been doing over the semester?” His mom asks as she sets his dinner plate in front of him. “I know how hard it gets with long-distance, but I admire both of your loyalty to each other and for making it work.”

Michael snorted, quickly bringing the crook of his elbow up and disguising it as a cough.

Yeah, making it work.

“Yeah we’re uh…we’re –“ He starts, voice muffled, but Lindsay interrupts as she puts a hand on his knee.

“We’re good. Michael and I are okay,” she says, too brightly. “But things can change. You never know, right?”

“I agree,” Michael’s dad nods approvingly. “Nobody knows what can happen in the future, we just have to be prepared for anything. But you two are quite a pair. I’ve always liked you, Lindsay.”

At that, the redhead smiles in earnest. Motherfucking Christ, why don’t you just shove a knife into my throat already and get it over with? Michael knits his brows and groans inwardly, because Lindsay is putting on a show, and he doesn’t know what the fuck she means by any of it.

Michael sidesteps any other questions on how everything else is going – “who are your new friends?” “Are any of them Christian?” “Have you been attending church regularly there?” – as he clears his throat and utters a quick prayer for Grace, shaken from the conversation and wishing the questions would just stop because deflecting his parents’ scrutiny was like trying to tread water to stay afloat because he wants them to know but they can’t. And to Michael, it feels like he’s drowning even though he’s nowhere near the ocean right now.

So he sits silently, inwardly panicking, next to Lindsay over Christmas dinner and picks at his cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes, thinking about how him and Lindsay are like a sinking ship whose crew can’t bail water or go under fast enough.

When dinner is finally fucking over, Lindsay doesn’t linger. After thanking the Jones for having her and wishing them a good Christmas Eve, she turns to give Michael a tight smile and they hug, parents watching on in approval.

“I’ll text you tonight,” Lindsay promises as she pecks him on the cheek and he holds out her coat for her, and Michael nods.

“Yeah, later,” he says, knowing full well that she wasn’t going to do anything of the sort because they haven’t texted since that Skype call except to agree on when to come over for dinner tonight.

So Michael is infinitely surprised when he’s playing on his Xbox later that night and hears his phone vibrate on his table. But when he gets up to check, it isn’t Lindsay. It’s Ray.

Fucking finally.

[9:47:33 PM] Ray Narvaez: just so you know ryan and i ran late for our fuckign reservation
[9:48:16 PM] Ray Narvaez: but i put the damn present on gavin’s doorstep
[9:48:51 PM] Ray Narvaez: so you better be damn grateful
[9:49:00 PM] Ray Narvaez: poophead

His mouth tugs into a grin despite everything else.

[9:50:02 PM] Michael Jones: dude thanks

[11:28:33 PM] Ray Narvaez: Merry Christmas bro

The morning after, Michael is so hyped about being able to return to Texas that he beams and wishes his parents “Merry Christmas!” with a giant smile, bewildering them both. Nevertheless, they hand him a wrapped gift and he gets theirs from under the tree and they sit down for breakfast together, Michael humming to himself, dimples settling on his face. Thinking of the Christmas gift he got Gavin as he plays through some of the new Xbox games his parents got him, Michael stupidly thinks he can go back home still stagnating on his and Lindsay’s relationship.

But it turns out Lindsay is better at ending things than he is.

“What?” Michael whispers, arm still outreached with small flower bouquet in hand.

People are staring at their exchange as they walk by with their trolleys and suitcases, because airport goodbyes don’t usually look like this, but they sip their coffees and move on.

“You heard me, and you know what I mean,” Lindsay laughs without humour, arms crossed. “I just have the guts to say it, Michael. We’re not what we were, and I don’t even know what to say about you and Gavin –“

Her voice is drowned out by the waves suddenly crashing in Michael's eardrums, his vision blurring. This can’t be fucking happening to me. At least not here. But he knew this was a long time coming, and he was stupid to believe otherwise. Gavin’s voice suddenly pops into his head, damn him.

People get tired of the same tragedy over and over.

And this time, the words echoed in Michael’s head and lodged themselves there, because Gavin was right, Gavin was almost always fucking right about anything important.

Lindsay broke up with him, right then and there in the airport, taking his half-assed Christmas gift of a flower bunch and throwing it in the trash. She decided she was tired of trying to be there for Michael when he didn’t act like he wanted her to be there. She was tired of his distance, and of their taxing relationship. But her mouth twists into a satisfied smile and she thinks it's almost made up for once she sees Michael's hollow look.

“It’s okay, Michael, I’ll tell your parents we split on good terms. I know how they get.”

He barely hears her, blood pounding in his ears.

Because yes, this is what Michael had wanted ever since he decided he would move away from his home in New Jersey, but the bracelet he got her on top of the flowers feels heavy in his pocket now and he didn’t bother bringing it out to show her once he saw the daisies and baby’s breath disappear into the garbage.

Flight 1458 for Texas, Gate C now boarding.

He was surprised at how painful this was, but he guesses he shouldn’t have been. It still hurt because it was Lindsay, and it still hurt because it mattered.

Michael can’t remember if he actually says anything in reply, but he finds his feet taking him to the gate for check-in and boarding, and he doesn’t look back.

Chapter Text

Gavin stared at the small white box on the doorstep.

What the…?

“Geoff! Geoff!” He ran back inside to shake a disgruntled-looking Geoff who was trying to eat his cereal, thank you very much.

“Christ, Gav, what is it?” Geoff complained, wiping his moustache.

“There’s something on the porch! What if it’s a bomb?”

The older couple looked at Gavin, who was ridiculously wide-eyed and unnecessarily paranoid. Griffon laughed as she slung an arm around the British boy and shook him affectionately. “It’s Christmas, Gavin. It’s probably a present.”

“Yeah, but what if –“

“He’s right, Griff,” Geoff interrupts with a smirk as he stood up. “I mean, he’s basically a celebrity. Let’s go, Gav.” Gavin pouts but trails after him as he walked to the door and picked up the little package. He shrinks away a little as Geoff scratches his beard and turns it over, making it clink, but then Geoff guffaws and Gavin just has to take a peek in curiosity.

“What is it, Geoff?” He pokes his head over a shoulder to squint at the smudge on the bottom of the box, but Geoff twists away to brandish it at Griffon instead, who all but squeals in delight.

The older man seems to think of something and sobers up a bit, but he’s still fighting a grin as he throws the present to the British boy. “Merry Christmas, idiot.” With that, he takes Griffon by the hand and they go back to the kitchen to finish breakfast, leaving him alone.

Gavin slowly steps back inside and shuts the door gently, weighing the little box in contemplation. Who in the world…? But then he flips it over again with another clink and his green eyes widen to the size of saucers as he reads over the scrawl.

You’re my boi, Gav. YOU’RE MY BOI! Merry X-mas. M.

Flinging the door open again, Geoff giving a shout of surprise from behind, Gavin scans the quiet street so fast he probably got whiplash. But there was nobody there. Besides, wasn’t Michael in New Jersey with his family and girlfriend? Gavin’s face fell for a millisecond before he read the message again. But really, who else could it have been?

Heart thumping, Gavin wasted no time in opening the small package, ripping the carefully wrapped paper to shreds as he pried the box open. He fumbled with the tissue paper inside for only a moment until something fell out into his palm, glinting in the sunlight.

No, Michael couldn’t have.

Gavin’s face splits into a giant smile as he holds up the silver chain, little square creeper head dangling at the end.

A Minecraft necklace.

He could barely keep still, mind too much of a jumble in happiness to even form coherent thoughts. Gavin burst back into the house, gift wildly waving from his hand as he bounced upstairs for his phone.

!!! Michael got me a Christmas present!!

[10:30:32 AM] Gavin Free: Bloody hell Michael, you shouldn’t have 0: 0:

But Michael didn’t reply for the longest time. Gavin reasoned that it was because it was Christmas and he was probably doing things with his family, so he pulled a face and went back downstairs to Geoff and Griffon. That sent him into another round of excitement as Griffon gushed over the present and helped him carefully put it on, so Gavin didn’t mind too much that Michael was a bit busy.

Later that evening, Geoff and Griffon were playing Peggle, the latter aiming while the former sat and advised from the sidelines.

“Nah Grif, the angle is too small. Aim it more that way,” Geoff instructed.

“You think?”

Griffon smiled as Geoff crossed his arms, unable to look serious with the Santa hat perched precariously crooked on his head. “Damn sure.”

Gavin was watching on, eyes half-glazed over, when his phone vibrated for the thousandth time that day. He huffed in irritation. None of the messages were from Michael, so what was the point? He made to set it on silent, but the screen caught his eye, making him sit up from the carpet with a small flail.

[9:30:59 PM] Michael Jones: ?

“Eyo!” He shouted happily, making Geoff and Griffon pause in their concentration and look over, but they just exchanged glances.

“Mi-cool,” they said to each other in unison, laughing a little, before turning back to the TV.

 Gavin shot the couple a glare before getting up to go to his room, eyes glued to his phone.

[9:31:46 PM] Gavin Free: the necklace!
[9:32:01 PM] Gavin Free: unless that wasn’t you.
[9:32:25 PM] Gavin Free: then I’d feel like a right mong

[9:34:20 PM] Michael Jones: the fuck r you talking about

[9:34:28 PM] Gavin Free: BOLLOCKS
[9:34:31 PM] Gavin Free: I’M SORRY IT WASN’T YOU
[9:34:47 PM] Gavin Free: FORGET IT

[9:34:48 PM] Michael Jones: Jesus im just joking

[9:34:50 PM] Gavin Free: AKLSFJKALF

[9:34:59 PM] Michael Jones: glad you like it gav :)

[9:35:12 PM] Gavin Free: don’t scare me like that!
[9:35:20 PM] Gavin Free: but it’s lovely. You’re lovely.

[9:39:00 PM] Michael Jones: wtf

[9:39:07 PM] Gavin Free: my lovely little Michael (^:

[9:50:21 PM] Michael Jones: dont call me that
[9:50:50 PM] Michael Jones: btw (^: needs a bigger nose to be you

[9:50:58 PM] Gavin Free: HEY.

[10:02:47 PM] Michael Jones: :P

[10:03:11 PM] Gavin Free: so when you coming back to Texas, boi?

And then there was another long gap without reply. But when Michael’s text finally came back, Gavin could hardly believe it.

[11:28:20 PM] Michael Jones: alraedy back boi

“What?” He exclaimed loudly, tearing down the stairs.

Geoff is yelling something about two bubbles and not enough shots and is still entirely fixated on the TV, but Griffon pokes her head out. “What’s happened, Gavin?” The British lad already has one arm shoved through a coat sleeve but he whips around to face her, eyes sparkling.

“Mi-cool’s back from New Jersey!”

With that, he pecks an amused Griffon on the cheek and races out the door, scarf flying behind him.

But when Gavin arrives, out of breath, to Duren and knocks at 201, nobody answers at first. He frowns and knocks again, calling out. “Hey, it’s me. You there?”

There’s a scuffling noise inside and Gavin desperately pats down his wild hair and smoothes out his coat, hoping he looks alright. Bloody hell Gavin, you’re acting ridiculous. Michael’s just come back from the holidays, it’s not like it’s been years. Act natural. He bit his lip, fidgeting anyways.

“Uh…hi, Gavin?”

Gavin’s head snaps up in surprise.

“Ray?” He blurts out, staring in barely concealed disappointment at the Puerto Rican boy holding the door open. Ray is flushed and his t-shirt is on inside-out, and there’s no sign of Michael inside the dorm. Gavin cranes his neck to look in, and instead is met with the sight of Ryan unabashedly lying in Ray’s bed, duvet strategically covering most of him.

“Oh hey Gavin, Merry Christmas!” Ryan calls out with a smirk, waving.

“You –“ Ray spins around, ears flaming red. “Stop, shut up. Shut up. And cover yourself –“

“I am covered, babe.” Ryan chuckled. He paused for a second and tugged at the covers suggestively. “But it’s not like it’s anything Gavin hasn’t seen before…” Ray let out a weak shout of embarrassment as he ran to save the sheets and his dignity, but Gavin just shoots daggers at the blonde man and grabs Ray firmly by the shoulders.

“Oh, no you don’t. Where’s Michael?” He demanded, completely ignoring Ray’s mortification and Ryan’s now complete nudity.

“Wh-what do you mean?” The dark-haired boy stammered, red draining from his face. His agitation was transparent. “He’s not here!”

Gavin exhaled angrily, getting annoyed. “Don’t lie to me, Ray, I know he’s back in Texas. He texted me. Where the bloody hell is the git?”

“Uh…”

“Ray.”

Gavin looked so serious Ray wanted to curl up and die; he was never good at improvising on the spot. He turned to Ryan with wide eyes, silently screaming for help. What could he even say? Michael told him to just pretend he was still away if people came around, but what the fucking hell was he supposed to do now that Gavin was at his door? And did he just say Michael fucking texted him?

He didn’t get enough credit for being Michael’s best friends sometimes.

Gavin gave Ray another warning look as he groaned loudly, the sound a mixture of hilarity and defeat.

“He dropped off his suitcase and stuff and then went out for the night,” Ryan supplied helpfully, lazily pulling on some boxers and a pair of jeans. Ray’s hands flew up to his burning face as he muttered profanities, Gavin swiftly stepping in as the door closed behind him.

“Shut up, Ray – Yeah? With who?” Gavin pressed, not caring that he was acting like a complete prick.

But Ray and Ryan both just shrugged. “I really dunno, man,” Ray’s muffled voice said, retreating to the safety of his chair away from his shirtless and apparently shameless boyfriend. “He just said he was going out. Thought he was going to your place.”

“I heard that Jack’s girlfriend was throwing a Christmas bash though,” Ryan added, grinning as he inched towards Ray.

Gavin perked up. “Caiti?”

The blonde man nodded. “Yeah, think so,” he affirmed.

“Brilliant, I’ll go see,” Gavin beamed, suddenly feeling a little guilty about intruding on the pair and his less than friendly demeanor. He ruffled his hair and made to leave, but the Puerto Rican boy stood up with a clatter.

“Wait,” Ray said abruptly. The British boy tilted his head at the serious tone, itching to leave and find Michael already. But he rooted himself there and waited. “Waiting. What is it?”

Ray chewed on his bottom lip, internally debating with himself. “I thought…Michael came to find you today, but since he didn’t…” Gavin bristled at the connotations.

“What do you mean, since he didn’t?” He accused, starting to shake from insecurity. Not that important. You’re not that important to him.

The Puerto Rican’s brown eyes widened and he approached Gavin slowly, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “I just…I just mean that he didn’t seem all that hot when he came back from New Jersey.” He pressed his lips together. “Maybe…he didn’t want to see you tonight?”

Gavin’s heart skipped a beat.

“No, not like that,” Ray backtracked quickly at the expression on his face. “He didn’t seem to want to see anyone, that’s what I’m trying to say. I mean, he left so quickly after coming back earlier –“

He didn’t want to see me.

He doesn’t care.

Gavin’s thoughts raced, drowning out Ray’s frantic babbling. He breathed shallowly, getting lightheaded.

“Gavin.”

Suddenly, Ryan brought him back to reality.

“Gavin, just go find him. Screw what Ray just said,” Ryan annunciated as he leaned over, face an inch apart from his. Ray protested half-heartedly in the background but agreed. “Sorry I’m a dick, nothing I say comes out right,” the dark-haired boy sighed, flopping down.

“Ward’s place,” Ryan shook Gavin firmly. “I can give you a lift, if you’d like.”

Gavin shook his head, clearing the cobwebs from his mind. “No…no it’s okay, Rye-bread. I interrupted you guys, sorry mates.” He grinned weakly at Ray on the bed, waving his hand. “I can make it. Thanks guys. Sorry, again.”

“Yo dude, it’s no problem,” Ray smiled, adjusting his glasses as he sat back up. “Text us if you need us, alright?”

“Nah, I’ll be alright.”

Gavin turned the door handle but stopped, one foot already out in the hallway.

“Use protection, guys.” He laughs wickedly as Ray’s face flamed up again before shutting himself out.

Chapter Text

When Gavin arrived, he didn’t go in immediately. The house was a lot busier than he expected; he always saw Caiti as more reserved than others and never expected something quite like this. But there was a definite Christmas cheer in the air, lawn decorations twinkling merrily, so he shrugged and headed for the door.

As soon as he stepped in, a few people turned to check out the newcomer. And just like that, a small crowd converged to greet him, Gavin entirely too fed up to deal with this with his usual attitude.

“Hey, it’s Gavin! What’s up, man –“

“British dude, it’s me, we drank together back –“

“How are you doing bro? Haven’t seen you around in a while –“

Gavin does his best to take off his coat and move further into the house without reply, but one girl brazenly grabbed him by the arm and he felt irritation flash through him. He just wanted to find Michael.

“Uh, hi mates, any of you guys see a curly-haired, brunet lad?” Gavin inquired as he snatched his limb back, but he was met with disinterested stares and careless shrugs. “Pale, angry-looking? Freckled?” Nothing. He huffed. Wrinkling his nose, he easily sidesteps the crowd with a flash of a smile and an excuse that he needs to go find a drink. (Not entirely an excuse, but it works.)

Later. Slightly buzzed, a shitty cooler in hand and more or less given up, Gavin spots someone.

“Jack!”

The russet-bearded man turned towards Gavin’s voice in surprise because he was the last person he expected at these sorts of places, these days at least. “Oh,” he said in a low rumble, things clicking in his mind as he watched Gavin scan the room hopefully. “Michael?” Jack guessed.

Gavin flushed a little, but Jack just smiled at him, thinking of how cute it was that Gavin Free finally had someone he wanted to be with. “I think I saw your angry boyfriend in the next room over,” he pointed.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Sure, sure,” Jack laughed, taking a swig of his beer. “Whatever you say, kid.”

Gavin’s bottom lip wobbled even as he glared, not looking fierce in the slightest. “He has a bird!”

Jack’s mouth formed an “o” in surprise and he set down his bottle to ask further, but the British boy whirled away angrily and stormed off before he could.

Yes, Gavin was looking for Michael Jones.

And at the moment, Michael Jones was…well.

Michael was drunk.

He wasn’t drunk in that whatever sort of way, either – the half-tipsy, fuzzy-at-the-fringes kind of drunk. He wasn’t even the my-face-is-getting-numb, should-probably-drink-some-water-now kind of drunk. Nope, deeeefinitely fucking past all that. Michael snickered to himself quietly, sitting on the couch next to a beer pong game that has been going on for quite some time now.

Jeremy was there at some point; he and Michael won a few rounds together. But then he ran off with Matt to go do…something. Michael didn’t really care, either way. Everything was woozy, but it felt fucking good to be out of his own head, not worrying about anything.

It was loud. It was hot. There were people everywhere, and none of them gave a single damn about what he was doing there, drinking his heart out. It was perfect. A year ago he would have been sick to his stomach, too scared of himself, but not now. He never gets completely smashed. Yet here he was. He blinked slowly, a smile creeping up on his face.

Merry fuckin’ Christmas.

He reached for his drink again but somehow missed, instead knocking it to the floor. He glowered in its general direction and sighed, head throbbing a little.

He vaguely remembered texting someone. Patting his pockets down, he tried to concentrate on who he was messaging, but gave up quickly because thinking was too hard right now. Eh, it was probably Ray. Or Lindsay. He snorted.

Fuck that noise.

Some girl sidled up to Michael just then, giggling as she sat next to him. She was wearing ridiculous antlers that jingled as she moved. Michael narrowed his eyes, vision blurry and not sure of what she was up to.

“Hey baby,” she said coyly, nearly on his lap. Michael fought a shudder as she ran her fingers through his hair and brought her lips to his ear. “You don’t look like you’re having much fun, alone over here. Want me to help you out with that?”

No, no I don’t.

But his brain-to-mouth function was all fizzed out and all that came out was a slight groan.

Taking it as affirmation, the pretty raven twirled her hair and smiled, pushing Michael down on the couch by the palm of her hand. “I’ll show you a good time, don’t worry,” she breathed, fingers trailing down his chest. Michael coiled his fingers around her waist to push her off, but there wasn’t much strength there and he felt dizzy, dizzier than he was earlier when he was upright somehow, and hell if she didn’t smell good, fuck –

The beer pong crowd suddenly roared next to them at some ridiculous winning shot.

Ah, what the hell. It’s Christmas.

He brought his lips up to meet hers and she sighed into him. “You looked so sad, babe.” Did I? Michael hazily thought as he felt his hair stroked back gently. Maybe he was supposed to be. Her hand went down to his waistband. After all, his girlfriend of three years had just broken up with him and he didn’t actually know what he was doing here, he had friends, he had Ray, Gavin, Lindsay (had, past-tense) –

Michael found himself thinking of soft curves and red hair, not black, but then his thoughts fragmented to give way to sharp hipbones and dirty-blonde messy locks – wait, why was Gavin there? – and then the weight of the alcohol in his blood was suddenly all too much.

He broke for air and jerked away. The raven squealed, almost stumbling out of his lap.

“S-sorry, I…sorry,” he croaked out, furiously dragging a hand over his face. “I…?”

Instead of being deterred, the girl only stopped for a second before smiling even wider, showing all her teeth. “Your mumbling is adorable.” She gently takes his hand away and leans in to press her lips against his again, but she’s suddenly ripped off of Michael with a shriek. Michael felt a sharp tug of pain as she took a bit of his hair with him, yelping in surprise.

What the fuck?

Hit with a strong wave of déjà vu, Michael dimly tilted his head up.

“Gavin Free, know me?”

Michael felt his face numbly split into a wide smile at the voice, words spilling out of his mouth faster than he could filter them. “Gavvy! Hey, you’ree here!” He wrinkled his nose. “But…why, why are you here?”

He had an inkling that this wasn’t the best time for any of this, though, because Gavin turned to him with an absolutely fucking livid expression on his face. His hair was wild as always but the way he carried himself lacked the lightweight cheerfulness that was usually there. Different. Actually, sort of scary. And sort of hot – Jesus Christ, what?

Never mind the chick that was still standing there, Michael suddenly realized he could hardly trust himself with words right now. So he wisely shut his mouth. Gavin’s face softened for a millisecond before he turned back to the girl whose arm he still held in a visor-grip.

“Hmn, so what about it?” The girl stared up at him like she wasn’t sure if he was real.

“Y-yeah, I…?”

Gavin smirked at her – he smirked, what the fuck – and lost his grip on her arm, instead choosing to rest his hand against the small of her back. Michael didn’t miss the slight shudder that went through the girl’s petite frame as she unconsciously pressed herself closer, going silent. But Gavin didn’t waste any time.

“Bet you’ve heard loads about little old me,” he said smoothly, tilting her chin up. “Want a taste?”

Next thing Michael’s drunk brain could process, the raven-haired girl had her arms thrown around Gavin’s neck and they were making out right in front of him. Michael blinked rapidly.

 But yeah, this was happening – Gavin’s tongue is in some girl’s mouth and his hands are fluttering over her cheek, her neck, her waist, she’s guiding his hand over her breast and Gavin just pressed his lips harder against hers and she’s gasping for air – but Gavin abruptly breaks off the intense kiss.

The girl’s chest heaves as she struggles to collect herself, fiercely red cheeks betraying just how much the British lad was able to unravel her in less than a minute.

She grins, thrilled at his advances, fingers creeping up into his dirty blonde hair. Michael feels a dull thud in his chest as she presses her boobs against Gavin’s chest again and pulls him in. But as soon as their lips connect again, Gavin laughs into her mouth and untangles her hands from him.  

“No. Now bugger off.” He breathed, Michael straining to hear.

Shocked and offended, the raven girl couldn’t believe her ears either. “Excuse me?” Her antlers jingled as she pulled back to pout up at the ridiculously good-looking (almost) catch in her arms.

 “You got your taste.” Gavin leaned in with a sickly sweet smile, annunciating. “Now. Get. Lost.”

The girl huffed angrily and tossed her black hair over her shoulder, turning on her heel. Gavin laughed airily as he watched her go, brushing his wild hair back. Pleased, he turned back to Michael.

“There you are, boi. Don’t have to worry about accidentally cheating on your girl now, do you?” He chirped as he flopped down next to his best friend as if he didn’t just passionately make out with a chick and break her heart, probably. “But I’m bloody surprised you’re here all alone. Who’d you come with?”

But Michael was unnaturally quiet next to him. Gavin scrunched up his face as he turned. “I reckon a thank you would at least be in order, don’t you think?”

“Huh?” Michael’s head flew up as he frowned. “What’ya say?”

Gavin laughed and repeated himself as Michael pressed his shoulder against his, presumably leaning in to hear.  

“Why…why’re me here? ‘m supposed to be ‘lone.” Michael leaned back on the couch, brow furrowed in genuine confusion. Then, dimples appearing out of nowhere – “But ‘m glad you’re, Gav!”

“I’m…glad I’m here too, Mi-cool.” Gavin replied a bit slowly, narrowing his eyes as he looked Michael up and down. “You good? You’re acting a bit strange.” The British lad didn’t see any alcohol lying around in their general vicinity, though, and he couldn’t smell any weed on the other boy. Then again, the entire house smelled like vaguely illegal substances, so that wasn’t saying much.

“I’m fucking solid, boi!”

“Oh!”

Gavin squawked as Michael’s body suddenly slammed into him in a hug to prove his point, the curly-haired boy beaming from ear to ear. Now that’s bloody weird as all hell. Gavin tilted his head and opened his mouth to keep asking, but Michael unsteadily pushed himself away again and sprawled backwards on the couch.

“Uh, Mi-cool?” Gavin said uncertainly. Michael just went “hmmn” in response before reaching backwards for a shot glass that someone had just left on the side table.

“Hey, if you’re getting a bev, that’s probably not your best choice –“ Gavin stopped, flushing a little.

Michael’s shirt had ridden up to reveal a stretch of pale stomach and a smattering of hair as he grunted, stretching. Fingers finally wrapped around the glass, Michael made a noise in triumph and wiggled down again, showing even more skin.

Christ, Gavin didn’t even usually get flustered over stuff like this. It was mostly because Michael had never acted like this before, so unabashed, unreserved –

“Hmm, like what you see, boi?” Michael smirked as he made eye contact, hiccup-y chuckle escaping his lips.

Gavin stared. He wasn’t sure earlier, but now –

“Michael, you’re bloody drunk!” He exclaimed, stunned.

The boy wheezed in laughter, getting up with some difficulty. “Mi-cool. Lis…ten to you and ‘re bloody accent, fucking Jesus.”

“You are drunk!” Gavin repeated, incredulous. “Is that why you texted me? Did you drunk text me?”

Michael hummed, bringing the shot glass up to his mouth. “Mmaybe. ‘aybe not. Probably.”

Gavin glared as he stopped Michael by the wrist, some alcohol spilling onto their jeans. “You did!” He insisted, disbelieving that he didn’t catch it any earlier. “How bevved up are you?”

But Michael wasn’t pleased that half the shot he was going to take was now wet against his thigh instead of in his stomach. “A bit. ‘nly a bit. Fuck you, Gavvy,” he scoffed.

Gavin scoffed back. “Yeah, sure, a bit. You’re sloshed, Mi-cool. I’ll be taking that.” With that, he snatched the glass out of Michael’s hand.

“Hey, the fuck –“

Glancing over, Gavin was about to get up and put the drink somewhere else, but he changed his mind. Michael was staring at him, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and all innocent-like without the glower that semi-permanently shadowed his face. And besides, he had to ask him so much, like why he was back in Texas and didn’t tell him, like why he drunk texted him of all people, like why he was here at a party of all places, and most of all, why he was so bloody sloshed when Michael Jones never got sloshed, he only ever got slightly tipsy –

Michael scooted closer suddenly, and Gavin could’ve counted all the freckles on his nose then if he wanted to. Hell, he could see the streaks of hazel in Michael’s eyes and his pupils dilating, too (Doesn’t that happen when you’re attracted to someone?)…

“Gavvy, give the shot back.”

“Hmn, that’s enough for you, boi. Drinking is bad,” He said vaguely before looking down at the little glass between his fingers and downing the shot.

“Hypocrite,” Michael accused surprisingly coherently.

Gavin laughed loudly through the familiar burning in his throat. Yep, definitely vodka. He tugged Michael off the couch, the boy stumbling right into him. Gavin propped both of them up and slung an arm around the brunet, affectionately ruffling his curls. Michael lazily nuzzled his head against the crook of his neck as they staggered along and Gavin had to swallow heavily as he felt his heart thump loudly in his chest.  

“I know, boi. I know.”

Chapter Text

Michael had no fucking clue what was going on anymore.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t feeling fucking great in the moment, though. Or absolutely top, as Gavin would say. Speaking of which.

One moment he was drunk alone at Jack and his girlfriend’s party and in the next, his favourite (only) British best friend had come out of the blue to pick him up. And in the next, said British guy also got drunk. Not as drunk as he was, but nevertheless. Michael’s face almost hurt from smiling so much.

“Gaaavin,” He giggled, suddenly coming to a revelation as he nudged the taller lad. “You’re s’pposed to help me home, now who’s gonna do then now?”

Gavin tried to nudge back, grinning as well, but he lost his balance and toppled over into Michael instead. “Ack! I mean, we can…we can help each other home, boi.”

Michael’s entire frame shook as he tried to contain his laughter – what was so fucking funny he didn’t even know – and the two managed to stumble into the hallway with no small degree of difficulty; Gavin nearly ate shit on the linoleum at some point. But Michael firmly grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him up, and they were more or less on their way again.

Jesus, how much does he weigh? Like, five…units?

Michael’s lips quirked up impossibly higher as he snuck a quick glance at the boy, who was muttering to himself about slippery floors and bloody Converse, but they’re top, I love ‘em, looking entirely offended as if it wasn’t his own damn fault he had two left feet. The curly-haired boy snorted. “C’mon, Gav.”

Without a second thought, his hand slipped from its grasp on the British boy’s wrist down to his palm, their fingers entwining. Gavin’s sandy head of hair flopped every which way as he turned a surprised gaze to Michael. Last time they did this was when they were alone, and the situation was entirely different. But if Michael was going with it, then he’d take it, hell, he’d take anything.

Gavin squeezed Michael’s hand.

“Lead the way, Mi-cool!” He beamed, brighter than the sun.

Michael laughed again and turned, estimating that it was probably something around two or three in the morning. People were leaving, but not quickly enough; there was still a fair crowd standing between them and the door. He tried to glower, but his face decided it was too happy for that shit and settled into a neutral expression. Pft, whatever. Doesn’t matter.

“Get the fuck outta our way, fuckers,” Michael declared anyways, pushing through people with an exuberantly happy Gavin in tow. Naturally, there was a lot of loud, indignant protesting, but Michael seriously couldn’t give a damn – his mind was too focused on thin fingers and Gavin’s tight grip on his hand. Feeling a rush of elation, Michael walked faster, vehemently quashing down the desire to skip a little. Because he wasn’t nearly fucking drunk enough for that.

But damn, he was holding hands with Gavin. So publicly. Like yeah, sure, he did it a month ago and Ryan and Ray saw, but that was nothing compared to this. Michael grinned possessively at the confused-looking strangers watching them pass by. With a squawk, Gavin got yanked closer just as he saluted someone he knew in the crowd Michael was unapologetically pushing through.

That’s right, dickheads. Gavin fucking Free doesn’t belong to everyone. You don’t know him like I do.

He heard a shout from behind him but ignored it in favour of heading for the closet where he knew Gavin’s pea coat and stupidly cute green scarf would be. Sure enough, the two articles were lying in the clusterfuck pile on the floor inside. Michael rolled his eyes and reached for them, relinquishing Gavin’s hand somewhat reluctantly.

Head swimming as he got back up again, he was suddenly faced with a wide-eyed girl he had never fucking seen before pointing a pretty, manicured finger at him.

“The hell you want?” Michael furrowed his brow, resisting the urge to slap her hand away. He fucking hated people pointing. But Gavin barreled between them with a small shriek and hit her arm down anyways, giggling as he fell. “Ashhhh! Don’t hurt my boi!”

He straightened, lanky frame twirling around to envelop the girl in a huge hug. Pulling back, he beamed at her. “Haven’t seen you in eons, how you’ve been?”

Michael frowned, still holding Gavin’s coat and scarf in his hands.

But the girl named Ashley didn’t seem to care about small talk, getting straight to the point. “I saw you earlier, dude! Was that who you were looking for?” She spoke loudly, pointing at Michael again, who was now resisting the urge to straight-up just deck her in the face. His face twitched. Ashley either didn’t sense his annoyance or straight-up ignored it, continuing to gush as she started hopping up and down.

“I know him!”

Michael stared as if the girl had just sprouted an extra limb, or wings, or something. I certainly do not fucking know you. Though, hey, maybe she did know him. Maybe he fucking cussed her out sometime during the semester, who knows.

Then, someone else decided to pipe up in the background. “Hey yeah, you’re the Physics couple in Hullum’s class! You make such cute boyfriends.” Michael froze at that, green scarf trailing to the floor as it slipped through his fingers. Boyfriends. Just like that, no homophobic slurs, no gross remarks? He tasted the word on his tongue, faint smile hazily worming its way back onto his face.

Gavin mistook Michael’s surprise for shock and panic, quickly skipping over to sling an arm over his boi’s shoulder, laughing airily. “Boyfriends? Don’t be ridiculous, we’re best mates.”

Michael frowned at that, but his expression was lost on Gavin and the growing audience of people trying to see what the commotion was. There was a ripple of dissent through the crowd at the lanky boy’s words, though, because the closeness between Gavin Free and his scowling, curly-haired mate wasn’t something that could be denied. Gavin Free and his newest fling. Gavin Free and Michael Jones.

Who the fuck knew the British whirlwind was even capable of settling?

Then again, a really close friendship would entirely make sense if it wasn’t for – “But dude, you guys were fucking holding hands,” someone pointed out.

Michael flushed a little, self-conscious at all the goddamn attention that had suddenly been cast on him, but he didn’t budge from where he stood beside Gavin. God, who the fuck do you care, anyways? He wanted to snap, but he firmly kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want people to think badly of Gavin, didn’t want to embarrass him more than he probably already had –

A peal of laughter rang out. Gavin shook his head, grinning widely. “What’s wrong with purely platonic hand holding, mate?” He retorted, reaching for Michael’s hand again as if to prove a point. “Anywho, gotta run. Me and my boi,” He emphasized, “should get going.”

He swooped down to grab his scarf off the ground and whipped it around his neck, turning a bright smile towards a still frozen Michael. Always his pace. Always getting swept up at his fucking pace. But the brunet conceded to Gavin anyways.

“Let’s go, let’s go!”

They ended up walking to Gavin’s instead of calling a cab, the weather uncharacteristically mild for the season.

Michael stayed quiet, letting Gavin swing their arms as they went. Gavin peeked at him out of the corner of his eye occasionally, unable to help the gusts of air escaping his mouth at the curly-haired boy’s conflicting expressions.

The boy would press his lips together and scrunch his brows, but then his face would melt into faint contentment, frown lines disappearing. But then he’d get all worked up again. His conflict was strictly internal, however, so Gavin had absolutely no bloody clue what Michael was warring with himself over. You’re both sloshed, Gavin reminded himself, still laughing quietly.

Meanwhile, Michael was indeed confused. Definitely really, really confused, more so than should be allowed for his poor, fucking drunk brain, because he knew he shouldn’t be upset like a fucking prissy bitch over earlier, he should be glad that Gavin always had a comeback for everything. And yet. And yet.

“Boyfriends? Don’t be ridiculous –“

“What’dya mean, don’t be ridiculous?” Michael suddenly burst out, rounding on Gavin with bewildered frustration.

But Gavin was still too concentrated on the way Michael’s face contorted, noticing that his lips did this weird thing where it would almost make a “v”, top lip pointing down. And of course, the bloody dimples, they popped into existence despite the curly-haired boy’s apparent annoyance. Making Michael look significantly less fierce than he was trying to be. Gavin burst out in giggles again, unable to help himself.

“Wait, wait, what boi? What’d you say?” He grinned uncontrollably, leaning over a little.

Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. To his growing irritation, Gavin was still laughing. He was always fucking laughing. But then Gavin tripped over nothing, yelling something unintelligible as he was launched forwards a couple steps, and Michael had to stubbornly fight to keep the corners of his mouth down.

God, I would fucking punch him if he would just quit stop looking so goddamn blissful and sunshine-y.

“Wot? Why would it be ricudo – diric – motherfucking shit on a stick, ri-di-cu-lous, for us to be boyfriends?” Michael pressed, shoulder bumping up against a recovered Gavin as they continued walking.

Gavin brushed his scarf off to the side and squinted down at him curiously, as if he wasn’t sure what to say to that. As if he didn’t even know how to approach the bloody subject. (Because he didn’t, bloody hell, Michael Jones always gave such mixed signals) Instead of answering, he ran a free hand through his hair and bit his lip, cheery smile giving way to a look of deep contemplation. I mean, I guess it wouldn’t be too ridiculous. If Michael fancied lads. Even though it would be, because why the hell would Michael ever want to date me?

He had almost decided on taking Michael’s question for a running joke and replying with an amused “I guess we could shag, see nothing wrong with that,” but then he suddenly remembered something. An actual, godforsaken, legitimate reason why they couldn’t, in fact, be boyfriends.

“Because you have a bloody girlfriend, you git!” Gavin screeched, many pitches above normal, mad at himself for actually forgetting for a second. How the bloody hell could he have forgotten? He turned to Michael nervously, but the curly-haired boy just snorted, mouth twitching.

“Uh, no I don’t.”

Gavin sputtered in indignation at the slow grin eating up Michael’s face.

“You…you can’t just pretend you don’t have a bird just so you can win an argument, Mi-cool!” He let go of his hand and hopped ahead to the intersection, pressing the button for a pedestrian crossing. Slamming his hand a bit harder than necessary on the pole, Gavin whipped around to face the brunet. “Well?”

Michael pursed his lips petulantly and crossed his arms, smile gone. “’m not lying,” he muttered, coming to a halt. “We broke up. Me and Lindsay.”

A truck rushed past them just then, roaring and drowning out anything else either had to say in that moment. Not that Gavin was able to coherently string together anything in semblance to an English sentence after what Michael said. He just gaped, slack-jawed, utterly taken for a turn. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he heard right.

They broke up?

The light turned green.

Ho- wh - ….???

Michael determinedly started walking while Gavin was still glued in place on the sidewalk. The curly-haired boy’s head swam and he felt slightly nauseous after saying that out loud. But it was a sort of satisfied relief, like ripping off a band-aid, or picking off a scab. Although, his heart still hurt thinking of Lindsay. So maybe not quite like a scab. More like a just healed over wound.

He twitched at the soft sound of footfalls behind him, indicating that the Gavin had managed to unstuck himself and was now tentatively following. Michael frowned and walked faster, suddenly scared of what his declaration might have meant for him and the British boy’s friendship/relationship/dynamic – whatever the fuck they had.

I don’t want to fuck this up, I don’t want to fuck this up, I don’t want to fuck this up, he internally chanted, chewing the inside of his cheek raw. He dares to glance over his shoulder in a second of courage, but Gavin is staring at the road as he walks and doesn’t notice.

The moon breaks out from behind a cloud and suddenly, everything is illuminated.

Even drunk, Michael could appreciate the British boy and all his quirks, lanky figure bouncing along the sidewalk with Union Jack converse and a glow about him. He suddenly thought about how many of these weird moments they’ve had already. And how Gavin was still around, some-fucking-how. Nothing short of amazing, Gavin Free was.

 He mentally kicks himself for the affection coiling up in his gut, but his gaze lingers just a little too long on the British boy before he forced himself to face ahead again. Fuck you, Michael Jones, he swore to himself. Your smashed fucking self is not about to ruin all of this.

But the feeling in his chest wouldn’t go away. Instead, it continued building as they walked home in silence, Gavin always only a couple steps behind.

Less than an hour later, Michael destroys what little determination he had with one little thought that traitorously appeared. And in the absolutely worst, or perfect, of timings.

What if…I just went for it?

Because really, what did he have to lose? Gavin and him were freshly drunk again, so…

“Mi-cool. Miiiii-coo.”

Gavin huffed at Michael’s lack of response, the two of them now sitting on the carpeted floor in the basement with a half-empty twenty-sixer between them. “Mi-coooooooooo.” He poked the brunet’s cheek, making him snap his head up.

“Jesus, Gavvy,” Michael lost his train of thought.

“It’s your turn, boi!” Gavin propped his chin up in his hands expectantly, eyes shining. “Go on, go on.”

The brunet gave him an exasperated look as he focused on the happy idiot sitting across from him, throwing his hands up. “We’re still fuckin’ going? Seriously –“ He cut himself off though, relenting at the puppy-dog look Gavin pulled his face into. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. I’m a fucking sucker.

“Fine, fine. Truth or dare?”

Gavin beams, delighted even though they’ve already played at least ten fucking rounds already and there was really no point when there was only two people. “Dare!” He said without hesitation. Just like the last thousand turns, Michael snorted to himself, grinning anyways.

Absentmindedly, he shifted closer to Gavin. “C’mon, Mi-cool,” the British boy urged, impatiently tapping Michael’s thigh. “Dare me.”

“Eat shit, I’m still deciding.” Michael retorted, watching as Gavin started impatiently wiggling around, tan face slightly tinged red from the alcohol. He chuckled to himself at the little lock of curled hair sticking straight up from Gavin’s head, a testament to a dare from about six rounds ago. Despite that and the small bruise that was blossoming on the British boy’s thigh from an attempt to jump down the entire flight of basement stairs and failing miserably, Gavin seemed so goddamn pleased to be there. Sitting in a dingy, half-unfinished basement playing truth or dare of all things. With him. Just him.

God, how the fuck did we end up here? I’m so fucking glad. I fucking lov-

Michael mentally hit the fucking brakes.

Nope.

He wasn’t going there.

This was just a friendly little hangout between him and his best friend, nothing more.

But that treacherous warmth flared up in his chest again as Gavin squawked over God knows what and fell into his lap. The boy smiled happily up at him, eyes crinkling at the corners as he booped Michael with his finger, lightly tapping his forehead, nose, mouth. The British boy laughed lightly at his attempt at a glower. “Done thinking yet?”

Michael licked his burning lips, a thought swelling up alarmingly fast in his mind.

 “Hey, Gav,” he blurted, the British boy immediately stilling and falling silent with an eager look. His green eyes were so fucking clear through the haze of alcohol, the rest of Michael’s words died on the way out of his throat. He stared down, thigh shaking slightly from nervous energy.

Gavin pouted and sat back up with some effort, crossing his legs again as he waited, watching Michael fumble with his words.

Bad idea, Michael Jones. Don’t do it. Just dare Gavin to do something fucking dumb like usual. But Jesus fucking Christ, if only Gavin didn’t like acting like he was twelve years old and decided they needed to play this goddamn game. He glared, but failed miserably when his eyes ended up falling on Gavin’s mouth. The dumbass was chewing his lip through. Michael immediately tried to push it from his mind, but the rest of his drunk brain wasn’t having any of it.

Alright, probably shouldn’t. Definitely shouldn’t.

However, Michael feels like the liquor in his system had taken over, mouth opening again before he could stop himself. All the drinks over the course of the night must be really fucking getting to him. At least, this is what he tells himself again and again and again as he scoots himself forward until Gavin's and his knees are touching. Because fuck, it was one thing to hold hands. This was another matter entirely.

He clears his throat.

I’m going to get my heart broken by Gavin Free, he thought wryly. But he almost didn’t even care. He just wanted a taste, a glimpse. A small, sober part of Michael whispered that this would fuck everything over, but every fibre of his being was already shaking in anticipation – to hell with it all, I’m going for it.

It’s the alcohol, he swears to fucking God.

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Chapter Text

Unhesitatingly, Gavin immediately leans forward and presses his mouth against Michael’s.

And it’s bloody amazing.

Fireworks don’t go off or anything, no, but Gavin can feel happy little bursts of energy buzzing in his chest and he revels in the innocence of it. His eyes flutter close.

Michael barely flinches at the contact and Gavin grins as he kisses the boy chastely. Bet you thought I’d chicken out, didn’t you boi? He almost wanted to taunt. But he doesn’t, because he was afraid saying anything would fragment what already enormous good fortune he was having with all of this –  the win-win situation Michael unwittingly put him in.

Gavin smiles wider as Michael relaxed into the kiss and touched a shaking hand to his cheek. It’s silent as anything in the basement and the floor beneath the carpet is cold, but it didn’t matter. Michael shudders as Gavin lightly ghosted a hand across his back, parting his lips to sigh into him.

Yeah, this was more than he could have hoped for.

His fingers inch to curl around Michael’s free hand as he slips his tongue into his mouth and in response, the brunet plows his hands into Gavin’s hair, tugging lightly, no longer shaking. A moan escapes the non-existent space between them, making the British boy’s heart dance.

But then his stupid brain just has to go and ruin it.

He remembers. It’s just a dare.

Bloody hell.

Gavin tears himself away from Michael, forcing himself out of the moment. Trying to mask how utterly transparently his feelings were translated into the kiss, he bites his lip and leans back slowly, heart still jack hammering away at his chest.

And then there was Michael, not interested in the least in watching him scrabble for an excuse. Instead, he’s breathing heavily to himself and Gavin catches his eye only briefly before his gaze flits to pinkish, bruised lips and flushed, freckle cheeks and he thinks about how Michael’s looking so desperately bristled at himself, so lustful and worked up and drunk and –

God, Michael is beautiful.

That’s the only thought revolving through Gavin’s head as he stares holes into the curly-haired boy across from him, but some hazy part of him registers that he should probably still say something.

“S-sorry Mi-cool,” he manages, laughing nervously as his heart continued to race. “Just got a bit caught up in….that, yeah?”

An even smaller part of him whispers that Michael actually enjoyed it, that he wanted it to happen, but he quickly silences it. (Because it only made him more uneasy than happy because it’s Michael, they’re teetering on the edge of what they were and he wasn’t being careful enough –)

“So…guess I won that round!....Okay, let me think of something…” Gavin mutters to himself, growing even more anxious at the silence between them and how Michael wasn’t making eye contact with him, but then Michael is suddenly staring right back.

And Jesus fuck, Michael knows he had gone and fucked himself on this.

But he’s goddamn fed up with this careful dance that him and Gavin have been doing for motherfucking ages. His skin is scorching where Gavin touched him and the world was spinning, spinning, spinning – holy hell, the alcohol is doing a slow crawl through his veins, he has Gavin’s taste on his tongue, and he feels invincible.

So he ignores the pounding in his head and leans over to kiss him again and they collapse on top of each other like two cards once precariously balanced on one another, Gavin stiffening as the words spill out of Michael’s mouth into his –

“I like you,” Michael declares loudly, certainly.

And God, he was sure he meant it, even if he didn’t know why it took so long, on top of a long-overdue breakup and more booze circulating in his brain than blood for him to really realize it. But Gavin must have been thinking the same thing because he immediately replies with a terse “you’re just saying that because you’re drunk, boi,” and Michael pauses at that, pursing his lips as he tried to remember how the fuck they got here in the first place.

Weren’t we playing truth or dare or something? A pitched laugh escaped from the corner of his mouth as he shook his head, curls bouncing.

“So what if I am?” Michael challenged, all logical thought flown from his head.

Without a shred of coordination, he still manages to straddle Gavin with a shit-eating grin. The boy blushes furiously and Michael’s confidence skyrockets through the roof at the nearly imperceptible tremble that runs through Gavin’s body. He hunches forward, pressing his palms against the other boy’s chest as yet another (bad) idea popped into his head.

God, I’m so fucking hammered.

He levels his gaze to meet darkened green eyes and sticks his tongue between his teeth. Without breaking eye contact, he rolls his hips against Gavin’s experimentally. It elicits a drawn-out groan from the boy, to his satisfaction.

“B-bloody hell, Mi-cool,” the British boy grits out, weakly attempting to push him back, but he suddenly abandons that as the brunet ground against him again. Gavin’s hands immediately fly up to his flaming face as he let out another cry, mouth hanging open.

Michael’s smile grows impossibly wider.

Gavin had always thought that his life consisted too much of blurry pictures and not enough clarity. Yet in this moment, everything shifted into almost painfully definition. And sure, he knew he was looking through eyes clouded with far too many bevs, an unhealthy amount of lust, and an fondness that he almost always kept under careful wraps. But God, the way Michael looked at him made him spark in a way that he hadn’t felt since he was young, like he was ten again and speeding down a steep road with no brakes and his hands off the handlebars – yeah, Michael was wildfire.

And Gavin needed it the way he usually felt like he needed to drown.

Bu – oh, Michael was kissing him again – but how the hell did this happen? is the only coherent thing Gavin was able to manage to think after Michael clambered on top of him, arousal flaring up in his gut at the other boy’s movements.

It was supposed to be simple. Do the dare. Kiss Michael. Reap the benefits, however short-lived, of said kiss. Go back to being bois and stuff.

Yeah, right.

Unable to help himself, Gavin kissed back, nibbling on the other boy’s bottom lip and tracing nonsensical circles on the nape of his neck. Michael murmured appreciatively and slid down slightly to suckle at a spot just under Gavin’s jaw line with another subtle roll of his hips.

“Mmn Gav, I like you so fucking much.”

Gavin’s dick traitorously stirs at the words. Sod off, he’s not talking to you, he snapped internally, unbelievably embarrassed that he was getting turned on through all of this. I mean, I should be stopping this nonsense.  

“Stop Mi-cool, you’re drun–“ For all his effort in trying to remind the brunet again, Gavin just gets a hand slapped over his mouth. He pulls a face.

“Shut up,” Michael demanded, although slurring his words slightly.

And Gavin yields, the fight all but gone from him as Michael returned his attention to sucking hickeys into his neck. Squeezing his eyes shut at the pleasure, Gavin instead attempted to remember why he never tried to get with Michael in the first place. Breathing uneven and shallow, he did his best to focus.

Number…number one. Michael is straight?

(But if he was straight, would he be doing this? He wouldn’t have kissed you back -)

Number two. Michael doesn’t trust me – no, I’m sure he…he probably does –

Gavin gasped as Michael suddenly pulled his hair harshly, the pain briefly throwing him out of his thoughts. But then he stumbled on and catches himself on number…four? Number four. I’m too fucked up – and it clicks in his mind and he anchors himself there, because that’s the only reliable fact that still makes sense out of all of this.

“Michael,” he chokes out, and the boy stops at the anxiety gnawing at the edges of his voice. He lifts his head and trails his fingers down the British boy’s chest back to himself, straightening up. He waits.

Without the stimulation overriding his brain, Gavin finally returns to his original mantra, his conscience burning acid holes in his stomach.

Number three. Michael is too whole.

Number four. I’m too fucked up.

Number five. Lindsay bloody Tuggey.

And even if Michael wasn’t lying, that meant that he was on the rebound from his ex-girlfriend, and this was no way to cope.

“But Lindsay…?” Gavin whispered weakly, motioning wildly. Michael just growls at that and shakes his head of curls, abruptly standing up. Unsteady on his feet, he mumbles something that sounded like, “can we go upstairs, Gavvy?” and Gavin doesn’t have the heart to refuse.

“Yeah, we can go to bed, my little Mi-cool,” he smiles, faintly relieved.

The brunet frowns deeply at that for some reason and quirks an eyebrow, but doesn’t question it. “To bed,” he echoes, swaying unsteadily in place. At that, Gavin finally gets up too, firmly taking Michael by the shoulders before he could fall over and steering him towards the stairs.

Griffon wakes up at the sound of staggered, dull noises that travelled upstairs and through the closed door of their bedroom. Gavin’s home, she thought sleepily. She nearly flips around and jolts her snoring boyfriend awake, though, when she hears low voices coming from down the hall. Her eyes widen a fraction. He brought someone home?

“No, not that way, my bedroom –“

“Mn. Shut up, idiot.”

Ah, Michael. She smiles in recognition and relaxes, glad that Gavin was able to find him after all. Geoff made a small noise in his sleep and she laughs quietly, snuggling into him. She closes her eyes.

But then there was an unmistakable sound of a moan and her blue eyes fly open in surprise again.

That was Michael’s voice I heard, wasn’t it? No, they couldn’t be…? Now wide awake again, Griffon sits up.

She couldn’t decide what would be worse – if Gavin and Michael were having a drunken fuck they would both regret later, or if Gavin finally caved and brought a stranger home to bed with him for the first time. Griffon frowns at both ideas and brushed out her blonde hair, straining her ears, but she doesn’t hear anything else but silence.

She didn’t just imagine that, did she?

Meanwhile, everything was backfiring enormously for Gavin today.

Somehow, they got upstairs. But then as soon Gavin shut the door close behind them so they could go to sleep, Michael turned and suddenly his soft lips were against his again, Gavin could feel the warmth radiating off of him and bloody hell Michael was intoxicating – his meager self-restraint was spread too thin to start and his body was far too well-acquainted with the sensation of getting bevved up and then shagging – no, he had only himself to blame.

Gavin gripped Michael’s forearm harshly, gasping as the other boy bit into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. “We…we shouldn’t – this isn’t how you get over a breakup, Mi-cool –“He half-heartedly hissed.

And Michael can sense him caving, Gavin’s almost certain of it.

“Don’t tell me what I shouldn’t do.” His voice is muffled, breath hot on his collarbone.

A thrill ran down Gavin’s spine at the thought of relinquishing his dumb pent-up feelings. Letting this happen. Because he already minged it, he already minged it so hard, and this opportunity to continue slipping up was staring him right in the face, goading him on.

Pleased at the lack of protest, Michael palms Gavin through his jeans and hisses to himself as he realized how hard the other boy already was. His fingers fly over the button and zipper, quickly freeing him of his pants. And as Michael wobbles and gets on his knees, Gavin suddenly realizes this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

“Bloody hell Michael, you aren’t straight,” he breathes.

“Damn right I’m not.”

“Then all this time –“ Gavin’s words hitch in his throat as Michael brought his lips down and started to suck him off. “Jesus –“ And he meant to ask I’ve just been assuming you were straight? But Michael hums with his cock still in his mouth and Gavin throws his head back at the sensation. The brunet smiles in satisfaction and let go with a pop, stroking languidly with one hand as he looked up all innocent-like.

“Yeah, I’ve thought you were pretty fucking hot.”

And that does it for Gavin.

He yanks Michael up by the arm and all but flings him towards the bed, mattress squeaking slightly as he climbed on top. He expertly rids him of his jeans and boxers and the brunet is eager to comply, breathless at the sudden change of pace.

“Alright Michael, have it your way.” Gavin lowly said, tugging off his shirt in one fluid motion. His hands came down on either side of Michael’s head and he bent over, watching Michael’s chest heave and his pupils dilate wildly.

“This is what you wanted, innit?” A desperate nod.

When they kiss again, there’s nothing sweet about it. It’s a clash of teeth and tongues, desperate and passionate, and Gavin crumbles at the noises that Michael is unintentionally making. He hisses and undoes the boy’s boxers and takes them both in hand.Shuddering, Gavin sees specks of light as Michael digs his nails into his hips, pain biting like his scars except bloodless and so, so much better.

Michael whimpers and thrust his hips up. “G-gav, stop stalling, hurry up –“

Gavin sucked in a breath, hair falling in his eyes. “Mn, getting there.” He grinds into his hand and bites his lip as his dick slid against Michael’s, reddened heads twitching against one another. Their pre-cum smears together. Electric shocks travelling through his body and through a haze of bliss, Gavin nipped at pale skin wherever he could reach.

Michael groans, arching up at the friction. “Oh – oh fuck –“

Thin fingers slippery, Gavin made a noise in agreement as his hand glanced against the underside of both their cocks and stroked roughly down the underside of Michael’s shaft. The curly-haired boy jerked upwards at that, sitting up and throwing his arms around him as he pressed an open mouth against Gavin’s.

They make out messily, Gavin inhaling sharply and squeezing his fingers against Michael’s bony hips as the boy slid onto his lap. He felt Michael’s dick bump against his stomach, hot and heavy.

“God, Michael.”

“Don’t believe in him,” Michael whispers back, grinning as he teasingly rocked backwards against Gavin’s shaft. His curls looked almost auburn in the lamplight, flying everywhere. “Can you…can you fuck me already?”

Gavin groans at the pleading tone to his voice, quaking as his dick slid against Michael’s ass again. Bringing a finger up to Michael’s mouth, he roughly stroked it across his bottom lip before the boy’s mouth parted and he could press it against his tongue.

“Suck,” he commanded, other hand stroking circles into his pale hip that were sure to bruise later. Michael complies immediately, eagerly closing his lips around the digit and working his tongue over it.

Once Gavin felt it was sufficient, he pushed Michael backwards onto the bed and breathlessly connected their lips again, bringing a saliva-coated finger to his ass and slowly pushing it in. The brunet winced at the intrusion, Gavin quickly pecking him on the lips as apology and sliding a hand down his dick –

Soon Michael was impatient again, pushing back against his hand.The bed creaked slightly, but at this point, neither of them could give a single damn if Geoff or Griffon could hear them.

“God, you’re being so good,” Gavin whispered, reveling in how quickly Michael’s walls were growing slick. He pumped his index in and out of the other boy, slathering the edges with his leaking pre-cum. Michael moans in response, eyes tightly shut as he played with himself. “Just- just keep going,” he panted, face flushed.

“Mmn.” Gavin hums and adds another finger, scissoring them. Michael’s hips jolt upwards and the boy whimpers, voice cracking as Gavin’s fingertips brushed against his prostate. “I- oh shit, shi – please, Gav, do that again –“ His hands scramble to reach Gavin’s, but they’re too far away and Gavin just laughs as he pulls his fingers out of Michael’s asshole, leaving him twitching and empty.

“I intend to,” he teased, bumping his nose against the other boy’s.

Michael is looking at him with something like adoration in his chocolate eyes and Gavin almost falters at the sight because God only knows how the fuck he came to deserve this, but then Michael is finally taking his shirt off and there’s nothing left between them except the heat radiating from their skin. Electricity dances across Gavin’s spine. His dick protested loudly at the neglect and at how bloody hard it’s been for ages, so he quickly brushes off all his thoughts and positions himself.

Michael trembles at the head of Gavin’s dick pressing up against his wet entrance. “G-god Gavin, just fucking do me already,” he begs, twisting underneath him.

Gavin nods and starts pushing himself in, peppering light kisses on Michael’s jaw and neck as he shushed him, only to stop at the barely audible sound of a tinkle of metal amidst all of the noises Michael was making.

He looks down and quirks his lips up at the familiar cross staring back at him, drawing out of Michael slightly at how blasphemous some people would probably find all of this.

But suddenly, Michael gasps loudly and Gavin comes to a complete halt.

Because the noise didn’t sound so much like an aroused intake of breath as one of fear –

He looks down, still hazy from lust.

And Michael is underneath him looking horrified, horrified about something but what, isn’t it just your cross? (Sacrilegious, sure, but Gavin knew plenty of religious people who were tolerant and much more liberal than some of their counterparts) But he pulls out of Michael completely anyways, leaning over him with a caress.

Michael bites the inside of his cheek and stiffens, Gavin frowning at the suddenness of the change. His dick throbs, but he ignores it.

“What’s the matter, boi?” He softly whispered, tracing veins on Michael’s pale skin. Michael shudders at the touch but otherwise remains frozen, perhaps growing even more so when they hear Gavin’s creeper necklace clink against something too loudly to just be a cross.

Michael’s face collapses in on itself but Gavin misses it, tilting his head down in confusion.

He’s met with the sight of not two, but three necklace chains happily tangling together.

A silver cross. Michael’s gift to him, the green creeper head. And a blue Minecraft diamond, hanging around Michael’s neck.

It suddenly hits Gavin so hard the thought almost knocks him sober.

Minecraft charms. Same size. Both pixilated. Both metallic silver, glossy and brightly coloured. Unmistakably matching.

Michael’s voice from earlier floats to the forefront of his mind, clear and sure.

I like you. I like you so fucking much.

Gavin rolls right off the bed, knees shaking and hands trembling as he tried to smooth out his wild hair. Michael stares at him fearfully, regaining enough motor control to twist his necklaces around and hide them, but the damage was done. (It was a long time coming, ever since the bar that one night, ever since they agreed to not talk about it. Because it just builds, and builds, and builds –)

“We can’t do this,” Gavin blurts out, backing up a step.

Because, what Gavin, you were all for shagging Michael just because you were both drunk but some bloody necklace goes and changes all that? A part of him snarled. But his conscience snapped right back, dripping acid all over again.

Yeah, because this didn’t turn out to be the bloody drunken romp between mates like I thought Michael thought it was. He got us bloody matching necklaces and didn’t tell me, for God’s sake.

Why didn’t he tell me?

That edge of what they were that they were precariously balanced on?

That was long gone.

Gavin felt like he was plummeting to his doom and opened a parachute far too late.

Michael’s eyes widen as he takes in Gavin’s body language and what he said, scrambling upright. And Gavin’s heart wrenches as he looks him right in the eye, black pupils blown, and there’s a frantic look creeping in on the edges of Michael’s eyes, but he can’t. The curly-haired boy reaches for him and he panics – God, if he gets any closer I don’t know if I can trust my self-restraint, I’m still sloshed as hell – so he shoves him away harshly.

Michael shrinks back as if he was just shot. “Ga–“

Gavin swallowed heavily with guilt, Adam’s apple bobbing frantically as he turned away.

Blood pounding in his ears, Gavin fumbled through his closet for a change of clothes for both of them, hating himself for letting it get this far. Jesus, he swore to himself that he wouldn’t fuck this up, but there they were. Michael was supposed to be his lovely friend; someone to place on a high shelf out of reach for safety where Gavin couldn’t touch him, couldn’t ruin him.

Because that’s what Gavin knew he did: he ruined people.

And he liked Michael far too much to do that to him.

And yet here they are.

Michael doesn’t utter another word behind him as he pulls clothing out of drawers but Gavin hears scuffling so he miserably assumes that the boy was either too angry at him for leaving him hanging to speak, or had maybe even gotten dressed and left. Wouldn’t blame him.

But when Gavin tersely turns back around with pyjamas in his arms, Michael is still sitting there on the bed.

And he’s crying.

Some part of Michael was embarrassed that he was crying so openly, and for the first time since he came to Texas to escape everything, too, but that was grossly overshadowed by his utter humiliation at being rejected.

This is it, fuck. I fucked it up so bad.

Tears trailed down his face as he hiccupped, trying and failing to keep it together while Gavin’s back was turned to him. But seeing the British boy so far away in the corner of the room only made him inhale sharply and hurt more – why did he ever think this was a fucking good idea?

Oh yeah, because he didn’t think this would be that big of a deal.

But of all the people Gavin wouldn’t have sex with, why him? Why not him?

How the fuck wasn’t he good enough?

Michael barely registers Gavin’s shocked look as he turns, still furiously battling with his internal voices. He carded his fingers through his hair and choked back a sob. His chest heaved, feeling sick to his stomach.

God, I’m fucking pathetic.

“Why?” He blinked hard, realizing he was whispering out loud. He didn’t know if he was talking to himself or if he wanted Gavin to hear, but that was besides the point now. “Why, is it because I’m dirty? Is it because I fucking –“

“Michael.” Gavin stepped forward, carefully watching as the brunet broke down.

“I mean, I-I didn’t know! I was drunk, I– It was my first time –“

“Michael.”

“ – not my first first time, but it might as well have been I had no fucking clue –“ Michael continued hoarsely, Gavin bewildered as all hell. “– and yeah I know, that cross, that fucking Christian cross –“

“Michael.”

His voice rose to a hysteric pitch. “– so whatever, yeah, sure I get it, I had the fucking clap so I get it that you hate me –“

“Christ, Michael, will you fucking stop?” Gavin suddenly shouted, picking up the pyjamas and throwing them at the other boy in exasperation. And to surprise, it works; Michael promptly snaps his mouth shut, red-rimmed eyes the size of saucers as he finally made eye contact because holy fucking hell, did Gavin just swear?

Gavin jumps on the chance and keeps talking as he threw his own clothes on.

“I don’t care about any of…whatever you think I bloody hate you for, yeah? And I certainly do not think you’re dirty, my dick was already in your fucking arse when I pulled out. This was my fault. All my fault.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Michael went slack-jawed – is him saying fuck really the most shocking thing in everything he just said? – and opted instead to give him a pointed, serious look.

Michael’s stomach churns and he wants to yell you’re wrong, there’s absolutely nothing fucking wrong with you, it’s all me, but he doesn’t have the strength to. “I – yeah, okay…” He meekly replies instead, tugging the covers over himself. Hiding.

Silence fell between the two and they stared at each other, brown eyes on green, neither budging. That’s when they heard a noise from down the hall. They both stiffened at the same time, afraid that they had woken Geoff or Griffon up with their raised voices, but visibly relax when they just hear the faint sound of a toilet flushing.

Whoever it was walked through the hall and a door shut behind them, the house falling quiet again.

After some time, Gavin sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, flopping onto his back on the bed. He tilted his head up and stared at Michael, upside down, the duvet bunched up beside him.

“I mean it,” he vaguely insists.

But Michael wore such a broken-hearted look that Gavin felt his own face falling. “Come here,” he murmured, reaching out for Michael’s wrist. “C’mere, boi. I’m sorry for earlier.”

He twisted up and slung an arm around Michael, pulling him to his chest. The brunet was hesitant, but let it happen, the action feeling as natural as breathing at this point. And perhaps it was – after all the late night impromptu sleepovers and closeness they shared, this was what they were.

But what exactly was that? After all of this?

Michael wiped his face and exhaled, flushed complexion slowly fading back to its usual paleness. “I know,” he whispered.

Gavin smiled weakly, previous adamant tone melting into uncertainty. “And…a-and if you meant what you said earlier, I mean, we’re both bloody sloshed, I know. I get it if you weren’t serious –“ Jesus, who’s tripping over their words now? He mentally cringed at himself. “But if you were…” He trailed off, looking to Michael for a response.

The boy only shot him a blank stare and Gavin’s heart plummeted, losing nearly all his self-confidence. “When you…said you…liked…?” His voice dropped to an almost imperceptible volume.

But thank God Michael nodded, albeit with a hard look and a bite of his cheek. “Said I like you.”

Gavin exhaled a gust of air in relief, bobbing his head up and down in response.

“Yeah.”

“…Yeah?” Michael snorted, still a bit lackluster. Gavin lost himself for a second but quickly recovered.

“Y-yeah, I mean that if you’re serious, we’ll do this properly.” He spoke softly. The brunet pressed his lips together as if he were too scared to ask what he meant by that. So Gavin bravely continued, eyelids heavy as his rollercoaster of emotions and the lateness of the night finally caught up with him.

“I just…not while you’re drunk, and not while I am, either. You deserve so much better.” Gavin paused as Michael shifted slightly, rustling the sheets. “When we’re sober,” he promised. “I’ll have sex with you, but only if you still want to, then.”

Michael slurred quietly, sighing as he settled. His voice is quiet, and Gavin doesn’t quite hear, he thinks. “Mn, of course I will, you dumb prick.”

When morning comes, Griffon doesn’t dare venture over to Gavin’s room, more than a little fearful of the aftermath of whatever the fuck Gavin and Michael were screaming about the night before.

But she needn’t have worried. Because when Geoff (who slept through the entire thing somehow) grumbles to himself about some missing vodka and goes to wake Gavin up around noon, he’s met with the familiar sight of Gavin and Michael sleeping soundly. Sure, he misses the puffiness of Michael’s eyes and the train-wreck of hickeys littering Gavin’s neck, but those are little things.

Geoff slowly backs out and shuts the door behind him, leaving the two to continue sleeping in each other’s arms.

Chapter Text

Ryan sipped on a soda as he watched Ray shift in his chair and scribble at a notebook, noticing how his fingers twitched and clenched down on the mechanical pencil just a little too hard.

“You need to stop worrying about it.”

“Worrying about what? I’m not worried. Who’s worried?” Ray’s voice came several pitches too high.

Ryan sighed as if to say I saw that denial coming, a defeated smile pulling up on his face as his boyfriend swiveled around. Ray, looking tired and harassed, didn’t appreciate it regardless. A Red Bull sat half-empty on the desk and he snatched it up.

“Sure, babe.” Ryan pursed his lips and leaned back against the wall, putting his drink down. “But you know it’s not a big deal. It’s Michael, you can just tell him –“

“Tell me what?”

Michael strolls into the room with a slew of hickeys littering his neck and collarbone, deep purple flowering like bruises. Ray’s eyes widen at the entrance and he shakily swerves his arm around to set his energy drink down. “N-nothing! It’s noth– fuck –“ The can falls on an angle against the keyboard and liquid starts dripping through the keys, Michael eyeing him suspiciously as he frantically wiped at it with his shirt.

Ryan held back a snort as the Puerto Rican’s glasses slipped off his nose and dangled under his chin for less than a second before clattering right into a puddle of Red Bull. He composed himself just in time to see Michael roll his eyes and turn back to him.

“That’s such a load of crap. Ryan, the fuck is up?”

Staring at the marks on Michael’s cream skin, the older man just silently raised an eyebrow in reply.

Ah yes, second semester.

Nobody knew what the fuck happened over Christmas break, but suddenly Michael Jones came back from a rumoured messy breakup with the girlfriend pulling shit like this, skipping out without a hint and returning with hickeys and bruised lips and practically glowing with happiness.

And sure, both Ray and Ryan knew it was definitely all the work of Gavin, but it wasn’t like they were about to go ahead, put their lives in their hands and ask Michael about it, hell no. So they’ve just been accepting what was happening at face value. Which was rewarding in itself, to be honest.

A smirk unconsciously wormed its way back into Ryan’s expression. God though, Barbara’s fucking expression when she first caught Michael in one of his uncharacteristically happy moods was priceless.

A few weeks back all Michael had done was flash a dimpled smile and ask her how her day was going. But Barbara gasped so loudly you would’ve thought he may as well have declared world peace; she had proceeded to grab him by the face, hard, and demand, “…Michael? Is that you? Why have you gotten so cheesy? YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’RE FEELING GRATE?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH ANGRY BOY –”

Everyone had expected him to nearly deck her then, but it was a true testament to his newfound temperance that he just laughed and clapped her on the back. “Good, terrible pun, Barbs,” he had told her.

Ray coughed loudly in the background.

Ryan quickly sobered back up again and shrugged noncommittally at an irritated Michael. “Nah, don’t worry about it. What’d you come back here for, anyways? Is it my stellar company?” He grinned, sitting up.

Sighing in light annoyance, the brunet whipped around muttering something that sounded like “you wish, I fucking hate third-wheeling you two,” before walking over to the TV and picking his phone up off the low counter.

Michael weighs it in his hand for a second before pocketing it, causing Ray to inhale sharply, but the curly-haired boy doesn’t notice.

“I just forgot this here,” he explains, shooting daggers at the Puerto Rican. “But yeah, you can tell me later, you fuck.”

And with that, Michael was out of there again.

Ray exhales in a gust of air and gets up, arms outstretched. Ryan wordlessly accepts and pulls his boyfriend into his arms and comfortingly runs a hand down his back. He tries to not let his slight amusement show, but a slight bit of exasperation slips into his voice as he finally speaks.

“Babe, you gotta get yourself a phone case or something.”

Ray groans and burrows his head into the older man’s shoulder. “I fucking know, dude. But it’s too late, IT’S TOO LATE.” The last words may as well have been a shout but they came out muffled into Ryan’s chest.

Ryan snorts again, just as he realizes that the edges of worry were present in his conscience, too.

One hour ago

“Mmn, I’m kinda worried about Michael and Gavin.”

Ray and Ryan were lazily wrapped up in each other on Ray’s bed. Tracing little circles into his boyfriend’s skin, the Puerto Rican propped himself up by the elbows to look him in the eye.

Ryan quirked a brow and pecked him on the lips, throwing an arm around his waist to tug him back down again. “Why? They seem to be…” He paused, looking for the right word. “…Managing.”

Huffing, Ray elbowed him. “Sure, managing. I’m damn sure they’re in love with each other, but the idiots just won’t fucking get together properly, Michael keeps beating himself up about it –“

He was cut short by the sound of a cellphone ringing.

He immediately perked up and rolled off the bed, out of Ryan’s arms. “That’s gotta be Jack, he was telling me about this sick idea him and Geoff came up with, I can’t wait to explain it to you if it all goes through.”

Hopping over to pick the sounding phone off the floor, Ray swiftly swiped and answered the call.

Ryan frowned suddenly, calling out. “Wait babe, wasn’t your phone over there by your jeans? I don’t think –“

You are receiving a long distance call. Additional service charges may apply.

A look of alarm crossed Ray’s face with the realization that no, this wasn’t in fact Jack calling, but he was rooted in place as the call connected. A woman’s voice came through the phone.

“Hi, honey! It’s mom, hope you’re doing well. Dad and I were wondering if you wanted to come back for the summer or take some time to find a place in Austin off res? Of course, if that’s what you want your father thinks we should come down to see you and help to settle you in wherever you find.” A burst of light laugher.

Ryan stood up and motioned for Ray to talk, to hang up, something – but the poor guy was stock-still as Michael’s mom continued talking.

“Anyways, I know this is kind of early, my goodness. But you just came back for Easter and I thought of all this right after you left, so I got a little excited there. So what do you say? Any plans?”

Ray, open your dumb fucking mouth and say something. One sentence. Or a word. Even just a syllable. This isn’t that big of a deal. The Puerto Rican’s stomach shriveled into a prune in mortification at his own soundlessness, but he couldn’t make his mouth form words.

“…Michael, dear? Are you there?”

 Ugh.

Ryan plucked the phone out of Ray’s death-grip and put it to his ear, throwing his arm around the younger boy in one smooth motion and squeezing his arm comfortingly. “Hi, yes, this is Ryan Haywood. I’m sorry, Michael just left his phone here with me, we were doing some work together. I should have looked at his caller ID before picking up. Should I take that as a message for him?”

“Oh, what a good friend!” Mrs. Jones exclaimed over the line, surprising both men. “Yes, yes, you should. Just please let him know to call us back.” She paused before continuing in a more serious tone. “As soon as possible, too. There’s something I need to talk to him about regarding an unpleasant…visit I received the other day.”

Ryan exchanged looks with Ray at that. Why was she telling them all this? Shouldn’t she have just left it at “yes”? What unpleasant visit?

“That boy, I swear to God…” Her muttering was soft, but not quiet enough. An uncomfortable feeling grew in the pit of Ray’s stomach as he listened in.

“O-of course I will, ma’am. I’ll be sure to pass it on. Have a great day,” Ryan replied quickly, hoping their silence went unnoticed.

“Thank you, Ryan! Have yourself a good one as well.” The call clicked off and ended.

Ray wormed out of Ryan’s embrace and wobbled over to his desk, confused. She seemed like a really nice lady, but what was with that last part there? He gulped, wishing he didn’t pick up the phone. Stupid, stupid, stupid –

Ryan sighed at his boyfriend’s hunched figure. Walking over to massage his shoulders, Ray appreciated it for all of two minutes before shrugging him off, muttering about doing some homework.

The older man resigned himself to retrieving a soda from the fridge, setting Michael’s phone down gently beside the Xbox console.

Outside in the crisp spring air, Michael and Gavin had no inkling of any worries of the sort.

“Hey love, you find your cell?”

Michael twitched at the term of endearment, fuzzy feeling in his chest. “Yeah boi, was just back in the dorm.” He smiled up at Gavin, who was bouncing up and down as they walked towards Barbara’s house – her and Kara got a house together for next semester and they were doing a sort of early housewarming for them.

A twinge of jealousy ran through him. So exclusive. Yeah, the two girls finally got together a bit after second semester began and could hardly be found apart from each other. Kind of like Ray and Ryan, except Ray and Ryan were actually sometimes worse with their PDA. But Gavin cut his thoughts short.

 “You were gone for so long I thought you might’ve forgotten we were going!” Gavin whined, bottle of champagne cradled in his arms like a baby. He spun in a circle, making Michael snort with laugher.

“You look fuckin’ ridiculous,” he told him, watching the British boy’s sandy hair fly all over the place.

“But you love it.”

Michael flushed, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. “Yeah sure, whatever,” he said. “But I wouldn’t forget, dumbass. If anything, it would be you and your fucking bird brain five-second attention span that would forget me, the champagne, and the address.”

“What? Please, Mi-cool – bollocks!”

Losing his footing and nearly crashing to the sidewalk, Gavin yelped. The bottle of alcohol dangled from one hand as he steadied himself. Beaming at his marvelous save, he skipped over to link his arm with Michael’s.

“No, no, I could never!” He continued protesting, nudging the brunet in his ribs.

“Oh yeah?” Michael challenged, lips upturned.

“Yeah!”

“Alright, where’s Barb’s place then?” Gavin frowned at the question, realizing that he had no bloody idea. “That’s not fair, Mi-cool, you’re the one with the address –“

Pretending to scoff, Michael took his limb back and crossed his arms. “Wow, fucking A. So tell me again how excellent your dumb British brain is at remembering things?”

Gavin propped his elbow on top of Michael’s shoulder, grinning when the boy didn’t throw it off. He immediately pulled his mouth into a pout at the curly-haired boy’s comeback, though. “You’re the one who lost your cellular, you twit.”

Michael opened his mouth in denial (because no, he didn’t lose it, he just left it – and besides, it wasn’t a huge issue, nobody would have called him in that short time-span), but Gavin cut him off, eyes glinting with unconcealed affection.

“Besides, Mi-cool, I could never forget you.”

Chapter Text

At Barbara and Kara’s party, Gavin was zoned out thinking about how bloody happy he was with the way things were.

He knew he shouldn’t be –

But he was.

Legs casually draped over Michael’s on the floor as they watched their friends play Mario Party, he couldn’t help but stare at the other boy and smile happily. Even when hollering at Kara to go on, deck your girl, she deserves it, the boy was striking. No – especially when he was excited like this, because who passing the intimidating brunet on the street could guess that he had this side to him?

Barbara yelled something and in his peripheral vision, he watched as Kara flew into her.

They’re adorable, too.

Gavin, humming as he thought to himself, was slow to realize that Michael had shifted to glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

“What are you on about, dumbass?” Michael quipped, face slightly flushed from beer and maybe something else entirely, too.

Without really meaning to, Gavin beamed impossibly brighter. “Nothing, Michael! I’m top. Just having fun, is all. Especially with my boi beside me.” I’m a bloody fool for him, Jesus. Shaking his wild head of hair, he scooted closer to the boy so that their thighs were touching. Michael moved only slightly, but Gavin noticed.

Leaning over, he conspiratorially whispered into Michael’s ear. “Bet you ten quid Kara and Barbs are gonna ditch their own party to shag in an hour or less.”

Michael barked out a loud laugh, causing Geoff and Jack’s eyes to flicker over for a brief moment. Glancing over at their friends crowded on the couch, Michael dropped his voice before whispering back, “goddamn it Gav, we’re being suspicious as fuck. Shouldn’t we go sit by everyone else?”

“Nah. So what do you think, boi?” Gavin prompted, breezing over his previous remark. “Or do you R&R will finally show up to the party first?”

Relenting, the corners of Michael’s mouth turned up. “Ray and Ryan totally aren’t showing up, they’re probably banging right now. They’re so fucking gay for each other.” He must’ve thought of something else though, because he twisted his neck around too abruptly and ended up bumping noses with Gavin.

“Oh! Michael, trying to snog me in front of all our friends?”  The British boy laughed, messing up Michael’s dark curls.

The boy makes a face, freckles popping, but doesn’t pull back. “I just had an idea, goddamn it. Let me just motherfucking tell you.” But Gavin couldn’t resist waggling his eyebrows and bouncing up and down in place, just to piss him off. “Hmm Michael? Hmm? What is it?”

“For the love of –“

Watching Michael get increasingly annoyed at his inability to stay still, Gavin was delighted when the curly-haired boy’s hands flew up to grab him by the head with both hands.

“Would you just fucking stay still?” Michael said, exasperated.

Gavin smirked and leaned in, lips nearly against the other boy’s. “Or what, you’ll kiss me boi?”

Face colouring, Michael sputtered as he jerked back. “N-not here, Jesus. I mean, no – just cause you’re an uncoordinated prick –“ His hands stay anchored to either sides of Gavin’s face, though, and the edges of Gavin’s eyes crinkle at how gently Michael holds him (or at least, until he starts violently shaking him in a way that was definitely capable of killing a small child).

“Get a room, boyfriends,” Jeremy calls out as Gavin lets out a shriek, the lad not even bothering to tear his eyes away from the TV screen where he was currently getting trashed.

Face turning bright red, Michael shuts his mouth with a snap and let go of the British boy. Glare as sharp as anything, Gavin expected him to flip Jeremy the bird and maybe even snipe back with eat shit, dude or maybe even just laugh and play along with it like they did on the odd time but he doesn’t, instead he goes –

“Boyfriends? Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s flippant and quick but Michael still manages to drip acid on the words as they roll off his tongue, sour tone apparent as six pairs of eyes turned, incredulous. Gavin internally winces at the blunt echo of his own words and rubs his cheeks nervously, eyeing the marked up skin of Michael’s neck courtesy of yours truly. Yeah, Gavin really shouldn’t be as content as he was.

He laughs easily though, hooking an arm around Michael and jostling him affectionately. “Jeremy, you prick. Maybe if you were focusing on the game, you wouldn’t be getting destroyed. Then again, I can tell you’re distracted by the kinds of looks you’re giving me,” he teased, winking. “If you wanna go, I wouldn’t complain.”

In the corner of his eye, Michael looks disappointed and maybe slightly hurt and it puts a regrettable thud in Gavin’s stomach but as he turns his focus back to the rest of his friends, he is met with a furiously blushing blonde.

“Oh my god, not in my new house! Stop –“ Kara squeals and throws a cushion at Gavin, which promptly whacks him in the face. He lets out a shout and that earns a snigger from Michael, so he counts it as a small win.

Feigning hurt, Gavin runs with the joke and whines, “then just make sure you and Barbs beat us to it, Christ it’s not that hard –“

Barbara perks up and Kara practically screams as she sees the glint in her girlfriend’s eyes.

“No honey, don’t you dare –“

Barbara swoops down on the shorter girl and muffles her mouth, already cackling. “Don’t worry Gav, you’re right. There’s nothing hard between the two of u –“ She bursts into uncontrollable laughter before she could even finish her joke. Kara twists around to tackle her and knocks a can of pop into Jeremy, who promptly lets go of his controller (into the puddle forming in his lap, good bloody job).

“What the dicks?” Geoff interjects in the pandemonium that ensues, coming back from the kitchen with a glass of amber liquid in hand. “I thought we were playing Mario Party?”

Jack laughs off to the side, running a hand through his russet beard. “Was.”

In the clamour, Michael had recovered and crept up behind Gavin. “So before I was fucking cut off, I was saying.” He said lowly. “Speaking of boning, can you imagine?”

Gavin turned to gauge the curly-haired boy’s mischievous expression. “Imagine what, love?”

Michael nodded towards the two older men now sitting together on the long ottoman against the wall, sipping scotch. Gavin scrunched up his face in confusion, not quite getting it at first. “Okay…so Geoff and Jack? What about them?”

The brunet just gave him a pointed look as if to say come on, you can’t be that slow.

And then it suddenly hit him.

“NO, MICHAEL.” Gavin shrieked, giving the other boy a horrified look. “NO, YOU CAN’T MEAN –“

Michael laughed loudly, holding his sides. “I do, I do mean it,“ he chokes out, grinning. “I mean, can you just imagine –“

“Bloody hell, I don’t want to! That’s worse than – worse than –“

“Wet bread?” Michael supplied helpfully.

“No, nothing’s worse than soggy bread but it comes in as a solid second,” Gavin almost sobs, the two clashing thoughts probably killing brain cells with the mental images they produced. “But my brain hurts.”

Triumphant, the brunet crosses his arms. “I’ll take it. God, I knew it would be good,” he crows.

Gavin is close to protesting due to the Geoff Ramsey x Jack Pattillo imagery still assaulting his mind, but he’s honestly just happy that he wasn’t actually angry and Michael’s dimples were grossly unfair. “That was funny, Mi-cool,” he allows, slowly grinning and throwing an arm around the boy’s midsection. “You’re absolutely top, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too,” Michael muttered back offhandedly as he pulled out his phone. “Hold on a sec, I’m getting a call.”

Gavin’s heart skips a beat and he feels another pang in his chest at the low-key declaration as he watched Michael get up. His internal voice popped up to admonish himself. Gavin David Free, you utter mingepot, get your shite together. But Christ, it wasn’t that easy. He pouted to himself, feeling sheepish because he had not the slightest clue how to go about asking Michael out.

As Griffon so nicely put it a few days ago, maybe you’re a little too used to hook-up culture, honey. The remark sort of stung, mostly because of how true it was.

Gavin took a gulp of beer and frowned to himself. Starting dating also felt like…oh he didn’t really know, but it would make Michael and him feel an awful lot more real. And he honestly didn’t know if he could do it, or if he would end up bolting.

“What? Are you fucking serious?” His head shot up at Michael’s raised voice, watching as the boy tugged at his sweatshirt collar in agitation. “Jesus fuck, Ray, what if it was…” His tone dropped and Gavin turned away again, not wanting to eavesdrop. But he gives Michael’s face sidelong glances anyways as the curly-haired boy continued talking lowly into his phone.

His heart jumps into his throat as someone nudges him with their foot, but it’s only Geoff.

“Hey kid, what’s up?” The older man nods his head in Michael’s direction. Gavin shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “Just Ray.”

Geoff grins and sits down next to Gavin on the floor. “At least someone is getting dating advice from someone, Christ.” The British boy opened his mouth, looking offended, but Geoff cuts him off. “Nope. No excuses. Just suck it up already, sometimes I swear you can be such a fucking child. Dicks, it’s not like you even want to do anyone else, anyways. I don’t even know why you joked with that other kid about it.”

“It was all in fun,” Gavin defended. “Michael was getting self-conscious and I was trying to lay Jeremy off it.” But Geoff just snorts, crossing his ink-littered arms.

“Yeah, ok,” he scoffs. “But it’s sure hard to convince someone when your British little Mi-coo practically drips with adoration. You two are gross. Just be gross together.”

“Then you and Griffon are even grosser!”

“Nah, we’re punk as fuck so we can’t be gross.”

“You’re still gross. Old man.”

Gavin starts laughing at the stupidity of the conversation, but Geoff really did have a point. It was true – he really hasn’t touched anyone else since the holidays. And Michael and him were already somewhat involved. So what much difference could dating make? He quiets down, a thought popping into his head.

“But you know, relationships are still frightening,” Gavin admits, hoping Geoff won’t laugh at him.

He doesn’t and this is one of the thousands of reasons why Gavin would be friends with Geoff Ramsey until the end of time. Instead, he thinks about it deeply and twists his moustache a little before replying.

“Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from. And especially for you; you’re scared as dicks. I mean, I guess going out would make the thought of losing him even worse, but you gotta take that risk, dude. But both possibilities are equally hard to imagine. You either get married or break up.”

His serious face suddenly breaks into a wicked grin. “Griffon and I are so getting fucking married.”

Gavin smiles at that, raising his beer bottle. “You better. And I bloody better be there to see it.”

Geoff laughs and claps him on the back, getting up. “Well, get to work on your own relationship and I might just invite you. Mi-coo’s coming back, I’m gonna split. Later, Gav.”

“Later, Geoff!” Gavin stands up too, feeling significantly better.

Maybe I will ask Michael out. I can do it.

Maybe even right now.

With a burst of confidence, he turns around to face the boy. “Hey, Michael –“

The air is nearly knocked out of him as Michael meets him midstride and abruptly pulls him into a tight hug. Completely caught off-guard, Gavin drew his arms around the brunet automatically as his words died in his throat. People are staring and Gavin knows Michael’s self-conscious about that so he fruitlessly tries to pry the boy off of him. He bit his lip in confusion as he realized Michael wasn’t about to let go anytime soon. It’s not like the brunet was usually one for open affection or anything, and last Gavin checked, the other boy wasn’t that drunk.

Bollocks Michael, I’m trying to get you to date me. Of all the times –

“My parents are coming down,” Michael suddenly says, and that’s when Gavin notices that he’s shaking.

Something’s wrong.

The brunet buries his face into his shoulder. “I-I know this is out of fucking nowhere, but…I mean, they won’t like it and I guess we’re not really together together, but can you please come with me? I really need to deal with this.”

None of those points really seemed to connect with each other and Gavin doesn’t know what Michael means, but he rubs the boy’s back comfortingly. He could ask him about it later. And well, about the dating thing –

That could wait, too.  

“Of course I’ll come, Michael,” he murmurs even as an ominous feeling rises up in his chest. Though, it’s just Michael’s parents and Gavin scolds himself, knowing full well that they were probably lovely people. But when Michael finally lets go and they rejoin their friends in front of the TV for another round of games and bevs, Gavin sees that the boy’s hands are still trembling.

Chapter Text

They say that it feels like time slows down as you approach disaster. That’s exactly how it feels to Michael as he goes through all the regular motions, the days passing excruciatingly slowly. And he thinks Ray feels it too, because they’re stuck in the same room drafting reports, finishing up projects and studying for finals with a suffocating tinge to the air and a forced lightness to their conversation that nobody could fucking miss.

As Monday trickles into Tuesday and eventually Wednesday, Thursday, Michael gets less and less sure of himself. He doesn’t really want to talk about it but he does, but Ray doesn’t ask and about half of him is grateful.

Gavin, naïve and clueless that he was, didn’t suspect a thing and left Michael alone for the most part to his work, happily texting him sporadically.

For reasons that he knew were less than fair, Michael was somewhat irritated that Gavin wasn’t fucked up about this like he was. Not that he ever gave the British boy any reason to be worried; the idiot had no goddamn clue about the severity of the buried issues he had with his parents. He suddenly remembered Sunday and his gross emotional outburst and winced at the memory. Ugh. Forget that happened.

Plus, Gavin was so fucking proud and blatant about his pansexuality that Michael didn’t know if he would get it, even if he ended up talking to him about it. Ray understood, thank fucking God, but Ray wasn’t the one Michael was planning on chaining to himself and leaping into Hell with.

Come Friday afternoon, Michael is so fucking nervous that not even a term paper and a review piece due in three days could distract him from his thoughts. He tries to blame the shakiness of his hands on the three empty cans of Red Bull sitting on the end of his desk, but who the fuck was he even kidding?

“Shit, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he groans to himself.

The sound earns a glance from Ray, who takes off his headphones. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” Michael quickly says, waving the other boy off. The Puerto Rican raised an eyebrow but shrugs, going back to his music. Heaving a sigh, Michael slumps in his chair.

What point am I fucking trying to make to my parents? That I’m gay and ready to swear my alliance with Satan?

Michael snorted at the thought of that declaration.

But then he sobered up. I’m not even with Gavin.

Truthfully, he was just a fucking wimp and didn’t want to face his parents alone. Especially with the foreboding knowledge that someone showed up to his goddamn house that made his mom less than happy; who else could it be than that one motherfucking mistake he –

Michael clenched his fingers over the edges of his armrests, knuckles cracking.

Yeah, maybe I won’t have to do a damn thing about outing myself.

Heaviness settled in the back of his throat and he swallowed hard. Maybe asking Gavin to come was a bad idea just added on top of everything else. Maybe he should just go deal with it alone. Maybe Gavin – no, definitely – didn’t want anything to do with his family matters.

But it’s tomorrow. Too late to chicken out now.

Migraine surfacing, Michael swiveled out of his chair and grabbed his jacket decisively.

“Gonna go see Gav now,” he told Ray, who just nods with a careful expression.

“Say hi to him for me. We need to do something after all this finals bullshit is over.”

Michael forces a tight smile. “Yeah, that sounds pretty sweet.” He pauses. “I’ll be back tomorrow after…I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

At that, Ray turns his music all the way down to face his roommate and best friend, again fixing him with that uncharacteristically piercing look of his.

“Hey yeah, good luck bro. Let me know if it gets out of hand or anything.”

Michael felt like he just had to be overly stressed, because he was rapidly getting way too fucking emotional over Ray’s concern. Adam’s apple bobbing, he jerked his head up and down.

“Thanks, it isn’t that big of a deal,” he muttered.

Ray’s eyebrows shoot up at the blatant lie, but Michael turns to head out and misses it.

I mean, it really shouldn’t be, the brunet thought. His mom and dad were good people. But the misfortune is that being generally good and being homophobic aren’t mutually exclusive, and it’s a hard fucking thing to wrap your head around, let alone come to terms with.

Shoving his hands in his jean pockets, Michael cringed at the prospect of tomorrow. But he knows he was right to go to Gavin because when he arrives his anxiety all but disappears at the sight of the lanky British boy sitting on the porch already waiting for him, with a smile as warm as the sun.

“I’ve missed you for the past few days, Mi-cool!”

Thing is, as Michael came to realize over the months, Gavin made up for much of his emptiness by radiating everything outwards. It made him bitter for the boy as much as shamefully grateful (like in situations like this), but right now he really couldn’t fucking go into the thought that deeply.

Closing his eyes to the feeling of Gavin trailing thin fingers down his spine, Michael was more relaxed than he had been in days. Even with a thin layer of fabric between them, he could feel the other boy’s warmth. “You’re going to make me fuckin’ fall asleep, Gav.”

“Mmn,” Gavin hummed, head propped up by his elbow. “That’s alright, boi. I don’t mind. You seem stressed.”

And that much was definitely true – maybe he wasn’t as clueless as Michael had made him out to be – but annoyance flared up inside him anyways.

“Yeah?”

Gavin frowned at the biting tone and Michael instantly regretted it. Maybe a little too harsh. Good job, you fuckwad. But the British boy just shook it off and grinned, poking Michael in the ribs and causing the brunet to yelp out. “Aw, don’t be mean.”

“Gav, you fuck –“ Michael instinctively rolled away. A swooping sensation ran through his stomach and he fell off the bed, landing flat on his back. He heard Gavin gasp and glared in the direction of the sound, albeit in mock anger this time.

“Yeah, that’s alright, he says,” Michael called up sarcastically. “Fall asleep, he says.”

Gavin peered over the edge with a look of relief, wild hair flopping. His smile split wider at Michael’s words and he suddenly snickered.

“Well, were you seriously considering turning in this early? But Mi-cool, you look bloody minged.”

Growling even as the corners of his mouth jerked upwards, Michael reached up and grabbed a fistful of the other boy’s shirt collar. “Yeah? I look minged? Oh Mi-cool, you seem stressed, let me help – yeah I’ll show you help –“

Gavin’s smile rapidly disappeared as he felt himself getting pulled down, digging his fingers into the bed frame.

“Wait, wait Mi-cool, don’t stretch my shirt! What are you – ack NO STOP –“

 Michael gave a vicious yank and the lanky boy barrelled off the bed, a whirlwind of sandy hair and limbs and screaming. They dissolved into tears and laughter, Geoff and Griffon not even bothering to check on them anymore at this point (Even though it was probably midnight or something and God, they should really at least try to be less conspicuous).

Collecting himself, Gavin sat up on the floor looking harassed, hair messier than ever. Michael raised an eyebrow, daring the British boy to retaliate again. But Gavin relents, laugh suddenly pealing out again as he leaned into Michael happily.

“You’re absolutely ridic. I love it. I love you.”

Michael’s gut suddenly exploded into a thousand shards of happiness and without even thinking about it he whipped his head up to fully face Gavin, who was grinning right back at him with such sincerity in his goddamn green eyes – even considering what was coming tomorrow, in the moment Michael really couldn’t give half a flying fuck about consequences and conflicting interests and boring, complicated things that got in the way of him actually doing anything about anything.

“Could you stop shortening normal words and making them into useless Gavin slang?” Michael retorted before his brain shorted out. “But yeah, same. Fucking idiot.”

Gavin frowned in indignation. He was actually blushing, the piece of shit, Michael realized. He smirked at the thought – or at least he tried to – but his face was instead eaten up by a wide childlike smile as the British boy started muttering to himself in annoyance about how they’re perfectly regular, Dan says it too, and you say top sometimes, you donut, don’t pretend you don’t.

 “Shut up, I’m just teasing, Jesus.” Michael murmured, body still feeling like it was set alight. God, people shouldn’t be allowed to just fucking glow like Gavin does. But then again, there isn’t anyone really like Gavin fucking Free, is there?

Gavin must have noticed Michael’s far-away expression though, because his self-directed rant faded into nothing as he lightly tapped Michael on his knee. “So Mi-cool, what’s the plan for tomorrow? We’re meeting your folks, yeah?” He asked, changing the subject.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Michael automatically nodded. “Right, I already talked to Geoff and he said we could borrow his car. You…you sure you still want to come?”

Gavin beamed, ruffling the brunet’s curls. “Of course, boi! Anything I should know? Should I bring something? What are we doing?” He was practically bouncing up and down in place with barely contained enthusiasm. Michael winced and fidgeted.

“Well, uh. I don’t know, we’re just going to show them around I guess? And then maybe look at some houses.”

“That sounds top, but shouldn’t Ray – and Rye – come too if we’re renting together?” Gavin asked.

Uhhhhh. Fair point. Fuck.

“They’re staying for the weekend so there’s loads of fucking time for that,” Michael quickly said. “But I-I just wanted you to come because you’re important to me, alright?” He felt his face promptly heating up and swore internally, but Gavin just cracked a smile and hugged him tightly.

“Definitely! And, I dunno, around them should we..?” The British boy let go and gestured between himself and Michael, tilting his head. Michael froze, entirely unprepared for this conversation. But the other boy just plowed on, tapping at his lip thoughtfully. Fuck, Michael thought frantically. How the fuck do I even start on this shit  –

“I know your parents are religious and stuff so maybe we shouldn’t act involved in front of them?” Gavin abruptly stopped and pulled a face.

“Bollocks, that didn’t come out right, sorry. I don’t mean we should hide anything, love. More like, I know you’d rather keep it between us and hey, I still think we’re brill either way. Don’t particularly want to get into dramatics when I’m still trying to…never mind. So just whatever you’re comfortable with, yeah?”

A remark about yet another fucking made-up half-word, Gav? retreating into the back of his mind,Michael just stared. He had been prepared for a shitfest of explanations and confusion and Gavin being scared off by family issues and etcetera and etcetera but Jesus, that boy was the most unpredictable person alive.

Forget the sun. Gavin Free was the entire fucking solar system hurtling through space. An energy cloud. An electron. A vortex. A goddamn black hole. Whatever, there weren’t enough fucking metaphors for dumb British boys who waltz into other people’s lives with a smile and wreaks havoc like that’s always how it was meant to be. Anyways – 

Michael Jones, your mouth is still fucking open.

Gavin chuckled nervously at the lack of reaction and ran his hand through his hair. “I – uh, Mi-cool?”

God, I probably look like a motherfucking idiot, I just need to say something that more or less sounds like agreement. Nod, you fuck. Or grunt.

“Can I kiss you?” Michael found himself bursting out instead.

Yeah, nailed it.

If Gavin was surprised, he was real fucking good at hiding it. “I’ll take that as agreement, then,” he giggled, patiently leaning in and closing his eyes.

“Just shut up, alright?” Michael connected their lips, tugging Gavin closer. The kiss is sweet and unhurried and Michael drinks it all in; Gavin’s hands pulling at his hair, the taste of him on his tongue, and the warmth, Lord, the wholehearted affection was enough to illuminate the rest of Michael’s goddamn life.

“You’re fucking insufferable,” Michael mutters, mostly to himself, but Gavin hears anyways and it makes him smile.

Michael thumbed Gavin’s cheek gently and nipped at his bottom lip before ghosting his tongue across the shell of his ear, humming in satisfaction as the boy let out a light sigh. “I can never get over how bloody excellent this feels.” A free hand worming its way into the brunet’s shirt, Gavin absentmindedly glided his fingers up his chest before absentmindedly tweaking a nipple. Michael hissed, canines dragging as he jerked from the touch and the sudden change of pace.

“Y-you know, there’s something about this that feels real fucking blasphemous, the day before and all.”

Gavin regarded Michael with an amused expression. “Do you want to stop, boi?” he murmured, pressing wet kisses along the boy’s collarbone as he walked his hand over to his neglected nipple before twisting that one between his fingers, too.

He has a point, I did initiate this. Whoop – 

“Mn, well no –“ Michael twitched again. He suddenly realized he was tenting so hard it fucking hurt, and he didn’t even know if it was because of that sappy romantic fulfillment earlier or now, with Gavin’s talented hands working at his chest and his mouth against his neck. But fuck, it’s both, it’s definitely goddamn both.

Noticing Michael’s hard-on, Gavin’s eyes darkened and he wet his bottom lip, hand trailing across the front of his own pants. “Bed, Michael?” He suggested, laughing slightly. Pupils dilating, Michael nodded and clambered up from the floor.

Gavin started taking off his jeans but his fingers stop at the zipper. He hesitates. Reaching up to softly twirl a finger through Michael’s curls, he asked, “You’re sure, though? I need to know for sure that you want to have sex tonight.”

Michael, flushed, inhales deeply at the look on the British boy’s face, entirely serious and concerned and there’s just something about the way Gavin looks with his dick constrained by his pants and eyes slightly tearing up as he held himself back that nearly makes Michael cream himself right then and there.

“Jesus Gav, you’re amazing. Just come here.” He pulls the other boy in by the arm and kisses him again, thinking about how fucking glad he was to be doing this with him sober, electricity dancing across skin as Gavin’s shirt came off and they crashed into an embrace.

Gavin’s laugh tinkles out as he stared up, eyes wide and merry. “Mmn love, is that a yes then? You haven’t really been all that good at those today.”

“Shut the fuck up, yes,” Michael hissed, face colouring red all over again.

Gavin smirks, moving down to mouth at the fabric of the other boy’s boxers and Michael moans, hands flying to find purchase. “Yes what?” He teased, causing the brunet to fly into a long string of expletives.

I’m going to fucking kill him, holy Christ. “Y-yes, we should fuck – you’re such a piece of shit!”

He can practically feel Gavin’s smirk grow wider against him, but then the British boy surprises him by pulling away from the dampness seeping through his front.

Gavin returns with a small bottle of lotion and hops right back on top of Michael, grinning all the while. “Y’know, back when Geoff was trying to convince me to stop sleeping around and settle down – before you came, I mean – he kept telling me how bloody good shagging was with someone you love,” he said conversationally as he slicked up the other boy, hand gliding down his shaft.

“Y-yeah?” Michael managed, mind snagged on settled down, with someone you love –

“’Course, I didn’t believe him,” Gavin said wryly, taking hold of a dazed-looking Michael’s hand and guides it to himself, trying to keep steady as he helped Michael nudge a lotioned index in. He bit his lip and leaned in to whisper in Michael’s ear. “But Michael, I’m so glad you exist. You make me so bloody happy sometimes I forget to hate myself.” He shuddered out a breath as Michael crooked his finger reflexively, finally registering what he said.

The words resounded in his head so deeply he felt lightheaded.

“So, you’re trying to tell me to top you for our first?” Michael asks disbelievingly, even as Gavin’s rolling a condom on for him. “Are you fucking sure? I’ve never been on this end before,” he admits. But Gavin is understanding, if not a smidge impatient.

The British boy laughs again and strokes Michael’s face, thin hips straddling the other boy. “Michael, I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Now, are you going to prep me, or am I going to have to do it myself?”

Jesus, he’s such a cocky bastard, Michael thinks, even as he snatched the bottle from Gavin. But the boy’s laugh more than made up for it; he loved Gavin’s voice, but he liked it best when it rang out like that.

“Christ, are you going to stick your cock in me or not, Michael?” Gavin complained, completely ruining the moment.

Michael frowned.

“I’m getting to that, dumbass.”

And as it were, Michael found himself proven wrong about a lot of things that night.

For one, he felt pretty fucking secure about a lot of things again – like his own sexuality and him and Gavin’s friendship, or relationship or, ah fuck, whatever they had. But it became an okay-whatever. A whatever-that-will-turn-into-something-official-eventually kind of whatever.

And the prospect of tomorrow hardly seemed daunting anymore; between knowing Ray having his back and Gavin being there with his relentless cheer, he was pretty sure he could take whatever the fuck his parents wanted to throw at him.

He was still young, after all.

Finally, looking up at Gavin straddling his stomach with his face thoroughly flushed, hair stuck to his forehead and chest heaving as he whimpered from the sensation of Michael inside of him, Michael changed his mind about one last thing that night.

“M-michael, oh my g-god ah –“

“God, you feel so fucking good, Gav,” Michael whispered, breathing erratic. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Gavin moans at the praise and brings his hips down to meet Michael’s thrusts halfway, the brushes against his prostate making him see specks of white overlaying his vision. “Mm, yes, tell me how good I am. T-tell me how good I am for you,” he blathered blindly, stroking himself.

The words send a shudder through Michael and he flips them over so Gavin is spread out underneath him, all tan skin and brown hair and light scars, and the boy starts biting a thousand tiny hickeys into his neck. He quickly stops, though, when Michael wraps a rough hand around his cock and picks up the pace, fucking him into the mattress.

“Yeah, you make me so hot, Gav. Show me how much you love me. I want to make you come so hard you can’t move afterwards, are you going to do that for me?” He murmured into his ear.

Gavin gasps and cards his fingers desperately through Michael’s brown curls, his green eyes tearing with lust and pure, undiluted happiness. “Oh Michael, bloody hell – fuck yes, I’m going to c-come –“ His voice kept rising in pitch as he started to sob out.

“M-michael Michael Michael –“

Yeah.

That was his new favourite sound on Earth.

In the morning, Michael woke up early feeling optimistic. Gavin stirred when he sat up, the boy mumbling something in his sleep and instinctively reaching for him. Michael smiled gently at the action and couldn’t help but press a kiss to his forehead as the sun rose, light slowly filtering through the blinds.

“Jesus, it can’t get any more fucking cliché than this,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

But when his entire life has basically become a living cliché between being closeted with homophobic religious parents and somehow ending up in bed with the literal polar opposite of himself – not to mention the most popular, most fucking perfect human being – Michael couldn’t really give half a shit.

“Mn, morning boi.” Gavin said suddenly, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he lurched upright. “What time is it? Should we get going soon?”

Michael pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing at the strands of Gavin’s hair sticking straight up from his head, a slight giggle escaping nevertheless. His eyes glanced to the clock on the wall. “It’s only 9:32 AM. Their plane arrives at 11; there’s loads of fucking time.”

Gavin yawns and stretches. “That’s good. You excited for today?” His hand finds Michael’s in the duvet, and Michael grins even as his stomach drops slightly at the thought.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Chapter Text

Gavin whistled to himself – horrendously off-key, but he already knew that – as he buttoned up a shirt and studied himself in the mirror. Same green eyes, large nose, unruly hair. Brushing down the button-up to cover the faint marks along his hipbone, he internally reminded himself for the millionth time to buy himself a sodding belt.

But he really couldn’t frown to himself this morning; the corners of his mouth stayed stubbornly uplifted.

He was feeling absolutely brilliant.

Yeah, Gavin Free, but you’re feeling brill the way a bloody teenager does after the first time he had sex. Look at that dumb shine in your eye. Next thing you know you’ll be glowing and Griffon’ll ask if you’re pregnant with Michael’s child.

He had to cough out loud at that thought, scanning around furtively to make sure he didn’t actually say it aloud and nobody heard him. Still hearing the sound of water splashing faintly behind the closed bathroom floor, he relaxed. Michael was still taking his shower.

Although, Michael’s beat-up phone light up with a text and Gavin couldn’t resist.

You have (1) new message(s)

[10:01:49 AM] Ray Narvaez: hey morning dude gl today, again 0:

Gavin furrowed his brow as he tilted his neck to read the message properly. Sobering up a little, he noticed the Puerto Rican’s choice of words – not a “have fun” or even a “hope it goes well”, but rather an ominous good luck. His mind flashed back to Michael tightly gripping him in a tight hug and he bit his lip thoughtfully, worriedly.

“Gavin, where the fuck did you put my underwear?” Michael suddenly hollered from the bathroom and Gavin lost his train of thought to a burst of giggling as he toppled over headfirst to scramble away to safety.

“Wasn’t me, I swear it!”

Michael appeared in the doorway, ears red and furious(ly embarrassed). Gavin smirked, noticing that he had pulled on his worn jeans anyways. However, when Michael gingerly walked into the room and picked up his phone off the nightstand to scan across quickly, he stiffened visibly.

“Everything alright, boi?” Gavin questioned, crossing his fingers that the brunet might want to talk about it in more detail, especially after last night. The corner of his mouth quirked up a little at the memory.

But Michael just shrugged it off, instead turning to him with a glint in his eye that said there was no fucking way the lanky British boy would get away with stowing his boxers away god-knows-where in the room with less than fifteen minutes to spare before they had to leave. Gavin gulped, discarding the thought.

“I am not going commando to see my motherfucking parents, you asshat,” Michael hissed as he advanced on the boy.

“Now, let’s be reasonable Mi-cool,” Gavin said, hands raised. “Why don’t we consider stopping this and looking for it toge–“

“Why don’t you consider a bit of this –“

Geoff knocked on the door moments later only to see a tearful Gavin shrieking at a volume loud enough to shatter eardrums, pinned down by a righteously vengeful Michael to the carpeted floor. The brunet wasn’t even about to stop tickling the idiot under him either, until he spotted the grey boxers in Geoff’s right hand, a pair of car keys in the other.

The older man raised an eyebrow. “These yours?”

“Gavin, you fucking gave them to Geoff?” Michael shouted disbelievingly.

“I didn’t – I technically threw them down the stairs –“

“Jesus fucking Christ –“

Geoff just shook his head and set the two items down on the floor at the doorway. Muttering something about two grown men acting like twelve year old children, he stuffed his inked hands in his pockets and left.

Michael had it in him to at least yell after him, “Thanks for the keys, Geoff! I owe you!” before one of Gavin’s flailing arms cuffed him in the head and he went down in a tangle of limbs. Michael stayed sprawled out on the carpet on top of him just a few moments too long, with just a bit too much of a tremble to be discounted as nothing.

But Gavin was determined to make the day go smoothly.

And then I can properly ask Michael to be my boyfriend after all this blows over.

His heart skipped a beat as the curly-haired boy brushed himself off and extended a hand to him, dimpled smile bright. “Should we go?”

Gavin bit his lip, a thought suddenly occurring to him. He knew he shouldn’t…but he still should? I mean, Michael would want to know. He’ll get even madder if I reminded him after, he argued with himself internally.

Michael lowered his hand uncertainly at the suddenly solemn look on the British boy’s face.

“…Gavin?”

 “Michael…aren’t…aren’t you going to put your boxers on?”

Swearing up a storm, Michael withdrew his hand with a snap and turned bright red all over again.

Gavin grinned.

The reunion between Michael and his parents was, in Gavin’s uncertain opinion, rather uninspiring. If anything, it fell flat of any sort of expectation he might’ve had about the entire thing – even his own mother would have perhaps pulled him into a tight hug and maybe shed a tear or two. But then again, she’s back over the pond, and Gavin supposed it’s entirely different when Michael and his family were only a few states away.

Nevertheless, Gavin – who had never found himself feeling out of place without reason before now – was feeling grossly uncomfortable standing a step behind Michael as the curly-haired boy greeted his parents with a stiff wave as they approached, luggage in tow.

“Hey dad, hey mom,” Michael said, his voice sounding oddly congested.

“Hi darling,” Mrs. Jones exclaimed with a warm smile, New Jersey accent ringing out in the bustling airport. She didn’t look anything out of place, a typical middle-aged mother with unruly auburn locks that rivalled Michael’s. But Michael’s shoulders were stiff as his mother fondly reached out to him and Gavin wanted to spring right up to the boy to calm him down but he found his feet glued firmly in place.

Gavin wound up staring at the back of Michael’s head, subconsciously ruffling his own sandy locks as the brunet turned his attention to his dad. Gavin blinked incredulously. Is that a handshake? Did he just bloody shake his dad’s hand? Who does that? That can’t be an American thing –

“Well, my boy? Who might you be?”

Gavin shook his head furiously and managed to dizzy himself, vaguely noting Michael’s quiet snicker from in front of him. Met with piecing grey eyes as he looked up accusingly, he suddenly realized Mr. Jones was addressing him. Bollocks.

He immediately broke into his best smile, hopping forward and extending a hand. “Sorry, I’m Gavin Free! I’m Michael’s best friend here, it’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Michael’s dad frowned so deeply it seemed as though the lines would be permanently etched into his face.

Gavin faltered.

“Sir, ma’am,” he quickly added, grin returning. “Hope your flight was top. Need help with your luggage?”

Michael’s mom burst into a peal of laughter not unlike Michael’s, startling Gavin. “Oh, you’re wonderful! Don’t worry dear, he can handle just fine on his own.” She winked back at Mr. Jones, who muttered something with the tiniest hint of a smile.

They seem quite alright, Gavin reflected, relieved. He whipped around to face Michael eagerly, but he was met with tight eyes and a smile he knew all too well was forced.

If anyone in the busy airport were to focus their attention on the small group making their way to the parking garage from terminal B, they wouldn’t have noticed anything out of place. Gavin was baffled – if he didn’t know any better, he would have dismissed Michael’s odd behaviour and chalked it up to…oh, I don’t know. Something. Something unimportant.

After all, everything seemed well.

Gavin ended up falling into step beside Michael’s mom, leading the way even though Michael had the keys. He glanced back, calling out. “Michael?”

“I’m right here behind you, dumba– Gavin.”

The tension fragmented little by little over the course of the day.

There was a small blip when Lindsay was mentioned, but Michael’s dad just hummed disapprovingly while not offering to vocalize any of it. Michael’s mom just brushed it over with whatever makes you happy.

Which surprised Michael, but he noted that she was the one who helped him more or less escape New Jersey and come down to Texas in the first place, with little to no explanation to begin with.

Gavin was even calling Michael’s mom by her first name by dinner, after a winding day of settling the Jones at their hotel suite, giving them a tour of the university campus, and introducing them to Ray (who fumbled over all his words but seemed to do alright, or as far as Gavin could tell with Mr. Jones’ utterly stoic expression).

Michael had managed to make himself loosen up by that point, too; he found himself cracking easy smiles and talking animatedly about his progress in school to his parents.

“Mechanics was brutal, mom. Way harder than what I had back in Jersey, I thought I could make by with second-level courses since I already learned the prerequisite material, but boy was I wrong –“

“Michael Vincent, you better not be –“

“No, mom! I’m not failing anything! I swear to Go– I swear!”

Gavin happily watched them banter, sipping his ice water. “You almost failed Physics,” he chimed in.

Sputtering, Michael slapped a hand over the British boy’s mouth and turned to his mom desperately. “Don’t listen to this idiot, there’s no way I’d come close to failing Physics, it’s my easiest course.”

If by easiest you mean hardest, Gavin’s green eyes seemed to say as they twinkled. Hullum is a good prof, but a bloody hardass.

Michael kicked him in the leg under the table.

Gavin knocked over his drink with his elbow with a squawk, scrabbling to steady the glass before it dropped and shattered. Michael leaned back and crossed his arms with more parts satisfaction than guilt, his mom swatting him in the arm and scolding him lightheartedly.

“That was all his fault – hey, please don’t hit me, mom – you should see the shi– stuff he usually pulls –“

Michael could see the British boy counting his blessings as the food decided to arrive just then. But then he registered Gavin’s hand already poised with a fork and Jesus fucking Christ my life is flashing before my eyes, I forgot to tell Gav and my parents are going to kill him –

When Michael drew out of his frantic thoughts with some half-baked plan involving a second spilled drink, the soup spoon and a napkin, he had three pairs of expectant eyes on him.

“Mi-cool?” Gavin questioned, messy hair in his eyes as he held a hand out to him. “Grace?”

“Y-yeah, right.” Michael blew out a breath. He took Gavin’s hand and held on like it was a lifeline, feeling a comforting squeeze.

See, it was little things like these that told him he probably should have told Gavin outright why he was so terrified of today. But as oblivious and dumb as the sandy-haired boy liked to be, he had a gift for social cues (or maybe just enormous luck on his side). In any case, Michael decided that he would be okay.

Prior airport scene setting him back to last year and Lindsay and crushed baby’s breath in a garbage bin, his head still echoed coward because he knew he just wanted his parents to stay in New Jersey because nobody can hate anyone as effectively from 1700 miles away, but maybe he was wrong.

His world was still intact, with both his parents and his new life in it.

 “So Gavin dear, would you like to join us for Mass tomorrow?”

Or so he thought.

“Ah, church!” Gavin chirped, a little too loudly. He glanced at Michael through the corner of eye, uncertain of how to continue. “Well, I….er….I wou–“

“Gav isn’t religious,” Michael said, heart thumping. Knowing the fucking idiot, he would come to church just to save my stupid ass. But there are lines even I don’t want to cross. I need to stop depending on him so much for this shit.

“Oh?”

His father’s tone twists through his gut like a knife. Sharp, calculating, but always quiet. Except in my nightmares, Michael suddenly remembered.

“Well, that’s fine!” His mom interrupts, smiling cheerily. “We can hardly expect him to come to our house of God if he isn’t going to welcome Him into his life, now can we? It’s quite alright, we can go apartment-hunting after Michael comes to church with us tomorrow.”

Gavin beams at her understanding, large puppy green eyes basically screaming look Mi-cool! It’s okay! I’m sorry I couldn’t do any better, but your mum is okay with it! But Michael chews the inside of his cheek and curses inwardly, wondering how the fuck Gavin missed his mom’s sliding, biting remark.

Maybe Michael was just more aware after that, but little things started cropping up.

Little glances between his parents every time Gavin squealed or leaned into him. Tight-lipped smiles following gushing conversation. Silent, judging stares whenever his mom thought Gavin wasn’t looking. The room seeming half a degree colder, or at least to Michael.

This is just how Gavin is, he wanted to say.

I love him, he wanted to say.

But if they were going to disapprove of him so readily, throwing him off a figurative cliff in their minds and condemning him to Hell as soon as Michael told them he wasn’t Christian, let alone Catholic, like they were, then I’m already fucked.

Michael had already known that long before he came to Texas, but he couldn’t help but feel his chest clench painfully.

Later that night driving back to Gavin’s after dropping his parents off at the hotel, Gavin is still buzzing with energy. Enthused, he quickly presses a kiss to Michael’s cheek without warning and his eyes crinkle as he grins widely. “That wasn’t so bad, I don’t think?”

“Y-yeah,” Michael replied unsurely. “I just really don’t fucking want to go to church.”

Making a sympathetic sound, Gavin said, “at least it’ll only be the morning, and then we can look at houses.” He perked up happily. “Oh, but your parents are top, Mi-cool! Well, I don’t know about your dad, he doesn’t seem to talk much, but I love your mum. She’s darling.”

Michael’s heart sinks and sinks at the words until he feels like he’ll drop through his seat and plunge right out of existence. He can’t even bring himself to reply and they drive the rest of the way wordlessly, the radio quietly playing.

Chapter Text

“Darling, come along now. We can’t be late.”

St. Austin Catholic Church, the letters above the doors read.

Michael stared at the blindingly white limestone building ahead of him, nails digging half-crescents into the palms of his hands as he stood firmly in place. The collar of his button-up bothered him, but he ignored it. He suddenly caught a ghost of a scent of something nostalgic in all the wrong kind of ways. A slight tremor of disgust racked down his spine.

Startled by a sudden, soft clap on the back, Michael reeled away from the walkway. People made offended noises as he bumped into them against the flow of traffic. He saw spots for a moment from looking away from the glaring white of the church too quickly before realizing he was looking at a pair of concerned, green eyes.

“Mi-cool?” Gavin scrunched up his face comically. “Are you alright, boi? It’s only for a little while. I’m sorry I can’t come in with you.”

Michael scratched the back of his neck, feeling guilty for making the British boy worry over something he couldn’t control. “Nah Gav, it’s cool. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Michael Jones!” His mom called out again, more impatiently this time.

Giving Gavin a weak grin, he turned and followed the throngs of people inside the heavy double doors before the boy could say anything else.

Gavin watched him get swallowed up by the crowd, biting his lip as he stepped aside. He wasn’t even quite sure what he was so nervous about. It’s not like anything could happen, not really. Call him overconfident in his own influence maybe, but he was also sure Michael would soon be over it once his parents were gone and he wasn’t forced to attend after this.

In any case, it was bloody irrational for Gavin to think that he was the only one who could protect his boi and offer him moral support. But if there was anything he knew Michael hated, it was confrontation.

Church was a few thousand bricks and a hundred people’s worth of confrontation.

“You minging fool, Michael,” Gavin hissed to himself in frustration. “Why didn’t you just let me lie?”

Walking over to a bench, he plopped down with a huff. Passersby looked at him curiously but he returned their stares with glares so scathing the curly-haired boy would have been proud. Tilting his head back to stare at the sky, he realized he had no damn clue how long church service ran for.

Michael had forgotten just how fucking uncomfortable sitting in a pew was.

Sliding forwards and backwards on the smooth wooden bench, he accidentally kicked the row ahead of him and earned a sharp hiss from his mom and a cold glare from his dad. His face quickly coloured and he forced himself to stay still after that.

“Sorry, my bad,” he muttered, tugging at his neat shirt cuffs.

“I sorely hope that this inappropriate behaviour isn’t what you pull when you attend without us,” his mom scolded. “You’re not ten anymore. Please be respectful.”

Yeah, about that, Michael thought, with two parts amusement and one part aversion.

“After all, God watches all that we do,” his dad added from his other side. “We’ve raised you to be better than this, Michael.”

Okay, maybe one part amusement. One quarter sardonic amusement. Three quarters bitterness.

He was quickly ushered to stand with everyone else as the priest made his way up to the altar. A golden cross hung on the wall and Michael felt claustrophobic even with the high ceiling and natural light filtering through the stained glass. But he quashed the feeling and settled for resignation as Mass began.

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” The presiding priest crossed himself, bright smile on his rosy face.

Michael considered not saying anything, lips tightly pressed together, but sighed quietly when both his parents glanced down at him expectantly.

“Amen,” he muttered.

“May the grace and the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you!”

“And with your spirit.”

Voices echoed off the windows and limestone walls, Michael’s sarcastic addition lost in the chorus. When the priest finished talking and ushered someone up to recite lines, Michael fought the urge to shove his hands in his pockets (or maybe a knife in his chest) and groan.

This is going to be a fucking blast, he thought. I definitely missed this, oh yeah.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the aura of brimming understanding and forgiveness emanating from the priest that to him seemed entirely forced, or the hum of faith he can almost hear running through the veins of everyone’s clasped hands. The complete devotion on his parents’ faces as they sang along with the church choir, or the fact that Michael was forced to mouth the words even though this was the last place he belonged in.

His mind flashed back to nightmares of being buried alive and he felt something churn in his stomach. He forced a grin. I’m going to Hell for being here. And I’m going to Hell if I’m not here. Both of which are ironic because there’s no Hell to go to, but I’m still going there.

He swallowed heavily.

Ah, fuck. I wish Gavin was here.

Michael tuned back in after fifteen minutes of automatic repetition familiar to him from over fifteen years of Sunday service to hear, “Lift up your hearts!”

The people reply with, “Lift them up to the Lord!” and Michael had to actually work this time to stifle a snicker. He could almost hear Gavin’s whining voice. But Mi-cool, you can’t do that! It’s not physically possible! What does it even mean to lift our hearts?

“Let us give thanks to the Lord, our God.”

Why are we thanking him? What has he done for us? His internal Gavin voice continued, and Michael chuckled softly. Exactly, he wanted to agree. But then he realized the Gavin voice was still his own thoughts inside his head, and that he was essentially just talking to himself and pretending it was the other boy.

Wow, I feel dumb.

His mom clicked her tongue sharply.

“It is right and just,” Michael quickly recited, half a beat late.

“It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation always and everywhere to give you thanks, Lord Holy Father Almighty and Eternal God through Christ our Lord…”

Yeah, right and just my fucking ass, Michael thought as the priest droned on, palms towards the sky.

“Michael, did you say something?”

His heart skipped a beat as his dad turned to him with a hushed voice. Did he just say that out loud? Fuck.

“N-no, I was just following along.”

Mr. Jones faced forward again with an unimpressed sound.

Michael made sure to pay attention after that, nodding along to the rest of the sermon bored and irritated out of his mind.

After Holy Communion, however, was an entirely different story. When Mass was over, he saw the priest making his way towards him from a mile away. Michael tried to lead his parents out the door but they made no motion of leaving.

“Hold on, Michael honey. I have something to talk to you about,” his mom said, with what looked like a hint of a grim expression on her face.

Alarm bells went off in Michael’s head, but he all but pushed them aside in favor of panicking as the robed man drew closer and closer.

“Shouldn’t we...shouldn’t we talk about this later? Like, somewhere private? I mean, Gavin’s waiting and we have open house appointments and stuff -” Michael started inching towards the door, even going so far as tugging on his dad’s shirt sleeve with him.

“Ah, it’s not often I see so many fresh new faces coming to my services!” A warm voice rang out.

Just fucking kill me now.

After a long-winded conversation that Michael concluded, with relief, was vague enough that his parents assumed the “newcomers” the priest was referring to were just themselves, he was ready to get the fuck out of there. Before his ass was completely busted.

But Mrs. Jones had no such plans.

Holding him back from making a beeline towards the door after numerous exchanges of “God be with you!” and meaningless conversation with randoms, she sat him down in a pew while his dad continued milling about.

“I wanted to talk to you about...Chris.” She started. “Do you know who that is?”

Oh, I know who that is, alright. “Why are we talking about this here?” Michael retorted, trying not to snipe.

But he was scared. What did the boy do? Or say? And why the flying fuck did he show up to his goddamn house in New Jersey?

“Don’t question me, honey.” His mom frowned. “I’ve heard…unpleasant rumours about him. He came to visit you apparently, but didn’t know you moved. I hope you aren’t friends.”

The worst part was that she was genuinely concerned. Her faint wrinkles were creased with worry, and her eyes practically shone.

Michael clenched his hands in his lap. “No, we just worked on an engineering project together. Full semester,” he lied casually. “I didn’t tell many people I transferred, mom.”

Mrs. Jones brightened considerably, relief apparent in her features. “Good, good! Oh Michael, thank goodness. For a moment your father and I had suspicions that he perhaps tried something awful, like…” She dropped her voice and leaned in to his ear as if the hanging figure on the wall was listening and would have been scorned to hear her words. Michael tensed, eyes glazing over as he tried to tune her out.

“…Like trying to convert you to his kind.” She finished, looking utterly satisfied that Michael was still her golden boy. Another thought occurred to her, though, as she pieced something together. “Oh, and honey, I don’t mean to be rude. But don’t you think your friend comes off a little –“

Michael shook his head of curls jerkily as he pretended to not hear her trailing voice, replying in monotone. “Yeah, I don’t really know Chris. Was that all? Can we go now?”

The conversation was over as quickly and abruptly as it began.

So they left, and Michael did his best to try and push his mom’s words out of his mind. But even as he relaxed since the “talk” his mother had in mind since she came down to visit was over and not quite as bad as he had imagined, the message behind it persisted and grew like dark thorns in his ribcage, ugly non-truths that were repeated so much he began to doubt himself.

Gavin was, without fail, waiting for him expectantly outside the doors. Hair wild and eyes bright, he beamed once he spotted the other boy. “Mi-cool!” He laughed, bounding up and pulling him into a hug. “You were gone for-ever.”

Seriously, why did I ask Gavin to come again? I’m just fucking making him play along for my own sake and my parents fucking hate him.

Even as he returned Gavin’s smile with a dimpled one and followed him down the steps, he could feel his mom’s gaze boring holes into his back. He swore he heard a disapproving grunt from his dad, and it all came together in a condemning cloud that said: Gavin’s not a good influence.

It said: their kind. Their kind.

It said: we don’t want him around you.

It said: he’s awful, he’s going to Hell, and he’s dragging you down with him.

And like a sweater, the careful construction of good intentions and great impressions the British boy painstakingly tried to impress on Mr. and Mrs. Jones swiftly unravelled with one loose strand, one stray thought. And Michael saw his intact little world crack at the seams.

(Is it considered a sweater and a loose strand or a tangle of string if you were intent on destroying it from the start?)

“Gavin reminds me of a puppy dog,” Michael’s mom commented offhandedly, laugh tinkling.

Michael froze mid-gesture, hand halfway in his pocket to fish for Geoff’s car keys.

“Yes, it’s like you follow Michael wherever he goes.” His dad supplied. “Did you wait for us all this time? We’re sorry for making you wait, but you could have gone to find some of your other friends. I’m sure Michael wouldn’t have minded.”

No, don’t you dare. It’s nothing like that.

Gavin’s face dropped, and a flare of anger rose up in Michael.

But after a brief moment of silence, Gavin picked himself right back up and laughed along with them, ruffling his sandy hair. “I guess you’re right,” he grinned ruefully. “It didn’t occur to me, ‘cause I have no clue how long I had to wait. That was dumb of me.”

“Sorry!” The British boy finished, and plunked down in the passenger’s seat.

Stop it, Michael thought furiously. Just fucking stop it.

He turned the engine on just a bit too viciously, causing the other church-goers in the parking lot to turn their heads in surprise. Michael’s mom opened her mouth to speak again but Gavin beat her to it, gently putting a hand on Michael’s leg.

“Hey, why don’t we listen to something other than the radio while we go back to the hotel to grab some papers? Here, give me your phone Michael.”

So the tension seemed to dispel with Gavin’s persistence.

But Michael looked in the rearview to back out but instead caught a glimpse of his dad turning away in the backseat. Now, he was never that good at reading lips. But it was a single word, three syllables, and Michael had no trouble distinguishing the curl of his lip as Mr. Jones silently spat it out with a sneer.

Disgusting.

Disgusting, Michael’s mind repeated, as he saw his mom nod.

Whatever hint of normalcy his thoughts had tried to feign up until now was blown clear. His vision blurred into red haze.

Disgusting, as in unpleasant, repulsive, sickening, he thought in a daze, as he drove on autopilot –

Disgusting as in, I can’t believe this boy is touching my son that way, disgusting as in gross as in, how could his dad see the innocent hand-on-knee gesture as anything but flagrant disrespect and sin, gross as in Jesus fucking Christ, I want to throw myself out of this car.

So suddenly, Michael felt like he was barely eleven again and trapped by the wrist by his least liked aunt being told he was named after an archangel, a saint. That he was Mikha’el, who is like God, and that his name was war-cry, a blessing, a prayer. She smelled like stuffy confessionals, he remembered. Michael had already learned to start to hate church by then.

Suddenly Michael was eleven again and whispering fearfully into his pillow that he was none of those things, he was young and hiding his anxiety in bathroom stalls away from prying eyes and masking his fears with anger and nobody was there to care –

He was thirteen again and the only good friend he made ran away from home that year after telling his parents he was gay and Michael’s parents refused to help him look for the missing boy because you should just let people like that go, honey –

He was sixteen again and crying himself to sleep because he likes girls but he likes boys and he doesn’t fucking want to be Mikha’el, he doesn’t want to be an archangel, a saint. He doesn’t want to be made in the image of a God who he couldn’t believe in, who would condone the things he had seen happen, who would answer his desperate pleas to be normal and good with nothing staring back at him through his eyelids but blackness, because he never heard anything except silence.

Michael, at eighteen, had long learned to shut up and deal with it. And it became normal to be what he hated, to dutifully attend service with his parents without comment, to clasp his hands, to pray to God and pretend someone was listening.

But then there was Gavin.

“Doesn’t it bother you? What people think?”

“Why on earth would it bother me?”

Grounded, flawed, bright, accepting, and so, so unapologetically himself.

And for the first time for as long as Michael could remember, he had felt at home, a thousand miles away from New Jersey.

Disgusting. Gross.

His father’s voice whispered in the back of his head, and Michael almost thanked his genes for giving him quiet anger and a slow burn because he kept himself composed as far as up to their hotel floor.

Or rather, careless-looking brushes with Gavin kept him composed.

So maybe Michael wasn’t as good at collecting himself after all.

“Gav, I’m just going to see my parents in, alright?” Michael suddenly said, stepping out of the elevator and gently nudging the other boy back in. He heard his parents make matching sounds of surprise. Fuck them, he thought internally, as he focused on keeping a neutral expression plastered on his face.

Of course, Gavin, the stupid sunshiny boy, protested. He made to get out. “But Mi-cool – I –“ But after a quick scuffle the elevator made a loud sound. “Mi-cool, I don’t want to wait in the lobby! Why do I have to –“ His troubled voice grew muffled as the doors started to close automatically.

Michael smiled cheerily, dimples showing as he waved. “I’ll be right down, boi.”

The doors shut with a neat click.

Without delay, Michael wheeled around, curls auburn in the light. He was fucking furious.

“You know what’s fucking disgusting?” He shouted, voice carrying down the hallway.

“Michae–“ Mrs. Jones’ hand flew to her mouth, shocked.

“No. No, don’t Michael, honey me, mom. You don’t get to do that. You don’t. Not today. Not. You can’t.” He stalked down towards their room, not bothering to check if they were even following. Gavin’s look of hurt flashed through his mind and he feels something twist painfully in his gut all over again, and he turned to face them with unconcealed hate.

“I can’t believe you both said those things. How could you say something like that to Gavin? And like goddamn children, behind his back – What has he ever done to you? Who do you even fucking think you are that you can just go and judge him like that, like you’re somehow better than him for believing in a goddamn man in the sky, like you’re some – some God or something –“

“Michael Vincent Jones!”

Once the words started coming out, Michael couldn’t stop them. They rolled off his tongue like any number of sharp things. And Jesus fuck did they hurt, but they hurt like deep scars, like carving over years of being wounded from just enduring it and enduring it –

“Do you know what’s mo-ther-fuck-ing disgusting? So gross as you say, father?” He enunciated, not caring that they were still practically in the hallway, that someone had already poked their head out from their suite curiously only to withdraw and lock the door, and that his father was quickly turning various shades of crimson that screamed murder.

Mr. Jones’ voice was low thunder compared to Michael’s agitated, cracking lilts. “Don’t you dare use that tone and language with us, boy.”

For a nanosecond, Michael almost grinned thinking about how different boy sounded coming out of his dad’s angry mouth compared to Gavin’s laughing one, but he quickly shrank under his father’s gaze and paled.

The door shut behind them, silence reigning in the hotel room.

“What’s gross is that I love him,” Michael whispered.

Chapter Text

The swift backhand Michael received in response nearly knocked him to the floor.

Loud, resounding, damning.

As he staggered upright, hand to stinging cheek, he laughed, and the sound was as hollow as the bottom of a grave. What else did he even expect?

His heart thumped heavily in the echo of his own declaration and he inhaled shakily.

“What’s gross is that I love him and the last goddamn thing either of you ever thought about was my own happiness as soon as you started thinking about how, or what, I shouldn’t be,” Michael said lowly. “What kind of solace and fulfillment are you looking for in fucking with who Gavin is? With who I am, for giving a shit about him? With me, for not giving a shit about what God thinks?”

With the last accusation, his mom looked ready to slap him, even as she gently held her husband back.

“Honey, you don’t really mean that –“ She tried.

“Yes! Yes I do!” Michael shook his head in frustration. “Don’t you fucking get it? I’m sick of all this –“

He threw up his hands, exasperated he didn’t have the words to convey the level of hurt, of anger, of everything that he felt. “– this blind devotion, the dumb hypocrisy – I don’t believe in God! I don’t believe in him, I can’t believe in him, in what you believe he condones – I hate how nice you fucking are, but as soon as anything veers slightly off the tracks of normal and the image God made us in you do this complete one-eighty and suddenly it’s like I don’t even fucking know who my parents are anymore –”

“Who we are? Who have you become, Michael?” His dad yelled, having heard enough. “You haven’t gone to church since you left New Jersey – I’ve talked to the priest – you’re taking the Lord’s name in vain, and now you’re saying you’re forsaking Him and trying to make us believe you’re one of those…” He slammed an open palm against the wall, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“One of those what?” Michael retorted, hating that he flinched. “If you’re going to shit talk your own son you should at least have the guts to say the fucking words. Gays? Queer people?”

He paused, a certain Puerto Rican’s voice creeping up in his thoughts. Oh Hell, this is not the best time for this.

“Flaming homos?” Michael blurted out anyways, hoping that somewhere, Ray was fucking proud of himself for wiggling into his head in a Very Serious Moment.

Mr. Jones looked ready to hit him again.

Go ahead, I dare you.

“Gavin’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I-I love him, he says all these dumb British phrases but they end up being cute, he’s smart somehow anyways and he’s like a sun – he’s so cheery and not fake and if you took your heads out of your asses for just one second and accepted the fact that he’s not Christian or straight –“

“Is this to get back at us for something we did, dear?” Michael’s mom worried like she was in her own world, his words going right through her. “I know you weren’t yourself back at home, which is why I thought this was a nice change. And you made such sweet friends, like Ray and Ryan, but you shouldn’t have gone out of your way to affiliate yourself with someone like Gavin –“

 “It’s not fucking like that, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”  It’s like I’m talking to a wall.

“– We understand, Michael, you can drop the act and talk to us to our faces, stop forcing yourself to sin so much –“

“IT’S NOT AN ACT!” Utter exasperation.

“Then what is it?” Mr. Jones demanded. “Because you’re damn convincing and you’re frightening your mother. We don’t understand what you’re trying to get out of this so why don’t you just spit it out –“

“I’m not trying to get anything out of this because I’m not pretending to be gay. You think I have an agenda? What about your agenda?”

I can’t fucking believe this is happening.

Michael had to stop and clear his throat to keep himself from choking up. “You know how fucked up it is that when I realized I liked guys as much as I liked girls I had nobody to talk to because I couldn’t risk my parents finding out about it? My parents? THE PEOPLE WHO RAISED ME? Because you would’ve…w-would’ve hit me, like dad just did, or kicked me o-out?”

He sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. Don’t you fucking cry, Michael. Don’t you dare cry. Even if they’re furious, you-both-are-assholes tears. Goddamn, I wish I didn’t cry so much. Gavin never cries.

A hand rested lightly on his shoulder and Michael could almost pretend he was back in Physics, first day, that he was meeting Gavin all over again and this was just a shitty nightmare that he’ll get woken up from. Instead, he got –

“Michael, we would never throw you out. You’re still our son, no matter what.”

To which the majority of his brain immediately scoffed, yeah right.

To which a small hopeful corner hedged, maybe?

But Michael really should’ve learned by now to stop raising his hopes up.

“Your father was understandably upset, but it’s alright, we forgive you.”

It took Michael a moment to process. Understandably? You, forgive me?

“Come on, get up, we can fix you –“

FIX?

Michael’s head snapped up and he whipped his mom’s outstretched hand away from him in one fluid motion, snarling. “I DON’T NEED REDEMPTION FOR WHO I WAS BORN AS.”

His parents were stunned into silence again as a wave of horrified realization washed over him: holy fuck, they really can’t be reasoned with.

Second wave of realization: it’s hopeless. They’re hopeless, shit.

So Michael collected himself best as he could and got up, dusting himself off with trembling hands. He raked his fingers through his disheveled curls. Pulled in a long, shuddering breath. Met his parents’ lost, devastated stares.

His voice was deafening in the hushed disquiet. Bitter, triumphant, and something else unidentifiable.

“Alright, so here’s how it is. I’m bisexual. I had sex with Chris, by the way, and it was pretty sweet even though he gave me an STD and I was embarrassed as fuck but hey, it helped me get to Texas and meet Gavin, who I really. Fucking. Love. I hated pretending I was Christian and you’re both assholes.”

No reply.

“We’re done then.” Michael announced shakily, hand on the doorknob. “Thank God. Except fuck that.”

He stepped out without either of his parents making any move to stop him to come face-to-face with a wide-eyed stranger who was more than likely just about to ask them to tone their argument down, or call hotel security, or both.

Michael just kept walking, door left completely ajar. He meant to get the hell out of there as soon as possible, really. But spite got the better of him. He frowned as he stepped into the elevator, unable to resist one last remark. I’m already disowned anyways.

He stuck his head out, faced the long hallway, and hollered:

“BY THE WAY, THOUGHT YOU SHOULD KNOW SWEET, SWEET RAY AND RYAN ARE GIANT, GAY BOYFRIENDS.”

A couple miles away, Ryan shivered lightly.

“You cold, babe?” Ray asked, setting down a can of pop and some juice, but the older man just shook his head.

“Nah,” he replied, just the tiniest bit too shortly.

Both of them lapsed into silence as they undoubtedly turned their thoughts to the same thing – Are Michael and Gavin doing okay with his parents? Have things gone to shit? What are they even doing? Ryan found himself (unnecessarily so, in his opinion) self-conscious about when he met Mr. and Mrs. Jones in passing when they stopped by Ray’s dorm, while Ray was more frazzled by the fact that Michael hasn’t texted him even once.

What are best friends even for, he thought, moping. Especially since he heard that –

Ryan interrupted his thoughts, eyes glinting. “Oh, but I wouldn’t mind if you helped warm me up, Ray. It would be a shame if I caught a cold. Hmm?” He held his arms out.

The Puerto Rican fought back a snort and retorting with, you’re indoors, dumbass, instead dutifully climbing into his boyfriend’s lap. Ryan was a perfectly warm asshat.. But a nice-smelling asshat. Ray pushed the stress out of his head, knowing he could force it out of Michael when he saw him again. “I hate you,” Ray said, voice muffled.

“Yeah, love you,” Ryan murmured, hand brushing soothingly through the younger boy’s hair.

“Hey, hey, not on my couch,” Geoff complained, coming into the living room with a laptop and a bundle of papers. “Keep it in your pants.”

Ray immediately flushed and Griffon laughed from behind Geoff, Ryan joining in. Mostly because Ryan’s grip was like a vise and Ray quickly realized that he couldn’t, in fact, escape.

“Er, might be hard to,” he admitted, making Geoff sputter and drop a few pages he was holding.

“Hard to keep it in your pants? Dude.”

A long stream of internal screaming started up in Ray’s head. “No, I meant it’d be hard to get off – holy shi – that’s not what I meant either, I mean I’m on the couch and Ryan’s on the couch and he –“ Ray wanted to die. Just bury me where I stand, or sit. I don’t even care. Bury me alive. Bury Ryan alive too, the fucker.

Ryan kissed him on the mouth to shut him up and got a withering look of betrayal in return.

“Anyways!” Griffon clapped, smiling. “Thanks for coming, Ryan. I think Ray already told you about this thing Geoff’s been trying to put together?”

Nodding, Ryan cracked open a diet coke.

Geoff shuffled through his notes, scratching his beard. “Jack’s on his way and I’m planning on talking to Michael later tonight too.” He looked up to two surprised faces.

“Not to check up on him or anything,” he said gruffly, and a little too defensively. Crossing his arms, he rushed through his explanation at top speed. “I just want to…y’know, meet the Jones…treat them to some of my famous Ramsey steak…of course this was almost all Griffon’s idea anddefinitelynotmineI’mnotconcernedabouthimatall.”

“You know it, baby.” Griffon winked, hugging her boyfriend.

Ray and Ryan exchanged amused looks. Geoff was completely transparent, the sap. It was almost too cute how both Griffon and him worried over Michael like he was their adopted son just as much as Gavin was. In any case, he might as well be for what his real parents must put him through.

“I’m just impressed you got a hold of them,” Ray admitted, a bit petulant that he hasn’t talked to Michael since Friday. He felt uncharacteristically fiercely (or as fiercely as an 120-pound, skinny nerd kid like him could be) protective over the curly-haired boy as he thought about how Geoff informed him Michael had been suspiciously quiet when he came home with Gavin the other night after dropping his parents off.

Griffon rubbed her arm sheepishly. “Well, we didn’t exactly…neither Michael or Gav have picked up yet.”

After pacing around in the lobby for what seemed like ages and ages, Gavin got so irritated at his phone continuously vibrating and interrupting his…oh, it wasn’t interrupting anything. But he still shut it off.

“What the bloody hell is taking them so long?” The British boy muttered, obviously agitated. The poor secretary at the front desk looked just as frazzled by his out-of-place presence, though; the employee’s fingers fiddled with a name tag, not realizing that he was smudging ink over all the letters.

Gavin paid that no mind.

He couldn’t believe that Michael had trusted him enough to ask him along, but left him behind every single time it seemed like anything important was happening. He felt painfully inadequate.

But as much as he wanted to rush up again, Michael had told him to stay put. And stay put he would. He sat against the lobby wall, arms crossed and pouting, for all of ten seconds.

Who am I trying to fool? I’m such a knob.

With that, Gavin marched up to the set of elevators and pressed the button decisively. To his surprise, the doors to his left slid open almost immediately. He bolted in, only to collide with someone in his path. Distracted, Gavin hurriedly pushed them aside.

“Whoops, sorry mate, but I have somewhere to be. Very important, really, my friend needs me…whoa, Michael? What took you so long – and where are your parents?”

The brunet wordlessly tried to brush past Gavin, but was firmly held in place by the shoulders.

Once Gavin got a proper look at the lad, he backed the bloody hell up. Michael’s face was stony, but his bottom lip trembled like a leaf, giving him away. His eyes wet. Oh, and he was pale as ever but maybe even a shade more so, making his freckles stand out just like the redness of his –

“Alright, hang on. Hang on, hang on, hang on,” Gavin said, eyes wide as his fingers flew up to touch Michael’s cheek. It was tender, and unlike the British boy and his tan skin, Gavin knew Michael’s was far more prone to bruising. Sure enough, there was a faint indication of blue-ish grey already blossoming underneath.

Gavin’s mind reeled.

They fucking hit Michael? They hit him?

“Just leave it alone, Gav.” Michael tugged on his sleeve, voice quiet. “Let’s just go home.”

“Leave it? How could I leave this?” Gavin demanded, one foot in the elevator. “They bloody smacked you in the face, Michael! Your own parents!” What the hell happened up there?

“I know, okay?” Michael said loudly, startling him. “I know, I know. I should’ve told you what was going on, but I didn’t. But please don’t go up there.” His brown eyes pleaded with Gavin, who sighed and pried Michael’s grip from his shirt.

“Okay,” the British boy gently told him, taking him by the hand. “Let’s get out of here, boi. But then we really, really need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Truth be told, Michael was really fucking proud of himself for keeping it together at the seams for this long. Between the elevator ride down (alone with his stupid, introspective thoughts replaying the entire argument) and Gavin freaking the fuck out over his disheveled, defeated appearance, he thought he did pretty well. But by the time they crashed into their seats in the car, Michael’s throat was so choked up that he felt like he could hardly breathe, let alone talk.

On the other hand, Gavin immediately started blubbering as soon as they shut themselves in.

Bewildered, Michael forgot his entire came out to my parents, got disowned, don’t have a family anymore and the basic foundation of the last twenty years of my life has been shot to absolute shit dilemma for a moment and reached out uncertainly to the British boy.

“W-what the fuck are you crying for?”

Gavin sniffed noisily and wiped his eyes. But once Michael leaned over and managed what had to have been one millisecond of eye contact, the other boy’s green eyes welled up and he started bawling again. His hands flew up to his face. Curled up on the passenger’s side, Gavin apparently started to talk through a watery layer of tears, but he just sounded like what Michael would equate to a broken faucet.  

Michael was freaked the fuck out and had no idea what to do.

See, Gavin, Gavin doesn’t cry. Gavin closes up. Gavin drinks. Gavin acts recklessly. Gavin, he had almost expected, would run up all ten flights of stairs to Mr. and Mrs. Jones’ hotel room and deck them both in the face, get his ass handed to him and possibly arrested. Gavin, he had almost definitely expected, would drag them both to a bar that night and get sloshed out of his mind. And after that, maybe, maybe they would talk.

But no, he’s fucking crying in Geoff’s car and Griffon’s going to probably be able to sense the tears or something and they’ll never let me near Gavin again, holy fuck why is he crying. I thought that was supposed to be me.

“I’m sorry, Gavin!” Michael desperately said, trying to pry Gavin’s thin fingers from being permanently plastered to his face. “I’m sorry for leaving you behind and for my parents and I’ve been a complete asshole for making you tag along, so shit please stop crying, I can’t even tell what you’re saying –“

“You’re a right mong,” Gavin wailed, hitting the harassed-looking brunet. “D-don’t you dare apologize to me, Mi-cool – w-why didn’t you t-tell me things were this awful, I felt bloody useless! I wasn’t able to help at all and you got hurt and I’m so dumb I thought everything was going to be alright –“

Michael threw his arms around Gavin, the gearshift digging into him from the awkward position. “Shut the fuck up,” he said fiercely. “Shut up, it’s not your fault. You’re not an idiot –“

“I-I told you I thought your mum was l-lovely, that must’ve been a-awful! A-and you looked so s-sad but n-now I’m the one sobbing like a mingepot, I’m sorry I c-couldn’t do anything your f-face is all red and its going to bruise –“

“No, stop shitting on yourself, I won’t fucking let you. You weren’t useless. You helped more than you know, Gav, and I wouldn’t have been able to make it a day if you weren’t there.”

Michael hugged him harder, inhaling sharply as Gavin’s thin frame shook against his.

“A-and I love you, Gav.”

That made Gavin stop.

He hiccupped, sea-green eyes the size of saucers as they peeked out from between his fingers. “D-did you say something there, boi?”

Michael looked at the British boy with exasperation even as his entire face turned red. “Did you not hear a single fucking thing I said? Jesus Christ, Gav –“

“No, I mean the last bit,” Gavin said, sniffling quietly.

“I, I er, I said that I –“

It could’ve gone any number of ways. Between silent, unvoiced confessions, drunken whispers and offhand remarks that could’ve been platonic enough that neither of them felt like they could take a chance (it was never platonic enough, really), this could’ve been just another sentence tossed in the pile.

After all, Gavin was never quite sure enough of his own self-worth and Michael was a coward without liquid courage.

But his words to his parents and the adrenaline behind them still sung in his veins and shit, if he could tell them, he could tell Gavin.

They had skirted around the matter for long enough.

(They’ve already had sex, for God’s sake.)

“I said that I love you.”

Gavin lowered his fingers from his face, eyes still watery. “I –“

“There! I said it. Not alcohol-induced, and definitely not as a platonic thing.” Michael paused to blush furiously and pull back, hand against mouth. He looked away. “I-I know I’ve said it a bunch before this but I’m being serious, alright? You’re really important to me and I really want us to be together together –“

He suddenly realized something.

“God, how the fuck did this turn into me fucking comforting you and confessing?”

Gavin laughed wetly at the curly-haired boy’s muttering and wiped his face, nodding. “Oh, I’m so sorry for being a blubbering mess, Mi-cool. I just – your face –“

“Don’t you dare start fucking crying again,” Michael warned.

“But I’ve been wanting to ask you to be my boyfriend for the longest time to make it proper and official and I just didn’t know how to go about it, see –“

It was such a ridiculous conversation to be having in the hotel parking lot.

“…especially with what was going on and I didn’t know what or when would be appropriate and then you beat me to it!” Gavin grinned, brimming with relief. “I love you too, Michael – I love you, I love you, I lov –“

Michael looked like he was on the brink of exploding at the outburst of affection. Face hot, he wiggled out of Gavin trying to squish their faces together, but thought better of it when he saw the boy’s crestfallen expression.

“Fuck, okay, come here.”

So Michael leaned in, brown eyes meeting green, and he smiled before pressing his lips gently against Gavin’s. His fingers wound up tangled in wild hair as they kissed sweetly – so what if the gearshift and handbrake were in the way? – and it was perfect. It was fucking perfect.

They broke apart when Michael winced at a brush against his cheek, both of them remembering what had transpired before this, but the mood was several notches lighter.

“I guess we should get back and tell Geoff and Griffon we might need some help finding somewhere to live next year, huh,” Michael remarked ruefully, waving off the other boy’s concern. “Ah, and I guess I should really explain what’s been going on. We can talk while we drive back?”

His hand automatically found Gavin’s and the boy beamed a blinding smile, settling into his seat comfortably. “Yeah, tell me on the ride home.” He gave Michael’s hand a small squeeze before relinquishing it so the boy could drive.

Gavin gave the retreating view of the hotel and its occupants a burning look that Michael didn’t catch, but by the time they pulled out of the lot, both of them were thinking of the same thing again, more or less.

Happiness, more or less.

Thing is, there’s something about happiness and the continuity of it. Barring cringe-worthy clichés like home is where the heart is, Gavin hoped with all his heart that Michael would have realized now that this is where he belonged. That tipping around subjects like jagged glass and clinging onto individual events, rare displays of affection, shouldn’t define what his contentment should be like. It was having people you cared for and who cared for you around, and dealing with the occasional dip as it came along, with them.

 So he told him as such.

“You mean, pretty much the opposite of how you were when I first met you?” Michael replied good-naturedly. His eyes flickered to Gavin with a faint smile.

“Hey, keep your eyes on the road,” Gavin pouted. “But I suppose you’re right, my mindset was a right mess. I figured that if I kept everything more or less level and treated everything as important nothing would bother me if something awful happened, yeah?”

Michael’s face split into a smirk. “And then you met me.”

“It wasn’t like that!” Gavin protested. “I was just being nice.”

“Mhm. And?”

Gavin, bashful, mumbled mostly to himself, picking at the thread in his jeans. “And then you were brilliant and I was a complete cocky bastard and a trainwreck but you let me into your life anyways.” Right, there was that.

Now that the entire situation with Michael’s parents had blown over, Gavin’s sense of dread was slowly worming its way back into his head again. That the boy will stop thinking he’s helpful and important and lovely sooner or later.But the heaviness that started settling over him like a blanket was torn away by a burst of pain.

“Ow! Michael, did you just bloody flick my nose?” He didn’t even need to ask, Michael’s hand hovering in front of him in a ready position, about to – flick.

“Bloody hell, why?” Gavin squawked, leaning away as he clapped his hands over his nose for protection “Stop, stop –“

“You know you can tell me shit, right?” Michael muttered, freckled face turning bright crimson all over again as he kept his eyes faced forward this time. “I-I mean, since I’m your boyfriend and all, you gotta fucking trust me a little bit. You haven’t told me anything since, fuck, like last year. And don’t pretend things aren’t important.”

But they aren’t, Gavin wanted to point out. Not as important as something like goddamn parental abuse, in any case. He had his off days. But they were manageable and he didn’t feel quite like wasting away as much as he used to, Geoff has long since stopped looking over his shoulder and regulating his alcohol intake and, well –

“Everything about you is important, okay?” Michael said, when Gavin didn’t reply. “Besides, I told you about my shitstorm and –“

“And I still can’t bloody believe your parents, they’re complete bastards! I wish I wasn’t so civil to them, ugh, what I would give to give them a piece of my mind,” Gavin suddenly burst out in newfound fury. “I’ll FIGHT THEM FOR YOU, I’LL ACTUALLY FIGHT THEM.”

The curly-haired boy gripped the steering wheel harder at the words, knuckles turning white, before he relaxed and snorted once he saw Gavin’s small, angry fists. “…Please don’t. You wouldn’t win.”

“I don’t even care, I’ll bloody murder anyone who would lay a hand on you!” Gavin objected, doing his best to look intimidating. “I’ll take the hit, better me than you –“

Michael slammed on the brakes so hard Gavin was catapulted forward, and Gavin instantly regretted the words, the meaning coming out all wrong.

Bollocks, I messed that one right up real good.

The British boy opened his mouth to explain but he was cut off sharply by Michael’s serious tone.

“Gav, the cars in front of us just crashed.”

And sure enough, there was a wreck of two slightly smoking vehicles only a few feet away in front of them on the freeway. “Sorry about braking so suddenly –“

Aside from Gavin’s brief look of concern preceding satisfaction that Michael wasn’t just mad about the self-sacrifice, possible death wish he mentioned so nonchalantly, the brunet didn’t process much else in the five seconds after they had screeched to a halt.

Except out of nowhere, that one dumb fucking quote from Top Gear or something, of all things, went through Michael’s head. Something about suddenly being stationary as what kills you. They’ve got a point, Michael will remember thinking, because less than a second after that, the semi that was driving dangerously close behind them smashed through their rear window.

Gavin woke up in the wreckage to the sound of far-away shouting and sirens, ears ringing. It was like there was sawdust in his lungs. There was a metallic taste to the air and something else – spitting, he also tasted asphalt on his tongue. If he wasn’t so disoriented, he would have gagged at the thought of it.

Bloody hell, everything hurts.

His surroundings were alarmingly out-of-focus. Everything was a matte grey, flecks of light scattered about. Glass, Gavin noted. Glass is shiny. But most of everything was in shadows, and when he touched his hand to the back of his head he could vaguely make out blood. Ah, so that’s why it smells like copper.

“Gavin! You’re awake – are you okay?” The voice reached his ears sounding as if it was coming from underwater. But that was ridiculous, because he was…well, he wasn’t underwater. It was hard for Gavin to move, and when he tried to turn his neck he got a ridiculously sharp pang in his head for his trouble.

“Can you hear me? Oh, fucking hell you’re bleeding so much – Gavin? Gavin!”

He managed to refocus his eyes, an anxious-looking Michael cupping his face in his rough hands. “Michael?”

“You okay? Put some pressure on your head, goddamn it – we got in a car crash,” the curly-haired boy said. But wasn’t the crash in front of us? “I think the EMT is making their way over here, but we’re pinched in the middle of the entire thing. You didn’t wake up at first, fuck – Can you move? Are you bleeding from anywhere else?”

Shaking his head, Gavin tried to twist closer, head swimming as he wondered how the heck Michael was so calm through all of this. His pulse raced as he realized, “I’m bloody stuck, Michael!” His voice came out scratchy from the faint smoke, laced with panic. “I can’t feel my legs, they’re under the dash and there’s glass –“

“Breathe, Gav,” Michael hushed him. “Breathe. People are going to find us and help; you’re going to be fine, alright? You’ll be fine. I guess I’m just stuck here with you. Here, hold my hand.”

Gavin grasped it desperately, only now realizing that Michael was white as a sheet, even in the shadows of the wreck. The boy was cool to the touch and breathing heavily, fear wracking his features despite his best efforts. Gavin forced himself to not start hyperventilating.

Fifteen minutes ago, we were kissing in this car.

“M-Michael? Are you okay?” Gavin held his breath, petrified of the answer.

“Says the guy bleeding buckets from a cracked skull,” Michael joked weakly.

Gavin’s reply was automatic. “Minor lacerations on the scalp bleed copiously but aren’t serious,” he remembered reading online somewhere. A strong rush of dizziness overtook him. He threw up.

“I-it hurts to think,” he whimpered, half-expecting the other boy to take a crack at that remark, too. But Michael didn’t say anything and Gavin’s heart jack hammered in his chest. In a burst of panic, he shook him with both hands.

“Owowow-ow, what’re you doing that for?”

“I thought you were dead, you knob!” Gavin could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Christ, he’s cried more in the course of a single day than in a couple of years. But he was genuinely concerned now – Michael didn’t look great even though what Gavin could see was more or less intact, minus minor scratches and cuts. The brunet’s complexion was ashier than just a few moments ago, and a sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Not dead, just a bit drowsy,” Michael murmured, smiling slightly as he shifted, wincing, to touch Gavin’s matted hair. “Do you want to bleed out?”

A year ago, Gavin would have said yes to that question.

“I told you, it isn’t that bad –“ Gavin stopped arguing at the sound of rubble crunching underfoot and people yelling drew closer. “HEY! HEY, WE’RE UNDER HERE – THERE’S TWO OF US, WE NEED HELP –“ The noises stopped for a brief moment and Gavin was scared they would’ve just moved on, but then a muffled voice from somewhere outside the metal cage they were trapped in said, “I think I heard something. Can we get more people over here?”

Thank god.

Meanwhile, Gavin’s head started clearing up, yet the headache persisted. It’ll be okay, he told himself. You’ll both be fine, you’ll both be fine. He had Michael to thank for keeping him out of terrible shock, too –

Michael.

He quickly turned his attention back to the other boy, frantic.

“Where are you hurt?” Gavin demanded, pulling himself closer and ignoring the glass shards on the console cutting into his skin. “I know you’re hurt somewhere, Michael! Bloody…bloody tell me so we can do something about it, you prick!”

The brunet hummed from where he was trapped, looking satisfied that Gavin wasn’t severely injured. Adrenaline fading with his initial, frantic concern, his vision swam as he fumbled to touch Gavin’s trembling lip, a strand of sandy hair, a thin arm – “I love your voice, it’s comforting,” he said weakly, suddenly, tilting his head back. “Have I ever told you that you’re fucking great, Gav? It sucks it took us this long.”

“Why are you talking like that?” Gavin’s voice trembled. “It’s not like this is the end of anything! We’ll go to a hospital, and then…and then we’ll be alright, the doctors will patch us up, and then we’ll get an apartment together and do gross couple things, and graduate, and w-we can even get married –“

“Shh, don’t think about that right now, you’ll just start sobbing again,” Michael smiled apologetically.

Gavin took matters into his own hands, scrambling to check Michael for injuries, lifting his arms and inspecting his head as the boy’s strength noticeably seeped out of him. “– SOMEBODY HELP US HERE, MY FRIEND - MY BOYFRIEND'S REALLY HURT!” Gavin’s voice cracked.

I should’ve asked him out sooner, I should’ve properly told him sooner, talked to him.

Michael frowned hazily, eyes half-lidded. “Ahh, Geoff’s going to be pissed I totalled his car. Tell him sorry, would ya?”

No, nonono – not right after I finally have him, not like this –

“You can tell him yourself in the bloody hospital, shut up shut up –“

It was then that Gavin zeroed in on the purple splotching on Michael’s stomach, like – like there’s internal bleeding.

There was a jagged metal scrap protruding from the lower back of the driver’s seat disappearing into Michael, driven through by the force of the semi when it collided with their small vehicle. Dark crimson pooled in the recesses of what was left of the car frame, previously shielded by Michael’s frame.

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to worry when you couldn’t do anything.”

Gavin fought for breath, clutching the other boy so hard it’ll probably be indented into his freckled skin for an eternity. He’s bleeding out and can’t move.

Michael’s bleeding out.

He’s dying.

Everything suddenly got unbearably loud as Gavin’s vision blurred. It blurred and blurred and he couldn’t tell if it was because of his tears or if he was losing it and fainting, but there was a pitched sound like a siren going off by his ears and it wouldn’t stop even as light suddenly streamed through where the roof of the car used to be, as Michael gently patted him on the shoulder, his mouth forming the words, “I’ll be okay Gavvers, honest –“

Gavin was still screaming when the paramedics took Michael away, his boyfriend’s blood coating his fingers.

Chapter Text

“Where is he? Is he out of the OS? I – no, don’t try to stop me. Don’t make me punch your lights out, buddy. Tell me, how bad is he?”

“…”

“What do you fucking mean his parents have to sign? I’m right here. He knows me. We’re like family, just give him what he needs –“

“…”

“I don’t care about the paperwork – look, buddy, I’ll pay for all of it”

“…”

“Fine, fine, call them. But they won’t say anything I haven’t already.”

…

“I can’t believe the nerve of…”

“Geoff, I know. It’ll be alright.”

“No, it fucking won’t be, you weren’t there. You didn’t hear them – coming into the ICU going ‘he can’t be in the same room as that scum’ – I’m going to fucking kill them, parents be damned.”

“He would’ve needed to be moved anyways. I– when he recovers, it’ll take longer than…”

“Yeah, at least one of them is – I don’t know if I could’ve handled it if they both –“

…

“Hold up, hold up. What the fuck do you mean I can’t stay in here?”

“Honey, you know why – it’s a really delicate situation right no –“

“I don’t care. He wasn’t ever really my friend anyways; it just turned out to be a sort of package deal.”

“…You don’t mean that.”

“…Yeah, I don’t. But what does it matter anymore? Look, I’ll keep the door closed. I’m not even going to talk; I’ll just sit here and play my 3DS. Leave us alone.”

“Ra–“

“Leave. You have somewhere more important to be, anyways.”

…

“You have to eat, sometime, you know?”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“…So what if I’m not? I’m not the one in the hospital bed dying with a hole in my ch–“

“Babe. Come on, you can’t live here, you’ve been here every day from the start of visitor’s hours until the end.”

“This is where I need to be.”

…

 “Is he doing alright there?”

“Does he look alright to you?”

“I’m sorry, I was just discharged so I wanted to pop in and see how he was. Apparently his car was the one that took the full brunt of the second collision and I’m grateful – ah, I guess this would be a good time to mention we were in the same accident, wouldn’t it? In any case, I’m okay and I’m sorry he isn–“

“Yeah, you sure got out of it fucking easy.”

“I…I guess I don’t have anything to say in my defense. It must be hard on you, you must be his girlfriend?”

“Excuse me?”

“Bollocks, I’m not making a great impression, am I? Sorry for assuming, I just thought since you were holding his hand and all –“

“…What happened in that accident? G–“

“Hey, what are you doing in this room? It’s restricted access, didn’t they tell you that?”

“Well yes, but I –“

“Someone get this guy out of here! There’s a reason we didn’t let you come in here, you should’ve just listened –“

“Stop, stop, stop, don’t push – Christ, will you let go of my arm? My head is killing me. Just let me walk out on my own.”

“…Yeah, this is exactly…”

…

“Look, I already said I don’t think we should live together yet. But do we have to do this here?”

“This is the only place I can ever get to you at.”

“…And the last place we should be discussing living arrangements.”

“You can’t just keep pretending he’s going to wak–“

“Shut the fuck up.”

“– can’t afford to rent that place on your own –“

“I don’t care.”

...

“Shit buddy, I’m sorry for not swinging by more often, but I can’t come here without Ray staring daggers into me and everything’s just sort of…haha. I haven’t even had a drink since and I think Griffon’s even more worried that I haven’t than…Everything’s a mess.”

…

Everything’s a mess.

Well, that depended on how you looked at it.

Michael had always thought that believing in fate was somewhat akin to believing in God. Of course, he didn’t believe in either, but there’s something terribly tempting about the entire affair – a “get out of jail free” type deal – like if you had a higher power to blame, a preordained path, then if you really thought about it, nothing actually ever goes wrong.

It just…goes.

Scripts work out nicely in the long run. It’s almost tearfully predictable. And that isn’t to say that Michael fully expected to live, but he didn’t exactly expect not to die, either. Instead, he got something in-between and the truth is, compromises suck no matter what you get out of it.

So it just comes down to what’s worse, knowing that things go to shit and that you couldn’t do anything about it, or knowing that you could’ve done something, anything, but didn’t?

When it comes down to it, all arguments aside, this wasn’t anything like television. It wasn’t some meticulously crafted script with a definitive end, and nobody is guaranteed a happy ending (well, no endings are good, but even Michael would’ve thought God would have dealt him a better hand than this).

See, if this was television, or a long-winded movie perhaps, things would not have gone smoothly but they would have gone well. Predictable. Safe.

Step one: tragic accident. Someone’s loved one is inevitably critically injured. Step two: coma. Some sort of interlude during which the loved one is bedridden for months, years, something. Their significant other stays at bedside constantly, pleading for their return. Step three: awakening. Said significant other is heartbroken learning the injured person has developed amnesia due to the accident, maybe, but they eventually grow close once more.

So, conclusion: recovery, reunion, forgiveness, a newfound happiness and appreciation for life, etc, etc… strength through adversity and all that bullshit.

But this wasn’t scripted, and it sucked. And if God had anything to do with it, Michael would have gladly shoved it to Him for making such a pathetic existence out of him. But he couldn’t have, even if he could’ve deluded himself into thinking that God was real.

Here’s the reality:

Step one. Tragic, tragic accident.

Step two. Coma.

Step three. Michael woke up realizing he was completely alone in the antiseptic whitewash ICU room, the lights entirely too bright.

Step four. People trickle in, slowly, eventually, over the course of a few days, weeks. Ray and Ryan, separately, Geoff, and almost everyone else he knew in Texas – even Lindsay shows up – they all visit once they hear the news, with flowers, exclamations of “fuck man, you made it”, and kitschy Get Well Soon cards, but it’s just an almost.

Ray couldn’t quite meet his eyes whenever he showed up, wordlessly holing up in the corner with his 3DS most of the time. The beeping from his console was somehow comforting amid the machines Michael was wired up to, though. He’d appear in the morning and leave in the evening when the nurses gently kicked him out, but then he’d immediately be back the next day, like clockwork.

Lindsay didn’t say much, either, but then again, nobody did. They all remained eerily silent on one topic.

Step five. Geoff, eyes red and looking wasted, came in alone one night well after visiting hours with a truth so heavy Michael felt like he was being crushed to death and impaled again, knees tucked in as though sandwiched between the steering wheel and driver’s seat in a space too small for his frame.

He breathed heavily, reminding himself that he was in a hospital bed, his only confines being the thin white sheets his hands were gripping, too tightly.

Plot twist, he laughed inwardly, humourlessly, as the stitching on his back and chest threatened to give out.

“Can…can you say that again, Geoff? I don’t really understand how that could even happen, even after I…” Michael spoke in monotone.

 Geoff scratched his beard hesitantly, knowing full well that Michael heard him the first time. Nevertheless, he found himself forcing the words out to the small boy lying in the hospital bed, machines beeping around them. He didn’t mean to slur, but it just sort of came out that way.

Just like how things just sort of came out to be this way.

“It’s been…about two months since you’ve gone under. It’s…the middle of June now.”

How could this have happened? I even tried to make sure he wouldn’t…wouldn’t…

“Michaelll,” Geoff said gently, brow creased as he tried to keep his thoughts in line. Michael suddenly noted how tired and haggard the older man looked. “A lot has happened, and you don’t know just how glad we all are that you’re alive and well. It’s c-complicated, but…”

Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it so I know I heard right.

“There were a lot of factors. The doctors…the doctors said the smoke inhalation – oxygen deprivation, y’know – and the concussion from the initial hit, the physical stuff, was part of it. I-it came down to the shock that set in, though.”

Michael’s chest constricted painfully. I tried so hard.

“…I-I’ve told you from the start that he’s more fragile than he looks. I-I’m sure he had already told you at some point, but he has depression. He never really trusted anyone else, but he poured his entire he…he invested himself in you. So I’m partially to..to blame, I guess. Dicks, we’re all to blame in part, if we just called you sooner or figured out w-what was…” Geoff took a shuddering breath to steady himself.

“When he saw what happened, his mind shut off. He couldn’t handle the idea of losing you, you see – the doctor said it’s a defense mechanism, dissociating like that. It happens in the face of trauma. I-I’m sorry, this is a fucking terrible thing to tell you, especially what with…your parents, I met them in the hospital and Griffon ended up punching your father, that…that’s why she’s not here with me, but...”

Just say it again. Just say it. 

“Michael, Gavin has psy…psychogenic amnesia.”

Fucking amnesia.

“He doesn’t re–.”

Michael swallowed, feeling like was going to throw up. “I get it, Geoff. I get it.” His heart monitor went wild as he finished the sentence for him, stuttering.

“G-Gavin doesn’t remember who I am.”

Three months ago

“I know we didn’t part on the best of terms, but you would be an idiot to think I wouldn’t come see how you’re doing.”

You didn’t deserve this. This shouldn’t have happened to you.

“Is he doing alright there?” A voice interrupted Lindsay’s thoughts and she recognized it instantly. Even when trying to be sombre, it leaked cheerfulness. Cocky, loud, and the last fucking person she wanted to see right now. She whipped around to see Gavin Free standing in the doorway with a curious look on his face.

She laughed bitterly, letting go of Michael’s limp hand. “Does he look alright to you?”

Gavin gave the redhead a small smile and shook his head, backing up a little. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I was just discharged so I wanted to pop in and see how he was. Apparently his car was the one that took the full brunt of the second collision and I’m grateful – ah, I guess this would be a good time to mention we were in the same accident, wouldn’t it? In any case, I’m okay and I’m sorry he isn–“

“Yeah, you sure got out of it fucking easy.” Lindsay couldn’t believe the nerve of the guy, even if he and Michael weren’t as close as they made it seem when she visited all that time ago. It wasn’t something she could be happy about in this situation.

“I…I guess I don’t have anything to say in my defense,” Gavin admitted. “It must be hard on you, you must be his girlfriend?”

Lindsay’s eyes almost bugged out of her head at that, all her expletives and screams dying in her throat. Instead –

“Excuse me?” She advanced, disbelieving that she heard him properly. We have met, it’s not like he’s never seen me before.

Squawking comically, Gavin threw his hands over his face and blushed. “Bollocks, I’m not making a great impression, am I?” He peeked with a green eye through his fingers. “Sorry for assuming, I just thought since you were holding his hands and all –“

All her previous resentment shoved aside, Lindsay lunged forwards and caught the British boy by the shoulders, fingernails digging into his skinny forearms. She stared him in the eye.

“What happened in that accident? G–“

“Hey, what are you doing in this room?” A nurse walked in. “It’s restricted access, didn’t they tell you that?”

“Well yes, but I –“ Gavin was still trying to shrug at Lindsay’s question, wincing slightly.

“Someone get this guy out of here! There’s a reason we didn’t let you come in here, you should’ve just listened –“

Gavin protested, not understanding why he had to leave. “Stop, stop, stop, don’t push – Christ, will you let go of my arm?” He snapped at the redhead girl, twisting away as his head started to hurt. “My head is killing me. Just let me walk out on my own.”

“…Yeah, this is exactly why we need you to leave,” the nurse said, clicking her tongue. “Your doctor will have my head if he knew this happened. Just…don’t mention it, okay dear?”

Out in the hallway, Gavin’s thoughts were clearer. He turned back to the not-girlfriend who followed them out and said, “I don’t know, I don’t remember much of the crash and the day. Got a concussion.” Ah, that’s probably why my head’s hurting, too.

The redhead just gave him a pitying look before leaving. “I’m sorry, Gavin,” she told him.

As Gavin watched the girl disappear around the corner at the end of the long hall, he frowned suddenly as he reflected that she had called him by name. Weird. Did I even introduce myself to her? I don’t remember.

A small, sharp pain went through the back of his head again and he rubbed the spot, giving up on thinking about it.

After all, he seemed to be forgetting a lot of things as of late.

Chapter Text

Michael grew to hate the room he was stuck in, the same way he grew to hate the sound of Ray’s video games and his silence, the sound of people walking by making easy conversation, the greenery outside his window, everything.

But there are worse things.

Sure, the bland, washed-out looking food he was slowly transitioned to eating was boring and physiotherapy was boring, he hated the bright lights and his nurse was a stuck-up bitch. The nerve ends in his body almost always felt fried up, and he was ready to be able to go piss without falling over in pain halfway there. And yet the thought of leaving the hospital was next to unbearable.

Leaving would mean outside. And outside would mean –

“You know what’s fucked up?” Ray suddenly spoke one day, tentative and quiet. The Puerto Rican’s chair was closer to bedside than it had been when Michael had first woken up, but the brunet was still surprised. Ray had dark circles under his eyes like he was the one who almost died and he was wearing one of Ryan’s sweaters, one that Michael hasn’t seen him take off in days.

He knows they’ve been fighting.

“Yeah?” Michael didn’t know what to expect. It’s not like he’s fucking said anything except ‘good, you’re alive, I would’ve murdered you if you died’ since I started recovering.

“I had to reintroduce myself to Gavin.”

Oh, so we’re talking about it now. Michael squared his shoulders and sat up, attentive, breathing suddenly erratic at the mention of his name. “Explain.”

He needed the other boy to spell it out for him and Ray knew it.

“I had to reintroduce myself as Rye – Ryan’s boyfriend. ‘Cause he only really met me because he met you, it’s not like he knew who I was before all of this. So he didn’t remember who I was, either. I mean, Ryan and I had gotten together separately, but Gavin was sort of a part of it and we became friends over both of you being too emotionally stunted to admit that you lik–“

Michael must have looked stricken because Ray snapped his mouth shut almost immediately once he saw his face. “Oh my fuck, I’m sorry. Sorry, shit sorry, that was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just thought…“

His agitated voice fell into background noise, 3DS music still quietly blipping away.

And it was hard to tell what was worse, Michael cluing in on what the dark-haired boy was getting at, looking at the broken pieces, or Ray’s previous steadfast silence. (It was hard to tell between bad and worse a lot of the time these days.)

He fell back onto his pillow, the inside of his cheek bitten raw. He could taste blood.

Realistically, he could get why Ray didn’t say anything before this. After all, what could he have said?

By the way Michael, he didn’t come to visit because he doesn’t know who the fuck you are?

I had to pretend I never met him before either because we were both effectively erased?

We had to keep everyone out of your room in fear of him noticing and piecing it together and breaking down all over again about you dying, but you are still so, so loved?

Michael held back a choked, bitter laugh, hot tears stinging his eyes. “After Geoff told me about the amnesia thing, I laid in bed for the longest time. Goddamn amnesia, can you believe it? Like he was the one in a coma or something. Everything from the past year, all the dumb interactions with the prick, all of it – just gone. Like it never happened.”

He can almost sense Ray gearing up to force out some stupid phrase about how it still happened as long as you remember, but that was one conversation he desperately didn’t want to have. So he plowed on.

“Remember how I got these stupid Minecraft necklaces for Christmas?” Michael whispered, not even sure if the Puerto Rican could hear him. “After I woke up, I realized my neck was bare for the first time in fucking ages, but I– I figured that all my jewelry was ripped off during the crash.”

“Micha–“

“Apparently they just had to take everything off to operate,” he laughed, remembering. “Do you know what my attending handed to me when I asked about it, Ray? Want to guess?”

Ray sat stock-still, hands gripping his console as he shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“She handed me my fucking silver cross,” Michael hissed, whipping the chain clenched in his fist across the room and making the other boy flinch. It tinkled as it hit the wall, as if God was still mocking him. “Like a sick fucking joke, she gives me this goddamn cross after all of the shit with my parents and– and I lost the other necklace instead, that dumb diamond necklace that matched, I-I lost it just like I lost –“

He dissolved into tears.

The 3DS clattered to the floor.

Ray didn’t know how long he held Michael for, but his arms were numb and he was too awkward to know when to let go. So instead, he just knelt there on the bed, gripping the brunet’s frame tightly as he was wracked with sobs. And when Michael ran out of tears to cry, Ray wound up snuggled up in the bed with him.

It killed him to see his best friend like this, lonely and crumbling after all the considerable effort he put into not liking other people and being hard to befriend, meeting Gavin, and everything that came after that. With everyone abandoning him completely for the sake of the British boy.

He knew there was a point to this, but the Puerto Rican didn’t find it hard to go back to hating Gavin like he did at the start of the fall semester last year, no matter how insincere the feelings were now.

He scrunched his face up in distaste.

“I got us an apartment,” Ray muttered, changing the subject. Ah, his trembling subsided, jeez. “I’ve been living there alone, but once you get out of here it’ll just be the two of us, and it’s on the other side of town from Geoff and Griffon’s so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

Michael’s voice was raspy from crying when he replied, small hint of a frown on his freckled face. “What about you and Ryan?”

“It’s still a bit too soon for us to move in together. It’s okay, we discussed it,” Ray lied, feeling his stomach churn uncomfortably at the mention of the older man. He quashed the feeling, forcing a grin. “Besides, who else is going to take care of your ass? No homo.”

Michael laughed hoarsely and closed his eyes, hugging the Puerto Rican closer.

“Thanks for being here, Ray.”

“What are friends for?”

Meanwhile, Ryan wasn’t sure if he wanted to tear Ray’s skinny little figure right off of the hospital bed or punch a hole into the drywall of the hospital corridor, or both. He gritted his teeth, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he looked at the pair wrapped up in each other.

It was laughable, really, how calm he usually was until it came to the dark-haired boy.

Ray knows I am every bit as wrecked over this as anyone, he sighed internally as he turned on his heel and retreated, thinking better of going into Michael’s room. He pushed his messy, long hair back out of his face. Mind running through the disjointed conversations he’s had with his boyfriend over the past few months, the older man wasn’t even sure what was going on anymore.

He had even thought it would be better for Ray to move in with him, since everything fell through with Michael and Gavin’s accident, but he hadn’t expected the Puerto Rican to turn him down and live here, going so far as to keep a place of his own for the sake of the curly-haired boy lying in the hospital bed.

Without quite meaning to, Ryan viciously kicked a cot lying in the hallway and it rattled noisily as it rolled a foot forward.

“It was logical to worry for Gavin’s safety first,” he murmured the justification to himself, brow furrowing at his chest hurting. “He was a mess a year ago and he’s a mess now and we didn’t know if Michael was going to survive.” But this is exactly the type of reasoning that Ray can’t forgive.

Which is why Ray hasn’t spoken a word to anyone in the past while, not Geoff, not Jack, not anyone – not even me. Ryan rubbed his five-o’clock shadow, frustrated, suddenly wishing he could be Geoff, drinking himself into oblivion. Except even Geoff hasn’t been doing much of that lately.

He had a much bigger issue on his hands compared to Ryan’s measly angst over his boyfriend’s newfound priorities.

Yeah, the hardest part of all of this was deciding what to say and what to hold back, at least to Geoff, when any small thing could tip the boy he considered his adopted son into a complete mental breakdown all over again.

Gavin, head bleeding and refusing medical attention, screaming brokenly as Michael was wheeled into the OR for emergency surgery, was something that Geoff never wanted to experience ever again.

Gavin had endless questions about the accident, and it destroyed the older man to act nonchalant and twirl his moustache over the affair, responding vaguely with half-assed explanations like, “you were taking a cab alone” and “maybe you were going to meet a friend that day?” and “you just left in the morning so we don’t know what your plans were”, and sometimes just “shut up Gavin, just be glad you’re okay, alright?”

A small part of Geoff felt bad about this, but he thanked everything good in the world that Gavin lost his phone in the crash, along with every byte of evidence, every text and picture, that him and Michael had ever interacted.

Although, the British boy would sometimes sit idly by in the house, sprawled out on the couch. And that’s what worried Geoff and Griffon the most, because that’s when he would suddenly sit upright and burst out with a loaded question his shards of memories couldn’t explain, like –

“Did you guys give me this creeper necklace? I’ve racked my brain over it, but it’s a mystery, really.”

Nobody actually told the boy he had amnesia.

Geoff was vehemently against that decision, but the doctors insisted. Said it would make things worse if he was tipped off a figurative, mental cliff like that. Michael still in the hospital and all. But everyone knew Gavin was suspicious. Because even as he immediately reverted back to his old self, the partying, the drinking, the drugs – it still wasn’t a complete turn-around. He could vaguely remember a school year of not going out as much as he used to, except he couldn’t place why.

What the bloody hell did I do for a whole year?

And in some very small, more or less unknown recess in the sandy-haired boy’s mind, there still remained an indescribable something, like heartache except somehow worse, packaged as brown hair auburn in the light, an impossible amount of pale freckles, and a dimpled, rare smile.

Then, out of nowhere – respite.

(Or so they all thought.)

It came in the form of tattooed hands knocking on a closed door, blonde hair from a glance through the peephole mid-July. Griffon showed up to Ray and Michael’s place in the middle of a Call of Duty match, patiently waiting for them to finish the game before speaking. There was an unmistakable terse, suffocating tinge to the air as she sat.

 She started with, “you look well,” as if they had been separated by an infallible barrier, by an ocean or thousands of miles of expanses of land, rather than a thirty-minute drive on the freeway.

Ray immediately bristled, setting the drink he had retrieved from the kitchen with a splash. “Yeah, you would’ve known that better if any of you cared enough to come visit–“

Michael smiled weakly and nudged him, signalling him to stop.

“Doing better,” he told her. “Thanks, Griffon. How…how is he?” The curly-haired boy tripped over his own words, Ray gripping his hand tightly, and Griffon realized that Michael still couldn’t even bring himself to say Gavin’s name. She nodded slowly, putting her hands in her lap.

“Actually, that’s what I came to talk to you about.”

Michael inhaled, chest burning. What could there possibly be to say?

“I’m sorry this has been so, so hard on you, Michael,” she said softly. “I don’t know if this is any small comfort, but Geoff is beside himself that he couldn’t really come by or keep in touch; he’d been really busy patching up the aftermath of the accident. He’s sorry. We all are.”

“I’m sure you are,” Ray snarled.

“Oh, and Ryan wanted me to tell you to stop ignoring his calls.” Griffon gave Ray an apologetic look, shrugging. “I can get why you’d hate all of us for this, but we needed to protec–“

“Get to the point,” the Puerto Rican cut her off, almost unrecognizable in this instance compared to the shy, awkward boy Griffon had hung out with in her home, discussing plans with Geoff, Jack and Ryan like it was a lifetime ago.

She bit her lip, realizing she still had nothing even close to resembling a plan over how to execute this talk.

“Now that we’re in the clear, that you’re discharged from the hospital –“

“You mean now that you all know for sure that he isn’t fucking dying?”

“Ray.”

No, don’t blame him, it does sound awful, Griffon thought, lips downturned at the corners. She took a breath before forging on.

“Now we’re sure you’re okay and fully recovered from your wounds, the factor of you dying has been eliminated. And since it’s been a few months, Gavin’s head wound has had enough time to heal and he’s been taking it slow, too; the effects of his concussion are gone now. We’ve gone back for regular check-ups, but this is the first week in a month that his doctor’s said anything differently.” Griffon leaned forwards, starting to look excited as she clasped Michael’s hands in hers, Ray jerking away.

“Michael, you can see Gavin again!”

What?

“Granted, I know it’ll be difficult and painful, but I think it’ll be worth it in the long run. You can be together again. We can start with little steps, like bringing you to the house, starting over with introductions and the like.” She paused in her spiel, but her eyes were still shining with hope. “Even though nothing can ever really be the same and it seems as though the entire year was reset, you can’t deny how profound your connection was, Michael. It’s something that goes without saying, and it’s obvious that you both loved each other to dea–“ Shit, wrong choice of words.

“You both loved each other – love each other. And don’t deny it. You were both better for knowing each other. Gavin can meet you again, and slowly, I’m sure that his memory will come back.”

Griffon pressed her lips together, nervous. I think that went okay. “Please, just think about it though, alright?” She made to get up, aware that Michael’s brown eyes were following her every move keenly. “It’s not like this has to be the end of the story for both of you.”

Michael’s heart raced as her words echoed in his head with a certain accent ringing behind them.

“Why are you talking like that? It’s not like this is the end of anything!”

“We’ll go to a hospital, and then…and then we’ll be alright, the doctors will patch us up, and then we’ll get an apartment together and do gross couple things, and graduate, and w-we can even get married –“

“N-no,” he said loudly, standing with a clatter, these things having been weighing on his mind for a while now.

Griffon looked startled. “S…sorry? Michael?”

“No,” Michael said, in a more normal tone this time. More firmly. More…less…something.

“Fuck, no.”

Because when you really, really thought about it, there was something about the sheer amount of coincidences that had to accumulate to place him in this very moment, in this exact place in time.

The drunken hook-ups back at NJIT. Being sorted into a room with Ray, and subsequently going out that one night to save Barbara, meeting Gavin instead. And everything else, not to mention the infinitesimally small choices Gavin must have made along the way on his part.

All to ensure that they ended up here, at this exact moment, with Gavin’s brain more messed up than it ever could have been otherwise, with Michael bearing a dark, jagged scar across his front and back, with Griffon standing in this small, dimly lit apartment in her leather jacket pleading for Michael to throw himself back into this after all the harm he had done.

For a moment, Michael’s breath caught in his throat and it didn’t come back up.

“Michael? What do you mean by no? Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick –“

 What would have happened if Ray didn’t lose his keys that night? If Gavin hadn’t rolled over onto them, if he didn’t pick them up? If I arrived on time to Physics that day, didn’t have the nightmare about my homophobic parents? If Gavin decided to sit somewhere else? Or let me keep sleeping through the lecture like any other person would have?

His pulse escalated.

What if he wasn’t so damn nice to me, or if I didn’t take advantage of that? If he didn’t let himself get dragged along to meet my parents, if he wasn’t there that day, didn’t come to the hotel, if he wasn’t in the car –

The more Michael turned it over in his head, the more it dawned on him that their chance encounters had been always more or less due to his own fuck-ups and him tenaciously holding onto the idea of the boy that was everything he wished he could have been – and sheer, shining accident on Gavin’s part.

 “Nothing’s different for Gavin,” Michael whispered, with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Ray told me. He’s still the same as always, isn’t he?” Nothing would be different for the British boy if he hadn’t met him, minus the completely fucking unnecessary, painful ordeal I put him through.

Ray’s eyes widened, unsure of how to interject himself in the midst of this sudden revelation. Abruptly, he looked like his old self again. Unsure, guilty over nothing. “That’s not exactly what I sai– “

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong,” Griffon said, drawing closer to the frozen boy with arms extended. “You’re wrong. Michael, please talk to me. Because you know, deep down, that Gavin needs you like you need him –“

“He doesn’t need me,” Michael twisted away from her. “He might be fucked up, but I helped get him there.”

“You’re not to blame for his depression, Michael.”

“No, but that was always what he had and not who he was,” the brunet whispered, shaking as he stumbled back into the couch. “With it or without, Gavin would still be the sun. He would still be radiant.”

But me, I’m the anchor weighing him down. This would have never happened if he didn’t meet me. “I was the one who fucked up – if anything, all I ever did was snap at the guy and make him feel unwanted, even though he only ever obstinately hung on tighter.”

 “What the fucking hell is your problem?”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Gavin fucking Free.”

Michael’s earliest words rushed to the forefront of his mind, blinding him. And all of a sudden, it was too much for him to bear to think about. He thought about the way Gavin looked in the car crash, dazed and looking like death with blood smeared through his hair, the way he was screaming, the fact that they never even got to kiss again.

 Everything hurt. It hurt worse than his parents’ words, than the accident, than anything (but isn’t that what they say? That the truth hurts?) –

“I don’t deserve him.” Michael’s voice was frayed at the edges. Defeated.

Now, if Gavin were here, he would have told him that was ridiculous, of course. He would have told Michael to shut his mouth and to never talk about himself like that. That he loved Michael and none of this was his fault, that he was more than deserving of the British boy, and that everything would work out.

But he wasn’t there to say it, and Michael had already steeled his resolve by the time Ray or Griffon were even halfway through forming a coherent argument against his statement.

His eyes were hard when he looked up again, and nobody could have possibly predicted this happening. Not Geoff, who practically jumped for joy when the doctors gave them the news. Not Griffon, who offered to go tell the curly-haired boy the news in her boyfriend’s stead because he was too much of a happily crying mess to go, himself. Not Ryan. Not Jack. And certainly not Ray, who just wanted Michael to be okay, more than anything.

With a shake of his head of wild curls, Michael’s words were final, and they marked the end.

“I won’t see Gavin Free. He’s better off without me. Now get out.”

Exactly a week later, Ray woke up in the apartment alone.

There was a note stuck to the kitchen counter, and he would have snorted at how clichéd the gesture was if the situation was different. “Fucker,” he muttered instead, bolting out the door in nothing but boxers and a raggedy t-shirt. To which he was met with nothing but an empty hallway, not a soul in sight.

With a thud to his chest, Ray realized that Michael had left behind nearly all of his belongings.

The hastily written letter he held crumpled in his hand was penned in the boy’s distinctive scrawl.

It read,

I’m leaving.

Do yourself a favour and call Ryan, move in with him or something – you can’t afford this place, dumbass. You can hardly afford groceries. It’s been months and I’m sick of living with you in any case. That was a lie. My bad. Anyways, Jack, Geoff, Barbara, Ga and everyone else, they’re all great friends. I don’t want you to lose them because you kept choosing me over all of them. It was like a fuckin civil war went through our social circle with the accident, goddamn. You picked the losing side, just so that’s clear.

Oh yeah, and I washed Ryan’s sweater for you. Give it back to him. Give him a hug. Tell him you love him. And get back together, you fucks. Maybe I’ll see you around campus.

Sorry. Sorry for everything Thanks.

Sorry anyways.

Michael.