maybe that was another reason it had been so easy. that beau had decided, practically, to lay himself out on the table like a folder of documents for cassius to peruse—and that cassius had done the same thing right back, had matched him piece for piece. beau took note of all of it, filing all details away. the things cassius chose to share. the serious stuff, then the small stuff. his family. the fact that he apparently could not function without doing his skincare routine that sounded, from the way cassius described it, like it had more steps than beau's entire morning combined.
somewhere in the accumulation of details, a portrait was assembling itself, one beau found more amusing the more of it filled in. cassius was high-maintenance. not in the difficult or demanding sense, though. cassius was just dedicated with taking care of himself. really, whatever routine kept his skin looking like that, kept him looking put-together even at one in the morning in a diner after a full night out... it was effective.
gorgeous. beau had already thought that from across a club floor and the diner lighting hadn't done anything to argue him out of it. if anything the plainer light made it more obvious, stripped away whatever forgiveness a dance floor's dimness offered and left just cassius, still very fucking attractive. objectively beau's type.
he reached for the waffle. it was enormous, and beau picked up his fork and knife, cutting it into smaller, shareable pieces. he heard the phone before he saw it. the faint shutter sound, muted but not muted enough, and beau—didn't look up. kept his eyes on the waffle andhis hands moving. because he knew cassius was taking a photo, a ‘stolen’ one. honestly, he didn't need to see it to know how it would turn out. that wasn't arrogance, exactly—or maybe it was, a little, but it was earned arrogance. he was already fairly certain the photo was going to be a good one.
the notifications came in: cassius cho tagged you in his story.
beau swiped it open, then he saw it; the photo of beau mid-motion with the waffle, unposed and unguarded, and underneath it, text:
he was cassius' midnight snack.
low-effort humour of a caption anyone would write when posting a photo of the person they were supposedly dating. cheeky, and a little suggestive. the whole point was to be a little playful, a little pointed, a post that existed less for the person in the photo and more for the people who'd be looking at it later, scrolling through their phones and seeing exactly who cassius had been out with at this hour and exactly how not-single he was. this was strategy. cassius making sure the story reached the group chat, to the friends who meddled in his life. cassius practically shut all of that down without him having to say another word about it.
nothing to make anything of, from beau's point of view.
except something in beau's chest did a small, involuntary thing anyway. a flicker of warmth—smugness, maybe. that satisfaction of being someone's midnight snack, claimed publicly and cheekily.
he found the repost option, and put it up without adding anything else. no caption of his own, or any other addition. just cassius' story exactly as it was, passed along to his own followers. he set the phone down.
"i reposted it," he said, "para mas magmukhang legit."
a fake relationship required corroborating evidence across both accounts, and beau was nothing if not thorough about the details of their arrangement.
his phone buzzed. then buzzed again, a small cluster of notifications stacking up—probably people reacting to the repost, probably a few messages from his own friends who'd want an explanation eventually. beau glanced at the screen without really looking, and set it face-down, unbothered. that could wait.
the food, on the other hand, could not.
he was hungrier than he'd thought, the whole night finally catching up with him. all of it kind of drained something out of him that the tapsilog was now aggressively replenishing. he ate with real enthusiasm, no longer distracted by phones or photos, just working through the plate. the conversation kept going between bites, lighter now, easier, filling in whatever gaps were left in the earlier information dump, and beau found himself laughing more than once at something cassius said. as the plates emptied, the diner around them also thinned out further. even the drunk group up front seemed to be winding down.
he raised a hand, flagged down the waiter, making the small gesture that universally meant bill, please. and when it came, beau reached for it before cassius did, pulled it towards himself. which was, if he thought about it for half a second, a slightly amusing turn of events. he was the one who'd made cassius agree to cover the meals. that had been the deal, one of the terms he'd set himself. but he was the one settling the bill without a second though now, the terms he'd written for himself apparently optional the moment it actually came time to enforce them.
the drive back into the city proper was comfortably quiet, where neither of them felt obligated to fill the car with more conversation. beau mounted his phone on the dash, glancing over to cassius at a red light. “send mo sa 'kin address ng condo mo.”