Buttercup: The Main Story [REUPLOAD]

by AlienShea, Blu3_Bee

Summary:

Your classic hanahaki story...right?

Set in a fictional version of Philly, two runaways find each other and learn to heal from the things that haunt them. However, their futures end up changed dramatically as a result.

An AU I made in 2020 and never got over lmao. New and improved from the last version, with more story details and maybe a few surprises here and there ;3

Chapter 1: New Beginnings, Again

Notes:

CW// overdose, underage drug use

 

For at least the fourth time in an hour, Keith slipped his hand in his pocket, mentally counting the money contained within. Of course, the amount didn’t change. A couple bills and a small handful of coins, not even enough to pay the bus fare.

 

Which, of course, was why he was walking back to his “home” on foot. 

 

Halfway across the city.

 

In the middle of the night.

 

In the rain.

 

With no jacket.

 

Keith grimaced as a raindrop hit him directly in the eye. He angrily kicked a stray rock on the sidewalk with a mutter of “hate this fucking city, does nobody know how to tip anymore?” under his breath. 

 

The rock skittered across the road, Keith tracking its movement out of the corner of his eye. It somehow managed to land directly into the storm drain. He snorted to himself, counting it as a win. At least it was something , right?

 

He was pulled out of his little victory as he noticed someone stumbling right above the storm drain. He couldn’t make them out clearly in the shitty lighting of the street light, but he could see that they had longish ginger hair poking out from under their hood. 

 

Now, normally, Keith would pay no mind to the strung out residents of the city. Philly had a major drug problem, especially in the poorer areas, like where Keith lived. He himself never really indulged in that type of vice, but he’d seen enough to be able to recognize the signs of indulging just a bit too much.

 

The stranger stopped suddenly, prompting Keith to involuntarily follow their lead. They shuddered for a moment before turning to look at Keith. It was only for a moment, but that’s all Keith needed for his eyes to widen in recognition. 

 

No fucking way…is that Pico?!

 

He didn’t have time to focus on whatever fucked up high school reunion this was, though, as Pico’s eyes rolled up into his head. He collapsed on the sidewalk, his body convulsing in twitches and jerks. 

 

“Shit!” Keith whispered to himself. He’d recognize the signs of overdose anywhere, hell, it wasn’t all that uncommon back at the camp he lived at. Now the question was…what should he do?

 

What he could do was walk away and forget this ever happened. It wasn’t like him and Pico were close in school, they only ever had one brief conversation. From what he remembered, Pico was an angry and hostile classmate. When he dropped out, most people assumed he wouldn’t be alive much longer anyway. 

 

Pico wasn’t a friend, and he wouldn’t be someone who was missed. Keith should’ve just walked away back to his place, go to sleep, and forget this night ever happened. 

 

But…

 

In reality, Keith didn’t contemplate for long before he sprinted across the road to sling an arm around Pico. He was completely passed out, his body dead weight as Keith dragged him over to the nearest alley. 

 

This is stupid this is so fucking stupid and dangerous I’m gonna get caught and probably killed for WHAT???? 

 

He sighed to himself. He knew what this was for. 

 

Pico wasn’t a friend, but he was someone Keith knew, hell, he even had a mild crush on him in highschool. He knew we wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing he let Pico die, seeing his face in his nightmares. God forbid he ever met up with any of his old classmates and the topic moved to “Hey, remember that crazy guy? Wonder what ever happened to him!” 

 

Keith set him down against the brick wall of a derelict building, grimacing slightly as he noticed that he had started vomiting. Whatever, he’ll clean him off after he’s sure Pico will live… if he lives. He scoped out the alley one more time, triple check that they were completely alone before kneeling down and stripping off his shirt.

 

He pulled down the parallel zippers on the back of his binder, took a deep breath, and prepared himself as pain blossomed across his back.

 

~~~~~

 

Keith held his cup with both hands, staring at his own reflection in the amber coloured liquid. God, he even looked as miserable as he felt.

 

He sighed and looked up, once again searching for Melody. She wasn’t anywhere to be found in the sea of drunk and high teenagers, a fact which only twisted Keith’s stomach more. He wished she would just show up already so they could leave. He hated parties, the music was way too loud, the bass thumped in his ears and gave him a migraine, everyone was so fucking annoying , GOD he wanted out so badly. 

 

Not to mention the fact that nobody here even knew him. Not the real him. Sure, he could just out himself here and now, scream to the world that I’M A MAN AND MY NAME IS KEITH! and get it over with, but… Ugh, the thought of the instant rejection and bullying he was sure to get afterwards always silenced him. Melody told him all the time that it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as he thought it would. She’s sweet to reassure him, but it didn’t help much. 

 

He knew that if he’d actually just drink his drink , he wouldn’t be as annoyed. However, the thought of his mom finding out that he was not in fact studying at Mel’s place, he’d never hear the end of it. Fuck, knowing her, getting yelled at was probably the least of his worries.

 

“You new here? I haven’t seen you around…”

 

Keith jumped out of his fucking skin at the deep voice basically purring in his ear. He whipped his head around to face the last person he’d ever guess to approach him.

 

Pico.

 

He was the infamous senior that everyone talked about in the cafeteria. Saying he was the school bully wasn’t exactly right, more like the wild dog that everyone steered clear from lest they invoke his rage, but even still, why was he talking to Keith? Keith was a sophomore wallflower, literally the absolute last person Pico would choose to talk to. 

 

Well, Pico being obviously shitfaced probably had something to do with it. Surprisingly, he really wasn’t an angry drunk, quite the opposite, instead turning more into an extroverted party boy. Probably the only reason he was ever invited to parties. Keith couldn’t really think of another reason for them to talk other than Pico simply being bored.

 

He jolted as Pico snapped his fingers in front of Keith’s face. “Yo, you alright? Drink too much?”

 

Keith shook his head quickly, an embarrassed flush flooding his cheeks. How long has he been standing there, in his own head and fucking staring at Pico?

 

What was the question again? RIGHT!

 

“Sorry! Uh, n-no, I’ve been here my whole life…”

 

Pico squinted at him, almost looking confused before his face relaxed again as he leaned away. “My bad. Just didn’t recognize you.”

 

Keith let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, relaxing a bit as he assumed the conversation would end at that.

 

Boy, was he wrong.

 

Instead of walking away, Pico leaned back against the wall and lit up what Keith assumed was a joint, his suspicions being confirmed as the distinctly pungent smell hit his nose. 

 

He casually held it out to Keith, raising an eyebrow. “You smoke?”

 

Keith shook his head and looked back down at his drink. Forget what his mom would do if she found him drunk, if he showed up STONED? Oh, it would be all over for him. 

 

Pico simply shrugged and continued smoking, the two of them staring out at the crowd in silence. Keith kept his head down, his thumb now toying with the edge of the plastic cup. This was weeeeeird. Like, strange beyond all belief. Here he was, at a party he didn’t want to be at, waiting for his best friend (? their relationship was complicated and all over the place), idly standing next to one of the most feared men in school. 

 

It was…weird.

 

“I haven’t seen you in any of my classes. Freshman?”

 

Pico’s question brought Keith back to reality for a moment. “Uh, sophomore. We actually had P.E. together last semester.”

 

“Oh, fuck that, I skipped it everyday.”

 

“I know,” Keith laughed nervously.

 

Pico echoed a chuckle of his own, taking another drag off the joint before speaking up again. “Why the fuck did you come if you were just gonna stand in the corner and mope the whole time?”

 

Keith finally looked up and narrowed his eyes, confused. “How long have you been watching me?”

 

“Long enough to know you’ve been staring at that cup without even taking a sip. I know these idiots suck at mixing drinks, but it could help take away whatever sort of anxiety you’ve got.”

 

Keith snorted, looking back down at the cup for just a moment before looking up again. “I’m not anxious. Just…not my scene.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” Pico sighed, before saying something in what Keith assumed was Spanish.

 

“Uh…sorry, I got a C- in Spanish, what did you say?”

 

He chuckled again. “Sorry, don't worry about it. Just, these people make me wanna blow my fucking head off sometimes.”

 

This time, Keith laughed genuinely. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Just waiting to graduate at this point.” 

 

“Fuck that, I’m dropping out as soon as I turn eighteen,” Pico said around a mouthful of smoke.

 

“You’re not eighteen already?” Keith asked, confused. It was the middle of March already, there was only a couple months left in the school year.

 

Pico shook his head. “Nah, I’m one of the youngest. My birthday’s next month.”

 

“Well, happy early birthday then,” Keith chuckled. “You only have, what, a month after that? Why not just stick it out?”

 

“No offense, doll, but I’d prefer to keep my reasonings to myself.”

 

Keith bristled at the feminine pet name, but kept it to himself. “Fair enough.”

 

“Thanks for the birthday wishes, though.”

 

Keith smiled at that, letting go of his tension. This was…surprisingly fun? Never in a million years did he think that he’d be having a great time making conversation with the school pariah. He’d almost completely forgotten about Melody…

 

WAIT, MELODY!

 

“I’m, uh, actually just waiting for my friend to use the bathroom so we can leave already,” he said, cursing himself at the nervous edge his voice had. “It’s been… a while, though.”

 

“What do they look like? I’ve been walking around for a while, might’ve seen them.”

 

“She’s uh, Melody Dearest. Long brown hair, wearing all pink, kinda tall.”

 

“Oh, Dearest? She’s the super popular one, right?” At Keith’s nod, Pico hummed and continued. “Well, she’s pretty enough, she’s probably getting railed in one of the bedrooms upstairs.”

 

“Pico! Jesus fucking Christ!” Keith sputtered.

 

That gave Pico a good laugh, much louder than his quieter chuckles. “I’m fucking with you, the line for the bathroom’s super long and I think some people just decided to go to the gas station down the street. Or, y’know, piss in the backyard.”

 

The positive mood Keith had was shattered as doubt filled his mind. Melody wouldn’t do that to him, right? Not when…not when they had something going on between them. But…how could he be sure? It had been a while…

 

“What’s your name?”

 

Keith glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Why?”

 

“You know mine, figured it’s only fair.”

 

Everyone knows you , he thought to himself. For a solid fifteen seconds, Keith considered telling Pico his preferred name. New beginnings and all. But…ugh, that’d open up a bunch of questions he really didn’t want to answer. Even though his hair was short and shaved on one side, and he never wore makeup or “girly” clothes, he was still obviously not masculine enough to get away with saying Keith unscathed. In the end, he just gave Pico his birth name, the word falling out of his mouth like sludge.

 

“Nice meeting ya. I’m gonna go…I dunno, fuck around a bit. Probably get blackout,” Pico replied, pushing himself off the wall. “Hope your friend comes back soon.” 

 

Keith simply nodded at him, words not finding him at the moment. He watched as Pico disappeared into the crowd before looking back down at his reflection again. 

 

God, what a wild night.

 

~~~~~

 

Dying is a funny thing, Pico thought. It wasn’t as painful as he assumed it would be. Well, the heroin in his system probably helped with that. Man, what a fucking lame way to go. He always figured he’d go out in a ‘blaze of glory’ or some poetic shit like that, not slowly losing the ability to breathe and his vision swimming so badly he couldn’t make out what was a foot in front of him. 

 

It seemed fitting though. For all the shit he’d gone through, all those years spent fighting, all of it leading up to this, when he goes out quietly in the dead of night. He guessed that was poetic in some way. 

 

Was he moving? It was so hard to tell. No…no wait, he was moving. No, he wasn’t doing that himself, he could hear someone talking quietly to him, though he couldn’t understand the words. If he could frown, he would.

 

Just fucking let me go…

 

He wished he had the energy to speak. To tell whatever good samaritan decided they needed some good karma to fuck off, let him be, let him die . He couldn’t do anything though, and God, he was so tired . 

 

They put him down against something cool. It made him involuntarily shiver. 

 

His throat burned. 

 

He was cold.

 

He was tired.

 

If he could sigh, he would. Yeah, this seemed fitting. 

 

There was a blinding light, bright enough to make him squint, even though his eyes were already closed. Was that the ‘tunnel’ he heard everyone talk about? Why was it so fucking bright ?!

 

He peeked his eyes open for a moment, glancing a glimpse of something truly unbelievable. Long hair, many (blue? yellow?) eyes looking directly at him, gigantic wings stretching across it’s frame, and a thin, almost invisible halo.

 

Despite it all, he managed to snort a bit. Looks like the angel got mixed up, he wasn’t meant for that place. Oh well, they’ll sort it out soon enough.

 

The last thing he felt before he slipped off into the void was a warmth spreading throughout his veins. A last comfort.

Notes:

ANDDDDD WE'RE BACK! Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently, I'm sorry this took forever. Life's been crazy, but hey, things are better now and we're back!

ALSO HAPPY WEEK 8 UPDATE DAY RAHHHH

Chapter 2: Do I Know You? Do You Know Me?

Notes:

CW// None

Keith was fighting sleep like a motherfucker, his eyes threatening to slip closed at any moment. He couldn’t give in, though. He would be damned if he fell asleep before he was sure Pico would make it through the night.

 

He plopped back against the wall of the shipping container he called home, wincing slightly as the fresh wounds on his back made contact. This was all so fucked. What was he going to do if Pico woke up? How would he even begin to explain all of this? How much would Pico remember? Oh God, what was he going to do if Pico didn’t wake up??? Keith wasn’t exactly a very skilled healer, he was only a half-angel after all, and he hadn’t ever tried to bring someone back from the dead. 

 

From the other side of the container, he heard a weak groan. 

 

Keith tensed. Fuck.

 

He peered over to see Pico slowly sit up and cradle his head. Keith just stared at him, stuck in place. Should he say something? Ask if he's alright? Maybe he should just give him a moment to recuperate. He had a really shitty night, after all. Oh, should Keith offer water? He had a couple bottles around here somewhere-

 

He didn’t get the chance to do anything before, faster than his brain could keep up with, he was being pinned to the wall behind him by an arm across his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut involuntarily, body freezing up in fear.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Pico growled.

 

Say something, idiot!

 

But he couldn’t. 

 

“Answer me,” Pico continued, relenting his hold only slightly before shoving back again. Behind his eyelids, Keith noticed that it got somewhat brighter. Pico must’ve shifted around and brought his solar-powered lantern, the only source of light in the dark ‘room’, closer. 

 

Still, Keith couldn’t talk. It was like there was a lump in his throat forcing his silence.

 

Pico continued by speaking in Spanish, and suddenly, Keith felt something cold against the underside of his chin. Cold…and metal.

 

Keith’s eyes finally shot open. 

 

“W-wait, Pico-!”

 

In a flash, Pico’s cold and angry eyes softened into a much more confused state as he stared back into Keith’s. “Hold up…”

 

“D-Don’t shoot, please, I can explain,” Keith rambled.

 

Pico shook his head and lowered the gun, but he didn’t move the arm pinning Keith to the wall. “Do…do I know you?”

 

“Yeah! Yeah, uh, we- we w-went to high school together, back in Little Haven.”

They started each other down for a few silent, tense moments before Pico exhaled a deep breath and pulled back, releasing his hold on Keith. “Right. You were the chick that hung out with Dearest and her clique.”

 

Keith recoiled, that sentence full of words that made his skin crawl. Luckily, though, he no longer hid himself. 

 

“Uh, not a girl, actually. I go by Keith now.”

 

 Pico simply stared at him for a bit before his eyes widened slightly, the puzzle pieces clicking. Keith held his breath, nervousness flooding him. 

 

“Alright. Noted,” is all that Pico said about it as he holstered his gun back into his waistband.

 

Keith couldn’t hide the small smile of relief as he exhaled. “Yeah. Uh, surprised you remembered me, honestly.”

 

“Not many people have, uh, the eye thing.”

 

Keith cocked his head.

 

“The fucking- the different eyes!” Pico shouted, exasperated. 

 

“Oh!” Keith exclaimed. “Heterochromia! Yeah, that makes sense.”

 

“Yeah…” Pico started. After a beat of silence, he continued. “So…why the hell am I here?”

 

Dread immediately washed over Keith. This was the part he was worried about.

 

“Uh…how much do you remember?” An easy enough question. Hopefully, Pico didn’t remember most of the night so Keith could bullshit a story.

 

He thought for a moment before shrugging. “Not much. Did we fuck or something?”

 

The casualness of his tone took Keith back for a moment. “N-No! Nothing like that!” he spluttered. “God, no, you were…uh…overdosing on the side of the road. I brought you back here to recover.”

 

Pico stared him up and down, his gaze narrowing. “You carried me? Your scrawny ass?”

 

“I’m stronger than I look, you know,” Keith huffed.

 

“I don’t believe you. I find it pretty fucking hard to believe you just carried me…here…” He paused to take a look around. “Where the hell are we?”

 

“My, uh, house .”

 

“House,” Pico deadpanned.

 

“My place, fuck, whatever! Kinda hard to find a house in this fucking city when you’re broke!”

 

Pico stared at him for a few seconds before clicking his tongue. “Right. Whatever, I don’t believe that you just carried me here and did nothing.”

 

“Who the fuck do you think I am, Pico?”

 

“Someone who supposedly watched me sleep for hours.”

 

Keith cringed slightly at his choice of words. “Whatever, man, believe whatever you want. A ‘thank you’ would be nice!”

 

“For what?”

 

“Saving your ass. You would’ve frozen to death in the rain without me.”

 

Pico chuckled dryly before standing up. “Wow, what a travesty,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Something in his tone made Keith pause, his anger receding slightly. “How’re you feeling?”

 

“What do you care?” Pico bit out.

 

“If i didn’t care, I wouldn’t have dragged you here, would I?”

 

Pico looked down at him for a few seconds. His face was…unreadable in the dark, but Keith didn’t assume it was positive to begin with. He finally sighed and looked away. “My head hurts like a bitch. Nauseous. The usual.”

 

He looked down to see the mess on his hoodie. With little more than a disinterested look, he simply pulled it off, flipped it inside out, and wrapped it around his waist, leaving him in a simple black turtleneck.

 

“...seems like this isn’t your first rodeo,” Keith remarked quietly.

 

“Nah,” Pico replied, shaking his head. He didn’t continue, and Keith didn’t push the subject. He was well aware of the mindset of addiction.

 

“Well…” Pico continued, “do you have a clock in this hunk of junk?”

 

“It is not junk, it’s my home and I worked very hard to make it cozy.”

 

“Whatever, dude,” Pico chuckled. “Time?”

 

Keith grumbled to himself as he dug his watch out of the corner. He jolted seeing the time and immediately sprung up to grab his jacket and hat. “Shit, I’m gonna be late!”

 

“For what, your job?” Pico mocked.

 

“ Yes , dickhead, my job,” Keith seethed. “It’s almost nine, I usually get there at ten.”

 

“You’ve still got an hour. What’re you freaking out about?”

 

Keith moved past him to open the doors to the shipping container. Luckily, it had stopped raining, but he was still wary. “I walk.”

 

“It takes you an hour to walk to work? Why the fuck didn’t you get in somewhere closer?” Pico responded, following him out.

 

“It usually takes me an hour and a half , and I couldn’t get a job doing anything else.”

 

Pico hummed and nodded his head toward the motorcycle leaning against the side of the container. “Why not ride?”

 

“She’s broke down,” Keith sighed. “Has been since I moved here. Besides, gas costs too much. I don’t exactly have a disposable income, you know.”

 

Pico stared at him again . It was really starting to freak Keith out.

 

He sighed after a moment and reached into his pocket. He fished into his wallet for a moment before pulling out a blue card and slapping it against Keith’s chest. “Here’s my bus pass. You can use it for today,” he said plainly before turning to walk away. 

 

Keith stared between him and the card for a moment before his brain caught up. “Seriously?!”

 

“Sure. Consider us even. C’mon, I got shit to do today.”

 

Keith rushed to catch up as Pico walked away. “You sure, man? You don’t need it?”

 

“Do you want me to take it back?”

 

Keith bit his lip, shaking his head.

 

“Alright then.”

 

The two traveled through Keith’s “neighborhood”, which was really just a small shantytown of sorts. There were about twenty or so other people camped up with either the rest of the shipping containers in the junkyard or their own tents. Most of them were addicts, though there were a couple who were just genuinely down on their luck. Keith waved to them as they passed while Pico just stared straight ahead. 

 

“Hey, bagged ya a real pretty one, Keith!” one of the drunkards called out to him. His face burned, but Pico seemed unfazed.

 

“ Great neighborhood,” Pico said, sarcasm practically dripping from his voice.

 

“Just ignore him,” Keith sighed.

 

“Planned on it.”

 

They finally exited the main gate of the shantytown, making their way to the main roads. Keith assumed they were walking to the bus stop a few blocks down. Most of the walk was nothing but absolute uncomfortable silence. Keith didn’t know what to do or feel. On one hand, he was fucking stoked that he wouldn’t have to walk today. On the other hand…

 

He peeked a glance to Pico, who was still stonefaced and silent. This seemed…strange. He figured that Pico would ask more questions, or…or something other than give him his bus pass. Pico seemed…oddly familiar with this situation, or maybe he’s just more easy-going than Keith thought? He couldn’t figure the man out.

 

“Would you stop fucking staring at me?”

 

Keith looked away, face flushed in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

 

They’d reached their stop, just waiting for the bus to show up. Pico fished into his pocket once more, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He tapped one out, lighting it up before holding the pack out to Keith. An offering.

 

Keith shook his head with a small smile. “No thanks. Can’t stand the taste of ‘em.”

 

Pico just shrugged before pocketing the pack and plopping down on the bus stop bench. Keith slowly followed, unsure of what to do now.

 

“What time do you get off work?” Pico asked, breaking the silence.

 

“Uhh…it’s not a set time, but I try to get home before midnight.”

 

Pico hummed. “Alright. How ‘bout we meet back here at ten so I can get my card back. Deal?”

 

“Yeah, sounds good. Uh, thank you, by the way.”

 

“Don’t mention it.” From his tone, he seemed like he meant it literally .

 

Keith changed the subject quickly. “You seem to know your way around here pretty well.”

 

“I live a couple blocks down. Besides, I know this city like the back of my hand.”

 

“How long have you lived here?” Keith asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

 

Pico took a second to take another drag. “‘Bout two years.”

 

“You moved here right after dropping out?”

 

Pico sideyed him. “Yeah. What about you?”

 

“Same. Two years.”

 

Pico turned to fully face him now, a gap-toothed grin on his face. “After all that shit you gave me about sticking it out? You dropped out right after me?”

 

Keith flushed. “I didn’t give you shit, I was just saying that you only had a couple months left. I had two full years, I couldn’t do that shit anymore.”

 

“Can I ask why?”

 

Keith looked away and chewed on his lip. That was a loaded question. 

 

“No,” he answered firmly.

 

Pico held his hands up in defense and backed away, finishing his cigarette and snubbing it under his shoe. “Fair enough, man. Your business, not mine.”

 

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Keith sing-songed.

 

“No,” Pico simply responded, a smirk playing on his lips.

 

Keith smiled back at him. Maybe he ain’t as bad of a guy as he thought.

 

The bus pulled up, its creaky brakes pulling both boys out of their little staring contest. Pico took a deep breath and stood up, Keith slowly following him. 

 

“So, we solid on the plan?”

 

Keith nodded. “I’ll be here at ten. Promise.”

 

“Better be,” Pico started. “Don’t run off with my shit, I’m doing an act of kindness here.” He subtly patted the side of this thigh where Keith saw him store the gun earlier. “Don’t make me regret it.”

 

If Pico’s plan was to intimidate, it wasn’t really working. Keith knew he could kill him if he wanted to but…

 

“Ooooo, scary,” Keith snorted, flashing Pico a bright smile. “Relax, you know where I live, I’m not stupid. I’ll be here, you have my word.”

 

Pico’s face fell for only a moment before he recovered and clicked his tongue. “Right. See you then.”

 

With that, he turned to continue walking down the road. Keith didn’t hesitate to get on the bus, as the driver was already shooting him a dirty look. He paid his fare, sat in the seat farthest in the back, and laid his head back against it. 

 

Man, with no sleep, it was gonna be a long day.

 

~~~~~

 

Pico tapped his foot anxiously on the sidewalk. He chewed on the filter of his cigarette and pulled back the sleeve on his (freshly-washed) hoodie to check the time.

 

10:26. He’s late. If that street rat ran off with my fucking card…

 

He heaved a heavy sigh and threw his head back to look up at the sky. How the fuck did he get himself into this mess? He didn’t have to give the guy his card. He could’ve just thanked him, or offed him, or… literally anything else. Mentally, he cursed this stupid sense of loyalty. If what Keith said was true, then he really did save Pico’s life. In his eyes, that’s a debt that needs to be repaid. 

 

Unfortunately.

 

The creaky old breaks of the bus pulled him out of his thoughts. He scanned the windows, searching for that distinctive blue mess Keith calls his hair. It was the last bus of the night. If the little freak wanted a chance, he’d better be on it.

 

Luckily for him (and Pico), he was. 

 

Keith practically bounced off the bus and up to Pico. He simply stared him down, which did nothing to deter the smile plastered across Keith’s face.

 

“You’re late,” Pico stated.

 

“The bus was late! Sorry, dude, but this wasn’t my bad.” He pulled the card out of his pocket, holding it out for Pico to take. 

 

Pico raised an eyebrow as he took it. “You seem chipper.”

 

Keith’s smile only intensified. “Of course I am! I didn’t have to walk and I made a shit ton in tips! Sleep deprivation be damned, this is the best day at work I’ve ever had.”

 

A feeling that felt something awfully similar to pity hit Pico square in the chest. He forced it down, humming instead. “What do you do anyway?” 

 

“For work?”

 

“Mhm.”

 

“Oh!” Keith laughed. “Well, uh, I sing for tips at the big park on the eastside.”

 

Pico cocked his head a bit. “You busk? I thought you had an actual job or some shit.”

 

Keith’s smile instantly dropped, an offended frown replacing it. “Asshole, it is an actual job! A hard one at that! Do you know how tough it is to be out there all day in the cold and heat and rain just to make a buck or two?”

 

Pico’s lips quirked into a half-smile. It’s like watching an angry chihuahua trying to be intimidating, he couldn’t take Keith seriously. The dramatic shift from being all giddy to pissed was fucking funny.

 

“Fuck you smiling about?”

 

“You. You’re funny when you’re tryna be mad.”

 

“Go fuck yourself. You should work on your people skills.”

 

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” Pico sighed.

 

“ Maybe you should listen to sound advice.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, shorty.”

 

“What?” Keith squawked out. “You’re like, only a couple inches taller than me, you have no right!”

 

“I’m still taller than you.”

 

Keith huffed and crossed his arms across his chest. “Rude as hell. Terrible way to treat the person who saved your life.”

 

“Oh, are you trying to guilt trip me?” Pico chuckled. “Ain’t gonna work on me, pretty boy.”

 

Keith fully turned away then, though Pico could see the tips of his ears turning red. “Are you a dick on purpose?”

 

“Only ‘cause it’s funny to piss you off,” Pico answered, fully grinning now. He let out a sigh, pocketing the card and turning to leave. He really needed to relax after the fucking day he’d had, and now that the last piece of business was taken care of, he was gonna spend the rest of his night blazed out of his fucking mind. 

 

“Well, thanks again. Best of luck,” he called out.

 

Behind him, Keith stuttered for a moment. “What, no goodbye?”

 

Pico paused in his stride to look over his shoulder, an amused smile on his face. “Bye.”

 

Keith stared at him for a moment before he chuckled. “See ya! Thanks for letting me use the card! Best of luck to you too!”

 

Pico continued his walk, but… 

 

He didn’t even make it a couple steps before a burning pit of something settled in his stomach. Guilt? What should he feel guilty for? He paid his debt, it wasn’t his problem anymore…

 

He clicked his tongue piercing against his front teeth for a few seconds in thought before sighing and turning back around. “Keith!” he called out.

 

The man in question paused in his walk and pivoted on a foot.

 

“If you get here by noon tomorrow, I’ll let you use the card again.”

 

It was hard to make out in the dark, but Pico didn’t miss the flash of confusion in Keith’s face before it was replaced with a cocky smile. “Seriously? Liked talking to me that much, huh?”

 

Pico rolled his eyes. “Suddenly, I changed my mind.”

 

Keith’s smile dropped. “No, I’m kidding, Pico, I’m sorry!” he whined.

 

Pico chuckled quietly to himself before turning back around. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called out, finally starting his walk home.

 

That feeling in his stomach only got worse with each step he took. Why the fuck did he do that?! Why was he still helping Keith? His debt was repaid, it was fine why did-

 

Pico sighed. He’d deal with it in the morning. He just needed to get home, spend the rest of his night trying not to overthink himself into oblivion. 

 

Luckily, he knew the perfect way to turn off his brain for a few hours.

Chapter 3: Better Alone

Notes:

CW// angst

Thirty minutes.

 

Keith was thirty minutes late.

 

Pico chewed on the filter of his cigarette. Where is he?

 

It had been nearly a month since they had set up this little routine. Unless Pico was busy or Keith wanted a day off, the two would meet up at the bus stop at noon. Pico would hand him his card, they’d go about their separate business, then meet back up at midnight. Neither of them had mentioned anything about needing the day off…so…

 

Where the fuck is Keith??

 

Pico, being himself, decided to try to rationalize. 

 

Maybe he decided he didn’t want the deal anymore? That’d be best, but why wouldn’t Keith just let me know? It’d be no harm to me, fuck, it’d be a favor. Hm… maybe he’s sick? It’s been raining a lot lately, it wouldn’t be a fucking surprise. Fuck it, should I just leave? If he’s late, it’s his own fault.

 

Maybe he’s hurt.

 

Pico froze for a second before shaking his head. He mentally scoffed at the intrusive thought. Keith seemed like a cocky dumbass, sure, but Pico was confident that he’d be smart enough to mind his own business.

 

…almost confident.

 

He growled and snubbed his cigarette before turning on his heel. Why was he walking towards Keith’s neighborhood? Why did he care ?? If the little jackass got himself killed, that’d only be a benefit to Pico. He wouldn’t have to deal with someone bumming off of him, wouldn’t have to deal with the annoyance, wouldn’t have to deal with the guilt . He should’ve just turned right the fuck back around and continued his day. Continued his life the way he always had. 

 

Alone.

 

Still, it didn’t stop him from walking straight into the slum and up to Keith’s place. He rapped his fist on the metal wall a few times, hoping he was just sleeping. 

 

Nothing.

 

Pico took a deep breath to prepare for whatever crime scene he was about to walk into and reached for the door. He didn’t even get a firm hold on the handle before the door swung open, nearly knocking him out. Keith stepped out, a wild look in his eye before his vision landed on Pico.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, dude, you scared the shit out of me!” he said, sheathing a knife he had (apparently?) been holding and pocketing it.

 

Pico, on the other hand, was livid . He collected himself quickly, the initial shock fading quickly to annoyance. “Where the fuck were you?! I thought you died!”

 

Normally when Pico yelled at someone, they’d cower in fear. He wasn’t exactly the friendliest guy around and made sure to let people know just how unfriendly he could be. 

 

Keith…wasn’t most people.

 

Instead, he grinned. 

 

“Aww~! You were worried about me, how sweet of you!” he drawled as he nudged Pico’s side with his elbow.

 

Something in Pico’s brain snapped. He shoved Keith into the side of the container hard , pinning him down via a hand on his neck. He leaned in, keeping eye contact as best he could as he growled.

 

“Get this through your mind, you fucking pest. I don’t give a fuck what you get yourself into. I’ve got shit to do today, and I don’t need you oversleeping to make me late. Got it?”

 

He punctuated his statement with a shove as he let go of Keith and stepped back, fully expecting the kid to piss his pants any second.

 

Keith laughed instead. 

 

“Whatever you say, casanova,” he replied, rubbing his throat slightly. “Could at least take me to dinner first before choking me out, you know. Not very polite of you.”

 

Pico’s face burned. “You’re dense as fuck, you know that? I’m surprised you’ve managed to stay alive.”

 

“I’m not dumb, Pico,” he said, shrugging. “I just know when I’m actually being threatened, and when someone is just trying to scare me.” He began walking, pausing for just a moment to look at Pico over his shoulder. “You act all big and scary, but I know you wouldn’t do shit to me.”

 

Pico was stunned into a frozen silence. Who the fuck does this dude think he is?

 

I could kill him. I could. It’d be so easy. 

 

He closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. Whatever. He had shit to do.

 

~~~~~

 

Keith bounced his leg as he and Pico waited for the bus to arrive. He sighed, turning to the other man. “What are you in a big hurry for anyway? If it was that big of a deal, you could’ve just kept the card for the day, y’know.”

 

“Well,” Pico started, taking the cigarette he’d been gnawing on out of his mouth. “The thing is, I’m headed to the bus stop closest to the park anyway. I figured we’d just ride together. I’ll swing by the park to pick you up when I’m done.”

 

“That makes sense. Sucks that I’m gonna lose out on some extra tips, though. Why don’t you just stick around for a bit when you’re done…doing whatever the fuck it is that you do and watch me for a bit?” Keith paused. “What… do you do, anyway?”

 

Pico hesitated. “No offense, but I’d rather not stick around. Nothing against you, I just wanna get home as soon as possible.”

He avoided the second question, Keith noticed, but that was to be expected in all honesty. Pico wasn’t exactly an open book. Keith understood, though. Lord knows there were plenty of things he never wanted to talk about.

 

“Fine, but you owe me a burger or something. Y’know, since you’re basically stealing from me,” Keith teased.

 

That got a small chuckle out of Pico, who looked over at Keith out of the corner of his eye. “You’re awfully cocky for someone so short.”

 

Keith crossed his arms and huffed. “You’re short too, dickhead!” 

 

Despite himself, Keith smiled along with Pico. It was strange but not unwelcome to see Pico enjoy himself. In high school, he was just known as that douchebag people avoided like the plague, but now that he and Keith were something close to friends, he could really see that there was more to Pico than that. He was just…some guy who liked to have fun, same as everyone else.

 

The bus arrived shortly after and they boarded, luckily finding an empty seat near the back. Pico took the window seat, which pissed Keith off slightly, but he held his tongue. As the bus took off, Keith decided to ask the question he’d been wondering for weeks. He just wanted to wait until Pico was in a fairly good mood.

 

He leaned in slightly. “So…um, how’s the habit?”

 

He knew Pico didn’t like to talk about it, but Keith just had to ask. It had been almost a month since his little brush with death, and as far as Keith could tell, not much had changed. He didn’t show up to the bus stop high every morning, but Keith could see it in the bags under his eyes.

 

Pico instantly frowned. “Still alive, ain’t I?”

 

“I know. I just…wanna check up on you, y’know? I’m here for ya.”

 

“You ain’t my fucking therapist, Keith,” Pico spat quietly. He was visibly starting to shut down from the conversation. “It’s under control. Don’t sit there and try to pretend like you’re a fucking saint for acting like my friend or whatever.”

 

He expected the anger, honestly. “I do genuinely care about your health. I’m not gonna push it,” Keith responded in an even tone. “And for what it’s worth, I’m not pretending. I like to think of you as a friend.”

 

“Fuck makes you think we’re friends?” Pico snorted. “You don’t even know me.”

 

“To be fair, you don’t really talk about yourself,” Keith retorted. 

 

“Maybe you should take the hint.”

 

Now, Keith was a fairly level headed man and all, but fuck was Pico pushing all of his buttons. He narrowed his eyes as Pico looked away to stare out at the passing city streets.

 

“You know what, Pico? I think you’re full of shit.”

 

Pico only glanced at his direction, so Keith continued.

 

“I know you’re on this ‘lone wolf’ bullshit, but you constantly forget that without me, you’d be dead. Not to mention that you keep me around for some reason. You wanna know what I think?”

 

“Enlighten me,” Pico all but growled.

 

“I think you want a friend, but you’re too scared to admit it. Either to me or yourself, it really doesn’t matter. And you wanna know what else? I think you like having me around!”

 

In a matter of a few moments, Keith went from sitting upright in the bus seat to being shoved to the floor, his head just barely missing the seat across from them. The few other passengers on the bus barely spared him a glance, but he caught sight of the bus driver looking in the rearview mirror with disdain in his eyes. He looked up to see Pico, staring him down with bared teeth.

 

“You don’t know shit about me. Remember that.” He muttered a couple words in Spanish before completely turning away, his body curled into itself and facing the window.

 

Keith only stared at him for a moment before sighing and getting back up to sit at the bench across from Pico. It wasn’t much longer until the bus reached its stop. He got up and stood behind Pico, staring daggers into his back.

 

What a fucking dick.

 

“Don’t bother picking me up at the park. If you wanna be an asshole, fine. Don’t include me in your shit.”

 

Pico didn’t even attempt to turn around as he answered, “Gladly.”

Chapter 4: Astraphobia

Notes:

CW// alcohol

 

Pico stared into space as his mind kept replaying the previous events of the day over and over and over and over and over . As hard as he tried, he couldn’t shake this fucking guilt . It made him feel on edge, feel sick to his stomach. He hated it. He didn’t owe Keith shit. He shouldn’t have been as upset as he was, so why was he guilty in the first fucking place? Why did his brain decide this was the thing to focus on? What the fuck was he even doing before…?

 

A pair of fingers snapped directly in his face, forcing his attention back to the stocky man in front of him. Right. My client.

 

“Presta atención, Pico.” [1] 

 

Pico sighed through his nose. “ Perdón ,” he replied, trying his hardest to not sound sarcastic, “¿qué tienes para mí?” [2]

 

The man stared him down for a moment before leaning back in his chair and taking a swig of cheap beer. Pico had a bottle of his own, but he’d only taken a few sips from it. He hated drinking, in all honesty. It never led to anything good.

 

“I need you to watch over a few of my boys tomorrow. They’re making a deal in X territory.”

 

Pico couldn’t stop himself before his nose scrunched up. “¿Por qué coño harías eso?” At the man’s hardened gaze, Pico rolled his eyes. “Sorry, let me rephrase. Why would you do something that risky? You know they’ve been killing ‘em one by one.” [3]

 

“Are you calling me stupid? Think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

 

Pico wanted to punch that look off his fucking face. “Didn’t say that. Just seems like a lot of hassle.”

 

“¿Tienes miedo de no poder manejarlo?” [4]

 

Pico’s grip on his bottle tightened to the point where he worried he might break it. It wasn’t that. He just really fuckin hated babysitting these lowly drug dealers. Also, it was a pretty fucking stupid idea. The X’s had been getting reckless, taking no prisoners, turn you into a body bag type of bullshit. Seemed like this job was just trouble waiting to happen.

 

And who had to deal with everything once shit went down? Pico.

 

Regardless, he took another sip of shitty beer. The dude was his biggest client (well, only client as of lately), and he paid well. If he had to deal with a bit more blood on his hands, well…

 

Pico looked dead in the man’s eyes. “Claro que no.” [5]

 

~~~~~

 

Pico stared down at his feet as he trudged his way to the bus stop. That sick feeling in his stomach was still there. In fact, combined with the alcohol in his system, it was only getting worse. He groaned slightly to himself.

 

What’s wrong with me? Why do I care?

 

We don’t even know each other. This is fucking stupid.

 

Just need to get home.

 

…

 

So, why was he just standing still on the side of the road?

 

He might get hurt being all alone in this city.

 

Pico shook his head. “Not my problem,” he answered aloud.

 

It would kill you inside if something happened to him.

 

“No it wouldn’t.”

 

Someone else is gonna die and it’ll be your fault .

 

That one gave Pico pause. If only for a moment.

 

He slapped himself in the face. Hard . What the fuck was he thinking? He didn’t owe Keith anything. If something happened, it wouldn’t be his fault. It’s not his problem. It shouldn’t be his problem…

 

It’s not…

 

He groaned again and turned on his heel, heading for the park. God, he was pathetic . He couldn’t understand why this was the thing his brain focused on, the one thing his brain couldn’t let go of . 

 

It was the alcohol, right? Had to be. There was no other reason he walked to the park, lit up a cigarette despite the warnings against it, and began his search for Keith. 

 

Now…where would he be?

 

Pico thought for a moment. If he busked, it was likely Keith would gravitate to the more popular areas. Tourist attractions and all that. Pico tipped his head back to look at the sky while he thought of a game plan.

 

To the west, he saw dark, flashing clouds. He groaned and began walking. He’d better find the blue-haired punk fast or they’d both be walking home in the rain. He really didn’t need anything else to fuck up his night.

 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long to find Keith. Pico had managed to pick a lucky route and spotted the flash of blue hair surrounded by a small crowd stationed by the pond. He sped up his pace a bit and began pushing through the sea of people, not really caring if he stepped on a few toes here or there. 

 

When the music hit his ears, he stopped. That’s Keith?!

 

Pico was stunned. Never in his life did he think Keith was as good of a singer as he proclaimed to be, but he rapped too? 

 

He finally reached the front of the crowd, witnessing the sight before him. Keith was standing on the park bench and rapping at lightning speed, seemingly freestyling. He looked…in his element, honestly. He had a huge smile on his face, like this was where he was meant to be.

 

Pico couldn’t think of a coherent thought. He just watched as Keith finished the song.

 

“Thank you! Thank you, please remember to tip!” he shouted as he pointed to his hat on the ground. He scanned the crowd, eventually landing on Pico. His smile dropped for only a moment before he laughed. “I didn’t think you were gonna show up!”

 

Pico bristled as the crowd turned their heads towards him. He didn’t have social anxiety, per se, but being stared at was…less than ideal. He glared at Keith, trying to hide the discomfort.

 

“Changed my mind. You coming or what?”

 

Keith frowned, pouting. “Aw, what? I had like five more songs planned!”

 

“Suit yourself, I’m going home.”

 

Pico turned to escape the crowd, interrupted by Keith’s shrill voice behind him. 

 

“Fucking- alright, alright, wait! Uh, thanks for the tips, everyone, I’ll be here most days!”

 

Pico turned back on his heel, watching Keith hop down from the bench and collect his money as the crowd dispersed. He counted up the coins and wadded bills, sighing before pocketing the money and throwing the hat back on. 

 

“Nobody in this city knows how to fucking tip, it’s ridiculous!” he whined as he and Pico began walking.

 

“How much did ya get?”

 

“$6.35. I’ve been out here for HOURS, and this is the best they could do?”

 

Pico shrugged. “Better luck next time.”

 

“Gee, thanks, asshole,” Keith muttered to himself as the pair walked through the gate leading out of the park. “So, what’s with the change of heart? Decided to stop being a prick?”

 

“Yeah, in your dreams.”

 

Pico bit his lip in thought. Why did he decide to pick up Keith? He wasn’t exactly known for changing his mind once he made it up, especially not for someone as annoying as the bluenette beside him. He couldn’t even come up with a solid reason, his head too fuzzy to think properly. 

 

“Hey, are you okay?” Keith’s tone was laced with concern, something that Pico didn’t expect considering his previous hostility.

 

“‘M fine. Little drunk.” Well, half-truths are better than full lies, Pico supposed.

 

Keith raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously? I thought you were working.”

 

“I was,” Pico deadpanned back. He didn’t feel like he should have to explain himself. 

 

Keith hummed and sighed, dropping the subject. “Well, you still owe me a burger since you cut my time short.”

 

“Oh please, you weren’t getting enough anyway, a couple hours wouldn’t’ve helped.” 

 

“You never know! Maybe some rich guy would’ve been driven to tears by my music and dropped a milli on me then and there.”

 

“Yeah, keep dreaming, maybe you’ll get a sugar daddy one day.” 

 

“Well, you wanna fulfill that role real quick and buy me dinner?”

 

“No. First of all, I’m not rich enough to be a sugar daddy. Second of all, I wouldn’t want you to be my sugar baby.” At Keith’s offended scoff, he chuckled and continued. “Plus, it’s about to storm and I really don’t feel like walking in the rain, so the plan is to get to the bus stop ASAP, no time for burgers.”

 

It took a few steps for Pico to realize that Keith had stopped walking beside him. He looked over his shoulder, seeing the man seemingly frozen in place, a haunted stare on his face. Even when he had a gun to him when they first met, Pico had never seen Keith look so frightened. 

 

“Yo, you alright?”

 

Keith shook his head and cleared his throat, speedwalking to catch up. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

 

 His voice sounded strained, tensed. Pico watched in confusion as he walked straight past him and headed for the bus stop at the end of the block. Was it something he said?

 

“Hey, if you’re that fucking upset about not getting food, we can stop somewhere, it ain’t that big of a deal,” Pico said as he ran to catch up. 

 

“No, I wanna get home before the storm starts.”

 

“What, afraid of getting your hair wet?” Pico joked. 

 

Keith shot him a glare and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a distant boom of thunder. The colour drained from his face, and the puzzle pieces clicked for Pico. 

 

“You’re afraid of thunder,” he said with a smirk.

 

Keith flushed and pushed past him, leaving Pico jogging to catch up. Keith kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with the man snickering beside him. 

 

“Aw, c’mon, no need to be embarrassed,” Pico teased, nudging Keith’s side with his elbow.

 

“Dude, fuck off,” the shorter man spat back at him.

 

“I’m serious, we all have our weird quirks.”

 

Keith stopped dead in his tracks and whipped around to glare at Pico. “Seriously, this isn’t the fucking time. You have no clue how annoying you’re being right now!”

 

Pico’s smirk dropped. He had never seen Keith more than a little annoyed, so to see him outright scolding him was new. 

 

In Pico’s stunned silence, another crack of thunder sounded, though sounding much closer. Keith’s eyes widened as he stared behind Pico, causing the ginger to turn to look. The once distant storm clouds were now rapidly descending on the city, flashes of light erupting all over the black mass. Pico weighed his options, clicking his piercing in thought. He really shouldn’t give a shit about Keith’s fears, but at the same time, seeing the poor boy terrified tugged at Pico’s chest in an uncomfortable way. 

 

He looked around, his eyes landing on a family-owned burger restaurant. “Well, the storm’s already here. Wanna say fuck it and grab some food to wait it out?”

 

Keith’s eyes snapped back on Pico. “Really? You’ll wait it out with me?”

 

Pico should’ve said no. He should’ve told Keith to get fucked and find his own way home, that he wanted to just relax after the day he’d had. He should’ve ended whatever little agreement they had going on then and there.

 

“Sure, why not?” he said instead. 

Notes:

[1] "Pay attention, Pico."
[2] "Sorry, what do you got for me?"
[3] "Why the fuck would you do that?"
[4] "Are you scared you can't handle it?"
[5] "Of course not."

I apologize if my Spanish isn't 100% correct, I've been learning for around 5 years now but I'm nowhere near fluent, feel free to correct me!

Chapter 5: Pretend You Didn't See That

Notes:

CW// dissociative fit, referenced past child abuse

“You’re gonna choke if you keep eating that fast.”

 

Keith paused with his burger halfway to his mouth to glare at Pico. “What’re you, my fucking mother?”

 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Pico quipped back, cocky grin plastered on his face. 

 

Keith just rolled his eyes and continued eating. It had been a long time since he was able to chow down on good food, he was gonna take his damn time enjoying it. Plus… it was a wonderful distraction from the storm raging outside. It had been almost an hour, and it showed no signs of slowing down.

 

Keith pointed to Pico’s uneaten burger with his pinky. “You gonna eat anything?”

 

Pico shrugged. “Not super hungry right now. I’ll probably take it home.”

 

Keith gave him a frown, one Pico pointedly ignored. He didn’t have time to ponder on Pico’s health, however, as another boom of thunder shook the windows behind him. He shivered, trying to will the panic away. Keith sighed to himself silently; it looked like it was gonna be another awful night. He really wished he could just get over this stupid fear, what adult is afraid of thunder ? 

 

Well, a traumatized one , he thought to himself. 

 

He looked up to ask Pico how long he thought the storm might last, but the man was zoned out, his eyes glazed over as he stared out of the window. 

 

“What’re you thinking about?” Keith curiously asked, but Pico only gave him a small hum, seemingly not hearing him at all. 

 

“Pico, you good?”

 

No response.

 

Keith cocked his head in confusion. He’d never seen the usually vigilant and focused guy look so…out of it. Then, he noticed something worrying. Even though his face was slack and emotionless, Pico’s knuckles were gripping his arms with enough force to turn them white. He also was taking very short, shallow breaths. Minus the expression, his body language read…afraid? Was Pico scared of storms too?

 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Nothing. “Pico?” Nothing. 

 

Keith looked behind him to peek out of the window, seeing if he could find anything that might’ve startled Pico. He saw nothing but cars drive by and pedestrians running for shelter from the downpour. Definitely nothing of note…

 

He turned back and reached out his hand, using a last ditch effort to get Pico’s attention. His fingertips barely grazed the fabric of Pico's sweater when the ginger jolted, that faraway look in his eyes fading as he flinched away from the contact and inhaled sharply. Keith retracted his hand and watched as Pico took quiet, ragged breaths and looked directly at the table in front of him. 

 

He waited patiently for Pico to get his breathing under control before speaking up. “Hey, back to Earth?”

 

Pico glanced at him, giving him just a simple nod before scooting out of the booth and heading in the direction of the restaurant’s bathroom. Keith watched him walk away before relaxing in his seat, sighing. He wasn’t sure if Pico’s little dissociation moment was drug-related or something else (he had heard stories and rumors in high school that Pico wasn’t exactly mentally stable), but he couldn’t help but feel sympathetic for the guy. Whatever the issue was, it didn’t matter, Keith just wanted to help his friend. 

 

He hoped that Pico would feel comfortable enough to talk about it someday, but Keith was smart enough to realize that day wouldn’t be today. 

 

When Pico returned after around ten minutes, he was back to his normal self, like nothing had ever happened. Keith raised an eyebrow at him, but Pico ignored it. 

 

“Ready to go?” he asked, his voice noticeably raspier and more strained than before.

 

Keith looked behind him again to the window just as a flash of lightning lit up the restaurant. He stiffened; he had been so focused on Pico he had forgotten that it was storming. 

 

“Yeah, uh…” He took a deep breath as he turned back to look at Pico. “Just curious, how long do you think the storm’s gonna last?”

 

“Dunno. Probably all night,” Pico replied with a shrug. 

 

“Great,” Keith drew out sarcastically, failing to hide the returning panic. 

 

“...You gonna be alright out there?”

 

Keith was taken aback by Pico’s sympathetic tone, one he hadn’t heard before. It kind of shocked him, in all honesty. “I’ll…manage.”

 

Pico just stared at him for a few seconds, shifting his weight between foots as he hesitated. Finally, he sighed. “Do you wanna just stay at my place tonight?”

 

“What?!” 

 

Keith hadn’t meant to say that so loudly, but never in a million years did he think Pico would offer that. He knew the man liked his privacy and personal space…what was up with him today?

 

Of course, he really didn’t want to turn down an offer like that. The idea of spending the night trapped in a metal box in the middle of a thunderstorm scared him shitless. 

 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he cautiously asked. 

 

Pico shrugged and grabbed his burger, wrapping it up before turning to leave. “It’ll get you out of the rain tonight,” he started before shooting a look over to Keith, “ if you promise to not to bring up what happened a bit ago.”

 

Mentally, Keith rolled his eyes. This guy really worked on the ‘favour for a favour’ ideal, huh?

 

“Deal.”

 

~~~~~

 

The bus ride back was…uncomfortable, to say the least. Out of all the times to have an episode, why did it have to be then ? Pico couldn’t believe the timing of his brain. Luckily for him, though, Keith seemed to be keeping his word about not bringing it up, instead ranting about the shitty interactions he had while performing all day. Pico wasn’t really paying attention, but he accepted the distraction gratefully. He couldn’t wait to be home.

 

…Right. Pico groaned quietly to himself, remembering yet another thing to ruin his night. All he wanted was to be able to be able to get home and get high out of his mind and pretend he wasn’t fucked in the head. Instead of that, he now had to play the role of accommodating host. Why the fuck did he offer to let Keith stay the night? He hated his sense of loyalty, it was really starting to become a problem. Another thing to hate the gang for, he guessed.

 

He was torn out of his thoughts by an elbow nudging his side. “Hey Pico…” Keith started and sat forward in his seat to look at him in the face.

 

Pico simply side-eyed him, already knowing what he was gonna ask. 

 

“I know we made a deal, but -”

 

Pico growled quietly.

 

“I know, I know. Relax, I’m not asking specifics, I just wanna know…drug-related?”

 

Pico chewed on the inside of his cheek. Keith gave him a perfect out, he could just lie. It’d be so easy and Keith would believe anything he said. And yet…

 

“No,” he said with a sigh.

 

Keith simply nodded and sat back in his seat. A few more uncomfortable minutes passed before he spoke up again.

 

“Actually, do you wanna know why I hate thunder so much?”

 

“I don’t care, do whatever you want.” He meant that, but deep down, Pico couldn’t deny that he was a little bit curious. 

 

Keith took that as a go-ahead. “Let me start by saying that my parents aren’t great people. When I was little, instead of the usual punishments you get when you fucked up as a kid like the time-out corner or a spanking or whatever, my mother got a little more…creative.”

 

He paused for a moment, giving Pico an opportunity to glance at him. He was fiddling with his fingers in an anxious manner, giving Pico that cursed pang in his stomach again. He felt as though this was a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear. 

 

“She would lock me up in the garage. Most of the time it wasn’t that bad, it was a heated garage so winters didn’t suck too much. I usually just got really, really bored. During spring, when it would storm a lot, it…wasn’t that great. Do you know how loud thunder is in a metal room?”

 

“Pretty loud…” Pico mused, frowning. 

 

“No shit,” Keith chuckled. “A few years of that, now I’m a grown ass adult who’s scared of thunder. Pretty pathetic, right?”

 

Pico felt terrible for making fun of him earlier, another thing to add to the self-loathing checklist. A pang of guilt wrecked his stomach, making him feel sick.

 

“It’s not, it’s out of your control.”

 

Keith shrugged and sighed. “You’d think living in a metal box for a couple years would mean I’d get used to it, but I never did. Don’t think I ever will, honestly.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Pico said, and for once, he meant it. “That’s fucked.”

 

“It’s whatever. Point is,” Keith said, taking a deep breath before looking over to Pico, “I’ve got my own mental hangups. I would never judge you for your freakouts, you don’t have to worry about it.”

 

Pico didn’t know how to respond to that, how to feel about that, so he resorted to just turning away to stare out of the bus window as it approached their stop. He bit the inside of his already bleeding cheek again, trying to ignore the swirling thoughts in his mind.

 

~~~~~

 

“Well, this is it.”

 

Keith took a lingering look around Pico’s apartment. It was…much better than he expected, in all honesty. Not very dirty, no trash lingering around, an AC unit in the window, a TV, the works. It was kind of bare in the furniture department, but Pico didn’t really seem like the type to have a lot of furniture anyway. 

 

“It’s nice!”

 

Pico rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to lie, dude, I live in the projects.”

 

“I know, I was expecting it to be way worse!”

 

“...I’ll take that as a compliment. Follow me, I’ll show you around.”

 

Pico led him through the apartment, showing Keith the couch he would be sleeping on, the kitchen and where the glasses were in case he got thirsty, the bathroom, etc. After the tour, he settled on the couch while Pico grabbed a spare blanket from his bedroom.

 

“Here, it’s not as scratchy as it looks,” he said as he handed the (very scratchy looking) blanket to Keith. 

 

He took it gratefully, unfolding it as the exhaustion of the day finally hit him. Singing all day in the humid spring air and having a panic attack would’ve been enough, but the fact that for the first time in years he was sleeping on something much more comfortable than a metal floor had him on the brink of a coma. 

 

“Well, if it’s an emergency, I’ll be in my room. Night,” Pico said as he turned to walk away.

 

A very sudden wave of generosity hit Keith square in the chest. Pico didn’t have to do this, he knew that. For as much as the man had an aura of aggression surrounding him, he could be nice if he tried, something Keith didn’t want to take for granted. 

 

“Wait, Pico,” Keith started, waiting for Pico to turn to look at him. “Thank you. For everything, I mean.”

 

Pico didn’t respond with anything more than a simple nod and went into his room, leaving Keith to pass out the second he closed his eyes. 

 

~~~~~

 

Pico exhaled a chestful of smoke just as a flash of lightning lit up his room. He had tried and failed to sleep for several hours now, not an uncommon occurrence, but this time was…different. It wasn’t the usual nightmares or hallucinations that kept him up, but Keith . As much as Pico had tried, he just couldn’t shake the street rat. What was worse, he found that he actually liked being around him. Sure, Keith annoyed him to no end sometimes, but it had been a very long time since someone has tried to understand and care about him. Pico was resistant to it most of the time, but the gesture was still enough to give him pause. 

 

Thunder boomed outside, shaking the glass doors leading to his balcony a bit. Pico sighed and sat up, ashing the cigarette before coming to a conclusion that would’ve never crossed his mind even a couple weeks ago.

 

He considered Keith a friend. His first in a long time.

Chapter 6: The Calm Before The Storm

Notes:

CW// none

It was only supposed to be one night. It really was.

 

However, storm season had begun in Philly. After hearing the reason why Keith couldn’t handle thunder, Pico was too consumed with guilt to continue letting him stay in the storage container whenever it stormed. The two came to an agreement; Keith would come over while the thunder lasted and go home when it cleared up. 

 

That…didn’t last long. 

 

Pico found it surprisingly fun to hang out with Keith. It gave him something to do other than shooting up to curb boredom. To be fair, he still did sometimes, but it was becoming more and more rare as the days went by, the urge all but completely disappeared. Pico briefly wondered why he wasn’t going through withdrawal, but he decided to not question it and just enjoy whatever lucky break he was given. 

 

Instead, his evenings were spent ordering a pizza and getting absolutely stoned with Keith, shooting the shit for hours about whatever mundane shit they could come up with. Pico had learned a lot about Keith through that, like how his birthday was in September or how his favourite music was not in fact rap, rather more indie and punk. He hadn’t expected that from Keith, but to be fair, the man had done nothing but surprise him since they met. 

 

“What about you? What do you listen to?” Keith had asked, head hanging off of the couch as he laid upside down off of it.

 

Pico took a second to think, taking another hit from the joint they were sharing. “Hm, it’s really a mixed bag, y’know? Usually either bass-thumping EDM or whatever I can play on my guitar.”

 

Keith sat up instantly, staring at Pico with wide eyes. “You play the guitar!?”

 

“Uh, yeah.”

 

“That’s so cool! Could you play for me?”

 

Something similar to embarrassment pooled in Pico’s gut. He had never played in front of others, the idea of being perceived making his skin crawl. “...maybe later.”

 

Keith had just rolled his eyes and the conversation moved on. 

 

Eventually, Pico had earned enough money from guard duty to afford a game console so he and Keith could challenge each other in whatever shooter was available at the time. That led to Keith just coming over to play games, no thunder required. Sometimes, they’d play late into the night, leaving Keith to just pass out on the couch instead of walking home at four in the morning. 

 

The storm season ended in the middle of June, and yet, Keith still came over at least three times a week. 

 

And Pico didn’t mind. 

 

It was the end of July, and Keith had stayed for four days in a row. They were balls deep in a pepperoni pizza and blazed out of their minds when Pico blurted out the question he had been mulling over for the past few days.

 

“Do you wanna say fuck it and just move in?”

 

Keith lit up, springing up from his seat on the floor and staring at Pico with sparkling eyes. “For real?! Of course, dude!”

 

~~~~~

 

“How do you have so much shit? Fuckin’ hoarder…”

 

“Shut the fuck up and quit whining, it’s not THAT much, Pico.”

 

Pico rolled his eyes and shifted the boxes in his arms in a more comfortable position. It was true, it wasn’t a lot , but it was more than Pico was ever willing to carry several blocks and up three flights of stairs to his apartment in the summer heat. 

 

The two eventually made it to their place and set their respective boxes down, pausing for a moment to take a break. Keith sat down on the floor while Pico tied up his hair, something he regretted not doing before moving six boxes already. He hummed looking at Keith’s stuff packed away in the corner.

 

“How much do you have left?”

 

Keith tossed his head back in thought. “Just one more box of clothes, I think. And my bike.”

 

“Where the fuck are we supposed to put a motorcycle in a small ass apartment?”

 

“I’ve been trying to figure that out,” Keith sighed. “I might just have to leave her.”

 

“Might as well. It’s broke down, right?”

 

“Well, yeah, but…” Keith hesitated. He bit his lip, something Pico had begun to recognize as a nervous tic. “When I left, that bike and a backpack of clothes were all I had. We’ve been through a lot together.”

 

Pico shrugged. “New beginnings or whatever, right?”

 

“That is the most basic bitch cliche thing you’ve ever said.”

 

Pico threw a pillow he had retrieved from the couch at Keith, who caught it and continued to have a laughing fit at his expense. “Whatever, dick, let’s go get the fucking clothes so we can be done already.”

 

~~~~~

 

When the last box was tucked away into the corner of the living room for Keith to unpack later, both boys flopped onto the couch in exhaustion. Pico groaned and rubbed his face, the sheen of sweat on it grossing him out slightly.

 

“I don’t wanna cook tonight, you okay with ordering out?”

 

Keith hummed in thought for a moment. “Actually, do you wanna go out somewhere?”

 

Pico stared at him between his fingers, utter annoyance clear on his face. “You’re kidding, right? We’ve spent the whole day lugging your shit around in the hot sun, and you wanna go back outside ?”

 

Keith rolled his eyes and sat up, stretching his arms over his head. “Don’t be a pussy, it’s just a little heat. Besides, it wouldn’t be so bad if you wore something other than long sleeved shirts all the time.”

 

Pico couldn’t help the flash of irritation he felt in his stomach. Keith didn’t know the reason, of course, but the comment pissed him off nonetheless. He pushed it down and sat up fully, sighing. “Whatever, problem number two, where exactly are you planning on going? We don’t really have money to throw around.”

 

“Actually,” Keith started, pushing himself off the couch with a wide smile,”I can solve that problem!”

 

He walked over to his pile of boxes, rummaging around for a bit before pulling out a small jar painted blue. He sat back down on the couch and popped the top off, revealing that it was all the money he’d made from tips. 

 

“Dude, seriously? You’ve had money this whole time and made me pay for takeout?” Pico half-heartedly shouted.

 

“Give me a break, I was homeless.” 

 

Keith took a moment to count the money, Pico secretly doing the same. “Sixty-seven dollars and ten cents.”

 

“Sixty-six dollars, forty cents,” Pico corrected.

 

Keith glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “Whatever, it’ll be enough to get some actually good food. Since you’re the expert on Philly, any recommendations?”

 

Pico took a second to think. Even if he rarely went out on the town, there were a couple food places he really liked. Problem was, he really didn’t want to sit and eat somewhere. There were way too many people and the idea of having another episode in public made him want to jump off the nearest bridge.

 

Pico hummed and clicked his tongue. “How about we get takeout and eat it at the park?”

 

“I thought you wanted to get out of the sun?”

 

“I don’t really do the whole ‘sitting in and eating’ experience,” Pico responded with a dismissive wave of the hand. 

 

“You did a few months ago,” Keith pointed out with a smug smile.

 

Pico narrowed his eyes and stood up off the couch. “That’s because I didn’t wanna get fucking drenched in rain, pendejo. You in or what?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, go away so I can get dressed.”

 

~~~~~

 

The moment they stepped into the family-owned Mexican restaurant, Keith’s senses were immediately assaulted by the smells of various spices and the sounds of people in the kitchen shouting at each other in Spanish. His mouth began watering, the idea of having an actual home cooked meal for the first time in ages making his stomach growl. No offense to Pico’s cooking, but hamburgers and instant ramen get boring after a while. 

 

He followed the ginger to the counter and tried his best to read from the menu displayed on the wall. Unfortunately, he didn’t understand a word of Spanish beyond what Dora taught him. Pico, on the other hand, was already chatting it up with the cashier in their native language. Keith knew that Pico spoke Spanish, but to hear him speaking so fluently was still a bit of a shock to the system. Normally, he’d only hear a couple words here and there, usually when Pico was scolding him, but this was the first time he’d heard him speak full sentences. Keith couldn’t understand them whatsoever, but based on the way Pico kept glancing up at the menu, he assumed he was ordering. 

 

“What do you want?” Pico asked, turning to him. 

 

“Uhhh…” Keith tried once again to decipher anything from the menu, but the words just kept swimming around. “I…I can’t read any of this…” 

 

“What do you usually get?”

 

“...Quesadilla?” His cheeks burned from embarrassment.

 

“What meat?”

 

“There’s other kinds besides cheese?”

 

Pico gave him a hard look before scanning the menu and continuing their order. The man behind the counter gave him a small slip of paper with a number written on it, taking payment from Pico before walking back into the kitchen. The boys sat down on the chairs in the waiting area, hearing the man yell out their order to the cooks.

 

“You’ve gotta teach me Spanish sometime.”

 

Pico chuckled through his nose. “You wish. I’m a shitty teacher, but I think you’d be a shitty student.” He looked over at Keith out of the corner of his eye with a small smile. “No offense, of course. You’re just the whitest motherfucker I know.”

 

“Offense taken, asshole.” Keith gave him a hard glare before relaxing into the chair again. “Are you fluent?”

 

Pico nodded. “Been speaking Spanish my whole life, more or less.”

 

“Are you Hispanic?”

 

“What, the hair texture didn’t give it away?” Pico teased, pointing at his messy curls tied up into a bun. “Uh, half, on my mom’s side. She was born and raised in Mexico.”

 

Keith subtly raised his eyebrows. This was the first he’d ever heard of Pico’s family. Back when they were in high school, Pico’s parents never showed up to any parent-teacher conferences or school events, so nobody even knew what they looked like. He so badly wanted to push for more information, but knowing Pico, that would only end badly. So, instead, he opted for an easier question.

“What’s the other half?”

 

Pico was silent for a few moments, his expression hardening. “Irish.”

 

Keith feared he accidentally brought up something Pico didn’t want to think about. “I should’ve guessed with you being ginger and all,” he lightheartedly joked, hoping to ease Pico’s tension.

 

Thankfully, Pico chuckled quietly. “What if I told you my mom had red hair?”

 

Had. Keith didn’t miss Pico’s verbiage, a twinge of pity hitting his stomach. He didn’t let it show on his face, however, continuing the banter. “You know, that makes you just as white as me.”

 

Pico fully turned to him then, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Ain’t no way you’re mixed.”

 

Keith shrugged with a grin. “I’m full of surprises.”

 

“With what?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” As much as Keith teased, internally, he panicked for a moment. He couldn’t exactly tell Pico that his other half straight up wasn’t human . 

 

~~~~~

 

Pico watched in mild disgust as Keith ate nearly all of his food in a matter of a few minutes. Keith noticed him staring, flipping him off before stuffing another forkful of rice in his mouth. 

 

“One of these days, you’re gonna choke.”

 

Keith opened his mouth to retort before doubling over into an intense coughing fit. Pico smirked as he took a sip of his drink.

 

“You’re a fucking asshole,” Keith rasped as he recovered, trying and failing to subtly close his takeout container and move it away from him. “Listen, the food is good, and I’m starving after working hard all day.”

 

“I carried most of the boxes.” After a harsh glare from Keith, Pico chuckled and hummed. “Hey, can I ask a weird question?”

 

“...Depends how weird, I guess?” Keith answered with an eyebrow raised.

 

“I’m just curious…out of all of the names out there, why the fuck did you name yourself Keith ?”

 

Keith gave him an offended scoff and reached over the bench to lightly punch his shoulder, something that Pico easily dodged while laughing. “Stop making fun of me!”

 

“I’m just saying, it’s the most basic white boy name out there. You could’ve at least picked something decent like Avery or Nathan.”

 

“Those names suck too,” Keith grumbled, sitting back in his seat with a sigh. “To be honest, it was really just a placeholder name until I found something better. I just…never found something better.”

 

Pico hummed around his forkful of food. “Yeah, I’d imagine it’s hard to choose. Still, you could’ve picked a better placeholder.”

 

“Look, it was the name of the main character in a book I was reading at the time that I really liked, so forgive me for having interests.” Keith was quiet for a few moments, looking lost in thought as he finished his soda and set it aside. “Actually, while we’re on the subject, I just wanna…y’know, say thank you for accepting me so quickly. I’m not…used to that.”

 

Pico felt a pang of sadness course through him, and for once he let his face show how he was feeling. “Hey man, you don’t have to thank me for basic human decency. I’m an asshole, that I can admit, but I’m not a monster. It doesn’t really matter to me what you call yourself, I don’t give a fuck personally. I know people in this city wanna act all high and mighty, thinking they’re God, but it doesn’t make them right.” He paused, thinking for a few seconds. “Besides, it wouldn’t be right for me as a member of the community to put you down.”

 

Keith cocked his head in confusion. “Community?”

 

Pico took his time scraping up the last of his food onto his fork and eating it, chewing slowly while cleaning up the empty containers. “I’m gay,” he admitted through a mouthful of food.

 

Keith’s eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. “You’re fucking lying.”

 

“Nope,” Pico replied, “certified man-lover. Well, love is a strong word, certified man-fucker fits better.”

 

Keith barked out a short, surprised laugh. “I never would’ve guessed. You’re the straightest gay person I know.”

 

That got an actual, hearty laugh out of Pico, something of a rare occurrence. “The fuck does that mean?”

 

“Well, you know, given how you present yourself, I would’ve thought you’d be a hell of a womanizer.”

 

“Fuck no. Not my scene.”

 

Keith stared at him for a few seconds, to the point where Pico began getting uncomfortable, before chuckling quietly. “You’re an interesting guy, Pico.”

 

“...Thanks,” Pico responded, his skin crawling slightly at the compliment. “What about you?”

 

“What about me?”

 

“Are you a ‘womanizer’?”

 

“Oh!” Bee chuckled, finishing the last of his food. “Uh, well, no, I wouldn’t call myself that, but I am bi.”

 

“Adventurous,” Pico responded with a chuckle. 

 

Keith kicked his shin under the bench. “What about you? Just a cis man?”

 

“I guess so. Never really gave it much thought. I don’t really care what you call me, honestly. He, she, they, your majesty, it’s all the same to me.”

 

Keith burst out in loud giggles. “Your majesty?!”

 

“Y’know, for spice.”

 

The two devolved into a hearty laughing fit, one that genuinely hurt Pico’s stomach. He hadn’t had a laugh like this in a long while, he had almost forgotten what fun felt like. They eventually calmed down, Keith wiping the tears out of his eyes.

 

“God, I haven’t laughed like that in a while, I fucking needed that.”

 

Pico shrugged nonchalantly, but the smile was still plastered on his face. “Happy to be of service.”

 

It was quiet for a few minutes, the sound of the summer wind in the leaves and the cars on the street filling the silence as the two just relaxed in the shade. Pico glanced over at Keith, who seemed to be lost in thought as he chewed on the straw of his drink.

 

“What’s up?”

 

Keith started as he was pulled out of his thoughts and sighed. “Keith really is a terrible fucking name, huh?”

 

“It wouldn’t be my first choice, but I was just fucking with you, dude. If you like it, it ain’t my place to say shit.”

 

Keith waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, you’re right. I don’t really like it, I was just too busy dealing with other shit to think of a new one.” He bit his lip and sighed again. “Any suggestions?”

 

“Uh…” Pico had to take a second. It wasn’t like he ever planned to change his name or have kids, so it wasn’t something he had ever thought about. “I ain’t good at this, dude.”

 

“Just whatever comes to mind and I’ll tell you how I feel, alright?”

 

Pico looked around the park for something to give him an idea. Around…the park…

 

“Parker?”

 

Keith shot him a look. “You’re really bad at this.”

 

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me for help!” Pico retorted, a small burn on his cheeks.

 

Keith sighed again and laid face down on the bench. “Keep going.”

 

Pico looked at the people walking around the park. “Walker?”

 

“Stop just naming things you see.”

 

Pico grinned at that. “Tree?”

 

Keith looked up, annoyance clear on his face. “No.”

 

“Bench.”

 

“Stop.”

 

“Flower.”

 

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

 

“Bee.”

 

Keith opened his mouth, but promptly shut it with an unreadable look. “Hang on…”

 

Pico cocked his head, amused. “Bee?”

 

He watched as the gears in Keith’s brain turned. The man’s mouth slowly curled into a smile and he looked Pico directly in the eyes. “Yeah. Bee. I like it, actually.”

 

Pico chuckled, gathering their takeout containers into the plastic bag and standing to throw it away. “Well, it’s better than Keith. So, Bee, ready to go?”

Chapter 7: What Happened To You?

Notes:

cw// hallucinations, panic attack, mention of self harm

When he woke up, Pico wasn’t surprised to learn that the nightmare had followed him into the waking world. His room was full of shadow people, screaming at him in a garbled mess of words he couldn’t begin to decipher. He took in panicked breaths and flung his arm to the side, blindly searching for his gun on the end table. He felt his fingers curl around the familiar weight and aimed at one of the people not even a couple feet away from him, slowly closing in. He attempted to shoot at the creature, knowing it wouldn’t hurt it, but hoping it would be enough to scare it off. Unfortunately, the gun clicked.

 

Empty.

 

The panic only increased tenfold. Where the fuck did his bullets go? He always made sure it was loaded, what happened?!

 

Pico threw the useless weapon aside and covered his ears, squeezing the sides of his head hard in a desperate attempt to block out the cacophony of shrill voices that only got louder and louder the closer the beings got to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying and failing to regulate his breathing. He felt featherlight touches go up and down his arms, his chest, ruffle his hair. He whimpered like a coward , unable to control the harsh, ragged wheezes coming from him. He shivered as something that felt similar to a long fingernail trail its way up his shoulder to his neck. He batted it off and ducked down under the covers, pulling it over him as his tried and true method to avoiding all this, a habit he had picked up when all this first started happening a few years ago.

 

The entities tugged and pulled at the blanket, trying to rip it away, but thanks to Pico’s iron grip on the fabric, they had no luck. He felt weight settling on top of him, as if the creatures were trying to either suffocate him or push through the blanket to get to him. He laid still, unrelenting in his grip on the covers, and prayed to whatever god was listening that it would all be over soon, that they’d give up and leave him alone.

 

After what felt like an eternity, the weight eased off of him and the voices got quieter and quieter until they were completely gone. Pico exhaled a shaky breath, giving it a few more minutes until he was absolutely sure he was alone in the room again. He looked around to triple check, but thankfully, all traces of the shadow people were gone and he began to relax. He rubbed his face and sighed, an action that reminded him of how dry his throat was. After a bit of consideration, Pico decided it was safe enough to go to the kitchen for a drink. 

 

He padded his way through the dark until he managed to find the lightswitch in the kitchen, flicking it on and getting briefly blinded by the light. He rummaged through the cabinet for a glass, finding one and nearly dropping it immediately at the sound of a croaky voice behind him. 

 

“Pico? What’re you doing up?”

 

He turned around to find Bee, who had clearly just woken up. His shirt was crumpled, his messy bun even messier, and his eyes weren’t entirely focused, squinting at him in the bright room. 

 

Right. Bee lived with him now. That’s the whole reason his gun didn’t have bullets, they were safe in the bottom drawer of his bedside table until he got used to having a roommate around. It had barely even been a week since he moved in, after all. Pico was worried that if Bee randomly decided to bust into his room, his reflexes would kick in and he’d paint the poor boy’s brains all over his bedroom wall. 

 

Bee looked Pico up and down, his eyes widening slightly. Pico came to the absolutely terrifying realization that he was just wearing a tank, his bare arms on display, riddled with scars from accidents and no-so-accidents.

 

Bee was never meant to see this. Pico thought he was gonna throw up.

 

If he noticed it, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, Bee’s face twisted to one of concern, only looking at Pico’s face. “Hey man, you okay? I heard a lot of banging around, and you look like you’re gonna be sick.” His tone was much softer than Pico had ever heard him speak. 

 

Pico opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off and mind his business, but all that came out was a choked noise that got stuck halfway through his throat. His face fell, realizing he wouldn’t be able to speak for a bit. He should’ve expected this, he was never able to talk after having a hallucination. He cursed mentally. Of course this had to be the one time in the past five months since he’d met Bee that he had to go mute and couldn’t play it off.

 

He was stuck. 

 

After some debating, he gave up and sighed, raising his hands and hoping Bee would understand him.

 

[Do you know ASL?]

 

Bee’s eyes flicked from his face to his hands and back, squinting in confusion. “Is that sign language?”

 

Pico groaned and tossed his head back in frustration. 

 

“Wait, I have an idea, just stay here for a minute.”

 

With that, Bee nearly sprinted back to the living room. This was Pico’s chance to escape, lock himself in his bedroom, never come out, and die in there of embarrassment. However, it was like his feet were rooted into the kitchen floor. He couldn’t find the strength to move, let alone run away.

 

Bee came back half a minute later, pen and paper in hand. He placed them down on the counter beside Pico. “We can talk using this for now!”

 

Pico hesitated but managed to find the will to shuffle over to the counter, thinking for a moment before he wrote. His handwriting was god awful, due to the shaking of his hands, but Bee seemed able to read it.

 

[Sorry for waking you.]

 

Bee shook his head. “You ain’t gotta apologize. Why can’t you talk?”

 

Pico clicked his piercing, unsure if he should answer. He sighed internally, if Bee was going to be living with him, this was something he should know about.

 

[I don’t know. It happens sometimes. Been happening for a while, usually when I’m really stressed out.]

 

“What’s got you so stressed out?” When Pico didn’t immediately start writing, Bee frowned and held up his hands. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

 

Pico nodded, grateful and a little surprised. He wasn’t expecting Bee to be so…considerate. He knew that the guy must’ve had a lot of questions for him, for him to have the self control to keep it to himself for Pico’s sake was genuinely sweet as hell.

 

“Well,” Bee continued, stretching his arms above his head, “anything I can do? Do you wanna play Halo with me?”

 

[You don’t have to do that, just go back to sleep.]

 

“Nah, I ain’t falling back asleep, I have issues sleeping sometimes. C’mon, let me come kick your ass.”

 

Pico shot him a glare, but really, he didn’t know what to do. Bee was showing him a kindness he hadn’t known for many years, not since Darnell and Nene were still alive. They threw around the term, but this was the first time it hit Pico that Bee was his friend , an actual friend who cared for him without just wanting something in return. He hadn’t used that word to describe someone in a long time, but he thought Bee had deserved the title. 

 

[Sure. Though I’m gonna kick YOUR ass.]

 

Bee laughed. “Yeah? Prove it.”

 

Pico flashed him a grin and quickly scribbled on the paper before pushing himself away from the counter. [Get the shit set up, I’m gonna roll up for us.]

 

“Why do I have to do all the work?” Bee whined as Pico left the kitchen.

 

By the time he returned to the living room, special wooden box in hand, Bee had already gotten the Xbox set up and ready, a small collection of snacks on the coffee table. Pico took his seat beside him, lighting the joint he had rolled and passing it over in exchange for a controller, ready to absolutely destroy Bee in one-on-one.

 

~~~~~

 

Well. Pico lost. Hard .

 

Bee won by eleven kills, something he was clearly feeling smug about, peering over to Pico, who had the blanket wrapped around his shoulders by now, sulking in his defeat. 

 

“Aw, don’t be such a sore loser, Pico. I was the Slayer champion back home, you never stood a chance in the first place.”

 

Pico narrowed his eyes and took a moment to clear his throat. “Fucking dick,” he said, voice still slightly strained but noticeably better than before. “I’m taking a break.”

 

Bee chuckled as Pico took a sip of water and lit up another joint. “Is that code for ‘I’m getting my ass kicked so hard I’m gonna get stoned to calm down’?”

 

“Fine, you’re not getting any, then.”

 

“Fine by me,” Bee shrugged. “My head’s getting fuzzy anyway.”

 

“More for me,” Pico mused, taking a long drag. He sat up and popped his back. “I think I’ll just take this to my room then.”

 

“What, tired of getting fucking obliterated?

 

Pico crumpled up the blanket around his shoulders and threw it at the laughing Bee. “No, pendejo, I’m fucking exhausted. We’ve been playing for like, three hours. Surprised you ain’t passed out by now.”

 

“Guess I’m just cooler than you,” Bee cooly replied, turning off Pico’s controller and switching to single-player.

 

Pico rolled his eyes and gathered his stuff. “Whatever, man. G’night.”

 

“Goodnight! And…” Bee hesitated, biting his lip and fidgeting with his hands before looking over to Pico with a small smile. “If you ever had another rough night and need me to kick your ass again, just let me know. I’m always down.”

 

Pico tried his best to ignore the sharp stab of something in his gut. He simply gave Bee a nod and headed back to his room. He laid down on this bed, smoking while deep in thought. This was so weird and new , Pico didn’t exactly know what to do. His eyes trailed down to his exposed arms, mentally mapping the scars along the way. Fighting wounds, track marks, self-harm cuts… he had accidentally let Bee see it all, and the guy said nothing . He sighed and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, groaning quietly.

 

What is WRONG with me? I’m supposed to be more careful than this, this is so fucked up! Why isn’t he asking me questions? Why is he so NICE to me? It’s not like I treat him the best…

 

Pico groaned again and snuffed out the half-smoked joint, trying to get comfortable enough to fall back asleep. Bee had single-handedly broken down every one of Pico’s barriers, and despite his hesitance and outright hostility, has treated him with nothing but kindness and understanding. It scared Pico shitless, knowing someone had seen him for what he was and stayed regardless. 

Fuck. What do I do?

Chapter 8: Don't Look At Me

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// none i think

Chaos_Begone gets credit for makin them post this chapter today :3

When Pico awoke the next morning after no more than four hours of restless sleep, he spent the first hour simply laying in bed and smoking through half of his pack of cigarettes, not being able to find the energy to face the day. How was he supposed to face Bee after everything that had happened the night before? Surely he’d have a lot of questions, surely he just kept them to himself for Pico’s sake and now that he was much more calmed down, he’d pick and pry at every one of Pico’s faults, and Pico wouldn’t be able to defend himself. He couldn’t talk about it, not without sounding absolutely fucking insane . 

 

Eventually, pesky bodily functions forced Pico out of bed. He hoped that Bee was still passed out, that way he could only leave to piss or eat or work, condemning himself to his bedroom for the rest of time. It wasn’t like he regularly hung out in the living room anyway, right? Spending the rest of his life in his room wasn’t so bad. 

 

Should Pico throw on his hoodie? It wasn’t like it mattered anyway, really. Bee had already seen, already known, was probably theorizing just how fucked up the ginger really was. On the other hand, maybe if Pico pretended that nothing had happened, he could make Bee believe he imagined the scars. Not the most morally sound plan, but whatever. 

 

Pulling on the hoodie, Pico stealthily peeked out of his room, relief washing over him as he realized his roommate was out cold on the couch, still snoring away peacefully. He quickly rushed to the bathroom to get his business out of the way. He looked at the shower, weighing if it was worth it to get clean. He really didn’t want to take too long and risk Bee waking up before he could isolate again, but it has been a while…

 

Eh, fuck it.

 

~~~~~

 

Bee woke the next morning wincing at a shooting pain spread across the middle of his back. He groaned and sat up, discovering that, somehow, he had fallen asleep on the Xbox controller. He rolled his eyes at himself, not surprised at his sleep-drunk self’s ability to straight up pass out in the most uncomfortable positions imaginable. 

 

After tossing the controller back on the coffee table, he stretched out his limbs in an attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep, which as he fully expected, was totally useless as usual. What he wouldn’t give for just a couple more hours of sleep, he had stayed up way too late. Groaning again, he dragged his weary body off the couch to use the bathroom and start his day. 

 

He only made it halfway down the hallway before the sound of the shower hit him. He pressed his palms to his eyes, once again groaning in frustration. Seems like nothing was going his way that morning. 

 

To wait out Pico, Bee decided to make himself breakfast, his stomach loudly reminding him that he neglected to eat much more than a few snacks the night before. He retied his bun back to a proper, less messy state and scavenged the fridge, settling on scrambled eggs. Bee wasn’t totally inept at cooking, but he was far from a gourmet chef, scrambled eggs seemed too simple to fuck up and his risk of burning the apartment down was fairly low. 

 

He had just finished stirring the eggs up in a bowl and was about to pour the mixture in the pan when he heard the soft click of the bathroom door opening. “Pico! Can you watch these eggs for a minute?” he called out into the hallway. 

 

There was a few seconds of silence before Pico answered hesitantly, “Do I have to?”

 

Bee rolled his eyes, though he knew Pico couldn’t see. “Please? I gotta fucking piss real bad, man!”

 

Pico appeared in the kitchen archway, hair still dripping wet with a towel around his shoulders, and shooed Bee away from the stove, taking over with a grumble under his breath. Bee chuckled internally at the sight. Normally, Pico’s hair (when he let it down) was pretty bouncy and fluffy, so seeing it weighed down around his face was always something that amused Bee to no end. 

 

“Thanks man, I’ll be quick!”

 

“Sure, whatever.”

 

Bee practically sprinted down the hallway and kept his word, though he did pause for a moment to wipe away the condensation from the mirror above the sink to give himself a once over. With a grimace, he noticed that his eyebags were starting to get rough-looking again. He sighed before leaving the bathroom and returning to the kitchen, taking over the cooking with a grateful smile. 

 

“Thank you~” he sing-songed as he stirred the mostly-cooked eggs around the pan. 

 

“Don’t mention it,” Pico mumbled, stepping out of the way to continue towel drying his hair. 

 

“Y’know, we should invest in a hair dryer. It takes my hair ages to air-dry.”

 

Pico snorted as he flipped his head forward to dry the back of his hair. “You got hair dryer money? You were homeless for a couple years, you’ll live.”

 

Bee rolled his eyes as he turned off the stove and slid the eggs onto a plate. “Yeah, was . I’m not anymore, and I think I’ve more than earned not having my hair be sopping wet for two hours anymore. Besides, it’d probably help you out too, y’know.”

 

Pico stood up straight again and wrapped the towel back around his neck with a shake of his head. “Hell no, my hair gets super frizzy when it’s blow dried.”

 

“They make products for that,” Bee replied, shoving a forkful of egg in his mouth and pointing the fork at Pico. “I bet you’d have amazing hair if you took care of it properly.”

 

Pico scowled. “Are you calling my hair shitty?”

“Never said that! Just…y’know, it’s pretty obvious you just sort of let it do its own thing.” At Pico’s scorned face, Bee rolled his eyes and continued. “I’m just saying I know you don’t take care of it properly.”

 

“What are you, the fucking hair police?”

 

“So defensive,” Bee teased with a chuckle. “I know my hair ain’t all curly, but I know a lot about hair care. My…” He hesitated for a moment, a sour taste filling his mouth. “... friend back home has a pretty similar hair texture to yours. I could give you her routine, if you want.”

 

“How much money do you think I have? Besides, I’m fine with what I got. I ain’t exactly someone who cares bout how he looks.”

 

“I can tell.”

 

Pico narrowed his eyes and called him something in Spanish that Bee understood enough to know it was an insult. He laughed again and went to take another bite before remembering something.

 

“Oh, if you want any eggs, you can have the rest of this. I used up all the eggs, we need to go shopping.”

Pico shook his head. “Nah, I’m alright. I’ll put it on the list.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Bee said, continuing to shovel his breakfast in his mouth. 

 

He took a moment to really observe Pico. He was once again in his signature hoodie,a distant look on his face. Internally, Bee sighed. He knew that Pico had something he wanted to talk about, and at the same time, knew he wouldn’t bring it up himself. So, he bit the bullet himself.

 

“What’s on your mind?”

 

“Nothing,” was Pico’s immediate answer.

 

“Bullshit. You won’t look me in the eye and you keep clicking your tongue piercing against your teeth.”

 

Pico snapped out of his thoughts to look at Bee with a mixture of confused fear. “What?”

 

“You do it when you’re nervous or overthinking. So, which is it?”

 

Bee watched as Pico processed that, rolling his eyes as he finished the last bite of egg. The ginger really wasn’t as mysterious as he claimed to be, and it didn’t take Bee very long to pick up on his habits. He knew he was right, the only problem was getting Pico to talk about it. 

 

As Bee set his plate in the sink, he heard Pico sigh behind him. “Well, can we…can we talk about last night?”

 

“What about it?” Bee questioned casually, leaning up against the counters.

 

Pico gestured vaguely with his hands. “Just…I don’t know, a lot happened, you know?”

 

“You went mute and I kicked your ass in Halo until you gave up like a sore loser and went back to your room. What about it?”

 

Pico gave him a hard glare before sighing and looking away. “I guess I’m just…surprised that you didn’t ask me any questions?”

 

Internally, Bee smirked. He had never really seen Pico this anxious, it was a breath of fresh air from his usual douchebag persona, one Bee felt grateful he’s able to witness. 

 

“Like I’ve told you before, you don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. I’m not gonna fish for information you obviously don’t wanna talk about. God knows I’ve got my own secrets I’m not ready to share yet, I just figure that it’s the same for you, right?”

 

Pico looked lost for a second before giving Bee a hesitant nod.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

For once, Pico didn’t give an immediate ‘no’. Instead, he took his time, lost in thought for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Just wanna let you know that it happens a lot.”

 

“Well then I guess you’d better get to teaching me ASL so I don’t have to read your shitty handwriting.”

 

Pico frowned again and walked out of the kitchen, heading for the living room. “I fucking hate you.”

 

Bee trailed after him, giggling to himself quietly. “Soooo, is that a yes, or…?”

 

Pico plopped down on the couch and switched the TV on, flipping to the local weather channel and shrugged. “I could try. I fucking suck at teaching, though.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Bee sat down on the couch next to him, tilting his head. “Since when do you care about the weather?”

 

“I’ll probably have to go out today, I wanna make sure it ain’t gonna rain.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Bee settled into the couch as the conversation settled into a lull. Bee zoned out while watching the news anchor point at a brightly coloured graph of Philly while Pico stared out the window at the waking city. To Bee, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but he could practically feel Pico fidgeting beside him. It took a good few minutes and a whole commercial break for the ginger to finally speak up.

 

“Hey, Bee…”

 

Bee instantly perked up, having never heard Pico use that quiet tone of voice before. “Yeah?”

 

Pico turned back to face him with a dark and unreadable expression. “Why didn’t you say anything… about the scars?”

 

Ah, so that’s what this was about, Bee had seen them, of course, the darker, marred flesh impossible to miss. He admittedly felt a little pity seeing them, he’d known that Pico didn’t exactly have an easy life, but seeing evidence of something bigger filled him with even more yearning to learn about the man he was now living with. Despite that curiosity, Bee knew it wasn’t his place to ask about something Pico was violently avoidant about, so he just gave him a shrug. 

 

“You didn’t say anything about the fact that I’m not wearing my binder, so I guess that calls us even.”

 

Almost instantly, Pico’s grey irises flicked downwards. Bee’s face flushed as he threw an arm protectively over his chest. Pico, realizing he had been caught, turned red as well and whipped his head back towards the window.

 

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LOOKING, YOU FUCKING PERVERT!”

 

“I’M SORRY, I DIDN’T MEAN TO!”

 

“LIAR! YOU’RE GAY, WHY WOULD YOU CARE ABOUT TITS ANYWAY?!”

 

“FUCK YOU!”

Notes:

Sorry its been. a month. As some of you are aware, I'm a dev on Soft Mod and it released today, we've spent the past month grinding shit out but heyyyy more free time now!

Chapter 9: Overflow

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// gun violence, angst, brief mention of suicide, brief mention of past SA

It seemed like no matter what Pico tried, his headache simply wouldn’t go away. He had been laying in bed most of the day, the dark orange light streaming through his balcony window evidence of just how long he’d been resting in the dark room. Well, whatever, at least he had the night off, so he could rot in his bed as much as he liked.

 

Ding!

 

Pico groaned into his pillow. So much for that idea.

 

He didn’t have a fancy phone at all. Matter of fact, it was just a shitty little flip phone that had a few minutes on it. Unfortunately, it only had one purpose, so the fact that it was beeping was a terrible sign for Pico’s migraine. 

 

He sighed before reaching out to grab it, peeking an eye open at the text he had received. 

 

[ Emergencia. Necesitamos ayuda. Vaya al cuartel general lo antes posible .] [1]

 

Pico felt his chest tighten. Emergency? These guys rarely call upon him for petty arguments or minor fights at the base, what could’ve happened? Did the X’s get the balls to finally make their move and raid headquarters? If that’s the case…

 

Ignoring the pounding in his head, Pico bolted out of bed with urgency, retrieving his backpack from under the bed. He packed it with his spare gun, few magazines of ammo, and spare clothes in case he got bloody. He quickly changed into his designated “work clothes” and slung the bag over his shoulder, heading out of the room.

 

Bee jolted at the way Pico was rushing around, managing to quickly swallow his mouthful of food as he called out to the ginger right before he reached the door. 

 

“Yo, what’s the fucking rush?”

 

“Work call.” Pico needed to be as vague about his job as possible. He didn’t need Bee to get involved in all of this.

 

“Where do you work where they call you in at nine at night?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

Pico ignored Bee’s irritated spluttering as he bolted out of the door and down the apartment complex stairs. He could apologize for being rude later, there were others things to worry about right now.

 

~~~~~

 

Despite the fact that Pico has a tendency to overthink, it does come in handy the few times it turns out to be correct, a fact that Pico mulled over briefly as he ducked behind a metal crate. He shielded his face from shrapnel as bullets grazed the corner of the crate, breathing ragged breaths from behind his mask. He turned to another member of the gang, Marco, as he reloaded his weapon. 

 

“Están por todas partes. ¿Qué demonios ha pasado?” [2]

 

Marco huffed a laugh. “Los bastardos planearon un ataque sorpresa. Están empezando a ser muy audaces.” [3]

 

Pico thunked his head on the crate, still trying to catch his breath. His headache hadn’t lessened any, in fact it had gotten much worse, so trying to survive an all-out gang war was definitely not on his to-do list for the night. He had managed to take a couple down, but there were many, many more where that came from, and he was running low on ammo. 

 

“¡ Oye! No hay tiempo para dormir, ¡vamos, amigo!” [4]

 

Pico sighed and got back into crouching position, loading his last magazine. He shot a glance over to Marco, who simply smiled and raised his gun. 

 

Pico nodded and zoned back into the fight, providing returning fire like he was born for it. He worked quickly and efficiently, waiting for the enemy to reload as an opening and shooting two directly in the forehead. He wasn’t good at much in life, but this came easily to him, taking a life or ten. After all, it’s what they hired him to do. 

 

And he was damn good at his job.

 

His focus shattered as a searing pain ripped across his upper bicep, temporarily disarming him as he hissed and dropped his gun. With shaky breath and a few curses spat between his teeth, he ducked back into cover to assess the damage. It was only a graze, but shit that hurt.

 

Great. Add another fucking scar to the pile .

 

This fight was drawing on way too long. Pico was running low on both ammo and options, he had to think of something to end this quickly. He looked around the area, trying to find something, anything he could do. 

 

His eyes landed on a specific wooden box on the far left wall. It would be extremely risky, but he knew that what that box had could end this. Making up his mind, he dodged bullets as he dashed from cover to cover. He knew he specifically had a target on his back, so he wanted to move as quickly as possible, though his headache was certainly hindering him. Surprisingly, he managed to make it to the crate unharmed. 

 

He reached in, shouting a warning to his comrades before pulling the pin on the grenade and lobbing it in the direction of the biggest cluster of X enemies. If they wanted to play dirty, so could Pico.

 

Although it wasn’t all that powerful of an explosive, typically used for car bombs and such, the explosion was still much louder than anticipated. Pico covered his ears, albeit a little too late. If he had to deal with both a bullet wound AND a ruptured eardrum, he would be seriously pissed. 

 

It seemed to do the trick. Through the ringing in his ears, Pico could make out the leader call for a retreat, and by the time the smoke cleared, they had already left. The ginger relaxed against the wall, rubbing his eyebrows as his head pounded. Luckily, the pain in his arm was a great distraction. 

 

“Pico! ¿Estás loco? You could’ve killed your own brothers!” [5]

 

Pico sighed through his nose and opened his eyes, looking up at the Boss. “Did I?”

 

The Boss gave him a hard stare. “That isn’t the point. You weren’t authorized to make that call yourself.”

 

Pico rolled his eyes and got to his feet, holstering his gun in his waistband. “Look, we were getting overrun. If the fuckers want to play dirty, I’ll make sure they leave in a box. Ain’t that what you hired me for?”

 

“Por amor de Dios, did you have to blow up half the damn building? Look at this place, it’s a fucking mess!” [6]

 

Looking around, it really wasn’t as bad as the big guy was making it out to be, other than a couple crates blowing up and maybe some structural damage to the back wall, there wasn’t much carnage, to Pico’s shock. 

 

The Boss sighed and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. “Go home, get patched up, but I want you here bright and early tomorrow to help clean this shit up, got it?”

 

Pico grit his teeth and simply nodded, watching as the Boss walked off to order some lower ranked lackeys to clean up the bodies. By God, Pico was glad he didn’t have that job anymore. He jolted as he felt a pat on his back, instinctively going to throw a punch before he turned to find Marco grinning at him. 

 

“Loco hijo de perra, ¿en qué estabas pensando?” [7]

 

Pico willed his nerves to calm down as he shrugged. “Tienes que hacer lo que tienes que hacer.” [8]

 

“Ay, crazy, crazy guy. ¿Dónde estaríamos sin ti?” [9]

 

Despite the fact that Pico couldn’t stand most of the people in the gang, Marco was genuinely a guy who enjoyed life and was kind to everyone, himself included. So, he simply flashed a smile as he walked off. “Ustedes estarán absolutamente bien, Marco.” [10]

 

~~~~~

 

Bee shivered, but it wasn’t due to the crisp fall air on his nearly exposed torso. He was shaking so badly, in fact, that he had to sit down on the rooftop he was standing on before he fell. It all finally made sense, the sneaking around, the refusal to talk about his occupation, the scars.

 

Pico’s in the S gang .

 

As soon as Pico rushed out of the apartment, Bee knew in his gut that something was up. He had let his wings out and followed him as sneakily as he could. He knew it was wrong, he knew he should’ve just minded his business and not get involved in Pico’s personal life, but he was so deathly curious that he just couldn’t help himself. 

 

That explosion sounded bad. Did Pico get hurt? Was he even alive? Gang wars are absolutely no joke, he knew that your chances of survival were fairly low. He shook his head, trying and failing to get rid of those thoughts. 

 

Pico is strong. He can handle himself just fine. I’m sure he’s okay. I’m…sure of it.

 

As if to confirm his suspicions, he saw a flash of ginger hair exiting the side door of the building. Bee watched as Pico rolled up his sleeve, checking the wrap on a fresh wound on his bicep. Bee breathed a sigh of relief as, seemingly, that was Pico’s only injury, and he seemed more annoyed than anything. 

 

As he lifted off to beat Pico home, his mind wouldn’t quit racing. Pico being a part of a gang wasn’t the issue to Bee, it was which one that had him worried. 

 

Of all of the gangs in Philly, why does he have to be a part of my former rivals? Fuck, I hope the X’s never find out, this can’t end well.

 

~ ~~~~

 

It had been almost two full weeks since Bee held a conversation with Pico, and the ginger was wigging the fuck out over it. Ever since the night of the raid, there hadn’t been anything more than simple pleasantries, no game nights, no smoke sessions, and, as much as Pico didn’t want to admit that he missed it, no playful jabs or annoying questions. Bee wasn’t even home to celebrate his birthday, he had spent the whole day out. It had just been… nothing .

 

When Pico came home that night, Bee was already sound asleep on the couch. He had thought it was weird that Bee didn’t stay up to chew his ass out, but he shrugged it off and took a shower. The guy was still asleep when Pico had to clean for his morning clean up duty, and when he returned home in the early afternoon, Bee had left a note about “ heading to work” . He didn’t even see Bee until he arrived home around midnight, so he didn’t even get a chance to apologize until then. 

 

Bee had waved him off. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m, uh, pretty tired though, so would you mind leaving so I could change and sleep?”

 

That was when the worry started. Pico’s always had an issue with overthinking, sure, but something in his gut felt…off. 

 

It doesn’t seem like he’s okay, is he lying to me? For what, to spare my feelings or some shit? He doesn’t usually come home that late, and even still, I’ve NEVER seen him go to bed before one in the morning. Were the tips just that good and he had a super long day? Or… or did he just not want to be around me? Is he still pissed? I mean, I guess I can’t blame him, I can be a dick sometimes. I don’t know…maybe I’ll just give him a couple days to get over it?”

 

Those “couple days” turned into a couple weeks of the same thing every day. Bee would leave early to go to the park, come home super late, then immediately head to bed as soon as he got home. Pico’s anxiety started to spiral, it became all he could think about. He didn’t even understand it himself, why he cared so much about this. He used to be the type of guy to not give a fuck about what other people thought of him, but now… He considered Bee his closest friend, and a very unfortunate downside of that was taking his opinion of Pico to heart, something Pico hated but couldn’t deny or control anymore. 

 

He couldn’t take this anymore, he had to get to the bottom of this, he was tired of losing sleep. He got the perfect opportunity when Bee came home past midnight as the ginger was playing video games on the couch. 

 

“Hey man, have a good day?”

 

Bee seemed taken aback by Pico’s question, which was entirely valid as he had just walked through the door. He gave Pico a confused look as he slowly closed the door and threw his backpack down in the entryway, kicking off his shoes. 

 

“Uh…yeah, I guess, about the same as usual. Tips were okay…” he slowly approached the couch, staring Pico down with an expression he couldn’t decipher. “So, uh, can you…move? So I can sleep?”

 

Pico took a breath as he paused the game, setting the controller down on the table before looking up at his roommate. “Actually, can we talk?”

 

Bee fidgeted with a lock of his hair, still just standing by the couch and making no move to sit down. “Well, um, I-I’m pretty tired, so…”

 

Pico tried his best to keep a level head, but the stress and worry of the past couple weeks ate away at his patience, so he had a bit too much malic in his voice when he responded. “Dude, what’s your fucking issue?”

 

Bee narrowed his eyes. “The fuck you mean by that?”

 

“The avoiding me shit. I already apologized to you, are you still pissy with me?”

 

“I have not been avoiding you.”

 

“Bullshit, you’re never home and we haven’t actually talked in ages.”

 

Bee barked out a humourless laugh, crossing his arms. “What, so obsessed with me you can’t stand not talking for a few days? I’ve been working my ass off to make us a little extra money, I didn’t know that was a problem. Now, can you fucking move so I can sleep?”

 

“It has been more than a few days and you fucking know that. If you’ve got some problem with me, fucking tell me about it.”

 

Internally, Pico felt a little guilty about jumping Bee like this, but he just couldn’t take the unknown anymore.

 

“How about you lay the fuck off and mind your own business? You know, it’s really hypocritical of you to be so invested in what I do, I don’t give you shit for never telling me whatever the fuck it is you’re up to!”

 

That comment was what got Pico to fully stand up. “Fuck you! I know you’re still pissed at me about something, just fucking talk to me like an adult!”

 

Bee threw his head back with a laugh before pacing. “Pico, for once, just be honest with me. What exactly do you do for work?”

 

Now it was Pico’s turn to be confused. “Where did that come from?”

 

“Answer the fucking question.”

 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

 

Bee stopped pacing and bit his lip, probably trying to calm down. It didn’t work.

 

“You know, I’ve been keeping reeeeeal quiet ‘cuz I know you’re hung up on that lone wolf bullshit you like to do, but I am so fucking tired of it. You know you can trust me! I’m supposed to be your roommate and best friend, why is it so hard for you to just fucking open up to me?”

 

The ‘best friend’ remark made Pico’s chest tighten in an unfamiliar way, but he pushed it aside. “Life ain’t that fucking simple. I don’t owe you shit.”

 

“I know about the gang, Pico!”

 

That stunned Pico into silence, the anger melting away into raw fear. “How did…?”

 

“Why didn’t you give me a warning before I moved in? Do you know what would happen if someone were to bust in while you weren’t home and I didn’t have any fucking idea what was going on?!”

 

“No one…no one knows where I live.”

 

“For now !” Bee exclaimed, looking directly at Pico. “This is a pretty fucking dangerous line of work. I live here now, you didn’t think it was courteous to give me a heads up or something?”

 

“I know it’s dangerous!” There was something mixing into the anger Pico had felt, something he couldn’t quite identify. “I know that, I’m not fucking stupid! I’ve known since I joined! That’s my shit to deal with, not yours!”

 

“ It’s not just you anymore! ”

 

If they didn’t get a noise complaint from the other tenants, Pico would be shocked. He’d never heard Bee yell like that, ever . He’d seen him upset or even a little mad before, sure, but nothing like that. Even Bee himself seemed surprised by his volume, taking a second to breathe deeply and continued, speaking much softer this time. 

 

“That’s what I keep trying to get through your thick skull. You’re not alone in this anymore, I’m here . If you don’t want me to be, that’s fine just… just fucking tell me, okay?”

 

Any remaining rage Pico had in his body disappeared in an instant, guilt and shame filling its place. Bee was right, of course he was. He had every right to be upset at him. Pico wasn’t alone here anymore, they were both in potential danger, he should’ve told Bee what was going on in case a doomsday scenario happened. If Bee had no clue and had gotten hurt…fuck.

 

He’d never forgive himself.

 

Pico stepped backwards until he felt the couch touch his calves, collapsing down on it in a slump. He had to cover his eyes with his arm, he couldn’t stand looking at Bee’s dejected face anymore, the guilt pooling nauseatingly in his gut. He couldn’t see that kicked puppy dog expression anymore. 

 

“I…” Pico started, getting choked on the lump in his throat for a second, “I’m so sorry, Bee, you’re right.”

 

“About wanting me to leave?”

 

“No, God, no, about everything else.” He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he was willing to admit something he hadn’t felt in years. “I…don’t want you to leave.”

 

He heard Bee sigh and sit beside him on the couch, clearing his throat before replying. “Thank you. You can be so fucking stubborn sometimes.”

 

Pico chuckled, peering out from under his arm over to Bee. “I know. I can be a real asshole sometimes.”

 

“Yes, yes you can.”

 

Pico jokingly punched the side of Bee’s thigh, much to the younger guy’s amusement. 

 

“I’m serious though,” Bee continued. “I know you’ve had it rough, I understand that, but you can talk to me. There’s nothing I’d judge you for.”

 

Pico sighed and put his arm down fully, opting to stare up at the ceiling instead. “It’s not that easy for me, y’know.”

 

“I know. Well, I don’t , but I understand.”

 

Pico clicked his tongue ring, deep in thought. He hadn’t had to have one of these talks in ages, but Bee deserved to have a little insight into who Pico was as a person, or at least how difficult of a person he could be.

 

“I haven’t…y’know, really had someone to talk to in a long time. I-I haven’t had someone care about me in a long time. Fuck, you’re the first friend I’ve had in a long time. I guess I-I just…” He gestured vaguely with his hands. “I’m not used to talking about myself, or sharing my life story or shit like that, it’s harder for me. I know you wanna help, but you gotta give me some time.”

 

“I know that. I’ve known that for a while now.” Bee took a second before sighing. “I just…I just hoped you’d learned by now that I’m here to listen to whatever you want to talk about. You’re my best friend, it’s what friends do.”

 

Pico hummed in acknowledgement, not sure what to say. He didn’t know what he was feeling, or what to say. This was all uncharted territory for him. 

 

Bee eventually filled the silence, speaking up again in a quieter, more cautious tone. “What, um, what happened to the last person that cared about you? Past boyfriend, or…?”

 

Pico hesitated, not sure how to go about this conversation. “No, I, uh, I’ve never had a boyfriend. It was my childhood best friends, the two best people to ever exist.”

 

Bee leaned forward. “Pause, you’ve never had a boyfriend? Aren’t you, like, twenty?”

 

Pico rolled his eyes. “What, you gonna make fun of me?”

 

“N-No, just…surprised, is all.” The smile in Bee’s voice betrayed him.

 

“I just never connected to anyone like that. Never cared for the idea of a relationship, it’s too much hassle. Besides, I ain’t cut out for that shit.”

 

“I wouldn’t go that far, maybe you just haven’t found the right person yet.”

 

“I’m not looking.”

 

“Fair…” Bee trailed off, thinking for a moment. “Does that mean you’re a virgin?”

 

Pico choked on air, whipping around to stare at Bee with an incredulous look. “What? No? Do you only fuck someone on the third date or something?”

 

Bee giggled. “No, just curious. I figured that if you were so antisocial and against relationships you wouldn’t connect with someone enough to bang them.”

 

Pico planned on retorting, but his gut twisted with hazy memories of nights where he was way too drugged up to remember clearly. He pushed it down, not wanting Bee to know that side of his history quite yet. 

 

“...what happened to them?”

 

Pico quirked an eyebrow. “To who?”

 

“Your friends. They’re…obviously not around anymore, if it’s been a while since you’ve talked to someone.”

 

Pico bit the inside of his cheek.

“You don’t have to answer,” Bee quickly added.

 

“No, no, it’s fine. Uh, well…Darnell was sick. Had been his whole life. He died the summer before ninth grade. And Nene…” Pico hesitated. This one always hurt to talk about. “She, uh, died later that year.”

 

“How?”

 

“...suicide.”

 

Bee’s face instantly contorted to one of sympathy. “Fuck, dude, I’m so sorry.”

Pico waved him off. “Don’t…don’t do that. The pity.”

 

“Sorry…”

 

The room fell back into silence. Pico didn’t feel like talking anymore, and he knew Bee wouldn’t push it. He was grateful for that. It had been almost six years and it never got any easier to talk about. 

 

“Well!” Bee exclaimed, startling the shit out of Pico. “You’ve got me now, and I’m not planning on going anywhere, alright? I intend to stay on this plane of existence for a long time yet, so don’t worry. Do you wanna play some games or something?”

 

“Nah, I’m fucking exhausted.”

 

“Fair enough, my bad.”

 

Pico chuckled. “You’re good. Um…” Pico swallowed, struggling to articulate his thoughts. “Just…you know, thanks for sticking around. I’ll get there some day.”

 

Bee beamed at him. “Of course. I know you will.”

 

Pico had that feeling hit his chest again, the one he couldn’t place. Really, he was fucking estatic that everything had worked out. He hid it pretty well, but to his core, he was an extremely anxious person. He had a hard time dealing with the fact that he was scared to lose Bee, and that thought scared him even more. He’s not supposed to get close to people, to make friends . He’d spent most of his life these past few years fully believing he was supposed to be alone, but honestly, he was really happy that Bee was his friend. 

And suddenly, he didn’t care who he was supposed to be anymore.

Notes:

soooo....sorry for the delay. july was a really rough month for me and my partner and we had to deal with some scary shit, then we got covid and were comatose for a couple weeks. we're doing okay now!

 

Spanish translations:

[1]: Emergency. We need assistance. Get to headquarters as soon as possible.
[2]: They're everywhere. What the hell happened?
[3]: The bastards planned a surprise attack. They're starting to get very bold.
[4]: Hey! No time to sleep, let's go, friend!
[5]: Are you crazy?
[6]: For the love of God
[7]: Crazy son of a bitch, what were you thinking?
[8]: You gotta do what you gotta do.
[9]: Where would we be without you?
[10]: You (guys) would be absolutely fine, Marco.

Chapter 10: Love Bites (And Chokes)

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// talks of drug use, mild gore, vomit, passively suicidal thoughts

“I think I’ve figured out what I want for Christmas.”

 

It took Pico a second to register that Bee was talking to him. He had been spacey all day, something he blamed on the colder weather and definitely not what time of year it was. He tore his eyes away from watching the snowfall through the window to glance over at Bee.

 

“Who said I was buying you anything?”

 

“You don’t gotta, it doesn’t cost money,” Bee replied as he walked back into the living room, bowl of shitty, microwavable popcorn in hand. “Can I ask a few questions first before I tell you what it is?”

 

Pico shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”

 

Bee shoved a fistful of popcorn into his mouth as he plopped back down on the couch. “Question one: did you do your piercings yourself?”

 

“You’re gonna choke if you keep talking with your mouth full.” Pico idly fiddled with his plugs, humming in thought. “My ears I did myself, yeah. I didn’t do my tongue piercing, though.”

 

“Who did it?”

 

“Some drunk guy. I don’t remember super clearly, I was wasted.”

 

“Sounds dangerous.”

 

Pico shrugged again. “It worked out, it’s been four years and I haven’t had any issues with it.”

 

“Fair, fair. Second question: how badly did your ears hurt when you did them?”

 

Pico chuckled to himself as he readjusted the way he was sitting on the couch. “I’m not the person to ask. First of all, my pain tolerance is crazy high. Second of all, I did it while I was stoned, I could barely feel my body overall.”

 

“Last question: what was the healing process like?”

 

Suddenly, the pieces clicked together in Pico’s brain and he squinted at Bee. “Are you asking me to pierce your ears?”

 

“Mayyyybeeee,” Bee giggled, setting his popcorn bowl on the table. “I’ve been thinking about it for ages. I was always just too much of a pussy to ever get it done.”

 

“I don’t think I have any studs lying around, dude, my ears have been stretched for years.”

 

“Way ahead of ya!” Bee hopped up from the couch, nearly sprinting to the kitchen while Pico looked on in confusion. He grabbed a plastic shopping bag from the counter and walked back over, handing it to Pico. “I might’ve bought some supplies just in case you said yes.”

 

“You’re insane.” Pico dumped the contents of the bag out on the table. Inside, there was a cheap set of hoop earrings and a sewing kit. Pico looked back up to Bee with an eyebrow raised.

 

“They don’t sell piercing needles at Target,” Bee explained, sitting back down on the couch. “Soooo… will you do it?”

 

“Sure, it could be funny.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

 

“It means I think you’re a bitch to pain,” Pico replied with a chuckle.

 

“You said it didn’t hurt!”

 

“I never said that. I said it didn’t hurt for me because I was high as fuck.”

 

Bee tensed, an aura of fear surrounding him. Normally, Pico would poke fun at the normally too fearless for his own good Bee, but instead, his chest hurt seeing the rising panic in him. 

 

He put a reassuring hand on Bee’s shoulder. “Hey, relax, it ain’t that bad, I promise. Maybe like an hour of throbbing, max. I have ice too, I can numb it a little beforehand.”

 

“AN HOUR?!”

 

“That’s NOT the part to focus on!”

 

~~~~~

 

After an hour and a half of back and forth of Pico reassuring Bee that he didn’t have to pierce his ears and Bee insisting that he’s “not a bitch” and “can handle a little pain”, here they were, with Bee sitting on a chair in the kitchen and pinching ice cubes to his earlobe while Pico ran the sewing needle over the open flame on his burner. 

 

“What’re you doing…?” Bee cautiously asked.

 

“Sterilizing the needle.”

 

“Is it gonna burn me?”

 

Pico turned the oven off and wiped the soot off of the needle with a paper towel. “Nah, it’ll cool down long before it hits your ears.”

 

He went to stand in front of Bee, gesturing for him to remove his hand from his ear. He did so, radiating panic as Pico dropped the ice cubes into the sink and stood in position. He barely even got his hand on Bee’s ear before the younger man shouted.

 

“Wait! Wait, uh…fuck, I’m scared.”

 

“You’ll be fine, it’s nothing.”

 

Bee fidgeted in his seat. “Can… Can I hold your hand or something?”

 

Pico swallowed the weird, sudden lump in his throat. What was that about? “I kinda need both of my hands for this, man.”

 

“Can I hold onto your shirt then?”

 

“Go for it.”

 

Bee gripped two fistfuls of Pico’s tank, nodding. “Okay.”

 

“Ready?”

 

“Just fucking do it already!”

 

You didn’t have to tell Pico twice. He shoved the needle through as quickly as he could, reacting to Bee’s involuntary jump. 

 

“FUCK! Jesus fucking Christ holy shit!” Bee cursed as he went to touch his ear, flinching in pain at the slightest contact.

 

Pico left the needle in and he retrieved the hoop. “Take a deep breath, this is gonna be the worst part.”

 

“The fuck you mean by that?!”

 

“We’re using a sewing needle for a fourteen gauge piercing, the hole has to stretch a little.”

 

“This is hell .”

 

“I can take the needle out and stop here, let it close.”

 

Bee waved him off, grabbing Pico’s shirt again. “No, fuck it, it’s already there, just… fucking do it.”

 

Pico shrugged and got into position, slowly pushing the hoop through the hole. Other than a few hissed curses from Bee, he stayed relatively quiet and still as the piercing was finally shoved through. Pico turned the open side down and stepped back to observe his work. 

 

“How’s it look?” Bee asked. 

 

Pico gave him a grin. “Badass.”

 

Bee breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back into the chair. “That hurt way more than I thought it would, holy fucking shit.”

 

“Well,” Pico started, cleaning off the needle with an alcohol-soaked paper towel. “Ready for round two?”

 

Bee paled .

 

~~~~~

 

“Pass me my drink, please.”

 

“Fuck you, I ain’t letting you distract me this time.”

 

Bee laughed quietly in response and settled back into the couch. He didn’t even need a distraction, sniping Pico’s character from across the map. After the pain in his ears subsided, the two decided to relax with some Halo. It was going well, until…

 

Pico growled quietly to himself. He was going to win this match if it fucking killed him. It was the closest they had ever been, with Pico only needing two points to win and Bee needing one. If he could just get this reload off…

 

Pico threw the controller down as his character shouted out, the defeat banner mocking his side of the screen. “¡No mames! ¡Estabas tan muerto!” [1]

 

“Woooow, I can’t believe I beat your ass so bad you reverted back to your native tongue! Sore loser, much?”

 

Pico shot him a dirty look and flipped him off. He was not a sore loser, Bee was just an annoying winner.

 

Bee threw his head back and exploded into a laughing fit, one that made him choke on air. Despite it all, Pico watched on with a small smile of his own.

 

These past few months with Bee had been a very interesting experience for Pico. Once, he saw the man as nothing more than a pathetic street rat, someone Pico would’ve never given a second glance. Now, the guy was living with him, helping him do the laundry, going shopping, paying bills, all like it came naturally. Pico couldn’t even begin to pinpoint the moment Bee became an important person in his life. It all happened so quickly, but he didn’t mind. 

 

Bee had changed Pico for the better, too. He didn’t have to hide his scars anymore, he hadn’t shot up in a while, hell, Bee was even learning sign language for him. He didn’t have to shy away anymore, opening up more and more everyday. It was hard to have a bad day with this smiley, giggly creature around all the time. Someone that understood Pico and made him feel human again, something he hadn’t had in a long time. Something he really needed.

 

Pico’s fond smile grew a little bigger as he had a thought he wouldn’t have even entertained just a few months ago.

 

I’m so glad you’re here with me.

 

Suddenly, Pico’s chest sharpened suddenly, an unbelievable burning sensation settling at the bottom of his lungs. He broke out into a severe coughing fit, doubling over and hacking into the back of his hand. Vaguely, he heard Bee’s laughter die down as he rushed over to fret over him. Pico opened his teary eyes, and through the haze, saw a blur of red. His eyes widened and finally focused to confirm his suspicions.

 

Blood. Fuck, he was gonna be sick.

 

He pushed himself off the couch, ignoring Bee’s frantic question as he sprinted to the bathroom. Unfortunately, the sink was closer than the toilet, which meant for cleanup for Pico later, but he couldn’t be bothered to think about it as he bent over and retched into the basin. He couldn’t stop coughing, every violent hack accompanied by another heave. He just held his eyes shut and hoped it’d be over soon. 

 

Finally, the burning in his chest relaxed, letting him catch a few ragged breaths. He gave himself a few moments of brevity before opening his eyes to witness the horrors. 

 

More blood. A lot more blood. 

 

Amongst the sea of red, he noticed something strange: small, yellow flower petals.

 

He tilted his head in confusion. Blood he could understand, he’s a heavy smoker after all, or maybe it was internal bleeding from a wound he hadn’t healed from.

 

But petals? Nothing could explain that. 

 

Curious, he picked up one of the petals from somewhere in the sink where there wasn’t much blood or sick and inspected it. He thumbed it, feeling the soft texture, his brain racing with questions.

 

Before he even had a chance to spiral into overthinking, he watched as the petal slowly disintegrated into powder, disappearing as fast as it appeared.

 

Just another hallucination .

 

That’s the only conclusion he could come to. It wasn’t possible for people to cough up plants, that was just too absurd. It just had to be his brain playing tricks on him. 

 

He sighed and relaxed a little, beginning the work of cleaning up his mess. It didn’t take him too long, and when he left the bathroom, he wasn’t surprised to see Bee standing in the hallway waiting for him.

 

“Dude, what the fuck happened, are you okay?!”

 

Pico knew he wouldn’t be able to talk after a hallucination, so he nodded and held up his hand to sign. 

 

[I’m okay.] At Bee’s worried glance, Pico pointed to his throat and fingerspelled [Hurts].

 

Bee still looked nervous, but he slowly nodded. “Do you want some water?”

 

Pico nodded again, leaving him in the hallway alone as Bee nearly sprinted to the kitchen. He accepted the water Bee brought back gratefully, his throat feeling a little better. 

 

“Wh-what even happened? That was so violent, are you sick?”

 

Pico shrugged. [IDK]

 

“That is not reassuring!”

 

Pico rolled his eyes as he finished the water. [I’m okay] he repeated. 

 

He pushed back Bee to drop off his glass in the sink. Bee trailed him like a worried mother, and even though Pico knew it came from a good place, he couldn’t deny that it irritated him a little. He turned back around so Bee could see his hands. 

 

[Thank you. I’m going to bed.]

 

“Are you sure? Should I take you to a hospital or something?”

 

[What car?] Pico hated fingerspelling, but Bee didn’t know too much besides the alphabet and a few phrases. 

 

“I’d… figure something out, that’s not my point!”

 

[I’m okay] Pico repeated, clear annoyance on his face.

 

Bee sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, but if something happens, please don’t hesitate to wake me up or something, okay? I’ll carry you to the hospital myself if I have to.”

 

Pico chuckled quietly. [I’m okay. Tired.]

 

Bee stared him down for a good few seconds before sighing quietly and giving Pico a soft smile. “Okay, I trust you. Stubborn ass, I just care about you.”

 

That made another burning pressure squeeze Pico’s chest. He managed to push down the coughing fit as he nodded and quickly signed [Goodnight], speed walking to his bedroom. As soon as he shut the door, he could no longer hold back the choking coughs. It wasn’t as bad as before, but still, what was wrong with him?

 

Am I dying? That’s fine, I guess. What would happen to Bee, though? If I die, what’ll he do?

 

He’d be fine without you. 

 

All you do is hold him back.

 

What a mess you are!

 

Pico groaned as he stumbled to his bed, falling onto it facedown. It’d been a few weeks since he’d heard that voice, having enjoyed a momentary peace. He couldn’t deal with all these things at once, he just wanted to sleep.

 

As he crawled under his covers, his mind wandered once again to the petals. Just what was that? He knew that they weren’t real, so why was he second guessing himself? Hallucinations weren’t new to him, he’d been having these since he first got into high school. Was it because they were so realistic ? But… petals don’t just fade away like that…

 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, attempting to sleep. He just had to think of something calming, that would do the trick. He initially thought of a rainstorm before deciding to scratch that idea. Used to be, the sound of rain hitting his door and thunder booming above him was so relaxing, but since knowing Bee, he’d completely changed. Now, he only thought of storms as something to worry for Bee’s sake, distracting him and making sure the guy didn’t shit his pants every time God decided to go bowling. 

 

Damn, Bee was on his mind a lot recently, huh?

 

Pico shot up as another coughing fit wracked his chest. He didn’t have to gag, but he still checked his hand for blood.

 

Petals.

 

Pico started shaking. Something wasn’t right, he usually didn’t have repeat hallucinations back to back. It also struck him as strange that, as far as he could tell, there wasn’t a trigger this time. No nightmare, no flashback, nothing. Really, he’d had a great night, all that happened beforehand was him and Bee playing together and playing video games on his couch. 

 

His chest started hurting worse. 

 

In a last ditch effort to try to make sense of any of this, he shakily reached over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. His shitty data internet wasn’t the best, but it would have to do. He just had to know if there was something about human anatomy he didn’t understand, or if he really was as crazy as he thought. 

 

Slowly, he typed coughing up flower petals into his search bar. 

 

It took a good few seconds for the page to load, but when it did, he was even more confused. All of the searches read hanahaki, fictional flower disease , and things along those lines. Fictional? Was it even possible for his hallucinations to pick up on something he’d never heard of? He clicked the first link.

 

“Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from unrequited love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies.”

 

Love.

 

Love.

 

Love.

 

It felt like the world collapsed from under him. He froze, staring at the word over and over.

 

Love. Love. Love.

 

The word was so foreign to him. Couldn’t be, right? He’d never known what that felt like, always rolled his eyes at cutesy couples, always scoffed at John’s insistence that he’d find someone, had briefly wondered when he was teenager if something was wrong with him for never looking at someone that way before inevitably coming to the realization that he was never meant for that. He wasn’t allowed to have that aspect of human nature. 

 

And yet…

 

Bee’s smile when he teased Pico. His laugh at his own shitty jokes. His passion for music that radiated off of him like an aura. His beautiful singing voice to match it. How his hair looked down, or in a bun, or braided. How his eyes twinkled when he started rambling about something he loved. How he’s always been there for Pico, trying to brighten his day and accepting him, no matter what. 

 

Love. Love. Love.

 

Love.

 

Love . 

 

Pico thought he was going to throw up again. His body turned ice cold and numb, losing all awareness of his surroundings. He couldn’t even think properly, his mind only able to churn one, singular thought over and over again.

Fuck. I’m in love with Bee.

Notes:

it's time :3

1. You’re fucking kidding me, you were so dead!

Chapter 11: Unrequited?

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

CW// mention of past self harm, hallucinations, survivor's guilt, mention of past sexual assault

Pico took a long drag off of his cigarette, his mind completely tuning out the sounds of the waking city, or the fact that it was so cold outside, his fingers felt like they would freeze off any minute. None of that mattered to him. Nothing was the same anymore. 

 

It was hard to imagine that at the ripe age of twenty, Pico had his first crush. It all felt so surreal, so wrong . He thought… he knew that after everything, he’d never be able to fall in love. He was way too fucked up, too wrong, too broken to even consider romance. He’d spent the last eight years of his life simply trying to survive and make it through the day, trying to ignore the dark thoughts his mind would conjure up to torment him. He couldn’t even care about friendships, let alone relationships . 

 

So, why now? Why now ?

 

He flicked the ash off his cigarette with a sigh. Supposedly, this “fictional” disease or whatever it was is the result of unrequited love. Now, Pico was fluent in English, but there are a few words here and there that he either hadn’t heard or didn’t know the translation of.

 

“Unrequited; (of a feeling, especially love) not returned”

 

Meaning Bee didn’t love him back.

 

It wasn’t like he was surprised. No matter what Pico wished for, it wouldn’t change the outcome. He threw his cigarette butt onto the balcony floor, absentmindedly scanning the scars on his arms with his eyes. Knife slashes, gunshot wounds, track marks, a few lines he had made himself in his darkest days. He was fucked up beyond repair. 

 

Unlovable.

 

“Y’know, they’re healing up really well!”

 

He didn’t even jump, already expecting her. She seemed to show up at his absolute worst, had been for many years now. He knew she wasn’t real, but even still, he welcomed her ghost.

 

“Haven’t gotten into much trouble lately.”

 

“I’m proud of you, Pico, I never expected you to get clean!”

 

“Gee, thanks, Nene, appreciate it. Really heartwarming of you.”

 

“Quit being a dick and accept the compliment.”

 

He snorted and grabbed another cigarette from the pack. “Sure. Thanks.”

 

She giggled melodically and adjusted herself on the other chair on his balcony. There was a pause before she spoke again. “...how are you holding up?”

 

“Well, you’re here, so take a fucking guess.” Pico sighed and rubbed his temples. “This is all so fucked up.”

 

“I agree. I always expected you to go after some hunk of a man, not this twig of a twink.”

 

“Fuck off,” he replied with a small chuckle.

 

She laughed again and tucked her knees to her chest, turning away from Pico to look out over the city. “What’re you gonna do?”

 

Pico took his time to think of an answer. What could he do? Should he spill his guts and tell Bee, or stay silent? If he kept quiet, things would progress like they had been and he’d eventually choke to death on flowers. Hell of a way to go, but he wasn’t opposed to it. After all, he’d been at the very least passively suicidal his entire life. But… what would Bee do if he found Pico’s corpse? He didn’t want to scar the poor kid like that. 

 

If he told him how he felt, would that be worse? The fact that he’s sick already proves Bee didn’t feel the same way. It’d ruin their friendship, the one thing Pico really didn’t want to lose. What if Bee thought he was weird? What if he got so uncomfortable he’d leave? What if he hated Pico? What if, what if…

 

“You know, it’d be better to just man up and find out for yourself.”

 

“Stop reading my thoughts.”

 

“Hard not to when you’re overthinking like that.” She sighed. “It’s gonna be alright, Pico, you deserve to be happy, too.”

 

That sentence broke the floodgates of all the pent up emotions he’d be locking away so tightly. His anxieties were quickly replaced by a barrage of dark thoughts, ones he’d be ignoring for God knows how long. He took in a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair.

 

“I don’t. I-I really fucking don’t, not after everything I’ve done, not with how f-fucked up I am. Nobody deserves that k-kind of burden, especially not Bee.” He paused, trying to control his stuttering as he failed to stop the tears rolling down his cheek. The hand running through his hair tightened its grip. He needed to ground , to relax . “I don’t even deserve to be here right now, n-not when you or Darnell didn’t get to live the lives you deserved .”

 

He knew he was fighting a losing battle, giving in to the panic that surrounded him like a wave. He dropped the cigarette on the ground and wrapped both arms around himself, digging his nails into his biceps.

 

“I-I don’t even wanna be here right now! Wh-why am I st-st-still here, still alive ?! I d-don’t wanna fucking be here anymore !” 

 

This was why he never let himself remember the past, he couldn’t handle remembering that he was still alive, that he was the only one left. All he’d ever wanted to do with this stolen life he’d been given was to make everyone proud, live the lives they never got to live, and where had it gotten him? Contributing to the gun violence he so despised as a teenager, pumping his body full of of whatever drug he could get his hands on at the moment, spending his days in a haze and his nights getting used by people he didn’t even know, and now he was going to die to fucking flowers ! It was all bullshit! He’d done nothing but let everyone down. What was the point of living when all he was good for was being a fuck-up and failing at every single thing he’d ever tried?!

 

Then, he heard it. A faint voice calling out his name. He looked to his side, but Nene was already long gone. Then, who…?

 

“Pico? Are you awake?”

 

Bee.

 

He gave himself a moment to cough before standing from his chair and slowly heading back inside. He wasn’t sure if he should even answer the knocking from his door. He wasn’t exactly in the best of headspaces to see the very person who had shattered his entire worldview. 

 

“Hey, are you okay? I heard shouting.”

 

Shit. Pico sighed, knowing that he had fucked up. He was too caught up in his breakdown that he didn’t even realize he’d screamed loud enough for Bee to hear. He knew he couldn’t hide in his room forever. If there was one thing about Bee, he was very persistent. Might as well suck it up and get it over with now. 

 

Pico swung open his door to see Bee, fist poised to knock again. He gave Pico a once over and winced. Pico couldn’t blame him, he knew he looked like shit. 

 

“Heeeey… sorry if I woke you up.”

 

“I haven’t slept,” Pico replied, voice monotone and strained. His throat burned when he spoke, but he didn’t have the energy to sign. Alternatively, he didn’t want to give Bee another reason to worry about him. 

 

“What's, uh… what’s going on? You alright, man?”

 

Nothing big, just having a fucking crisis because I realized that I’m madly in love with you, although I know that I don’t deserve you, or anything for that manner! I’m choking on flowers and my life is meaningless!

 

Pico cleared his throat. “Just…had a rough night. Nothing for you to worry about.”

 

“Can I help?”

 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? You’re never up this early.”

 

Bee flushed and looked away. “I, um, I-I haven’t been able to sleep. I’ve been worried about you. You scared the shit out of me last night.”

 

His chest burned. 

 

“...appreciate it, but I’m fine. Working through some shit right now.”

 

“It might help if you talk about it.”

 

“No.”

 

Bee chuckled. “Fine, be that way. Well, I’m going back to sleep. You should too.”

 

Sure, we’ll see about that.

 

~~~~~

 

Bee was starting to worry. Well, he’d been worried, but he had started to get even more worried. Pico had been holed up in his room for a few days at this point, only leaving to use the bathroom, go do merc work, or occasionally eat. Bee wondered what he had been doing there, and given Pico’s past, he had every right to worry. If it wasn’t for seeing him walking in the hallway every few hours, Bee would’ve assumed he had overdosed again. He wasn’t even sure if Pico was still using anymore, any conversation where he’d try to bring it up, Pico would shut it down. He didn’t seem strung out anymore, which was a positive, but who knows? Given the way Bee healed him, Pico shouldn’t have issues with severe addiction anymore. Angel powers had a hell of a way of reworking diseases. 

 

Bee twirled a lock of hair around his finger anxiously. He was supposed to go perform at the park later, but given his roommate’s situation, he wasn’t sure he felt comfortable leaving Pico all alone at home. He sighed to himself, wishing Pico would just talk to him about whatever’s been bothering him. He’s an angel, for fuck’s sake, it’s in his blood to help those in need. 

 

With a breath of finality, Bee decided not to go. Sure, people usually gave much better tips in the couple of weeks leading up to Christmas, but Bee would rather not freeze his ass off in the snow. He’d be right here on the couch if Pico needed him. He just wished he could do something to make him feel better…

 

Wait! He sat up as an idea popped into his mind. He should get Pico something for Christmas! After all, Pico did pierce his ears for him, and who knows, maybe a present could cheer him up a little. 

 

Bee hopped off the couch and searched for his money tin. Since he had been helping pay some bills and groceries, he didn’t have much, but surely he could scrounge up a few bucks to spend on his roommate. He rummaged through the bills and coins, counting as he went.

 

Twenty-seven fifty. That should be more than enough.

 

He wrote a note for Pico just in case the guy decided to leave his room. Bee felt a slight pit of guilt in his stomach for leaving the house after just deciding that he’d stay nearby, but it was for a good cause. With good luck, a shopping trip wouldn’t take much longer than an hour or so. He set the note on the coffee table, grabbed the bus card and a coat, and headed out of the door. 

 

~~~~~

 

As Bee stood in the book aisle of Target, he came to a realization he wished he’d thought about sooner. He didn’t even know what Pico liked . He hadn’t fully realized just what a mystery Pico was. Sure, he’d picked up on a few things here and there, like how Pico played the guitar, or that he didn’t really have a favourite movie since he had a hard time watching through one all the way, or that he hated barbeque chips, but really, he knew next to nothing about what Pico liked. He didn’t know his favourite colour, or animal, or song, fuck, he didn’t even know Pico’s last name . Bee felt a wave of shame at not knowing so much about his best friend.

 

Well, to be fair, the guy didn’t talk about himself much. 

 

Bee scanned the aisles once, twice, three times before groaning in frustration and sitting down on the cold linoleum. Gift shopping by itself was already hard, gift shopping for someone so closed off about their life was nearly impossible .

 

He rubbed his face, deciding to call the trip a bust. Maybe he could make something or Pico instead, although he wasn’t very creative outside of music. He could give him a song? Nah, that’d be weird. 

 

He opened his eyes, landing directly on a thin, silver chain on the bottom of the clearance shelf in front of him. It wasn’t very flashy, but Pico wasn’t a flashy guy, so he might like it…

 

Fuck it. Bee grabbed the chain and stood up, heading for the checkout. Hopefully, the thought would count. Maybe Pico would like it just a little bit… or at least enough to justify spending eleven bucks on it. 

 

Bee paused. Eleven bucks?! For this flimsy thing?

 

He looked around as discreetly as he could before shoving the necklace into his pocket with a smirk. Might as well use the extra money for some snacks, instead.

Chapter 12: Aren't I Just The Worst?

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

CW// brief mention to passively suicidal tendencies, vomit, talks of past SA, talks of suicide/murder, talks of child abuse/neglect, talks of transphobia/racism, talks of past self harm, talks of drug abuse

(lot of warnings this time around, i know, it's a heavier chapter)

Pico ashed out what was probably his tenth or eleventh cigarette of the night. His eyes burned, his head throbbed, he felt heavy. Staying up for almost three days straight will do that to you, but he’d rather deal with that than the constant stress dreams and night terrors he’d been having. This was always a bad time of year for him, but with the whole hanahaki shit, he’d been faring much worse than usual. He took a long, deep breath, trying once again to wrap his head around whatever the fuck was happening to him. 

 

After his initial breakdown, he’d spent some time researching this “fictional disease”. Most places on the internet say the same thing, that it’s just something used in media as a weird sort of catalyst for romance. However, he did come across a thread of people who’d supposedly had friends or family members infected with it.

 

[MoonMoonThaGreat08]: no no this is totally real, a kid i went to highschool with had it!!

 

[xXlarrywithacatXx]: Bullshit. It’s just a way for lazy fanfic writers to write their faves falling in love.

 

[Dog4President2020]: idk, i think it’s possible!

 

[xXlarrywithacatXx]: You’re delusional.

 

[Dog4President2020]: say what u want, crazy things happen all the time! whos to say its not a demon curse?

 

[user437787]: do you think demons got the idea from the trope or the trope got the idea from demons?

 

[xXlarrywithacatXx]: I think you’re all insane.

 

[Dustbunnix3]: hanahaki has only been around for a few years, right? so maybe the trope came from demons

 

[pourplplated222]: my brother died from this :(

 

[Dog4President2020]: its rly hard to tell, demons r sneaky. we dont rly know much abt them

 

[xXlarrywithacatXx]: Would you all take a second to think about how stupid you sound?! If a demon wants you dead, they’ll just kill you! It’s all fake!

 

[Dustbunnix3]: ratio

 

[Dustbunnix3]: what happened to the guy, moon?

 

[MoonMoonThaGreat08]: he got married to her :3

 

[user455641]: fake.

 

[UncoolCucumber]: so fake lol

 

[xXlarrywithacatXx]: I told you! Go write more fanfiction, you daft cunt.

 

Pico sighed. It did seem like nothing more than an internet rumour. Lord knows how many fake stories are out there on the web, it’s full of people willing to lie just for attention. If that was the case, then why was he coughing up flowers? Everything he was experiencing matched hanahaki exactly. Was it really just another delusion? He’d never had one last so long and come on so frequently, but then again, he guessed his mental health hadn’t exactly been the greatest recently. Maybe his tattered psyche finally broke and he was stuck on a loop. Regardless, this whole ordeal made him aware of a realization he couldn’t blame on a delusion.

 

Pico had fallen in love. Hard.

 

He reached for another cigarette, gut twisting in fear when he realized the pack was empty. He cursed under his breath. He knew he’d have to leave his room to buy more, but the thought of facing Bee filled him with an insane amount of dread. He wasn’t ready to see his roommate, he’d barely come to terms with the idea of having a crush on the guy in the first place. Everything was new, wrong. He hated feeling this way, he just wanted things to go back to normal. 

 

Pico groaned to himself as he stood up, deciding that seeing Bee for a few seconds before he bolted out the door was a much better option than going cold turkey on nicotine. He threw on a baggy hoodie, not even caring if his sweatpants looked like he hadn’t washed them for a few days, and gave himself a once over in the mirror above his dresser. His hair was limp with grease, his eyes sunken and red. He cringed at the reflection, grabbing a hair tie and tying his hair back into a bun. 

 

Better than nothing, I guess .

 

He steeled himself with a deep breath and cautiously peeked out of his bedroom. It was slightly offputting, having the living room be so quiet, so with mild hope, Pico stepped into the hallway. One peek showed that Bee was nowhere to be found. Perfect, this was his chance.

 

Pico’s eyes caught on a piece of paper lying on the table as he made his way to get his shoes. 

 

“Hey Pico! I dunno if you’re gonna come out of your room, but just in case I wanted to leave in this note to say I’m going shopping and I’ll be back ASAP. Please stay safe!! -Bee”

 

The ginger sighed a breath of relief. The universe seemed to be giving him a break for once, something he was intending to take full advantage of. He nearly tripped over himself as he put his shoes on as fast as possible, planning to be in and out before Bee ever got home.

 

Fortunately, the corner store wasn’t far away from his apartment, just a couple of blocks. Unfortunately, it was snowing like a motherfucker, and Pico failed to put on something heavier than his usual hoodie. He shivered against the wind, muttering curses under his breath. He didn’t handle cold very well, never did. He used to jokingly say it was because he had a cold lump of ice where his heart should’ve been, but…. Guess he couldn’t say that anymore, right?

 

The line for the register at the corner store was way too long, his skin crawling every time someone got a little too close for his liking. The only reason Pico wasn’t an all out hermit was because he had a job to do and bills to pay. He wouldn’t lie, he had dreamed about getting a job from home someday, but what would he even do? He’s smart, sure, but he never got to go to college for anything he was actually interested in career wise, and besides that, he was only really good at one thing, and it ain’t exactly something you could put on a resume.

 

Sometimes, he wondered where he would be now if he wasn’t a merc for hire. It wasn’t a hard job for him by any means. He was a very skilled shooter with little to no regard for his personal safety, so guard duty and the occasional assassination were like child’s play for him. It was just… he wondered what could’ve been if nothing ever happened to him, if he stayed in school, if he wasn’t just a shell of someone who died before they hit puberty. 

 

He shook his head of those thoughts and stepped forward in line. Dwelling on his past regrets never got him anywhere, and he couldn’t afford to spiral in public. Instead, he focused on the cashier, who recognized him and gave him a friendly smile. Pico was a regular, after all.

 

“Hey, man! Long time no see! The usual?”

 

Pico gave him a short nod. He loathed small talk.

 

The cashier leaned back behind him and grabbed the pack of cigarettes, ringing it up with a concerned look. “You doing alright man? You don’t look so good.”

 

“Just a little sick,” Pico replied with a shrug. Technically, he wasn’t lying. 

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be smoking these then, eh?” 

 

“Fuck off, Rodney, you ain’t my doctor.”

 

Rodney chuckled at Pico’s tone as he took payment, he was well used to his hostility by this point. “Suppose not, but hey, is it so wrong to care for someone?”

 

More than you’d think , Pico mentally responded as he swiped the pack and headed out of the store. 

 

He didn’t know how long he had until Bee got home, so he walked a little faster than usual on his way home. He failed to light his cigarette a few times against the harsh wind before finally succeeding, smoking casually and trying to relax a little. Rodney’s question looped over and over in his mind, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

 

Is it so wrong to care for someone?

 

For someone like Pico, the answer was yes. After Nene died, he’d spent his life completely on his own, shutting down every attempt someone made to get closer to him. He didn’t want to deal with the anxiety and misery after someone else in his life would inevitably leave him again, something that was repeating itself in real time. This whole situation with Bee would slowly kill him, and he just let it happen. God, he felt so fucking stupid. How could he let it go this far?

 

Letting him use your bus card was the worst mistake of your life.

 

He couldn’t really argue that, but…

 

Staying up late with him and playing video games. Even when Pico lost, he loved it.

 

Laughing over stupid shit while they were high out of their minds. He loved it.

 

The concern and care Bee would give him when Pico was losing his fucking mind. He loved it.

 

Even the smaller, more mundane shit, like going grocery shopping or doing household chores together. Pico loved it. 

 

Despite it all, Bee wasn’t someone Pico was willing to let go. In fact, the thought of losing Bee terrified him. Everything his roommate and best friend did, he loved it.

 

Fuck, Pico loved him . 

 

He paused his walk to brace himself on a brick wall as he retched up blood and flowers. Surely, he was a sight to see for the people walking along the street, but Pico couldn’t be bothered to care, he was too busy trying to keep himself upright. He hacked and gasped in the cold winter air, wincing at the pain it caused to his shredded throat. He couldn’t breathe .

 

Do you understand yet? He’s a mistake . He’s going to kill you and you’ll just let him, all because of your stupid fucking crush! Is this really all worth it?

 

He growled low in his throat. He was already dealing with enough without his invisible tormentor fucking up his head. Pico opened his eyes to see that the flowers had already disappeared, as expected. He thunked his head against the cool brick, trying to regulate his breathing. This was all so fucked , what was he gonna do?

 

After a few more moments, he wiped off his mouth and leaned away from the wall to continue walking. He didn’t care that people were gawking at him, he just needed to get home as soon as possible. He sprinted up the complex’s stairs, ignoring the fact that his lungs were already burning. After all, what more harm could he even do? 

 

He lit up another cigarette as he opened his front door and kicked his shoes off.

 

“Oh my God, there you are!”

 

Pico jumped out of his skin hearing the high pitched voice shouting from the couch. It took him a second to process who was talking to him, and pure fear filled his gut when he remembered.

 

“I tried knocking but nobody answered, I thought you died in there!”

 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, what do I do?!

 

Pico turned to Bee and cleared his throat. “Uh, y-yeah, sorry, I ran out of cigarettes, so…”

 

Bee sighed in what was likely relief as he stood from the couch. “You could’ve left me a note or something , dude. You scared the shit out of me!”

 

“...sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, I’m just glad to see you alive and out of your room finally.”

 

Pico’s eyes darted over to his bedroom door. About that .

 

Bee must’ve caught him because he huffed and crossed his arms, standing directly in front of Pico. “ No fucking way! I haven’t seen you in, like, two days! It’s not healthy for you to be cooped up in there all the time. C’mon, let’s play some games or something.”

 

Pico broke out in a cold sweat. He really didn’t want to hang out with Bee again until he had this shit figured out, if he ever did. He had to get out of this and fast .

 

He slowly shuffled around Bee, headed for his room. “Sorry, man, uh, now’s not the best time…”

 

“Nuh-uh, there’s no way I’m letting you do this to yourself!”

 

Bee was faster than Pico anticipated. He felt arms circle his torso from behind him, a sick pit brewing in his stomach as flashbacks hit him, causing his body to react involuntarily.

 

“¡Aléjate de mí!” Pico shouted and he elbowed Bee away from him. [1]

 

He didn’t quite realize how hard he had shoved him away until he heard Bee hit the floor with a hard thud! and a short yelp. He whipped around to see Bee sprawled out on the floor, disoriented and rubbing the back of his head. Concern replaced the fear in Pico as he dropped down to the floor hard enough to leave bruises on his knees.

 

“I-I’m sorry! Fuck, are you okay?”

 

Bee groaned. “Damn, alright, not a hugger, my bad.”

 

Pico grabbed Bee’s forearms and pulled him up to a sitting position. “Are you hurt? Shit, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-I just reacted without thinking!”

 

Bee waved him off with a chuckle. “Hey, relax, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that, that’s on me.”

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay, fuck, are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“Pico.”

 

The ginger stopped his worried rambling to properly look at Bee, who gave him a sincere smile. The sight made his chest ache.

 

“I am okay , Pico, promise. Stop panicking, it’s alright.”

 

He paused to look over to where Pico had dropped his cigarette when he was grabbed, stomping it out as it burned a hole into the carpet. 

 

Pico took a shaky breath and forced himself to calm down. “Okay, okay, just… God, I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay , I’m not mad.” Bee gestured to the couch, and with Pico’s nod, the two sat down on it. Bee sighed quietly and put a hand on Pico’s shoulder. “What happened?”

 

Pico’s shoulder burned under Bee’s touch. He somehow both hated and loved the feeling. “Don’t stress about it. Just… not a fan of touch.”

 

Bee immediately retracted his hand, Pico secretly wishing he still had that warmth. “Good to know. Can I ask why?”

 

Pico shook his head. Bee didn’t need to hear that. 

 

Bee just nodded, folding his hands in his lap. He was quiet for a few more moments. “What’s going on with you, dude? I feel like you’re drifting away from me. Did I do something wrong?”

 

“Not at all,” Pico answered immediately. Technically, he was lying, but it really wasn’t Bee’s fault. 

 

“Talk to me,” Bee pleaded, leaning forward to catch eye contact. “Please?”

 

His tone made Pico’s chest twist in more ways than one. He couldn’t tell him the truth, not now. 

 

“Look, this time of year is just a little rough on me. I’ll be fine.”

 

Again, he wasn’t fully lying , he did have a lot of issues around Christmas. He just… couldn’t say what he had been mainly focusing on.

 

“Why’s that?”

 

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

 

“Hey, no need to be an asshole about it! I’m just trying to be there and help you!”

 

Pico felt some severe flash of irritation consume him. “You wanna know so fucking bad, Bee? Tomorrow is the anniversary of the day Nene killed herself! Not just that, I fucking hate Christmas! It’s supposed to be some fun family holiday, but I’ve never had a fucking functional family! My mom’s dead, my dad abandoned me, my uncle is a drunk piece of shit, I’ve never known anyone else in my family, Nene and Darnell are dead, and I’m supposed to be cheerful ? It’s a load of bullshit! I wish I could just fucking sleep until the new year!”

 

Pico froze and his blood turned cold as he realized he accidentally said way too much. He didn’t even know where the hell that all came from. He sheepishly glanced over to Bee, who was staring at him slack jawed. His face burnt in embarrassment.

 

“Uh. S-Sorry, I… I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”

 

Bee took a second to compose himself, shaking his head. “No, no, it’s okay, it’s… wow . Sounded like you needed to get that out of your system.”

 

Pico groaned and slumped further down on the couch, covering his face with his arm. He felt like throwing up, why the fuck did he say all that?!

 

Bee was silent for a bit before standing up. Pico peeked out from under his arm to watch him retrieve a bag from his pile of stuff in the corner, walking back over to Pico and offering it to him. Pico dropped his arm and raised an eyebrow, taking the bag from Bee cautiously. 

 

“It’s for you. A week early, but who really gives a shit.”

 

Pico slowly sat up as Bee took his place back on the couch and dumped the contents onto his lap. A few of his favourite snacks, plus a thin silver chain. Confused, he looked over to Bee.

 

“It’s your Christmas present. I wanted to get you something to show how fucking grateful I am to be your friend, and to thank you for giving me a place to stay. It’s… not a lot, but it’s the best I could do.” He paused a minute, looking away before sighing. “Y’know, it doesn’t matter to me what happened to you in the past. I want you to know that family isn’t everything, God knows I’ve got my own issues with my folks. So… fuck our families, we don’t need them. We can celebrate on our own, now.”

 

Pico looked back down to the chain in his hands, processing everything. It wasn’t really flashy or special in any way, but to him, it was everything .

 

“...do you like it?”

 

He loved it.

 

“Can you help me put it on?”

 

Bee nabbed the chain from Pico as the ginger turned away to give him better access. He stared straight at the floor, overwhelmed with emotion. Bee had gotten him a present, not one, several . He hadn’t gotten a Christmas gift in God knows how long. 

 

His chest ached and burned, but he didn’t care anymore.

 

Fuck this disease. Fuck his anxieties and insecurities. Fuck his impending death. Nothing mattered more to him than Bee being in his life. He was there , he cared for Pico, and that’s all that mattered anymore. As Bee finally clasped the necklace behind him, Pico came to a final conclusion.

 

If Bee never loved him back, that would be just fine with Pico. His friendship was more than he could ever ask for, and he’d stick by his best friend until the day he died.

 

As Bee sat back in his seat, Pico turned and gave him a soft smile. “Thanks.”

 

Bee let out a breath he’d been holding and finally relaxed. “No problem. You’re really fucking hard to buy for, you know. I barely know anything about you.”

 

Pico took a deep breath and shrugged. “Ask away. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

 

Bee raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Anything?”

 

Pico nodded and leaned back into the couch.

 

“What’s with the sudden change of heart?”

 

“Must be the Christmas spirit. Hurry up, this won’t last forever.”

 

Bee shrugged. “Alright… what’s your favourite colour?”

 

“Uh, I guess yellow. Yours?”

 

He pointed to his braid. “Blue.”

 

“Basic bitch.”

 

Pico chuckled as Bee punched the side of his thigh. “Don’t be fucking rude!”

 

“Keep ‘em coming.”

 

“What’s your last name?”

 

Pico raised an eyebrow at him, confused. “Legally speaking, Fulp.”

 

“And if I’m speaking illegally?”

 

“...Alvarado. That’s the one I use on everything that isn’t a legal document.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s…” Pico hesitated. “It’s my mom’s last name. I don’t… like being associated with my dad.”

 

“Fair enough… what happened with your dad?”

 

Pico instinctually bristled for a moment before forcing himself to relax. It was just Bee, he had a right to know some of the worst parts of Pico. Plus, he was tired of hiding.

 

“He’s… He’s always been a piece of shit father. He’s a businessman, so he’d spend days or weeks at a time on work trips. After Mom died, he didn’t stop taking them, so he left me alone a lot.” Pico hesitated again, deciding to keep one piece of trauma to himself. “I guess… he just decided he didn’t want to deal with me anymore. He left one day and never came back. John took me in after that.”

 

Bee nodded, giving Pico a look he despised. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, Pico’s life was far from a fairytale. 

 

“And… what happened to your mom?”

 

“She… She was sick, had been since before I was born. Probably got worse after I was born, actually. She died not too long after I turned four.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that, dude.”

 

Pico waved him off. “I don’t have many memories of her. Nothing to miss.”

 

“Do… do you think that’s why your dad left?” At Pico’s questioning glance, Bee clarified. “I mean, do you think he blames you?”

 

Pico scoffed. “Wouldn’t put it past the fucker.”

 

“And your uncle? John, right?”

 

“Yeah. He’s not a terrible guy, I just don’t think he was meant to raise a kid. He’s in the military, so he has that authoritative vibe to him. Always treated me as one of his soldiers instead of his nephew.” Pico paused for a moment and hummed. “His husband’s cool though. A bit of a pussy, but he always tried his best with me.”

 

“That sounds like hell.”

 

“To be fair, he’s a shitty sergeant too, so he really didn’t do a good job either way.”

 

“You mentioned your other family?”

 

“Yeah, uh, I don’t… know a whole lot about them. I’ve never met my grandparents. My mom’s side is still in Mexico, but I haven’t seen them since the funeral. My dad kept me away from them and I never bothered to reach out when I got old enough.”

 

“He didn’t want you to see your Mexican family? Why’s that?”

 

Pico shrugged. “I dunno, I think he’s racist. He didn’t like me speaking Spanish after Mom died, so I kinda lost a lot of that until I moved to the base. That’s what I meant by I’ve been speaking Spanish my whole life, more or less. There was a time there that I wasn’t allowed to.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “I think my mom’s family hates him, too. John wouldn’t go into detail about it, but he’s hinted that they think he’s the reason she died.”

 

Bee nodded, face twisting to concern. “I’m so fucking sorry man, that sucks.”

 

Pico sighed. “I told you not to do the pitying thing.”

 

“It’s not pity, it’s genuine concern!”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“Well, I can’t help it!”

 

Pico sighed again and looked over to Bee. “Do you understand now? Why I don’t talk about myself? My life has been nothing but a shitshow, I don’t like thinking about it.”

 

“Well, you can’t choose to ignore everything, Pico. It’s obvious that it’s been eating you up inside.”

 

“I’ve been doing just fine.”

 

Bee scowled slightly before reaching over, grabbing one of Pico’s arms and pulling up his hoodie sleeve. He pointed to the thin white scars along Pico’s wrist. “This doesn’t look like you’ve been ‘fine’.” He pulled up the sleeve a little more to point to the marks on the inside of Pico’s elbow. “Neither does this. You know that, that’s why you hide them.”

 

Normally, Pico would’ve angrily ripped his arm back and stormed off to his room. However, he felt no anger or annoyance towards Bee, something that he questioned in the back of his mind. He simply watched as Bee traced his scars with his pointer finger, sending goosebumps down his spine.

 

“They’re old and healed now, that’s gotta count for something.”

 

“Then why do you hide them?”

 

Pico didn’t really know how to answer that. Shame, he guessed. He hated his scars, they were reminders of the parts of his life where he was the weakest. He didn’t want anyone else to judge him for that weakness, either.

 

Instead of saying that, he shrugged. “I don’t know.”

 

Bee hummed as he moved on to trace the other various scars. “What are these from?”

 

“My job.” That was a much easier question to answer.

 

“The gang?”

 

“Not exactly. I’m a merc for hire, someone with enough money pays me to do their dirty work. The S’s boss is my top client.”

 

“Do you only work for the gang?”

 

“Mostly, but sometimes the Boss will send me out to work for one of his associates. Networking, and all that.”

 

“Sounds complicated,” Bee chuckled, pulling Pico’s sleeve back down. “Can I… can I ask how you got into mercenary work?”

 

Pico thought for a moment before tensing. He’d been doing it for so long that he had forgotten how he started, and it wasn’t exactly the greatest memory. Still, he promised to answer any question Bee had, so he took a calming breath.

 

“I’m an addict, y’know. Had been long before I moved here. Believe it or not, I used to go to the clubs in town and get wasted pretty much every night.”

 

“ Your antisocial ass used to party?”

 

Pico glared at him from the corner of his eye. “I used to party in high school , dipshit.”

 

“I guess that’s true, sorry, continue your story.”

 

“Right… well, Philly kind of gave me an opportunity to, y’know, not really hide the fact that I’m gay, right? So… I used to… sleep around…” 

 

Pico spoke the words with hesitance, he felt awkward as hell. This wasn’t a part of his past he had never talked about with anyone before, and he especially had difficulty talking about it with his fucking crush . 

 

At Bee’s understanding nod, he continued. “Uh, one of those times, some guy at the bar picked me up and took me back to his place. He got a little too handsy, and tried to…” Pico trailed off, a sick pit forming in his stomach. He wished he could warn his younger self that it would only get worse from there.

 

“You don’t have to talk about it, I get what you’re saying,” Bee spoke with a quiet and comforting tone. 

 

Pico both appreciated Bee’s understanding and felt nauseated that he now knew a little more of how fucked up Pico was. “Anyway, John had trained me in combat and self defense. I couldn’t get out of there, so… I killed him.”

 

He had expected Bee to react with shock, or disgust, or something , but all the blue-haired kid did was nod. “Serves him right.”

 

“...you’re awfully calm for someone who just realized they’re living with a murderer.”

 

Bee shrugged. “I assumed you’ve killed people before, especially as a merc for a gang. Plus, did you forget that you threatened my life when we first met?”

 

Pico frowned, guilt settling uncomfortably in his gut. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

 

“Don’t be. I knew you weren’t gonna kill me, I wasn’t ever scared of you.”

 

Pico’s chest hurt again, but not in the way he wanted it to. God, was he so far gone that Bee simply not being afraid of him made him fall in love more?

 

“How’d that lead into the gang?” Bee questioned, moving the topic on.

 

“Well, apparently, he was some big guy for the X’s. They sent some lackeys at me, but after I kept killing them off too, the Boss got in contact with me. Asked if I ever thought of mercenary work, offered me a few jobs.” Pico shrugged, trying to remain casual amidst the burning in his chest and just how strange this conversation was. “The rest is history.”

 

“Interesting,” Bee replied, but he didn’t say much else.

 

“Is that all you’ve got to say about all of that?” Pico asked with a small laugh.

 

Bee grinned back at him. “You act like you’re worried I’m gonna think differently of you. I told you, Pico, there’s nothing you could tell me that I’d judge you for.”

 

Pico coughed as quietly as he could. How could he have gotten so lucky to have Bee as a friend?

 

“Well, my turn. Can I ask you a couple things?”

 

“Sure, go ahead,” Bee replied, leaning back on the couch.

 

“What about your parents? You’ve mentioned them a few times.”

 

Bee sighed. “Well, other than the borderline mental abuse, they just aren’t great people, y’know? My mom is an uptight, narcissistic, unstable religious fanatic who just wanted to create me into her image, and my dad was never really around. I don’t think they ever really loved each other, y’know?” He paused for a moment, biting at his lip with anxiety. “They never accepted me for who I am, refused to call me their son, hell, one time my mom even threatened my life if I ever went by Keith publicly.”

 

Pico offered a sympathetic hand on Bee’s shoulder. “That fucking sucks, man. Is that why you ran away?”

 

“Part of it. I’d been thinking about it for a while, but my… my dad left, just… abandoned the family without telling us why, and I think that’s what pushed me over the edge.” He looked over to Pico and smiled. “It’s not all been bad though. Like you said, Philly gave me a place to be who I am. I don’t regret leaving Little Haven, or my family, or anything.”

 

Pico ignored the urge to cough and instead focused on just how much he admired Bee. Neither of them had it great, but they had each other, and that’s what mattered. 

 

Bee sighed and stretched his back out. “So, are you gonna keep locking yourself in your room, or are you grabbing a controller and letting me kick your ass?”

 

Pico chuckled and stood up off of the couch. “I’m too exhausted to play right now, but I won’t hide away anymore, alright?”

 

As he attempted to walk away, Bee gently caught his arm, staring up at him. “Promise?”

 

Pico felt like fainting. “Promise.”

 

Bee grinned at him and let him go. “Good. I’ve missed you.”

 

Pico tried and failed to minimize the ensuing coughing fit. Bee had a way of saying the wrong things unintentionally.

 

“You should really get that cough checked out.”

 

“I’m fine,” Pico rasped, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “I’m a chainsmoker, it’s not that weird.”

 

“If you get lung cancer and die, I’m killing your ghost.”

 

A twinge of guilt. “I don’t think you can kill a ghost.”

 

Bee rolled his eyes. “Fine, then I’ll fucking exorcise you, is that better?”

 

“Much better, thank you.”

 

Bee punched his thigh playfully and laid down. “Dick. Goodnight.”

 

“Night.”

 

Pico smiled to himself as he got settled into bed. He had missed Bee too, far more than he could ever imagine he would. Even if it killed him, he wouldn’t trade this for the world. Whatever time he had left, he would enjoy it the best he could.

Notes:

sorry this is so long, i couldn't really find a good place to break it up into two chapters. but hey, talking shit out, i guess?

also, i'm taking kawaisprite speaking spanish in that one pico results track as proof of pico being some sort of latino so i'm calling this a win

Spanish translations:

[1] Get away from me!

Chapter 13: Fireworks

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// drinking, mention of drug use, mild sexual content

Christmas came and went with little fanfare. After all, they had already exchanged their gifts, so they instead spent the day getting high and ordering Chinese food. Now, Bee rested on the couch, idly fiddling with his braid as he watched the New Year’s celebration on the TV. Pico had mentioned that he had enough money to get them cable, but Bee dismissed him, deciding that the extra expense wasn’t worth it. He was more than fine with the free channels and his slowly increasing stockpile of movies. 

 

Bee was startled out of zoning out by the front door swinging open, peeking over to see Pico walk in and take his shoes off, a plastic bag in hand. 

 

“How’d the job go?” Bee called out. Before he left, Pico informed Bee that he’d been hired for guard duty at the S’s Christmas party. The idea of hardened gangsters singing Christmas carols with each other tickled Bee to no end.

 

Pico set the bag down on the coffee table and stripped off his coat. “Alright. It’s fucking freezing out there, though.”

 

“No trouble?”

 

“Nah, unless you count a bunch of drunk men carrying loaded weapons as trouble.”

 

“I would.” Bee watched as Pico walked to his bedroom, presumably to change into comfier clothes. “What’s this on the table?” he shouted out.

 

“Uh, whiskey, I think. They said it was a late Christmas present,” Pico called out back. 

 

Bee raised an eyebrow and sat up, reaching into the bag and pulling out a bottle. The label was partially ripped off, but it had enough information to confirm it was indeed whiskey. Pico emerged from the bedroom, wearing his typical tank top and sweatpants. 

 

“Brave of them to hand over alcohol to two underaged kids.”

 

Pico shrugged, taking his seat beside Bee. “Not worse than anything else I’ve done. Besides, I’ve only got a few more months ‘til my twenty-first anyway.”

“That reminds me, when exactly is your birthday? Sometime in April, right?”

 

Pico glanced over at him, confused. “Yeah… how’d you know that?”

 

“You told me,” Bee replied, setting the bottle back down on the table.  “Remember? Back at that party when we talked?”

 

Pico chuckled quietly. “How did you remember that?”

 

“My memory isn’t as bad as yours,” Bee teased, though his face burned. “What day?”

 

“The 30th.”

 

“Guess I’d better start planning your birthday gift then!” Bee responded with a cocky grin as he nudged Pico’s hip with his foot.

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Pico replied. “I didn’t get you anything for yours.”

 

“Well, that’s when I was being pissy and distant, so that doesn’t count. Plus, I think turning twenty-one is much cooler than turning nineteen.”

 

“Glad you finally admitted that you were being pissy with me,” Pico teased.

 

This time, Bee lightly kicked him. “Quit being an asshole and let me do something for you!”

 

Pico laughed quietly and held his hands up in mock defense. “Fine, fine, go fucking nuts.”

 

“I will, thank you!” Bee laughed to himself as he stood up from the couch, headed for the kitchen. He grabbed two relatively clean glasses from the cabinet and brought them back to the living room, pouring a generous shot of whiskey into each. He noticed Pico give him a weird look as he handed the glass over.

 

“What’re you looking at me like that for?”

 

“You decided to start drinking awfully early.”

 

Bee rolled his eyes, plopping back down on the couch. “It’s the new year! Fuck it, let’s celebrate!”

 

Pico stared down at his glass with an expression Bee couldn’t quite read. Disgust? Fear? 

 

“...hey, are you okay?” Bee asked cautiously.

 

Pico seemed to snap out of his thoughts and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m good. Not much of a drinker, but you’re right. Fuck it.”

 

Bee didn’t quite believe him, and thought it ironic that Pico wasn’t a fan of drinking but would willingly shoot heroin, but he kept quiet. He knew it was a touchy subject and he didn’t want to ruin their night.

 

So instead, Bee raised his glass. “Here’s to the new year and new beginnings for us!”

 

Pico hesitated before clinking his glass to Bee’s and knocking it back. He winced, but fared much better than Bee, who instantly choked the moment he felt the burning liquid tear through his throat, doubling over into a coughing fit. He heard Pico laugh beside him and felt him pat his back a few times. 

 

“Pussy.”

 

“Fuck you,” Bee spat back, his eyes filled with tears. He’d wildly underestimated just how strong whiskey was, having only drunk beer and wine before. Maybe vodka once, but that was too long ago to remember.

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it after a few shots.”

 

~~~~~

 

Well, Bee got the hang of it alright. After a couple shots of trial and error, he’d managed to reach a point where he could knock it back with only minimal complaining. He was definitely starting to feel the alcohol course though his system, the warm feeling in his stomach making him giggly and floaty. Other than his slightly flushed cheeks and a mild sway, Pico seemed to be handling it much better than Bee. He had put up the bottle when he deemed that Bee had enough, much to the younger’s man annoyance. He promised to make it up by agreeing to get his ass kicked playing a few rounds of Slayer with Bee. 

 

“Holy shit, I might actually win this one.”

 

“I’m drunk, it doesn’t count!”

 

Pico laughed as he sniped Bee’s character. “Yeah, yeah, blame the alcohol.”

 

Bee huffed to himself. He leaned forward and put all of his hazy focus into winning. Pico didn’t stand a chance against him! He was just… getting a few lucky shots in, that’s all. Soon enough, he’d be losing and Bee could go back to being the reigning Halo master in the household. 

 

At least… that was his mindset up until the defeat banner flashed across his side of the screen. When did Pico catch up to him?!

 

Pico barked out an amused laugh and threw his arms up into the air. “Fuck you! I finally won one!”

 

Bee tossed his controller on the coffee table and scowled. “You don’t have to gloat about it.”

 

“What’s that thing you always say to me, hm? Don’t be such a sore loser?”

 

Bee flipped off Pico’s shit-eating grin. “Fuck you, I gotta piss.”

 

The moment he stood up, the room spun out from under him. Bee tried to ignore it, but he barely got anywhere before his foot caught the leg of the table, sending him sprawling to the ground. He groaned as the wind was knocked out of him, then rolled over onto his back and burst into hysterical laughter. The giggles in his chest he’d been suppressing exploded at the ridiculous situation. Vaguely, he sensed Pico get up from the couch, and when Bee opened his eyes, the ginger was standing above him with an amused smile.

 

“I fell!” Bee exclaimed through his laughter.

 

“I fucking saw,” Pico responded as he held a hand out, which Bee took gratefully.

 

Pico helped him up, settling his hands on Bee’s shoulders to counteract the guy’s wobbliness. Bee giggled and shifted his gaze to the window, taking note of the snow falling and the twinkling lights of the city. He couldn’t believe how beautiful it looked, his altered mindstate allowing him to see the true beauty in typically mundane things. It was… amazing.

 

“You good, man?”

 

Bee turned his attention back to Pico, who looked back at him with a nervous smile. Bee took his time in scanning Pico’s face, looking over the smattering of freckles across his nose, the gap in his teeth, the scar on his cheek that extended down to his neck. All of the things that made Pico Pico. In this light, he looked beautiful too.

 

Christ, maybe I’m more fucked up than I thought I was.

 

“...stop staring, you’re starting to freak me out.”

 

Despite his conscious warning him against it, Bee ignored the alarm bells in his head and gently swatted Pico’s hands away, reaching up and tracing that scar on his cheek. If he had been sober, he might’ve noticed the way Pico tensed at the contact, or how his face flushed far more than what he could blame on the whiskey. Instead, all Bee could focus on how prominent Pico’s freckles were against the backdrop of red.

 

“Your freckles are so cute…” he mused quietly.

 

“U-Uh…” Pico stuttered, and Bee giggled at his shy tone.

 

“How did you get this?” he continued, trailing the scar down to Pico’s neck.

 

Pico’s hands wavered at Bee’s sides, still intending to keep him upright but making no move to actually touch him. “I-I think it w-was a knife, I dunno…”

 

“So shy,” Bee giggled, looking back up to make proper eye contact. “Dance with me.”

 

“What…?”

 

“C’mon, it’s a good night, let’s dance!”

 

“Don’t… don’t you have to use the bathroom?”

 

Suddenly, the pressure on Bee’s bladder made itself known again, reminding Bee of the whole reason he stood up in the first place. He attempted to take a few unsteady steps before Pico sighed. The ginger took both of Bee’s wrists in his hand and basically dragged the stumbling man to the bathroom. 

 

When Bee eventually finished his business, he was surprised to see Pico still standing by the bathroom door.

 

“Why are you still here?”

 

“To make sure you make it back to the couch without busting your ass.”

 

Bee giggled as Pico took his wrists again, letting himself be dragged back to the living room. “So kind and caring of you, Pico. I’m surprised you’re still single.”

 

Pico tensed as he tried to set Bee back down on the couch as gently as he could, giving up when Bee decided to throw himself down, nearly missing the couch entirely. Pico sighed and took his seat back at the opposite end. “I told you, I’m not interested in dating.”

 

“Aw, c’mon, being in love is great! Having someone care about you, supporting you, making you laugh, brightening your day.” Bee paused to laugh quietly. “Plus, the sex is great .”

 

“I don’t see why you can’t have any of that outside of a relationship,” Pico muttered quietly.

 

“No, no, it’s different when you’re in love, man, like true romantic love. Like, it’s… it’s amazing .” He tapped his foot on Pico’s thigh, who swatted it away. “Have you really never been in love before? Not even, like, a crush or something?”

 

Pico turned away to cough, and maybe it was Bee’s imagination, but he could’ve swore he’d seen the blush on Pico’s cheeks get brighter.

 

“No, never.”

 

“God, you’re missing out. Or not, I don’t wanna assume anything about your life or whatever.”

 

Pico clicked his tongue piercing a few times. “You sound like you have experience.”

 

Bee chuckled as he placed his foot back on Pico’s thigh. This time, the ginger just let him with a sigh. “Of course I do, you think I don’t get bitches?” He laughed again before humming. “I was with this girl for a while. Do you remember Melody?”

 

“Dearest?”

 

“Yeah. We grew up together, our parents are close. She was the only person who truly accepted me. She’s… a wonderful woman.”

 

Pico took a minute to reply, his tone much quieter. “So, what happened?”

 

Bee felt tears sting the back of his eyes, cursing to himself mentally. He cleared his throat, hoping to keep his tone even. “It… it was just wrong place, wrong time, y’know? We were just kids. Stupid fucking kids…”

 

Bee felt Pico squeeze his ankle lightly, a form of comfort that allowed the tears to spill. 

 

“We agreed to married each other, and I just ran away like a fucking coward. I-I didn’t even tell her to her face, I just left a fucking note. She probably hates me!”

 

“You don’t know that, Bee.”

 

Bee scoffed. “I do. I told her everything . I can’t imagine how betrayed she felt.”

 

Pico stayed quiet for a moment, lightly rubbing his thumb along Bee’s ankle. “Is that… why you ran away?”

 

Bee’s throat felt swollen with emotion, but he couldn’t stop himself from rambling. “My life fucking sucked . I was in a shitty house with shitty parents who didn’t give a fuck about me, they just wanted to pretend like we were the perfect family, like their son was the golden child they wanted him to be. Fuck, they didn’t even want to acknowledge that they had a son , they wanted to keep pretending their daughter still existed!” Bee sat up to face Pico, the room spinning around him a little, but he couldn’t be bothered to care about that right now. “It was way too much pressure! I was supposed to take on the family business, marry Melody right after high school, adopt a kid or two, and it was too fucking much ! I can’t handle having my life planned out like that! I would’ve been fucking miserable ! But instead of standing up for myself, I ran away like a fucking coward! For the last two years, I’ve been hopping from tent to tent, trying to fucking survive and make enough money to feed myself, but hey, at least I can still fucking sing!”

 

Bee suddenly felt a weight on him, taking him a few moments to realize that Pico was hugging him. Pico , the guy who hated being touched, was holding Bee, comforting him. Every last wall Bee had built up came crashing down in an instant as he leaned into Pico’s shoulder and sobbed, gripping fistfuls of the back of his shirt. Pico stayed silent but held onto Bee a little tighter, rubbing soothing circles into the small of Bee’s back. 

 

They sat like that for what felt like ages until Bee finally calmed down, sighing as he slumped against Pico. His chest felt incredibly light, like a weight had been lifted off of it. He hadn’t dealt with the emotions of leaving home, having chosen to bottle it up and stuff it deep down.

 

He slowly pulled back to look up at Pico with a small, nervous smile. “I’m fucking pathetic, aren’t I?”

 

Pico chuckled quietly, running his hand along Bee’s spine. “Careful, you’re sounding too much like me.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right, that’s so lame.” Bee giggled as Pico jokingly pushed him back a bit. “God, I needed that breakdown.”

 

“Sounded like it. Are you okay now?”

 

Bee took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. Still drunk, but not as sad.” He gave Pico’s shoulders a squeeze before settling them behind Pico’s neck. “Thank you for being here, seriously.”

 

“It’s no problem, dude.”

 

As they stared at each other for a few moments, Bee noticed a shift in the air. It felt more… electric , sending a small shiver down his spine. Pico seemed to feel it too, his smile faltering and his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

 

Shit… are we about to kiss?

 

Bee didn’t know what compelled him to slowly lift himself up to sit on Pico’s lap proper. The ginger himself tensed, but didn’t push him away, letting Bee settle his face into the crook of his neck, toying with Pico’s stray hairs running along the back of his neck. 

 

Bee sighed, feeling Pico shiver at his breath. “Thank you for being so nice to me.”

 

“You… you don’t have to thank me.”

 

“I know, but I want to anyway.” Bee smirked as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of Pico’s neck, feeling the man shiver again. 

 

“Wh-what… what are you doing?”

 

His tone wasn’t upset or angry, more genuinely curious, albeit a little anxious. Bee shrugged and kissed him again. “I don’t know, whatever feels right. As long as it’s okay with you, of course.”

 

“We shouldn’t do this drunk,” Pico responded, his voice much lower than usual. 

 

“Probably not, but that’s for sober us to deal with.”

 

Pico laughed quietly, shifting his hands down to grip Bee's hips. “I guess that’s true.”

 

Bee pressed his lips to Pico’s neck again, though his time was a little rougher. “Can I?” He felt Pico move his head in what he thought was a nod, but he had to be sure. “Verbal consent, Pico.”

 

“Yes,” Pico whispered back.

 

Bee chuckled and bit down softly, hearing Pico gasp quietly at the contact. He gave in and started properly giving him a hickey, something the ginger seemed to really be into, if the squeezing on Bee’s hips and the heavy panting were anything to go by. 

 

When Bee was satisfied, he leaned back, intending on kissing Pico proper. As he did, he heard the fireworks go off from the window behind him, the signal of the new year. Bee smiled to himself, it was a fitting mood.

 

However, Bee jumped, not from the fireworks, but from Pico’s grip suddenly tightening painfully on his hips. He opened his eyes to see Pico staring out of the window at the fireworks, his eyes glazed over in what Bee recognized as one of his episodes. He managed to pry himself away from Pico and sat at the opposite end of the couch, giving the man his space until it was over. It didn’t take very long, with Pico inhaling sharply and holding himself after only a few seconds. 

 

“Do you need water…?” Bee hesitantly asked.

 

Pico shook his head, then signed [Sorry.]

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, it’s okay. Can I do anything to help?”

 

Pico shook his head again, his ragged breaths slowly regulating. 

 

Bee’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Did… did I do something wrong?”

 

[No, not you.]

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

 

Pico shook his head yet again, standing from the couch and quickly signing [I’m going to bed.]

 

“Wait, Pico-”

 

But it was already too late, the man making his way to his room with his back turned. Bee flopped back down on the couch with a sigh. His head pounded with a mixture of drinking, crying, and the emotional whirlwind he just experienced. He watched as the lights from the fireworks danced on the ceiling, the motions making him nauseous. He quickly shut his eyes, deciding to just pass and deal with it tomorrow.

 

As he fell asleep, his mind buzzed with thoughts. Thoughts about his past, about Melody, about Pico…

 

His heart hurt. He wasn’t ready to deal with any of the emotions he was feeling, not while drunk, at least. That could wait until tomorrow, when his head was a bit clearer.

Yeah. That’s a problem for Sober Bee.

Notes:

what's a slow burn fic without a chapter about getting drunk and almost sleeping w each other?

Chapter 14: Morning After

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// brief mention of school shootings, brief nsfw mention

Pico hissed a curse under his breath as the plate he was washing hit the side of the sink with a loud THUD! He held his breath, listening for any noise or signs of movements coming from the living room before he slowly continued when he heard nothing. He washed the suds off of the plate and set it in the drying rack. Pico exhaled slowly as he turned off the barely trickling water and leaned against the counter, shutting his eyes. 

 

His stomach was sick, but it wasn’t from the hangover he was nursing. It was a mixture of nerves and uncertainty, his body practically trembling from anxiety. He wanted nothing more than to retreat to his room and spend the entire day locked in there.

But, he couldn’t. He made a promise to not hide away any more, no matter how badly his mind was screaming at him to do so. For all the shitty things Pico had done, nobody could deny that he was loyal to a fault, and stuck to his word. 

 

He didn’t realize how long he’d been zoning out for until he heard a groan come from the couch. He tensed up and gripped the edge of the counter, steeling his nerves before pushing himself off it to check in on his hungover roommate.

 

Pico peeked out from the archway of his kitchen to see Bee already sitting up, rubbing his temples with a pained expression. Pico had gone ahead and closed the curtains so the light from the window wouldn’t cause Bee any unnecessary issues, but it didn’t really seem to matter all that much.

 

“I put the little trash can from the bathroom beside you in case you need to puke.”

 

Bee slowly shook his head and squinted over at Pico. “I’m alright, thanks. My stomach isn’t doing too bad, just a fucking killer headache.” He paused, opening his eyes fully. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

 

Pico had to try to hide his discomfort as he toyed with the bottom hem of the turtleneck he was wearing. He didn’t exactly want to show off the lovebite Bee had given him the night before. 

 

“It’s fucking cold.”

 

To Pico’s delight, Bee seemed to fall for the lie. “Yeah, that’s true. Did the heater stop working?”

 

Pico shrugged but moved the conversation along, relieved that he had an out. “Do you want painkillers? You need to eat with them, but they’ll help.”

 

At Bee’s nod, Pico turned on his heel and headed for the bathroom, grabbing the pills from the medicine cabinet. Originally, he got them just to get high, but he found he preferred to use them for work. It was so much easier to stitch up a bullet wound when he was numb from the burning pain. As such, he tried not to use them very often.

 

On his way back, he swiped one of their overripe bananas from the kitchen counter and a glass of water, setting everything down on the coffee table in the living room. Bee raised his eyebrow as he reached for the bottle, inspecting it. There wasn’t a label, just an orange bottle with a bunch of white, circular pills inside. 

 

“What exactly am I taking?”

 

“If I had to guess, I’d say hydrocodone,” Pico responded with a shrug as he sat down.

 

“Seems like overkill.” Still, that didn’t stop Bee from fishing a pill out and knocking it back, reaching for the banana and beginning to chew slowly.

 

“I don’t exactly have Tylenol lying around. I medicated in a different way, I never saw the point.”

 

Bee sighed as he took another bite. “We’re going shopping when I don’t feel like death. How are you not feeling like shit? We drank, like, the same amount.”

 

“I’m an addict, Bee, I’ve had worse hangovers.”

 

“ Recovering addict.”

 

Pico rolled his eyes. “Whatever, cabrón, my point stands.”

 

“This isn’t fair,” Bee whined, throwing his discarded banana peel in the trash can. “I think that was probably the most fucked up I’ve ever been. I can’t even really remember last night!”

 

Pico swallowed thickly. He remembered everything . 

 

“Well, you busted your ass trying to go piss then cried about your ex.” Pico kept his tone casual and avoided talking about the end of the night. Bee not remembering was a blessing.

 

Bee groaned and laughed quietly. “Riiiight. Fuck, that’s embarrassing, I’m sorry you had to deal with me.”

 

Pico snorted and waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, s’okay. Let’s call us even for all the times you had to deal with my shit.”

 

“I’m not dealing with you, dipshit, I’m helping you through a rough time. It’s what friends are for.”

 

“Eh, I don’t know, I’ve never heard of anyone willing to put themselves through the torture of me trying to teach them ASL just ‘cuz my body decides it doesn’t wanna let me speak sometimes.”

 

Bee rolled his eyes and kicked Pico’s leg. “My fucking God, would you shut up and let me be there for you? You’re not some burden on me, it’s not your fault you go mute sometimes.”

 

Then, Bee’s eyes lit up slightly as he stared at Pico, putting the pieces together. Pico thought he was gonna be sick, he knew what that look meant. 

 

“Wait,” Bee started, sitting up slightly, his face blushing slightly. “Did… did we, uh, we almost-”

 

“Don’t.”

 

Bee looked at him with an expression he couldn’t read. Pico sighed and looked away, clicking his piercing a few times. 

 

“Pico, I… fuck, I’m sorry, I-I went too far, I should’nt have-”

 

“It’s fine, man,” Pico interrupted, looking back over to Bee. “You didn’t push anything. We were drunk, shit happens. We don’t have to talk about it, it meant nothing.”

 

“But I-”

 

“Nothing,” Pico repeated, his tone a bit more stern. 

 

There was a tense moment of silence before Bee nodded, his voice barely a whisper when he spoke. “Okay… sure.”

 

Pico’s chest ached, but surprisingly, not in the usual way. It wasn’t the familiar tightening of petals in his lungs, but the unfamiliar burn of shame and regret. He wished he would’ve stopped himself from leaning into Bee’s embrace, wished he would’ve pushed him away, wished he would’ve protested that they were drunk and it was meaningless. Instead, he was weak, the alcohol in his system convinced him to let his guard down, to stop thinking and give in to his urges to be closer to Bee. He almost fell back into that brutal cycle he had worked so hard to break out of. 

 

This was why he hated drinking, it never brought anything good. If he didn’t have that reality check of a flashback, he probably would’ve slept with Bee. Where would they be then? In his mind, it’d be nothing but regret and an unerasable stain on their friendship. He’d never be able to face Bee, never be able to tell him how he felt about him without sounding like a fucking creep. To Bee, it’d be a one night stand, but Pico knew that it was so much more to himself, something he’d be forced to tell his roommate.

 

This was awkward, sure, but it could’ve been much worse. 

 

“Well,” Bee spoke, breaking the silence, “do you want to talk about what triggered your episode?”

 

“I’d… rather not.”

 

Bee just sighed and gave him an exasperated look.

 

Pico groaned. “Look, I don’t like fireworks, okay?”

 

“Can I ask why?”

 

“That’s a piece of childhood trauma you haven’t unlocked yet,” Pico joked.

 

“Do you have the fucking cheat code or something, then? I told you why I’m scared of thunder, it can’t be much different from fireworks, right?”

 

I think being afraid of thunder because you got punished in a metal box is a little different than being afraid of fireworks because it reminds you of when your school got shot up, Bee.

 

“Just not right now, okay?”

 

Bee groaned in frustration but nodded, not pushing further. He flopped back down on the couch, pulling the blanket up to his chin. “I feel woozy.”

 

“Probably the pills. Sleep it off.”

 

“Okay, but we have to go shopping later, don’t let me sleep all day.”

 

“Scout’s honour.”

 

“I know damn well that you weren’t a Scout.”

 

Pico chuckled as he stood up. “How do you know I don’t have every badge?”

 

“Shut the fuck up.”

 

~~~~~

 

“Do we have bread? I think I might’ve used the rest of it to make a sandwich the other day.”

 

Pico shifted his attention from the toddler having a meltdown further down the aisle to Bee, who scanned the shelves full of bread. “I dunno, go ahead and grab one.”

 

Bee reached up on his tiptoes to snag a loaf of generic white bread from the top shelf, tossing it into the cart and giving Pico a quizzical look. “What’s wrong? You looked pissed.”

 

Pico sighed through his nose and rested his chin on the cart’s handle. What wasn’t wrong? He had a headache, he hated shopping, the fluorescent lights were way too bright and buzzed annoyingly, he was getting warm but couldn’t remove his coat, having only his tank underneath. 

 

“I really don’t wanna be here right now. There’s way too many people.” He subtly pointed to the screaming kid in front of them. 

 

Bee huffed. “Well, if somebody had kept their word and woken me up sooner yesterday, we could’ve avoided this. Sundays are always the busiest days to go shopping.”

 

“I didn’t wake you up because you were recovering, excuse me for being considerate.”

 

“I told you I wanted you to wake me up because you’re a weirdo who doesn’t have normal-people painkillers in the house, letting me sleep in doesn’t sound all that considerate to me.”

 

“Dude, shut the hell up.” Pico sighed again as he stood up straight. “Do we need anything else?”

 

Bee thought for a moment. “I think that’s it, unless there’s something you wanna pick up.”

 

“Nope,” Pico replied, already beelining it to the self checkout. He just wanted to be home as soon as possible.

 

The two scanned their relatively small haul quickly, with Bee bagging as Pico fished out his wallet. He fed two twenty dollar bills into the machine, waiting for the stupid thing to spit out his change. 

 

He felt Bee peer over his shoulder. “Do you have a license?”

 

“No,” Pico responded, grabbing his change and stuffing his wallet back into his pocket, grabbing half the bags.

 

Bee grabbed the other half with his brows furrowed. “Really? I thought it was mandatory for every sophomore to take Driver’s Ed.”

 

“I moved to Little Haven part way into my sophomore year. They never offered it to me, and I didn’t really see myself owning a car, so I never bothered.”

 

“Moved from where?” 

 

“Arizona.”

 

Bee audibly shivered as they stepped out of the store into the cold winter air. “Damn, bet you miss the desert sometimes with this fucking weather.”

 

“Sometimes, yeah.”

 

“Does that mean you can’t drive?”

 

“I mean, I’m sure I could if I needed to, it doesn’t seem hard to figure out.”

 

Bee shot him a look. “I think that’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”

 

“Fuck you,” Pico laughed.

 

“Man,” Bee sighed, “I was really hoping to see your shitty photo.”

 

Pico nudged his shoulder as they walked, grinning. “Does that mean I get to see yours?”

 

“Uh, well… no.”

 

“What? That’s not fair.”

 

“It’s shitty.”

 

“Ain’t that the point?”

 

Bee shook his head. “I mean literally . I was a different person back then. It still has my deadname on it.”

 

Pico decided not to point out that he already knew Bee’s deadname as they made it to the bus stop. “You still have the same one from high school? Aren’t you supposed to update it every couple years or so?”

 

“I can’t get a new one until I turn twenty-one.”

 

“That’s shitty. At least you’ve only got a couple years left.”

 

Bee shrugged, leaving the conversation to die out as they sat on the bench and waited. Pico set the bags down on the ground and flexed his fingers. The cold wind mixed with carrying the heaviest bags was really starting to hurt his hands.

 

“You should buy some gloves, frostbite ain’t sexy,” Bee remarked with a smirk as he fanned out his fingers, showing off his simple black gloves. 

 

“Why didn’t you say anything while we were at the fucking store?”

 

“I didn’t think about it.”

 

Pico rolled his eyes and picked up the bags as the bus came creaking to a halt in front of them. They both stepped on the bus and paid their fare, nestling into a couple of seats near the back. 

 

“Do you wanna watch a movie when we get back?” Bee asked as the bus began moving.

 

“Depends on what it is, I guess.”

 

“I have, like, twelve to choose from, you can just take your pick.”

 

Pico just shrugged in response and turned to look out the window at the passing city. The two settled into a comfortable lull. They hadn’t really talked much since yesterday. Pico himself was still reeling from the New Year’s Incident, as he had begun calling it in his head, and who knew what Bee was thinking? At the very least, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or unwelcomed. They both seemed to have an unspoken agreement that some things are better left alone for the time being and didn’t need to be talked about. It was awkward, sure, but Pico knew well enough that things like this would pass with time and they’d be back to chatting and laughing like nothing had ever happened. 

 

Pico felt Bee nudge him out of his thoughts, signaling that they’d made it to their stop. He gave himself a moment to stretch his arms out before picking up the shopping bags and following Bee out of the bus. As they came upon the apartment complex, Pico sighed quietly, preparing himself for the torture of dragging their shit all the way up to their apartment.

 

“Race ya,” Bee joked with a small grin.

 

“Yeah, go fuck yourself, I ain’t throwing out my back.”

 

“God, you’re so fucking laaaaaame!” Bee whined as he opened the complex door, holding it open for Pico with his foot.

 

The two began the awful process of climbing the stairs. Pico always wondered just how much of a miracle it would be to live in a complex with an elevator, or at the very least, what it’d be like living on the first floor. After what felt like an eternity, they finally walked through the front door to their apartment, both trying to hide how exhausted they were. Pico’s stamina was fairly good, thanks to his line of work, but nobody can walk up four flights of stairs and come out the other side completely fine.

 

Pico and Bee set the grocery bags down on the kitchen floor, Bee immediately turning to leave the kitchen. Pico reached out and grabbed the back of Bee’s shirt collar, yanking him back with a choked sound.

 

“Nuh-uh, get your ass back here. You are not leaving me to put all this shit up myself.”

 

Bee flailed against Pico’s hold, looking back at him with a pout. “Why not? I wanted to set the movie up for us!”

 

“Ain’t no fucking way you’re trying to run off after I paid for everything and carried it up all those stairs.”

 

“I carried them, too!”

 

“Carrying the lightest bags doesn’t count. Now help me, cabrón.”

 

“One of these days, I’m gonna learn enough Spanish to understand you insulting me,” Bee huffed as he bent over and began unloading one of the bags.

 

Pico snorted as he opened the freezer and threw a few instant meals in. “Suerte con eso.” [1]

 

~~~~~

 

“Am I the only one thinking this dude is a fucking idiot? There’s no way the bad guys would fall for that!”

 

“...Bee, I’m gonna be really honest here with you, man, I have no clue what’s going on.”

 

Bee rolled his eyes. “You’d know if you’d actually paid attention.”

 

Pico had tried his best, he really did, but about fifteen minutes into the movie, there was a scene where the lead actor pushed his girlfriend against the door and made out with her. It wasn’t his fault that his mind wandered off to different places and he had to spend twenty minutes trying not to cough up a lung. By the time he recovered, he didn’t understand how the movie went from a sex scene to a car chase. Plus, the acting was a little janky, losing his interest. 

 

Pico shrugged. “I ain’t exactly the best person to watch movies with.”

 

“I could’ve told you that,” Bee shot back lightheartedly. He leaned his head back against the couch and Pico’s arm that was draped over it. “I’m sleepy.”

 

“Then sleep, dumbass,” Pico responded, absentmindedly scratching the top of Bee’s head. He didn’t even realize he was doing it until Bee leaned back into his touch, and too embarrassed to address it, he simply continued.

 

“You’re so mean to me,” Bee whined. “I wanna hang out with you. Plus, it’s almost over anyway, I’ll sleep after.”

 

“How long is left?”

 

“Like, twenty-five minutes.”

 

They didn’t say anything after that, Pico too focused on trying to catch up to whatever plot was going on. A little too late, Pico had realized that Bee was slowly shifting, and he tensed up when he felt a weight. He looked down to see Bee passed out and nestled into his side, his head on Pico’s chest. 

 

He freaked the fuck out.

 

Other than the obvious burning ache in his lungs (which, admittedly, wasn’t as painful as it usually was), Pico’s mind raced with all sorts of thoughts. Should he move? Should he wake Bee up? What if Bee woke up on his own and realized what happened, what would he do? Would he be as embarrassed as Pico was? Would it cause a more awkward rift than what they already had going on? 

 

The movie ended, the title screen music now stuck on loop. Pico groaned quietly to himself. So far, this new year had been nothing but one weird situation after another. 

 

He tried to slowly shift enough to be able to make his escape, but the moment he moved, Bee groaned and threw his arm across Pico’s middle, effectively pinning him. Pico’s face grew hot, his body tense with how unfamiliar (but not unwelcome) the contact was. He wondered if Bee was awake, but a quick glance confirmed he was still sound asleep. Pico let out a slow breath and tried not to make any sudden movements.

 

Fuck, I can’t get away, what do I do?!

 

Let yourself be happy.

 

Pico froze at the voice ringing clear in his head. It wasn’t the usual one, the one that tormented and mocked him, the one that told him how much of a fuck up he was. This one was different but familiar, new but not. 

 

He mulled over his options. He could sit there, petrified for when Bee eventually woke up. He could also say fuck it, let his anxious thoughts guide him and bolt of there hopefully quick enough to make it to his room before Bee could ask any questions. Or…

 

He took a deep, calming breath to reset his nerves. Ever so slowly, he dropped the arm that he’d slung over the back of the couch down and loosely wrapped it around Bee’s back. For his part, Bee just snored and relaxed further into Pico. 

 

Was this too far? Would Bee think Pico was weird when he woke up? Would he scold Pico for not just waking him up?

 

Let yourself be happy, let yourself be happy…

 

Pico got as comfortable as he could while half-sitting up. He let out the breath he’d been holding and closed his eyes, eventually tuning out the annoying song looping in the background. For once in his goddamn life, he stopped overthinking, stopped letting his anxious thoughts control him. For once, he stopped fighting back against every good thing that’d happened to him. For once, he let himself be taken by the deep call of sleep without the fear of what would happen in the night.

 

For once, Pico’s chest didn’t hurt.

 

~~~~~

 

Bee noticed two things in his sleepy haze as he slowly came to consciousness. One, there was some really fucking annoying pop song playing somewhere. Two, he was laying on something warm and soft.

 

He opened his eyes to see something he’d never thought he’d get a glimpse of; Pico, dead asleep and snoring slightly, face relaxed and serene. He smiled, then realized.

 

He was tucked into Pico’s side, with the ginger’s arm wrapped around him. 

 

Bee flushed, a funny little feeling settling in his stomach. However, he was still incredibly sleepy, so instead of focusing too hard on that , he rested his head back on Pico’s chest and closed his eyes. 

 

After all, he probably wouldn’t get another chance like this again, so why not enjoy it while he had it?

Notes:

Spanish translations:

[1] "Good luck with that."

Chapter 15: Who I Am

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// passively suicidal thoughts, guilt, talks of murder, mental breakdown

Pico sighed in frustration, clicking his piercing against his teeth impatiently. He tightened his grip on the plastic bag he was carrying and looked up at the darkening skies, praying that the bus would be early for once. In response to his prayers, the sky lit up in a bright light, thunder booming above him not even a couple seconds later. Pico knew that no matter how early the bus was, he was already too late.

 

He had lost a bet with Bee, in which if he lost a round of Slayer, he’d have to be the one to run to the store and pick up some snacks. He didn’t really expect to win anyway, deciding the hour or so of alone time and a chance to buy another pack of cigarettes was well needed. Unfortunately for Bee, it was the middle of March, also marking the beginning of storm season. Pico didn’t even realize that it was supposed to rain until he exited the store to see the heavy clouds descending down on Philly rapidly. 

 

We should really watch the news, or at least keep up on the weather.

 

Finally, the bus arrived and he stepped on. Personally, the only thing Pico didn’t like about storms was having to walk in the rain. However, he knew Bee would be losing his fucking mind, curled up on the couch frozen in fear. As a result, Pico also grew anxious whenever it started to rain. He could curse his sense of loyalty all he wanted to, but he had to admit that even he wouldn’t be okay with the idea of the guy he’s in love with going through a panic attack alone. 

 

By the time he reached his stop, it was already pouring rain. Pico swore under his breath as he ran down the block. He absolutely hated the feeling of wet clothes, but he’d have to deal with it later, he just needed to get home as soon as possible. After jogging a whole block and four flights of stairs, he was pretty winded by the time he walked through his front door.

 

All his annoyance faded as he caught sight of his roommate, curled up in a blanket as he had predicted.

 

Bee jumped at Pico’s sudden entrance, fear replaced by visible relief. “Thank fucking God.”

 

“Sorry, man, that bus is never on fucking time,” Pico replied as he stripped off his soaked hoodie and threw the bag on the coffee table.

 

He took a seat on the couch, Bee instantly shuffling over and collapsing onto Pico’s side, shoving his face in his chest. Ever since that night a couple months ago when they’d fallen asleep on the couch together, this sort of “comfort cuddle” had become a regular occurrence. Bee had, of course, teased Pico relentlessly when they woke up the next morning. Pico blamed it on “accidentally” wrapping his arms around Bee in his sleep, but he was pretty sure Bee saw right through his shit. Regardless, his roommate saw it as a sign that he had permission to be a little more touchy-feely with Pico. 

 

Pico leaned back and loosely wrapped an arm around Bee’s back, still not completely used to this kind of physical contact. He’d be lying to himself if he said he absolutely hated it, however. If it were anybody else, his body would have a deeply disturbing, visceral reaction, but for some reason, Bee was the sole exception. 

 

Well, Pico knew the reason, he just tried to ignore it. 

 

At the very least, the searing pain in his chest had lessened as of recent. There were still painful flare-ups, sure, but rarely bad enough to cause a coughing fit. It was only really awful if Pico thought about Bee too hard or if he was away from the guy for long enough. Internally, Pico scoffed. If a mythical disease that was almost guaranteed to be fatal couldn’t take him out, he might as well have been the luckiest man alive. In some of the darkest moments of his life, Pico had contemplated that the only way he’d ever be able to leave his mortal coil would be to take himself out. Surviving hanahaki just further proved that belief. 

 

Then again, looking at his past, Pico assumed he’d probably fail at killing himself too. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever tried before.

 

“Your hair is dripping on me,” Bee mumbled into his shirt, pulling Pico out of his thoughts. 

 

“No shit, I ran in the rain.”

 

“Awww, you ran for me?” Bee teased, poking the ginger’s ribs.

 

Pico felt his face heat up, grateful that Bee couldn’t see. “It’s not like I’m just gonna take a leisurely walk in the rain, dipshit!”

 

“Sure~, that’s all it was.”

 

Pico growled. “If you’d get off of me, I could go dry my hair.”

 

Before Bee could retort, thunder boomed from the living room window. It seemed that the storm had finally reached the apartment in full force. The younger man flinched and gripped onto Pico tighter, fully burrowing his face into his shirt.

 

“I’ll stay right here, thanks.”

 

Pico sighed and brought up one hand to run it through Bee’s hair while grabbing the remote with his other one. He flipped the television to the weather channel, luckily catching the most recent report.

 

“Well, folks, it seems that the storm front from the west has finally reached the Philly metropolis, and boy, I hope you have your rain boots on. You can expect torrential rain for the next two days. With this particular storm system, we have a chance for hail, so be careful and stay indoors for the evening if you can. Flooding is definitely a threat, watch for flooded roads and remember the motto; “turn around, don’t drown”. That’s your weather report on the hour, back to you, Tony.”

 

Bee whined in frustration. “I can’t catch a fucking break, man!”

 

“At least you ain’t in your old place anymore, right?”

 

“True.” Bee chuckled quietly and turned his face away from Pico’s chest. “I’ll always be grateful to you for that.”

 

Even though Bee didn’t lift his head up enough to look at him, Pico still turned his face away, the conversation beginning to make his chest hurt. “It’s no big deal.”

 

Bee fully sat up, giggling. “So shy!” He then sighed, settling into the space beside Pico. “Will you play Halo with me? I could use a distraction.”

 

Pico perked up, remembering something he had been thinking about earlier at the store. “That reminds me, can we play the campaign instead of versus?”

 

“Why? Tired of getting your ass beat over and over?”

 

Pico rolled his eyes. “You’re such an ass. I’m just getting bored of playing the same maps over and over again, plus, I’ve heard it has a great story. I wanna try something new.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, likely story,” Bee teased as he reached for the controllers on the table, passing one off to Pico. “But, sure. I don’t think I’ve ever played the campaign in multiplayer. Could be fun. I hope you’ll enjoy me carrying you.”

 

Pico flipped him off.

 

~~~~~

 

“Pico, goddammit, help me! I’m getting swamped over here and I’m low on ammo!”

 

“I have no fucking clue where you are, man.”

 

“Look at the minimap, dipshit!”

 

Pico squinted at the small circle on his fairly small screen, discovering that he was fucking miles away from Bee. How was he supposed to get all the way over there? Confused, he spent a good while fumbling around. By the time he realized he needed to go south and not west , Bee had already cleared the area of grunts. He sighed as Pico’s character walked up to his. 

 

“Dude, I have no clue how you’re this bad at video games. Especially shooters.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“Y’know, with you being a merc and all.” Bee paused for a moment. “Shit, I’m sorry, that’s probably way too personal.”

 

“Nah, it’s fine. You know shooting a real gun is way different than pulling a trigger on a controller, right?”

 

“Of course I know that!” Bee replied, his cheeks pink.

 

Pico snickered. “Quit lying.”

 

“I’ve never shot a real gun before!” Bee exclaimed, obviously embarrassed. “I don’t fucking know how different it is! I’m more of a knife guy, anyway.”

 

“That’s not all that surprising, to be honest.”

 

Bee’s eyes lit up as he bolted off of the couch. “Oh, you wanna see my knife? It’s really cool!”

 

Pico didn’t even have a chance to answer before his roommate was already rummaging through his stuff. Idly, Pico considered taking a trip to the store to buy Bee a proper chest of drawers or something. He didn’t really care for interior design all that much, but the messy array of boxes stacked into the corner of his living room was a real eye sore.

 

Bee had apparently found what he was looking for, shuffling over to show off his blade with a huge grin. “I got this right before I ran away, it’s so fucking sick, check out the shine and blade!” He rambled on and on about the weapon as he flicked open the black switchblade, showing off the sleek, silver blade. There was something incredibly uncanny about the normally passive guy smiling like a maniac with a knife right in front of his face, but Pico couldn’t lie to himself, he found it kind of… hot.

 

“It’s… nice, yeah,” Pico muttered out, pushing away those thoughts. “Do… uh, do you wanna see my gun?”

 

“You have a gun? Like, just around the house?”

 

“I have a couple but I meant my main one.”

 

“You have multiple guns in the house?!”

 

Pico winced. “Lower your fucking voice, pendejo, you trying to get me arrested?!”

 

“Shit, sorry!” Bee whispered. “I just figured you kept them in a designated place, like the S’s homebase or something.”

 

“How many times do I have to explain that I’m not one of them, I just work for them?”

 

“I fail to see the difference.”

 

Pico rolled his eyes and got up, retrieving his trusty firearm from his bedside table. He triple-checked that the safety was on before going back into the living room, raising it to show it off.

 

“Wooooah!” Bee exclaimed, setting his knife down on the table and sitting back on the couch. “That’s really fucking cool, I ain’t gonna lie. What kind is it?”

 

Pico couldn’t help but feel a little flattered. He’d never expect anyone to be interested in this. Most people would probably run screaming at the sight of him casually waving a firearm in his living room, but not Bee. He just sat there with wide, curious eyes. Maybe they were both a little fucked up, but at least Pico didn’t feel like a freak for a moment.

 

“Modified M10. Geared it up myself.”

 

Bee nodded. “Mhm, mhm. I don’t know why I asked, I don’t know shit about guns.”

 

“It’s alright,” Pico replied with a chuckle. “Just think of it as a cooler pistol.”

 

“Do you like guns?”

 

That… was a difficult question for Pico. In the grand scheme of things, no. He hated guns and the violence they brought with every fiber of his being. However, he couldn’t deny that he felt immensely safer armed, and over time, had come to be fascinated by the inner workings and mechanisms within them. 

 

“Uh, sorta. John used to have me disassemble the weapons on base and put them back together. I think it’s interesting to see how they work. Just a few springs can cause so much damage.” He paused and sighed. “Plus, it’s a hell of a lot safer to be armed in my line of business.”

 

He peeked over to see Bee staring at him with an amused smile. “What?”

 

“You’re such a fucking nerd.”

 

“Go fuck yourself.”

 

Bee giggled and held his hands up. “It’s not a negative thing! I think it’s admirable.”

 

“Sure,” Pico said with a roll of his eyes.

 

“...can I hold it?”

 

“Hell no, I’m not going to be responsible for you shooting your fucking finger off.”

 

Bee scoffed. “I’m not that stupid! C’monnnn!”

 

Pico chuckled and held the gun up out of Bee’s grasp as the other man reached up for it. “It’s a hard no, Bee.”

 

Bee scowled and crossed his arms. “You’re so fucking mean to me.”

 

God, you’re so cute.

 

“Pout all you want, man, I don’t trust you with this thing.”

 

Bee only scowled harder before breaking out into laughter. “Yeahhh, I don’t trust me either.”

 

“I’m gonna put this back.” 

 

Pico hoisted himself off the couch and set the gun back down on his nightstand. When he got back into the living room, he was perplexed to see Bee suddenly on the floor, laying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling.

 

“... What’re you doing?”

 

Bee shrugged, giving Pico a sideways glance and small smile. “Relaxing. Come join me.”

 

Pico hesitated, but ultimately laid down next to him, crossing his arms together over his chest. They stayed like that in silence for a little while, listening to the pause menu music on the TV. 

 

“You know,” Bee eventually spoke, “you told me about yours, but I never got to tell you about my first kill.”

 

Pico glanced at him. “You’ve killed someone before?”

 

“Once.”

 

“What happened?”

 

Bee took a deep breath. “It was back when I first moved here. I ran into… this guy, he tried to rob me. I stabbed him in the neck.” He paused for a moment. “I can’t… confirm that he died, I ran away, but… it’d be hard to walk away from that.”

 

Pico clicked his tongue ring and shrugged. “Serves him right.”

 

Bee stayed silent for a long moment. “How… how do you deal with the guilt?”

 

Pico frowned, a sinking feeling forming a pit in his stomach. He uncrossed his arms and laid them by his sides, deciding to answer truthfully.

 

“You don’t. You just… keep moving and carry it with you.”

 

He heard Bee let out a shaky breath beside him. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

 

Pico felt a warmth as Bee’s hand reached out to his, and he allowed his roommate to clasp them together with no resistance. 

 

“Y’know,” Pico started, hesitating slightly. “That… that guy I talked about, he wasn’t the first person I killed.”

 

“Really?”

 

Pico really wanted to let his anxiety get the better of him, but he felt that Bee deserved to learn more about him. If Bee was seeing himself as a monster, Pico could show him what a true monster looked like. 

 

“It… it was a classmate.”

 

He felt Bee lift himself up on his elbows, but he refused to look back at him. “Huh?”

 

“Not one of ours, this was before I moved to Little Haven.”

 

“How… how old were you?”

 

Pico swallowed thickly. “Twelve.”

 

“ Twelve ?! Holy shit, dude…”

 

Pico scowled as his defenses built up, anxiety replaced by cold-hearted apathy. “I didn’t have a fucking choice, okay!?”

 

“...What does that mean?”

 

The ginger growled and sat up, ripping his hand away from Bee. Thoughts began to fill his mind, his inner voice telling him that he fucking hates you, he thinks you’re fucked up, you’re nothing but a maniac , and honestly, he was starting to believe it. 

 

“I shouldn’t have fucking said anything.”

 

Bee shook his head and sat up, trying to take Pico’s hand back and huffing when he shook him off. “Look, I don’t know what’s happening in that brain of yours, but I’m not judging you. I assume something pushed you into it, right?”

 

Pico barely listened, everything in his shutting down.

 

“So,” Bee continued, “what happened?”

 

Pico took a shaky breath. It felt like his nerves were on fire , he wanted nothing more than to bolt out of the room and forget all of this ever happened. Escapism seemed to be the only coping mechanism he knew.

 

“You know,” Pico eventually started, letting out a dry chuckle. “I wake up every fucking day and wondered what my life could’ve been like if it never happened.”

 

Bee gave him an extremely confused look, not understanding the shift in conversation. Pioc couldn’t be bothered to care or even explain. The fire began to turn into full on rage as he recalled the events of that day.

 

“But no, I had to be the one to get fucked up, I had to be the fucking saviour , because nobody wants to ever fight for themselves! I could’ve just hid in a locker or something, or fuck, maybe I should’ve died like the others! But no ! I had to be the one to get fucking traumatized for life!” 

 

“Pico, you’re not making any sense.”

 

Pico barked out a laugh and finally turned to look at Bee. He looked terrified… or, was it just confusion? Was he scared of Pico or not?

 

He should be.

 

“ None of it makes any fucking sense! You wanna know the thanks I got? I got fucking abandoned and shunned , nobody ever even gave me a simple fucking “thank you”! All they fucking saw was some monster , not their hero!”

 

You’re not a hero. You know that.

 

“I-I was just a fucking kid , why was I responsible for everything ? Why did I have to be the one to fucking fix it?! It makes no fucking sense !”

 

*SMACK!!*

 

Pico felt a harsh, stinging pain on his cheek, instantly halting his racing thoughts and grounding him back to reality. He raised a hand to his face and blinked a few times, realizing Bee had slapped him. 

 

Bee firmly put his hands on Pico’s shoulder and stared him dead in the eye. “Get your shit together, Pico!”

 

Pico stuttered and stumbled over his words for a moment, quietly replying, “Sh-shit, I-I, I didn’t- I don’t- “

 

“That worked?” Bee whispered to himself, lifting one of his hands and inspecting it. “I thought that only worked in movies.” He took a deep breath and looked back at Pico with a small smile. “Breathe for me, dude.”

 

Pico did as he was told and took a few shaky, deep breaths. He slowly laid back down on the floor, refusing to look at anything other than the ceiling. “I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened. It’s really hard to think about, I think… I think my brain broke.”

 

Bee took his spot next to him, reaching out for the ginger’s hand again. Pico didn’t stop him this time. “It happens. Mental health is weird like that.”

 

“You have no idea how crazy I am, Bee.”

 

Pico didn’t realize that he’d said that aloud. He felt Bee squeeze his hand and sigh.

 

“That’s because you don’t talk to me about your issues, dude. I’m not, like, a professional or anything, but I’m here to listen to you at least. You’re not alone here.”

 

Pico gnawed on his bottom lip. Would it really be okay to open up? Would Bee think he was a lunatic if he did?

 

…Only one way to find out.

 

“Promise you won’t think I’ve lost it?”

 

In his peripheral, he saw Bee nod. “Pinky swear.”

 

“Okay. I think… I think something’s really wrong with me. Sometimes, it feels like I… I don’t know, like, fall out of reality? It’s hard to explain.”

 

“I can try to understand.”

 

Pico ignored the flare up of butterflies and pain in his chest. “I… sometimes, I hear this voice that isn’t me, it tells me things that really fuck me up, I see things that aren’t really there, I’m convinced I’m being watched all the goddamned time, and I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, why I’m built like this. I get so caught up in my fucking delusions that they feel real to me, and then I feel like a fucking psycho when I realize that none of it was real. I fucking hate feeling like this, and I can’t do anything about it!”

 

Bee was quiet for a bit, long enough for Pico to begin to panic. He seemed to sense the ginger’s paranoia and chuckled, squeezing Pico’s hand again.

 

“I’m just gathering my thoughts, don’t worry.” After another beat of silence, he continued. “I know that being detached from reality is a symptom of a lot of different things, PTSD, schizophrenia, personality disorders. I’m not a licensed professional, so I can’t say which one you’ve got, but… yeah, there’s definitely something going on there.”

 

Pico didn’t respond. He frowned and swallowed against the lump in his throat that threatened tears. 

 

“But,” Bee continued, shifting to his side to look over at Pico. “It doesn’t make you crazy. You’re just… a little fucked up.”

 

“Thanks.” Pico deadpanned.

 

Bee giggled. “It’s okay to be fucked up. Whatever happened to you wasn’t your fault, and it isn’t fair that you have to bear the weight of it.”

 

Pico was losing the battle fast. He’d never heard those words before. 

 

“Besides, you’re not the only one in the “fucked up brain” club. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression before I ran away. I’m sure there’s some extra shit in there too, especially after the past few years.” He poked Pico with his finger and grinned. “We’re both fucked up. And that’s okay.”

 

Pico had to turn away from him. This was… way too much at once. He was flooded with all kinds of emotions he hadn’t ever felt before.

 

“Y’know I’m not gonna make fun of you for crying, right?”

 

Pico chuckled and sat up. “Jump off the nearest fucking bridge.”

 

“You’d miss me too much,” Bee responded with a sly smirk. 

 

Pico flipped him off and sighed. “We should really get a therapist, huh?”

 

“Probably, that’d be smart. Although, it’s pretty fucking obvious both of us suck at taking care of ourselves.”

 

Pico raised an eyebrow at Bee as he sat up as well. “What do you do wrong?”

 

“God, fucking everything . I don’t sleep well, I barely eat, when I’m having a bad day, I’ll just ignore everything and either overwork myself or sleep the entire day away. I’m fucking stupid , Pico.”

 

“You’re not stupid.” The reply came out almost involuntary. Pico cleared his throat and awkwardly tried again. “I mean, it’s just the depression, it ain’t your fault.”

 

“Wow, I wish you’d take your own advice,” Bee deadpanned with a blank stare.

 

“Go fuck yourself.”

 

Bee giggled, making Pico crack a small smile. “Seriously, though. You aren’t alone in this, and I’m never going to judge you for your freakouts. I know you can’t help them, so stop being such a pussy and let me be there for you.” 

 

He nudged Pico’s side, and although he had a smartass grin on his face, Bee’s eyes showed nothing but sincerity. Pico had to turn away again as his face grew hot. He wasn’t used to the idea of someone actually caring about him, and he hated how happy it made him feel. 

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Anytime. Thank you for opening up to me. I know how to help you out a little better now.”

 

“...Sure, yeah, you’re welcome.”

 

Bee sighed and tucked his knees to his chest. “So… Do you wanna try talking about it again?”

 

Pico took a few moments to gauge himself before shaking his head. “I don’t think I can right now.”

 

“That’s okay, we have plenty of time. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

 

Stay with me, please.

 

This time, Pico managed to keep his inner thoughts to himself. “No, I’m alright. Just exhausted.”

 

“Do you wanna call it a night?”

 

“I don’t think I can sleep right now.”

 

“You wanna keep playing games?” Bee asked, pointing to the TV and the still-paused games with his thumb.

 

Pico bit the inside of his cheek and held up a hand, showing Bee the tremors that ran through it. “Is it okay if I just watch you for a bit?”

 

“Yeah, dude. I wouldn’t mind showing you what a real gamer looks like.” Bee’s cocky grin dropped into a look of disgust. “Ugh, that was so fucking cringy.”

 

“Sure was,” Pico chuckled as he hoisted himself back onto the couch, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around himself. 

 

Bee followed his lead and sat next to him, switching over to single-player. The two sat in silence, the only sounds being gunfire coming from the television and distant thunder booming from outside. Pico took his time to reflect, both incredibly embarrassed and incredibly relieved that Bee still accepted him. Even if it never evolved beyond a great friendship, Pico was happy just to have Bee in his life at all. Despite the semi-terminal illness that had developed in his lungs, Pico’s life had been much better with Bee around, and he was grateful for that. 

 

Pico smiled to himself and sunk down more into the blanket, watching Bee clear out the area they had been struggling with like it was nothing to him. What happened in the past truly did fuck him up, maybe even beyond repair, but he could at least learn to enjoy the present moment. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had hope for the future, that maybe things wouldn’t be bad forever. 

 

“Oh! By the way,” Bee suddenly exclaimed, startling the shit out of Pico. “I think I know what I wanna do for your birthday!”

 

Pico groaned. “You don’t have to do anything , it’s just another day.”

 

“No, no, trust me, it’ll be fun!”

 

Pico sighed wearily, knowing that Bee wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Alright, whatever, I’m holding you to that.”

 

“Bet, I guarantee it’ll be the best fucking day ever!”

 

“You better back that up then.”

 

“You’ll see,” Bee responded, flashing a smile over to the ginger beside him.

Notes:

i'm sorry if there's typos, it is currently 5am and i'm so sleepy. i'll fix em later :)

fellas who read the first version of this fic...yall remember what's coming? yeahhhh

Chapter 16: Happy Birthday

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// angst, talks of death, mention of past SA, gun violence, gore

On the morning of April 30th, Pico barely had a moment to wake up before he heard a rapid knocking on his bedroom door. Behind it, Bee stared at him with shining eyes and a wide smile, excitement visibly bubbling over within him. Pico simply smiled in fondness as his roommate bounced on his heels.

 

“Happy birthday!”

 

“Thanks, Bee,” Pico replied, chuckling. “So, what’re we doing today that’s so special?”

 

Bee shook his head. “Not yet, it’s still a surprise. I wanna leave by, like, noon, so make sure you’re ready!”

 

Bee sprinted off back into the living room, leaving Pico confused. He took a quick glance behind him to the clock on his bedside table, showing that he still had around three hours to get ready. He sighed to himself and closed the door, deciding to spend a least an hour of his free time trying to get more sleep.

 

~~~~~

 

“I know this city better than you, I’m gonna figure out where we’re going.”

 

“Then close your fucking eyes or something!”

 

At Pico’s deadpan stare, Bee huffed and slapped a hand over the ginger’s eyes. Pico flinched at the contact and slapped Bee’s hand away.

 

“Get your hand off of me, I won’t look.” Pico kept his word as the bus started heading off, leaning back into the seat. Even with his eyes closed, he could practically feel Bee bouncing in his seat. “Why’re you so hyper anyways? It’s not that big of a deal.”

 

“It absolutely is, stop saying it isn’t! You’re my best friend, and since your life fucking sucks , I wanna make sure today of all days goes well! Plus, I’ve been planning this for weeks, let me have my fun.”

 

Pico scoffed, but he couldn’t help the fluttering feeling in his chest. 

 

“You know that I would’ve been perfectly fine just hanging out at home all day.”

 

Bee punched his thigh. “You are not spending your special day cooped up in the apartment. We’re trying to work through our depression, remember?”

 

“I never said I was depressed?”

 

“Oh please, you’re worse than me some days. I get wasting away in bed, but you push it a little far.”

 

“Maybe I’m just lazy,” Pico responded with a grin.

 

That earned him another punch and an annoyed sigh. “Laziness so bad that all you can do is sleep, work, and eat?”

 

“And get high and play video games. And I don’t really sleep or eat,” Pico pointed out.

 

“I will sock you across the jaw if you keep talking, I swear to God.”

 

Pico chuckled quietly to himself. He had to admit, at the beginning of the day, he’d had the same mentality about his birthday that he always had. He hated being reminded that he was still alive, still aging while so many others couldn’t. Even though the survivor’s guilt he’d been shouldering hadn’t completely left the back of his mind, he could at least try to enjoy the day, if only to make Bee happy.

 

“This is our stop, keep your eyes closed.”

 

Pico nodded as the bus rolled to a stop and let Bee lead him out into the street. He couldn’t help but to feel a little ridiculous, his paranoia convincing him that everyone was watching him get pulled around from his hoodie sleeve. He pushed it down and kept quiet, letting Bee drag him for what felt like hours before they finally stopped.

 

“Okay, you ready?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Open.”

 

It took a second for his eyes to adjust, the bright sunny day a harsh contrast, but when he did, Pico saw that they were standing on a street he didn’t recognize in front of what appeared to be an arcade. Neon signs and retro game posters littered the outside walls of the building, and although he couldn’t see through the tinted windows, he assumed the inside was just as flashy. He turned to Bee, confused.

 

“Where the hell are we?”

 

“Westside,” Bee responded giddily. He dug around in the black book bag he had brought along, pulling out a plastic bag full of coins. “I’ve been saving up all my quarters for months for this!”

 

Pico frowned, a twinge of guilt settling in his stomach. “Shit, dude, you didn’t have to-”

 

“Shut up,” Bee interrupted with a hard stare. “You’re not paying for anything on your own birthday, understand me? You can just cover the groceries for the next couple months.”

 

Pico still felt uneasy, but he knew better than to argue with Bee when the guy had his mind made up. “Alright… fine. Thank you.”

 

“No problem. Now!” Bee held out his hand, his face beaming with a wide smile. “Let’s get this party fucking started!”

 

Pico hesitated, but eventually reached out and took Bee’s hand, letting him drag them into the arcade. The inside was even better than he could’ve ever imagined. It really had that old-school, classic look. Fluorescent lighting, the funky carpet pattern, rows upon rows of arcade machines lined up, it even had an air hockey table! Pico felt mildly overwhelmed, but he couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his face.

 

“So, I’ve got about forty bucks worth of quarters in here, so we can play whatever you want.”

 

Pico looked around before his eyes landed on a machine he recognized as a fighting game he used to play a lot in his childhood. He walked over to it, laughing in disbelief.

 

“Holy shit, I haven’t thought about this in ages .”

 

Bee gave it a once over before opening his baggie and popping a quarter into the machine. He took his spot as player 2 and gave Pico a smug grin. “Now, just because it’s your birthday doesn’t mean that I’ll go easy on you.”

 

Pico shot him a grin back. Bee had no idea what he was getting himself into. 

 

In just a few short minutes, Bee’s cocky attitude was replaced with shock as he watched his character lose all their lives. “What the fuck, how’re you so good at this?!”

 

Pico laughed quietly, leaning against the machine. “You might have me beat in the newer console games, but this?” He patted the machine and locked eyes with Bee, a devious smirk spreading across his face. “This is my domain, pretty boy. You’re fucked .”

 

~~~~~

 

Bee groaned in frustration as the bell sounded out his defeat. He slumped over the air hockey table and glanced up at Pico with a scorned expression. “This isn’t fair and you know it!”

 

“How so?” Pico teased with a grin, nonchalantly leaning over the table. 

 

“Your reflexes are better, it’s part of your job!”

 

“What a shame ,” Pico drawled, chuckling to himself. 

 

He leaned off the table to stretch out his arms and back, glancing over to the windows. They had been playing games for a few hours now, the burnt orange skies indicating that it’d be dark soon. 

 

Pico hummed. “It’s getting late, you wanna head out soon?”

 

“Shit, I didn’t even realize it was dark.” Bee hoisted himself off the table and adjusted his book bag, catching up with Pico to walk out. “Do you mind if we stop somewhere to eat? I haven’t eaten since, like, ten.”

 

“Sure, what do you have in mind?”

 

“Probably just pick something up at that sandwich shop near our place, unless you had something else in mind? It is your birthday, after all.”

 

Pico shook his head. “I’m good with sandwiches. As long as we don’t have to sit in, I’m fine with pretty much anything.”

 

“Ah, yes, the social anxiety,” Bee teased as they left the arcade and began heading towards the bus stop.

 

Pico shot him an annoyed look, but he didn’t say anything. Bee wasn’t exactly wrong .

 

The bus was way too crowded and made Pico’s skin crawl, but luckily, Bee was there to distract him, insisting that he totally could’ve beat Pico and how he definitely let him win just because it was his birthday. Pico snickered at him, flashing him a knowing grin as they reached their stop and began heading towards the sandwich shop. 

 

“You’re an even bigger sore loser than me, Bee.”

 

“Am not! You wish you could lose with the dignity I’ve got!”

 

“You’re really selling your case here, man.”

 

“Go fuck yourself, when we go back, I demand a rematch!”

 

“Yeah? At which game that I absolutely destroyed you at?”

 

Bee huffed and crossed his arms, giving Pico a good belly laugh. 

 

The sun was almost completely down now, its shadow giving the empty streets an unsettling feel. Pico looked around, his paranoia setting him on high alert. He hated being outside at night, especially in his neighbourhood. He didn’t exactly live in the safest area, it was necessary for his job that he’d live somewhere where the police wouldn’t patrol. The downside to that was the crime that ran rampant in these parts.

 

“You alright?”

 

Pico snapped out of his thoughts to turn to Bee, who looked at him with worry etched all over his face. “Yeah, what’d you say?”

 

Bee raised an unconvinced eyebrow. “I asked how you got so good at arcade games.”

 

“Oh. Me and Darnell used to play a lot after school.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, neither of us really wanted to go home, so we’d spend hours at the arcade in my hometown playing against each other.” Pico paused to laugh quietly. “We’d place bets, loser pays up. That fucker stills owes me a lot of money.”

 

His hand knocked against Bee’s as they were walking, Bee taking it without any hesitation. 

 

“I bet he’s laughing it up in the afterlife, huh?”

 

“He would be. You two are a lot alike, actually.”

 

Bee cocked his head. “What do you mean by that?”

 

“The two of you are both lunatics hellbent on both mocking me and trying to cheer me up.”

 

“Hey! Do you just think of me as some kind of bully?”

 

Pico shot him a grin and shrugged with his free arm. “I wouldn’t be wrong if I said yes.”

 

Bee let go of Pico’s hand temporarily to slug him on the shoulder with a scowl. “You’re so fucking mean to me.”

 

“I’m just saying you two would be a power duo against me!”

 

“I would never ,” Bee giggled. After a beat, his tone got quiet and he gave Pico’s hand a squeeze. “Do you miss him?”

 

A cold pit settled into Pico’s stomach. “Of course I do, what kind of fucking question is that?” he responded in a small voice. “I miss both of them more than anything.”

 

Bee didn’t need to ask who the other person was, Pico was pretty sure he already knew. “Sorry, I don’t wanna bring up sad shit on your birthday.”

 

“It’s alright.” Pico cleared his throat of emotion. Grief wasn’t something he ever really learned how to get over. “I’m sure they’re waiting for me, raising hell. Literally.”

 

“I bet,” Bee laughed. “Just, uh, wait a few years before you join them, okay?”

 

At first, Pico wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t know if he was still dying, the fate of his mortality still unanswered. 

 

“I don’t plan on dying soon.”

 

“Good.” 

 

Then, something new happened. Normally, when the two of them would hold hands, it was nothing more than a loose clasp. However, as Bee cleared his throat and lowered his voice, he shifted his hand and interlocked his fingers with Pico’s. It was a strange and terrifyingly new sensation to Pico, but not one the ginger hated. His face heated up regardless, his chest tightened all the same. 

 

“I’m really glad you’re still here, Pico. I’m glad I get to be here with you.”

 

Pico almost folded completely, his resolve shattered. He wanted to tell Bee how much he loved him, how happy he made him, how he wanted to hold him and never let him go. He almost spilled his guts, right then and there…

 

Until he heard it. A footstep.

 

Pico stopped walking, whipping around to survey the area. He didn’t see anyone else, but if anything, that just heightened his paranoia. The streets were completely empty, there shouldn’t be any other footsteps but their own. 

 

Bee was yanked backwards as his hand was still connected to Pico’s. “Fuck, Pico! What’s your fucking-?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

They both stood silent and listened, hearing nothing but the normal sounds of the city. Bee leaned into Pico, whispering, “What am I listening for?”

 

Pico clicked his piercing. “I thought I heard someone walking behind us.”

 

“...I didn’t hear anything.”

 

“Bee, I swear I heard something!”

 

“Hey,” Bee started, tugging on Pico’s hand to get him to look at him. “I didn’t hear anything, so it’s probably nothing, right? We’re alone right now.”

 

Pico narrowed his eyes and yanked his hand away, stuffing it in his hoodie pocket. “Look, I know I’m crazy or whatever, but I promise you that I heard footsteps.”

 

“You’re not crazy,” Bee insisted. “I believe you heard something, I’m not calling you a liar. I’m just telling you to think logically about it. We’re the only people out on this street, it’s just you and me. It’s probably more likely that your brain is just being weird, right?”

 

Pico bit the inside of his cheek. He was certain he heard something, but the notion that the footsteps were nothing more than another auditory hallucination wasn’t too far out of left field. If Bee didn’t hear anything, and if there was nobody else outside, he had to trust Bee’s judgement.

 

He exhaled a heavy sigh. “Right. Sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize, that’s what I’m here for.”

 

Bee gave him a small smile and they continued walking, each step loosening Pico’s tense muscles. He still had some lingering paranoia, but after a good few minutes of silence, he began to doubt himself. Maybe it really was nothing. 

 

“Hm, hey, do you have any stories about Darnell? Something to pass the time while we’re walking?”

 

Pico thought for a moment before laughing to himself. “One time, way back in middle school, he had the fattest fucking crush on a girl in the grade above us. You should’ve seen the way he ogled over her. He kept being a pussy about talking to her, so I graciously offered to talk to her for him, but he got super pissed at me and said I-”

 

Pico was cut off by a shrill scream. He whipped his head around, stomach dropping at the sight of Bee being grappled by an unknown man with shaggy blonde hair, an arm over his throat and a gun pointed to his temple. Pico’s mind switched gears into panic.

 

“Bee-!”

 

He barely had time to process what was happening before he was knocked to the ground with a hard kick to the back of his knee, another assailant overtaking him and pinning him to the ground. The attacker planted his knee on the back of Pico’s neck, his hands holding down the ginger’s arms. Pico’s breath quickened, adrenaline flooding his senses as he realized he was immobile. He pathetically watched as two more men stepped out from a nearby alleyway, one with piercing blue eyes and one with a shaved head, and flank either side of the man holding Bee. The kid looked terrified , more than Pico had ever seen before.

 

“Well, well, well, look who we found!” The man grappling Bee cheered.

 

“Let me go, you fucking bitch!” Bee screamed, flailing against the man, only earning him a tighter squeeze on his throat. 

 

The blonde clicked his tongue, mocking him. “That’s no way to treat old friends, Keithy-boy!”

 

“Fuck you!” 

 

The man pinning Pico down snickered. “So feisty!”

 

Pico’s thoughts swirled, confusion tainting every sense of rationality. “Who the fuck are these guys?”

 

The guy above him swiftly punched him, Pico groaning in pain as a metallic taste filled his mouth. “Nobody was talking to you.”

 

Bee glared at one of the men not holding them down, the one with blue eyes. “What do you want from me?”

 

“We just wanted to catch up, is that so bad?” the attacker holding him responded, tucking the gun under Bee’s chin. “It’s been almost two years since you ghosted us, you know. We’ve got a lot to chat about.”

 

Bee snarled against the gun. “I’m done with that shit, I told you that!”

 

The one with blue eyes barked out a harsh laugh and strided over to look Bee in the eye. “You can’t just decide that you’re done, you knew that. You remember the rules, right? Once an X, always an X.”

 

“What the fuck…?” Pico mumbled aloud, the dots connecting in his mind.

 

The man in front of Bee turned his attention to Pico, walking over and crouching. He gripped a fistful of Pico’s hair and craned his neck up to look at him, a sick grin on his face. “And who might you be, firecracker? Friend of Keith’s?” He tilted his head, curiosity clear on his face. “You look familiar, what’s your name?”

 

“¡Chinga tu madre!” Pico growled, gathering the blood in his mouth to spit it on the man’s cheek. [1]

 

The man, for his part, didn’t react the way Pico predicted. He calmly wiped the blood off with his sleeve, giving Pico a bored look before slamming his face back down on the asphalt.

 

Pico felt a nauseating pop on impact as pain bloomed across his face, likely from his nose. He gasped for oxygen, his vision beginning to go blurry.

 

“Pico!” he heard Bee scream. “Leave him the fuck alone, he has nothing to do with this!” 

 

“Pico?” one of the men questioned, though he couldn’t tell which one. “You’re one of the S’s dogs!”

 

“No shit?” the guy holding down Pico responded.

 

“Yeah, this little bastard has taken out a lot of our good friends.” 

 

Pico growled and pushed past his pain to look back up at the trio. “How the fuck do you know me?”

 

“Word travels fast,” Baldie replied with a grin. “Everyone at HQ knows to watch out for you. You’ve caused us a lot of damage, you know that? Taking out man after man, you’re lucky you’re still alive, lucky we haven’t put a bullet in your fucking skull yet.”

 

Blue-Eyes laughed to himself. “Ah, that’s why you look so familiar. Surprised you didn’t recognize me.” He walked back to the other men and shrugged. “Though, with your reputation, I’m sure it can be hard to keep track.”

 

Pico’s brows furrowed in confusion, matching those of the other men. “The fuck are you talking about, I’ve never seen you before.”

 

Instead of answering him, the guy laughed again and turned to the other guys. “Did you guys know that his loyalty ain’t watertight? He’s willing to do anything for a hit of smack, even betray his own people and sleep with the enemy.” He threw a lecherous look back to Pico. “Ain’t that right, whore ?”

 

Pico thought he was going to throw up. He knew what the man was talking about. He recognized his eyes. “Oh, God…” he whispered to himself, glancing over to Bee.

 

His roommate stared at him with confusion, but his attention was quickly shifted as Blondie let out a boisterous laugh. “ This is what you’ve been doing all this time? Fraternizing with the enemy? Bad move, Keithy-boy. You’re so fucking lucky the orders are to bring you back alive. Now, you get to watch your little boytoy get his brains splattered all over the fucking sidewalk before we bring you back.”

 

Blondie moved the gun from Bee’s chin to aim it at Pico.

 

That was the opportunity Bee needed.

 

Faster than any of them expected, Bee reached down to his pocket and whipped out his switchblade, first stabbing it into Blondie’s thigh, then swinging it upwards into his neck. The man let him go to slow the bleeding, but Bee didn’t give him the chance. With pure fury, he whipped around to stab Blondie square in the chest, kicking the man off the blade with a sickening suction sound. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

 

There was a shift above Pico, then a loud BANG!

 

Bee cried out, dropping the knife, the echo of the metal reverberating down the alleyway. Pico saw a few drops of blood fall to the ground quickly get replaced by a steady stream as Bee held his hand and swayed on his feet. The thug restraining his cocked his gun, and although Pico couldn’t see him, he knew that he was aiming for Bee. 

 

His mind went blank, adrenaline and rage overshadowing any lingering fear. With one of his arms now being free, he used all of his strength and momentum to lift his leg up and roll the two of them over. He heard another shot be fired, but he just had to hope that he managed to shift the man’s aim enough to miss Bee. He flipped their positions, straddling the thug and delivering a couple blows to the man’s face. The guy was taken aback for only a few seconds, gathering himself and aiming the gun straight to Pico’s chest. The ginger grabbed the barrel and steered it away a few inches, enough to miss his vital organs, but was unable to avoid the searing pain that ripped through his hand and side as he was shot. He growled low in his throat and lifted his leg up, slamming it down on the man’s wrist. He heard a crunch as the man cried out and dropped the gun. Pico retrieved his own gun from his waistband, cocking it and leaning back to avoid the ricochet as he brought it up to the man’s forehead and pulled the trigger.

 

The gunshots attracted the attention of the two remaining attackers, who apparently had been busy trying to subdue Bee. He was putting up a hell of a fight, despite being severely injured. Baldie was holding an arm behind his back while Blue-Eyes was fighting off Bee’s swings. They all three turned to Pico, who fired at Baldie, dropping him and giving Bee free use of his other arm. Bee used the newfound freedom to sucker punch Blue-Eyes in the side of his head, kicking him in the nuts as he was disoriented and dropping him to the ground.

 

Pico ignored the burning pain in his side as he jumped up and ran over to Bee’s side, who’s adrenaline rush was clearly waning as the younger man slowly sank to his knees with ragged breaths. 

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Bee held himself, his shirt nearly completely soaked with blood. He shook his head and raised his hand.

 

Now, Pico wasn’t a pussy when it came to gore. He was an assassin for fuck’s sake, but what he saw… It nearly made him faint. Bee’s entire hand was red-soaked in blood, but what got Pico’s attention was his finger. 

 

Or rather… his lack of.

 

Bee’s middle finger on his left hand had been shot off right before the second knuckle, the bone jagged and exposed. Pico winced, shedding off his hoodie and shoving it into Bee’s hands, gesturing for him to wrap it tightly around the wound. 

 

Bee wasn’t looking good, becoming paler by the second, his breaths raspy. 

 

“You’re gonna be alright, stay awake for me, alright Bee?” Pico demanded, unable to rid the panic from his tone.

 

Behind him, he heard a breathless snicker. The last alive thug, Blue-Eyes, rolled over to his back, a grin spreading across his face.

 

“You can kill us, but you know we’ll just keep coming for you. We know who you’re running with now. You’re fucked!”

 

Pico walked over to the man, firmly silencing him with his foot to his throat. He stared down at the assailant in rage, for more than one reason. “¡Cállate!” he sneered, putting more and more pressure onto his windpipe. He cocked his gun again, aiming it down. The man’s eyes pierced through Pico, a sick feeling spreading in his gut. Pico wanted to make him suffer for what he did, but now wasn’t the time. He needed to get his emotions in check and care for Bee before he got thrown into a flashback or panic attack or whatever could render him useless. “Rezo para que Dios se apiade de ti, porque yo no lo haré.” [2]

 

He pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight to the man’s brain. Then, just because he could, he pulled it again.

 

Pico holstered his gun, turning his attention back to Bee and dropping to his knees beside the wounded man. Bee looked up to him with a pained expression.

 

“This isn’t how I wanted your birthday to go…” he whispered.

 

“Dude, shut the fuck up, we need to get you to a hospital. Can you stand?”

 

Bee tensed and shook his head, wobbling to his feet. “I-I’m not going to the hospital, just… just get me home.”

 

Pico stared at him like he was insane, which wouldn’t be surprising considering the amount of blood he’d lost. “What? Bee, you’re going into shock, you need actual medical help!”

 

Bee shook his head, swaying on his feet. “I’ll be alright, c’mon, it’s only a block away.”

 

“Bee-”

 

“Just fucking trust me for once!” Bee snapped. “I’m on limited time, just get me to the fucking house!”

 

Pico didn’t know what to do. He knew that Bee should go to a hospital, but even if he managed to convince his roommate of that, would it be too late to get help? Would he even have time to wait for an ambulance? Not to mention that Pico had no way of explaining what happened, he’d end up in prison. He wouldn’t mind that as long as Bee was okay, but what if Bee had died anyway?

 

Resigned, Pico sighed to himself and stood up, letting a heavy weight settle in his chest as he slung Bee’s arm over his shoulder and began the walk home. Luckily, the streets remained empty as they limped down the block to their apartment complex. Pico kept glancing over to Bee, checking to make sure the man was still alive. His breaths grew more harsh with every step, but he was managing to hold his own. As they walked up to the door of their complex, Pico heard Bee whine quietly, likely preparing for the climb.

 

“Hang on, I got you,” Pico muttered as he bent down and scooped Bee up into a bridal carry. He nudged the door open with his foot and began his ascent of the stairs, suppressing groans from the pain in his side with every step.

 

“You don’t have to carry me…” Bee mumbled into Pico’s chest.

 

“Shut up, you shouldn’t be talking, you need to save your energy.”

 

Bee narrowed his eyes, but stayed quiet. He sighed and leaned into Pico more, closing his eyes.

 

Pico lightly smacked the side of his face. “Don’t go to sleep.”

 

“I’m not, relax.”

 

Pico chewed on the inside of his cheek as he made it to their apartment. He opened the door with anxiety spiking through his entire being. He knew deep down that he needed to accept Bee’s death, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t lose another person in his life.

 

Not without saying what he needed to. 

 

He gently laid Bee down on the couch and kneeled on the floor beside it. Bee took a deep breath as he removed the hoodie, the fabric wet and heavy with blood. He sucked in a harsh breath as his crimson-painted hand was exposed to the open air, throwing the hoodie aside. 

 

“Bee…” Pico croaked out, his throat closing with emotion. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of Bee of all people, but he felt he wouldn’t get the choice anyway. “I… I-I just want you to know that I-”

 

Bee shushed him harshly and reached down, grabbing the bottom of his blood soaked shirt and yanking it up over his head, leaving him in only his binder. Pico stopped in his tracks, his face heating up at the realization that he was seeing Bee “shirtless” for the first time.

 

Bee tried to reach back behind him, but winced in pain before he got too far. He sighed and looked down at Pico. “Can you unzip the back of this for me?”

 

“Uhh…” Pico gracefully responded.

 

Bee rolled his eyes. “Please? I can’t reach and we’re running out of time.”

 

Pico took a shaky breath and got up on the couch. Bee turned to give him better access to his back, showing two parallel zippers along the back of his binder. Pico didn’t fully understand what binding entailed, but the design of it was weird to him. The zippers didn’t seem to aid in removing at all, since they didn’t reach either the top nor the bottom. Regardless, Pico unzipped them and sat back as Bee turned around to face him again.

 

“Thanks. You, uh, might want to stand back a bit. Also close your eyes, it’s about to get really bright.”

 

Pico cocked his head. “Huh?”

 

Bee closed his eyes with a small smile. “Just… don’t freak out okay?” Then, he chuckled quietly to himself. “Be not afraid.”

 

And suddenly, Pico couldn’t see.

 

The room filled with a blinding white light, brighter than anything Pico had ever seen before. He shielded his eyes and heard Bee cry out as a faint ripping sound reverberated against the living room walls. 

 

When the light faded, and Pico could open his eyes again, his roommate was no longer sitting in front of him. Instead, it was an ethereal creature with massive wings, four eyes, and a thin halo. It radiated light and pureness and comfort effortlessly. 

 

Pico gasped involuntarily.

 

He’d heard the stories, of course. They were as common in this world as demons. Both hid their true identities from mortals out of fear of persecution and judgement. You could go your whole life never knowing you’ve sat next to them on the bus, taken their order at a restaurant, or whatever the case may be. They only unmask their disguises amongst those like them, or rarer, extremely trusted companions.

 

Pico’s roommate was one of them. An angel.

 

Bee opened his many eyes, two of them blue and two of them gold, taking a second to blink and adjust. He looked down at his wounded finger with a sigh and covered it with his other hand. The same white light appeared from it, albeit much dimmer than before. When he pulled his hand back, the wound was now closed, the broken and jagged skin covered by a clean cut of skin, healing in a way as though it had been surgically removed. 

 

“I can’t ever grow it back, and it still hurts like hell, but at least I’m not dying anymore.” Bee’s voice had a metallic tone to it, as though he had his own holy echo. 

 

He turned to Pico, who stared at him with wide eyes. The ginger couldn’t find any words in him, shell-shocked into silence. He just stared back into Bee’s multiple eyes, shaking slightly.

 

Bee frowned. “Are you afraid of me now?”

 

“Eres hermoso…” [3]

 

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Pico wasn’t lying. True, he’d always been attracted to Bee but this…? This was breathtaking .

 

Bee’s eyes widened and he giggled quietly. “Thanks, man.”

 

Pico froze in horror. “¿P…Puedes entenderme?” [4]

 

“Yeah, in this form I can understand every human language.” 

 

Pico swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, not trusting himself to speak anymore. 

 

Bee sighed, leaning back against the couch. “I’m… sure you have a lot of questions. I’m so sorry I’ve kept this from you, but you have to understand why I did.”

 

Pico cleared his throat, trying to find his voice again. It was hard to do anything other than focus on the fact that he had a fucking angel sitting on his couch beside him. “I do,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I guess I’m not the only one with secrets, huh?”

 

Bee laughed quietly, looking back at Pico with a soft smile. “I may be a hypocrite. I’ll tell you everything, I’d just… like to take a shower and wash the blood off of me first.” He shyly pointed to Pico’s side. “Do, uh, do you want me to heal that?”

 

Pico was confused before he remembered oh yeah, I got fucking shot . He jumped up from the couch, ignoring the burning in his side and face as he shook his head. “N-No, I got it.”

He wasn’t sure he could handle the thought of Bee touching him right now.

 

Bee gave him a stern look, but Pico didn’t give him the chance to bitch him out as he dashed down the hallway and into the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and slid down it, hyperventilating as he tried to process the last hour of his life. This was… it was all way too much to handle. He grabbed a fistful of his hair and tried to ground himself, tried to breathe, tried to convince himself it was all a nightmare or a hallucination. 

 

After a while, he managed to calm down enough to stand again. He numbly walked over to the medicine cabinet and gave himself a once over. He had thick lines of blood drying on his philtrum, and with immense hesitation, brought a hand up to check if his nose was broken. He barely placed any pressure on it before pain bloomed across his sinuses, confirming his worries. He sighed to himself, there wasn’t much that could be done about that. 

 

He stared at his reflection, hollow and blood-speckled. There were bits of grey matter stuck in his hair and eyebrows. His eyebags were darker, more sunken. He looked like a corpse.

 

He opened the cabinet, both to not have to look at himself anymore and to gather what he needed to close up his wound. He had a lot of things to think about, a lot of questions to ask, but first, he needed to take care of himself. He popped a painkiller and stripped his shirt, inspecting the gash in his side. As he had hoped, the bullet missed the important bits, but it was still a fairly deep wound. He retrieved his medical thread and a needle, sat on the toilet seat, and got to work sewing himself shut.

Notes:

hello.... how we feeling....

Spanish Translations:

[1] Go fuck yourself!
[2] Shut up! I pray God takes mercy on you, because I won't.
[3] You're beautiful...
[4] You can understand me?

Chapter 17: I Can't Handle Change

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// angst, graphic violence, gore, religious themes, mentions of past drug abuse, suicidal tendencies, panic attacks

Pico stared out of the living room window as he took a drag from his cigarette. Normally, he hated smoking indoors, not wanting the smell lingering around. Also, it was against his lease, but he never paid attention to those kinds of rules anyway.

 

None of that mattered to him right now.

 

He still wasn’t entirely sure that any of this was real . Maybe he was dreaming, maybe he got hit by a car and this was all a dying hallucination, fuck, maybe this was all a normal hallucination. He bit the inside of his cheek again and ran a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower he took. 

 

What the fuck is going on?!

 

He jumped slightly as the bathroom door swung open. Bee, still in angel form, walked out, hair up in a towel and in fresh pants, though he still wore his binder. He took one look at the state of Pico and sighed, sitting down next to him on the couch. 

 

“Okay… I’m ready to talk now. What do you want to know?”

 

Pico scoffed at the absurdity. “ Everything ? I mean, fuck, I don’t… Please, just- just go from the start, make it make sense.”

 

Bee sighed and tucked his knees to his chest. “Well, I’m an angel. Or, half-angel, on my mother’s side. Look, I-I’m sorry everything got so fucked up today. I didn’t mean to ruin your birthday.”

 

Pico groaned and ashed out his cigarette. “ I don’t care about my fucking birthday , man, I care about those people who tried to kill us and- and-” He gestured vaguely towards Bee. “Whatever the hell this is!”

 

“Well, I don’t know what else to tell you about the angel part. That part is pretty clear. And those people…” He sighed as he trailed off and fidgeted in his seat, stealing a nervous glance over to Pico. “I’ve been a wanted man for a long time, Pico. I’ve been running, I never thought they’d-”

 

“You’re a fucking X , Bee, how long were you planning on hiding that from me?!”

 

“ Former X. I left the gang a little before we met.” He paused, swallowing thickly. “That’s why they want me dead. I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving, I broke the code. You know how that goes.”

 

Pico did, in fact, know the rules. He got told the same thing when he first got hired. Once you’re in, you’re in. He himself has had to take care of a couple of AWOL members.

 

He sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Is that why you got so pissy when you found out I’m an S?”

 

“I thought you weren’t an S, you just work for them.”

 

“Dude, now is not the fucking time.”

 

Bee cringed into himself, guilt plastered all over his face. “I’m sorry, Pico. I really am.”

 

Pico clicked his piercing, thinking over everything. “I’m not mad at you, Bee, I’m… I’m fucking terrified .”

 

“You? Scared? I thought I’d never live to see the day.” At Pico’s intense glare, Bee winced. “Sorry, I cope using humour.”

 

“I can tell,” Pico deadpanned. “Why didn’t you fucking talk to me? You knew I’d understand!”

 

Bee gave Pico an unimpressed glare, one that made the ginger groan. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite, you know that?”

 

“I understand gang shit, you don’t understand half the shit I go through!”

 

“I don’t?!” Bee’s face contorted into anger. “I don’t understand what it’s like to be scared? What it’s like to be abandoned? What it’s like to hide yourself? Yeah, sure, maybe I don’t know how it feels to be you exactly, but you don’t know me either! You don’t know what it’s like to be an angel in disguise, you don’t know what it’s like to have your entire life planned out for you and not be able to get a say in it! None of that is the fucking point, the point is to be there for each other regardless!”

 

Pico looked away to stare down at the floor. Bee wasn’t entirely wrong, in fact, he had a solid point. 

 

Bee sighed. “We’re going off topic. Do you wanna start over?”

 

“...sure.”

 

Bee held out his hand, ignoring Pico’s confused stare. “I’m Bee Farrar, I’m currently on the run from my former gang, I’m a half-angel, and I ran away from home at 16 because my parents were somehow both neglectful and controlling and they wanted to make me into their image. Nice to meet you.”

 

Despite himself, Pico snorted and shook Bee’s hand. “I’m Pico Alvarado, I’m a former heroin addict, I just so happen to work for your former gang, and I’m so mentally fucked up from childhood trauma that I’m not fully convinced that I’m a real person most of the time. Nice to fucking meet you.”

 

The two shared a quiet laugh, a nice break in the tension that had been forming between them. Pico felt his muscles relax a little, the ridiculousness of everything hitting him. 

 

“This is so fucking stupid.”

 

“Yeahh,” Bee giggled. “It kinda is.”

 

Pico attempted to rub his face, forgetting temporarily that his nose was broken. He sucked in a breath, groaning. When he opened his eyes, Bee was no more than a foot away from him.

 

“Christ, the fuck are you doing?!”

 

“Let me heal your nose.”

 

“...what?”

 

Bee rolled his eyes. “Do you really want to sit and wait a couple months for it to heal on its own?”

 

Pico didn’t know what to say, but Bee didn’t really wait for him to answer anyway. Gently, but firmly, he placed his fingers on the bridge of Pico’s nose.

 

“You’re gonna wanna close your eyes for this.”

 

Pico did so, if anything, not having to look Bee in the eyes right now was a blessing. Behind his eyelids, he saw that same bright light, and suddenly all of the pain he’d been feeling disappeared as a warm feeling seeped into his veins. This… this was…

 

Bee moved away, letting Pico open his eyes again. “There! Even got rid of the bruise, now you don’t look like someone socked you in both your eyes.”

 

Pico gently touched his nose. There wasn’t any pain, but that wasn’t what he was focused on. The gears turned in his head as vague memories resurfaced, ones he thought were a dying dream.

 

“You… healed me.”

 

Bee cocked his head, confused. “Uh, yeah? Told you that I’m just cool like that.”

 

“N-No.” Pico shook his head. “No, before , when we met.”

 

“What’re you…?” Bee trailed off as his face lit up. “ Oh ! You meant last year!”

 

Pico stared down the creature sitting on his couch in some mixture of fear and elation, with something else beneath the surface he couldn’t name. “When I was… overdosing.”

 

Bee gave him a sheepish smile. “You were going to die , Pico. A hospital couldn’t even have saved you then.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why what?”

 

“Why did you do it? Save me? We didn’t even know each other at the time.”

 

Bee flushed, and he couldn’t make eye contact anymore. “I-I don’t know, because we went to school together? I just… acted without thinking, I don’t know.”

 

Pico’s chest squeezed, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the disease or just general feelings. He didn’t quite know how to process that, the idea that Bee had always cared for him, even when they were strangers. 

 

Bee really is such an amazing guy… Without him, I wouldn’t even be here right now.

 

It hit Pico that for the first time in a long time, he was actually happy to be alive. It was a terrifying feeling, but one he didn’t want to give up just yet.

“...anything else you’re hiding from me?”

 

Bee paused to think before he shook his head. “No… that’s it.”

 

Pico took a second to think before putting a hesitant hand on Bee’s shoulder. “I… appreciate you trusting me with your secret. I’ll keep it, I promise.”

 

His roommate simply gave him a grin. “I know.”

 

Pico looked away and stared down on the floor. He heaved a heavy sigh. “So, uh… what’s being an angel like? Anything I need to watch out for?”

 

“Well…” Bee started. “This is my real form. The one you see is a visage, a lot of us hide behind them. Demons have them, too, and there’s a lot of us, normal people just don’t ever realize most of the time.”

 

Pico glanced over, wary. “Demons…?”

 

“Uh, yeah, they’re real too.”

 

“So, does that mean Heaven and Hell exist?”

 

Bee shrugged. “I dunno. I don’t really believe in God.”

 

Pico stared at him blankly. “You’re an angel ?!”

 

“Listen man, I’ve never met the guy myself. I see this as just another form of life, like aliens or some shit. “

 

“Dios Mío…” Pico sighed and looked back down on the ground. “Anything else I should know?”

 

Bee thought for a bit, holding up his hand and counting on his fingers as he rattled things off. “Uh, being in my human visage can really fatigue me after a while, plus it hurts like a bitch to keep my wings cooped up for too long, I’m immune to all human illnesses, I used to be fluent in Latin, but I kinda stopped studying it, I have healing powers, but they’re nowhere near as strong as a full-blooded angel, and…” He paused, then clicked his tongue. “I think that’s all of the big stuff. You’re always free to ask me questions if you have them.”

 

Pico nodded, shell-shocked by the sheer amount of information he was processing. He idly reached up to touch his nose. This was all so… fucking crazy . He still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t hallucinating all of this. Still, real or not, Bee’s trust in him made his chest ache. 

 

Bee trusted him. It was about time Pico trusted him back.

 

“I… I never got to tell you about my first kill.”

 

Bee turned to look at him. “Well, yeah. You said you didn’t want to talk about it. Change of heart?”

 

Pico sighed through his nose. “You trust me. I want you to know I trust you, too.”

 

“Pico…” Bee reached over and took the ginger’s hand. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

 

“I do.” Pico opened and closed his mouth a few times, hesitating. “I need to talk about it.”

 

Bee squeezed his hand and nodded, tucking his knees to his chest.

 

Pico had never talked about it before. He figured the best place to start was the beginning.

 

“Back… Back in seventh grade, my school got a new girl. She was… obsessed with me, for some reason. She’d follow me around, profess her undying fucking love, that type of shit. I didn’t feel the same… obviously. She didn’t take no for an answer.”

 

He paused momentarily, fighting off a flashback. Bee squeezed his hand again, providing comfort and a grounding point. He took a deep breath.

 

“Uh, th-then, she and her friends… they… they, uh, shot up the school.”

 

Bee gasped quietly, letting go of Pico’s hand to scoot closer to him and wrap his arms around him. Pico had begun to shake, memories resurfacing, things he’d tried to forget.

 

Regardless, he carried on. “I-I was the only survivor in my class. I think she wanted me to stay alive. I r-ran away, hid in a closet. I found a g-gun, I think one of them st-stuffed it in there, a-and…” 

 

He paused again, trying to regulate his breathing and stutter. Bee only held onto him tighter. 

 

“I fucking killed them all,” Pico whispered so quietly he wasn’t even sure if Bee heard him.

 

Bee did, in fact, hear him, rubbing soothing circles on Pico’s arms as the ginger began to lose the fight against his panic, drawing in ragged breaths as malicious whispers began to invade his mind, reminding him of things he’d never wanted to think about again.

 

You should’ve died with everyone else.

 

You didn’t care about saving everyone, you just wanted an outlet for your fucked up urges. 

 

Remember the look on her face as the light left her eyes? You caused that.

 

You’re just a monster .

 

~~~~~

 

Pico shakily opened the door to the bathroom, his pulse resonating in his ears. He came face to face with one of the shooters, a younger kid in full ninja getup. They noticed Pico immediately, lunging towards him with their sword raised. 

 

It only took three bullets to bring them down, painting their brains all over the fucking walls. Pico couldn’t handle the sight, vomiting up everything he’d had for lunch just an hour ago. 

 

He knew he couldn’t stop, though. He could hear the gunfire, the screams. He was the only one who could stop this.

 

He wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve and pushed forward, not daring to look back at the child’s body on the floor as he left the bathroom.

 

~~~~~

 

Pico looked down at the Goth as he cowered below him, begging for his life. He held himself in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. He had already given Pico the key he needed, he should’ve walked away.

 

“You-You got what you needed, now leave me alone!” he cried, blood running down his face and into one of his eyes.

 

Pico should’ve walked away .

 

Instead, he sneered and pulled the trigger.

 

~~~~~

 

“I-I can’t take it!”

 

Pico held Nene as she cried, trembling hard enough for her teeth to rattle. Her already tattered psyche had been destroyed, having witnessed three of her best girl friends fall right in front of her. 

 

“You can, you have to.” Pico said firmly, holding her to him tight enough to probably cause damage. He wasn’t sure if the shaking was her or him at this point.

 

“Take it away, please…”

 

Pico frowned. “What?”

 

She leaned back to stare him down, desolate determination shining in her eyes. “Kill me, I can’t handle this, put me out of my fucking misery !”

 

Pico gasped and let her go, backing away. “N-no, I won’t…”

 

She sobbed, open mouthed and loud. “Please!”

 

Pico watched as Nene fell to her knees, wailing into the linoleum. He couldn’t stand to see her like this, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted. He checked the ammo on his gun before beginning to walk away. 

 

“Find somewhere safe to hide.”

 

He continued on down the hall, shutting out her screams as she begged. 

 

She never let him live it down.

 

~~~~~

 

Pico walked up to the mastermind as she lay dying on the floor, countless bullet wounds dotting her torso. He could hear sirens, but he no longer cared about being rescued. He was far beyond help.

 

She laughed quietly, smiling at Pico through bloodied teeth. It was like she wanted it to be him all along.

 

“I still love you, you know,” she croaked, crimson beginning to leak from her mouth and down to join the puddle forming on the floor. 

 

He couldn’t take it anymore. He shot her between the eyes, cutting off whatever she was in the middle of muttering. 

 

~~~~~

 

The moment Pico got out of the building, he collapsed to his knees. Police began to swarm him, bombarding him with questions, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying over the rush in his own ears. He held his hands out in front of him. They were coated in blood, his own and that of the others. 

 

He leaned over and drowned everyone out in his wails. He held on tight to himself, feeling as if he could crumble into a billion pieces if he didn’t. 

 

He screamed and screamed until he ran out of oxygen, welcoming the inky blackness as it overwhelmed him. 

 

~~~~~

 

They finally let Pico go from his hours of questioning to take a shower. He choked and cried as he scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed , tearing his skin up until it was pink and raw. 

 

It didn’t matter. He’d never be clean again.

 

~~~~~

 

“Pico, easy, breathe for me.”

 

Bee’s soothing voice snapped Pico out of his spiral. He reached up and gripped onto the arm Bee had around him for dear life, taking in large gulpfuls of air. Bee laid his head on Pico’s shoulder, whispering encouragement to him. His voice and touch helped Pico ground and regain a sense of reality, slowly bringing him out of his panic attack.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, Pico released his iron grip on Bee’s arm, wincing and muttering a quiet apology when he saw the marks he left behind. He sighed, his body heavy as he leaned into Bee. 

 

“...are you okay now?” Bee gently whispered.

 

Pico scoffed. “I’ll never be okay again,” he croaked, his throat still tight with emotion.

 

“That’s not true,” Bee replied, shaking his head. “What happened to you was… horrible , but it doesn’t define you.”

 

“It’s defined every fucking thing I’ve done since, Bee. I’m-” Pico paused hiccup, trying to prevent himself from outright bawling. “I’m ruined .”

 

“You aren’t ruined.” Bee shifted himself, cupping Pico’s face and making the ginger look at him. “You aren’t ruined, okay? I’m here to listen now, I’m here for you.”

 

Pico sniffled, losing the fight of trying to hold his tears back. His voice wavered severely, emotions spilling out with each word. “Don’t say to me, please…”

 

“I mean it.” Bee smiled sweetly. “I’m here .”

 

Pico couldn’t contain it anymore. He sucked in a deep breath before letting go, weeping for the first time since he was a teenager. He collapsed into Bee, letting the angel hold him as he sobbed and sobbed. 

 

Bee ran a hand through his hair. “There you go, it’s okay to cry.”

 

“I fucking hate you,” Pico weakly responded between his cries, though there was no venom or hatred in his voice. He was overwhelmed and conflicted. He hated this, he loved this, he wanted to run away, he wanted to never let go, he wanted to tell Bee to go away, he wanted to tell Bee how much he loved him. 

 

He weeped until he was hiccuping, dangerously close to throwing up. Slowly, he lost steam, having spent all of the pent up anger and sadness he had within him. He slumped against Bee, his body somehow both heavy and incredibly light. 

 

“Do you feel better?” Bee quietly asked.

 

Pico sniffled. “That was fucking embarrassing.”

 

“No, it was necessary . You’ve been carrying this for a long time, you had to let it out someday.”

 

Pico didn’t respond immediately, slowly sitting up and turning away from Bee to face the window. He stared out at the city, mulling over the night. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

 

“That’s the real reason my dad left. He couldn’t deal with having a fucked up son anymore.”

 

Bee wrapped his arms around Pico’s back and rested his chin on his shoulder. “He’s a piece of shit. You defended yourself. You weren’t a bad kid, he was a bad parent.”

 

Pico sighed and relaxed further into Bee, lacing their fingers together as they watched the city together. “Maybe he’s right, though. Maybe I was always fucked up.”

 

Bee sighed. “Would you stop with that shit? You were a kid . You needed him there for you.” 

 

Pico frowned and decided to drop the subject. Bee didn’t know the circumstances, he wasn’t there . Pico would always be fucked up, his actions throughout the last few years only furthering his belief. He couldn’t believe that he wasn’t anything less of a monster, no matter how hard Bee tried. Not yet, anyway. 

 

“Thank you for trusting me,” Bee spoke quietly, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

 

“I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. You’re my best fucking friend, Bee.”

 

“I’m glad you finally admitted it,” Bee chuckled. “You’re my best friend, too.”

 

Pico coughed from a sudden surge of pain in his chest, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t need to ruin this moment with a love confession.

 

Bee then shifted and sighed. “Which… which is why I really don’t wanna say what I have to say next.”

 

The smile fell from Pico’s face, Bee’s tone making him anxious. 

 

“Pico…” Bee’s voice wavered, like he was on the verge of crying. “I-I can’t stay here. It’s not safe anymore.”

 

Pico disconnected himself and turned around to face Bee, who was in fact crying. “What do you mean?”

 

Bee wouldn’t look him in the eyes, staring directly down as his shoulders shook. “I have to go home.”

 

Pico’s eyes widened and he grabbed a hold of Bee’s hands. “Wh-what?”

 

Bee allowed himself a few seconds to quietly sob before he finally looked back up. “I can’t stay in Philly. They know where I am, who I’m with. You heard him, they won’t stop until they find me. I-Its not safe for me anymore. I can’t let them take me back.”

 

Pico didn’t say anything, he just stared. It was like his heart was breaking into a million pieces.

 

Bee bit his lip and held Pico’s cheek, the missing digit feeling strange against his skin. “Come with me. We could run away together and leave this shitty fucking city behind. I-I’m sure I could convince my mom to let you live with us, it’d take some time, and I’d have to kiss a lot of ass, but I’m sure I could-”

 

“I can’t,” Pico cut him off, swallowing hard to force the lump out of his throat. “Bee, I can’t go back. I belong here, this is the only place I’ve ever felt like I belonged, I figured that out a long time ago. I-I’m sorry, I want to go with you, but…”

 

“You can’t,” Bee whispered, finishing his sentence. “I’m sorry, I know, I shouldn’t have asked-”

 

“Bee, it’s okay, just-”

 

“This is your home, I know, I shouldn't have asked-”

“I don’t want you to go, I just can’t-”

 

“I know.”

 

They sat for some time, staring at each other as they both silently cried. Pico broke eye contact first, grabbing the hand Bee had on his face and squeezing it. Bee choked on his tears, looking down between them. 

 

“I’m so sorry…”

 

Pico shook his head. “Don’t be. I understand, I just… I can’t go with you. We don’t need two gangs chasing us.” He sighed, his chest aching far more than it ever has before. “You’ll be safer away from here, away from me.”

 

“Yeah,” Bee started, sniffling. “I hate to say it, but it’s true.”

 

Pico let go of Bee’s hand to place both of his on the angel’s face, raising it to look at him. “Don’t feel bad, okay? I just want you to be safe, that’s all I care about.”

 

Bee sharply inhaled before a fresh round of tears spilled out of him.  He shot forward and wrapped his arms around Pico, burying his face into his chest and wrapping his wings around the two of them. Pico held onto him tight, silently letting a few of his own tears fall. He buried his face in Bee’s hair, hating that he knew Bee had to leave. His chest hurt so badly he was almost worried he’d keel over and die right there, but this wasn’t about him. This was about Bee, and what he needed.

He just wanted Bee to be safe . With or without him.

Notes:

woof it's been a while huh, my bad the holiday season was busy as hell for me and my partner

anywayyyy,,,,, angst,,,,,,

Chapter 18: See You Again - Tyler, The Creator ft. Kali Uchis

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// emotional angst, thoughts of death, disassociation, mild sexual content

The week leading up to Bee’s departure date was absolute hell . Neither could get through a full conversation without crying, neither left the house, Pico even told his “boss” that he would be out of town and that he was dealing with a family emergency just so he could stay with Bee a little longer. Bee himself was an emotional wreck, constantly zoning out and jumping at every little sound from outside their apartment door. Pico watched him with a sick stomach. He just wanted to take everything negative that Bee had been dealing with and put it on himself. 

 

He just wanted to see him genuinely laugh again.

 

The night before was the worst. Bee had spent the day packing his shit into a couple suitcases that Pico had bought, triple checking his train ticket to make sure the departure date was still tomorrow. 

 

“You know,” he started, “everytime I look at this, I keep hoping it says something different.”

 

Pico couldn’t handle the way his voice broke.

 

Deep into the night, the two were playing one last game of Slayer together, but neither of them put any spirit into it. Halfway through, Bee solemnly put down his controller, asking to just watch a movie instead. Pico obliged, of course, putting on one of their random movies, knowing neither of them would actually pay attention to it.

 

The film was almost over before Bee finally spoke up as he and Pico snuggled together under their blanket. 

 

“I’m gonna miss you so fucking much.”

 

Pico’s chest squeezed. He wasn’t sure if it was the sadness, the disease, or both.

 

“I’ll miss you too, man.”

 

Bee sniffled and held onto Pico tighter, trying to hide the obvious fact that he was crying. “Promise you won’t forget about me?”

 

Pico had to hold back his own tears as he buried his face and his words into the top of Bee’s head. “I couldn’t forget you if I fucking tried.”

 

~~~~~

 

Pico bounced his knee as they waited on one of the train station’s benches. They hadn’t said a word to each other since getting there, which was completely fine with Pico. He’d spent a majority of the afternoon choking on flowers and his own grief, silently mourning the loss of Bee while the guy was sitting right next to him. 

 

He felt a hand on his, looking over to see Bee, tears in his eyes. 

 

“Are you going to be okay?”

 

Pico chuckled dryly. “I can’t answer that truthfully.”

 

Bee smiled and squeezed his hand. “Fair. I know I keep saying this, but I’m sorry.”

 

“Stop apologizing,” Pico sighed. “I know you have to do this. I don’t blame you for anything.”

 

“Still…I’m sorry.”

 

“If you say ‘sorry’ one more time, I’m throwing you onto the tracks.”

 

“...sorry.”

 

Pico threw his arms around Bee, pretending to lift him up. Bee giggled, music to Pico’s ears after the past week of crying. Pico himself chuckled, settling into Bee’s shoulder. Bee leaned his head onto Pico’s and absentmindedly rubbed his arm. 

 

“Do you promise to take care of yourself while I’m gone?”

 

Pico shrugged, answering honestly. “I can’t promise anything, you know me better than that.”

 

Bee sighed and shifted to grab Pico’s cheek with his hand, He tilted Pico’s head to look at him, giving him a pleading look. “Please? For me?”

 

Pico thought he was going to die. “Okay…” he agreed, even though he was more distracted with Bee’s eyes. 

 

Bee grinned at him before his face lit up. “Oh right! I have an idea.” 

 

He let go of Pico, who wasn’t expecting the sudden movement and nearly fell over, to rummage around in his book bag. Luckily, it was black, so any blood stains from that night would be invisible. He pulled out a pad of sticky notes and a pen, holding them out to Pico.

 

“Give me your number.”

 

Pico raised an eyebrow. “Why…?”

 

“So I can call you when I get a phone, dipshit,” Bee said, rolling his eyes. “I know you only use your phone for work, but, I dunno, it might be nice to call me if it's an emergency.”

 

Pico refrained from saying that it's always an emergency when it came to Bee. “Uh, sure.”

 

He took the items and wrote his number down (after a few moments of trying to remember it), passing them back to Bee. He beamed at the piece of paper, stuffing it away.

 

“You can call me anytime, even in the middle of the night, okay? Don’t be a pussy.”

 

Pico rolled his eyes at him, but he was interrupted by the intercom informing them that Bee’s train was approaching. Pico’s heart dropped, and based on the way Bee’s face fell, he wasn’t fairing much better. They shared an uneasy look before Bee sighed, standing up and grabbing one of his suitcases. 

 

“Guess it’s time.”

 

Pico simply nodded and grabbed his other suitcase, a pit forming in his stomach. They walked to the line, waiting in uncomfortable silence. Pico felt like throwing up. He wanted to block out the idea that in no more than ten minutes, Bee would be gone forever, and he’d be alone again. He wasn’t sure he could do it, not after everything. His chest hurt again, reminding him that he might not even be alive long enough to get that first call from Bee. His heart ached, Bee would call him and never know why he didn’t pick up. He anxiously toyed with the bottom of his hoodie, wondering where he would go from here.

 

“Hey, Pico…” Bee started, breaking the silence. “Look at me, please.”

 

Pico obeyed instantly, not expecting the feeling of arms wrapping around his neck.

 

Much less expecting the feeling of lips on his.

 

He didn’t even have time to process that Bee was fucking kissing him before he pulled away, looking up at Pico with a shy smile. Pico couldn’t even talk, his throat sealed shut as his brain turned to static.

 

“Um..sorry if that was weird. I just… My feelings for you have changed? I guess? I-I don’t know, I just… I couldn’t leave without you knowing that I-I…” Bee paused, realizing that Pico wasn’t saying anything back. His face flushed as he looked away. “Fuck, I’m sorry, um…I’m probably ruining everything, just pretend that this never-”

 

Pico interrupted his rambling as soon as his brain caught up with the rest of his body, wrapping his arms around Bee’s back and pulling him close, belatedly returning the kiss. Bee made a surprised squeak against his lips before relaxing, throwing his arms back around Pico’s neck. They held onto each other for dear life, kissing slowly, no longer worried about anything other than this singular moment. 

 

Pico didn’t even care about the fact that people might be watching them in the busy train station, the world melting away to just the two of them as he cautiously opened his mouth, inviting Bee to deepen the kiss if he wanted to, which he accepted gratefully . It took everything in Pico’s power not to make any sort of sound as he felt Bee’s tongue against his, sliding his hands down to grip at his hips. Bee gasped slightly at the contact…before quickly pulling away to have a coughing fit.

 

Pico panicked, the break of the moment making him realize what the fuck just happened. He pushed past his own gay panic, however, to fuss over Bee as he bent over and coughed a fucking lung out.

 

“Sh-shit, you alright?” Pico worried, patting Bee’s back.

 

“Yeah,” Bee croaked when he was able to speak again, looking at Pico with a red face and teary eyes. “Yeah, fuck, I’m good, choked on my spit.” He paused, laughing to himself. “Or yours.”

 

Pico felt his face heat up, but he smiled regardless, looking at Bee with a fondness he didn’t even know he could feel. Bee smiled back at him, that bashfulness coming back.

 

“So…” Bee started, rubbing at the back of his neck, “safe to say the feeling is mutual?”

 

Pico paused to clear his throat, giving Bee a bashful grin. “Y-yeah, uh…yeah.”

 

Bee giggled at him. “You’re so fucking cute, you don’t even know.” He then paused to flick Pico’s forehead. “And dense as fuck! I’ve been flirting with you for months idiot, why didn’t we kiss earlier?”

 

“You…have?”

 

“Oh my god, you really have never been in a relationship, huh?” he teased, putting his arms back around Pico’s neck. “Yes, I have. It was so obvious that I assumed you just didn’t want to hurt my feelings and ignored it. Plus, we’re a little too touchy-feely for it to be something just friends do.”

 

Pico’s face felt hot. He felt stupid . He put his hands back on Bee’s waist, looking away in shame. “Don’t fucking tease me, why didn’t you say anything?”

 

Bee cocked his head, looking at Pico with an amused grin. “How long have you liked me?”

 

Pico clicked his piercing, Bee’s gaze suddenly boring into him. “A while.”

 

“Well then, why didn’t you say anything!” 

 

“I…” Pico decided to not say anything about the hanahaki. “I just…assumed you didn’t feel the same. I mean, have you fucking met me?”

 

“I have.” He stepped closer, pulling the two of them chest to chest. “And I like you the way you are. Faults and all.”

 

For the first time in a long time, Pico’s chest felt lightweight, all remnants of the disease gone. He didn’t feel that shortness of breath, that tickle in the back of his throat, that constriction wrapping around his lungs. He felt free . He felt loved .

 

He wasn’t sure if he could say it verbally yet, so instead he pulled Bee to him, kissing him again, showing him how much he loved him. Bee reciprocated, his fingers reaching up and lacing into Pico’s hair. In that moment, the only thing that was on Pico’s mind was the way Bee felt against him, the fingers in his hair, the way his shirt felt under his fingers, the overwhelming love he felt for the man, like he’d do anything for him, anything to keep him happy, anything to preserve this feeling. 

 

As if on cue, they heard the train blare its horn as it approached the station, shattering the perfect little world they had created in the station. Bee jumped against Pico’s lips as if he forgot where he was. They separated, just enough so they could see each other, their noses still touching. Bee gave him a sad smile, his eyes glassy with tears. Pico immediately broke down, the tears he’d been holding back flowing freely. He gave Bee another quick kiss before sighing and breaking away, wiping the tears on the sleeve of his hoodie. 

 

The train pulled to a stop, its brake hissing a warning to the boys that their time was up. They stared at each other for a moment before Bee reached up and held Pico’s cheek.

 

“I love you, okay? I’ll be back someday, wait for me,” he said, voice wavering as large tears streamed down his face.

 

Love . God, Pico didn’t know what to do with the word. 

 

“I’ll wait as long as it takes. I promise.”

 

Bee broke down again, throwing himself into Pico’s arms. Pico squeezed him tightly, wishing he could freeze time and just stay in this moment forever. Unfortunately, the train blared its horn again, a signal that it would be taking off soon.

 

Pico loved Bee so much. He loved him enough to know that he was safer away from him and this godforsaken city.

 

He hesitantly broke away from Bee, gesturing to the train. “You’re going to miss your ride.” He didn’t even attempt to hide the waver in his voice.

 

Bee chuckled, wiping his eyes as he picked up both suitcases. He turned, ready to go, before he changed his mind at the last second and gave Pico one last peck. Then, he ran to the train. Pico saw him in a window, waving sadly as the train started moving. He hesitated for only a moment before raising his hand to sign. 

 

[ILY.]

 

Bee beamed, a few more tears falling down his cheeks as he mouthed, I love you!

 

Pico smiled at him, waving until he was out of sight.

 

Then, he broke down. 

 

He backed up, collapsing back onto the bench where they sat together only a few minutes ago. He stared at the back of the train numbly until it disappeared out of view, the overwhelming sadness only hitting once he could no longer see it. He took a deep gasping breath as he leaned forward and had a full, public meltdown. He didn’t fucking care who was looking, none of them mattered as much as he did. Pico sobbed into his hands at the realization that Bee was truly gone, that he might never see him again. 

 

The hardest part of falling in love with someone was the inevitable moment they would leave your life. That was something Pico had heard many times in movies and songs, but this was the first time he ever felt it. That soul-crushing, empty feeling, that sort of pain in his chest that was worse than any time he had been shot, that full-body ache he was being subjected to…

 

THAT was true heartbreak. And it fucking sucked .

 

He didn’t know how long he was there until he finally cried himself out. Staring blankly at the floor, he pondered on what to even do. He sighed, standing up and deciding he should at least go home. It was dark outside, so he must’ve been breaking down for at the very least an hour. He numbly walked the couple blocks to the bus station, brain completely empty and silent for once. He didn’t remember a lot of the way back home, fuzziness taking over as he dissociated the entire trip. 

 

He unlocked the door to their his apartment, staring at the empty living room with a hole in his chest. He trudged his way to the couch, laying down and starting up at the ceiling in a daze. Everything felt wrong. Too quiet, too empty. 

 

Incomplete.

 

He sighed, then laughed, the kind of hysterical laughter that would have somebody worried. There was no one to worry about him anymore.

 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!” he called out, knowing nobody could hear him. 

 

His laughter then died down, his voice quiet as it hit him again just how lonely he was. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

 

~~~~~

 

Pico laid on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His chest had started to hurt again, making him cough up petals twice in the past hour. He looked over to his clock, reading that it was nearly four in the morning. He took a deep breath as another sharp pain wracked his chest. He squashed it down with what was probably his tenth cigarette in the past two hours. 

 

It didn’t help whatsoever as he was forced to sit up as another coughing fit struck him, doubling over as he coughed blood and petals onto his legs. He groaned, lazily wiping it off with his discarded shirt. He tucked his knees to his chest, feeling exhausted but being unable to sleep. He sighed, this already sucked and it hadn’t even been twelve hours since Bee left.

 

At least one thing was certain. He was still dying.

 

It had crossed his mind that the reason he managed to survive so long was the fact that Bee had apparently loved him back. With him gone, it was only a matter of time. Pico bit his lip, forcing down another anxiety attack at the idea of Bee never knowing what happened to him. Maybe it was better this way, maybe Bee could move on and be happy and safe . Pico was bad for him, he knew that, but it didn’t lessen the sting.

 

Distantly, he heard a knock. It took him a bit to realize that it was a knock on his door, not one of his neighbours or a hallucination. He narrowed his eyes, standing up and grabbing his gun. He threw on his old hoodie, making his way to the front door, where whoever was behind it continued rapping on his door in rhythmic succession. He held his gun to his side as he slowly approached the door, ready to blast away whoever the fuck decided to show up in the dead of night.

 

He looked into the peephole, nearly fainting at the flash of blue hair on the other side.

 

He ran back, throwing his gun on the couch before nearly sprinting to the door, swinging it open in pure shock.

 

Bee looked at his bewildered expression, a small laugh coming from him. “Hey, Pico.”

 

Pico didn’t know what to do, what to think. “You… you’re n-not real…” he whispered quietly.

 

Bee just smirked and grabbed Pico’s hand, raising it to his cheek and letting him feel his skin. “I’m real,” he replied, his voice breaking slightly.

 

Pico just shook his head and stroked his cheek gently, not believing it for a second. “What…wh-what? I thought you were going home?”

 

Bee sighed and dropped Pico’s hand, grabbing his suitcases and stepping inside. He neatly stacked the suitcases in the entryway, shutting the door and strutting up to the ginger and interlocking his hands behind his neck. 

 

“Yeah, well, while I was having a breakdown in front of God and everyone on that train, I sorta came to the realization that this is my home. With you.”

 

Pico numbly placed his hands on Bee’s hips, looking down at him in confusion. “I don’t-I don’t understand. What about the X’s?”

 

“Fuck them,” he replied. “I don’t care anymore. They can try to kill me all they want. I’d rather fight them off with you than go back to my parents and be “safe”. I’m tired of running, Pico. I wanna do something for myself for once.” 

 

Pico didn’t understand. He wasn’t entirely sure that any of this was real. Maybe he’d fallen asleep without realizing it?

“I don’t…”

 

Bee interrupted him with a finger to his lips. “Pico, listen to me. I’m not going back to Little Haven. I’m staying here with you. I ditched the train at the next stop and walked back. This is real .”

 

“Okay…” Pico drawled. “Wait, you walked? Why didn’t you take a fucking taxi or something?!”

 

Bee rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, will you just kiss me already??”

 

Pico obliged, moreso to prove to himself that this was real. The moment their lips met, it was like puzzle pieces falling into place. He couldn’t dream of something like this . Pico cried out quietly into his mouth as he finally understood, finally his brain worked out that Bee wanted to stay with him. He knew that he shouldn’t be celebrating, knew that Bee had put himself in massive danger, but really, he didn’t care, not in this moment. He was going to protect him with everything he had. He wasn’t going to let anyone take away this second chance.

 

The kiss was much different than before. Bee’s fingers knotted themselves in the ginger’s hair in an almost possessive way, pulling Pico to him, claiming him. Pico responded naturally, letting instinct take over as he guided Bee to the door, pushing him into it gently with his hips. Bee whined quietly, hiking his leg up ever so slightly. Pico, in turn, groaned and moved down, trailing kisses from his mouth to his neck, elated to hear Bee’s approving noises as he left small marks only for him to see.

 

Pico suddenly became very self aware of where this was going, anxiety spiking as he pulled back. His mind raced with thoughts about whether or not Bee was even interested in that . What if he didn’t want to move that fast? Oh god, had Pico been pushy? What if-

 

Bee’s quiet laugh pulled Pico out of his thoughts, the hand in his hair moving down to Pico’s chin to tilt it up.. He stared Pico down with half-lidded eyes and a wise smile.

 

“Are you gonna lead me to your bed or what?”

Notes:

WAHHH finally we've reached my favourite chapter!!!

Chapter 19: Treading Water

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// mentions of nsfw, suggestive dialogue, angst

When Pico woke up the next morning, he noticed two things right away. First, he had a pretty bad headache, one that made him shut his eyes at the light streaming in from his balcony door the moment he opened them. Second, according to the clock on the side of his bed, he had slept way later than he normally did. It was already around two in the afternoon. He had stayed up late, sure, but even then, he was usually always awake by around eleven. His body never let him sleep this long.

 

He sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his head and lower back. Did he pull something…?

 

He froze. He remembered .

 

Pico remembered the previous night in full clarity, the noises, the sensations, him .

 

He hesitantly looked over to the other side of his bed, vacant but tousled. Where was Bee? Did he leave again? Or… was it even real ?

 

Pico slowly got up, determined to find an answer. His brain had done plenty of weird shit to him, but who the fuck hallucinates sleeping with somebody? He gave himself a once over in his mirror, breathing a sigh of relief at the distinct splotches scattered across his neck and shoulder. It wasn’t a delusion, it happened. 

 

He turned around slightly, catching sight of the scratches left in his back. He sighed quietly to himself as he grabbed a hair tie and pulled his messy locks into a ponytail. “Christ, Bee,” he mumbled under his breath. 

 

Bee, where was Bee ?

 

Did he decide to leave again? Pico’s heart sank at the thought that Bee snuck away in the night, back on that train, back home. Would he really do that? Without even saying goodbye?

 

Pico pushed the thoughts away. He felt sick, but he couldn’t afford to overthink. Spiraling wouldn’t do him any favours right now, especially not when he was still losing his mind over the fact that he somehow managed to sleep with the guy he’s in love with. Right now, he needed to listen to his body and make his way to the bathroom. One thing at a time.

 

He left his room, intending to walk down the hallway to the bathroom, but he was distracted by noises coming from his kitchen. He walked to see the source of the noise as quietly as he could. 

 

Pico peeked his head into the archway to catch quite the sight. There, at the stove cooking something, was the elusive man himself, his hair up in a bun and proudly showing off the marks Pico had given him like it was a badge of fucking honor. Pico swallowed thickly at the realization that Bee was still wearing his shirt. 

 

He had to lean back against the wall. He thought he was going to fucking faint .

 

Bee seemed to sense him, throwing a glance over his shoulder before smiling and fully turning around. “Shit, I thought you weren’t ever gonna wake up!”

 

Pico cleared his throat, a sudden spike of anxiety temporarily making him forget how to talk. “I’m up.”

 

“I see that. Good morning!”

 

“...morning.”

 

Bee chuckled and pointed to the stove. “I’m making eggs, do you want any?”

 

“Uh, nah, I’m good.”

 

Bee turned back for a moment to take the eggs off the heat before striding over to him. He placed his hands on Pico’s bare chest, a sensation he was still trying to get used to, and leaned up to give him a gentle peck on the lips. Pico tensed, something Bee obviously noticed as he pulled away and furrowed his brows, concern etched over his features.

 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

 

Was Pico okay? He wasn’t entirely sure himself. He was treading into uncharted waters. Usually when he slept with someone, they were gone by morning, something Pico was fine with considering he didn’t really care for them. Bee however… he broke both of those set rules. This sort of unfamiliar intimacy was beyond Pico, sending shivers of discomfort down his spine. It wasn’t like he didn’t love Bee, he loved him so much, this was just…. new. Scary. Pico wasn’t sure how he felt about it yet. 

 

Pico gently disconnected himself from Bee, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll be back.”

 

It was like he could feel Bee’s disapproving gaze burning into his back as he walked down the hallway and into the bathroom. Pico shut his eyes tightly, attempting to regulate his breathing. What the fuck was wrong with him? He loved Bee, and Bee loved him back. So, why was he acting so weird? He knew Bee, fuck, they’d been living together for almost a year now, Bee was sacrificing his safety to be with him, so why the fuck was he so awkward around him?!

 

A sort of hollow feeling spread over him as he came to a realization. Pico didn’t know how to love. He had never experienced his sort of thing before. This wasn’t the sort of thing they had classes on, unless you count those weird, creepy seminars where shady dudes in their mid-thirties tried to convince a room of people that if they gave him money, he’d teach them how to pick up chicks at the local Walmart. This was something that came solely from life experiences, and despite all he’d been through, this was the one thing Pico had never experienced before. 

 

He mulled over these thoughts as he did his business and washed his face in the sink. He looked up to stare at his reflection in the mirror. What was he supposed to do? Bee had so easily fallen into this, like it came naturally to him. Would he think Pico was weird for not following suit? He didn’t deserve this anxious mess of a man to be his…

 

Pico paused his train of thought. Was he Bee’s boyfriend now? Was that how it worked? The title felt so strange and foreign to him, like it was an award he never should’ve been given, one he cheated his way to. He supposed that was how it was supposed to work, until recently, Pico was convinced that he wasn’t capable of caring about someone like this. 

 

He pushed himself away from the sink with a sigh. He was so wildly unprepared for this. 

 

Pico shook his head to reset before leaving the bathroom. Maybe he had gotten too ahead of himself, maybe they weren’t even dating, there was no reason to jump to conclusions so quickly. Maybe they were… just testing the waters, so to speak. Not quite a relationship, but no longer just friends. Maybe Pico should just relax and let things happen naturally. 

 

Pico passed by the kitchen without a glance, his gaze instead falling on his gun still laying on the couch. The thought that he had slept without it by his bedside for the first time since moving to Philly crossed his mind. It made him feel… weird. That alone was almost more intimate for him than the act of actually sleeping with Bee. 

 

He placed it on the coffee table with a quiet sigh and a shameful flush. God, this was all so confusing. 

 

Pico was pulled out of his thoughts by Bee striding into the living room and plopping down on the couch next to him, plate of eggs in hand. He gave the ginger a curious look as he stabbed a chunk of egg with his fork.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re a little spacey. Bad dream?”

 

An out.

 

Pico rubbed his temple, the headache only intensifying. He really didn’t want to lie to Bee, but he couldn’t tell him the truth. He had no way of navigating that right now.

 

“Uh, yeah… sorry, just a little out of it today, I’ll be alright.”

 

Bee’s face softened and he placed a reassuring hand on Pico’s knee. “Don’t stress it, it's okay. Anything I can do to help?”

 

“Nah, just… got a bad headache and didn’t sleep great, it’ll pass.” Pico fidgeted with his fingers, he hated small talk. “...did you sleep well?”

 

“Yeah, actually. Sorry I didn’t say goodnight, I was passed out pretty much from the moment you left to smoke.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

“Well, y’know, it was a long fucking day, with all the emotional shit, and crying, and…” He giggled, throwing Pico a look that made him blush. “ Everything else , I was just exhausted. Were you up long?”

 

“Nah, not long.”

 

That part was true at least. When Pico had come in from smoking, he tucked in as best as he could with the angel sprawled out over his bed and passed out within minutes. He blamed it on exhaustion, ignoring his missing gun and someone else in bed with him. 

 

Pico continued on. “How long have you been up?”

 

“Eh, about an hour or so,” Bee replied with a mouthful of food. He gave himself a moment to chew and swallow before continuing. “I spent a good half hour in bed. My body hurts like a bitch today.”

 

Pico winced. “...sorry about that.”

 

Bee laughed quietly. “It’s not all you, I walked a lot last night.” A pause to eat another bite. “But, yes, I’m sore. I’m not complaining about that though.”

 

Pico ignored the burn on his face. “Speaking of, what the fuck were you thinking?”

 

“About what? Fucking you?”

 

“No, dipshit, walking back here. You’re a wanted man, you could’ve been killed.”

 

“Awww, you care about me!” Bee teased as he set his now empty plate down on the table. “I don’t know man, I wasn’t all there last night. I just… wanted to be back with you as soon as possible, that’s all I could think about.”

 

While that sentiment did make Pico’s chest feel warm, there was also the guilt and fear of Bee coming back. He saw how distraught the angel was after their little altercation, he knew how scared Bee must be about all of this. Pico was scared, too.

 

“Are… are you sure about this? Staying? What if they come back?”

 

Bee sighed and tucked his knees to his chest. “Well… then I guess we’ll just have to keep killing them until they leave us alone.”

 

“They won’t stop. You aren’t safe here, aren’t you worried?”

 

Bee rolled his eyes and shifted, lifting himself up to sit in Pico’s lap, much to the ginger’s horror. He interlocked his fingers behind Pico’s neck and leaned forward until they were touching foreheads. Pico hated eye contact, but tried his best to hold it.

 

“Pico, I’m staying , I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. I don’t want to run anymore. I’m a grown-ass man, I should be able to handle my own fucking issues.” He leaned back and jokingly flexed his arm, smirking. “I’m stronger than I look, y’know.”

 

“I’m not saying you aren’t capable of defending yourself, just…” Pico had to break eye contact, his skin crawling with it. “This is just a lot of bullshit to deal with, I wouldn’t blame you for running away from this one.”

 

“You worry too much,” Be said with a lighthearted chuckle. He leaned in to give Pico a kiss, one the ginger wasn’t expecting. It made his stomach feel weird, and he wasn’t able to tell if it was a good feeling or a terrible one. Regardless, he tensed up and subtly pushed Bee away from him.

 

“Of course I do, have you seen my life?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, it sucks, I’m aware,” Bee responded, rolling his eyes. “Doesn’t mean you have to let paranoia run your entire fucking life, man.”

 

Pico scowled. “Nothing wrong with being prepared.”

 

“Plenty wrong with it if it stops you from living.”

 

“...get off of me.”

 

Bee scoffed and slid off of Pico’s lap, settling in beside him on the couch. “Be mad all you want, you know I’m right.”

 

“Whatever.” Pico did in fact know that Bee was right, but like hell he was going to admit it. 

 

Bee giggled quietly and stood up, grabbing his plate from the table and heading to the kitchen. “What’s the plan for today?”

 

Pico sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to convince Bee he was making a mistake by staying with him. The guy’s far too stubborn for his own good. 

 

“Well,” Pico started, calling out so Bee could still hear him. “Laundry needs done. I need to go to the landlord’s office to pay rent sometime soon. Uh, I should probably clean around the apartment a bit. And…” He clicked his piercing. “If you’re absolutely sure about staying, we should probably get you a dresser or something to put your shit in.”

 

It was surreal to Pico just how… mundane the day’s plans were. Just yesterday, it felt like his entire world was crashing down around him. 

 

“I’m sure,” Bee responded as he walked back into the living room and leaned against the wall. “Don’t feel like sharing your dresser? I know you don’t have that many clothes.”

 

“That dresser is too small for both of us, I’ll just get you one for yourself.”

 

In truth, Pico’s dresser was probably big enough for both of their clothes, but the thought of sharing was far too… intimate for him. It made all of this feel more real , and not like some weird fever dream he’s having. 

 

“Fine, fair enough. So, get dressed and we’ll head out?”

 

At Pico’s nod, Bee pushed himself off of the wall and padded down the hall to the bedroom. Pico took this opportunity to breathe, he felt so overwhelmed and confused. He didn’t even know why he was freaking out so badly. Hasn’t he always dreamed of living the domestic life with Bee? Why was it such a bother to him now that he had it?

 

Bee returned, now in his jeans and binder. He walked over to his suitcase and rummaged through it, muttering to himself.

 

“Why don’t you just wear the shirt you had on yesterday?” Pico questioned, finally standing from the couch for his turn to get dressed.

 

“It’s covered in snot and tears.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Bee threw a look over his shoulder. “I didn’t have tissues on the train.”

 

Pico grimaced. “Dude.”

 

“Don’t fucking judge me, I was bawling my eyes out!”

 

~~~~~

 

Bee hummed to himself and picked at his nails as he watched Pico switch the loads of laundry. His anxiety was going crazy, something was definitely up with the ginger. He’d been fairly distant and quiet, which wasn’t too unusual, but considering the change in their relationship…

 

Bee exhaled a sigh through his nose. The air between them was tense, more so than how it’d been the past few months. It was almost like they had just met again, which really fucking sucked. Pico had just gotten to a point where he was starting to really open up and trust Bee, and now…

 

Pico cursed under his breath as he dropped a few clothes, grumbling to himself as he went ahead and threw them in the dryer anyway. 

 

Now, he was visibly more on edge. He wasn’t as chatty anymore, he looked at Bee like they were strangers again, and he tensed up every time Bee hugged or kissed him. It formed a sinking feeling in Bee’s stomach. Did he… do something wrong last night? Pushed the poor man too hard?

 

Pico closed up the dryer and fed a few coins into the slot, starting it. “This is the last of it.”

 

“Thank God,” Bee sighed as he slid off a washer. “Going up and down all those stairs over and over again sucks dick.”

 

“Well, we ain’t done yet,” Pico said, pointing to the hamper of freshly clean clothes on the floor. “Your turn to carry it.”

 

“What makes you think I can carry that?!”

 

“Are you saying you aren’t up to it?” Pico teased, his mouth quirked into a small smirk.

 

With an annoyed groan, Bee lifted the hamper and shot a glare. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

 

As they left the complex’s laundry room, Bee could hear Pico chuckle behind him. “I’ll be behind you in case you bust your ass.”

 

“More like to stare at it, huh?” When he got no response, Bee looked over his shoulder. “I didn’t hear a no!”

 

Pico gave him an annoyed look. “Get up the fucking stairs.”

 

Uncertainty settled deeply into Bee’s gut. Even though he technically could openly flirt with Pico now that their feelings were confirmed to be mutual, he still felt as though he shouldn’t . It felt like, no matter what, all he did was make Pico uncomfortable. Did he even like him?

 

Despite the odds being stacked against him, Bee managed to make it up to their apartment with little issue. They immediately headed for the bedroom, with Pico taking the hamper from Bee and dumping it out on the bed. They both shared a look , the thought of sorting, folding, and putting away laundry made Bee’s stomach hurt, and he was sure Pico felt the same.

 

Regardless, it needed to be done. With a sigh from both, the boys sat on the bed and began their chore.

 

~~~~~

 

When Pico woke up that morning, he noticed two things. One, it was barely light out, which meant he had woken up much earlier than he had been recently. Since having Bee in his bed with him this past week, he found it much easier to fall asleep and stay asleep. It was something that he tried not to think about too hard, instead just counting his blessings.

 

Two, his head was fucking splitting apart .

 

Pico cautiously sat up and held his head. He groaned quietly to himself, he hadn’t had a migraine like this in a while. Beside him, Bee was turned away and snoring softly, his hair spilled out over his side of the bed. 

 

As much as Pico would love to shamefully watch his cute lover peacefully sleep, that wasn’t the main focus right now. He needed to get to the bathroom and find some painkillers, the throbbing in his skull intense enough to make him nauseous. He slowly stood, stumbling his way out of the room and down the hallway. He could barely see, the aura of the migraine making everything fuzzy. 

 

As soon as he got to his medicine cabinet/mirror, he paused, an arm outstretched towards it. In his reflection, he saw what looked to be a flower hair clip stuck in his hair right above his left ear. That’s… weird , he thought, obviously not remembering putting it on. He wondered if Bee had stuck it on him after he fell asleep, some sort of late April’s Fool’s Day joke. 

 

He reached up to pull it off, taking a moment to note how soft and realistic it felt. He gave it a little tug, and…

 

Suddenly, every single fucking nerve in his body screamed out, his body in a type of pain he’d never felt before. It was like hitting your funny bone, but everywhere . It was enough to knock the wind out of him and force him down to his knees, clutching his head and gasping every expletive he knew until the pain eventually subsided. Pico had to sit on the floor for a bit until the aftershocks of nerve damage began to subside. 

 

After some time, he shakily stood up to investigate a bit more, lifting one of the petals. His stomach dropped and he gasped, realizing that there was no clip, the flower was fused into his skin . 

 

He was gonna be sick. 

 

Before he could allow himself to dry heave, he heard a bloodcurdling scream come from the bedroom. 

 

Panic flooded his mind, temporarily making him forget about the pain and nausea as he sprinted back to his room. There, he found Bee curled in on himself on the floor in front of his vanity mirror. The angel was aggressively holding his head and trembling , slowly shifting to look up at Pico. 

 

Pico’s blood turned to ice. Bee had flowers in his hair too, albeit much smaller than Pico’s and scattered around the crown of his head. What?!

 

Bee’s gaze moved to Pico’s own flower, his fearful expression turning more panicked. 

“Pico, what the fuck is going on?!”

Notes:

SO. OTIS, RIGHT?

Alsoooo you should totally follow our Bluesky, we've got something exciting in the works :)

Chapter 20: The True Beginning

Chapter by AlienShea

Notes:

cw// panic, religious talk, mentions of homophobia, mentions of transphobia, talk of parental abuse, use of f slur

Bee was awoken by the bed moving behind him, followed by the bedroom door closing. He attempted to peek an eye open, but was forced to shut it again as the morning light made his head throb intensely. He whined quietly to himself, reaching up to rub at the sudden intense pain, his hand catching on something soft. Bee could only lay in bed for a few more seconds before his curiosity got the better of him.

 

Slowly, he rose out of bed and made his way over to the mirror above Pico’s dresser. When he saw his reflection… well, he didn’t quite know what to think. Scattered around the crown of his hair were small, yellow flowers. He cocked his head in confusion, reaching up to touch them. They felt velvety and soft, much like real flowers. When the hell had he put flowers in his hair? They didn’t even live in an area with grass.

 

Bee shrugged to himself and attempted to pull one out, but FUCK, the pain that tore through his entire being was unbearable. He collapsed to the ground with a short scream, his senses overwhelmed and confused. 

 

Behind him, Bee heard Pico rush into the room, likely due to his shouting. He turned to ask for help, but all of his words died on his lips when he noticed not only the genuinely panicked expression on Pico’s face, but a flower of his own. He only had one, and it was much larger than any of Bee’s, but even still…

 

“Pico? What the fuck is going on?!”

 

Pico didn’t say anything at first, his irises darting between Bee’s face and his hair. When he finally did speak, his voice was stuttered and strained. “I don’t fucking know!”

 

Bee whimpered, that was not what he wanted to hear. He stood and looked in his reflection again, trying to make sense of it all. Humans can’t just spontaneously grow flowers! He wasn’t a biologist or botanist or whatever, but that had to be scientifically impossible!

 

“Please tell me I’m hallucinating….” he heard Pico whisper.

 

“If you are, I am too.”

 

The ginger made a sound in the back of his throat and slumped against the door, sliding down it until he hit the floor. He tucked his knees to his chest, sighing. “I have to be dreaming, then.”

 

Bee’s stomach twisted in knots. Surely this was a dream, right?

 

But his dreams are never this weird… or realistic.

 

Bee let panic overtake him for a moment as he turned away from the mirror and fell back to the floor. He started to feel pinpricks spread throughout his body, which he thought was a stress rash until he heard Pico hiss. Looking over to the ginger, he saw him let go of himself as small bumps spread out across his shoulders and chest. Bee gasped as he realized the bumps weren’t red, but green. He lifted his shirt and gave himself a once-over, confirming that he was breaking out in the same rash. Upon closer investigation, the bumps were extremely sharp, like little green triangles sticking out of his skin.

 

Almost… almost like thorns.

 

“Bee…?” Pico quietly whimpered, the fear ringing clear in his voice.

 

“I don’t know! I-I don’t know what to do!” Bee responded.

 

“Can you heal it?”

 

Bee bit his lip. He could certainly try.

 

He lifted his shirt off of his back and took a deep breath before letting his wings out. Compared to the pain of a thousand paper cuts all over his body, the pain was almost laughable. Now, the problem was… where should he target?

 

He decided to go for a full body target, focusing his healing on fucking everything. He felt his warmth spread throughout him, but the thorns stayed, the pain stayed. He didn’t change anything. Angels are supposed to be able to heal any human illness.

 

Which meant…

 

“Fuck!” Bee cursed to himself. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

 

“Can’t what, Bee?!”

 

“I can’t… I can’t heal it!” He took a deep breath, his brain only able to come to one conclusion. He turned to look at his lover, fully curled into himself and staring at Bee with wide eyes. “Pico, I think we’re cursed.”

 

Pico’s breathing got faster as his face twisted into confusion. “The fuck you mean cursed?!”

 

Bee swallowed the lump in his throat. “By a demon.”

 

Pico stared for a few seconds before he barked out a hoarse, dry laugh. “Demons? You’ve gotta be out of your fucking mind!.” 

 

Bee scowled, thankful he was finally able to catch Pico’s Spanish while in a form he could understand it. “I’m serious! The only thing angels can’t heal are curses!” Then, his scowled dropped as the terror really settled into his stomach. “At least, I think that’s what’s going on…”

 

Pico’s disbelief finally sunk into realization, the ginger making another sound as he tucked his head between his knees, holding himself despite the discomfort of the thorns. “This is a nightmare… has to be….”

 

Bee frowned to himself and stood up. “It’s not.”

 

A groan. “I forgot you know Spanish in angel form.”

 

Bee sighed to himself and pulled his shirt off fully. “I’m topless, don’t look.” After making sure Pico kept his head down, he walked over to his dresser and pulled out a black bandeau, deciding that staying in angel form was probably for the best right now. He put it on and sat on the floor next to Pico. “And I don’t know Spanish, it just auto-translates in my mind.”

 

“Close enough,” Pico replied in English, turning his head to look over at Bee. “Why are you still transformed?” 

 

“Two reasons. One, it’s been a while and having my wings out feels great. I could really use that comfort right now. Second, I don’t trust you to not hurt yourself when you’re panicking, so I’m here for quick healing.”

 

Pico scowled, but he didn’t retort Bee. Then, his face softened as he whispered, speaking clearly becoming harder for him. “Do you think the guys who wanted to kill us did this?”

 

“You can sign,” Bee gently reminded him. “And… I don’t think so. They wouldn’t have gone down so easily, demons are strong.”

 

[You almost bled out], Pico signed.

 

“I’m still half-human.”

 

[Maybe they were half-demon?]

 

Bee’s stomach twisted. “Being mixed-species ain’t as common as you think. I’m… pretty abnormal. Besides, we would’ve heard an incantation.”

 

[I can’t think of anyone else who would hate us enough.]

 

“They don’t need a reason, demons can just be sadistic.”

 

[So, it could be any random demon on the street??]

 

“I-I guess so. It could be fucking anybody.”

 

[What do we do now?]

 

Bee chewed on his lip. That was a great question.

 

“Right now, we need to stay calm. We won’t get anywhere by panicking.” He shot a cautious glance over to Pico. “Try to relax, okay? Are you alright with being held?”

 

Pico shot a weary look over to his thorny arms.

 

“I don’t mind. I need the comfort too.”

 

Pico then nodded, opening his arms for Bee. The angel fell into them immediately, and honestly? The pokes from the thorns didn’t really bother him that much. Sure, it was like cuddling a cactus, but it was better than nothing right now.

 

Pico sucked in a breath as Bee’s arms circled him. “S-Sorry.”

 

“What’re you apologizing for? I barely notice it. You’re the shirtless mortal here,” Bee replied quietly, giving Pico a soft peck on the cheek. While he could say that this was an attempt to calm Pico down, Bee also needed it for himself. Having someone comforting nearby was already releasing the tension in his shoulders.

 

As his breathing returned to normal, Bee noticed that the stinging in his arms slowly began to subside. Breaking away from Pico and giving himself a once-over, he noticed that the thorns had disappeared completely, leaving only half-moon cuts in their place. 

 

Bee exclaimed a quiet sound of relief. “Hey, they’re going away!”

 

Pico pulled away from Bee, his eyes widening slightly at the absence of thorns. He then looked back at himself, his face falling again. 

 

“You need to calm down, I think it’s some sort of emotional thing,” Bee instructed.

 

“I’m fucking trying,” Pico growled. “It’s not that easy for me, y’know.”

 

Bee rolled his eyes. “You need to learn better coping mechanisms.”

 

Pico scowled and pushed Bee away from him to stand up. “I need a cigarette.”

 

~~~~~

 

Pico took a long drag, feeling the black smoke settle in his lung. A familiar comfort. Sure, it wasn’t good for him in the slightest, but he’d take anything after the fucked up morning he’d had. 

 

Or rather, they’d had. 

 

Pico glanced over to Bee, who sat on his spare chair out on their balcony with a faraway look in his eyes. He’d dropped the angel form, deciding that being slightly uncomfortable was better than being found out by any prying eyes in the city. 

 

“...You alright?” Pico quietly asked, already knowing the answer. 

 

“Take a wild fucking guess,” he responded, sighing. “I feel like I’m covered in papercuts and apparently we’ve been cursed.” Bee paused to adjust himself on the seat, tucking his knees close to his chest. “I’m just fucking dandy.”

 

“We don’t know for sure that it’s a curse.”

 

“I know for sure that it’s a curse. If it was anything else, I’d be able to heal it.”

 

Pico chewed on the inside of his cheek, taking another pull before responding. “I’ll trust you on that. I don’t know any of this shit.”

 

“I don’t know a whole lot. I don’t know exactly what it is or what it’ll do. I just know it’s a curse.” 

 

Bee sighed and held his hand out towards Pico. At the ginger’s confused glance, he pointed to the cigarette.

 

Pico furrowed his brows. “You hate tobacco.”

 

“I’m stressed, give me a fucking break.”

 

Pico relented, handing over the cigarette and fishing another out of his pack. The two smoked in silence, the weight of everything heavy and oppressive. It was Pico who broke the silence first, long after Bee had finished his cigarette and Pico was more than halfway through his.

 

“What do we do? Where do we even go from here?”

 

Bee took a moment to respond, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. “Well, I guess we just try to figure out what it is. I’d at least like to know if it’s fatal, at least.”

 

Something cold settled in Pico’s gut. “...Are curses usually fatal?”

 

“Most of the time, yeah.”

 

“Okay… So, how do we do that? I don’t think this is something we can just visit the fucking library for.”

 

“I mean, we could, but unless the book was written by either a demon or a victim, I doubt we’d find out much.”

 

Pico hesitated for a moment, coming up with an idea he was sure Bee would hate. “Y’know, we could always… ask your mom?”

 

Bee met his gaze with a hard stare. As expected. “No.”

 

“Look, I get it, but we’re low on options here! She might be our last hope.”

 

“I can think of a hundred ways that that will go terribly.”

 

Pico sighed and rubbed his temple. “I know it’ll fucking suck, but what choice do we have?”

 

“It’ll be way worse than just ‘sucking’, Pico.” Bee paused and sighed, looking away out to the cityscape. “First of all, I’m not even sure she would recognize me, and even if she did, she’d fucking kill me. I didn’t exactly leave in the best of circumstances. Besides, I have no idea how to even explain you.”

 

“Weren’t you with Melody? She seemed fine with that, what makes us different?”

 

“She was only okay with it from a business standpoint,” Bee spat out, venom dripping from his words. “If it were any different, she’d have shot me out back.”

 

Pico thought for a moment. “Well, you said that she’s transphobic, right? Maybe she’ll see us as a regular hetrosexual… duo.” He couldn’t bring himself to say ‘couple’ yet. “And I’m Catholic- or, well, not practicing, but I remember a lot of stuff from mass, so-”

 

“Pico.” Bee cut him off and looked over to make eye contact. “It’s a hard no. Sorry.”

 

The ginger sighed and nodded. This wasn’t an issue he wanted to press further, no matter how badly he wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on. Given everything he’s heard about Bee’s mom, he really didn’t want to meet the woman. He’s too headstrong and combative, he could admit that. It likely wouldn’t go over well. 

 

Bee’s quiet chuckles pulled him out of his train of thought. “What?”

 

“Just imagining you all dressed up in your Sunday best for church.”

 

Pico scowled. “Yeah, well, keep imagining. I haven’t been to church in years.”

 

Bee’s face changed into something more… solemn? “Just haven’t felt like going?”

 

“Lost the faith. Figured God wouldn’t want some murderous fag sitting within holy walls.”

 

Bee shrugged. “Personally, I don’t think God would care all that much about that kind of shit.”

 

“You would think,” Pico muttered. “So, is there anyone else we could go to? Surely your mom has connections, or something.”

 

A pause. “No.”

 

Pico narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

 

“I’m not!” Bee insisted, but his nervous eyes gave him away.

 

“Who is it?”

 

Bee opened and closed his mouth a few times before sighing. “Look, can we drop it? I don’t wanna see her more than I don’t wanna see my mom.”

 

Pico picked up on it instantly. “Your ex is an angel, too?”

 

Bee groaned and hugged his knees further to his chest, dropping his chin down to rest on them. “Mel is more than just an ‘ex’, she was my best friend.” A moment of silence. “And she’s not an angel.”

 

It only took a few seconds for it to click in Pico’s mind. “Melody’s a demon?!”

 

Bee flinched at Pico’s volume. “Not so loud, dipshit!”

 

Pico shook his head. “Let me get this straight. You, an angel, were together with a demon, despite how much of a religious fanatic your mom is, and she not only approved of this-”

 

“She didn’t approve, keep that in mind,” Bee interjected.

 

“Whatever, she let it happen as a… business transaction?”

 

Bee shrugged. “It’s… hard to explain. Mel’s family is rich and powerful. Her dad is really close with my mom, they’ve been friends for a long time. My mom wanted to give me a head start in life, I guess?” He then dropped his voice, and that same venom from before presented again. “Either that, or she just has some weird obsession with that family.”

 

“They were friends despite being enemies?”

 

“Nobody said demons and angels have to hate each other. Not every demon is bad, and not every angel is good.” Bee snorted quietly to himself. “Lord knows the shit I’ve done.”

 

Pico absorbed the information as best as possible, but to be honest, he was a little lost in this whole supernatural thing. It made his head hurt a little. “Well, if Melody’s a demon, she should know what’s going on, right?”

 

Bee cringed into himself. “Probably? But… I really don’t want to see her. Not after the way I left, all I’ve put her through. She probably fucking hates me.”

 

Pico lowered his tone and reached out a hand to hold Bee’s shoulder. “Hey, you don’t know that. I’m sure she just wants you to explain, and she’ll understand.” He took in a deep breath, these more intimate conversations making his skin crawl in a weird way. “And no matter what, I’ll be there with you, alright? You ain’t alone in this.”

 

Bee looked at him with a small, sad smile. “I know. Let’s make a deal, okay?” At Pico’s nod, he continued. “Let’s do some studying, scour the library, see what we can find. If we can’t find anything, then…” Bee took a deep breath. “Then, I’ll consider contacting Mel.”

 

Well, better than nothing, Pico supposed. “Alright, deal.”

 

Bee took Pico’s hand and gently kissed the back of it. “Thank you, for being here and everything. I love you.”

 

There was that weird, sick feeling in Pico’s stomach again. He wished he was strong enough to say it back. Instead, he just gave Bee an uneasy smile.

 

~~~~~

 

“Bee.”

 

The angel knew what he was going to say, and frankly, Bee just didn’t want to hear it. He just continued to pace in front of the couch and avoided eye contact with Pico.

 

The two had spent the entire week combing the local libraries top to bottom, searching for anything that would give them an answer. Scientific textbooks, religious texts, hell, they even took a desperate leap into folklore, but still turned up nothing. 

 

Absolutely fucking nothing.

 

“Bee, listen,” Pico began, “we tried, okay? I think it might be time to-”

 

“I can’t fucking do it!” Bee cut him off with an anxious shout. “I-I can’t see her again, not after my fuck-up, after how I left her, she fucking hates me! She’s gonna yell at me, and honestly? I deserve it!”

 

“Hey, calm down, it’ll be okay-”

 

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down! You don’t know shit!”

 

When Bee opened his eyes to look at Pico after his outburst, he didn’t quite expect the ginger to have such a look of terror on his face. He shrunk back against the couch, like he was afraid to be close to the angel. Bee’s stomach twisted. 

 

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell-”

 

“Look down,” Pico cut in.

 

Bee, confused, did in fact look down. Below him and spreading out from him in a spiral were dozens of thin, curled vines. When he jolted in shock, the vines jolted with him. He then lifted his hands, finding the vines coming from his fucking hands. He yelped and shook his hands out, the vines exploding into tiny grass particles that disappeared before fully hitting the ground. 

 

“Wh-What the fuck?” he questioned. 

 

Bee lifted a shaky gaze up to Pico, who simply gave him a raised eyebrow in response. The angel groaned, knowing what Pico would say before he even opened his mouth.

 

“We gotta find Melody.”

Notes:

hey...i'm back.....

real talk, it's been a BUSY end of year for me. I moved across the country again and got a job (and accidentally became important at my job so i'm there ALL THE TIME) but yknow. new chapter? i'm not gonna make any promises that the next one will come out anytime soon, i'm writing when i have free time and the inspiration hits me, but i promise buttercup isn't dead.

also, before anyone gets on my ass, i am a gay man married to a bisexual man. i can say it lol

Notes:

Join us over on Bluesky at fnf-flower-au.bsky.social for updates and lore tidbits you wouldn't get otherwise!

We sincerely want to thank everyone who enjoys our little AU, your support is beyond appreciated!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Buttercup