"Sil?"

"If you're not wearing pants today," Silver mumbled, his face buried in his pillow, "there will be blood."

"Shorts and underwear, just for you, bro."

"Great. Now fuck off."

"No seriously, you have to wake up."

"Ethan, I swear I will fucking rip your dick off."

"Jeez, man. Harsh. I need you awake for this shit though. Like, actually awake."

Silver groaned but lazily opened one eye. He closed it again and rolled onto his back, eventually opening both eyes; it took him a minute to adjust to the light and even then, Ethan's cross-legged form beside him remained out of focus.

"There, 'm awake."

"More awake."

"The fuck do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, just sit up or some shit would you?" Ethan scowled. Years of experience had taught Silver that it was best to indulge him over the small things, so he did as his friend asked and sat up. He shifted until he was sitting cross-legged in front of the dark-haired teen, trying to force his expression into anything other than hungover.

"Get on with it."

"Don't tell me what to do," Ethan shot out his response without thinking. "Okay, I got this phone call before,"

"When?"

"Before. Like, earlier."

"What time is it?"

"Three in the afternoon."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Shut the fuck up man, let me finish."

"Okay, sorry. Fuck," Silver said. He yawned and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to detangle the mess it had become overnight.

"Anyway, I got this phone call before. From Lance. Fucking, Lance, man. Shit, he offered me a position."

"Doing?"

"What the fuck do you think?"

"Pool boy?"

"Fuck off. A position in the League. Some shit went down and they've reshuffled their line up and he asked me to take up one of the fucking positions. I'm Elite fucking Four."

"…Arceus help us all."

"Hey fuck you, this is only my fucking life dream coming true, you bitch!" Ethan exclaimed. He hadn't been expecting a rousing, heartfelt congratulations but a little more enthusiasm wouldn't have gone astray. He tried not to look as if Silver had mortally wounded his pride, but his efforts were in vain.

"Hold that thought."

"Why?"

"I need to fucking throw up," Silver said, taking a moment to slap Ethan's cheek before he sprinted to the bathroom. Ethan tried to hit him back as he left but missed by a mile; he gave up and fell sideways, dragging one of the pillows over his face as a sign of defeat. It wasn't every day that sharing news like that was overshadowed by the need to vomit.

###

"Anyway," Ethan started from his place at the small kitchen table. Silver's back was towards him and if there was ever a good time to start up a serious discussion with him, it was when his attention was divided. Besides, if he was preoccupied with the frying pan the chances were that whatever Ethan had to say would either be ignored entirely, or accepted without question.

"You can't start with 'anyway'."

"Why not?"

"Because we weren't having a conversation."

"Yes we were you dick, I told you that my only dream has literally just come true and you fucking threw up!"

"That was three hours ago, bitch."

"So?"

"So you can't continue a conversation from three hours ago. How the fuck am I supposed to remember what you were talking about? All you do is fucking talk," Silver said. He sat down in the chair opposite Ethan then slid a bowl of chicken and rice across the table.

"What's hard to remember? Lance called, Elite fucking Four," Ethan said through a mouthful of rice. "Anyway," he added, ignoring that he could feel the look of irritation on Silver's face. "What are you doing next weekend?"

"No idea. Work, maybe. I'm not going out with you and Crys again."

"Why not?"

"Because it's seven fucking thirty and I'm still hungover!"

"Dude not my problem. But anyway,"

"Would you stop saying that?"

"Stop fucking interrupting me and I might be able to finish what I was saying!"

"Get on with it!"

"Fine! Fuck, okay. This weekend is over and the position starts in two weeks when the League reopens so we have to move next weekend."

"…We have to move?"

"Yeah, I basically have to be on call. We have to move to Indigo."

"Yeah, I'm not sure where this 'we' shit is coming from," Silver said, using his chopsticks to gesture to the space between them. "Why should I move?"

"I dunno," Ethan shrugged, then moved to put his own chopsticks down on the table. "I guess I figured you'd come with me, man."

"Why?"

"I guess I thought we were friends or some shit."

"How'd you get to that conclusion?"

"Fuck you," he added, but without any of the malice Silver would have expected. Ethan's chair scraped across the floorboards as he stood up, and Silver just sat there while he left the kitchen. He didn't even flinch when he heard a door slam.

###

"The fuck are you doing?"

"Packing."

"No shit, I can see that. Are you fucking crying?"

"Don't be a dick."

"Hey, I just asked if you were crying."

"I'm not crying."

"Pussy."

"Fuck off, Silver. I'm not fucking crying, okay?"

"You'd better not be."

"Just fuck off."

If Ethan had bothered to look up – not that he could have, because of the few tears he'd quickly brushed away when the door had opened – he would have figured everything out a lot faster. He shifted around to the other side of the box he was packing when Silver sunk to the floor beside him, keeping his back towards his friend.

"You know," Silver started, "I would have really appreciated you giving me that option before I packed all my shit."