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Another Saturday, another meaningless party, a throng of bodies pushing against him as Top made his way inside the hostel. Looking at the costumed people around him, he could tell he chose a good time to come, most of them not too inebriated to not be fun anymore, but also not sober enough to care about a guy coming in all alone.
Not having many, or really any good friends doesn’t bother him on a regular basis, but at times it gets hard to muster the energy to roll up at events like this one, specifically. It’s different in bars, where he can usually sit at a table until someone catches his eyes and walks up to him, or at events actually held for singles.
They say it’s lonely at the top, and that’s what he repeats to himself on nights like this, when it couldn’t be clearer who belongs and who doesn’t. There’s a giddiness floating over the rooms, friend groups easily identifiable by the clearly coordinated costumes, the excited shrieks at others coming in and surprising their peers with secretly bought ones.
His getup was a lazy Top Gun costume he’d ordered last minute with express delivery when he heard his brother tell their parents about a Halloween party at the last “family” dinner. He’d chuckled a bit at the word play on his name while checking out at the online store, wondering if anyone would care enough to get the joke.
The outfit was carefully selected to be just enough effort to not look like a total loser who tries too hard, but neither one who acts too cool to follow a theme. It was also chosen to be as appealing as possible for him to not leave the place by himself, which meant leaving his face uncovered.
Not that there was anyone for him to walk up to surprise them by pulling off a mask or a particularly thought out costume. He wasn’t like his loser of a brother, who babbled for minutes about doing some sort of superhero group costume with his nerdy friends. How original.
He could only hope he wouldn’t run into Bank in a Spider-Man onesie or whatever it would be. It was bad enough that they went to the same university, to have a constant reminder of always being second best to every person, from their parents to the people in school. There was no reason to acknowledge each other’s existence when not he was not being forced to sit at that table once a week to get his hotel stay and university fees paid for.
Usually, he made sure not to go to the same parties, like the armband one he missed a few weeks back for that reason. But this was definitely the biggest event going on that weekend and his best chance at finding someone new. He was itching for a good fuck and even more importantly, a good night of sleep.
Walking into the most crowded room so far, he nodded to a plug he distantly knew, holding court in a corner. Now there was a Plan B just in case the evening didn’t pan out how he wanted it to.
There was a drink station set up in a kitchen area, and he made his way directly towards it. He was losing patience fast, the rooms too hot in that damn uniform, the music too loud and the same looks from the same boring faces being sent in his direction grinding on his gears.
Part of him knew that the evening was probably a loss, that he should just give up and change plans, walk over to Ken and just pay for something that would help him sleep instead of wasting time trying to find a someone to do the job.
Before Top could make up his mind, a hand on his elbow was tugging at the uniform gently. He turned around, ready to tell whoever wanted to bother him to give him a breather, when he quickly lost steam.
The boy who had placed his hand on Top’s arm was beautiful, hair parted and styled to accentuate a slim face, eyes shining, lips pursed as he mustered what Top was wearing from head to toe.
Top himself couldn’t help but return the gesture, eyes traveling over the obvious nod to Harley Quinn. The outfit was war from scandalous, pretty much covering up the entire body, barely any part showing more skin than a school uniform would. But the tiny sliver of naked skin peeling through at the waist, where the shirt was riding up a little, made his throat dry up immediately. Combined with the choker around the slim throat, the overall effect was… suggestive, to say the least.
Something about him was ringing a bell in the back of Top’s mind, though he was raking his memory to think of a name to no avail. They must’ve met each other before, though, from the familiar way he started pulling Top along towards the makeshift bar and fixing him a drink without asking.
After a few minutes of what could only be called dancing by the most generous of person, Top swaying a little on his feet while his partner did some combination of flailing around and hopping in one place, Top leaned over to ask him for his name, internally hoping that he wasn’t about to embarrass himself by asking for something he should already know.
Just as he posed the question, the boy leaned over and said something while tapping the “Top Gun” logo on his arm. Top watched him mouth a “What?” just as his own lips formed the same word, and they both broke out in laughter as it quickly became apparent that there would be no talking as long as they stayed in the kitchen, where the celebration was now in full swing and the music the loudest.
The boy mimed for them to go outside to the sparsely populated pool area and Top was more than happy to oblige, all previous thoughts of leaving vanished from his mind. He started moving, but was held up by a sign from his companion, who was suddenly turning to rummage for something in the freezer compartment of the fridge.
Fully expecting him to reappear with a chilled bottle of alcohol in hand, Top was thrown for a surprise when his hand came back with a tub of ice cream in it, instead. At his questioning look, he was given a cheeky shushing gesture and couldn’t help but watch incredulously as the other put two spoons inside the pocket of his jacket and nodded at him that he was ready to go now.
Top took the lead in guiding them outside through the crowded rooms. He couldn’t help glancing back over and over again, as if making sure he was still being followed.
A myth he’d once heard a teacher tell in high school came to his mind. One about a man who went to the underworld and had to save his lover by walking back out without turning around to look at her. For a second he couldn’t help but think that he would’ve met the same sad end as they did if he’d been in that situation.
Confused at where that thought had come from, he shook himself out of it and, instead of looking back another time, reached a hand behind himself to grab a slim wrist. It wasn’t like he was scared of losing the boy, not in the traditional sense and not with the way he stuck out to him in this sea of bodies like there was a spotlight on him at all time.
No, the chances of losing him to other people were higher. Men and women alike raking their hungry eyes all over him as he swayed with the beat while walking, eyes half closed, and seemingly unaware of the effect he was having. Multiple people tried to get his attention, clearly friends or at least acquaintances. A girl he knew from a campus, dressed as some sort of preppy goth, was waving at him from the couch while frowning in confusion at Top. The boy thankfully didn’t notice, and Top made sure not to point him towards her, either.
He wanted to pull the wrist harder, eager to get them alone before someone actually managed to separate them, and felt his heart start to beat like crazy when the boy twisted his wrist in a tiny movement to get out of his grip and actually clasp their fingers together to stay tethered when someone bumped into them.
Top couldn’t help but preen at that. Back straightening, he suddenly wanted everyone to look at them, while a few seconds earlier he wished to pass everyone undetected. Feeling that soft hand in his felt a little bit like being picked first for a game, though he didn’t remember the last time that happened, ever since those first days in school, when everyone could just mysteriously feel that Bank was somehow better than him, and he was always chosen second.
Briefly, he wondered if his reputation had preceded him and the boy was that glad to be noticed by him, or if he just had the same effect on the other as he had on him, and they really never talked before. Not that it mattered much, he thought, finally stepping outside into the cool night air. In the end, Top always got what he wanted, and it didn’t matter how or why he got it.
In a burst of luck, they were actually alone on the patio, the last group of smokers seemingly just heading back inside and Top gladly turned to finally ask for a name, when he was beaten to the punch.
“That’s the wrong costume,” the boy said inexplicably.
Top looked down at himself, pretending to check what he was wearing. “Are you sure? I think it looks pretty good.”
“An Air Force uniform is not at all the same as a Task Force one. How are you going to be the Rick Flag to my Harley if you’ve got the wrong costume on?” A hand reached up to run a thumb along the pilot emblem on his lapel, slightly grazing the skin on his neck.
Ahh. That was cute. He had clearly worked at an angle. Top certainly didn’t mind, as most others usually just started and finished with a comment on his face or body, or even worse, tried to subtly hint at his dad’s money. This was new… and he liked it.
“I’ve had to take come creative license due to time constraints. So did you, apparently. That shirt is definitely way too long to be accurate to the source material,” he flirted back, glad to be on the same wave length as someone else for once.
And judging by the good-natured laugh he received in return, he was.
“You really don’t know me well if you believe I’d go shorter than this.”
Top didn’t know him at all, but was suddenly met with the need to find out more about him. At least it was clear from the hello’s people sent him while they passed the crowd that he must be in the same school, though probably not in the same faculty. There was no way Top would’ve missed him in that case.
While he’d been caught up in his thoughts, a feeling of recognition still tingling in his brain, the other had sat down at the edge of the pool, legs crossed and arms resting on his knees. He was looking up expectedly, one spoon now placed in his mouth, the other in his outstretched hand in an offering. Top hurried to mirror the pose, and watched as the tub of ice cream on the floor between them was opened up. He didn’t really know what to say, chest weirdly tight at what was happening for a moment.
Things like this didn’t happen to him. He didn’t go on cute dates like the ones he overheard his classmates tell their friends about after a weekend. The only restaurant he visited was the one built into the hotel’s first floor, he hadn’t been in a movie theater to do more than make out in the darkness for years. Never mind the fact that his personal trainer would probably rather he did a bump than endanger his body fat percentage even looking at ice cream.
“You don’t want any? It’s got cookies bits in it.”
“No, I want. Thank you,” Top hurried to answer as he immediately dug his spoon in.
“Hey, don’t hog all the cookies!”
They jokingly fought over the ice cream for a few seconds, before settling in to take one spoonful after the other, trading comments about the poor music choices and the best costumes they could spot through the glass windows at the same time.
Even though Top knew that it was soon time to escalate the situation - pictured himself wiping at the ice cream left behind at the corner of a mouth, pushing himself into the other’s personal space or spreading his legs to crawl between them - he couldn’t bring himself to do it just yet.
Whatever was happening at this moment was good in its own way, better than good, actually. The muffled sounds of the party still providing a beat for them to nod to, the cool breeze on his skin refreshing, and the dessert a proverbial cherry on top of a sweet moment.
“This is nice,” the boy said, suddenly, as if he could read his thoughts. “I’m glad I came.”
“You weren’t sure about it?” he asked.
Was this the reason Top didn’t know him? Because he didn’t go to parties often?
“You know how it goes, half the time Ray has a great idea. Sure, Ray. We can all go in a group costume. Sure, Ray. We’ll do the Suicide Squad because your boyfriend told you he liked the Joker. Sure, Ray. I’ll dress up as Harley because the only girl we’re friends with already promised her girlfriend they’d do a couple costume. Wait, Ray,“ he playfully shook his head at an imaginary dialogue partner. “What do you mean, you accidentally got the wrong Joker and your boyfriend got too busy at work to get a costume and came as Freddie Mercury last minute, and now I’m stuck as Harley with two guys whose idea of dressing up is putting on hoodies and one who doesn’t know the difference between a soldier and a pilot!” The entire speech was tinged with obviously mock outrage, and affection for his friends was coming through all throughout it.
Top still didn’t quite get what his Top Gun ensemble had to do with anything, but he had to make one thing clear.
“Well, I’ll have to thank Ray, for making this happen,” he remarked.
“I know, I’m glad he has been doing so well the past weeks.” A gentle smile showed on the boy’s lips, before turning into a challenging grin. “You’re probably just grateful you have the coolest outfit.”
“I’m grateful because you’re the prettiest Harley Quinn I’ve ever seen.”
He got a disbelieving head shake and an eye roll in return to that, but certainly not without a hint of a pleased blush either. A prickle of real possibility spread in his chest, the first taste of actual interest taking root in it.
“What is it with you today? It’s like you’re a diff-“
They were interrupted by the door to the patio sliding open with a dull thud, the music getting louder instantly.
“Top, get the fuck away from him!”
He turned around to see his brother, dressed in cargo pants and in a shirt with a tech west over it, marching towards them as if on a war path, a handful of people behind him.
“Bank?” Top’s attention whipped back to the person sitting across from him, now wearing a confused expression while looking between him and his twin. “What’s going on?”
Understanding was dawning on him, especially when his brain caught up with him enough to note the people behind Bank and what they were wearing. The girls in a matching couple costume, previously sitting on the couch, were with them. But the rest.
Not superheroes. Super villains. They were dressed up as super villains, the Suicide Squad to be precise, just missing their Harley and with his twin as Rick Flag himself.
And this had got to be some sort of cosmic joke, because not only was Boston, lazily dressed up in a red sweatshirt and a plastic gun in hand, gleefully staring at the scene while keeping an arm around a guy Top didn’t know. But also goddamn Sand of all people was with them, right beside someone in a Joker costume.
He stared at Sand’s cheap shirt for a few seconds until it dawned on him. He was supposed to be Freddie, with the Joker next to him being Ray. Ray, Bank’s friend since freshmen days. Which meant.
His eyes fell back on the face in front of him. The glasses were missing, but it was unmistakable. Bank’s friend, the cute one, who always had his nose in a book when he passed their group from afar on campus. The one he occasionally saw in the book store, a wildly patterned shirt or a colorful cardigan on him. The one - judging by the way his brother spoke his name more softly, affectionately when their parents asked about his plans at the dinner table - his brother had an obvious crush on.
The name that was on the tip of Top’s tongue.
“Mew, “ Bank called, walking over the last few steps separating them to bend down and pull the boy, to pull Mew, to his feet. “Are you okay? Did he do something?”
Bank’s gaze was jumping all over Mew’s face and body, like he was checking him for injuries. As if a few minutes in Top’s company, even out in public in an open space, warranted such a reaction.
He was about to tell Bank exactly where he could shove his concern, when Mew’s melodic laugh rang in his ears.
“I think there might have been a misunderstanding. I completely forgot,” he said, looking between them and their costumes, before settling on him. “Top, right? I’m so sorry for dragging you around like that. You must’ve been so confused.”
“It’s okay,” he replied truthfully, getting up to stand as well. “A cute boy taking my hand and feeding me ice cream is probably the best thing that ever happened to me at a party.”
Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see Bank bristle at that, but he ignored him steadfastly and kept his attention on Mew.
“What happened to your glasses?”
“Oh.” Mew blinked and reached up as if to touch the aforementioned. “I got lasik done after I broke them.”
“That’s too bad. You looked cute in them.” And he did, Top remembered. “Not that this is a bad look either,” he added quickly with a grin.
He wanted them to keep talking like that, wanted the others to leave them alone again. Tried to make that wish come true simply by ignoring the presence of everyone around them and refusing to acknowledge them.
That didn’t work for long, though, because the next moment he felt hands shove him a step away, Bank coming in between him and Mew as if to hide the other behind his body.
Cries came from different people in the group, some more worried and others obviously quite happy to witness an altercation, as Top and Bank stared each other down. Distantly, he could hear Boston’s cackling in the background.
Top wasn’t a violent person by nature, always content to flow through his social life without caring enough about anything for it to cause conflict. But he couldn’t lie to himself at that moment. He was itching for this a little.
He cocked his head, meeting Mew’s eyes behind Bank’s shoulder without much of a problem, seeing as he was almost as tall as their twin shapes.
“Mew, do you have a boyfriend?” Before the last word was fully out, a fist hit the side of his face, and Top could feel the corner of his mouth split where it connected.
He whipped back, ready to return the favor, but there was someone at his back, grabbing his arms and holding him in place as he lunged at Bank.
“Enough!” The words came like a gunshot, Mew stepping between them, making both of them freeze up. “I don’t know what this is really about, but I’m not ruining my night just so you can live out your Cain instincts.”
All the warmth and humor from their previous interactions were gone, a disappointed frown marring his features. The tone in his voice had Top and Bank flinch in unison, and he was too stunned to retort before Mew took the necessary few steps to be at the door leading back inside. By the time he opened his mouth, Ray was pulling at Mew’s hand to leave, while the two girls walked behind them, building a wall between Mew and everyone else.
“Mew, wait!” Bank called out after him.
Mew looked back, making eye contact first with the one, then the other. “Bank, you owe me for being late,” he said, and then. “Top, thank you for keeping me company. But from what I’ve heard, I don’t think the answer to your question matters much, since I don’t do casual. I guess this is our goodbye.” He didn’t look mad or upset about it, simply stating a fact.
Top couldn’t believe it. It was not ending like this. He wouldn’t lose his chance at something good just because his brother, as always, decided that he had a right to it and had people to back him up on that. He tried to think of something to say to make Mew stop, to show him that - casual be damned - he was really interested, wanted to know everything about him. But again, Mew beat him to the punch.
“Oh and Top,” he threw over his shoulder at the last second, before he left Top’s vision. “I was wrong before. The costume’s great, actually. Top Gun. I get it now.”
And he looked like he meant it, got the stupid little joke in Top’s head as he ordered the costume. He might not have had anyone to share the it with initially, but someone had gotten it in the end.
All the momentary anger at Bank and annoyance at the rest of them vanished from his mind, became meaningless with the realization Top had. At no point in the past few minutes did Mew ever express any discomfort in what happened between them, seemed more interested than upset at finding out that he’d been talking to the wrong twin. Even his goodbye was only referring to not wanting something casual, not to him disliking Top, specifically.
Bank was saying something right beside his ear, but Top didn’t care, didn’t care either when Sand let him go and placed himself in front of him.
“Don’t even think about it. That’s my boyfriend’s best friend and the person who saved him. I’ll kill you before I let you touch him.”
Interesting. Everything he heard made him want to know more about Mew. Still, he wasn’t going to ask any of them, knowing it to be a futile endeavor.
“How nice for you to have found a new boyfriend. Why don’t you go and take care of him for a change, then, instead of sticking your nose in other people’s business?” he shot back.
Sand looked close to wanting to decorate the other side of his face, but chose to leave with a “Fuck you” thrown back at Top.
“Hey, Sand!” he couldn’t resist calling after him. “Thank you so much for the costume idea. Mew never would’ve approached me if it wasn’t for that!”
Sand didn’t bother answering, storming off with a middle finger raised towards Top.
When Boston opened his mouth to speak next, Top was close to laughing. Were they seriously all going to take turns to warn him off? Fat chance of that working. But apparently he shouldn’t have worried about Boston, who, unsurprisingly, said the sleaziest thing he could think of.
“Don’t bother with our sweet little virgin and hit me up if you wanna have some real fun,” he told Top, arm still around his date. The sweet looking guy in a baseball jacket and a fake tattoo drawn on his face clearly flinched at hearing that.
“You’re disgusting.” And an idiot, if he thought that Mew being inexperienced might deter Top, when in reality just the idea of being the first to bring him pleasure had Top’s pulse go wild in sheer want.
Boston only laughed, leaning closer to fake whisper. “That didn’t seem to bother you in the past.”
Top felt bad for the boy next to Boston, who was obviously trying to blink back tears, while pulling at him to walk away. Top wanted to tell him to save himself from that garbage fire, but felt like he probably wasn’t in a good position to give relationship advice.
When the couple retreated to the party, he was left standing alone with his brother at his back. He waited for Bank to speak first. Then waited a little bit longer. In the end, he turned to face him with a sigh.
“I guess it’s your turn now?” he asked, eager to get it over with.
“Top.” Bank sounded dejected. “Don’t do this. Go pick someone else. You know I li-“
“What do I know?” Top interrupted him quickly. “When exactly was the last time we spoke, for me to know anything about you? Unless we’re counting the dinners at your home where I get berated for being a fuckup while you give your weekly “I’m so great” speech.”
“It’s your home, too.”
“No, it’s not. It stopped being my home that night you all left me to almost burn down in my sleep while you were out having fun.”
Bank flinched as if stabbed by a knife. Top wanted to burrow it deeper and twist it.
“You’ve always had it too easy, you know? Being the golden child. Is that why you haven’t made a move yet? Too much work?”
At the barest mention of Mew, anger shone in Bank’s eyes again.
“Whatever you think you’re doing, stop it. Mew isn’t like those guys you fuck and discard after one night. He doesn’t deserve that.”
“Don’t you think it’s high time you all let him decide what he deserves?” he countered. “You saw it, too, right? He liked me. In fact, I think he liked me better than he ever liked you. Is that why you never asked him? Because deep inside, you know the answer already?”
“Don’t do this, Top. He’s special.”
Top didn’t need his brother or any of the others to tell him that. He’d noticed that before the ice cream they shared had a chance to start melting.
Feeling Mew’s eyes on him felt like having an oxygen mask put on his face again, like he could wake up tomorrow and be whoever he wanted to be. But Top would rather rip his own heart from his chest and eat it in front of Bank than admit any of his feelings out loud.
Instead, he stepped close enough that they were almost touching, closer than they’d been since they were old enough to have their cribs put in different rooms for different nannies to take care of them.
“I want him.” His voice left no room for argument. “And I always get what I want, so just accept that from now on I’m the hero of Mew’s story and no one else.”