Chapter Text
Sapnap has never cared what people think.
Ever since he was in high school, his peers would take one look at him and form an opinion. When he was seventeen, they would see him at a new party every weekend, take in his broad shoulders, his long hair, the rips in his jeans and the joint dangling from his lips as he stood alone or stuck to the same tiny group of friends as always in the backyard; and instead of seeing a nerdy gaming fanatic who smoked weed to get over his anxiety of being around so many people, they saw someone intimidating and unapproachable. Before he even turned eighteen, Sapnap was painfully familiar with being called slurs or getting beat on when he was caught holding hands with his boyfriend leaving a diner one weekend. After that, he started hitting back, refusing to let his friends fight for him. That changed opinions of him too.
But he never cared for the cruel words whispered behind his back, or said to his face, or spat at him when they kicked him while he was down. He was used to defending himself against biting words and bruising fists; the harder he fought back, the worse people thought of him.
But, as he does with everything in life, he moved on. After all, how could he dream of being successful and building his own future if he was stuck on things in the past?
When he started high school, he made friends with three upperclassmen. Sam was the oldest, a junior while Sapnap was a freshman. He was nothing short of a technical genius, able to pick out the tiniest error in a line of code just by glancing his eyes over it, and he never had to ask a teacher to explain a concept twice, he just got it the first time around. To Sapnap, it seemed like Sam didn’t have to work hard; he was incredibly smart without even trying, and maybe Sapnap was a little jealous over it. Now, Sapnap knows how thoroughly Sam studied and how much effort he put into his work, and he’s no longer jealous - in fact, he admires Sam a great deal.
Then there was George, a sophomore with a crisp British accent and a smile like he knew everything. Sometimes Sapnap could believe George was the oldest, despite being a year younger than Sam. He was a genius too, but with finance and accounts rather than Sam’s coding-wired brain. George could create a budget like no other, with an eye for the stock market and what seemed like an abnormal sixth sense for when the value of a company would plummet or go into administration.
It wasn’t unusual for Sapnap to feel like an idiot when hanging out with two modern-day geniuses, which was part of the reason he was so grateful for Punz. Only their teachers bothered to call him by his first name, but to everyone else, he was just Punz. And ‘everyone’ was a surprisingly accurate description. Punz knew everybody in their high school; not in the way that popular students are known by everyone and only know the members of the student body that are similarly popular, but Punz knew everybody by name and could strike up a conversation with anyone. He was a sophomore too, when Sapnap met him, only two months younger than George, but he would talk to any student in any class, he knew the details of any parties, and always had an ear in the dirtier parts of student gossip.
It was hard, living in the shadow of three attractive upperclassmen, two of whom were bona fide geniuses and the other was a social butterfly who could empathise with anything that once had a pulse. But they were the closest and best friends that Sapnap had ever made, and would be the people he trusted most until the day he died. And, just like he was, they were passionate. They had goals, a vision, ambitions.
In Sam’s senior year, when he was applying for colleges, they were all aware of how many universities already had their eye on him. They knew their friend could be whisked away to the opposite end of the country, or a whole other continent. It was only Sapnap’s second year of calling Sam one of his best friends, but he was already torn between supporting his fellow Texan or clinging to him tightly and begging him not to go too far. He’d been dramatic when he was sixteen. He’ll be the first one to admit it.
But he needn’t have worried. Sam sat down with them at lunch one day, listening in silence as George and Punz debated an essay for their literature class, before popping a strawberry in his mouth and calmly saying, “I’m staying in Florida for college.”
The other three had practically erupted, as Sapnap slammed his hands off the table in glee, while George cheered at the top of his lungs, and Punz grasped Sam’s broad shoulders and shook him like a cocktail.
“We have to celebrate!” Punz said eagerly, smacking a hand in the centre of Sam’s back for good measure. “There’s a party tonight at Ant’s place-”
Sam blinked slowly, trying to look serious as if his friends were oblivious to the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “A party? Punz, it’s Wednesday,” he chided, amusement colouring the edges of his words. “And aren’t any of you going to ask me why?”
“Why?” George echoed, raising his eyebrows as he reached forward and stole one of Sam’s strawberries. “Why, what? Why are you staying in Florida?”
The oldest of the group nodded, reaching into the backpack at his feet and retrieving a thin folder, which he placed on the table and clasped his hands together patiently without speaking.
Punz tilted his head before reaching for the folder, “Okay, I’ll bite.” He flipped the cover open, scanning over the words of the first page with quick eyes before looking up with his mouth agape. “Sam- The fuck’s this?”
“It’s… an idea,” Sam said tentatively as George tugged the folder from Punz’s slack fingertips. Sapnap, as the youngest and least gifted, was left to wait his turn.
“This is a bit more than an idea, Sam, this is- this could be life-changing,” George argued, finally passing the folder to Sapnap. “How long have you been thinking about this? I know you’re smart as hell, but you didn’t whip this up overnight.”
With the folder in his hands at last, Sapnap flicked his gaze over the cover page. His friends’ voices faded in his ears as the words processed in his mind: Nook Technology.
“About a year and a half,” he heard Sam admit. “I guess it’s been that long. I mean, it was sort of an idea not long after I met you two-” When Sapnap glanced up, Sam’s eyes were fixed on George and Punz, and suddenly his stomach churned with nausea. His fingers were burnt and blistered from where he had touched the folder and he dropped it back onto the table before it could hurt him further. Sam wasn’t even looking at him, one of his rare smiles flicking between Punz and George. This wasn’t anything Sapnap hadn’t felt before, residing in his friends’ shadows since the day they met. He wasn’t bitter. He isn’t. “But, I dunno, it really started to fall into place when Sapnap came along.”
The words practically came out as a rasp when he whispered, “What?”
Punz must have been able to see the anguish on his face because he crossed to the other side of the table in a heartbeat and threw his arms around Sapnap’s shoulders, clutching him tightly. Punz’s preference of providing comfort through touch had rubbed off on Sapnap, because he welcomed the hug immediately. “Sap, what are you thinkin’?”
“Why did you look so surprised when I mentioned you?” Sam whispered, sounding confused and, worst of all, guilty. “Did you think- Sap, did you think you weren’t part of this plan?”
Swaddled in Punz’s arms, Sapnap felt a shudder wrack through his chest. Each breath burned, his chest too tight for the air in his lungs, but he forced himself to wriggle out of the tight hug and sit up straight. He could take this. “Why would I think I’m part of it?” His voice was pointedly not accusatory as he shrugged, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “You and George are fucking geniuses, Punz is the people-person. My grades are average and the only people I speak to are you. I wouldn’t contribute anything. You said it yourself,” he continued, and now, his voice was accusing, even if he didn’t want it to be, “it was an idea after you met George and Punz.”
“And I also said myself,” Sam spat out, voice rising in frustration as he threw his hands down on the table. Usually, it was impossible to piss Sam off. Sapnap and Punz were the ones led by emotion; Sam and George kept their heads straight in the toughest situations. Maybe it’s a genius thing. Sapnap isn’t bitter. “It fell into place when you started school here. I didn’t think the idea of the company would work out until we met you,” Sam stopped speaking suddenly, inhaling sharply through his nose as if to calm himself down. Out of the corner of his eyes, Sapnap saw George open his mouth to speak - but Sam continued. The anger had left his voice, but the words were still tense. “It- It pisses me off when you talk like we’re better than you, that’s what makes you an idiot. You’re more creative than the three of us combined, that’s the only reason - you’re the only reason that I thought a company could work out. I want to go into business with the three of you. As a team, as partners.”
Sapnap looked between George and Punz, and only saw his own passion reflected in their eyes. One after another, they each nodded. With a small but genuine smile, Sam pushed his container of fruit into the centre of the table to let them each take one; after a second, they tapped their strawberries against each other’s, like celebrating adults clinking glasses.
“To Nook Tech.”
His parents had a lot to say when, aged only sixteen, he told them that he had set his sights on the same university as Sam and he was entering into a partnership with his friends. He told them over and over again how their company would be the biggest of its kind, how the technology they would create would be sustainable and affordable, utterly unique compared to other competitors in the market. They didn’t want to hear a word of it, they told him time and time again that it would never work out and he should set his sights on something achievable.
But Sapnap has never cared about what other people think.
He credits that fact to half of his success as now, seven years after the idea of Nook Technology was born, he stands by the window of his own office, looking out over the city of Orlando, lit up in the darkness and the glow of the nightlife thirty storeys below seared against his tired eyes. He’s been in the company headquarters since six o’clock this morning, but it must be nearing midnight now. His stomach rumbles as he runs his fingertips absentmindedly over the windowsill, where his collection of signed baseballs are arranged in their transparent cases. The order that they’re arranged in varies every Sunday, Wednesday and Friday, when a cleaner comes in to dust his office and always ends up screwing with his décor; he doesn’t care enough to tell them off, even when he has to move his photos into the places he wants.
At his desk sits his favourite photo in his possession: the day of his college graduation. His friends had let him believe they wouldn’t make it to the ceremony, with Sam saying he was expected at an investor meeting in California, George making the excuse that he had already attended Sam’s and his own graduation, and Punz citing a family wedding as a reason for being out of town. Yet when the morning arrived, his best friends were cheering the loudest when his name was called and his parents' lack of appearance had almost reduced him to tears in the bathroom. The celebration that night had left Sapnap with a hangover for two days before he was finally permitted to move into his office in Nook Technology’s headquarters in Orlando.
He’s half-zoned out, staring at the photo in question as he sits at his desk. The only light comes from a lamp on the corner of his desk, but the rest of the room is in darkness, which does no favours for his stinging eyes as he presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids. He’s tired. He’s only twenty-three but he feels exhausted down to his bones after seven meetings today and endless paperwork. Somewhere between a jolt of panic that he could have forgotten to sign a page somewhere and the pull of dread that maybe, maybe he’s burnt out, the door to his office opens.
“Sir- I mean, Sapnap,” comes a soft accent, and he pulls his hands away from his eyes to smile weakly at Niki. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”
He shakes his head, pushing his desk chair backwards to get to his feet. He must look like a mess; long brown hair untied and probably tangled where it rests on his shoulders, his tie loosened and his shirtsleeves shoved up above his elbows. “No, it’s alright,” he speaks up, the words leaving his lips on the tail end of a sigh. “But if you’re bringing paperwork, I’m gonna ask we leave it ‘til tomorrow.”
His secretary smiles at him and takes a step into the office, nudging the door shut behind her. Niki always looks well-dressed and professional, but Sapnap is impressed by how nice she looks at this time of the evening, in her grey pencil skirt and a white blouse, a few inches taller in her elegant heels. “No paperwork, I promise,” she assures him, holding up a steaming carton in one slender hand. “You didn’t eat dinner. Again. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“Actually, I kinda forgot as well,” he admits, gesturing to the overstuffed chairs around the coffee table on the other side of his office. If he was busy, he knew his secretary’s day was just as hectic, trying to run around after him and make sure his schedule was running smoothly; the couch would be more comfortable for them both. “What are you still doing here anyway? The last time you were here past midnight, you said your roommate could have thrown hands.”
Niki’s giggle fills the space over the coffee table as she opens the carton and pushes it towards him, before opening her own box of vegetable fried rice. Sapnap’s mouth is watering as he splits his chopsticks and hoists a clump of still-hot noodles into his mouth. “That’s because that time, it was four in the morning and I was drunk enough to fall over his shoes at the front door,” she answers simply, and Sapnap splutters a laugh through a mouthful of food. “Oh, and then our neighbours called the police because Wil came out of his room with a baseball bat after the noise and I screamed.”
“We were celebrating though,” he protests, smiling to himself at the fond memory. His three business partners and all their secretaries had met in Sam’s office with Thai food and whiskey after finally putting to bed a gruelling ten-month lawsuit. It was the biggest courtroom win in their company’s history and they knew it would be mentioned in the broadsheets the next morning; it was the positive exposure they needed after weeks of haemorrhaging investors that had Sapnap staying awake for three days at a time out of sheer stress. “Invite Wilbur to the next company meal, it’ll pull the stick out of his ass.”
Suddenly, Niki perks up, covering her mouth with her hand to cry out, “Shit, I forgot!” She jumps to her feet and scurries from his office, leaving Sapnap sitting alone in confusion as he chews his noodles, the click of Niki’s sharp heels against his polished floor echoing in his ears. When she returns, it’s with a handful of paper.
“No-” he begins to argue, already holding a hand out in dismissal. “Niki, I’m tired. I’m not doing any more work tonight, I’m done. Leave it on my desk and I’ll look at it in the morning.” Although she opens her mouth to protest, he shakes his head firmly. “Not tonight. Please.”
She gives a sigh in response, shoulders slumping as she gingerly places the sheets of paper in the centre of his desk. “Okay, you’re the boss. Eat your dinner and then I’m calling your driver, it’s about time you got home. I’ve already sent an email to Sam that you won’t be in the office ‘til midday at the earliest, so don’t even think of showing up until the afternoon. George and Punz have been CC’ed already, don’t even ask.”
“If I was into women, I’d marry you,” Sapnap laughs, shaking his head in disbelief as he stands, spooning the rest of his noodles into his waiting mouth before crossing the room as he chews. He shrugs into his suit jacket, tugging at his lapels until the expensive material sits comfortably along his broad shoulders.
Niki already has his briefcase in hand, holding it in his direction as she taps at her phone with a manicured nail. “And if I were even remotely interested, maybe I’d do you the honour of considering it,” she hums sweetly, looking up at him with a genuine smile when she turns her attention away from her phone. “Alex is on his way, I said you’d meet him outside.”
“Thank you, Niki,” he says, taking the offered briefcase. His voice isn’t half as genuine as he wants it to be, too exhausted to attempt to verbalise how grateful he is. Sapnap already knows he’ll just end up leaving a bottle of something expensive on her desk, probably the nice red wine she orders at company dinners when Sam is footing the bill but can’t justify buying a bottle for herself. Sapnap will deny all knowledge, the same way he always does when he leaves wine for Niki or gifts something to his friends’ secretaries - because why shouldn’t he? Nook Tech is blowing up faster than he thought possible when he was sixteen and just agreeing to Sam’s half-baked, coffee-fuelled idea. He has more money than is possible for him to spend on himself, and spending it on others makes him feel good. “Can I give you a ride home?”
Sapnap pulls open the glass door of his office, holding it in place to allow his secretary to leave ahead of him. She smiles over her shoulder as she steps out ahead of him, stopping at her desk to shoulder her purse, “I live in the literal opposite direction from you. I’ll take a cab, it’s okay.”
They take the elevator down together in comfortable silence. Although he knows that Niki is several months younger than him, Sapnap always feels like a little brother when he’s with her. She exudes mature and professional energy, but is still friendly and warm in the kindest ways, offering a listening ear to anyone who needs it. Objectively, Sapnap knows she’s a great addition to the company, but subjectively he thinks he’d be lost with any other secretary. Sure, it had taken the guts of a year to convince her to call him ‘Sapnap’ instead of ‘sir’, yet she never hesitates to call him on his bullshit.
He hugs her goodbye outside the main doors of Nook Technology, murmuring a quick, “Thank you for the food, and all your hard work as always. Get home safe and I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She nods the affirmative and waves as she hurries towards a taxi. Mere seconds after the cab door slams behind her, a sleek black car pulls up before Sapnap. From the driver’s seat emerges a young dark-haired man, dressed well in a shirt and slacks, but a mischievous smile already pulling at his mouth.
“You’re late,” Sapnap says in his best co-founder voice, words clipped and practised.
The driver shrugs, spreading his hands in a ‘what can ya do’ sort of way. “I know. I wanna blame it on traffic but, in reality, your mom just couldn’t let me go. I’m seeing her next Tuesday too.”
He tries to keep a straight face before the tiredness-induced giggles get the best of him, and Sapnap splutters into laughter, reaching for his friend to pull him into a hug. “Big Q, my man,” he crows, already feeling the professionalism leaking out of his bones and into his sharp suit. He can’t wait to get home and shed it like a second skin.
“Shit, dude, look at you!” Quackity hollers, pulling back to examine Sapnap with a clinical gaze. “I’ve only been gone a week and you look like you haven’t slept. Let’s get you home, bro - before Niki beats my ass. She’s scary as shit when she’s mad.”
Sapnap cocks an eyebrow but obediently tugs at the handle of the backseat until it opens, and tosses his briefcase carelessly into the car. “She’s also tiny.” He rolls his eyes as if he isn’t equally terrified of his secretary.
“Yeah, but she’s so cool, dude,” his friend enthuses, and Sapnap rolls his eyes hard enough that it aggravates the migraine brewing in the back of his skull. “She could kick my ass, don’t you think?”
“I’m so telling her you said that,” he mutters, biting back a wince as he slides into the backseat and briefly kneads at his forehead with his knuckles.
Once he’s back behind the wheel, Quackity eyes him through the rearview mirror. “You good, Sap? Is it one of those headaches again?” he questions, preemptively keeping his voice low. When Sapnap makes a weak noise in agreement, Quackity reaches out to turn the radio off so silence settles over the car. “Sit back, dude, close your eyes or somethin’. Sooner you get into bed, the better.”
Sapnap lets out another hum, grateful for the tinted windows keeping out the majority of the glare from the streetlights as Quackity merges back onto the road to take him back to his apartment. “Thanks, brother.”
When he finally stumbles into his apartment thirty minutes later, after dozing briefly in the back of the car, the flat is dark and silent. Of course, he hasn’t been back in almost twenty hours. He knows there’s coffee spilt on one of the kitchen counters because he knocked his mug over at five in the morning and claimed he’d clean it when he got home. Now, as he toes his shoes off at the door he tells himself he’ll clean it when he wakes up. He tells himself, as he shrugs out of his expensive suit jacket and drops it to the floor, that tomorrow will be better. When he undoes his tie and throws it blindly at his bedside table, he tells himself that even if it isn’t better, at least it won’t be the day he just finished.
As he collapses onto his unmade bed in his button-up shirt and his slacks, he vaguely registers the possibility that he’s lying to himself.
He is lying to himself.
The next day is hellish. It’s not better than the previous one; in fact, he’d take yesterday over today.
He didn’t bother to set an alarm before he slept, but he manages to sleep through his phone ringing nine times: four missed calls from Niki, two from Punz, and one from George and Sam each - his heart almost beats through his chest when he sees the final missed call, from Punz’s little brother Purpled.
“Oh my fucking god,” he chokes out as he sits up in bed, immediately tapping at his phone to return the last call. It’s two-thirty in the afternoon, Purpled is sixteen, he’s probably in school, and Sapnap has been asleep for thirteen hours, and his partners have been calling.
“Sapnap?” Purpled’s voice crackles over the phone line, and that alone manages to make him relax slightly. The teenager isn’t dead. That’s a perk.
“Purp? I’m so sorry, shit, I was asleep- Are you okay? You hurt?” The words come out in a spew as if he’ll be sick unless he gets the sentences off his tongue. At the idea, he heaves slightly. At least his migraine is mostly gone.
“Hey, can you breathe? Please? I swear everything is fine, Punz was gonna lift me after school but he texted me and said he was getting stuck in meetings, I was just calling to ask could you pick me up?” Purpled sounds unbothered, carefree, entirely at ease. The way a sixteen-year-old should be, the shitty part of Sapnap’s brain reminds him. “Like, it’s no sweat if you can’t, I have Karl’s number too but it’s kinda awkward being in a car with your brother’s boyfriend, y’know?”
“I can pick you up,” he sighs out, rubbing a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “When do you finish, three-thirty?” Purpled gives him an ‘uh huh’ as he’s climbing out of bed. “No sweat, kid. I’ll be there, make sure you let Punz know you have a ride sorted- Actually, never mind. I have to call him back, I can let him know.”
“A’ight, cool. Thanks, Sap, see you later.” The call ends suddenly.
Looking at himself in the mirror makes Sapnap want to crawl back into bed and bury his head in his pillow. His bedhead is a mess, he needs to shower and shave, while his slept-in office clothes make him look twice as dishevelled as he usually does in the morning. As he unbuttons his wrinkled shirt and throws it in the general direction of his laundry hamper, he places his phone on his bedside table to return Punz’s call.
With his phone on speaker, the dull drones of the ringing-out noise vibrate against the wood of his bedside table. He’s sure the call is about to go to voicemail when Punz finally answers, “Sap! We were making bets on how long you’d sleep. I thought you’d go at least another couple of hours.”
“Oh god,” Sapnap bemoans, embarrassment churning in his stomach as the nauseous feeling returns. “Punz, I am so fucking sorry. I had a migraine last night and I just- literally passed out. I haven’t even called Niki yet, I don’t know what the damage is-”
Over the poor quality of the phone line, Punz lets out a laugh, but it’s the furthest thing from spiteful. “There’s no damage, Sap. We’re a family, dude, we look out for each other. Quackity told Niki that you had a migraine coming on, she told us this morning just in case. George, Sam and I coordinated to handle your meetings and your paperwork is right where you left it, ready to be signed. There’s nothing to worry about, now please relax.”
Finally, Sapnap feels like he can breathe. Punz’s words had singlehandedly scooped the panic out of his chest and thrown it away, leaving only relief and gratitude. “Thank you, Punz. I’ll be in the office before five, I swear. I’m driving Purpled home from school and then I’ll be straight there.”
“Oh good, I thought I was gonna have to call Karl, but he feels like Purp doesn’t like him,” Punz sighs, and Sapnap feels the beginnings of a smile on his lips. “I would honestly just tell you to take the day to yourself, but there’s some fuckin’- I dunno, dumb shit - Gumi says it’s a banquet, but I think it’s dumb. Okay, a dumb banquet, the invite came through yesterday and George wants to talk about it. So can you come in for an hour to talk about it and then I think we should all get some dinner - yes, you can come, Gumi. When are my interviews for a new secretary?”
All Sapnap registers is a noise that can only be described as a squawk before the call cuts off. God, he adores Gumi. The whole office does; she had been a close friend of Sam and George’s secretaries, Boomer and Foolish, and had been brought in for a probationary period as a favour to them. However, her infectious laugh and joking nature had gained everyone’s friendship and affection, and Punz had hired her on her third day.
Safe in the knowledge that Punz will let the other two partners know when he’ll be at the office, Sapnap shoots off a text to Niki (‘still alive lol, thanks for helpin me out. will be in office in like 2hrs’) as he pads shirtless into his bathroom to shave and shower. He’s staring accusingly at his reflection, scrunching up his nose as he assesses his five o’clock shadow, when his phone buzzes with a reply from Niki: a simple ‘ofc boss <3’.
After a second longer of deliberation, he decides against shaving, turns on his shower and steps under the stream without waiting for the water to heat up. So what if he doesn’t shave for a day? He’s already showing up when the workday is practically over, the worst they can do is call him unprofessional. He doesn’t care about people’s opinions. He never has, and never will.
After showering, he feels leagues better. Whatever dregs of pain remained from his migraine have finally faded and his smile feels more genuine when he practises his facial expression in the fogged-up mirror after brushing his teeth. Although the day has been anxiety-inducing and his fight or flight system has been going for the full forty minutes that he’s been awake, Sapnap picks out one of his best Boglioli suits. It’s one of maybe a dozen Italian suits he can wear at the office without looking pompous; he usually saves them for big days that are guaranteed to involve make-or-break meetings worth millions, but what’s the point in owning a $10,000 suit if he can’t wear it when he feels like it?
His fridge is empty of anything edible when he makes it to his kitchen after drying his hair so, when he stands in his kitchen, he finds himself eyeing the day-old coffee stain. He knows it will be easy to clean: spray one of the many cleaning fluids in his cupboard over it, scrub it with a sponge for a few seconds, and it’s gone. Easy in theory, but exhaustion tugs at Sapnap’s heart, so he picks up his briefcase and strides out of his apartment, locking the door between himself and the spilt coffee.
The hall is empty as he walks to the elevator at the end of the corridor, which will take him down to the private parking lot in the basement of his apartment complex. Despite his apparent reliance on Quackity to drive him around, Sapnap has his own car. He just prefers to utilise one of the company drivers (even if he favours Quackity) when he knows he’s going to spend hours in the office and may end up too tired to drive himself home. Today, he feels like driving by himself; and he’d never put Purpled through the embarrassment of getting picked up from high school by a chauffeur. That would be cruel.
He exits the elevator, spinning his car keys between the fingers of his free hand as his other holds his briefcase, suit jacket held over his forearm carefully so he doesn’t crease the expensive fabric. He places his belongings in the backseat so Purpled will be able to jump into the passenger seat without issue, and quickly opens his own door and slides behind the wheel. The time on the dashboard tells him he has twenty minutes before school is let out, which should get him to the high school on time, even if it means he can't stop for coffee as he had originally planned.
Maybe he could've made his own in his apartment, but he was too busy stepping around the spilt coffee, still neglected on his kitchen counter, to go near the espresso machine Sam had gifted him for his last birthday. Part of his brain tells him he’s being ridiculous, but it speaks with George’s accent so he has no problem ignoring it. He’s been ignoring George for eight years, he can do it for another eighty without much conscious effort.
As he pulls out of the basement parking lot and into the sun, he opts for getting some coffee after picking Purpled up. He flicks on the radio, letting a smooth R&B song filter from the speakers as he leans back into the well-loved leather of the driver’s seat. Sam had advised him in high school about investing in a good car that would last, which is exactly what he did with one of his first paychecks; his car is only about three years old, but he can already tell he’s going to throw more money than sense into this car, even if it means spending more money keeping her functional than it would cost to just buy a new car. He’s more attached to his car than to his too-big and too-empty apartment, or his expensive baseball collection, or his stupid closet full of suits.
He realises as he pulls to a halt at a red light that he’s been zoned out for half of the journey to Purpled’s high school, and he lets out a soft groan as he rolls his window down to let some fresh air into the car. He thinks to himself about how he’ll get into an accident with this behaviour if he isn’t careful, but the thought rings through his skull in George’s voice again and he doesn’t feel anything. Driving into traffic wouldn’t mean anything to him right now, except he’d have a backlog of paperwork to deal with when he set foot back into the office.
Sapnap reverses in the parking space he usually takes when he picks Purpled up, sighing slightly when he accidentally looks into his own tired eyes in the rearview mirror. He considers practising a smile again, the same way he did in his bathroom mirror after his shower, but when he manages to purse his lips at his reflection, there’s a sudden burning behind his eyes and he’s ready to cry.
The passenger door swings open and he startles, looking to his right quickly as Purpled clambers into the seat and throws his backpack to his feet. If Sapnap squints, he can see the resemblance between Purpled and the Punz he knew as a teenager, legs too long and gangly, like they had both shot up with a late growth spurt and hadn’t grown into their height yet. The empty pit in his stomach gapes wider.
“Hey, Purp,” he greets, the cheerful note in his voice sounding fake to his own ears.
If the teenager catches on to his inner turmoil, he doesn’t mention it. “Hey! Thanks for picking me up. I can’t wait ‘til I can drive.”
Sapnap lets out a breath that should be a laugh, if only he had the energy to actually make it one. “Yeah, I bet. I was the same when I was your age,” he admits, swallowing thickly past the sudden lump in his throat as he nudges his foot on the gas, inching the car out of the parking space just far enough to lean forward in his seat and check for oncoming cars before he pulls out onto the road again. “You know your brother paid for my lessons?”
“He did?” Purpled looks at him with eyebrows raised under his fringe. “He never told me that. He, uhm- actually, he’s kinda pissed- I mean, mad- he’s kinda mad at me over the whole driving situation.” Sapnap fills the following silence with a prompting hum, even as confusion sets in. Punz hasn’t mentioned anything like this to him. “Well, okay, mad is a strong word. He offered to buy me a car and I told him I wanted to get my own job to buy my own.”
Sapnap nods, chewing at his bottom lip. “Well, he never said shit about it to me, so he can’t be that mad about it because he tells me everything.” It’s a lie; Punz doesn’t tell him everything. It usually takes Punz having a stress-induced breakdown and Sapnap finding him drunk in his office before he hears about the things that bother him, but Purpled doesn’t need to know that if it makes him feel better.
As expected, he can see Purpled smile a little out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, that’s true,” he shrugs a little, before reaching out to change the channel on the radio. “You think I should let him buy it? I know it’s not a big deal to him, like he could buy a dealership and it wouldn’t break the bank, but- it sounds so dumb, but it’s a big deal to me, I wanna prove I can work as hard as he does.”
“Turn this shit off and I’ll give you advice,” he scowls at the pop music that’s playing following Purpled’s hijacking of the radio; when it changes to jazz, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t say it.”
But the words are already leaving Purpled’s mouth, “Ya like jazz?”
“You do this every fucking time!” he accuses, narrowing his eyes at the road ahead.
“It’s a movie about a woman banging a bee! What’s not to love?”
Sapnap looks at the teenager, his face comically straight as he maintains eye contact for more time than is probably safe while driving, before sharply looking back forward. “There’s too much to unpack there. Don’t let him buy the car. You wanna prove something, then go for it, squirt. I know you can do it.”
“Did you ever feel like you had to prove yourself to my brother?” Sapnap almost chokes on the harsh laugh that tears from his throat, which maybe wasn’t the best idea when Purpled sounds as vulnerable as he does. “Sorry. That was dumb. Of course you haven’t.”
“You kiddin’ me?” Sapnap snorts, shaking his head. “I’ve never stopped feeling like I had to prove myself. To your brother, to George, to Sam. Listen, Purp… You are, without a doubt, the coolest sixteen-year-old I know. Just be a teenager while you can. Go to parties, fuck around, just keep being a kid. I suck at advice but if I could go back and tell myself anything at your age, I’d tell myself not to waste so much time trying to prove I was as good as my friends. Because I still do it now.” Skin crawling at the serious conversation, he clears his throat and adds, “I’d also tell myself not to kiss a guy after four tequila shots, but you might be too young for that story.”
He manages to pull a laugh from Purpled, who shakes his head slightly. “You threw up in his mouth. Punz told me that one already.”
“Glad to hear nothing is sacred anymore,” he mutters, sarcastic yet lighthearted, as he makes the turn into Purpled’s neighbourhood. “The office is gonna grab food so Punz will be home after that. You gonna go to a friend’s?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Purpled answers, sounding resigned. “Is he gonna be home late? Because I’ll just stay over at Walli’s and go to school with him tomorrow if he is.”
Sapnap frowns as he pulls into the driveway leading up to Punz and Purpled’s house. It’s reasonably sized and in a nice neighbourhood; Sapnap can understand the appeal of a house over an apartment, but an actual house would surely be even more empty and lonely than his flat is. Maybe if he had someone to share it with.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t stay out late, squirt,” he promises, managing a slight smile in Purpled’s direction. “There’s some event we have to talk about and then we’re grabbing a bite, it’ll probably just be takeout and he’ll be home.”
His heart drops as Purpled rolls his eyes and spits out, “Another event. Great.” He throws the door open and hauls his backpack over his shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Sap. Tell my brother I can’t wait to be slotted in around his busy fucking schedule.”
The door slams behind Purpled, and Sapnap watches miserably as the teenager storms across the street to his friend Walli’s house and lets himself in. He lets out a sigh before curling his hand into a fist and slamming a punch against the steering wheel. “Fuck!” he shouts, frustration bubbling over. With a harsh sigh, he runs a hand over his stubble. “Fuck…”
The top floor of their building is relatively calm when he steps out of the elevator. Niki is at her desk outside his office, chatting with a giggling Gumi; Boomer, Sam’s secretary, is working on something on their computer, but they lift their head to throw a smile at him when they hear his footsteps. Sapnap glances around quickly, scanning his eyes over the glass doors of each office for his friends. Punz is sitting on George’s desk, probably trying to distract him from actually working, and Sam is in his office with George’s secretary, Foolish. It isn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened in the office, but Sapnap certainly hasn’t seen it before.
Sapnap heads for his own office to set his briefcase down, greeting Gumi and Niki with a smile as he passes his secretary’s desk. “Afternoon, ladies,” he drawls, already bracing himself for some well-deserved teasing.
“Hey, sleeping beauty, nice to see ya,” Gumi chirps, and he shakes his head.
He nudges her lightly with his elbow. “Don’t you have your own desk to be at?” he asks, his voice light and not unkind. “What’s this dumb banquet shit Punz was telling me about before you took his phone? Or attacked him? I don’t know what your deal is but it scares me.”
Gumi titters a giggle, making him smile at the infectious laughter. “It’s a charity thing on Saturday, some kind of benefit for ill kids. Nook Tech has been one of their biggest public donators over the last year and Sam has privately been making huge donations in his own name, so they sent an invite over for you four and your partners as plus ones!”
“Partners?” Sapnap echoes, blinking at her in confusion. “We’re each other’s partners.”
“We’re business partners,” George’s voice rings out from behind him so suddenly that Sapnap flinches. “And friends, obviously. But they mean our partners, Sap.”
Sapnap turns to look at George, folding his arms over his chest. “Okay, cool. Are you bringing Wil? I told Niki yesterday that getting him out of the house would make him loosen up a bit,” he retorts, smiling as George flushes. His friend’s relationship with Wilbur is fairly new, only becoming official a few months ago, even though it followed a year of pining and dancing around each other, and Sapnap always enjoys watching George get embarrassed every time his boyfriend is mentioned. “You simp. Anyways- What about me and Sam? Since we’re single.”
All of a sudden, no one will meet his eyes. Gumi picks up a handful of papers from Niki’s desk with a whispered ‘thanks, Neimki’ before she hurries back to her desk, and Niki is quickly absorbed by her monitor.
“George,” he begins, already feeling hurt blossoming in his chest. “Is Sam seeing someone?”
His friend sighs, glaring holes in the polished wood at his feet. “I’m not getting involved, you can talk to him,” he mutters, gritting his teeth. Sapnap feels breathless. Did everyone know except for him? “Just invite a friend, Sapnap.”
“I don’t-” he starts to speak, but his voice suddenly fails him. His skin is prickling like there’s a conference room staring at him and his documents aren’t in order, shame coursing through his body. Eventually, he confesses, “I don’t have anyone to invite. I- I don’t really have friends outside the office that I’m close enough to, not for something like this.”
George looks at him with a frown, like he’s seeing right through his lie, and Sapnap looks away to avoid the pitiful sorrow in his eyes. “Okay. We can deal with that,” he says tentatively, like one wrong word will make Sapnap explode at him. Sapnap thinks distantly that he’s more likely to burst into tears. “Come here.”
He lets himself be led into his own office, following George’s brisk strides. Sapnap places his briefcase on his desk before shedding his jacket, slinging it over the back of his chair to avoid meeting George’s eyes.
“I have this friend- Okay, he’s more of an acquaintance. He’s my age, we were in the same year in college together before he dropped out and we met at a party in first year. I still have his number saved somewhere, I can send it to you. He spends time with people, it’s like his job. A charity dinner as arm candy for a businessman is right up his street.”
Sapnap raises his eyebrows as he turns to look at George. “So… He’s an escort? That’s what you’re telling me? You want me to hire an escort just so I don’t show up alone to this fucking event?” He can barely hear his voice over the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears, but he doesn’t think he’s yelling, not yet. “Is it that fucking embarrassing for me to show up alone?”
“Then invite Niki!” George snaps, “She can be your date. But I’ve been one of your best friends for eight fucking years, Sapnap, and I know how your brain works. You won’t take Niki as your date because people will assume you’re together and they’ll assume you’re straight.”
“And I won’t pretend to be something I’m not!” he seethes, stepping forward into George’s space. His friend has an inch or two on him in height, and it just angers him more. He’s angry at how this company has become his whole life, how he doesn’t have a friend he doesn’t work with, how all he knows is his office and his apartment and the people within those walls. He knows he’s becoming more like a machine that revolves around Nook Technology and that makes him furious, that he doesn’t even feel human anymore but George knows him as well as he did in high school.
“Just bloody call this guy,” George hisses, jamming a finger into Sapnap’s chest. “I’m offering you an out, Sapnap. You know what, I’ll even spare your pride of having to ask me for the number. I’ll leave it with Niki because God forbid you had to come crawling to me to ask for it. The fact is, you’re gonna be pretending regardless. Either you let them think you’re a heterosexual man with Niki, or you pretend that you have a fucking life outside your job.”
The words send Sapnap reeling; he draws back, a half-step away from George. A tiny difference, but enough that George notices. He sees the regret on George’s face as soon as the older man processes it, but he doesn’t give him the chance to speak again. “Get out.”
“Shit, Sap, I’m sorry-” George tries to speak, and Sapnap wishes he could turn around and punch him, but he isn’t even angry anymore. He wants to be, he wants the anger back so he can feel something other than the numbness setting into his bones, but all he can register is cold.
“Get out of my goddamn office, George.”