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[hackd]

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re: the first one 8)

[climax]

Not my fault you're a screamer.

1/3

[hackd]

[ omg. ]

Am not!

[hackd]

[ Okay he knows how thin that lie is. ]

[hackd]

It's at least a little your fault.

[climax]

I could stop doing that thing you like with my tongue. If that will make you feel better and satisfy your nosy and jealous neighbors.

1/2

[hackd]

No. That's [ ....... ] not what I want. Don't stop doing that. Please.

[hackd]

You're not exactly quiet yourself, you know.

[climax]

[ Yeah. He didn't think so. ]

I never said I was. But I don't see any reason to. It's not like we're in a church. Or somewhere else in public.

[hackd]

[ Of course he didn't think so. ]

That's not the point. I live next door to these people. I don't want them to be thinking [ ... ] whatever it is they're thinking every time they see me.

1/2

[climax]

I think it's a bit late for that, wouldn't you say?

[climax]

Besides, I'd imagine they're thinking you're pretty satisfied and have a healthy sex life. It's not like they'd be wrong.

[climax]

[ So.

Okay.

It's really not his finest hour. Or his finest anything. In fact, it's openly and obviously pathetic. But, whatever, it doesn't matter. Sort of. A little. Okay, it does matter, but right now it doesn't.

See, it's barely been a handful of days since he tried to reconnect with Oliver and instead ran into some dark horse. At first Connor had just told himself that it was a friend—guy from work, maybe?? but what IT guy is that ripped??—or even a neighbor. It didn't mean anything. But, it began to fester. The very thought dug and dug and dug in his mind, crowding out everything else even when he tried to stop it from happening.

Oliver is a first for him. Simply put: he doesn't do boyfriends, but he'd somehow found himself connected to this tech geek. By a tender, fragile thread, but it was still there. And Oliver had no way of knowing just how much he'd gotten under Connor's skin. Oh, Connor had tried, but even he knows it was a shitty attempt and he just expected to be given what he wanted like he'd always gotten.

It's not often Connor lets himself feel like a jackass, but he does right now. Especially the deeper into his cups that he gets. Unable to sit at home with his annoying thoughts, he'd gone out. To a bar, not a club, he hadn't wanted to deal with the heavy music or the sweaty guys grinding all over him. So, he takes up shop at one end and sits. And drinks. And wallows. And Connor Walsh is not inclined to wallowing, but he totally is.

After sitting at the bar for a few hours, he begins scrolling through his phone. Somehow ("somehow") he winds up on Oliver's name, but thankfully does nothing. Yet. He's not that drunk. Another hour of sharing his woes with the bartender and a patron or two seated nearby, he calls it a night. He can drink at home. Except, as soon as he steps outside into the cold night air, his fingers are tapping the screen and he's calling Oliver.

Oh he'd tricked himself into believing he was going to contact Uber for a ride home, but he never quite made it to the app. Instead, he pushes that green call button and presses his phone to his ear, waiting. ]

[hackd]

[ Kicking Connor out of his apartment that night hadn't been easy. It was actually probably one of the hardest things he'd ever done. But the hurt, anger, and humiliation had carried him through it. For about a minute after the door closed, he thought multiple times about opening it again and calling Connor back if he hadn't gone far. But each time he considered it, he remembered the recording and how often Connor had played him and it ripped him open all over again. It was all he could do to drag himself back to the bedroom. The sheets still smelled like Connor and it kept him awake (that, and the fact he kept crying on and off) until he eventually relocated to the couch.

Some stupid part of his brain kept expecting Connor to call him or at least text him in the days that followed, but another part of him was relieved when he didn't. He should've known better than to ever get involved with Connor in the first place, and the sooner he moved on, the better.

He's gotten to a point where he can think about Connor without wanting to hit something or cry, resigned to the fact Connor is the way he is and Oliver was the idiot for ever hoping for more, when his phone lights up with Connor's name and his stupid attractive face.

(He should've deleted the number. He almost had a few times, but something always stopped him.)

It's late and he'd just managed to fall asleep when the phone jars him awake after a couple rings. Groggy and bleary-eyed, he gropes around his nightstand for his phone. After squinting at the screen, he debates not answering it, declining it or just letting it go to the voicemail. But then he wonders if something's wrong, the way people wonder whenever they get an out-of-the-blue call at an odd hour of the night or day, and he manages to press the answer button before the final ring. ]

What?

[ His voice is sleep-rough and carries a note of irritation. ]

[climax]

[ It shouldn't make him happy to hear Oliver's voice. It really, really shouldn't. Especially considering even in his drunken state, he picks up on that thread of irritation. Could be because it's kind of late (but not really late... he doesn't think...). Though, it's possible and entirely far more likely that he sounds that way because it's Connor. Just because it's Connor.

But, he's not going to let that stop him.

Probably.

There is, however, a longer than normal pause after Oliver answers as Connor's mind tries to supply his mouth with something not stupid or lame to say. That, of course, doesn't really happen. ]

Didn't think you were going to answer. [ His voice is quiet, words slurring together in an admission he didn't want to voice. Shameful display already and he can't seem to stop himself.

Inside his chest, his heart is fluttering like crazy and he tells himself it's just because of the alcohol. No other reason. Nothing out of the ordinary is going on here. He wets his lips and puts one foot in front of the other, walking slowly, haphazardly down the sidewalk toward home.

Probably. ]

Hey. [ A small sigh escapes his lips; the smile becomes evident as he proceeds. ] Heyyyyy. Oli. Ver. [ His heart hammers harder against his ribs saying his name. Even if it was a little stilted and said as two words instead of one. And then softer, strangely warm even for Connor. ] Hi.

[hackd]

[ When at first he doesn't get a response, he starts to think it was a misdial and his stomach sinks.

But just as he's about to say something and probably hang up, Connor speaks. His voice wraps around Oliver's heart and squeezes until it hurts. He thinks I almost didn't answer, but stops just short of saying it out loud. Probably because his attention snags on the way Connor's words run together, and for a moment that's all he can focus on. A frown knits his brow as he gets a sneaking suspicion.

Connor confirms that suspicion himself as he continues to speak.

Of course.

Oliver's chest falls with a heavy sigh, and he rolls onto his back, his free arm stretched to the side across the space that used to be Connor's when he came over. ]

God. [ It all makes sense now. ] You're drunk. [ It's not a question. He doesn't sound overly impressed. He pulls his phone away from his ear so he can check the time at the top of the screen (almost one AM), and his frown deepens. ] Do you even know what time it is?

[climax]

[ God, indeed. Connor hears Oliver's voice and it sounds like spun gold in his ear. He hasn't heard it in so long. Too long. Even sleep-drunk and annoyed it sounds wonderful. Like the greatest thing he's heard in a long time (and someone even played some classic rock songs in the bar on the jukebox tonight). ]

I like the sound of your voice.

[ He blurts it out before he can stop himself, and finds he only regrets it slightly. There's too much drink coursing through him to make him feel otherwise. But, he blithely moves on to something else, like it wasn't even said at all.

Even drunk him knows it's easier that way. ]

Yes, it's—

[ There's an audible pause, shuffling sounds through the phone as it's clear he's pulling it away from his face. Then, it clatters to the ground and there's some distant cursing and then a burst of giddy, teeth-chattering laughter. It's too cold out here to be meandering around the city, but he feels invincible in the moment with the alcohol pumping through him and Oliver's voice in his ear. Eventually, he scoops up the phone and rubs it off before pressing it against his ear again; there's still lingering amusement in his tone. ]

Oops. Didn't mean to drop you. Were you sleeping? Is it that late? Didn't seem that late.

[ He sniffs and exhales a deep breath, still tasting the whiskey on his tongue. ]

Maybe it's late. Wanted to talk. To you. Even though you're mad at me. Still wanted to.

[hackd]

[ Before, Oliver would've smiled at the things Connor's saying. Now, it just hurts, especially when he reminds himself Connor probably doesn't even know what he's saying. It's not fair for Connor to make Oliver miss him when by all rights he shouldn't.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose throughout all the commotion.

But in the darkness behind his eyelids all he can see is Connor's bright, half-manic grin, his carefully tousled hair, his lusty gaze, and it pulls on his heartstrings in all the wrong ways. So he snaps his eyes open again and stares at the ceiling. After Connor's finished speaking, Oliver grits his teeth to keep from blurting something he might regret. He's not the one who's had a few too many. ]

Why?

[ So much for not blurting things. ]

What do you want from me, Connor? [ He sounds tired, and not from being woken up in the middle of the night. ] No, ju— Forget it. Never mind. That's not a conversation we should have while you're drunk. Or— ever.

[ He sighs. ]

Where are you? Are you...alone? With friends?

[climax]

[ Funny how it sobers him up a little, just a little, when he's asked that. What does he want from Oliver? We just don't know. Connor certainly doesn't and he makes a strange sort of pained sound as he tries to parse out his own thoughts. He's studying to be a lawyer for fuck's sake, he should be able to talk himself through this. ]

Don't know.

[ At least it's honest. For once. And for the first time in a long time, Connor wishes he had a better response. He wishes he could break things down and explain just what he wants and why he does the things he does. But he doesn't know, or doesn't even want to know himself, so he's got nothing of value to offer. ]

I... missed you. [ The words sound strange in his ears as if he's speaking a foreign language he doesn't understand. His voice is low, soft, as he rambles on in his uninhibited confession. ] Never meant to— I didn't want to—

[ He wets his lips again and they dry near immediately in the cold breeze of the night. A hand scrubs over his face as he makes a grumbly sort of noise as his palm passes over his mouth. Normal people accept relationships in their lives so easily. Why did he have to fuck this one up so badly? ]

I shouldn't have called and just stayed away like Spatula Guy said. Guess I'm too selfish and didn't feel like following the rules.

[ There's a brief pause as he swallows, closing his eyes; his feet drag on the concrete and he walks in a wobbly line. ]

I do care about you but I guess I just wanted to hear you. One more time.

deal with it.

[climax]

[ Special delivery by a friendly little owl ]

Meet me in the library tonight.

- CW

THAT LITTLE BABY

[hackd]

[ The owl is returned shortly after. ]

Need homework help again?

- O

had to use it somewhere.

[climax]

Sure, we can go with that.

- CW

perfect

[hackd]

What is it, really?

- O

[climax]

What do you think??

- CW

[hackd]

I think you're going to get us in trouble, whatever you have in mind.

- O

[climax]

So that means you're coming. Thought so.

- CW