Chapter Text
“Wow, you’re actually here early to set up,” Luz teases, prodding him in the back with her pointer finger as she passes. Gus rolls his eyes, pouring the chips into a serving bowl.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he says, handing the empty bag to one of his illusions to dispose of.
“You know, I always wondered, why do the illusions have to look like you? I understand the deception part, but when the illusions are just there to be your servants?”
“Well, they don’t have to, but it feels unethical to make an illusion of someone else’s likeness to be under my servitude.” His illusioned self fetches drinks from the fridge and sets them on the fold-out table in the living room.
“Hmm, I guess so. Hey, when is that girlfriend of yours showing up? Why didn’t you offer to pick her up?”
Gus twitches. “I did. She wanted to fly here on her own.”
“Hope she’s not standing you up,” Luz says. Gus gulps — he hadn’t even considered that. Noticing his anxiety, she pats him on the shoulder a few times. “Aww, chin up, man, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I mean, maybe a tad awkward for your current girlfriend to be in the same room as your not-ex-boyf —”
“Shut up,” Gus says.
“Sorry! I couldn’t resist!”
“Seriously. I don’t even know why you all thought that.”
“Maybe because he goes to movie night with us every week and we didn’t even really invite him at first? I figured he was your plus one.”
“I thought he was Amity’s plus one!”
“Amity hates Matt,” says Luz, but she’s kind of smiling fondly like she thinks it’s funny. “Well, not really, but she finds him annoying.”
“Doesn’t everybody?” he snickers. For a second, Gus catches himself thinking, Titan, I kinda wish I was dating Matt. Probably would be easier than whatever I’m doing now.
“Well, what’s this Keratina like, anyway?” asks Luz, snapping him out of that train of thought. “Is she nice?”
“What are you, my dad?” Gus commands his illusion to stack the sodas in a way he deems aesthetically pleasing. “You’ll get to know her when you get to know her. And yes, she’s nice. I only like nice girls.”
“Bria,” Luz retorts. Gus sighs, hanging his head.
Willow arrives next, dragging a splinter-ridden Hunter through the door with her. He’s muttering something about palistrom wood that nobody really cares to even pretend to listen to.
“Hey, Gus,” Willow greets, “where’s your girlfriend?”
“She’s not here yet,” Gus says, gritting his teeth.
“Oh. Alright,” she says, putting the box of pixie pizza she brought on the table.
Gus orchestrates his illusion to restack the sodas, focusing on his artistic vision instead of the looming anxiety billowing in his chest. Hmm, red cans on the bottom, or red cans on the top?
The doorbell rings. Gus’ ears prick; his illusion mirroring him unconsciously. “That’s definitely her.” Nobody in their friend circle is polite enough to notify their arrival before barging in.
He runs to answer the door, bumping shoulders with Hunter, who was already moving to open it. “Sorry!”
“I was closer…” Hunter mumbles.
Gus pulls the door open. “Hey! Keratina, you came.” He leans against the doorframe, hopefully looking handsomely casual.
She gives him an odd look, tilts her head. She’s in long shorts and one of those tourist-y ‘I <3 BI’ shirts. He can’t tell if it’s ironic. “You invited me, didn’t you?” Kera pulls him in for a hug; he allows her to squeeze him. He wonders if his unbridled infatuation can absorb into her scaly skin. What a stupid thought. Is this what being in love feels like?
“Okay, come on in, come on in,” he says, breaking apart and leading Keratina in. “Guys, this is Keratina.”
Hunter’s the only one currently in the room — he looks around and realizes he’s on his own socially. “Hello. Nice to meet you.” He shakes her hand tightly. “I’m Hunter.”
“Charmed.” She messes with a bangle on her wrist, unsure of what to say next. Hunter’s equally clueless. “So, why do you have splinters on your arms?” He perks up, thankful to have an audience. Gus watches, intrigued. Two circles of his life converging. It’s odd. He puts his attention back on stacking the sodas but listens in on Kera and Hunter. Does she like his friends? Do his friends like his girlfriend? Are they talking about him? Luz comes back into the room with a bag of candy and joins the conversation.
Amity and Matt arrive together a bit later, freshly sawdust-y from a weekend shift of design and construction. They have matching carabiners, Gus realizes, even though she supposedly hates him.
“Hey,” she says. Luz takes her jacket, hanging it on a hook and kissing her on the head. Gus smiles, taking Keratina’s hand in his. She’s surprised for a second — her hand sits like a dead fish in his grip — but then she’s lacing her digits between his and Everything is Decidedly Okay.
“Well!” says Matt, hands on his hips. “Augustus, aren’t you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”
“Gus is short for Augustus?”
Gus sighs. “Keratina, this is Matt. Matt, Keratina.”
She smiles coyly. “I like the DIY look,” she says, pointing to Matt’s cut-off shirt sleeves.
“You don’t have to lie to him,” Amity quips as she follows Luz into the kitchen.
“Rude,” says Matt, leaning against the couch.
“That was Amity, and her girlfriend, Luz,” Gus says, contextualizing the interworkings of his circle.
“I see, I see.”
Willow walks into the room, smiling at Gus and his girlfriend. “Hey! I’m Willow. Keratina, is it?”
“Yeah,” says Gus.
“Hey, what did you study in school?” Willow asks, moving an armchair to fit the seating arrangements. “I did abominations before switching to the plant track.”
“Oh, I did potions! Stable career outlook and all that. And it’s pretty fun. I’ve got an apprenticeship right now; I want to wrap that up and then maybe do some traveling?” Her voice goes a little tentative. He likes it when it’s all warbly and soft like that.
“My girlfriend’s pretty talented, huh?” Gus says with a smile. Willow kinda nods and grabs a slice of pixie pizza.
“Mind if I get a slice?” Keratina asks.
“Go ahead! Box is in the kitchen. Oh, and I don’t know what we’re watching, but I’m pretty sure it’s a horror flick.”
“Cool.”
The others slowly filter back into the living room and get settled in front of the television. Luz and Willow share the armchair; he and Keratina sit on a loveseat; Amity begrudgingly wedges between Hunter and Matt.
“Good to start the movie now?” Amity asks, shaking the remote.
“Wait, guys, we haven’t taken our photo!”
Willow shuffles from the armchair, avoiding tripping over everyone’s legs. She grabs her bag and pulls her Polaroid from it. She sets it on the TV stand and activates the self timer.
“Okay, okay, smile!”
The room is illuminated milky white for a second. Gus’ eyes adjust, the purple phosphenes dancing across his vision as he turns to grin at Keratina.
“Now you’ve been immortalized,” he says.
“What do you guys do with the photos?”
“I like to scrapbook,” Willow explains. “I make one every year, for the memories!”
“Okay, can we start it now?” Amity asks again, slightly crabbily.
“Wait,” says Matt. “I didn’t get my drink.”
“Seriously? You’ve had like, twenty minutes to pick something,” Amity complains.
Matt ignores her, goes to the refreshments table. “Anyone else want a soda while I’m up?”
“Dr. Pepper, but pour it in a glass with crushed ice and lime,” Gus says. Matt rolls his eyes and chucks a can at his torso.
“I’m not doing all that.”
“Jerk,” Gus mutters, opening his soda: it promptly erupts in his face. Keratina laughs. Ugh.
He goes to the kitchen to clean up, wringing soda out of his shirt over the sink. Matt, for whatever reason, follows him into the room. “Amity said she’s starting it without you.” He pauses. “Hey, sorry about that. Even if it’s your fault for opening it.”
“Always one to victim blame.”
Matt looks around shiftily. “Can I say something real quick?”
“It’s a free country,” Gus says, even though that turn of phrase doesn’t really work as well in this dimension.
“Look, man, between you and me, you gotta tone it down.”
“What?”
“With Keratina. You’re parading her around like a fuckin’ trophy, like she’s an object. You look really insecure. Like, hey guys, look, I have a girlfriend! It’s not ‘casual,’ it’s weird.”
Gus rolls his eyes in frustration. “I think I know my girlfriend better than you do.” He blots at his pants with paper towels.
“That’s definitely not a two-way street. I mean, she didn’t even know your name was short for Augustus.” Matt leans against the counter, pressing his hands against the edge and idly using it to push himself off the ground.
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“I’m just trying to help you out.”
“Like I’m gonna take advice from someone whose love life consists mostly of failed first dates.”
“All this obsession with my romantic history is strange, Augustus. Makes me think you might have a little crush on me.”
What? Before he can give a retort, Matt spins a spell circle; Gus’ clothes are completely cleaned of soda. He looks down in shock.
“Yeah, with how many times people step in or touch wet cement at work, I had to create a good cleaning spell.” Matt shrugs modestly.
“That’s… surprisingly thoughtful of you.”
“Of course. I’m quite a thoughtful person. Did you ever think otherwise?”
“Yes.”
“Come on, dude, we’re missing the movie.”
…
The movie — some slasher flick — is kinda unremarkable. Gus is more fixated on his girlfriend: making sure she’s comfortable, being an attentive partner (but not too attentive), listening in on how she interacts with his friends. Everyone gasps at the reveal, talks about the foreshadowing after it ends. Gus hasn’t put in enough attention to hold an opinion.
“Are you alright?” Keratina asks, pulling him into the kitchen and breaking away from the group. “You’ve been a bit quiet.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just tired,” Gus lies, pulling his thumbs into his belt loops. “It’s not the horror. Believe me, that stuff has no effect on me. You should see the illusions I can make; the film is child’s play in comparison.”
“Really? Should I be worried? Is this a red flag?” Keratina asks playfully, prodding him in the bicep.
“Don’t be worried,” he says. “I only use my powers for good. Mostly. Relatively.”
“Mmm. Would be hard for you to get the jump on me, anyway. Who’s to say I can’t slip a little potion in your water bottle?”
His heart soars with affection. He pulls her in for a kiss she immediately reciprocates and marvels in the fact that he can do that; he has a girlfriend he can kiss.
Keratina pulls away. “I’m getting tired. I should really be getting home.”
“Alright,” Gus says with a smile.
They emerge from the kitchen hand-in-hand; everyone else is scattered across the living room. “Hey, I think I’m gonna fly home now. It was nice meeting you guys!”
A chorus of agreements and vague pleasantries ring across the group. He walks her out to the door.
“I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”
Gus raises his eyebrows. “Wait, I was under the impression I was flying you home.”
She bites her lip. “Oh. I’m fine on my own.”
“Really?”
“Really,” his girlfriend repeats. “Gus. I’m a big girl. I can take myself home just fine.”
“What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I let you take that risk?” he asks suavely.
Her face kinda curdles. “I rode here on my own just fine. I ride by myself all the time, since I was a kid.”
“Okay, well, it would just make me feel better.” How would it look to the others if he didn’t treat her perfectly?
“Sure,” she says, smiling with her mouth closed.
“Perfect!” He unleashes his palisman and hops on; Keratina follows suit and rides off, Gus on her metaphorical tail.
...
Gus’ mouth tilts into a slant as he reads one of the papers his student turned in. They’d switched tenses four times in one paragraph — Titan, I knew Eda accepted nearly everyone into the university, but seriously?
He gives ‘em a C- anyway. Fuck it! Why not! Life is going alright. He’ll provide some encouraging comments and let them off the hook just this once.
As much as he wants to pretend his happiness isn’t intrinsically tied to his relationship status, the bulk of his joy derives from his girlfriend. She met his friends: that’s one of those fabled Next Steps in making a relationship more serious. They haven’t seen each other since that day, but it’s okay, Gus can manage with just texts and calls. He isn’t one of those super needy guys —
Ping!
Gus drops his pen. That’s her, right? He opens his scroll.
do you wanna go out for coffee tomorrow morning? before work for both of us? About 9 am sound good?
He grins, shoots back an absolutely! and gets back to his work, mood uplifted even further. Gus looks down at the student’s paper and adds an extra stroke to the top. C+.
…
Gus gets up early and flies to the cafe. He looks around before sitting down, even though he knows he’s ten minutes early, just in case he might see her. He orders a matcha with griffin milk and sits at a booth, dictating a set of small illusions of himself to stack the sugar packets and mini creamers. He thinks about what Luz says and dissolves his creations. Spinning another circle, he makes a little illusion of Keratina, then adds himself back in. Perhaps they’ll build a house together, thinks Gus, then realizes how silly that thought is: his illusions are not capable of free will.
Thankfully, Keratina arrives on time. He notices her through the door and quickly waves the illusions away, shoving the sugar and cream building blocks back into their containers so he doesn’t look weird.
“Hey, Gus,” she says, smiling and waving at him, coffee cup in her left hand.
“Hey! You ordered to-go?” Something about it flashes warning signs in his head.
She shrugs. “Oh, yeah, I have somewhere to be after this.”
“A date with your other illusionist boyfriend?” Ugh, you sound like your dad.
His girlfriend laughs falsely, twitches her nose infinitesimally. “So, um, I’m actually here to talk about something with you.” Keratina sips from her cup and averts her eyes. A surge of anxiety lurches through his veins.
“Yeah?”
“...Listen, I’ll cut right to the chase. I don’t think we should continue seeing each other,” she says finally, something tight in her posture becoming unwound. Like Gus was this burden on her; like he was weighing her down and now, only now can she bob to the surface.
His stomach churns. “What?”
“I don’t feel as though we’re compatible.” Her hands meet her knees, elbows jutting out awkwardly. She looks simpler than she does in his mind’s eye, his stupidly quixotic illusion-trained brain.
“But we seemed to be getting along so well.”
“Maybe for now. But I just — I don’t see any staying power to this.”
“I’ve been trying really hard to make it work, though,” Gus says. This can still work. This can still work.
“That’s just the point, isn’t it? I think you’re trying a bit too hard.” She purses her lips into an apologetic smile. “It shouldn’t have to be hard to make things work.”
“We’ve barely even started dating, though.”
“Which is why I want to break it off now before we both get hurt.”
What a lie.
Keratina shifts in her seat, mouth still pursed in that contrite position. He hates that he still thinks she’s very pretty, even when she’s breaking his heart. “And anyway, your friends are so… serious.”
“Serious? My friends?”
“Okay, not in that way, but like… Luz and Amity; Willow and — that other guy, sorry, forgot his name — they’ve been together for a long time, super serious, and I don’t know. You seem like you want to model your relationship after them. I’m young; I’m not like, dating to marry or anything.”
“I’m young, too. I’m younger than you, in fact.”
“Well, you’re further in your career than me,” she corrects. “I think we’re at different places in life. I mean, I was just looking for something chill to pass the time.”
“That’s all I was? Something momentary for you to fixate on?”
“You’re twisting my words, Gus.”
He feels the words rise in a bid to escape his throat. “We could still make it work. We can make things casual.”
Oh Titan, don’t talk like this.
“Gus,” Keratina says, taken aback. He hates the way his name sounds coming from her mouth. “There’s no point. I’m thinking of going traveling soon anyway. We would have broken up eventually anyway.”
“I could go with you,” he pleads.
“You have a steady job as a professor, and there was that study program you were talking about.”
“I could put it on pause.”
“Gus. Dude. Don’t act all desperate like this. It isn’t doing you any favors. We’re in different places in life, that’s all. And come on, we’ve only been on four dates. You shouldn’t upend your life for a girl you’ve been on four dates with.” She looks away, says quieter, “Anyway, you don’t really know me, and you don’t seem to care to.”
He wants to beg her to stay more than he already has, but he steels himself to keep his mouth shut, cramming the words beneath his tongue and in the pockets of his cheeks. His jaw begins to ache from the task.
“Are we okay?” she asks, watching him cautiously. He feels she’s emblematic of the fake museum giraffe he had illusioned to be something it isn’t, disproportionate and unreal.
Gus swallows his words, feeling his throat go dry as though they were pills, and manages, “Yeah, okay. Yeah. I hope you have fun traveling. Don’t think too much about me, ‘the one that got away’ —” he lets out an awkward laugh at his own attempted joke — “just have fun and stuff.”
Keratina kisses his cheek, patting him on the shoulder good-bye.
Gus sits and reels from the sting of heartbreak. He cannot hear the bustle of customers or machines beeping or blenders whiring; he can only hear the faint buzzing of static. Again, he sees himself in someone else’s body, watches himself grip the table as though it is grounding him to that spot, feels the image of himself grow more and more distant, shrinking until it’s a speck of light and then nothing at all.
He blinks.
He’s back in his own body. Gus lets go of the table.
He cancels the rest of his classes that day, goes home and shoots K-Pop records on his vinyl player. Lets her words ring in his ears in the spaces between the songs. Lays on the floor and cuts a miserable silhouette against the carpet.
Above all else, he feels stupid, because she was right and he was wrong.
He wants to pretend he was wronged in some way. That he was blindsided, that it wasn’t his fault, that he was betrayed. But really, Gus knows he should know better. The writing was on the wall. He’d never admit it to Mattholomule, but he was right about toning it down.
Shit, how am I gonna face everyone? He’d spent a whole fucking night bragging about his girlfriend, and now she’s gone. An uncomfortable sensation of embarrassment makes his stomach turn. He wants to throw up, like that’ll somehow expel the plague infecting him, but he hasn’t even had anything since the matcha.
Side 2 of the record ends. Gus stands up and puts on a Smiths album.
…
Life goes on, unfortunately. Gus does not cancel his next batch of classes, but he lectures more emphatically about the importance of grammar and answers questions much sharper than he usually does.
He bails on that week’s movie night, even though his friends would have been understanding of the split, because the embarrassment of having to verbalize it and then exist in the proximity of their perfect relationships was too much to bear. Gus knows they’d try to relate in a way they couldn’t. He doesn’t message Keratina again, but he thinks about it a lot. That weekend, he holes himself in the library and grades and grades and grades.
Gus goes continues classes as usual on Monday, still feeling off-kilter. He thinks about repeating the weekend, getting a headstart on the newest batch of essays his students replenished for him, when he passes the cafeteria. Huh. I haven’t had a good appetite in a while.
He grabs a tray and fills it with foods of varying quality and sits at a booth. Gus looks out at the students and professors eating and sighs. There’s a couple sat near where he and Matt were a few weeks ago. If Gus squints, he can see his past self, anxiously chewing but still hopeful for the future.
He glances at the lunch line and stands up again.
…
Gus opens the door. Matt’s on the couch, as he expected, clutching a Hexbox controller and wearing his headphones. He doesn’t hear Gus come in — maybe he’d take joy in scaring Matt normally, but he’s not in the mood and simply slumps beside him.
Matt notices the change in weight and looks at Gus in his peripherals. “You’re just gonna let yourself into my house, huh?”
“Your mother’s house,” Gus corrects, watching the video game character’s idle animation for a moment. He opens his bag and thrusts a takeout container onto his friend’s lap.
Matt takes the headphones off, his hair mussing around the indent. He opens the box: inside is a miniature pot pie. “Huh.”
His character gets shot onscreen and dies, something neither of them pay much mind to. Drawing a circle, Matt sends an illusion of himself to fetch a fork. “So, uh, what are you doing here? And where have you been the last week? You’ve kinda gone rogue.”
“Mattholomule, she dumped me,” Gus whines, sinking into the couch. “Keratina.”
“I remember her name, dude.” He takes the fork from himself and dissipates his illusion. “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Nothing, I want to talk to someone about it is all.”
“Uh huh. And why me?”
“Well, it’s just that all my other friends have really good relationships so I know they’re going to rub it in my face, intentionally or not. You have a good perspective.”
Matt scoops a forkful of peas and dough into his mouth. “Wow. I feel really appreciated right now.”
“It was so bad, Mattholomule. I basically begged her to stay. She kept talking about how we’re in different places in life, Gus.” His voice pitches higher in mockery.
Matt laughs. “Yeah, chances are she made the whole thing up. I’ve heard that line before.”
“It’s so infuriating! The one time I like a girl and it’s going well, and then this happens. And the worst part is, I still like her.”
“Sounds like something you’d do, yeah.” Matt chews thoughtfully. “Y’know, if I were you, I’d start shacking up with your students. It’s like, unlimited opportunities. They’ll all say yes if you tell them you’ll give ‘em an A. And as you get older, they’ll stay the same age.”
“Don’t say that shit. I’m not a creep!”
He snorts. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, though.”
“I haven’t,” Gus lies, “because my brain isn’t as twisted as yours is. Besides, I like Keratina. I don’t want a different girl. I want her.”
“Then maybe you should text her a few hundred more times, get her back into your life. Ooh, or make her your emergency contact and jump off a one-story building.”
“Dude, shut up, I’m not manipulative like you. Can you take things seriously?” Gus props his feet up on the table, nearly knocking over half a can of an energy drink. Does he ever clean this place up? Irritation begins to well in his chest. “We were supposed to date for a few years and then get married or something.”
“Jeez, dude, you’ve been analyzing too many fuckin’ Norman Rockwell paintings. Or spending too much time around the others. Look, they’re the outliers. Me and you, we’re reality when it comes to love. Most people don’t find the love of their freaking life by the age of fifteen or whatever.”
“There’s no me and you. We’re not the same.” He feels his face get hot with anger.
Matt smiles at him — not piteous like Keratina, or even empathetic at all, just his signature baring of crooked teeth. “Aren’t we, though? I mean, you’re no Mattholomule yet, but you’re getting there. Two or three more break-ups and you’ll be where I am.”
“I don’t know why I keep coming to you for relationship advice.”
Matt shrugs, non-plussed and still fucking smiling. “Hey, I’m plenty qualified.”
“Yeah, at getting broken up with, not keeping a relationship.”
“Exactly. Which is why you ought to listen to me. I should start a course at that little school you’re so fond of. Getting Over Heartbreaks 101.”
“Not something of tangible educational value.”
“What, and human stuff is?” Matt snorts. “Most of those suckers won’t even see the human realm.”
“Have you even been listening to me when I’m talking about my job?” Gus demands, frustration lacing his voice. “We’ve taken several classes on field trips by now. We’re developing a study-abroad program.”
“Sorry, some of us have real jobs, not sissy little glorified babysitting gigs,” Matt says.
Gus shoves him: again, immature, but he can’t help but regress around Mattholomule. The fork he was holding falls to the ground, leaving residue on the carpet. “Amity said you guys had a moleslaw eating competition at work last week. Hardly a ‘real job.’”
“Okay, one, that was on our lunch break, and two, she’s just mad because she bet on me winning and I threw up. And again, it was still probably a better use of our time than writing papers about alternative human forms of generating electricity.”
“Sure it was.”
“Yeah, learning about hydroelectricity will change these people’s lives forever.”
Gus opens his mouth, preparing a retort in his head, before he suddenly realizes something: Matt is factually referencing a topic he had talked about prior. He does pay attention to me.
A second realization sinks in: Matt knows that Gus will drop anything, even a heart-wrenching break-up, to argue with him. In his own twisted way, he really does care about him, even if his execution is unconventional.
“Thanks, Mattholomule,” he says.
Matt looks at him oddly. “I wasn’t being sincere.”
“No, I know,” Gus says.
“You’re being weird. But hey, no girlfriend means more time on your ‘job.’” Matt slaps him on the back. Hard.
“Yeah, that’s not making me feel any better.”
Matt pauses for a moment. “Uhh, women ain’t shit,” he tries.
“No, that’s kinda just incel-y,” Gus dismisses him.
“We could make one of those pacts. If we’re both thirty and unmarried —”
“Thirty is a completely normal age to not be married at.”
“Fine. We’re both forty and single; then we’ll get married.”
“Yeah, like you wouldn’t sabotage all my romantic prospects to get me all to yourself,” Gus laughs.
Matt rolls his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. What’s probably going to happen is I’ll be rolling in babes — my crypto will pay off and I’ll have a mansion in both dimensions and all that — and you’ll be the guy mowing my lawn and maintaining my pool, who we all feel bad for, and maybe I’ll take pity and take you out for a nice dinner once or twice a week.”
“Can I pick the restaurant?”
“Sure, but I’m not paying for dessert.”
Gus sighs, leaning back on the couch and looking at Matt’s profile, tinged in shitty yellow house lighting. Something is making his skin prickle.
“...It’s always been so easy with you.”
“Has it been? I tried to steal your club and you tried to steal my girl.”
“Okay, Bria was never ‘your girl,’ that’s revisionist history. And like, I didn’t mean when we were kids, I mean now. It’s easy with you now.”
“We’re still kids, basically.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“You’re just saying that because you’ve had an old person job since you were sixteen and your coworkers are old people and you wear tweed jackets and shit. There’s a reason ‘tweed’ rhymes with ‘dweeb.’”
“Tweed doesn’t even rhyme with dweeb. It’s more of a near-rhyme.”
Matt opens his mouth to retort. Something stirs in Gus’ stomach. Fuck. He lurches forward and kisses Matt.
This is a mistake, he thinks, instant regret coursing through his veins. What are you doing? Rebounding is low, and rebounding with him of all people?
But also, it’s not so bad, kissing Mattholomule. He’s never thought about doing it before, but it doesn’t feel particularly unexpected.
Numbly, Gus recognizes this is the first time he’s kissed a guy. It’s not so different than the girls he’s kissed. Matt’s facial hair brushes against him. It’s a new sensation. He wonders if Matt has kissed a guy before, then finds he doesn’t like to think about that. He’s not sure if it’s jealousy. He has never felt jealous before.
He pulls away again. “Hey, have you kissed a guy before this?”
“Yes,” he says, and then they’re kissing again. Gus goes along with it for a few more seconds before interrupting with —
“Who? Who was it?” He wonders if Matt is lying.
“Doubt you’d know ‘em.” Matt maneuvers back into Gus’ space, fixing to get back to where they were, but he keeps him at an arms length. Matt grunts. “Are we making out or not? Can you pick something?”
“I don’t know,” Gus says, leaning back. Matt scratches himself. His hair is boyishly mussed.
“...Did I taste like pot pie?”
“I mean, a little, I guess.”
“Do you like me?” asks Gus.
“Yeah, probably. What about you?”
“Yeah, probably.”
They look at each other again. “Wanna duo up on Fortnite?” Matt holds up his controller. “You’ll have to use the one with wires, though.”
“Uh, sure,” Gus says cautiously. We’re just not gonna talk about this? Is this going anywhere? Did I mess something up? Is this going to happen again? What exactly just happened? He thinks about objecting but stops himself. Overthinking costed him his last relationship; it would probably do him some good to take it easy if he wants things to go better this time.
Oh Titan, thinks Gus, I’m worried about losing out on a chance with Mattholomule. Something in his life has gone horribly wrong. He looks across the room. Matt’s bent over, plugging the controller into the Hexbox. Something blooms in Gus’ chest, itching at his insides. It’s fondness, or maybe longing.