𝕔𝕒𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕖 / 𝓫𝓾𝔃𝔃

his eyes remained fixated on the other, fingers tapping on his knee like an impatient child. as much as he didn't mind being taken care of, he usually preferred the part where they curled up on the couch and watched some bad tv or movie.''i am extremely stupid, well besides maybe street smarts,'' a laugh left his lips, which hurt just a bit. that wasn't a good sign, but he's had worse, it's fine. he carefully let the other do his work, whimpering only slightly when his hands drew away from him. he knew there was no logical reason for him to keep touching him like that, most of his injuries would just heal with some cleaning and time.''think he got a hit on my chest but besides that, i'm okay.'' gently lifts up his shirt, holding it with his teeth.

franco is probably more than pathetic — if there even is something like that at all — because in his mind, he starts to already counting down the days until he turns forty-five. it will still take some time, that is the saddest thing about it, but if aria does not mind joking about them getting together like this, maybe one day... franco does not finish the thought, or he will start hoping again. " oh yeah, you need to start fighting for me a little bit. i am hot stuff on the market, okay? " franco jokes, patting aria's hand that settles on his hand before he just rests his own on top of it, just holding it like that. " mhm, i think i do have. you were the one who bought it, remember? 'why don't you have more ice cream, franco? why do i always need to bring my own?' well, this is sour candy household, okay? " franco chuckles, trying to imitate aria's voice but he makes it too pitchy on purpose. " but i don't wanna move, " he complains, holding onto aria even tighter, pressing his nose into his hair and hiding his face like that.

he wipes away the last of the blood on franco's face gently, his fingers running along the length of his nose confirming what his eyes have already determined. " it's not broken, so you're saved from the pain of me having to reset it. " he drops the now bloodstained, wet napkins on the bench — he'll pick them up later. a brief dig through his bag yields a half-empty tube of antiseptic cream, that he dabs carefully onto each gash of broken skin that adorns franco's face. his touch is gentle, even as the cream no-doubt stings, something more behind the motions. distantly, he's aware that his phone is buzzing in his pocket with incoming texts — no need to fish it out to know who it is. aria resolutely remains focused on his task, finding it far easier to look at franco's face as beaten as it was than the texts from his boyfriend. he hopes that franco won't notice ; knows better than to actually believe it. " maybe we should avoid bars for a bit after this, huh ?? " he says instead, a clear deflection as his thumb carefully brushes over the split in his lip.

wyatt followed him into the bathroom, like the obedient puppy he was to the other man,''you're acting like i get into fights about you weekly or something, it's been.. like six months!'' he knew he wasn't helping the situation, but he couldn't bring himself to care. he'd do anything for aria, he already had and would again. brows furrow at his words,''then i couldn't .... but i haven't, as stupid as i am, i'm pretty sure i know by now when i've broken something.'' he tilts his head, a slight scoff leaves his mouth. he can guess exactly where he was going with that one, having been trying to knock that out of his head for years. he sits slowly, looking up at him.''what's the verdict, doc?''

six months was definitely generous. it was definitely closer to three — not that aria was counting or anything. he sighs as he runs the water in the bathroom sink until it's warm, soaking and wringing out a washcloth with precise motions. " i don't think you're stupid. " he steps before wyatt, one hand cupping his chin, tilting his face upward as he gently wipes away the dried blood and grime. objectively, it's not that serious. he's seen far worse at the clinic he volunteers at, in his rotations for school, hell even the scrums that shake out of various hockey games. wyatt could be vicious when he was angry — aria doesn't doubt the other guy came away worse than the minor cuts and bruising he sees now. he brushes a thumb tenderly over the angry red flesh beneath wyatt's eyes. there will be no hiding the bruise it'll be come morning. " you'll live — " he says, hands drawing down, washcloth exchanged for antiseptic. " did he hit you anywhere else ?? — and don't even try hiding it from me. "

franco thinks that maybe this is it. that maybe aria has seen through his attempt at waving off his little admission, that maybe he has seen it for what it is. that maybe franco can finally let go and shower aria with all the love that he has stored for him in his heart. he sits down next to him, and then the resigned and sad tone finally hits his ears, making him realize that aria did not, in fact, get it. he swallows up his own disappointment, and a little smile appears on his face. "it's alright... maybe you are just looking in all the wrong places," franco says quietly, wrapping his arm around his best friend's shoulders and pulling him closer. "maybe the right person is somewhere, where you least expect it," that is the last thing that he allows himself to say. "and in the worst case... you still have the little old me. and if we don't have anyone by like... forty-five, then we will just get married or something," he tries to keep it a little bit lighthearted. "but i know you won't. you are literally the best person in the entire world."

it's easy to sink into franco's embrace, warm and strong as it is. aria's always liked how franco smells, how he felt when they hugged or fell asleep on the couch together. it was natural. he thought he felt that way with tim too, or any number of his exes that turned out to be no good — maybe he could still feel that way with tim, find his way back to those early days in their relationships. but right now it's hard to get his thoughts to train on his boyfriend, his mind quick to latch onto franco and his familiar feeling of safety he always felt around him. maybe that's why he's so quick to blurt out his first thought, " it wouldn't be the worst case. " aria turns his head just enough to meet franco's eyes, a small smile managing to make it to his lips. " but i'll keep that in mind for when i'm forty-five — long as you don't find anyone either, huh ?? " he shifts back into position, head settled into the crook of franco's shoulder and neck, his arm shifting until it's hooked around his best friend's waist. franco deserves it, more than anything, but still, the thought of him with someone else nudges at something disquieting inside him that makes no sense. " do you have ice cream ?? i could really use some. "

having both aria by his side and the ''villain'' struck down meant that he was content. everything would be so easy sailing from there, a lie he tells himself consistently to not think about the future. whatever came from tonight would be dealt with after good food and a nice long nap in aria's bed. there's an audible whine at the touch, wanting him to not stop,''i've had worse, you know that-'' a quick head shake, focusing back onto the walk. usually he could focus on merely being with the other, but nights like this his brain loved wandering. attention shifts back to him at the words, stopping at their apartment door.''i mean i could tell them i lost a fight with some shark or something,'' -- he knows the joke won't pass as a plan after it leaves his lips, key shifting in the lock to open it.''most people at practice know how stupid i can be, i'll just tell the trainers someone was being a dick about you and... no idea about the media.''

wyatt doesn't look any better in the lights at their front door, aria's eyes already raking over the damage done to his friend's face and forming a plan of action once they're inside. his thoughts do halt at wyatt's flimsy planned explanation, though, his brain caught on someone was being a dick about you as he follows wyatt into the quiet of their apartment. " you really can't keep doing this, " he insists, kicking off his shoes and making a beeline for their bathroom where he keeps a far too well stocked assortment of medical supplies — trusting that wyatt will simply follow him. " you could get yourself seriously hurt — what if — what if you broke something ?? then couldn't play ?? " granted, he doesn't think wyatt has, but his point still stands. " i'm — " his sentence breaks off in an abrupt huff, the rest of the sentiment sealed behind his lips. i'm not worth that. aria catches himself before it comes to light ; he knows better than to say that too. he lets out a long sigh, head tilting towards the toilet with the cover down. " just — just sit and let me see how bad it is. "

at this point, the two of them — or more like franco is, but aria usually shows solidarity — are banned from plenty of places. franco still remembers that one time during university when franco jumped that stupid hockey player after a match because he heard him making mean comments during a game. of course, later he lied that it was because he didn't like how he played towards the team. team, not aria. because he hoped that this would save it. but he supposes that it did because aria is still not any wiser about the feelings that franco holds for him. and therefore, he is not exactly surprised that the bartender is already on the move to get them kicked out if they would not leave on their own. " oh, " it's not like franco forgot about the promise, but having it thrown into his face like that, it makes him feel bad for ruining the night like this. " i'm sorry, aria. but... it's not like every single day you get to sit at this-... very cute bench?" he says as he sits down on it, patting the wood with his hand. but of course he winces, because ti does still hurt from where he punched the guy. " we can still have fun! i bet this is nothing, you don't need to even look it over, " he tries to get himself out of it, waving his hand. but to be fair, the guy managed to get a good hit on franco himself, and he has not looked in the mirror to see how his face looks right now. probably not that good, but maybe that would finally stop assholes from noticing aria and ruining their night.

franco does not really know how else he should show it to his best friend, that there is no use in arguing and defending that other man, because honestly, he does not deserve this energy after all the shit that he put aria through. but it has always been like this — somehow aria has a penchant for attracting the most horrible guys and girls in the entire universe, and then giving them what feels like a million chances. " i just wish that you'd see yourself the way that i see you, " franco sighs, the fight almost completely leaving him when he stands and faces the sad image that aria paints. " you really deserve to be treated better than this. and all the time, not just once in a blue moon. it makes me so mad, but it is not your fault, and i don't want to fight with you, " franco takes a step forward, reaching out to put his hand on top of aria's shoulder, just squeezing. " but i really mean it. there are so many people who could treat you like you deserve. i could treat you better, " franco lets it slip, his eyes widening when he realizes. " i mean... figure of speech, " he waves with his other hand as if trying to wave the whole thing off.

aria slumps even further back on the couch, eyes down-turned because it's easier than meeting the resigned look on franco's face. maybe, he's just exchanged one conflict for another, but the difference is he's never had to question if franco's ever actually cared for him. they go too far back, have been through too much together for him to ever question his best friend's unwavering loyalty. sometimes, he thinks that franco thinks him a far better person than he actually is — though it's never put a pressure on his shoulders to live up to it. it's instinctive, the way he leans a little into the press of franco's hand, the desperate need that rises up inside him sudden but unsurprising after the harsh environment he left before coming right to his best friend's apartment. his fingers slip around franco's wrist where that hand rests on his shoulder. i could treat you better. the words slip through him, and the only think he can think is that they're probably true. aria knows they're true. " i know, " and he sounds just as resigned, the anger leaving as quickly as it came on and leaving just a sad echo in its wake. aria tugs franco to sit on the couch beside him, the way he shifts closer to rest his head on his friend's shoulder as natural as breathing. " i mean — you do. " he's no longer making sense. aria breathes out, turning his cheek franco's warmth, voice small. " i just can't find good people, i guess. "

he obeys, the storm finally seeming to have settled beneath the surface. the sheer want to keep aria's hands on his face or just on him forms a bit in his stomach. he's practically cooing, the pain not even phasing him in the slightest. hand goes to softly bury into his hair to keep him close, even if the other moves.''i'm not protecting your honor, people just.. can't say shit like that about my best friend.'' tone is as neutral as he can keep it, half lopsided grin forming on his features,''you're lucky i'm too ''injured'' to argue with you tonight,'' hand in his hair moves to his shoulder, starting the walk back to their apartment.

" but that's — . . . nevermind. " he sighs, but it's not meant to be an antagonizing sound. aria knows better than to try to pick apart wyatt's logic. it's just not anything he hasn't heard before : in the after post the accident, from his own exes that he still loved. despite all that, there's a familiar burst of warmth that accompanies wyatt's usual protective antics — a reminder that not everyone left him behind, that someone still cared for him after his talents were taken from him. " you are injured — " one hand raising back to wyatt's chin, fingertips threatening to tilt his face this way and that as critical eyes analyze the damage done. he acquiesces enough to start the walk back to their apartment — luckily, they hadn't gotten very far. in lieu of being able to actually do anything yet, his fretting manifests in his words inside. " — what are you going to tell everyone at practice tomorrow ?? your trainers are going to kill you, and media is going to have a hay day with this. "

the glance kolby gives jesse lingers, just enough for his eyes to soften a little, attempting to convey how easily he can see through the feigned positivity. he's no stranger to it himself, and he also likes to think he knows his best friend well enough to immediately see through whatever front is being shown. but he knows when to back off, so he does, reluctantly staring back ahead with brows furrowed. kolby thinks back on the past month and doesn't come up with anything positive. the apartment without jesse was cold and quiet— lonely wasn't typically a word kolby resonated with given how often the two spent together, but not even meeting up with some of their other friends, nor streaming more often as a distraction, could take his mind off of the emptiness that came with jesse's absence. " it was…fine. " he doesn't know how else to say it— that he's been nothing short of miserable. not without bringing the already dampened mood down even further. he tries to crack a smile even though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. " the peace and quiet was nice for a day or two. then i kinda started to miss having someone to bug all of the time— " kolby admits, slowing the car down at a red light as his voice takes on a quieter note, " so i'm happy you're home. "

the air feels heavy with the weight of what they both refuse to say. jesse knows his own facade is flimsy at best — even if it weren't kolby in the driver's seat next to him, he thinks anyone could see right through him now ( — or maybe, it's because it's kolby that he has so much trouble summoning up that usually easy cheery facade ). " mmm — yeah, " he says noncommittally, feet stretching out before him into the footwell, body sliding just a fraction more down in the seat. " i am really hard to replace. " almost stubbornly he hangs onto that carefree attitude, a little too forced and exaggerated. no doubt kolby can see right through it, but jesse doesn't like the alternative any better. he still feels scraped raw, exposed without his consent after everything that happened. blue eyes stare up resolutely at the red light, even as he feels the weight of kolby's gaze bearing down on him. the instincts battle within him : the urge to be honest with kolby, the reflex to hide any hurts beneath an infallible exterior. he allows himself to reach across the center console, hand pressing over kolby's knee in a familiar weight, voice softer — not so cheery, but closer to genuine. " it's good to be back, though. " he missed him — that is an easy enough fact to recognize, even without the long string of texts and photos still sitting in stark evidence on his phone.

red, red, red is all he keeps seeing. he's trying to calm, search for his calm in the storm as much as he can. almost nuzzling into his hands, not even processing the injuries he knows he has. he's just focusing on him, like he's some type of beacon. ''o.. okay..'' listening to his words, briefly pausing at the comment,''sure i can't punch them?'' comment rolls out, mostly as a joke.

" wyatt — look at me. " he says his name like an anchor, hands steady in their hold against wyatt's face, feeling the other turn into his touch. that's good — even if he's not listening he knows he's there. his hands slip further down, fingertips settling at the hollow of his neck, unwilling or unwanting to pull away entirely just yet. a twitch of a smile quirks at his lips at the comment, his laugh little more than a small huff of air. " hey — how many times do i have to tell you that you don't need to protect my honor ?? " distantly, he's aware the commotion is starting to draw attention — all aria wants to do is to get wyatt away before someone inevitably recognizes him and tend to the wounds he can already see in the streetlamp light. " how about we go home and order in, huh ?? "

would   consider   himself   to   be   a   chill   guy   —   someone   who   lets   things   slide.   someone   who   normally   wouldn't   let   himself   get   mad   or   dare   he   say   jealous   at   a   previous   hook   up   dating   someone   else.   but   it's   not   like   owen   is   like   anyone   else   he   knows.   they've   been   best   friends   since   for   as   long   as   he   remembers   and   the   idea   of   someone   touching   him   ...   let   alone   touching   them   like   that.   yeah,   not   happening.   “   look   man,   ”    hands   slide   through   golden   locks   before   finding   comfort   in   crossing   over   his   chest.   “   it   has   nothing   to   do   with   you   canceling.   you   know   you   deserve   better   than   that.   guys   a   douche,  ”   and   i'd   be   better   for   you,   he   wants   to   say   but   holds   it   tight   in   his   throat.   only   so   many   chances   to   make   his   point   clear   and   have   owen   trust   him.   “   and   that's   sayin'   something   coming   from   me.   ”

owen pretends he doesn't think about it : how they felt together, the weight of palmer's body over his, the way they simply fit in a way he only thought he felt with his current boyfriend. that had just been fun, though — at least, that's what they'd always said. " he's not — " the words sound a little petulant even to owen's ears, even as the string of their last interaction still burns within him — even if the unread messages burn a hole in his pocket. even if bruises still show on his skin beneath his shirt. it's probably a good thing that palmer can't see them. but it wasn't all bad, right ?? they had their good moments — even if those seemed fleeting most days. owen frowns at his own hands, easier than trying to meet the intensity in palmer's gaze. " it's just — he's having a stressful time at work, y'know ?? i can't blame him for that. " his foot stretches out to tap against palmer's, lips tugging up in a half smile — soft in the way it always is for palmer. " — and you're not a douche. i would know. "

it feels as if they were fighting two different fights right about now, and neither one of them is listening to what the other means. franco gets it, or well, he really tries to, because as someone outside of that relationship, he can see how much it kills aria. how tired it makes him. how he is slowly losing himself. "it's not even giving up! it's about protecting yourself! why doesn't he try, then? he tries for maybe a week, and then it goes back to the same old thing," franco scoffs, more than palpable how much he dislikes that man. still, this is not about him, and so his voice softens just the slightest bit. "i want you to be happy, aria. are you happy?" his voice softens because at the end of the day, this is his best friend. this is someone who franco loves more than anything in the whole wide world, and he doesn't want to argue. "so many people care about you, so many people love you. why does it need to be the biggest asshole in the whole world who you try so hard for, when there are so many people who could treat you better?"

it's easy to roll his eyes and scoff at franco's comments — he's never liked his boyfriend, even from the very start there was something that his best friend didn't like that aria never understood. deep down, maybe aria knows that his best friend has a point, especially with everything he knows currently, but he can't concede now, can't afford to let him get a handhold in the cracks lest he completely crumbles apart. he slumps back into the plush of franco's couch, eyes carefully avoiding his gaze. happiness has felt fleeting as of late — great crests of elated highs and vast valleys of lows. right now, it feels more like a valley, but that seems like an unfair assessment. " you can't ask me that now, " he insists, though his voice has lost some of its edge, not so angry in the face of his friend's softened voice. fingers pick at the edge of his sleeve. " no one's happy when it gets tough — but i can be happy with him. i have been happy with him. " probably. maybe. sorta. it was easy to see the less than savory aspects now in the safety of franco's apartment ; it was different when he was actually standing before him. " he treats me fine, " aria continues on stubbornly, brown eyes rising to meet franco's, lips set in a resolute frown. " we're just going through a rough patch. it's not — it's not normally like this. he doesn't mean it. "