IT'S A FOCUS

★— ATTN: @bottlebymybed

they knew they could apologize until they were blue in the face, but what was the point if the words never carried any weight? that was the problem. they knew it was the problem. and maybe it felt worse this time because something about the way she spoke felt final. there was an edge to it that made anxiety curl beneath his ribs, something sharp and terrible that he couldn't quite name. “baby,” he said again, quieter this time. “i – i'm sorry. i'm not trying to make you feel like a villain.” his gaze dropped to the floor, unable to hold hers. “i'm really not.” god. maybe he really should go to therapy. they held their hands out, reaching for hers. “blair... you mean every fuckin' thing to me. and i hate that i keep hurting you.” their voice caught slightly, frustration directed entirely at themself. “i'm not being nice to you. i'm not. and every time i tell myself i'm gonna do better, i end up standing here apologizing again.” they shook their head. “i'm sorry.” a beat. "i don't know how to fix what's wrong with me."

“c’mon, baby, don’t sound so DESPERATE.” chase grinned anyway, all cocky and smug as he leaned back against the barstool. “y’know how many guys on this team would've folded under that pressure? game on the line, everybody losin’ their minds, coach yellin’ himself into cardiac arrest…” he tapped his chest once with a laugh. “but me? BUILT different.” honestly, he mostly just liked the way charles was lookin’ at him. that was probably HALF the reason he kept talking.

“desperate?” he laughed, leaning closer and closing the space between them again. “baby, you wish i was desperate.” the grin tugging at his mouth was all confidence. “but keep talking. i like fulfilling fantasies.” a beat passed as his gaze lingered, unhurried and entirely too amused. “n' i can be whoever you want me to be.” their grin widened slightly, and one eyebrow arched. “yeah? built different?” he laughed softly. “i can fuckin' SEE that.”

heat rushed up athena’s neck the second his fingers caught beneath her jaw, INSTINCT making her want to laugh it off or duck away again, but she didn’t. she just looked back at them; green eyes a little too HONEST against pale skin already giving her away. there was still the faint ghost of a wedding ring tan line against her hand if somebody looked hard enough, evidence of years spent trying to force herself into the kind of life everybody back home expected from her. “y’know, you make that sound REAL simple,” she murmured, mouth twitching at one corner. “people back home treat divorce like you died wrong.” his teasing earned a quieter laugh after that, and she nudged his shin beneath the table. “and i’ll have you know i am VERY intimidating, actually.” but the softness in their voice caught her off guard a little. her gaze dropped to her drink for a second before lifting back to theirs. “long enough,” she admitted. “think i got so used to somebody TOLERATING me that i forgot what it felt like to have somebody actually enjoy me.”

charles' expression softened immediately. “athena.” they shook their head, thumb brushing lightly against her jaw before finally pulling their hand away. “baby, that's, like, the saddest thing you've said to me all night.” the joke was gentle, but there was something genuinely pained in the way they looked at her. “and for the record? that's not how anybody should feel in a relationship.” he leaned back slightly in his chair, brows pinching together. “you shouldn't have to earn being enjoyed. that's the bare minimum. if somebody chooses to spend their life with you, they should actually fuckin’ like spending time with you.” a beat. “crazy concept, i know.” their nose wrinkled before they pointed at her with the hand still wrapped around their drink. “also, i need you to know that tolerating you sounds impossible. you're too chatty. too funny. too easy to bully.” another beat. “affectionately.” charles smiled, smaller this time. “seriously, athena. i know i'm gorgeous and wise and all-knowing, but i promise i'm not seeing you ‘cause it’s charity.” they nudged her shin back beneath the table. “i like you. people like you. you're easy to like. and you’re hot.” his gaze dropped briefly toward her hand before lifting back to her face. “and your hometown can get over it. if getting divorced means you get a shot at being happy instead of spending the next forty years miserable, then i think that's a pretty fuckin’ good trade.”

it's almost like it's instinct, leaning into charles' touch. his eyes close for a moment as he lets out a sigh. "not much, if m'being honest." and he hadn't been, other than stressing out about tate and his relationship with his mother. the joys of offseason. "just remembering what life is like without hockey for a little, i guess."

he grinned like the cat that caught the canary when chase leaned into the touch. charles would never admit it – not out loud, and DEFINITELY not to himself – but he genuinely liked him. on some level, they… knew it. charles had never given a single fuck about hockey before chase. now they found themselves watching games, learning players, and taking every opportunity they could to stare at him without being too obvious about it.  and, fuck, chase made it difficult. he was sweet. charming. playful in a way that somehow slipped right past charles's defenses. it pissed him off that his heart still did a stupid little flip every time those ridiculous emojis popped up on his screen. they were awful. he loved them. “not much?” they repeated, immediately pouting. “well, we gotta fix that.” their thumb brushed lightly against him before they tilted their head. “you wanna go on a trip with me?” a beat. “i'll pay for it.”

his gaze held steady, daring charles to meet it and speak. yeah, he’d stay — he’d even fetch water in a minute — but first he wanted the pleasure of hearing charles admit, in that wrecked voice, EXACTLY how he felt. crumbs of vulnerability tasted sweeter when they came with a side of bragging rights.

they blinked up at him, eyes narrowing for half a second before that familiar grin slid right back into place, crooked and obnoxious. “god, you know when you talk, you sound like a fuckin’ geek, right?” charles muttered. “status update? what are you, fuckin’ twitter?” there wasn’t any real bite to it. not anymore. niko shifted beside him, fingers tapping lightly against the back of charles’s hand, and heat immediately crawled up his neck all over again. embarrassing. worse because niko kept checking on him like it was natural, like charles was something worth being asked about. it was easier to keep grinning than unpack how much he liked that. easier than thinking about the weight of niko’s leg hooked over his. then niko leaned down and nipped at his shoulder. charles huffed out a laugh through his nose. “i don’t FAKE orgasms. that happen often with you?” cocky words – safer that way!! not that they looked particularly convincing sprawled half-melted into the mattress, hair sticking damply to their forehead while their pulse still hammered hard enough to feel in their throat. his gaze drifted again, slow and lingering over niko’s chest like he couldn’t help himself. like he was trying to memorize every line of him while pretending he wasn't. “so,” he mumbled after a second, his free hand brushing absentmindedly against the ink spread across niko’s skin. “pretty sure the whole fuckin’ neighborhood knows your name now.”

@bottlebymybed

THE PARTY smelled like expensive perfume and somebody else’s money; all polished chrome, white lighting, and painfully curated minimalism that made jude want to light a cigarette indoors out of spite alone. he lounged against the bar with one elbow hooked over the counter, silver rings clinking against his glass while his gaze dragged lazily across the room full of influencers, models, and creative directors dressed like they were terrified of wrinkles. “swear to god, if i see ONE MORE beige fucking trench coat, i’m starting a class action lawsuit,” they muttered to the person beside them, voice low enough to avoid attention but sharp with amusement. the silver chain at his throat caught the light when he tipped his head back for another sip. “these people talk about ‘pushing boundaries’ then send girls down the runway lookin’ like sad little oatmeal packets.” a beat. their mouth twitched upward. “and they keep asking why wavelengths keeps outselling them with fishnets and torn mesh.”

if there was one thing charles HATED, it was networking. pointless. hollow. a room full of people pretending they weren’t desperately trying to sell themselves to each other. and for an event centered around fashion, the whole place somehow managed to look aggressively beige. sad beige mom bullshit from wall to wall. so far, he’d only bothered talking to a handful of people – mostly because the sneer sitting on his face tended to send everyone else scattering before they got too close. charles loved talking. loved charming people when he felt like it. he just hated networking. at the comment, they turned their head slowly, eyes dragging up and down the other person like they were personally assessing the damage. then they snickered. “yeah, you’d think designers would at least fuckin’ TRY a little. it’s 2026. why’s everybody terrified of color?” a beat passed before his eyes narrowed, disgust curling at the edges of his grin. “you can tell these people don’t actually fuckin’ like women. or people in general, honestly, ‘cause every outfit they send down the runway looks like absolute shit.”

niko barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. “yeah? that’s ‘cause you’re NOT the one gettin’ bullied.” but there was that smug edge in his voice again, pleased in a way he’d never admit out loud. his eyes flickered toward charles for a second too long before he scoffed softly. “and your doctor’s DEFINITELY got a point, by the way. you look one bad decision away from waking up in a ditch somewhere.” a beat. “good to know you ENJOY my personality disorder, though.”

“i’m pretty sure the first time we met, EVERY SINGLE THING you said to me counted as bullying.” not that charles had been innocent, either. they’d thrown it right back at him, and honestly, they’d been hooked on the push and pull of it ever since. their brows pulled together in exaggerated offense, head shaking slowly. “only one bad decision? damn. thought you had more faith in me than that, babe. figured i was at least, like, TWO terrible choices deep.” then, because they couldn’t help themself, they let their voice dip lower, grin turning sharp around the edges. “i like a whole lot more about you than just your personality disorder.”