Chapter Text
Jawn’s eyebrows rose as the newest customer stalked through the door. He recognized the guy - he’d been a sophomore when Jawn was a senior - but Jawn was in college now (or rather, he was supposed to be), and the kid… well, he would still have been stuck in high school. They’d never spoken, but word got around quickly when he’d showed up for the first time after Christmas break.
The story was that his name was Awsten and he’d been kicked out of not a second but a third college preparatory academy. No private schools would open their doors to him after whatever had taken place at the last one (the rumors varied), so the local public school was the only choice. Of course, that didn’t stop Awsten from showing up every day in the back of a limo wearing his fancy, overpriced designer clothes. Bougie-ass bitch.
Jawn had spent most of his high school down time in the art room with his hair pulled back in a ponytail and a pencil wedged behind his ear. The boys only crossed paths when Awsten was forced into a painting class. Jawn was in AP Art, so while he was working during his free period, Awsten was often dicking around in the background. Jawn would never forget how annoyed he used to get at Awsten’s endless bored and dramatic sighs.
“Hey, you’re Jawn Rocha, right?”
Jawn glanced up from the beer mug he was drying and stared evenly at the kid. Lavender hair had replaced the blonde, but he was definitely still wearing Chanel. “We’re closing,” Jawn told him shortly.
“This will just take a second. I need a favor.”
Jawn snorted and crossed behind the bar to hang the glass up. “I don’t even know you.”
“I’ll pay you.”
Jawn shook his head, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. Part of him wondered if the twink was hitting on him. “Go home, kid.”
“I haven’t even told you what I want you to do!”
“I don’t need to hear it,” he sighed, flipping the dish towel onto his shoulder. “I’m not giving you booze for a party, I’m not selling you pot, and I’m certainly not hooking you up with a dealer. I don’t even have a dealer, actually, so-”
“It’s not any of that. I need you to come to my house tomorrow night and pretend to be my boyfriend.”
Jawn turned around and gaped at him. “Again - I literally don’t even know you.”
“I wouldn’t ask unless it was an emergency.”
“What the hell kind of ‘emergency' are you in?”
“It’s…” He cut himself off and shook his head. “Intel isn’t part of the deal.”
“Intel,” Jawn scoffed under his breath.
“Yeah, intel,” the kid replied defiantly, but Jawn couldn’t help but notice how emotionless his eyes were.
“I ain’t nobody’s boyfriend,” Jawn declared, “and we’re closing, so go home.”
And then suddenly there were two hundred-dollar bills on the bar top.
That had Jawn’s attention. “What’s this?”
“A retainer,” the guy replied. He looked a little smug - just a little, like somehow he’d know that Jawn was just barely scraping by but he didn’t want to show all of his cards.
“How m-”
“I’ll give you five hundred for the night; I think that’s more than fair for what, two hours? Three at the most. I’ll have Sébastien leave the rest of the money in your car.”
“Who’s…?” Jawn wasn’t about to try to imitate that flawless French accent.
Awsten waved a hand, dismissing the question. “So will you do it?”
Jawn narrowed his eyes. “Why me?”
“The hair, the tattoos, the way you dress… And you’re older. And you work in a bar. You’re perfect.”
“You wanna piss off your parents?” Jawn asked knowingly.
The kid shrugged, but he couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up his cheeks.
Jawn laughed. “Alright, yeah. For five hundred dollars? That’s alright with me.”
“They’ve gotta believe it, though. You’ve gotta, like, hold my hand and shit,” he said awkwardly.
“Again, for five hundred dollars, I will do whatever you want except have sex with you and actually fall in love.”
The kid smiled, and for the first time, Jawn could read an actual expression in his eyes. God, he looked young…
“Wait - how old are you?”
“Doesn’t matter,” he dismissed quickly, all emotion locked down again. “Tomorrow at six, okay?”
Jawn sighed. “Alright. I’ll be there.”
The boy pushed the money across the counter toward him, and alongside it, a slip of paper with an address and a phone number scribbled on it in all caps. “Actually - show up at six ten, okay? That’ll make them mad. Oh, and my name’s Awsten Knight. You should… probably know that before you come over.”
Jawn couldn’t help but smile. “Awsten Knight,” he repeated. “Got it.”
As Awsten backed toward the exit, he called, “Wear something ugly!”
Jawn let out a laugh then. He shook his head. “Whatever you say, kid.”