Chapter Text
“That is fucked up, man. Congratulations.”
“Congra- two -lations.”
“Heyyy.”
The poor excuse for a joke was followed up by the sound of high fiving, even despite their agreement on the grossness of whatever Gary had done. Andy shrugged it off. That was nothing new. Rather, the same old. He only rolled his eyes before making his way past the threshold.
As it turned out he was the last to complete their little group, as they were gathered together in Steven’s bedroom. Steve and Gary sat facing each other on the bed across from the door. Peter had made himself comfortable on the bean bag sidled right up to them and was following their conversation with rapt attention, though he did look over and waved in acknowledgement of Andy’s entering the room. He was the only one to extend that courtesy. That left Oliver in the desk chair, half swiveled towards the group and half engrossed in a copy of Forbes.
Gary looked towards him as an afterthought.
“But don’t tell Sam about that.”
“I wasn’t listening in the first place.”
Then Steven took note of Andy and gave his friend a subtle kick. All previous conversation subjects went promptly out the window.
“Heyyy, college boy!”
“Actually, it’s university-” Peter tried to argue for the millionth time, and Andy appreciated at least one person’s respect for the distinction. Even if no one else seemed to even take note of his correction.
Though he didn’t really mind it at all, as within seconds, Gary had flung himself at him, and Andy couldn’t deny he savoured the feeling of having him close again at last. He wrapped his arms around his friend in turn. It felt so good to have that same old Gary, right here. All his former school friends. The whole gang, back together. He hadn’t seen them since the Easter break. And those blissful few days they’d spent had passed way too quickly.
Even if the two of them had still found the time to…
Gary drew back, resumed his comfy place on the bed and launched back into his conversation with Steve. Right. They’d have plenty of time for all of that, later.
Peter caught his eye again and smiled. “Congrats on having your first year completed.”
“Thanks,” Andy replied, dropping his backpack and starting to rummage for the celebratory weed he’d brought along. There had been a frankly surprising amount of it doing the rounds on his campus. But he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and felt more than happy to share his spoils with his closest friends, as they always had before.
“And congrats to you too, Oliver,” he remembered, receiving a courteous nod from the noticeably most adult-seeming guy in the room.
“It’s congra-two-lations all around, it seems,” came from the direction of the bed, and Steven smacked the speaker with a pillow for making that comment.
“I am guessing I missed something. Though I’m not sure I even want to know.”
“If he wants two kn-”
Gary dodged another whack with the pillow and kicked Steven, hard.
Oliver had turned back towards the desk to mix their newest arrival a clear yet highly alcoholic beverage - the main vice to be enjoyed at his respective campus, it seemed.
“We were discussing recent conquests,” Peter supplied, and his eyes shone with barely suppressed glee at the thought.
“Oh yeah?”
“... Maybe ‘we’ isn’t the most accurate term.”
“Hm.”
Having found the weed, he handed it over to Peter.
Steven already leaned back to crack a window open.
Meanwhile Andy walked over to Oliver, gladly accepting his drink. With the lack of additional places to sit, he decided to perch on the edge of the desk next to his friend.
“That’s a shame. No luck for you yet, then?”
Peter dodged their looks. Moving his attention towards Steven yielded the same result. Oliver only raised an eyebrow. And Gary, as ever, seemed bursting to share the news. He didn’t even need to be prompted to go on.
“ So , do you remember Kelly and Stacey Franklin. Let me start off by saying they are last year students right now so what I’m about to tell you is all totally legal,”
And so he launched into a reprise of the tale Andy had previously interrupted, describing in detail the when, what and how of the full encounter between the three of them involved.
Three friends seemed to listen with attention of varying degrees. As for Andy, nothing past those first few sentences really managed to get through to him.
He felt the blood drain from his face.
Was he having some sort of out of body experience?
He was watching Gary talk. He was vaguely aware there should be sound there. Even if the other was being plenty expressive with his eyes, mouth, and oh okay, lewd hand gestures to get the point across. But Andy could only hear a high pitched ringing in his ears at this point.
He was absolutely fuming.
He was gonna cry.
Somewhere in his peripheral vision Peter and Steven shared some incredulous look while listening to the tale.
He was not about to start fucking crying over this. Had to stay blank faced and cool about the entire thing, because what would the others think?
He took a sip from the glass in his hand. It tasted vile. He tried not to show it.
And worse, it offered him zero relief. He still couldn’t look away from Gary. And all of a sudden he felt so downright stupid. For how much he had been looking forward to seeing him again, having their old gang back together, the feeling they could do anything, share anything.
He knew all too well, not everything.
Even if Gary still seemed comfortable discussing plenty. And Andy hated how he kept looking back at him every so often mid sentence, mid description of fuck knows what. And what was he expecting in turn, then? For Andy to just nod and laugh along with them, not caring about those girls, that he had fucked them, and how doing that - it was now becoming apparent to him - meant absolutely nothing.
Again his friend - his what, buddy, pal, just a childhood friend, nothing more - looked back at him for what, approval? Boyish camaraderie? Or some sign betraying his envy, even?
Gary’s entire aura was still vibrant, eyes gleaming, mouth animate. Smiling about the whole thing. Keeping the others fully enthralled with his recounting.
This is how he thrived, truly in his element. And Andy hated how much he still wanted him.
Still in a strangely detached sort of manner, he watched himself fling his drink.
And just like that, from one moment to the next, Gary had stopped. Thank fuck for that. Stopped his drawn out and annoying yapping on about the entire thing. He could only sit there staring back at Andy (and only Andy now) in a stunned type of confusion. As if he truly did not understand what he’d done wrong. Fucking prick.
The sound started filtering back in. Steven’s dramatic complaint of whatever splatter had hit him in the crossfire. Oliver’s low murmur on a perfectly blended drink going to waste. The heavy breathing coming through his own nose.
Andy turned back to the desk - and he was standing now, when had he gotten up? - to put his empty glass down again. His hand was shaking. He tried to not be affected by that. He just had to get out of the door before his angry, angry tears would start to pour, as he knew they would.
“RIght,” he said, and he felt strengthened by the fact his voice didn’t even waver. “I’m off.”
“What the hell, Andrew,” Steven uttered.
Peter silently offered him a tissue from the box next to the bed. Steve accepted it after only brief hesitation.
Gary remained frozen, stock still.
But Andy was barely looking at him anymore. Already he was making his way again towards the door, picking up his backpack on the way out and trying not to let them know how shaky he felt.
“Come on now, Andy,” another spoke up. “We’ve all felt the impulse. Let me pour you another.”
“I am fine thanks, Oliver.”
“It doesn’t mean you have to go.”
“I’m not staying here with this… this dickhead!”
The insult was far from adequate, but at least it got the point across. Andy just decided to cut his losses and step out. Perhaps they could schedule another hangout at some later point over the summer, once he'd had the chance to get his mind straight again and he might be able to deal with things as they stood. As of right now, it was all still a bit much to handle.
He felt as though couldn’t breathe.
Peter’s whisper of “I think he maybe fancied Kelly” followed him into the hallway.
Barely three seconds later, one of his ‘friends’ did too.
Andy tried his best to outrun him, even if he knew from the start that would’ve proved to be pointless.
“Jeez, man”, came that voice, and Andy hated the fake casual tone Gary adopted, still trying to keep things light between them even now. “If I’d known you’d get all prissy about it I would’ve kept all the juicy details to my actual friends-”
“Well, I wish you had.”
“Ohhh, excuse me, how was I supposed to know that, what, one year at fancy boy college would turn you all precious about that sort of stuff.”
“It is not about that.”
At least they had quit the house now, having gone into the garden and its relative privacy.
Andy turned around to face his pursuer, maybe feeling confrontational after all if the other was looking for a fight.
But Gary was standing there looking at him, God, as they had stood and looked at each other millions of times throughout the years.
Raw and honest. Lost. Confused. Wanting to understand. Open in his emotion as ever, showing something deeper than offense over the wet clothes or just brushing off Andy’s initial response like before. If only that willingness to have a heart to heart could’ve come a little bit sooner than this.
“So then, what is it. You like one of them? Both? I mean you can have ‘em, they don’t mean a thing to me.”
“I know.”
His voice broke. Couldn’t even manage two fucking syllables.
Andy registered the sound of an upstairs window closing with a soft thud.
Even then it took Gary a few more seconds to process the actual issue. His entire face shifted from vague disbelief to fully baffled when realising what should have been clear from the start.
“Oh my God, so you’re jealous - like that ?”
And the humiliation of his complete surprise served as yet another stab right in the heart which made Andy turn around and start walking the fuck away again.
“Wait, hang on! Come on, man, how was I supposed to know-”
Now the anger was definitely building again. Which at least would be a solid barrier to fence in the genuine hurt of rejection stewing right underneath. And Gary was chasing after him. Andy only hoped he wouldn’t do something as stupid as try to hold him back. Grab him by the arm and try to turn him back around. If Gary tried to lay his hands on him in any way, he might actually fucking deck him.
“Whatever,” he gritted out, while still trying to leave this place as fast as he could. “You just do what you want. You live your life, and I’ll live mine, but some word of advice, the next time you are dating someone and then randomly decide-”
“Hold up, we are dating? Since when?”
And that was quite enough. Conveniently, Gary had come up right behind him in pursuit. Quick as can be Andy turned around and plainly pushed him. Hard. Not hard enough to actually hurt him or make him fall of course, but decidedly hard enough to let the other know he fucking meant it.
Part of him hoped the implicit threat would be ignored. That Gary would step right back up to him, so he could feel justified in giving him another, more intentional shove. And another, and another. Maybe then he’d actually feel better.
But Gary didn't. He just remained standing there. Just stood there dumbfounded. Still looking so confused and hurt about the whole thing.
To hell with him. Andy couldn’t care. Could not bear to do so. After months, years of them growing ever closer together until they had finally become, what he had thought…
Well, none of that mattered now. Turns out it had never been all that serious to Gary. So there would be no use in crying about it.
No use letting anyone know how badly he’d been affected.
“Whatever,” Andy repeated, staring at the ground now because that was easier than having to look his friend in the eye. “I overreacted. It’s fine. I’ll see you around.”
And before Gary - annoying, persistent, almost childlike Gary to be honest - could rope him back in, Andy turned around and just kept on walking.