Work Text:
The pops of his back stretching were deafening in comparison to the static silence that the room was enveloped in, the chair creaked and leaned with the bend of his spine and his eyes squinted with a scrunched face to give them a break from the bright screen in front of him. He exhaled, and released the tension that had formed in his muscles; blinking away the small tears that formed from exhaustion as he readjusted to the light, focus returning just to stare at the same corporate document he's been writing for the past couple of hours.
Working at CERN from home wasn't the worst job in the world. He made outstanding money with his only job being to sit around and wait for them to send over a particularly hard issue to solve, he'd then come up with something in about a minute max and spend about half an hour creating a detailed blueprint, but the most tedious task he was given was having to make a theoretical guide that backed-up his ideas and- basically what his university professors gave up asking him to do: "Show your work."
It annoyed him terribly so, his work was intuitive and, well, perhaps to most it may take around five minutes or so to visualize, but he has proven countless times that his inventions are not only competent, but exceptional with no need to explain every equation that comes with them… Nonetheless, he did it for the common folk, for the rest of the team, and largely for the sake of the paycheck that came with.
The screen flickered, text on the screen monotonous and turned boring after… click, fifteen thousand, four hundred and sixty-two words. Personally, Wiley had much better things to do; for example, looking down at the small clock at the bottom of the screen told him it was ten till 5 AM hit, meaning, he has to be outside the door in five minutes ago to catch a sight of him. The clock ticked once, and he was rushing to save and close the document before more time could be wasted. He stood from his chair abruptly causing a loud screech that he didn't give much importance to, he grabbed papers spewed across the desk and snatched his jacket from its resting spot at the back of his chair.
Outside the sun had yet to begin waking, it was far too early for anybody to be awake, yet alone want to go on a morning jog. But his favorite challenge was insane enough to do just that and be joyful the entire time, in his opinion, that man was an unnatural phenomenon that should not be able to physically exist. He was genuinely an unnatural force of nature, which is why he was stuck on his existence, his days were now composed of a very familiar routine that followed the world's favorite blue haired athlete; Beau Beckett Rhodes.
The man was a beautiful specimen of what he could only call the impossible, with glowing dark skin, curls that bounced as he trotted, a sharp facial structure, and the energy of someone terribly addicted to cocaine. He wasn't particularly obsessed with the man himself, he was just intrigued by his physical capabilities and the idea of capturing such moment in picture. After doing countless research Wiley had come to the conclusion that he, alone, was the only person who had ever see him run at such pace. There existed no pictures of it, no videos, not even a singular vlog or comment regarding so, but that just meant that it was undiscovered and at the very least that Beau himself knew and was hiding it from the world.
The logical conclusion would be that clearly, he must not know that he has a neighbor, though it would be rather strange considering he does a multitude of his projects outside the very not lonely looking shack. It wasn't like he hid the fact that he lived nearby, and he observed him enough to know that one of his regular routes passed his home shy by 20 feet; he had to be either extremely ignorant, or just non-caring and somehow the world simply hadn't caught wind of it yet. Or third secret option: he had gone mad himself.
Not an improbable conclusion when you consider the higher your intellect, the higher chance one has of developing a mental illness of some sort.
Hm.
Regardless, he now lives to prove that theory wrong, and to be the first to document the record.
The door of the shack closed with a rattled sound, without bothering to lock it he sped-walked to the beauty that he'd very recently finished building for the sake of scientific research. Wiley wasted no time taking off the cloth cover that hid the motorcycle from view, he couldn't help but sigh with content as he admired his own work, it was mainly black, with dark brown accents throughout the entire bike itself.
The thing was, he had tried to run and catch up with the runner, multiple times throughout the month, but he just could not stop losing him. One minute he'd be a couple feet away and the next he was stopping mid-track to have a coughing fit in a cloud of dust and no Beau to be found. Yes, it was probably excessive to build an entire bike just to attempt to catch up to someone, and he attempted to convince himself that it was extreme and not required, but the amount of times he was left alone to walk in shame back to his house was getting embarrassingly high.
He stuffed the papers in a small compartment for loose items and grabbed a black helmet propped on the wall by a nail that served as a hook. Its safety lock snapped into place and he made sure to be propped right next to the track Beau always took before turning on the machine with a loud but satisfying purr. He could feel as his heart beat faster than usual, first time on the bike, not at all nerve-wracking. Distantly, Wiley knew this wasn't one of his brightest ideas, but the anticipation of possibly being able to keep up with the runner's pace was immense.
Luckily for him, he didn't have to wait any more than a minute when he finally heard a sound that his brain had slowly grown accustomed to find regardless of where he was at.
Beep-beep.
He quickly located Beau, he was wearing his usual pair of blue shorts and black tank top that was cropped at his waist, his hair was tied in a high pony-tail and the fitness watch he always wore regardless of his attire sat in bright orange contrast around his wrist. Beau glanced at his direction, and once he spotted him and they made eye contact for a fraction of a second, he looked down to the vehicle. That made Beau stop in his tracks, rather gracefully as if intentional, without a word he raised his eyebrow and tilted his head in a way that made his curls fall to the side and the sun —which was rising slowly over the horizon,— reflected in such a way that made him look heavenly.
Wiley replied plainly, squinting with a light frown that didn't serve much as a reply for the unspoken question.
Beau stayed put, and Wiley observed as he began jogging in place with crossed arms. Finally, he spoke with a voice full of sass and a smirk that he wished he could wipe-off.
"Realized you couldn't keep-up without a toy?"
Wiley scoffed and looked away, giving the handle a twist to let the accelerator roar instead.
Beau giggled, "Alright then, good-luck Wile!" He stuck out his tongue playfully and without missing another beat he took off at a steady pace of what he would estimate to be roughly 10km/h.
He'd made the bike specifically to be able to run at the same speed he made an educated guess towards what Beau usually stayed at without damaging it from going too slow or endangering himself for going too fast; 15km/h to 55km/h were his currents approximations. Which by the way, was insane to say on its own.
Wiley removed the break before he could regret any of his current decisions and turned the throttle to speed off in line behind the runner.
As he inched closer rapidly Beau glanced back over his shoulder, his expression hadn't changed, but suddenly he was speeding up steadily. He retorted and began doing the same, though staying at least ten feet to the left of him just in case his assumptions were wrong and he had to do a rapid stop.
Minutes ticked by quickly, and with that time the increase of speed from both of them remained climbing linearly.
He glanced at the speedometer every couple of seconds, registering currently at 30 km/h, by now Wiley would usually be left behind to wallow in defeat.
The sun was now over the horizon, officially sunrise and leaving behind dawn, this is when he decided the helmet had been a great idea, aside from the guaranteed protection, the visor was key to avoiding the sand that usually got stuck in his eyes and made it impossible to see.
35km/h. They were far from the shack now, in the middle of nowhere with only a couple cacti to keep you company.
45km/h. This was when Beau exceeded the theoretically possible speeds that humans could run at at their fastest and physically strongest, they were reaching the impossible.
55km/h. He was beginning to worry about the limits he'd made for the bike, but he was still in sight of Beau and that was a tremendous victory.
He reached sixty-two, and he could see Beau still running without a single sign of distress or exhaustion. He was so close, if he could just go a tad faster- sixty-eight… Then, with a single blink of the eye, and a huge cloud of dust, Beau was out of sight.
What. Wiley was startled, how could it have happened again? How- it just-
Those precious seconds of thought cost him the stability of the bike, he sped up without realizing and suddenly he lost full control of it. He panicked, his heart was beating out of his ears and there just wasn't enough time to come up with any other thought than to close his eyes and brace for impact.
The impact felt oddly… lacking in the pain department. Instead it came as the sensation of something holding him from the waist and flying through the air, entirely detached from the bike. He was expectedly tumbling on the sand and then- nothing. No hurt, no aching, no feeling of heat indicative of a friction burn, simply the sound of his own heavy breathing laying on the sand.
He didn't dare open his eyes, he was most likely in shock, and seeing the final verdict of his own mistakes would definitely not be a pretty sight for someone's final moments. Despite it all, he wasn't too mad he died trying to catch Beau, quite poetic actually, maybe he'd get to see the answers to his questioning once he reached the afterlife-
Beep-beep.
The sky blinded him as soon as he sprung his eyes open, he groaned and shut them on instinct. There was absolutely no way he just heard that, would he be tormented in the afterlife too? Left to actually go mad and ponder upon eons how someone as the runner had ended up as a creature there too?
"Careful there sunshine, your visor's propped up." A voice said from his left, a voice that could belong to no one else but Beau.
The initial shock of thinking he'd crashed was immediately thrown off-balance as the shock from Beau being next to him struck. He had a multitude of questions, ranging from how to why, and most remarkably when???
Eventually, he managed to sit up and open his eyes, fully expecting to see some damage, that wasn't the case though, he was entirely scratch-free. Rather than seeing anything that'd make sense, he was fully intact; stunned, he took off the helmet. His hair was grossly stuck to his head, sweaty and greasy, while his breathing barely began to even out, and most significantly a pair of concerned eyes framed perfectly by loose strands of hair, holding that god-damned smirk on his pouty lips.
Well, his hypothesis had been wrong, but at least if Beau Beckett Rhodes hadn't known of him before past their occasional runs, he definitely did now.
Wiley sighed, he was frustrated, he almost died- he should've died, yet he did not. And he had zero ways to explain it without sounding loony. He rubbed his face with his hands, looking up at the cloudless sky, his bike was not designed for… wait. His bike.
In an attempt to stand up immediately after the realization struck him, he tumbled and would've fallen backwards if not for the strong hold that caught him by the hips. His face heated and he quickly shrugged them off with his own hands, as he looked around for any sight of his creation ahead or anywhere near them.
"You know," the sound of sand being dusted off nylon was followed by the beginning of Beau running in place, "you didn't have to buy a lousy machine just to lose to me."
His cocky tone was beginning to annoy him, and he was wrong, too. Up-ahead, he saw the blinding reflection of steel against matte ground, with a huff, he began his humiliating walk to his creation.
Beau followed instantly with the same quick steps he'd already started, he upped his pace though so that he'd be directly in front of Wiley rather than behind him. He was so ego-filled he just had to beat him to everything wasn't he? A rhetorical question that commonly filled his mind.
"I mean, I knew you were determined, but that was reckless, and that's coming from me!" Beau said, turning around and running in reverse for the sake of dramatics; like pressing a palm to his chest and delivering with such faux concern it comes off as- uh… what was the word? Oh yeah, bratty.
He ignored him, but his face probably gave off the sentiment without needing for gestures. It only took five more minutes of this when they reached the motorcycle, it was surprisingly not as beat up as he had imagined, sure it was scuffed as hell and it'd need a load of replacements, but he had honestly thought he'd have to re-make it from scratch. With mayor adjustments.
Beau finally stopped his running, standing still with his legs parted and hands at his hips; gracefully, he leaned his torso to the side vertically, analyzing the bike with what could be as real as it could be fake interest for it.
Wiley knelt down, turning it off before assessing the damage with a quick look-over. Some panels were ripped off, others were on the verge of doing so, and some parts were jammed places they shouldn't have been. The biggest issue would be carrying it back.
"So," Beau started with a click of the mouth, "what's the damage Dr. Wile?"
Wiley shrugged and crossed his arms, he stood to circle the bike and kneel in front of the wheels, which were definitely non-functioning. As he moved the front wheel to look behind it, he noticed a certain plaque he'd engraved half buried on the ground. Stretching his arm he reached to pick it up, he blew on it and with the back of his hand cleaned the gritty sand off.
He handed it to the runner without looking up, to begin rummaging around some more without flipping the entire bike over. The other took it without hesitation, from his shadow he deducted he stood up straight and brought the plaque close to his face to look at it.
"You paid extra to have your name engraved?"
He sounded genuinely surprised, not judgemental, but rather actually confused.
Wiley got up, using his knees as support so he wouldn't topple and fall like last time —just in case,— and looked at Beau, who was already facing his direction. He shook his head, pointed at the plaque, then looked down at his hands, and finally gestured towards the bike on the ground.
Beau stayed quiet for a couple seconds, as he processed the information, "You engraved it?"
Wiley threw a glare at him, shaking his head again, he pointed at himself and then waved his hands at the whole vehicle.
"You- you made it?!" The runner looked… both shocked and impressed, amused? He wasn't the best at reading faces, but he could make do.
He couldn't help but smile, yes despite the tragedy, he was proud of any of his creations regardless of their success status. He nodded in satisfaction, that was exactly right, Beau.
"Whoa Wiley," he exclaimed as he pocketed the plaque in his shorts pocket, "I knew you were smart but not build-your-own-motorcycle smart." His hands were back at his hips and he was right back to jogging in place; that man could seriously never be still.
Beep-beep.
Now it was Wiley who raised his eyebrow, everyone knew he was smart, but that was everyone who knew him. Bugs had given up understanding his terminology filled rambles at times, Daff, who was typically always with the other had much of the same behavior, his teachers and classmates throughout his life were always aware because they knew he had a high IQ he wasn't shy to share, though he didn't intend to brag but it was hard when you were as smart as he is. The point was, that they all interacted with him continuously and regularly, the most contact he's had with Beau was what had happened today, and was actively unfolding. So really the question was, how did the guy he's been watching for the better part of two months know that about him.
Beau replied like if he had read his mind, "You're not the only one with technological knowledge, genius," he giggled and crossed his arms; his smile was so pretty, it was manipulative. "I was wondering who the guy following me was, you know for safety purposes," he teased, "and asking around I ended up with some of your social media."
What? He definitely didn't have social media, he barely owned a phone and that was used for work and reacting to Bugs' messages almost exclusively.
Beau was entirely unaware of Wiley's internal questioning and confusion, he took his phone out from his other pocket and after some button pressing he pulled up an app that he couldn't recognize even with a gun to his head and turned the phone to face him.
"I didn't think you were the type to have a social life, but see" he pointed at the small text below a picture of himself he didn't know existed, "two-hundred and seven IQ, not something someone would typically put in their bio, but who am I to judge?" Beau smirked and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
He ignored the jab at his current status of apparently humiliatingly alone, and he hoped his stare of dumbfounded bewilderment was enough to convey the thoughts inside his head. For extra measure, he crossed his arms to form an "X" and waved his hands to do the motion repeatedly.
"Huh, not you?" The runner asked, it was honestly starting to become a chain of perplexity that was snowballing from one thing to the next.
Wiley shook his head, definitely not him. Well. He stopped, then shrugged, it wasn't him that had made the account, but it was his face and name and correct data. This was really odd.
"Interesting." Beau bit his lip, and his stare remained blank, as if reflecting back on a memory. "Well!" his expression changed, he had decided something that Wiley knew he wouldn't be privy to know, "I'll get going now, alright? Maybe you'll catch a better glimpse of me tomorrow while 'we' run!" He chirped, and didn't leave space for any other comment as he got back on track seamlessly.
Was he aware he sounded like such a brat? He was so perfect and so loved by the world, practically everyone but him were in love with the guy! I mean, he was pretty and he was just effortlessly majestic, especially the few times he's seen him out of breath after a run, but he did not have a personality that fit his angelic aspects.
He looked around, he was practically deserted again, the sun was scorching in the sky by then; in the desert, the sun being anyway above 20 degrees over the horizon with the earth as the axis was enough to leave you parched. With a near silent sigh he took out his phone and began dialing his friend's number.
"Hiya doc, what's the emergency?" A confident voice came through the speakers.
He turned his camera on, propped the phone against an edge of the motorcycle and crouched down so that Bugs could properly see him, then he began signing, "I'm stranded."
"Now now, how did you get in that situation?" He sounded calm, almost bored.
"Crashed with the motorcycle I told you about."
"Ehh- What?"
"Yeah, it's Beau's fault."
"Did you get distracted by his charming presence?"
"Not charming, annoying. But something like that."
"Right." Shuffling could be heard, then like if his friend was standing further away from the phone than he was before, "And you want me to pick you up?"
"Yes. Now."
"Very demanding there doc, alright send me your location like I showed you, don't move or you'll be dead before you can tell me all about your adventure with your admiree."
"Okay." Wiley glared at him through the phone.
He wasted no time hanging up and doing just that. Against the sun with no water he half worried he'd dehydrate, but luckily he was resilient, and he better be with the eventful barely-morning he'd had.
Forty minutes later and he was sitting down with Bugs across from him, the guy was shuffling through scattered documents and plans he had sitting on the small dining table, they ranged from blueprints, scrapped ideas, to rough brain storming in order to come up with something that might work to snap a picture that appeared to need reaction time as quick as the speed of light itself. Typically he didn't need to jot down his thinking, but he'd failed so many times he started doubting his own intellect and problem resolution skills; one of the many things Beau was doing to him.
"So, let me get this straight on my head." Bugs started his questioning, after Wiley had summarized the entire ordeal through very heated and quick signing. He put the papers down and leaned back with a leg folded on top of the other, he was snacking on some carrot-pudding. "You made the motorcycle to keep up with him, then you got too ambitious, lost control, thought you died because any reasonable human would've, then you realized he was next to you, somehow you weren't scraped along the pavement, and then you had to explain to him you are so head-over-heels obsessed you built it to chase him. Did I get it? Do I get a reward?"
As a response he received a rough shove of the shoulder.
"Ow," he rubbed at the spot, "is this how you treat him? Maybe that's why he's so annoying to you."
Wiley rolled his eyes, he paused before he lifted his hands, "No. You're worse than him, somehow."
"Incredibly rude, I should ignore your call next time you crash like an idiot." Bugs retorted with a casual shrug of the shoulders.
Despite being so… him, he wasn't destroying Wiley's brain trying to figure out how his existence was possible, nor a way to prove that he wasn't seeing things in the first place that could be seen or experienced by anyone else but himself.
He thought about it for a second, not about his friend admitting to justifying abandonment, but he thought of how strange the entire thing had been. Aside from the usual incognito nature that were natural of the runner, two things seemed particularly odd to him. One, he stayed with him despite clearly disliking or having a strong need to be smug against Wiley, and made conversation. Two, he found a social media account with his name, picture, and datum that Wiley had not created.
Bugs had picked the papers back up, and was currently distracted with the very interesting title Dynamite Rocket Follows Road-Runner?? Wiley knocked on the table once to get his attention, "Bugs."
"Hm? Hey what's this about a road-runner?" He dug his finger into the title, causing the paper to wrinkle slightly.
"He runs, on the road."
"Very creative," Bugs said, unamused, "you know there's an animal named that?"
Wiley rolled his eyes again, Bugs typically did that to people, "Clearly. A bird with blue detail feathers, fitting."
"Smart, what'd'ya want?"
"He showed me an internet account."
"He gave you his social media? What a flirt, I could've done that." Bugs remarked, placing his elbows down for support and leaned on his hands, fluttering his eyes.
"No, he showed me my social media account." He emphasized the word with slightly quicker signing and intensifying the movements a tad.
"Ah, the one from university." He said, like he knew what he was talking about and did not just reveal huge information to him.
"Explain, now."
Bugs smacked his lips and straightened his posture back to a normal sitting position, "Eh- I dunno, seems like he found the account I made for you back when you were in university and had no game."
"You were in high school." Wiley was exasperated.
"Did not stop a guy from attempting to help a friend out." Bugs replied, taking a spoonful of pudding straight to his mouth.
All Wiley could do was blink and glare daggers into his friend's brain, it was times like these that made him question their friendship.
He repeated the same sign, "Explain, now."
"I mean you have game now, you know I think your potential was always meant for when your 30's came around, fits that scruffy handsome mechanic vibe you got going on."
Despite the light tinge to his cheeks from embarrassment, Wiley was so close to strangling him and becoming a convicted felon.
Bugs continued, "You graduated way too early and were so focused on y'know, academia, that I thought I'd help out with your social life!" He ate another spoonful, "But then y'know, I forgot."
The silence was loud.
"You. Forgot. Question?"
"Yeah, but hey I give it out to some people in town whenever they ask me for your number so you never get bothered so… win-win? What'cha say doc? I think we're even."
Wiley did not have the energy to unpack the, many many, incongruences that that sentence alone had. He dropped his head down with a loud thud on the table, hands covering his head.
"So uh, take it you want me outta here?"
Wiley only had the energy to reply with a thumbs-up.
The following day had arrived quicker than he wished, he'd finished the report and sent it without reviewing, he checked over the bike one last time before leaving it to rest for the night, and then he slept around 3 hours with 5 minute intervals every half hour; he could not stop thinking about his interaction with Beau. The more he thought about it, the less malicious his intentions seemed, but that couldn't be right, his words were clearly at least meant to be hurtful, and his tone conveyed the same, but his actions spoke differently. By law of assumption he'd convinced himself that Beau had somehow spun around, got behind him, and then with acrobatics he didn't want to think about saved him, and then proceeded to stay by his side till when Beau could guess Wiley was good to go and not dying for any other reason.
Through the logic of this world, it was nonsense. Through the logic of Beau Beckett Rhodes, it made perfect sense.
He decided to stop pondering and knocking his brain around for an answer he wasn't going to find, that didn't stop his brain from keeping him up throughout the night though. By 4:35 AM he was exhausted, but he put that to the side to set up a trick that hadn't worked the past dozen times, and therefore would probably not work today, but he didn't have a back-up at the moment and who knows, maybe it'd capture something worthwhile.
He got up and stretched, he changed into dark jeans, a brown jacket, and a white tank-top that was easy enough to match with anything. He tied his boots down, the fridge hummed as he picked up a nice pear and tore into it quickly, with that he was ready for the day.
He approached the door and opened it with a yank, he was met with dark brown eyes and a beautiful smile. Wiley jumped back, his heart skipping a beat at the very unexpected visit. Beau, was at his door, still running in place, waiting for the moment he left to go chase him again.
"Good morning starlight!" Beau tilted his head, and spoke with a warm tone.
Wiley stood, his brain kicked into action later than he'd wanted to if he wished to appear unbothered; he waved.
"Heard you had company over, is that right?" His curls always glowed when Dawn was in place, it almost overshadowed the confusion. "I'm surprised you didn't invite me, I thought I was your favorite!" He let out a laugh, it sounded… off, but Wiley couldn't pin-point the reason.
Wiley wasn't given time to reply, instead he watched in utter shock as Beau said, in perfect ASL, "I'd love to meet him!"
Beep-beep.
Wiley held up his hands, about to reply, but not coming up with any way to convey his shock other than silence. He was left stunned.
Beau then signed at the same time that he used his voice, "Would you prefer I sign, or talk out-loud?"
Weirdly considerate… Wiley thought about it, he didn't really mind when people used either options. For example, Bugs mainly only spoke out-loud, but occasionally signed depending on the situation; on the other hand, Daffy was still not fluent in ASL, he had difficulty with memory when it came to signing, but he could understand perfectly fine when Wiley spoke to him through it. So really, as long as he was understood, it was up to the other person, however it was very nice knowing when someone also spoke ASL, despite Beau being the person of reference at the moment.
Wiley pursed his lips, "Either," and then, without thinking he continued, hand-movements shying and rapid, "Your voice is nice, though." He felt his face heat up as he crossed his arms to hide his hands.
Beau perked up at the praise, Wiley swears his eyes would be shimmering if it were physically possible, and to be honest with him it just might.
"Awe, thank you Wile!" He clasped his hands together and smiled brightly, "You're such a delight when you're not wearing that cute frown of yours, did you know?"
Wiley stayed quiet, turning away from the doe eyes that gave him butterflies, which could only be explained by their way of unsettling someone into nerves.
Beau leaned so that he was in Wiley's point of view, "You tend to turn your face like that, so perhaps I'll just.." he then made that classic gesture that signaled someone locking their mouth shut and throwing the key away. He began speaking in ASL only, and Wiley had to turn to face him to catch the sentences clearly, "Now I get to see your face better."
Wiley closed his eyes, if he didn't see it didn't happen and he didn't have to die from his very strange form of teasing that did not make sense and made him fluster. Still, he responded, "Not fair."
He heard the other chuckle, and then his voice "Alright, alright, I'll be fair."
When he opened his eyes again he saw how Beau's face turned from happy to thoughtful.
"So I was wondering, do I get an explanation?" He asked, smile of a devil on such a pretty face.
Wiley was quick to tilt his head in question, suddenly remembering he could communicate more effectively he followed it with: "Why?"
"Oh no reason, I was just heading for a visit here to check in and noticed one more car than usual." He said, casual tone betrayed by a cunning smirk and sharp focused eyes, though the runner was actively going against many of the social cues he'd learnt to recognize, so perhaps it was just as casual as he masks.
Wiley considered his options, he could either refuse to answer and possibly have Beau think worse of him which may lead to him never getting to see him run again, or he could answer, get it over with and hope and pray everything went back to normal so he could continue his experimentation.
He went with the latter.
"Friend picked me up, then stayed over so that-" actually, he probably shouldn't tell Beau he was talking about him, "so that, I could ask him about the social media. He admitted he made it when we were younger."
"Oh I see! Childhood friends?"
"Sort-of." Wiley took into consideration what the definition of a friend was, remembering the evening before, "Friend might not be the right word at the moment." His cheeks did that thing again that often happened when he was embarrassed, talking about Bugs to Beau was just a tad… humiliating, Bugs could be a very strange guy and being friends with him was a feat, Beau might not know Bugs now, but once you meet him he is engraved in your head never to leave. While Beau annoyed the living shit out of him, he could appreciate and admire a smart man when he met one, he was aware their intelligence was difference, but it was that regardless of the type. Which was much like how he respected creative artistic intellect as much as academic intellect, the human mind was truly fascinating.
As soon as he finished signing, Beau's entire demeanor changed, he stopped running in place and went from a sunny attitude with a slight edge that could be easily ignored, to fully cold, somehow. Wiley wasn't sure how to describe the change it atmosphere, he just knew it was apparent, and a change that typically meant someone was tense or upset.
Beau locked eyes with him, "Oh? Do you think it's something special? Perhaps of partnership?"
Wiley scrunched his nose, his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the prospect. "I would rather get in a crash." He silently giggled to himself, stupid joke. "He is just very strange. Friends, but he acts oddly sometimes."
The mood shifted back to warm, a light-hearted laugh escaping Beau, he sighed as if in relief.
Beep-beep.
Beau hummed, "Great timing, I'm going to continue my run, can't have me running as slow as you now can we?" Of course, his question was rhetorical. "Join me if you want, I'll keep at your pace." He winked at him and turned around, quickly reaching his routinely track.
Not looking back, he resumed his own daily schedule, luckily Beau had taken his response well, it seemed like things would be going back to a close proximity of normal. Curls admirable from a distance, bright and beautiful, Beau occasionally turning to tease and poke fun at him, and Wiley following along with the futile hope that he'd get a photo of him mid super-speed while getting increasingly more frustrated at the other.
He wasn't sure himself why he never gave up, the pursuit of knowledge was what he typically told himself, and while that was a very highly determinative factor, he could admit in hindsight he did not mind the quips as much as he probably should. So sure, Beau was a freak of nature (not that he'd ever say that to his face), and sure he was a brat that could not hold his tongue even if clamped shut, but he gave weirdly considerate mixed signals, and Wiley was constantly chasing after him, following him in his runs, aware of his schedule and typical paths he followed, and obsessively attempting to take the perfect picture of him.
Written by a human in Ellipsus.