Streetlights

John walks in from school on a Thursday evening, elated from sitting with his friends all day (and Tavros and Sollux actually talking again), to find a suitcase at the foot of the stairs. He stops abruptly; this can only mean one thing.

Daddy’s home.

He wonders whether he can make it upstairs without his father noticing, but it’s too late, because he slammed the front door really loudly when he came in and now Kanaya’s standing in front of him.

“Your father wants to speak to you,” she says, and something about her tone makes John nervous. He’s never got on with his father, but they tend to ignore each other rather than talk, because it simply causes arguments which upset Jade and John’s grandmother. Much as John and his father dislike each other, they each love other members of the family, and would do anything to see them happy.

John nods, dropping his bag on the floor and slinking into the living room as quietly as he can. His father is standing there, still in his business suit, facing the fireplace almost contemplatively. John knows better, though. He knows he’s just standing there for added drama, making John wait with bated breath until he turns around, upping the tension and suspense.

He does just that, making John wait in silence for a few moments before turning around, hands behind his back.

“Johnny,” he says, and John tries not to wince. His father’s the only one who didn’t take to the nickname ‘John’ (“We named him Johnny for a reason!” he scolds everyone around the house. “Don’t butcher the name.”). “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Yeah, ‘cause you haven’t bothered to be here, John thinks spitefully, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to aggravate his father – he just wants to get out of there, to be honest – and he prefers it when his father isn’t around.

“How’s school going?” his father asks mildly, almost casually, but John can see the challenge in his eyes.

“Fine,” John says, but it comes out too defensive.

“Really?” his father says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not what I hear.”

“From whom?” John asks.

“Some teachers seem to think you don’t…turn up to lessons,” his father replies.

“I’m still getting A*s everywhere,” John retorts. “Why would I have to attend if I’m getting great marks?”

“Because that’s what school is about,” his father says. “Hard work and making friends. Not that you’d know anything about either, of course.” John bites back an angry growl, clenching his fists.

“I don’t need to work hard,” he says through gritted teeth. “And anyway, I do have friends.” The eyebrow is raised again.

“I’d like to meet them,” John’s father says. “Drunk, emo kids, are they?”

“So what if they are?” John says. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m your father.”

“So why don’t you start acting like one?” John spits. There’s silence as John’s father eyes his son, looks him up and down with an expression of half-disgust and half-amusement on his face.

“Go to your room,” he says quietly. “I don’t know where we went wrong with you.”

“Not loving me, for a start,” John mutters, turning to leave.

“How could I love something like you?” his father yells. “All you’ve brought is disappointment, shame and failure to this family.”

“Oh, so you’d rather I was someone like you?” John shouts back, rounding on his father. “You’d rather I didn’t get good grades? You’d rather I bullied my way to the top of a law firm? You’d rather I treated no one with a shred of respect and didn’t care a jot about my family? You know what, I’m happier as I am. I’d choose myself over you any day, and so would anyone else.”

“I’d rather you were a decent human being!” John’s father roars.

“You know nothing about being a decent human being!” John screams at his father. “Fuck you. You’re not a father, not a husband, not a man.” Before his father can retort, John stalks out of the room and straight back out of the door, walking past a frightened-looking Kanaya comforting an even more frightened-looking Jade. John’s so angry he doesn’t even stop to comfort Jade, just walks out and down the street and down another and another and another until it’s dark and somehow he’s found himself at the bridge.

He gets up on the bridge, standing with his arms spread out as if he’s going to jump, and he screams into the night.
-
John doesn’t go home that night.

He wanders the streets until the early hours of the morning, half-debating going to Tavros's when he realises that he’s probably going to catch pneumonia roaming around like this. He doesn’t want to wake Tavros up at a stupid hour like this, though, and he doesn’t want to give either Tavros or Sollux the wrong ideas, so he keeps his distance.

He almost wants someone to find him, wants a fight, but as this town is a shithole full of obedient teenagers and old people no one else is out on the streets. He ends up walking back up his road again, not planning on going home but not wanting to stay out much longer – all he’s wearing is a thin hoodie that’s barely keeping him warm right now.

John flops down on the curb, stretching his legs out into the road and tipping his head back to squint at the brightly lit orange sky. He doesn’t want to fucking be here anymore. He’s still simmering; his father really brings out the worst in him. He’d almost started to be happy before he showed up again. And he doesn’t even have his mum here to defend him.

“What are you doing out at three in the morning?” a voice says, and John jerks his head back down to see Dave standing in front of him.

“Life,” John says. “Things getting to me.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Dave says, sitting down next to John.

“Not really,” John says. “It’s just my dad, nothing big.” The word dad feels weird in his mouth, as if it doesn’t belong there.

“Okay,” Dave says. They sit in silence for a moment, before John shivers involuntarily as the wind curls itself around his body.

“You should come inside,” Dave says gently. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay out much longer.”

“I’ve probably already got one,” John says apathetically.

“Come on,” Dave says, and John just can’t be bothered to fight about it. He stands up, following Dave down the road and into the warm house. Dave turns around and presses a finger to his lips as he tiptoes up the stairs, gesturing for John to do the same. John shuts the front door as quietly as he can and follows the path Dave’s taking, zigzagging across steps and missing some out completely, presumably to avoid creaking. He pushes open a door at the top of the stairs and down a slight corridor, ushering John inside and clicking the door shut silently behind them.

“So,” he says after a moment, slightly uncomfortably, as John gazes around the room. It feels like he’s intruding on a different Dave, a Dave that no one but Dave knows. There are childhood memories everywhere, souvenirs and memorabilia and photographs and drawings and collectible things and so much stuff that feels like it’s revealing a Dave no one else knows about, a warm, laughing, friendly Dave that’s long gone now.

“You confuse me, you know,” John says suddenly, rounding on Dave. Dave lowers his head.

“I know,” he says, and he sounds even more uncomfortable than ever. “I confuse myself.”

“Why do you do it?” John demands. “Why do you make me, then break me? Why do you get my hopes up and then act like you don’t know me the next day? Dammit, I’d be able to deal with it if you either hated me or loved me, but you can’t seem to fucking decide, and it’s confusing the hell out of me.” He doesn’t know why the words are suddenly pouring out of his lips, rolling off his tongue, but they are, and he can’t seem to stop them. He doesn’t really want to stop them, either; he wants to know what the fuck is up with Dave.

“I don’t know,” Dave says, and he sounds half-wrecked and half-desperate. John’s not entirely sure what to make of that. He was expecting an explanation of dares, or simply to toy with him – it sounds like something Dave would do; he definitely wouldn’t put it past him.

“So why do it?” John asks. “Why can’t you make your mind up?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dave says.

“It could be, if you let it,” John says. Dave doesn’t look him in the eye, leaning against his windowsill and staring at the ground.

“I can’t, John,” he whispers. “There’s so much at stake. I can’t lose what I’ve built up. I can’t risk my reputation. I can’t…I don’t even know what I am, what you are, what we are. I don’t know what’s going on. You confuse the hell out of me too.”

“Why?” John asks. “Am I the one playing games, tossing you aside whenever I get bored then roping you back in when I want a bit of fun? Am I the one treating you like a bitch at school and kissing you under the stars away from everyone else’s eyes?”

“No,” Dave says. “Emotionally. I’ve never…I don’t know. I’ve never been this invested in someone before, whether it’s because I want to punch you in the face or kiss you. I’ve never felt such passionate things towards someone, whether it’s hatred or…or…not hatred. I’ve never cared about someone like I care about you. Fuck, John, what are you doing to me? I’m not even gay.”

“You kissed me,” John points out. “Three times.”

“I know,” Dave says, and he sounds pained. “You don’t fucking understand, John. You don’t know what it’s like, to be straight and sure of your life and have everything laid out for you, and then some fucking kid show up and screws everything up. You don’t understand what it’s like to be so confused about everything in your fucking life, try and push away the thing that’s causing the confusion only to find that you need that thing in your life because it’s causing more confusion and disturbances to be away from it. I’m not gay. I can’t be gay, and I’m- I’m not. I’m just not. But I want you. So what the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you need to stop putting what other people want for you and what the world thinks is best before what makes you happy,” John says.

“I was happy!” Dave practically yells before covering his mouth, forgetting that he has to be quiet. “I was fucking happy, before you came along.”

“Well, sorry for screwing up your perfect fucking life,” John practically spits. Dave grits his teeth.

“And now I want to fucking kiss you, you bastard,” he whispers.

“I’m not stopping you,” John says, and Dave gazes at him for approximately three milliseconds before he’s launching himself across the room, knocking John backwards onto the bed that’s stood in the middle, kissing John roughly as they tangle together. Dave breaks away, straddling John, to grin down at him, before moving his lips and tongue to John’s neck. John groans lowly, and Dave pulls back and presses a finger to his lips, reminding him to be quiet.

That’s going to be fucking easy, isn’t it?

Dave reattaches his lips to John’s neck, grinding against him as he does so. It’s like he knows all of John’s weak spots, and John can feel himself getting hard under Dave’s touch. Dave seems to be able to feel it too, grinning wickedly into his neck as he grinds harder into John. John has to bite his tongue to stop himself gasping Dave’s name.

“No,” he says, pushing Dave away. He’s scared; this is going too fast. He’s not ready for this yet, not with Dave, not until he knows where he stands with Dave. Hell, he doesn’t even know where Dave stands with him. Dave rolls off the bed, but John catches his wrist just in time and pulls him back so he’s back on top of John, straddling him once again.

“No?” Dave says.

“Not like this,” John whispers. Dave takes a moment to consider, but then nods, leaning down to press his lips to John’s in a (comparatively) chaste kiss.

“Get some sleep,” Dave murmurs against John’s lips. John nods (as much as he can, anyway), and Dave rolls off him, lying down next to him and turning his head so he’s facing John, both of them grinning half-shyly at each other. John wonders if Dave’ll still be there when he wakes up.

He realises he wants Dave to be there.