#lcmi

Back in 201 Duren, Michael and Lindsay were having the best of times. (At least, Lindsay was.)

“No, you goof! Go that way, JUMP!” Lindsay screamed over Skype, laughing as Michael growled in anger and tore his headset off.

“Motherfucking shit on a stick,” he complained loudly, stretching. He took a sip of a Redbull he stole from Ray’s mini fridge. “Why are we playing this again? I mean, why am I playing this again?”

Lindsay beamed, putting her chin in her hands and leaning closer to the webcam.

“Because it makes me happy.”

Michael snorted. “Yeah, I knew that.”

Putting the energy drink down, Michael craned his neck to look at the door for a moment, frowning to himself. Ray still hadn’t come back in – what the fuck was he doing? He couldn’t be that pissed at him. A guy’s gotta sleep sometime.

The clock read 4:30 AM.

The Impossible Game continued running in the background.

“Hey, but I wanted to talk to you about something.” Lindsay’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Hmn, what’s up?” Michael tore his eyes away from the wall to face a nervous-looking Lindsay on his screen. She bit her lip and looked down at something off the camera that Michael couldn’t see, hesitating.

“Um, thanks so much for tonight?” She offered, squeaking a little.

Michael raised his eyebrows. She was acting fucking weird.

“Welcome? Linds, you don’t have to thank me for any of this,” he let out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s pretty hard working around our schedules and whatnot, but I’m really fucking glad we did this tonight. Should be thanking you.” He smiled.

Lindsay looked back fondly, fingers reaching up towards the camera as though to touch Michael’s dimples as they popped into existence.

“I honestly thought we were doing worse than we were,” the redhead admitted. She twisted her short hair around her finger. “Thought we were done for,” she said, voice soft.

“No, never,” Michael responded automatically. He felt a twinge of shame for his lack of enthusiasm in their relationship. But if it continued like this, he could do it, even if it meant somewhat faking it to make Lindsay happy. As if to prove his point, his girlfriend flashed another dazzling smile.

Just then, Ray burst back into the dorm room, flicking on the lights and blinding Michael.

“Holy fucking HELL RAY –”

“What’s going on?” Lindsay’s voice came through the laptop.

“– YOU DIPSHIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” The curly-haired boy shrank back and slapped his hands over his eyes, yelling profanities at the Puerto Rican and momentarily forgetting that they weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

The dark-haired boy just crossed his arms and walked over to his bed, grabbing his bag and a couple of other things before deciding to reply. He pursed his lips and turned to Michael.

“I’m going over to a friend’s,” he muttered. “’s already like, five, and I can’t sleep in here.”

An apology rested on Michael’s lips fleetingly before he pulled his face into a scowl. What was with the uncalled for guilt-tripping? It’s not like Ray had come back in and tried to go to bed at all or anything. But he wanted at least some fucking civility between the two of them, for God’s sake.

He tried again. “Well, me and Linds are almost done, so –“

But Ray was already changing, tugging his t-shirt off over his head in favour of a long-sleeve and a warm sweater.

“Forget it.” His muffled voice came from inside the sweater before he poked his head out. “You guys do what you do, tell Lindsay I said hi again.” He managed a tight smile.

The redhead, curious at what was happening off-screen, was bouncing up and down in her seat and tilting her neck, not that would help her see what was going on any better. “Michael?”

“Linds hold on, Ray just came in for a bit. He says hi,” he said, bothered by Ray’s strange attitude. Why is everyone acting so fucked tonight? He turned back to the Puerto Rican. “Dude, seriously, you don’t have to go. Sorry for all this.”

The two boys stared at each other, awkward tension from God knows where hanging between them.

“I already told them I’d be there,” Ray finally said, flushing a little as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Well, can’t say I didn’t fucking try.

Michael sighed and swiveled back to face Lindsay’s video call.

“Wait, yo.” Sucking in a breath in annoyance, Michael turned back.

Ray had a debating look on his face and seemed torn between something, eyes shifty. Inching his feet towards the door, he also looked positively ready to escape. Michael tapped his fingers on his armrest impatiently. “What the fuck is it?”

The dark-haired boy barely managed to rush out the words before bolting out the door.

“You have, uh, a ton of texts from Gavin.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Michael flew out of his chair and back out into the stairwell without another word, ignoring the confused exclamations coming from Lindsay.

“Michael, where are you going, what happened? Did Ray just say Ga –“

The door slammed shut behind her trailing voice, Michael running down the flight of stairs to pick his phone off the ground from where it had originally fallen.

Michael’s mind raced.

Never mind how his phone was still functioning as a phone, what did Ray mean by a ton? Did that motherfucker look through them? Michael wondered what the messages were about, and why the fucking hell Gavin even bothered to text him so many times.

Search: Austin texas deep eddys

    Deep Eddy Pool (Eiler’s)     401 Deep Eddy Ave, Austin, TX 78703, United States

Directions: via W 24th St. 57 minutes.

He hissed. “A fucking hour away?”

A voice in his head reminded him that he just ditched Lindsay on Skype without warning, and that he couldn’t just leave her there. Like earlier, it came down to the same thing. He clenched his teeth as he tabbed back to his messages, quickly scanning through.

Choose between Lindsay and Gavin.

[4:18:02 AM] Gavin Free: you make me happy [4:18:19 AM] Gavin Free: but I needed this [4:18:53 AM] Gavin Free: but I miss you

Either take the damn Skype call or –

[4:19:22 AM] Gavin Free: please come ?

Without hesitation, Michael ran down the rest of the flights of stairs and right out the fire exit, alarm blaring behind him.

Back in New Jersey, Lindsay sighed to herself as her boyfriend’s webcam continued to run, an empty, still slightly spinning chair the only thing keeping her company. Some dumbass pulled the alarm but she could still hear the arcade game music running in the background, a wistful reminder of how nicely they were getting on just a little while ago. She pulled a face, brushing her red hair out of her face as she dropped her cheery expression. She heard Ray; he said something about Gavin and she saw it coming – just like that, Michael took off.

“I get it,” Lindsay whispered to herself. “I get it, I get it. God, Lindsay, just get over it.” She slapped her cheeks with the palms of her hands and shook her head forcefully, as if to throw these unwelcome thoughts from her mind.

She felt like she knew, ever since she visited Michael down in Texas.

But Lindsay, he might’ve just left because of the fire drill. He’ll be back. He will. A naïve part of her spoke.

Leaving the call window open, Lindsay finished the tea and rested her head in her arms on the desk. Her eyelids drooped as she waited for him to come back. But he didn’t show up for the rest of the night or even into the early morning, for that matter.

Lindsay eventually fell asleep at her desk and the Skype call continued running. Michael never bothered coming back to hang up.

The freezing water rushed below as Gavin sat on the dock’s edge at Eiler’s Park, the vehicles in the overpass nearby reduced to streaks of light in the night blur. He fidgeted as he ran his fingers through his hair, impatient and waiting for nothing.

It wasn’t like Michael was going to come – it would be ridiculous to assume that he would – and besides, he didn’t remember telling the boy where he was. He inched himself closer to the flowing water and glanced at his phone, heart sinking.

He hates me for sure now, anyways. Way to go, Gavin. You really minged it this time.

Alone in the park now, Gavin couldn’t help but think about how clichéd the setting was: loser, waiting for someone who wasn’t actually coming to save him from himself. That would usually be a boyfriend, a girlfriend, or something, right? Michael wasn’t any of those things. He was an almost. Gavin pressed his lips together, face falling as he corrected himself. A friend.

The British boy suddenly thought about how he was getting too sober for all of this.

He fumbled in his pockets for a lighter and lit up, resisting the rising thought of throwing himself into the river.

Blowing out a lungful of smoke, he heard a rustle coming from the bushes backing him. Weary and feeling extremely washed-out, Gavin couldn’t even muster it up in him to be scared. He didn’t even turn around when the sound of someone crashing through the wooded area became more and more pronounced until it finally stopped. Footsteps came towards him.

Gavin closed his eyes, feeling a thrill run through his body.

Alright, maybe I’m a tad scared, he thought as he threw his half-smoked joint into the water, wringing his hands together and blowing on their frostbitten ends.

He found himself shaking, shaking, shaking, and by the time the person reached Gavin he was shivering so hard his hair was swaying as he half expected to die, half wasn’t even sure of what to expect. Who would come to a park at this time of night in the middle of bloody December? And why weren’t they saying anything? Gavin flinched, hard, as a jacket landed on his shoulders with a heavy whomp. Twisting around and nearly throwing it into the river, he stopped at the sight of a breathless, t-shirted Michael Jones staring down at him.

At first, Gavin couldn’t even say anything, too surprised for words at the fact that he actually came.

Jesus, you are such a sight. The dazed thought popped up in his head unwittingly.

Michael, you’re great. You’re bloody brilliant.

“How the fucking hell am I brilliant? Fucking Christ, you make no sense.” Michael rubbed his tattooed forearms, face red-tinged from the exertion of running and from the cold.

Bollocks, did he just say that out loud? Gavin frowned. Maybe he wasn’t as clear-headed as he thought. “You came,” the British boy said at last, quietly. He pulled Michael’s jacket closer to him, relishing the warmth.

“Yeah, you dumb fuck. I walked for a fucking hour to get here, you better bet I came.” Michael huffed, messing up Gavin’s dirty blonde hair.

Gavin’s stomach did a happy little flip. He felt queasy afterwards, but it was okay.

“Why?”

“…I’m not even going to grace that with a reply.”

Gavin hummed in disapproval, pulling Michael down to sit next to him. The curly-haired boy didn’t resist, settling down next to him as he was handed his coat back, content to say nothing further. They sat in companionable silence, listening to the water and watching their breaths collide midair and crystallize in the cold.

It was peaceful.

But Gavin soon grew restless. The problem with being drunk was that his face would go all numb, he would feel loose, and he would feel inclined to spill his guts out. Especially when Michael was around.

The better part of him always knew when bad ideas were bad ideas, but the rest of his overpowering, sloshed brain would encourage it, goad him on to do stupid things (like earlier) and open his mouth and give away his deepest thoughts along with the rest of him. Gavin bit his lip, thinking about the blowjob he gave that random, and how he was almost certain Michael had heard on the line. That didn’t mean anything – most of those things rarely meant anything – and Michael already held most of him, anyways, but he probably didn’t know that.

He really wanted Michael to know about him. It seemed like a good time. But he was fearful of the aftermath; he had never done this before. He had a persona. He was good at keeping it.

The words pressed against the insides of his lips, straining to escape.

Gavin, you git. Stop this nonsense.

“I feel like rubbish, Mi-cool.” He broke the silence in a small voice. Shrinking confidence.

Vulnerable.

Gavin felt heavy as he gave Michael a sidelong glance, shaking in anticipation. But the boy barely reacted, continuing to look straight ahead at the river as he replied. “I know, boi.”

That’s it?

“I mean –“ the British boy exhaled noisily before breathing in deeply. “I mean, I’m not really – not really alright. I’m sorry for earlier. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He held his breath.

Michael finally turned to look at him, eyes searching. “I think I fucking figured that out, Gavin,” he said with no malice, pausing for a moment. “But as long as you’re alright now, I won’t ask.”

Gavin almost broke down at that, disbelieving that the lad would be this gentle about everything and wasn’t even a little inquisitive. He looked at Michael’s freckles and his worried, dark brown eyes and thought about just how lucky he was to be alive and to have met him.

Michael looked away.

“What if I want you to ask?” Gavin whispered faintly, voice quivering.

Everything came in slow motion as his heart beat loudly in his chest, throat working hard. Michael’s head framed with thick locks of hair swivelling to meet puppy sea-green eyes demanding a reply. The brunet’s eyes widened, caught off-guard. “I –“

Michael hesitated, biting his cheek.

Gavin dared him with his eyes to continue.

Michael swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. He wasn’t expecting this, he didn’t know what to say – Gavin wanted him to say something, though, and was looking at him with that goddamn expectant look in his eye like Michael could do anything –

“I saw – last time, I saw your…” he finally gestured to his own hip, talking as though if he raised his voice even a little, Gavin would shatter. But the British boy just laughed in bitter relief. Michael exhaled in a whoosh of air as the world didn’t end between them with what he said, Gavin raising his shirt and jacket for a brief moment to reveal his healed cut marks.

“Yeah. Those were from when…I didn’t know how to deal with myself properly.”

And I do now? Don’t kid yourself, Gavin David Free. You’re just better at hiding it, he thought to himself.

“Oh.” Michael reached out and stopped an inch from his skin as though asking for permission. Gavin nodding almost imperceptibly, he gently traced over the marks. The lanky boy shivered slightly at the cool touch, eyes half-lidded.

“I don’t know, Mi-cool. It was worse than it is now. I didn’t eat a lot. I either slept too much or not at all and it was just bloody hard to keep it all under wraps, especially when my ma stopped letting me produce videos and film stuff that interested me. She didn’t know, ‘course. And my best friend back in England, Dan, he knew. He tried to help – really – but you know, the novelty of it all starts wearing off after a while; staying up day after day past three in the morning to talk or sit with me in the park for hours until dawn.” Like this.

“Stuff like that. Feeling like a good person, helping someone, keeping a life together.” Gavin shrugged, ignoring the thought worming into his brain that this is what exactly what’s going to happen with Michael, too. His voice dropped further.

“It still matters, but the shock value is gone. It matters less and less; other things grow more important. People get tired of the same tragedy over and over.”

Michael stared at him, frowning. Gavin suddenly looked much older than his twenty years, serious look making him miss the lighthearted happiness the boy usually wore like a second skin.

How unfair it all was.

“It’s kinda fucked up, if you think about it,” Michael murmured at length, tracing over Gavin’s scars again before pulling away and tugging the jacket hem down over them. “It’s so much more acceptable to drink than do…that, even if you can fucking die from alcohol poisoning. And people just take it at face value and accept it. I mean, I did – nobody really stops you, either. But –“ He suddenly looked up, stopping.

Gavin cocked his head, fingering the edge of his jacket and missing the pale boy’s hand on his skin.

“We’re already too deep in the serious talks, boi,” he laughed. “Might as well spill it.”

“Well, I don’t know.” Michael fixed his eyes on Gavin’s with an anxious expression on his face. “I mean, I don’t know how to phrase it without sounding like an absolutely ignorant asshat but – sorry – you’re just so happy all the time. You’re like –“

You’re like the light to me.

“You’re like, the most carefree person I know,” Michael finished dumbly.

Gavin somewhat expected this.

Goddamn himself and the persona he carefully constructed.

“That isn’t it,” he said, almost impatiently. “I’m not bloody sad all the time. None of this ever meant that I’d be perpetually wallowing in sadness, yeah? That isn’t what depression is. He leaned into Michael, who didn’t move away. Neither of them pointed out that Gavin had, at long last, acknowledged what he had aloud. Major depression.

They bumped heads gently and Gavin turned his face into the crook of Michael’s neck. His breath tickled Michael as he spoke again.

“Most of the time, I just don’t feel anything. But a shag, a few drinks, or some pot helps me feel a bit more alive. I hate feeling so hollow. I want to feel something, Michael.”

Mi-cool.

Heart tugging, Michael swallowed heavily as Gavin’s slender fingers lightly ran down his arm and rested on his hand. He forced down all the words he couldn’t articulate.

I want to make you feel something, he wanted to say.

“I just want you to be happy,” he said instead.

Gavin made a noise that seemed to say, that’s laughable. “High standards, boi.”

They lapsed into silence and stayed there, shivering slightly in the cold hand almost in hand on the edge of the dock. Settling into a bittersweet sense of fulfillment, Gavin shut his eyes as Michael reached over and tugged him ever closer, savouring the moment. And if he opened his eyes and looked behind him at this very moment, the sky would be dawn haze, lightening purple-gray-orange gradient tone he couldn’t place on a colour palette for shit, but it would be brilliant.

He pushed everything else from his mind.

This is before the second thoughts and anxiety, before the jarring nausea and the letdown.

This is before everything.

It was exam season again, and Michael was determinedly studying for his deathly engineering finals. (What motherfucking professor actually thinks it’s necessary to make an exam worth 50% of a student’s grade, really?) He didn’t go out much to begin with, but since he actually needed to stay in school, he didn’t even go see Gavin much anymore, let alone find time for other people.

But that didn’t stop the two; they texted back and forth constantly, fraying everyone else’s nerves.

Though, Gavin still sank into his habit of crashing parties and drinking whenever he got too bored or suddenly felt like it. But now, whenever he did on the odd occasion go out and get completely shitfaced, his feet would take him to Michael’s instead of wandering home.

He would go to Michael. His Michael.

(Not his, no, not entirely, but you really couldn’t simply call them friends.)

It’d be four or five or six in the morning, but Gavin would knock, and Michael would always answer.

He’d be wearing a beanie over his hair, glasses perched on his nose with bags under his tired eyes from studying for hours and hours, but he would smile. Gavin would stumble in, Michael would pretend he didn’t know or care that Gavin was intoxicated out of his mind and had just finished fucking or getting fucked by a complete stranger (or two), he would get the boy a glass of water and turn off his lamp, and then they would crawl into bed together.

Michael never asked about it – why he did it – so that Gavin would never have to answer.

Whenever he wanted to, he would think about Gavin’s carefully collected neon-glow looks and fading cut marks and the fact that he wasn’t hearing much about Gavin from people’s whispers lately, and that would be enough to convince himself to not.

But Michael suspected.

After a particularly stressful night of cramming for Analysis & Mechanics, Michael was completely spent.

Sighing as he set his textbook off to the side and rubbed at his eyes, he checked the time. 3:20AM. Glancing to the door, he wondered if Gavin would come by tonight. He hadn’t in a few days, but that really didn’t mean much; the British boy never had a schedule for these things.

A small part of Michael chastised itself for almost wanting Gavin to show up at the door.

His eyes wandered over to the other side of the room, landing on Ray’s sleeping figure. Biting the inside of his cheek, the brunet felt vaguely guilty. He didn’t know if it was just exam nerves, but he felt like shit.

Ray had been extremely distant as of late, either leaving for entire days only to come home to sleep without saying a word, or just putting on his headphones to study or play video games and determinedly avoiding Michael.

Maybe Ray was just trying to work, and Michael just had bad timing.

But he was pretty sure the Puerto Rican was mad at him for something.

Either way, Ray and Michael hadn’t had a proper conversation since the last Physics class Michael skipped, back at the beginning of December. Now, exams were almost over and it was the 10th or something – there was definitely something wrong.

Michael was still thinking over what the fuck changed between them and how to fix his friendship with his usually talkative best friend/roommate when the Skyloft theme from The Legend of Zelda – Skyward Sword started playing from his pile of clothes in the corner.

Too tired from studying, Michael couldn’t comprehend for the life of him how the fuck his laundry was making music.

He glared at the offending pile, crossing his arms.

Ray rolled over in his bed, mumbling something incomprehensible as he started to wake, causing Michael to blink rapidly and realize that no, clothes could not in fact double as speakers, and that yes, that was his  ringtone.

Swearing under his breath, he scrambled from his chair and dove for his phone, hoping to shut it up before his roommate woke up and got even more pissed at him than he already apparently was.

Who the motherfucking hell calls at this time of – “Oh.” Michael said softly.

Incoming call. Accept? Decline?

Skyloft continued playing.

Ray shifted, opening an eye to see Michael sitting on the floor, face illuminated by the glow from his phone. He watched as Michael mouthed something to himself and put the phone to his ear and say –

“Gavin.”

The Puerto Rican grunted in annoyance and turned back over, going back to sleep just as Michael turned around, wide-eyed, correctly thinking that he had woken Ray up by accident.

But Michael was far too engaged with the person on the other end of the call to think about whether or not he had to face a wrathful Ray the day after. He averted his gaze and quickly stood up, leaving the dorm to go talk in the stairwell in peace.

“Mi-cooooool!” Gavin’s cheerful voice came through the phone just as Michael gently shut the door behind him, wincing.

“What are you doing calling this late, boi?” Michael tried to ignore the fact that Gavin was obviously quite drunk.

“Wh-Why?” Gavin sputtered, the sound of laughter ringing out in the background behind him. “Why?? Do I need a reason to call my boi?” The pout could almost be heard in his voice.

Michael sighed, pulling off his beanie and running his fingers through his hair. “No, I guess not, but you’re still a fucking idiot.”

“Thanks, Mi-cool!”

Another round of snickers and hoots from Gavin’s end.

Irritated, Michael shoved a hand in his pocket. “Wasn’t a fucking compliment,” he snapped. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, ‘m…somewhere in a park. By the whoosh,” Gavin said vaguely.

“The whoosh?”

“Yeah boi! The whoosh and the…the pool. For swimmy bevs!”

Michael fought the urge to throw his phone against the wall. Gavin was smashed, yeah, but did he have to be so fucking incoherent about it all?

“E….deep eddy’s!” The British boy managed before entering a fit of laughter over something someone said that Michael didn’t catch.

Gavin didn’t say anything more over the phone, and Michael didn’t either. Leaning against the cold brick wall in silence, call still active with loud yelling coming from it, the curly-haired boy heard a door shut from downstairs and the sound of someone going up the stairs in his direction. He frowned to himself as a couple minute passed and there was still nothing from Gavin.

There was no point in staying here if residence staff were doing their rounds and there was no conversation to be had; Gavin seemed okay.

The idiot would come by later if he wasn’t, anyways.

Michael was just about to go back to his room and maybe even hang up on the British idiot when two things happened.

One. The stairwell door creaked open and a very pissed off, very sleepy looking Ray poked his head out and glared at Michael.

“Your girlfriend is calling, asshat. Skype fucking woke me up so you might as well go ahead and chat, I already accepted the call for you.” He muttered, squinting without glasses. “Good fucking night.” The door slammed behind the Puerto Rican before Michael could catch it.

This motherfucking timing, Michael thought. This is not great.

Two. Gavin’s end of the line suddenly burst out into noise, raucous laughter and shuffling scraping through Michael’s shitty phone speakers. Ray almost came over to investigate, but thought better of it.

Michael on the other hand, nearly jumped at the sudden sounds that echoed off the walls.

“Jesus fucking Christ Gavin, what the hell are you –“ He started, pressing the phone to his ear again.

The voices were now muffled and muted, as if heard from a distance. Michael heard Gavin giggle drunkenly amidst the talking, equally far away. Despite knowing that he should probably just hang up now that the British boy completely abandoned their conversation, he contradictorily only gripped the phone harder. Subconsciously holding his breath, Michael barely registered some cricket chirping in the background noise and the faraway sounds of traffic and water.

I should really be getting the fuck back to my room now.

Lindsay’s waiting.

“Hey pretty boy, want to take care of that for me?” Michael suddenly froze at the foreign chuckling voice over the call, one hand still outstretched towards the stairwell door handle.

He heard Gavin giggle breathily. “Mate, I don’t see why not.”

Does that motherfucker mean – Michael gripped the door, temple throbbing.

Ray was knocking angrily from the other side now, sound bouncing down the stairwell as residence staff shouted up – you shouldn’t be here at this time of night! – and his phone buzzed with Skype notifications even through the call, but Michael was too focused on what was coming through from Gavin’s end to bother with any of that.

Faint sounds, but clearly discernible as the group chatter died down and everyone presumably left. All except two.

A zipper being pulled open.

The sound of lips meeting flesh.

A satisfied groan.

“Fuck, Gavin,” the same low voice hissed as the British boy supposedly worked him over.

Gavin moaned, mouth full.

Body igniting in white-hot anger and the barest hint of shameful arousal, Michael really did whip his phone against the wall this time. It clattered against the concrete steps and bounced down a flight, shards of glass and plastic flying everywhere. The call ended.

Michael breathed deeply, white-knuckled fists clenched at his sides. Inhale. Exhale.

Fuck that.

He whipped open the stairwell door, not bothering to pick up the remains of his demolished phone or acknowledge the now wide-eyed and very awake Ray still standing in the hallway as he strode back into his dorm room and crashed into his chair. “Hey babe, you’re finally here!” Lindsay’s familiar voice exclaimed from his laptop, red hair shining brilliantly in the bottom right corner of Michael’s screen.

Why the fuck was he so upset? Gavin had sex with strangers on a regular basis. For fucks sake, the first time he met the boy was after (or during, depending how you looked at it) a hookup. It was a Gavin thing. So why was he so motherfucking pissed?

“…Michael?”

“Oh. Hi Lindsay,” he muttered distractedly, tugging at his thick curls. “How are you? Something wrong? Why are you calling so late?”

Lindsay stared at her boyfriend through the screen. “Could say the same for you.”

“What?” He snapped, hand leaving his hair. She jumped, taken aback by the hostility.

“I mean, I figured I would call since you were still online,” Lindsay said, cautiously. “Still studying?”

“Yeah, guess so.”

She pulled a face at his noncommittal reaction. “So…you up for something before we both go to sleep?”

“Like what?” Michael stared off into space, eyes unfocused.

“Well, we haven’t been talking that much lately, so I just figured –“ The redhead sighed at her boyfriend’s far-off gaze. “I just wanted to spend some time together, that’s all.” She finished softly.

Michael finally refocused at that, clicking the call and making it full-screen. His eyes swept across, noting the tiredness of his girlfriend’s face and her almost forced cheery disposition. She wanted to Skype with him for longer, probably for an hour or two. He weighed his options.

One. Lindsay. Stay home. Skype with her like a good boyfriend. Don’t be a bad person.

Two. Gavin. Drunk, more than likely having outdoor sex by now and will wake up sometime after with no clothes on and a couple miles away from home.

He clenched his teeth, but a flash of bitterness passed through him as he recalled the graphic, contented noises the British boy made as he sucked some guy off fully aware of Michael listening in on the other end.

Lindsay. Why not?

He had been neglecting her as of late.

“No, I was just being fucking dumb. Of course we can, Linds,” Michael said, smiling as he pushed the lanky boy from his mind and opened an Xbox session between him and his girl.

Fuck Gavin Free.

Ray sat in the stairwell in his pyjamas with a sour look on his face.

He didn’t feel like going back into the dorm and third-wheeling for Michael and Lindsay; he knew he couldn’t fall asleep now. Too light of a sleeper for that.

So instead, his mind turned to what had just happened.

The stormy redness of Michael’s anger, a shattered phone screen, and something about Gavin. Of course it was something about Gavin. (What hasn’t been, recently?)

What the actual fuck was going on between Michael and Gavin Free? Whatever it was, Ray didn’t like it.

A part of him knew that it was because he was jealous of the cheery British boy; he was just so foreign and interesting and good-looking and goddamn if the guy didn’t steal away everyone close to Ray. It was already bad enough to find out in the fall that he was close with Barbara. It was worse to know that he knew Jack, and infinitely more devastating to realize he was practically intimate with Ryan Haywood.

And now Gavin’s moved on to Michael.

Ray hissed through his teeth in furiousness, ruffling his hair as he hunched over.

It took him, what, two months for Michael to get used to him? Two months of living in the same room, eating meals together, and playing video games. Strained, awkward conversation and Ray desperately trying to find common interests so they could be friends.

And then Gavin Free waltzes in, has one or two Physics lectures with the introverted curly-haired boy, drags him out for lunch or something, and all of a sudden Michael is going over to his house, having sleepovers, inviting the British piece of shit over into their dorm room without even asking Ray, and just generally having a fucking blast with his new best friend.

On top of that, Gavin would just randomly show up to their place in the middle of the fucking night, and Michael would let him in. Ray would wake up in the morning and find the two tangled together in bed, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

What the fuck?

No, Ray reflected. He was definitely jealous. Not because he wanted to cuddle with Michael, but because Gavin Free was somehow able to. Michael didn’t even usually do physical contact. Michael never hugged. But then there was Gavin, and with Gavin, everything was fucking different.

At this point, he wasn’t even sure if Michael was dating Lindsay, or if he was more or less with Gavin.

Which was ridiculous, because Michael was straight.

But he sure doesn’t act like it around him, Ray thought bitterly, flicking at a stray piece of lint on his sleeve.

Gavin Free had so many people.

He couldn’t have Michael, too.

Suddenly, something vibrated disturbingly loudly from a flight below, causing Ray to flinch. The sound was oddly brittle. Standing up to investigate as the noises continued, he realized that it was Michael’s destroyed phone lighting up.

“How the hell do you still work?” He asked aloud in a disbelieving tone as he stepped towards it. “I can’t even drop my phone from my bed without it dying.”

Gingerly picking it up and doing his best to not cut himself on the broken edges of glass and frame, Ray swiped the phone open.

He snickered.  No password. Typical Michael.

But then his laugh fell short.

You have eleven (11) new message(s).

[4:14:20 AM] Gavin Free: Michaaaelllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll [4:14:35 AM] Gavin Free: are yuo  still there??/? [4:14:41 AM] Gavin Free: sorru [4:14:49 AM] Gavin Free: swear to god I didn’t know the thing was still on

[4:15:55 AM] Gavin Free: Micheal are you mad [4:16:32 AM] Gavin Free: pelase dont be [4:16:46 AM] Gavin Free: you’re my boi

[4:18:02 AM] Gavin Free: you make me happy [4:18:19 AM] Gavin Free: but I needed this [4:18:53 AM] Gavin Free: but I miss you

[4:19:22 AM] Gavin Free: please come ?

Ray bit his lip, weighing the crushed phone in his hands. Should he go return it to Michael? The guy was probably happily Skyping with his girlfriend, Lindsay, by now.

I have no fucking clue where Gavin fits in, in all of that, he suddenly realized, mind flashing back to Gavin and Michael cuddling in bed together. He grimaced. And he had no intention of actively trying to find out.

But even though he hated Gavin’s guts and would like nothing more than for the British prick to disappear from his life, Ray couldn’t help but feel oddly affected by the mood surrounding the pleas he sent to Michael. They seemed vulnerable. Open-hearted.

Please come?

The opposite of what Ray knew Gavin Free as; cocky, surefooted, invincible.

“Michael should probably know about this,” he muttered to himself, a small, terrible part of him whispering to just let it go, and to leave the phone where it was. Ray, it said. Gavin doesn’t need Michael wrapped around his finger. He doesn’t need that. Michael doesn’t need that. He doesn’t need to know.

But that last message weighed on him.

Please come?

Probably from Geoff or something. He tapped his phone impatiently. I feel so much better. Hardly sick. Wait – Gavin squinted at the too-bright screen.

[9:11:36 AM] Michael Jones: yo did you fall asleep

[9:17:44 AM] Michael Jones: Gavin

[9:28:01 AM] Michael Jones: ??? ???????? ??

Michael.

He ripped his covers off and sat up, too quickly. His head swam from suddenly being vertical again but he ignored it, heart rapidly sinking as he scanned the room widely. He remembered having an absolutely fantastic time with Michael when he popped by to visit earlier today. And falling asleep in his arms on the couch downstairs.

Did his stupid fever-stricken brain make all of that up?

Gavin bit his lip, hoping that wasn’t true. But then how and why did he end up upstairs? Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he picked up his tea gloomily and went down to see Geoff and Griffon.

“Gav! You’re up!” Griffon exclaimed upon seeing him trek into the kitchen, pulling him towards her. Checking his temperature, she smiled. “You look so much better than when we left this morning.”

“Yeah,” Geoff agreed, looking somewhat frazzled. “You don’t look gross as dicks anymore. I mean, not as much as before.” He smirked, but even that was lackluster, not that Gavin noticed.

The British boy just mhm’d, half-heartedly sipping at his tea as he glanced around the room.

Geoff and Griffon exchanged knowing looks.

“Looking for something?” The older man offered.

Gavin hesitated. “Uh. Is there – I mean – did someone – “ He didn’t want to make a fool of himself asking, especially if he was wrong about all of this. He hissed out a breath while Griffon giggled, putting a hand to her mouth.

He scrunched up his face in annoyance.

“I mean, bugger it all – did you two have someone over today at all while I was out?” Gavin asked, unable to mask his hopefulness. The blonde woman giggled again and excused herself, returning to the kitchen table to sit.

“Nope!” Geoff almost too cheerfully replied as he made to sit down as well, patting the British boy on the back as he went and making him spill his tea.

Damn. Well, I knew it. It was too good to be true, Gavin thought miserably, barely wincing at the hot liquid.

“But you did!”

He looked up from his half-full mug. “What?” Gavin asked. “I did what?”

Geoff grinned at him, something oddly guilty about the smile. But before Gavin could pry into what his expression meant, the man replied and suddenly, Gavin didn’t really care about that particular mystery anymore.

“You did. Have someone over?” Geoff repeated, settling down next to Griffon. “He’s pretty fucking pissed you slept for so long, but anyways, he’s still here.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the living room.

Michael.

Gavin practically took off in a sprint. He slowed unsurely just before rounding the doorway, anxious that maybe the older man was just pulling his leg to see his reaction. He glanced back, but Griffon just gave him an encouraging smile while Geoff pointedly looked away. He frowned but stepped into the living room anyways and sure enough, there was the curly-haired boy, sitting on the sofa alone.

Michael had his arms crossed and was apparently sleeping, brow still furrowed. There was a pair of empty beer bottles on the table and an Xbox controller. Passed the time with it, Gavin guessed.

As he waited. For me.

Face splitting into a happy smile, Gavin quietly bounced over and sat down cross-legged right next to Michael, leaning close. It looked like it hadn’t been a dream after all; Michael was very much real and in front of him. And yes – there was his blanket sitting on the floor by the tele. Gavin was so pleased with it all that he could hardly contain himself.

The lanky boy was just about to throw himself onto Michael, or at least try and smooth that stressed look out from the other boy’s face, when he suddenly realized the brunet had opened his brown eyes and was staring right back.

“Bloody hell!” Gavin shrieked, tumbling backwards and causing Geoff and Griffon to come running.

“Fucking – oh my god, Gav. No, it’s nothing! He’s being an idiot!” A fully awake Michael exclaimed, scooting away from the British boy as they stuck their heads around the doorway to see.

Once they realized nothing had happened, the older couple simply left with a wave and a warning look from Geoff that Gavin didn’t quite catch.

“Jesus Christ, how the fuck do you always manage to make a scene?” Michael muttered distractedly, biting the inside of his cheek as he helped Gavin sit up.

Michael does that when there’s something bothering him, the British boy reflected.

“I didn’t know you were awake,” Gavin pouted, flushing a little. “You scared the bejesus out of me, Mi-cool! Everything alright with you?”

But the brunet just rolled his eyes. “Scaredy-cat.”

“Am not!” Gavin protested, smile helplessly tugging at his lips as his previous concern washed away.

Michael’s here! We’re bois! I spent an entire day with him!

The boy’s silent happiness was contagious, and Michael found himself grinning widely right back.

Geoff frowned as he heard Gavin’s laughter travel from the living room, setting down his beer as Griffon put a comforting hand on his tattooed arm.

She knew what was bothering her boyfriend; it was the same general issue that plagued her when she first realized what was going on with Gavin, one that she still didn’t really have an answer to. And from the looks of it, neither did Geoff.

Neither of them could do anything about it at this point, so they had to leave it. Or they should have just left it, but Geoff didn’t; when Gavin was still asleep upstairs, the conversation between Geoff and the boy named Michael Jones had gotten more than a little heated. When she had gotten home earlier in the evening, they were already in the thick of it…

Two hours ago

“Wait, you have a girlfriend, kid?” Geoff was gruffly saying, tugging at his beard in anxiety just as Griffon came through the door.

“Yeah. So?” Michael easily replied, voice wavering but clear.

But the lack of weight in Michael’s words seemed to agitate Geoff even more, causing him to jump up from his spot next to Michael and whip around to glare down at him.

“So? What the fuck do you mean, so? Dicks, does Gavin know?”

“It means I don’t have a motherfucking clue why you’re acting like I shoved something up your ass. What’s it matter to you – of course Gavin fucking knows!”

The two looked like they were doing alright earlier if the beers sitting on the coffee table and some co-op campaign running on the TV were any indication. But they definitely weren’t getting along when Griffon arrived – Geoff was standing with a fiery expression opposite Michael, who was still sitting on the sofa in bewilderment at the barrage of odd questions and even odder remarks.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, kid, but you better fucking quit it.” Geoff firmly said, his expression a rarity for the usually easy-going man.

Michael raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms, throwing down the Xbox controller he had still been holding. “What, you’re Gavin’s father now? The guy’s twenty! What’s it matter if I came over and –“

“When you texted me, I thought it was ‘cause you wanted to give him some fucking work or –“

“Oh, excuse me for coming in and taking care of the idiot. Eat my entire ass.”

“What did you just say?” Geoff all but shouted in incredulousness.  

Michael and Geoff glared daggers at each other, momentary respite allowing Griffon to sneak in and set a warning hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder before he did something terribly stupid. But she had seen Geoff’s temple throb more than once and his expression grow more and more tense at Michael’s apparent indifference at what a mess he was causing just by being here and Michael was opening his mouth and then –

“Eat my ass. Gavin’s my friend.”

Geoff exploded, slamming his hands down on the coffee table with a bang. Glass clinked as the beer bottles rocked on the surface unsteadily.

“AND I’M TELLING YOU YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW WHAT THAT WORD EVEN MEANS, HERE.” He gritted at Michael, who seemed to suddenly be weighing in on the severity of this unexpected conversation.

(Because all of the conversations between the two seemed to be unplanned, and Michael never knew what was going on in any of them, but they always seemed important.)

Griffon glanced worriedly upstairs at the noise.

“…What?” Michael said, completely fucking confused at what word Geoff was talking about. “Friend?” He almost laughed, but stopped himself at the fiercely protective look on the guy’s face.

“You’re the only goddamn friend of Gavin’s to ever come to this house.” The older man spat out, almost venomously. “Now just think about that, and how I fucking found you guys all wrapped up in each other, and you better choose what you do next very carefully.”

Michael opened his mouth to protest about how it was Gavin who fell onto him, how Gavin was just sick and it just sort of happened, but Geoff shut him down even before he could get another word out.

“I don’t care what you have to say, Jones,” Geoff whispered, sounding less angry but rather wearier, more than anything else. Michael’s eyes flickered to Griffon’s for help, but she just subtly shaken her head and stood there, mouth shut and eyes troubled.

“I just – Gavin’s like a son to me. He’s not…alright, and I can’t have you building him up only so we can watch him crash into pieces afterwards.” Michael gaped as Geoff continued.

“You can’t string him along like this.”

“But I’m not –“

“Honey, but you are.” Griffon finally spoke, softly.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples. “I. Don’t. See. What. The. Problem. Is.” He clenched his jaw, pissed off at the entire talk. “I’m b – I’m not gay. Besides, Gavin doesn’t like me like that. Gavin doesn’t date. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, Gavin doesn’t date.” Geoff agreed, but his body language was still hostile, his eyes still dark. Griffon gave him a look, and he returned it. They were both thinking the same thing.

Gavin doesn’t date. That is, until you, but you’re unavailable.

“So there we go,” Michael said with finality as he got up, ready to be done with the conversation already. He wanted to leave. Now.

“But – !” This time, Griffon didn’t have to stop Geoff; he stopped himself, frowning to himself.

Michael actually seemed clueless. Which was in many ways more heartbreaking than the alternative, but Geoff had a responsibility to ensure Gavin’s wellbeing, as fragile as that was. And that wellbeing had gotten better, alarmingly so, when this curly-haired ball of rage walked into the British boy’s life.

He thought about the way Michael looked at Gavin when he fell off the couch, and the way he picked him up without hesitation and turned to Geoff, asking where Gavin’s actual bed was so he could sleep somewhere more comfortable.

He thought about Gavin’s contented sleeping face, and thought about how it was the first time he saw the British boy look like that in months without the smell of alcohol or marijuana hanging over him like a dark cloud.

He thought about the absolute delight that would light up Gavin’s face whenever he texted Michael – the boy always thought he was pretty discreet about it, but he wasn’t in the least.  

Geoff made a decision then, in that moment.

He hated it, but he made it.

Michael Jones needs to stick around.

“Look, I’m sorry, kid.” He called out, throwing his pride away. Geoff lowered his defense just as Michael was about to turn and walk right out the door. “You’re right. You should stay.”

“What the actual fuck, Geoff?” The brunet yelled, exasperated. He threw his hands up. “Make up your motherfucking mind. Am I staying or am I going?”

“You’re staying,” Geoff firmly said. For Gavin.

“Please,” Griffon added, out of the blue. Michael had almost forgotten she was there.

“Anyways,” Geoff said, switching to a lighter tone of voice that annoyed Michael to no end. “Gavin will probably be awake soon, so you can either wait here or join us in the kitchen?”

Michael just glared, lips pursed as he fell back onto the couch with a pointed look.

Sighing, the older man walked closer. “Hey, kid. I’m sorry. I got a little…defensive. Just be careful with Gavin, alright? He’s not all what you think he is. He’s human, too.”

The curly-haired boy almost snorted at that. Really, what else could he be but human?

He could be the sun. His thoughts betrayed him.

Without answer but satisfied that Michael wasn’t going to leave even after that shouting match, Geoff and Griffon left the boy seated there on the sofa as he thought hard, eyes shut. And that’s where Gavin found him an hour later, still sitting there, brow furrowed, stressed about everything Geoff told him.

Back in the present, Geoff took another sip of his beer in the kitchen while Griffon gently held his hand.

“I don’t get it, Griff,” he said hoarsely, as quiet as possible so Gavin and Michael couldn’t hear. They wouldn’t be able to, anyways; they were hollering at the top of their lungs playing some platform co-op game that was slaughtering them and the din they made drowned out everything else.

But Geoff spoke lowly anyways.

“I don’t ge–“ He repeated himself when he thought his girlfriend didn’t hear him, but the blonde woman squeezed his hand with a slight smile.

“I know, babe,” she whispered. “I know.”

Because Michael was human, like anyone else, with problems like anyone else. And they shouldn’t have expected him to be the solution to all of Gavin’s problems, because a person isn’t ever an answer.

But they both stupidly thought that he could have been, all because of the way Gavin looked at Michael.

Griffon and Geoff had never seen the boy look at anyone like that, drunk or sober, in all the time they’ve known him for. And yet there Michael Jones was, existing in Gavin Free’s house as though it were the most normal thing in the world, with the balls to announce that he was “just Gavin’s friend”.

Michael didn’t know, because Gavin didn’t want him to (and Gavin is very skilled at hiding what he doesn’t want other people to know), but also because he was just never looking. But Griffon noticed it immediately, and heck, even Geoff noticed by today.

It confused them both to no end though, because why Michael Jones?

Gavin looked at Michael as though he hung the fucking moon and stars in the sky.

He looked at him like he was the entire world.