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It's the fourth of July, everyone’s on the porch by now. He’s at Tyler’s, he doesn’t even celebrate the fourth of July. He’s Canadian, anyway, it was never a big deal to him. He just wanted to see his friends, but right now that plan feels shot. They’re meant to be partying and letting off fireworks, and he’s wondering why he even came here, honestly. Tyler’s dog, Archie, whines at his feet for the burger he’s been picking at every now and then for the last thirty minutes or so. The porch door is cracked open, the hollers from his friends echoing indoors and the cool twilight air making its way indoors and licking at his ankles. It smells like lemon and pine trees, a candle now forgotten burning away on the coffee table just meters away. Jaren blows it out for good measure, just to keep a good conscience.
He’s six months sober, and he thought by now he’d be strong enough to handle the temptation of drinking. With all his friends in various stages of inebriation, though, and with him being forgotten indoors, he feels left out. Invisible, if he had to put a word to it. He can’t fault them, really, he hadn’t told anyone about his struggle. Archie whines at his feet again, and he looks down. Brown doe eyes looking back at him, patiently waiting, white fluffy paws tapping idly. He peels a piece of the meat off and tosses it onto the floor, cracking a smile as he watches the dog lick it up quickly. At least he can entertain someone.
“Hey, what’s with the boo-boo eyes, young man?”
A familiar voice says from behind him, and he turns around. Blond, wavy hair down to the shoulders. Green, half lidded eyes. A pink tipsy flush across his cheeks and nose. Half smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Ah,” he messes around with the burger more, playing it off like he’s at least entertaining the idea of eating it. “Nothing, just finishing up in here.”
“You gonna come outside? I told them to hang on with the fireworks until you come out. Didn’t want you missing the big show, I heard they got really nice fireworks this year.” John’s holding a nearly empty beer bottle, dangling it between his fingers and using it to accentuate his words as he talks. Jaren stares down at it, looking between John and the bottle.
He hesitates replying, tears threatening to well up in his eyes and he feels so fucking frustrated. He isn’t even sure why, unsure of what could possibly be making him so upset right now. It’s completely fine, it’s not like anyone is forcing a drink into his hand. He has a support system back home, anyways, a sponsor that he talks to a ton in private for advice. He’s not sure what’s so odd about this.
“Smit? Hey,” John’s hand makes contact with his shoulder and it startles him, looking back up into John’s eyes. “What’s going on, man?” His voice is soft, gentle, a kind-hearted invitation of vulnerability. It makes the tears threaten to surface harder, looking towards the ceiling in an attempt to blink them back.
It must be obvious to John now, the gravity of the situation at hand, because all of his goofy jokes and mannerisms and any light teasing he’d done beforehand are forgotten, looking at Jaren in a way he could only describe as concern. Standing more upright and shielding Jaren from any eyes that may be looking in through the sliding glass door.
“Alright, uh,” John’s pulling Jaren up, ushering him by the hand towards one of the spare bedrooms. It makes defensive anger flash up in him, momentarily, because he’s fine. There’s nothing at play here, he just needed to have his moment and then he’d force himself outside and it would be fine. He’d have fun with his friends and it would be fine.
From the look of the room, it must’ve been Marcel and his wife staying in here. Judging by the clothes and the luggage strewn about on Marcel’s side of the room. It makes Jaren feel uneasy. As if he could be walked in on at any moment.
“Tell me what’s going on, Smit.” John’s giving him that look again, the one he absolutely despises. He obviously doesn’t care about the threat of being walked in on.
“I’m… not sure what you mean.” Jaren doesn’t meet his gaze, but he notices the way John crosses his arms and shifts his weight to the other leg.
“You’ve been so distant this entire trip, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Just because I’m a little dumb sometimes doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Of course I noticed you weren’t outside, even if Tyler was ready to start without you. I didn’t wanna let that happen,” He grabs Jaren’s hand, cold and clammy and shaking slightly. “What’s going on?”
The tears that threatened to fall earlier were surely here now, his vision blurring and his face scrunching into something he couldn’t imagine being attractive right now. He feels stupid, pathetic almost. Like his curtain of deniable plausibility had been yanked down. If anyone were to notice, of course it would be John.
The elder man pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tight like he’d lose him forever if he let go. Maybe he would, he knows John doesn’t know any better. He has no idea what could be going on.
“Hey, it’s okay,” John rakes a gentle hand through Jaren’s coarse chestnut brown hair, playing with it ever so tenderly. “Whatever’s going on, I promise you can tell me. I’m not going to let you be alone right now while everyone else has fun. Y’know? That’s not fair to you.”
He hiccups a sob into John’s shirt, thin t-shirt material with a flower he’d sewn into it himself. He wants to apologize for crying on it, but would that make anything here better? Maybe he just wants to stall further.
“It’s just that, it’s just that,” He starts, sniffling in a way he deems pathetic. “I kind of, god, this is so fucking stupid.” He’s mumbling into John’s shoulder and John says nothing in response. Giving him the space to talk. As much as he appreciates it, he also kinda hates him for it.
“I kind of struggled with a bit of an alcohol problem for a while, and I’m six months sober now and figured I’d be ready to, to like. Be in a drinking environment again,” He wipes his eyes with one of the hands behind John’s back, exhaling a shaky breath.
“But I feel really fucking left out and I feel so stupid and out of place.”
John releases him out of the hug, looking down to him with a small sad smile, still holding onto the sides of his biceps.
“Well, congrats on six months, Smit. I’m really… sorry that I didn’t like, notice you were struggling. Um,” He trails off, looking at his hands now, pulling them away from Jaren gently and chipping away at his nail polish. His nails were black and white, but by now desperately needing a redo. Jaren searches his face for any kind of expression saying he’s being judged right now. He doesn’t find it.
“I’m sorry you feel alone, you don’t need alcohol to feel included, though. And I wish… I wish you had let me know so I could have abstained with you. I don’t really fuckin’ care about alcohol that much, especially if it meant you wouldn’t be alone. Y’know?”
“No, no, it isn’t your fault for not noticing,” Jaren puts a hand on his other arm, shrinking himself off to John slightly. “That’s sorta the point, I didn’t want people to notice, I guess. Things aren’t easier like I thought they’d be, but it’s a day at a time process. You should, uh, go have fun with the rest of them, I’ll be out in a bit. I don’t wanna put the fireworks off any longer.”
John gives him a look, like he knows something Jaren is painfully unaware of.
“Nuh-uh, I’m not leaving you now. Fuck the fireworks, honestly. There’ll be tons of years coming up for that. C’mon.” He pulls his phone out as he finishes speaking, Jaren cocking an eyebrow up and about to protest when John puts a song on, putting his phone on the bedside drawer nearby.
“What are you—“ He’s cut off when John pulls him close, pulling him into his best attempt at a slow dance. It’s clumsy and unorganized, and Jaren nearly trips over himself.
“John, no, I don’t know how to—“
“Neither do I, now dance with me you stupid milk bag.”
It pulls a genuine laugh out of Jaren, one he hasn’t had for the entire duration of the trip, and as they dance together ineptly he feels like he finally understands what it means to have friends who understand him. John’s eyes are tender as he looks down on the younger, guiding him gently in their albeit poor dancing. It doesn’t matter, though, John looks gorgeous in the light of the moon, and Jaren lets him make all the first steps, following idly as if he were just an outside observer. He gets spun and dipped, and John laughs, which makes him laugh, too, deep and guttural and full of life.
“Has anyone told you that you’re gorgeous? Like, actually?” John’s voice is quiet, sweet, only for Jaren to hear. It catches him off guard.
“I, uh, what?” Jaren manages to sputter out, eyes going slightly wide. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.” He’s defensive in his response, no one could genuinely like him.
It draws a laugh out of John, and watching his features, Jaren thinks he’s very gorgeous too. From the shade of his eyes to his cheek bones to his long, slightly wavy hair. He feels like he’s blushing and he silently thanks the dark for obscuring it.
“No, dummy, I’m saying it because I've been meaning to tell you that for probably years now. I have feelings for you, Smit.”
“Don’t call me my YouTube name while, while you’re—“
“I have feelings for you, Smidiot.”
He’s cut off with a kiss before he can protest, eyes shutting on their own accord. He can ignore the fact that John tastes like shitty spearmint gum and gross convenience store beer. His lips are soft, ever so slightly chapped, and they feel perfect against his. Like they were meant to be here all along. Butterflies rise in his stomach, warm and curling into his chest. All the late night calls on Discord, all the times they’ve shared beds and hotel rooms. All the games they’ve played together over the six years they’ve known each other. It makes sense, as if John is his soulmate, not sure if he even believes in those things. If they were to be real, he’s sure he and John had been bound by the souls for centuries. They’ve always fit together perfectly, and when they met, they fell together like each other’s missing pieces.
“I… feel the same way.” He’s panting slightly after they’ve pulled away, looking into John’s eyes with an expression that’s mirrored.
A knock on the door startles them both, and Anthony comes in, eyes widening slightly at the two men embracing before he composes himself with a clearing of his throat.
“Tyler told me to come look for you two, if you’re done with your gay love confession we’d love to have you join us for the fireworks.”
It makes the both of them laugh, Jaren laughing so hard he nearly wheezes, despite the fact that they’re both in slight shock.
“We’ll be right out.”
Anthony gives them a wink and trails off, the two of them following behind. The fireworks are bright, the sky a deep midnight blue by now. Tyler laughs along with Evan as they go off overhead, several of their other friends in conversations of their own. Jaren’s hand never left John’s. He’s six months sober, and he’s certain he’ll be on the right path for a long time