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There was a knock at the door. Johnathan didn’t answer, as he’s been doing for the past 7 hours.
Just one more boss, he told himself, as he knocked another Stormtrooper out on Lego Star Wars. He nodded his head, a silent yes before he went back to gaming. He grabbed some Doritos with a free hand as his other murked another opponent, getting his fingers and his PS2 controller dirty. Crumbs fell onto the bed and his clothes, hitting the already-stained Deftones shirt he made himself, the one he wears almost every day. The knock happened again. Johnathan groaned. “Go away!” he said, eyes not straying from the TV. The light in his room was dim, the sun having already set hours ago. He didn’t care. Friday night- he doesn’t have to get up.
Silence followed his retort, fooling him into believing the knocker complied. It wasn’t until a certain patterned knock that almost made Johnathan spill his chips.
Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK SHIT BITCH. Every curse word played on repeat in Johnathan’s head as he recognized the knocker- Marcé.
The two had made up a secret knock that signaled one that the other was coming. For the past few weeks, the two had been secretly seeing each other in the dark hours of the night- after they had established they had feelings for one another. All they had done was kiss, mostly as Johnathan would cry into Marcé’s arms, finally feeling loved, but feeling shame at the same time. Due to this shame, the two had kept their relationship secret from all others. Hence the creation of this knock.
Johnathan was reluctant to stop gaming and get up- it was his goal to finish the entirety of Lego Star Wars and Lego Star Wars II: The Original Trilogy in one day. Despite this, he was only about ¾ through the original game, and it’s already late enough that Marcé comes knocking- not looking too well for him now.
In fact, he forgot the last time he got up to move or go to the bathroom, much less shower. He probably looks- and smells- and feels- a mess. He sighs to himself as he finally presses ‘pause’ for the first time, not missing the Yoda death sound playing seconds prior. He absentmindedly mimics it under his breath.
He gets up and immediately yells in pain as his legs stretch. Walking to the door requires an immense amount of energy. He passes a clock on his way out- 12:16 A.M.
His eyes go wide. DAMN, he thinks to himself as he unlocks the bolts. That late?
He opens the door.
“Good evening, Jac-” Marcé cuts himself off, his eyes going wide. “Jesus Christ.”
“What? Fuck do you know about Lego Star Wars?”
“What?”
“Just- just get inside, Mark.”
Johnathan ushers him inside. Marcé can’t help but get a little fluttery thinking about how Johnathan gave him a nickname, but those feelings are pushed aside to pave way for concern about his well-being. Especially when the smell hits him on the way in. It smells of Doritos, sweat, and Axe body spray. All bearable scents on their own, albeit some more bearable than others, but when combined can be lethal to one’s senses.
“Johnathan, this place is a fucking mess.”
Johnathan pauses. Marcé never uses his real name, unless the situation is serious. He also rarely cusses.
“I- It’s, uh-”
“This is- ugh, have you been playing those video games all day again?”
“You sound like my mom.”
“Is this why you don’t see her anymore?”
Johnathan is taken aback. “Woah, fuck, man.”
Marcé pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Johnathan, we need to clean you up. And clean this up.”
“Clean this up, I guess, bu- wait, me?”
“You start picking this... this shit up. I’ll run the bath.” Marcé walks past Johnathan and into his bathroom, connected to his room.
“BATH?? Whatever happened to… uh… cards? Cards or something? What are you trying to do?”
“Your health first, cards later.” Marcé yells from the bathroom. Jonathan can hear water start to run. He storms inside.
“Are you just gonna force me to bathe and then leave? I would have thought you’d be here to see me.”
“Who said I was gonna leave? Oh, do you have any swim shorts?”
Johnathan’s jaw drops, and he stutters on his words. “YOU- YOU’RE GONNA WATCH ME CLEAN MYSELF? WATCH ME BATHE?! GOD, YOU’RE SUCH A PERVERTED ASSHOLE!! YOU JUST WANNA SEE MY DICK !!”
“I do not want to see that now.” Marcé rolls his sleeve up to check the water temperature. “Johnathan, you smell like hell. This isn’t healthy. What shampoo and conditioner do you use?”
“Conditioner?”
At this, Marcé turns back to Johnathan and stares blankly.
“I’ll be back. I’m going to my dorm to get something.”
He gets up and heads out. Johnathan sputters. “I- I’M GONNA DRAIN THE WATER!! LOCK MY DOOR SO YOU CAN’T GET IN!!”
There’s no response as the door closes. Johnathan stands in silence, staring at the running tap. He sighs.
Minutes later, Marcé returns through the unlocked door with a small tote bag. The tap has stopped, and the bath water is full. Johnathan sits on the floor of the bathroom, eating Doritos. He stares up at Marcé.
“What’s in the bag, pervert?”
“Hygiene, Jack. You need it.”
Johnathan rolls his eyes. “Oh, fuck OOOOFFF-”
He’s cut off by Marcé grabbing his wrist, yanking him up to be standing. Marcé moves him, positioning him to be in front of the sink. He stands behind him, still holding his wrist. With his free hand, he gets hand soap out of the bag and sets it on the counter.
“Get some soap on those dirty-ass hands.”
Johnathan feels himself blush as Marcé’s breath hits his neck. He does it.
“Wash it.”
Johnathan is paralyzed.
“Oh, you want me to help?”
Johnathan doesn’t say anything.
“I’ll do that.”
Positioning his hands to be on top of the back of Johnathan’s, Marcé washes Johnathan’s hands under the tap. He rests his chin on Johnathan’s shoulder, turning off his sense of smell and breathing through his mouth. He watches Johnathan’s hands as Johnathan watches himself in the mirror, blushing and speechless. He curses himself for getting into this scenario in the first place, but doesn’t have the energy to complain.
He’s finished. Marcé dries both of their hands on the towel. He detaches himself from Johnathan. “There. Now I’m free to touch your hand, for it is clean of stains.” He moves closer to Johnathan, tilting his chin up with a free hand. “Now we must clean the rest.”
Johnathan’s eyes widen. His face instantly heats up, and his heartbeat quickens. He struggles to form words.
“U-UH- uh- Uh-”
“You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”
“I-! SH- shut- Shut u…p…”
Marcé chuckles. “Do you have swim shorts?”
Johnathan nods, still not recovering from the gesture Marcé did a couple seconds prior.
“Good. Go get those on, then come back in.”
Johnathan silently stumbles out of the room, immediately falling in his own room and covering his face. Marcé had some sort of effect on him, a spell of sorts. And he fell for it. Every. Single. Time.
He hated himself for it, but cherished love at the same time. It was a battle he still had to face. He knew Marcé was doing this for the sake of his health, but it still took time to adjust. Johnathan looked around his room.
Damn. He’s right. This place looks like shit.
Johnathan walks back into the bathroom, wearing his sweaty Deftones shirt and swim shorts. He coughs.
“So how the fuck are you planning to do this? I bathe, and you watch like fucking Herbert the Pervert? No, Quagmire.”
“I wasn’t planning on watching. I was going to help you.”
“Help me how?” Johnathan still wasn’t catching on.
Marcé said nothing. He began to unbutton his blazer.
“Woah, what.”
He threw his blazer onto the ground. He took off his monocle and bowtie, ruffled his hair to let it be in its natural state, and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“UH-”
He left his shirt unbuttoned. He unbuckled his belt.
“DUDE!” Johnathan shielded his face.
He took his belt off, dropping his pants. He wore swim shorts underneath.
“I’m not showing you my dick. Open your eyes.”
Johnathan did. He silently gawked.
“I was going to help. Your bath is big enough for the both of us. I don’t have any ulterior motives. I was just going to wash your hair for you.” Marcé smiled.
Johnathan had many thoughts upon seeing Marcé shirtless, but kept them buried. He struggled for words.
“Like what you see?” Marcé chuckled. “It’s fine. I don’t have to get in if you don’t want me to. I understand we’ve never done anything like this before.” He smirked. “These-” he motions to his shorts. “-are staying on the WHOLE time. I’m not a Herb-pervert or whatever it is you said.”
Johnathan didn’t pay attention. He just thought Marcé was incredibly beautiful.
“Um- UH- Um, I- I guess- I .. uh… don’t care.” He took off his shirt, covering his chest with his hands. “I don’t care. But this is NEVER FUCKING LEAVING THIS ROOM. NOBODY IS GONNA KNOW ABOUT THIS BECAUSE I SWEAR TO GOD IF I FIND OUT YOU TOLD I’M-”
“-gonna slice you up and have Bebe serve you as her final exam, yadda yadda yik-yak.” Marcé finished Johnathan’s sentence for him. He took off his shirt and got in the bath.
“Come on in. The water’s fine.”
Johnathan hesitated, but he took in a breath and got in. He sat in front of Marcé, his face to him. Everything about this was awkward.
“So. Now what.”
“Turn around. I’m going to wash your hair.”
“I have shamp-”
“Ah. I’m gonna wash your hair with my stuff.”
Johnathan turned. He instantly was met with water hitting his scalp as Marcé got a small cup out of the tote bag and poured bathwater onto his head.
“Ahh-!”
“Shush. It’s gonna feel nice.”
“That sounds gay as fuuUuu-”
Marcé touches his head, causing Johnathan to short-circuit. He uses shampoo and conditioner to lather up his head as he brushes it with one of his picks. Against his better judgment, Johnathan almost finds it comforting.
After he’s done, Marcé puts one hand on his chest and the other on the back of his head and dips his hair in the water to wash it out. Johnathan sees Marcé’s face smiling down at him from above him. He blushes.
“Hey.” Marcé says with a warm smile.
“Haaah.” Johnathan attempts to respond back, but flusters himself too much.
Marcé kisses him on the head. Johnathan immediately covers his face with his hands.
“AAAAAUGH!! GAY GAY GAYYYY ASSSS BITCHHH!!!”
“You know you love me.”
“THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT!!”
Marcé takes Johnathan’s hands away from his face and kisses his nose. “Damn blackheads. Your skincare is after this.” He starts to run his hands through Johnathan’s hair again, getting all the soap out.
“Skincare?! That’s some girly shit.”
“Hygiene is not girly. Also, I can’t kiss your lips if you smell like Doritos. No kisses until you brush your teeth.”
“Do you hear yourself? You’re so corny. I fucking hate this.”
Marcé shuts him up with a slight kiss on the neck. Johnathan instinctively moans, then flings his hands to latch over his mouth out of embarrassment.
Marcé takes his body and rises it up to face him.
“TH- THAT WASN’T- I- SH-”
“Hot. But that’s for another time.” Marcé gets body wash out from the tote bag. “Onto the next step.”
In the minutes that follow, Johnathan gets his entire body (the parts not covered by shorts, that is) washed by the boy he loved. Marcé was patient, stopping whenever Johnathan needed to ask a question or to be flustered. He peppered kisses on Johnathan at random, in different places that would temporarily tranquilize Johnathan in order to get the job done. 15 minutes later, Johnathan was clean. He smelled of fresh coconut.
Marcé smiles at him. “You’re beautiful and clean.” he said.
Johnathan rolls his eyes. “Oh, now you’re gonna paint my nails and put bows in my hair, huh.”
“You into that?”
Johnathan’s eyes go wide. “You sick FUCK!” He shoves Marcé into the water. Marcé gets up, raising an eyebrow.
“So we’re doing that, huh?” He splashes some water into Johnathan’s face.
“Oh, it is ON, gaywad!” Johnathan grins as he splashes a laughing Marcé.
Minutes later, the two are dry in nighttime clothes, staring at each other in the bathroom mirror.
“Hey.” Marcé smiles, hugging Johnathan from behind and resting his chin on his shoulder.
“What’s up, queer?” Johnathan tries to hide a smile. At this moment, all is right.
“You should brush your teeth.” Marcé looks at the toothbrush.
Johnathan glares at Marcé, then snags the toothbrush, puts toothpaste on, and vigorously brushes his teeth.
“Brush your tongue too.”
Johnathan does. He spits. It’s orange. He washes out his mouth.
“That’s gross.” Marcé raises an eyebrow, turning Johnathan to face him.
“You’re gross.” Johnathan replies. They don’t even have to say a word before they start kissing. Johnathan is pulling Marcé’s face closer to his, cherishing him. Marcé is pulling Johnathan’s waist closer to his, smiling in his touch.
After a good minute of kissing, Marcé pulls away.
“Let’s go to your room.”
“It’s a mess.”
“I'll do your sheets in the morning. Take them off your bed. We’ll crash there.”
“Both of us?”
“If you want to, homo.”
Johnathan rolls his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You’re dodging the question.”
“Are you asking me to sleep with you?! Gay!”
“We literally just made out.”
“That’s besides the point.”
Marcé takes Johnathan’s hand and leads him to the bed. They both get on, ripping the crumby sheets off and kissing each other again.
“Hey, you’re not crying.” Marcé points out.
“Huh. I guess I’m not.” Johnathan blinks. He looks to the clock. 1:47 A.M. “It’s late and I’m insane. I’m doing insane shit I’m gonna regret.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
Johnathan smirks. “Like this.”
He pounces onto Marcé, pinning him to the bed, catching him off guard.
“Oh. Sit down, Mr. Big Shot.” Marcé flips Johnathan around with force, pinning him to the bed and towering above him. Johnathan blinks.
“Okay. You win.”
“I always do.”
They kiss, again, taking solace in each other. For they are clean, and they are in love, and maybe that’s all that matters.