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Devon isn’t sure what to think when he enters Grant’s room. Shimmering lights illuminated the cozy space, all thanks to a little projector that sits on one of Grant’s chairs. It’s pleasant, Devon thinks, but damnit his fight with Jake earlier still sits heavily in his stomach like a black orb of tar that threatens to burn a hole through his guts and kill him right there and then. In his stupor, Devon feels a hand rest on his shoulder.
“Hey, you okay?”
It’s Grant with his stupid concerned face that has Devon looking up at him with a forced smile.
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“It’s… just, we had a fight. Jake and I. It was stupid.”
Grant’s hand burns warmly on Devon’s shoulder as it lingers, which makes Devon choke up a little. When it’s gone, Devon frowns.
“Oh, well… that sucks. I’m sorry, that happened to you. If you want to talk about it…” Grant puts out in his awkward lull that more often than not sits in his voice, clearly unsure how to handle the situation but willing to help nonetheless… fuck, Devon needed this right now. Just that connection with someone that isn’t bogged down by years of baggage caused by Chucky. Well, Grant didn’t know just yet, but that would come later. For now, Devon could pretend to be a normal teenager for a moment.
Devon watches as Grant fiddles with the projector, cycling through a number of pretty lights that remind Devon of his own LED lighting back in New Jersey. He misses his room and all his little esoteric things. Actually, Grant’s room isn’t that far off from his own… little bits and bobs that only matter to Grant, like obscure indie rock albums that litter the shelves and posters on the walls. It’s cozy.
Devon shakes his head.
“We… argued.” Devon pauses, as if trying to formulate his words in a way to not demonize Jake. “Over the fact that we don’t have that much in common. It’s not the first time. I just… don’t get Jake sometimes. He gets all defensive and worried about the littlest things.”
The two are sat on Grant’s bed by now, with the latter idly listening to Devon’s venting. It’s when Devon feels another hand on his shoulder is that he stops talking, freeazing up a little.
“Sounds like to me like your relationship isn’t that great when you’re not, you know… hogging each other.”
Devon’s eyes light up in shock at Grant’s brutal, if not harsh honesty. Maybe this is just Grant being socially awkward again, but… why did the words rattle something deep inside him? Did he just lay something out to him that was so obvious but Devon was just too stupid to notice? No… he loved Jake, right? Devon frowns. Fuck.
“Hey, sorry… you- you like Queen, right? I saw it on your Spotify.” Grant sits up from where he was and shuffles through one of his many boxes filled to the brim with vinyls. How much allowance does Grant get, anyway? What does the president of the United States even earn?
“Yeah, I do. How’d you get my Spotify?”
“Your podcast… it’s on Spotify. You know you’re pretty big right?”
Right. His podcast. He hadn’t updated it in a while, he couldn’t… but Grant had listened to it. Oh god. Devon’s entire face lit up like a Good Guy doll being set on fire. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him this much, but… a part of him kind of liked that Grant took the time to listen to the whole thing. It got a bit long, admittedly…
And now Grant was grinning at him. Shit, did he notice him smiling like an idiot?
“I really enjoyed it, actually. I think you have a way with words.”
And with that, Devon’s breath hitched. To avoid any further scrutiny, Devon decided the best course of action was to lay down on his back so Grant can’t tease him any further. He didn’t want to hear it, not now when he was still figuring out his problems with Jake. It was nice, though. It was like being back in high school. God, Devon missed highschool.
Queen starts playing, and Devon stares up at the ceiling filled to the brim with little specks of starlight. A moment later Grant is joining him, and the two just take a moment to look at the fake night sky above them.
“Why don’t you record more?”
Devon isn’t sure how to respond to that. How WOULD he respond to that? A murderous doll has been terrorizing his life for the past three years? He’s lied before, it came easy now, but he wasn’t sure how to lie to Grant. He didn’t want to. Especially now that the much taller teen is laying on his side, looking at Devon. Maybe he could just avoid the truth, for now.
“Just haven’t been inspired lately.”
A simple response, but it seems to please Grant, who he can see smiling from the corner of his eyes. Devon rolls onto his side, face to face with Grant now. Maybe he could record more, actually… just to take his mind off things. A part of him wants to maybe just because Grant would listen.
Grant doesn’t seem to say anything for a while as the two sit in the comfort of Queen and mellow blue light.
And then Devon can feel Grant’s hand reaching for his own, sheepishly, fingers touching gently. Oh shit, this is actually happening… and Devon can’t take his eyes off of Grant’s as they lock hands. His hand feels like it’s on fire, and it’s a sensation he hasn’t felt properly in years. That sensation of a burning first love that threatens to incinerate his heart and take down the White House with him, almost like Lexy’s house had. Breath hitching, Devon stares as Grant brings his other hand to his face.
And then, the image of Jake rushes into Devon’s mind and he swiftly stands up from where they are, panicking, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. The only thing making him feel even worse is Grant’s look of shock at the sudden withdrawal.
“I’m sorry, Devon– I… shouldn’t have done that, wait, dude-”
But before Grant can plead his case, Devon is grabbing his coat and rushing out of Grant’s room,
Shit.