Imagine c!Quackity waiting patiently for c!Charlie to reform but also give him ❄️✨seasonal depression✨❄️
———
- Moving him to the library ‘just in case Charlie gets cold’ (even though the weather probably doesn’t bother him at all because he’s a slime, but Quackity still worries). It also makes things a little easier so he doesn’t have to travel back and forth as much anymore. Eventually most of his time is just spent in the library.
- On days he can’t stand the silence, he reads out loud to the slime; sometimes he just tells stories of the past; all the fun and adventures they had together. He never stops looking up at Charlie every once in a while just in case ‘this one story triggers something’.
- Quackity always making a second cup of abuelita hot chocolate despite it never being touched. He decorates it with whipped cream and green sprinkles and pretends that Charlie will notice.
- Not being able to sleep in his own bed anymore and instead making a small nest of blankets and pillows near Charlie and for the first time he sleeps better than he has in months.
- He doesn’t drag Charlie into the nest, but he does drape a blanket around his shoulders; folds the ends over the tops like a cape. Just in case he’s cold.
- Sometimes he pretends the blankets he wraps around Charlie are a cocoon— and maybe just maybe if he keeps him wrapped up long enough all safe and sound and warm, the next time he peels back the layers just maybe Charlie will smile back at him and say something.
Brandon’s yelling commands over the comms and Ben's following up with routes that would get them out of there fast but Huber's first concern is Brad who hasn’t answered up in over twenty minutes.
"Huber, we need to go!" Brandon’s shouting at him now but Huber is looking around wildly, looking for any sign of Brad but he doesn’t see him. "Brad is going to meet us there," Brandon’s saying as he grabs Huber's arm and roughly leads him out of cover and into an alley where Ben is waiting in a car.
“Everything's going to be alright, Huber. Brad is going to be fine.” Ben tries comforting him.
(Except it’s not alright. Brad doesn’t show up within the hour or the next hour or the next one and Brandon’s voice is small and quiet when he tells Huber that maybe Brad had to get out of the city for the night. Huber doesn’t believe him but he lets Brandon drive him back to his apartment before the sun rises.)
He doesn’t sleep that night. When Brandon asks him if he’ll be okay alone, he lies and says yes. He sits by the window and watches Brandon drive away into the mess of city lights and disappear into the night. He feels a lump in his throat but he doesn’t say anything. There’s not like there’s anyone to listen to him anyways.
Huber doesn’t cry. (And what a load of bullshit that is. He always cries.)
And the city’s full of a billion people in niche little buildings and giant, metal skyscrapers and not a single one of them mean shit to Huber compared to Bradley.
He would light up the entire city if that meant finding Brad.
When morning comes, Huber's fingers are smudged with charcoal and there are maps spread out against the kitchen countertop full of scratches and X’s. He traces every backroad, every streetlamp, every dump he can think of. He circles all known safe houses and hideouts.
He’s too busy replaying the gunshots and buzzing neon lights behind his eyelids to rest. When morning comes, he’s made a rough list of a thousand reasons Brad could have to not show up. He cries only once.
He’s sluggish, dragging his feet as he busies himself in the kitchen. Brad used to make the coffee for him. Huber isn’t quite sure what kind of creamer Brad put in his coffee so he grabs a random one. It tastes like misery.
Brandon lets Huber take all the boys out, use all the firepower. Kyle pulls out file after file of security cameras in and around the city but there’s no trace of him. The sun sets and Huber still doesn’t have his Brad and in the morning, Ian brings him coffee in a paper cup.
She gives him a strained smile. “We’ll find him Huber, trust us. We’ll find him.”
The days pick up slower than they’ve ever before, and Huber waits for a phantom ghost he hasn’t seen in weeks
He rarely allows himself to sleep. The perkiness and unkempt puppy energy and enthusiasm has shriveled away and died somewhere. He doesn’t know where it went, and frankly, he finds himself not caring.
Most days are camping trips in his living room, staying rooted in the same spot on the couch. He’s wrapped tightly in a blanket (the blue, fuzzy one that Brad gifted him for his last birthday) with wide, red-rimmed eyes fixated on the door. He has his cellphone cradled in his hands; it’s his lifeline- no. it’s Brad's lifeline. He’s waiting for his handsome, wild-eyed devil to waltz through that door, unscathed and alive.
The panic doesn’t set in until someone finds a hauntingly familiar leather jacket washed up on the shore by the river. Kyle stays with him that night, showing up to his apartment with dark bags under his watery eyes and holds Huber tight until the morning, where Ian swings by again, this time with two cups of coffee and tight lips.
—
Half a year passes— six entire months without a sign of Brad. Huber’s more or less accepted that he’ll never see him again.
Time heals. This isn’t a lie, but Bradley Ellis was Huber’s map; without him, Huber is aimless. He loses himself so bad, he takes strangers to bed. He takes not-strangers to bed, too. Fucks the pain away, lets faceless strangers touch him in ways he doesn’t care for, kiss him, use him, abuse him. Sneaks into Kyle’s bed at night, but always dismayed by how gentle, how delicate Bosman treats him.
Kyle doesn’t taste like Brad, nor will he ever, but the way his fingertips bite into Huber’s hips makes him wish he did. Kyle’s much smaller, much more sarcastic, prude. But he helps sooth the hurting parts of Huber with the way he follows Huber worriedly, the way he seems to immediately know when to change the subject, to never mention Brad’s name in front of Huber.
And Huber? He drinks the guilt away like it’s acid on his tongue and he wonders if his insides burn. He plays back cassette tapes in the furthest recesses of his mind every night, kept up with the constant smell of smoke and gasoline in the air, the sound of glass crashing as Brad pushes him out of the way, of Brad telling him to stay put and disappearing into the dead of night.
Work gets harder to concentrate on, Huber’s mind starts to wander— no longer having Brad there to ground him to his surroundings, to focus him, to point out his main objectives. Brad was his main objective.
He squeezes into bed with Kyle at night, the older boy scooting over to give him room before spooning him and settling back to bed. Huber is forever grateful and he cries the first time Kyle kisses him like he means it, knowing he’s absolutely and utterly screwed.
He falls in love with Kyle almost the same way he fell for Brad. It was as if he was floating effortlessly, and then all at once, sinking beneath the sand. The night he realizes, he flees Kyle’s apartment.
He starts avoiding him. Again, the guilt drowns him with the way Kyle’s brows knit together in worry, the way Ian tells Huber that he needs to get his shit together because Kyle is hurting too. Because Kyle has feelings too, because Kyle doesn’t deserve this— Kyle doesn’t deserve Huber.
Kyle stops trying to talk to Huber, stops coming around after Huber stops answering the door, and Huber feels like he’s lost a love for the second time.
—
“Huber we have to talk about this—“ Ian sighs as she fiddles with her ponytail and crosses her legs. Huber doesn’t look up from his gun, continuing assemble it.
“There’s nothing to talk about, Ian.” Ian frowns.
“Yes, yes there is.” Huber shakes his head and Ian falls silent for a moment. “Huber, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“Yes I can.”
—
He lives every day like he’s running out of time. Another month passes. Another and then another, and then another. Two more months until the New Year and Huber feels like with each day passing, the more and more he’s losing his mind.
Ian finds him quiet, breathing so ragged it rattles his bones and the backbone of the earth, bending to the single inhale of his lungs. “That’s it, babe, just breathe.” Ian says. Huber frowns loudly but does just that.
The waterworks still come. God, do they come. Ugly half-sobs and tear-streaked cheeks and the feeling of being pressed into Ian’s chest, being held like a ship anchored firmly to the shore.
Ian, with some sort of god-given strength, gathers Huber up from bathroom tile and carries him across the threshold into their bedroom (not really, she staggers most of the way, it’s almost a half drag).
They settle like doves for the winter, Ian laying her chin over the top of Huber's head, cocooning him against her. Huber would deny being a cry baby despite being exactly that. He doesn’t bury his head into the crook of Ian’s shoulder. Huber doesn’t sniffle, doesn’t tighten his hands that are fisted in the folds of Ian’s sweater. (He does just that.)
—
October ends and November begins with Kyle’s lips on his once more, but this time with Ian’s arms curving around his waist before sweetly pressing kisses against his temple. He trembles in their bed, wondering if he really belongs there.
—
“We’re not telling you to forget. You could never, and we couldn’t bare to, either—please understand.”
“I do.” Huber remains expressionless. Ian hugs her arms around herself and takes a step back with a sad smile.
“No, you don’t. You really don’t.” Ian shakes her head and brings up the palms of her hands to wipe away a stray tear that was on it’s way down her cheek. Huber resists the urge to lurch forwards and kiss those tears away, to tell her he does-- he really does. But he know’s she’s right. “I just want to stop living my life in the echo of a ghost.”
She’s right.
—
They find him in the bathroom tub, draped in an old tattered blanket with his face pressed up in a pillow. Legs drawn up against his chest, he jolts with every loud bang, the New Year’s fireworks bursting in the air like bombshells, the colors like wildfire. It takes him back.
(If he concentrates, he can practically hear Brad’s scream in the back of his mind, it continues to haunt him.)
Kyle gathers him up into his arms, pulling his shaking body from the tub and onto the bathroom floor, wrapping the blankets around them both as Ian returns from the kitchen, a mug in one hand, sound canceling headphones in the other.
“Here, drink this,” She croons gently to him as she passes the cocoa into his trembling hands, before slipping the headphones over his ears.
All our lives we’ve been afraid,
watching the world decline till nothing remains.
Huber almost jolts as the world instantly comes to a halt, music loud, overwhelming, numbing. He feels numb.
But in our darkest hour right before the dawn,
The old world dies, the new day is born.
He’s faintly aware as Kyle kisses away the tears that flood his sight, his heart beating hard against his chest as the only thing he can think of is Brad. Brad, Brad, Brad.
We’re gonna live like it’s our last night alive,
And we’re dancing till the morning light.
And even if the sun don’t rise,
In the end only love survives.
The New Year ends and Huber doesn’t even have a resolution that doesn’t start or end with I want him back.
—
The anniversary nears and Huber starts taking pills. The anxiety builds in his chest and even Ian’s soothing voice and Kyle’s warm lips can’t calm him.
Days start to blur and soon enough he’s in February, and the date continues to draw closer and closer. The dread makes him take twice the dosage more.
Not enough to convince Jones to take him out of commission, but just enough to forget.
He spends a good amount of time spacing out, high off his meds and high off of grief, he nearly misses him.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” Brad asks. Huber’s lips move but he hasn’t said a thing. His bottom lip quivers but the words don’t come. His throat closes and the tears won’t stop and he drowns under the tide pool.
(He doesn’t remember. He doesn't remember, he doesn't remember, he doesn’t remember.)
“No,” Huber finally says. He chokes up and he shakes his head and his hands on Brad’s shoulder are tight. “No, you don’t.”
Brad isn’t impressed (ironically, he never was) and he raises a brow. “Yes I do.”
In which Kyle just wants to be independent and Huber just wants to be friends. Alternatively known as the deaf!kyle AU. Or, in Renée’s words: Kyle is deaf, they are in college, there is cute and sad enjoy.
A collab with the bae @merpwrites. Go check her out, she’s lovely.
Ships: Kyle/Huber
Word Count: 9k+
Warnings: None, unless you can die from cuteness and the occasional sads.
A/N: There will be more in the series! Think of this as a part one.
Kyle was 100% not happy with the current situation.
Here he was, once again, in the Disabilities Services office, once again in a meeting with a woman who didn’t know sign language but was assigned to his, as she had put it “case”. Kyle already didn’t like her, and then she had insisted that he needed an interpreter.
Now, the only reason why Kyle was here to begin with was because he didn’t have to pay for Disabilities Services as he was, well, deaf. And that sort of constituted free Disabilities Services.
But here he was, the day before classes started, going over his schedule with his “new interpreter”, and frankly, Kyle was beginning to think that having his mother as his translator in high school would be better than this. Not because the guy was an idiot, oh no. He signed very well for someone his age, and Kyle was honestly a little curious as to why an 18 year old hearing male knew ASL so well. No, it was because the dude was so absurdly pretty and nice and smiling and Kyle couldn’t stop thinking about how the presence of this man pleased him that it just made him even angrier than he was to begin with.
Because it was not fair that his interpreter had to be pretty. Not fair at all. Kyle didn’t need this. Kyle didn’t want this. Kyle wanted freedom. To be independent, to test his own limits on his own terms. He didn’t want this - this Michael Huber, this blond, exuberant man - to have to follow him from class to class and practically hold his hand. Kyle’s done his fair share of hand-holding. He doesn’t want to hold hands (he actually does want to hold Michael Huber’s hand, but not for the reason that he should).
In the first ten minutes, Kyle could tell that Michael Huber was going to be a problem. A problem mostly for his heart, mind, and nether regions, but a problem nonetheless.
And Kyle was determined to not let this - problem - deter him from his grandmaster plan, the reason why he went three hours away from home to go to college in the first place. Kyle wasn’t going to have someone to hold his hand his entire life, he has to start somewhere. And that somewhere is college, where no one knows him. No one knows his story. No one calls him “Deaf Kyle” here. No one knows him back when he could talk and be understood. No one knows him from back when he didn’t need to sign or read lips to “hear”. New page, new leaf, new fucking book.
Michael Huber was not going to change that. Nope, not one bit.
So when the Disabilities Services woman (Kyle already forgot her name) told them they were done and could go and Huber started following Kyle (he didn’t need to hear to be able to feel the man following him, trying to catch up to his brisk pace), Kyle was having None Of It.
Speed walking, Kyle fled as quickly as he could, making it a beeline for the cafeteria. He could feel Huber hot on his heels so he frowned and sped up. He was sure he had lost him when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Kyle whirled around and frowned loudly when he saw it was Huber. Goddamnit.
Huber, for all he was worth, looked like hell- still very attractive and devastatingly handsome, but heaving heavily and sweating. Huber gave Kyle a relieved smile. “You run fast.” Huber signed and spoke at the same time.
Oh. Kyle hadn’t realized he was running. He didn’t tell that to Huber though- instead, he just shrugged. Huber took a few more moments to catch his breath as Kyle tapped his foot impatiently. “I wanted to ask if you would like to catch some dinner together? So we can get to know each other a little more, you know?” Huber finally signed, giving Kyle a grin. Don’t think about how cute his smile is, don’t think about it, Kyle.
‘No.’ Kyle responded immediately, signing and mouthing the words at the same time. He even went as far as to shake his head no as well. Huber paused and his eyebrows furrowed together. It was obvious that Huber had not expected Kyle to decline.
“No? Like… you don’t want to, or no like you don’t understand what I meant? Wow, I probably shouldn’t have phrased that like a question.” Huber said, a little bit sheepish, but mostly confused.
‘No.’ Kyle signed firmly, frowning as loudly as he could.
Huber frowned back, and Kyle felt a twinge of guilt before violently shoving it down. He tugged on the cuffs of his hoodie, pulling them over his hands and shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets.
“Why not?” Huber asked, and Kyle knew it was an innocent question, knew that Huber didn’t mean anything by it, but he couldn’t help the frustrated sigh that escaped through his nose.
‘You’re getting paid to help me during class. Only during class.’ Kyle signed angrily before turning on his heel and weaving his way through the milling students and into the cafeteria. He belatedly realized that he could’ve phrase that better, that if he could speak he’d be able to articulate his meaning more clearly, but he shoved that down too.
Now’s not the time for a pity party, Kyle. You are the way you are, and that’s okay.
Kyle didn’t really understand why Huber wanted to get to know him, anyway. Yeah, Huber was going to have to actually go to more classes than he needs to in order to sign for Kyle, but he was getting paid for it, right? So why should he care? He wasn’t getting paid for eating dinner with Kyle. Kyle didn’t just get assigned a friend, he got assigned an interpreter. There’s a difference.
One chooses to be around you, and the other has no choice.
Kyle got his food and then made his way to a table in the back corner, the booth giving him a clear view of his surroundings and no one could walk up behind him and scare him. He was about halfway through scarfing down his food (being angry has always made him hungry), when Huber came walking over with a plate in his hands.
Kyle sighed internally, ‘Yes?’ He signed. Huber moved to sit his plate down to sign back, but Kyle just shook his head, ‘Just talk. I can read your lips just fine in this light.’ That wasn’t necessarily true, some words looked exactly like other ones to Kyle, but he’d been doing it long enough and he would have enough context that it’d be easy to interpret what Huber was trying to say.
“Can I at least sit with you? I’m sorry if I came off like I wanted to eat with you because I’m like, your interpreter for classes. I just figured we’d be spending a lot of time together so we should get to know each other. I promise I won’t pry into your life or anything. If you want to eat and not talk, that’s okay. Whatever you want, Kyle. But if you really want me to leave, I’ll leave.” Huber said, and Kyle could see from the way that he was standing, feet apart, shoulders relaxed, that Huber felt no pressure or tension - only the worry creasing his forehead and the frown on his face clued Kyle in to the fact that he felt guilty about the comment Kyle had made.
He just wants to sit with you and make his job a little bit easier, Kyle, you’ve gotta give him that. Kyle realized, and he gestured for Huber to sit down. The other man practically lit up like a Christmas tree and immediately sat down across from Kyle, a huge smile on his face.
‘This means nothing.’ Kyle signed, and Huber nodded, still smiling.
“Of course not. It means whatever you want it to, Kyle. I’ll earn your companionship in whatever way you choose.” Huber agreed, his signing wide and enthusiastic, and Kyle couldn’t help but compare the man across from him to a hyperactive puppy. Or someone experiencing electric shock. Kyle wasn’t sure which analogy he liked more.
They ate in relative silence, Huber telling Kyle random things at unpredictable interviews, and Kyle responding by either nodding or shaking his head, still not sure if he wanted to supply Huber with any information. Huber, for his part, seemed content with Kyle’s minimal response, and they parted ways with pleasantries, Huber requesting that they try to arrive to their first class a little early so they can figure out where the best place to sit would be.
Kyle was actually kind of touched that Huber was so concerned about Kyle’s ability to learn, but the lingering resentment at the fact that he wasn’t doing this on his own, that he didn’t even get to try to be independent prevented him from dwelling on it for too long.
Huber is going to be helping you whether you like it or not. He reminded himself, Might as well make good use of his services.
The next morning, Kyle arrived to find Huber sitting up against the wall outside the classroom. Kyle clutched his coffee tightly in his hands, determining that this 9 AM-on-a-Monday class should not exist, and blinked the sleep from his eyes. When Huber registered Kyle’s presence, he jumped up and smiled, starting to sign a mile a minute. Kyle held up his free hand, gesturing for him to stop, and Huber immediately froze, hands still suspended in mid-air.
Kyle pointed to himself, pointed to his coffee, and then made the sign for tired with one hand, hoping that Huber would understand without him having to put down his coffee.
“Oh, you’re not a morning person, huh?” Huber asked, slowing his hands down significantly from the speed he had been signing the day before. Kyle nodded and took another sip of coffee.
“I’ll remember to go a little slower in the mornings, then. Thanks for letting me know!” Kyle could not believe the amount of pep and cheer and he was just so easygoing and okay with whatever Kyle did or said - it was slightly unnerving.
Kyle had half a mind to test Huber’s patience, but then thought better of it. If Huber was angry with him, then that was Bad News for Kyle. If Kyle was angry with Huber, well, Kyle’s already kind of angry with him (not with him, just with the situation, Kyle knew he wouldn’t be able to be angry with him if he tried) and Huber has done nothing but be nice.
‘You ready for this, dude?’ Kyle asked instead, wanting to make sure that Huber was prepared to translate on the fly - talking to the Disabilities Services lady was one thing, interpreting a lecturing teacher was a whole different ballpark.
“Yeah. I’ve had to interpret before. Not like, this intense, but I’ve been practicing. I did well enough on the test they had me take to be hired by Disabilities Services to interpret for you, so I don’t think we should be too nervous.” Huber explained, and Kyle nodded. He knew Huber’s score, the woman showed it to him. He did very well. Kyle was actually not worried at all. Anything that Huber missed, Kyle was sure that 9 times out of 10 he’d be able to lip-read it. And Huber had been given permission to record all of their classes since he couldn’t take notes (his hands being indisposed).
Kyle knew they’d be fine. Logically. It had nothing to do with the fact that just the way that Huber talked and his body language just made Kyle want to trust him. Nope. Not at all. Purely logical.
Kyle and Huber found their seats in the classroom towards the front. Huber had hopped up and down the aisles of the classroom, looking around to look for a good place to sit while Kyle just stood in the back, too tired to display as much energy as Huber. When Huber finally declared the best seat was in the front, towards the left side, Kyle just shrugged and made his way over. They settled down and Kyle continued to slowly sip on his coffee as all the other students slowly filtered in.
He tried not to pay any mind to Huber, who was enthusiastically looking around the room and nodding his head good morning to everyone and anyone who passed by. It was honestly adorable (not that Kyle would admit it) and once again, reminded him of an overexcited puppy.
There was still at least fifteen minutes until class would start and the Professor was nowhere in sight yet. Kyle sighed. Huber, however, turned around and grinned at him. “You excited for this class?” He signed enthusiastically. Kyle shrugged, but Huber didn’t seem fazed at all, just continued to carry on the conversation. “I hear this class is hard, but the Professor we have supposedly goes over the material pretty well.”
Kyle let Huber sign to his heart’s content. Much like yesterday’s lunch break, Huber didn’t seem to mind Kyle’s minimal and sleepy responses of a head nod and shrug.
Huber seemed to be so immersed in talking about his classes, that Kyle was impressed when Huber snapped to attention the minute the Professor stepped to the front of the class.
Kyle tried not to stare too much at Huber during class, though he was always aware of his presence. If it wasn’t to look at Huber’s hands when he missed what the teacher said, or when she turned around and Kyle couldn’t read her lips, then it was to stare at Huber’s pretty eyes and the attractive curl of his lips when he smiled.
The good part about Huber being distracting, he believed, was the fact that he could almost ignore the fact that almost everyone in every class throughout the day stared wide-eyed at him. This was something Kyle should be used to - the key word being should. Because he wasn’t. Not one bit. He’d been stared at all his life - at first because of his aides, then, as his hearing got worse and worse, because of the fact that himself and those who knew him were constantly waving their hands in the air, conducting orchestras that no one else could hear.
It made Kyle slightly uncomfortable, but he knew that in a few weeks’ time, they would get used to Huber’s arms moving a mile a minute in their peripheral, and then Kyle could relax and truly enjoy himself in class.
For now, it was just him, laser-focused on the Professor’s lips and Huber’s hands, his iPad mini open and the attachable keyboard out and under his fingertips, typing out notes. About halfway through the day, Huber commented on his multi-tasking skills, on how well he could type while also lip-reading and paying attention to Huber’s signing.
‘I’ve had a lot of practice.’ Kyle responded with a shrug, ‘Electronic notes are easy because you can just keep your hands in the same spot and go on autopilot. For a while in junior high and high school, they wouldn’t let me bring a laptop or anything. Staying on the lines of a piece of paper without looking at it is super hard, dude.’
Kyle tried to ignore how Huber’s laughter made him feel proud of himself.
(It didn’t work).
At lunch, Kyle was prepared when Huber followed him, puppy-like, to the same table in the back corner. Kyle was not, however, prepared for when a blond man with sweeping hair walked over and greeted Huber.
Huber jumped up and hugged the newcomer tight, then slung and arm around his shoulders and turned them to face Kyle.
“This is my best friend, Brad. He’s the reason why I know ASL. Brad, this is Kyle.” Huber said, sort of half-signing with one hand, and Kyle wasn’t sure if it was out of habit that he continued to sign when they both knew Kyle could clearly see his lips.
“Hey, nice to meet you.” Brad said, stepping forward and sticking out a hand to shake. From this close, Kyle could see that tucked into Brad’s right ear (amongst his frankly pretty badass hair) was a hearing aide.
Kyle shook his hand and smiled at him before signing, ‘Nice to meet you too. Sorry I stole your friend as my interpreter for classes.’
Brad just laughed, “No, man, you’re fine. I’ve only got issues with the one ear. Take him.”
Kyle couldn’t help the wheeze that pushed past his lips. He quickly clapped a hand over his mouth, but not before Huber was grinning a mile wide.
Kyle glared at him, and thankfully Huber got the message because he didn’t say anything about it, but they both clearly were aware that Kyle hadn’t laughed in front of Huber before.
Kyle’s parents had told him a thousand times that his current wheezing laugh was the same wheezing laugh he’d always had, but it was still a source of worry and self-consciousness.
Basically, Kyle didn’t want Huber to bring it up or comment on it or how it sounded. The last thing that Kyle wanted was Huber’s opinion on his laugh. (In his heart, he knew, judging by Huber’s reaction, that Huber probably didn’t think it was weird or bad. But Kyle really just didn’t want to be faced with that chance. At least, not within twenty-four hours of knowing the other man).
Kyle gestured for Brad to sit, and watched with keen eyes as Huber slid into the seat before Brad, making sure he was both still in Kyle’s line of vision but also in a position that Brad would have no trouble hearing him.
Once again, Kyle felt warmth spread through his chest, and once again, he steadfastly ignored the fact that Kyle just had a moment over Huber’s consideration and decent human behavior. If Kyle was honest with himself, he was almost afraid of how he’d react when Huber did something that would be considered exceptional, what with his everyday, “normal” behavior affecting Kyle’s emotions in such strong regard.
“So how have your classes been so far?” Brad asked Huber. Huber shot his best friend a goofy grin.
“They’ve been good. Kyle’s fun to interpret for. He’s really good at reading lips, but I try not to slack off.” Huber looked proud, and Kyle had to shove down the flutter he felt in his chest. God, this wasn’t fair. Huber wasn’t supposed to make Kyle feel these things- and it was only day one, goddamnit.
Kyle couldn’t help himself throwing in a little ‘you better not be slacking off on the job’ quip in. Huber and Brad both laughed, but Kyle only seemed to have eyes for Huber.
“Don’t worry, boss. I’ve got your back.” Kyle had to look away to hide his smile.
He ate the rest of his lunch in silence, quietly watching Brad and Huber converse and joke. Huber and Brad both signed while they talked, so Kyle could follow along easily. He didn’t feel left out, quite the opposite, he was content simply observing (the conversation, not Huber).
As he took another bite of his hotdog, Kyle tried not to let his mind wander to topics of how offended he was by his interpreter's smile or how much he wanted to spend eons and eons of time just staring into those pretty, god-given eyes of his. Kyle finished his hotdog angrily. Goddamn Huber and his goddamn attractive self were so infuriating.
Kyle was so wrapped up, that he embarrassingly hadn’t even realized Brad had left until Huber seemed to snap into his direct center of vision. “Kyle? Are you there, buddy? Too busy exploring space?” Huber joked lightly. Kyle felt his cheeks redden.
‘I was just thinking about the class,’ Kyle lied, defending himself. ‘Unlike you, I’m interested in keeping up with my studies, not socializing like a butterfly.’ Kyle glared pointedly at Huber, who only seemed to find it amusing.
‘What?’ Kyle asked when Huber laughed.
“Nothing,” Huber signed back. “You’re just kind of cute.”
Kyle nearly blew a fuse in his brain somewhere. ‘Fight me.’
“Kyle?”
‘Fight me.’
Kyle watched Huber’s face morph from confusion and mild concern back to amusement.
“Kyle, I’m not going to fight you, because for one, you’re so skinny I’m afraid you’d break; and two, punching someone is not how to properly respond to a compliment.” Huber said, and Kyle just huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.
“If you insist on fisticuffs, then we can play Mortal Kombat or Smash Bros or something, yeah?”
Kyle fought the smile that began to creep onto his face at the thought of completely schooling Huber in Super Smash Brothers. Instead, he just shrugged and tried to look nonchalant.
“Hey, you’re the one that wants to fight, dude.” Huber said, relenting, and only then did Kyle unfold his arms to respond.
‘I’m gonna kick your ass so hard in Smash.’ He signed, and Huber grinned.
“You’re on.”
Unfortunately, it was Friday before Kyle and Huber had enough time in the day to take a break from homework and classes and actually have their “fisticuffs”, as Huber insisted on calling it.
Kyle was grateful that they both just decided to gloss over the fact that Huber called him cute. Not that Kyle didn’t want to think about it, but his stupid crush was bad enough, and Huber was being paid to spend most of his day with him, and Kyle just did not want to discuss it. Huber, thankfully, realized this without being explicitly told, although Kyle could tell that Huber was A) not lying when he said that, and B) probably going to bring it up again at some point in the future.
And Kyle was okay with that. As long as it was in the future - a long way in the future.
Unsurprisingly, the night consisted of himself, Brad, and Huber piled together on the futon in Brad and Huber’s room, trying to sabotage each other by shoving each other’s shoulders and generally having a grand old time. Kyle won a lot, Huber lost a lot, and Brad was just very amused by the entire situation.
The best part (although Kyle would never admit it) was that Kyle and Huber were sitting close enough, that Kyle could feel Huber speak. He could feel the vibrations of Huber’s nearly-constant shouting, and for a few moments, Kyle felt almost normal again - or at least, as close to normal as he ever was.
His moment was short-lived however, when Huber elbowed him gently around the time the sun was setting and the room was getting dark. Brad got up to turn the lights on. “This isn’t so bad, right?” Huber grinned. Kyle pulled back in shock.
‘What do you mean?’
“Being friends, you know?” Huber was all smiles, and Kyle felt a twinge in his chest.
‘We’re not friends’ Kyle signed quickly, pulling back a little. ‘Don’t misunderstand.’ he signed again, a little harsher this time. Huber frowned and sat back on his heels.
“Okay.” Huber backed off.
Ouch. That kind of hurt. Kyle tried to shrug it off though, knowing that this wasn’t permanent, wasn’t going to stick. At all. This… hanging out with Huber and Brad and playing games and being normal- it wasn’t real.
When the next semester swings by, or perhaps the semester after that, Huber wouldn’t be his interpreter anymore. And if he wasn’t Kyle’s interpreter anymore, there’d be no reason to hang around Kyle anymore, right?
He glared at the TV screen angrily. This just wasn’t fair.
When Brad came back, he had a drink in each hand. Not seeming to sense the tension, he handed Huber one and set his down. “Can I get you anything?” He asked. Kyle shook his head and Brad nodded, plopping back down next to Huber. “Alright then, ready for another round?”
Later that night, when Kyle is back in his dorm and staring blankly at the ceiling, he plays the day’s events over and over in his mind- so much so it makes his head spin.
Because if he thought about it, he knew that Huber was being nice because he’s just a nice guy, and that Kyle was probably (definitely) being a little irrational about the whole thing. Kyle was eternally grateful that Huber would back off at a moment’s notice, but Kyle still saw the little flashes of disappointment and hurt, saw that Kyle’s behavior upset Mike and, goddamnit, that was the last thing Kyle wanted to do.
But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was out of charity, that Huber was just trying to make Huber’s life easier by befriending Kyle, that when Kyle’s finally proven that he can do this shit on his own and doesn’t need Disabilities Services to give him a proverbial hand to hold, Huber will drift away with Brad, no longer wanting to be there with Kyle.
It wouldn’t be beneficial to befriend Huber, Kyle told himself bitterly, He’ll just leave, when he realizes it isn’t worth it.
Huber was making it really hard to not be friends with him. ‘Are those donuts?’ Kyle stared.
“Yep!” Huber looked proud of himself as he held it out to Kyle. Kyle hesitated. On one hand, he should really stop encouraging Huber. On the other hand, it had chocolate sprinkles.
Kyle glared at Huber, but snatched the donut from Huber’s waiting hands. Huber gave a triumphant whoop and Kyle bit into his donut with grumble. ‘This doesn’t mean anything.’ Kyle signed with his free hand. Huber nodded, but the huge smile on his face stayed. God, this man was insufferable. Kyle wanted to punch him. On his mouth. With his own mouth.
Quietly screeching on the inside, Kyle followed Huber into the classroom and took his seat as per usual, plopping down and angrily chewing on his donut. During the entire class period, he tried very hard not to notice the little pleased sideways glances Huber sent him every now and again.
Navigating to their classes was slightly more difficult in the afternoon. Apparently there was some kind of debate tournament on their campus that day. There were crowds of people milling around the campus and Kyle cursed quietly when he was bumped and shoved again. God, these people had no manners. Thankfully, Huber was there to catch him from falling. Which only annoyed Kyle even more.
Not long after, Kyle started feeling a little pull at the back of his hoodie. Every time he jolted forward to get loose, it was back within a few seconds later. He tried to ignore it at first, but he was faintly aware that Huber wouldn’t stop tugging on his hood. This went on for a few more minutes before Kyle eventually spun around. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, irritated. Huber looked sheepish.
“Just trying to make sure you don’t get lost. There’s a lot of people here.” He explained.
‘No shit, Sherlock.’ Kyle sighed exasperatedly. Huber just gave a little helpless shrug. Fuck, that was cute. Kyle sighed again. Could this day get any worse?
Kyle was right. It could get worse. Well, not so much worse as more awkward. Which is admittedly also worse.
He had convinced Huber to divide and conquer, with him putting their dirty plates away after a crowded but uneventful lunch and Huber scooping them some (much-needed) ice cream to take to their next class (because whether Kyle was going to admit it or not, the increased number of people milling about was slightly stressful to Kyle, who could feel the sound under his fingertips when they’re pressed against the tabletop and in the soles of his feet when he walked across the hardwood floor and to the dish return).
Kyle, obviously, did not notice the woman that was trying to get his attention behind him. He did, however, notice the fingers that dug painfully into his shoulder and physically forced him to turn around.
“The polite thing to do when someone’s trying to get your attention is to respond to them.” She snarled, bright red lipstick making her words all the more pronounced. Kyle just shrugged and pointed to his ears, mouthing ‘I’m sorry.’ There was no point in trying to sign to this woman, who was obviously A) not a student at this school judging by her formal attire, and B) not pleased.
Kyle had dealt with these types of people before: just placate them and get out of their as swiftly as possible.
The problem, then, was the hand that was currently digging so deep into his shoulder, Kyle wouldn’t be surprised if she was going to draw blood. Because there was no way he was going to get away from that using his usual tactics.
“Oh, you still not gonna answer me, buddy? You’re a fucking dick.” She spat, getting up into his face, which Kyle didn’t think was possible considering her height difference. Kyle glanced around the crowded cafeteria over her head, but either no one noticed them or no one cared enough to investigate.
Kyle pointed at himself and then his ears again, shaking his head, hoping that he’ll get his point across.
If possible, the woman just turned redder, the hand on his shoulder lifting and then both hands suddenly shoving Kyle backwards. Kyle stumbled back, not expecting the force of the push, but caught his footing before he could completely fall over. Kyle stared at the floor in shock for a moment, head bowed, trying to make himself inconspicuous, trying to make this woman just go away and then -
There was a shadow in front of him, and a pair of feet facing away from him, and Kyle didn’t need to look up to know that those were Huber’s feet, but he straightened anyway, looking over his shoulder at the woman, whose bright red lips were parted and painted eyes were wide with mortification. And then she was looking over Huber’s shoulder at Kyle, and her lips were moving a mile a minute, and Kyle couldn’t quite figure out what she was saying, but by the way she was holding her hands in front of her and shaking her head, he could hazard a guess that she was apologizing.
Kyle just frowned and shook his head, tapping Huber’s shoulder so that the other man would look at him. The woman’s mouth immediately snapped shut, and Huber turned to look at him, and there was a fire in his eyes that Kyle had never seen before, a fury that was so pure that Kyle was a little taken aback at how angry Huber was at this woman (For grabbing you, for pushing you, for hurting you. His brain supplied unhelpfully).
‘It’s fine, I’m fine. We’re going to be late.’ Kyle signed, and Huber nodded, gaze softening a little (but shoulders still set tight, jaw still clenched, still ready to fight, to defend, to protect and Kyle hated it, hated that he loved it, hated that it made his stomach flip and his heart beat faster).
Huber just rested a gentle hand on Kyle’s shoulder blade and pushed them past the woman, through the throngs of people in the cafeteria and out the door. Once they were out in the open, Kyle sidestepped Huber, and the other man let his hand fall from Kyle’s back.
‘Thanks.’ Kyle signed, because although Kyle was an asshole, he wasn’t that much of an asshole, and he really wanted to see the tension leave his body and the fond smile light up Huber’s face again (which it did. Point for Kyle for being Not-A-Total-Dick).
Kyle didn’t notice that Huber still had their little cups of ice cream until he placed it onto Kyle’s desk once they were sat, safe and sound, in the classroom. When Kyle asked, between bites of ice cream, what exactly Huber had said, the other man skirted around the subject. Kyle wasn’t sure whether or not to be amused or concerned with that.
“This is Ian.” Huber introduced. Kyle blinked, taking in the curious blue eyes that peered up at him and the floofy hair (frighteningly similar to Brad’s) that came with it. Ian beamed.
“It’s so nice to meet you! I’ve heard Huber talk a lot about you.” Ian said excitedly, practically hopping up and down. Huber’s cheeks flushed pink as he translated Ian’s enthusiasm to Kyle.
Kyle merely nodded and a signed a short ‘nice to meet you’ back to Ian. Huber relayed the message and Kyle couldn’t help but feel a small surge of jealousy at the reminder that Huber had hearing friends. ‘Normal’ friends.
Ian followed them to his and Huber’s (when did it become his and Huber’s?) lunch spot. Kyle sat in his usual seat, and Huber sat in the seat across from Kyle. In a brief moment of consideration, Ian slotted himself right in the middle, looking proud of himself. Kyle was slightly amused.
He picked at his food while Huber and Ian talked. Of course Huber translated everything, but Kyle didn’t have any particular interest in their conversation. It wasn’t until Brad sat down next to him did he finally look up.
“Sorry I’m late, I had to stop by the bookstore.” Brad signed and spoke at the same time. Kyle suddenly felt sorely outnumbered as Ian sat forwards in his chair and started to talk extremely quick and excitedly. He could tell by the way Huber struggled to keep up with Ian’s speech.
‘You okay there?’ Kyle smirked. Huber rolled his eyes.
“I’m fine, Kyle. Don’t you worry about me.” Kyle wordlessly dodged Huber’s wink.
Ian sort of fell into their lives the same way you’d imagine an apple falling from the sky and clobbering an innocent bystander. Kyle had certainly not expected him.
Of course, he thought Ian was just a casual friend- everyone had casual friends, right? People you see from time to time. Maybe you shared a class with them, maybe you just bumped into each other at the library way too many times. Either way, they were never… permanent fixtures.
It made sense too- for Huber to hang out with Ian. He was such a social butterfly after all. Kyle must be delusional if he thought that Huber’s only friends were him and Brad. He just wasn’t prepared for Ian to become such a daily occurrence.
Ian was an enigma; he was smart (to Kyle’s surprise) and spontaneous, but seemed to know when to die down on the enthusiasm when he needed to.
Kyle tries to tell himself he doesn’t like Ian. He fails miserably.
The following week, Kyle is definitely not okay. He arrives just in time for their usual Friday night smash tournament only to find Ian making himself home on the futon. In Kyle’s spot, no less.
Saltily settling for the spot next to Huber (which was a good seat, don’t get him wrong, but it just wasn’t his seat), instead, Kyle’s sulking lasted for the entire period of ten whole minutes until he felt something pressed against his forehead. He furrowed his brows and immediately reached up to see what it was. When he brought his hand back, he found a sticky note.
Kyle looked up to see Ian blinking down at him, goofy smile as wide as ever and waiting expectedly. He normally wrote notes when Kyle was distracted and unable to read his lips- although he had never had the audacity to actually stick bodily on Kyle before. Kyle looked closer at the note… and snorted.
‘Did you seriously write a note just to tell me you’re going to go use the restroom?’ Next to Kyle, Huber erupted into laughter. Kyle could tell because he was close enough to Huber so he could feel his interpreter's body shaking as he snickered. Brad was the one that had to relay the message to Ian as Huber was indefinitely incapacitated. Ian gave Kyle a cheeky grin.
“You betcha.” Kyle rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but smile anyways.
He wished he could say that the rest of the night went just as smoothly. Unfortunately, Kyle was a big fuck-up and at that point it was safe to say that he was starting to think that things would never get any easier for him.
He wasn’t trying to be mean. He wasn’t trying to push people away (okay maybe that’s a lie), and he certainly didn’t mean to say the things he did.
He just- he needs room to breathe for a minute.
‘I didn’t mean to say that.’ Huber didn’t look at him and Kyle hovered nervously. He felt a painful twinge in his chest just knowing that Huber was ignoring him on purpose. He reached over to tap Huber’s shoulder to get his attention; to inform him of his need to speak to him. Huber sighed heavily and looked up.
Kyle flinched and for a second, there was a look across Huber’s face that he couldn’t recognize. But then it was gone and Kyle was back to fumbling his hands, signing as fast as he can, tripping over himself trying to apologize.
“Whoa, whoa. You’re going too fast, I can’t understand you.” Huber stilled Kyle’s hands. Kyle’s bottom lip trembled.
‘I shouldn’t have said those things.’ Kyle signed slower, but just as frantic. Huber pursed his lips. Panicking, Kyle sped right on. ‘It wasn’t right of me and I was just being bitter. I know you’re mad at me and--’ Huber grabbed Kyle’s hands again and Kyle froze.
“You need to go apologize.”
Ian was alone in the kitchen, staring at some random spot on the counter and fiddling with a glass of water with both his hands. Kyle tapped on his shoulder to get his attention and Ian’s head snapped up. Immediately, Kyle felt the guilt rush through him at Ian’s red-rimmed eyes and puffy cheeks. Ian’s eyes were still a little shiny with tears and Kyle immediately sat down and grabbed the notepad and pen that were sitting on the kitchen counter. He began scribbling.
The first thing he wrote was ‘I’m sorry.’
The second thing he wrote was ‘You are my friend and I’m sorry I implied otherwise. I don’t think any differently of you for not being able to sign like the rest of us. I promise you that.’
The last thing he wrote was ‘I lashed out at you in anger and I was irrational. I want you to know that I didn’t mean anything I said. I really do mean it when I said you are my friend and I don’t want to lose you.’
He set his pen down and took a deep breath before sliding the paper over. Ian took it with nimble fingers. Kyle couldn’t help the nervousness and anxiety as Ian read over what he wrote. He didn’t even realize he had his eyes squeezed shut and fists clenched to his sides until he felt a soft touch against his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Ian with even mistier eyes than before. Oh no. Ian wasn’t supposed to cry again, did Kyle do something wrong again? Was the apology no good? Did Kyle really fuck up that badly that there was no hope?
All his worries and panicked thoughts came to a screeching halt when Ian suddenly threw his arms around him and hugged him tightly.
Kyle didn’t say, but he had a sense that Ian somehow knew exactly what Kyle struggled the most with. In that moment, Kyle felt vulnerable. He felt tears prick at his eyes, but he swallowed thickly and pulled back, quickly signing ‘thank you’ before realizing that Ian couldn’t understand him. He went to reach for the pen again, but Ian’s hand was suddenly enclosed around his wrist.
Looking down, there was a familiar excited gleam in Ian’s (still misty) eyes, and he bounced on his toes.
“I know that one! That’s thank you!” He said, and Kyle couldn’t help but silently chuckle at Ian’s enthusiasm.
Ian insisted on the night of games and fun continue after Kyle’s apology, and although Huber was still tense and obviously Not Happy sitting next to him, the evening continued rather smoothly.
What we’ve learned today is that I need to not be an asshole and Huber needs to think about what I’m saying before interpreting it. Kyle thought to himself as Ian hugged him, bidding goodbye and waltzing out the door (surprisingly enough, Brad followed Ian out, silently closing the door behind them and leaving Huber and Kyle alone in the room).
“We need to talk.” Huber said after getting Kyle’s attention. Kyle sighed and scrubbed at his face, flopping back onto the futon (back in his spot - for a split second Kyle’s train of thought deviated to how much of an ass would I be if I made a sign for this spot? before refocusing on Huber).
‘About Ian? He’s fine, we talked it out - well, as well as I could talk it out - I apologized, he understood, it’s okay now.’ Kyle signed, slightly confused. Huber looked like he wanted to pace - shoulders tense, swaying back and forth in front of Kyle, refusing to sit down. It was a little disconcerting and Kyle wondered why he was so tense, why he was so upset when Kyle fixed it, Ian was okay and happy and smiling, so what was wrong?
“Why are you doing this?”
‘Doing what?’ Kyle asked, cocking his head and squinting at Huber.
“Why are you pushing us away from you? It’s not just Ian - it’s Brad, and it’s me, too. You act all fine and happy and then you just turn around and snap and push us away like you want nothing to do with us. And I’ve been trying to let it slide, trying to back off and let you have your way whenever you do it to me because I know you have a reason but frankly, I’m sick of you treating Ian and Brad like that, they don’t deserve being thrown around by you.” Huber ranted, hands flying and face red and Kyle could not stop the white-hot shame that pooled in his gut that he was the reason behind the obvious pain and confusion and hurt on Huber’s face, that it was his fault, and this isn’t what Kyle wanted, this was the last thing Kyle wanted, was to hurt Huber and upset him and he couldn’t -
Kyle swallowed hard and stared down at his hands resting in his lap. He couldn’t help but curse the heat that swelled behind his eyes and the tremor that appeared in the only things that allowed him to communicate.
‘I wasn’t always completely deaf.’ He began, watching his hands move, refusing to look at Huber, refusing to acknowledge the other man’s existence. He moved painfully slow, because he knew that as soon as he tried to sign at a normal pace, the tremor in his hands would render his “speech” unintelligible. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to tell Huber all this, if he really should explain truthfully or find some way to fabricate a half-truth wrap-around to the real story; something about the way Huber reacted, how it wasn’t I’m sick of you doing this and instead I don’t care about me but our friends don’t deserve it, how sad he was - Kyle started the story before he even really made the conscious decision to.
‘I started out with just hearing aides. From the time I was born, they knew something was wrong, and they couldn’t quite figure it out, but they stuck hearing aides in my ears and I was just fine, could hear and speak just as well as everyone else. But as I got older, it got worse and worse. When I was in middle school, I hid it. I pretended like I could still hear as well as I could as when I was 8, when really the hearing aides did nothing but make the dull drone that was my “hearing” a little louder. That’s how I got so good at lip-reading - I spent the entirety of seventh grade getting by in classes and outside of them through lip-reading. My parents didn’t find out until one day I wasn’t paying attention and a ladder nearly collapsed on me because my dad was screaming for me to move but I wouldn’t. Because I couldn’t hear.
‘The worse my hearing got, the less my friends would hang out with me. They deemed it not worth the effort to be my friend because they essentially had to learn another language to hang out with me. The only time I ever made friends in high school were times when they were getting something out of it - a teacher offering extra credit or an excuse for an extension on a project, that’s all I was. And we couldn’t afford an interpreter, so my mother volunteered herself, and I was the kid whose mother was constantly hovering around. And she saw first-hand my lack of friends and would coddle me for it, and never left me alone to do anything myself, and I’m just bitter. I’m bitter because no one’s ever wanted to be my friend, I’m bitter because I’ve never gotten to even try to be independent, and college was my chance. I want to be independent, I want to try things on my own and be an adult and make my own friends and I feel like this is cheating, and I’m so sorry that you have to spend all this time with me bitter, cynical old me, because you don’t have a choice because you’re getting paid to do it and -’ Kyle was interrupted by long fingers wrapping around his wrists, stilling his hands.
Huber gently squeezed, and it was then that Kyle realized his head was bowed and his eyes were screwed tight shut, that Huber couldn’t say anything to him if he wanted to, and Kyle slowly, painfully opened his eyes and looked at Huber, expecting to see malice, or pity.
But instead, Huber’s eyes were brimming with unshed tears, jaw slack, face open and Kyle wasn’t sure if he wanted this reaction or the one that he expected. He crouched down to Kyle’s level.
“Listen to me.” He said, hands still on Kyle’s wrists, “Listen to me, Kyle.” Kyle had seen his name on Huber’s lips, but never this deliberate, never this close, and seeing his name, so careful, so clear - a part of Kyle wanted to kiss his own name off of Huber’s lips, even though it certainly wasn’t the right time or place for that.
Huber placed Kyle’s hands on his own lap so his hands were free to move. Kyle could tell from his hesitance that he didn’t want to let go, and that just made him feel even more guilty.
“You shouldn’t feel guilty or like you’re cheating or any of that shit, Kyle.” Huber started, and Kyle realized that he used the sign for “hoodie” with his hands in K-shapes for his own name, and he couldn’t help but smile a little at the fact that they had never actually made signs for each other, and it wasn’t the sign his parents used, but Huber had the thought to make one anyway made his heart skip a beat in a way that it really shouldn’t.
“Do you know why? It’s because I hang out with you because I want to. Brad hangs out with you because he wants to. Ian hangs out with you - even though the two of you literally can’t communicate - because he wants to. Because you’re funny and smart and sarcastic and opinionated and ridiculously good at any game that’s ever been on a Nintendo console and we want to be around you. Yeah I’m getting paid, but it’s only for the time spent in class when I’m interpreting for you. Any time outside of those fifty-minute class periods is me making my own choices. And my choice is to hang out with you, because I knew I wanted to be friends with you the minute we met. Not because it would make my job easier but because I just - I don’t know, I just wanted to.”
Huber paused and took a deep breath, and Kyle could see the shake in his hands, see how hard it was for him to say what he wanted to while also signing, and Kyle wanted to tell him that it was okay, that he didn’t have to, but something was holding him back from saying that - Huber’s determination or thoughtfulness or something, he had no idea but it compelled him enough to sit there and wait for Huber to keep going, heart hammering in his chest and breath caught in his throat.
“We are friends, Kyle. I understand that you want to be independent, that you want to test your limits - I think it’s great, and I don’t know if this is crossing a line but I’m proud of you for wanting to do that, for not being afraid to push at the boundaries you’ve been given in your life. And if I’m completely honest, I sort of guessed that you were trying to do that, trying to work things out in your own way, and that’s why I’ve been so compliant with you. Because dammit, sometimes I just want to stop you and push you into letting me help because I’m your friend and that’s what friends do, they help each other, but I knew that it would just make you angry and make you draw further away and that wouldn’t help anyone. But Kyle, that’s not how the world works. You can’t go from 0 straight to 60. It’s not safe or healthy. You can be independent without being alone, Kyle. Those are two different things. So please, please, I’m begging you, let us help. Let me help. We can find your limits together, safely, and I promise, if you just let me help, let me be your friend, then the process of becoming an independent adult will go so much smoother and nicer and I just - I care about you Kyle, let me help. Please.”
Huber dropped his hands and Kyle watched as his shoulders slumped, as he put his hands on his knees and stood and scrubbed his face with his hands and he wasn’t looking at Kyle anymore. And Kyle stared, open-mouthed, and in that moment he wished he could speak, wished he could tell Huber how sorry he was for causing him so much pain, for being such an idiot, because now that it was said to him straight - black and white, no doubt or if’s or maybe’s - Kyle realized that not only was he stupid but he was also probably the most stubborn, ridiculous human being on the whole damn planet.
Because Huber made sense. He made so much sense, all he wanted to do was be Kyle’s friend and help Kyle when he could and be a support system for Kyle because that’s what friend’s do, that’s part of their job descriptions, and Kyle hadn’t been letting him do that at all and wow, you fucked up big time, Bosman.
“Mike.” Kyle said, out loud, and he felt his mouth move and his vocal chords vibrate and he hoped that it sounded like it was supposed to, one of Kyle’s Uncles was named Mike and so it’s not an unfamiliar name to Kyle’s lips back when he could hear well enough to speak. And he just wanted - wanted to tell him how sorry he was but Huber wasn’t looking at him, and he had to get his attention, and Kyle was pretty sure that he would fall over if he stood in that moment.
Huber moved - fast, so fast, whipped around and stared at Kyle with wide eyes. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind Kyle registered the fact that Huber had never heard Kyle make a single sound because Kyle made sure to never make sound - he could never tell how loud or accurate he was so he kept his laughter and frustration and joy and content stifled inside.
‘Huber’, Kyle signed, and it was stupid, it was just the sign for ‘excited’ only with one hand and instead of using his middle finger, Kyle’s hand made the sign for H and he wasn’t sure when Huber stopped being some sort of vaguely negative sign in his mind to something so much nicer and happier but he did it without thinking and sort of relished in the way that Huber’s (already excited from Kyle “speaking”) face lit up even more when he realized that that was Kyle’s sign for him.
‘I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I don’t know what to say, or what to tell you, but I’m so sorry that I’ve made everything so difficult. It’s just hard for me not to put things in a negative light. I want to be your friend and I want to be independent and if you’re willing, I’d like for you to help me achieve my goals.’ He signed, and as soon as he started to lower his hands he was suddenly engulfed in Huber’s arms, and Huber was hugging him like he was drowning and Kyle was his buoy in the sea, and Kyle lifted his arms and wrapped them around Huber’s torso and hugged back just as hard.
And Kyle’s heart was pounding and he felt warm all over, like Huber was just radiating joy and Kyle was basking in it, basking in the sunshine, and damn did he wish he could kiss Huber and touch his face and tell Huber how important he is because Kyle’s never felt this way in his entire life, he didn’t even know that these emotions were possible but here they were, in real-time.
Kyle didn’t realize he had been crying until he pulled away and there was a wet spot on Huber’s shoulder where his face had been, but he could feel a wet spot on his own shoulder, too, and he didn’t quite understand why two grown men were crying about friendship but it went deeper than that, and Kyle just wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie and accepted the fact that he just cried for the first time in years over friendship, of all things.
When Kyle went to bed that night, curled up and staring at the ceiling, he felt like a piece of him that he didn’t know had been missing had just slotted back into a hole he didn’t know was there.
James is grinning. He’s grinning and content and happy. Curled up snugly on his side, he’s pressed firmly against his boyfriend with his head comfortably propped up against the other’s shoulder. James looks up to shoot Bruce a happy look but Bruce is too busy being absorbed in the book he’s reading and James is, by all means, confused. He is confused why Bruce is reading and not paying attention to him.
James frowns before smirking and tilting his head upwards to nip at Bruce's bottom lip, teasing it with his teeth. He pouts when Bruce only snorts and flips a page. At his second attempt, James nudges his head against Bruce's arm and gives him a soft whine from the back of his throat, pleading for attention. Bruce sighs and sets his book down, rolling his eyes before dipping down to claim James' lips with his own.
James hums against Bruce's lips, all too eager to comply and let his boyfriend dominate the kiss. His hands automatically come up to Bruce's face, fingers brushing nimbly against his cheek before trailing up and back, tangling themselves Bruce's hair.
James moans softly, in between breaths when Bruce hooks his arm around James' waist and pulls him across his lap, pressing him against his chest as he continues to plunder James' mouth with his own.
When Bruce finally breaks the kiss, James pulls away, keening in reluctance. Bruce chuckles. “I swear to god, you’re insatiable.” James elbows him and Bruce grunts before shifting to lay back on the bed, bringing James down with him.
James laughs and wiggles around so that he’s lying comfortably on top of Bruce, still snug against the older man’s chest. He lets out a sleepy yawn and rests his head in the crook of Bruce's neck, sighing happily.
They stay like that for a long while, James listening to the low, even sounds of Bruce's breathing and Bruce, with one arm wrapped securely around James' waist and the other pressed to James' back, fingers gently tracing patterns along his spine and the back of his neck. They eventually fall asleep like that, curled around each other and seemingly inseparable.
So I heard this song that has the line "Don't take that sinner from me" and I was immediately reminded of your style of writing cause it's that same poetic angst and I love it btw your writing is my absolute fav. I can just picture James saying that about Bruce in Fakehaus, like doing anything to protect him even though he's usually so flippant and reckless. Idk, just wanted to share! Love you!
uGH YES I LOVE THAT LINE. I wrote a thing, hope you don’t mind.
Also thank you so much, boo <3
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They lived in the same shotgun shell and loved on every skyscraper, every bridge, every bus in the city. They were set to ruin the world.
And James had him built on a pedestal, y’know? Together, they stood spotlight center of a dimmed streetlamp and played lead roles in their own love stories.
They were more than partners in crime; they were shoulder to shoulder with smirks painted to their faces and their fingers laced together like tacky glue. And sometimes in the dead of night, on a balcony somewhere far, far away, James would press gentle kisses against his bruised knuckles and Bruce would light up with that goddamn fond smile of his and the world would be dead to them.
They spent summers together, entire winters terrorizing city after city. They ruled entire empires together. It was James propped up against Bruce’s ghost bike, straddling him and kissing him the way a drowning man can’t get enough of air.
They share cigarettes and chain smoke in the bad parts of town. They leave giggling with black eyes and to each their own. Bruce was a dark haired beauty and James was the son of neptune, the way his eyes swirled in the dark and glittered in the morning light.
The last memory James has of Bruce before the fire is a shy smile and a bundle of hand-picked wildflowers. “These are for you,” he said. James laughs. “Shut up and take it!” Bruce looks embarrassed.
James does. Giggles and snorts cover the beating, beating, beating of his heart. Gosh, he felt like his heart was going to jump right out of his chest and into his hands with the way Bruce smiled at him.
It’s been a while since James has talked to God. His parents would’ve been disappointed but he never really believed in the practice. It seems like decades ago since Bruce had whisked him out from under his daddy’s thumb, saved him from a crumbling kingdom.
The air is thick but the smoke doesn’t bother him. He has a one track mind and for the first time in forever, he feels a cold, chilling fear numbing his body. There’s tear tracks running down his cheeks and his fingers are scratched, covered in soot and ash and blood that’s not his. Bruce isn’t breathing and James feels like he can’t either.
“You’re gonna get us killed one day,” Bruce had laughed. James laughed too. He doesn’t anymore.
James rushes them to a hospital. He picks Bruce up by some miracle and hurdles them through the fire like it’s no big deal. He’s desperate. He doesn’t notice the burns licking the side of his arms and neck until later. It doesn’t matter anymore. This was their proof. God was pissed and this was their punishment.
And Bruce is taken from him. The minute James steps into the hospital, they whisk his dying boyfriend away and he loses everything he’s ever wanted, ever needed, ever had. Security has to hold him back from making a scene.
“Please,” he says. James is clammy hands, James is red-rimmed eyes and two hours of sleep. Don’t take that sinner from me. He pleads- he pleads with God’s name right next to Bruce’s at the tip of his tongue and he’s never felt so sick, so dirty in his entire life. They were set to ruin the world.
He falls in love on a sunset summer. He’s a paper bag over a plastic alternative and the first time he ever met Adam, he was sold.
And while Sean’s heart is big, it’s had bits and pieces broken off over the years. He’s given pieces to charity, traded them off like handouts, sold them to auctions, held on to them and had them stolen away. He was so careful, but he falls in love with a set-in-stone frown and the warmest pair of eyes he’s ever seen and hits the replay button harder than ever.
He would have never guessed.
On the horizon are painted hues of dandelion yellows and pink champagne, and his hands are so small in comparison to Adam’s. Adam is a hundred things different from Sean, skyscrapers away and built with stronger beams. Sean doesn’t know how to compete with that, but Adam is insistent. He’s not like anyone Sean has ever loved before.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” he says. Adam squeezes his hand and arches a brow. Sean has to struggle to see his face in the fading streaks of sunlight. Sean pretends to be fearless.
“I believe in spirits,” Adam offers, and Sean frowns. He steps a little closer to Adam.
It’s an old and abandoned house by the lake, a metaphor for remembrance of another time, another summer. It’s hardly spooky, but Adam’s heard all the rumors.
“Are we really going to hunt for ghosts- or spirits, whatever they’re called.” Sean is a half full teacup and Adam is two sugars, the way he likes it. Adam doesn’t say anything. He shrugs and pulls out a blanket and shakes it out like a parachute.
And of course the house is a delicate picture frame, windows all broken out with shattered glass scattered on the floor like discarded New Year’s resolutions. Even the roof is barely intact. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous?” Sean is still skittish, but Adam continues spreading out the blankets to the four corners of the earth, settles on it, before reaching out his hand to Sean.
And Sean frowns, obviously still disapproving. But honestly who was he to stop the wild horseman from chasing the wind? He takes Adam’s hand, and Adam pulls Sean up close, kissing him firmly against the temple, a promise. “I’ll keep you safe.”
And Sean gives into the pulling tide, let’s Adam reel him onto shore and keep him. Uncork the bottled message, cast away nightmares from his dreamcatcher.
Started out as a hitchhiker au, ended up as a roadtrip-to-nowhere family AU.
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With burnt-out college graduate Adam driving his car that he practically live out of. It’s an old van with the backseat taken out to fit a mattress. He doesn’t have a destination, just a wandering soul. He’s left the past behind him.
He’s staying at some old motel when he meets runaway Sean. Just-turned eighteen, old enough to escape the shitty home life he shared with an abusive father and absent mother.
Sean practically begs Adam for a ride. “I just need to go another state over.”
He looks at Adam with such pitiful, round eyes that even as he says, “go hitch a ride with someone else, kid.” He’s already thinking about how he’s going to make room in his beat-up car.
He drives Sean to the next state over. And then the next. And then the next.
They’ve made it to Minnesota when they run into the Lawrence, and freelance photographer that’s been trying to find his next job for the last 6 months.
Sean’s completely blown away by the snow in Minnesota so they stay awhile. Enough to know Law a lot better than they planned.
Lawrence has a memory card full of Sean’s shy smiles and Adam’s twinkling eyes before he finally packs up and leaves, driving carefully behind Adam’s car.
They pick up walkie-talkies at the next Walmart they pass and Sean sits in the back so he can peer out the back window to spy on Lawrence as they exchange jokes back and forth to pass time.
They meet Bruce and James at the same time. Two good-for-nothing troublemakers. City-dwellers in bad parts of New York. One is bleeding and the other is passed out.
“Please help him,” is the first thing Adam ever hears James say. Blue jewel eyes filling with tears and clutching at Bruce’s bloodstained shirt.
They make it to the hospital in time and when they leave New York, Bruce and James are sleeping soundly and safely in the backseat of Lawrence’s jeep.
The five of them are stuck in Texas for a while when Adam’s old van finally gives out. They take it to a local car garage to get it fixed and that’s where they meet Matt, the cute mechanic. Bruce and James continuously try to flirt with him for the entire week without any success.
They’re extremely pouty when They spot Matt and Sean kissing in the closet later.
Matt comes with them when they leave two weeks later.
Joel was a mystery. The first time they met him was in a camping site somewhere up in the Washington State. The giant peace sign painted on the side of Joel’s camper was a huge hint. The bumper sticker with “nature rules” slapped on had James and Bruce snickering.
“He’s like a soft-core hippie, oh my god.”
Joel is not a happy being called soft core and the bickering between him and the two troublemakers is almost unbearable for Adam.
“I can’t believe I have to share a campsite with you bullies!”
“Ooo you hear that Brucie? We’re bullies?? He’s the one that left his weird natural snack bars on our picnic table in the first place.”
“Well… You did kind of throw them away,”
“They tasted horrible!”
“You were going to eat my snack bars?!”
“… Whoops”
Joel is really salty when they part ways but two months later they see each other again in Oregon. This time though, they end up having to bail Joel out of a natural-rights protest gone wrong.
Joel and Adam connect over their “soul-searching” woes and eventually, James, Bruce, and Joel make up too.
The seven of them leave together, one car after the other, chatting over radio static and buzzing walkie talkies and Bruce’s snoring.
