crybaby

by god, if tommy’s never been more protective of a coat in his life. the matching ones with aster? also precious. but this task he was given, from the raphael they were sworn to protect — he’d given aster a little murmur of raph’s okay, i think, in effort to assuage so much of the tiniest a smidgen of her worries (and his own) that he could, before taking her (and these grandiosely tasked items) upstairs for the evening. 

in the morning, he sends a text: aster’s picking up breakfast. whaddya want? 

there’s not much wiggle room, there. raph isn’t getting no, if tommy has to fetch a spare key to raph’s apartment and deliver it to bed himself. raph is proving his existence, his alive-li-hood, and he’s getting food out of the endeavor. 

“hey,” eloquent, as always, upon first sight of the smaller. “come in, red just left. last time i went i picked up the totally wrong order, so now i’m on takeout probation. mornin’.” 

he smiles as tommy talks. to be clear, he has a habit of smiling when everyone talks, because he learned long ago that talking isn’t as easy for everyone else as it is for raph and so it’s important to be as encouraging as possible, but with tommy he doesn’t even have to try. there’s an energy to tommy that raphael responds to really well, an energy he picked up when tommy first moved to new york and raph was the first person to approach him and kill him with kindness to guilt him into a friendship (and hey, it’s more or less worked, so he’ll be issuing no apologies for whether or not tommy actually wanted raph to approach him). 

any remaining tension leaves his shoulders as he fixes tommy with a shake of his head and says, “no, no, you’re thinking of this all wrong. dying is the best way for an artist to really blow up. michael jackson and amy winehouse would be nobodies by now if they hadn’t known to play the long con and die at just the right time. getting murdered by eddie’s hands could be the best thing to happen to your career, trust me on this.”

with that being said, he’s still about to turn around and get a head start on trying to figure out this machine, but tommy distracts him by pushing a package forward. “this is pretty much the sketchiest package you could possibly push my way. like, if i were to gift someone a bomb, this would be the bag i would put it in. so opening this up is a total mark of trust on my part, i just want to put it out there.” when he finally deems it time to shut up and actually get to opening the present, his eyes light up. “yo, this is dope. i’ve been harassing various strangers on the internet forever about this record, who the fuck did you kill for it? did i have a reason to be concerned about the packaging after all?” he would be happy if this were it, but tommy’s got another thing waiting for him once raph digs deeper. “oh.” he looks through the jar, at the cookies he mentioned off-handedly were his favorite, at the entire ensemble that’s put together with deliberate thought. it feels nice, a little confirmation that raph’s not more invested in this friendship than raph after all, even if raph was the one to initiate it. “this is really nice. you’re, yeah, you’re really nice. thank you.”

he doesn’t linger on it for much longer, since tommy’s clearly looking for an out to not just stand there and be embarrassed, so he directs his attention to the coffee maker. “yeah, i don’t know, it’s supposed to make this really concentrated and professional-tasting coffee, but i couldn’t tell you the difference. coffee is just coffee to me, which is to say it’s all equally bad. but more power to you for being able to just, drink something bitter for fun. coffee drinkers weren’t hugged enough in their lifetime, it’s fine.” then, back to the machine: “either the silver or black button turns it on, i think. or maybe that’s the button that self destructs it, life is full of surprises.”

"oh, 's that so? are you sure that's not just you wanting to center yourself as the next courtney love of it all?" should it be reassuring to hear from raph that ed's doing murder against him would be fine? not at all. but they've never had a direct method of conversation; so what tommy hears is that raph cares about him and his career path, which he'll take as an agreement.

in the same vein, he laughs over raph’s next comment, burying the color blossoming across his cheeks in a scrub across his own shoulder as he fiddles (read: tries to look like he’s busy) with the appliance afore him, muttering, “i know, i know, but i don’t know where to buy wrapping paper in august and i don’t intend to learn just for you.” 

he thinks that evens out the exchange of affection, here. like just a spot of playful bullying clears the fact that he knows raph’s favorite cookie from record, and then the other is just as swiftly abiding by the same apparently universal rules, which tommy can’t help but grin over. of course raphael brooks only took the signals he wanted to. of course. he has to find it endearing, though — after all, it is the only reason they’ve made it this far. “i’ve been schmoozing the folks at white noize for like, weeks. mostly for selfish reasons, but they let me come in early when they got a shipment in, so i’m pretty sure that’s the definition of trickle-down? packaging ended up being pretty okay from what i could tell.”  

no you’re welcome, because the thank you was misplaced anyhow. his gifts were hardly enough to start a dent in what he owed raph. “hey, don’t blame me! i’m tryna’ retroactively fix that issue, but i’m the opposite of the gift: good packaging, questionable interior. besides, bitter stuff doesn’t give you that sticky back of the teeth feel...” tommy turns that grin to raph, pushing himself off the counter and finalizing, “go, sit. i’ll give you ample heads up if i start a fire, swear, then we’ll figure out from there if we need to come up with matching alibis. are we card gaming today or utilizing your good hulu?” 

by the time tommy’s returning to the apartment, it’s days later, heavy with exhaustion and the clothes he’d last left the apartment in on an afternoon that feels weeks past. as much as he can lie to everyone else — to himself — and say that the time apart it was to give nico space, to let them both cool off, it’s just that: a lie. 

nico’s the person he’s been dreading speaking to the most. aster’s was urgent, murph’s was soothing, ed’s was self-preservation. nico? he admires nico. looks up to nico. the tense glares, the passive-aggression that waits for him under the best of circumstances...it’s unavoidable and he’s been avoiding it for just those reasons. 

so, yeah, there’s a hope in the sluggish way he turns the key in the deadbolt, inches the door open as if he could just slip in undetected. there’s a quiet prayer he can buy himself just another night without facing that...disappointment, maybe it is? the change of heart in someone he’d just gotten close to calling a friend? alas; nico is the first thing he’s greeted with in the apartment, and tommy jumps, swearing under his breath before he takes a steadying one. 

“fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” the startle is replaced with a smile, tommy’s easy stage confidence sliding over his visage like a second skin. “don’t you usually stream right about now?” 

asian brew: your muse spills their drink all over my muse 

thank god it’s iced. that’s all that courses through tommy’s mind, even as the over-compensatory stream of comfort begins - “oh my god, i’m so sorry,” why? you’re the one who got spilled on. tommy’s rocketed upright the moment bubble tea made landfall with his lap and thank god it’s iced, even if it leaves him with chunks of ice wedged in the top of his boot and a shiver, it’s far preferable to the alternative. 

bong: would you turn vegan for someone you love?

“if they’re cooking the meals? hell yeah. i’ll eat whatever’s put in front of me, so i def’ can’t complain if someone’s like, trying to give me nutrients.” 

alleo: would you ever date someone from your childhood?

“actually...no, i think. child-childhood? they’d know a...totally different version of me than the one i turned out to be, and if they liked that one, they won’t like this one at all.” honestly, if they liked that one, he might need to be a little concerned for them; a young-tommy was...not his best look. 

rilco: who was your childhood crush?

gingers: your muse gets drunk and mine has to drag them out of the bar 

                           ( bug used uno reverse for drunk tommy rights !! )

people tipped like shit. tommy broke his favorite pair of earbuds, and that loose thread on his boots was fraying more and more by the passing hour; which is all, well and truly, a long-winded way to say that tommy was in the mood to get drunk. drunk enough to squeeze all the relaxation and enjoyment of life the past week had deprived him of. 

this part, he was good at. unequivocally, tommy was great at drinking, at replacing that lead ball of money-related stress with a fuzzy warmth, until all that was left was — raphael. raphael, who he questions got stuck with this job, until he immediately tacks on, “no, actually, don’t answer. if it’s jus’ your turn on th’ chores wheel it’s gonna make me sad.” it probably makes sense. nico’s probably out, with riley or work. ed and murph probably both have early mornings. but that’s too rational; no, tommy’s far past rational as he slings a heavy arm ‘round raph’s shoulders and leans heavily into their four-inch height difference, continuing to croon in that laughter-laden, vowel-dropping way of intoxicated!tommy’s. “did ginger sic you on me? it’s not even that late yet!” 

white noise records: your muse gives mine music recommendations

it was a harmless comment. offhanded, even. surely, when murphy mentioned that he was looking for new workout music, of any ulterior motive, it would’ve been to hint tommy to tag along with him to the gym. 

no. no, of course it couldn’t be that easy. instead, tommy latched onto the most predictable part of the statement and took murphy’s phone, then and there, to start rifling through his music apps like the proverbial panty drawer, making soft little asides to himself about which bands he approved of or which he had never listened to as he started glancing at his own phone, looking the most productive and focused the other had probably ever seen him. 

it makes for terrible, absolutely non-existent conversation. quite literally. tommy’s newfound fixation lasts even as they say their goodbyes for the evening, where tom is giving one-armed hugs because the other is holding his phone speaker up to his ear. 

roliza: when it comes to relationships, if you had to choose, would you choose security or chemistry?

“chemistry, easy. it’d be hypocritical for me to pick security when i’m in the fuckin’ world’s least secure career path — if the chemistry’s right, we can probably make it through that though, right?” 

murphia: do you believe labels are necessary for a relationship?

is this one a trap? it feels a bit targeted. “my answer to this like, last year, would’ve been a definite no. but now? now i kinda get the point of makin’ sure everyone’s in agreement of the page they’re on. old dog, new tricks.”

fralex: what’s your favorite romcom?

taster: answered! 

elico: would you risk your friendship with someone for a chance at lifelong love? 

“yeah...yeah, for sure. i’ve risked friendships over a lot less; love seems like a pretty high-reward bet, y’know?” say nothing of the obvious part, here: that he had recently done just that. “plus, i kinda couldn’t say no, all things considering.” 

luward: would you get back together with an ex?

tomley: have you ever fallen in love with someone you’ve only hooked up with?

”mm...only hooked up with? no.” not exactly true, and he knows it. tommy’s spent far too many hours lingering in hook-up’s beds well past sunrise to just say a point-blank no. “well, i mean, i’ve definitely gotten crushes. that’s probably...more often than not for everyone, right? how can you just not feel anything for a person you’re sleeping with? but i don’t think that’s proper love.” as if he’d know it; tommy’s never been in proper love in the first place. 

taster: do you believe that someone out there is made for you?

madi: what does your muse wear to bed?