Chapter Text
Chloe’s dress is, naturally, all black.It’s strapless, with a structured silk corset bodice on top, thebottom half flaring out to a gauzy, knee-length skirt layeredgenerously with tulle. She’s paired it with mary janes and amatching sheer bolero that swishes when she moves her arms. Hermakeup is carefully smudged, and her hair done up, save for a fewcarefully plucked strands that stick out like little black spikes onthe back of her head. She’s a ball of energy, clutching the smallhandbag she’d thrifted just for the night. It’s velvet, with anoversize black rose applique blooming off-center. She picks some lintoff a petal, restless.
“Chloe? Are you feeling alright?”
She barely registers Jared doting over her,their nervous energies combining until the whole house feels like itmight start trembling. Richard watches with some concern from thekitchen, hovering by the coffee machine and chewing a granola bar.Jared had all but tossed it at him when he’d arrived, admonishinghim about supervising on an empty stomach.
Chloe nods, tapping her fingers against thearmrest of the couch.
“I’m fine, I just. She should be hereby now, right?” Her eyes flick to the clock on the wall.
Jared mutters something about getting hersome water, hurrying towards the sink. She bites the side of hercheck to distract herself from how badly she wants to gnaw off herfreshly done nails, tapping her foot anxiously as she stares towardsentryway. A few jittery minutes go by, and then there’s a knock atthe door, so soft it’s barely audible.
“I’ll get it!” Chloe leaps to herfeet, rushing to the door and throwing it open. With a triumphantyelp, she all but yanks Emma inside, wrapping her in a hug thatnearly sends the two of them crashing to the floor. The condocollectively exhales.
Emma has put some kind of product in herhair to make it look somehow both messier and carefully styled.There’s a chunky, geometric stripe of neon pink eye shadow swipedacross each of her eyelids, matching a silk bow tie nestled in thecollar of a frilly white dress shirt. Her oversize suit jacket islavender, with matching pants, the cut emphasizing her tall frame. Apair of white platform sneakers peek out from under the hem of thetrousers, spotless. She’s wearing a single golden drop earring, aglittering, star-shaped charm dangling from her left ear. Awkwardly,she holds out a box with two small boutonnieres: twin rosebuds.
“Uh, my dad gave me these for us towear.” She mutters, laughing self-consciously, “only if you want,though.”
Chloe plucks her rose from the box, holdingit gently in her hands before fastening it to her bodice.
“Dude! Seriously? This is so cool,” she looks down at theboutonniere, a small sprig of baby’s breath clinging to the stem.Emma smiles, pinning her own rose to her jacket. Richard watches theway Chloe’s shoulders relax as she eases back into herself, pullingout her phone to take a picture of the boutonniere, nearly squealingin delight. He glances over at Jared, leaning with his hip pressedagainst the counter, misty-eyed. He’s still holding the nowforgotten glass of water in one hand, the other pressed firmly to hissternum, like if he holds it there steady enough he can keep thatbig, bleeding heart of his from spilling all over the tile. Richardswallows a dry mouthful of oats and chocolate chips and tries not tochoke.
Jared sniffles, wiping daintily at his eyes before striding back intothe living room. He herds the girls towards the large picture windowthat faces the front yard, playing with his phone’s focus as hedirects their posing. Richard can’t help by smile watching him playMother Hen, angling the phone’s camera as he chirps Emma,sweetie, move in a bit andChloe, tilt your head this way for me? Emma’sa good sport, humoring Jared’s endless stage directions, untilChloe has to remind him doors open at seven. Jared relents after justone more picture, Ipromise and then the four ofthem are clambering into hisminivan. Chloe almostinstantly connectsto the car’sBluetooth to start a Spotify playlist entitled“Prom With Ya Mom”.Bubblegum pop and bling-era club bangers filter through the speakersat a sensible volume while the two girls begin to trade rumorsabout two math teachers they suspect might be secretly seeingeach other. Richard sits backin the passenger seat as Jared drives, content. When they reach astoplight, Jared turns to him, painfully sincere.
“That sweater looks nice on you.”He says, nodding to the cardigan Richard will swear wasan item pulled thoughtlesslyfrom his closet, and not a choice he agonized over for nearly ahalf-hour before leaving. He hopes it isn’t too obvious that he’dtried to do something decent with his hair, ironed his nice dressshirt. After all, it’s not like it’s hisprom.
“Thanks,” He mutters, a small smile creeping across his face.When he looks back, Jared’s eyes are already back on the road. Hefidgets with his hands for a moment, absently tapping along to themusic, straightening up a bit as he recognizes some of the words.“Oh, sh*t—I remember thissong.”
He leans forward to turn up thevolume a bit. It’s an old pop song from the 2000s, one the displayhelpfully informs him is by AshleeSimpson. His cousin had loved it, kept it on a CD mixtape she’dburnt herself and left at his home accidentally one summer during afourth of July cookout. He’d nearly worn it out in his own portableCD player, hiding it in thejewel case of an old Daft Punk album. Big Headhad found it once whilelooking for somethingto listen to during aweekend gaming binge, much to Richard’s humiliation. Idon’t get what the big deal is,Bighead had told him as the stereo switched to track 4, BritneySpears is great. Plus, she’s like, super hot.He’d still made him promise to forget he’d ever seen it.
Now, in Jared’s air conditionedmom van, it doesn’t seem to matter all that much. He closes hiseyes, lettingthe sound of teenage gossipand the edgierSimpson sisterwash over him.
I am moody, messy
I get restless, and it’s senseless
how you never seem to care
He cracks one eye open to steal a glance at Jared, now staringintently at the road. He catches one of his hands flex on the wheel,tightening just a bit as he turns, blinker clicking intrusively intothe beat of the song.
Oh, it’s as if you know me better than I ever knew myself
I love how you can tell
They turn into the school’s parking lot, and Richard marvels at theuncanny feeling of being in a high school at night, oddly familiar.He’d ditched his own senior prom after about an hour to watch oldhorror movies with Bighead, but not before the melancholy of theempty halls and eerie quiet outside the gym had cast its spell onhim.
The theme, Chloe has told them, is “So 90’s”, which doesn’texactly pump the breaks on Richard’s ever-impending midlife crisis.Blank CDs line the walls, occasionally reflecting the light comingfrom the DJ booth. Large fake graffiti decals have been placedeverywhere, with cringe-worthy phrases like radical! and allthat! in blinding neon. Richard watches a kid kickat an iridescent balloon that’s rolling along the floor. A smalldisco ball hangs precariously from a beam high above the center ofthe basketball court.
The night has just started, and everyone is clustered around theperimeter of what could generously be called “the dance floor”,huddled in their respective groups. Jared’s wandered off to speakwith with one of the other adults, leaving Richard to keep watch onhis own. Emma and Chloe have already caught up with two other girlsnear the snack table, squawking as they admire each other’s outfits.Richard recognizes one of them—ashort girl with a sleek black bob and abright red mermaid dress—asone of the kids from the night heand Jared found Chloe in the woods. The memory makes his stomachhurt, and he leans back against the wall, focusing on the cool tileat the back of his head. As if on cue, Jared materializesbeside him, brandishing a can ofOrange Crush with a shy smile.
“Richard? I gotyou something to drink,” he says, the hesitant rumble of his voicenearly lost in the heavy bass echoing off the gym walls. Richardwatches his eyebrows knit together, anexpression Richard is very quickly becoming reacquainted with.He leans in to Richard’s side as he hands him the soda, “Are youalright? You look pale.” He presses the back of his hand toRichard’s forehead without warning, holding it there a momentbefore he seems to realizes what he’s doing, pulling back andclearing his throat. He turns hishead, pretending to be distracted by somethingRichard follows his line of sight back to Chloe and her friends. Thefourth girl is the most on theme: she’s wearing a cropped greenblouse that ties in the center, and an asymmetrical brown plaid skirtsecured with a chunky belt. The sleeves of the shirt are long,fluttering as she dances.Long braids, interwoven with matching green strands and adorned withcopious butterfly clips, cascade over her shoulders, swishingback and forth.Chloe would probably say thatshe “understood the assignment”. Thegirls are some of the first tobravely make their way tothe floor, dancing goofily together in a circle tothe beat of a song Richard has never heard in his life.
Jared joins him against the wall, standinga comfortable but inoffensive distance away, and the two of thempretend to be content with saying nothing. Richard crosses his arms,leaning back further and tucking his chin to his chest. Jaredtaps at his smartwatch, hip co*cked. Occasionally, one of the otherparents or a member of the school’s staff will walk over to chat.It seems like Jared knows everyone, warmly greeting each new face. Heintroduces Richard to each one of them, calling him a “formercolleague”, a “good friend”. Richardawkwardly unfurls, shakeshands, fields questions about his job at Stanford, and nods along toanything else that gets lostunder the drone of the speakers. The can of Orange Crush is sweatingin his hand.
“No one’s dancing.” Richard pointsout. Jared shuffles a bit closer to him, tilting his head to the sideso he can hear him better. A few more kids are out now, but most ofthe area is still clear. The floorisshining, fresh and unscuffedby dress shoes or high heels. “I mean, was prom always this lame? Idon’t remember mine being this bad.” He cracks his soda open witha hiss,rushing to sip up the slight rush of fizz that rises to the surface.Jared’s mouth twists thoughtfully, considering the question.
“Hm. I lost my virginity at my juniorprom, actually.”
Richard feels the sting of carbonation inhis nostrils before he fully grasps what’s happened, choking andspluttering loud enough that a group of kids nearby halt theirconversation to stare and giggle at him. Jared reaches for the can,setting it on one of the many folding tables pushed to their side ofthe gymnasium, alarmed. Richard catches his breath as he blinks, eyeswatering.
“Sorry, uh, wow.” Richard sniffs,tasting artificial orange at the back of his throat, “That’s—huh.”
Jared shrugs, looking almost apologetic.
“Well, virginity’s a construct, ofcourse, but…” He gestureswith his hands vaguely, trailing off, “Myfoster mother at the time was very religious. She used to tell me,Donald,dancing isthe devil's gateway drug to sin... SoI snuck out.” Hesips at his own can of co*ke Zero,hiding a smug quirk of his lips,letting Richard in on a big secret.Hm. Alright then. Richard had almostforgotten what it was like to be an audience to thisparticular...idiosyncrasy of Jared’s, adistinct brand of guileless honesty. It was a bluntness Richard hadlost the privilege of ages ago. Hesniffs again,still wiping soda from his nose.
A beam ofbright bluelight casts itself blindingly over Richard’s eyes as the beginningof Nicki Minaj’s “Starships” thrums from the speakers of the DJbooth. Richard considers, with no small amount of terror, that thereisn’t a single teenager here who was alive when the song wasreleased. Regardless, it’s a crowdpleaser, if the incoming wave ofteenagers who rush to the dancefloor is any indication. They've shedsome of their earlier icy awkwardness, boys hooting and girlsscurrying on the toes of their heels, allof them shouting along, joyfullythrowing their hands in the air. One young man is wearing a day-gloorange and green snapback, and hetossesit into the air like a graduation cap when the bass drops. His friendshoves at him playfully, snatching it when it falls back down andfixing it on his own head. The two of them chase each other aroundthe perimeter of the floor, dodging tables and narrowly avoiding acollision with three other kids until one of the other chaperonscalls out to them, wagging a finger emphatically. They slow down,cackling, and the hat is returned to it’s rightful owner withoutfurther incident.
The light display on the booth continues topulsealong with the small crowd that’s formed,colors skimmingalong the walls not unlike the hat thief and his poor victim. Richardglances over at Jared. He’s smiling contentedly, bobbing alongto the beat of the music. He mouthsalong to the lyrics subtly, like he might not even realize he’sdoing it. Richard’s entranced by him, momentarily forgetting whoand where they are. It’s like a movie: pink light washing over thesharp planes of Jared’s face, his soft eyes sparkling. It softenshis brow, the curve of his jaw, the small jut of his chin, beforeretreatingto the floor andzig-zagging across the wide expanse of the gymnasium. Richardcan almost feel it, the slow zoom, the music fading. Jaredvanishes, cloaked in shadow,then appears again—Richard’seyes never having enough time to adjust before he’sdrenched in that rose glow, lit up like some kind of outdated romcombit come to life.
He turns his head before Richard can gethis bearings, catches his eyes and grins, sweetly crinkling his eyesand touchinghis face self consciously, like he’sthe one who’s been caught doing something embarrassing.Richard’s face burns, and he hopes the hot pink beam that dancesbetween them a second too late is enough to obscure the color heknows must berising in his cheeks.His fingers grip the can in his handhard enough that the aluminum gives, denting slightly. Herelishes the moment after the lights slink away, taking advantage ofthe darkened corner he’s huddled up in, back resting at thejuncture where two walls meet. He takes a deep breath and sips at thesoda, a distraction morethan anything else. It’s a bad idea, the can already half-flat androom temperature, the cloying,syrupy citrus clinging to his throat.
“Gah,” he gurgles to no one, wrinklinghis nose at the can, and tossing it in a nearby trashcan. Gross. Howdid he drink this stuff as a kid?
He doesn’t notice Jared’s there untilhe’s well into his space, one big hand wrapping around Richard’sshoulder. He’s outrageously close to Richard’s face as he leansin, barely raising his voice beyond hisusual pleasant murmur. Richard still has to strain to hear him,tilting his head until they nearly bump their foreheads together.
“...-ouwant another?” is all Richard is able to make out as the DJ shoutsobnoxiously into the mic and the kids start cheering. He assumesJared means a drink, so he nods, if only to get him and his big handsand his...proximity...somewherefar away from where Richard is currently standing. Jared nods back,offering him an enthusiastic thumb’s up just in case Richard’sforgotten that moving your head upand down stillmeans “yes” in most societies,and heads back towards the refreshmenttable on the other side of the room.
For aminute there, Richard had stared into some kind of fuchsia-tingedalternate dimension—Jared,swaying to an obnoxious pop song, withhis barely-grayingtemples and his casual-Friday jeans. He’s almost too good to betrue, wrists sprouting delicately from the loose sleeves of aribbed knit teeas he ponders the soda selection. Richard had lost himself, the lightplayed tricks on him, and heindulged in the idea of a world where this was anything but a lifehe’d justhappened to walk in on. The rug hadbeen pulled, and the floorboards buckled beneath him. Quite abruptly,he’d been caught off-balance.
And, well...whenit really comes down to it, Richard knows. He’snot stupid.Stubborn, reckless, filled to the brim with hubris, sure, but heisn’t an idiot. He’s alwaysknown what this was.It was easier, over a decade ago, to let he and Jared’s strange,arguably codependent relationship nestle itself somewhere betweenplatonicand something else Ican figure out later, to chalkit up to closequarters in the incubator, too much masculine energy in too small aspace. Things were simply bound to get weird sometimes, just look atDinesh and Gilfoyle. It seemed almost logical at the time, back wheneverything was delicate, always one false move away from breakinginto a million pieces, to let it be. Jared went on his little dates,Richard met a few girls, and none of it had to mean much ofanything. They were toobusy trying to change the world, andas long as there was a Pied Piper, there was a reason for Jared totake care of Richard. No further investigation required.
Of course, when everything imploded andJared found him kicking around Zurich,it was far too late. Whateverthey’d cultivated between them had woven itself into the very DNAof their relationship. Without a business to scapegoat, Richard hadbeen overwhelmed, blindsided. He’dpanicked, retreatingto his old friend:plausible deniability. He tossedback shot after shot in some classy Bangkok wateringhole, givinghimself permission to laugh a little too loudly at Jared’s jokes,let Jared’s fingers absentlystroke his palm without pretense ashe leaned heavy into the bar counter. He remembers how surprisedhe’d been when Jared ordered bourbon, cheeks pink as he sipped fromthe frosted glass. He could smell it, sweet and heavy, on Jared’sbreath when he hefted him up from the bar stool, asteady arm wrapped around his waist as he’d dragged him back to thehotel.
He hadn’tbeen that drunk since college: theharsh yellow light of the hotel blooming, leaving brown-blue spots inhis vision like dead pixels when he’d pulled his eyes away from theceiling. Jared, exhausted by the end of the night andfairly drunk himself, had pressedtwo wrong buttons before he chose Richard’s floor, apologizing asif Richard could comprehend any of it. He’d struggled to keep hisbalance, throwing himself clumsily into Jared’s side when the carjostled him the wrong way and sent him reeling. Set into an ornateframe on the back wall of the elevator was an oddly pedestrianadvertisem*nt featuring a woman laughing into a cell phone against agarish, purple background and a block of white text. Richard hadstared at it for the rest of the ride up, never able to concludewhether it was written in English or Thai. With anyone else, heprobably would have been humiliated.
Richard had taken one step and nearlylanded directly on his face before Jared caught him by his collarlike the scruff of a cat, his other hand splayed against his chest.He’d had to wait a moment for thehallway to stop folding over itself, silently staring first at thered and gold carpet, and then at Jared’s hand. He steadied himself,turning his head towards Jared’sface. There was an odd, sad lightbehind his eyes that Richard wouldn’t have been able to pin downeven if he’d been sober. Guilt, maybe? A new wave of dizzinessharpooned between his eyes and he faltered. Hegiggled, giddy with it. Jared offered a careful,good-natured chuckle, stillsupporting his weight as he dropped the hand at Richard’s chest,moving the other between his shoulder blades to gently steer him.
He’d been barely able to string threewords together for the past few hours, but now he found he couldn’tstop talking, slurring out one non-sequitur after the other.It was too hot. He wasso drunk. He’d nevernoticed Jared had such big hands (this one had been a lie), he wasgoing to be so f*cked when he got back home. PiedPiper was dead. His life was over. This was a long hallway.Jared hummed sympathetically at allthe right times, gently reminding him that it was very late, andeveryone else was likely asleep. Richard kept babbling in astage-whisper, unable to keep it together as he struggled to put onefoot in front of the other.
And then,of course. The stupid thing. The thing they didn’t talk about, yetsomehow spent the better part of a decade steppingcarefully enough around to alter the gait of their entire friendship.The blame has to be placed squarelyon him for what happened next. Theycontinued to shuffle down the hallway, a wide expanse that seemed tobow and bend before Richard’s eyes. It was a trudging three-leggedrace between the two of them. Jared had kept his cool atthe bar, alwaysso damn responsible, but he’dordered a second bourbon, and later a tall glass of roséthat the girl at the bar, no doubt charmed by his affable tendenciestowards service workers, had poured generously. The blush pink of itseemed to absorbinstantly into Jared’s skin, warming the usuallysickly pallor of his cheeks. He could handle his liquor, certainlybetter than Richard ever could, but he was slower, clearly puttingforth a front as he herded Richard down the line of identicalcream-colored doors. He squinted atRichard’s key card—stuffedinto his pocket along with thephone and wallet Richard had nearly left behind on the barcounter—comparingit to the numbers printed neatly beneath each identical, glitteringsconce that framed the doorways.
“We’re almost there,” he mumbled,rubbing at Richard’s shouldersreassuringly. His hand was steady, warm through the ill-advisedcombination of threadbare hoodie and linenshirt still partially sticking to Richard’s skin,a reminder of how oppressive the wayback to the hotelhad been, cutting through the thick, humid air of Bangkok. Now,the air-conditioned hall had cooled the sweat on Richard’s barelegs as he stumbled along in his touristy cargo shorts, his beat upNikes. He slowed his shuffling stride, Jared taking a second too lateto respond and nearly pulling himforward, looking back at him curiously.
“Hey.” Richard said, the dull thud ofhis voice too loud in the quiet of the sleepy hotel floor. Jaredstood still, staring at him, a worried crease between his raisedeyebrows. Richard could almost seethe question marks pop up above him as he tilted his head. Itwas endearing. He was like a cartoon, all rubber hose limbs and big,expressive eyes. It was ridiculous.
It started small: Richard bit the inside ofhis cheek, snorting awkwardly. Jared disentangledtheir arms, turned him so they werefacing each other, both hands on his shoulders.
“Richard? Are you alright?” He spoke sogently, with such grave concern, thatRichard began to cackle, covering his face with his hands, helpless.Something had pulled loose, and hecouldn’t turn off the tap. Jaredpulled away, his own hands resting on his hips, considering. When hewas sure Richard wasn’t about tovomit, or cry, that he wasn’t showing signs of severe brain damage,he allowed himself a small smile. The smile split into a grin, than alight, lilting series of giggles, untilthe two of them were wheezing, recoveringjust long enough to trip over eachother, doubling over, an obnoxious symphony of heaving laughter.Jared clutched at Richard’sshoulder again, this time to steady himself more than anything.
“I—“Richard gasped breathlessly,fighting with each unsteady syllable, “I can’t believe you foundme.”
Jared hummed in response, noddingas he caught his breath, not wantingto risk breaking again. Hiseyes wereglittering. He was tearing up from...frommirth,jesus christ. The light coming fromthe chintzy fixtures on the wall were too stark to be consideredwarm, but they fuzzed as they filtered through Richard’s swimmyvision, playing tricks on him. Jared was all soft focus: hair fluffedfrom the muggy night air,skin still pink. He was wearing apeach polo with both the buttons undone beneath his crinkled collar,the pale hollow of his throat exposed as he swallowed.
“I think,uh, I’m...gladyou did,” Richard hadslurred,the two of them close enough that he’dhadto crane his neck a bit to look at Jared’s face, “thatyou found me.” he’damended,as if he hadany idea what he’dtrying to say. Jared’s facecrumpled a little as his smile got wobbly, sentimental, as he drewthe tips of his fingers delicately to the bow of his mouth.
Richard acted on puredrunken instinct, surging forward.For a good moment, Jared had thought Richard was falling, tighteninghis grip on his shoulder asthe two of them hurtled towards awall opposite a room that definitelydid not belong to either of them. Little pebbles of the stucco finishdug into Jared’s back as he mentally apologized to whoever wassleeping inside. Richard had knocked the air out of him, andhe looked down at him, dazed. Richard was glassy-eyed, unsteady onhis feat, but moving with blindintent, his hands sliding purposelyfrom Jared’s shoulders, up the sides of his neck to cradle the backof his head. When Jared opened his mouth to askhim what was wrong, Richard slotted their mouths together, franticandsloppy.
He tasted like booze and salt, open mouthedand imprecise as he pinned Jared clumsily to the wall. Jared’sfirst instinct was to freeze, take inventory of what was happening,process, process, process, buthe found he couldn’t keep up, his hands already finding their wayto the nape of Richard’sneck, the small of his back. He scratched a hand along Richard’sscalp, fingers catching on the curls thathad started to grow out again as the months abroad dragged on. WhenRichard had cropped his hair he’d looked so much older, moreserious. Now, hewas starting to look like when Jared had first met him, greenand self-effacing, neverunburdened but perhaps not as inhibited. Richardsighed shakily into Jared’s mouth, hands dropping to tug gently athis collar.
Jared had kissed him back, reflexively,always eager to reciprocate whatever Richard offered him. It’d beeneasy, until Richard had slid a handdown the plane of his chest, fingersskimming below the hem of his shirt. Jaredhad shivered as the cold air hit hisskin, made some noise that caused Richard to falter, unsure, andsomething cracked in the spacebetween them. Jared, coming abruptly to his senses, had taken hishands off Richard like he’d touched a hot stove, done something heknew better than to do. He wedged bothpalms between their bodies, pushinggently at Richard’s shoulders.Richard looked at him, eyes still dark and unfocused. His mouth wasstill wet,lips parted as he breathedshallowly, dropping his hands to his sides as he stumbled backwards.Jared briefly graspedhis forearm to steady him, then let go. Hesmoothed down his own mussed hair anxiously.
“I—”he cleared his throat when his voice cameout raspy, a harsh sound in theearly morning hush that had longfallen over the hotel, “It’sgetting late. We should probably get you back to the room.”
Richard swayed miserably, preoccupied withhis shoes.
“Yeah. Probably.”
“It’s late.” Jaredrepeated.
“No, I...Iget it. I get it.” His lip curled a bit as he waved dismissively atJared’s deflection. He wanted itto hurt, knew the way through Jared’s heart and out the other sidewas rejection. He was embarrassed, mouth too bourbon-sweet for thekind ofbitterness he felt like spitting.He figured he was allowed to shoot a few morearrows before bed.
The room was only a few doors over, thehallway feeling much smaller now. Richard’s stomach churned, thesmall pulse of a migraine already starting behind his eyes. Perfect,his last morning in Bangkok would be spent hungover in an empty hotelroom. He hoped he’d never see Jared, or any other human being forthat matter, ever again.
There was an agonizing few seconds whereJared couldn’t get the card to work, the red light above the locktaunting them. Richard almost had a meltdown at the thought of thetwo of them having to make the trek over to guest services insuch and obviouslydisheveled state,but fifth time proved to be the charm.Richard shoved through the doorwithout bothering to see if Jared wasfollowing, collapsing ontop of the covers. He’d started tosober by the time his head hit the pillow, the anger inside himreplaced by nausea and a little flashof grief. He got so mean when hefelt too self-conscious, andtheweight of it had pressed all the fight out of him.
“Richard.”
Richard laid still,playing dead. Maybe Jared will just decide to leave him alone.
“Richard, you can’t sleep like that.”
Richard huffedand flopped on to his back, staringup at the black void of the ceiling.His eyes hadn’tadjusted to the darkness of the room, but he couldimagine Jared looming over him likea doting sleep paralysis demon, hisfingers twitching anxiously. He wasn’t trying to be evasive—theboisterous high of the alcohol was gone, leaving him heavy-limbed andexhausted. He just wanted to sleep,possibly forever.
“I know,”Jared said into the silence, “just—”Richard felt Jared’s handsgingerlyslide off one of his sneakers, thenthe other. They makea soft thunkas he set them on the floor by the side of the bed. Therewas a sharp jingle of keys as Jaredemptied his pockets, placing Richard’sthings on the bedside table and stepping over to the kitchenetteswitching on the dim bulb flickeringover the sink. Richardsquints and turns his head,listening to the sound of the water running. He can see the vagueshape of Jared place a glass of water down beside him,the softclatterof a pill droppingbeside it.
“Can you sit up?” He whispered. Richardgroaned, throwing an arm over his eyes.
“You’re dressed toowarm. It’s going to be even hottertomorrow.”
Richard sighed, pushing himself up againstthe headboard. His head throbbed inprotest, insistentas Jared’s hands curled around thehem of hishoodie, careful to avoid brushing against his stomach. Richardlifted his arms, flopping them back down once the he was free. Beforehe could scoot back down, Jared tugged at the comforter andfoldedit back. Richard sunk down, drawingthe coversover his head andcurling in on himself.
Jared wasstill hovering. Hecould feel him, sensed the shift in the air as he stood above him.Just once, Jared’s hand cardedgently through his hair, fingers barely brushing hiscurls. It was comforting, easing the throb of the ice pick slowlymaking it’s way through his brain, butthe relief quickly turned to a melancholy churn in his stomach.A line had been crossed, and things had changed. It was too big, toobroken, and Richard already had so much rubble to brush away.When he asked Jared not to come back, he wasn’t trying to rub saltinto anyone’s wounds. He justcouldn’t take anymore tenderness.
He’s sure Jared assumes he’d forgottenabout the whole thing, full blackout, but it’s fresh in his mindwhen morning slices through his skull the next day. It clings to himlike the stifling wet heat of the city. He remembers everything.
And here he is again—he’sturned his back onJared and walked so far in the opposite direction thathe’s come back around, inchingtoward the new life Jaredcobbled together while he was busy shuffling papers and neglectinghis cluttered apartment. He wants tobe an adult about this, tolet it go—toappreciate this delicate, responsible connection they’ve been ableto salvage. But of course,Richard never grew up, not really.He never learned to put his laundry away, to wash his dishes beforebed. He never learned howto accept that just because he finally decidedto figure out what he wants, doesn’tmean he gets to have it.
The lightsare purple now, sweeping along the waxy wooden floor. A slow,dreamy song with echoing vocals iscreeping it’s way out of the speakers as couples pair off and beginto slow dance. He scans the crowd for Chloe, and findsher with her arms wrapped aroundEmma’s shoulders, the two of them exchanging twin smiles.He watches them relax into a clumsywaltz as the song ambles on, Chloeresting her head against Emma’s collarbone. A pit opens behind hisribs, a rogue pang of longing that threatens to knock out everyload-bearing wall in his chest. He could leave early, say he forgotabout some extra work for the summer course. Jaredwouldn’t even question it.
A fingerpokes him in the shoulder and he nearly jumps a mile, barelyregistering the can of 7-Up Jaredoffers him. He takes it, cracking itopen and waving Jared’s hastilymouthed sorry!Away with his free hand.He needs something to keep his mouth shut, lest he experience anactual, literal mental break at this high school dance. A new song isplaying, something far older, one of those songsthey play at weddings or sweetsixteens. He can’t quite tell whatit is from the bass line alone,tapping his foot absently as he waits for the vocals to kick in.Chloe and Emma are still clinging to each other, spinning incircles. Richard watches Chloe tilther headback, laughing freely, as if sheand Emma are the only twopeople in the room. Jared’snoticed them as well, already wipingat his eyes. He watches Jared sigh wistfully with his entire body,shrugging forward with his shoulders as he folds hisarms over his chest. Richard leansin sideways to speak over the driving beat of what he’s nowrealized is “You Make My Dreams Come True”.
“So,” Richard asks cautiously, “areEmma and Chloe…?”
Jared makes a face that’s difficult todiscern, squinting his eyes and tilting his head side to side, notquite affirmative or negative.
“We haven’t discussed it,” Jaredshrugs. Emma lets Chloe go as the other girls join them, the four ofthem forming a little circle as they hop along to the crooning soundof Hall and/or Oates. Richard nods, feeling a little silly forasking. In one corner of the dance floor, a group of boys arebeginningto attempt moonwalkingto various degrees of success. Jared’s bends sideways toward himagain.
“She alreadyknows I’m bisexual, Ijust don’t think she’s ready to talk about it yet.”
Oh. Hm.
It wasn’t something they’dever...discussed,although obviously it’d crossed his mind, even before the incidentin Thailand. The smothering,fanatical devotion Jared had shown him in the hostel had always beensomething of an anomaly whencontrasted against theother male friendships in his life.But thenagain, Jared hadbeen known to Capital-Ff*ck. Therehadalways been arevolving door of sweet, attractive and—mostimportantly—femaleprofessionals, giggling and kissing Jared on the cheek almostevery morning. That,along with the laundry list of Jared’s generallaundry list of eccentricitieshelped to stifle any complicated thoughts Richardmay have had to confront on the subject. Fromthe start, Richard had figured hewas just odd, possibly insane, but overall someone he wanted around.
He found himself quickly growing somewhatattached to the idea of having someone else take care of him,maybe evengettinga little contact highoff Jared’s heroworship, his tendency to elevate every garbled word that toppled outof Richard’s mouth to the level of genius.Richard had a tendency to internalize, to swallow his failures andlet them poison him from the inside out. Jared’s Bay Area BoyWonderRichard Hendricks was a gilded work of fiction. Still,after years of feeling unremarkable, dropping out of Stanford tobecome little more than a number in Hooli HR’s database, it was anice change of pace. Jared had a wayof speaking abouthim with such sincere reverence that it wasoften all too easy for Richard tobuy in as well.
So, while not shocking, this most recentbit of Jared’s expansive and frequently tragic lore was a blow tomany carefully constructed walls Richard had built for himself. Hisadmittedly desperate security in Jared’s presumedheterosexuality—andby extension, his own—hadalways served as a comfort, insurance that there was a clearline they would never cross. What they had was different, but itwasn’t...it wasn't a Thing. It wasn’t...complicatedlike that.
He thinks of the two of them pullingthe all-niter in Peter Gregory’s garage. Thehazy when he’d stood acrossfrom Jared,triumphant and sleep-deprived, and asked him if he could just.Try Something? Hisstomach lurches.
f*ck. f*ckf*ckf*ck.
“Be right back.” Richardsays gravely, pushing himself offthe wall and speeding towardsthe exit. There’sa set of identical multi-stall restrooms just around the corner,mercifully empty. He slinks into the one labeledmens and shutsthe main door behind him. His head hitsthe cheap wood with a loud thonkand exhales as he slides down to the floor. The tile is cool beneathhis palms, and he realizes a beat too late how disgusting it is totry grounding himself in a high school bathroom. He pulls both handsaway from theground sharply, eyeingthe sinks from the low vantage point. Shakily, he wobbles to hisfeet. The music continues, dull on the other side of the door. Thesink feels a million miles away, his vision beginning to tunnel, sohe rushes to grip the counter top, turning on the faucet just to hearthe sizzling rush of water. When he looks down, his hands areshaking, and he’s already pumped a grotesque amount of soap intoone of his palms. With a noise of his disgust, he shakes off theexcess, watching itsplatter in the sink, before lathering up the rest. Itoccurs to him, like a piano to the skull, that he might be having apanic attack.
The taptaptapagainst the door is so soft Richard doesn’thear it, wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans. Slowly,he restshis forehead on the cool granite counter top of the sink, handssplayed in front of him. The bathroom door’shandle clunksloudly as Jared’s litany ofconcerned chatter bounces off the tilesandRichard groans in frustration, folding both arms over his head.No sudden moves.
Jared freezes, letting the door slambehind him. He’s eyeingRichard, warily. Richard can feel it, a prickly, cool buzz aimedsquarely at the back of his head. Jesus, he’s probably got thatNorman Bates, kicked-puppy gaze turned up to eleven. Richard wants tolock himself in one of the graffiti-ridden stalls and hide out untilthe gym lights come up, but this is all starting to feel a little toojilted prom queen for a man in his 40’s, so he pushes himself offthe edge of the sinks and tries to channel some of that maturity he’sallegedly supposed to havefound in the past decade.
“Hey.” He says, struggling toconsistently meet Jared’s eyes. One of his sleeves is drippingwet—he’d accidentally rested it in a puddle of soapy water whenhe’d been having his crisis.
“Hi.” Jared’s face doesn’tfalter from his tense look of trepidation: eyebrows pinched tighttogether, his jaw clenched, his mouth a hard, flat line. And always,the rise of his shoulders like an anxious stray dog. Fight orflight—Richard knows the feeling.
“I’m...I’m freaking out. Sorry.”Richard deflates, his body flagging in a kind of surrender. He tipshis head forward, rubbing at his temples. Jared’s next to him in ahandful of strides, handscurling around hiselbow.
“Oh no,Richard, it’s fine. How’syour...constitution?” Richard barks out a laugh at that. He’shaving an odd sense of déjà vu, one of their first outings withJared as a part of the team. Jared had swooped in at the eleventhhour, his knight in freshly starched collar, to pick him up off someVC’s carpeted monstrosity of a bathroom floor. He’d been crumpledin a blackout panic, pants around his ankles, arguably a top threerock-bottom moment that barely seemed to registeron Jared’s radar.It feels so glaringly obvious now that Richard’s face starts togrow hot at the memory. Fromday one, Jared had treated PiedPiper as a sort of calling, andRichard the epicenter of hisnew mission. He was the pearlin the oyster, Jared was never going to look at him and see anythingelse. A decade later, and hewants to look into Richard’s sallow face and know if he needs topull the trash can over.
“I’ll live.” Richardsays, going for nonchalant but sounding less than convincing, hisvoice creaking. Any carefully rehearsed measure of distance Jared hadbeen practicing between the twoof them has been rendered obsolete—he’sturned Richard’s head with a gentle hand pressed to his jaw, theother resting on his cheek as he pulls slight at the skin below hiseye, checking his pupils. For one dizzying moment, Jared is closeenough that Richard can feel the small mutters of his breath againsthis face.
“You look alright,” Jared pressesa hand to his forehead, eyes narrowed in focus, “do you feel likeyou’re going to be sick?”
“I...Ithink I f*cked everything up.”Richard says, chest tightening.
Jared pulls back, head tilted, oneeyebrow raised as he frowns.
“What?”
Richard’s mouth snaps shut. His headis pounding. His ears are still ringing a bit. Maybe he’s having astroke. Jared should check his pupils again. He swallows, and hopesthe next thing that comes out of his mouth is a beautifullyconstructed and thoroughly acceptable lie.
“I. Uh. Everything. You and me. Notthat there’s! Um.I’m not, I’m notimplyingthat—”Richard gestures with both his hands desperately. Jared’s palmis stillloosely cradling his head. “Our...our...us. I think I f*cked it.”He can feel it rising like bile in his throat: something far worseand even more pathological than his trademark nausea:word vomit—thetruth. “I’m so f*ckingsorry about Bangkok.”
Jared sucks in a sharp breath at themention of it,the thing they don’t talk about, and Richard wondersif maybe he should have given him a bit of a warning before twistingthat particular knife.
“Richard…” He’s never heardJared say his name like this before, slow and measured, rising at theend like that tense line of his shoulders. It’s half warning, halfplea. Jared throwing down theyellow card like he doesn’t have a hand caressing Richard’s face,likethe two of them haven’t been orbitingeach other formonths, futilely trying torepress thisinevitable regression, some kindof f*cked up mutually assuredfull-moontransformation. You first,he wants to say, suddenly feeling petulant. He bites it back. Time togrow up, Richard, use your f*cking words.
“No, wait, listen,” Richard iskinetic now, pressing forward like a train, “that was, that was meand my stupid. I could’ve. Ishouldhave…” He squeezes his eyesshut, head pounding. “Iwish you’d stayed. Even when I told you not to, I wish you’dstayed.And I should have said that. I should have said something soonerthan that, but I. I didn’t. I was never sure,about you, if you were.If it was—and me. Mostly me.Whatit meant.” He’s breathless,terrified. Someone’s cut the breaks andhe’s picking up speed.“Andthen I met Chloeand I realized...I realized I’d missed so muchand ithit me how badly I wish I’d—“Jared’s hand drops from hisface as Richardturns away, leaning against the sink counter, hands shaking,“f*ck...f*ck.I hate this. I didn’t want. Thiswasn’t how I wanted to—Myf*cking. Head hurts.”
His eyes are blurring, half incomingmigraine and half humiliatedtears pricking at the corner ofhis eyes. Excellent. He’salready boiling with shame, andhere comes the waterworks.He presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets with a growl,gritting his teeth.
Jaredcurls his fingers aroundRichard’s wrists, a steady weight that guides his arms to hissides. The light above them isblue, searing, andJared steps closer, blotting it out. Hecrosses his arms over his chest, but when Richard glances up at him,his face cracks open. He cycles through expressions, conflicted,before settling on something vague and fearful
“Are you...What are you saying?”
Richard grits his teeth, flexing onehand against the counter.
“I don’t think I can be yourfriend. I think—Idon’t know if we’ve ever been friends.I think we’ve always justbeen...Us. This...outlier. It’s always been this thing.”He grimaces, everything he’s saying is coming out wrong, worst casescenario. It’s suffocating. Jared’s bent over a bit, leaning inas he’d rambles,face unreadable. Richard throws his hands up, sighing withdefeat, chokingout a sob of rueful laughter,“I want the thingback, whatever itwas. I want to be in yourf*cking orbit again. I want...Ijust want you, man” Hisshoulders slump forwards as he caves in on himself, keeping his eyesto the floor as he pivots further towards the sinks. He’s feeling alittle unsteady, his heart hammering, his pulse pounding insistently,painfullyinto the side of his head. Jared drops his arms, pacing in a widecircle along the line of dark green stalls.
“Richard, you don’t—You can’tget the time back.” He’s not looking at him, hand worrying at hismouth. He sounds desperate, asharp edge to his voice.
“I know that!” Richard says,wincingas he realizes how desperate he sounds, almost a whine, his voicegrating even to his own ears.“I’m not. I’m not asking for...I’mnot sure anything else is ever going to really, uh, do it for me.”
Jared looks a little skeptical atthat, and it hurts,seeing himregard Richardso coldly.Heknows he deserves it, andifhe’s being fair, Jared’s throwing him softballs when he could bedropping anvils. The last timethey truly fought, Richard had ended up with a BB in his ass.
“It wouldn’t be like before.”Jared admonishes,“There’s other—I have other priorities now, I couldn’t—”He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He looks tired, older,under the harsh light, “What happens when it’s not enough?”
Richard grits his teeth. He’sburning—his eyes, his face, the churn in his stomach. He stutters,like an engine struggling to turn over, the words wedged in histhroat.
“It’snot like I ever...ever thoughtabout this as a life I would—Imean, I guess I’ve been thinking about it, um, recently...in theabstract...but I never really thought. It’slike, I’m looking through a window. To a house where, where—Iwant you to ask me to come in. Andstay. But I’m still outside.And I get these, these thoughts in my head like. I’ll do anythingyou want if I could just…” Hisblood is roaring in his ears as he balls his hand into a tight fist.“And Ithink, I—I feel...when I’m with you, and Chloe...Ithink it’d be worth it, whatever I had to do, if only you’dinvite me inside the house. Metaphorically.”He scrubs at his face, hiswords skittering away from him.“f*ck, I’m not making any sense, this is stupid, I should just—“He trails off, the finalstatement more of a question than anything else asan excruciating hush chills theroom. Richard focuses on the ambient noise outside the door. Herecognizes the bass line thudding down the hall, he just can’t puthis finger on it, lost in thesoup of alarm bells and warning signals flashing in his mind. Totalsystem failure, blue screen of f*cking death.He can see Jared’s jawworking as he chews at the inside of his cheek, silent. Richardwonders if he’s comingthrough at all, if maybe he’sbeen speaking total nonsense since he opened his mouth.Jared takes a few steps toward him, facecompletely blank. It’suncanny.
“Okay.” He says, dropping thesyllable flatly, steadily, voicelike a finger prick. Richard flinches before he’s fully processedwhat Jared’s even saidto him.It isn’t until he’shas fully invaded Richard’sspace, nearly boxing him in against the hand towels that the weightof it crushes Richard like anoncoming train.
“Yeah?” He asks, voice thin.Jared’s eyes soften, like he can’t hold himself back from wearinghis great big heart on his sleeve for too long. Richard’s chestsqueezes in on itself like he’s caught in a vise, and Jared skims ahand lightly through the short line of curls cresting over histemple. It’s soothing, easing a bit of the pain still poking at thespace behind his eyes, and he finds himself leaning in to the touchon instinct.
“Yeah.” Jared says, achinglysincere as he moves forward. He’sslow, cautious, like he’s giving Richard an opportunity to run.Richard thinks of the women, how he probably opened doors for themand sat patiently before making the first move. Always such a f*ckinggentleman. He quickly shovesthe thought from his mind as Jared makes contact, the dry press ofhis lips against Richard’s mouth sweet and unassuming. Richardstays still, afraid one false move will scareJared off like a deer in the woods.It’s unremarkable, no cymbals crashing or trumpets sounding, gonein an instant as Jared pulls back.Richard cracks his eyes open, considering the heavy, assuredexpression on Jared’s face, betrayed only by the darting, uneasyset of his eyes. Richard doesn’t even remember shutting his.
Jared hovers long enough that Richardworries he might have missed some cue. He’sbeen staring, mouth breathing anda little shell-shocked, although that could just be the migraineaura. He lickshis lips, bracing to saysomething that will hopefully keep the two of them on whatevertrajectory they’re currentlyfollowing,but Jared’s on him againbefore he can get a word out. It’sdifferent this time, like the knots securingwhatever Jared hadbeen using to ballast himself to the ground have slipped free. Hedrags Richard forward, both hands on his face, all-consuming. Hebreathes harshly through his nose as his hands stray to tug atRichard’s collar, anchoring him in place. It’s crushing, Richardnearly drowningin it as heclutching at Jared’s shoulder’s for balance, drawinghimselfforward. Okay. Okay, okay,okay.
Jared’s all over him, starving forit. His hands can’t stay still, raking through his hair beforereturning to grip tightly at his shirt, cradling his jaw and runninga thumb tenderly over the ridgeof his cheekbone. Jared’s often obsessive attention is somethingRichard thought he’d built a kind of tolerance for, a frog soakingcomfortably in it’s warm, steadily boiling pot, but this issomething else. It’s heady,disorienting, likethe first time he got violentlyhigh with Big Head one Halloween nightwhen they were both still inmiddle school. Actually, it’s more like the summer before hisfreshman year, a vacation at some probably long-defunct water parkRichard barely remembers, his dad tossing him in the deep end as aprank, the all-encompassingblue shock of it. Maybe it’sa bit of both. Regardless,Richard is fully engulfed, breathless and receptive as Jared’s openmouth slides against his own. No more training wheels, Jared hasbecome a new, unstoppable force careening towards him at a millionmiles an hour.
Distantly,Richard can hear the DJ peaking his mic as he shouts,indecipherable. He’s remindedof his body back on earth,shuddering as Jared keeps himpinned against the edge of the counter. He breathes shakily throughhis nose as he struggles to catch his breath between the white-hotpoints of contact. Jared’stongue coaxes a sound from his throat that almost makes him flinchwith embarrassment and hishands shake as he scratches lightly at the nape of Jared’s neck,the pads of his index finger running slow circles at the base of hisskull, coaxing him into a slower, less desperate pace.
“H-hold on, hold on,” Richardpants, his voicesandpaper against the quiet, sterile hum of the overheadlights and white walls of the restroom. WhenJared finally detaches from him, Richard’sgiddy, letting the words stagger out over a crooked line of laughter.He keeps his arms looped around Jared’s shoulders, fidgetingabsently with the short, tapered line of hair at the back of hisneck, “Sorry, it’s just—”He tilts his head apologetically towards the door,“Prom.”
He can see the spark of recognitionflicker behind Jared’s blown-out pupils as a deep flush creeps uphis face. He looks absolutelyscandalized. Richard can feelthe grin nearly splitting his face in two, mirrored by Jared as herelaxes, letting his head rest into the juncture of Richard’s neckand shoulder.
“This is ridiculous,” he says, andRichard can feel him smiling against his skin.
They smooth each other’s hair backinto place and check for any stray evidence of debauchery, Jaredfixing Richard’s crooked collar sheepishly, fingers lingering amoment longer than necessary. They both agree they should staggertheir leave, Richard waiting exactly ten minutes after Jared takeshis exit, listening to his fingers tapping against the sinks in thenow empty bathroom. His body thrums with energy, as if there is adirect current following Jared’s path back to the gymnasium. Whentime’s up, he simply follows along.
Nothing changes. They behave the sameway around each other that they had at the start of the night, andwhen the last song plays (an odd house remix of “Sweet Caroline”by Neil Young that the kids seem to enjoy far more than Richard), asweaty and happily exhausted Chloe pads over to them with her shoesin hand. She waves a final goodbye to the other girls, running overonce more to give Emma a final spirited squeeze before taking herleave. The three of them filter out into the cool night air,breathing sighs of relief and scanning the parking lot for Jared’sminivan. Chloe keeps a steadystream of conversation going as they enter the car, her voice hoarsefrom hours of singing and shrieking, recounting the highlights of thenight.
She’s explaining some low-stakesdrama involving a prom court hopeful she knows from her scienceclass, scrolling absently through her phone, when Jared reaches overand hooks his pinky around Richard’s. He meets his eyes for a briefmoment before returning to the road, andRichard’s heart strikes steady against his ribs, matching theclicking of the van’s blinker as Jared comes to a stop at a redlight. He glances sideways once more, offering Richard a soft smileand curling their fingers tighter together. The light turns green asJared gingerly slipshis hand away with somereluctance, bringing it back tothe steering wheel, and Richardsettles back into his seat, content. His eyes slip shut as he listensto Jared’s voice softly hum along to the radio, andthe vanturns on to a side road,driving the three of themforward—towardshome.
