based on this concept of steve and mike coming out to each other
🤍 also on ao3
The sun is setting in beautiful hues of pink and purple, tinging the town of Hawkins, Indiana, in a light of serenity and beauty it doesn’t really deserve. Steve’s hands are gripped tight around the steering wheel as he carefully scans the road and the houses he passes.
He almost misses the bike where it’s lying on the curb, carelessly discarded by the looks of it, and a tinge of worry shadows his frown. Worry that doesn’t quite dissipate when he spots the figure sitting on the roof, almost black against the lilac colour of the sky, but he breathes a sigh of relief. He considers grabbing the radio to let the others know he found Mike, but decides against it. Something tells him that maybe they’ll take a while. Something tells him there’s more to Will’s stunned silence and Mike’s sudden departure from where they were all hanging out at Steve’s after another successful Hellfire session.
With a sigh, Steve cuts the engine and gets out of the car, keeping his eyes on Mike the whole time — ready for him to take off again, ready to go sit a while and wait for him to come back. But Mike doesn’t move, even after he shuts the door and approaches the Wheelers’ house. He doesn’t acknowledge Steve when he pulls himself up to the roof, easier this time than the first time he did this.
There’s a snide comment in the air between them, a version of Mike that would have lashed out at him, made fun of and insulted him. But this one just sits there, hands in his lap, frown on his face, and stares ahead.
“What do you want,” he asks eventually, though it doesn’t have the kind of heat that Steve expects. He barely even sounds like a teenager. Just sort of… dejected. Steve aches for him; just a little bit.
“Just making sure you’re alright,” Steve says, shrugging, looking ahead as well so Mike doesn’t feel watched. Or seen, maybe.
Because the thing is, Steve does see him. He sees the way he looks at Will sometimes, and the way his eyes fill with something that can only be described as yearning, or aching, followed by regret and fear. Which always, always turn into anger. Into frustration. Into snide comments and rolled eyes and walls that keep getting an inch added to them each day. It’s never directed at Will, that anger, and rarely at the rest of the Party, but Steve still sees it. Gets the worst of it and takes it, because he knows something about how that feels.
He knows something about looking at someone like that, about feeling that fear, that regret, that worry that come with it. He knows something about never really daring to meet someone’s eyes for fear of what they would see.
“I’m alright,” Mike says, sounding anything but. There’s a bitterness in his voice. Frustration in the way his thumb is picking at the skin of his fingers. Confusion in the tension of his shoulders, and Steve feels like he only needs to make one wrong move, say one wrong word, make a single sound that’s off key to the melody of this moment, and Mike will jump off the roof and take off again with his bike.
So all he says, after a moment’s consideration, is, “Cool.” Like he believes him. Giving Mike room to breathe, room to pretend. He knows something about that, too.
He knows and he sees and he feels.
And suddenly he wants to say something he’s never said before, something he didn’t even get to tell Robin because she knew and saw and felt, too, taking something from him that he hasn’t yet been ready to reclaim for himself.
And maybe it’s because he sees something of himself in the way Mike holds himself, in the way he snaps at anyone willing to listen, in the way he frowns in regret and barely meets anyone’s eyes except when it’s in challenge — and, most of all, in the way he never, never meets Will’s eyes. In the way he looks away when the other boy turns to him, and in the way his eyes will snap back and take in everything about his best friend when he’s not aware of it.
Maybe it’s because the sky is pink and lilac and purple above them, allowing for a certain magic to happen, allowing for a bravery that doesn’t come easy to him; but as he sits on the roof next to Mike Wheeler, the only one of the Party he never really connected with, he closes his eyes against the breeze that catches in his hair and opens his jacket a little further, slithering beneath the fabric as if in a brief embrace, a nudge, a sign to take this leap, and takes a deep breath.
His heart is picking up its pace inside his chest, taking this leap along wit him, and pulls up one of his legs to wrap his hands around it — just to have something to hold onto.
He opens his mouth once, twice, three times, but the words never really come out. They don’t know how, and he’s beginning to tremble a little with it, tension building in his chest where the words are still locked away, hidden among layers of truth.
Mike looks over with a frown and eyes him warily. It makes Steve want to laugh, this sudden change of pace, but he just keeps staring ahead; even when Mike asks, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Steve says. And then then dam is broken and breaking further, and with another deep breath, still not meeting Mike’s eyes, instead focusing on the tree tops in the distance that shine in hues of purple, he finally says, “I’m kind of dating Eddie Munson.”
And just like that, it’s out. He’s out.
He doesn’t know if the world still spins, if time still passes, if he still breathes, because for a moment there is only silence. Mike stops picking at the skin of his fingers, Steve stops trembling, and neither of them moves.
It’s both anticlimactic and momentous, this silence between them when their eyes meet. When the words unfold and grow wings, when Mike understands, his eyes growing big with something that Steve can’t quite read with how tense he is despite his best efforts.
The silence stretches between them, surpassing comfort and overstaying its welcome, and suddenly it’s Steve who feels like he’s about to take off if Mike so much as twitches his brows.
“You… What?”
Forget it, Steve wants to say. Nothing.
But also, I’m in love with Eddie Munson. And I used to be in love with Nancy. And that’s okay. Both of that, it’s okay.
He ends up repeating his words, though, because they know what it’s like to be spoken now. “Eddie. I’m kind of dating Eddie.”
“But…” It’s Mike now whose mouth is opening and closing without saying anything. Mike who’s blinking, trembling a little, twitching, picking at his skin again, moving further along his hand this time to pinch the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Steve almost reaches out to stop him, but he doesn’t really dare to.
“But?” he prompts after a while, not quite comfortable with this loaded kind of silence.
“Eddie’s a boy.”
But Tammy Thompson is a girl.
“I know,” Steve says, his tone carefully neutral, wanting to see, to wait where Mike takes this, to hear what’s on his mind, to watch the wheels turn and the gears shift. He feels awfully raw and open, vulnerable with someone who hasn’t been treating that with care yet. But there’s something about this moment that feels bigger than his own fears, bigger than the light nausea settling in his gut; far more important than the way he wants to run and hide, away from the scrutiny.
“And…” Mike continues, still battling the words inside his head. Steve wonders if there are too many or none at all. “But you… You loved Nancy.”
Ah. Smart boy. “I did,” Steve says with a small smile. “And it was never a lie. But I found that… Yeah, I can kinda like boys, too, y’know? And that’s, like, okay.”
A beat. A frown. A confused, hopeful, small, “It is?”
Steve just nods, smiling in reassurance and relief at equal measures. Silence settles once more, now that the sky has darkened into a deeper, darker blue; but it’s not as loaded this time, not as tense. It’s an invitation. An offering. A promise of I’m here, I’m with you, you can take as long as you need. To get down from the roof, to come back, to come out of wherever you think you need to hide from the world.
Mike takes it. He stays, pulling up his leg, too, mirroring Steve’s pose and staring ahead, but not as far away. He seems alert, seems to be thinking rather than dwelling, seems to be gearing up for something. Steve watches and sees and knows, remaining patient beside him, his chin resting on his knee as Mike learns to deal with this new world that has been presented to him. This new world that comes with opportunities and chances and possibilities that are scary and big and difficult to make.
“Y’know,” Mike starts at last, interrupting the silence, playing with it, his voice hushed and quiet to keep it from disappearing completely. “Lucas, when he had that championship game? He told us, Dustin and me, that we didn’t have to be the losers this time. The nerds. The outcasts. Different. And all I wanted was to scream at him, because…”
Mike swallows his words, keeping them from tumbling out of his mouth, and Steve aches for him again. He wants to reach out, wants to say it’s okay, tell him it’s alright, to take his time. But he waits in silence, lets Mike find the bravery he needs on his own, and waits.
“Because how could he say that, you know? How could he, when… Will wasn’t there. And all I did, all I ever did anymore, was miss him. And I loved El, I knew I did. And she was gone, too, but…”
He trails off again, and this time Steve picks it up. To let him know he’s not alone. To let Mike know he understands what he’s saying. He understands. “But she’s not Will. You needed Will.”
“But I shouldn’t!” Mike explodes suddenly, riled up because Steve adds fuel to the fire, because Steve has that same fire, too; and because they are so, so similar when they want to be. “And now he’s back and it should be fine, I shouldn’t be feeling like this, it doesn’t even make sense! How can I…”
Steve looks at him, at his expression that is nothing but lost — completely and utterly. He’s seen it on the bathroom floor at the mall; high out of his mind as he was, he’ll never forget the way Robin looked at him, the sheer crestfallen expression. All that confusion, all that fear and frustration and, in the end, resignation. He’s seen it in the mirror, and he’s seen it in those pretty brown eyes that he just can’t get out of his head anymore.
He offers, gently, “How can you need him when he’s right there? How can you love him when a year ago you loved El?”
And Mike just looks at him before he deflates completely, his shoulders falling along with his face. He nods. Shrugs. Looks away and hides his face behind his leg.
Steve sighs softly, watching the boy and speaking the words he wants to say the sixteen year-old version of himself. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I really don’t, and it sucks sometimes, having this need to, like, decide. Or understand. Or stop and be like the rest of them.” Like Robin and Eddie, or like the rest of the world. “But I like to think, sometimes, that maybe it’s a good thing. That there’s just… I don’t know, it sounds corny as hell, but like, there’s just so much love to give, we can’t even stick to only boys or girls, y’know.”
“That does sound real corny as fuck, man,” Mike says, and back is that long suffering tone of his, back is that eye roll and the twitching elbow, ready to nudge Steve in the side. It’s still tinged with that vulnerability, not quite Mike yet, but it’s an offering.
One of many tonight, it seems.
Steve grins, a bit lopsided and raw, shoving Mike gently as he remembers something he overheard once. “Sorry, mister Heart of our group, but I don’t think you have any leg to stand on here.”
That makes Mike freeze, though, and he stares at Steve wide-eyed; caught. Exposed. Reminded.
“What did you say?”
“Uh,” Steve falters, not sure where he went wrong — or if he went wrong at all. “I overheard Will calling you that, talking about you to, uhm. Someone. I don’t know. Why, what’s— What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Mike says, way too quickly, pulling away again with everything he has, hiding behind those walls once more, and Steve feels whiplash from it.
“Mike,” he says, his voice quiet and gentle as he turns to face him completely.
“No.”
“It’s okay,” Steve says. Promises, as much as he can.
“Shut up!”
“You’re not wrong or bad or broken. It’s okay, you’re okay.”
“I said, shut up, Steve.”
“You should see the way he looks at you, too. You should go talk to him. You—“
Mike lashes out, finally coming out from behind those walls again, only to shove at Steve, to push him away — hard enough for him to lose his balance and almost fall off the roof, clenching one hand on the edge, the other in the rainwater gutter with a bitten-off curse.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” Mike reaches for him immediately, snapping out of whatever anger Steve caused, and pulling him back until he’s safe again, apologising over and over, dead to Steve’s promises that it’s alright. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Steve, I’m so—“
He pulls Mike against his chest, finally reaching out to hold the boy who always pushes people away when they get too close — quite literally, too.
But he doesn’t shove this time, doesn’t move out of Steve’s grasp as the mumbled apologies become heaving sobs.
“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re so okay, Mike,” Steve tells him over and over as he holds him. The sky above is almost black now and Steve lets Mike cry into his chest.
It takes a while for Mike to calm down, but Steve just holds him through it, ready to let go whenever Mike wants to pull back and snap out of it again — but he never does, and Steve feels a certain kind of affection for the boy that is usually reserved for Lucas or Dustin.
At last, when he’s calmed down, Mike pulls back a little. “Do you really… Does it… Is it really okay?”
Can it be okay? Can I really like both? Is that not just me, being broken and wrong and bad? Will I get the chance to not be alone?
Steve swallows hard, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “Yeah. It’s really okay. ‘N’ I’m with you, yeah? If someone gives you shit for it. Or if you need a reminder.”
And Mike — puffy eyed, snotty nosed, so, so young — looks at him with those trusting eyes and nods, like he believes Steve. Like he trusts him. Like he hopes.
“Just don’t fucking shove me off your roof again.”
Ans just like that, the spell is broken, the tension is lifted, and silence has left them, as Mike almost chokes on a laugh and shoves at him again, lightly this time, before jumping off the roof so Steve can’t retaliate.
“Asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head as he, too, jumps off the roof, dusting off his pants as he watches Mike grabbing his bike. “Hey, Micycle,” he calls, cackling when Mike flips him the bird. “You want a ride back?”
Mike stops, considering as Steve casually flicks his keys into the air and catches them expertly. “What kinda music do you got?”
“The Clash, ‘cause Eddie hates them.”
“Yeah, that’s because they suck!”
Steve snorts, opening the driver’s side door. “Y’know, they’re one of Will’s favourites, actually.”
He watches Mike freeze with a grin on his face, knowing there’s no way the boy would take the bike.
“You’re so annoying,” Mike sighs as he brings his bike close to the garage and carefully lays it on the grass this time before hurrying over to Steve, getting in on the front, rolling his eyes when Steve cackles. “I don’t know why Eddie would date you—“
His words are drowned out when Steve turns up Train in Vain, drumming along on the steering wheel with a shit eating grin. Though the atmosphere is wildly different now, the spell broken and the bubble burst, it’s undeniable that something happened between them. Something big, something important.
Something that makes Mike’s annoyed, long-suffering expression be broken by the smile he’s trying to hide. It makes Steve laugh, elated and feeling something that’s much, much bigger than he himself ever could be.
It’s going to be okay. So, so okay.
Before they know it, they’re pulling up to Steve’s and he turns off the car, is about to get out when Mike makes him still again.
“Hey, Steve?”
“Hm?”
“I think it’s cool. You and Eddie.”
He smiles, relief and fondness washing over him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.” He reaches over and ruffles Mike’s hair — a wild mane these days, but they could make it work with some care and some products. “Now go get your man, lover boy.”
“God, you suck so much, you’re so annoying!”
Steve’s cackling again when the passenger door slams shut and Mike lets himself into his house.
He spots a figure in the dark, their face lighting up when they take a drag of a cigarette — and Steve’s heart stumbles in his chest. He scrambles to get out, attempting to look calm and collected, even though Eddie always manages to see right through him.
“Hello, stranger,” he says, leaning against the wall beside Eddie, hiding away in the dark, where the world won’t see their shoulders touch, or their fingers tentatively playing with each other before they can’t take it no longer and lace their hands, holding on tight.
“Hi,” Eddie breathes. “How’d it go?”
“Fine, I think. But, uhm… I told him. About me. About us. That, uh. That okay?”
Even in the dark, Steve can feel eyes on him, but he just stares ahead, opting instead to give his warm hand a squeeze. He smiles when Eddie’s thumb begins to draw patterns on his palm.
“Hmm. Very. You think they’ll be okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes, stealing Eddie’s cigarette from his mouth and pulling it between his own lips. “Yeah, I think they will be.”
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I was hallucinating a few hours ago due to lack of sleep bUT-
Thinking about Steve who's confident in his bisexuality, told the kids that he likes both and that's okay because he knows they need, trying to flirt with Eddie who is in denial bc it has to be a joke, right? Harrington, the straightest man alive? Steve lady's man Harrington? Nah, it's only on his mind. Meanwhile Steve is getting more and more sad thinking he's being rejected.
Now, think about the Hellfire members knowing that Eddie's a crush on Steve because he talks about it CONSTANTLY and be sad because "he doesn't have a fat chance in hell". They're also very protective of him so if anyone new in the club is being homophobic, they just throw them out.
So one day Steve is in the Hellfire to wait for the kids and flirt a little, telling himself that "this is the last time, you'll get a GRIP and MOVE THE FUCK ON!" is what he tells to himself. He tries a little and drops after a while, so in the break time the old members tell him that he needs to leave, because they won't allow anyone doing that to Eddie, as in: they think Steve knows that Eddie's gay and likes him so he's flirting with him in a mocking way.
So he leaves.
And when everyone (Eddie + the kids) is asking where is Steve, they say that he was being homophobic, an automat answer and they quickly try to cover up because they don't want to do that to Eddie, but Dustin immediately response was:
"how can Steve be homophobic if he's bi?"
And the world freaking EXPLOSES!
not the steddie hallucinations LMAO
Thank you for sending me this ask because I'm president of "Steve is a confident disaster Bisexual" and I'm making t-shirts for club members as we speak.
Anyways, I think Steve would be extremely confident in his sexuality to the point where he just likes whoever and goes for it (with the right precautions of course). When Eddie comes out to him and the rest of their group, Steve doesn't even think about coming out to him as well because he's been out to the group for so long he just assumes that everyone close to him knows.
So when he realizes he likes Eddie and flirts with him, he doesn't know what to take from his reactions: he doesn't look annoyed or uninterested (think about the girls he would flirt with at Scoops) but he doesn't respond either, which is weird for someone like Eddie, who engages flirty banters even with plants.
Let's add to the mix that Steve's love life has been a mess recently, how many times can you be rejected before you think there's something wrong with you?
That's why he decides to go all in one last time and then leave Eddie alone, but even the worst scenarios in his head did not prepare him for Eddie's friends telling him off on his behalf.
Steve's head is a mess but most of it all, he's ashamed. He thinks he must've been so annoying and oblivious to Eddie's disinterest that the guy had to ask his friends to put Steve in his place for him.
So he finds himself in the school's parking lot, sitting on the hood of his car and mentally counting how much money he and Robin will need to move to another country (because not even the most embarrassing moment of his life will make him go anywhere without her), completely unaware of the chaos inside the Hellfire room.
Eddie isn't in a better mental state than Steve, so he's letting the kids and the band do the talk for him.
"What do you mean he's bisexual? of course he isn't, he's Steve Harrington!" Gareth exclaims, voicing out one of Eddie's many thoughts.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? do you need a special license for that?" Mike huffs, crossing his arms.
Jeff steps in to defend his friend "Of course not! But he's king Steve! And he's constantly picking on Eddie, you heard him!"
"Picking on him? Even a child could see that he has been throwing hints at Eddie for weeks now! What are you, five?"
Erica's words put an end to the discussion, silence falls down abruptly.
Eddie jumps up off his throne and follows wherever Steve had disappeared before, distantly hearing his friends muttered apologies.
He sighs in relief when he sees Steve hasn't left yet.
The car is parked the opposite way of the entrance, so Eddie can only see Steve's back, but he can tell he's gesturing and, when he's close enough, he can hear him talk.
"You can never take a hint, can you? This is so stupid, how can you go around saying you got game when you can't even tell if someone's interested in you? Harrington charm my ass" Steve's hands are all up in the air and Eddie realizes he's gesturing similar to how Eddie does on a daily basis.
It's cute.
"Please leave the Harrington charm out of this" Eddie interjects, making Steve jump in surprise.
He looks like a deer caught by car lights, but he hides it quickly behind a smirk that Eddie refers to - at least in his head - as bitchy Steve "so, no more sending your gang after me? are you worried they didn't do a good job? or am I forbidden to stay even in the parking lot? I'll let you know that I-"
Eddie loves mean girl Steve, but he has no time for him now, so he interrupts "Go on a date with me."
Steve's raised eyebrow and incredulous look tell him that he doesn't take him seriously in the slightest.
"I said, go on a date with me" he repeats.
"I heard you the first time" Steve's voice is close to a whisper "I just think you must've hit your head on your way here."
"You're the one always taking hits on the head, not me" Eddie takes a step closer to him.
Steve steps back "well, there's a first time for everyone" he says, looking away.
Eddie moves close again, his face only a few inches from Steve's "I don't hear an answer."
Steve's eyes flicker on Eddie's lips for half a second, "I didn't hear a question" he bites back.
Eddie smirks and, under Steve's shocked look, jumps on his car.
"Eddie, what the fuck? get down of my car!" he's trying to maintain a firm tone but Eddie can tell he's amused by his antics. Eddie couldn't ask for anything better.
He looks around the parking lot to make sure they're alone, then loudly enounces "Steve Fucking Harrington-"
"Don't say it like it's my middle name!"
Eddie ignores him "- king of the school grounds, best Scoops Ahoy model-"
"what does that even mean-"
"Worst employee that family video has ever had, Faberge Organics favorite costumer-"
"I told you that in confidence."
"Would you do this humble commoner kneeling at your presence" he kneels down theatrically as he says so "the honor of accompanying him for an evening of frivolous romantic shit that society expects you to do when you find a respectable partner?"
“If I say yes will you get down?”
Eddie moves his weight from one foot to the other, making the car under him bounce “I might consider it.”
Steve lifts his arms, apprehensively “Okay, yes fine! Now please get down-”
Eddie jumps down, right into Steve’s arms.
———
All the hellfire club members decide to stop spying on them and get back inside when Eddie’s highly entertaining antics turn into a gross make out session.
“So” Dustin elbows Gareth’s side “does that look homophobic to you?”
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30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 6
Write about a blackout (from this list)
➸ totally cheating once again and using this as a one-word prompt instead of probably how it was intended??? oh well. have some canon-verse angst and I’m sorry…
“Do you want to know the stupidest part?”
Foggy looks over at Matt, who’s hunched over his drink like someone might steal it from him. Then again, the fake IDs that got them into this bar were honestly not the highest quality, so it’s not an entirely baseless fear.
“Granted you’ve told me like three details total about what happened between you and Elektra, I will take any additional information you want to divulge, stupid or otherwise.”
Matt blinks at him with hollow eyes. “You just said a lot of words to me.”
Foggy sighs. “What’s the stupidest part, Matt?”
“I thought—it’s just—you’re going to think I’m a moron.”
“I won’t,” Foggy says, grabbing his shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. “I think you’re extremely smart, buddy. You might be the smartest person I know, okay? Just tell me. I promise I won’t judge.”
Matt looks so utterly fragile and lost in that moment that Foggy honestly doesn’t want to hear what’s going to come out of his mouth next, because he just knows it will break his heart. It’s been hard seeing Matt in such bad shape and to know almost nothing about what happened between him and his girlfriend after he’d disappeared with her for two weeks. Foggy had been a wreck about it, beside himself with worry and yet without a legitimate reason to excuse himself from classes and responsibilities, so he’d walked around for those two weeks like a shell, keeping up appearances, until Matt came back. His relief at his reappearance was quickly replaced by a new kind of worry, when he saw how miserable and unstable Matt was in the wake of…whatever happened. Matt still couldn’t be induced by any means to give Foggy a straight answer on that count.
“I thought I was going to marry her,” Matt says, quietly. If Foggy hadn’t been actively trying to hear him, that statement would have been lost to the noise of the bar.
“That’s not stupid at all,” Foggy says, allowing the hand on Matt’s shoulder to slip over to rub his back between his shoulder blades.
“I thought she was my soulmate,” Matt adds, with some vitriol, in the direction of his drink, like he wants to spit the words in there to drown them.
“She wasn’t,” Foggy replies, firmly, because it seems like the right thing to say up until Matt’s face crumples.
“I think she was,” he says, miserably, as he buries his face in his hands. “I think she was and she left anyway and that’s it for me.”
“I don’t—hey, listen, Matt,” Foggy says, shifting his chair over so he can wrap his arms around Matt’s shoulders completely. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I said she—I didn’t know her that well. Maybe she was your soulmate. I don’t know! I’m not convinced that’s anything but a nice story we like to tell ourselves to make life more bearable or to impose meaning on random events.”
“This pep talk sucks,” Matt says, in the vicinity of Foggy’s collar. Foggy can feel his breath on his neck and it’s weird but not enough to get him to move away.
“Sorry. What I mean to say is, if soulmates are real, and Elektra was yours, then it’s not over yet. Maybe you’ll meet again someday.”
“I hope not,” Matt says, darkly.
Foggy resists the urge to roll his eyes at yet another vague but still concerning allusion to this terrible breakup. He’s trying to be sympathetic but Matt’s whole Catholic guilt lone wolf shit does test him sometimes, if he’s being honest. Still, one look at Matt’s pale, sorrowful face in the neon lights of this dive bar is enough to remind Foggy what they’re doing here.
“I think it’s much more likely that, if we have soulmates at all, we probably get more than one,” Foggy continues, hoping that if he just muses vaguely enough, he’ll stumble on something that makes Matt feel better. “So, you’ll get another chance to—”
“You mean like you and me?” Matt asks, and Foggy’s brain does a full factory reset as he tries to parse that question. He can’t possibly mean…
“Oh, like—yeah, you and me and, well, everybody could have more than one soulmate. Exactly.”
“No, that’s not—” Matt shakes his head, which, given his current position, is functionally just nuzzling his face into Foggy’s neck. “I mean, how you and me are soulmates. Kind of.”
“You and me?” Foggy asks, casually despite not feeling casual at all. “You think so?”
“You’re—yeah. I mean, you’re basically—you’re family to me but…also more than that. If that makes sense.”
It doesn’t and Foggy’s been holding himself back from drinking too much tonight because he wants to be able to get Matt home safely, but he does feel like he might throw up on this table right now. He tucked away the part of him that found Matt attractive somewhere deep and secret and well-fortified in his soul a long time ago, in the interest of not fucking things up with his best friend in the entire world, and he certainly can’t trust anything Matt says now when he’s drunk and lonely and heartbroken. But he’s never loved anyone as completely as he loves Matt and it’s such a pathetic, hopeless situation that he doesn’t let himself think about it except on really special occasions when he wants to feel bad.
“I’m not sure anybody has ever loved me as much as you do,” Matt says, like it’s not a crazy thing to say, here in a shitty bar near campus, after a breakup with his girlfriend, to someone he’s never even kissed.
“I doubt that,” Foggy says, even as he, selfishly, wants to claim it, even as he knows it to be true. “You’re very lovable.”
“We should get married.”
Foggy laughs, because what else can he do, under the circumstances. “Now? It’s pretty late. The courthouse won’t even be open.”
“No, I mean, we should get married someday,” Matt says, petulant like Foggy’s the one being ridiculous here for not following his thought process. “When we’re older. If we haven’t met anybody else.”
That last condition is enough to break Foggy’s heart all over again, but he does an admirable job hiding it, he thinks. Matt’s drunk and very distracted, and more importantly doesn’t know anything about how Foggy feels, really, despite his proclamations on the subject a moment ago, so it feels safe to assume he won’t notice any signs of disappointment or hurt in this split second before Foggy swallows those feelings and pretends to be his usual upbeat self. That’s who Matt really needs right now, and so that’s who he’ll be.
“How much older?” Foggy asks.
“Old,” Matt says. “Like, thirty.”
“Okay,” Foggy nods, already able to find this funny. Matt won’t still be single by the time they’re both thirty. He’ll be married by the time they graduate law school, most likely, so it won’t be an issue. Foggy doesn’t like to think about it, but he knows it’s true.
“You’ll do it?”
“Maybe,” Foggy says. “Ask me again when you’re not blackout drunk.”
“I’m fine,” Matt objects. “I’m not blackout. Not even close.”
“Then we can pick this conversation up in the morning, no problem!”
Matt nods, drunkenly. “Absolutely.”
Matt doesn’t bring it up in the morning, of course. Foggy never really expected he would, either, and doesn’t permit himself to be disappointed about it, no matter how much he would like to.
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