Work Text:
february 9, 2001
friday
“you wanna go to the movies tonight?” andre looks at cal, snaps him out of his daydream. cal grins, all pointy-canines and dumb. andre can’t decide if he loves or hates it.
“are you, andre kriegman, asking me on a date?”
andre turns the key in the ignition, lets his head fall forward until his forehead is resting against the steering wheel. he hears a tiny giggle come from cal and it’s easy for him to decide he loves it, without a doubt in his mind.
“fuck off.” he pulls his head up as soon as his face doesn’t feel as hot. they’re in andre’s driveway, and nobody else is there except for them. cal and andre in their own perfect world, how they like it. “do you want to or not?”
cal nods. andre could see pink staining his cheeks, and fuck. he’s so gay.
“i’d love to go on a date with you, andre.”
“get out.” cal’s kitten tongue pokes out at him and he can’t help but grin.
♡
they spend the hours before the eleven p.m. showing of hannibal in andre’s basement. maybe they make out, maybe they just play video games.
maybe cal climbs on andre’s lap and peers at him so sweetly from under those gossamer eyelashes, presses the softest kiss to his cheek, tilts his head and looks like the picture of innocence, tells andre he wants him to fuck him.
and maybe they almost end up missing the movie because cal’s pretty and andre’s only so strong.
maybe. (absolutely.)
♡
the drive to the theater is far from noteworthy. cal had put his holy wood cd in and they were halfway through coma black when they pulled into the parking lot.
they kiss before they get out (definitely not because cal is needy and knows that andre isn’t a fan of pda) and it takes everything in cal’s little body to keep himself from grabbing andre’s hand on the walk to the doors.
andre’s hoodie is nice and all, but he’s freezing. stupid andre and stupid world and stupid fucking everything. he pulls the sleeves over his hands, bunches up the fabric in his ice-cold fingers, wraps his arms around his waist.
“what do you want?” andre asks, seems warm and smug, points to the candy display. asshole.
cal’s sweet tooth says twizzlers and dots, but in all honesty, he just wants to go home and cuddle. he’s freezing and andre knows he is and andre is literally evil.
“twizzlers.” andre picks up a pack, looks apologetic when cal shivers. “‘m so fucking cold, ‘ndre.”
“yeah, i can see that, man.” red-tipped nose, rosy cheeks, drowning in andre’s hoodie and still trembling. “i don’t know what to tell you.”
the line at the register is fairly short, a couple and a group of people in front of them. andre’s eyes scan the lobby, searches for anybody that they know, and then he remembers that nothing is going to matter in a few months anyway.
andre steps closer to cal, wraps his arms around him from behind, tries to give cal any bit of warmth that he could.
at the register, andre gets cal a hot chocolate and a pepsi for himself. the smile on cal’s face and the shy thank you he gets is worth more to andre than he’ll ever be able to explain.
during the previews, when they’re safe in the dark and hidden from humanity, cal shows his appreciation through honey-sweet kisses and hushed whispers of i love you over and over again until they get shushed by someone a few rows down.
cal ends up falling asleep, his head against andre’s shoulder, their fingers laced together.
♡
“come on, cal. we gotta go.” andre shakes him awake and gets a whiny, sleepy no in response, and while it was endearing, it was one-something in the morning and they really had to get the fuck back home. “come on. you can sleep on the way back.”
he can see cal furrow his eyebrows, can see the hint of a pout playing on his lips.
all it takes to get cal up is the promise of sleeping in all day.
♡
andre holds true to his word and they don’t get out of his bed until noon. it’s just as hard for andre to get him up, to unwrap cal’s thin limbs from his own while cal complains about how he wants to stay like that forever.
andre might agree with him.
cal’s staying the weekend at his house anyway and andre’s going to take advantage of it - not that cal has any problem with that.
♡
february 14, 2001
wednesday
the school day comes and goes and cal stays the night at andre’s.
their valentine’s day is filled with shitty movies that they rented on their way home and pizza; they wouldn’t have it any other way, not in a million years. maybe it’s sappy, but as long as cal’s curled up to him, andre’s content.
fuck, as long as he’s got cal, he’s content.
♡
somewhere between then and now they had moved to andre’s bed, andre’s back against the headboard and cal’s back pressed against andre’s stomach, andre’s fingers running through cal’s hair.
“andre?” cal’s quiet, his soft voice surrounded with self-doubt. andre hums, waits for cal to speak. “i like you.”
“i like you too, cal. thought we established that already.” cal shakes his head and even though andre can’t see it, he knows that cal’s sweetest-angel mouth is contorted into a frown.
“no, like, really like you.”
andre has to stop himself from laughing. it’s not cal’s fault, not in the slightest, that cal is filled with enough insecurity for the both of them and everyone under the sun.
“cal. we just fucked. i get it.” he regrets it as soon as it comes out, gets a bony elbow dug into his ribs.
“shut up. it’s not the same.” andre really wishes he could see cal’s face, because a.) cal is already too pretty and b.) cal looks even prettier with cherry cheeks. “i just. i like you a lot.”
“yeah, i know.” andre glances at the clock, 9:32 p.m., twists another lock of sunshine around his finger, wills himself not to air out his feelings. he feels awful, is aware that cal is... well, cal, and his heart’s too big for his body, soul too candied for the world. because, underneath that fuck-it-all exterior, he’s still a kid who just wants to be wanted; a kid who hungers for acceptance, love.
time passes minute by minute, andre’s existence dedicated solely to cal. (always has been, always will be.)
the time goes by like poured syrup. the air’s just as thick, tense and permeated with desires and wants gone unsaid.
what feels like weeks to andre but is only truly an hour elapses. he spends it in his mind, weighs the pros and cons of telling cal the truth, dreams of a better life where they’re together and free from the harshness of reality.
he knows that he’s being stupid. plain and simple. cal likes him and he maybe loves cal, but the idea of being open, vulnerable, eats and eats away at his core, carves him down to bone-deep worry.
it’s not about coming clean to cal, it’s about coming clean to himself. admitting that he’s head over fucking heels for cal is a lot, and andre’s never been good with feelings.
cal’s sleeping now, has left andre with only the thoughts in his head; abandoned him. andre’s hand is still in cal’s hair, fingers still wandering through his private meadow of moonbeam coreopsis.
the next time andre looks at his clock, he’s met with the flashing red of 11:00. he sighs and knocks his head back. as much as he likes cal, he wasn’t so comfortable anymore.
he tries to move without waking cal up, but of course, all he gets in return for his efforts is a big fuck you from god. cal stirs, moves himself away from andre, turns to him with his face stained sulky.
“sorry. was trying to get comfortable.” cal just nods, looks at him from behind sleep-gloss eyes. “go back to bed. it’s eleven.”
of course, he finds his way back to andre’s arms, tucks his head under andre’s chin, throws a skinny leg over andre’s waist.
where he belongs. where they belong, together and close and in their own slice of heaven.
“hey, cal?” he asks before cal gets the chance to fall back asleep. he feels the vibration of a what mumbled against his chest and he sucks in a deep breath, breathes out.
“i love you.”
cal’s too happy to let them sleep that night.
♡