Streetlights

The next two days pass uneventfully. Sollux throws shit at Rufoh, Rufioh yells at Sollux some more, Sollux calls Tavros Tavvy, Tavros yells at Sollux some more, Equius shakes his head at them all some more, Rose laughs at them all and John sits there grinning at everything. It’s odd to have an actual group of friends – he wasn’t expecting them to turn out as friends. He was expecting it to be maybe a break, lunch thing, and then he’d be off again, excluding himself. After all, when Tavros offered for him to sit with them at lunch, it was only polite.

Now, however, it’s Friday night (or rather, Saturday morning), and John’s locked up in his own corner of the house listening to music at volumes no one else would consider acceptable. He’s got some vodka and he’s sipping from it, wincing every time the liquid slips down his throat, scratching and burning as it goes, but still drinking more and more until he can barely see straight. It makes him feel better, emptier yet fuller, more numb than ever yet bursting with emotions. It’s more than liquid confidence; it’s liquid life.

He vaguely registers a weird ringing that’s hurting his ears – make it stop – but doesn’t get up to look for the source of it. He feels impenetrable right now, as if he’s surrounded by a nice fluffy cloud that no one can pierce.

The ringing starts up again, and John whimpers in frustration. It hurts. He decides to look for the source of this hellish noise, pushing himself off the floor and taking a moment to balance. Woah. Was the room always this…spinny?

He finds it eventually – his phone – and presses a few buttons randomly, trying to shut the damn thing up. It works, but some other noise filters into his ear – a boy’s voice, speaking slowly and giggling a lot, slurring his words.

“Wassup?” John says, steadying himself on the desk as his vision blurs again.

“Can…can we come in?” the person says, and John nods. He doesn’t realise they can’t see him.

“Yeah,” he says. “Come in.”

“Door,” the voice says. “Locked.”

“Oh,” says John. “One…one minute.” He puts the phone down on the table, not even hanging up, just leaving it there. He doesn’t think about it, wrenching the door open and stumbling down numerous staircases to reach the front door, pulling it open.

Outside are Tavros, Sollux, Rose, Rufioh and Equius.

“Guys,” John says, grinning. “Guys, and Rose.”

“Are you drunk?” Equius giggles. “Because I’m drunk.”

“We’re all drunk!” Tavros yells, and Sollux shushes him with a drunken finger to his lips.

“Don’t wanna get…get neighbours,” he says, frowning as he tries to string the words together, struggling with the polysyllabic ones.

“Can we come in?” Rufioh says in an exaggerated stage-whisper. John nods, already beginning to sober a little. He’s always been pretty good at handling his alcohol – he’s had years of practice, after all.

He steps aside and lets his own little posse inside (they are pretty sexy, he notes. Maybe he’ll have to take Rufioh up on that Sexican thing), waiting for them to gather in the hallway before shutting the front door.

“Your house is huge,” Equius says in awe, gazing at the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

“Don’t like it,” John says, starting up the stairs and ushering the others up too. They traipse along behind him, all the way to his room, where he shuts them all inside. As his house is pretty massive, his room is too – big enough to fit all six of them comfortably inside. Big enough for them all to sleep in, even.

“Your room is huge,” Rose says. “When…when this house was being built, we all thought- we thought-“ she’s suddenly overcome with a fit of laughter, so John never finds out what everyone thought.

“I’m not as drunk now,” Tavros frowns. “I want to be more drunk.”

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Equius suggests. Rose nods enthusiastically.

“I hate truth or dare,” Rufioh moans.

“That’s- that’s because you always lose,” Tavros says.

“You can’t…you can’t lose truth or dare,” Rufioh says.

“You do,” Tavros says, and Sollux giggles.

“I feel-“ Rose says, but before she tells anyone what she feels she’s out, toppling backwards onto the floor with a loud snore. Everyone simply stares at her, watching her fall.

“Tired?” Equius supplies, and apparently that’s the funniest thing because John can’t stop laughing, tears of mirth falling form his eyes.

“I’m tired,” Rufioh complains, once they’ve all calmed down enough to form moderately coherent sentences.

“You all get tired when you’re drunk,” Tavros says. “That’s why we came here.”

“So you had somewhere to crash?” John asks.

“No, so I had some company. They drop like flies,” Tavros says, directing this at John.

“Can’t hold their booze?” John asks, his vision starting to get sharper again. His mind is clearing too – just what he doesn’t want – and he’s starting to feel a little more sober.

“Nope,” Tavros says, and John thinks the same is happening to him, because the drunken glaze in his eyes is slowly fading. “That’s…that’s why I never drink with them. Weaklings.” John huffs out a laugh, noting that Rufioh’s passed out too now.

“Guys,” Equius says. “I’m feeling a little-“

“Me too,” Sollux says, with a huge yawn.

“Is it always at the same time?” John asks Tavros. Tavros nods.

“Just as lightweight as each other,” he grumbles, using the bottle of beer he’s got in his hand to push Sollux’s snoring head off his leg.

“Sucks,” John says, but he can’t deny that it’s nice to have company in his drunkenness. It definitely beats being drunk at home alone every weekend (and most weekdays).

“I wish Sollux wasn’t this bad,” Tavros says sadly, nudging Sollux’s head with his beer bottle again. John frowns.

“Why don’t you date him?” he asks.

“I’m scared,” Tavros admits. “This way, I can still protect myself from getting hurt. At least a little bit. I- I’m not very good at dealing with hurt.”

“What do you mean?” John asks. Tavros sighs, casting his eyes down at the beer bottle in his hands, as if it will save him from himself, as if he’s wishing it would. John supposes that’s what he is wishing; that’s what John wishes, whenever he picks up the bottle, tries to numb himself. If he’s numb, he won’t be himself.

“I mean…” Tavros says, but he trails off, still avoiding John’s gaze. John shuffles a little closer, sitting cross-legged directly opposite Tavros.

“Hey,” he says softly. “You can tell me.”

“Can I…can I…” Tavros doesn’t seem to be able to get the words out of his mouth. “Can I…show you, instead?” John’s confused, but nods; what does Tavros mean?

Tavros looks nervously at the others to make sure they’re all actually sleeping – judging from the orchestra of snores, they definitely are – and starts rolling up his sleeve.

There, on his arm, are countless little scars, riddling his skin, laddered all the way up his arm.

“Don’t hate me,” Tavros whispers. “It’s how I cope.”

“I don’t hate you,” John says slowly, still gazing at the scars. Something’s twisting inside him, something unpleasant that’s making him want to kiss the scars, hug Tavros, do something to help. But he doesn’t; he doesn’t move a muscle.

“I’m sorry,” Tavros says, snatching his arm away and rolling his sleeve back down. “Pretend…pretend you didn’t see that.” But John can’t pretend that.

“I can’t,” John says honestly. “Does…does Sollux know? Rufioh?” Tavros shakes his head.

“No one,” he says. “They’d hate me. They’d think I was weak. I’m meant to be there for them, y’know? I’m their rock. If they see that I’m weak, they won’t lean on me anymore. And then they’ll be weak.”

“You need someone too,” John points out.

“Not as much as they need me,” Tavros says, and that makes John’s heart break. That, that Tavros doesn’t value himself enough to owe himself at least a little care and love, that hurts.

“I’ll be your rock,” John says decidedly. “I’ll be there for you, Tavros. You’re not alone, okay?”

And something - he doesn’t know what - but something makes him kiss Tavros, square on the lips, soft warmth against soft warmth. And Tavros doesn’t pull away.
-
The morning is punctuated by moans and groans and the occasional ‘I’m gonna-‘ before someone dashes to John’s ensuite bathroom to throw up. John’s so fucking glad his room is as far away from everyone else’s as it’s possible to be – there’s no way Kanaya would have been able to ignore five strange boys in the house if they had been within earshot of any other room. John’s pretty sure his dad installed a soundproof door when they were having this place built; his door definitely feels a lot sturdier than all the others around the house.

John goes down and gets them all some snacks for breakfast, anything he can get into his arms – biscuits, crisps, salami, bread, anything – and heads back upstairs, throwing it all on the floor for everyone to take their pick from. He’s lucky he doesn’t get hungover anymore; and apparently, Tavros’s the same, dishing out water half-sympathetically to his friends and brother (although the latter is far more reluctant and much more gleeful). He throws a smile at Tavros, who grins shyly back – does he remember their conversation last night? John remembers it clear as day, remembers the scars, remembers the kiss. He wonders whether Tavros’s thinking about it too.

“I’m going to go down to the shop and buy some more paracetamol,” John announces at about midday. There’s empty Ibuprofen and Nurofen packets strewn all over his carpet, and none left for a moaning Rose to take.

“Can I have Calpol instead?” Equius asks weakly. John grins.

“Sure thing, Captain,” he says. “Tavros, look after them whilst I’m gone? I won’t be long.” Tavros looks at him and smiles, and something about that look says he remembers last night too. John throws him another smile and hurries out, rushing down the stairs and not even bothering to put a proper coat on before leaving the house.

He ambles down the street with his hands in his pockets, trying to figure out what the hell happened last night. Tavros self-harms; that much is clear, but why? What’s the reason for it? And he said – in a roundabout way, yes – that he wants to date Sollux, but he’s scared. And then John had kissed him. Why had he kissed Tavros? He doesn’t even like Tavros, really. He doesn’t know how he feels about Tavros, but Equius said Tavros and Sollux had been flirting for years. So why hadn’t Tavros pulled away? If he wants Sollux…but doesn’t that mean John's essentially leading Tavros on?

He’s jerked out of his thoughts by a soft chuckle.

“John,” a slightly Texan voice says, and John looks up to see Dave standing there. He’s unflanked this time – for once – and the way the sun is shining down on him makes his skin look almost golden. John wonders idly if Tavros’s skin would look golden in this light.

“What do you want?” John says. He’s not in the mood to talk to Dave, especially not in broad daylight on a street where anyone could see them. And by anyone he means Cronus and Eridan.

“A word,” Dave says nonchalantly.

“You’ve had three. Daily limit is up. Move; I’m getting stuff for my friends,” John says. Dave grins.

“You want to watch that sass,” Dave says. “It’s going to get you in serious trouble someday.”

“Yeah?” John says, challenging. “I’ll wait for that day to come. Right now, I’d like you to fucking move.” He’s not in the mood for Dave’s bullshit games.

“How about you say the magic word?” Dave says, inching closer. John stands his ground; Dave doesn’t scare him.

He does, however, do weird things to John’s heartbeat.

“Avada Kedavra?” John offers, and Dave chuckles again.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” he says.

“On the contrary. I know I’m funny,” John says, crossing his arms. “Can I go now?”

“Oh, John,” Dave says, shaking his head. “I don’t think you understand how this works.”

“Oh?” John says. “Please teach me, O Master of all.” He realises as soon as the words leave his mouth that that was the wrong thing to say, so wrong, because suddenly there’s a strong hand on the small of his back and another on his waist and he’s being pulled right up against Dave, so close that John can feel every inch of his body beneath his own.

“Let go of me!” John says, writhing in Dave’s grasp, but Dave’s hold is stronger than John’s will to struggle.

“Are you sure you want that?” Dave whispers, his breath ghosting over the shell of John’s ear. John shivers involuntarily. That’s an…odd feeling. Odd, but as much as he wants to say it’s unpleasant, he can’t deny it turns him on a little bit. But only because it’s sensitive; not because it’s Dave. Never because it’s Dave.

“Yes,” John spits, wrenching himself out of Dave’s grasp. Dave lets him go – John’s pretty sure Dave would have been able to anchor him there if he wanted to – with that infuriating smirk on his face.

“Just what I thought,” he says, and just like Wednesday, he’s gone without another word.

John doesn’t know what to think anymore. On the one hand, he’s got Dave, acting in the weirdest way of anyone he’s ever known, ever. And on the other hand, he’s got Tavros, safe, secure, probably hopelessly in love with Sollux. And he doesn’t want to hurt Tavros.

But he doesn’t want to hurt himself either. And that’s an odd feeling, because he hasn’t cared about himself in so long he’s almost forgotten what it feels like to be him.

He forgets the Ibuprofen.