HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T

it had been an accident.

above all else, that was what had been on a loop in his mind ever since he’d killed daisey; in particular, those first few days afterward, that had been practically all he could think about. he’d walked through campus as if in a daze, paying even less attention in his classes than he did usually ( if he even went ). slowly, he’d come to terms with it. he had to, once that fucking cop decided it’d be all sorts of fun and games to start daisey’s blog up. the very reason he’d killed daisey in the first place — the fear of his father finding of him, of his secret getting out — was laid bare before the ashmont thirty with that psycho’s very first post. it was almost poetic. karmic retribution, he felt, for what he’d done. 

over time, though, he’d started to feel… not safe, but better. his interrogation hadn’t ended with him in handcuffs, even though he’d wanted to punch the asshole from across the table, and he didn’t seem to be as strong of a person of interest as some of the other students had been. he’d been lulled into complacency, desperately clinging to the belief that everything would be alright. that maybe, for once in his life, he’d be okay. 

honey knew he should’ve learned by now. that wasn’t the kind of life he was destined for. he was reminded vividly of the days his father seemed calm; he’d always tiptoed around the house as a child, but those days he’d hardly glance up from the newspaper when honey came home from school. he’d only made the mistake of relaxing once. the scar underneath his jaw was a stark reminder of that day. 

all things considered, he was happy with his day-to-day life, more or less. that happiness depended heavily on pretending like the blog didn’t exist, but he had zar. he had kiki. his friends were banding together stronger than ever, he was in love, and he was currently sitting on the couch with nugget asleep in his lap. altogether, he was… coping, in a way. it’d taken all of thirty seconds of zar being in the kitchen for him to start complaining, and loudly. he wasn’t afraid to be needy, these days; zar was in love with him, and he seemingly hadn’t chased him off yet. 

he should’ve known it was only inevitable that the other shoe would drop.

it felt like all the air had left the room; honey, eyes wide, clung to nugget instinctively and woke him up, startling the little dog into jumping off his lap. zar was turning, zar was looking at his phone, honey had half a mind to scream no, no, please don’t look, let’s just run away, no one will ever find us —

but he couldn’t. he couldn’t bring himself to speak, to move, to do anything; this was the exact moment he’d been dreading for months, and he’d imagined the horror on zar’s face a million different ways. honey knew his guilt was plainly written across his face. it was all he could do to watch zar turn to him, knowing that this was the moment he found out the only thing honey had hid from him. he didn’t dare move as zar came back to him, eyes welling with tears as his boyfriend knelt down in front of him, his hand warm on honey’s chin. 

tell me what happened.

honey opened his mouth and immediately burst into tears. all the emotion he’d piled up inside, locking away safely in a corner of his mind labeled do not touch, came pouring out at zar’s gentle statement. it was a few minutes before he’d gathered himself enough to speak, still choking back tears as he struggled to meet zar’s eyes.

“ it was an accident, ” he croaked, his voice barely audible. “ i never meant for her to die. please, zar, you have to believe me. she— she knew who i really was, she was threatening me, and i was terrified— ” a fresh wave of tears hit him, and he struggled to talk through them. “ i was terrified, and i pushed her, because i was so fucking scared and i wanted to get her out of my face, and she— ” he couldn’t say it. “ zar, i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry, i never wanted to keep this from you. i don’t know how you can forgive me, but i… i’m so sorry. for everything. this is all my fault. ”

zar had to admit, he was shaking. there was a frightful part of himself, the part of himself that still saw enemies everywhere, that couldn’t sleep unless his back was pressed against the wall. the part of him that still fought tooth and nail to survive each day, that still told him he was the one who did this. honey was the person zar had been cursing all along, but it... it didn’t make sense. he knew, as soon as he looked at honey, that it wasn’t a lie, that daisey jr (or... daisey sr) was telling the truth. or, at least part of the truth. because honey wouldn’t have caused this without meaning to. 

zar knew, down to his bones, that honey didn’t have it in him to commit cold-blooded murder. that honey would never lie to him. as soon as honey spoke, zar’s other hand darted up to cradle honey’s face properly. he could picture it now; daisey falling, blood pooling beneath her head. that moment of shock, of utter terror. and then a fucking cop comes out. tells them exactly what to do. and then fucking tells the whole world honey’s secret anyways. and for what? for what? 

“i believe you,” zar insisted, because he did. because every fibre of his being screamed that that was the truth. that there was no way it was purposeful, like daisey sr implied. “it’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he assured, even though he knew he couldn’t promise that. he just wanted honey to stop looking like that, to stop looking so lost. 

he almost has to laugh, and when he does, he realizes he’s close to tears, too. “honey, you forgave me for doing the exact same thing.” even worse, because sure, honey had... had killed daisey. (it still felt surreal to admit, like they’d slid sideways into another reality.) but there was a difference between pushing someone and... and turning their skull to a fucking crater. and yet, honey had still found it in himself to forgive zar, to love him. and... and zar couldn’t see a world where he didn’t love honey. 

“i...” zar swallowed, running his thumb over honey’s cheekbones. “i wish you hadn’t honey, but i know you wish you hadn’t, too. but... but you didn’t mean for this to happen.” even the coldest, most suspicious parts of zar knew honey couldn’t be involved with the blog or daisey sr, because he was the first exposed. and honey was terrified of his father, zar had seen how he reacted when something even reminded him of that man. 

he tried for a smile, for him, “and you’re still the man i fell in love with. so let me love all the jagged pieces of you.” because that’s how it was between them was it? two people born into the world with little more than a fighting chance, who made terrible, bloody mistakes, who were broken and angry and deeply, deeply flawed. but that didn’t mean they didn’t try to be good people, that didn’t mean they didn’t still have things that made them worth something. that didn’t mean honey wasn’t one of the bravest people zar had ever met, one of the kindest, the strongest. 

despite everything, a younger zar had still believed in fairy tales. it’s how he’d coped, when he’d been younger. sure, he didn’t expect some fairy godmother would save him, or some knight in shining armor. no, zar’s fantasies revolved around his real parents coming to rescue him. they’d come to the door, beautiful and smiling with his little siblings and their pets. they’d pick him up and kiss him on the head, take him home and tuck him in at night. they’d tell him they loved him. it wasn’t until he was thirteen, when he realized the joneses were all the family he was going to get, that he knew no one was coming to save him. that no one would ever love him, and that’s precisely what he deserved. 

no, zar’s life had always been more horror show than fairy tale. and then honey came into it. beautiful, strong, stupid, bumbling, warm, sweet, brave honey. it had taken them eight months, but he made zar realize that sometimes miracles do happen. the perfect person can be made for you. but that didn’t make his life a fairy tale all of a sudden. 

when the notification came, zar was in the kitchen, fixing himself some tea, while honey was on the couch, whining for him to come back. his whining stopped as soon as their screens lit up, and... and zar didn’t believe it at first. but then he remembered that night, when honey had come to him. no, not at the party; the text he’d gotten at god-knows-what hour, that sent zar slipping, half-asleep, towards honey’s apartment. he’d forgotten why he couldn’t come the second he opened the door; he was in love with honey, he knew now. and surely honey didn’t feel the same. but honey’s eyes had been so haunted that night, he’d looked so frightened, that... that zar couldn’t help but give him every bit of comfort he could. sometimes honey looked like that, especially after coming down from a high. that’s all he’d thought it was, but honey? honey was coming down from the worst night of his life. zar thought about ellis foster, his own night in hell, and wondered how honey had the stomach to touch him afterwards.

then again, that night, there was nothing zar wanted more than some comfort. 

he turned to honey, jaw set, and the look on his face instantly registered; it was the truth. honey could never lie to zar, it was one of the things zar loved about him. in his head, zar could make it so anyone could be lying all the time, because no one could ever possibly like him, want to hang out with him, at least not once they knew who he really was, but honey had been right there with him. everyone else had, too, zola and kiki and sutton and everyone he loved. but honey never wavered. we’re all a little broken, baby. let me love all the jagged pieces of you. zar couldn’t believe it when he’d first heard it, why honey would even think that, forgive him without question. he understood. 

zar looked down at his phone one last time, and cast his vote. there was never a question. 

he approached honey, shaking, as if in a dream-like state. he might have left something on the stove, zar couldn’t recall. when he got to honey, he knelt to the ground, to his level, one hand on honey’s knee, the other reaching up, cradling the contour of his chin ever so gently. “honey,” he said, very careful to keep his voice even. “is that true?” he swallowed, studying his boyfriend’s, partner’s, lover’s expression. “tell me what happened.” 

noah tilted his head to look at zar through a narrowed gaze for a moment before his mouth quirked into a slight grin. he wouldn’t mind getting the shit beat out of him, actually. maybe the tang of blood between his teeth would be just thing he needed to get over his pathetic pity party. “you gonna bust on me, ros? in my vulnerable state? c’mon, if you’re gonna fight me, at least fight fair. maybe we can get you a blindfold or something.” he ignored the sarcasm practically dripping from zar’s lips with another easy grin. he wondered, idly, when the last time he actually smiled without carefully painting his devil-may-care attitude into the corners. “charmingly desperate,” noah answered with a small nod, “and i can’t have them thinking that i’m unavailable for the night.”

had he not been so completely out of his mind, noah would’ve probably flinched at his question––but he was still a little drunk from the night before, so he managed to keep his expression relatively neutral. “it’s not like i’m drunk,” noah muttered with his hands up in the air. “i’m just…left-over drunk. there’s not law against driving hungover.” well, he supposed that depended on his blood alcohol level, but he managed to make it to the library in one piece. “it’s the black one in the front,” he said quietly because he couldn’t bring himself to admit that he drove a rolls-royce. his step-father’s world still left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“kinky.” at this point, zar realized he was actually enjoying this facetious back and forth, with a guy he found puking in the library. with a guy he barely knew. it felt like he was back in high school, making friends with some kid weeks before he, inevitably, got himself expelled. like a little taste of the life he could live if he wasn’t an absolute fucking dumpster fire of a human. at least, he was at fifteen. “ah, yes,” he sighed, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. “we wouldn’t want your dozens admirers left disappointed, now would we?” 

When Oz first saw Zar, he thought he had the man figured out too. It was Zar’s scowl and attitude. How flippantly he walked around campus told Oz that this was a man who had thought with his heart first, who was angry, maybe righteously so (though Oz couldn’t see that at the time), trekking anarchist sensibilities and red paint all over his pristine campus.

What Oz hadn’t realized, or maybe what he didn’t want to realize, was that his distaste for Zar’s presence stemmed from a much deeper root. He didn’t like Zar because he didn’t like seeing someone walking around Ashmont who was as angry as he was. He didn’t like looking in that mirror. He didn’t like stepping down from his pedestal where it was safe, and all that reached him was praise and fake smiles and only the occasional pang of resentment or panic or fear leftover from a childhood that felt so far away. The human body – especially the brain – had an incredible means of healing itself after trauma. Oz wouldn’t fault his own for patching over entire years of his life. 

It had been a long fall down from his white marble perch, hadn’t it?

And in the dirt with everyone else, it was impossible to forget what he had been trying to climb away from in the first place. Not that he would ever really forget. But he could ignore feelings and confusion and grief. Filing that all away in some back recess of his mind. Oz could pretend that he was something he wasn’t. And for his entire undergraduate career, he excelled at playing as if he wasn’t slowly killing himself.

Maybe he should have felt… differently about the whole ordeal. Was it psychotic to feel at least minutely relieved? He’d built this persona of himself on an uneven foundation and now he didn’t have to worry about it all falling down on him anymore. And it wasn’t like the ominous presence hidden behind all of their little screens was wrong. A lot of people had shitty childhoods and didn’t kill a parent.

At first, it was self-defense. Self-defense that quickly spiraled to excessive. Oz didn’t even remember it happening which was the punchline wasn’t it? He remembers being chased into the study and then throwing up in the bathroom. That was it. Where was the rest of it? He was still a kid at the time, really.

Oz was seated by the open window, one of the chairs from the kitchen dragged into the open living space, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray when he heard the door open. He had expected it to be Zola, or, maybe, Vitória. Maybe Kiera. But not Zar. The sound of the man’s voice forced a quirked eyebrow from Oz, who only slightly tilted his head to look at his visitor who was now looking at his feet. He said nothing until Zar finished, exhaling before the doorknob could be turned, “My father didn’t want me either, it’s o.k.” He flicked the remainder of his cigarette butt into the ashtray, “I was so adamant that I wasn’t my Dad that I started becoming him and not me which is laughable. And tragic. I’m sure I gave you enough reason to assume – you can sit.” He motioned to the piano bench not far away, hands running over his face with a long groan of a sign. Shaking his head,

“If he had never looked at me I would have been happy.” you could see him visibly shiver before scratching the side of his face, “I think… By the time I was old enough to really understand what was happening, I knew how to play his game well enough. It was either me or my mom so.” He glanced out the window, “So I made sure it was always me.” It was amazing that Oz had come out of that environment with no real physical scars. It was all invisible (or at least nothing so concerning anyone would notice). The physical had heald beautifully, the trauma and the resulting disabilities? Not so much. Which… Almost felt too on brand. Everything was so hush-hush in Ashmont, “We both had shitty fathers. And we both were shitty to each other. I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” He glanced at Zar, then held out his hand, “Deal?”

it was almost ironic, seeing oz sitting at his window, smoking a cigarette. that’s almost exactly how zar would have dealt with his own exposing had it not been in public, had honey not run after him. smoking himself to calm and a slow death, probably with ripley’s head in his lap. he didn’t like to smoke around her, but she often found him when he was distraught, nonetheless. somehow, oz and zar were far more similar than either of them had ever thought. all it took was two murders and a psychotic killer playing mind games for them to realize it. 

still, privately, zar thought that oz was almost tailor-made to make any parent proud. intelligent, charismatic, athletic. by all accounts, he was a golden boy in school, and he was a fucking med student now. but it wasn’t a problem with oz, was it? nor a problem with zar. no, the fault lay in their fathers, in the people who chose to torment their children instead of support them, or love them. still, zar had to wonder if he was doing the same to himself, becoming his father in an attempt to spite him. that was never his attention; zar always wanted to be alive. but he thought about how he’d measured himself, his own stress to do well, to succeed. how he’d come to accept every day was a slog. he hadn’t known his father very well, but he was a pessimistic man. perhaps zar had inherited that himself. 

he seated himself on the piano bench, kinda shocked oz wanted him to stay. hell, he was surprised zar didn’t completely kick him out before he finished his little speech. he’d underestimated him yet again. he kept his arms close, elbows on his knees, as he listened to oz speak. he gave a huff of a laugh, “i was his worst mistake,” zar admitted. “he literally fucked my mom the same month he conceived my brother. he’d rather fucking ignore me than acknowledge he’d done something wrong.” as if he could ignore zar and he could go away. a living, breathing reminder that john jones v wasn’t fucking perfect. it was either me or my mom. zar thought of honey’s own family, and his heart broke for oz. “you... you shouldn’t have had to make that choice.” 

honey flushed, embarrassed at the slip up. bunny was something he’d been calling zar privately for a while now, but only in his head; it felt far too affectionate, far too silly, even though they’d been both of those things plenty of times by now. “ no, no ! ” he protested, burying his face in his hands for a moment. playboy bunny. of course zar had thought of the worst possible interpretation. “ bunny like… you’re really cute, and small, and… i don’t know. seriously, if you call me hefner, i’m breaking up with you on the spot. ” an empty threat. realistically, honey wouldn’t ever consider breaking up with zar.

spluttering as zar sent a miniature wave of water his way, honey pushed his sopping wet hair off his forehead. “ you don’t seem very sorry, ” he replied, raising an eyebrow at him. he moved a little closer to zar, his best i am upset with you face fixed firmly on his features as he did. “ and that is inexcusable. ” it couldn’t exactly be a mystery as to what he was angling for — moving closer, a playful smirk coloring his features — he wanted revenge. once he was within range, honey brought his hands swiftly to the surface of the water, sending a small wave zar’s way to hit him directly in the face. “ whoops, ” he said, imitating zar and letting out a giggle at the look on his face. “ sorry, baby. fair’s fair. ” his shit-eating grin seemed to say come and get me. 

it wasn’t long before they were engaged in a full-on war, laughter and splashing water some of the only sounds in the otherwise empty pool. it was the most carefree honey had felt in a long, long time; in this moment, he didn’t care about any of the bullshit that had been plaguing them all semester. he didn’t care about the investigation, the blog, the deaths — all he cared about was zar. 

“ hey, ” he said softly, a new idea forming in his mind. “ c’mere. ” he fixed his features into the tender expression he so often wore around zar, holding his arms out for him the same way he always did when he wanted affection. as they drew closer to each other, honey smiled, cradling zar’s face in his hands as he leaned in. his intentions weren’t so innocent, though; as soon as their lips brushed, honey pulled back, moving his hands atop zar’s head and shoving him underneath the water, letting go with a boisterous laugh and pushing himself back in an attempt to escape retaliation.

zar was thankful it was so dark; he was blushing up to the tips of his ears. stupid, how the phrase you’re really cute had zar going red. only honey would think zar, an actual killer, described by his third grade teacher as vicious, was cute. with every passing second, though, he was surprised by how much he loved it. “i won’t call you hefner, then,” zar allowed, not even aware enough to sound fake-disappointed. bunny. 

as soon as honey drifted towards him, zar was on his guard, moving backwards a tad. “honey,” he said in a warning tone. “i need you to think very hard about what you’re going to do.” honey didn’t want to start a fight with zar; he’d never let him win. ever. and especially not when honey got him right in the face. “you asshole!” zar said, voice filled with laughter. instead of going right for the counter attack, zar submerged himself underwater, peeling his eyes open against the sting of the chlorine. this wasn’t his first splash fight, and he was here to win. he darted up from behind honey, getting him with a splash from behind, but his counterattack was swift. 

zar couldn’t remember the last time he’d had innocent fun like this. there was something so incredibly easy about being with honey; even when they’d been complicated, it had felt easy. he gave zar these perfect little moments, wonderful memories; he had never considered the important of those. life was all about moving forward, minimizing suffering, protecting the people you cared about. it was a slog, day after day. and then honey came in and lit the world up for him. it wasn’t hard to understand why he’d fallen in love. 

the first time zar saw oz, he thought he had him all figured out, from his plastic smile to his ironed khaki pants. he’d seen the same greeting, once upon a time; john jones v welcomed him to his home the same way, the home he’d look for any excuse to escape for the next twelve years. he’d watched his brothers grow the same way, learning to hide that wickedness behind practiced smirks. every word rehearsed, every step filled with confidence, the air about them that they could do no wrong. it never failed to make zar’s blood boil. he saw that same mask over oz’s face, and something in zar that first night he’d met him yearned to see it crack. he’d punched oz in the face; it hadn’t been pretty. 

but, as he read that exposing with shaking hands, he realized that oz hadn’t been the perpetrator in his hell of a house. in fact, he might even be the victim. the post wasn’t clear, but zar remembered what oz had said. i’ll never know why any of them hurt me. zar knew how that anger could build and build and build, how the inability to be good enough destroyed your insides before it destroyed anyone else. 

unsurprisingly, oz wasn’t in apartment six, and he found himself drifting down the hall, to wear he and nate used to live together. zar’s friends were his family, the closest thing he had to it, and oz had lost two of them. and oz left the front door open. he paused there for a good long while, trying to figure out what he was going to do, what he was going to say. but he found the words pooling at the base of his tongue, and twisted the knob himself. as soon as he came inside, zar lifted both of his hands up in surrender, “you don’t have to say anything,” he insisted, slipping inside and shutting the door with his back to keep his hands up. he slid them into the pockets of his hoodie, honey’s hoodie, trying to keep looking at oz but finding himself unable to. his eyes found his feet instead. 

“my dad’s an asshole,” zar started. “i was never... he didn’t want me, but he ended up with me in his house, with his wife, and his real sons. i didn’t... know, he was my father until i was thirteen,” until he’d brought ripley and newt home for the night, and one of the jones boys attached newt, and zar attacked him, nearly broke his fucking arm, and mrs. jones wanted him out of the house, because i don’t want her son in my home! “he didn’t look at me for five years, got rid of me as much as he could. but, he never...” zar swallowed, risking a glance upwards, “he never hit me; he outsourced that.” to his brothers, all to happy to torment him. “and he never hurt anyone i loved.” zar didn’t know the situation at oz’s home, but he thought of honey’s father, of patterns of domestic abuse. he licked his lips, turning his head to the side, trying desperately to keep his voice steady as he admits, “and i still wanted to kill him sometimes.” 

he let out a shaking breath, letting his eyes slide shut. “basically, i just wanted to say that... that i put you on my dad’s team for so long. i always thought it was so simple, y’know? the rich versus the poor, i guess. the put-together versus the ratty, as shallow as that sounds.” he shook his head. “i’m sorry i put you in the same boat as him, and i’m- i’m sorry i passed judgement on you so fast.” zar’s eyes slid open, and he forced himself to meet oz’s gaze. “and i’m... i’m sorry you had a shittier father than me.” 

after a moment of silence, zar locked away again, wiping under his eyes to assure no stray tears had escaped. “um, that’s all,” he said, already reaching for the doorknob. “i just. wanted to say that. i’ll go now.” 

it was weird knowing he was being watched. differently, now. twenty-nine other sets of eyes following him, wondering how it could be true. how he could be a murderer. everyone knew julian bernard wasn’t tough. the minute after he graduated high school, he had crumpled into a heap of constant surrender. and killing that man… that had been something inside him he had decided to submit to, just because it was easier. jules had given up long ago, lost his last bit of strength and willpower. only recently was he beginning to regain it, to realize that maybe there was purpose to his existence.

until now.

he had slithered back into his old ways, giving in to the pressure on his shoulders and allowing himself to just leave – to skip out on all of his problems, to run away from it all for a few days. but he had soon realized that he was a coward for thinking that he could just leave when life got hard. and as the news of his disappearance permeated st. ettienne’s, everyone else could recognize him as one, too. he was expecting to get decked by either honey or zar – both were perfectly capable – for leaving without any explanation for kiki.

running into zar, like this, was startling for that very reason. even more startling was the fact that for once, in his life, zar was being nice to him. at least, he thought. “ uh, yeah. ” he chuckled uneasily, scratching the back of his neck. “ i would never leave without saying goodbye to your doggos. ” jules smiled. “ i mean – and you. you, too. ”

it made sense that jules didn’t know what to make of zar’s politeness; he typically wasn’t on the receiving end of it. and zar... he knew he shouldn’t really be, especially now, for a plethora of reasons. first of which being, “right, you came to say goodbye to the doggos,” zar’s voice was just this side of contemptuous on that word, “and to me. but not to kiki. totally. right.” zar hadn’t known until they’d beaten the shit out of a pillow together how deep kiki’s abandonment issues ran, and he knew first hand how easy those were to trigger. 

but, call it selfishness, or maybe undue compassion, but zar felt a connection to jules now, a fucked-up camaraderie. he knew what it felt like, to realize what exactly you’d done, how you could feel your humanity splintering inside of yourself. zar had had moments beforehand where he was all but convinced he wasn’t a real person; real boys didn’t get abandoned by their mothers, mistreated by the adults in their life, over and over and over again. real boys didn’t kill. he knew what it was like to look down at your bloody hands and wonder if there was a hole where your heart should be. and he didn’t know a lot about jules, but zar knew he at least tried to be a good man. 

the kiss was all the confirmation honey needed. “ of course i remembered, ” he said softly, tracing the line of zar’s scar down his cheek. “ i remember everything you tell me. and you deserve it, bunny. i know things have been stressful lately. i just wanted you to have some fun on your birthday. ” it was as if there was a filing cabinet in his head solely dedicated to one balthazar ros; whenever zar told him something, whether it be a food he enjoyed, an activity he’d liked as a kid, or even a random detail about his day, honey made a point to file it away for future use. it was how he’d known what to get him from the vegan bakery when he’d finished his finals; in the same vein, it was how he’d known that bringing him to the pool would be a perfect birthday present. all those details he collected, all the baseball cards of zar’s life, were the most valuable thing he’d ever had. 

“ i’m innocent ! i swear, ” he insisted, hands up in the universal gesture for such a sentiment. “ don’t look at me. i’ve never had any ideas in my life. ever. ” the words of a dumbass, truly. as if he’d never had an inappropriate thought when looking at zar — even now, he had to focus on pulling on his own trunks in order to distract himself. now was not the time to get horny. it was time to focus on zar’s birthday present, for god’s sake. focus, honey.

by the time they were both changed and ready to go, honey couldn’t stop smiling at zar’s giddiness. it was contagious, it seemed; it had been a while since honey had seen him look so deliriously happy, and it filled him with an incredible warmth to know that it had been all because of him. he was reminded of the easy comfort of their summer days; picnics in the grass, sneaking peeks at zar over the rims of different books in fitzgerald’s. things had been simpler back then, but he still wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. back then, he’d been stupid enough to believe it was all temporary. now, he knew better. for honey, at the very least, this was forever.  

he held out his hand to zar, waiting for him to take it before they walked toward the pool together. “ you ready ? ” he asked, though he damn well knew zar was ready. zar had been ready since he’d caught sight of the water from the window. “ let’s jump on three. ” he counted, squeezing zar’s hand in anticipation before letting out a gleeful shout as they jumped into the water together.

zar’s smile didn’t break, but he did raise an eyebrow at the nickname. “bunny?”  he asked, unable to help the amusement seeping into his tone. to zar, there was only one thing honey could be referencing. “what, like... like a playboy bunny? do you want me to call you hefner?” that last part was a joke; zar would do almost anything for honey, but he would never call him that. ever. 

“right,” zar laughed as he pulled the trunks on, adjusting one of the legs from where the fabric had folded in on itself. “never an idea ever. sounds realistic.” he took in the pool again, in the darkness, just the smell alone taking him back to when he was eight. somehow, he could remember it like yesterday; the feeling of the tiles under his feet as he walked-not-ran towards the rest of his group, already pulling his goggles over his eyes. the sounds of twenty or so grade schoolers in a pool, the din of their voices echoing throughout the room. the sensation of diving in, the water engulfing him, of suddenly being weightless. zar wanted to do that again. 

when honey offered his hand, zar took it, grinning so wide it felt like he might pull a muscle. “ready,” he insisted. born ready, he almost joked. he almost didn’t wanna wait until the count of three, but he did, and as soon as he submerged, he wondered how he could possibly forget the sound of himself hitting the water cutting out as he was completely submerged. fuck, he’d missed this, he’d missed this. he took a few moments to just... enjoy being underwater. he used to do that all the time, back when he was a kid; stay underwater for as long as he could, he used to love the feeling of it. it was like being in a completely different world from the world above, where he was safe and protected from everything that had ever hurt him. all alone. 

frankie snorted at his words, though not doing anything to keep him from walking into the garage. “asking me not to be rude is like asking astro not to pee all over the place when he gets freaked. nice thought but not fucking realistic.” that wasn’t news to either of them, though. it hadn’t been long enough since they’d hung out for zar to forget every last part of  her personality COMPLETELY. it was equally unlikely that dating honey fucking kennedy would make him any more sensitive to her more sharp edges, she was pretty sure of that, too. nev’s cousin moving in — the sugary-sweet, too-good-for-this-world one, ZOLA — well, maybe that could have done something, but she wasn’t too sure. 

“i’m your friend?” she repeated, laying a hand over her heart in mock surprise. “so nice of you to say so, i’m real honored.” there was no real malice to her words, no tangible anger. frankie rivera was more a tough as nails, spit in your eye, certainly not hurt by becoming a weekly priority to someone. really, in her eyes, someone giving enough of a shit to visit on a weekly schedule was pretty fucking good. plus… it wasn’t like she could exactly come at zar for being a bad friend when the last person who had swung by the shop was zar’s ex-girlfriend, and their little rendezvous had most definitely consisted of certain sorts of debauchery that a good friend would NOT commit with their best friend’s ex. but, like… what zar didn’t know certainly wouldn’t fucking kill him, and she was a little TOO human to be able to ignore how pretty vi looked when frankie — “whoa, hold on just a fucking second, ros,” frankie interrupted, thankful for the momentary distraction of food that jolted her from a spiral of obscene thoughts. “i didn’t tell you to LEAVE. you know the things i’d do for spicy guac, hand it over.”

“astro’s getting better,” he teased. “we just had to put him back in diapers because of the stress of having all these new people in the apartment.” they’d had one month, one glorious month, where astro had been accident-free. that seemed to be over, for the moment. “oh, please frankie,” zar insisted, charming smile plastered over his face. “the honor’s all mine.” frankie wasn’t the type of person to keep people in her life, and maybe it was zar’s habit of holding on for dear life, but for some reason, frankie had chosen to stay with him. at least, she did for now, and that was good enough; one day, like everyone else, she’d leave, and zar wouldn’t even be able to resent her for it. he understood. 

the reason why zo was part of a thousand things and still killed all of them is because she has no choice but to do so. if she was anyone else, it’d probably feel burdensome, but for zo it just felt like a variety of goals - steps that needed to be taken to complete her master plan for life. she wanted it for herself as much as her parents wanted it for her. “celebrate?” she asked, returning the hug. “i didn’t really think about celebrating…but i guess all of those options sound fun to me,” that wasn’t really much of a decision but zola’s never claimed to be decisive. “but it isn’t it sorta last minute? we don’t gotta do anything out of the ordinary if it’s too much trouble.”

zo nodded in response to that sentiment. she supposes there isn’t much more to say on that matter without instantly bringing the mood down. it was all too true; she couldn’t name a single person involved in this that was having an easy time. the stress of it all was evident in everyone’s actions, even in their happiest moments. she focused her attention on petting sampson, one of her personal favorites of the animals, as he was the only one who hadn’t gravitated towards zar yet. 

“come for the wa-,” she cut herself off and quickly covered her mouth with both her hands. she hadn’t been home very much since she moved in, and now that her schedule has calmed down relatively she was finally able to be around, so she was still getting used to the whole “you can’t say the word around the dogs” rule. “sorry,” she whispered, “i mean, for the w-a-l-k? sure,” zo responded as she got up herself. she scoffed at his teasing, crossing her arms. “i’ll have you know i got plenty of fresh air on my constant trips between here and the library.”

zar almost rolled his eyes at the if it’s not too much trouble. sure, zar had trouble accepting rewards for his own hard work, but god forbid any of his friends think they’re happiness wasn’t worth a little bit of trouble. “sure, it’s last minute, but that’s fine. it’s just food and maybe a few friends, that’s all.” he didn’t want to overwhelm zola, after all. he’d offer to take her to giovanni’s with their roommates, but he didn’t have the bank for that. maybe he should get oz in on it, or zola’s aunt. no, he couldn’t ask zola’s aunt to do that, but he could definitely take advantage of oz’s wallet. 

he chuckled at her near mistake. “no worries,” he insisted. “just know that if you say it, you’ve gotta deal with it.” especially anything nugget broke in his excitement. the last time someone said the word walk, he’d jumped so high he managed to get onto the side table and he nearly broke the lamp. with that in mind, zar called out to nugget and waited for the little guy to bounce into his arms before he made the announcement. “sweet.” 

he waved his hand in the air and shrugged his shoulders slightly, “yeah, yeah, fight club, i get it, but now that bernard is in your little club, your tough guy stock went down real quick.” truthfully, he wasn’t scared because he just felt like zar was a good guy who fucked up one time. were people really supposed to be solely weighed on the worst thing they’d ever done? he wondered, absently, why he couldn’t just tell zar that instead of being an asshole. no wonder he didn’t have any real friends. 

noah snorted and tugged his fingers through his hair, “i meant in case any hotties are watching, ros. i mean, you’re adorable ‘n all, but i swing in a different direction, and i got a reputation with the ladies to uphold.” he realized, somewhere deep down beyond his complete and utter bullshit exterior, that it was ridiculous to front to the guy he hooked up with a couple times by accident last year––but he was far too hungover to care about what zar knew about him. funny, the guy knew almost nothing about him, and somehow he was the one person entrusted with one of his most coveted secrets. “yeah. don’t tell the cops, but i really didn’t dig the roommate rule, so i’ve got a one-bed a little off campus.” 

zar couldn’t help but raise his eyes, pulling his lips into a frown in consideration. noah may have been a dumbass, but when he was right, he was right. “maybe, but it doesn’t matter if the guy that left you busted and bloody in an alleyway was tough, now does it?” again, he was well aware this was a shitty thing to say, but he was operating on little sibling rules right about now. he started it!  “right,” zar said, tone absolutely soaked in sarcasm. “you don’t swing that way, totally.” as if noah didn’t have zar’s dick in his mouth not a year ago. he had never met a closet case this dire. “wait, wait. what rep? you have a rep?” that didn’t involve being a walking disaster? color zar surprised. 

there was no use denying it. if there was anything the thirty — twenty nine — of them knew, it was that the psychotic blog run by daisey’s killer only spoke the brutal, horrifying truth, no matter how dark or twisted it may be. it had twisted vi’s stomach to learn of the blood on zar’s hands, the way he’d beaten the life from some random man’s bones; even then, she’d known that it only made them more alike in the worst of ways. she didn’t bother putting up a fight; there was no use. “ i guess it does. we should get jackets, ” she replied icily, the words tasting like acid on her tongue. admitting to it was something she’d never done, and now she understood why. it made her feel like shit. 

that was zar’s goal, she supposed. mission accomplished. 

he wasn’t done, though, and vi supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. he hadn’t come here to repeat the blog’s words to her face. he’d come here with some sort of intentions — to make her admit what she did was wrong ? to make her cry ? vi didn’t quite know, but she steeled herself for whatever it was, shrinking back as he drew closer. “ get away from me, ” she spat, but he was not to be deterred. his gaze felt like it could pierce her very soul — that is, if he even believed she still had one.

“ i didn’t look in the mirror, ” she said finally, pushing back, leaning forward into his space. “ i put down the phone, walked back into my room where you were waiting for me, and fucked you to make myself feel better, ” she hissed. she remembered that moment vividly: the relief, peppered with the brutal reality that what she’d done was permanent. that life wasn’t some game where she could press undo and try it all over again. the only reason she hadn’t immediately thrown up was because she had zar there to distract her. “ so you can think about that tonight. you fucked a murderer long before you ever became one. ”

he wasn’t done, of course, but neither was she. he’d opened the gates, and it poured out of her; there was a certainty, of sorts, that this was something they’d both shoulder. i know what you did, and you know what i did. it would stay between them. “ of course i’m not fucking happy with what i did ! but was i fucking relieved ? god, yes, ” she snapped, finally, trying valiantly to stop the tears. she glanced around fearfully, afraid someone would hear, that it’d all be for naught anyway. “ i was done with him fucking with me, ” she whispered, her breath stuttering in her chest. “ for years, for fucking years, he wouldn’t let me go. i used him, but he used me first. i was fifteen. ” she turned away, burying her face in her hands. it wasn’t right, what she’d done. but she’d do it all over again.

he almost laughed. matching jackets... god, fucking kill him. somehow vi always knew what to say to twist the knife a little bit deeper, make the hurt a little bit worse. he remembered the moment before she left, when they broke up for good, when she turned back from the doorway and told him. “you know what? i completely fucking understand why your mother abandoned you. i'd do it, too.” zar’s entire world shifted on its axis that day, another little piece of his shitty life narrative clicking into place. it was almost like that now, because he and vi... they were one and the same. a fucked up little gang. his stomach roiled in disgust. 

as soon as she leaned forward, zar thought, good. fight back, he wanted to see that vi had at least some decency left, some indignation and shame in what she’d done. because even though she was a fucked up person who seemed to delight in tormenting him, he knew he’d loved her for a reason. but that answer made it all the worse. he wondered what day it was, which time it was vi came into zar’s place, upset and intent on ignoring her own emotional state, where she’d dragged zar into a kiss and zar never complained because he was always hungry for affection, for anything. the affection had always been on her terms, and there were days where she could be painfully stingy. a day like any other, and vi had decided to take a man’s life. it was almost ironic, considering how zar had gotten to the point where he crushed a man’s skull under his fists. 

“you wanna know why i started fighting?” he hissed, “it was because of you. i had the info for the place and didn’t touch it until we broke up because i was convinced i was some kind of monster, that i was unlovable.” as much as a part of zar wanted to take responsibility for what he’d done, he couldn’t help but look at vi and think you did this to me. “if it weren’t- weren’t for you and your fucking mind games, your fucking need for attention at any costs, your- your inability to take responsibility for anything you’d fucking done, a man wouldn’t be dead.” and zar’s mother, and his father and step-mother and his brothers and his own inability to deal with his trauma in a healthy way. those were all to blame, too, but he was stabbing to wound here. “no, no two men. because you couldn’t handle the thought of paying for what you’ve done. because vitória da silva is too special to face consequences.” 

noah would rinse his mouth out, but that felt a little too much like admitting he actually threw up in a library. on a monday. wouldn’t his mother be so proud? he winced, ever-so slightly, as he thought about his mother. he had told himself, when he was kid, that he would never touch anything that could make him look like her when she coming down from her high. he never knew a live body could look so dead, now that’s all he could think about. 

he decided to just wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and wash his hands. compromise. “yeah, i hear that about most felons.” noah added a grin as an afterthought. he really didn’t mean to be an asshole––and it was nice of zar to drag him to the bathroom, he supposed––but he was tired and in need of sugar before his head split open. “thanks, but there’s nothing less sexy than being carried home by a stronger dude than me.” he fumbled for a moment before he finally got his hand on the door handle. pausing, noah let out a little sigh and threw his keys at him before he could change his mind, “alright, fine, but if you wreck my baby, i will decapitate you with a plastic knife.”   

zar cocked his head at that little comment, narrowed his eyes. “you do know what felony i committed, right?” he asked; to be fair, being called a felon hit a sore spot. he had an excuse to be a little mean. he pulled a frown, pointing to the door of the bathroom and the library beyond. “were you-, i mean, were you out there? do you have amnesia? because i’m pretty sure puking in a potted plant is the far less sexy. this is a completely unsexy situation.” as if zar would ever consider fucking noah when he had honey.