Chapter Text
Spider and Ant are best friends. Or, perhaps, were best friends - Ant isn’t really sure anymore. All the shouting was muffled by the deafening music that seemed to crawl up his spine and attack his ears from the inside out and the copious amount of alcohol he consumed that night. The majority of his memory was flashes of colour or quickly moving blurs that seemed to mock him if he thought about it too hard. He didn’t even remember coming home, but for some strange reason he awoke in his own bed, the blazing afternoon sun attacking him with her harsh rays.
Last night had been Anthony Vaughn’s 18th birthday party, where he held a gigantic gathering with everyone he knew - as well as everyone he didn’t. “The more the merrier!” he had gleefully told his best friend, who was helping to organise the event. Spider grinned and agreed, told him that it was going to be a “rager”. Ant had believed him, obviously. Spider always throws the best parties, so why would this one be any different from the past?
Let me reiterate: Ant and Spider are best friends. Always have been, always will be. They’ve known each other since they were small children, they’ve always been at each other’s side, neither of them could remember a time where they weren’t friends.
Ant feels like he’s going to vomit just thinking about it. The kind of feeling that starts at the bottom of your gut and ends up at the back of your throat, leaving your mouth simultaneously dry yet moist and your jaw weak and numb. His mind is an amalgamation of all his thoughts, the good and the bad, the peace and the destruction. Hangovers really are the worst.
Eventually, Ant manages to pry himself out of his warm bed, feet hitting the stone cold floor, before he actually throws up in his bed and gives himself more work to do today. Thankfully, his parents are away for the week given that they decided they didn’t want to deal with their son for a while, so they couldn’t see Ant in his disheveled post drunken state. Even though they missed his birthday, he didn’t mind being at home by himself. He doubts they would’ve acted differently whether it was his eighteenth or not; they’ve never cared for his birthdays in the past, so why would he expect them to care for this one? He’s just one year closer to the grave, as far as they are concerned. It was Spider’s idea to throw a party for it anyway - he was fully prepared to binge watch his favourite show over and over whilst drinking whatever cheap liquor he found in the pantry. At least now his father can’t punish him for stealing his drinks. His stomach churns with sickness as he stumbles as quick as he can down the hallway - which isn’t actually as quick as he thinks he’s going - until he reaches the bathroom, not even closing the door behind him as he lunges towards the toilet bowl and empties his stomach.
Immediately, the stench hits him, infiltrating his nose and spreading throughout his body like a deadly disease, making his body feel even weaker than it already did. He coughs, eyes squeezing tightly shut and forcing out the tears that were forming on his waterline, desperately attempting to rid his insides of the night before, his knuckles a ghostly white with how hard he’s gripping the edge of the bowl. He remains hunched over the toilet for what he thought felt like hours, but in reality was only about ten minutes, unable to bring himself to move. After another minute or two, he forces himself to lift his arm and flush the remainders of last night away, before reluctantly pushing himself to his feet, almost completely relying on the wall next to him to hold his entire body weight and help him up.
After successfully managing to stand up - which did take more effort than he’s willing to admit - he staggers over to the sink, figuring that he should at least try to maintain basic hygiene. Even if he does feel like death itself. He stares at himself in the mirror, the months worth of built up grime unable to alter his unkempt and bedraggled appearance. Sweat plasters his greasy hair to his even greasier forehead, dark purple circles that looked like deep, painful bruises formed under his sunken, lifeless eyes, and his skin looked like that of a ghost even though it’s the middle of spring and he was perfectly tanned a week ago. He looks like a dug up corpse.
Flashes of colour and light play through his mind as he stares at himself. Sounds reverberate through his mind: ear splitting music, thunderous bass vibrating his whole body, overlapping voices, some excruciatingly loud, others quiet whispers.
"Pull your head out your arse and fucking grow up!" is the last thing he remembered from that night.
The context of everything is still foggy, but he's certain it cannot be good. Certain of his mistakes. His best friend since childhood had yelled at him. Shouted at him. Aggressively and in front of his entire school. Spider now hated him and it’s entirely his fault. He feels lightheaded, overwhelmed by the growing dizzy sensation in his skull.
Maybe he wasn’t supposed to make it to 18.
✩✩✩✩✩
Ant’s phone vibrates where it lays on the floor next to him for the ninth time in the last hour. He considers throwing it out the window - and if he had the energy, maybe he would. Instead, he ignores it for the ninth time, continuing to stare up the ceiling and the ceiling only, the only noise being the slight buzz of the fan blowing in the corner.
And the occasional notifications, of course.
If he’s being honest, he’s not sure why he’s ignoring it. Usually he’s ecstatic to talk to his friends, especially Spider, but right now he would rather jump into traffic than face his repulsive mistakes from last night. The thought of it is nauseating. He’d rather stay in his dark room, laying on his back on the hard floor boards and give himself back pain. His actions were far too abysmal and scandalous for him to face head on. Realistically, he just wants to avoid human contact for as long as possible - specifically with Spider. He wishes everyone would forget about last night. Wishes he could turn back time, stop it from happening. But that’s not possible, is it? What happened happened, and now he just has to live with the life consuming guilt that came with his reckless actions. His heart pools with guilt, sharp and painful. Tears sting at the corners of his eyes.
Maybe the world would be better off without him.
He lets his eyes close, allowing sleep to pull him away from reality.
✩✩✩✩✩
Harsh sun shines through the thin curtain that pathetically covers the window of his bedroom, serving as natures alarm clock. He groans and stretches as he awakes, now regretting falling asleep on the floor as the pain from a night on the floorboards catches up to him. His ears are ringing and his limbs are numb, his mind a thoughtless fog.
Suddenly, a knock sounds from downstairs. He jumps at the sound, quick and unexpected. It’s probably just the post; Ant decided to ignore it.
The knocking continues. Pounding. Loud. Headache inducing.
Begrudgingly, he drags himself off the floor, forcing himself to stand up, a sharp sting of objection coming from his limbs.
Whoever is behind that door better have a good reason for waking him up this early. Is it even early? Ant didn't check. Knowing him, it's probably the afternoon, but the point still stands. He shouldn't be here. He should still be curled up on the hard floor of his bedroom, feeling the wood pressed against his weak bones, forgetting about all his responsibilities. Instead, he's managed to make it downstairs without injury, and is now reaching for the door knob so he can see who in God's name is so desperate for his attention and-
Oh.
"... Spider?" Ant croaks, his throat hoarse and scratchy from not speaking. And probably the crying.
Spider's gaze shoots up from where he was staring at the floor as soon as he hears Ant's voice, eyes widening upon his appearance. He looks like a wreck. Messy hair, dark eye bags that could be mistaken for bruises, bloodshot eyes.
"Dude... are you good?"
Ant nods even though he feels like his entire body his on fire yet is frozen at the same time. Why is he here? Hasn't he done enough? It was bad enough when he was drunk, he doesn't want to deal with it sober as well. "Why- why are you here, Spider?"
"I just wanted to check on you. It's not like you to not answer your phone, especially for an entire day!" He sounds so genuine it hurts. His best friend always acts out in school. He's the loud one. A troublemaker. Always out of line. It's rarely just the two of them alone anymore, not like it used to be. When it's just them, he's different. Kinder. Sweeter. Ant hates it. He hates how he's a different person at school. He hates how loud he is and how he acts. He hates how he treats people like they're below him. He hates how he treats Ant like his equal. He hates how he always tries to check up on him. He hates his kindness and sweetness towards him and only him.
He hates it all.
Yet, despite everything, he hates that he loves him.
After staring for maybe a few seconds too long, Ant remembers that he needs to be a normal human being. As normal as he usually is, anyway. "I told you, I'm fine." He articulates, attempting to give him a reassuring smile. "My phone was turned off. Just needed a day to reset and rewind, you know how hangovers are." He internally cringes at his own lie, hoping Spider would stop prying at leave him alone to rot by himself.
"Right, yeah. Understandable," Spider replies before pausing, eyes scanning over his face. Maybe he can tell Ant's lying. Maybe he's looking for his true feelings. Maybe he's trying to read his mind. Maybe he can already read it. The sickening feeling of not knowing is nauseating. "Uh, can we talk? About the party, I mean. I think-"
"There's nothing to talk about." Ant says flatly, cutting him off. "We were both very drunk. Everyone was. I hardly even remember any of it." The lie lingers in the air as Spider searches for a reply. He knows he's lying. He must do. Surely. Right? Surely he knows that he wouldn't have ignored him for a whole day if he didn't remember anything. Part of him wants Spider to call him out, make him confess, make him face his emotions. But then again, Spider is... Spider. He'll take the easy way out. He always does.
It's for the best. He can't be in love with his best friend. It's wrong. He's not allowed to; he'd be sinning. What would God think? What would his mother think? Nothing good, that's for sure. She's still angry about the thing with Darren, even though it was forever ago. He instinctively clutches his cross necklace.
"Oh... Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I guess I just... wanted to make sure we’re still good." He visibly swallows, nodding his head.
“We’re still good.” Ant answers, unable to say anything more. Every fibre in his body is screaming at him. Every nerve feels like it’s on fire, burning him from the inside out.
“Good. Cool. Okay…” Spider not again, letting out a small, almost unnoticeable exhale that Ant would’ve missed if he was staring at him like it’s the last time he ever would. “So, uh, I guess… see at school tomorrow?”
“Yep.” He answers with a small nod. “Bye, bro.”
“See ya, dude.” He waved as he walks away from his house.
And then he’s gone.
And Ant’s alone again. With his thoughts. And the memories.
Maybe he shouldn’t go to school tomorrow.