#wydaugust

    “goddamnit,” aurelio whispers under his breath, bent down in front of the change machine. with a career that specializes in singles, he ordinarily doesn’t have a problem exchanging for quarters to do his laundry; however, today technology has failed him. the machine took his dollar and has, evidently, given him nothing in return -- the tray that ordinarily deposits the coins, sad in its emptiness. he gives it one last look and a kick for good measure before righting himself to make sure that no one has seen his outburst of frustration. the last thing he needs is for one of his fellow tenants to snitch on him for ‘damaging property’ or something equally dumb. elio does not have the money for a lawsuit. his eyes land on his solitary witness and he could nearly laugh with the irony. of course, this would be when he runs into august for the first time since knowingly moving into the same complex. just his luck. “sorry you had to see that,” he utters in a clipped tone.

     by the time a quarter past eleven rolls around, adrian is already drunk off more glasses of champagne than he’s been able to keep count of. it’s a wonderful, bubbly sort of drunk, mingling with the happy anticipation that always comes with the ringing in of a new year. he’s seen gus only a few hours ago back at the apartment but he still bounds over to him--in only a pair of converse tonight--with an excited grin on his face when he spots him among the guests packed into the penthouse. “august!” he shouts in his roommate’s ear, snatching whatever drink he’s holding right out of his hand and downing a great gulp of it. “you know what i’ve been thinking about? my dad told me that in ecuador they have this tradition where they burn scarecrows in the street at midnight. did you know that?” he tilts his head up to meet gus’s eyes with his own unfocused gaze, eyebrows raised in a drunken imitation of something that’s meant to be scholarly. “sounds super cathartic to me,” the drink is shoved back into gus’s hand. “i’d  probably make my own scarecrows. of all the dumb idiot boys i’ve slept with the past year. good idea, isn’t it?”

     there are a fairly decent number of people julian’s met in baltimore he’s learned to trust, but none so much as gus. the dude is solid and while julian certainly hasn’t told him everything about his past--far from it--he’s confided in him more than he would have believed of himself prior to their meeting. and now, with anyone else julian might have talked to a thousand miles away back in california, it’s gus he thinks of first when the weight of everything going on lately finally becomes too much. he needs to talk to someone, much as he loathes the thought. after checking with gus to make sure his roommates weren’t home he’d headed up to the seventh floor with several joints tucked into his pack of cigarettes like the equivalent of a child’s safety blanket. “thanks for having me over,” he says where he’s hunched over on the living room couch, dark circles under his eyes and fingers fidgeting restlessly with a loose thread on his worn-out jeans. “i’ve got a...i’ve got some shit going on. with kit.” he closes his eyes. shakes his head. “not with kit,” he amends quietly, “it’s not his fault.” swallowing hard past a lump in his throat, he leans back into the couch and passes a weary hand across his face. “i’m a shit boyfriend, aren’t i?” he turns to face gus, jaw clenched tight. “fiancé. i’m a shit fiancé. jax called me out and he was fucking right, wasn’t he? tell me. tell me i’m a piece of shit for what i’ve done to kit.”

[ text: gussy wussy 🎅🏻 ]: i’m not ACCUSING you of stealing all my gushers but i’m just wondering where they are [ text: gussy wussy 🎅🏻 ]: when u come home bring with u several boxes and any thievery that may or may not have happened will be forgiven

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