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Why can’t you get over yourself already?
It’s not like they care that much about you, anyway.
No one else has really commented—maybe you shouldn’t have come out.
Ever since that dreadful phone call, Laf’s mind had been plagued by thoughts of insecurity and regret. Nothing, nothing at all, could help their emotional state—sure, Alex and John coming over had been nice, but that’d been just on night. Not even Eliza, the most caring member of the group, had bothered to have a private conversation with them.
Maybe they don’t care about you.
No. No, that couldn’t be it.
Laf shook their head as if that would clear all of the bad thoughts away. It didn’t work, so they got out their headphones and iPod. Music always helped better, anyways.
Walking through the kitchen, they swung their hips lightly, swaying to the music. It felt great in their new skinny jeans—the ones that they had, until recently, deemed only for private use. If one of their friends caught them wearing something like that in public, they’d never get over it. Besides, these jeans looked great with a button-up.
They’d been grabbing a small box of chocolates (they’d decided to treat themselves after going to Pride) off the top of the refrigerator when the loud bing! of the doorbell stopped them.
Lafayette sighed, upset that their relaxation time had been interrupted. Nonetheless, they walked over and opened the door, and dropped the box of chocolates once they saw who it was.
“John?”
“Hey, Laf! How’ve you been?”
“I—I’m great. Why are you here?”
Ouch. That came out wrong.
“I mean, umm, how are you?”
John smiled forgivingly. “I’m fine, Laf. What did you get there—“
The two friends knocked heads as both of them reached down to pick up the box. Laf backed away, a bit humiliated, and slid the box back on the counter.
“Just some chocolates.” Their voice wasn’t the same as it was when they were singing along to the songs just a minute ago—it was softer, and shakier. John didn’t seem to notice.
“Sounds perfect!” John collapsed on Laf’s couch and gestured for them to come, too.
“Wait—perfect for what?”
“A cuddle party, of course!” John’s grin was brighter than the living room’s one and only lamp. Laf found the corners of their mouth turning up a little, too—John’s smile was just that infectious.
Laf decided to join him. It wouldn’t hurt to socialize a little, they thought as John pulled them into his arms.
“I like your jeans,” John said.
“Thanks.”
“You should’ve worn these earlier, especially with that nice a—body.” Laf felt a rush of blood in their cheeks and tried to hide it by curling up on the couch.
Did John seriously just say that?
However, neither of them dwelled on it, and the conversation continued smoothly.
A half hour in, Laf had determined that “cuddle parties” were the perfect cure for a bout of sadness. John and them had laughed, talked, sang along to Laf’s favorite songs, and smothered each other with pillows and blankets.
Several bed pillows lay scattered around the living room, a couch cushion was missing behind the TV, and John and Laf were engaging in a very tense pillow fight. It was a good dose of fun for Laf, and while neither of them would ever admit it, they liked it better when it was just the two of them.
“Damn, Laf,” John muttered with a smile as he pushed Laf into the mattress of the couch. “I thought you would use this as a chance to use those muscles of yours.”
Laf brushed off the comment as well as they could while trying to prop themself up. They were able to flip John over so he was the one on his back. Although he was surprised, John managed one of those sickly-sweet grins that made Laf’s heart melt and raised an eyebrow.
“Damn, John,” Laf mimicked in John’s voice, echoing his previous remark. “I thought you would—“
“Is it just me, or is it hot in here?”
“The AC broke a week ago.”
“Ah.”
Laf couldn’t deny that they didn’t feel it, too.
“Well, I’m going to hire someone to fix it, because none of us even knows how a screwdriver works—“
Then, suddenly, everything was a blur.
Laf’s hand must have slipped, or John must have sat up, or something, because the next moment John was kissing Laf on the mouth and that tongue should be illegal and John’s hands were sliding down their hips and Laf didn’t want him to stop.
But John did stop. He pulled away, eyes wide open, and clamped his hand over the same mouth that was just kissing the soul out of Laf just seconds before.
“Oh my God,” he said. Laf was equally stunned, but didn’t dare say anything—what if they messed this up?
“Shit.” John started running a hand through his curly hair, eyes still wide. He tried to get up but tripped over one of the blankets that his legs were still wrapped up in.
“Shit.”
“Do you need my help—“
“Shit.”
John tripped and fell again, causing Laf to get up from off the couch and give him a hand. He gladly accepted, and was pulled weakly to his feet.
“Thanks.” They both stared at their shoes. The silence lasted, at most, a full minute, but both felt like it was eternity.
Laf finally chose to speak up. “I’m so, so sorry—“
“No. It was great I just—“ John’s brain caught up with what he just said, and his hand almost covered his mouth again. “Sorry. I should be the one apologizing. I mean, I’m the one with a boyfriend, I should have—“
“It was great? John, what—what do you mean?”
John took in a deep breath and ran another hand through his hair.
“I might have… kind of liked you, too. Not just Alex, I mean.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“If… If it makes you feel any better, I kind of liked you too.”
“Oh. I—Oh.”
They were saved from another unsettling silence by a buzzing from both of their phones.
greeneggsand: Laf. John. Herc. All meet at that hipster coffee shop that John (somehow) likes on the afternoon on saturday. We have a lot to talk about
John sent a reply first. He pretended not to hear the tiny gasp from Laf when they saw Herc’s name.
tortle: I will not stand for my name being slandered like this
tortle: but yeah I’ll be there
Laf found themself able to chuckle.
“You do like hipster places, John. Don’t try to deny it.”
John smiled. “Shut up.” He whacked Laf lightly on the arm with a pillow he had snatched up from the ground.
“Stop! I still have to reply. I’m going, by the way.”
“Nice.”
dumopyourhair: I’m only going if Alex and John go.
Their breath caught when they saw Hercules’s swift reply.
prettypony: meet you guys there, then.
John noticed and brushed their arm.
“I’m going with, okay? I’ll be there for you.”
“Thanks.”
Five minutes later, John left to go home to Alex. They had both decided that it was better for them to figure things out before telling anyone anything. Laf chose to ignore the sinking feeling in their chest when John didn’t answer his short call of “goodbye.”
John ignored the feeling in his chest when Laf didn’t respond to his soft answer:
“I’ll always be there for you.”