Kent stares at the post on their dash, mouth gaping slightly.Â
you literally donât know him, donât say shit like that
holtzmecloser
I know heâs beautiful and talented and he doesnât need Jack Zimmermann and if heâs even half of how you talk about what he does heâs perfect
They run a hand through their hair. The air around them feels thin. Thereâs an itch just under the surface of their skin. Holtzy wasnât supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be safe from bullshit people who make assumptions about Kentâs life. Then again, heâs knows how to cut Kent deep. A few years of friendship would that.Â
He probably doesnât mean any of this. Heâll wake up in the morning, hung over as fuck, and apologize. At least heâs tagging alcohol use appropriately. Itâs Kent fault for looking at them anyway.Â
They swallow a lump in their throat.Â
heâs perfectÂ
Kent huffs. They havenât thought of theirself as a he in years, but itâs weirder than that. Itâs thinking that someone could value their opinion enough to want whatever piece of Kent they could get. Holtzy wants the honest truth, the more Kent thinks about it. Itâs not like theyâve ever lied to him before. Well, except for the part where theyâre a fucking NHL player.Â
That might be important to know.Â
They push back from their desk, getting up with a shaky sigh. Kent groans as they stretch, heading toward the kitchen of the house they share with Jeff and Parker. From the cat tree in the living room, Kit meows at them in greeting.Â
Goose and Perry are over, cuddling on the couch. Parkerâs half asleep on Jeff. Kent smirks softly. Itâs good to their friends happy and in love. Johnnyâs sitting at the breakfast table, typing furiously.Â
âItâs Saturday night and weâre not working,â Kent says poignantly. âWhat the fuck are you up to?âÂ
Johnny hums. âWorking on my dissertation.â
Kent winces. âI wish you were joking.âÂ
âSoft same,â Johnny says. He looks up from his laptop. âI thought you were âdecompressingâ or something?â
They shrug, opening the fridge to avoid eye contact. âNeeded a break, human interaction and shit.â
âWhat happened?â Perry asks knowingly.Â
âNothing,â Kent lies.Â
âKent,â Goose says in a very even tone.Â
Which, since Kent is literally incapable of saying no to him, they cave. âMy friend is a drunken dipshit and heâs in love with me--apparently.âÂ
âApparently,â Johnny chirps. âIsnât this the guy who stays up all night just to talk to you?âÂ
âYea but heâs not into me,â Kent grumbles. âHeâs into Kent fucking Parson.âÂ
âSo tell him to fuck off,â Parker mumbles.Â
âI canât,â they say.Â
âBecause...â Goose asks.Â
âBecause maybe I donât want to tell him to fuck off?âÂ
Perry sits up, they stare at Goose and then at Kent.Â
Kent balks. âWhat?â
âWhat makes him so special?âÂ
âI donât know, ok? Heâs just--funny and stubborn. He knows what he likes and tells everyone else to fuck off.â Kent sighs, slamming the fridge door close. They scrub their face. âIâm fucked. Iâve seen one picture of this guy in six years, and it was of his fucking huge teeth.âÂ
âHuge teeth?â Goose âDo I want to know?â
âWe werenât like--flirting or anything. He was just telling me about his ex and how much they liked getting hickeys next to their ear.âÂ
Perry makes a sound thatâs a cross between an indignant scream and a yelp. Kent frowns.Â
âAnd this guy goes to Samwell?â Perry asks.Â
âYea, so?âÂ
âYou have no idea who he is?â
âUm, I might have an idea,â Kent admits.Â
âWho?â
âThis guy, Adam? Heâs on the hockey team.âÂ
âOh, Holster,â Johnny says. âAlright, I can see it.âÂ
Perry looks at Goose, and then back at Kent. They groan.Â
âYou should...talk to him,â Perry says. âWhen heâs sober.â
Kent glares. âWhy?â
âJust...do it, please?âÂ
Kent bites their lip, pulling their phone out. âMaybe,â they grumble.
âThatâs a no,â Johnny declares.Â
Kent flips him off. Theyâd rather not think about the fact that they couldâve been hanging out with Holtzy in real life all this time. They scroll through Twitter until they get to something from over a year ago. Itâs a picture of him with two d-men at Samwell. They stop theirself from tracing over Holsterâs face with their thumb.Â
This isnât love or a crush or--anything. Itâs two friends getting too close and too hung up on things that donât exist. Whatever Kent Parson Holsterâs conjured up in his mind doesnât exist. Heâs a figment of the mediaâs imagination.Â
Hopefully, Holster will realize that before someone gets hurt.Â
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Johnson: so actually, he DIDNâT know that I knew Sweetie until, well, here let me show you.Â
you big fucking dork
fuck
text Johnson. ask for my number. Â
Holster jerks up so quickly that he hits his head against Ransomâs bed. he winces, rubbing circles into a tender spot on his skull. His mouth falls open when he rereads the answer. He feels his heart drop out of his chest.Â
Johnson.Â
Fucking John Johnson knows Sweetie.Â
Johnson who knows everyone and their mother (so not as surprising as it should be). But also this is Johnson, who plays with the Las Vegas Aces. Johnson who played a game against the Bruins last December when he couldâve dropped by Epikegster but didnât.Â
Holsterâs eyes widen as he remembers Epikegster: how much shit was going around online about Parse showing up out of nowhere. More importantly, he remembers the way Kent spoke and how it left such an impression on him.Â
Maybe he sometimes thinks that Sweetie knows too much about Kent. Or that they get a little too emotional when anyone tries to smack talk Jack, or Jeff Troy for that matter.Â
Jeff Troy, the liney and best friend of Kent Fucking Parson.Â
Holster closed mouth screams. Because he wasnât ready for this next shit. He was expecting maybe rejection or some casual chirp about coming off anon. Not that Holster wouldâve fessed up if Sweetie (Kent?) hadnât figured out it was him on their own.Â
Slowly, he gets out of bed. He paces the room, wringing his hands nervously. What is he even supposed to do with this information? What was there to do about finding out that one of his best friends could want him back? And that maybe whatever complex feelings he has for Sweetieâs interpretation of Kent arenât misplaced affection because Sweetie IS Kent.Â
Holster sighs. Well, at least he knows for sure thatâs heâs liked a grand total of three people in his life: Perry, Ransom...and now Sweetie. He keeps pacing. He glances up at Ransomâs bed, which is vacant because heâs staying at Marchâs tonight.Â
He needs advice, and he sure as fuck canât ask Perry right now. He heads downstairs, hopping someoneâs home. Maybe not Bitty; who knows what he might say about Holster having a multi-year crush on a person he MAY have met previously in real life?Â
Who the fuck was he kidding? How else would Sweetie know Johnson?Â
He creeps down the attic staircase gently. Cautious of waking up anyone already asleep. He spots Lardoâs door, half open with light flooding outward. He approaches slowly, knocking the door a few times before pushing it further open.Â
Lardoâs sitting in her beanbag chair, typing. âWhatâs up?â she asks absent minded.Â
âI think I fucked up,â he says.Â
âHow?â
âI think Iâm in love? Maybe?â
âWith who?âÂ
âKent Parson,â he confesses.Â
Lardoâs back tenses. Her head snaps up. âWhat?â
Holster runs a hand through his hair, he starts pacing. âI donât know. Itâs fucking confusing but we donât talk like friends ok? Weâre fucking domestic and supportive of each other. And maybe thatâs just what friends fucking do. But Iâve never seen you and thought âI would spend the rest of my life doing whatever to just be around her.â No offense.âÂ
âNone taken,â âbut maybe back up a little? How are you friends with him?â
âThem,â Holster corrects without thinking. He opens his mouth to take it back because the last thing he needs is to out--Â
âOk cool,â Lardo says nuetrally. âDuly noted. Now spill.âÂ
She gestures to the desk chair to her right. Holster reluctantly sits, knowing itâs more for Lardoâs sanity than anything. He starts from the beginning: being bored, his tbi and how he wanted somewhere to get his frustration out once he was cleared for screens, his unlikely friendship with a bnf who acted so completely different than what Holster was expecting, their closeness and the only times theyâve gotten into arguments (which has mostly been lately). He suck in a huge breath once heâs done.Â
Lardo nods thoughtfully the entire time, resting her chin in her hands.Â
âSo are you gonna call them?â
âI donât know,â he says.Â
âWhy not?âÂ
âItâs not the same when Sweetieâs more than just a url. Itâs real.â
âThey were always a real person,â Lardo reasons.Â
âYou know what I mean,â Holster grumbles.Â
Lardo sighs. âHolster, you wanted your ex? Well theyâre taken. You wanted Ransom? Well heâs taken. You wanted Kent Parson and Sweetie AND they happen to be the same person and want you back? Bro.âÂ
âYea, yea,â he says with resignation. âDonât get in the way of my own happiness. Got it.âÂ
âNot just that,â she says.Â
âThen what?â
âDonât chicken out because youâre scared.âÂ
Holster snorts. âScared of what?â
âYou tell me,â she says neutrally.Â
Holster stares at his hands. He remembers the first time he ever talked to Sweetie. They were arguing because Sweetie told them to stop being a dick with all the anon messages heâd been sending them. It wasnât the first time heâs hurt Sweetie without meaning to. He canât do that anymore, not to them.Â
âYou ever hear two sides of the same story?â he asks instead of answering.Â
âChyeah,â Lardo agrees.Â
âYou ever hear the second story and think âfuck, I had no clue. what the fuck am I supposed to do now?ââÂ
âWhat are you saying?âÂ
âIâm scarred that Iâll disappoint them at best,â he admits. âMaybe Iâll fuck them up more. I donât think--â
âHolster,â Lardo interupts. âYouâre getting worked up about shit that might not happen.â
âBut what if it does?â he demands.Â
âWhat if it doesnât?âÂ
His jaw goes slack. If he doesnât fuck Kent up--if he and Kent could just be happy? He sees Kentâs face, maybe itâs tomorrow or next month or five years from now, just smiling back at him.Â
Thatâs worth everything, he thinks.Â
Holster gets up, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. âIâll be back.â
âWhere are you going?â Lardo calls after him.Â
âI need to see a man about a sweetie,â Holster yells as he heads downstairs. He puts on a hoodie and pair of sneakers. He runs until he gets to the pond, finding a dry patch of grass to sit down on.Â
He stares at his phone again, the clock reads just after midnight. He might be too late...for talking tonight at least. But he has to try. He scrolls through his contacts, clicking on a J with a goalpost next to it.Â
Holster wheezes, wondering if excitement smells like sweat or maybe something soft and sweet. He wonders what water smells like, or Kent for that matter. He grins to himself as he clicks call. Maybe heâll have time to figure that out.Â
âHey Holtzy,â Johnson says after the second ring. âTook you long enough, man.âÂ
In order to highlight the great acting (and to help keep those who may not be familiar with Gypsy in the loop of the plot), our next set of posts will include the scenes just before the key songs.Â
First up is Rose and Co. arriving at a theater in Los Angeles. Sheâs acquired the additional boys she needed for Baby Juneâs act and is trying to get them booked. Herbie, a candy salesman, arrives and assists Rose in getting the booking. And so their adventure together begins.....
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