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Ray feels the dread settle into him as soon as he steps into the apartment and hears humming coming from Pete’s bedroom. Normally, this wouldn’t be a bother for him. In fact, it’s one of his favourite things to come home to. Sometimes, he would wait a few extra seconds until announcing his presence only so that he could get to hear Pete’s singing a little longer but today something about it makes his stomach twist. He has been feeling off all day, a sensation of anticipation following him around and now, as he closes the door behind him, he can practically feel that sensation transforming into the sword of Damocles, swinging above Ray’s head, waiting for the exact moment to drop.
“I’m here” he says, taking off his jacket and hanging it.
The humming stops, a door opens and, mere seconds later, Pete McVries is in front of him. Ray’s breath gets stuck in his trachea as he takes him in: Pete is not wearing the gray sweatpants and blue sweatshirt he had on when Ray had left the apartment to go to class a few hours ago but, instead, he’s wearing a pair of baggy dark blue jeans, a white tank top and he’s now putting on a black leather jacket. Ray suddenly feels the need to sit down.
“Hey” Pete beams, so brightly that Ray might as well turn off the lights, since his roommate’s smile is enough to light up their whole apartment complex. “So, what do you think?” Pete opens his arms and gives a full 360º spin so that Ray can see the outfit from all possible angles.
“It’s good,” Ray answers, crossing his arms over his chest. He notices that Pete is wearing the necklace Ray gifted him for his last birthday, a simple silver chain with a black guitar pick hanging from it. He never wears it unless it’s a special occasion, so Ray clears his throat and asks “Are you going out or something?”
“Yeah” Pete walks past him and goes to the mirror they have hanging on the wall behind the door. He begins to adjust his hair, frowning at his reflection as if there is something to fix in his appearance. “Yeah, I’ve got a date”
And there it is. The thread snaps and the sword falls over Ray, cutting him in half and leaving only a mess of blood and flesh where he used to stand. Or, at least, that’s what happens inside his head. In reality, he blinks at Pete in silence, mouth slightly open, nails digging into his forearms.
“A date” he echoes. “How so?”
It’s a stupid question because, if Peter McVries wanted to, he could get dates with practically anybody he crossed on the street with just a smile and two sentences. He’s handsome in a people on the street double check when they walk past him because they think he’s famous kind of way, charming like an old Hollywood movie star, has correct takes about any sort of topic, is well-read, and a whole lot of other things.
But Pete is, above all of that, a hopeless romantic to his core: He believes in emotive love confessions, in soulmates, in the sort of love that sweeps you off your feet and makes you levitate into the stars. Not that Ray has a problem with this, in fact he thinks it’s very fucking endearing. But in the four years he has known Pete, he has seen how that has ended for him every time: Guys who lead him on only to send a final text about how they were ‘just having fun’ or are ‘actually straight and just wanted to get the curiosity out of their system’ before disappearing, not bothering to give Pete even a half-assed apology. He always swore that he was fine, that it didn’t bother him, but Ray could see the glassiness in his eyes and, sometimes, he swore he could hear muffled sobs through the walls.
Ray would never say that he had elaborate plans about how to murder every single one of those motherfuckers, but that was mostly because of plausible deniability.
“Well, not a date date” Pete says, adjusting the collar of the jacket. “But saying ‘hangout that will most definitely lead to sex’ makes me feel trashy”
“Huh” Ray feels a bunch of emotions at the same time. He’s relieved that Pete doesn’t consider it to be an actual date, he feels guilty for feeling relieved because he doesn't have any sort of right to feel anything about Pete’s dating life at all. He is also not very into the idea of Pete going on a hangout that will most definitely lead to sex, but Pete is looking at him with something similar to guilt in his eyes, so all of that is packed on the back of his mind immediately.
“If I tell you this, you need to be normal about it” Pete says and Ray frowns.
“What are you talking about?” he asks. Pete takes a deep breath and then:
“I’m going out with Spencer”
And, just like that, a second sword appears, cutting Ray with double the strength and destroying the few pieces of him left intact. His face drops and he can’t help but scoff.
“Are you kidding me?” he asks, a little too aggressively, which he instantly regrets. Pete frowns.
“What did I just tell you?” he replies.
“You’re going on a date with fucking Frankenspencer, Pete, I’m not going to act normal about that” Ray scoffs again. “I thought you had him blocked”
Spencer had to be one of the worst guys Pete had been involved with: A couple of years older, he liked to come over and smoke weed all over the living room and then complaint about Ray being there even though it was his apartment too, but if Pete suggested hanging out at his place, he would get mad and begin an argument that would end with him storming out. He liked to make plans with Pete and then cancel last minute or not cancel at all and leave him waiting for who longs how long, ghosting him for whatever amount of time he liked. The reason why they called him ‘Frankenspencer’ was because, every time he would finally answer Pete’s texts, Hank would scream 'He’s alive!' in his most accurate mad scientist voice.
But the thing about Spencer was that he and Pete went way back. Apparently, they had gone to school together for a while and had bonded over not having the best homelife. Pete seemed to have hope that Spencer would someday want to change for the better, only to be let down time and time again. The last time had been around seven months ago, when he had stood Pete up one more, resulting in him finally blocking him. Or, at least, that’s what Ray had thought.
“I mean, yeah, I blocked his number, but I didn’t on Instagram. I forgot, I guess” Pete shrugs. “He responded to one of my stories this morning, we talked for a while and we’re going out for drinks and then… you know” Ray didn’t want to know.
“Why?” he asks. “He's the worst. And that’s not just me: Hank doesn’t like him, Clem doesn’t like him, Art doesn’t like him, you know how much of a fucking asshole you have to be for Arthur Baker not to like you?”
“Jesus Christ, Ray, you think I don’t know that?” Pete cuts him off. “Yeah, he’s a shitty guy, but it’s not like I’m going to elope with him. We’re both in the city, I haven’t gotten laid in forever and, honestly, I need to blow up some steam, so yeah, I’m going out. Don’t worry, I won’t bring him back here”
“Yeah, because that’s what I’m pissed off about” Ray replies, sarcasm dripping out every syllable. Pete glares at him, his dark eyes so intense that he can’t help but take a step back.
“Why do you care so much?” he inquires, and his voice sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking, which completely demolishes whatever was left of Ray’s heart.
“I…” he begins to answer, but no words come out despite his racing thoughts. Because, what is he supposed to say? “You’re my best friend” it’s what he settles with, but it feels wrong, the words sour on his tongue despite the absolutely undeniable truth in them. Pete is Ray’s best friend, his favourite person in the whole world (sharing the spot with his mother, of course) but somehow that doesn’t feel enough. There isn’t a word in the entire English language that can come close to describe what he’s feeling right now. And, by the way Pete looks down at the floor, Ray can tell he feels the same way.
“I don’t wanna fight” Pete finally sighs after a few seconds of painful silence. “I appreciate your concern, but I know what I’m doing, Ray” he takes his keys and shoves it into his jacket’s pocket “Goodbye”
And then he’s gone, leaving Ray in the middle of the apartment with his mouth half open.
After a few seconds of standing in place like an idiot, he swears out loud a couple of times before going to the couch and throwing himself face down on it, not quite knowing what to do now. He had expected his Friday afternoon to go as it normally did, watch a random movie with Pete while they ate some sort of takeout and then read the letterboxd reviews to each other trying to guess the rating, but that’s obviously not happening now. Ray finds himself wishing Pete gets stood up by Frankenspencer just so that he gets home sooner and then he beats himself up over that because that’s a fucking awful thing to wish for, even in this situation. He shouldn’t want Pete to get hurt. He doesn’t want Pete to get hurt, but his concern is also mixed up with something nasty and selfish that has been invading every inch of Ray’s being ever since two Fridays ago.
It was Zuck’s birthday and he had invited almost every single person in their year to his party, which had been at his frat house. Ray and his friends had gone and, after about three hours and a couple of shots, he had ended up sitting with Pete and some other people in the basement playing 7 minutes in heaven. At first, it was pretty entertaining to see other people’s reactions to whoever they got. Ray himself had had a turn earlier on with a friend of a friend of someone who had told him that, while he was cute, she was ‘too much of a dyke’ to make out with him, so they had played tic tac toe on her phone until their time was up. Harmless fun, overall. Until it had been Ray’s turn again, he had spun the bottle and fate decided it should be pointing directly at one Peter motherfucking McVries.
Ray and Pete had gotten inside the closet giggling like idiots, tipsy and, in Ray’s case, a little anxious for reasons unknown. They had stared at each other for a few seconds until Ray had asked:
“So what now?”
“I don’t know,” Pete giggled. “Whatever you want. They’re going to think we’re making out anyways”
And then Ray had to open his stupid drunk mouth and say:
“Should we?”
Pete had looked confused at first, but then he had just shrugged, grabbed Ray’s face and pulled him into a kiss.
Now, Ray wasn’t a stranger to kissing. His first year of college had also been the first time he had been away from home (only a two and a half hours drive away from his mother’s house, but still) and it had also overlapped with a sexuality crisis, so he had been through what Hank liked to call a ‘slutty phase’ during his freshman and sophomore years. But that kiss had dethroned every single kiss he had received or given until then, making them fall down into ashes to dissolve in Ray’s memory, forever forgotten. Maybe the alcohol and the fact that he hadn't gotten any sort of action in a while had contributed, but it hadn’t mattered. Pete had seemed to enjoy it too, sighing into his mouth in a way that made Ray wish the rest of the world would just disappear so that it would only be them inside that dirty basement closet forever.
Well, at least until Collie had started to bang on the door telling them to get out. When they had done so, a very drunk Richard had repeated like four or five times that they had been inside the closet for 8 minutes and 23 seconds (Curse him and the chronometre feature on his watch) like he was telling the funniest joke ever told by anybody in the history of humanity. Ray and Pete had left soon after, barely saying a word to one another as they made their way back home, tension settling around them so strongly that Ray had felt like he was running out of breath. In the elevator of their apartment complex, he had seen the way Pete looked so stiff, holding himself as he stood in the corner further away from him and the sight had been enough for Ray to almost start crying.
“This doesn’t change anything between us, right?” he had asked. “I mean, people do shit like this all the time when they’re drunk”
That had been the moment the elevator had stopped at their floor and Pete had sighed and run his hands through his hair as he walked out.
“Yeah, obviously” he had answered with a smile. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I’ll remember it tomorrow”
And he then had laughed, and Ray had laughed too and, for a moment, he had deluded himself into thinking that maybe it hadn’t meant anything at all. But of course it had. Now, where there used to be pure mutual understanding, there was also an invisible wall that Ray couldn’t quite point out, but that he couldn’t tear down either. Pete had started to run in the mornings, arguing how it helped him study better later, but it also meant they didn’t have breakfast together like they used to. Ray wished he hadn’t asked that stupid fucking question in that stupid fucking closet because, if he hand’t, maybe Pete wouldn’t be out in a date with stupid fucking Frankenspencer.
His ringtone startles him, dragging him out of his miserable estate. He pats his back pocket and pulls it out, frowning when he sees the contact name. Ray takes the call, pressing the phone against his ear. He knows now that, if he doesn’t take it, the person on the other line will keep calling until he does.
“Yes?” he sighs.
“Do you believe in parallel universes?” Billy Stebbins’ voice asks from the other side of the line.
Now, Ray would love to say he feels weirded out by this form of greeting, but that is sadly not the case, because that would mean that he lives in a world where Stebbins is not a fucking weirdo. In fact, if Stebbins ever answered a phone call with a normal greeting, Ray would be calling 911 because that would mean his friend was either A) Kidnapped or B) Having a seizure.
“Can’t say I’ve thought about it enough to give you an answer” mutters Ray, sitting up on the couch.
“Imagine all the alternate versions of you are in a room together” Stebbins continues, and Ray sighs in defeat knowing he’s stuck in this conversation now “And you are all there talking and, eventually, the subject of Peter McVries comes up. I’m going to say it takes three minutes for it to happen and, honestly, that’s me being generous”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” asks Ray, too confused to feel offended.
“And they are all talking about it. Some of them are actually in a relationship with their own McVries, which makes you feel a little dead inside, but whatever” Stebbins keeps talking, ignoring him completely. Ray’s heartbeat starts going faster “Then, there come the versions of you who are not in a relationship with him. In some cases, it is because McVries dies, in some is because you die, in others because of societal issues, you get what I’m saying?”
“Barely” mutters Ray.
“And then it is your turn, Raymond Garraty number 47…”
“Why am I number 47?” he asks.
“It just felt like the number I should say” is Stebbins’ answer “Anyways, they get to you and then you have to look at all this alternate versions of you who have gone through truly awful, borderline dystopian circumstances and say Oh, I’m not with him because I’m a fucking idiot who can’t have a simple conversation with him” Stebbins makes a pause, most likely for dramatic effect. “And then they kill you, and you’d deserve it” he finishes in a deadpan tone.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Ray asks again, this time with less confusion and more anger in his tone.
“I just walked past McVries looking all dressed up, and he told me he was going on a date. And, given the fact that he looked like he was being held at gunpoint, I knew it wasn’t with you, so I decided to call you and see if I can make you come to your senses, since it seems like nobody else will. They trust you too much”
Ray rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingers and lets out a sigh.
“Yes, he’s going on a date. We just had an argument about it because the guy he’s going on the date with is a…”
“Garraty, please, McVries could be going out with the male reincarnation of princess Diana and you would still be a sad, jealous mess about it” Ray opens his mouth to answer, but finds himself silently agreeing with Stebbins’ declaration, which mortifies him enough to keep him quiet. “Look, I’m not going to lie, the will-they-won't-they situation you’ve got going on was very entertaining for a long time, but now it’s getting sad. Do something about it”
And then he hangs up.
Ray stares at his phone with disbelief, before throwing it on top of the couch and standing up to go drink some water. He drinks again and again and again even though he doesn’t feel thirst, just because he needs to do something to distract himself from whatever is going on inside his head. He finds himself wondering what it would look like if all the alternate versions of Billy Stebbins were in a room together, and the thought makes a shiver run down his spine because nothing good could possibly come out of that.
It’s not the first time somebody has commented on him and Pete’s relationship being too close for comfort. The married couple jokes are practically a daily occurrence within their friend group, but Ray has never minded them and Pete hasn’t either, or at least he hasn’t said anything about it. But that conversation with Stebbins was far from a joke and, even if it was, Ray sure as fuck didn’t find it funny.
After that, it’s all a blur, like time itself has decided to stop inside the apartment. Ray finishes his fourth glass of water, opens the refrigerator, stares at what’s inside, closes it and then goes to his room, changes his shirt and lays on his bed. While he stares at the ceiling, Ray tries to order the storm that’s going on inside his mind. The anxiety that has settled in his chest doesn’t seem like it’s going to leave anytime soon, despite his attempts at breathing exercises. No matter what he tries to think about, all his thoughts end up coming back to Pete and his date. Where is it? Are they having fun or has Spencer stood him up once again? Are they having coffee? A beer? Or are they inside a bathroom stall, Pete on his knees with a hand grabbing his hair with not even an ounce of the tenderness he deserves?
Ray decides to stand up and get another glass of water to get himself out of that train of thought. Him and Pete have always been a little overprotective with each other, just as they are with the rest of their friends, but lately (since the whole closet thing, to be more exact) he has been feeling it with a lot more intensity, to the point where Pete mentioning one of his classmates making a funny joke made Ray bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. He had felt very ashamed afterwards, lying about having an essay due just so that he could lock himself up in his room and not look at Pete in the face.
An hour and a half after Pete’s departure (Not that Ray is counting, staring at the watch on his wrist every few seconds, as if that would urge the numbers to change faster) his phone rings. Ray sighs, thinking about how it’s most likely Stebbins ready to taunt him again or one of his friends asking him if he wants to hang out. With a groan, he walks towards the coffee table, but the second he reads Pete’s name on his screen he practically throws himself on top of it, taking the call as fast as he can.
“Pete?” he answers breathlessly. Then there’s silence for a few seconds. “Hello?”
“Hey” Pete’s voice greets him, sounding tired. “Sorry for bothering you, I just…”
“You’re not” Ray reassures him instantly “You could never” Another pause. “Where are you? I’ll pick you up” he goes to pick up his car keys.
“No, it’s okay…” Pete begins to say, but Ray is already exiting the apartment.
“Where are you?” he repeats.
Pete sighs and then tells him. He’s not too far away, about a ten minute drive, but Ray still rushes to the car like his life depends on it, physically having to restrain himself from staying within the speed limits as he drives through the city, nervously rubbing his thumb against the steering wheel. Finally, he sees Pete standing on the side of the road, looking at the sky with his arms crossed over his chest. Almost like he can sense his presence, he looks directly at Ray the second he gets close, looking around before he walks to the car and gets into the passenger seat.
“You really didn’t have to come” he sighs as he puts his seatbelt on.
“It’s the least I could do, I was a jerk,” Ray says. “I’m sorry”
“No, don’t apologize, I would have reacted the same way if I were in your shoes. I’m sorry”
“You have nothing to be sorry for” Ray begins to drive again. “We can do something while we’re out. To cheer you up”
Pete looks like he’s debating it for a couple of seconds, but then he’s looking at Ray with intrigue. The sun coming through the car window makes his eyes shine and Ray clears his throat, looking in front of him.
“Something like what?” Pete asks then. Ray shrugs, feeling anxious despite it being his idea.
“The arcade is nearby” he suggests.
And so, that’s where they end up, standing at the gates of the arcade watching the kids and teenagers run around and laugh with one another. They get to the counter, buying three chips for each one of them, and start to walk around the place. They play a basketball game, a couple of shooting ones and even decide to try their luck at one of those claw machines who are obviously rigged, with no results other than a mom watching them with judgement, walking away as soon as she notices they are staring back at her.
“Only one left” sighs Pete. Ray clears his throat.
“Hey, whoever loses this last one buys dinner. There’s a fast food place right next door” he adds. Pete acts like he’s thinking about it, but then gives him a sharp nod and stretches out his hand. Ray shakes it and Pete tugs on it so that they are chest to chest.
“You’re going down,” Pete whispers in his ear. Ray feels a shiver run down his spine.
They find an empty air hockey table and quickly take it, making a couple of eight year olds nearby groan in annoyance before they walk away, looking for something else. Ray smiles and introduces the last of his chips, waiting for the machine to start.
“So, are you going to ask me about what happened with Spencer or what?” inquiries Pete. Ray stares at him, probably looking like a deer in headlights.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he answers carefully. “If you’re not ready, I’ll wait” Pete seems to consider it for a few seconds, then shakes his head. Ray picks up the disk and they begin playing.
“It wasn’t that bad” he sighs, stays quiet for a couple of endless seconds before he continues. “He showed up on time, we walked a little, then he took me to a coffee shop, bought me a latte,” he chuckles. “I thought he was going to ask me for money, you know? That he had gotten into trouble with some no good people and needed me to help him get out of it. But no, it wasn’t that”
Ray manages to score. The machine begins shining and a loud party song begins to play. They both cringe and laugh as they begin playing the second round.
“What was it then?” Ray dares to ask. Pete shrugs.
“He’s sober now” he responds. Ray’s mind goes blank and Pete scores. The victory music sounds even louder now. “That was fast”
“Sorry, sorry” Ray picks the disk and the third round starts.“I didn’t know he had an issue with not being sober”
“Yeah well, me neither, but apparently he has and he’s okay now. Got a job, moved apartments, you know the deal” Ray nods.
“That 's… good?” he says, although it sounds like a question. He has no idea where the conversation is going.
“It is” Pete hits the disk, almost scores, but Ray manages to block it. “So, he’s telling me all that and I’m just sitting there, not quite knowing what to say other than I’m happy for him, and then he just… ” he pauses, looking to the side. Ray scores. The music plays again, a sharp contrast to the conversation they’re having “He apologized for everything, says he’s trying to be a better person and then just looks at me and tells me that he feels like he’s ready for start dating seriously and that I seemed like, and these were his exact words a great place to start”
The disk stops in the middle of the table. Ray frowns, looking at Pete.
“And what did you do?” He asks. Pete lets out a sigh.
“I gave him a ten dollar bill, thanked him for the coffee and got out of there” he says slowly. If it wasn’t for the defeated look on his face, Ray would be grinning like an idiot right now. The thought terrifies him “So yeah, that’s what happened. I wandered around for a while, and that’s when I called you”
Pete scores again. The music feels like a drill on Ray’s ears. 2-2. Only one round left.
“The tiebreaker” Pete whispers theatrically, rolling his sleeves upwards, the conversation lost now. The necklace Ray gifted him swings around in the air, making small circles. Ray stares at it for a second too long and licks his lips, rolling his shoulders for dramatic effect.
“The winner takes it all,” he says, waiting for Pete to begin the round. When it starts, nothing else matters. His wrist is sore and he feels the back of his throat a little raspy, but he still giggles like a little kid as he matches every single one of Pete’s movements. He looks up and sees Pete staring at the board with a focused expression, arm muscles flexing, the necklace Ray gave him swinging from side to side with every single movement, and the biggest fucking smile on his face and oh my god Ray’s in love.
Air freezes inside of his lungs and his shoulders relax. Suddenly, everything feels more clear, like a weight has been lifted off his back. He's in love with Peter McVries. It’s a fact, just like how the sky is blue. At first, Ray feels overjoyed at his epiphany: of course he’s in love with Pete, with his smile and his humming and his beautiful viewpoint of the world and fuck, those arms. But then, reality hits him like a brick. Pete doesn’t feel the same way, otherwise he would have said something after their closet makeup session and, even if he did, Pete’s clearly not interested in being in a relationship at the moment. He needs Ray, sure, but as the best friend he’s always been, not something else. The feeling is bittersweet, but Ray swallows it all because being Pete’s best friend is better than being nothing to Pete at all.
The disk slides towards him. Ray could block it perfectly but instead pretends to notice too late, letting it fall into the slot and declaring Pete the winner of the game. Ray pretends to feel bummed out about his loss, while Pete lifts his arms up in celebration. Tickets slide out of the machine, piling up on the floor. Ray begins counting them, leaning on the table while Pete walks towards him.
“Guess you’re paying for dinner tonight” he says in a sing-song tone. Ray smiles and lets out a sigh of fake resignation.
“Them’s the rules” he shakes the tickets in his hand. “Should we see what we can get with these?”
Pete nods and they are back at the counter, holding all the tickets they have gathered during the afternoon together. It’s not enough to get one of the big prizes, so after a couple of minutes of debating they end up settling in getting a bag of sour candy, a pac-man themed bubble blower and a bouncy rubber ball decorated to look like a baseball. From there, they go to the fast food place, where Ray pays for their dinner and rolls his eyes at Pete’s smug face. And then it’s time to go back home.
The drive is mostly silent save from Pete sometimes humming the lyrics of whatever song is playing under his breath as he stares out the window, tapping his fingers on his thigh to follow the rhythm. For their safety and also every other driver’s, Ray tries not to look at him too much.
Something shifts when they enter the apartment. Ray sets the takeout on the kitchen counter and looks as Pete takes off his jacket, throwing it on the couch. He paces around the room, something on his mind. Ray crosses his arms over his chest, waiting.
“Do you think I made the right decision?” Pete finally asks. Ray frowns in response.
“About what, Spencer?” Pete nods. “Of course you did” fear starts to rummage through his ribcage “Why, are you regretting it?”
“No” Pete answers immediately, shaking his head. “No, I’m not regretting it, it’s just…” he sighs. “I don’t know”
“You deserve better than being called ‘a good place to start’, Pete” declares Ray. “You do know that, right?”
Pete stays quiet and Ray’s mind decides to take that as an invitation to start rambling
“I really fucking mean that. You deserve the kind of guy who takes one look at you and thinks ‘this is it’ like… the kind of guy who goes crazy if you’re not nearby because he always has a thought he wants to share with you, a guy who has your picture as his lockscreen and is not embarrassed to show it to old ladies in the subway going ‘look at my boyfriend, doesn’t he look like he could be a fucking model?’ You deserve that kind of guy”
“Well, that’s too damn bad, I don’t want him!” exclaims Pete. His eyes look glassy and he’s looking at Ray like he wants to stare right into his soul. He probably could, if he tried. Ray would definitely let him. “I want…” he pauses, taking a deep breath before starting again. “I’m already in love with someone, but he doesn’t feel the same”
“Oh” is all Ray manages to say. He’s too busy regretting not having realized his own feelings sooner, otherwise he wouldn’t have to feel his heart breaking less than an hour after realizing what was making it beat faster. “Are you sure?”
Pete nods solemnly.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he says with defeat. “And it fucking sucks Ray, because this guy is great” he chuckles, but there’s no humor behind the sound. “Like, he’s so smart and kind, even though he can have one hell of a temper sometimes, and he’s also just fucking gorgeous, Ray” Pete sighs practically in bliss at the end of that sentence, and Ray feels a sting of jealousy.
“I bet” he says to fill the silence, although it comes off as much more stiff than he wanted to. Pete, surprisingly, looks almost endeared.
“The most beautiful man to ever walk the Earth, I swear” he doubles down, putting a hand over his heart for more dramatism. “He acts like he isn’t, though, which is hysterical, because everybody with a pulse and two brain cells checks him out when we’re together”
“Maybe they’re checking you out” chimes in Ray with a shrug “You can’t know that”
“I do, though” Pete responds, nodding. “Because I can see it in their eyes, the same look I know I have whenever I’m near him or just thinking about him... But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about my boy– Well, he’s not mine, at least not in the way I want him to be. And if he was straight, Ray, then I would be able to handle it better, you know? Because it would mean that he can’t want me rather than he won’t. But he’s not straight, Ray”
Ray takes a tentative step closer to Pete who, if he’s bothered by it, doesn’t say it. His throat feels painfully dry. Pete continues to talk.
“I used to think it was okay, that I could live with it. Best of best scenarios the slow burn finally sets on fire and I get to be with him and kiss him and tell him how much I just fucking adore him every waking hour to the point where he gets sick of me” Pete breathes deeply again, his nostrils flaring up. “And, if not, I still get to be his friend. And he’s such a good friend too: He’s loyal, he’s caring, always ready to defend whatever and whoever he wants. But then, a couple of weeks ago, we kissed during a party, and he made it very clear he didn’t want that to happen again”
All the pieces suddenly smash together inside Ray’s head, painting a picture so clear that Ray feels stupid for not realizing sooner. Pete’s talking about him, using his beautiful mouth to describe Ray as if he’s some sort of Prince Charming fallen straight out of a romance novel. Pete wants Ray, and Ray wants him right back. He probably should say that soon, before this spirals out of his control.
“Pete” he begins, but his voice doesn’t sound strong enough. Pete, now knowing that he knows, begins to pace around the living room, rambling.
“And I don’t want to put any sort of pressure on you, because I don’t want to make you think like you owe it to me or that I don’t value your friendship because I do value it so fucking much, Ray, I need you to know that”
“I do know that. But Pete…”
“And I thought that maybe by going out with Spencer would maybe, I don’t know, get some of these feelings out of my system? But he was talking to me about how he wanted to give the relationship an actual try and I just couldn’t do it, because, to be completely fucking honest with you, Ray, I don’t see myself being with anybody that isn’t you. And, again, I don’t say this to guilt trip you or make you feel bad, it’s just–”
Ray steps closer, grabs Pete by the sides of his face and closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together. He feels Pete stiffening under his touch for a second and Ray starts to think that maybe he went a little too overboard, before he feels a pair of strong hands grabbing his waist and Pete melting into the kiss. They stay like that for four seconds or four hours, it doesn’t matter, the only important thing right now is that it feels just right, like Ray was put into this Earth just so that he could be kissing Peter McVries in their poorly lit living room.
When they finally separate, they only do it a couple of inches, breathing each other’s breath. Ray looks into Pete’s eyes and smiles when he sees he’s as overwhelmed with emotion as he is. A single tear rolls over Pete’s cheek and Ray kisses it away.
“I love you” he murmurs against his skin. “Well, no, it’s more than that. I can’t describe it as beautifully as you can but yeah” he smiles, pulling away enough to stare into those gorgeous dark eyes again “I was an idiot and I didn’t realize sooner, but I know now… Also, people do not check me out when we go out, come on”
“They do” Pete corrects with a chuckle, this time sounding genuine. “They do and I almost want to kill them for it”
And then he’s leaning over and kissing Ray again and it’s oh, so sweet. It starts slow at first, until Ray decides enough is enough and deepens it, bringing Pete’s face impossibly closer. Pete enthusiastically reciprocates, his grip on Ray’s waste becoming tighter and making him gasp. It has now turned into something sloppy and passionate and, if Ray thought their drunkish makeout session during seven minutes in heaven had been good, this can’t even compare. It’s like every single one of his organs has been set on fire and he doesn’t ever want to put it out. He wants to let it burn him, as long as he stays right there with Pete. He wonders if every new kiss will feel the same, or if they will get better with time. The thought of knowing this is far from being their last kiss makes Ray smile into it. He begins leaving wet kisses on Pete’s cheeks, over his scar, on his jaw, down his neck. Pete groans, and the sound makes the skin of his neck vibrate. Ray curses under his breath at the sensation before continuing what he was doing, eagerly trying to make his way to Pete’s collarbone, until a calloused hand grabs his face, pulling him away.
They stare at each other in silence, lightly panting. Pete’s pupils are blown and his lips look slightly swollen from all the kissing. Ray tries to lean over to continue, but Pete places a hand on his chest to stop him.
“Someone’s eager” he jokes as he caresses Ray’s face like it is the most precious thing in the world.
“Sorry” Ray laughs, feeling himself get even more flustered. “Too fast too soon?” He has a habit to get carried away in situations like that, to let the feelings take control of his body and push all remains of critical thinking onto the backseat. Pete shakes his head and laughs too, rubbing his thumbs over Ray’s cheeks.
“Nah, not that” he chuckles. “In fact, it’s taking everything in me not to drag you to my bedroom right now, Garraty. But maybe we should have dinner first, don’t you think?” He makes a head gesture to signal to the takeout bags placed on the counter “Before it gets cold and all. I can wait a little more”
Ray looks at the food and then back at Pete. Without breaking eye contact, he takes the chain of the necklace between his fingers, twisting it gently. He tugs on it, making Pete lend down until their foreheads are touching and smiles at him.
“I think we’ve waited long enough,” he declares. “Don’t you?”
Pete answers him by kissing him again, passionately but brief. He’s laughing when he pulls away. Ray has never heard a more beautiful sound.
“Fuck it, we have a microwave anyway” he says, beginning to walk backwards to where the bedrooms are. Ray watches him go, too mesmerized to move. Pete laughs harder. “Don’t make me wait any longer and walk your talk, pretty boy,” he says with a teasing tone.
And Ray, never having been one to back down, can only follow.