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Isn't Bite Also Touch?

Summary:

Your best friend is a fuckboy. He ditches you at a party. You argue. Maybe they were right about him.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter Text

They all tried to tell you. Every single one of them.

He’s bad news, don’t bother. You would scoff.

He’s nothing but a walking penis. He doesn’t care about anything. And you’d roll your eyes.

Every red flag. Every warning sign. Every flashing light. You refused to heed any of them. And you tilled, and you sowed, and you fed. And now? You were reaping.

“I don’t get what the big deal is. You’re a big kid. You don’t need a damn babysitter.” His hands remained clenched, balled up and shoved into the pouch of his hoodie. His posture was lax. Noncommittal. He stared into a wall, his expression detached and unreachable.

“When you called me up tonight to drag me to some stupid frat party, I at least expected you to like, stay with me,” you countered. “We weren’t even there for an hour before you up and ditched me. Streaking across campus like a moron.” The base of your neck throbbed, the fledgling burn of an oncoming migraine. Your clothes still reeked of burnt weed and the cloyingly pungent whiff of cotton candy vape smoke.

“You should be fucking grateful. Wouldn’t have gotten into that party without me. Shit was the best thrasher of the month.” He lifted his head, scorching you with that know-it-all smirk. It huffed the coals of your stomach. You felt like puking.

“I didn’t…oh my god, Leon. I didn’t go for the party. I thought you…I don’t know. I thought you actually wanted to hang out. Have a good night.”

Your fingers burrowed their way through the folds of your sheets and you stayed perched at the edge of your bed. Leon hovered at your doorway, barely present in the space of your dorm, his contour fuzzed with casting light.

He didn’t say anything. Your eyes pulsed and stung. “Look. I’m not mad, I just–”

“You should be.”

“What?”

It’s then that he finally dared to meet your eyes. Blue hues swallowed whole by the pitch of his pupils, seeking you past tendrils of mussed, blonde hair.

“You should be mad. Why aren’t you? Cuz’, you’re right. I fucking ditched you. Like a moron.” He flung the word back with acid and you winced away. “God forbid I have some fun, right? Forgot you’re too much of a buzzkill to actually have fun at a party.”

There’s a throttling impulse to scream at him. Tell him off for being unreasonable and kick his ass to the curb like last week’s trash. But you’ve danced to this song before. The repeating pattern and pervasive enigma of Leon’s refusal to invest himself; emotionally, or otherwise.

So, you sucked in a steadying breath, filled your lungs with patience, and spoke softly.

“It’s not just about the party,” you began, and passively, you noticed him shift. “I mean…streaking? You realize that if you got caught doing that…you wouldn’t have a scholarship anymore. Hell, maybe you’d be expelled.”

The realization settled on him like a poison and you caught his face darken. As much as he denied and disguised, Leon was a smart man. Excellent standing in his classes and a whopping GPA to match the third leg he swung in his pants. It meant a lot to him.

There’s a gap of silence before he opened his mouth again.

“...well, I wasn’t caught. And it was my choice. I don’t need you nagging me like a fucking mom, alright?” His body shrunk in on itself. Caging his softer parts from the reality he narrowly avoided. On a better day, perhaps you’d chase him. Push and fight for a break in his shell, a crevice that gave way to the man you knew he was capable of being. But, God, your head was shattering. Your nausea was worsening. You weren’t making progress.

“Right, well, sorry for caring, Leon,” you relented, turning away from him to click your phone into its charger. “I’m going to bed. Don’t bother inviting me to any more parties.”

Your gaze left him, you weren’t fully aware of his body, but in the fleeting moments following your surrender he’s on you. Lurking above you like the baleful firmament of a roaring summer storm. You hardly had the time to open your mouth before he’s speaking. No, he’s growling. Revving the engine of his fury.

“...so that’s it? You’re not putting up with me anymore?” It could be the headache talking, but you swore you heard a tremble in his voice.

“Huh? The fuck are you–”

“We’re not friends anymore. That’s what you’re doing, right?” You searched the raging sea of his eyes for a raft. But all you did was drown. “I fucked up one too many times and now I’m just another shitty dude you had to put up with.” You watched the chipped black of his nails dig into his arms, tensed up limbs shielding him from what he’s most afraid you’ll confirm.

“Leon, that’s not…we’re still friends, okay? I just don’t want to go to parties like that anymore. Just give me a few days to cool off and we can…I dunno, we’ll hit up that burger joint you love.” It’s a pretty weak bargain, but maybe he’d bite.

And he did bite. He bit and he tore and he sought out blood.

“You’ve always had shitty taste in guys.” He practically spat at you, a scornful wrinkle deepening in the bridge of his nose. “Fucking stand up for yourself. You always let people walk all over you and act surprised when they turn out to be shitheads.”

He leaned in. You smelled him. Overpriced cologne. Underpriced shampoo. Crappy beer he drank even though he hated the taste. Despite it all, you yearned to hug him.

“Leon, I–”

“...and you know what? I don’t fucking need you. I don’t need your little dates. Your pity sex. I don’t need you looking out for my damn scholarships and I especially don’t need you making me look bad when I’m trying to let loose at the party I’ve been looking forward to all goddamn month.” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to bridge the chasm and devour his violence. If only he’d let you. But all he did was bite harder. “I won’t bother inviting you out anymore. Actually, I won’t bother talking to you at all. Have fun with your fucking life, I’m done being your fucking charity. Goodni–”

At the edge of his precipice, the void he dug for solace, Leon plummets. He straightened his spine, eyes widening and jaw hanging lifelessly. You were crying. Tears bursting without prejudice. Staining your face in vulnerability you so often only used to comfort him.

He went too far. And now, you were crying.

Neither of you moved for an eternity. From the hallway of your dorm, you hear the thundering trots of drunken friends laughing and yelling. The noise swelled and faded. The only evidence of a world beyond your room.

He called your name. His voice was so much quieter, held together with twine and stinging regret. You lifted your eyes and your throat barely allowed your words to pass.

“...Great job, Leon. Now I’m mad.” In an act of self-preservation, you tore your gaze away, burning a stare into the ground below his shoes. They’re blotched with dirt and chlorophyll, still damp from his midnight misdemeanor. “I won’t bother you anymore. If you hate me that much, I…I’ll leave you alone.”

His arms unfolded, one hand reaching out, a fragmented attempt to soothe you. But it was too late.

He repeated your name.

“I didn’t…fuck, I shouldn’t have said…hey–”

Go home, Leon.” Your voice was unwavering, and he flinched back, your ire the open flame he’s too human to touch.

And then he left. Your dorm vibrated with the slam of the door, and you buried your face in your hands. In the place of his feet, soil stained your carpet. In the place of his warmth, sandalwood smoldered the air.

In the place of your love, all you wanted was to die.