Work Text:
Steve stared at the screen of his laptop, the dim blue glow providing the only light in his otherwise black room. The window to his right was open completely but with it being a new moon the only thing coming through was a light breeze that made the hair on his bare legs stand on end. He shivered, running one foot along the back of the opposite calf as he shifted, pulling the gym shorts he wore down from where they’d bunched beneath his thighs.
Running his finger along the wheel on his mouse he inhaled roughly, breath catching momentarily in his chest before returning to its previous slow pace that nearly matched the strumming of the guitar coming through his headphones. In the past he’d never have had his headphones on completely while home alone, a constant fear in the back of his mind telling him the moment he wasn’t listening to his surroundings someone was going to break in and stab him as he listened to sad ass music on repeat.
But in the past he would have cared.
Now. Well it wasn’t that he didn’t care per se, just that he didn’t anything. In fact he’d less and less anything’d for the last few weeks until the last few days when he really didn’t anything at all.
And tonight? The clock at the corner of the screen read 1:37 am and he’d been sitting here like this for hours.
His eyes ached but he couldn’t look away from the screen, his lips were dry but his lip balm was somewhere over on his dresser, his throat was dry but his water bottle had long since been emptied.
But still he just sat. Staring at the tabs at the top of the screen. One for Spotify, one for Google Docs, and one for Instagram.
He’d set out to check his messages and realized he didn’t give a single fuck about any of the conversations people were trying to carry on with him, save for one, which wasn’t there. In fact it almost made him angry that all these other messages were in his inbox, that all these other people couldn’t leave him the hell alone.
Nancy had sent him some updates of the project she was working on at school, Jonathan had sent him a few Spotify links to songs he thought Steve would like (and what made that one worse was Steve knew he would absolutely love every single one). A few of the kids had sent him various memes and links that they thought were funny enough to share. His mom had sent him a post he hadn’t bothered opening. A few co-workers, a message or two from old schoolmates. A handful of girls, and a scattering of guys, replying to his own story, his posts, just sending him things in general. Every one of them doing a piss poor job of being subtle about simply just trying to get his attention.
But he didn’t care about any of it, and knew he had responded to almost every single message but had no memory at all of what he’d replied with.
He’d opened Google Docs next with the intention of doing some writing. Not sure if he wanted to work on one of his own projects or just write to see what came out, maybe work through some of what was jumbled in his head. But that had been a while ago, and he hadn’t written a single thing.
He’d instead reopened the Instagram tab and had been aimlessly scrolling for hours now. Liking everything, watching every reel, reading every caption. He couldn’t remember what he saw or read once he’d scrolled past but that didn’t really matter.
Squeezing his eyes shut he sighed, exhaling through his nose and swallowing. His brain wasn’t so much fuzzy anymore it was just, not much of anything. Static. Slightly aching to match his eyes. Heavy. He felt like laying down but couldn’t find the motivation to stand up and move to his bed. So instead he just stared at a never-ending slideshow of people, food, animals, places.
Occasionally though, an image would flash through his head and grab his attention so completely that everything around him dimmed to background noise. He’d close his eyes, tears nearly reaching the surface every single time, as his hand stilled and his breath caught again.
…
He’d gone to the concert alone, as he enjoyed doing. He’d paid extra for pit tickets and had made quick work on the first drink he’d grabbed on his way in the door. But this venue had multiple areas and he found himself in a second line to get to where the actual stage was. But it was fine, he was feeling warm and was looking good he knew, and the people around him were all so friendly. So he’d turned and glanced at the body behind him, then glanced again.
His stomach had twisted immediately into knots, his heart raced. The curly headed blonde behind him was like something out of a music video. He couldn’t explain it. He’d seen hot people before obviously, but something about THIS hot person made his insides rocket around, made his head spin. He turned around again and feeling daring he complimented the blonde’s eyeliner. And when that voice spoke, in such a calm collected manner. When that tall beautiful boy made a joke and then offered to buy him another drink if he held his spot in line so he could run to the bar.
Steve had known he was fucked in that exact moment.
The line had moved quickly and before he realized what was happening he found himself standing on one side of the pit while the beautiful boy stood on the other side.
Steve was no introvert though and just collected people wherever he went without really trying. Within minutes he was chatting away with the majority of the people around him, he was buying drinks with the girl next to him, running to the bathroom and merch table with her, laughing behind their hands at the older man who kept buying the two of them drinks. Steve was absolutely in his element.
And through the first band he tried to forget about the beautiful blonde who had literally fried his brain with just eye contact. But by the second band he’d had a few drinks and couldn’t help but notice that between sets the other had been chatting everyone up around him, had been making a show of himself, obviously comfortable being the center of attention as well.
At first Steve had glanced only now and then, not wanting to get caught. But he realized, with another twist of his stomach, that the other glanced his way almost as often. He was sure he was just looking in that direction but that didn’t stop his mind from racing.
And then Steve had lost the ability to think entirely for a solid minute, watching with mouth agape as the blonde took his button up off, wearing nothing but a crop top underneath over very VERY noticeable abs. Steve had slopped a good amount of his drink on himself, turning away as the other boy had looked over, nearly catching him staring.
The second band was largely Steve trying to enjoy the music and not think about those abs. But when they finished he cracked and bounced over to the blonde, asking if he was enjoying himself. The blonde had his phone in his hand, looked as if he were about to ask something but the alcohol was definitely in control at that point and Steve had blurted out asking for the other’s social media before he could finish whatever he was saying. He got it though and bounced away again, nearly hyperventilating that he’d at least get to see pictures of the blonde again after tonight if nothing else.
Returning from the bathroom and bar with the girl again right before the third band started Steve swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at the fact the blonde had moved to just a single person away chatting happily with a group that Steve himself had been talking to.
The third band was spent half watching the stage and half watching the blonde from the corner of his eye. He moved like a cat and Steve was in awe of everything from the way his hair lay to the way he held himself. He couldn’t help but notice how the eyes around him tracked his every movement the same as Steve’s.
The break following the third band was longer than the others had been, seeing as the only band remaining was the headliner. And the alcohol had definitely taken hold of many people around them. By the time the last band started, people had shifted around and the beautiful boy was directly in front of Steve. His brain was short circuiting as he simply could not remove his eyes from that ass in those jeans. He was a respectful guy these days, but even at his worst back in school he’d never once experienced such a strong desire to paw at someone. He couldn’t even hear the music he was so focused on how badly he wanted to get his hands on those hips as they swayed back and forth.
But then a fight had broken out behind him, unfortunately centered on the girl he’d been hanging out with and another girl she’d been bickering back and forth with the entire time, fortunately the fight also took out the older guy who had decided at some point he was more interested in Steve than the girl. Steve had taken a step forward to avoid getting pulled in and had tapped the blonde on the shoulder, meaning only to say ‘look they finally did it,’ as he too had been witness to the growing tension between the girls.
The blonde had turned his head, but upon seeing the fight instead of being amused had grabbed Steve and literally lifted him, placing him in front of himself and creating a block between Steve and the fighting bodies that now also included the friends of the second girl. But the headliner was playing, so Steve’s attention returned to the stage. And though he had seen the blonde tense as he watched the fight, he had clearly decided not to get involved either and when Steve glanced over his shoulder, he too was watching the band.
And they enjoyed it. They screamed, they sang, they bounced about. At one point when a beach ball was coming down on Steve the boy reached up and batted it away. Steve made sure when he was recording the crowd at one point, to catch the blonde as well, if only so he could rewatch it later and show Nancy that damn perfect face. And though Steve loved the band playing,and though it was a good show he simply could not stop thinking about how badly he wanted the blonde to grab him, to dance against him, to just touch him in some way. But he didn’t.
And when the show ended Steve found himself chatting with the guys in front of him, watching the blonde walk away from the corner of his eye. His heart tightened and he reminded himself that at least they met.
But then there was a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see the blonde standing there. “I’m gonna head out, just wanted to say goodbye.”
Steve babbled like an idiot, some sort of goodbye and watched as the blonde actually left this time. He didn’t have a clue what he said to the guys he had been talking with as a way of parting but suddenly he was walking out the door nearly behind the blonde. He had to say something, had to stop him and get a conversation going. He had no hope of something happening tonight but needed to get enough good will going that maybe they’d actually talk online. But he couldn’t catch up, and the blonde was gone.
So Steve returned to his car and sat, heart squeezed so tight he felt his eyes threatening. Which was ridiculous because he’d just met the boy. He was so stupid. He played through their every interaction as he just stared at his steering wheel, preparing to drive home and never speak to that walking Greek statue again.
But then the notification popped. From the blonde. And they’d started chatting online from that night on.
…
The sun was hot, but with the breeze flowing through the open windows the afternoon was just lovely. Both of them laughed as Steve babbled on about some stupid fact he’d learned that day on a random topic, with the sole purpose of sharing the information.
He couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde driving them to some event or another, arm leaning through the open window as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He’d occasionally glance sideways at Steve, gaze sparkling with delight as Steve’s chest burst with sunshine at being the focus of those blue eyes. The promise of adventure hung thickly in the air.
They were both completely done up, excited for the game ahead of flirting with absolutely anyone and everyone they came across. Nancy had referred to them as a, ‘power couple,’ on more than one occasion and there was never a doubt they’d catch whoever they set their attention on, individually or even more fun, together. Each would watch the other play, a twinge of jealousy would bring them to the edge of losing their smiles as they kept their eyes trained off each other without ever losing sight.
There was nothing Steve loved more than watching that shadow cross those blue eyes when someone was paying a little too much attention to the older boy. Knowing that the blonde could get mean in a blink was such a turn on.
Well. There was one thing Steve loved more. Because God was it hot to watch every woman, and a surprising amount of the men, in every room eye the boy he knew was going home with him at the end of the night.
They’d play this game at whatever event they’d ended up at and Steve would wait for the other to push him against a wall, for their lips to meet. There were always moments he was sure it was going to happen, but it never did. Sure he’d catch those eyes on him whenever the blonde thought he wasn’t looking, they’d undress him in a way that made the heat rise to Steve’s cheeks, but those hands never touched him.
Sometimes Steve would think about when they walked out the door together at the end of a night, the butterflies rioting in his stomach would revolt and he would be the one to get aggressive, pushing the other against the nearest solid object, catching those lips in his own.
…
The two of them laying on the blonde’s bed together, still trying to catch their breath but otherwise in silence.
He’d inhale the scent of sweat, his head spinning with how much it set his nerves on fire.
He’d finally pull his eyes away from the other’s face to admire the tangle of curls spread across the pillows, grabbing a single one and winding it around his finger. He couldn’t explain it but he knew there was something here he had never experienced before. He’d been in love, he’d had crushes, he’d been infatuated but nothing was like this.
And the look he was getting in that moment, God it could start wars with how hot it burned. He knew he’d step aside and support anything the other wanted to do, regardless of what it meant for him, and he knew without question he’d absolutely turn feral and go up against anyone or anything at the drop of a dime the moment those blue eyes said to. He belonged to that beautiful face utterly in a way he could not describe. He knew that every time those fingers ran over his skin.
…
And yet, that scent of sweat that he knew would destroy him was always just outside of memory. He had no idea what the other would smell like, couldn’t remember.
And that bed they laid upon in so many of his fantasies, well it was only what he imagined it would look like.
And he could only fantasize about what those fingers would feel like on his skin.
Because in truth he’d only seen the other in person once, that night at the concert. And though they had stood so close, there had been so many people around them, the other had been so caught up in the music and in being respectful that Steve hadn’t caught a scent or touch.
And though they chatted daily… or at least had been chatting daily. He knew he’d likely never see the other in person again. Sure there were plans made for some day in the future, but people said things all the time that they had no intention of carrying through with.
So he imagined a life together, all the adventures they’d get into. The fights they’d end up in, back to back and grinning like fools as both their tempers took control against always an outnumbering of bodies. The little sweet somethings he’d leave for the other as a way to say, ‘I’m thinking of you.’ The knowing looks their friends would give each other whenever they were around together, simply because they fit so well.
He knew that they would have been perfect together.
In another life.
Even if he knew he was overlooking the issues that were already there. The way he’d wait hours, sometimes days for a reply. How sometimes he’d only get a reply for one thing when there had been five things. How he seemed to always be the one asking the questions, in fact he could count on two hands once over how many times he’d been asked a question in return. How he’d come to accept that on the weekends he ceased to exist. But he wasn’t unsure of what the other was doing. He knew he had a waitlist of other people vying for his attentions both platonically and romantically. He knew he was in high demand, and though it was never discussed, he knew that’s where his weekends were spent. And this, them, it was nothing but an online friendship that was there when it was convenient for a time waster and when the beautiful boy wanted someone to listen to him. So when Steve noticed him online yet still not responding to the last message from that morning, or the day before. Well there wasn’t anything to do about it.
And it was really okay.
He could tell anyone the other’s favorite colors in rank, down to the hue. Favorite artists, favorite scents and foods, his greatest fears, how his last holiday family dinner had gone, what his greatest flaws and strengths were.
And maybe the other could tell those anyones his own favorite dessert or candy. Maybe. He’d never had a chance to see when the rare time he’d been asked a question in return if his answers had actually been heard.
But it didn’t matter. It was okay.
He knew that this was nothing, it was all in his head, completely one-sided and the files of information he had stored in his memory were useless in the end because he’d never have reason to use any of it.
But he still liked to imagine what could have been.
The only part that Steve did not truely accept and understand was that in all his fantasies, it was never about the sex. In fact when it got to that part of the fantasy his brain always sorta stopped. Sure he could broadly imagine it and knew it would be mind shattering. But if he tried to actually picture it any closer, he simply couldn’t. It was like a mental wall went up.
He knew he was attracted to the other, God in ways he couldn’t explain.
But it wasn’t sex he was after. He wanted the other to feel this back, all of it but he almost wanted to just exist with the blonde more than he wanted to get his hands on him. Yet he did want to get his hands, his mouth on him. Even though the few times the other had shown any sort of interest it had been exclusively physical. He himself had romanticized the idea of the other in a way that couldn’t be tainted by just imaging him naked.
Trying to figure that bit out made his head spin so he didn’t put much effort into doing so.
And so he sat, staring at the screen in front of him through blurred vision as he sniffed, head aching from the headphones he’d been wearing for hours now.
He’d sat like this for many nights now. Always told himself he’d just check messages, make a playlist or two, play some games or write.
Instead he’d reread every message from the first to the most recent. He’d skip over the pictures though. At first looking at the pictures the blonde posted, or sent, of himself made Steve’s heart race and he just couldn’t look away. He felt as if the other boy could see him through those pictures and he was embarrassed that he’d see just how smitten he was. But over time, most recently he’d started to notice when looking at those pictures that maybe the other boy wasn’t perfect after all. No, Steve could definitely see faults that he was sure weren’t there before.
So he did not look at pictures and instead just reread the messages realizing with a pang that just months ago the other had sent essays in response to everything, detailed recounts of his life and everything that made him him. Essays that came at all times of day and night. And then only during the week but not the weekends. And then those weeks lost another day. And those hours became mid morning to evening at best. And those essays became paragraphs, became sentences. And he tried, lord knows he tried, tried with questions and asking about things he knew the other had going on.
But it made no difference.
And he’d imagine the other glancing at his phone while out with friends and seeing his name, deciding to stick it back in his pocket instead.
Or the handful of times he’d gotten a message late at night recently his heart had skipped, thinking it was like the beginning again. But then he’d imagine the other glancing at his phone as he got back into his car, leaving some random girl’s place, and deciding to send a quick answer while high on that after sex glow. And suddenly that excitement at seeing the notification so late at night would disappear. Because there was no way it was because the other had thought about him out of the blue.
Because the other never did.
Sure he would almost always be the one to message first after the conversation had died. But only if he had something to react to. This was a fact because a few times now he had purposely not posted anything anywhere just to see if the beautiful boy would message, literally anything at all. He never did. But the moment he finally posted to his social media again the other would very quickly send a message to reply to whatever it was.
In the beginning he’d thought it was cute, maybe the other was shy or just socially awkward, didn’t know what to say. He’d come to realize it was indeed the other had no idea what to say, but not in general, just to him.
He never messaged on his own because he didn’t care enough to. While he would often send the other things he’d found that made him think of him, he never received one. Because the other wasn’t thinking of him.
And Steve spent countless arguments with himself. Arguments over if the other was actually interested or if he was reading into things. Arguments over his own behavior, knowing he was oddly infatuated with the other and how some days he was sure the blonde walked on water while others he cursed himself for letting someone like that have any effect on his own well being.
But it was okay.
Because even still, even after telling himself he was done and deserved better and was wasting his time.
God did his heart race every time he saw that notification pop up with the beautiful boy’s name.
He knew this weird obsession had to stop, it wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t going anywhere.
But he also knew he’d let himself enjoy it. Just a little longer.