Chapter Text
"You asshole!" Anthony shouts, trying to vault himself over the kitchen island to snatch the carton of yogurt out of Coy's hands.
Coy dances out of his reach with a laugh. It's a quarter past seven in the morning, certainly far too early to be fighting each other, but it's boiling hot outside and the yogurt is lumpy and Coy's proposed that he try eating it—all things that are currently driving Anthony up the wall. Hanbon texted them to take ice out of the freezer before they started filming their heatwave video, but of course Coy had to find some way to aggravate Anthony and make things ten times harder.
As Anthony skirts the corner of the counter and attempts to shove his friend again, the ire almost leaves him. He knows Coy won't actually put his mouth on that thing. He's far too big of a wuss. Still, playful fighting has turned into their bit, one that they have to hold back from overdoing in videos rather than act out. Something about the rush, the thrill as sunlight illuminates Coy's already sparkling eyes, and.
And that's where Anthony's going to cut off that thought. Coy smirks at him, holding the carton out of his reach, and suddenly all the rage is back.
"I'm going to lick it," Coy sings, grabbing a spoon and stirring up the disgusting, likely rotten concoction. He squints down at it. "Oh, gross, it's thick. You know what, I don't think I'm going to lick it."
This just irritates Anthony even more.
He clenches his jaw. "That's what I've been trying to tell you! Seriously Coy, give me that—"
To Anthony's intrigue, the yogurt is in fact, thick. It catches on the spoon in an altogether undesirable way, and he's not sure if he trusts the science behind this. He looks at Coy.
"I don't think yogurt's supposed to have this consistency. Like ever."
"Gurt: yo," says Coy. "Okay sorry. You're right, I've see enough spoiled yogurt to know that's not it. You don't think it's something else?" His eyes light up. "Sniff it!"
Anthony wrinkles his nose, wishing he could be contrary but far too curious to not comply. "Hey, it smells like yogurt and... wait, Elmer's glue?"
Coy immediately tries to tug the container back from him, and then four things happen almost simultaneously:
1.) Will walks into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and greeting them good morning with his hair freshly moussed.
2.) He steps close to Anthony and Coy out of curiosity.
3.) Coy yanks the yogurt with his full strength, catching a relaxed Anthony off guard and sending the container flying into the air.
4.) A blob of the glue slash yogurt combination lands in Will's hair.
It happens in slow motion, like a fatal and unavoidable train wreck. It’s comical how Will freezes, and even more so how the spoon remains in Anthony’s hand.
Anthony wants to die. He and Will lock eyes, and he can see his friend's eye twitching. Out of laughter or tears, he will never know. Coy's shoulders are shaking with mirth so hard that his entire face is turning red.
"Anthony," says Will calmly. "What did you guys just put in my hair?"
The remaining yogurt is splattered on the floor. A drop of it falls from Will's curl onto the tile below.
Fear begins to creep onto Will's face. "Guys? What is this?"
Coy collects himself. "It's glue. Yogurt and glue." He giggles awkwardly. "I mean, who the fuck put that in our fridge, right?"
The spell breaks.
Will immediately starts freaking out (Guys, no, be serious. Seriously? Please tell me you're joking. How do I get this out?), and Anthony grabs a paper towel and a cloth to get rid of the evidence. It's too late, however, for Hanbon takes this moment to unlock the front door and step inside the house.
"Oh my god. Will, what the heck?" she gasps, running over to them. She surveys the scene before them, and Anthony, who has been feeling an equal mixture of terror and amusement, feels terror taking the lead. "We have to get this out of your hair!" she continues, while Will scrambles for the sink and all but flings his head into it.
Hanbon faces Coy, who tries to hide behind Anthony.
Pussy, Anthony thinks.
Anthony knows Hanbon, knows that she also finds this unbelievably funny but is pretending to be a figure of authority. However, that might not last if she finds out exactly how this happened.
"So," she says conversationally, voice lilting up in an endearing manner. "Did you guys get ice out of the freezer?"
Coy steps out from behind Anthony, shooting him a look. His hair is fluffy and ruffled. "Well, no."
The temperature is rising by the second and Will might actually explode if he can't get the glue out of his hair, so Anthony decides to lower tensions and just tell the truth. Of course, he forgets exactly who he’s up against.
"It's Anthony's fault," says Coy with a straight (ha!), admittedly solid lying face. "I was just trying to see what was wrong with our yogurt so you guys wouldn't get sick, but Anthony wouldn't let me get near it. He kept harassing me like a little bitch, so when Will showed up, that happened."
Anthony sneers at him, unable to believe his ears. "You couldn’t care less if one of us ate that shit, you just wanted to get a rise out of me. Theater didn't pay off, Piso; your pants are on fire. "
"Really?!" Coy exclaims in mock-horror, examining his cargo shorts before meeting Anthony's eyes with a deadpan stare. "Well, if you'd just let me lick some of it, we wouldn't be here right now!" His mouth is curving up at the corner, so Anthony knows they're still good, but something within him just wants to keep pushing.
"Are you actually serious?" Anthony snaps. "God, you're fucking annoying." He drags a hand through his hair, suddenly remembering that the other two are still there. "Sorry, Hanbon, Will."
Hanbon sighs. Her highlighted bangs are plastered to her forehead, and she sets her bag down on the counter. "It really doesn't matter how it happened, just that it did. The worst part is that you guys cost Will some hair product."
The tension leaves Anthony's shoulders. The moment is gone, and the issue has been forgotten. That is, until Hanbon gets her pensive face. She chews on her bottom lip, peering at Coy and Anthony, the way their faces emanate disgust at each other but their shoulders press together. Anthony knows that Hanbon's pensive face cannot mean anything good.
"You know, costing Will hair product isn't the worst part. I mean, you two have been fighting an awful lot lately, haven't you?"
The sink turns off, and Will resurfaces. He dabs at his hair with a cloth. "If the gluegurt wasn't a funny color and viscous, I would be really mad at you right now," he decides.
That's hardly a reason to not be mad, Anthony thinks, and then decides to keep that to himself.
"Hanbon's right," Will continues. "You guys need to stop being at each other's throats. You can't get anything done."
Hanbon is nodding. "Yeah, exactly! Look at the rest of us. Anthony, you work at top speed unless you're with Coy, and Coy, I don't think I've seen you bother someone as much as you do Anthony."
"That's not true," Coy begins, but is abruptly cut off by Will. Much to Anthony's chagrin, the other two are ganging up on them.
"Also, you used to be hella giggly around each other a year ago. Now you can't even get ice out of the fridge without something going wrong."
"Freezer," Hanbon corrects. Will huffs out a laugh.
"You guys are idiots," is Anthony's contribution. "This isn't that serious! It's just some gluey yogurt, which by the way, how come no one is questioning? Why was that in our fridge?"
"You know," Hanbon says, pointedly ignoring him, "I'll bet that if Coy and Anthony spend a whole week working together on a project, they'll barely get anything done."
Coy starts looking interested, and that's the moment Anthony knows he's done for.
Will shakes more water out of his hair. "What kind of project?"
"And what are the stakes?" asks Coy.
Hanbon pauses for a moment. Her eyes finally land on the carton on the floor. She jumps excitedly. "I've got it. You guys should work together at a fro-yo shop! I can talk to the manager and we can grade you. Like based on if sales went down, the cleanliness, how much work gets done."
Coy scoffs. "Bon, we aren't five. This is like the easiest bet of my life. We'll take it, any stakes."
Wow, this seriously cannot get any worse. Anthony scowls. "Coy, who exactly is we? I demand a team meeting."
Wahony wags a finger in his face. "Too late, Anthony. Bon and I get to decide the stakes and the hours you have to work."
The two traitors high five, and Anthony takes a step away from Coy. He observes the boy he's supposed to see all day, every day, for the next entire week. I mean, he practically does anyway, but this is the cherry on top.
The sun has shifted slightly higher in the sky, and the rays coming through the window illuminate Coy's almost-ginger hair a bright orange. His blue shirt is clinging to his sides, and he squint-smiles at Anthony in a way that's entirely irritating and completely not adorable. Coy is cute, Anthony concedes, and this may be one of his winning traits. Other than being jaw-achingly funny.
But Coy can also be sloppy and contrary and lazy, all traits which, Anthony quickly realizes, are amplified whenever Coy's in his presence. Could Hanbon be right? Could this really just be a ploy to piss him off? Still, all analytical and aesthetically-admiring musings fly out of Anthony's mind when Hanbon and Will stop whispering.
"Okay," Hanbon squares her shoulders like a king. Will stands a few inches to her right in his wet t-shirt, grinning. "We've decided that, if the manager says store performance overall has gone up or stayed the same since you two started working, you get to pick what we eat for the next seven days."
"Lame," Anthony interjects.
"But if the manager says store performance has gone down, then," Hanbon smirks at Will. "You have to fake-propose to Coy in Central Park. Or the other way around, I don't care. Either way, it's going on our Instagram and it has to be good. And you have to pay for Will's next hair appointment. Will added that part."
"Dude, those have to be the two most disconnected punishments I've ever heard," Anthony says, trying to ignore the way his pulse just spiked. "The stakes are way higher on our end than yours!"
Coy, for some reason, doesn't look as fazed. "Come on, Ant, you don't seriously think we're going to lose? It'll be a piece of cake. We'll take it," he tells Hanbon and Will, shaking each of their hands in turn.
Anthony's three best friends, who he loves more than anyone and who obviously want him to drop dead on the spot or be scorched with the force of a thousand suns, blink at him expectantly.
With a grudging nod, he shakes their hands.