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Ethan hates his own eyes; he says they’re basic. Dull, and boring. But Benny thinks he couldn’t be more wrong. Ethan’s eyes are…magnetic, in a way, always urging Benny to stare into them as if they hold the secrets of the universe. When the light hits them just right, they’re a warm amber, and they remind Benny of autumn afternoons spent raking up gigantic piles of leaves and jumping into them. They sparkle, they really do, in a fascinating and enchanting way. And when he’s angry, they’re a deep, dangerous black, and sometimes it’s frightening. When he’s sad, they’re almost mahogany, compelling every compassionate being within a five mile radius to reach out and try to ease whatever’s on his mind. When he’s happy, they’re the color of rich chocolate, warm and inviting and endlessly beautiful. Anyone who knows Benny knows that he would do whatever Ethan asked of him, because of those eyes.
Sometimes it feels like Ethan is the one with magic; captivating Benny and bewitching him to carry out his every whim and desire, but Benny finds he doesn’t mind so much. Probably because he knows Ethan would never hurt a fly. Ethan is the kind of guy that moves worms off of the sidewalk and into the grass so they don’t get fried under the sun or squashed under a shoe, Ethan is the kind of guy that let’s spiders be when he sees them. He used to put them outside, before he learned that you may as well have killed them at that point. Ethan is gentle, and Benny knows he’s safe with him. In fact, he’s probably the safest thing in Whitechapel. Someone Benny can cling to when he needs an anchor to keep him from floating off into nowhere, someone that would never hurt him, intentionally or otherwise.
Ethan, to Benny, is…home. That’s all there is to it. No other labels need apply, because other labels are confusing. Other labels are…unreciprocated, as far as Benny is aware. So he is content to remain silent, as he builds the walls of his house with all things Ethan. With eyes like autumn and hair like Benny’s favorite raven feather quills and a voice like honey that soothes the near constant tremors just beneath Benny’s skin. And it’s funny, because Benny doesn’t feel complete without his friend at his side. They’ve been attached at the hip since Benny came to live at 53 Orchard Park when he was six, and at this point, sometimes it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. And perhaps that’s because Benny tends to cling to the most important parts of his life so he can never, ever lose them like he lost his parents, or maybe…maybe it’s because Ethan needs him too. Wouldn’t that be something?
That doesn’t change a thing, however. Benny is perfectly content where he is, whether or not the need to have each other near is mutual. He’s content sit next to Ethan every Friday night and play video games, he’s content to sit quietly (as quietly as he can) next to Ethan in the library during free period and pretend to be working on homework when in reality, he’s trying not to stare at the way his friend thumbs at his temple when he’s really concentrating, biting down harder than necessary on his pencap to keep from saying something completely stupid and ruining everything. Benny’s even content to watch Ethan fumble through flirting with Sarah, and he doesn’t at all think about how the banter flows so smoothly between Ethan and himself, doesn’t at all think about the fact that it could be him, and what if it was him, what if Ethan finally understood…?
At least…that’s what Benny tells himself.
He’s a convincing actor, he really is. Maybe he should do more than lights for the school play. Because every time Ethan needs a boost of confidence, every time Ethan thinks he’s not good enough for someone like Sarah (which is pure idiocy; nobody is good enough for Ethan as far as Benny is concerned), Benny is there to reassure him. Benny is there to offer a smile and a joke and pretend that he’s doing just fine. Benny is there to bolster him and encourage him to go for it and pretend like it doesn’t kill him to see Ethan chase after someone else when it feels so right to have him at his side. And it seems like they all believe him. Benny can smile and he can laugh and he can convince his friends that he’s good enough, he can convince them not to leave him because they’ll never see what he’s really like inside, and he prides himself on that.
And when he gets lost in his thoughts (for example, right now) nobody really thinks twice about it. He’s gone on a trip to the World of Benny is all, and he’ll be back soon, he’ll be okay. It’s not that his thoughts are filled with everything Ethan Morgan and it’s not that he’s stuck thinking about soft features and a beautiful laugh and a soothing voice and how it’d feel to be the center of Ethan’s world the way Sarah is, the way Ethan is the center of Benny’s. It’s not like he’s running laps over and over and trying to catch up to his friend but Ethan is getting further and further away and Sarah is beckoning him away from Benny and closer to her.
And he knows that’s not fair. He knows it’s not Sarah’s fault. Maybe she doesn’t even know what she’s doing. She’s pretty and she’s sweet and she’s kind and she’s everything Benny isn’t, so doesn’t it make sense? Ethan likes girls. He likes pretty, kind, sweet girls, and not boys. And that’s fine. Benny’s fine. Nobody has to know, right? And Benny can keep clinging on for dear life and he won’t lose anyone else that’s important to him because this is fine. He totally gets it. This won’t be the death of him.
Probably.
(What he understands but doesn’t like to think about, is that the delicately crafted walls of his fragile house aren’t sturdy enough to hold themselves together without his support, but they’re too heavy a burden for him to carry alone. What he understands but pays no mind to, is that it’s impossible to build his home around the center of his world, because he can’t carry the weight of it all by himself; the center of his world is as intense as the center of the Earth. He has so much love to give, but how does he keep himself from journeying to the core of himself, lest he be burned alive?)
So he sits and he watches and he cracks his jokes and manages not to swoon when Ethan rolls his eyes but smiles ever so slightly in the way that Benny is so familiar with and so hopeless for. He smiles and he joins in on the conversation because Benjamin Weir Always Has an Input, meanwhile he longs to intertwine his fingers with Ethan and refuses to think about it all at the same time. He knows there’s a name for this.
He doesn’t want to use it.
Because Benjamin Weir is Fine. Benjamin Weir is Cool. Benjamin Weir is Not in L*** With His Best Friend. Because being in [redacted] with his best friend would be a whole new level of fucked up, a whole new brand of pain, so he simply Is Not. That’s all there is to it. He adores Ethan, he does. Just like anyone would adore their best friend. He is Normal and he is Fine. He doesn’t need to listen to “Heather” on repeat and stare at his ceiling for hours and wonder how to stop being in [redacted] or how to get Ethan to fall in [redacted] with him.
And he Most Certainly Does Not think about what would have happened if they had never met Sarah in the first place. What would have happened if she and Erica had never been turned. What would have happened if he and Ethan had not let Jane wander outside by herself that night, hadn’t catalyzed a chain of events that very well could still pull his best friend further and further away from him as he speaks. Would they not all be sitting together right now? Would Sarah and Erica still remain in their corner of the cafeteria, would Benny still have Ethan’s undivided attention? It’s possible.
But he doesn’t think about it. Ever. Thinking about it would be pointless. They’re in this now, like it or not, and there’s nothing Benny could do about it even if he wanted to, and he doesn’t want to, so he might as well just accept it. Which he has. Totally.
Bells ring and teachers drone on and the day is over as soon as it begins, and had Benny really been that stuck in his own head that he hadn’t realized he was working on autopilot? His notes are probably shit, but that’s fine, because he can copy off of Ethan or something, and Ethan might sigh at him and ask him why he wasn’t paying attention but that’s usually a rhetorical question, and if not, it’s a question easily answered by a sheepish smile and a careless shrug.
“You’re quiet today,” Ethan points out. No, it’s not sudden, and knowing Ethan he was probably building to it, probably since they left the school, but Benny only just manages not to flinch. He offers a shrug instead, a lopsided, but somewhat bemused smile. He’s great at this, isn’t he?
“Am I?” he questions, attempting for something disarming.
“Yeah,” Ethan continues, matching Benny’s shrug with his own, but it’s different. Awkward and aborted and all very Ethan, but it suits him. “I mean, you’ve barely said anything all day. You good, man?”
Benjamin Weir is Fine. Benjamin Weir is Cool. Benjamin Weir is Totally Not Lying when he answers,
“Yeah, dude,” and forces his smile to be more convincing. “Think I’m just tired, you know?” a complete lie. “We both know that my sleep schedule is shit.” followed by the undeniable truth. Ethan seems to buy it, and although his concern doesn’t really seem to fade (and boy does concern make his eyes seem so warm), he doesn’t press the issue, aside from offer,
“Maybe there’s a potion you could make, to sleep better? Like the one in that show you like.”
Benny snorts. He can’t help it. And it’s so incredibly sweet that Ethan remembers details from Merlin although he himself can’t get into the show, but he tries. He pays enough attention to the plot that he knows what Benny is talking about and he asks questions and he says stuff like ‘Merlin kinda reminds me of you’ and it’s all very sweet, but Benny Does Not Swoon. It’s a normal complement. Ethan’s just being nice. Benny knows that.
“Yeah, but if you watched it more, you know that it’s actually a non-magical sleeping draught and does nothing for Morgana, who it’s prescribed to, so…”
It’s Ethan’s turn to snort. They’ve surpassed Benny’s house now, and they begin to walk up the steps of Ethan’s porch, into his house and up to his room, because this is normal. Benny might usually stop home first, but when doesn’t he follow Ethan around like a lost puppy?
“I’m just saying,” Ethan tells him. “Even some melatonin or something. The fact that you have magic, but a horrendous sleep schedule, is concerning to me.”
Concerning, in that he’s worried for Benny’s safety, or concerning in that he’s worried for the safety of those around Benny? Both, maybe? Goddess only knows. Benny would love to say that he has Ethan all figured out, that he knows everything that goes on inside that brilliant mind, but he doesn’t. At least…he’s pretty sure he doesn’t. He knows the important things about Ethan. All of his favorite things, and all of his least favorite things, his nervous ticks and his tells when he’s lying, but Benny isn’t telepathic. He can’t read Ethan’s mind and even if he could, that feels like a huge breach of privacy. Maybe it’s better that Benny can’t see what’s going on inside Ethan’s head. Maybe the mystery is the best part, knowing that Ethan trusts him enough to divulge his secrets when he wants to. Maybe it’s better that Benny doesn’t know what Ethan thinks about, because maybe Ethan only thinks about Sarah and school work and how to survive high school and if that’s the case, Benny doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to know just how small a place he has in Ethan’s thoughts.
“Hey, I can handle myself,” Benny defends. “And if I can’t, Grandma probably can, so…”
Yeah. Yeah, Benny is totally gone for the way Ethan rolls his eyes, the tiniest of smiles pulling at the corner of his mouth, but Benny savagely shoves that thought down deep into the recesses of his mind where it belongs. Benny Weir is Not in [redacted] With Ethan Morgan. He repeats it over and over like a mantra.
“Yeah, alright, Magic Man,” Ethan snickers. “But just like…talk to me, okay? It’s almost scary when you’re quiet for more than five minutes at a time.”
“Ha, ha,” Benny counters. But he leaves it at that. The topic is put to rest. Benny chats as they play video games and pesters Ethan until it’s time to leave.
He has an appearance to keep. A role to play. A house to build in secret where nobody can watch him, even though the foundation isn’t sturdy and the roof is cracked and any day now, the entire thing could come crumbling down on top of Benny, no matter how much glue he adds to keep it all together, no matter how many countermeasures he takes in order to keep it standing. He knows he could survive this if he’d just walk away, but he could never do that. Besides, at the end of the day, Benny would much rather be crushed under the weight of his own L*** than ever be in a place where Ethan isn’t.
The pain he refuses to acknowledge cuts deep, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it’s a reminder that, after everything they’ve seen and done, after everything they’ve been through, he and Ethan Remain. They’re still alive, and they’re still human. They can be…best friends until the day they die, and that’s enough for Benny. They can both grow up and get married, and have kids and their kids can be best friends too, and they can grow old together, even if they’re technically apart, and that’s enough.
It’s beautiful in its own way, isn’t it?
Ethan and Sarah decide to have a do-over date.
And that’s fine, right? Because their first date was a disaster, wasn’t it? Of course they’d want to try again. And Ethan vows that he won’t let his nerves get the best of him, and he won’t make an ass of himself, and Benny encourages him. Benny smiles at him and Benny flashes a thumbs-up and Benny tells him he can do it! And Benny tells him that everything is going to be fine, and of course Sarah likes him, why wouldn’t Sarah like him? And Benny tells him that they went through hell and back, one date is no big deal.
And Benny watches as Ethan walks arm-in-arm with Sarah away from Orchard Park and he watches as they fade from view and something in his chest aches, and he doesn’t know why. It shouldn’t hurt this much, it shouldn’t, because Benny only feels Best Friend Feelings and he should be excited for his best friend, because this is awesome, right? This is totally cool, Ethan’s going on a date with a Pretty Girl and they were both smiling the shy smiles of two young people in the beginning of a relationship and Benny should be Happy For Him. And he is! Benny is so incredibly happy for Ethan, and that must be why it aches so bad. His happiness is too much for only himself and it’s spilling into all the cracks and crevices that make up Benny Weir and he’s so happy for Ethan that he’s going to burst.
He doesn’t know why he’s trying to kid himself. He’s the only person that can hear his thoughts, but the thoughts he’s having are dangerous, aren’t they? Because thoughts turn into feelings, and feelings turn into impulses, and impulses turn into actions and before he knows it, Benny could have ruined the best friendship he’s ever had. Because there have been bullies and there have been fake, toxic friends, and there has been heartbreak and headache and bruises, but after everything, Ethan’s still…here. After Benny lost his parents and even after times he’s felt like he’s losing himself. Ethan’s been there through the name-calling and the wedgies and the nightmares…Ethan has held Benny while he’s cried and never judged him for it so, yeah. Benny’s going to ignore his thoughts. He’s going to tell himself he’s happy for Ethan because Ethan would be happy for him, and Benny doesn’t want to follow the trail of thought-feeling-impulse-action, because he refuses to let Ethan go.
And Benny has this other thought. This terrible, overwhelming thought that invades when Benny is least expecting it. The thought that…Ethan will open his eyes soon. Ethan will wake up and he’ll realize that Benny’s holding him back, and he’ll know in that moment that he could go so much further if he got rid of all the dead weight, and then Benny will be alone no matter what, because gods he doesn’t deserve Ethan. He doesn’t. He’s sitting in his room and wallowing in jealousy as Ethan enjoys his do-over date and Benny feels like he’s being so disgustingly selfish. Like, this isn’t about him, at all. And he’s established that he should be happy for Ethan, because Ethan’s world does not revolve around Benny. Even though…even though Benny’s world revolves around Ethan, but he’s been through this, and he doesn't want to think about it because he’s had Ethan practically to himself for eleven years, and Benny isn’t some toddler who doesn’t know how to share, right? But right now, he feels like it, and he’s sick to his stomach, and part of him hopes that this date is a disaster but he hates himself for hoping that, and it’s a vicious cycle that he finds himself in, a battle of circular thinking with himself, and he hates it.
Is it surprising that Erica texts him? Maybe. But Benny has seen actual flying pigs before, so nothing surprises him anymore. Or at least, most things don’t tend to surprise him. Regardless, he pays no mind to the strangeness of the situation, and he’s quick to pick up his phone.
Erica: wanna hang out
Benny: why
Erica: cause sarah is out w ur geek and i’m bored
Benny: valid. but also ur mean to me a lot.
Erica: this is true
Erica: i promise i’ll be nice this time
Erica: nicer, at least.
Benny: y’know what? it’ll do. what do you wanna do?
Erica: i dunno. i’m up for whatever as long as it’s not nerdy.
Benny: movie? coffee? erica u need to help me out here
Erica: movie. actually come over so we don’t have to deal with people.
Benny: k cool. i just gotta make a couple stops first.
Benny: and if u put on any of those stupid dusk movies i will stake u.
Erica: bold of u to assume you could stake me.
Benny: whatever. i’ll be there in like twenty minutes.
Erica: cool
And it really is strange that Erica wants to hang out with Benny of all people, but then, the only other option is Rory, right now. Benny supposes he should be grateful that he’s a step above Rory, although he does love that feral little gremlin with all of his heart (the same type of love he reserves for Jane and Sarah and every other person in his life that his platonic affection decides to latch on to), but the thing is, he’s someone’s next to last choice. Benny’s certain that for Erica, it goes like Sarah > Ethan > Feral cats > Jesse > Flesh eating zombies > Benny > Rory but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. Sarah and Ethan are on a date together and feral cats aren’t as common as one might think, nobody knows where Jesse is half the time, and they’re fresh out of flesh eating zombies, so at least Benny has someone to hang out with, right?
At least he has someone to distract him from all the bitching and complaining he wants to do. At least he can hang with someone that’s not going to steal half his sour patch kids and complain when their tongue starts bleeding. Benny also knows that Erica would never use him as a snack, because she’d rather take a stake to the heart than have her fangs be anywhere near Benny’s neck, and that’s perfectly valid. Benny would probably feel the same if the situations were reversed. Not that Erica’s not beautiful. And they did kiss that one time, but Benny has come to learn that potion-induced kissing is much, much different from real kissing, and anyway it’s just…weird. Erica is a friend, and Benny has come a long way from thinking of her as the Princess Leia to his Han Solo, or whatever he said.
And maybe she’ll bitch and complain as much as Benny’s trying not to. But usually, Benny and Erica bitch and complain about the same things (although it is widely known that nobody can throw a bitchfit quite like Ethan Morgan can) so, although the snow may be falling in Benny’s winter of discontent, at least he’ll have sarcastic company (John Green, Looking for Alaska, the best quote in the book if you ask him). Erica doesn’t even complain that it took him over an hour when she sees the bagful of junk food he’d procured just for this. Well, she does, but not as much as she would’ve had Benny not grabbed at least two packages of double-stuffed Oreos. It’s the small victories. Even if he’s never seen her in oversized comfort clothes.
The weird feeling never does fade. Not even when Erica picks a movie that both of them enjoy, not even when she punches him in the arm and calls him a bitch, and especially not when she rolls her eyes but fails to hold back a smile at one of Benny Weir’s Poorly Timed Jokes. And Benny both wants to know what the hell this is all about and doesn’t want to ruin it right now. Because he’s lonely, all the damn time. When he’s not bugging Ethan or trying to annoy Sarah or arguing over something stupid with Rory, or teasing the living hell out of Erica’s seemingly ridiculous interests, he’s lonely. And it’s all he can do to hug himself at night and remind himself that they’re still here for him, that they’re not going anywhere. Erica, Sarah, and Rory? They’ll literally always be there, and Ethan…well, Benny has waxed poetic about Ethan Morgan enough, don’t you think? Anyway. This is definitely a much more desirable way to pass the time as opposed to what Benny was originally planning on doing, so despite the weirdness, he’ll enjoy it as much as he can.
“How do you think their date is going?” Erica asks, and no, Benny wasn’t expecting that, either. He furrows his brow for a moment, thinks about how to respond, and finally, he shrugs.
“Don’t know,” he responds, and physically bites his tongue to refrain from adding ‘don’t care’ because, although he doesn’t care about the date itself, it’s been established time and again that he cares about Ethan. “They’re probably heading home soon.”
“Mm,” Erica hums. She fiddles with the strings of her baggy sweatpants, and Benny has never seen her look…like that. Miserable. Not even pre-vamp-Dusk-is-all-I’m-living-for miserable. Benny can almost recognize the look on her face, because…it’s the same one he tries not to let anyone see. Erica’s brand of misery is familiar because Benny feels it every Goddess forsaken day of his life, even though he’s always refused to name it. And Benny could comment on it, or he could save face, like he’d want her to do for him in this situation, but Goddess, his curiosity has never not gotten the best of him, has it?
“You’re bummin’ me out,” he sighs, eventually. “What’s with that look on your face?”
“What look?” Erica demands, and wipes The Look off of her face. Or at least, she tries to.
“You still have the same kicked puppy look.”
“I do not!”
“You so do!”
“Not as much as you and Ethan!”
“Touche. But still, what’s wrong?”
Erica is hesitant, and honestly, Benny can’t blame her. It’s no secret that Whitechapel is…old fashioned. It’s no America, absolutely not, but one might find that not everyone is so accepting. Whitechapel is like the Canadian version of Derry, Maine but without a psychotic alien clown in the sewers. Alligators on magical steroids, maybe, and the town secretly boasts more than their fair share of vampires and ghosts and whatever other supernatural entity might come along and decide to stay, but no eldritch horrors based off the Three Billy Goats Gruff from Stephen King’s cocaine induced nightmares. Fresh out of those, unfortunately. Or is it fortunately? Benny can’t tell anymore. All that aside, yeah, Benny could understand why Erica wouldn’t want to come right out and tell him what’s bothering her, especially if he’s correct in thinking that it’s the same thing bothering him. So she doesn’t answer, and he understands. She grips the fabric of her sweatpants, and he understands. She sighs a sigh of abject longing and wipes away tears that haven’t even begun to fall, and oh, does Benny understand.
“You’re jealous of Ethan, aren’t you?”
Oh, now that gets Erica’s attention. Makes sense. She scoffs, a nasty sounding thing, and her sneer would be somewhat concerning if Benny wasn’t used to it, didn’t know that all her so-called bitchiness is her defense mechanism after years of bullying, which, in Benny’s opinion, is perfectly valid. As it is…
“Why would I be jealous of the King Dweeb?” she demands, tosses her hair back over her shoulder, which isn’t as effective as she seems to think it is. Or it just might be that Benny’s known her for what feels like forever, even though it’s only been since freshman year. Regardless.
“‘Cause he’s on a date with Sarah,” Benny answers, because, duh. “And you’re not.”
He is, in fact, expecting her to hiss at him, and he impresses himself when he doesn’t flinch, and instead pops a sour patch kid in his mouth.
“Am I wrong?” He’s not, and he knows that already, but it’s the principal of the matter. Erica’s glare tells him all he needs to know, and he’s starting to recognize another emotion swimming in the pale blue of her eyes, mingling with her misery and presenting itself as her anger. Fear. Which Benny can identify with, can’t he? Remember that Whitechapel isn’t the friendliest place for teens thinking the thoughts and feeling the feelings that Benny and Erica are thinking and feeling. Remember that it’s one of those scary places where teens like Benny and Erica refuse to label themselves because it could literally be the death of them at worst and at best it’d be ignored, and outing is a real thing, and Erica’s mom isn’t home, no, but what if she was, what if she heard? Not everyone can have a parental guardian like Benny’s grandma, which makes him sad, but it’s true, unfortunately. So yeah, Erica’s fear is a real thing, and Benny really didn’t intend to frighten her like that, and he almost wishes she knew him better than that, because he’d never do that to her, and he’s almost offended that she’d think that of him.
“Look, Erica, relax,” he urges, and he almost wonders how weird it is to hear him use, like, a soft voice, since he’s normally…exuberant, is the word Ethan would use, isn’t it? Bubbly. Effervescent. One of those three. Even if Benny doesn’t exactly feel effervescent on the inside most of the time, but it’s fine. “I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m an annoying asshole, not a raging douchebag that would out you just ‘cause.”
And, miraculously, Erica does seem to relax. The tension leaks out of her shoulders, and her head falls against the back of the couch in a way that sounds like it’d be painful but she barely even flinches, and damn, what must it be like to have a vampiric pain tolerance? Benny’s almost jealous. But he doesn’t pay attention because Erica is looking at him now, and she looks so sad that his heart aches for her, and he wants to reach out and hug her so bad but he doesn’t know if that’d be welcomed and he’s too awkward to ask, so he just keeps his hands resting on his thighs and he trains his eyes on the tv in front of him but he’s not paying attention to the movie anymore because all he can think about is the fact that Erica probably knows about Benny just like Benny knows about Erica. And she probably invited him over because Misery Loves Company so the list of people Erica would want to hang out with is probably closer to Sarah > Feral cats > Benny > Jesse > Flesh eating zombies > Ethan > Rory, because Erica seems like the jealous type, and really, Benny can’t blame her at all.
“So what now?” Erica mumbles, eyes trained on the ceiling.
“I don’t know,” Benny answers, honestly.
“I don’t suppose we could ruin their date?”
“I couldn’t do that to Ethan. And you couldn’t do that to Sarah, either.”
“…I hate that you’re right,” and this time, it’s a groan that escapes Erica’s lips, loud and long and guttural and not at all feminine, and Benny can relate to her frustration. “So, what, we just sit here in our misery while they do their thing?”
Benny and Erica both know one thing: a relationship like Ethan and Sarah’s is not built to last. Ethan is going to grow old one day. Sarah isn’t. Unless she turns him, there’s no happy ending for Ethan and Sarah, and Benny doesn’t know what he’d do if Ethan turned, but he holds on tight to the hope that Ethan would never, ever want to be a vampire, because fuck, no he cannot lose his best friend like that. They can’t go out like that. Not with Benny growing older and older despite his magic, not with everyone else staying the same and leaving Benny behind, because he could never deal with that. Because being alone is the worst punishment that he could be given. Being alone is his own personal hell, and he needs his friends like he needs air, he needs to be around them like he needs to be grounded onto earth by the anchor that is Ethan Morgan. He loves them too much, and he knows that the more he loves someone, the more painful it is when they leave so they can’t go, they can’t, because what would Benny do without them?
It occurs to him that he needs to answer Erica’s question.
“Pretty much,”
And it’s lame. Everything about it is lame. From the tone of his voice to the way he shrugs, to the way he half-heartedly grimaces. He’s lame. A loser. Stupid Benny. Stupid, Lonely, Clingy Benny Is A Loser. But he is Not In Love With His Best Friend, and he stands by that. Even if Ethan Morgan is the rock to which Benjamin Weir is moored. That doesn’t mean a damn thing.
“That blows,” Erica grumbles, and Benny laughs. A proper laugh. And Erica looks so sad and beautiful, and Benny loves her, he really does. He loves her like he loves Jane and Rory and Sarah, he loves her because as much as she makes fun of him, she loves him too, doesn’t she? In her own Erica Jones way? So Benny finally takes his hands off his thighs and he finally finds a more comfortable position on the couch, and he lifts his arm in invitation, and it’s comfortable when Erica settles against him. It’s comfortable when he wraps his arm around her shoulder to comfort them both. Neither of them feel the pressure that society tells them they need to feel, because platonic affection can be just as intense, thank you very much, and if the intensity of this moment is going to make Benny cry, so be it.
“We’ll be alright, won’t we?” he whispers.
“I dunno,” Erica mutters, and Benny doesn’t know either. “I hope so.”
“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”
It’s not a disaster. Sarah and Ethan’s date, that is. It goes well. And they seem happy, they do. Benny doesn’t know if they’re an official couple, and they don’t, like, hold hands in the halls but that could just be reservations on either side. And Benny ignores it as the walls of his Ethan Shaped Home begin to crack and crumble because Ethan is happy, and that’s all that matters. Ethan smiles more, and he laughs brighter, and his eyes are constantly sparkling in the light, and god Benny would be an absolute fool to ruin anything because even though he’s Not In Love and even though it still, for reasons definitely not linked to romantic feelings, hurts to see Ethan with someone else, he looks…breathtaking. Ethereal. Benny would dig his own fucking grave if it meant seeing Ethan this happy. He would.
So maybe it’s good enough to be Right Here. Standing next to Ethan, metaphorically or otherwise. Maybe this is good enough, because Benny still has a front row seat to the fireworks display that is Ethan’s brightest smile, because Benny has digital surround sound of the music that is Ethan’s carefree laughter, and he can witness all of this first hand. It’s better than anything he could see at The Louvre, it’s better than anything he could listen to at any fancy music hall, because it’s something real, something spontaneous, something that a million artists could never recreate. Because Ethan Morgan is inimitable in every way. And Benny is content, right here.
Benny is content to follow him through a new Used Bookstore, content to watch him run his fingers down the spines. It’s dusty and old in here, but in a cozy sort of way that reminds Benny of his grimoire. And Ethan loves it here, clearly. He’s just as much at home surrounded by old books as he is in any comic book or video game store, as much at home as he is in his own house, probably. The gentle light of this warm Saturday afternoon is filtering in through the windows, and Benny wishes he had a camera right now because the dust motes in the air swirl around Ethan’s head in a flattering dance, and as he lifts the book in his hands to his face to smell that Old Book Smell, he is the very definition of Contentedness. His smile is soft. His shoulders are relaxed. Benny’s heart pounds in his chest.
Ethan doesn’t wind up buying anything; can’t afford it, right now. They leave empty-handed, much to the disgruntlement of the owner, but Benny already knows he’ll be back within the next couple of days. Because he memorized all the books that Ethan had admired. The oldest ones, always the oldest ones, and sometimes Ethan doesn’t even read them. Sometimes he just keeps them on the shelf to take down and smell and put back, because Old Books are Always Comforting, according to Ethan. Everything about them, from the aesthetic of the yellowed pages, to the feel of the worn cover in his hands, to the smell of everything about it that has aged. Benny jokes that Ethan could probably tell the age of a book by its smell, like wine connoisseurs can tell the age of a wine by its taste, and Ethan pretends it’s not funny, but Benny can see the fond look in his eye, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, and Goddess, he’s so in—
No. No he’s not. He isn’t! It’s not L***, it’s…it’s something else entirely, it’s an intense platonic feeling for his best friend, but it’s not Love, it isn’t!
But that doesn’t stop Benny from going back to the bookstore the next day. That doesn’t stop Benny from buying the two oldest books out of all of them that Ethan had set his sights on. That doesn’t stop him from spending all his money on them, because it’s for a good cause, isn’t it? And it certainly doesn’t stop him from biking back to Ethan’s as fast as his legs can pedal, and that doesn’t stop him from running up to Ethan’s room and presenting his best friend with the dusty old texts, and that doesn’t stop him from swooning just a little bit when Ethan’s face lights up like the city at night.
It’s not Love.
But Benny can still admire nice things.
Benny knows a lot of useless information about Ethan, doesn’t he? He knows that Ethan prefers dark chocolate. He knows that Ethan doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, and he hates sour things, but he still nabs Benny’s sour gummies during movie nights. He knows that Ethan loves spicy foods and salty foods, and doesn’t like ice in his drinks. Benny knows that Ethan likes pineapple on pizza like he’s some kind of heathen, and Benny knows that Ethan hates to bake but loves to cook. Benny knows that Ethan can be a bit of a neat freak, that he hates when the dishes aren’t done in a certain way, or his clothes aren’t folded a certain way, and Benny knows that Ethan’s been doing his own laundry since he was, like, ten, for that specific reason.
Benny knows that Ethan snorts when he laughs, Benny knows that Ethan snores very lightly in his sleep. Benny knows that Ethan is, in fact, a cuddler. Benny knows that Ethan isn’t comfortable until he’s laying across your lap, or laying half on top of you. And far be it from Benny to complain, right? Far be it from Benny to deny the warmth and comfort that is Ethan’s body mass pressed up against his. Because it’s nice, isn’t it? Friends cuddle all the time, don’t they? This isn’t canoodling, in Benny’s definition of the word, no, it’s…it’s just two best friends who are comfortable with each other. That’s all.
It may not be movie night, but Ethan managed to convince his parents to let him stay at Benny’s, which Benny finds…a little strange, because it’s Friday night, and Sarah’s babysitting, and wouldn’t Ethan want to spend time with her? They’re still not Official, however Benny rather thinks that a label, or lack thereof, is meaningless. But he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s happy to spend some time with Ethan. He always is. Happy, happy, happy. Benny Weir is Always Happy.
Well, right now, he’s pleasantly buzzed, but that’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it? His limbs feel heavy and keeping his eyes open is almost a chore, but this is good. The smoke that curls around his head and trails out through the open window of the basement is carried away by the wind. And Benny can hear Grandma shuffling around upstairs, but it’s fine, because he stuffed a towel under the door, and even though it’s getting colder and colder and the window is tiny, it’s open, and the fan’s on, and Benny’s comfortable where he is. Wrapped up in blankets and lounging on pillows because this is Their Spot. Ethan and Benny’s Spot. They spend as much time here as they do in Ethan’s room, don’t they? They’ve made their mark. And no matter how far apart he and Ethan grow, because he can feel it happening every second of every day, they will always have This Place. Right?
There will always be the stain where Ethan spilled orange soda on the carpet and they tried to clean it up with whatever they could get their hands on and only made the mess worse, there will always be the indention in the cushions of the old couch from where they’ve sat for hours and hours on end. There will always be a chip in the wall from when Benny rage quit a game and threw a controller, and there will, in fact, always be the lingering smell of pot. Grandma pretends she doesn’t know about it, and Benny pretends that he doesn’t know that she knows.
They’re lying on the floor, and they’re staring at the ceiling. Or, well, Ethan’s staring at the ceiling. Studying the popcorn paint and the cobwebs. Benny is studying Ethan’s jawline. In a Strictly Heterosexual, Best-Bro, I’m-High-So-It’s-Whatever kind of way. Still…Benny’s become a pro at following the lines that make up his best friend. From the sharpness of his jawline to his cheekbone to the curve of his nose all the way to his dimples when he smiles. Nothing about Ethan seems to begin or end. It all just kind of…exists. Flows from one curve into another. Benny sometimes thinks that maybe Ethan wasn’t born at all, but crafted by some sort of deity. Maybe even the Goddess herself. Because even his laziest smile is a sight to behold. Even his quietest laughter and his sleepiest expression are the most beautiful things in the world.
But Benny thinks all of that in a Totally Straight Way. Yeah.
“I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve hung out,” Ethan murmurs, “Like, just the two of us. Like this.” and that may or may not be true. And Benny wants to dissect just what Ethan means by ‘like this’. Does he mean the pot? Does he mean the fact that it’s the two of them and they’re not doing research to take down this week’s monster? Does he mean the fact that they’re in Benny’s basement and they’re secure in the knowledge that nobody’s going to show up out of the blue? A million questions race through Benny’s head, but his mouth is too slow for his brain or maybe it’s vice versa and maybe time isn’t real, but anything that he might have wanted to ask dies in his throat. Because when did Ethan get so close? When did he crawl into Benny’s personal space, and when did Ethan’s face stop mere inches away from Benny’s? And why, Goddess, why does he look so kissable? Why is he so easy to hold but so unavailable? And the thoughts keep coming and the feelings demand to be felt because Benny’s too slow to catch them. Too slow to stop them and tell them that they’re wrong. And all the while, here’s Ethan. With his warm, sparkly eyes and his inviting, pouty lips, and this soft, dopey smile that feels like it’s reserved for Benny, and Benny only.
And Ethan lays his head against Benny’s shoulder, and his eyes are still twinkling in the dim light, and he looks so…so soft, and Goddess, Goddess, okay. Benjamin Weir is Fine. Benjamin Weir is Cool. Benjamin Weir is Not In Love With His Best Friend. This is casual. This is normal. And when Ethan says,
“You’re comfy.”
Benny laughs and responds with,
“That’s the weirdest compliment you’ve ever given me, E, but thank you.”
And Ethan closes his eyes and Benny’s feels like some kind of spell has been broken. The aftereffects are lingering but he’s no longer bewitched into an unblinking, unyielding stare. But Ethan still looks so captivating, and Benny has the urge to reach out and trace the curves that make up Ethan Morgan.
“Cuddle me,” Ethan requests.
And Benny would be a fool to deny him.
And isn’t this his secret wish? Isn’t this what he’s always wanted? To hold Ethan like this, for Ethan to rest his head on Benny’s chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world? He’s too far gone to correct himself, and Ethan’s the only thing keeping him from floating away right now. Ethan, shifting to get comfortable and humming a happy little hum when he finds that spot. Ethan, with the softest of smiles gracing his face as if this is the only place he wants to be right now. Ethan, turning his face into the crook of Benny’s neck like it’s something he needs to do. Or something he can’t help.
Benjamin Weir is Fine.
Benjamin Weir is Cool.
Benjamin Weir is Absolutely, Positively, in No Way, Shape, or Form, in Love With His Best Friend.
But he holds on tight, anyway. He wraps his arms around Ethan like he’s the only thing that exists, and to Benny, he might as well be. He holds on tight and for once, his walls aren’t trembling under the weight of themselves. For once, everything is calm and for once, the storm in Benny’s mind doesn’t rage on. And he doesn’t think about how terrifying the world actually is when he’s alone, and he doesn’t wonder if his friends all secretly hate him and want nothing to do with him. And for once? Benny can just…be.
And Ethan spends the night, they both spend the night, just like this. Wrapped up in each other. Ethan is the blanket under which Benny can hide from everything else. From the next supernatural baddie that comes into town and from English exams and from anything else that’s too big and too intimidating for Benny to handle alone. Ethan is his shield. Ethan is his protection from All Things Awful, and Benny wants to hang on to that as long as he can. Eventually, Ethan will leave him here. Ethan will leave this basement and go find Sarah, and maybe they’ll keep growing further apart, and maybe, however many years down the line (or maybe even less than that) their friendship will be a distant memory for them both. And Benny isn’t ready for that. Benny will never be ready for that. So he clings. He clings until Ethan wakes up. He clings until they both clamber upstairs for breakfast. He clings, and he waits for Ethan to leave, and he waits for Ethan to say goodbye.
But Ethan never says goodbye. Instead, Ethan says,
“I’ll be right back. I wanna shower and change my clothes,”
And Benny is stunned. Benny thought Ethan would want to go call Sarah as soon as he could. Benny thought that Ethan had more important things to do. More important people to see. And Benny is frustrated. Benny is frustrated because he can’t figure Ethan out like he’s always been able to. What is he doing? Ethan has Sarah. Ethan has Sarah’s hands to hold, her arms to wrap himself up in, her lips to kiss, so what the hell is he doing hanging around Benny? Have things not changed?
No, things have definitely changed. And Benny would be stupid to think otherwise.
But Ethan comes back just like he said he would. He comes back smelling like the Goddess forsaken Irish Spring body wash that he uses, comes back with his barely-dry hair shining in the sun, comes back clad in an outfit that Benny’s never seen him in before, but it suits him, it does. Maybe Sarah took him shopping for skinny jeans and v-necks. Regardless, Benny doesn’t at all stare. Not one bit. That would be…that would be disrespectful toward their friendship. Or something.
“Let’s go on a walk,” Ethan suggests, slinging the bag that Benny had failed to notice before, over his shoulder. “Get some fresh air.”
And it’s those eyes, those Goddess forsaken eyes. Benny has never been, and will never be, able to say no to those eyes. So they take a walk. And they’re close…gods, they’re so close. Every now and then, Ethan’s hand will bump Benny’s and Benny Does Not Blush. Not one bit. It’s…it’s chilly today. So the redness of his face is from the cold. That’s all. His ears and his nose and his cheeks are pink because the wind is blowing in his face and isn’t wearing a heavy enough jacket.
The next time Ethan’s hand brushes against his, Benny elects to keep his hands in his pockets to avoid any other accidental touching.
They walk for what feels like hours, talking about everything and nothing, and even though Ethan seems to have a specific destination in mind, he says ambles. It feels more like wandering than walking. And it’s fine. It’s more than fine; it’s good. Great, even. Benny pushes his confusion and his frustration to the side, because they do him no good, and focuses instead on how nice this is. It feels…different but familiar all at once. Like a distant memory, or something from long ago. Or maybe something buried just beneath the sand, something that can be almost-seen and almost-felt but there’s no telling just what it is. It’s…exciting and strange, and doesn’t need a label, as far as Benny is concerned. He wants to enjoy this for as long as he can. Enjoy walking with his best friend, enjoy talking about nothing, enjoy dicking around as if they don’t have so many responsibilities that surpass those of the average high school student. It’s nice to forget just how fucked Whitechapel is sometimes. It’s nice to forget that they’re part of the world of the supernatural, like it or not, and it’s nice to pretend that they’re normal for once.
They walk, and they wander, and it seems like it’ll never end, and then, Ethan stops, abruptly. He stops and Benny almost crashes into him, and he’s about to ask if something’s wrong, but then he finally looks up and his breath catches in his throat. He’s never seen this place before, and that’s solely because he and Ethan were never exactly the ‘wander the woods’ type as kids. Always too afraid of what could be hiding there, and always heeding Grandma’s warnings. So this is a pleasant surprise, isn’t it? The clearing that opens up before them is…Benny doesn’t have the words for it, but he feels almost like he’s entered the Faery Realm. Like he could confer with the Sidhe or sit down to tea with a dryad. Not everything was torn down in an effort to forget what Jesse’s cult did to this town. And it seems like Jesse’s cult didn’t reach this specific spot. Birds sing and the leaves rustle in the breeze, and even though it’s fall, the scent of wildflowers still lingers, and there’s a distinct lack of any of the negative energy that Benny and his magic have grown accustomed to.
“How…?” he begins to ask, but Ethan is smiling that smile, and Ethan fucking winks at him, and nods his head to beckon Benny forward, and wow…
Ethan looks like…he looks like the Faery King. Regal and mystical and altogether unreal. Like he shouldn’t be here. Like Benny shouldn’t be here, like he’s unworthy to be in the presence of someone so ethereal and beautiful. Except Benny is the one that Ethan has chosen to cast his spell on, Benny is the one that he beckons to follow, and Benny is not strong enough to resist. So he follows, entranced, and he sits down when Ethan sits down, and his mind has not caught up to the rest of him, and part of him wonders if he’s still stoned, but…this is real. This is all…real, and it’s amazing, and Ethan is tossing him a juice box and Ethan is tossing him a sandwich and a bag of chips, and what the hell? Benny wasn’t expecting some sort of impromptu picnic but y’know what? He’s not even mad. Because this is fine. It’s still hazy and dreamlike, and Benny’s insides are all warm despite the cold, and yeah…yeah, this is good.
They eat and they talk and they smile and they laugh and Benny tries very hard not to think about how…date-like this feels. Because Ethan is Straight. Ethan Has a Girlfriend. And Ethan’s Girlfriend is Pretty, Kind, Sweet Sarah, and Benny could never compete. So he doesn’t think about it, he doesn’t. He doesn’t think about it while they eat and he doesn’t think about it while they talk, and he doesn’t think about it when Ethan digs a book out of his bag and reads it aloud.
But he can’t not think about it, can he?
He thinks about it when he lays down in the grass. He thinks about it when he rests his head in Ethan’s lap without really realizing that he’s doing so. He thinks about it when Ethan’s voice washes over him, reading out every line of his book with perfect inflection. Benny thinks about it when Ethan pauses and lifts the book to his face to smell the pages, and continues on, and oh fuck that’s one of the books that Benny got him, isn’t it? And Benny thinks about how date-like this is as he drapes his arms over his stomach, and he thinks about it when Ethan runs his hands through Benny’s hair. And Benny thinks about it whenever Ethan glances down to him and smiles, and oh fuck oh fuck.
Benjamin Weir is Not Fine.
Benjamin Weir is Not Cool.
Benjamin Weir is Hopelessly, Unendingly in Love With His Best Friend, and oh Goddess, it fucking hurts. Because this is something he can never have. This is only a fantasy and Ethan doesn’t realize it but Benny is such a shitty friend because he’s using this time for his own selfish desires, just like he did last night, just like he’s been doing since they were thirteen years old. The time for denial is Over. The time for Benny to try and convince himself that he’s Normal, that he’s Straight, has long since passed him by, and he needs to get out of here, he needs to get out of here right now because he can hardly breathe, and oh Goddess what if Ethan were to find out? What if Ethan were to find out that Benny is wrong and dirty, what if Ethan were to find out that Benny thinks about him like that?
He’d hate him. Ethan would never be able to look at Benny again because he’d be disgusted and Ethan would never want to see him again, and Benny would be Alone, and oh Goddess, he can never be alone, not as long as he lives. Stupid, Lame, Clingy Benny with his Dirty Little Secret can never be alone and it’s pathetic and Goddess, Goddess, he needs to leave right now, right now—
“Benny?”
And Ethan is none the wiser, is he? Ethan is giving him those puppy-dog eyes, and he looks confused and he looks hurt, and maybe Benny shouldn’t have stood up so fast because now he’s seeing stars, but he can’t be here right now, he can’t.
“I gotta go,” he says, and curses his voice for trembling. “I forgot I have something I gotta…I just—I’ll see you later, E.”
And he runs. He runs and he runs and he runs, as far away as he can. Far away from the beguiling effects of that Enchanted Clearing, far away from Ethan calling after him. He runs, he runs and runs and runs and he never stops. Never can stop. Never will stop. Because running is the only thing he knows how to do. It’s all he’s ever done. He ran away from his parents’ funeral, ran away from pictures of his mom with her pretty green eyes and her bright smiles, ran away from bullies and vampires and witches and everything this gods damned town has thrown at him. And he runs now. Runs away from Ethan and runs away from himself.
But he knows there will never be an escape.
He finds himself on Erica’s doorstep without really knowing why he went there in the first place, but her mom’s car is once again not in the driveway, and he knows she’s home, so he pounds on her door as if something’s after him, and Goddess if he could just stop shaking, that’d be great. If he could catch his breath, that’d be amazing, and if he could force away the tears that are threatening to spill, that’d be phenomenal. But he can’t stop pounding on the door and he can’t stop shaking, and he’s about to cry and for fuck’s sake Erica answer the door and—
“Dude, what the hell?” and Erica sounds disgruntled, and if she wasn’t so quick Benny probably would’ve accidentally punched her in the face when she yanked the door open but he didn’t so it’s fine, and she looks annoyed, but Benny can see it as her expression softens, and he’s not expecting her to reach out and place steadying hands on his shoulders but here they are, and “Whoa, what’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything is wrong.
“I fucked up,” Benny tells her, and he wishes his voice wasn’t trembling so much. “Erica, I fucked up so bad.”
To her credit, however, Erica is quick to usher him inside, quick to sit him down on the couch and quick to grab him a glass of water. Literally. Having a friend with vampire speed might not be so bad after all. And Erica is quiet. She’s quiet because she’s waiting for Benny to feel comfortable enough to open up. She’s quiet because she’s a good friend, and she’s offering her silent comfort, and Goddess, Benny is so grateful for her. He’s grateful for her silence and he’s grateful for her presence, and he’s grateful for her hand on his shoulder, and he could do without the pitying look but that’s fine, everything is fine, it’s going to be fine.
Except for the fact that he can’t pretend anymore. Except for the fact that his facade shattered. Ethan took a hammer to the mirror that is Benny’s personality, and there’s no going back, is there? And isn’t that just so Ethan? Chipping away at the sturdiest of walls in his curiosity, in his need for answers, because he does it so often he doesn’t even realize he does it anymore. And Benny’s fragile house is nothing but splintered remains and dust and the debris litters every part of him, and he’s burning, Goddess, he’s burning, and he doesn’t have a choice anymore. He can’t do this, he can’t. He can’t look Ethan in the eye and lie to him, and he can’t watch Ethan be happy with Sarah because Benny is Selfish. Benjamin Weir is a Selfish, Clingy Loser and he hates it.
“Tell me what happened,” Erica urges. It doesn’t feel like a demand, and Benny knows he could just as easily refuse and Erica wouldn’t wheedle him about it. But this is Erica, who knows how Benny feels, and this is Erica, who’s secretly sweet and kind and gentle, and this is Erica, who Benny loves like she’s his actual sister, and he trusts her. Right now, he trusts her more than anyone. He trusts her more than he trusts himself, and isn’t that so funny? Isn’t that just so hilarious? But he tells her. He tells her everything. He tells her about the sleepover and the cuddles and the picnic and the hand in his hair, and he tells her that he’s in love with Ethan Morgan, but she already knew that, most everybody already knew that, or at least had an idea. But nobody knew just how much. Nobody knew just how strong Benny’s feelings were, not even Benny knew, and he didn’t know until they began to consume him, and Goddess, it hurts. It hurts more than he can possibly say.
Erica listens. She listens, and she looks at him with pity and she looks at him with understanding, and she holds his hand because he’s not strong enough to do this without someone holding his hand like a child, apparently, but he doesn’t mind. Erica holds his hand and Erica nods her understanding and Erica is so uncharacteristically soft in this moment that Benny doesn't know if he’s crying because of Ethan and his own feelings and everything that’s been bottled up for the last few years, or if he’s crying because someone is showing him affection and it’s weird to him, because he’s always the one that holds someone’s hand and talks them through what they’re feeling, and he’s always the one that’s strong for someone else. Maybe it’s a bit of both. And Erica guides Benny’s head to her shoulder, she runs a soothing hand through his hair, and this embrace, this dead-cold embrace, is warmer than anything Benny’s ever felt and isn’t that Ironic? But irony doesn’t matter because he has a friend to hold him, he has a friend that’s not judging him for crying and this is good.
This is healing, Benny thinks. But he can’t be too sure.
“I love him,” he whispers.
“I know you do,” Erica tells him, and Benny isn’t surprised. Because Erica is in love with Sarah, so she understands the pain Benny is feeling. Erica is in love with Sarah so she knows what it’s like to be so terrified for the truth to come out, she knows what it feels like to never want your best friend to know about you because even if you can’t have them the way you want to have them, even if you can only be their friend, it’s enough. It’s enough to be near them and it’s enough to be smiled at and hugged and a hand on the shoulder is good enough and a pat on the back is good enough. But it feels…it feels so selfish. It feels so right but everything else tells Benny and Erica that they’re wrong, that they’re dirty, that they can’t have what they want because they shouldn’t want it, and their friends don’t want them that way anyway, and—
And right now…right now Erica is holding him. Right now, Erica is crying with him and crying for him, and right now…they cling to each other because right now, it feels like they’re all each other has.
And maybe that’s enough, too.
So Benny decides that maybe his biggest fear isn’t…the worst thing that could happen to him. Besides, he’s not totally alone, is he? He’s got Grandma and he’s got Erica and sometimes Rory too, and it’s not that he completely distances himself from Ethan. They still sit next to each other in class and they walk to school together and they speak at lunch. It’s just that…Benny decides that he should be the one putting the distance between Ethan and himself. Isn’t it better that way? Doesn’t it hurt less, that way? And Ethan won’t find out this way, and even if he does, there’ll already be some distance.
So it’s fine.
Winter descends on Whitechapel. The air gets colder, and so does the space that Benny puts between Ethan and himself. And suddenly Benny is aware of just how annoying he is. Suddenly he’s aware that every joke he makes is shitty and he’s too damn loud and his laugh is so fucking obnoxious. Suddenly he’s wondering why Ethan was even friends with him in the first place. And then it gets easier. Is that really so surprising? It gets easier to turn away from Ethan in the halls, it gets easier to leave for school earlier or wait until Ethan’s already left, and sometimes it makes him late, and sometimes he’s just super early, but it’s easier.
And he ignores the pain he feels, because it’s just…it’s growing pains. He ignores the strange looks he gets from Sarah, and he ignores Erica when she tells him this isn’t what she meant by learning to live with it, and he ignores it when Ethan’s eyebrows furrow in confusion and concern, because this needs to be done. Doesn’t it? And maybe the only way he can ever relieve the tightness in his chest is by walking around at night when the temperature is at its lowest, because the cold is the only thing that can dislodge the lump in his throat that forms during the day and refuses to leave. But it’s fine.
This is growing. This is healing.
And Benny pulls his beanie down to better shield his ears from the cold, and he stuffs his hands in his pockets because he forgot gloves, and he takes a deep, deep breath, and focuses on the cloud of vapor that exits his mouth. He thought it might be easier to not think about Ethan if Ethan wasn’t right in front of him. He thought it might be easier to think about something else, that the frigid air would clear his head. He thought that maybe the snow would be something he could focus on, but fucking hell, everything he does and everywhere he goes, it’s almost impossible to think about anything aside from Ethan. But he tries, he really tries to focus on the snow. The snow that’s falling now. The footprints that he’s leaving behind that will more than likely be completely covered by the time he comes back around on his way back home.
And if there’s one thing Benny can appreciate about Whitechapel, it’s that winter is always very pretty, and it lasts a long time. Most people complain about it, Grandma in particular, but Benny has always loved it. He’s always loved how everything looks so fresh and clean for so long, and he loves when the grass begins to peek out from underneath its white blanket, and he loves…everything about the snow, everything about winter, from beginning to end, and this is purifying, isn’t it? It certainly feels that way. As he rounds on the park where he and Ethan have always gone sledding, he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath of the crisp air until it’s painful and he lets it all out.
This is growing. This is healing. He’ll be okay. Benny will be okay, and Ethan will be okay, and Ethan will be happy with Sarah, and—
—and something hits Benny’s back.
“Hey. Asshole,”
Benny is quick to whirl around, because this wasn’t supposed to happen, Ethan wasn’t supposed to question any of this, and he wasn’t supposed to follow Benny out here like he, apparently, did, and he definitely wasn’t supposed to be holding a snowball identical to the one he’d just chucked and he most certainly wasn’t supposed to be glaring like that, all anger and confusion and hurt, and all Benny can say is,
“Dude, what the hell?”
“Seriously?” Ethan demands. “Seriously? ”
And he chucks another snowball, and it’s so ridiculous and it’s so childish but Benny hasn’t seen Ethan this angry since…since ever, and it shouldn’t be concerning and it shouldn’t be near frightening as Ethan bends down and picks up more snow and doesn’t even bother packing it into a ball before he chucks it, but it’s a savage sort of action and Benny almost worries that Ethan’s going to rip his own arm out of socket, but he can’t get the words out because if he opens his mouth he’s going to get a mouthful of snow, and all he can do is shield his face because fucking hell that is cold.
“Ethan!” Benny shouts, “What the hell, man!? Relax!”
“Throw it back,” Ethan growls, and he’s getting closer, and he’s not wearing gloves, and Benny wants to tell him that he’s going to get frostbite like that. “Throw it back, Benny.”
“What? Dude, no! This is stupid!”
“Is it?” Ethan continues, and he’s right in Benny’s personal space now, and he’s fuming. “Is it stupid, B?”
“Yeah, I’d say it is! We’re not seven anymore!” Benny can tell immediately that he said the wrong thing, because Ethan’s eyes are black as night now and his face is red and that could be the cold, but Goddess, he looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel.
“Oh, really? Well, you wanna know what I think is stupid, Benny?”
Benny doesn’t say anything.
“I think it’s stupid, that you won’t even acknowledge my existence. I think it’s stupid, that you won’t tell me what it was that I did that pissed you off so much. I think it’s so fucking stupid that you decided to ignore me instead of talking to me about it like a decent fucking friend. ” Ethan punctuates the end of his rant with a shove, and it’s not a hard shove, but Benny is caught off guard, and he finds himself stumbling, and he grits his teeth because he can’t do this right now, he can’t.
“It’s not—you didn’t do anything, Ethan.”
“Oh? Then why the fuck are you ignoring me?”
“It’s more complicated than that!”
“Then why can’t you talk to me about it!?”
And Benny knows this is a horrible thing to say, he knows he shouldn’t say it, but it comes bubbling up from deep within him and his filter is already nonexistent so he can’t stop it, and he tries and fails to grab it before it exits his mouth—
“Not everything’s about you, Ethan!”
Silence. Deadly silence follows. Benny regrets even opening his mouth, and all the rage, all the fight, that had Ethan wound up like a ten day fucking clock starts to dissipate. Starts to bleed out of him until his shoulders are not quite sagging, and somehow they’re straighter but less tense all at once, and instead of the explosive anger, it’s…quiet. Calm. And Benny knows that Calm Anger is the most terrifying kind. But there’s something…something in Ethan’s eyes, and Benny’s heart sinks as soon as he realizes…
“Yeah? Well, fuck you.”
He never meant to make Ethan cry. Never in a million years did he ever think he would, or even could, make Ethan Morgan cry, but here they are. The tears are rolling just as soon as they formed and there’s nothing Benny or Ethan could’ve done to stop them, and Benny immediately feels like such utter shit because he did that and he’s the worst person, and Ethan’s going to hate him for real now and oh Goddess—
“Fuck you!” and the vehemence with which Ethan repeats his earlier sentiment is somehow still groundshaking even though his voice trembles and his hands tremble, and somehow, when he shoves Benny again it’s stronger than before and maybe that’s because Benny’s shocked that he went that far at all.
“I fucking—! You’re my best friend, Benny, what the hell is the matter with you!? What the fuck did—? Why are you being—!? God! ” and he keeps shoving and he keeps shouting half-accusations but he can’t get any full sentences out, and Benny can feel them again. He can feel the words forming and he can’t stop them and he wants to, he wants to so bad, but he’s at his boiling point and he opens his mouth and damns himself:
“Because I’m fucking in love with you! Alright!? I…” and it’s too late now, he can’t take it back now, and Ethan’s frozen on the spot, and Benny feels like crying, but maybe he already is, maybe he has been since he realized just how badly he hurt his best friend, maybe he has been since the first tear rolled down Ethan’s cheek. “I’m in love with you,” he repeats, “And it fucking kills me, because…because I know, Goddess, I know that it can’t ever…I mean we can’t ever be… fuck, I mean—,”
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why?” Ethan repeats, and he’s still crying, but not as much as before, and he looks genuinely confused and genuinely hurt (still) but in a different way than before. “Why can’t we ever be together?”
No, Benny was not expecting that, and he does what he does best: he goes immediately on the defense.
“Because you’re with Sarah!”
“No I’m not! ”
Wait. What?
“Wait, what?”
“You thought I was with Sarah this whole time…?”
“Uh…yeah?”
Silence, once more. Ethan’s face morphs through a variety of emotions, ones that Benny can’t immediately name, and then…and then he’s—
Laughing? He’s laughing. Not just amused chortling, either, but full-blown, head thrown back, full-body-shaking belly laughter, and Benny is Dumbfounded. All he can do is stare as Ethan laughs and laughs and laughs, stare as Ethan guffaws himself to tears, and isn’t it weird how happy tears and sad tears and angry tears all look different? And Benny stares, and stares some more, because,
“Dude, what the fuck?”
“You thought…” Ethan wheezes, “You thought I was with Sarah? ”
“You’ve been obsessed with her since freshman year! Of course I thought you were with Sarah! And you had that redo-date, and—”
“Dude…” Ethan murmurs, suddenly quiet, suddenly gentle. He’s giving Benny whiplash. “Yeah, it went well, but…we mostly just…talked. About things.”
Uh…
“What things…?”
“Me and her. How things obviously wouldn’t work out,” Ethan explains. “It’s kind of hard for a human boy to date a lesbian vampire.”
“A…wait…wha… huh? ”
Needless to say, Benny did not see that one coming. And Ethan’s laughing again, but it’s nowhere near the roars that had escaped him just moments prior. And Ethan’s smiling, and Benny thinks he looks…beautiful. Even with the leftover tears glistening in the pale moonlight. It’s still snowing (but is anyone surprised?) and the snowflakes are sticking to Ethan’s hair and eyelashes and he’s…he’s an absolute vision. Pun not intended.
“Vampirism aside, I’m…kind of into someone else.”
Oh. Well, better luck next time Benny. But something strange happens. As Benny’s face falls, Ethan rolls his eyes so hard that Benny’s almost afraid they’re going to roll right out of his head. And then…and then Ethan cups his face, and his hands are cold, but there’s a warmth to them that’s undeniably Human, and Ethan murmurs,
“Look at me,”
And Benny does. Except he doesn’t for very long, because Ethan guides Benny’s head down, and he rests their foreheads together and Benny’s eyes slip closed, and Goddess, has he always been this tired? But he’s comfortable and this is good, and this is perfect, and maybe Benny isn’t broken after all and—
“It’s you, stupid,”
Huh?
“You’re the person I’m into,” Ethan elaborates, and he pulls away and his smile is so brilliant, and he wraps his arms around Benny’s shoulders, and Benny’s heart stutters in his chest, and Ethan says, “Benny, I love you.”
And Benny thinks he might pass out and he feels like he could fly, and Ethan is back to holding him down to Earth, and they’re back, and they’re here together and Benny whispers,
“I love you,”
And Ethan chuckles and says,
“You said that already.”
And Benny mumbles,
“I want to kiss you.”
“So kiss me.”
And as the snow falls around them and blankets their world in endless white, as Benny leans down and Ethan leans up, and as Benny wraps his arms around Ethan’s waist and Ethan’s arms wind around Benny’s neck, in those exact moments, his house is rebuilt. In these exact moments, Ethan and Benny rebuild the walls with care, and it’s not just an Ethan shaped house, it’s shaped like the both of them.
And when their lips finally touch, Benny is finally home.