Work Text:
9:50 PM
On a Friday
Cameron should have just said no. Should have told Val that he was busy that night, should have spent the evening studying.
He probably would’ve, too, if he’d known that those three dickheads would be here. He should have expected it, really, it was stupid of him to hope that one house party could go without them.
Could’ve, should’ve, would’ve.
It’d be so much easier if he didn’t care. If he could just shrug it all off the way Styles seems to be able to. If he could be that unaffected. The truth of it all, though, is that it fucking sucks, and it was impossible for him to pretend otherwise.
The party had started off pretty optimistically for Cameron. His initial scan of the room for them came up empty, Val was sticking with him, and the drinks were good. It took less than fifteen minutes for it to all go south, because of course it did. Of course it would go wrong, everything seemed to be going wrong since Lan strolled into his life. The Three Assholes, as Cameron had mentally dubbed them, entered the house at the same time; It seemed they caught a ride with Cas. Cameron wasn’t even sure if Lan could drive. They brought extra beer, of course, and Styles seemed to have a ziplock bag of weed with him. The party picked up a bit after that. Shortly after, Val had caught sight of a girl she wanted to talk to, and she politely excused herself to the living room to wave the girl down and greet the Three Assholes, which Cameron guessed she hadn’t done yet for his sake.
Which left Cameron sitting on a couch by himself, wedged between a couple making out and a half-empty bowl of chips. He wasn’t sulking, of course, he just didn’t feel like interacting with the people around him, their loud laughter and chatter making his head hurt. It wasn’t like he could leave without Val, anyway.
He hated feeling like this. Like a ghost in a room full of people who were only vaguely aware of his existence. Styles was across the room, his laughter ringing out loudly, and Cameron couldn’t help but wonder if he even noticed he was there. Probably not. Styles had a way of moving on easily that Cameron could never quite figure out how to replicate.
Cameron leaned back in his seat and tried to convince himself he didn’t care. He sighed, scrunching his eyes shut, unable to tune out the familiar timbre of Styles’s voice. He couldn’t do this sober.
He felt stupid for feeling this miserable over a guy like Styles. It was increasingly obvious that he wasn’t the same Styles that Cameron had known, that Cameron had… cared for. He wished so badly he could block out his emotions entirely. Anything would be easier than watching Cas and Lan act like they’d known Styles forever as they cheered his keg stand on. That should be him out there, having a good time with his friend.
Friend.
Describing Styles as such had always left a strange taste in his mouth. Styles had meant more to him than simply ‘friend,’ but even ‘best friend’ hardly cut it. He couldn’t possibly explain why, or what that meant.
Not that it mattered anymore.
Cameron took a sip of his drink miserably, and chose to waste his time judging the outfits of the partygoers rather than think about him.
After a while of drinking by himself (he was not sulking) on the couch, Cameron noticed a few people sitting in a circle around a table in the next room, waving for others to join. Probably playing some stupid party game that he had no interest in. No surprise, Styles, Lan, and Cas were there too, all sitting closer than strictly necessary. Cameron watched as Lan whispered something to Styles, whose face crumpled with laughter almost immediately. Styles looked happier than ever, and it stung so much more than Cameron would admit. He tore his eyes away from the scene to frown down at his drink, trying to ignore the jealousy swimming in his chest.
“Cam!” A voice called. Cameron looked back up to see Val grinning at him from a couple feet away. He forced a small smile back at her, waving with one hand. She took a few steps forward into his space, “C’mon, we’re playing seven minutes in heaven!” She raised her eyebrows a couple times, grin not leaving her face. Cameron shook his head firmly, raising his cup in a cheers motion.
“I’m gonna finish my drink. Go without me.” Val squinted at him, then huffed and sat next to him, a small smile still on her face. She nudged him.
“It won’t be as bad as you think. C’mon, you used to love games like this,” She teased, causing Cameron to huff.
“No, I didn’t. You go have fun, Val,” He said, nudging her back. She frowned, leaning on him slightly. He knocked his head against hers.
“I can’t leave you to wallow by yourself, they can survive without me.” A quick glance at her face told Cameron that Val was disappointed, but he would’ve known that even without checking. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, finding his eyes back on the Three Assholes, then again on Val. He sighed.
“Let’s go. I’m sure it’ll be fine,” He muttered, poking her side. Her face lit back up into a grin, and she stood up so fast that she had to stabilize herself with a hand on his shoulder. He laughed, standing as well, unable to find it in himself to regret his decision when his friend was so happy about it.
At least, until he actually sat down in the circle with her. She sat next to Cas when Cas waved her over, and he had no choice but to follow. It seemed like they couldn’t decide who got to spin the bottle first when they joined. Styles and some guy Cameron didn’t recognize were locked in an intense round of rock-paper-scissors, their hands slamming down on the table in the middle of the circle with more force than necessary. The room buzzed with anticipation, everyone leaning in as if it were some high-stakes showdown rather than a game of rock-paper-scissors.
The guy won on the third round, his smirk widening as he snatched the bottle from the table.
"Better luck next time, Callahan," The guy goaded, his voice dripping with mockery. As if it wasn’t a game of luck, Cameron thought. Styles’ jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides, and for a moment, Cameron was almost sure he was going to punch him. The air grew thick with tension, the kind that made everyone hold their breath, waiting for something to happen. But then Styles forced a laugh, shrugging it off like it didn’t matter, though the flicker of anger in his eyes told a different story. Cameron couldn’t help but wonder if this was what Styles’ life had become— surrounded by people who thrived on pushing buttons, with no one left to pull him back from the edge, because Lord knows Lan wouldn’t.
A few rounds of the game passed without incident, Cameron zoning out as much as he could, silently hoping the bottle wouldn’t land on him. The few times he found his gaze on the Three Assholes, they all seemed far happier than he felt, which sent a ripple of anger through him. It was so unfair. What had he done to deserve this? What had they done to deserve their joy? Styles hadn’t said a word to him yet, despite sitting only a few people away. Cameron wasn’t sure he’d even want him to. He wouldn’t know what to say, and he’s sure that Styles wouldn’t want to participate in small talk anyway.
The bottle spun again, the room erupting into giggles as it landed on a couple who seemed to not mind being paired together. Cameron watched them stumble into the closet, laughing and shoving each other playfully, and felt a pang of something he couldn’t quite name. Disgust? Resentment? Maybe both. He glanced at Styles, who was leaning against a chair, a drink in hand, his expression unreadable. For a split second, their eyes met, and Cameron froze. But then Styles looked away, his attention snapping back to Lan, who was whispering something in his ear with a smirk.
Cameron clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He hated how much it still hurt, how much he still cared. He hated that Styles could act like he didn’t exist, like their years of friendship meant nothing. He hated that he couldn’t just leave, that he was stuck here, waiting for Val to decide it was time to go.
The game continued to move in turns. Cameron kept his head down, trying to blend into the background, but his stomach churned every time the bottle slowed, fearing it might land on him. When it was Styles’ turn to spin, he leaned forward, his expression unreadable, and gave the bottle a sharp twist. It spun wildly, the glass glinting under the dim light, and Cameron’s heart raced as the bottle continued to spin, mentally pleading for it not to land on him. Anyone but him.
But then it stopped, and the bottle was pointing directly at him.
Of course.
It felt like the universe was telling a cruel joke, and he was the punchline.
For a moment, no one moved. Then someone— probably Lan— let out a low, mocking whistle, and the circle erupted into laughter and taunts. Cameron felt his face heat up, his stomach twisting into knots, and he sent a pleading look at Val, whose mouth was slightly parted in shock. He glanced at Styles, who looked just as uncomfortable as he felt, but there was no easy way out of this. Rules were rules, and a few people were urging them toward the closet, their voices a blur of laughter and mockery. Cameron shot one last look at Val, before letting out a shaky exhale.
He could do this.
He downed the last of his drink that he’d forgotten about, took a few steps forward, and his stomach lurched. Silently, he contemplated how much shit he’d get at school if he were to jump out of a window. Surely a broken leg and some teasing would be easier to deal with than this. A few more steps, and he was stepping into the closet right behind Styles. One last step, and the door to the closet was slammed shut behind them, causing Cameron to flinch.
He became less sure he could do this.
The closet was dark, only a bit of light spilling in from the crack at the bottom, and it smelled vaguely of some sort of chemicals. It took a few moments for Cameron’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, all while he was feeling a faint sense of panic. Once adjusted, his eyes latched onto the outline of Styles almost immediately, and he let out a long breath. For a few moments, it was completely silent, before Cameron scoffed.
“Figures,” He muttered, trying not to sound as bitter as he felt. Judging by Styles’s returning scoff, he failed.
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Styles asked, and Cameron wasn’t used to all that aggression being directed at him. It hurt.
“Nothing. Sorry.” He shook his head, forgetting it was probably too dark for Styles to see that. Styles tsked, but Cameron hardly heard it. Panic was starting to settle into his bones. What the hell was he supposed to do? He should’ve just gone out to sit in Val’s car when he had the chance.
The closet lapsed into silence for a few more moments, before Cameron cleared his throat.
“So, uh… How’ve you been?” He asked quietly. Styles shifted, rattling the cleaning supplies on the floor.
“Fine.”
Okay. It was better than nothing.
“You seemed to be having fun with Cas and Lan,” He muttered, picking at a thread on his sleeve. Styles sighed, running a hand through his hair, arm bumping into a broom.
“Don’t do this, Cameron,” He replied, his voice low. A warning, but there wasn’t any real heat behind it. Cameron continued fidgeting with his sweater, staring at the floor.
“I’m not doing anything. I just…” He hesitated, biting at his lip. “I miss you.”
Styles was silent for a moment, before he shifted again, huffing.
“You see me every day.”
Cameron sighed. Styles was right about that, but it wasn’t what Cameron meant.
“I know, but… we don’t hang out like we used to,” Cameron began slowly, sitting up a bit straighter. “Not since you became friends with Lan.”
“It’s not that big of a deal, dude, we still hang out literally all the time.” Styles’s tone was dismissive, and it made Cameron’s face burn. He knew he wasn’t overreacting, but when Styles acted like that, he couldn’t help his embarrassment. Styles continued, “Lan’s my friend, of course I’m gonna be around him a lot.”
“And me?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He cringed at himself, trying to backtrack. “I mean… we used to be best friends. What happened?”
Cameron chanced a look at Styles then, noticing he seemed more tense. In the darkness of the room he had an unreadable expression, but Cameron’s sure it would be just as frustratingly blank in the light too. It took a second for Styles to respond.
“Nothing happened. We’re still friends. I don’t know what you want me to say.” His tone had a defensive edge that wasn’t there before. Cameron squinted at him.
“Are we? Because it doesn’t feel like it anymore.” He frowned. The energy in the closet was even more uncomfortable than before, and Cameron regretted opening his big mouth. He reiterated, “I miss you. I miss how it used to be.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Cam,” Styles repeated, tone flat. Cameron stared at his figure in slight disbelief. He was almost sure Styles was being obtuse on purpose, because there was no way he didn’t know what Cameron meant. “I’m not gonna apologize to you for having other friends.”
“I’m not asking you to, I guess I just…” He trailed off. The words sounded stupid coming out of his mouth, even to himself. “Wanted an explanation,” He finished lamely.
“Yeah, well… things just change, I guess.” The conversation was going nowhere. Cameron felt shame burn on his ears at even attempting to talk about this. He should’ve known that this was how it would go.
“But wh— ” Before he could get the full word out, the door to the closet was being swung open. Cameron squinted as his eyes readjusted to the light, only to see Lan’s smirking face standing there.
“Time’s up,” He slurred, nearly shouting. He seemed a lot more drunk than Cameron or Styles, leaning against the doorframe as he smirked at them. There was a moment where none of them moved, before Cameron exited the closet, shoulder-checking Lan when he didn’t move out of the doorway. The action caused Lan to laugh, loudly saying something to Styles that Cameron couldn’t hear over the ringing in his ears.
He could feel Styles’s eyes on him the entire walk back to the circle. Val patted him on the shoulder, quietly asking if he was okay. All he could do was shrug in response. He couldn’t even name how he felt, let alone try to explain it to Val. He noticed Styles also rejoined the circle out of the corner of his eye, Lan’s arm slung around his shoulder. He seemed to be almost completely unaffected, save for the tension in his posture that wasn’t there before. Cas handed him a cup, which he accepted and downed in one gulp, and Cameron looked down at his shoes.
He wondered if Styles felt it too— the awful, sinking dread that nothing would ever go back to how it was.
Probably not.
Cameron couldn’t wait to go home.