Chapter Text
Thinking about it now, it probably all started at Micro’s last party. That had to have been it, Saps figures. He’s absentmindedly chewing on his hair again as he attempts to remember— and Fluixon, the asshole that he is, reaches over from where he’s reading next to him to slap the hand holding the loose strands. Doesn’t even look up either. Whatever.
Flux mutters something about how Saps is frying his own brain trying to generate a thought, he doesn’t know, because he’s too busy trying to recollect the events of that night.
Anyway. Yeah. Micro’s party. That was it.
Ok, well, he admits “party” is kind of the wrong word to use here. He doesn’t really think a bunch of cross-faded college students crowded around the communal dorm TV, elbowing eachother on the couch while playing the most discombobulating game of BS really counts as a party. But then again, as Flux is so fond of saying, what does he know? It’s not like he remembers that much of it after the first 3 drinks.
—-
So he and Flux are sat on the floor by the feet of the couch being kicked at the whole time by fucking Newkids (no room up here, he says with a laugh, and he’s completely wrong, but Saps is pleasantly buzzed enough to be fine where he is on the ground). And Thomas is, as always, seated on Flux’s other side. They’re best friends, after all. Saps hesitates to shelf himself away under the same label in relation to Flux. Whatever they have going on is, uh...
Alright, that’s too complicated to delve into right now.
Or. Ever, actually.
He’s getting distracted.
Newkids and Gotoga are yammering away above them about a future tutoring session and he’s pretty sure Snowbird is genuinely gone from this plane of existence but he’s only catching every other word because he’s too busy staring at the black-haired boy next to him (is that gay? That’s probably gay).
Flux is chatting with Thomas, some inane class project they’ll inevitably end up spearheading, the rest of the group be damned, but every word slips through Saps’s hands as he stares transfixed at his face. It’s a nice one, okay? Even if the guy wearing it is insufferable.
And said guy is suddenly snapping a finger at him. Dude, what is he, a dog? He goes cross-eyed trying to focus on it, or he must, at least, if Thomas’s airy laughter is anything to go by.
“Saparata, have you been listening?” Flux demands haughtily. The effect is ruined by the fact that he is obviously drunk off his ass right now.
Saps reaches up to take Flux’s offending hand into his.
“Nah,” he offers with a careless drawl. “Not at all.”
Thomas laughs again, “At least he’s honest.” It doesn’t seem to appease Flux any, who for some reason still hasn’t attempted to free his hand from Saps’s. Nice, Saps thinks to himself. He gives the other boy’s hand an experimental squeeze and Flux simply raises an eyebrow, but ultimately says nothing.
“I was saying that Thomas and I can handle our share of the work, and then some. God knows I can’t trust you with your part. Understood?”
“Aye aye, captain,” he sing-songs before promptly planting his face in the crook of Flux’s neck. Flux makes a downright embarrassing sound, somewhere between a yelp and an exclamation of surprise. Thomas, helpfully, begins to cackle so hard he all but tips over in his fit.
Flux groans miserably. It’s only a little pathetic, Saps thinks, before Flux starts trying and failing to haul the white haired boy off of him.
“Can’t you see you’re crushing me?” he complains. Saps makes a point to slump further onto him. Flux chokes a little. Serves him right.
Feeling emboldened by the weightlessness of the joint Micro had handed him, Saps blows an absolutely immature, disgusting raspberry into Flux’s neck.
The ensuing shriek is the final straw. Saps collapses into laughter as Flux, all composure abandoned, desperately palms away at the spit on his throat. Thomas is reduced to a wheezing crying mess at his side.
Wiping a tear from his eye, Saps tries and straightens himself from his hysterics (with great effort). What he sees gives him pause. Flux’s all but folded in half from embarrassment and his hands are covering his face.
His face that is obviously flushed bright red.
That’s.
Huh.
Saps, very calmly, shoves whatever that was deep deep down to deal with some other time. Like maybe never.
He doesn’t remember the rest of the night but that moment has been kind of following him around since. Which is weird! He’s not the kind of guy to think hard about stuff. Or think at all in general, he can hear Flux crow in his head.
—-
So now here he is a week later, staring holes into their shared dorm’s ceiling from the floor as Flux, completely unbothered, continues reading his stupid philosophy textbook. Like the whole thing in one sitting. God, he can’t believe this is the guy that he…
As if sensing his inner turmoil, Flux, robotically and without taking his eyes off the page, reaches out and gives his leg a little pat. Pat pat.
…Ugh. This is the guy that he likes.
And he does, doesn’t he? He does like Flux. Like…likes him. Fuck. Like a lot. Oh my god that’s awful.
He lets out a horrible groan and rolls over, burying his face in the frankly nasty carpet. He takes a big inhale of all the stupid dust and gunk and bangs his head against the floor once as if to knock the thoughts from out of it.
He’s winding his head back for another but a hand cushions it before it makes contact with the rug.
“What on earth could you possibly be doing right now,” Flux asks dryly, palm freezing against Saps’s forehead. With a light push, he rolls Saps over onto his back again. Saps allows it without much resistance, pliant as always.
Saps watches in sullen silence as Flux sighs, puts down his book, and goes to pinch the bridge of his nose with his free hand before aborting the motion. He almost snorts at the constipated look on the other boy’s face but as it stands he’s far too miserable for that.
“Your pathetic moping is distracting me from this chapter.” Fluixon states smartly, which is basically Flux-speak for “what the fuck is wrong this time?”. Saps likes to think he’s well-versed in Flux-speak by now.
Saps mutters out a pathetic, mopey “sorry” that only serves to make Flux sigh louder. Without much ado, Flux reluctantly lowers himself to lay next to Saps, hands folded across his chest like a stupid vampire in a coffin. Now they’re both staring at the ceiling. Yippee.
“Wow. So kind of you to bring yourself down to my level. You know, I always get this sense of some sick power dynamic between us, man. How come I’m always the one on the floor while you’re sitting up above me? What’s up with that?” Saps rambles thoughtlessly all while ignoring Flux’s exasperated stare.
Flux rolls his eyes with such force that Saps is almost worried they’ll fall out of his head.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or are you just going to keep blathering on like my senile grandfather?”
Saps makes an indignant sound. “Come on, Solev isn’t even that bad, leave the old guy alone.”
Flux levels him with the most witheringly unimpressed stare.
“Saps. He told you that you look like a mangy rodent with albinism when I brought you home for winter break,” Flux flatly reminds him.
Well. Ok that’s true but. Still.
(Saps wisely chooses not to offer that as his brilliant rebuttal.)
With another miserable, exaggerated groan, Saps rolls over to face away from Flux. Evidently fed up with his theatrics, Flux gently kicks at him.
“Up.”
Saps listens because of course he does. Once standing, he offers Flux a hand to pull himself up with like the proper gentleman he is. And like the asshole that he is, Flux ignores the offered hand and rights himself without it. Ok. Stubborn prick.
When Saps says as much, Flux levels him with a glare that shuts him right up, and with a firm shove to the chest, he pushes Saps onto their creaky dorm bed. Saps flops back into the mattress and prays it swallows him whole.
Flux looms ominously above him with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows furrowed. Saps, very maturely, sticks his tongue out at him which only serves to make Flux’s eye twitch a little. Ha ha.
“Talk,” Fluixon commands. Saps very intently looks anywhere but at the man standing over him. Flux reaches down and pinches the meat of his thigh hard and Saps shrieks, kicking a leg out uselessly.
“Oh my god you bitch, that hurt!” he wails dramatically. Flux just raises a judgmental eyebrow.
Saps lets out a gusty sigh. “Fine, god, you’re so nosy. I don’t know how your little goons put up with you.”
Flux’s entire face crumples in disgust. “Do not ever use that word in reference to my friends again.”
Saps steamrolls over him. “I will talk…on one condition.”
“And that is?”
“You have to watch Fight Club with me tonight.”
The answering wordless scream of frustration is almost enough to make Saps smile. Almost.
—-
2 beer cans later and a good hour into the movie, with Flux reluctantly leaning his head on his shoulder, Saps comes to a decision. He doesn’t bother pausing the movie when he rests his head on Flux’s, who grumbles but lets it happen.
“We have a problem,” Saps starts.
Flux looks up at him, eyes squinting through his overgrown fringe. He gives him a not-so-subtle once over.
“I’m glad we’re finally addressing your heinous fashion sense. An off-the-shoulder in the middle of winter, really, Saps?”
Saps, noble as ever, tamps down on the urge to punch Fluixon in his stupid prettyboy face.
“You’re such an asshole, you know that?”
Flux preens, entirely too proud of himself.
“I’ve been told as much, yes,” he says smarmily before reaching up to tangle a hand in Saps’s ponytail and giving the hair a firm little tug. (Saps does not yelp at all whatsoever.) “Just spit it out already. I’m trying to survive this miserable film.”
Saps sits there for a minute, Flux warm and pressed against his side and the TV’s chatter reduced to a buzz in the background. Gathering what little liquid courage he has, Saps steels himself and finally speaks.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Flux goes very, very still.
He draws away and sits up. His face has gone flat with shock. Slowly, he puts a hand on each of Saps’s shoulders and stares into his face as if looking for something. Saps resists the urge to gulp.
And then Fluixon begins to laugh so hard he falls off of the fucking sofa.
What the fuck.