Chapter Text
“What are you doing here?”
Ari cringed at the flatness of Dante’s voice. He had been hoping, and half-expecting, that Dante would be excited to see him. But apparently when Dante had said, “I can’t do this anymore...the whole friend thing. I can’t do it,” he’d meant it.
Ari swallowed and tried to catch his breath. Two weeks had somehow made him forget exactly how beautiful Dante was. Not that he had forgotten at all; he had been compelled by a force stronger than his own fearful logic to show up at Dante’s house after two weeks of not speaking, after all. Something had driven him to it, and Dante’s beauty was as good an excuse as any.
Maybe better than the hardest truth, which Ari was still coming to grips with.
“I have something I need to say to you.” Ari’s voice was hoarse and he was reminded of the day they’d met. How Dante’s voice had squeaked, like he had a cold.
The memory was glorious, one of Ari’s favorites, but crushing all the same. Every memory of Dante had been crushing lately. Every laugh shared, every side-eye met with a smirk, every unnecessarily deep discussion of literature, every moment darting through traffic on their skateboards. Lovely, and warm, and crushing. He missed him so much.
It was too much to lose.
That was the great irony, he’d realized. He’d been so afraid of losing...something...something he couldn’t even put his finger on, something he didn’t even care about, that he’d managed to lose the one thing he did care about.
He’d come here to see if, perhaps, he hadn’t fully lost it, but Dante was crushing him now, too. Staring at him with those huge, dark eyes that used to be filled with so much warmth. Now flat and empty. Guarded.
He’s built a wall, Ari suddenly realized. The most open guy in the world, and he’s built a wall, just like me.
Because of me.
I’m infectious. Contagious. I’ve spoiled the most beautiful thing in the universe.
The weight inside his chest felt like a black hole.
He realized Dante was waiting for him to go on. The most talkative guy in the world didn’t have a thing to say. He wasn’t even going to ask for elaboration. He was just going to stare silently until Ari either explained himself or withered into nothingness right there in the doorway to his bedroom.
“I didn’t want to say it on the phone.” Ari nearly cringed at his obvious attempt to delay. This was much scarier than he’d thought it would be, and he’d imagined it would be pretty damn terrifying. Dante sighed.
“Well, I’m meeting Daniel in half an hour. We have a date. So you should probably go ahead and say what you need to say.”
Ari did cringe, then. He couldn’t help himself. When his eyes met Dante’s again, Dante seemed a little kinder. More like himself.
“Ari. I told you. I can’t do it. I can’t be friends.” He started to go on, then stopped. After an eternity of holding eye contact, he sighed, and looked away, and murmured, “It hurts too much.”
“I don’t want to be friends,” Ari replied, and he couldn’t stop the flutter of hope in his heart when he saw Dante’s expression darken. Just a little.
It was enough. Enough to make him take two steps forward, out of Dante’s doorway and into his room, where the boy he’d been missing so desperately was looking like a waif in his too-big t-shirt (one of Ari’s t-shirts; Ari wondered if Dante was aware of it), and his ratty jeans and his slightly dirty bare feet. He was on his bed, leaned back against his pillows, the book he’d been reading still open in his lap. Ari’s hand extended for only a second before he caught himself and dropped it back to his side.
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, a storm of quiet emotion filling the space between them. Ari was finding it difficult to take a deep breath...or maybe his breaths were too deep, maybe it was an overflow of oxygen to the brain, maybe that was it.
But that wasn’t it, and he knew it. It’s why he was here.
“I don’t--I don’t mean to bother you. Especially if you need to get ready for…” Ari forcefully swallowed bile. “A date.” Dante winced a little, as though Ari had swung at him with the word.
“Then why are you here?” Dante asked, and Ari felt his heart skip a beat when he saw Dante blink fast, like he was stopping off tears.
Ari took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders. This is what you came to do, Mendoza, he said in his head. Fucking do it.
“When you kissed me, and I said it didn’t work for me, I lied.” He kept his back straight and his eyes held Dante’s, but he wouldn’t let himself register what was on Dante’s face. He wouldn’t dare let himself feel anything. Not right then. Not when he was so vulnerable.
He took another deep breath. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. I think I’ll always be in love with you.” Against his will, his voice got husky, but he pushed forward. “I don’t think I can love anyone the way I love you.” He took yet another deep breath and this time it shuddered going in. “And I’m sorry that I was...I was too much of a coward to admit it when it could have meant something. I don’t think I’ll ever regret anything more.”
Dante stared at him. He stared back. He was going to cry, and he couldn’t let that happen. Not until he was alone.
“That’s all I came to say.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “Have a...nice...date.” And he turned away.
If you want to see Dante go after Ari, choose Chapter Two (Option One).
If you want to see Ari go after Dante, choose Chapter Three (Option Two).
If you want this to get smutty real quick, choose Chapter Four (Option Three).