Streetlights

John’s house seems to be the hotspot for people to congregate. In fact, none of them leave over the weekend, so John has to quietly usher them one by one over fences and across gardens and the stream as stealthily as he possibly can to smuggle them into school. He feels like a ninja, until he trips up over his undone laces just before jumping over the stream, stumbling and almost falling face first into the stream, only stopped by a strong hand pulling him out of the way of the water just in time.

“Thanks,” John says with a shy grin in Tavros’s direction, and Tavros smiles back, letting his hand drop from John’s bicep and accidentally trailing it across John’s forearm in the process.

Accidentally.

John jogs to the rest of the group to hide his blush – fuck, why does Tavros still affect him like that, after all the times they’d talked and agreed shit? – and leads them up the driveway to the street their school is on. He can feel Tavros’s eyes on him all the way to school, and does nothing to counter it, even throwing a few glances back in his direction and watching a blush spread across Tavros’s cheeks, heart aching slightly as he does so.

What does it matter? He can pretend, right?

They’ve got Music first, so all of them but Rose (who claims that everyone’s leaving her) traipses up to the Music block, John in front of Tavros and behind Sollux. He lets his hands swing a little too low, and he feels Tavros’s hands brush against his own as he hurries up to walk at John’s side.

“You should come and listen to our piece today,” he says to John.

“I don’t even have a piece yet,” John complains. “All I’ve spent Music doing is fighting Dave.”

“And kissing him,” Sollux mutters. John shoots him a dark look, and Sollux grins at him innocently. Neither of them notice Tavros lapsing into unhappy silence.

“What was that?” Equius says.

“Nothing,” John says loudly, kicking Sollux before he can open his mouth again.

“You alright?” Rufioh asks Tavros gently, and Tavros nods unconvincingly. John shoots Sollux another look – look what you’ve done – and Sollux bites his lip, looking guilty. John needs to talk to Sollux again. He kind of wants to listen to their song anyway, just to see what he would be able to sound like if he didn’t spend every music lesson arguing with Dave and then being molested by him.

“I’ll come listen to you guys soon,” John says as they file off into their practice room. “I’ve just got to check Dave isn’t in my practice room.”

“Your practice room?” a faint Texan voice says from behind him. Tavros, Equius, Rufioh and Sollux stop in the doorway of their practice room to watch the drama unfold.

“Yes,” John responds smoothly. “Mine.”

“At the very least, it’s ours,” Dave says.

“I don’t particularly want to share anything with you,” John says.

“That’s not what it seemed like when you kissed me yesterday,” Dave retorts, and John glowers at him as Rufioh and Equius exchange shocked looks.

“You kissed me too,” John says accusingly, but Dave just smiles graciously. It makes John want to punch him in the face.

“Mr Megido suggested I give you some tips on this piece,” Dave says. “Since I’m an AS-Level student and you’re just GCSE.”

“Like fuck he did,” John growls, clenching his fists. “You just want an excuse to get me alone.”

“Who are you to deny me that?” Dave says. “You’re hardly a stranger to it, are you?”

“Not here,” John says, throwing a sideways glance at Rufioh and Equius, and just as Dave opens his mouth to respond John manhandles him down the corridor and into their practice room, slamming the door behind them and whirling around to face a smirking Dave. It’s that infuriating smirk again, the one that Dave gets when he’s purposefully being a dick, the one that hides everything he’s actually feeling underneath.

“Afraid your boyfriend’s going to get jealous?” Dave taunts.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” John says through gritted teeth. God, if he punches Dave, just this once, will it actually be that bad?

“Yet,” Dave says casually, examining his nails nonchalantly as he slides into a chair. John hates how every movement he makes is more graceful than the last, as if he were some kind of ballerina swan. John feels like a constipated elephant next to him.

“If you’re getting any ideas-“ Dave cuts him off with a laugh.

“Oh, I’m not getting ideas, John,” he says. “There are some things you just inherently know.”

“I am never going to date you, Dave,” John hisses.

“Okay,” Dave sing-songs in that accepting-yet-disbelieving tone that people use when they know it’ll piss the other person off even more. It does just that, getting John’s blood to boiling point. Fuck punching Dave, he’s going to kill Dave.

“I’m going to leave you here,” John says, “and when I come back, you’d better either be fucking gone or mute.”

“Off to see your boyfriend?” Dave asks with a smirk, and that’s it, John’s had enough. He storms up to Dave and slaps him once sharply across the face, his palm making a satisfying smack sound against the smooth skin of Dave’s cheek.

“Fuck you,” John spits, throwing one last look at Dave, who looks as taken-aback and shocked as John’s ever seen him, clutching his hand to his face as he watches John leave in wonder.

John’s still fuming when he gets to Tavros, Equius, Sollux and Rufioh’s practice room, which is unsurprising as it’s only three rooms away. He slams the door open with more force than required, and everyone inside stops what they were doing abruptly to stare at him. Tavros looks away as soon as he realises it’s John, however, and John frowns slightly.

“I slapped Dave,” he announces, and it feels so good to say that. His hand fucking hurts, but in the best way possible.

“You did fucking what?” Equius practically shrieks, and Rufioh jumps in fright at the volume in his ear, swatting at Equius in fright.

“Fucking hell, Equius, keep it down,” he moans, clutching his racing heart dramatically.

“Yeah,” John says, edging into the room and closing the door behind him, sitting on a spare chair. “Fuck, it feels so great. I hope I left a mark.”

“Good on you, man,” Sollux says with a grin. “Wanna hear our song now?”

“Er…” John says, glancing at the door and then back at the collected group of his friends in front of him. “Sure,” he says eventually, although Tavros doesn’t look too pleased about it. Great.

Rufioh nods and gets behind his drum kit that’s falling apart, Sollux picks up his three-string-bass, Equius sits down on the chair because his guitar has no strap and Tavros, the only one with a properly working instrument, moves to stand behind the microphone and strums his guitar nervously.

“Alright,” he says, his voice amplified so it rings in John’s ears from every direction of the room, bouncing off the walls. Everyone nods, and Rufioh clicks his sticks four times.

They launch into the song, everyone looking utterly concentrated on their own instruments. John has to admit the look of concentration on Tavros’s face is so adorable that as soon as he looks at someone else his eyes stray back to Tavros. That’s not his fault, though.

And suddenly after their short introduction, Tavros’s moving back up to the microphone and opening his mouth, starting to sing.

“I laid down, I drank the poison then I passed the fuck out, now let me tell you ‘bout the good life.” He’s still not looking at John, anywhere but John, in fact, and it’s unnerving him, who slides his eyes over to Sollux.

“I have a million different kinds of fun, when I’m asleep and in a dream that I’m your only one. Can we create something beautiful, and destroy it? Nobody knows I dream about it, this is my imagination,” Tavros sings, and suddenly he’s looking at John, straight at John, straight through John, and John knows those lyrics are about him. John knows what Tavros’s singing about, who Tavros’s singing to, why Tavros’s singing his heart out as if no one’s going to hear him in any other way.

Tavros’s almost finished the second verse by the time John shakes himself out of this revelation, so all he hears is ‘treat me right’ before Tavros launches into the pre-chorus.

“Oh what a waste of a perfectly good clean wrist,” he says, and his voice is dripping with meaning, the words are oozing with importance, and John blanches.

Shit.

“Can we create something beautiful and destroy it?” Tavros asks, singing directly at John, gazing at him unblinkingly. John stares back, not daring to break eye contact. How has nobody else noticed what this song is about? How has Sollux not noticed?

All too soon, the song is over, ending with another guitar riff played by Tavros over the rest of the instruments before the instruments stop and Tavros’s playing alone, unsupported.

Just like Tavros.

“What do you think?” Sollux asks excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Er, yeah,” John says, snapping back into reality. “Yeah, it’s really good.” And it is. They sound raw, of course, a little rough around the edges and maybe a little unpracticed, but that’s to be expected. They’re only starting, after all, and it is really fucking good for a starting band.

“Are you sure?” Equius frowns. “I mean, I know Rufioh messed up a bit-“

“Fuck you, I did not, okay, you were going too fast-“

“-but was it okay? In all honesty.”

“In all honesty?” John says. “Fuck yeah. Man, I’d buy your album.” Sollux grins.

“We’re working on it,” he says.

“I’d better get back to Dave,” John mumbles, wanting to get out of the room, out of Tavros’s line of vision, away from Tavros.

“I’ll come with you. Make sure Dave doesn’t kill you,” Tavros offers, and John closes his eyes briefly. Dave might not kill him, but being alone with Tavros almost certainly will. Especially after that song.

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I slapped him, I can face him.”

“No, no,” Tavros insists, and John has the feeling he’s not really going to help John to his and Dave’s practice room. He wants to talk.

Too bad John doesn’t want to.

“I’m fine, seriously,” John says, scarpering out of the door before Tavros can protest once again. He doesn’t make it down the corridor in time, though, as strong hands grab his biceps from behind and shove him roughly into another, disused practice room.

“Jesus Christ,” John mutters, stumbling backwards over some upside down chairs in the relative darkness of the room, the only light coming from the small window on the door. “How fucking fast are you?”

“Fast enough for you,” Tavros retorts. “Did you like the song?” John laughs sharply. Trick question.

“Is it true?” he asks after a moment. “What you said, about…” he doesn’t want to say it. If he doesn’t say it, it won’t be true, right?

Wrong.

Tavros, face shining in the weak light filtering in from the window on the door, says nothing, but rolls the sleeve of his shirt up. There, on his left arm, are five fresh scars, closer to the wrist than any of his others.

“Tavros,” John whispers, a lump forming in his throat as he brings his hand up to catch the back of Tavros’s hand, holding the back of his wrist as he stares at the scars. “Is that…?”

“Because of us,” Tavros says, and he sounds ashamed. “I-I’m sorry, you didn’t have to…I shouldn’t have…” He pulls his arm away from John’s grasp, pulling the sleeve down over it again. John doesn’t say anything, just gazing at the spot Tavros’s wrist had just vacated.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers after a moment. Fuck, he should never have kissed Tavros in the first place. All it did was cause pain and trouble.

“Don’t be, it was me, I was stupid.”

“It wasn’t,” John says. “You…you understand why we…we can’t, though, right?”

“Yeah,” Tavros says unhappily. “I…I dunno, I mean…I feel selfish, but…I don’t want you to be with Dave.” John bites his lip, looking away.

“I know,” John says just as unhappily. “Sollux’s better for you, though, Tavros.”

“Dave’s not better for you,” Tavros insists. “He treats everyone like shit. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“He’s different,” John says.

“He didn’t seem different today.”

“He does that,” John sighs. It’s hard to explain, Dave’s hard to explain, because suddenly John’s starting to feel more than just that general pull towards him, something bigger that’s scaring him and making him want to push it out of his mind. After all, it can’t be there if he chooses not to acknowledge it.

“Was the rest of the song about me as well?” John asks after a moment of silence. Tavros hesitates, then nods.

“We had something beautiful,” he begins.

“And we destroyed it,” John finishes for him, his stomach sinking. He destroyed it. He’s starting to question his own decision.

But here, looking at the perfect wreckage in front of him, he knows he has to do it anyway, whether he regrets it or not. Sollux’s better for Tavros, and – God forbid – Dave might actually be better for him.

“We can’t keep doing this,” John says, leaning back.

“I don’t want to stop,” Tavros whispers, and John realises he’s crying. Shit.

“You know we have to,” John says heavily, although he doesn’t particularly want to either.

“I miss you,” Tavros says

“I know,” John says. He doesn’t want to go behind Sollux’s back – Dave he doesn’t give a shit about – but it is hard to be so close to Tavros yet have to stay so far away. “The more we do it, the harder it’ll be to stop, though.”

“I know,” Tavros says tearfully, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. John’s heart breaks a little more. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” John says gently. “We just…we need to stop. Or be straight with them. Or both.” Tavros sighs, nodding.

“Okay,” he says. John smiles wryly and leans forwards, sliding his arms around Tavros' shoulders, hugging him, for the last time.

He doesn’t want to think about that.

They break apart after a good few minutes, and Tavros gazes at John a few more moments before turning and walking out of the door. Tavros hears the door to Equius, Rufioh, Tavros and Sollux’s practice room open and close and lets out a shaky breath that he didn’t even realise he’d been holding, walking out of the darkened practice room unsteadily. He doesn’t think he’ll make it to his and Dave’s practice room without collapsing or bursting into tears.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to, because right outside their practice room strong arms catch him, and he collapses onto a warm body, sobbing into the person’s shoulder. He doesn’t even have to ask who it is, doesn’t have to see the person’s face.

“You know you had to,” Dave whispers from above him, wrapping his arms around John’s waist and holding him close to his body, keeping him safe, protected. “You know he’s better with Sollux. You know you’re better with me.”

John, for once, realises Dave is right.