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“Honestly, Ferris, I don’t, I just, I don’t understand how you even come up with these things!” Cameron is really hitting his stride now, his long thin arms flailing at the elbows. He’ll be on his tiptoes soon. “I mean, exactly what is your decision process?”
Ferris’s decision process is simple: at any given moment, he does the best thing there possibly is to do. He has never understood why everyone else doesn’t act that way, too. It is the only way he knows how.
Right now the best thing, as he watches Cameron’s mouth scrunch up and his hair fall into his eyes as he spazzes around and the muscle in his throat jumps, is to lean in and kiss him.
Ferris expects Cameron’s lips to be like tight and tense, like everything about Cameron, but they aren’t, they are soft and pliant and kissable under his, and it’s amazing.
Cameron has frozen and pulled back, an inch, half an inch, just enough space so that Ferris isn’t touching him anymore, their breath mingling. His eyes are wide and so blue and he just looks stunned, and his mouth falls open, just a little, so Ferris leans in and kisses him again.
It’s even better now, more, and his tongue flicks out, just to taste, and Cameron tastes like his house smells, like the forest, dead leaves and stillness, but also more, like chili fries and sunshine; he tastes like the best days of Ferris’s life. And then Cameron starts to kiss him back, barely, a tiny bit, his lips opening and some pressure and feeling and it’s fantastic, and Ferris really starts to get going and he feels the blood rushing to his head, that nice tingly sensation in his stomach.
Until Cameron stops, and pulls back, further this time, there’s at least a foot of space between them now, and he’s looking at Ferris. He looks...hurt?
“What?” says Ferris, because honestly he’s just confused, now.
“It’s not funny, Ferris,” Cameron says, and then he turns around and walks out of the kitchen, and then out of the house, Ferris can hear the back door slam.
Well. That could have gone better.
+++
The problem with Ferris, Cameron thinks, staring at the unchanging blue water in front of him, is that he has never not been loved, that’s the problem. He has always been so surrounded and enveloped by love and affection and adoration that he moves through it like everyone else moves through the air, feels it on his skin like sunlight, doesn’t know that no one else feels that way.
He expects it, and so he gets it. Everyone loves Ferris, because he thinks that they will, and he acts accordingly. He sees no reason why it won’t continue, forever. And he does stuff like this, and he just...he assumes. It’s not arrogance, this assumption of universal, constant, unchanging adoration, its just his understanding of the world. It’s just the way it’s always been. Ferris doesn’t know what it’s like to love and not be loved back. He never has. It’s the best and worst thing about him.
Cameron thinks about Ferris’s face when he’d said, “It’s not funny,” about the broken, confused look. He wasn’t trying to be funny, Cameron could tell that now. He just....He always...He would-
Cameron thinks about jumping facefirst into the pool again. It wouldn’t really help, though, so he turns around with a sigh and goes back inside.
+++
Ferris is still standing next to the table in the kitchen, he hasn’t decided on the next course of action, next plan, when Cameron comes back in. He looks downcast, a muscle twitching under his lips, but he’s also still wearing those suspenders that like, why would those be hot? But they are, and his hair is falling in the corner of his eyes, like always, and Ferris can’t make himself regret anything.
“Look, Cam - ” he starts.
“Ferris,” says Cameron. “You know I love you, right? You’re my best friend, always have been.” He says it in that Cameron voice though, the voice that he uses to tell Ferris that his newest fantastic plan absolutely won’t work.
Ferris freezes. He can’t think of a single scheme or clever ruse or plan; if Cameron wants to leave there is nothing, nothing he can do to stop him.
“I know, Cam,” he says. His voice sounds small.
“Okay,” says Cameron. “So you see, then, why you can’t do this to me?”
Do this to him? “Do this to you?”
“It’s...it’s just not fair, Ferris,” says Cameron. “Okay? I just...let’s just be us, all right?”
“This is us,” says Ferris, and he starts to walk closer to Cameron again.
“This - No, Ferris, this isn’t. Us is...you coming up with insane things and dragging me along and me giving you rides all over town on your adventures and me thinking I’m dying and you telling me I’m not.”
“All those things,” says Ferris. “But why not this, too? This is fun.” He reaches out a hand and touches Cameron’s hip, right where it sticks out of his jeans, but Cameron jerks back and looks at him warily, like a spooked horse.
“Fun? Okay, but, Ferris...” Cameron licks his lips. That’s really not fair. “Ferris, I’m not like you, all right? I can’t just do that, with someone who doesn’t care about me, like that. You know? It’s not just fun, for me. I’m sorry I’m no fun for you.”
Not for the first time, Ferris stares at his best friend and is amazed that someone he likes so much can be so wrong about things.
“Cameron, I care about you,” says Ferris, using his full name, which he never, ever, does. “If I didn’t have you to argue with me, what would I do?”
But it must come out wrong, because Cameron’s nose scrunches up and his eyes go down, Ferris can see his individual lashes, he’s so close. “I’m glad that’s useful to you,” he says.
“Yes! It’s the best thing!” says Ferris. God, why wasn’t Cameron understanding? Cameron was smart and funny and wicked, he had amazing ideas, and he didn’t always do what Ferris thought he would do, and he pushed back. Ferris loves being pushed back.
Cameron’s eyes were still dark but Ferris is close enough now, so he says, “Look, it’s like this,” and he kisses him again, but this time he tries to put as much of himself into it as possible, tries to make Cameron feel what he meant. He kisses him, hard and demanding, and Cameron resists, a little, and it was like every conversation they ever had, Ferris saying yes yes yes let’s do it and Cameron saying no no no we can’t and then giving in. His mouth opens under Ferris’s and pushing back, lips and tongue and teeth, and it’s amazing. Ferris feels like he’s flying, like he’s driving in that red Ferrari and the wind is in his hair and he has everything he wants.
He pulls back this time, he doesn’t want to scare Cameron, wants him to make the next move. Cameron’s cheeks are flushed and his lips are bright red, he looks really really...well, fuckable. But not yet, not now. Ferris is good at getting Cameron Frye to do what he wants, and he knows exactly what he wants, and he will get it.
“Uh,” says Cameron.
“Right,” says Ferris. “Yes.”