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It was somehow the hardest thing he’s ever done, and he’s done a lot of hard things in his life. It’s not like they were even dating, even though they’d… um, held hands, spent the night at each other’s places, gone out to the mall together, drove so far into wine country that it felt like civilization was miles away, because they didn’t really count the snobbish wine connoisseurs in clean-pressed shirts and beige blazers with their thousand-dollar yearly memberships as “people”. They’d kissed, done a whole lot more than just kissing, but they weren’t. Dating.
When Livio talks about Vash to Nicholas, he refers to him as ‘your boyfriend’. Even though Livio’s been friends with Vash longer than he has. It makes his ears burn, but these days he doesn’t find himself correcting him anymore.
Anyway, back to the hardest thing he’s ever done: the buzz about senior prom grew more as the month of May grew closer, long-time couples were asking one another out, or the cool gay kids were just going with their friends because why not; mothers and daughters scrambled to find the perfect dress, and boys were left to find a suit that didn’t look too big and baggy on them… Nicholas thought it’d be a waste of time initially, but his mind kept wandering to that dorky blond junior that always looked at him like he hung the stars. At the beginning of the year he would’ve said: hell no I’m not going, it’s stupid, and it’s not like I’d be going with anyone anyway.
…Now, though. There is someone he could go with. Someone who would gladly go with him.
So, they were sitting in his old truck during lunch when Nicholas sprung the question. He could hardly look at the kid next to him, stuffing his face full of penne from the cafeteria. It’d been mostly mumbled:
Hey, I was thinkin’…
Prom is comin’ up…
I mean, juniors can come too if they’re a senior’s date, so…
…Do you, uh, want… to go? Like, with me?
Vash nearly dropped pasta all over the center console when leaning in to hug him, exclaiming, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I, dummy?!”
When he kissed him he tasted like cheap marinara sauce. They almost missed the bell after that.
—
“Will he like it?” Nicholas mumbles, turning side to side to get a good look at himself in the mirror. He feels a little too embarrassed standing here like this, where strangers passing by could see him. But the suit, a rental, was tailored to fit his proportions and fit well. He felt weird wearing it, too fancy, too stuffy, but he’s supposed to look nice for the upcoming night. The tuxedo is black, but the tie is red, and the little kerchief in his breast pocket is, too. Vash said he got a red tuxedo for prom, so maybe the little pop of color against the black would match?
Livio standing nearby gives him a thumbs up. They both pooled saved money from Nicholas’ odd jobs and Livio’s part-time job at the movie theater to be able to afford this, and Nicholas swears he’ll repay his little brother when his own senior prom comes ‘round this time next year. If he and his weird girlfriend end up going, that is.
“How does everything feel?” The employee asks him.
“I think,” Nicholas begins, “this suit costs more than everythin’ else I own combined. I’m glad I’m just rentin’.”
“Most kids do. A lot of you are still growing at this age and it might not even fit in a year. But… I think your date’s gonna feel like the luckiest girl in the world.”
Livio snorts trying to bite back a laugh and Nicholas’ lips twitch in mild amusement.
“Yeah, I’m sure he will.”
—
The night comes faster than anyone can even realize. Senioritis is hitting hard, all the days are blurring together, but the clearest moments are the ones where he’s driving with the windows down, the music blasting, with a pretty blond boy in the passenger’s seat; or when that pretty blond boy corners him in a quiet corridor in the mall to kiss him silly until a custodian tells them to break it up; or when that pretty blond boy and his friends invite him over for their movie nights, their game nights, their do-whatever-you-want-just-parallel-play nights.
Nicholas doesn’t shave beforehand because shaving makes him break out, and he doesn’t want a face full of pimples in whatever photos Melanie will insist on taking. And she takes a lot, before Vash even shows up. He’s not sure how to pose, where to put his hands, anything, until Melanie tells him he doesn’t have to act so proper and to just be himself. The relaxation is immediate. A few of the younger foster kids want to get pictures with their cool big brother in his cool, sleek tux, but he tells them he knows they haven’t washed their hands and that they’ll get this tux dirty, and it was real expensive, y’know.
He checks his phone a little obsessively. Vash texted him that he was on the way ten minutes ago, and Nicholas knows he lives across town with the high school being a halfway point between them, and then prom is at a ranch in the next town over… they have time, and he doesn’t care too much about punctuality, he’s more nervous about Vash getting closer and closer to seeing him like this. And what he’ll think.
So nervous his stomach kind of hurts. There’s booze in his truck, but Melanie doesn’t know that. She will never know that. Some liquid courage wouldn’t hurt. But also, he has to drive. So he’ll be a big boy and deal with it.
A silver hatchback pulls up eventually, one he’s seen plenty of times by now. Nicholas flips his sunglasses up to rest on his head. The sharp-featured woman in the driver’s seat waves through the open door when Vash hops out of the car, and he really is. Very red. The jacket, the pants, the vest, the tie; the shirt is white, and his shiny dress shoes are black. He’d redone the black dye in his hair, which stayed in the same style as usual: wild spikes that somehow held on their own, a few strands hanging in front of his face. He still wore those orange sunglasses he loved… ah, did he change out his earring for a different one for the occasion? It’s dangling, a little red flower on the end.
And he’s so pretty it makes Nicholas want to die. That insecurity threatens to swallow him whole, but Vash is looking at him with huge, blue, sparkling eyes (is he wearing winged eyeliner?) and a smile so big it might split his face in two.
“You look good,” Nicholas coughs out.
“That’s it?” Vash asks with a little laugh.
“Uh, great, even. You’re- hot.”
“Are you gonna pass out?”
“No, I’m okay.”
Vash gives him a look, his brow quirked, and he looks like he wants to poke at him again, make him squirm, tease him and be mean to him in the way that makes Nicholas’ guts churn. He doesn’t get a chance though, because Melanie steps in.
“Let’s get some photos of you two before you head off!”
And his not-boyfriend immediately gets into position, tucking himself against Nicholas’s side and resting his head against his shoulder. Nicholas’ hand immediately lands on his waist, tugging him closer. A few more photos: them looking at each other, them kissing, them laughing. Then Melanie walks over and stands on her toes to kiss Nicholas’ cheeks, and then Vash’s.
When Nicholas glances over to his date, he notices an odd glint in his eyes. Something distant, melancholy.
Should… he ask? Or would that ruin the night? Maybe if Vash wants to talk about it he’ll bring it up himself. Later. Who knows.
Nicholas fishes his car keys out of his pocket. Like a gentleman, he opens the passenger door for Vash, who gives him a little amused grin before he gets inside. There’s an air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror, put there solely so they won’t smell too much like cigarettes when they arrive. Nicholas puts his sunglasses in his pocket.
It’s a twenty-minute drive and Vash has the aux. He’s playing an energetic, poppy song by a group of female vocalists in a language he doesn’t understand, but Vash has no problem singing along. He learned pretty recently Vash absorbed languages like a sponge. Apparently his second language was Japanese, thanks to his mom.
I just wanna be able to talk to all kinds of people, Vash had explained. The world’s such a big place… I hope I can see it all one day, and meet all the people in it.
Turns out Spanish was one of those languages he knew. He found this out recently. Which meant Vash understood him every time he was talking in it, which was only a little mortifying for certain reasons. It was impressive, though. A lot of kids in these parts are stuck only knowing one language.
The sun is still in the sky, but it’s starting to gradually get lower. It’s almost eight. The song transitions into the next and gives him tonal whiplash. Vash drums his fingers against the door, head nodding and eyes closed. Nicholas has to keep his eyes on the road, but he does occasionally cast glances from his periphery.
Vash is smiling. He’s happy.
The venue has parking, thank fuck. It’s not entirely full, because most kids were having their parents drop them off anyway. When they get out of the car they take a moment to help one another readjust their tuxes, straighten their ties, and fix their hair. Nicholas had tried to brush his properly, but Vash reaches up with both hands to rumple it up anyway.
“It’s cuter when it’s messy,” he says with a wink.
“Wasn’t cute before?” Nicholas grumbles.
“I didn’t say that,” Vash says, toying with Nicholas’ tie. “Just, um, looking a little messy suits you. It's cool. I mean, you wear ripped jeans and old t-shirts and the same leather jacket and dirty boots to school every day.”
“I guess.”
Vash snickers, leaning in on his toes to give Nicholas a kiss that Nicholas meets him for without even thinking twice about it. Other students can see them like this, if they managed to peel their eyes away from their own dates or their own reflections long enough. They never really kissed openly before. It was always in Nicholas’ car, or their rooms, or in a secluded hallway. Because they were not dating.
…
Yeah, sure.
Holding an event like this outside in a dry summer climate while summer was quickly approaching is beyond him, especially with kids in stuffy suits and dresses, but there are fans set to blasting and the water and juice and decaffeinated soda are free.
The music kind of sucks though.
The other issue is that… Nicholas didn’t have a lot of friends in his year. Or really… uh, any. Vash’s friends kind of absorbed him into their group, and they were all juniors and sophomores. Girls asked him out but no one ever really tried to be his friend, and a lot of the other senior boys hated him. Vash also didn’t have a lot of senior friends, despite being rather personable with just about everyone he spoke to (despite or because of the bullying, who knows, but that’s happened less and less as he’s grown into a more sure, confident young man, and not a shy, awkward, gangly freshman that Nicholas had to defend his first week there; one would almost forget he was just sixteen, sometimes).
So it really was them in a sea of people who were mostly strangers. Familiar faces, but not much else. A few teachers chaperoning the event greet them with smiles. Nicholas is always polite to them, giving an awkward smile and a nod back while Vash waves cheerily.
“I just realized,” Nicholas says. “What do you even do at these things?”
“Dance, I guess?” Vash shrugs. Nicholas glances over to the group of students that were… dancing, to whatever 2010s Top 40s shit the DJ was playing. If you could really call it dancing. Nicholas kinda thinks he wants to stay far away from that. Actually, staying right in this spot is fine. They can dance together here.
Turns out neither of them are very good at it, either. They don’t really know where their hands go, or their feet, and they keep stepping on each other. It’s clumsy and weird, but Nicholas finds himself smiling regardless. He tilts his head down to touch their foreheads together. Huh. Is Vash wearing cologne? He smells nice. His head drops lower, face against the other’s shoulder. Vash’s hands slide up to play with his hair. The material of his prosthetic is blissfully cool.
“Nicholas,” Vash murmurs into his ear. “Mr. Conrad looks like he’s gonna blow up if we don’t act like good Christian kids. Remember, space for Jesus. Save canoodling for marriage.”
There’s a smile in his voice, a little laugh at the edge of it. Nicholas snorts.
“Well, we’re way past that, ain’t we?”
“If you said that he might have a heart attack.”
“Would be about time. I swear he’s been teachin’ here since my ma was my age.”
Nicholas lifts his head up anyway and casts a sidelong glance at the red-faced chemistry teacher who is staring at them with open disapproval, but he seems to relax when the pair give each other a little more space. He thinks the guy just doesn’t like him to begin with. A lot of the male teachers didn’t, for whatever reason.
They drift in and out for some time. They aren’t even really listening to the music, mostly just talking quietly to each other. It would be romantic, he could wax poetic about them feeling like the only two in the world, but Nicholas feels way too sweaty, and he feels like the tie is going to strangle him. They eventually have to grab cups of water to cool off, lingering near the long tables.
“All the movies made senior prom look so, like, cool… and flashy, and stuff,” Vash says. “There’s a lot more just standing around… and bad dancing… and being sweaty, than I thought there’d be.”
Immediately, Nicholas frowns, brows furrowing. Is Vash… not enjoying himself?
“Sorry,” he mutters. “I hope it’s not a waste of time.”
That insecurity hits him again. Did he screw up? Should he have bothered? Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, would save them both the time, give them both a free Saturday evening.
“No, ‘cus you’re here,” Vash replies, and his voice is so gentle, so earnest, his expression so open and honest that Nicholas can’t help but immediately believe it. “And you look really, really handsome, and cute, and I get you all to myself.”
Nicholas scoffs, trying to fight back his grin with… very little success. “Yeah, whatever.” He downs the rest of his water, then digs his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It’s a surprise to see a whole hour’s passed, but the sun has completely sunk now, and the venue is illuminated by lanternlight. “Hey, I was thinkin’...”
“Yeah, about what?”
“You wanna just head out? We can do somethin’ else. Just us, no one else stickin’ their big noses into it.”
“Had anything in mind?” Vash is already moving toward the exit. Nicholas follows him.
“Just whatever. You want In-N-Out? I’m hungry.”
“Sounds like the most romantic date I’ve ever had,” Vash replies, nose scrunching up as he giggles. “Uh, wait… don’t we need a note to leave early?”
Oh. Right. Nicholas is eighteen, he can do whatever he wants, but Vash is still sixteen. Hm. That complicates some things. But this venue is big, and there’s only so many sweaty teens a handful of exhausted chaperones can keep track of. Vash’s bright red suit kind of makes him stick out like a sore thumb, though.
But it’s also nighttime. Maybe they can just… take the long way around. Hm, no. Too much wandering around in the stuffy heat in suits.
He scans the crowd of students, brows furrowed, eyes peeled, and… ah, perfect. Football player. Quarterback. Big ego to cover up bigger insecurity. The guy hates Nicholas and the feeling is mutual, but he still tells Vash to wait before he strolls right up to him.
“Howdy. Monev, right?” The guy gives him a look, then goes back to ignoring him. Nicholas continues, “Just thought you should know Eddie Gerald has been fuckin’ your girlfriend every Friday in the H&M dressin’ rooms at the Promenade. I guess she likes crackhead freak dick over, uh, whatever you got goin’ on.”
That gets his attention. “What’re you talking about, man?”
“Just ask to see her phone. Godspeed, brother.”
The giant of a guy does end up walking over to where his little girlfriend stands chatting with her friends. Nicholas can’t hear what they’re saying, but they’re starting to look pretty upset. The girl hands her phone over for Mr. Quarterback to look at, tears in her eyes, and after a minute of scrolling the guy stalks through the crowd to the tall, skinny freak hanging out with his other weird friends. He lands a punch before anyone can even ask what’s going on.
And it’s all hands on deck from there. Chaperones swarm, and Nicholas heads back over to where his partner is waiting. Vash grimaces, looking over at the chaos, “What’d you even say?”
“Told him the cold, hard truth.”
Vash looks concerned, but then shrugs. Other things to worry about. Nicholas knows he’s not a huge fan of fighting, so all the better reason to get out of there now. They figure phone recordings of the fight will be up on socials later for anyone nosy enough, and take off. His beat-up truck peels out of the parking lot and onto the main road probably faster than was legal, but who cares? Vash is laughing the whole time, his sunglasses a little lopsided. His hand is wrapped around the grab handle, one knee drawn up to his chest.
They drive back into town, past the mall that’s just closed and some of the restaurants still open, past stucco and Spanish Revival architecture, palm trees rustling in the late-spring breeze. The mountains are dark blotches on the horizon, with hundreds of thousands of little golden lights from suburbs and shopping centers laid out before them.
He pulls into the In-N-Out parking lot. Vash gives him a playful little shove as they head towards the doors.
“You think anyone’ll notice we left?” He asks.
“After all that? No one’ll even remember we were there.”
The cashier is definitely someone that goes to school with them, who blinks at them before managing a cheery greeting to take their order. Vash gets a Double Double, Nicholas gets Animal Style, and they both get their own chocolate shakes and large fries to share.
They sit at a booth and take their burgers out of the cardboard tray, where Nicholas promptly empties the mountain of ketchup packets they got for their fries.
“I think the whole school's gonna know I'm gay by homeroom Monday,” Nicholas says, swiping a few fries through the ketchup and shoving them in his mouth. Vash has placed his sunglasses aside and blinks at him, big eyes in clear view.
“You think people're gonna be weird about it?”
“I don't really care,” Nicholas replies, pulling back the paper sleeve on his burger. “I graduate in a month anyway. Just more worried about you.”
“Eh… I can handle it.” Vash bites into his burger and narrowly avoids getting a glob of sauce on his dress shirt. Around his mouthful he says, “Sad you won't be able to protect me?”
“I've seen you throw a punch,” Nicholas scoffs. But then, quieter, he admits, “Yeah. A little.”
The other smiles at him. “It's nothing I haven't dealt with before. Y'know that. Some of the teachers still call me the wrong name. They always get Knives’ right, though… for some reason…”
“Need me to kill someone and make it look like an accident?”
“No way! No killing!” Vash shoves fries in his mouth without ketchup like a weirdo. “S'okay. I probably won't have ‘em next year anyway.”
“You better not.” Nicholas reaches across the table and cups Vash's chin, brushing his thumb over it. “Grow some hair here n’ it'll stop, I bet.”
“My biggest fear,” Vash says, leaning his head into Nicholas’s hand happily, “is starting T and still being a twiggy hairless white boy.”
“No changing the white boy part, but I'm sure you'll get some hair… somewhere. If you wanna stop bein’ twiggy, go to the gym and eat more. How many times I gotta tell ya that?”
“Whatever.” Vash sticks his tongue out at him and Nicholas grabs it, giving it a little tug. Vash whines and squirms in his seat. “Thhtop!!”
Nicholas grins at him. He decides to show a little mercy, releasing Vash's tongue. Vash immediately tries to bite his fingers before he can pull away, but Nicholas is luckily faster.
Sometime during their meal Nicholas ends up undoing his tie and popping the first few buttons of his dress shirt open, and letting the large collar hang out over his jacket lapels. Vash keeps looking down at his chest, not even trying to hide it, while he finishes off his milkshake.
“You finally started growing hair on your chest,” Vash points out.
“Uh, yeah.” Nicholas throws a fry at him and Vash catches it in his mouth. “Any other observations you wanna make, genius?”
“Your eyes are pretty,” Vash continues. “You have really long eyelashes. And nice lips. They're so soft.”
“Okay, nevermind.” Yeah, his face is burning. “You done?”
“Uh-huh,” Vash replies.
They toss their trash into the little cardboard tray and Nicholas tosses it on the way out. Vash follows close behind. He clambers into the passenger's seat, clips the seatbelt, and closes his eyes. Nicholas drives a bit more carefully to their next destination. A joint liquor store and gas station. The employee there is also someone he's pretty sure he's seen at school, and they never care enough to card him. Especially not tonight, after they give each other a look of mutual understanding and I was never here; You were never here. He buys the large bottle of radioactive green Buzzballz and a giant bag of sour gummy worms with no issue.
In the truck, he puts the booze behind the front seats, under a small blanket with the 6-pack of beer, and tosses the candy into Vash's lap. Vash beams at him and tears it open, biting one worm in half as Nicholas drives them to their next spot.
A Wal-Mart parking lot, the most romantic date spot of all.
It's nearing ten in the evening. They won't be open much longer, and the parking lot isn't very full. He parks near the edge, under a street lamp, and they both climb out. Nicholas grabs the booze from the back, along with the small can opener in the seat pocket, and they climb into the truck bed even though it'll get dust and dirt on their nice slacks.
“This looks like it's gonna set off a Geiger counter,” Vash says when he picks up the large, round bottle of Buzzballz. Nicholas cracks open a bottle of beer. “Is it even good?”
“They didn't have any other color,” Nicholas replies. “Take it or leave it. Or stop bein’ a pussy and try beer.”
Vash squints at him, then looks back at the bottle. “Well, you got it just for me, I can't let it go to waste.”
He twists the cap off. Nicholas, casually sipping his beer, watches as Vash takes… a too-big gulp of the probably poisonous green liquid. His not-boyfriend immediately starts coughing, his face all scrunched up, and Nicholas laughs.
“Sorry, I shoulda brought some water. Don't drink it so fast, stupid.”
“Ugh… I can't even… tell what flavor it's supposed to be…”
“Bad.”
“Bad flavor.”
Nicholas gives his shoulder a pat. “Sorry I made you drink Bad Flavor.”
“Honestly, it's still somehow better than beer.”
“Shitty tequila over beer? Jeez, you are gay.”
Vash laughs at him. “Bisexual, darling.” He limps his wrist in Nicholas’ direction for dramatic effect.
“So like, half-gay,” Nicholas replies and Vash grins wide. He scoots closer to Nicholas until their shoulders are bumping. Even through their layers of clothing the contact feels like an electric shock.
“I think every woman is the most stunning creature who has ever walked the earth, and then I like weird guys.”
Nicholas scowls at him. “You callin’ me weird?”
“It means I like you,” Vash responds, leaning further in, those stupidly long pretty eyelashes fluttering. Nicholas can feel his face heating up again, but he doesn't hesitate to lean in to kiss him. It just lasts a few moments before they go back to drinking.
He watches Vash make faces every time he takes a drink from that big round bottle, but the sounds of disgust and coughing have otherwise ceased. Occasionally they stop drinking to throw gummy worms at each other to try to catch them in their mouths. Vash has scary good aim… which makes Nicholas think him beaning him in the eye with one was on purpose.
He's on his fourth beer, feeling a pleasant buzz, once Vash gets halfway through his bottle.
Even his tipsy brain had taken note of how the more Vash drank, the less chatty he got. He'd shed his red jacket eventually to combat the heat and placed it over his now-folded legs. While Vash watches cars roll by through the parking lot as the closing Wal-Mart employees head home, Nicholas watches him.
He’s got that same distant, melancholy look in his eyes he got earlier when Melanie sent them off. Vash glances away from the pavement to the bottle in his hand, and then tips his head back and takes what, honestly, was too big of a chug. But he doesn’t even flinch or make a face this time, just wipes his mouth.
Nicholas’s not sure what the issue is. Maybe he’s just tired, or maybe he’s bored? Maybe he’s regretting all of this? He bites the inside of his cheek and looks at his beer, knits his brows together. Usually friends ask other friends what’s wrong if they notice they’re sad, but Nicholas is not great at comforting other kids around his age. Much younger kids, sure, but not moody teens like him.
He downs the rest of the beer and shifts his position, reaching over to take the bottle from Vash’s hands and set it aside. Vash blinks owlishly at him, but he’s fully pliant when Nicholas’s hands scoop him under the armpits and pull him into his lap.
“Right here?” Vash laughs sheepishly. His prosthetic hand lands on Nicholas’ chest, the other resting on his shoulder.
“I’m not gettin’ fresh with you,” Nicholas mutters in response, his hands sliding down to Vash’s waist. The kid is so damn skinny, Nicholas worries about one strong breeze blowing him away. He hugs him closer, their fronts pressing flush together. “You just got this weird look. Feelin’ okay?”
“I’m fine,” Vash replies way too quickly. His mouth clicks shut immediately after, and the redness in his cheeks is… clearly not just from the flush of alcohol. Nicholas squints at him incredulously, clearly not convinced. The other boy shifts uncomfortably in his lap, looking off to the side, anywhere but his face. “I mean, I, um… it’s nothing you should worry about.”
“C’mon.”
“It doesn’t matter. I promise. It- it’d r-ruin the night anyway.”
Nicholas tilts his head. “Did I do somethin’?”
“No! It’s not you! It’s all me, I swear! But I c-can’t… talk about it, because it’d ruin prom and… I don’t…”
A warm hand on Vash’s face guides him to look back at him. Nicholas meets his eyes and quietly says, “Let me help you?”
The waterworks are instant. So much so that it startles him, and he’s left floundering, unsure of what to do. Fat tears stream down Vash’s cheeks, dripping off his jaw and the tip of his nose. His whole face is red now, and he’s a little snotty. Both of his hands try to wipe at his wet cheeks to dry them to no avail.
“Wh-when your mom was taking pictures and everything I realized that… that I d-didn’t get to have that with my mom. But you get to have that. All the pictures and the kisses and the hugs. And I’m jealous! Okay! I’m jealous! B-b-but I didn’t wanna say it because it’d ruin prom and I don’t wanna ruin prom but I wish she was h-here. And could see me. And you. She’d be so happy. She never got to see me in a suit. I couldn’t even wear one to her fucking funeral because I had s-s-so much crap sticking out of m-me and was so hopped up on painkillers I could barely get dressed by myself especially since I only had one arm now and- and- and- and they didn’t wanna deal with storing a suit at the hospital.”
It all comes out so fast Nicholas almost can’t process anything Vash is saying; it’s just this long, stumbling stream of consciousness. They never talked about Vash’s mom. Both twins were out for an extended period last school year, Vash gone longer than his brother, and rumors had flown around. Especially when Vash had shown up in a wheelchair with a shiny new prosthetic arm that definitely only the best goddamn money could buy. They hadn’t been friends then, but Nicholas had heard enough talking and seen it himself, but he never knew what exactly happened until this school year, when he actually started talking to the other boy in their shared regenerative agricultural elective.
Nicholas isn’t sure what to say. He sits there in stunned silence, holding the sobbing boy in his lap. Vash’s entire body trembles, both sad and angry and scared and regretful. Fuck, he’s no good at this. What should he do?
“I love you,” Vash whimpers, and it's like a punch to the gut. The tears are still streaming freely down his face. “I love you and I wish she could've gotten to meet you because she'd love you, too.”
“Spi— Vash…” His hand runs up the other's back. Vash just sits there, sobbing and rubbing at his eyes.
“I'm ruining the night,” Vash bawls. “I didn't mean to cry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. If you're mad I understand. Sorry, I'm so—”
The only thing Nicholas’ drunken brain can think to do is kiss him to stop his crying and apologizing. He tastes like fast food and bad liquor and tears. Vash's hands immediately land on his cheeks; he sniffles into the kiss. Nicholas wraps his arms tight around his not— ah, fuck it, his boyfriend's middle and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him until he forgets what he's crying about at all. They fall into each other, getting lost in the taste of their mouths, the heat of their breaths, and their hands on each other.
Eventually, one of them remembers they’re still in public. That they’re in a truck bed in a parking lot and they don’t wanna be caught for public indecency and then subsequently busted for drinking underage. Vash pulls away for air and Nicholas realizes at some point he’d ended up on his back with Vash on top of him. He blinks blearily at the night sky, squinting. The beer is making him a little dizzy and making his guts turn.
“We should go home,” Nicholas mumbles. “Before the cops roll through.”
“Yeah. Um.” Vash, his face still blotchy and damp, eyes red, nose runny, climbs off of Nicholas and goes to gather up his jacket and the still-open Buzzballz bottle. He bites his lip, looking down at it, and then looks back at Nicholas. The slightly panicked look in his eye isn’t lost on the older boy. “You’re… you’re not gonna be driving, right? I think we’re both pretty drunk…”
“Uh, no. I’m not stupid.” Nicholas, still lying there, reaches into his pocket to find his phone. He inputs the wrong passcode three times before he can get in, and then fumbles around trying to remember where his contacts are so he can pull up his brother’s information. “Don’t worry, got a plan.”
He doesn’t feel like holding the phone up to his ear so he puts the call on speaker. It rings for so long Nicholas thinks he’s being ignored and will just have to resign to calling an overpriced Uber and then making the hungover trek back to his truck tomorrow, but eventually the other line picks up.
“Nico? Everything okay?”
“Hey,” Nicholas says. “I’m drunk.”
“Uh-huh?”
“So is Vash.”
“Right.”
“So neither of us can drive back.”
There’s silence, shuffling, and a muffled female voice that is definitely not Melanie’s coming from the other end. Livio audibly sighs.
“Me and El were havin’ a movie night, Nico…”
“You’re back with her?”
Livio dodges the question. “Ma might ask why I’m goin’ out so late. She’ll smell it all over you, too.”
“Hmm.”
More silence. Muffled conversation. Vash is sitting with his back to him, looking up at the moon.
“Okay, where are you guys?”
“Wal-Mart. Parked. End of the lot.”
“Okay. El’s gonna drive me over. Be there in five.”
“You’re the best. You can have the rest of my beer.”
Livio snorts and hangs up. Vash turns his head to look over his shoulder, expression worried. “Livio doesn’t have a license yet.”
“He’s got a permit and there’s gonna be an adult with a license in the car. It’s fine.” Nicholas finally pushes himself up into a sitting position and reaches over to gather the pack of beer, two bottles still remaining. Vash climbs out of the truck bed and stumbles like a newborn foal over to the doors, opening up the back and climbing in to stretch across the bench. Nicholas sits on the edge of the bed, waiting.
I love you. The words echo in his head. He’s not sure if he can say them back just yet. It’s a little scary. He kind of wishes Vash hadn’t been crying when he said them, but there’s no going back in time to change it. They both need some sleep. It’s past eleven now.
It doesn’t take long for a sleek pink car to pull up, not even bothering to park. Livio ducks out of the passenger’s side and the blonde girl with immaculate makeup in the driver’s seat gives Nicholas a venomous stare before she speeds off. His brother trots up to him and Nicholas hops out of the truck bed… and immediately teeters forward into his little brother’s bigger frame.
Livio catches him by the arms and sets him upright.
“You really do owe me,” Livio says. “Where’re the keys?”
“Cupholder,” Nicholas replies.
Livio walks him to the passenger’s side door and helps him inside, patting him on the back before he closes the door. Nicholas looks in the back, where Vash was stretched out on his belly, limbs akimbo, fast asleep. Were his folks expecting him back home tonight? Would he get in trouble with them for drinking? Things he… probably should’ve asked first, before just handing him alcohol.
His brother climbs into the driver’s seat and fishes the keys out of the cupholder. The drive back is mostly silent, Nicholas fading in and out with his head resting against the window. The lights make his head hurt, so he closes his eyes. Five minutes feels like ages until they get back home, Livio has to shake both him and Vash awake and practically drag them inside, and luckily Melanie’s asleep and any of the younger kids still awake know better than to snitch.
Livio is a very nice boy, which means he gives them both bottles of water and some granola bars from the pantry before letting them stumble upstairs to Nicholas’ room. Vash sags heavily against his side as they go, and he really does look like a mess. The skin around his eyes is speckled red, his eyeliner is smudged, and his hair is falling out of its spikes.
The water and granola bars are deposited on the bedside table. They don’t really talk besides Nicholas asking, “Do you wanna go home?” and Vash replying, “I already texted Luida I’m staying here tonight.”
They both barely manage to make it to the bathroom across the hall, because they both realized they really had to pee. Once back in the bedroom, their shoes are kicked off. Jackets and ties and vests are thrown over the chair by the desk. Vash gets his belt off and shirt untucked and unbuttoned, struggling with his binder for a minute before he’s faceplanting on the bed and almost falling asleep. Nicholas really doesn’t want to bother with the rest of his clothes, either. He climbs in right next to him, dragging the blanket over them both.
Vash huddles up close to him, head against his collarbone. Nicholas reaches over him to shut off the lamp on the bedside table, shrouding them in darkness.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Vash mumbles quietly. “At least I don’t cry on all our dates.”
“Wouldn’t matter if you did. It’s okay.”
“Mm…”
They don’t drink their water or eat their granola bars, something they’ll certainly regret come morning. Nicholas forgets to plug his phone in and Vash doesn’t even have his own charger on him. They fall asleep like that, tangled together with dusty pants, skin a little grimy from sweat, reeking of booze, but Nicholas doesn’t even mind. Vash is so warm and the way his body slots against his own is so familiar and welcome. His hair smells nice, too.
He falls asleep faster than he usually would, his hand cradling the back of his boyfriend’s head.
—
At 6:49AM Sunday morning, Razlo wakes up.
There’s a sticky note left on the bedside table with Livio’s handwriting. It reads: if u wake up in the morning, nico ruined our date night. do with that what u will
Well, don’t mind if he does. Livio and Elendira just got back together, and they can’t have any shitty big brothers already immediately wrecking their relationship again. Those two can wreck their relationship on their own, thank you very much.
Razlo scratches his ass and sniffs. He fumbles with the hearing aid in his left ear, messing with the frequency before he rolls out of bed. He walks over to the bin of junk Livio keeps in the corner of their room and pulls out the large rubber chicken he bought as a joke once, and then leaves his room to go down the hall to Nick’s.
He doesn’t knock. Just opens the door, shuts it behind him, and walks right up to the lump under the blankets.
Both hands squeeze the rubber chicken for twenty seconds… and then release. The wheezy, loud squawk echoes through the entire room and the lump startles. Nick shoots upright, looking like a goddamn wreck, his eyes wide.
“RISE AND SHINE, DUMBASS!” And Nick is thwacked over the head with the rubber chicken. “SUNDAY MOOOORNING. AND YOOOOU. HAVE. TO. GO. TO MAAAAASS.”
“Fuck, dude, stop, I’m too hungo—”
“YOUR ACTIONS HAVE CONSEQUENCES! YOU WILL LEARN!” Okay, maybe he’s being too loud. He’ll wake up the rest of the kids. “And you fuckin’ stink.”
There’s… more movement though. Another head pops out from under the blankets, full of messy blonde-and-black hair and a pretty boy who looked like he just had the worst mental breakdown of his life. Livio only mentioned Nick. No one else. He had no clue Vash was here. Ooooops!
“Whhg…?” Vash grumbles out. “Can you fuck off, man?”
Razlo lets out a barking laugh. The rubber chicken is thrown at Nick’s face before he sprints out the door.
No way that guy’s getting anymore sleep!