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“I love you.” Pete had gasped the moment Gary had opened the door. The tiny brunette was stood there, with another man’s saliva and teeth marks on his throat. He’d stood in the doorway to Gary’s dorm room, which was embarrassingly messy, much like Pete himself was. It had been late, perhaps 2am or so, Gary couldn't really recall. He’d been too high and sleep-deprived to register much that wasn't a new kill streak.
Gary offered him silent, observational look, as he examined his ex-lover. His too-thin clothes, the snow that had soaked his canvas trainers right through, the stench of like cheap cocktails and pot that was irradiating from him. Gary stared him down, he himself stood in the doorway of his shared dormitory, he himself not really a sight to behold, in his black boxers and fraying wife beater. Pete opens and closes his mouth, staring down Gary with this frightened urgency. Gary vaguely reminisces of a time where he would’ve smacked Pete so hard for daring to come to him after everything that had been said between them. For the cheek of sleeping with a man who was not Gary, for daring to admit that they were anything more than grossly incompatible fuckbuddies, that there was any tangible feelings between them. Instead, he just stands there, watching Pete’s wide-eyed fright with foreign discomfort.
“Yeah?” Gary inquired, breaking the silence so suddenly Pete started.
“I do. Y-yeah, I-I-” Pete faltered a little, standing straighter. “I do. I love you.” Gary’s lips pursing as he beheld him for one final moment.
“In here, you little moron.” He’d prefer not to air his and Pete’s vast dirty laundry in semi-public.
He locks the door behind them, turning Pete to face him in the semi-darkness, only the dark screen of his paused television offering the two any illumination. He looks at him for a moment, relishes in their sizable height difference, towering over Petey like a predator looming over his prey. Then he leans down, ever-so-slightly, cupping Pete’s damp face, brushing their noses together lightly.
“Don’t.” He chided him, his eyes wide, like those of a child. “Don’t love me, Petey.” Pete blinked at him.
“Gary, I-“ Pete’s voice began to tremble.
“No. Don’t waste more of your love on me.” Gary commanded, in an unnaturally light voice. “You’re better than this. Than all of this, okay?” Pete shook his head, his lips twisting into this hysterical smile.
“I’m not.” He responded, miserably, his pretty head in his hands. “I-I’m not, Gary. I-I’m so gr-gross and horrible.”
“No.” Gary smiled, at that, this smile that could’ve so easily been one of wicked enjoyment. But it wasn’t. It was sad. He pulled Pete’s hands from his face, which was so beautiful, so soft and stupidly gorgeous. Pete made such a shit boy. “You’re lovely.” He wanted to cry, because Pete had never really looked more angelic in his life. He wasn’t sure if it was the pills he was on, if it was the joint his stupid flatmate had goaded him into smoking an hour or so ago or just because it was the first time he’d properly looked at Pete since they’d stopped talking last summer.
“I had sex with somebody else, a-and h-he was horrible and I don’t know why I did it.” Pete forced out, his voice hoarse. “He wasn’t, I don’t know, mean, h-he just wasn’t you.”
“You’re allowed to fuck other people.” Gary acknowledged. Not like Gary had. He backed onto the bed, patting the space on the mattress next to him. Pete stumbled forward, sitting next to his ex-lover, his hands on his lap. “In fact, I’d encourage it. Probably a good way to. Y’know. Forget this year.” Pete bit his tongue.
“I don’t want to.” He confessed. “I’d rather sleep with you.” Gary bit back a grin.
“I’m that good in bed?” He asked, in faux-shocked voice.
“N-no,” Pete clasped a hand over his mouth, Gary snorting at him. “It’s not that, G-Gary, don’t be an ass, you know that’s not what I meant! I… I guess it’s just you?”
“Yeah. Horrible old me.” There was a tangible bitterness in Gary’s voice.
“No. You’re not horrible.” Pete rested his hand on Gary’s leg. For a moment, Gary left it untouched but then he took it in his own, squeezing it lightly. “You’re lovely. Too. I-I really do love you.” There were tears in Pete’s eyes, which were big and unfocused. God, he was drunk. He was drunk and tomorrow morning this would be forgotten, swept under the same rug as their entire relationship had been. Gary
He kisses Pete, this deep kiss that isn’t about power dynamics or shutting his stupid little pink mouth. No, he kisses him because he wants to. He wants to feel his lips against his, his willing lips, his clinging embrace holding him because fuck, he loves him. Fuck, he loves him. He’d always loved him, even when love was that thing that the card companies falsified to make real people feel incomplete. Before the pills, before the therapy. He’d always loved him. Fuck had he always loved him, that hopelessly beautiful boy.
“He didn’t make me cum.” Pete voiced, softly, suddenly running his hands down the front of Gary’s wife beater. Without any hesitation, he straddles Gary’s hips, attempting to ease his wife beater off properly and ease him back into the kiss. For a moment, Gary considers, letting his hands run up Pete’s sweaty, booze-soaked shirt. And then, carefully, he eases him away.
“No.”
“H-huh? B-but-“
“You’re drunk. And… Let’s be honest, fuck knows what else.” He tucked a curl behind Pete’s ear, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. He eased off Pete’s shirt, standing and throwing a sweatshirt his way. His old Bullworth sweatshirt. Pete looks at the navy shirt, pursing his lips, then pulls it on. “Sleep.” Gary commanded.
“Y-you wanna sleep, too?” Pete asks, his voice more slurry than it had been moments prior. Gary looks at Pete, whose sprawled lazily under Gary’s bed, wearing his clothes and this doe-like expression. His hair’s a little longer. his eyes are bloodshot, but fuck it’s nostalgic. Gary’s had enough energy drinks to keep a small child awake for three consecutive nights, but just looking at Pete makes him feel oddly sleepy. He smiles, a toothy grin that makes his gaunt face light up with long-lost devilish youth.
“Y'know, I think I will.” Gary concurs.He lays next to Pete, slipping under the stupidly thin cover. There’s two, small arms wormed around his broad chest, Gary can feel Pete’s shuddering breath on the back of his neck. Very briefly, he worries if Pete can feel the thump of his heart, this heavy, stupid flutter. They lay together, in comfortable quiet for some time, Pete pressing his feet to the back of Gary's calves instinctively, staying there for the longest time.
“Gary…” Pete mumbles, turning his cheek against Gary’s back.
“Pete?”
“I do love you. A-and it’s not just the booze saying that.” He held Gary closer, before the larger male turned to face him, Pete pressing his hands to Gary’s chest and avoiding his deep hazel eyes, a furious blush growing on his face. “I do. I do. You’re…” Pete fell quiet, maybe because he wasn’t quite sure what Gary was. Gary smiled regardless.
“I know.” Gary brushed one of Pete’s curls behind his ears, pecking his forehead lightly and closing his eyes. He kissed Pete’s forehead again because he couldn’t stand not to.
“I never stopped. E-even though… Y’know, we decided-“
“You didn’t get much say. In the decision.” Gary reminded Pete pointedly. Pete shook his head.
“No. It was the best thing, wasn’t it, though? In the long run?"
“Maybe.” Gary didn’t know.
“’Cause now, y’know, you’re better.”
“I’m getting by. Managing it. I’ll never be better. Realising that helped me get to where I am now.” Gary admits, looking away from Pete..
“Yeah.” Pete, as though he’s not sure what else to do, reaches up to kiss him. It's far softer than it had been before, far less fervent and Gary kisses back briefly. He pulls away, knocking their noses together forcibly.
"Sleep." Gary reminded Pete, in this almost parental sternness. Pete smiles, closes his eyes and Gary can't remember who it was who falls asleep first, in this blissful entanglement. It's probably not forever but it's current, it's now, it's real. For the first time in many years, Gary Smith is content.