Lan's Random Musings

🖤

Jake and Bradley met one early morning on the beach after both of them couldn't sleep. They share a look, that look—the haunted, faraway stare born from years in the sandbox (or other places) seeing the worst horrors of the world.

At first they're cordial. A friendly sort of jerk of the chin in greeting, like ships passing.

Until one day Bradley is too deep is his memories, nightmares clawing at the walls of his mind and making them feel too real, that he doesn't notice Jake is there. Jake notices that Bradley looks stricken, dark circles under his eyes and hands trembling in his lap, staring out at the water, not like a surfer analyzing the waves but like he wants to just...wander into the depths and not come up for air.

So Jake, in his stubborn, protector glory, saddles up right next to Bradley and states, "we should surf together."

Just once. Just to try it out.

Bradley stares but nods, silent as a ghost.

They paddle out a good ways, and then just—sit there. Jake knows talking always feels like a double edged sword, so he doesn't bother asking Bradley anything. Just calmly sits beside him as they rock gently on their boards, watching the sun rise over the horizon, painting the water a beautiful array of oranges and yellows until it fades into an almost iridescent blue.

Bradley doesn't say a word until they make it back to the shore, soaked and chilled to the bone, but shoulders noticeably less tense. "..Thanks."

Jake waves him off. "Same time tomorrow?" Like it's that simple.

And they just—keep doing that. Meeting up in the early morning, before the sun is up, and paddle out a good twenty yards out and just sit there and watch the sunrise. Eventually they do start talking, but it takes awhile. Mostly simple, generic topics at the beginning, throwaway comments about the weather or recent sports scores, or even about what they ate the day before.

It takes much longer to broad the topics of their tours, and even it's choppy, fractured by anger and anguish and held tongues.

One morning they end up getting breakfast nearby, and Bradley tangles his feet with Jake's under the table like it's second nature. Like it's perfectly normal, an earned intimacy over countless mornings spent learning how the other works and operates.

And Jake?

He curls his foot a little tighter around Bradley's ankle and smiles into his coffee.

Two of them are incomplete (which I don't usually read unless I know the author, but I have now read them both), and the other one I wrote because I took the "write the fic you want to see in the world" approach and this fic was the first piece of writing I started after not writing for... two years? It felt very rusty. I do not enjoy re-reading it. 🫣

Now I have been thinking about writing another bodyswap fic with a Jake and Bradley who DO NOT have any sexual attraction to each other, they are not exes, but they were good friends. Imagine the angst and pain of their friendship lying in pieces and having to get back to a place where they can even be in the same room without shooting barbs at each other.

Jake finding out all this history about Bradley and feeling like he never knew Bradley at all? Bradley wishing he could just talk to Jake without also wanting to punch him? (Very difficult to punch him in the face when you're in his body right???)

I'm just going to sit here and continue to write my WIPs and hope for more Hangster bodyswap fic to be written. If they aren't I will write another one. Who am I kidding, I'll probably write another one anyway.

Thank you so much for coming back and updating us! And what an update it is, too. You started a whole chain of positivity with your comment. That's so amazing. I hope you're feeling proud 😁

Bradley swallows, gaze intent on the headstone ten yards away. His heart is rabbit quick in his chest, thumping rhythmically against his sternum like a war drum. If Jake wasn’t holding his hand he’s pretty sure it would be trembling. “Yeah, I am.”

Jake squeezes his hand once.

With a slow, soothing breath, Bradley pulls them over to the gravesite. “Hey–” his voice cracks, forcing him to clear his throat before trying once more. “Hey mom, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Jake.”

“It’s nice to make your acquaintance, ma’am.” Jake says, even ducking his head slightly in a bow.

Bradley smiles. “We’re uh, it’s the Pride parade today, so we’ll be heading there after this. But I wanted to introduce you two.” A beautiful butterfly lands on Carole’s headstone, wings fluttering. Bradley takes it as the sign it is.

To all the gays, lesbians, bisexuals, trans, aces, aros, non-binaries, demis, queers, pans, genderfluids, agenders, intersexes, two-spirits, unlabeled and undefined and gender non conforming

--- ONE

Staggering in at 7am, still drunk, missing a shoe, has drink stains on his shirt, lipstick smears on his face, tie missing, tear in his pants, feather boa around his waist. He's been at Javy's bachelor party all night, and Javy's sisters planned a banger of a party. Jake is glad he's taken Monday off work to recover. But standing at the entryway is a hot guy who is looking at him with raised eyebrows and Jake just gives him a little jerk of the chin and hopes he never sees him again.

--- TWO

No such luck. Next time Jake sees him he's just coming back to his apartment from the building gym and the same guy is there, waiting for the lift. He's wearing a suit this time, a full three-piece and looks all professional and put together and Jake feels even more hot and sweaty by comparison. The guy seems to be uncomfortable, and Jake isn't sure if it's him or maybe the way he smells. Next time he'll take the stairs.

I swore I'd never do another Instagram based story but this would be a short one right?