"Evan." Sarah called out, gently nudging him as he smiled tenderly once again in his sleep.
"Sweetie. Wake up for a bit."
It took all his might to lift his heavy eyelids and open his eyes to the scene of a bright Monday morning. He frowned, squinting his eyes at the sudden intake of light.
"What is it?" He murmured, his voice still hoarse and teeming with sleepiness.
"I'm working late tonight, so you've got to have dinner alone again," Sarah began sadly. "I'm sorry, sweetie."
"S'okay," Evan mumbled. "Pre-Christmas season crowd."
"I promise I'll make it up to you once all the madness ends, okay?" She smiled, her grey eyes glinting in the light.
"Okay," Evan drawled, and shut his eyes once more. He heard Sarah giggle softly, prompting Evan to look at her incredulously.
"Sorry. You looked like you were enjoying yourself, it's kind of adorable."
"Huh?"
"You were smiling to yourself in your sleep. Looked like you were having some really sweet dreams."
"Maybe," Evan purred. "Weren't you going to work or something?"
"I am. Go back to sleep, darling." Sarah leaned over, filling his nose with the smell of her perfume – a strong, overly sweet, fruity scent. He felt her lips on his forehead, gently pecking away. Slowly, the smell became less and less potent as he heard footsteps walking away from him, and a door shut far away from him.
He closed his eyes once more, basking in the stillness of the room. At some point he must have drifted off, as the darkness that he saw in his head soon dissipated and shapes began to form. Colors began to fill his mind, the color of the sky, the color of water… the sky blue shirt on a pale, skinny man.
His back was turned, and all Evan saw was the dark hair, a tattooed neck and the blue of his shirt through blurry eyes. Nothing was clear, nothing seemed solid, and everything seemed to be part of a bigger whirl.
There was a movement, and the man turned around, his face still a blur. His features were distorted, fuzzy, as though he was submerged in a body of constantly moving water, with Evan peering at him from above. A mound of soft pink skin moved; he was speaking – but Evan could barely hear him. It was as though he was attempting to communicate from a faraway radio that was losing signal, and all Evan could hear was soft buzzing, white noise, and bizarre, incomprehensible murmurs.
Involuntarily, Evan reached a hand out towards the watery, blurry man. He seemed so far away, so unreachable, almost fluid. The further he reached, the more lost he felt.
In one fell motion, his body soared, and was suddenly engulfed by a suspension of warmth. A soft, non-existent pair of hands caressed his face, and a pair of bright, almost electric blue eyes peered straight at him in the distance, almost incongruent with the rest of the scene, clearer than anything else in the blurry picture.
A wave of tenderness washed over him as he felt the hands move down towards his lips, tracing them slowly as though in admiration. The eyes drew closer, and closed themselves, and he felt his body shiver as heat drew through his mouth, sending pleasure throbbing through his entire body. He was experiencing happiness, in its purest forms.
The fuzziness slowly took over, and the images slowly faded away, distant, into black.
Evan awoke, his breathing slow and calm. The joy that he felt lingered, nesting itself in his chest, producing a pleasant warmth. Gently, he peeled the comforter off his body and headed into the bathroom, undressing along the way.
As the water fell from the shower head above, he relaxed his body. He began to lather himself up with soap, allowing the soft soapy scent to penetrate his senses. For the first time in a long time, he felt raw, completely bare.
His thoughts drifted to the coming weekend at the resort house. He had little objection to sharing a room with Jonathan, but a nagging feeling kept at his chest. He shook his head slightly, and ducked under the stream of water, allowing his emotions to wash away with the cool droplets that came and left his body.
He twisted a knob, and the water ceased to flow. He quickly stepped out of the shower, and continued along with the rest of his morning routine – brushing, washing, and shaving – all in a mechanical fashion.
His phone buzzed once – another compliment on Twitter regarding his latest video, which set his mind thinking about his next task. I have to edit Dead Realm, he thought. How do I even edit that one?
Mere moments later, he was speeding through his recording of the past week's recording of Dead Realm, picking out moments which he felt suitable for the video as well as the moments that he had laughed at so heartily before.
"Damn it, Vanoss, your hole is way too tight!" He heard Jonathan's voice come through the speakers. He smiled slightly, endlessly amused by how Jonathan could always twist his words into hilarious statements without realizing it. It was like a sort of magic – he was always a source of joy and laughter for Evan, and he could always enact a response out of him.
"That is by far the weirdest thing I have ever heard you say to Evan!" Tyler laughed, on the verge of wheezing. Yes, Tyler, Evan thought to himself, although I think I've heard worse from him.
He proceeded to fast-forward a little further into the clip.
"God damn it, Delirious, it's all your fault!"
"How's it my fault, you picked the tightest spot on the whole map!"
"You spent so much time trying to squeeze yourself into a tiny-ass hole!"
He listened, recalling every bit the exchange as well as the laughter that followed that night. Satisfied, he made a cut, and set the clip aside as it joined others on a project board.
Once he had enough clips for a video, he began to merge them together, adding text, text effects, text animations, sound effects and music, continuously pushing himself through the tedium of it all. As he came to the portion of his clip with Jonathan, he paused for a second, thinking of how he would edit it. Smirking, he began to search up images, determined to create a pictorial depiction of Jonathan squeezing in to a tiny bum. The masterpiece soon fell into place.
A stillness soon settled as the rendering reached its completion. He checked the time only to find that it was now half past four – editing had taken much shorter than he had expected this time. Nonchalantly, he played around with his phone, wondering what to do next. The next thing he knew, he was typing a text to Jonathan, and pressed the 'Send' button before he was even aware of what he was doing.
"Are you alive?" He wrote.
A reply soon shot back into his inbox. "Yeah, I am. What's up?"
His heart leapt, and he dialed Jonathan's number into his phone, hoping silently to hear his friend's voice again.
"Evan?" Jonathan croaked softly.
"Hey. What'cha doing?
"Running through my Let's Play footage and cutting stuff out. I think I have enough for two episodes straight."
"Sounds good. You do have enough videos to tide you through the weekend, don't you?"
"I always do. I only ever upload what you guys upload once in a while, anyway." Jonathan murmured a little sadly, and abruptly burst into a coughing fit.
"Are you okay?" Evan asked, concerned.
"Kind of. I think. I think I'm starting to lose my voice again." Jonathan breathed, his voice barely there.
"You sound like you've already lost it. How on earth do you manage to get sick so often these days?"
"I don't know. Been screaming a lot during my playthroughs, I suppose." He coughed slightly again.
Evan frowned. "Is Luke there grumbling to himself whilst he skins you alive for falling sick on him?"
"Luke's out on his own today," Jonathan muttered. "We were supposed to explore L.A. together today, but I'm in this state, so he's spending the whole day out on his own – and probably won't be back till late at night."
Jonathan paused, and began again, in an attempt to sound playful – "Do I sound sexy?"
"You sound like crap, man. Did you at least have something to eat?"
"I cooked off the remaining groceries we had from last week."
"Which would be?"
Jonathan paused again, causing Evan to probe further – "What did you have?"
His voice came through, coarse and hesitant, with a small tinge of guilt. "Spaghetti bolognese."
"You do know that that's going to kill your throat more, do you?" Evan chided gently, attempting to keep his annoyance at Jonathan unexpressed.
"It was the only thing I could make from what was left. Besides, it makes me feel nice."
Jonathan sounded so pitiful – so pitiful that I could die, Evan thought to himself. He gently shook his head, and proceeded –
"I'll let you save your voice. Have a good rest, okay?"
"Sure thing, Dad." Jonathan teased, and hung up.
He called me Dad. The thought bugged him, like a little parasite on the back of his mind, crawling about and tickling him. He called me Dad.
Evan wandered mindlessly through the house, bored out of his mind once again, when an idea struck him – one that excited him beyond belief. He would do what he had considered doing with the guys in a post-game Skype call. He would show up at his friend's door, and surprise him with a visit.
The idea was appealing – I don't have to have dinner alone, and I can watch over that idiot, too. Evan smiled to himself, and left the house as well as the emptiness behind him, as he stepped out into the warm California sunlight as the sun was on the verge of setting, feeling the orange rays of the sun hit his body.
My head hurts, Jonathan thought, as the second video finally rendered. He crawled back towards the couch, his head heavy and pulsing, and gently lay his head against the couch, with his body half-sprawled on the ground. His head felt like an entire planet on its own, barely propped up by a few thin threads. He groaned softly as his head throbbed painfully.
The sun peeked through the blinds, tinting the room in shades of orange and casting lines of shadows throughout the room. Everything was still, agonizingly still.
There was a knock upon the door as the sun began to vanish from the horizon. Jonathan scrambled slowly to his feet, using the couch as a crutch to fully stand upright. He shuffled slowly, tracing his hands along the walls cautiously, a part of his mind wondering if Luke had forgotten his keys.
Another knock. "I'm coming," he called out hoarsely, and bumbled across the hallway to the door. It a moment before he finally arrived, his breathing labored and his head heavier than ever. He struggled to unlock the door with clammy, trembling hands, unable to focus on his task. The door soon swung open, revealing a bewildering sight.
"Evan?" He whispered. "What are you doing here?"
"Taking care of you, you idiot. You haven't had dinner yet, have you?"
"I'm starving. Kind of."
"So are you going to let me in, or am I going to force my way in?" Evan asked, before pushing gently past him. "Too late, coming in already."
Jonathan shut the door behind them both. "I'm fine, really. I was going to go down and get some food for myself –"
"You weren't," Evan interrupted, and unloaded a few shopping bags on a counter. "You were going to lie down and pretend that everything is fine and ignore Luke when he probes later. And then you're going to try to sleep it off and realize that it's never going away, and then you're just going to give up and take some aspirin for it, before you give up for real and break down and tell Luke about it. Honestly, dude, you look like shit."
Jonathan drew back, slightly surprised at the accuracy of his description.
"Really," Evan continued, "Just let me do something for you, okay?"
"Such as?"
"Make dinner for you. I haven't got anyone to have dinner with tonight, anyway, so why not?"
"I can make dinner fine on my own." Jonathan bit back, annoyed at the growing pounding in his head.
"I'm not doubting that you can. I'm not even going to doubt that you're a good cook. But I'll take the chance and doubt that you know what's good for you, what's right for you when you're sick."
"And you do! I'm sorry, but I'm not particularly interested in a health food lecture right now, nor am I interested in any discussion about the benefit of oats and juicing or anything like that, Evan."
The venom seeped into his voice almost too easily. His mind felt as though it was on the edge of bursting, throbbing so painfully and so roughly that he might have simply collapsed onto the ground right there and then. Evan picked up on Jonathan's tone, and looked up at him, his expression eerily blank.
"If that's what you think about me, then fine," Evan growled, the temperature of his blood and his voice both rising. "But if you don't want to help yourself now, and you want to remain sick through the weekend, then I'm sorry, dude, I'm not letting that happen, you understand?"
Jonathan gazed at him weakly, and simply gave up. He shuffled slowly back towards the couch and curled up, pulling his blanket around him and over his head. He listened as pots and pans clinked about, with plastic containers being opened and packages being ripped apart, and listened as the tap ran and the stove was turned on.
The blanket was soon lifted and pushed away from his head, as Evan peered down on him from above, a tenderness replacing the blank anger he had on his face before. He watched as Evan sank to a knee beside him, and Jonathan opened his mouth, ready to speak.
"Shush," Evan whispered, his voice now gentle. He lay a hand on Jonathan's forehead, where it was hot against Evan's cool skin. Jonathan closed his eyes, and relished the feeling of the contact. Evan's hand against his forehead felt like a potent painkiller – the throbbing in his head that had once been so painful had now subsided greatly.
"You've developed a fever, Jonathan. Am I allowed to take care of you now?"
Jonathan hummed softly, and nodded slowly. He felt Evan's presence leave his side, and he sighed softly. Evan already seemed like better company than Luke. A memory bubbled slowly to the surface in his still-fuzzy mind –
"Luke," Jonathan croaked. "My throat hurts to hell."
"Shut up and it'll stop hurtin'."
"Can't you be a little nicer? No wonder my sister –"
"God damn it, Jonathan! I'm sorry, okay?" He placed a cup next to Jonathan. "Drink up, it helps with the throat."
His recollection was sharply interrupted by a clinking of glasses nearby his head. He opened his eyes, and Evan peered at him, his deep brown eyes assuring. "I've made some honey lemon. Sit up," he breathed, and gently helped Jonathan up into a sitting position. As soon as Jonathan was up with his back against the seat of the couch, Evan had the cup in front of him, with the rim of the cup against his lips. He drank, and winced when the sour concoction hit his throat, and he was sent into a choking fit.
"Slowly, slowly," Evan gently coaxed, and dabbed at his lips with a tissue. "It stings, but you've got to get it down, okay?"
Jonathan coughed. "It's really sour."
"There's quite a bit of lemon in there, it's bound to be sour. Drink," Evan encouraged. "The soup is going to be ready any moment now."
A savory scent was filling the air and wafting through Jonathan's nose. "Smells good."
"Of course it does. It's going to taste as good and it's going to be good for you, too."
He felt as Evan left his side again, and as he heard Evan shuffle about behind him in the kitchen, he attempted to stand and walk towards where Evan was. His head was still heavy, and it felt as though his limbs were simultaneously on fire and freezing at the same time.
As he saw Evan's form move about in the distance, he shuffled, trembling, closer towards the man, attempting to reach him where he stood and as Evan turned towards him, he was overcome by a momentary faintness –
"Jonathan!" Evan yelled, and hurried to his side as Jonathan spun on the spot, about to fall to the ground.
His mind was in a whirl and he felt weak all over, as though he had completely lost control of his body in the moment. He felt Evan's hands on his waist as he collapsed into Evan's chest, feeling his hard muscles through his shirt. All he could think about in the moment was Evan; how Evan held him, how Evan smelled…
"What're you doing, dude?" Evan murmured softly. "You're not supposed to even move."
Jonathan took a deep breath, filling his system with Evan's intoxicating scent. "I forgot to apologize."
"What for? You haven't done anything wrong."
"For being an asshole to you earlier."
"You're sick," Evan coaxed. "I don't expect you to be in a better mood than anybody right now. Come on, let's get you back to the couch."
Evan's strength guided Jonathan's reluctant limbs to move, through the doorway and back towards the couch. Once Jonathan was safely back on the couch, he could swear he heard a soft, amused chuckle rise from the depths of Evan's chest.
"What?"
"Hmm. Nothing much. Just wondered if I could fully carry you." Evan smirked, and changed the subject. "You know, I wasn't actually expecting this. After we hung up and all, I thought it would be a brilliant idea to just have a surprise dinner with you. And then you opened up and you looked like a zombie. Scared whatever excitement I came with out of me."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's funny, though. We've all been thinking of sneaking to North Carolina and surprising you, but we've always shoved it aside knowing you wouldn't be happy about it. And then you come flying over to the doorstep of the state I live in."
"I would've killed you guys if you did."
"You would have. It's what stopped us. Believe me, all of us wished to know more about you."
Jonathan drew out a sigh. "And I wish I could've given more. I sometimes dream that you guys would show up, or try to track me down. And I get scared."
"But, hey," Evan replied, standing once more and moving towards the kitchen. "I think I've done what I've always wanted to do. I've shown up at your door. I've gotten to see how you look like, and I've gotten to know you a little better. To be frank, I daren't ask for more."
He watched as Evan ducked back into the kitchen, and heard the stove being turned off. The smell coming from the kitchen was mouthwatering, and Jonathan's stomach began to growl, reminding him of how hungry he was. He was almost too eager to have a meal, and almost jumped up from his seat when Evan began to emerge from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of soup.
"I'm starving," Jonathan whined as Evan lay the two bowls on the coffee table in front of them.
"Be patient. It's way too hot and you'll be complaining about that in a moment if you have it now."
"But I'm starving."
Evan shot him an incredulous look, and Jonathan watched as something in the man snapped, and he picked up a bowl gingerly and sat by Jonathan's side, rolling his eyes. Slowly, he ladled a decent amount of soup onto the spoon and lifted it to his lips, gently blowing on it to cool it down. Jonathan watched, his chest pounding as Evan gently cooled the spoonful of soup, and as Evan raised the spoon towards his own lips, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He stared at Evan, eyes wide.
"Weren't you starving? Open up." Evan grumbled, annoyed.
Slowly, he separated his lips, and Evan slipped the spoon closer to his lips, tipping it gently and emptying its contents into his mouth. The soup, now warm, was gentle against his throat as he swallowed.
"Tastes good," Jonathan whispered, and Evan smiled triumphantly at him.
"Told you so."
Evan began to ladle another spoonful of soup, and Jonathan groaned, carefully keeping the distress out of his voice –
"You don't have to feed me."
Evan chuckled softly, and handed Jonathan the bowl which he took hesitantly. "You're right, I don't. It was kind of nice to do that, though. I never really got to take care of someone like that before."
Evan picked up his own portion and began to eat from it heartily. Jonathan frowned as he watched.
"Why didn't you make something else for yourself? Like, something you want to eat."
"Why should I? I'm not one to let you suffer alone."
"Pretty big coming from a person that takes joy in making fun of me all day."
"Shut up, I'm being nice. Enjoy it while it lasts." Evan snapped playfully. He looked around for a moment, and added, "Why don't you sleep on a bed, anyway?"
"Luke took it, remember? There's only one in the apartment. Funny enough, he said I should be the one on the bed when we first arrived. And then it became his."
"Bet you'll look forward to the weekend then. You'll get to see a bed for the first time in forever."
"Speaking of that," Jonathan shot him a look. "Are you really okay rooming with me? I'm pretty sure I'm an even larger step down from Sarah than Luke or Craig."
Evan looked at him, his deep brown eyes dark and mysterious, with a look in his eye that Jonathan could not discern. "Don't say that. You're not a step down from anyone. If you really believed that, then you wouldn't have messaged me all those years ago asking if I wanted to play."
Jonathan felt his chest swell happily at Evan's words. It wasn't the reassurance that made gave him such joy, but it was the way Evan said it – you're not a step down from anyone.
"Besides, I've had plenty of experience with noisy sleepers, and I think I've mastered the art of sleeping like a log."
"Experiences…?"
Evan grimaced. "Hockey team camp. Put an entire team of hormonal teenagers into a huge bunk for weeks at end… Some of us weren't that discreet with our, uh, needs."
Jonathan choked a little on his soup, and nearly murdered his throat half-yelling. "They jerked it - !?"
"Sssh!" Evan shushed him, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. "I'll bet whatever noises you make in your sleep is better – tenfold – than what I heard on those nights."
"That makes me feel a whole lot better. And kind of bad for you, but a whole lot better."
A silence emerged as the two began to polish off the rest of the soup, Jonathan almost cheerfully and Evan rather distractedly.
"Evan?" Jonathan said softly, causing the man to look up at him, before downing the last of his soup down in one gulp. As he wiped at his lips, he answered, "What?"
"You were distracted and playing with your food."
"Oh."
Jonathan narrowed his eyes, and took a shot in the dark - "Thinking about the good old days when you would listen to guys jerk off?"
Jonathan's words caused a reaction that he thought he would never see in his whole life. Evan flushed, his face draining of color, before his cheeks turned a fiery shade of red. He began to stammer, utterly flustered.
"I didn't - I - why would I?"
Jonathan giggled softly. "Ease up, dude. Just messing with you."
"Fuck you."
Evan stood up, and took both bowls into the kitchen. After a short period of running taps and the clinking of bowls, he returned, a glass of water and a packet of pills in his hands, the latter of which he chucked into Jonathan's lap.
"Painkillers. These bring down temperatures as well, so it should work fine."
Jonathan slid a pill out from the packet. "These look dangerous."
"They're just regular painkillers I carry around. Always ready. Now take it or I'm sending you to a doctor."
"Geez, ease up, Dad." Jonathan retorted, and shoved the pill in his mouth. An ever-familiar bitter taste began to spread in his mouth, and he quickly gulped down a mouthful of water, rinsing away the peculiar taste of the medicine. He swallowed, making a face, and settled the cup back down onto the table.
"You're going to feel a little drowsy in around 15 minutes, depending on how well your body works through it." Evan instructed, as he sat down on one end of the couch, and began making himself comfortable. Pulling a pillow from behind his back, he placed the pillow on his lap, and let out a comfortable sigh.
Jonathan sighed as well, and lay another pillow right beside Evan's body, extracting a curious glance from Evan. Sticking his tongue out playfully, he stretched his body out and settled his head atop the pillow and pulled the blanket over his body, allowing his feet to dangle lazily over the opposite edge of the couch.
"Are you going to bed already?" Evan asked, bemused. "Geez, I didn't think you were that lazy."
"You said I'd be drowsy soon, anyway. It's getting late and I intend to sleep. Unlike you, Night Owl."
"Hey, I sleep right most of the time. I just haven't been right what with the editing and recording recently."
"Hmm." Jonathan hummed softly in amusement. He soon felt fingers near his scalp, gently and affectionately stroking his hair.
"That's... actually kind of nice," Jonathan commented after a protracted silence between them.
Evan chuckles. "How is your hair so soft, anyway?"
"Family secret." Jonathan ribbed.
"Oh? And here I was, thinking you were descended from a family of ugly, deformed serial killers."
"It's why you shouldn't piss my Daddy off then, or else he'll come at you with his machete," Jonathan laughed.
"Me? You were calling me Dad earlier, weren't you? Am I Jason now?"
"My Daddy doesn't have a face, you know. At least not one like that." Jonathan pouted.
"What's wrong with my face?"
"Too good." Jonathan stuck his tongue out at him.
Evan faked an annoyed harrumph. "Go to sleep, you annoying little punk."
Jonathan thought quietly for a moment, and slowly closed his eyes, preparing to succumb to the effects of both the medication and his illness.
"Evan," he called out softly after a while, his sleepiness evident.
"Hmm?"
Jonathan paused, and turned his body on the spot away from Evan, partially obscuring his face from Evan's view. "You smell good."
Evan watched, dazed, as the man near his lap began to slow in his breathing, and as a snore began to form on his pale lips, he gently reached a hand towards his cheek and hesitated.
"You, too." Evan whispered, and gave in to a mild, yet overwhelming desire boiling away in his heart.
Luke unlocked the door to the rental apartment, his arrival greeted by an eerie darkness and silence. He's probably sleeping, he mused, and proceeded into the living area quietly, determined not to make too much noise. Beyond the hallway, however, he was greeted by a peculiar sight.
A man with dark, spiky hair lay slumped at one end of the couch. At the other end, a pair of pale bare feet dangled loosely from underneath a blanket off the edge of the couch. Curious, he crept up closer and peeked over the edge of the couch.
Jonathan lay on the couch, with his head propped up by a pillow and his body covered loosely by a blanket, the proud owner of the beautiful pair of feet. The odd scene was completed, however, by the other man on the couch.
Evan was soundly asleep, his lap gently kissing the top of Jonathan's head. He snored softly and peacefully, at a perfect ease. It was only upon further examination of the two individuals did Luke realize where the crux of it all lay.
Evan's right arm was in a resting position right next to Jonathan's face, his fingers gently brushing against the pale cheeks of their best friend, almost as though Evan had fallen asleep caressing his face. The set-up of the scene before him was so tender and so sweet that Luke caught himself smiling to himself, and he had to shake himself to his senses and take a moment to re-establish rational thought.
These idiots better not hurt each other, he thought grimly, the prospect of having the pair before him torn apart greatly troubling him.
Oh, goodness. I've got a lot of things planned out for the next chapter, so please bear with me! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!