It was the day after Wajeed's 'bro' fundraiser and Dinesh and Gilfoyle were still arguing.
"You spent hundreds of dollars just to spite me!" Dinesh moaned at his coworker. "You're suck a dick!"
Gilfoyle smirked. "I don't know what you're talking about. The 'bro' app is genius. In fact, I'm going to download it right now and start 'bro'ing everyone I know!"
Gilfoyle mentally congratulated himself on finding a way to continue to annoy Dinesh. It was only after the app had finished downloading that he realized that to use 'Bro', he would actually have to add someone else who had the app. Gilfoyle knew exactly two such people. One was, of course, the app's founder, Dinesh's short sighted cousin Wajeed. The other was Jared.
He turned up the volume on his phone as high as it would go and bro'd Wajeed. Wajeed bro'd him back immediately, probably grateful for the donation and the usage. Dinesh cringed at the obnoxious noise the app made. So far, so good.
Jared was right: it felt surprisingly good to send and receive bros. Perhaps it was the combination of a minor positive social interaction with the removal of 100% of the creative decision making one usually had to invest into such an interaction. It was like a digital nod, except even with a nod one has to worry about magnitude, frequency, context: all the minute quagmires of body language. With 'Bro', a piece of software was doing all the work for him.
Truth be told, Gilfoyle found it difficult to be nice. He had been born with a cynical scowl on his lips and had developed a chip on his shoulder very early on in life. It suited him to banter and berate; he had developed something of a reputation for it. But some days, a lot of days lately, his whole situation exhausted him. Months and months he'd spent sitting in the coding room for hours on end, hacking away at breakneck speed, trying to think up new ways to insult Dinesh and undermine Richard, acting like he wasn't terrified that they would fail and that it would be his fault. These soul-crushing days stirred in him a long-buried spark of desire for reassurance: the desire to smile at someone, anyone, and be smiled back at. Except he didn't have the first clue how to do that without getting made fun of.
Gilfoyle felt rather pleased that he'd invested money into the 'Bro' project.
However, the fact remained that he couldn't really justify sending a high volume of bros to someone he didn't actually know. Which left Jared. Now, as Gilfoyle had directly told Jared several times, he had no desire to become friends with the mild mannered manager. Although he respected Jared's business sense, the man was a fool about life. But then Gilfoyle got to thinking. Maybe some amusement might come out of all this. Gilfoyle decided to 'bro' Jared.
Jared quickly bro'd him back.
Gilfolye smiled at the screen.
"What are you smiling at?" Dinesh asked him.
"Oh, just bro'ing Wajeed and Jared," said Gilfoyle.
"What? Why?" Dinesh wailed. "You don't even like either of them!"
Gilfoyle snorted. "Oh, I don't know. I guess this app has a way of bringing people together. You should be proud to have been a part of its success."
Just then, Jared walked through the front door, smiled conspiratorially at Gilfoyle, and disappeared into the garage. After a few minutes, Jared emerged, wearing a different shirt and carrying a basket of laundry.
That was strange. Why was Jared keeping clothes in the garage? Should he confront Jared about it? No, that was stupid. If Jared was in fact living in the garage, Gilfoyle didn't really want to alert anyone else. It was obvious why Jared was too poor to afford his own apartment. After all, he was the one handing out the paychecks. It was just like Jared to do something selfless like let his lease expire and not even tell anyone lest he inconvenience the group. As a satanist, Gilfoyle despised him for his commitment to thinking about the needs of others. But as an individualist, he recognized that Jared's sacrifices were Gilfoyle's gains.
As Jared left the laundry room and headed back toward the garage, Gilfoyle decided to catch his eye and 'bro' him again.
Jared blushed and scurried away.
That night, long after midnight, Jared sent Gilfoyle a 'bro'. Gilfoyle hadn't realized anyone else stayed up as late as he did. He sent Jared a 'bro' back. Shortly after, he decided to set down his book and go to bed. He rolled over and dreamed of pleasant things.
The next day, Gilfoyle was talking to Richard in the living room.
"And I still can't believe you showed those Endframe jerks our diagram!" said Richard.
"Me? You're the one who gave the whole thing away!" said Gilfoyle.
"I ... I just gave them an overview!" said Richard. "You're the one who put the whole thing on the whiteboard!"
Gilfoyle was still trying to think of a sufficiently sarcastic reply when his phone dinged.
He had a 'bro' from Jared.
He looked up. Jared was watching them from the kitchen. Jared smiled sympathetically at Gilfoyle.
And suddenly Gilfoyle recalled something Jared had said the other day about never having been anyone's bro before.
"You know the truth," Gilfoyle told Richard before getting up and heading to the garage, from which location he returned Jared's 'bro'.
A few minutes later, Jared sat down next to him on the makeshift bed.
"So you figured out my little secret," said Jared.
"Is it a secret? I don't really understand how a house full of people could fail to realize you're living in the garage."
Jared smiled sadly. "I excel at flying under the radar. It's one of my greatest skills. You won't tell anyone, will you?"
"No," said Gilfoyle.
Jared paused a moment. "Thank you. By the way, I'm sorry you got the blame for Endframe. The whole thing was my fault for recommending them in the first place."
"Yeah," said Gilfoyle. "But thanks for taking a break from sucking Richard's dick long enough to acknowledge that to me and only me."
Jared looked down. "I just ... I just wanted to be bros."
"You know you're talking about a novelty knockoff phone app, right?" said Gilfoyle. "It's not a substitute for an actual friendship."
"I suppose it isn't," said Jared, rubbing at his knees. "But what if ... "
Gilfoyle's incredulous eyebrow raise stopped Jared dead. Jared wouldn't actually say it, would he? Not out loud, surely?
Circling his thumb with his index finger, Jared continued. "But what if it were?"
Gilfoyle snorted.
For some reason known only to himself, Jared continued, his voice weak but steady. "We've had our noses to the grindstone for months, Gilfoyle. When's the last time you went out with friends? Or even had a friend over to visit? Everyone in this house is on the same team, but we live under a permanent cloud of mutual resentment and posturing. Plus, there's no line between work and down time."
"What's your point?" said Gilfoyle.
Jared inhaled. "Wouldn't it be nice to take a break sometimes? I mean ..."
"You mean," said Gilfoyle, his voice an unforgiving slab of granite, "you're lonely."
If it was even possible, Jared grew still redder. But he kept going, perhaps believe he had nothing to lose anymore. "And you aren't, Gilfoyle? You despise everyone in this house! But you never leave the house either! You think you're better than me? Who do you have in your corner?"
Gilfoyle furrowed his brow and folded his hands thoughtfully. Jared's nakedness had disarmed him.
Gilfoyle swallowed. "No one."
Jared raised his head. "So?"
"So nothing," said Gilfoyle. "I'm my own corner. Satanists have this rule, Jared. 'Do not tell your troubles to others unless you are sure they want to hear them.' That's something I live by."
Jared said nothing.
Gilfoyle said nothing.
Jared said, "Well ..."
Gilfoyle stood up.
"I want to hear them."
Gilfoyle sat down. "Even if I never reciprocate the fraternal feeling? You really are a masochist, you know that?"
Jared said, "Bro."