Work Text:
Songs:
- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rMezOwBpuh8&t=274s (Sweet Trip- orig inspiration)
- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byP5cWSIC6c (Singularity- soft kpop song)
Sorey wasn’t one to drink alcohol, and Zaveid was okay with that. He didn’t force Sorey to drink anything alcoholic at his house party the week before finals. If it wasn’t for him, though, Sorey would be studying for his psychology finals like he was planning to do. He could recall Zaveid’s nagging even as he was squished into the back of Zaveid’s convertible on the way.
C’mon, Sorey! If you keep that up, you’ll just get hypertension or whatever. Lighten up for a bit!
Sorey sighs, arms folded as he tries to melt himself into the nearest wall of the living room. He didn’t even know what pop song was trying to shake the foundation; strangers dancing surrounds him for what feels like hours. Checking his phone, however, that time is clarified to be only about ten minutes. Zaveid marches up to him, a drink in his hand spinning around in its customary red cup.
“Okay, ya don’t have ta drink, but at least make yourself at home or som’thing.”
“I don’t know anyone here,” Sorey retorts.
“Ya don’t have to!” He cheers, wrapping an arm around Sorey and pushing him towards the throng of people. Oh hey, isn’t that person in my Archeology class?
“Nice shirt, man!” One brunette in a crop top slurs at him and Sorey manages to thank her quietly.
“Yeah! Wait, can you dance?” A junior student yells out above the bass.
“Not really,” Sorey shies away. He can’t recall much of the brief conversations he had until someone called that dinner arrived- boxes of delicious smelling pizza being carried through the crowd. Sorey manages to snag a slice as the box passes him on its way to the throng nearby.
He has the slice halfway eaten before a girl approaches him with a tray of plastic cups, “Zaveid says you won’t drink alcohol, but do you want some tea?”
“Tea?” Sorey eyes the cups. He didn’t mind tea, per se, and he wasn’t one to deny a nice citrus breakfast blend. He takes one of the glasses nearest to him, and the girl smiles before walking to other students. Taking a cautious sip, Sorey finds the taste nearly unpalatable; however, he assumes someone made it specifically for the partygoers who are the designated drivers and continues to drink it.
There’s cheering, whorls of scents and sounds, he remembers, and after another near hour of suffocating small talk and nibbles of pizza, Sorey recalls feeling nauseous. Great, food poisoning. What did they put in the pizza?
Sorey finds a leather lounge chair nearby and sits himself down in an effort to quell his rolling digestive system. Maybe that will stop the room from warping in its nausea-influenced journey too.
“’Cards Against Humanity’, guys! Who’s all in?” Sorey hears a guy yell, and cheers erupt from the crowd in reply. Classmates begin crowding around the coffee table about five feet in front of Sorey, settling themselves on the floor, the couch, and the armrests of every chair they can fit themselves on. In fact, one guy tried sitting on the armrest of a plastic folding chair and proceeded to fall and break it, pulling laughter from everyone around him.
“Sorey, you in?” Sorey shakes his head, massaging his forehead with two fingers. Might as well watch until the nausea dissipates, he figures.
🍭
“Man, I miscounted. Gimme two cards.”
“These cards are shit!”
“Calm down, guys, I wanna read this.” The girl squints at the black card before her before reading the responses. “If you like Justin Bieber, you may be a redneck!” Chuckles are scattered about.
“If you like this month’s mass shooting, you may be a redneck!” (That one got a lot of pained groans.)
“If you like invading Poland, you may be a redneck!”
There was just something about the atmosphere, perhaps, but Sorey couldn’t help but laugh along. Maybe it was because his nausea was lightening up; there was also that some of the responses were genuinely funny. Either way, for some reason, Sorey found himself becoming giggly. More giggly than usual, but he couldn’t conjure the motivation to figure out why. Zaveid didn’t think much of it because Sorey finally had a stupid grin on his face.
A glance at his hands and fingers helped Sorey realize he was trembling: Oh well. Must be caffeine from the tea.
Glancing over, Sorey can see someone pushing their friend experimentally, resulting in their cup dropping. Is the spill really supposed to happen in slow motion if you’re not the one who was the victim?
The drops of beer glitter before they bounce slightly off the kitchen tile. Popcorn ceilings are starting to drip down, spreading their color onto the plain cream countertops. Sorey squints his eyes, trying to distinguish what is going on. Maybe I’m dreaming? Damn, if I fell asleep, I’ll have a Sharpie mustache when I wake up.
The bass of the next song is shaking the walls. Cracks in the wallpaper where it meets the floor are sprouting vines, they have green leaves that flourish into singing daisies. Their notes float on the air of laughter and morph into bubbles. With a wrinkle of his nose, Sorey realizes he didn’t like the color of beer. It hung in the air like the smell of burned cookies- hey, is that scent normally orange?
He tried to see a clock from his seat on the chair, but it ended up spinning endlessly in its confined circular space, meowing out the seconds that are definitely too spaced apart to be real.
Another brunette points at him and laughs while others tip their cups, and Sorey can feel the laughter poke at him like tens of fingertips. “Looks like someone’s tea is kicking in.”
“Three cheers to that!” Sorey laughs along before blinking his eyes, and he is transported into a new colorful dimension.
He’s standing on clouds, he realizes, and experimentally pushes the balls of his feet into their plush surface before releasing a giddy laugh. The sky around him is swirling in their blues and cyan. Taking a few steps, he meets a fox that is crossing before him. The creature turns its head towards him, opening its mouth to release a record skip before resuming its walk on its reversed paws. Its fur curls into mist and smells oddly like the sky blue it formed from.
Sorey feels confused, raising his eyebrows until he looks upward. A white, cloaked figure has appeared in the sky from the clouds around him, gravitating downward towards the college student. “Hey, were you invited to the party or something?” He narrows his gaze until the figure reaches the ground, and the cloak dissipates into swirls of colorful ink, forming Arabic characters before fading away.
The figure opens its eyes, revealing breathtaking purple eyes. It’s a slim man about Sorey’s age, a young twenty, with a lithe shape and creamy pale skin. He’s wearing a peach-colored shirt that hangs off his left shoulder and sports comfortable white jeans with black accents. If the shirt were any shorter, Sorey would be able to see the pristine curve of the man’s waist. With a smile and a slight tilt of his pale neck, Sorey can recognize the silver ear cuffs he’s wearing that hide behind his aquamarine locks of hair. They seem to be made of a near-white that curl around his scalp perfectly to flatter the curve of his jaw and neck- and those thick eyelashes definitely assist with that as well.
Sorey feels his heart skip a beat or maybe five: the man’s smile must have been crafted by Aphrodite, for its glamour against those teal rose lips was too flawless. There may not have been freckles speckled on his face, but Sorey swears his skin was decorated with fine glitter and the components of starlight, especially with how his gaze was so striking.
Their eyes meet, and Sorey can’t help but blush into a rosy pink.
“Nice to meet you too,” the man chuckles, bringing a hand to his own chin. The brunette swears that the sound of the god’s voice was comparable to the sweetness of honey, and Sorey could see its elegance dance in the air like butterfly wings fluttering.
“I- was I rude?” Sorey stammers.
“It’s alright, Sorey,” the man smiles, and it calms Sorey. Before he realizes he’s sat down again, the man joins him by setting himself on the armrest to Sorey’s right, moving a strand of hair from his face. “What did you need me for?”
Sorey is too starstruck to answer immediately, “Your name would be nice.”
The man smiles, “That’s true. It’s Mikleo.”
“Mikleo…” Sorey tries the name on his tongue and enjoys how it mixes with the scent of the god nearby- the distinct fragrances of lavender and vanilla.
“You wanted someone to talk to?” Mikleo prods, shifting his weight on the armrest.
“I guess so.” Sorey brings a hand to his neck shyly.
“How about we go over those psychology terms again? Test me.” Mikleo says.
Sorey nods eagerly, “Let’s start with Bystander Theory.”
Mikleo smiles back, crossing his right leg over his left. “A theory that claims having more bystanders results in a lower probability that someone will help.”
Sorey hums lightly, “A teratogen?”
“A substance like a drug that can cause birth defects if used when pregnant.”
“You’re quick to reply,” Sorey chuckles. He leans closer to Mikleo, catching another waft of vanilla. “Do you know what a heuristic is?”
Mikleo responds with an attractive smirk, “Do you?”
“I asked you first,” Sorey holds back a laugh.
Mikleo uncrosses his legs, “It’s like a shortcut. Someone assumes something is solved one way by generalizing it.”
Sorey clicks his tongue, “and I thought only I understood it.”
“You know, with the effects of psilocybin in your system,” Mikleo leans in and trails his pointer finger along Sorey’s collarbone towards his shoulders, “comes an increased heart rate, dilated pupils, sweating…”
“How do you know that’s not just from me falling for you?” Sorey chuckles, giving a giggly smile. Mikleo nudges him gently with his hands, “You’re so cheesy.”
“Like nachos.”
“Maybe you’re just hungry.” Mikleo giggles and the light catches the shimmer of his cheeks.
“But I just had pizza,” Sorey pouts, blushing lightly.
“People get hungry in cycles, you know.” That causes Sorey to pout further, so Mikleo pokes his cheek. “No need to pout, Sorey. There’s always time.” This journey didn’t reach Sorey’s subconscious, apparently, because Mikleo answered his anxieties: the upcoming finals and the time management associated with it. If only this angel would always be there to answer his questions…
“Is there?” Sorey asks softly.
Mikleo pauses, letting the question sink in before replying. “Don’t get all philosophical on me, Sorey.”
“I’m in college. That’s what we do,” Sorey performs his embarrassed tell again.
“What year are you?” Mikleo rests his cheek in the palm of his hand.
“Sophomore!”
With a click of his tongue, “And?”
Sorey knew what he wanted to hear, “Majoring in Anthropology.”
“Which one?”
Sorey raises his eyebrows: no one ever asked which section he was majoring in; most people didn’t know there were varieties. It made his heart flutter like a happy puppy. “Cultural. Maybe Archaeology. I have to decide soon.”
Mikleo brings a finger to Sorey’s jaw, tracing it lightly. “Such a smart boy.” Sorey swore that his face melted with how red it turned. He had to break their gaze to regain his composure, causing Mikleo to giggle at how adorable the brunette was acting. Smiling softly, the angelic figure decided to whisper to Sorey, “Hopefully we can meet again soon.”
Sorey’s eyes widened before he realized the journey had ended, and he was back to the living room of the party, the bass thrumming softly among the few people remaining.
🍭
Needless to say, studying for finals was not going as planned after that occurrence. Sorey couldn’t get that angelic being out of his mind. Each time he sat down at his desk with his notes to study, he craved the scent of lavender and vanilla that accompanied that comforting presence beside him. He began to daydream about meeting Mikleo again, perhaps taking him to the park with their shoddy university lunches. Maybe Mikleo would laugh at the jokes he made with his perfect voice and that sparkle in his amethyst eyes…
Sorey trudged through the first few of his exams before hearing rumors of another house party at Zaveid’s. If Sorey met Mikleo at Zaveid’s party, hopefully, he would be there again if the same things happened.
“You sure?” Zaveid frowns, “You didn’t really enjoy yourself last time. I’m sorry I forced ya and all…”
“I’m going. I need to, uh…” Sorey trails off, not wanting to mention the beauty he met.
“Ah, I get it!” Zaveid chuckles. “Ya need a breather halfway through too? I didn’t know you were the type.” Sure, he was suspicious, but Sorey wouldn’t budge if Zaveid pried. That’s the stubborn pride of a nerd when asked about his crush, after all.
It was the same scenario: blaring speakers in the corners of a crowded house accompanied by the crackle of empty red cups. Still refraining from drinking alcohol, Sorey wanders into the kitchen to find the girl from before preparing the tea. He’s ready this time.
“Sorey, you know the normal dosage isn’t that much.” Mikleo shakes his head disapprovingly.
“I’m pretty sure tolerance was one of my psychology terms.” Sorey embraces Mikleo in a light hug.
“Aww, missed me?” Mikleo pats his back sympathetically.
“I did.”
“I thought you had friends, Sorey.” Mikleo feels Sorey trembling and sweating through his sweater.
“I’m fine.” That response causes Mikleo to chuckle.
“I’m smarter than that. What is it?”
“You’re just smarter than most of them, is all,” Sorey admits, releasing the hug. Mikleo smooths out the fabric on Sorey’s shoulders.
“That happens,” Mikleo smiles. Sorey is taken back again by the starlight of his eyes and the curve of his neck down to his shoulders. His admiration required no explanation.
“I know it’s only been about a week…” Sorey wanted to apologize for something, he thinks.
“People get lonely.” Mikleo cuts him off, intertwining their fingers at both hands. He looks into those emerald eyes. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“That tea is disgusting,” Sorey admits, and Mikleo snorts before laughing, scrunching up his cheeks and losing his breath. Pay my tuition if Sorey didn’t just fall in love with him again.
🍭
Mikleo hums lightly, twirling a strand of Sorey’s hair around his fingers. He brings his hand to Sorey’s chest, smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt. “You’re so tense. What are you worried about?”
Sorey, laid on his back, replies in a soft voice, “Things.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mikleo props himself up on his arm, looking at the brunette from beside him. “I wanted you to specify.”
“Finals…” Sorey begins, his voice lodging itself in his throat.
“You’ll be fine. What else?”
Sorey looks around the room, noticing that the walls are beginning to melt into blackened tar. “Being alone.”
Mikleo hums lightly in reply. Sorey feels like he’s been too quick to trust Mikleo with this: his fears, his hopes, his heart…
“Maybe you should start chasing instead of waiting.”
Sorey blinks, taking in the advice. “It gets difficult.”
“That hasn’t stopped you before, Sorey.” He smiles, playing with more of Sorey’s hair.
🍭
Zaveid pulls the bag away from Sorey, using his height as an advantage. “No, Sorey. You had a panic attack last time. You need to wait for more than a week or something.” He could see the dark circles underneath Sorey’s eyes and the sluggish way he moved his limbs about. “I thought you were coming over to talk, not to take Chrissie’s stash.”
“Give me them, please.” Sorey groans.
“You haven’t gotten sleep lately, have ya?” Zaveid sighs and Sorey nods slowly. “I’ve got a spare room. You should get some sleep.”
“I can’t!” Sorey raises his voice.
“What? You’re so lovestruck ya can’t sleep and need the shrooms to talk to this girl? You shoulda tried beer first…”
“No, it’s not that.”
“I am not teaching you how to make the tea.”
“Zaveid!” But despite any excuses Sorey tried to make, Zaveid refused to comply. Zaveid put the bag on top of the refrigerator and picked Sorey up, carrying him over his shoulder to the guest bedroom.
🍭
Soft lavender and vanilla swirling with the shimmer of starlight dusting his pale skin…
Dreams had turned to lonely sobbing, and Sorey refused to put up with it any longer. He was supposed to be a perfect student, but he would rather give that up than never see his angel again. With aching muscles, he would climb any mountain, traverse countless miles and drink this revolting liquid if it meant seeing those sparkling eyes again. Mikleo was right, after all, difficult circumstances haven’t stopped him before. Sorey got through his parent’s divorce, his father’s military parenting, the bullies of middle school, the oppressive high school friends, and applying for college. He had come so far already, so who says a refrigerator is going to stop him?
After the walls melted and the smells fly colorfully past him, Sorey is finally back to his paradise with his angel, who materializes into his pale form clad in soft peach cotton. Their gazes meet once more, and Sorey instantly relaxes, “Mikleo…”
Mikleo crosses his arms, shaking his head again, “You’re so persistent.”
“Better persistent than not,” he replies, taking one of Mikleo’s hands. “Some things are only achieved through persistence,” Mikleo replies with a knowing smile.
“How were finals?”
“I’ll find out later.”
“Aren’t you worried about how you did?”
“Not really,” Sorey rubs his thumbs into Mikleo’s hand, feeling the plushness of the skin there.
“That’s not like you,” Mikleo raises his gaze to meet Sorey’s.
“Mikleo,” Sorey commands his attention softly, “Are you going to leave me?”
Mikleo’s eyes widen, “I mean, eventually…”
“Can I come with this time?” Sorey cuts him off, his eyes shining with excitement.
Mikleo chuckles, his cheeks flushing pink, “I don’t suppose not…” Upon hearing this confirmation, Sorey wraps his arms around his angel happily, picking him up off the ground slightly and spinning around in a circle in his expression of joy.
“Promise?” Sorey grins.
Mikleo nods, “Of course. I’d even pinky promise.”
“That’s adorable.” Mikleo blushes darker at the comment. “I can’t wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“To see more of you. Your hobbies, your habits…”
“Sorey, that’s so cliché…”
“Is that bad?”
Mikleo shakes his head, kissing Sorey’s cheek softly, causing Sorey’s eyes to light up. “Ready?”
Sorey nods, looking again at the beauty he met only a few weeks ago, and his heart didn’t care that so little time had passed. To him, it felt like years of passion.
🍭
“Sorey, you’ve been sleeping for, like, ten hours. Ya okay?” Zaveid opens the door to the guest room to see Sorey passed out still on the bed, limbs outstretched underneath the sheets. He shakes his head, stepping over to his side to shake him awake by the shoulders. “Sorey? You should probably get home. Your roommates will worry.”
There was no answer- not even a snore in reply.
“Sorey?”
Zaveid lowers an eyebrow before leaning down to see if he can hear Sorey breathing or if he can see his chest rise and fall- but to no avail. He calls the name again, this time with a breathy tone seeping in worry. He brings a few fingers to Sorey’s neck, but the echo of a heartbeat was no longer pulsing through his peaceful expression.