Chapter Text
The door to Grian’s house swung open so quickly that Etho was scared it was about to be ripped off its hinges.
Grian’s gaze was sharp, quick, and almost analytical, flicking from the tupperware in Ren’s hands clearly labeled on all four sides as “CONTAINS WEED” in the best handwriting Etho had managed, to how his fingers gently brushed against Cleo’s, before landing on Etho himself. He awkwardly adjusted his mask over his nose.
“Etho! Bdubs, Ren, it’s awesome to see you guys!” Grian chirped, tilting his head as his gaze snapped back to Cleo. “No Joe tonight?”
Cleo shook her head. “They’re driving back home tomorrow, they need to not be hungover for that.”
Grian snorted, finally stepping aside to let the four of them enter. “Well, you’re right on time, Tango and Impulse are setting up a Jackbox game.
Bdubs shrugged his coat off and tossed it over someone else’s coat on the tiny row of coat hangers. “Oh, is Scar here?” he asked, “I haven’t seen his face in ages since you guys all moved off-campus.”
Grian grumbled. “Unfortunately. I couldn’t get him out of the house for tonight.”
Grian and Bdubs scurried off towards the living room, and Etho watched them go. Every time he’d ever spoken with Grian, he felt on-edge for hours afterwards—he spoke so fast, and he moved even faster, leaving no room for questions—yet here he was, at the pest’s house.
Ren had already vanished, probably off to find his people, leaving just him and Cleo standing awkwardly in the entryway.
He shrugged his coat off and tossed it over Bdubs’. “Why are we here again?” he groaned, taking Cleo’s coat and hanging it next to his.
She shrugged. “Grian’s parties are always fun?” she offered, smoothing her sweater down. “C’mon, lighten up! Enjoy yourself for once, it’d do you some good.”
He sighed. He hated that she was right, and he hated even more that she was why he’d even agreed to come in the first place.
There was a shout coming from the living room, followed by much more shouting, and he glanced down to meet Cleo’s gaze. Sounded like the games were starting.
They both made their way to the living room, hanging in the back as they waited for the chaos to sort itself out. Tango had hooked what was probably an unnecessary amount of wires between a laptop and the TV while Impulse messed around with the remote. Mumbo was standing just to the side, awkwardly trying to help and clearly not. Almost everyone Etho knew—and quite a few he barely recognized—were scattered about on the couches and the floor, most of them holding a cup or a can. He zeroed in on Joel, who was sitting next to his fiance on the floor, looking up at him and beaming.
Joel waved him over, and Etho was tempted to shake his head. Then Cleo poked his side, and he glared down at her.
“Scott told me he’s here, I’m gonna go find him. Have fun.”
His chest felt tight. He desperately did not want all his best friends to just walk off and leave him alone. He didn’t even want to be here. Cleo rolled her eyes and full-on shoved him forward.
“Go have fun, or I’ll kill you.”
He snickered. “You wouldn’t.”
She grinned. “I would.”
With that, they went their separate ways, and Etho descended into the ring of people and made his way over to Joel.
“Etho!” he shouted, slinging an arm over his shoulder the moment he sat down. “Good to see ya, mate!”
Suddenly, everyone was shouting greetings at him, and he could not bring himself to meet anyone’s gaze.
Tango looked down at him. “Hey, Etho, do you know how to get this to—?”
He’d barely started the question, and Etho had barely had time to look up at him, when they were interrupted by the music to Monster Seeking Monster kicking into gear, and a roar of applause kicked up from the dozen or so people all scattered around the living room. Tango and Impulse started explaining how the game worked, while everyone else had already rushed to join the game.
Etho glanced between Joel’s phone and the screen. “Tall sexy guy? Really?”
Joel huffed. “You’re just jealous you aren’t as sexy as me.”
He raised an eyebrow, and glanced over at Lizzie. “Curious how you left the word tall off there,” she chirped.
Joel sputtered, but didn’t have time to respond before the game began.
Etho was happy to sit back, sway his head to the unnecessarily upbeat and fun music, and laugh at all the terrible flirting. Ultimately, Grian won—he glanced over to where he even was, and found him perched over the back of a couch, one of his legs casually draped over Mumbo’s shoulder. Martyn and Jimmy were also sitting on the couch, and Scar had his wheelchair next to it.
Etho kept glancing around for where Bdubs had gone; he’d supposedly been after Scar, but Scar was there and Bdubs was—
Etho was suddenly all but knocked over.
“Etho! There you are!” Bdubs yelled, right into his ear. His breath reeked of beer.
Joel winced next to him. “Jesus, man, do you have any volume settings below ear-shattering?”
Bdubs laughed with his whole chest. “Nope!”
Etho snickered, letting Bdubs settle next to him. The games all started to blur together into a mess of weird jokes—for some reason, one answer or another had compared Jimmy to Sheriff Woody, and that leached into everything—fun music, and cacophonous laughter. The longer he sat there, though, the more he realized he was the only sober person in the room. Oh, he needed to change that.
He mumbled that he’d be back and made his way towards the front door—surely no one would interrupt him there.
The night was very cold, and he wished he’d thought to try and dig his coat out of the monster that the coat rack had turned into. Oh well. He sat down on the concrete steps and rolled the best joint he could while shivering and only having his thigh as a table. Not bad.
It was nice to have a few minutes to himself. Just him, the world’s saddest joint, and the sound of laughter through the door. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and he quickly yanked his mask back up.
“Oh, uh, sorry Etho—” someone mumbled. “Didn’t, um, mean to interrupt, but…”
Etho glanced up, and locked eyes with Impulse. “No, no, it’s fine,” he insisted. “I was almost done, anyway.”
Impulse wrung his hands together. “Good! Uh, that’s good.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, Grian wants to get everyone together for um, spin the bottle.”
He raised an eyebrow up at him. “And you’re fetching me for this… why?” He gestured to his mask—it didn’t matter that much, he wouldn’t particularly care if people knew what he looked like, but he’d prefer it to be on his terms and not from people drunkenly slobbering on him.
Impulse shrugged. “Grian just wants as many people as possible.”
He sighed. “I’ll be in in a few minutes.”
He got what little was left out of his joint and shuffled back inside. Everyone was sitting in a big circle around the living room, or as good a circle as they could manage. Bdubs had saved a place between him and Joel for him to return to, so he B-lined for it. Cleo was sitting on the opposite side of the circle, in between Scott and Pearl. He waved across at her, and she waved back.
Ultimately, there were so many people sitting around the living room floor, Etho lost track. He was also much more focused on pulling threads out of the carpet to the tune of the long-forgotten Quiplash game than paying attention to anyone. After a few minutes of everyone sitting around and chatting, Grian waltzed through the center and put an empty pop bottle down.
“Alright—ladies, gents, and those of no preference!” he announced, a slight lilt and slur to his words. “I’m sure spin the bottle needs no introduction, but I figured I’d offer those who don’t like their randomly spun partner an out. You can either kiss them, or one of you has to take a shot.”
He didn’t like how Grian locked eyes with him just long enough for it not to be a coincidence as he explained. With that, though, Grian spun the bottle and took his seat in the circle next to Mumbo.
And so it began, he guessed. The first pair was Grian and Scar.
Grian wailed “No!” so loudly he was certain the foundations of the house shook. Nonetheless, Grian marched over and pecked his friend on the lips. Someone in the circle whooped. Grian spun the bottle on Scar’s behalf, and Scar was paired with Jimmy. Jimmy went on to Tango, Tango on to Skizz, so on and so forth.
The first to opt out was Lizzie—she’d been matched with Scott.
“Absolutely not, that man has cooties.”
Scott cackled on the other side of the circle. “Lizzie, come on. Don’t be homophobic,” he teased.
“I’m literally bisexual!” she snapped, standing up. “Where’s the stupid—It’s vodka, right G?”
Lizzie took her shot, and Scott spun again, this time landing on a much happier to be kissed Ren.
Etho watched with quiet amusement as everyone took turns either kissing each other or gagging and leaving the circle to get a shot. Of course, the bottle eventually landed on Bdubs, who was paired with Impulse. Never one to half-ass anything, Etho watched with amusement as Bdubs kissed Impulse as loud as he possibly could.
Bdubs rubbed his hands together as he prepared to spin it for himself, and it landed on…
“Cleo!” he chirped, and Cleo blinked.
For a second, all three of them simply looked between each other. He guessed he didn’t have a problem with it—they weren’t an item, anyway. He subtly nodded to Cleo, and she gestured for Bdubs to come to her.
“I think the edible kicked in, I can’t stand up.”
“Oh, anything for Lady Cleo!”
She giggled, and Bdubs happily shuffled over to her. By all means, Bdubs could’ve just given her an obnoxious peck like he had for Impulse. Unfortunately, Bdubs liked going all out. And Etho had had a few text conversations with him about Cleo. So it came as absolutely no surprise to him when Bdubs and Cleo kissed, it was—well, a lot more than a silly little peck between friends. Cleo wrapped her hands around his waist, and Bdubs cupped her face in his hands.
It was certainly something to see, and Etho certainly felt something watching them, something that stabbed him in the chest and lit all his nerves on fire. He’d put a name to the emotion when he wasn’t too stoned to stand up.
“Yeesh, get a room,” someone said, and Bdubs scurried back to his spot next to Etho, his cheeks several shades darker.
Cleo spun the bottle, and—
“Nope,” Etho snapped. The metaphorical knife in his chest twisted.
Cleo pouted across the circle from him. “Oh come on, you’ve kissed me before—”
He shook his head, then pointed at the mask on his face. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
Grian grumbled. “Then why did you get in the circle, Etho?”
He shrugged, staving off whatever terrible feeling was climbing up his throat. “Boredom?”
Grian huffed. “You know the rules, then. Go get your shot.”
Etho uneasily got up, and Cleo spun again, though he didn’t care much for who she got on her re-spin. And he didn’t go back to the circle, either, tucking himself away in the kitchen. Why had he agreed? His hands were shaking. Why had he agreed to come to this stupid party, anyway? To spend time with friends he didn’t see that much? They could bother him whenever they liked. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He needed to go home. He checked the time—a little before eleven. Surely he could just pick up Bdubs, have him make some excuse, and then he could leave.
He felt sick. He hadn’t had a drop to drink, but he felt dizzy and terrible and—
Someone grabbed his hand, and he blinked and pulled it back.
“Woah, man, chill.” Joel put his hands up placatingly. “Just makin’ sure you’re alright. You ran outta there like you were gonna vomit.”
He blinked a few times. “Oh, uh, no. I’m… fine.” He didn’t feel very fine, but he also couldn’t explain the weird spaghetti mess that was suddenly his feelings about his two best friends.
Joel frowned up at him. “Are you sure, mate? Did you smoke something bad?”
“No, um…” Shit, he wasn’t good at excuses. “No, uh, I just—I get kind of anxious, being high in a big group like that.”
Joel nodded, but he could tell he wasn’t convinced. Etho had zero intent on explaining himself—Joel was swaying on his feet, and his eyes were a little red, and he was sure he wouldn’t have good advice. Maybe he’d text him later.
“I’m gonna, uh, head home. We’ll have to talk soon?”
He sighed. “Yeah, I’ll carve some time out for us to hang.”
Joel left the kitchen, leaving Etho alone again.
Alone with his thoughts that did not make sense.
Bdubs kissed Cleo. So what? He had too. She was good at it. But then he was supposed to kiss her and he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stomach that in front of everyone, but he could stomach watching his two best friends just short of make out. Except that had set the whole domino chain off, somehow. His chest felt hollow, and his eyes felt oddly hot.
He just needed to go home, needed to get out of there. He shot the roommates group chat a text that he was leaving, just in case they got worried.
He dug his coat out of the pile on the rack and sat outside until his Uber arrived. The cold air didn’t do much to clear his head.
It was six in the morning when Etho heard the apartment door creak open, and he realized he had done nothing for the past four hours other than sit on his bed and stare at the wall, counting his breaths in and out.
The first few hours he’d been home, he had paced his room until his legs were sore, spinning the moment in his mind. Why was he so upset over this? None of them were items. It was Cleo’s right to kiss whoever she wanted with whatever level of passion she so pleased, and the same for Bdubs. So why did he want to vomit and-or scream and-or collapse into a pile of bones and goop?
He’d since resigned to sitting on his bed in a pile of blankets, staring at his clock as the hands ticked later and later, his eyes wide open. But what if after he left they’d—? What if Bdubs came home bragging that—?
It wasn’t his damn business. It was a little icky, considering they were both his best friends and it’d be a weird situation to be in, but ultimately it wasn’t his place to speculate. It didn’t stop the thought from continuing to crop up, making him feel sick to his stomach.
The clock ticked.
He heard some shuffling, and Ren and Cleo whispering to each other. Another door opened across the hall, and then there was a knock on his door.
“Etho?” Cleo crooned, “I know you aren’t asleep in there.”
“Etho is currently unavailable,” he replied, wrapping the blankets tighter around his shoulders. “Please leave your message after the beep. Beeep.”
Cleo giggled, but thankfully left the door shut as she kept talking. “Alright, then. Hi Etho, it’s Cleo, just checking in to make sure you got home okay. Ren and Bdubs said you left early, and we were worried.” She paused, before continuing. “I feel like we might need to talk, you me and Bdubs. Try to get some sleep, and text me when you wake up. Okay, bye.”
Etho stared at the door as Cleo’s footsteps retreated, and the apartment door opened and closed again.
He didn’t end up sleeping, instead grabbing his laptop off his desk and playing mindless video games. If he had to sit in his own head for one more second, he was going to implode.