telling myself

Cleo abruptly sets her phone down, lifting a hand to press the back of her knuckles to his head. Thank God they were sitting down. "Are you feeling okay? Who are you and what have you done to my friend Kale?" She normally wouldn't think twice about someone lamenting over their sad love life, but this was him. He radiated so much sunshine and positivity Cleo was nearly blinded by it when they first met. She lets her hand slip from him, down to the table. "Where'd that come from? You know you don't like, have to be in a relationship. But I don't like this... vibe. It's depressing. What happened?"

"Sage. Heeey. You're home." Slater's fingers, having lost their color, simultaneously have a tight yet haphazard grip on the neck of the bottle. It swings with the rest of his body as he faces his old neighbor. "Wrong? Why would anything be wrong? I'm doing... great. Better than ever." His arm moves on autopilot as the bottle presses against his lips; the bitter liquid burning his throat. He's too loose to grimace anymore. "I was at a party. Can you believe it? And no - I know what you're thinking." The hand holding the bottle lifts toward Sage, his pointer finger leaving it to wave in his direction. "Kale wasn't even there. I have other friends now. I haven't even seen..." He trails off as not even the burn of the alcohol can chase away the oncoming burn of poorly suppressed tears. He drags his other arm over his face and shakes his head. "So, you know, if you're looking for him, he's not here." He misses him, he misses him so much it hurts, he misses him and he hates him for it. "But you can stay. I always liked you, you know. Do you want some?"

"Sure, on it's own, it might be meaningless. The other fish definitely talk trash behind it's back. He for sure stinks the most." Rush holds a small mixing bowl in his left hand, dipping a basting brush into it with the other. He carefully glides it over both cuts of the fish. "But I'd argue that it's more Frances Bacon than anything. If you have a theory, you should probably test it before coming to your own conclusions. And my theory is?" The bowl is set to the side now, and he carefully pushes her plate and a half-full glass of wine closer to the edge of the bar where she sat. "Everything tastes better with butter and wine. Let me know what you think."

Sage’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. He shouldn’t have assumed. Most people did that about him as it was, but the difference between Sage and his new acquaintance was that Sage never corrected them. “Sorry, I—” Sage breathed a quick sigh relief at the abrupt observation. “Well, you’re not wrong. I’m pretty sure this is the singles table.” He gestured at the nameplates buried beneath discarded cloth napkins and wedding cake crumbs. “Or rather, everyone that just didn’t have a spot at other tables. Neutral territory.” Unfortunately, the rest of the exiles weren’t around to concur. Sage grinned gently. How someone could go from a pathetic, wallowing ex to an extrinsic dance aficionado in one crooked smirk was beyond him. Maybe it was the champagne, but color Sage fucking impressed. “Definitely not fair,” he agreed. His father wouldn’t approve of him wasting precious dancefloor, no matter where he was at. So after a moment, Sage scooted his chair back and stood, stars tingling inside his brain. Now, the DJ wasn’t spinning Whitney, but it was as good a song as any to dance to. The drums kicked in and Sage extended his hand. “Let’s give them a show.”

 It was spastic. Wild limbs and the messiest jive Sage had ever done in his life, but somehow it was the most fun he ever had. And best of all, they’d caught the ex’s attention. Sage took his dance partner’s hand and spun him towards his chest, before dipping him as the song came to a close. “Sage by the way,” he panted. 

-

Leo was never one to sulk, especially when in the company of other attractive men, and especially not when there was an opportunity to dance. Their movements were so rapid, Leo’s eyes didn’t even get the chance, even if they’d wanted to, to appear at the table that had been his primary focus just moments ago.

Leo balanced his palm atop his dance partners shoulder, balancing himself as he was spun toward him. Slightly breathless, a small smirk formed his lips. A beat passed, before his fingers closed over Sage’s hand, making a point to spin himself back. Their hands remained entwined, and Leo leaned forward into a half bow. “Leopold.” He was tipsy enough to tack on, like Kate and, but who knew if this man had taste other than those dance moves? Out of the corner of his eye, he could see figures rise from the other table, heading off toward the far corner of the room. Presumably to the open bar. 

“Or Leo, if this dance makes us friends.” He added, smoothly, the smug satisfaction weighing all of his movements. He let their hands slowly drop as the song faded into another. “Though I should warn you, I don’t normally label things until at least the third dance.” He smoothed out the lapels of his suit jacket. There would be no doubt all eyes were on them. Good. 

“I think I might need another drink first.” He offered his arm, raising an eyebrow as he tilted his head to the side. Care to join me, or do you have other plans?”

An air of laughter tumbled out of Wallace’s nose. “Shut up, Sterling.” He offered the fruit toward his friend’s voice. Friend? More than a friend? Wallace swallowed. They hadn’t discussed what they were to each other. Sure, they hung out all the time and Sterling flirted with him, but Sterling flirted with everyone. “I can bring you some more if you want. They’ll be out of season soon,” he explained gently. “Mom’s been canning and making pies like crazy. Farmer’s market is this weekend too.” Unfortunately, due to his eyesight, and the fact that no one wants to hire a blind guy, Wallace was eternally obligated to help with the storefront. His mom was insistent that they sold more when he was there, but Wallace knew better. Maybe one day he’d find a good excuse or a death bed to sleep in. “What about you? What are you up to this weekend? I couldn’t remember if you and Jewel were going to that thing with Leo or you had that underwear photoshoot in Milan or whatever.” 

-

Sterling rolled the peach in his palm, fingers pressing into tender skin as he lifted it to his t-shirt, rolling it against the soft fabric. “Set me up for a crate, and let me know where to send the money.” His words left no room for potential protest in lieu of continuing on. “Have you ever had a peach protein smoothie? They have just the right amount of sweetness.” He lifted the fruit to his lips, teeth piercing the flesh.  Juice dribbled onto his chin, and he used his thumb to brush it away. He hummed in satisfaction. “Delicious.” Perfectly ripe. "Both, actually. The Gala is Saturday. The underwear thing is Monday. Meaning: I have a whole day to recover in between before the flight over.” His licked at his bottom lip. “There is one problem, though. Jewel and I each get a plus one. And since her and Leo are teaming up against me...” Something about looking like the best pair there, or something or other. “Yours truly is left without a date. And I can’t have that. I need someone to match all of this.” Implication laid heavily in his tone. Sterling wasn’t exactly known for his subtlety. “Happen to know anyone who would fit the bill?”  

“It’s chemistry,” Hudson winked. “I’ll be ready. Don’t worry. Quantum physics is just kind of kicking my ass.” All-nighters weren’t at all uncommon for Hudson, but usually they required less clothes and less math. It was no secret that Hudson and Henry would be shoe-ins if they ever crossed over into the adult film industry, but they had promised each other early on that they’d be college-educated fucks first. “I have one more study session with Slater on,” Hudson looked to the upper right in thought, “Wednesday. Then my test is Thursday morning. And obviously Friday is all clear.” He placed his glass in the sink. “Layla and Mariela won’t know what hit ‘em. Plus, Mom and Dad are gone this weekend. Which means we have full access to the pool,” Hudson wiggled his eyebrows, “and every other room in the house. Which is perfect, because I don’t think I’ve christened the laundry room yet.”

-

"Then we’re going to have one hell of a celebration for you. Hell, does Layla still have that friend? You know, the one with the,” he made a big sweeping moment from his chest, pizza still in hand, signifying a large load his fragile bird chest was not equipped to carry. “Super chill personality and lip ring. Could ask her to come, too. Bring Slater along. God knows that boy needs to get laid.” He whistled under his breath. “All work no play? Shit goes wrong every time, look at the Shining.” That guys shit? Fucking wrecked. “Bro, save your laundry, you know what they say about washing machines.” He made a clicking noise accompanied by a wink. “More bounce to the ounce.” He popped the rest of his slice in his mouth. “I’m thinking Mariela likes that romantic shit. Gonna surprise her with a playlist. Real good stuff, only the top 50 love-makin’ jams of 2022. But can you double check it for me later and take out anything problematic? I'm not going to be cancelled for not being on top of my game.”

Filling a glass with mango lemonade, Hudson rolled his eyes. “If she thought it was me—which she didn’t—she wouldn’t have said, “Oh Henry!” all high-pitched while bouncing over to me. I’m telling you, it was giving American Pie straight-to-DVD sequel. Specifically, the band camp one.“ Hudson took a sip. “Yeah, okay. Pretty sure a girl like that would not need advice from you, but it did seem urgent. And, funnily enough, out of all the reasons why she’d want to talk to you, a dick appointment isn’t even the most ludicrous. A double date, however, might be pushing it.” Hudson and Henry’s reputations were… completely accurate. “Of course she’s cute, Henry. All girls are cute. It’s their God-given right to be the most attractive species on this planet.” He sighed. “You’re gonna make me come with, aren’t you?”

---

"My dear boy, when have I,” he gestured to himself, a picture of innocence, if he’d ever seen one. “-Ever made you do anything? You’re going to come of your own free will. I mean, come on, how could you ever say no to this opportunity? Screw American Pie. This is our moment to shine in our own movie.” The buddy system had never failed them before. Of course he was going to drag Hudson along. The plan was fool proof. “We’re cute, they’re cute. It’s practically science.” Henry moved to the fridge next, rummaging through it, eyes seeking out the baggie of leftover pizza. In no time, he was taking a bite out of cold pepperoni, chewing through his words. “As long as you catch up on your beauty sleep before Friday, alright?” He let the door fall shut. “If you’re going to have bags under your eyes, you know I expect them to be Gucci, and nothing else.”

Hudson squinted. “Is it morning? I… haven’t slept. Anyway,” he dismissed, “the reason I ask is because Mariela was incredibly insistent on having a date with you on Friday night at La Lune. You know that funky little bistro? So, I told her, as you, that you would absolutely be there. But,“ Hudson closed the refrigerator door with his hip, “I’m nearly 83.5 percent sure that she’s still dating Layla? Whatever. Regardless, you’re welcome. I know how badly you want to reenact that scene from Wild Things.”  

-

Flashes of the smokin’ hot Mariela together with her equally-as-hot girlfriend flashed rapidly in his minds eye. The possibilities. Henry’s hand curled into a loose fist only to crash down on their mom’s kitchen table. If she were home, her own fist would promptly be raining down upon him, he was pretty sure. “Hudson. Who doesn’t want to reenact that scene from Wild Things? You beautiful, beautiful...” A chefs kiss punctuated his words before he rose from his seat. His hip jutted against the table as his arms crossed over his chest. “But how did she say it, though? Like in a ‘i need advice from a very wise, hot man’ way or in a way that implies....” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I need advice on how to get that dick.” Hudson was clearly skimping on the deetz. “Or...” His mind entertained, thinking of all the possible ways she could have meant that. Because maybe he didn’t think he was that lucky. “Maybe she knew it was you. She’s smart. Maybe... they broke up and are wanting us in a double-date situation. I don’t know, dude. You think Layla’s cute, right?”

@sunriscn​​

“Okay, question: Is it morally reprehensible to not correct someone who thinks I’m you?” 

-

"That’s a lot of smart talk for this early in the morning, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say yes.” Lots of stuff they got themselves into over the years was probably reprehensible, or whatever. Not the first time that word has been flung around. “But who cares? If anything, you save people the embarrassment of confusing us. You’ve got to use that one with your enemies. Give ‘em the ol’ switcharoo.” Works like a charm. “Why’re you asking, though? You pretending to be me to bring in the ladies? Because I’m sorry dude, there can only be one.” 

"What's wrong, step-sis? Do emotions make you uncomfortable?" Kyler's voice rose an octave - or more like two. Definitely more of his field-voice than inside-voice - purposefully not caring if he was being embarrassing. For once he was having a semi-decent exchange. Figures that was ruined. "'What would Mom and Dad say?" He didn't give a shit about what these entitled ass new money brats thought. He was going home as soon as he could, anyway. Good riddance, Los Angeles. He couldn’t even find a decent hot dog to save his life. Not to mention someone that was real with him for longer than three seconds. He could practically smell the plastic as soon as he landed. But he quickly found that was just his Dad’s credit card. “Or did you wanna hang out? Braid each others hair? Tell secrets? Please. Let me know. I’ll clear my schedule ASAP.” 

A hoarse laugh was brought out of Slater, despite himself. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. His words were uneven. "Yeah, but it seems a lot easier right now." He sniffed, still feeling tears prickle at the back of his eyes. "Ending the world. Not having to face anyone. What else am I supposed to do?" He rubbed his cheek with his sleeve, lowering it only to turn his gaze to his best friend. "Things were a lot easier in kindergarten. You gave me your crayon instead. Remember?” He paused, trying to keep holding the tears back. It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal. But it still felt like one. The embarrassment of the day wasn’t just going away. “Don't think it's that simple this time, Kale."