Chapter Text
Don settled into his office chair, his fingers finding that familiar pack of cigars and his lighter which laid in his pocket at all times.
Smoking.
How funny how he had fallen back on it in times of stress. Not even stressful times, sometimes. Simply a habit he had built up overtime. He couldn't care to bring himself out of it, not when he really didn't care about it that much. Not really, unless...
He let out a long, lazy puff of smoke, the gas curling up into the air. He opened up his laptop, the one he didn't even use that often because he was never really too familiar with technology and it's inner workings.
His coworkers would always talk about the times they had been playing on things like their Nintendo 64s or Game Cube as a kid, losing themself in a feeling of nostalgia for doing dumb things like staying up all night and getting caught by their parents. Or recalling times where they found a glitch which didn't really do much and feeling like a genius. Chance included.
He, however, got none of that. His father had not cared about silly things such as simply letting his goddamn child be happy, he had some bullshit business to run. And his mother hadn't been much of an upgrade, per se. She was more neglectful rather than the physically abusive monster his father ever was. She surrounded herself with shallow friends and bottles of alcohol, never being able to met him quite in the eye. He couldn't exactly which one was worse.
Did it really matter, though?
Maybe it did, but he wouldn't know. Sometimes he wonders what it would have been like to be born as a...different person. Far away from that household. He hated that he felt...weird whenever people talked about their parents who loved them like they were the stars and the moon.
Maybe some sign of “trauma.” But he hated labelling himself as a victim.
Don was snapped out of his thoughts as Chance suddenly tumbled through the door, a small snort escaping from him. Their hair was hastily thrown up into a ponytail, their tie halfway to falling off them completely. They stumbled in with a bag that looked lot heavier than it should be, for Don instructing them to bring just one painting. Surely the canvas couldn't be that big... Chance grinned awkwardly as they set the bag on the table, straightening up to readjust their tie and glasses.
They cleared their throat, before opening their whole arm to point to the bag like this some sort of grand performance of theirs. “The painting!”
Don raised a skeptical eyebrow, taking another puff of his cigar before holding it between his fingers. “Do you want me to open the bag, or...”
“Oh, uh- nahhh, course not!” They slowly unzipped the bag like this was going to be a big, grand reveal. They flashed him a smile before they pulled the painting out. “Just, uh, again, don't be surprised if it ain't that good.”
Chance pulled the painting out, and-
They were off about their skills by a long fucking shot.
“Chance, this is-”
“Bad...?”
“...no. No, not at all. It's-” Don cut himself off, biting his tongue, not trusting himself to speak any further. He reached out for the canvas, stopping just short of the matieral. “May I...?”
“Oh, uhm, yeah,” Chance laughed awkwardly, just a little too loud to be natural, practically shoving it in his hands. They finally sat down, basically collapsing onto the chair. They bit the inside of their cheek, almost nervously.
The painting was set in a mansion, opulent and structured in the way only the rich could afford. Marble made up the walls, the floor, the pillars which led to an open garden filled with bushes and blooming flowers. Sunlight shown softly onto the landscape, warm and caressing against the green of the grass and the flower beds.
It was beautiful, really. But he didn't say that out loud.
He set the painting onto his desk, his dark gaze meeting Chance’s. “It's...good,” he said, softly. “You undersell yourself, you idiot,” he stated bluntly.
Chance awkwardly scratched the back of their neck. “I mean, yeah, I guess it is, but-” they frowned, taking the painting in their hands, staring down at it like it owed them something. Answers, maybe. Money, even. They sighed, covering their sunglasses with one hand, shoving the painting back into their bag. “Eugh, whatever. It just...it don't feel like me, y'know what I mean?” They confessed begrudgingly.
Don nodded slowly, eyes flickering with understanding. Something he'd rather ignore sinking into his chest. He took another puff of his cigar, smoke slowly spewing out of his lips like he could understand the feeling a lot better than they realized.
“...well, then, don't paint that,” he said, stating the obvious. Something in his expression softened slightly. “...Paint whatever feels right to you instead. But I think you really do have talent. You're just using it in the wrong way. If it keeps you going...keep doing it, Chance. It suits you.”
...well. He hadn’t expected for those words to spill out of his mouth. But they felt...true nonetheless. It was becoming increasingly easy for him to...talk to Chance, damnit. He wasn't really holding up the image he was trying to keep, now was he. But he couldn't bring himself to care all too much as he simply watched them carefully with that calculating, shadowed gaze of his as he smoked his cigar.
Chance’s eyes flickered with something unexpected behind those sunglasses of theirs. One finger tapped on the wooden desk in a steady rhythm. “Y'know, uh...I still got a couple paints left at home I could use. Could use those to paint again.” They paused, slightly leaning towards him, but barely, almost scared of getting closer. “You could come watch me, if ya want. Just...uh, have a couple drinks, hang out a bit, stuff like that. Nothing too crazy,” they said with a shrug. “Great bonding opportunity! Y'know, like Jane Doe said!”
Right. Don was mostly sure that she meant that in a more professional way, but...whatever. This wasn't the biggest load of bullshit Chance had pulled out to suit their own needs.
“...Sure,” Don agreed after a moment’s thinking. “I'll give you my phone number, if you want.”
Chance nodded, pulling out their own phone. “Uh, yeah, sure I'll give ya mine too.”
The two quickly exchanged phone numbers. Don choosing to simply save them as “Chance” in his phone, nothing more. It was a bit of a surprise that Don hadn't texted Chance or anything yet, due to the whole having to work together part of their job, but it wasn't like Don was itching for an opportunity to text him. He mentally snorted, thinking about how Chance on the other hand, probably was. On second thought, maybe giving them his phone number wasn't the best idea, because now they were completely free to spam him at any time they pleased, but he was sure that it wouldn't be too bad.
...mostly.
“Welp!” Chance suddenly stood up, grabbing their bag and carelessly tossing it over their shoulder. “I guess it's time for me to take my leave! Bye Donny!” They said, winking as they told him goodbye. Quickly strolling out of the room and whistling that same tune of theirs- a little more upbeat and happier than usual this time.
Don allowed himself a smile. A small one.
_________________
Don was currently laying on his couch, watching some random sports game he really couldn't bring himself to care about. Really thinking more than actually paying attention to it. It wasn't like he had been a particularly been a huge fan of sports now.
His mind drifted towards Chance. Because...well...
Maybe Don was starting to feel a little fond towards Chance now.
Chance was...a lot easier to talk to now, almost. Maybe he had just realized that all their teasing wasn't simply jabs to his ego now. And, maybe, not to mention the fact that Don hadn't exactly done much of...the whole “connecting with other people” thing. And he hadn't really expected it to be this...nice, so to speak.
Don really hadn't grown up with a good group of friends. With his father the boss of the Sonnellinos, all those he grew up around were from his father's very contained “business circle”. He'd never gone to a public school, instead his parents paying for a...private Catholic School which had the boys and girls separated. The fact that his social circle had pretty much been even further reduced to those of his same...gender only served to worsen it.
...
He still disliked thinking about those times. His childhood...
...it was fine.
But he had never really built a real, genuine bond with anyone. And it wasn't like he got shown any particularly great examples of what a pair of “good friends” looked like. He barely even got to watch TV as a kid, too. His parents had not cared for the shows meant for the lowly middle class, meant for cheap laughs and entertainment. Don remembers a time a long time ago his father was talking with his “buddies”, watching some nonsense mob flick which he had quickly been shooed away from.
He hadn't really understood any of it back then. But, then again, everything was so confusing to him. With nothing ever explained. Bitterness filled his mouth at the thought.
He wondered what things had been like for Chance. Without the repressive strictness of the mob weighing down on their every breath, forcing them into a role they had never wanted to play in the first place.
Chance had always seemed a lot more free as a child than he ever was. But, then again, looks could be deceiving. Anyone looking into Don's situation without the proper information might think that he was lucky, growing up around all of that money. Especially any of the children of those he had grown up around. But yeah, sure, growing up exclusively around criminals who glorify all the crimes they commit with the thin guise of it simply “being business” so they could pretend to be religious and moral was a great environment to grow up in.
He does remember his parents working with Chance’s a few times. He only really remembers the name Ventura being thrown around and never actually seeing them or anything. Probably relating to their casino or something. But they ended being suddenly cut off without any real explanation presented to him. But that was really only to be expected with his parents. They hated telling him anything, for very specific reasons he...did not enjoy dwelling on.
Don was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of his phone buzzing, letting him know he got a text. He lifted it up to see that the messages were from Chance. They read:
Chance: heyyyy donny
my little don don
wait am I allowed to call you that actually
please say yes
Don couldn't help but sigh, dragging a hand down his face, mostly exasperation but maybe, just maybe, a faint flicker of amusement. But that still wasn't changing his answer.
You: Absolutely not.
Chance: 😢😢😢😢
aww youre literally no fun dude whyyyy nottttt
You: Because I have dignity, Chance. My whole life doesn't revolve around your jokes.
“My little Don-Don” is the worst nickname I have ever heard. You sound like you are referring to a child or a pet, and I can't tell which one is worse.
Chance: mmmm...bore...
wont even let me have a couple of fun, sweet nicknames! my intentions are 100% good, you party pooper
Ur hair does look kinda fluffy tbh I could probably just scratch you behind the ears like one
in a totally platonic and cool way ofc 😊 I wouldn't want to overstep our new relationship as totally cool n chill bros
You: For one, we are not bros, two, you are not petting my hair, and three I don't understand what this tbh and ofc means.
Chance: WAWAIT ARE YOU SERIOUS
LMAFFOOOOOOOO YOU OLD ASS MAN
have you seriously never heard of those 😭😭 tbh= to be honest and ofc= of course literally everyone knows that
You: I do not spend much of my time on the internet. I only use this phone for work.
I would assume your screen time is horrid though. I heard that time some kid was talking about “skibidi toilet mango 67 rizzlers” and you started laughing so hard I thought you were going to start choking.
I would've let you.
Chance: aww you wouldn't even thinkkkk about saving me
i promise you I'd make it worth the effort
You: And how, may I ask?
Chance: actually
I don't know
but id figured it out like I always do because I'm the smartest person on earth yknow
You: Right. Tell yourself whatever you want.
Chance: uhm
are you free tho?
for
yknow
You: I am.
Chance: have u eaten or anything yet? I can order sum pizza if ya want
You: I am perfectly capable of providing food for myself.
Chance: so you haven't 🤔🤔
oopsies
too late
i accidentally ordered the pizza
yknow what I'm hungry anyway I would've eaten it without you
You: ...
Fine. Send me your address and I'll be over there in a bit.
Chance: alright, Don-Don! 😊😊
You: Please stop calling me that.
Chance: nope 👀👀
Don sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Whatever. As long as Chance wasn't calling him such ridiculous names in the work place, it would be fine...
Chance quickly sent their location to him, leaving the only thing to do was for him to drive over to their house.
He just hoped this didn't go wrong.
___________________
Don pulled up to the apartment complex which held Chance’s living space, a large, towering pristine palace against the dark backdrop of tue sky with large balconies and large windows. He recognized the place well- a set of apartments reserved for the rich who wanted something with more color than the cold, colorless, “modern” apartments which were currently all the rage among the rich and wealthy. Surely Don would never able to be to afford something like this with his rather average paycheck.
It made him wonder exactly how much Chance was relying on his parents to be able to afford this place, or whatever cash he had from things like investments or whatever. Because he knew that he received about the same amount of money from teaching as him.
He wasn't sure why Chance had chosen to become a professor of all things in the first place. They didn't even seem to have any real passion for the job, and clearly they were waiting for something more fulfilling to come by and knock them in the head, like that would ever logically happen. Probably just because they knew it would be easy to get it, them with their parents “connections”.
Don would never, ever reduce himself to groveling at his parents feet for anything. He'd rather die than see them again. And in his current...state, he knew for sure that seeing them again would not end up well. Especially his father. His father would probably just straight up shoot him, and maybe Don had done certain things to make sure that he would. Not that he ever planned on actually visiting them- it just felt...satisfying, doing that. Somehow getting back at that horrible man even if it was only in the remnants of his mind. A form of control.
The old man was probably starting to rot away in his endless piles of cash and skeletons anyway, endlessly unsatisfied in his greed. He hoped that he got a painful death instead of peacefully dying in his bed, and that his ghost would never be able to rest. That man deserved worse than hell, he thought, entering the lobby of the complex.
The lobby was modest enough, the only thing that stood out particularly being the chandelier on the ceiling. He wandered into the elevator, a Robloxian wearing a red visor and uniform, along with a pizza box and a two liter container of lemon lime soda barely wobbling atop. Don cleared the way for him to step in. His curly hair was placed up into a ponytail, and he looked about 26- much older than your typical fast food delivery worker.
“U-uhm, can you press the button for the fourth floor please?” The pizza delivery guy asked politely, his voice having that certain kind of ‘customer service’ specific tone that annoyed him slightly. But he pressed the button anyway.
“I was going there anyway,” he said bluntly as he pressed the button. The elevator started with a faint hum. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you delivering for Chance, out of coincidence?”
The pizza worker's expression faltered for a moment. “...oh. I didn't realize that...they were ordering.” He placed his gaze on the wall, staring off into space blankly.
“Do you...know them or something?”
“Er...yeah, you could say that. We used to uhm...date. But that was a couple years ago,” he quickly clarified. “I...just had to distance myself from them. They were...well...I don't know if I should tell you about that. I mean- you aren't- dating them, right?”
“No. We're just...acquaintances.”
“Oh. Okay, then.” The pizza worked quickly rearranged their lips back into a polite smile, clearly masking whatever feelings he was truly feeling beneath. The slight furrow of his brows giving him away.
The elevator dinged as it reached the fourth floor, the door opening and the both of them heading out into the hallway. Don stayed silent, and Elliot seemed to be pleased to not have to talk anyway. Chance’s apartment was just a small ways down the hall. Don knocked on the door for Elliot.
Chance eagerly opened up the door, a wide grin on their face. “Ayyy! Donny!” They took Don into a tight, enthusiastic hug, making his breath hitched and his face flush. Don tried to smile- tried to, as he was smashed up against the warmth of their body. He didn't exactly fight it, but he didn't exactly... Return it, either.
Chance let go of him, eyes flickering over to Elliot. Their smile fell as they adjusted their sunglasses awkwardly. “Oh, uh...I'll... Take that.” Chance grabbed the pizza box with stiff movements, Elliot's smile straining hard as they took it. Chance shut the door as soon as they took the pizza.
He didn't care enough to ask.
Chance’s apartment was definitely above average in terms of looks and room, deep rich brown wooden planks covering the floor, a deep, bloody scarlet wallpaper adorning the walls. There was a balcony that led out to a small patio, the stars gleaming faintly in the sky above. The home seemed...warm. Lived in. The only thing that disrupted the order of the space were a few overflowing trash cans and scattered bottles and whatnot on the floor.
Not the best thing he had ever seen. But a lot, lot better than the worse.
Chance let out a casual whistle, leaning on the counter with the pizza and soda behind him. Before they turned to him. “Oh, uh, sorry for the trash. I was gonna clean that up earlier but I got...uh, busy.” Don raised an eyebrow, not believing the lie but not choosing to comment on it either. Chance then pat the steaming pizza box, like it was a beloved pet of theirs, grinning widely. “Hope ya like meat lovers! And the lemon lime soda or whatever. But I got alcohol if ya want.”
“I was mostly under the impression that we'd be drinking the alcohol, not soda,” Don stated bluntly.
Chance’s smile faltered a bit, chuckling awkwardly. “Er...they had a deal. Kind of an impulse buyer, y'know.” They frowned before taking the soda. “Y'know what? I'll just throw this in the fridge. It'll be fine.”
Don frowned.
“Well, uh, have some of the pizza if you want! I got paper plates for it!” Chance tossed out a stack of them onto the counter along with a thing of cheap napkins. Chance grabbed a bottle of wine, pouring it out into a glass. “Y' want some?” They asked casually.
Don nodded. “Sure.” Chance poured one out for him, sliding it across the countertop to them. Chance took a large swig of their drink.
“So!” They said cheerfully, settling down about a chair away from him as they grabbed a piece of pizza. They wiggled their eyebrows teasingly. “I wanna get to know my coworker! So, uh, any...I dunno, hobbies? Friends? Interests or anything?” they asked, searching for some sort of conversation starter to get things rolling.
Don frowned, taking a slice of pizza as he hunched over the counter. Fingers dancing across the stem of his glass of wine. “...no,” he admitted after some time. “Not really. Work takes up most of my life.”
Chance raised an eyebrow. “Whaaaattt?” They said disbelievingly. “You don't even got a favorite TV show? A band you like? Nothing?”
“...no.”
Chance frowned for a moment, looking at him like he was an alien for a moment, before just laughing. “Man! I thought you would be a little less boring than this!” They exclaimed. They took another sip of their wine. It stung. It really goddamn stung. “Did yer parents keep you locked up in a padded room or something without any contact to the outside world or something?” They joked.
Pretty much, Don thought bitterly, a frown on his face. How pitiful. They didn't even realize just how accurate their fucking joke was.
Chance only seemed to notice Don's bitterness until now, far too late to take back what they said. They didn't even realize what they said was wrong. Maybe the joke about the parents had touched a nerve or something- how Don never talked about his parents and hated when they were brought up probably meant he didn't like them or something. “Uhhh, wanna watch a show or a movie?” Their eyes darted around nervously in their shades.
“I thought I was here to watch you paint.”
“We can do that later!” Chance threw their arm around Don's neck. Don shied away from the touch, slightly uncomfortable, but Chance didn't seem to notice. They weren't even drunk. “Seems like ya need an update on pop culture anyway, old man! Don't worry-” they shot him a wink- “I'm the best teacher you could ever ask for,” they bragged.
Don slid himself out of Chance’s grip, letting out a long sigh. “...fine. Just don't make me watch something stupid,” he grumbled.
Chance grinned. “No promises, Donny~”
The next forty or so minutes were devoted to two things- first, watching some new movie that recently dominated the box office, made by some new passionate director (which Chance had to say that the director was 21 years old multiple times for some reason). It was mildly interesting, he had to say. Some horror movie about a guy stumbling across a whole new horrifying realm. He had been watching it with mild disinterest the entire time.
He could sort of see himself in the main character, to be honest. . He could see why it had gotten so popular.
The other main thing that was happening was Chance getting about as wasted as they possibly could. Not because they had challenged themself to do so or anything. They were just the kind of person who had poor restraint, and when they started going, they didn't stop until something else did. Simply because they didn't have anything better to do than to fill their life up with noise, and when it went away, they couldn't stand it.
So much noise, it was hard to distinguish what was valuable and needed to be heard and what was not.
Don did not fill it. He stayed in silence so eerie and consuming he got angry whenever someone disrupted it. He tuned out the noise of the world so much he was completely out of touch with it.
Opposites.
But similar.
Leading to practically the same result in the end.
They were about halfway through the movie now, maybe a little farther than that. An hour or so at the most. Chance was still out of it. They might as well have been on a different planet, nice and fuzzy and filled with stars of their own making.
Clusmy stars.
Dots that looked more like stains because they didn't know how to make them properly.
Chance laughed loudly at something on screen, at something that wasn't even remotely funny. They were cackling like a witch, wild and uncaring.
“Did you see that, Donny?” They asked, still laughing, their words slurred and muddied.
“Yes. Of course I did.” Why would he not. He had been watching the movie along with them this entire time.
Chance sighed, letting out a large hiccup as they manspread, their arms splayed freely on the back of the couch. Don had been wise enough to separate them from the wine bottle, at least. Because if he hadn't he was sure they'd be taking another swig right now, like there was no tomorrow.
The movie changed to a scene of the two main characters arguing while one was tied to a chair.
“Man,” they grumbled, their lips forming into a pout. “That- that girl on screen...reminds me of my ex.” Were they talking about...Elliot or something?
“She's so damn controlling,” they complained. “Why can't she let that poor guy do whatever he wants? He's clearly- hic- just upset cause his...his wife kicked ‘em out of the house...no need to go ranting on him like...like that...”
Don didn't say anything in response.
“My ex was like that too, y'know,” they said, their voice sharper now. Filled with a hint of disdain. “Didn't... Didn't let me just fuckin' be. Just...mhm, tried to convince me that there's nothing wrong with me. There’s nothing goddamn wrong with me.” They were angry now, angry just thinking about it. They looked up at him, staring him dead in the eye through the drunken haze. Staring at him like they'd seen everything he'd done, every sin he'd committed crawling under his flesh. Pinning him to the couch with a look alone.
“There's nothing wrong with me, right Don?”
“...right.” Don shifted uncomfortably in his spot on the couch, looking at the screen to avoid their gaze.
That seemed to calm Chance down a bit. They mumbled something drunk under their breath, their head lolling to the side. They closed their eyes, and before they knew it, they were asleep.
Don sighed as he heard the sound of Chance snoring. He decided to go ahead and turn the TV off, since he hadn't cared about finishing the movie in the first place. He glanced over at them, unsure whether he should leave them on the couch or not. Before he decided he might as well try and be nice and carry them to their bed.
He held them up bridal style, their body warm against his and their breath smelling of alcohol. They mumbled something once more under their breath, unconsciously snuggling closer to his chest as he carried them to what he assumed was his bedroom due to the fact it had..well, a bed in it.
He lifted them down onto the sheets, putting one blanket over them. Before heading out to leave the room.
His eyes flickered with something uncertain as he glanced back at them before he went.
He could see himself in them. He was reminded of himself in the past, when he had felt like there was something wrong with him.
Maybe they weren't so different after all. Maybe Chance felt that alienation- that subtle sheen which seemed to keep him out of the real world. They acted differently, but ultimately coped the same way. Their problems led them the same direction.
Maybe he was a little glad. A little too glad.
To finally see someone who could understand.