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The thing about Chester that he likes most, other than his body and the way he dresses to accentuate all the parts that Nathan likes to let his eyes linger on… And, of course, other than his personality. How loud he is and how easy he is to be around and get along with. Not to mention that he’s just… interesting. Not in a car crash kind of way, more like in a unique, once in a lifetime, flower opening up in the middle of the rain forest kind of way or like… the concept of time travel--The point is! The point is that the thing he really likes about Chester, really really likes, is that Chester is nice to him.
And maybe that’s kind of sad.
Fuck. It’s definitely sad.
It’s maybe the saddest thing he’s ever thought.
But he hates it too, that Chester is nice to him. So nice. And that his smile is so beautiful to look at. Because he’s nice and so friendly and the thing he hates the most, the thing that makes him feel nuts, absolutely cashew--which isn’t a nut, it’s actually a legume, but that’s beside the point. Again, the point is. He hates how much Chester doesn’t mind him. Doesn’t mind that Nathan had had a gross, all encompassing, massively clingy crush on him. Keyword: Had. Because he’s over it, really. He is. Oh, god, and that Chester doesn’t mind that he says cringey shit because he doesn’t know how to shut his fucking mouth sometimes. Chester still treats him like he’s just… a person.
Still jokes with him. Has inside jokes. Doesn’t avoid him at parties. Still texts him out of the blue.
Like he was thinking of something Nathan would find funny and so he just… He just reaches out. Like a friend. And that’s great, but it’s also the worst thing that has maybe ever happened to him. Even worse than the fucking voicemail. Worse than accidentally coming out on that stupid fucking boat.
Way worse than when Jack came in his eye and his sister found out...somehow. All that shit feels like ancient history at this point, a distant memory.
He’s started to think of his life in two distinct chunks. Before Chester and after. Or BC and AD for short, just like Christ, obviously. The after death part being the fact that he wanted to die the first time Chester looked at him. The first time he realized he wasn’t ever going to be enough.
So, yeah. The night he had a guy jizz on his face before he could even blow him was technically BC, but there's this space in between that and the night he jumped into the ocean--which he considered the beginning of his AD phase. That brief moment in time where he had only mildly embarrassed himself in front of Chester, where he hadn’t made a complete fool of himself.
“It’s kind of crazy that he legit saved you from drowning,” Riley tells him one day as they’re sitting in the breezeway at school.
He didn’t have to look up from his homework to know what she’s talking about. He’d noticed Chester the second he’d walked outside, he always does. “I wasn’t drowning,” he says quietly.
She makes a soft tch sound, her eyes still following Chester across the courtyard. “Sure,” she responds, with a roll of her eyes. “And I don’t have to pluck the hairs under my chin once a week.”
He’s seen her do it, sitting cross-legged on his bed with a tiny hand mirror and a pair of tweezers. She gets really into it when she’s high. It would be kind of gross to him if she didn’t look like a cute little, tweaked out chipmunk every time she does it, her eyes glassy and big as she stares at the coarse little hairs held up in the tweezers, telling him to feel how pokey they are.
He doesn’t argue though. About drowning. About Chester saving him.
He doesn’t think that Chester saved him. Not like… It’s not that he didn’t save him necessarily. It’s just... He doesn’t let himself think those words. That Chester saved him. Because it sounds too pathetic. Standing outside your window with a boombox pathetic. Running through an airport pathetic. You complete me and you had me at hello pathetic.
And maybe it would hurt less if he thought that Chester didn’t think of him at all. But he already knows that’s not true because Chester texts him out of the blue. Sends him stupid tiktoks and memes. It just hurts more that Chester thinks of him, just not as much as he thinks of Chester.
Nathan glances up from his work and Chester looks over his shoulder at that exact moment, locking eyes with him. He smiles, that lips quirked to the side, pulled up by an invisible string, amusement in the subtle shift of his eyebrows kind of smile. Chester flutters his fingers at him in a little wave and for a brief moment Nathan thinks that maybe Chester can read his mind, knows what he’s thinking about. Professor X type of insider info. But the moment is broken when Chester turns back to his water polo teammate. Bradley or Nick or something.
Riley gives him a look, letting out a snort. “He thinks you were staring at him,” she supplies helpfully.
He runs a hand through his hair, slumping at their table. “I wasn’t,” he says quickly, going back to his notebook.
“Yeah, well,” she says, sighing as she pats him on the shoulder. “It wouldn’t be surprising if you were.” He doesn’t argue that point, either. “You know Bo is dating someone new, right?” Riley says, leaning in conspiratorially.
Nathan’s head snaps up to look at her. “What?” He asks, voice breaking with the word.
She shrugs, scribbling a rough little doodle in the margins of her notes. “Yeah,” like it’s that easy. Like Nathan’s entire world hasn’t shifted sideways. Like his stomach hasn’t done a hurdle up into his throat. His heart trying to do a Houdini act right out of his rib cage.
Chester falls into the seat beside him, a startling presence that knocks Nathan back into the present. He’s chattering a million miles a minute about how Riley better be at his next game, since they’re finally starting their spring season. About how she better be taking pictures poolside. About how Nathan better be there, cheerleading the team on.
“Should I wear the skirt, too?” He asks without thinking.
Chester gives him a mischievous smile, leaning in close. “Only if you plan on bringing your pom poms.”
“Only for you,” Nathan responds, thoughtlessly. Chester smiles and leans back, turning to Riley as Greta settles delicately into the seat next to her. He cringes to himself, wondering who the fuck is currently in charge of operating his brain to mouth filter because it clearly needs some work.
“Hey,” Greta mumbles as her knees knock into his under the table. He gives her a tight-lipped smile, turning back to his textbook.
Chester leans over, eyeing what he’s working on. “You have Mr. Whitlock for APUSH, right?” Nathan nods. “You can skip this entire section, he doesn’t ask a single question about anything after like…I don’t know, 1983. I’m not sure if he knows that they kept printing textbooks after the AIDS crisis. I can give you my notes from when I had him if you want, he uses the same test, like, every year.”
Nathan sits up a little straighter, nodding quickly. “Oh my god, that would be amazing,” he says, breath catching in his throat as Chester wraps an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer.
“I can, you know, tutor you or something! Oh my god, yesssss,” he grins wide, voice going a little shrill as he gets excited. “More like ayeeeee-push, am I right?” Nathan can’t help but laugh, eyes crinkling up in the corners with it, watching as Chester shimmies his shoulders towards Riley and Greta, boasting loudly about his perfect GPA but muttering under his breath that he’ll have to ask the all the college admission boards to ignore the lackluster attendance record. “But I can put this on all my applications as an extracurricular.”
“I don’t need tutoring,” Nathan says, still smiling, still pulled in against Chester’s side. “I don’t have a perfect GPA, but I do have great attendance.”
Chester makes a noise, somewhere between an offended parakeet and a startled buffalo, and gapes at him, offended. “Well,” he says, face shifting into an amused smirk. “You could probably have a GPA under a 3.0 and still get into an Ivy league. What college did your dad go to? Stanford? Harvard? You gonna be a legacy?”
Nathan snorts, shaking his head. “No, no,” he says quickly, sitting up a little straighter. “I don’t… No, I want to go, like--I don’t know. To UCLA or something. Or maybe just skip college for a few years. Get a job and figure shit out.”
“Ooh,” Chester grins, leaning into his space. “We love a working girl. You’re a regular Melanie Griffith.”
“Who?” Greta asks, folding herself forward over the table.
Riley snorts, grinning, but she doesn’t answer Greta’s question. Nathan and Chester watch her for a moment, waiting for her to answer and she looks at them, taken aback when she realizes they’re both watching her expectantly. “Oh,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t know who that is either.”
Chester’s mouth falls open and he turns to Nathan who shrugs sheepishly.
“Oh. My. God,” he shouts, head thrown back dramatically. “Melanie Griff--seriously?! Lolita? Married Antonio Banderas! Dakota Johnson’s mother?” And when they all give him a blank look, he adds an incredulous: “50 Shades Of Gray?”
They all share a look and then shake their heads. “Yeah, no,” Riley says with a laugh. “Never saw it. My mom was super into it, though.” Chester throws his hands in the air with an exasperated shout that garners the attention of a few of their neighbors.
“I can’t believe this,” he says, rubbing roughly at his face. “Okay. That’s it. Movie night at mine. Tonight.” Riley and Greta both agree easily, without much thought. But Nathan’s eyes dart to his textbook, his eyes lingering for a moment on his notes. Chester snorts, pulling him in close again, mouth near his ear as he grins. “Meet me right after school. I’ll tutor you.”