#thatbitchmabel

Alex shifts his weight. He sighs, defeated. “You know who I am, don’t you?” 

Willie can’t help himself, he bursts into laughter. He rolls his skateboard back and forth underneath his foot anxiously, but his chest loosens. “You know, when most people say that kind of sentence, they’re about to threaten someone. You just sound sad.” 

Alex smiles, but it looks sad. “I like making music,” he says. “I don’t like... some of the things that come with making music on this big a scale.” 

“Ah, yes,” Willie says. “The money. A hardship.” 

Alex snorts, lifting his hand to his face to his his laughter, but Willie wishes he wouldn’t. He likes his smile, likes his laugh. Alex rubs his hand against his nose, playing it off as an itch, and clears his throat. “But—uh—I don’t know who you are,” he says, and Willie thinks no, not even the half of it. 

And god, can Willie make him feel high. Like he’s soaring above the clouds, no looking down, no chance of dropping without strong arms to catch him. His smile leaves Alex off-balance in all the best ways. Willie is unpredictable, and it’s exhilarating; he’s earnest, and it’s reassuring; he’s passionate, and it’s like fire surging through Alex’s bloodstream, setting them both alight.

Willie’s everything he didn’t know he wanted. Now, he can’t imagine life without him.

Which is why he’d really rather not lose him for the stupidest possible reason.

“Don’t come in!”

“Alex…” From the other side of the door, Willie’s voice is very soft, very patient. More patient than he deserves. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna come in if you don’t want me to… I just want to make sure you’re okay.” There’s a pause, an awkwardly long silence, and then — “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” Maybe he says it a little too fast, and doesn’t sound even halfway convincing. Doesn’t matter. Alex is fine. He paces the length of the bathroom, two full laps, before calling back through the door, “Just — just give me a minute! I’ll be out soon!”

“Okay.” Willie pauses again, uncertain. “Do you need anything?”

“Nope! All good!”

Another pause, another shuffle from outside the door — god, Alex can feel his concern radiating through a layer of solid wood — before Willie sighs. “Okay,” he says again… and just like that, Alex is alone.

It doesn’t make him feel any better, and definitely doesn’t solve his problem.

“Okay,” he mutters, forcing his model strut to halt. He bounces on his heels once, twice, veins charged with battery acid. “Okay, okay!” No matter how many times he says it, the crisis isn’t magically resolving itself — and he’s seriously praying for a miracle, because he doesn’t know what to do. “Okay!” he says again, desperately, and spins around to face himself in the mirror.

Things are definitely not okay.

It doesn’t even look that bad from the front. No one would be able to tell, facing him… but the second Alex turns around, the tear straight down the back of his jeans is painfully apparent, wide open to the world. There’s no hiding it. There’s no passing off as anything else. His neon orange boxers are breathing free, and Alex can’t do anything about it.

Trust me, man, Reggie’s saccharine-cheerful voice rings in his ears. Skinny jeans are the craze in 2020! Willie’s gonna eat it up — he’ll want to eat you!

Not like this, Alex thinks, spinning around in the mirror to gaze at his exposed buns. Not like this.

Suddenly, another knock at the door resounds. Alex just about jumps out of his skin. “Uhh, occupied!” he blurts out — and doesn’t have time to wince at his own stupidity before Willie’s tentative voice floats through.

“Alex? Just checking on you again. It’s been a while.” A pause. “And it’s not like we can actually use the bathroom, so, y’know… just a little concerned.”

“I know, I know — sorry!” A nervous chuckle spills past Alex’s lips, and he wants to drown himself in the sink, he really does. “Just, uhh —“ Any excuse, anything. Anything. “Meditating!”

Anything but that. When did he get possessed by the spirit of Trevor Wilson?

“Meditating?” Willie’s voice sounds equally skeptical. “In there?”

Someone help him. “Yeah, I mean — is there any better place to do it?”

“Literally anywhere that’s not the seedy bathroom of a karaoke bar.” To his credit, Willie hesitates — or at least sounds like he hesitates — for a solid ten seconds before sighing. “Alex, I’m coming in.”

“No,” exclaims Alex, “nonono—“

Too fast, but not fast enough. Willie pokes his head through the door first — because he’s a ghost, locked doors mean nothing to them and Alex knows this — before following with the rest of his body. His hair falls around his shoulders in floaty chestnut waves; his crop top is a glistening red and yellow, like he’s dragged a sunset from the sky and draped it over himself. Willie’s jeans fit perfectly; they didn’t split down the middle the second he got up to dance. Clearly, one of them came more prepared than the other.

Whatever Willie was anticipating, though, it’s not his date pressed against the nearest bathroom stall, wide-eyed and stiff as a popsicle stick. Alex flashes a rictus grin; Willie hesitates, brows furrowing, before smiling back.

“Let’s see…” He makes a show of peeking into the empty stalls, ducking under them to peer beneath the sinks. “Huh. Don’t see anyone holding you hostage.”

“Nah.” Alex clears his throat. “I’d have taken care of them if they tried.”

“Right, yeah, of course.” Willie takes in his stiff posture, the hands folded neatly behind his back. He’s not impressed by Alex’s innocent schoolboy act. “So. Just freaking out in here, huh?”

“Pretty much,” Alex squeaks.

“No bright ideas?”

“None whatsoever.”

“At what point were you gonna panic-poof out of here and leave me holding the check?”

“Okay, no —“ That’s taking it a little too far. Alex can bear an insult to his underwear choices, but not his pride. “One, we’re ghosts, we haven’t racked up a bill; two, I wasn’t going to leave without telling you; three, it — it isn’t you! At all! I’m having a great time — or I was, before, and I just — I don’t —“ He hesitates, voice and defensive stance wavering. “Don’t want you to… see me. Like this.”

Willie looks him from head to toe, and sighs mournfully. “Oh, Hot Dog. How far you’ve fallen, bro.”

“It’s not funny!”

“Okay, but you haven’t explained what’s going on.” Finally, the last of the humor drains from Willie’s tone. Now he just looks concerned, and a little curious. “Are you okay? Come on...” He tilts his head, imploring. “You can tell me anything, you know? Whatever it is… we’ll deal with it together.”

“You don’t need to be a part of this,” Alex says shortly.

“Of what?”

“Of —“ Of the giant part down the back of his pants. Alex shuffles nervously on his heels; then he feels his pants rip more, and very quickly decides that’s a bad idea.

“What?” At the shell-shocked look on Alex’s face, Willie swivels around. “Is there another ghost in here?”

“No! Just stop — it’s not funny, quit — oh, come on.” Alex hates how pathetic he sounds, how his voice trails off into a whine. When Willie takes a step forward, he has to fight the urge to step back… and he just keeps coming, forward and forward, until he’s close enough to touch.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly. Alex nods; Willie’s hand finds the side of his jaw, fingers catching in cornsilk strands and trailing through them gently. Alex leans into the touch without meaning to, and Willie makes a tiny, glad noise.

“There you are,” he says softly, coaxing Alex’s gaze with his own. Alex has to smile; he can’t help it. Willie’s eyes gleam. “Now. Talk to me, Alex. Why’d you run away? Why are you hiding, and what can I do to help?”

Alex swallows hard. It burns his throat like acid, and feels like admitting what a colossal idiot he is… but finally, he fesses up. “I… split my pants while we were dancing,” he admits, head bowed. “And, uhh, I don’t… know what to do? Honestly, poofing out never even occurred to me.”

Willie’s quiet for a moment too long… then, Alex feels his boyfriend shift in his arms, like he’s straining to peek around him — behind him. Willie snorts out loud.

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Willie holds up his hands, but he’s giggling in earnest now — and the worst part is, Alex can’t even be mad. When Willie’s happy, he glows, and all Alex ever wants to do is bask in it… even if it’s at his expense. (Willie laughs too much, at inappropriate moments. It’s a problem. Alex adores him for it.)

“It’s not funny!” he says nonetheless, because he’s got to at least pretend to have dignity.

Willie takes a deep breath, and manages to collect himself. It takes more effort than it should. “I’m sorry,” he says — and cuts off to snort again. He shakes his head, getting the last giggles out with it. “It’s just — Alex. You forgot something crazy important.”

Alex raises an eyebrow. Willie grins.

“We’re the only ghosts in here, you goof! Do you really think a bunch of lifers are gonna care about your neon undies?”

Instinctively, Alex reaches back to protect his neon undies — but Willie’s laughing again, and reaching forward, catching him around the shoulders. Alex leans into him like muscle memory, and the mortification and tension slides off of him like water.

“You,” he said, leaning up on his tip-toes, “have gotta get used to this ghost thing, man.”

“Maybe don’t take me to a lifer karaoke bar on a date,” Alex shoots back. When Willie leans forward, he nearly tumbles backwards into a stall. “Whoa! Wait, don’t kiss me right now!”

Willie pouts, eyes gleaming. “Why not?”

“Because we’re in a public bathroom, someone’s singing ‘Total Eclipse of The Heart’ out there, I feel a breeze —“

Alex yelps as Willie’s hand snakes behind his back. Suddenly, he can’t help laughing too… and Willie’s beaming, and the fluorescent bathroom lights feel warm and reassuring. It’s hard to remember why he was hiding in here at all.

“No one out there cares,” Willie says, his voice very fond and very patient. “I know I sure don’t. If it’ll make you feel better, we can go, and you can change pants.”

“No,” Alex says quickly. “No, that’ll end the date. Not — not that it isn’t already ruined, I mean —“

Willie cuts him off with a gentle kiss. This time, Alex isn’t stupid enough to protest. “Nothing’s ruined,” Willie murmurs against his lips. “Things have just… gotten a little more interesting.”

Alex’s nose crinkles. “Yeah. They’d be really interesting if I’d worn my polka dot boxers.”

Willie snorts, and does a strange, subtle shimmy motion. Alex is too busy looking at his face, caught in the deep wells of his eyes, to be suspicious… but he knows that mischievous gleam too well. Slowly, his gaze drifts down… and his eyes almost pop out of his head.

“Willie! What —“

“What?” Willie spreads his arms wide and does a little spin, showing off his navy briefs. They’re cherry-patterned. God help Alex.

“You — you can't just —“ He's the one who can’t, actually, because his brain has short-circuited, and his ability to form words is totally offline.

“Why not? I told you, Alex, no one out there knows! No one cares!” He spreads his arms wider. “It’s just like skinny dipping!”

“It’s so not — we’re not naked, we — wait, you’ve been skinny dipping? When? Where?”

Alex is going to have a heart attack. From the grin on Willie’s face, he’s enjoying this way too much.

“What do you say, Hot Dog?” His brow arches. “Don’t leave me hanging.”

Alex grits his teeth, and manages to mutter, “Nothing is hanging…” But even as he says it, he finds himself shimmying out of his jeans.

That’s the insane thing about being with Willie — the wonder, the magic of it all. Willie makes the world seem easy. He takes his hand, and walks with Alex out of his comfort zones, into things he never would have dreamed of doing… and somehow, he’s never afraid, so long as Willie’s by his side.

Willie makes him brave.