Work Text:
You know what song just popped into my head?
Link stares at the phone screen nestled in his palm. It’s weird getting casual, friendly texts from Rhett. Less so than it was weeks ago when they’d decided to try talking about stuff other than business… but still weird.
No idea, when I have to choose from every song ever, he responded. He sank back to his bed, relenting to a few more moments’ rest before he got up for the day.
Mmbop, doopa dop bom shoo-wop.
Link actually laughs, trying to imagine Rhett typing out the absurd scatting.
Oh my gosh. That song was EVERYWHERE in college! Do you remember? On the radio, at every single event, in the student center between classes.
I know! Blast from the past.
Takes me back, too. The smile on Link’s face dims from its brightness gradually. With a swallow, he tosses in, I miss it, sometimes. We… spent so much time together, you know? Before
He glances around, like somehow another member of the household might know what he’s about to say.
Before we had families and studio obligations. Just… class and whatever we wanted.
Rhett’s response takes a second, and it makes Link scrunch his nose.
Better Days.
Chest suddenly tight and nostalgic, Link goes to ask what he means–if they’re okay–when another text comes in.
(And The Bottom Drops Out.)
An unexpected laugh takes him. That was another song! Gracious, that had played everywhere too. Another memory hits, refreshed–the two of them leaving the student gym together, bushed after seeing who could run faster for longer on neighboring treadmills.
Link loves it, wracks his brain for a good addition. What else had been worn out? What had the soundtrack to their youth sounded like?
I Want it That Way.
It feels like an admission, and in a way, it is. There’s some part of Link that would trade anything to go back and relive that time. It was simpler. Felt right.
Scar Tissue.
Rhett’s contribution hurts more than it should–late night drives through the countryside, returning from Diane’s to the dorm room, warm spring air filling their car and lungs with promises of an unknown future together as the dashboard poured music. With a shake of his head, Link tries to alleviate the gloom… more for his sake than Rhett’s.
It’s Not Right but It’s Okay.
He hits send before he thinks about the implications of a title like that, how baring it is. How else is his best friend supposed to read that? A groan escapes him and he slips his glasses up to rub his eyes when his phone vibrates.
I Still Believe.
Now that… Link swallows. There isn’t really another way to unwrap that except for the one, and the recollection that bursts forth from doing so nearly knocks the wind out of him–breath smelling of beer, a crowded house, plush lips exploring and teeth daring to scrape whimpers from throats. A moment he’d buried so deep, it was surely a dream returning to him.
Dizzy, Link thinks long and hard about a response that’s appropriate. One that’s just a song title, as they’ve all been, but that could mean something more… should Rhett choose to read into it.
Tell Me It’s Real.
Fingers shaking slightly, he hits send and immediately regrets it. Why he’s even so direly affected by this stupid game, he doesn’t know. It’s ridiculous.
Every Morning.
The burning in Link’s cheeks, grip on his heart, and smile tugging his lips–he never thought he would’ve credited those to words by Sugar Ray.