Chapter Text
“Ugh,” Pedro groaned and buried his head in the book that he was meant to be studying. He was stretched out on Balthazar’s bed and was supposed to be remembering the key events of Hitler’s rise to power. From his textbook he said in a muffled voice, “Oh, what’s the point?”
Balthazar smiled to himself, still bent over his own work. He was surrounded at his desk by a mess of revision notes and dirty coffee mugs.
“I’m serious,” Pedro said, turning to look up at his friend. “Why am I even bothering?”
“Well I guess so that you can pass your exams,” Balthazar suggested, with a quiet grin on his face, “and go to University. And then you know, you can get a good job and earn money and stuff.”
“Screw all that!” Pedro sat up and grabbed the nearest instrument he could lay his hands on, which you didn’t have to reach far for in Balthazar’s room. It was his Marina acoustic guitar. “You’re going to become a famous musician, right? You’ve got to! You don’t need University for that. And then I leach off your money the rest of your life.” Pedro made an inept attempt to strum the guitar.
“But I’m not entirely sure that’s how it would work out.” Balthazar cleared his throat and turned back to his work, but couldn’t ignore the squirming in his gut from the happy implication of Pedro being in his life for a long time to come.
“Oh no?” Pedro watched the enigmatic smile on his friend’s face that had recently become strangely torturous to him. “I didn’t realise you were such a tight git.”
"Ha!”
“I get it. You’ll forget all about me when you’re a star. You’ll go off with your famous friends.” He strummed the guitar again and Balthazar smirked.
“You’re so bad at that.”
“Not all of us are blessed with musical genius.” The smirk made him persist though.
“I’m trying to study.”
“I’m bored. Can you tell? Where do I put my fingers then? Come on,” he pulled on the armrest of Balthazar’s chair so that it swung towards him. “Teach me a chord. Teach me ‘Wonderwall’!”
“Fine, ok, pass it here.” Balthazar pulled the guitar out of Pedro’s arms and tucked it onto his own lap. He could feel Pedro’s eyes on him with that steady confidant gaze. Every time he was feeling brave enough, Balthazar would allow himself to glance up and meet that look. The squirming in his gut intensified. “This is A.”
Pedro took the guitar back and had a go. “Here?”
“Push down harder.”
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“Push down harder with your fingers. That’s right. Now do, um, F.” Balthazar bent forwards and moved Pedro’s fingers into the correct position. Pedro’s gaze burnt into his skin and Balthazar felt every inch of air that was left between them.
“Well, that makes my fingers hurt,” Pedro commented.
“You need tougher fingers.” He half held his hands out for demonstration but then thought better of it.
Pedro made a grab for them anyway. “There is nothing tough about your hands!” he laughed. “They’re tiny and soft like a baby animals.”
“A baby animal? Oh, that’s lovely,” Balthazar mumbled. “Thanks for that.” He tried to keep his voice calm but his heart was racing with the feel of Pedro’s hands on his. Pedro was virtually stroking them for god’s sake.
“You’d never guess what these hands can do,” Pedro joked. Then their eyes met and Pedro noticed for the first time how close Balthazar was to him. But what was really surprising was how it didn’t seem odd at all. Even when Balthazar’s fingers flexed slightly and Pedro slid his own in between them. He wasn’t sure why he did it but nothing was telling him not to.
Balthazar’s eyes flickered down to Pedro’s lips and he immediately felt his cheeks burning red. He was so conscious of how much he wanted to kiss Pedro. Balthazar had become practiced at keeping that idea under wraps in his mind, but now he just wanted it so badly. He could smell Pedro’s warm, sweet, sandalwood scent, something that usually permeated his skull and made his brain melt into useless mush. But before Balthazar could do anything to ruin the moment, he felt Pedro move closer.
Pedro had almost touched his friends lips with his own when he realised that that was what he was going to do. He was going to kiss one of his best friends. Pedro felt his brain restart with a jolt and he wrenched himself backwards, tugging his hands free.
“Shit, dude,” he groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t…” He felt like complete shit, as if his guts had been pulled out and plastered across the wall.
“I’m sorry,” Balthazar was muttering. “I mean, I’m sorry, I um…”
“No, man. I totally…” He groaned again. There was no way he could get out of this or turn back time. He had ruined everything completely.