Chapter Text
Parker was growing all the more certain that there was something seriously wrong with himself. Why else would he be the only person who felt isolated in a house filled to the brim with rich teenagers and young adults who all acted as if nothing was strange at all?
He was drinking heavily, and so was everyone else. It wasn't the only solution he could see, but definitely the only one he could condone. The warmth in his stomach and the dizziness of his vision made the house feel slightly less strange, and he could almost pretend that he didn't feel painfully disconnected from it all.
"Park-man!" Justin threw himself into the empty spot beside him on the couch. "You alright?"
"Don't call me that", Parker mumbled. The vision of his friend was spinning slightly, but he could still see how tan he'd become during the summer, and found himself wondering if it was authentic or an expensive spray-tan.
"You should come with me to the third foyer downstairs", he said. "There's a fight happening there that's out of this world!"
"Then why are you here instead of there?"
Justin gestured in the air, as if the words were a fly to be waved away. "You see, I payed a young boy - whose family is so poor it's remarkable that he's even invited here - to fight his friend who is almost as poor as he is!" He began to laugh as if it was a joke rather than an explanation.
Parker's stomach twisted painfully as dread spread from it and out through his body. "That's…" He swallowed. He didn't want to admit that he found it repulsive, because that's not how other preps would've reacted. "…wow." It was all he managed to get out, but it seemed like enough, because Justin threw a friendly arm over his shoulders and patted his arm.
"Indeed! Come look for yourself. I was just getting a refill." He tapped his nose a few times to indicate which kind of refill. "Anyway, did you see Gord's new tan? It's so obviously fake that I had to force myself not to laugh outright at him!"
"I haven't-"
"Ah, good chat, Park-man. I should get back now!"
Parker watched his friend leave, and drank some more when the feeling of dread didn't leave with him. He knew that being a prep included the desire to make poor people suffer - so why didn't he feel the same? Something within him must've been broken.
"Oh my God!" A blurry version of Gord took the same place on the couch that Justin had left vacant. He was gesticulating wildly in a way that made Parker suspect that he wasn't exactly sober in any regard. "I think Tad is, like, obsessed with me!" He was speaking quickly, almost too rapidly for Parker's drunk brain to understand what he was saying. "He's looking at me constantly and then immediately looks away when I so much as glance at him!" He leaned back in the couch and sipped from a glass. "I bet he wants to fuck me. Should I fuck him? I just might actually."
"I don't know." Parker was having trouble catching up to Gord's surely speed-addled words.
"You're right." Gord nodded as if Parker had said something completely different. "Maybe I should. Hey, did you see Justin today? I think he's had a nose job and let me tell you that it does not look good." He rose to his feet and wobbled slightly before laughing when he caught his balance again. "Good talk, mate. See you later, yeah?"
Then he was gone before Parker had time to reply.
He was observing the people around him; most of them he recognized as the children of movie-stars or ones born of more traditionally rich families, but none of them made him especially inclined to strike up a conversation. And why was that? Why couldn't he find pleasure in the same things his friends did - such as snorting a line or watching less valuable kids fight? Morality, which was always framed as a good thing in literature and cinematography, was nothing but a curse in real life, it seemed.
The room started to spin more, and he found himself giggling at the sensation. He knew that he'd probably throw up if he tried to stand, so he stayed put on the couch and pretended that he was riding an attraction at the Carnival.
"Can you believe Derby's gall?" Pinky perched herself on the edge of the table in front of him and crossed one leg over the other so as not to flash her panties below the short skirt she was wearing. "He told me to wait in the garden and said that he'd be right back with two glasses of champagne, but guess what?"
"What?"
"I waited for four minutes. Four! And he never showed up!" She sighed dramatically and shook her head. "Who does he take me for, a cheap whore? We are so over!"
Parker hadn't even known that the pair had stopped being 'over' since the last time something similar had happened. He nodded, but stopped when that made him feel nauseous.
"You look pale", she commented and tilted her head to the side. "I tell you what, I know this place just out of town who do amazing tans - and they can even include tan-lines to make it seem authentic!" She giggled and leaned forward, as if she was entrusting him with a huge secret. "I'll slip their business card in your pocket next time we meet."
"Fine." Parker was too tired to argue, and Pinky did indeed look very tan when he focused his gaze on her.
"Oh, God, there he is." She sighed and rose to her feet. "I have to go yell at him - I'll get so much sympathy if I throw a tantrum. By the way, did you see that Bryce is wearing last season's Aquaberry shirt? That's so embarrassing for him."
It didn't take long before Parker heard Pinky's angry shouting at Derby, and he felt a ball of anxiety settle into his stomach. He didn't like seeing people upset, and wondered why his eyes were the only ones that didn't begin to sparkle at the sight like everyone else's in the room. Thankfully, the pair continued their fight further into the house after a while, and the gossip and rumours started up in their wake.
Parker had time to sober up enough that he at least noticed Tad walking towards him before he stood awkwardly in front of him, wringing his hands like he often did when he wanted to be more posh than he felt.
"Parker", he said. "Have you spoken to Gord? He simply won't leave me alone!" He sighed deeply and looked around the room like a spooked hare. "He's giving me these weird looks. Can you help me?"
"Sure."
Tad visibly relaxed, and patted Parker's shoulder. "Oh, good. I think I need- hang on." He tilted his head to the side and scrutinized his face. "You look like you need some coke."
"Do I?"
"I have some truly spectacular produce in the pocket of my jacket. But where did I put it?" He looked into the ceiling in thought for a while. "It wasn't in the upstairs bathroom, and not in the billiard room. Perhaps it's by the pool outside?"
Parker zoned out his friend's loud thinking, and only focused again when Tad patted his shoulder once more.
"I'll go look in the strip room, it must be there. Oh, and did you notice Derby's pants? They are a whole gradient off from the trend this week! How horrendous!" He chuckled as he walked away, and Parker distantly wondered what it was he'd even needed help with.
He didn't want to know what could be found in the 'strip room' and felt the knot in his stomach grow larger when he thought of prostitutes. He closed his eyes hard, and hugged himself tightly in an attempt at pressing the knot into shreds.
"What's that weirdo doing?" Someone said.
"Must be cross-fading or something", someone else replied.
And suddenly the anxiety he felt was doubled, perhaps even tripled. He shot up from the couch and ignored how much he swayed. He needed to get out. Of course, that was easier said than done, though, since he had to fight his way through the mass of bodies and gossip through the enormous house that felt like a sophisticated maze in Parker's drunken panic.
"Park-man, there you are!" Justin's voice was loud in his ears, and all Parker could think about was two boys beating the crap out of each other and suddenly he wanted to puke but he didn't want to embarrass himself in front of all of these influential people and he needed to get out and perhaps speak to a gnome who would understand all of his conflicted feelings and breathe and-
Smack.
He blinked. It took a long while for him to realise that he was outside on the steps leading up to the main entrance of the house. But he couldn't understand why something wet and sticky was slowly sliding down his forehead and coated his nose and cheeks. And, fuck it, he thought. It didn't even matter.
He sat down on the last step, but it was through auto-pilot rather than a conscious action. Distantly he could feel his butt-cheeks throb slightly, but he didn't pay it any mind. He was so tired; tired of feeling like an outcast; tired of listening to everyone's gossip; tired of being the only one to have anxiety over the rich people's actions.
"Parker!"
Only when he felt a rather forceful shove to his arm did he focus on his surroundings again, and wondered briefly if he was hallucinating when he saw the imposing shadow of the greaser Norton looming above him.
"Finally", Norton said, which made Parker wonder if he'd repeated his name many times. "You okay? Drugged up or somethin'?"
Parker opened and closed his mouth a few times, but didn't have time to reply before the door behind him was slammed open. The sound of loud music and laughing teens flowed out. Then, Parker felt a strong hand around his wrist and didn't complain when he was suddenly dragged away from the large garden and was led to the dimly-lit street outside. They began to run, Norton still with his hand supportively on Parker's arm, and didn't stop until they got close to the giant rocks protruding above the lake close to the Carnival.
"Fuck", Norton said and clasped his side as he panted. "Those preps sure know how to run."
Had they been chased? Parker looked around. The sound of soft waves crashing against the rocks below calmed him down, and he plopped down on the ground to watch the dark lake.
"Sorry, man." Norton sat beside him, his large body strangely comforting, and Parker found himself scooting closer on instinct. "Oh." He sounded a little flustered.
"Why did you drag me here?" Parker turned his head to look at him, and felt the anxiety in his stomach get exchanged by another feeling entirely when he realised how close their faces were.
"You, uh…" Norton coughed into his arm awkwardly. It was an unusual sight. "I… kinda… threw eggs at 'e house. Accidentally struck you in 'e face with one when ya stumbled out all of a sudden."
"Oh." Parker raised his fingers to touch the sticky mess he'd felt on his forehead, but Norton's firm and surprisingly comforting hand encircled his own and pulled it down.
"Here." He pulled out a cloth from his tight jeans that only had a few grease-stains on it and started dabbing at Parker's face.
It was strangely relaxing, and he found himself leaning into the touch. Norton's hand was steady, and his fingers brushed against his cheek every so often. Parker closed his eyes and hummed in pleasure. Only when Norton coughed again did he realise how strange it was to be touch-starved enough that feeling a soft brush of fingers by his rival made him purr like a kitten. But when Norton dropped the cloth did he realise that his other hand was still clasped around his own, from which soothing warmth spread through his arm and into the rest of his body.
"I think I'm insane." He didn't know why he said it, but instantly thought that it was true.
Beside him, the greaser stiffened momentarily before attempting to pull his hand away. Parker grabbed it in his, instead. It was an instinctual action that made him embarrassed immediately, but Norton didn't seem to mind as he let their hands rest on Parker's thigh. The touch grounded him - it made him feel like a real person rather than a shadow at a party.
As always, he knew that he should find it wrong - the preps were basically at war with the greasers - and yet, as always, he couldn't find it within himself to do and think like the others in his clique.
"You ain't insane." It was a simple statement, yet there was a note of decisiveness and certainty in the way it was said.
"I think I must be." Parker fell into silence for a while, and wasn't coaxed into speaking as he always was with the easily-bored preps who'd never had to learn about patience. He was allowed to simply gather his thoughts for a while. "I guess I think that when you can do anything, nothing is exciting. But I seem to be the only one seeing it that way."
A snort made him look to the side, and he saw Norton looking back at him with a raised eyebrow before he spoke in a sarcastic tone. "Ya, I can totally see how that makes ya crazy."
"Yes. No. I don't know…" Parker felt how he shrunk into himself slightly. Then he couldn't suppress the little yelp he let out when he felt a hand pat his back reassuringly, only for the arm to stay around his lower back. The action made his neck grow warm.
A soft breeze passed them by, and drew with it both the smell of the lake and especially Norton's scent. It wasn't as sweaty or oily as Parker would've guessed - instead it was one of nice deodorant and the sense of warmth that came from lying beneath covers in a chilly room. The sense of comfort increased, and despite them both being quite tall, Parker sensed them both shrinking to lean into each other after releasing a breath.
"The way I see it", Norton mumbled, his tone soft enough to travel with the wind. "You're 'e only normal one outta all o' those preppies."
Parker hummed. He knew that those words shouldn't mean anything coming from a greaser, but it made the warmth in his chest spread further, and he leaned even closer into the calming body beside him.
"Why did you take me with you?" He asked then, the alcohol in his body having subsided enough for him to think back to their apparent chase that he'd been too drunk and panicked to properly realise was happening.
Norton shrugged, and the movement made their clothes scrape against each other in a way that wasn't unpleasant. "I didn't mean to hit ya, and I figured you'd be embarrassed to go in lookin' like a literal chicken." He moved slightly. "Also, ya seemed… unwell. Figured ya needed to get some fresh air."
Parker's cheeks flushed. Had his panic really been that obvious?
"Well, thank you", he mumbled. "You're good at comforting people."
"Thanks. You're 'e first person to tell me that." Then Norton leaned to the side and pressed a soft kiss to Parker's forehead. It made both of them flush, but thanks to the remnants of his liquid courage, Parker chased those lips with his own.
It was a brief kiss, but not any less serious because of it. The soft wind blew across their faces, and tentative hands sought comfort inside of the other's shirt. When they drew away slowly, Parker opened his eyes to look at Norton's smiling face, and his stomach felt like when he went on a roller-coaster. Then Norton chuckled and ruffled Parker's hair to the prep's laughing complaints.
"We ain't tellin' no one 'bout this, are we?"
"No", Parker agreed. But then he grinned and pushed Norton so that he fell onto his back and leaned down over him. "But if we're not planning on this getting out, why not make the most of it?"
Norton laughed, and pulled him down for another, longer, kiss.