One-Shot.
This isn't very funny.
I know.
Grady watched in silence. He watched Nico walk away with Portlyn, and he told himself he didn't care (notatall). He laughed when Sonny told him a joke, and he grinned when Zora told him he was an idiot. Because really, he was. No smart person fell in love with a best friend ("Best friends forever, man.").
How do you feel about me?
Feel? About you?
Nico listened to the perky, prissy brunette's yabbering (Portlyn thisPortlyn that). Or more honestly, he pretended to listen. Hey, at least she bought it. He would give anything to notice that she had sparkly eyes, or pretty hair, or nice, kissable lips . . . But he didn't, (notatall).
Yeah, feel. About me.
Everything, I suppose.
Grady didn't lift his head as Nico walked into the prop house. It was late, the light was flickering on and off, surely about to blow, and the day felt hollow. Nico spoke in his low voice that Grady just loveslovesloves. Nico tells him Portlyn is a bitchy, ugly snob. But it doesn't make a difference (notatall), because they both agreed they would never fall in lovelovelove. But really, it was too late for that. Lovelovelove began the day they met, but no one knew that.
We can't tell anyone about this.
I know.
I wish- I wish we could-
I know.
Their gaze lingered on each other for just one second too long that night, and they remembered the promise. They didn't like the promise, but there was no other option. They wished for a second, they could have what Sonny and Chad had – the right to love. They wished they could steal kisses and laugh and hold hands. But they couldn't.
It's not the same, is it?
No, not it's not.
They weren't even friends anymore – just ghosts of friends' past, just two strangers pretending they knew each other. The sloppy grins were replaced by tight, forced smiles, and the laughter was replaced by polite nods and coughs. Their bodies are stiff as they walk by each other, like they smell absolutely horrible and neither of them can stand it. But really, they're just two boys in love.
I love you.
*Silence*
Words and pictures and music meant nothing without a best friend to share it with. They'd fucked it all up so bad that now nothing was the same, and they hadn't gotten anywhere. Every day was a prayer for those jokes, for that familiarity. But apparently, God wasn't picking up.
Say something.
I don't think I can.
Anything.
There's nothing to say.
Grady winced as Nico's arm brushed against his. It used to be a sweet thing, but now it just plain hurt. Between every no and yes and should-have and could-have, it wasn't worth it anymore.
The press is hassling me.
Me too.
Why are we pretending we don't care again?
Because we'd be fucked otherwise.
Nico watched Grady move on. No, not move on- Give up. He found a pretty girl who took him as he was (Nico took him as he was) and settled down. Maybe Nico couldn't do that, but his best friend could. Sonny (who always k n e w) told him he should be happy for Grady. But he doesn't listen, because he's too busy watching Grady take the pretty girl's hand.
I do love you.
You're too late.
Nico told Grady he loved him. Ten years later, when Grady was settled down and ready for kids. He had never moved on (never given up) and he visits Grady for the fourth time that month. Every other meeting is stiff and uncomfortable, but necessary for them to keep going. This one, though . . .
This one is full of bitterness and longing and should-have-been's. Grady tells him he's too late, as his pregnant wife waddles up behind him and takes his hand. This moment was meant to happen, he just knows it was.
It was meant to happen ten years ago, when no one had given up and they both sort of knew what this was. But Nico had no idea what this was anymore – he hadn't known in a long time. It was the mess, the leftovers, of two boys in love.
Goodbye Nico.
Goodbye Grady.