peau d’ange

turn your face away from the garrish light of day turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night

[peaudange]

❝ one is not the loneliest number — won't keep putting all my faith in you. ❞

BUBBLINOVER. penned by icarus. private.

[doomgens]

they aren't friends. phineas isn't sure it's a good idea to invite axel to stay, but he knows what will happen if he doesn't. he's tired of fighting, and he doesn't want to be on the phone with molly until he dozes off. if he has a distraction, phineas might not even notice she's calling. ❛ 's a little odd that you're listening, isn't it? ❜ phineas rebuffs. the thing is, axel isn't saying anything phineas doesn't already know. he's constantly questioned, pressured, and browbeaten. anything he says is picked apart until even he isn't sure of what he meant. but hearing it in this simplified way, from the lips of a frat boy he doesn't even know that well? it stings. ❛ we're just going through a rough patch, dude. it's normal, ❜ he says, hands folded in his lap. he fiddles with his fingers as he speaks. ❛ we started dating before the season started, and now that i'm busier, she's nervous. that's it. ❜ phineas knows this is not the complete truth, but what else can he do — he feels obligated to defend his relationship.

❛ you don't know what you're talking about, bro, ❜ phineas replies, running a hand through his dark hair. ❛ of course she trusts me. she's just paranoid, she's been hurt in the past. that doesn't mean she doesn't trust me. ❜ these are the things he says to himself when molly creates problems, seemingly out of thin air. phineas crosses his arms as axel joins him on the bed, too caught up in his own thoughts to recognize the sudden shift in energy. he's heard rumors about axel, but he thinks that's all they are — rumors. he isn't, even for a second, anticipating the statement that leaves the blonde boy's lips next. ❛ dude... what the fuck are you talking about? ❜ he asks, gawking at the suggestion. ❛ i absolutely can tell you that i've never thought about it before — are you insane? ❜ he thinks axel's lost his mind, that maybe he fell asleep and is dreaming this entire interaction. but he rubs at his eyes, and axel's still there, looking at him like he's dropped a totally sound, very helpful piece of advice. ❛ that's... all great and fine, for you. but i like girls, man. i like soft skin and fat asses and hair you can run your fingers through. i'm not interested in a guy, ❜ he explains, brow knit tightly. ❛ my dick couldn't get hard for a dude, man. it's just not possible. ❜

[peaudange]

axel isn't making it his business to intervene in all of the tau zeta guys' personal lives, but phineas is a different story. he's not like the rest of the fraternity, but that's what has drawn axel to him. that and he wants one night of peace, free from his fighting with his girlfriend. ❝ not really. these walls are paper thin, ❞ axel offers up with a shrug. ❝ y'didn't think the whole house could hear you? ❞ there's a little chuckle in his throat. he's not surprised phineas is on the defense; he's probably been going at it all night with molly . . . but axel isn't there to fight, he's there to make him forget about his problems. ❝ my point's you've never given her a reason to be nervous, ❞ he explains with a groan. ❝ she's always all over you, like she's handcuffed to you or somethin'! and we woulda seen you sneak in another girl . . . so completely on your side, bro. ❞

axel throws his hands up in the air, playfully offering up a surrender. ❝ alright, dude. i'm just sayin' what the rest of the guys are thinkin' anyway, ❞ the blonde boy explains. phineas is tense, axel can hear it in his voice. the whole night's gone to waste, and there's no reprieve seemingly—unless axel can change that for him. he knows his reputation precedes him, that not all the guys in the fraternity are thrilled with axel swinging both ways and not bothering to hide it. besides, it's not every day that he'd offer up himself to be used! ❝ so if you've never thought about it, how'd'ya know you aren't into it? ❞ he retorts, cocking up a brow. there's a smug smirk on his lips, like he's found a challenge he's determined to overcome. he doesn't care how much energy he's got to put into it—and that's more than axel can say about most things. ❝ y'know guys can have all that, right? i've got all that, if that's your bar . . . ❞ axel chuckles. ❝ oh, i'd have you bricked up in a minute. you'd be cummin' in less — and i'd be willin' to put money on that. and that'd only be just the beginning! ❞

[doomgens]

bowie has always been told he's too sensitive. therapists, teachers, guidance counselors — you name it. when he was a child, his mom would tell him his heart was too big for his body, that he fell into puddles of stars and saw the world differently than others. even so, he grew up acutely aware that expressing himself came with a risk. if he ever started, he's not certain he could bring himself to stop. he embraced silence like an old sweater passed down from his father — warm, comforting, and safe. there's no way fitz could know this, which means this bizarre attempt to reach him must be sincere. and bowie doesn't know what to do with that. ❛ you don't have to burden yourself with my feelings, ❜ bowie says, attempting to brush him off. he's not sure what having a friend is like. yes, it's as sad as it sounds, but it's the only reality bowie's ever known. ❛ you don't wanna be my friend, fitz... trust me, ❜ he sighs. ❛ —and two takeout plates? that's utterly obscene, fitz. i'm not a glutton. ❜

❛ don't laugh too hard, old man, ❜ bowie pokes, a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. ❛ i'd hate for you to sprain something and have to head back to the nursing home early. ❜ he's starting to feel better, he thinks. misery has become his status quo, so it's not like he's familiar with much else — but his shoulders feel lighter, and he's able to fix his posture. some color has already returned to his cheeks. if he's not careful, he might look like fitz's equal, rather than some inexperienced kid. ❛ i know that, obviously, but... i don't know. this feels different, ❜ he starts to explain, elbows rested on the table. ❛ part of me wishes he had some secret, deplorable life of crime, like some kind of explanation for what happened. i hate thinking of him like a victim, because that's not... that's just not who my dad was. ❜ he's been sitting up straight for two minutes, and he's already spilling his guts all over fitz's fried rice. bowie doesn't know how the older male has managed to disarm him — nor does he wish to see the look of victory on his face once he realizes that he's won. ❛ it is not teenage angst! ❜ bowie protests, his brow knit tightly, a hand pressed to his chest. he's been fatally wounded. ❛ if you want me to open up, stop talking like some chirpy counsellor leading his first group therapy session, ❜ he suggests. ❛ like, what's your favorite band? mine is the cure — look, i've asked you a question and offered a fact about myself. aren't you proud of me, señor spritely? ❜

[peaudange]

bowie keeps everything clutched so closely to his chest—a fact he that he's becoming acutely aware of. he can only imagine what's made him so shut off from the world. maybe he's stupid for trying. maybe it's a lost cause . . . but something inside of him keeps trying. ❝ it's not a burden, bowie, ❞ fitz replies, his voice gentle but firm. if bowie's never had a friend before, fitz is determined to be the first. his sharp tongue won't be any match for fitz's pure stubbornness. ❝ too bad. you've got a friend already, ❞ he decides. there's a light-hearted smile upon his lips. he's trying his best to lift bowie's spirits, trying to bring back the light in his eyes. ❝ i'm just saying . . . if that's what it takes! ❞

fitz's eyes roll playfully, an endearing but irritated frown on his face. ❝ as long as it's not past your bedtime, ❞ he teases right back. he already can sense the tension dissipating between them. bowie looks better like this, happier. for the first time, it doesn't feel like he's trapped in his own head. fitz feels like he's actually getting through to him, and it makes his heart race and his stomach flutter. it's a stronger feeling than any pill or bottle has ever given him. he's not quite sure what to do about, except try and show bowie that he's there for him. ❝ you just have to remember him at his best, at his happiest. that's what he would want you to do, ❞ fitz says gently. ❝ i know that's easier said than done, but it's how you keep his memory alive. ❞ he shovels a fork through his bowl of fried rice and into his mouth. his eyes drift over to bowie, now feigning offense. it's adorable, and he hates himself for only thinking about that . . . but it's true. he can't help it. ❝ okay, okay . . . no more trying to be deep, i got it, ❞ fitz concedes. there's the faintest smile on his lips and an even fainter shade of pink to his cheeks. ❝ the cure?! seriously, dude? ❞ fitz scoffs, shaking his head. ❝ they have, like, one good album. everything else is sorely overrated. ❞ he sighs, though the smile on his face doesn't disappear. still, the choice tells him something about bowie, that there's a lot more going on under the surface than what meets the eye. ❝ there's never going to be a band better than led zeppelin. sorry if that makes me sound like a pretentious asshole, but it's the truth. no one's ever written a better song than stairway to heaven, and the riff on black dog is in a class of its own. ❞

[doomgens]

sawyer can't lie, he thought he might get more of trent's time when he moved in. he wasn't expecting to share him with his boyfriend. so perhaps there is the slightest hint of bitterness in his voice when he approaches trent with the issue. it's not conscious, but it's there — just beneath the soft, velvet lilt in his voice. ❛ i didn't mean it like that, trent. you guys are sweet together, that's all, ❜ sawyer explains, just barely rolling his eyes. for some inexplicable reason, sawyer remembers trent being smarter. maybe it's all the loud, disruptive sex scrambling his brain. ❛ but that's not really the point, ❜ he says, keeping himself on track. he won't let trent wiggle out of this, not this time — no matter how many times he has to stop and explain very simple constructs. he's determined. ❛ you guys are being inconsiderate. i live here too, and i don't think it's fair that i have to leave every time you guys want to... do it. ❜

he subconsciously makes himself smaller as trent settles in beside him, not that he has to try very hard. trent is practically a giant next to sawyer, his frame broad and bulky next to his lithe shoulders and dainty... well, everything. he feels like trent is finally listening, finally understanding him, as the boy nods along with every word. perhaps the smile on his lips would have alerted sawyer if he wasn't so thrilled he's getting his point across — but, from where he sits, everything is going according to plan. ❛ wait, wha— yes, trent. it's just sex, ❜ sawyer echoes, feeling like all the wind has been stolen from his lungs. ❛ i'm sure you're very... good at what you do, but you two act like it's the best thing in the world. ❜ he isn't expecting the conversation to veer down this path. sawyer doesn't really care to discuss his roommate's sex life — he hears enough of it through the walls. but he's willing to entertain it if it means getting what he wants. ❛ look, i get it. i'm the virgin that doesn't know the epic highs and lows of getting your dick sucked, ❜ he says with a sigh. ❛ but i'm asking you to be a little quieter when he's doing it. for fuck's sake, you act like he's taking you to another dimension or something. ❜

[peaudange]

it was only natural for trent to welcome in sawyer. there had always been some kind of connection between them—a friendship, an attraction, something—so it made perfect sense to let him stay in the spare room in his apartment. now, trent isn't used to living with someone else. he's not one to tiptoe around things to make everyone happy. in fact, he's completely oblivious that he might be doing something wrong. maybe sawyer's just a little uptight—or even jealous! it's all a surprise to him truthfully. ❝ hey, i only asked to you to dip a couple of times! and that was because i wanted to do it on the couch, ❞ trent replies with a shrug. maybe that's not the kind of information you spill to your disgruntled roommate, but trent's not one to keep secrets.

the truth is trent has always seen something in sawyer that the boy might not have seen in himself. there's some kind of spark lurking underneath the surface, practically begging to break free . . . maybe trent's the one to help him figure out how to let it shine. there's a smirk etched into his face as he listens to what the smaller boy has to say. he's so innocent it almost hurts to think about it. ❝ that's what you say now, but once you find someone who'll dick you down properly . . . well, you'll be going at it like rabbits too! ❞ trent replies. he kicks his socked feet up on the coffee table, legs crossed at the ankles. ❝ the epic highs and lows? just a tich dramatic, don'tcha think? ❞ he teases with a little chuckle. ❝ but seriously, no one's ever sucked your dick before? ❞ trent questions with a cocked brow. he's purposefully avoiding any accountability; he knows once his plan comes to fruition that sawyer won't be complaining about much of anything. ❝ i mean, bro, do you even touch yourself? 'cause you seem a little tense . . . y'know that helps with, like, stress and tension and stuff, right? bustin' a nut is like going to another dimension, dude. ❞

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀as he often did, phineas o'connell was finishing out his night alone. his girlfriend left the frat house pissed off for a reason that he didn't totally understand, and phineas didn't bother chasing after her. she would text him once she got to her dorm, he would smooth things over with a half-baked apology, and that would be that. he's used to it by now ⸺ as terrible as that sounds. their relationship is complicated; phineas is a premier athlete, and molly wants more than he can give. he's told her this, but she won't let him go. he might go to the olympics one day, and she'll hold onto him until she can cash in.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀phineas is sitting on the edge of his bed, phone close by, when axel appears in his doorway. he has his face buried in his hands, dark hair slightly tousled. by the time phineas notices him, axel seems settled. he won't be easy to shoo away ⸺ he never really is. ❛ don't start, axel, ❜ he groans, pouring the last of the ember liquid down his throat. the guys always give him shit for having a girlfriend, and he can typically take it. he's been in locker rooms with guys his entire life. but it's not so easy to stomach when he's fighting with molly. ❛ i have a swim meet in arizona next month, and my hotel room is a single, ❜ phineas explains. ❛ she thinks i'm gonna cheat on her, i guess. like i don't sleep in a single room every night. ❜ he motions for axel to close the door, waving him in. he slips out of his sneakers, sliding further onto the bed and crossing his feet at the ankle. ❛ what does that even mean, dude? let this chick shit go? ❜ he chuckles, rolling his eyes. ❛ i have a girlfriend, bro... i'm not doing hard drugs. ❜

[peaudange]

axel might look at the world through his own selfish, hedonistic lens, but it's never backfired on him. he's never worried about falling in love or keeping a girl — or boy for that matter — happy. some might say he's immature, but axel would just write them off as naysayers. he doesn't understand phineas' world, doesn't get why he'd let himself get tied down by one person. maybe he's immature to look at things that way, but axel can guarantee he's having much more fun.

axel pulls the door behind him, giving the two of them some privacy. he figures he'll save phineas from the humiliation of letting the whole house know he's striking out for the night . . . maybe not if axel's plans go according to plan. ❝ i'm just saying . . . is it really worth all the fuss? you two fight more than you fuck, and i'd know 'cause i'm right next door, ❞ axel remarks. he lingers against the wall, not quite ready to make his move yet. he's going to play the part of the thoughtful friend, but he's got one thing in mind truthfully. that's what happens when you haven't been properly laid in a month of sundays. ❝ she doesn't trust you, bro. i mean, you don't even look girls in the eye, and she thinks you're going to boink some chick in arizona? ❞ he scoffs at the thought. now, he's strolling over to the bed and making himself right at home like he hasn't the slightest care in the world. ❝ it means you should try guys. seriously, they're twice as sluttier and they don't care if you call them back in the morning . . . and on top of that, they'll come running when you need to get your dick wet again. and if you wear socks, it ain't gay! ❞ axel explains, a smirk etched into his golden skin. ❝ i mean, it's a win - win situation. don't tell me you haven't even thought about it before. ❞

[peaudange]

the tau zeta house was slowly starting to wind down after one of its infamous friday night ragers. people were trickling out, the music was gradually growing softer, and those who were sticking around were starting to find their way back to their rooms. perhaps axel gladwyn would've appreciated that fact more if he'd bagged someone to upstairs to his room, but it looked like the only person he was going to spend the rest of his night with was his right hand. go figures.

axel is already stripping himself out of his button-up by the time he makes it to the edge of phineas' doorway. phineas looks downright miserable . . . and axel had sworn an oath to always help out a fellow tau zeta when they were in needed. so with a little swagger in his step and donning a ridiculous pink cowboy hat, axel steps into the blonde boy's room and leaned up against the wall. ❝ don't tell me, ❞ axel starts, arm folding against his chest. ❝ girl troubles? ❞ axel had been there plenty of times — before he'd just stopped caring. it didn't exactly help his reputation, of course. he's been through more girls — and guys — than anyone could count. ❝ i'm tellin' you, man. you gotta let this chick go and start livin' for yourself. just my two cents — not that ya asked for it. ❞ / @digitalsugar

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀ᯓ★⠀⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀⠀bowie isn't normally so sharp-tongued, but he's reached his breaking point. he can't carry on the way he has, pushing all of his feelings further and further down, refusing to meet them head-on. it's all rising to the surface, threatening to spill over the top ⸺ and his frustration is pointed at fitz. even if he doesn't deserve it. ❛ i'm alone all the time, fitz. i manage pretty well, ❜ bowie says, but it's obvious there's not much fight left in him. another day of being a failure has left him worn out. ❛ honestly, i don't know if i have it in me to be a friend, ❜ he sighs, turning to face fitz once the door is locked and he's ready to go. ❛ you did invite yourself, but it is what it is. don't be upset when i spring for the extra takeout plate. ❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀they are lead to the corner booth, and bowie realizes he should have picked a different restaurant ⸺ this place holds far too much history. bowie didn't mean to share something so personal with fitz. he's giving too much away, and he can only hope fitz can't see the discomfort on his face. ❛ what, like twenty years ago? ❜ bowie teases, lips coiled into a smug little grin. he can hardly help himself; there's something oddly comical about fitz's attempt to relate to him. ❛ i just . . . it's not supposed to be this hard, i think. you probably would've handled it better, ❜ he says. that's what bothers him the most ⸺ people experience grief all the time. what makes him so different? ❛ you don't have to beat around the bush, fitz. my dad's dead, and my mom's a basket case. you have to stop treating me with kid gloves. ❜ he shovels a forkful of fried rice into his mouth, giving himself a few seconds to think about his next answer. ❛ i don't really have fun stories, ❜ bowie shrugs. ❛ you do realize you're eating chinese food with a total outcast, right? like, i'm weird ⸺ everyone says so. i'm not some guy with cool stories about house parties and weed brownies, fitz. you're out of luck in that department. ❜

[peaudange]

❝ just because you can manage on your own, doesn't mean you should, ❞ fitz replies. he's just trying to help. he's not exactly cut out for this, but he's trying his damndest. he can't explain why. there's something tethering him to bowie, as if their fates are intertwined. maybe it's stupid to think of things like that. fitz can't say he has ever looked at anything like that before, but he supposes there are worse things to do. ❝ then let me be a friend to you, ❞ fitz decides. ❝ if that's what it takes you to be a little more chipper, then you can get two. ❞ it's a joke, maybe a poorly timed one, but the air between them is far too tense to carry on. fitz can't stand it.

❝ ha, ha . . . very funny, twerp, ❞ fitz replies, rolling his eyes playfully. it's the first time he's ever heard bowie try to crack a joke. it's a small step, but it's progress, which is more than he can say for the hour and a half they'd spent together already. ❝ i say this with the risk of sounding like chicken soup for the soul, but there's no right or wrong way to grieve. it's not a one size fits all kind of deal, ❞ he replies. he's not been saddled with loss of that kind — he's never had anyone really all that close to him — but he's trying his best to navigate uncharted waters. ❝ i'm not treating you with kid gloves, ❞ fitz protests. ❝ i'm being courteous . . . and i would never call your mom a basket case. i wouldn't even call my own mother that, and she is one! ❞ he sighs, shaking his head as his attempt to get bowie to open falls flat. he's never had to try this hard with anyone before, and it's almost infuriating how his every effort is rebuffed. still, he's pushing through it all, listening to the thing beating inside of his chest for the first time. ❝ okay, so you're a weirdo, bowie. what now? ❞ fitz throws out there, shoulders shrugging. ❝ weirdos don't have any fond memories, nothing that's ever made them happy? aren't you getting a little old to still have all that teenage angst? ❞

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀ᯓ★⠀⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀⠀heath doesn't remember zachary, but he knows they must have crossed paths before. oak falls is a small town, the kind of place where everyone knows everyone. he thinks that, perhaps, if he had met the kid sooner, he might have stayed out of trouble. zachary doesn't seem like the kind of boy who would let a friend travel the wrong path. but that's the thing — heath was a total asshole before he went away; he wouldn't have given zachary as much as a glance back then. heath can only hope that zachary has no experience with that version of him, that this is the fresh start he desperately needs. ❛ lonely? ❜ heath echoes, his head tilted in an act of confusion. his lips curl into a grin. ❛ you're here, aren't you? how can i be lonely? ❜

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ trust me, i can tell, ❜ heath chuckles. he knows it before the boy even opens his mouth — zachary is a habitual rule follower, and he's got the look. but the fact that he's convinced zachary to sneak out for the first time, that he's corrupted him in this tiny way, only makes their little outing more special. ❛ but no, i'm afraid i can't let you take the blame. that would go against everything i believe in, ❜ he says. ❛ besides, that's the one good thing about being a misfit . . . everyone already thinks you're up to no good, so there's no harm in proving 'em right. ❜ heath hasn't had a night like this in quite some time. perhaps even ever, considering his company is much different than that of his usual keep. he notices zachary sneaking glances, and his cheeks feel warm; he smiles without realizing it. a real smile. the muscles in his face practically creak — it's been a minute since they've been put to use. ❛ i hear you, but y'have to promise you won't take it the wrong way. i'm not judging, just asking, ❜ heath says gently. he slides his seat back and faces zachary properly. ❛ do you like boys? i mean, are you gay? it's not a bad thing, you're just not like the other boys in this town. i guess i'm curious about you. ❜

[peaudange]

there's a sympathetic smile on zachary's face. he's been taught to treat people with respect, to do unto them as he'd do unto himself. those things were easier said than done for some, and zachary certainly had failed at times . . . but with heath? it's the easiest thing he's ever done. he can only imagine a world of isolation and how piercing that could be for someone like heath. ❝ sometimes, the loneliest have hordes of people around them, ❞ zachary answers, his voice solemn and soft. ❝ you look like you need a friend, someone who'll show you some grace. ❞

he might've taken offense to anyone else saying something like that, but instead, zachary just giggles. something tells him that heath isn't judging him, isn't trying to make him change himself or make him feel bad. ❝ you're not up to no good, ❞ he says softly. ❝ maybe just a little bit of mischief, but your heart's in the right place, heath. ❞ he takes a sip of his soda, the faintest hint of a smile on the corners of his lips. zachary steals another peek at heath, and he notices the corners of his lips are up-turned. maybe he feels the same way that zachary does — which he isn't honestly sure how to describe, some kind of fluttery, glowing feeling deep in his small frame. it's nothing like he'd ever known, but he doesn't want to let it go either. zachary's not shocked by the question; plenty of guys had cornered him asked the same very thing . . . but he's not scared to answer yes. something inside of him is urging him to, even. ❝ yeah, i guess you could say i like boys . . . that's not a problem, is it? ❞ zachary questions. ❝ i've never actually been with one, but when i think of the future, i don't see myself with a woman . . . but why were you so, uh, curious about me? ❞

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀ᯓ★⠀⠀⠀. . .⠀⠀⠀sawyer doesn't think he's unreasonable, and he doesn't ask for much. in fact, he believes himself to be a stellar roommate. perhaps even the best. he cleans up after himself, he makes little noise, and he's always willing to make himself sparse when trent's boyfriend sleeps over. but his patience is wearing thin. it shouldn't be his problem that two people have convinced themselves they're made for each other — obviously they're not, but sawyer keeps that to himself. yet he finds himself kicked out of the apartment he pays to live in more often than not, or trapped in his bedroom until they're done doing . . . whatever it is they get up to. sawyer has woken up early this morning with a purpose: he's going to tell trent that it's not cool anymore, that they should go to his boyfriend's place the next time they're that eager to stick their tongues down each other's throats.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀he's on the sofa, and his legs are folded beneath him. he sports a loose t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweats. he rolls his eyes as trent kisses his boyfriend goodbye, lets out a sigh of relief as the door clicks shut behind him. trent pads into the room, and sawyer clears his throat — he is often forgotten about, or at least he feels that way. if he doesn't make his presence known, trent might not notice him at all.  ❛ we need to talk, ❜ he says sternly, determined not to let his roommate's handsome face and charm work on him this time. you see, this isn't the first time sawyer's tried to air out his grievances; he's prepared this time, though. he won't be easy to dismiss. ❛ look, i'm glad you have a boyfriend. it's sweet, but you're being really inconsiderate lately, ❜ sawyer says, his voice softening just enough. he doesn't want to sound angry, nor does he want to give trent the impression that he's ungrateful for welcoming him to the city. ❛ he practically lives here now, trent . . . i've had to sleep with headphones on every single night this week because you two are going at it like wild animals! seriously, what's the deal, dude? i get it, you're having fun or whatever, but does it have to be every single night? what's even so special about it? it's just sex. ❜

@peaudange

[peaudange]

any tension in the apartment, trent is completely oblivious to. he's enjoying sawyer's company, and that's all that matters to him. he's not said anything to him to suggest otherwise. to him, it's been smooth sailing since sawyer moved in. even his boyfriend thinks so! though trent's not sure he's ever so much as said a word to him before. it's not that trent isn't aware that they're loud, but he's not the kind of person to think about that . . . not until someone makes him aware of it. maybe sawyer has tried to talk to him about it before, okay? but trent was hung over and not in any position to have a serious conversation! needless to say, he's certainly not expecting the ambush in the morning after he's pecked his boyfriend on the lips to say goodbye . . . but the first thing he sees as he turns on his heel is sawyer, looking more like a soldier than his roommate.

but trent isn't completely stupid either. he's learned how to be diplomatic to get what he wants, so instead of retorting something to stand his ground, he's slinking over to the couch and settling down next to sawyer. he's a wolf in sheep's clothing, eyeing for the perfect moment to strike — and get his way. his chin rests in the palm of his hand, nodding along as the boy airs out his list of grievances. maybe it's fair. any reasonable person might've agreed to some kind of resolution, but trent's not exactly one who fights fair — or right. he offers up a saccharine smile, the kind that could rot a tooth if someone wasn't careful. ❝ it's sweet that i have a boyfriend? ❞ trent chuckles. ❝ he's a person, not a puppy, sawyer. ❞ there's not even the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice, nor even the faintest hint of anger in his brown eyes. sawyer surely must have no clue what's lurking beneath the surface . . . but maybe it's something far more nefarious. ❝ it's just sex? ❞ trent repeats, his eyes wide and his brows lifted in curiosity. ❝ i can't help it, sawyer. i can't keep his hands off me! between you and me, thought i'd wear him out, but he just wants more and more, ❞ he starts to explain. ❝ and honestly, sawyer? not sure you would be able to stop yourself either if you knew how good it felt. ❞

[doomgens]

★ . . . kit isn't as immune as beckett might think. it's quite the opposite, really. he's tried his damndest to interrogate these feelings, but he can't make sense of them. beckett is everything kit should hate, and yet all he feels is a burning desire that won't let him rest. he's told himself, time and time again, that this attraction is wrong, possibly even fatal. but nevertheless, he wound up in bed with the rockstar. kit hasn't consulted merriam webster or anything, but he's positive that isn't what immunity looks like. ❛ we can skip tea, but i don't think it'd hurt to employ a little common courtesy, ❜ kit replies, brow knit. ❛ aren't spoiled rich kids like you required to take etiquette lessons by law or something? ❜ his lips coil into a proud smirk. tiny victories, he notes, are just as important as big wins — his voice didn't crack, and he didn't lose his cool. he's quite happy with himself. ❛ don't mention that man's name in my house, ❜ he replies, as if his stance on the romanticization of christopher columbus is the most pressing matter at hand. ❛ i might prefer that, at least when you compare it to the constant poking and prodding. all i was trying to do was get our story straight, to make sure we didn't get ourselves into trouble we couldn't handle. i tried to be polite about it... i even made you a cup of coffee. ❜

★ . . . it shouldn't hurt the way it does. a few seconds ago, kit scoffed at the mere thought of beckett caring about him. but to watch, in real time, as he reels it all back? it stings, even if kit tells himself it doesn't. ❛ you just did! ❜ kit protests. ❛ one second you're saying you'll speak up for me, the next you're mocking me for reading too much into it... but i didn't, did i? i just got a little too close to the truth. ❜ kit recognizes the shift instantly. he hates that he's studied beckett so diligently, so attentively, that he can spot a dip in his behavior from a mile away. but there it is — the slight quiver of his lip, the subtle loss of confidence in his tone. kit's no longer speaking to the rockstar, to the frontman of a beloved band. he's got beckett on the line, perhaps for the first time. ❛ only people who aren't open books say they're an open book, ❜ he remarks quietly. ❛ that's the problem with you, beckett. you put on this mask, and you tell yourself it's all you — that you're just a carefree, entitled party boy. if anyone challenges you, that's on them. you're just being you, ❜ kit sighs, closing the space between them. it's dangerous, and kit knows it. ❛ i scoff at you, and make comments under my breath, because i know you're putting on an act. i look right past you because i'm not interested in helping you pretend... and until you can take the mask off, and show me who you really are, you won't see me like that again, beckett. i can promise you that. ❜

[peaudange]

beckett's attention isn't something easily captured, but kit doesn't know this. sure, his gaze is fleeting, wandering onto the next lover du jour he can find . . . but it's always been different for kit. he's never met anyone like him before—and not just because he seems to be unfazed by his charm. everything about kit is different: his lanky frame, his buzzed hair, the way beckett can see the hurricane of emotions lurking beneath the surface of his brown eyes. it's no surprise beckett wants him—he's always wanted what he can't have. it's more surprising how torturous it feels to not have him. ❝ my bad, i thought we were two adults having a private conversation, ❞ beckett shrugs. ❝ maybe, but you're dealing with someone who did just about everything to get out of that kind of shit. ❞ he's taken aback a little by kit's sudden firmness, but he's not going to argue with him. he nods, silently noting the indiscretion. ❝ and i appreciate the cup of coffee, but you know you acted like i told you i'd skinned a cat when i told you we'd slept together, right? ❞ beckett questions, cocking up a brow. ❝ i know how to keep a secret, bogart . . . and i know you're good at acting, so we'll both keep our end of the bargain, and it'll be smooth sailing from here on out. ❞ the whole thing is exhausting to beckett. he feels like he's in the middle of a business negotiation, not talking to his co-star.

beckett massages his temples, fighting back the urge to lose his cool. every turn, it feels like kit has some new obstacle for him to overcome, like nothing will ever be good enough of an explanation. ❝ what kind of game are you trying to play, bogart? ❞ beckett questions. ❝ do you want me to tell you i hate your guts? do you want me to tell you that this was all a mistake? i'm not going to lie to you to make you happy. ❞ he stays quiet, lets the boy rip into him. it stings, and he'd admit it too. maybe he has been trying to please him all this time, maybe he has lost himself a little bit in the midst of it all. kit's closer than he's ever been before—at least while he was sober. he should be furious, should rip right back into kit . . . but something inside of him won't let him. instead, he lurches forward and pulls kit in to press a kiss to his lips—rough, hard, and messy. kit is pressed up against the wall in the midst of it all. he doesn't know whether he'll smack the shit out of him and pull away or welcome it. ❝ you wanted to see the real me? fine, ❞ beckett finally says with a whisper. ❝ you drive me fucking crazy. i fuckin' obsess over what you're gonna say to me next, what problem you're gonna find with me that day . . . and i try to figure out how to make you happy. it never does, but god, when you do say something to me, it's the best fuckin' ten seconds of my life 'cause for whatever reason i had your attention. you don't give me what i want. you're determined to make me earn it, and i want to. i'd fuckin' bleed myself dry to do it too. happy now? ❞

[doomgens]

bowie isn't expecting fitz to follow him. well, he is — he's obviously not going to stick around and wait for bowie to return. but he definitely doesn't think he's going to invite himself to dinner, but that's exactly what fitz does. “just 'cause i can't play the guitar doesn't mean i'm incapable of eating dinner by myself,” bowie says, folding his arms across his chest after he locks the door. he thinks there must be some ulterior motive, but he can't pin it down. why is fitz being so kind to him? it makes bowie's brain ache. “why do we need to get to know each other better? it's not like we're friends, you're just... mentoring me,” he scoffs. bowie doesn't intend to sound so dismissive, he's just confused. “s-sorry, i just meant... fine. i guess you can come, but only because you're paying.”

the chinese buffet is quiet. they are greeted at the door with toothy grins before the hostess escorts them to bowie's favorite table — a corner booth by the window, a family tradition before his father died. he drops his coat off, makes his way to the food, and helps himself. he needs the comfort of fried rice, egg rolls, and dumplings. it's his favorite. “look, before we eat... i need to apologize,” bowie says as he slides into the booth. “i was really on edge back there, and it's not your fault. i just want to be good, and it's not working.” he takes a sip from his cup, letting the ice water slide down his throat and ease his nerves. he wills himself to be pleasant, to prove that he isn't a total sourpuss. not all the time, at least. “i don't want to talk about music, or the showcase,” he says, meeting fitz's gaze — he needs the older male to know that the line has been drawn. “that means no more of your pep talks, no more plant metaphors. none of it. i just want to exist for a little while, and not think about what a colossal failure i am.”

[peaudange]

bowie is complex, that much is clear to fitz. every time that he think he's got him figured out, bowie flips the script and leaves him guessing. he's not seen this side of him before, never realized he had the tongue of a viper under that pretty face of his. ❝ i didn't say you couldn't. i just said you shouldn't be alone right now, ❞ fitz replies. he zips up his coat and shoves his hands into the pockets while bowie lashes into him. ❝ i'd like to be a friend and mentor, ❞ he decides, his words cool and calm. he's had worse said to him and never batted an eyelash, but coming from bowie, it stings just a little. ❝ fair enough. i did invite myself, ❞ fitz shrugs.

they make their way into the restaurant, and before he knows it, fitz has already loaded up his plate with fried rice and orange chicken. he's not expecting bowie to pipe up again—not after the silence of their walk—but he welcomes it nonetheless. he sips his glass of water, nodding along as the boy speaks. ❝ i've been your age before, ❞ fitz finally speaks. ❝ i know it's really fucking hard, and you've got a lot weighing down on you too . . . but i just want you to know that you've got somebody. ❞ he's felt like he's had no one before too. his only comfort had been music—to drown out his parents' incessant fighting, to escape from reality for a little while. ❝ you're not a failure, ❞ fitz reminds him firmly. ❝ but i got it. no more talk about music or showcases or plants. ❞ he offers up a gentle smile, the lines around his eyes growing more defined. ❝ so tell me something about you . . . your favorite memory or a fun story or something. ❞

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀██⠀⠀heath adores the sparkle in zachary's eye, the softness in his voice, the whimsy in his heart. he feels almost untainted by the real world. heath knows this can't possibly be true, but he holds onto the thought anyway. he wishes he could trust without fear, that he could view the world without the harsh reality of it slapping him in the face. he thinks, perhaps, bonding with zachary is the first step. ❛ oh, consider yourself lucky, ❜ heath chuckles, the corner of his lips curling slightly. he has always believed in self preservation before anything else, but he worries for zachary. his family isn't kind, nor are they understanding. he doesn't want to see the boy's light be snuffed out at all, much less by his parents. ❛ well, that depends... what do you want to know? ❜ he asks, brow arched. ❛ if it's anything that requires medical records, you'll need a warrant. ❜

⠀⠀⠀. . . his hand lingers a moment too long, and heath realizes instantly what he's done. something is coiling in the pit of his stomach, and it's too late to stop it. it triggers a flight response, but heath pushes it aside. ❛ there's no need to be mad for me, ❜ heath replies. ❛ do i seem damaged, or terribly stunted? i don't think so... i made it to the other side, and now i'm here talking to you. things are going alright for me. ❜ when he was sent away, he was angry. every call home was spent arguing with his parents, and then the calls stopped. he made peace with his situation, figured out how to operate within it, and moved on. deep down, it's impacted heath more than he'll ever know — but for now, he's okay. that's all that matters. ❛ that's fine. i'm not really allowed to use the car, but it's not like it'll be the first time i break a rule, right? ❜ he teases. he's already breaking the rules, he thinks, by talking to zachary with this warm feeling in his chest. ❛ but we've gotta get you driving, dude... what if i need a getaway driver? ❜ in a blur of tiptoes and butterflies, they make their way to the car. he's careful not to make a lot of noise, and then they're off. music fills most of the drive there, but the silence becomes insufferable once they're parked, fast food secured. ❛ can i ask you a question? ❜ heath asks, taking a sip of his drink. ❛ you can ask me one in return, if y'want. ❜

[peaudange]

there's a smile on zachary's face that he can't seem to get rid of—not that he'd want to anyways. heath has a way about him, a charm, a je ne sais quoi that has completely perplexed the young auburn boy. he's never been one to break the rules, but heath has already convinced zachary before even he knows he's slipping out of the back door with him. ❝ you don't seem damaged . . . just a little lonely, maybe, but that's all, ❞ zachary says quietly. he can sense there's more to the story, but he doesn't pry. he'll let heath come to him with the whole story when he's ready. after all, only he can tell it properly.

❝ i don't usually do this kind of thing . . . sneaking out, breaking rules. i mean, yeah, i'm an adult, but . . . you can blame me if we get in trouble, ❞ zachary replies with a little chuckle. ❝ i would be the worst getaway driver, so you might need to think of another role for me in our life of crime, ❞ he teases. his smile grows, and his blue eyes seem twinkle extra bright—all thanks to heath, no doubt. it stays in tact even as they drive off. all zachary can do, the whole car ride, is sneak glances of heath, illuminated only by the glow of the dashboard. he's pretty, zachary's always known this from photos he's seen of him... but there's a sadness to him, one that's shrouded the light inside of him. it stills shines, though, and that's what matters the most to zachary. maybe, together, they can figure out how to let it shine for everyone else to see. maybe that's just wishful thinking or even the hopeless romantic in him coming out. he comes back down to earth when that rugged voice fills the silence. ❝ you don't have to ask me to ask a question, you can just do it, ❞ zachary assures him. ❝ i don't bite! ❞

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀██⠀⠀everyone loves beckett, kit knows this. he can see the way beckett works his way into people's hearts, the way everyone on set flocks to him. it's not that kit doesn't get it. if he didn't, he wouldn't have ended up in bed with the rockstar. but he's never been that easy to love, and he can't understand why beckett's set his sights on him. it's a mystery to kit, and he's not much of a sleuth. ❛ so, what? we've seen each other's genitals, and we're free to talk like truckers? ❜ kit replies. he's never been comfortable speaking openly about sex. he wonders, quietly, if it has anything to do with all of the secrecy surrounding the type of sex he prefers to have. no one's ever openly desired him, much less been so crass about it. ❛ damn it, beckett. i don't have a stick up my ass! ❜ he groans. kit knows he's fueling the fire, that he's giving beckett all the ammunition he needs. the rockstar's poking and poking, and kit's getting closer and closer to the edge. ❛ seriously, beckett? are you just jabbing me for fun now? ❜ kit asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. ❛ you do this with all of your conquests, or is this reserved just for me? ❜

⠀⠀⠀. . . kit's always had big feelings, and he's been aware of it since he was a boy. his heart's too big for his body, and right now it's resting in a pair of hands he doesn't trust. he's willing to bet the other boy doesn't even know how much power he has. ❛ right, you care... which is exactly what i just said, ❜ kit replies, rolling his eyes. ❛ and yet, here you are, downplaying it because i dared to comment on — and that's exactly why i don't trust guys like you. ❜ his cheeks are unbearably hot. kit was starting to believe that he might have beckett all wrong, but the knife's been twisted. ❛ god, you had to do that, didn't you? ❜ he groans. ❛ what happened, beckett? did you realize you were too close to showing there's actually soul under all that bullshit and have to shy away? ❜ kit's jaw tenses as beckett's hand meets his skin, a soft breath leaving his lips. he moves away a second later, his eyes lingering on that hand for a moment too long. ❛ what the fuck is wrong with you? ❜ kit hisses, brow knit tightly. ❛ what's your end goal in all of this, beckett? are you screwing with me for sport, or is there a point to it? i mean, fuck. what do you think you're going to get out of me? ❜⠀⠀██

[peaudange]

how kit bogart is the only one immune to his charm, beckett isn't quite sure. one thing was for sure, though: it had caught beckett's attention. it stopped him dead in his tracks. last night had only been a semblance of the tides starting to turn, and well, beckett knew that once it did, it was going to be worth his while. he'd play the long game, make kit like him. selfish? maybe. out of cruelty? no. truth was, beckett's never seen brown eyes so pretty. and the fire in them when he's jumping down beckett's throat? it's to die for. ❝ i didn't take you as one for formalities, ❞ he replies with a shrug. ❝ but if you'd rather drink tea with our pinkies and noses in the air, by all means, let me know. ❞ it's a joke that he knows won't land well, not with his present company . . . but if it makes his face flush redder or his voice get a little bit higher with frustration, it's a win for beckett. ❝ i'm just calling it like i see it, ❞ beckett replies. ❝ my conquests? do i look like christopher columbus? ❞ he cocks up a brow. ❝ if i wanted to treat you like anybody else, i'd've bolted before the sun came up, before you even knew i was here . . . i'm not sayin' you're lucky or anything. i'm just saying you're different. so maybe don't assume you know everything about me just from a couple of weeks of filming. ❞

beckett's blue eyes roll. it's not an uncommon experience in kit's presence, but it's something he can't help. kit's gotten under his skin too. maybe he doesn't realize it, maybe he can't see it . . . but there are only two options for them, as beckett sees it: destruction or devotion. he'd rather the latter. ❝ i'm not downplaying it. i'm explaining it, ❞ beckett counters, arms folded against his chest. ❝ if you're worried, let me take care of it. there's not always some ulterior motive, kit. i'm not out to get you. ❞ there's a sort of lonesome to his voice — a whine just beneath the surface, so faint you could almost miss it. beckett might lead a grand life of parties, alcohol, drugs, and music . . . but it's a hollow life, one that he'd clamber for anything just to feel something. kit's done something miraculous; he's made him feel everything: anger, disappointment, sadness, lust, you name it. it's why beckett wants him so badly. ❝ i'm an open book, bogart. just gotta ask, and i'll give it to you straight, ❞ beckett replies. ❝ at first, i thought i just wanted you to like me. didn't understand why you gave me dirty looks between takes or why you muttered shit under your breath when i missed a mark or flubbed a line . . . but last night, i don't remember much, but i do remember that seeing you like that . . . unfettered and free, like you didn't care anyone was watching us, the you that you think no one else could see? i saw it, and i liked what i saw . . . happy now, bogart? that's why i'm trying so goddamn hard with you. ❞

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀██⠀⠀bowie wants to succeed more than anything, but he doesn't see it in his future. he stays awake all night, strumming his guitar until his fingers are sore, trying to remember every trick fitz has taught him. but he's reached a dead end, he knows this. he doesn't want to disappoint himself, his father, or even fitz... but he isn't sure he can keep at it. ❛ that's a total copout, fitz! you'd never be this forgiving with one of your bandmates, would you? ❜ bowie says, rolling his eyes. bowie gets it, he really does; fitz wants to be a good mentor, wants to repay some karmic debt to his father, but he hates liars. bowie knows he can't be hendrix, but he would settle for anything at this point — even meredith brooks! ❛ you can't guarantee that, ❜ he grumbles, eyes narrow. ❛ i've spent the last month in this dusty store, and i haven't made any progress... and i'm not blaming that on you, b-but still. ❜

⠀⠀⠀. . . the world around bowie comes to a halt, narrowing to the arm draped gently over his dainty shoulders. his gaze lowers to fitz's hand, to the slender digits hovering dangerously close to his cheek. he tries to let fitz's words resonate, tries to focus on literally anything but how close they are now — he has no luck. ❛ six weeks, fitz. we have six weeks, ❜ he says, sliding his glasses back into place. his breath hitches at the tender graze on his shoulder, and he silently wishes for a giant anvil to fall from the sky. of course, bowie knows he's not that lucky. ❛ let me get this straight. you think i'm dramatic, but you want me to scream and break things? ❜ bowie asks, brow slightly lifted. ❛ yeah, i'm not doing any of that. that feels cartoonish, and a little unsafe. but i do know that i'm done with the guitar, at least for tonight. ❜ he shakes off fitz's arm and reaches for his coat — a navy blue parka with a faux fur hood. ❛ i'm gonna grab dinner, but i'll think about what you said while i stuff my face at the chinese diner, ❜ he says, though he's not sure he really means it. he stands there awkwardly for a moment, waiting for fitz to leave. ❛ alright, that's a wrap, fitz. y'don't have to go home but you can't stay here and whatnot. ❜ ██

[peaudange]

somehow, there's an internal sigh of relief at the sound of bowie letting the guitar settle. it could've gone worse, fitz is sure, but the whole lesson was a wreck . . . but he's not one to just up and abandon ship. he's going to make sure that he sees bowie through whatever this is. fitz can't explain why, but there's something urging him to help the poor kid out. fitz never had anyone to look out after him, and sure, bowie's got his mom . . . but fitz sees something in him, something that bowie doesn't see in himself — an inner glow of sorts, some kind of raw talent that's waiting to be molded by the right hands. he's not going to let things fall by the wayside.

fitz rises from his seat in the dusty store. he wipes his hands on his jeans before stuffing them into his pockets. his eyes follow bowie carefully. he's teeming with nerves, fitz can sense that much. he doesn't want to leave him alone, not when he's this frustrated. that's not what a decent friend would do — not that fitz knows much about being a decent friend . . . but maybe he'll learn with bowie. ❝ i'm not going to let you eat your feelings alone, ❞ fitz replies with a chuckle. he makes his way out the door. he rests against one of the shop's windows as he waits for bowie to lock up. ❝ besides, it's about time we get to know each other a little better. maybe that'll make things go more smoothly next time. besides, i'll pay. ❞

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀██⠀⠀though they were raised in the same small town, they can't be more different. zachary doesn't seem afflicted by the same cynicism that heath's grown found of. it's strange to encounter someone who has not been tainted by the town one way or another. heath likes him. he doubts the kid could bust a grape in a fruit fight, but there's something refreshing about him. ❛ oh, that man doesn't miss a microphone, or a camera. ever seen him on the news? ❜ heath teases. his father, in more respectable circles, would be considered an ambulance chaser. his billboards are up all over town. in oak falls, that reads as prominence; to heath, he's nothing more than a reaper in a well-tailored suit. ❛ maybe, but... ❜ he trails off, thinks for a moment. then he shrugs. ❛ i don't know, you don't seem like the prying type. yet. ❜

⠀⠀⠀. . . heath witnesses the pep leave zachary's step, knows he's responsible. it's been a long while since he's felt anything remotely similar to guilt, but he recognizes the feeling. he reaches out, touches zachary gently on the arm. it's his mess to clean up, he realizes. ❛ hey, don't worry. it's not that bad, ❜ heath lies. ❛ it's kinda like camp, just with less bonfires and more corporal punishment. ❜ he can't forget the nights in solitary, the wooziness he hated before he learned to fake swallowing the medication. but he doesn't need to ruin zachary's unsullied view of the world. ❛ don't pretend to like my family on my account, zachary. i know they're insufferable, ❜ heath replies, a small chuckle falling from his lips. he couldn't do what zachary does, staying positive in the face of total asshats — for lack of a better term. he feels like he's bursting at the seams all the time... except for now. ❛ still sounds better than being out there, ❜ heath shrugs. ❛ speaking of... you feel up for a drive? i'd kill for a cheeseburger, and everything in this kitchen is organic. my treat, unless you'd rather head back and chat for another hour about your sister's color palette. ❜

[peaudange]

zachary's held onto some kind of hope, even when things didn't seem like they were going to get any better. somehow, some way he had optimism instilled in him, and maybe that makes him naïve . . . but zachary doesn't see it as a flaw at all. on the other hand, it's clear that heath has been jaded from their stifling small town. still, zachary finds himself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. ❝ i can't say i've had the pleasure, ❞ he chuckles. zachary's no stranger to the myriad of billboards plastered all over the main line, but that hasn't made him warm up to the beaumont patriarch at all. something tells him that he'd rather not have zachary in his presence, and truthfully, the feeling is mutual . . . but he's there for his sister, fake smiles and all. heath, though? there's something special about him. ❝ well, anything you're not ready to tell me, ❞ zachary starts. ❝ you don't have to. we can work our way up there. ❞

there's a jolt of electricity when heath touches him. zachary doesn't know how to react, his face turning a soft shade of pink. he swallows hard, a rush going straight to his head. ❝ that doesn't exactly sound . . . good, ❞ zachary says softly. ❝ i'm not mad at you for being honest. i'm just . . . mad for you, i guess. ❞ he can't imagine it was easy, being miles away from everything you know and love. his little heart aches just at the thought of heath cooped up, isolated from any kind of warmth. zachary knows he deserved better, and it almost makes him sick to his stomach to think he might be the first person to consider that. ❝ well . . . all i can say is they've missed out — on you and me. that's their loss, ❞ he declares, offering the taller male a soft smile. zachary isn't expecting heath to invite him out, but it's the first thing that's sounded like fun in what feels like eons. he all too eagerly says yes. ❝ all i could touch was the pasta salad, and i really had to force myself there even, ❞ zachary admits with a giggle. ❝ we can go . . . but you'll have to drive. i still only have my learners permit. god, that's embarrassing, but it freaks me out to be behind the wheel. i'm oversharing, aren't i? you didn't even ask, and i'm just telling you my whole lifestory! ❞

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀██⠀⠀kit can't stand it, how easily beckett gets under his skin. it's frustrating, knowing that this pampered rockstar tap dances on his very last nerve, whilst simultaneously shattering every wall he's spent ten years building around him. he really wants to pretend that he's unaffected, that beckett has no power over him, but it's getting harder and harder. ❛ oh, yeah? and what makes us so different, beckett? ❜ kit asks, head tilted in genuine curiosity. he can't understand how beckett feels this way. ❛ maybe not, but you definitely don't have lean into it so much. you can keep your tongue in your mouth. ❜ he doesn't mean to sound jealous, and he doesn't realize he does. if he did, he wouldn't be able to look beckett in the eye. he's just given the rockstar all the ammunition he needs, and he's none the wiser. ❛ right, sorry — that's my bad, ❜ he scoffs, rolls his eyes. ❛ i forgot that you're beckett donnelly, and nothing's a big deal to you. you'll have your cleaning crew on it before anyone even notices something's up. ❜

⠀⠀⠀. . . the way beckett speaks, with such power and conviction, stops kit in his tracks. for a split second, kit believes he's telling the truth — that he would speak up for him, perhaps even protect him, but then he snaps out of his trance. beckett's dazzling blue eyes can only hold onto him for so long. ❛ right... you'll speak up for me, because you ‘care’ about me, right? ❜ he says, tone mocking and dismissive. kit doesn't think he's much more than yet another notch on beckett's bedpost. this is all a game for him, kit thinks, and he refuses to play whatever role beckett's written for him. ❛ fine, then that's the story, ❜ kit decides, averting his gaze from the rockstar. he returns to the kitchen — which doesn't help him hide much, but at least he's closer to the coffee pot. ❛ but i want to be absolutely clear, beckett, ❜ he says, back turned to the other boy. he pours the last bit of coffee into his cup, letting the warmth in his hands ease his nerves. ❛ this doesn't change what this is. you can try your hardest to be nice, can put on that pretty boy smile and do your best to convince me you care, ❜ kit continues, forcing himself to turn toward beckett. he leans against the counter, takes a long sip from his mug. ❛ but i know what you are, what you really are... and i'm not going to let you ruin me. ❜ ██

[peaudange]

beckett's not sure where the disdain for him comes from. he's not used to it either. he doesn't understand the disconnect — how they went from ending up in bed together to the lanky boy chewing him out before ten o'clock. ❝ because you and i fucked, kit. we're both adults. there's no need to tiptoe around the word sex, ❞ beckett replies. maybe he's more unfettered than kit, maybe he's just got less shame, but beckett can't help but feel like his anger is somewhat misplaced. he's thought that from their first day on set. last night was the smallest bit of proof, but beckett needs more. ❝ if it'll help you take the stick outta your ass, sure, ❞ he retorts, arms folding against his chest. he can't imagine why it bothers kit so much, unless there's something he's not saying out loud. ❝ are all actors so melodramatic, or 's it just you? ❞ beckett questions, cocking up a brow. he knows it'll piss kit off, but it's honestly what he wants. he wants to see kit drop the veneer of this perfect, poised actor for just one goddamn second.

beckett feels like he's one a one-way train to nowhere with kit. everything he says is met with a snippy remark or disgruntled silence. sure, he's gotten this role for, well, no good reason at all . . . but beckett doesn't get what that has to do with kit. it'd be easier for them both if they could get along. ❝ dude, chill. i said i cared about you, not that we were going to be wed at notre dame tomorrow, ❞ he answers, his voice steady and calm. he's not going to let kit get a rise out of him, not going to let him see his cool . . . not when it'd just give him more ammunition to keep going with his own pre - conceived notions. beckett listens intently and very closely to everything the smaller boy has to say. in some world, it might've been intimidating or, at the very least, off - putting . . . but beckett is unfazed. he merely puts a smile on his face and lets his thumb brush against kit's cheek. ❝ it's cute that you think you've got me all figured out, ❞ beckett chuckles. ❝ maybe you will by the time we wrap . . . but until then, pal, you'd better at least act like you like me. think you can do that, or 's that above your pay grade? ❞

[doomgens]

⠀⠀⠀██⠀⠀bowie feels awkward in his own skin, like he's wearing a sweater he's never quite grown into. he doesn't know if it's fitz's presence, or that he's sitting in his father's store for the first time since he died. he feels unbearably out of place, like the tiniest fish in a big pond. the guitar doesn't fit right in his hands, and his collar seems to drawing tighter around his neck by the second. he knows he doesn't possess the natural gift of music, but he thinks it should be in his blood. his father could pick up an instrument he'd never played and have it down in two days — but bowie? he keeps fumbling, palms sweating as he tries to remember the last tip fitz gave him.

⠀⠀⠀❛ don't sugarcoat for me, fitz. i suck, ❜ bowie sighs, not bothering to hide his scowl. ❛ can we be serious for a second? i don't have seeds, i don't have dirt... i don't even have water! this is never going to work. i'm just going to have to become a comedian or a clown. something that takes none of the talent and half the dignity. ❜ his guitar playing might be abysmal, but bowie certainly has a way with words. he doesn't think fitz actually cares about his feelings, about what keeps him up at night, but he carries on anyway. bowie feels like he's rambling, not making any sense, but fitz seems to be following his train of thought just fine. ❛ what kind of question is that, fitz? it matters because one day i'll be old, and i won't have anything to show for it, ❜ bowie says, brows knit tightly. he flinches as fitz's arm drapes over his shoulder. he feels like a cartoon character, the way his cheeks flush and his glasses fog up. bowie hasn't been entirely forthcoming about why he sought fitz's help. he's a great player, yes — but he's also dashingly handsome, and effortlessly charming. sometimes, bowie just likes looking at him. ❛ i'm trying to let it come out in the music, but that won't make me any better with a guitar! ❜ he says. he removes his specs from his face, wiping the condensation away with the sleeve of his sweater. ❛ i don't wanna do this anymore, ❜ bowie decides, looking up at bowie. ❛ i won't go up on that stage and make a fool out of myself, and that's what would happen. do you know how many of my classmates will be there? they already think i'm a loser, and i refuse to prove them right. ❜

[peaudange]

fitz remembers what he felt like at bowie's age . . . how everything felt wrong, how awkward he was, how it felt like his skin was too small for his bones. he can't imagine what it's like to navigate all of that on top of grief. he feels bad for bowie, that's one of the reasons he's agreed to do this anyway. of course, in a way, it's like repaying a favor too . . . but there's also a part of fitz that wants to prove he can do something good in the world, that he's not just some selfish douche, taking everything and never giving. bowie is certainly putting him through his paces, but it's just the first lesson. it'll come around. surely.

❝ no one is hendrix on their first lesson, kid, ❞ fitz reminds him, softly. the scowl on bowie's face might've been frightening if he was a little more intimidating. he understands the frustration, but fitz knows that there's also not immediate gratification when it comes to learning. it's a gradual process, and they both are going to have work on their patience if they want to get anywhere. ❝ you don't think that's a little dramatic? ❞ he questions with a little chuckle. he doesn't mean to laugh; it just happens. that's part of the problem with fitz; he's got no filter or means of stopping the truth from coming out, even when he doesn't want it to. ❝ that's not what i meant, bowie . . . it was a rhetorical question. but, anyway, you're going to have something to show for it. i guarantee you, ❞ fitz explains with a little chuckle. he sees the spark in bowie's eyes, how they get infinitely brighter when he's touched him. of course, it's all ripped away by the fog smearing across his glasses. it's cute, but mostly, it's dangerous. fitz knows he can't get involved with bowie. not even if that's what the voice in his head is begging him to do. bowie's flying off the handle before he knows what else to say. fitz is going to try to be the voice of reason, to talk the poor thing off a ledge. ❝ you're going to get there, fitz. it's day one, okay? we've got plenty of time before you've got to get up on stage, and we'll work our way up to it. just take a second and breathe, ❞ fitz coos. his thumb brushed against the boy's shoulder gently, trying anything to soothe him, even if just temporarily. ❝ i'm not gonna let you quit, but you can take a break. and then you're gonna get right back to it, ❞ he goes on. ❝ if you're mad, let's get break something. if you're sad, let's cry it out. if you're frustrated, let's scream until our throats give out . . . but then we're getting back to work 'cause i'm not going to let you quit, bowie. not now, not ever. you owe yourself to at least try. ❞