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Despite the fact that neither Hero nor Mari are especially big on the college party lifestyle, they both receive their own fair share of invitations. And while Mari would have no reservations whatsoever about turning down invites to focus on her studies—and has done so in the past for that very cited reason, which her friends have accepted—Hero tends to struggle a bit more with giving a direct no, or even a no at all, so Mari finds herself attending one at least once a month, just to make sure he has someone there to be his backbone through turning down offers to drink or do drugs, both of which give Hero pretty severe anxiety.
For all that it’s not Mari’s thing, she doesn’t mind the parties. A lot of them have music, and their university is small enough that she recognises many of the faces in her year, especially since she and Hero tend to run in similar circles. While Hero gets dragged off into antics, Mari will mingle with some of her quieter friends, the ones who were themselves pulled to the parties by their more extroverted counterparts (or else as designated drivers) while keeping a careful eye on him.
It’s kind of nice, to keep an eye on Hero like that. He’s self-sufficient enough to look after himself, and does a really good job of putting on this unbothered, placid face for other people… But Mari can tell how he really feels. They’ve known each other for so long—a decade and a half by now—that reading Hero is as easy as rereading her favourite book. She can tell when he’s starting to get nervous by the way his weight shifts and his smile strains, and she can tell when he’s genuinely excited by something by the way his eyes perk wider and his dimple appears. It’s all the little things. Really, Mari just likes knowing. Likes looking.
So the parties aren’t so bad. Mari socialises fine throughout, but taps out of most of the games that Hero gets pulled into, for the most part lingering a little ways away and laughing at the various happenings. Tonight, it’s a game of spin-the-bottle, which is a disaster waiting to happen for a number of reasons, but as Mari drifts closer, it’s with an odd itchiness in her chest that… isn’t really related to any particular worry she has over relationship drama. At least, not with anyone here but…
The thing is, Mari’s worry about it comes purely from a place of knowing Hero. It’s not like they’re dating, after all, so Hero can play whatever he wants—kiss whoever he wants, even. Totally not Mari’s business. But she also knows that Hero isn’t really on the market right now (he’s said as much to Mari before with this really intense look on his face, like he wanted her to understand something important) and she knows as well that Hero struggles saying no to people. It’s one of his most consistent “failings” as a person, if you want to call it that. Really Mari just thinks it ends up getting him into a lot of trouble, which is why the trait can be more troublesome than endearing at times.
In a game like spin-the-bottle, it’s almost a hazard. There are a few girls seated around the circle who occasionally eye Hero with interest, light giggles bubbling out of them whenever he catches their gazes and smiles. Mari wonders how much Hero realises they’re interested in him, if he even notices that their laughter is airy from nerves rather than alcohol. And Mari—
Well, she’s not annoyed. She isn’t. Anyone with eyes would like Hero, it’s one of those facts of life that’s just… It’s just as simple and obvious as the fact the sky is blue. Hero is handsome, courteous, smart. He’s everything a girl or a guy would want in a romantic partner. So getting to kiss him for a game like this is natural, understandable, and Mari has no reason for her skin to be prickling like it’s cold in here.
She smooths her hands down the goosebumps that have risen on her arms, watching intently. Hero must feel her gaze on him, because he turns with an easy smile, lifting a hand to wave. When Mari smiles tersely back, Hero’s head tilts to the side and he starts to scootch, making room for her next to him. Mari takes a bracing step backwards and lifts her hands as if to say no, not interested, and Hero quickly nods to her, attention drawn back to the game.
Mari takes another stabilising breath. She’s worried, she thinks. If Hero ends up getting picked, even if it’s someone he really doesn’t want to kiss, he’ll probably end up feeling pressured to do it. The other players are already starting to set a precedent of kissing each other on the lips, either quick little pecks or lingering, borderline uncomfortable to witness kisses, and Mari thinks that maybe she should suggest to Hero after this that they don’t go to any college parties anymore. A benign suggestion. Any sane person would say the same thing, Mari is sure. For Hero’s sake.
The bottle spins, glass whirring against tile. It stops pointing roughly at the empty space between Hero and the girl next to him, and the girl quickly turns the bottle so that it’s firmly on Hero’s side, pushing his shoulder playfully. Hero’s responding laugh is good-natured, but Mari watches his expression change as his gaze settles on the person who spun it. Her name is Sandra. Mari knows her from her early morning chemistry class. She’s never seen Sandra smiling so shyly before.
Hero smiles at her too, and Mari can see it clear as day; the anxious crease in his brow, the little tick in his jaw, the way his shoulders tighten. He takes this large, shoulder-lifting breath, and Mari prepares herself to intervene, fingers digging into her palms, ready—
“Sorry, Sandra,” Hero says suddenly. He smiles again, and this time it looks more sincere, apologetic and awkward. “I actually don’t think I should…”
Sandra’s own smile falters, but it’s back quickly. She’s always been pretty nice. “Oh, no problem. I’ll just spin it again.”
Hero nods to her. He clambers to his feet, untangling his limbs from the little circle on the floor and weaving his way over towards Mari, who feels oddly detached from her own body. It’s primarily confusion, she thinks, but the cool numb feeling only spreads further through her fingertips as Hero comes to her side. His head is tilted now, brow creased with slight concern, but Mari can see sweat is still beading on it.
“You okay, Mari?” Hero asks quietly.
Mari blinks at the question. She’s not sure. It’s actually hard to put her words into feelings right now. Hero must sense this, because he touches her wrist lightly and nods towards the door, and Mari falls into step at his side, trying to run through her thoughts so she actually has something to say.
It’s not that Hero never says no to people. He has the easiest time doing it with Kel, but he’ll say no to all of their friends, and Mari too. In fact the fact that Hero can say no to Mari is one of the things she treasures about their friendship; she wants very badly to be someone who Hero feels comfortable enough to assert himself to.
Sandra is an acquaintance, though. A nice acquaintance, but if anything the fact that she’s a nice girl should make it harder for Hero, the knowledge that he’s letting down someone that he—that people in general—likes. Mari hates that her instinct is to ask him why, why he would say no to doing something that obviously made him uncomfortable, but she itches to all the way out to the front steps, continues itching to as Hero hisses through his teeth at the change in temperature and slides his jacket from his shoulders.
As Hero secures his coat around Mari, Mari finally ventures, “Is something… up with you and Sandra?”
“Huh? We’re not on bad terms or anything, if that’s what you’re asking,” Hero says. He seems to have relaxed a bit now, though his eyes drift towards the door with almost a bit of a nervous edge before he nudges Mari a little bit away from it. The distance from the house, and from the potential to be overheard, seems to relax him. “I like Sandra. She’s a good friend.”
Yeah, she is. Or Mari thinks she would be if they talked more. That’s not really what Mari had been asking, though. “I know, but…”
Hero scratches the side of his neck. He can be remarkably dense sometimes, but the look on his face tells Mari he knows exactly what she’s asking.
“I guess it’s kind of hard to explain,” Hero admits. He frowns, not looking upset so much as conflicted. “I… probably should’ve just said no to playing in the first place, I don’t really like games like that.”
Well, in that regard, Mari completely agrees, but she still furrows her brow. “That’s what’s confusing me about it… You didn’t say no to playing even though you didn’t want to, but you did say no to Sandra.”
“It wasn’t about her,” Hero offers. His cheeks pink, which only makes what he’s saying more confusing. “Uh, not that… I just… I mean…”
Mari waits, but Hero doesn’t finish. His flush has spread to his ears now and he keeps glancing at Mari’s face, opening and closing his mouth without saying a word. His eyes flit down to the steps and he shifts his weight, then finally reaches over and takes Mari’s hand.
His fingers are warm. In fact Mari feels warm all over, not just from Hero’s jacket but from a peculiar warmth that begins spreading from her cheek down to her neck, creeping along her clavicle. Hero intertwines their fingers and squeezes, and Mari runs her thumb down to where she knows Hero’s writing callous is, tracing it.
Hero says, “I guess I just didn’t want to lead her on. I’m really not looking for something like that… with anyone there.”
He’s looking at Mari intently again, the same exact face he’d worn when he told her something similar before. Not really on the market, right now. Not really on the market here. Mari studies him, the way the yellowed porch light makes Hero’s brown eyes glow almost bronze. He’s so sincere, beautiful like a renaissance painting but with all these little tufts of hair that refuse to lay down no matter how much Hero attacks them with a comb. Mari’s heart is beating obnoxiously.
She’d lied earlier. She wanted to step in during spin-the-bottle for Hero, but also for her. Because—
“I didn’t want you to kiss her either,” Mari says. Hero smiles, and there’s something shy about it; Mari can see his dimple.
“I hoped you didn’t,” he admits bashfully. Mari squeezes his hand, not so much as an affectionate gesture but just to ground herself. She feels dizzy. Didn’t even touch any of the drinks in there. She glances over her shoulder at where Hero’s car is parked on the curb, then looks back at him, at his sweet smile, the one he saves for when they’re in private.
Hero said no… for her. The thought makes Mari sort of giddy.
“What are we still doing here again?” Mari asks suddenly. Hero blinks at her and she doubles down, crowding into his space and demanding, “Are you gonna take me home, handsome, or are we going to be here all night?”
Hero flushes red again, all the way back to the tips of his ears, and Mari knows she looks the same. He’s still smiling, though, always so gentle, as he lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair out of her face.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Hero says, and Mari had just been teasing him, but he sounds so genuine she has to suck in a sharp breath. He closes the rest of the distance between them, just for a moment, his hand brushing against the small of Mari’s back before he passes her and makes his way down the stairs. “You think the diner is still open? Might be nicer than this. My treat,” he adds, glancing over his shoulder.
Mari feels herself beaming. “What a gentleman,” she coos, and she falls into quick step at Hero’s side, relishing the way his fingers curl tighter around hers, firm but still gentle, cradling her hand like it’s precious to him.
He’s precious to her too. Mari keeps his hand in hers until she absolutely has to let go to get into the car, and even then she sulks about it a little, fidgeting with the zipper on Hero’s jacket.
Oh well. Mari could always take his hand again later, once he’s done driving. She doubts he’ll say no to that.