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It’s a Thursday night when Twist finally admits to himself that he has reached the ‘teardrops on my guitar’ level of pathetic, and there’s not much he can do about it.
He glances over to where Justin and Selena are curled around each other in the recliner, whispering and kissing, the movie completely forgotten. Christ. It feels like they’ve been together for seventy years or something. He should be used to it by now, but he’s not. He’s really not. He slumps down into the couch and turns the volume up.
Justin lifts his head up at the sudden burst of noise, raising his eyebrows like Hey bro, do you mind? Which, first of all, he does fucking mind, thanks. Second of all, he can’t really remember why because Justin’s face is flushed and his lips are swollen and red where’s Selena’s been biting. Twist can’t believe it’s taken him until this moment to realize how fucked he is.
“You’re missing the good parts, man.” he says instead, smiling like a smartass. Justin rolls his eyes and goes back to tonguing his girlfriend. Loudly. It’s like he’s trying to make a point. Twist lets himself sink even lower into the couch and scowls at the tv.
He’s thinking about how he should have stopped himself from liking Justin back in 2011, when this stupid crush was easier to control, when the hotel room door opens. Fredo and Ryan trail in laughing at some shared joke.
“Whoa,” Ryan says (because Ryan can’t just notice that Twist is upset, he has to point it out and make it worse like an asshole.) “What’s up with him?”
“Yeah man, you okay? Alfredo asks (because Fredo is a fucking decent human being and actually concerned about others).
“I’m fine,” he bites out. “Thanks for asking.” He glares at Ryan when he says it. Ryan just smiles and flips him the finger, and Fredo rolls his eyes at the both of them.
“He’s in one of his drama queen moods,” Justin says as he unfolds himself from the recliner. Again, Twist has to wonder when he got this gone over his best friend. Because he should be pissed that he’s being made fun of, right? But instead he’s trying not to melt a little at the fondness in Justin’s voice.
This is so much worse than he thought it was.
He’s completely screwed.
He mutters an excuse not to go out to dinner and drives back to his hotel. Unlike when he’s with Justin, there’s no real need for a bodyguard. There’s a few fans out front, but not like what he gets used to sometimes being with Justin all the time. He goes around the back, because he can’t deal with smiling for pictures when he’s got something huge like this bearing down on him. Crushing him, it feels like.
He slips into his room with minimal human contact, locks the door, grabs the nearest bottles of alcohol, and starts writing. It’s one of the biggest feeling of relief he’s ever felt, getting those feelings down on paper. He’s never let himself write them down before because he didn’t want to feel like Taylor Swift or some shit, but then again, Taylor Swift has a Grammy, so maybe he should do this more often.
When he finally stops the sky is dark and the city is lit up outside his window. Justin’s show is probably ending right now, he realizes. He’s usually there. Every single damn show. He used to have some sort of lame ass excuse, but he’s forgotten what it is now.
He knows that right about now, as the show closes, everyone’s running around backstage high on adrenaline, Justin is whooping and laughing and tearing his clothes off. He wants to be there, getting swept up into sweaty group hugs and running around wreaking havoc. He would feel awkward though (not that that’s ever stopped him before) and he doesn’t have the energy to get up.
Maybe an hour later he’s shoved everything he wrote somewhere he doesn’t have to look at it. He’s feeling a little drunk and a lot pathetic when his hotel door swings open.
“Twiiiiist,” it’s Justin’s voice, but missing the clamor of the entourage that usually accompanies him. Shit. Why did he give Justin his extra key? Why is he here? Justin’s knuckles rap against the wall in a clumsy beat. “Chrissssstopheeer.”
Suddenly the lights come on full blast, “Shit. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Twist groans, throwing his arm over his eyes. The room goes dark again immediately.
“Sorry.” Justin mutters. He's drunk enough that there’s a hint of Canadian accent in the word. Twist sighs into the darkness. Now Justin is going to come sit on the bed and poke him and laugh and be cute and annoying. He doesn’t want to deal with that right now.
Justin doesn’t sit though. He kicks off his shoes and his jacket, and he flops onto the bed right next to his friend. “Chrissss.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Twissssst. Twisty, baby. Baby, baby, baby. Oooooh.”
“Shut up.” but he’s laughing. Justin is a ridiculous drunk.
“Baby,” Justin’s warm breath is on his neck, and cold fingers are drumming a rhythm on his abs. “baby what’s wrong?”
It feels like all the air has gone out of the room (not that there was much to begin with). Justin is pressed up against his side now, with his head tucked up under Twist’s chin and his hand on his stomach. He can probably feel Twist’s heart pounding, vibrating through his body.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Liar. You’re lying to me. Stop it.”
Their breathing is the only sound in the room.
Finally, Justin mutters, “I hate it when you lie to me.”
And even though Twist can’t see them, he can feel Justin’s puppy dog eyes trained on him.
“You’re what’s wrong with me.” He mutters finally. He doesn’t expect Justin to do anything with that. He definitely doesn’t expect Justin to lean a little closer and give him a sloppy kiss on the jaw.
“M’sorry.” He says. Twist is one hundred percent positive that Justin has no idea what he’s apologizing for, but it still makes him want to curl up and die.
But he can’t really do that. So instead he closes his eyes as Justin starts humming, and drifts off to sleep.
*
First he hears giggling. Like, Fredo giggling. It takes him a second, but he realizes Justin is sprawled on top of him, warm and heavy.
He doesn’t have time to process that or panick about it, because Fredo yells “GET UP! You have five seconds!”
Oh hell no.
“Fredo.” Justin growls.
Twist groans. “Get the fuck out.” he mutters. It comes out more like g’thvgoud.
“Five, four, three-“
“Okay, okay! ‘m up!” Justin mumbles while scrambling off of the bed.
Twist gets goose bumps from the sudden cold but he doesn’t move and then sunlight is slicing through his eyelids, Fredo is dying of laughter, and the guests downstairs hear the faint echoes of his unholy howl of rage.
*
A week later, and Twist has (sort of) forgotten about it. You gotta go on with life.
He jets off to do his own show, and when he gets back Selena isn't there anymore. Fredo fills him in on the dirty details later, though no one witnessed the actual break-up conversation. All they know is that Selena left, and even though Justin seems fine, he doesn't want to talk about it. For a moment, Twist thinks about going for it. He even shows Fredo the lyris he wrote, because Fredo's a decent guy. But all Fredo has for him are a few "hmms" and some fortune-cookie, Disney movie, follow your heart and paint with the wind bullshit. So he decides on the strategy of ignoring his feelings, because it worked before, right? It doesn't, really, and Twist isn't good at pretending, but he's doing an okay job of not going insane.
Then one night, after the show ends in a race around town to find a delicious local all night diner that Allison knows about, after laughter and pranking and dancing around to the jukebox, it rises up to slap him in the face.
Justin takes him by the hand and drags him away from the others and into the diner’s bathroom. Twist hears Ryan and Fredo catcalling behind him but he doesn't pay them any attention. “So this is probably not the best time to do this,” Justin starts. Twist straightens up and glances around at the dingy bathroom walls, expecting a prank attack from anywhere. When he looks back at Justin, his friend is smiling. And then he’s leaning in, with one hand onTwist’s arm…
…and he’s being kissed.
It’s nothing r-rated. Justin just pressed his lips to Twist’, sucks on his lower lip softly, and pulls back. But it feels like someone hit him in the head. Twist feels like he’s not operating in reality anymore, and he has no idea how to process what just happened.
“Right so…I found those lyrics you wrote. The ones about me," Justin says into the stunned silence. "I mean, Fredo probably planted them but—“
“Hold up. Hold up.” Twist steps back, and the smile slides off of Justin’s face. He doesn’t want Justin to look like that, to feel uncertain about any of this. But he feels uncertain, and he needs answers. “What the fuck is going on?” and now the smile is gone completely.
“What are you talking about?” there’s hurt in Justin’s voice, and confusion.
“I mean are you kissing me to see how it feels?” he hears his voice shake a little, but he thinks it’s allowable under the circumstances. “Or to let me down easy or some shit like that? Because—“
“No, jackass. I kissed you cause I like you. I thought you liked me too.” Now Justin has taken a step back.
Twist doesn’t want that. That’s the opposite of what he wants. He’s scared, but he's suddenly aware that it doesn't matter if he's fucking terrified. If he doesn't do it now, he never will.
So he stuffs a gag in the part of his brain that’s still freaking out, and he steps forward, and he kisses his best friend like it’s the only chance he’s ever going to get. He leans into Justin’s space and curls his fingers around his friend’s waist. Justin presses back, slotting their lips together and kissing him like it’s all he’s wanted for years. Maybe it is.
When they pull apart Justin breaks into that gorgeous smile of his, and his eyes are shining. Twist blinks slowly and then he smiles back.
“I like you too.” Is all he can think to say.
Justin laughs and leans in to kiss him again...and again, and again, and-
The door squeaking is the only warning they get before the crew’s whooping fills the small bathroom, and they're surrounded by a crush of friends.
“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Ryan yells in the back.
“My little boys are all grown up!” Fredo pretends to cry, but there might be some real tears in there too.
Twist looks over their heads to catch Justin’s eye, laughing uncontrollably. Justin winks at him and smiles back.
They’re going to go back to the hotel, and they’re going to kiss again, and then Twist is going to trace Justin’s body with his hands. He’s going to hold this night inside a glass case in his mind until he’s old and gnarled and he can’t even remember his own name.
Tonight, he has everything he’s ever wanted.