the moment gus gets close enough that niko can feel the heat of his leg pressing against his own, he tenses up. it’s what he should have expected, going into it this way; as far as gus knows, nothing’s any different. looking at him now–his beautiful, familiar face, so relaxed for the moment having come down from a manic episode–a deep, aching sadness flares to life in niko’s chest. the world has so many opinions about him, all based on his lyrics, on the way he dresses, the way he speaks and carries himself, his sometimes vulgar honesty about his destructive lifestyle…but they don’t really know him. they don’t know–the way niko does–that there’s an extraordinarily soft and vulnerable person beneath that carefully-crafted exterior. they’ve never seen him standing on his balcony with wet cheeks and dead eyes, looking like he can’t remember anymore why he’s still here. they’ve never seen him gritting his teeth and punching a wall because he knows he shouldn’t pick up the needle, but the addiction center of his brain won’t let him give it up. niko has seen that, and plenty more. and that’s what he sees right now when he looks at him: a boy plagued by demons who’s found a moment of peace in his otherwise unstable life, completely ignorant to the fact that niko’s about to rip the rug out from under him. it even occurs to him for a moment to forget the whole thing, to pass it off as a terrible, dangerous idea and proceed as normal. he knows he can’t, though–he’s reached some undefinable emotional limit, a point where something has to give, one way or another. and while a part of him thinks he’s ready for it, an even deeper part is all too aware he’s playing a game. being selfish. he’s testing gus, clinging to the hope that he isn’t alone in his feelings and that by doing what he’s about to do, it’ll somehow push gus into admitting it. it’s stupid–he knows it’s stupid–but he needs to do it. something has to give.
“yes,” he answers gus stiltedly, hyperaware of their legs touching still and struggling to figure out what to do about it. what he should do is stand up, move away, get to the fucking point and spit it out. the longer he lets it drag on, the worse it’s going to be, but he can’t get the words out. his throat feels tight, his chest even tighter. “i had a good time.” watching fixedly as gus sticks a cigarette in his mouth and lights it, he adds, “i’m glad you did, too.” he licks his lips without realizing he’s done so, eyes still stuck on gus’s face. his comment–i’m mad at the world, don’t feel special–hurts only because niko knows it isn’t true. gus was mad at him, but he’s also clearly not going to say why. niko puts on a little smile and shrugs. “don’t worry,” he says softly, “i wouldn’t dream of feeling special.” there’s a brief silence, and he knows he should do it now. like a band-aid. but he can’t, and he realizes suddenly that he’s waiting for gus to do something. to touch him, kiss him, something, anything that will allow him to continue stalling. “you’re really not gonna tell me, huh?”
gus felt rather relieved that niko had come over in the first place. for a brief moment of panic, gus believed that niko wouldn’t see him after the party. after all, the blonde seemed content enough to dance on other guys. gus wasn’t too jealous, of course, it was part of their game. the classic game of cat and mouse and in the end, the cat always won. he sits besides niko, placing a hand on the other boy’s knee. it’s not a possessive gesture, but rather one of comfort. it’s familiar to him, it’s warm. though it did throw him a little off that niko was wearing pants. never mind, he could get niko out of anything. as much as gus didn’t want to admit it, niko knew more about him than probably anyone else in the world. when he said it like that, it sounded mushy and far too romantic than what the situation called for. he only meant that niko had seen him at the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. he knew he took advantage of niko’s fondness towards him, but he couldn’t help it. it felt nice not to be some damaged, freak of nature for once. gus didn’t open himself up to a lot of people but it didn’t always feel bad when he spoke to niko.
blue eyes focused on the blonde’s face, running over features that he remembered so many years ago. he could paint niko with his eyes closed. maybe he will if he was feeling particularly nice one evening. “i saw you dancing. did you see me?” of course he did. it was nearly impossible to miss the way gus was eye-fucking him from across the room. he smiles, shrugging his shoulders and blowing out a puff of smoke. “i always like a good party,” he comments, putting his cigarette out on the ashtray besides his bed. gus returns his gaze to niko. his hand comes up to rest on the boy’s neck for a moment before moving up to cradle his jaw. gus feels like he should say something but he doesn’t. sometimes no words was better than making up some nonsense. “tell you what?” gus murmured, voice low as he stared at niko. after another moment, he pulls niko towards him and kisses him softly, tongue easily finding it’s home between niko’s lips.
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