Chapter Text
Cookie gazes out the door, oblivious to the party infront of him.
He only came because of him (although the exact reason is unknown). Him, and his stupid obsessions over lookmaxxing. Him, and his ugly smirk when he's proved right. Him, and the slight tilt to his head when Cookie talks to him. Just his whole existence is peculiar, an anomaly to Cookie's life.
Streams and doing tiktoks were never a possibility to him. He had his entire future planned out, an easy way to success. After highschool, he would've studied digital technology for four years.
Whilst he was studying, he'd be interning at Microsoft, then doing full time once he's finished.
But no, he had to make some stupid video that blew up on some stupid app and because he was a dumbass, he continued the charade untill he was roped into all this looksmaxxing bullshit. He witnessed his carefully put together plan be torn to shreds and spat on by idiots below him.
"I totally frame-mog you dude!"
"Nuh-uh! Look at my clavicles!"
Like he said, idiots.
He inwardly sighed, looking out near the entrance of the club. Clavicular invited him here and he's the one late?
Almost on cue, a certain someone pulls up in his little fancy limousine (Cookie bets it's rented), with a pretty lady by his side. The girl is gorgeous, silky blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders with teeth so white you can use it as a flashlight. He doesn't know why a girl like that can be in the presence of such a douche. Certainly, he should find someone on the same level as him (all that looksmaxxing shit has gone to his brain).
"Hey Cookie, glad you made it! Like the club? The people are so... like-minded..,"
Cookie scoffed and went in for a side hug.
"Took your sweet time coming here. Almost left because of your ass."
"Yeah yeah, traffic was a bitch. Anywho, have you meet...uh.. Colleen?"
Oblivious to Cookie, the lady still stood there, mouth gaped open in shock.
"We are literally dating and you can't even remember my name? Who the fuck is Colleen, my name is Vania!"
She shoved him off, sending him tumbling to Cookie.
"We're over, don't fucking text me again!"
Cookie heard her mumble 'dipshit' as she stormed off.
Rightfully so, she was definitely a catch.
"Bro, Collen is nowhere close to Vania."
"Yeah, yeah tomato, to-mah-to. Let's go back to the party!"
Clavicular looked pretty much unbothered by her sudden departure.
I guess that's what happeneds when beautiful women come and go.
Cookie followed Clavicular into the swarm of sweaty people, dodging flying hands and raised bottles. The constant beat thrummed in his ears as he watched Clav loosened up his body.
"Come on dude, the club is meant for dancing!"
"Corny ass comment, we're not in some show dude."
"Oh okay man, just trying to live it up a little." Clav turned back into Cookie, looking dejected?.
"Anyways," he grabbed onto Clav's shoulder, "Why did you invite me here?"
Clavicular shrugged, looking back into Cookie's eyes.
"Can't a guy hang out with his friend? Not for tiktok or for lives, just me and you."
Cookie paused, suprised by the sudden sincerity.
"Wow dude, you're making me feel bad!"
He awkwardly chuckled, warmth already tinging his cheeks.
"I'm not that kind, I also need a drinking buddy."
Oh.
"Oh. As long as you pay for my drinks, It's good."
The pair fell into a rhythmic shuffle, Cookie trying to relearn how to dance in a club.
It's not his fault he hasn't been in a long time.
Unlike Clavicular, who semmed to be in his element. Cookie tracked his fluid movemnets, the way his arms raised then crashed down. The slight sway of his hips, a rare serene look on his face.
"Bro, you deadass look like a robot."
The comment snapped Cookie out of his oblivious trance.
"I'm not the one who invited a person who obviously can't dance to a club." Jokingly, Cookie shuffled around, sliding his feet back.
"Plus, I thought I was hitting it."
A sharp guffaw met his ears as he looked back at Clav.
"You look like a fucking dork," he copied his makeshift moon-walk.
"I clearly do it better."
The grin on his face only deepened as Clavicular pretended to be Michael Jackson. The previous animosity towards tonight has long disappeared once being with Clav.
With him, he feels more confident, almost carefree. Clav's such a good friend if he can make him feel this way.
"You zoned out, you good?"
A soft hand eased him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, I'm great."
The rest of the night whizzed by, filled with more poor impressions and a drunk Clavicular. The pair took a seat down near the entrance.
"Brooooooooooooo....."
Clavicular leaned into Cookie, his sense of personal space fleeing with his sobriety.
His head rested on his shoulder as they waited outside the club.
"She took my fucking limousine, bro. I fucking paid $500 for tonight."
Cookie cocked an eyebrow, "You also called her a completely different name whilst dating her. Why did you even need a limo anyways?"
"To look tough and rich and all that shit, you know?" Clavicular propped himself up, face fully turned into Cookie.
"You don't need fancy cars to impress girls, you just have a pretty face with a pretty personality too." His hand gestured out to Clav.
"Not her..."
"Then who?"
Cookie searched Clav's eyes for an answer, only for it to be staring right back.
"Clav, you're drunk."
Drunk words, sober thoughts.
"I know."
His sheer bluntness stirred Cookie off track, Clav still holding his gaze.
"Stop looking at me like that..."
"Like what?"
Cookie swallowed down his embarrassment, reaching out for his phone.
"The uber should be here soon, damn it's taking long."
"Yes, it did"
Awkwardness filled the air, Cookie suddenly very aware of Clav's body leaning into him.
He could smell the body scent he uses, some sort of seasalt vanilla. The warmth of the alcohol heating Clav's body transferring to Cookie's.
It felt intoxicating to say the least, his scent pulling Cookie deeper into a void that could never be filled. But he will try, oh how he will try. Yet he will be sucked in like the hundreds before him.
He pondered the sudden confession.
Obviously, it didn't mean shit. Drunk people do drunk people thing, whether its kissing a stranger or confessing to your friend. Clavicular wasn't in the right mind to understand the weight it held.
He was a rock in Cookie's shoe, on the borderline of pain and annoyance. On one side, he was sharp, digging into the soles of his feet. The opposite, he was blunt, a constant yet faint pressure that he carried with him. He tried changing shoes, swapping out his Jordans for Converses. But the shoe never mattered. It was always the rock that he wanted. But did the rock want him back?
Please say he wanted him back.
Cookie never tried to fight his feelings. It was completely unnecessary, ignoring them wouldn't do him any good either.
So he stayed, too scared to move forward only to be pushed back. Keeping his feelings to himself wouldn't ruin whatever he and Clav shared. And so he did.
And what he was planning on continuing untill a drunked confession blurred the lines. He knows Clavicular, he'd rather bit his own tongue then think of another man romantically. He knows this too well. Reciprocating his feelings would make him selfish, a tornado crashing through Clavicular's life. The sleeping man beside him already went through enough with all that looksmaxxing shit. Now, all he can do is help him get through that like a good friend.
A good friend.
"Hey, hey, wake up..." Cookie shook Clav off his shoulder where he's been happily snoring away.
"Hmmm?" Drool trailed down his face as he fought to adjust to the lights around him.
"Uber's here, up you get," Cookie pushed Clav back onto him. He basically dragged the sleeping man inside the car.
"I paid for the ride already and told them your address," Cookie stood outside.
"You're not coming?" His watery eyes gazed wistfully into Cookie's eyes. He froze, unable to bear looking back in those mournful eyes.
"Relax dude, it's not even that far of a drive. You'll be fine."
Will Cookie?
Cookie sped off before he could spare another glance at the man. He looked so alone, so neglected. It took everything in him to stop him climbing in after him. To stroke his head and kiss his cheeks. To whisper in his ears, 'Everything is fine, don't worry about nothing.' But what would he do after the drunked haze passes? What would he do once Clavicular comes to his senses? When he stops playing with him and tosses him aside? Just like every other person that has come close to him.
Just like Vania.
Cookie didn't even realise he reached home untill he walked inside his bathroom. He stared into the mirror. His eyes were dry surprisingly, contrasting the turrent of emotions swirling in him. Sadness, regret, rejection, love.
Love.
He needs to stop dreaming. Shut down this unnecessary make-believes his mind just won't stop creating. The tears finally came, ruthless and relentless. Washing away the calm, bringing about a reign of desolation.
He feels so alone, so fucking alone.
His chest contricted, each moment of the day recounting in his head. Every word, every touch, every smile. The warmness of each exchange felt alien, like it was being retold to him. Nothing was real. Or everything was and he was the fake.
He's floating. He's above the clouds. He's soaring into the heavens. He's stuck. He's frozen. He doesn't know what to do.
Stop lying.
It's almost clinical, the creak of the cabinet. The clinks of the metal. The pressure on his arms.
It's cold, sharp and bitting. It's warm, wet and sticky. It's constant, numb and disappointing.
It was real.
But it fades, it never lasts long, long enough to quell the ever-growing torment in his brain. The sweet yet brief silence. It will have to do.
It drips down his arms, soaking his shirt. He washes it off, strips himself down. It's still there.
He hasn't relapsed in a long time. A couple of stressful nights in high school did drive him to extremes, yet a single person never tipped the careful balance of his thoughts....
Yet another reason to let him go.
You two aren't right for each other.
How long is it gonna take you to see that?