things you shouldn't do -- [ patch ]

[gabe]

Things were weird. That much wasn’t hard to tell just by walking into any room that contained both Gabe and Patch. There was a certain awkwardness thick enough to slice and serve and each boy looked like they already had a heaping helping. But despite all the weirdness, all the strange that was hanging in the air, ready to reach out and grab, the two had somehow pulled it together enough to manage the smallest of conversations. That was, of course, if grunting and nodding counted as conversation and as far as Gabe was concerned it did.

What Gabe couldn’t figure out though was why he felt like this was his fault. He hadn’t been the one to initiate the kiss. He hadn’t been the one who wanted to know what it felt like to kiss a boy. He was the one who already know. It was Patch that leaned in and took what he wanted. And yeah, maybe it got a little out of hand. It had progressed rather quickly passed a curious kiss but was that really Gabe’s fault? Patch didn’t cry stop. In fact, if Gabe remembered correctly he was the one who finally pulled away at the end. But the smoke and haze that followed made that part a bit fuzzy. All he could remember were hands, soft skin (something he hadn’t expected. It was one thing for Patrick to look soft skinned and fresh faced but Gabe expected him to be a little more rough) and eager lips. Hell, even thinking about it now made his stomach twist into knots.

“So talk.” Gabe finally broke the silence, pulling down a plush Yoshi from the shelf above his head (he was perched comfortably on his bed and the two of them were waiting for a cut screen to finish before they could continue their game. “Because it’s kind of hard to sit here and know the reason you’re not saying more than ‘kill him, kill him!’ is because you decided to shove your tongue down my throat.” That’s right, Gabe, pass the blame to where it belonged. “That’s not even my fault. If anyone should be giving anyone the silent treatment it’s me. You probed my mouth and then smoked all my pot.”

That was the most Gabe had said to Patch since it happened, since the lights came back on and they spent the rest of the night toasted and killing dudes with controllers. It only got awkward after Gabe left and every time either one of them tried to contact the other the conversation would fizzle out quickly or just be completely awkward the whole time. And even though he had broken the silence it still didn’t feel like enough. So he reached up again and brought down the next plush (a gift, he’d forgotten from who, that did no more than sit on the shelf above his bed) aiming this time for Patch’s head. Poor Mario being used as a weapon. “You haven’t even called me any names. By now I’m usually mad at you.”

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[PATRICK CONNER PATTISON]

Shit. Shitty mc shit shit balls. What was he even doing here? Patrick had to wonder. What the hell had possessed him to drag his ass out of the comfort from his own house, and go over to visit Gabe? It was truly the dumbest idea he’d had since kissing his darker skinned friend. At least he could speculate about his latest transgression. The current fore-runner in the race to work out his thought process, was that for lack of anything better to say to each other they had planned to hang out. Well done boys. Turn awkward cyber IM’s into awkward reality. Well, no one ever said they were the smartest kids. Sometimes it was like they shared a brain. Gabe often had the lion’s share, to be honest. It had never really bothered him. Well, until now. Now he was down-right pissed off at himself that he hadn’t used his brains and avoided this contact.

Truth was, he was shitting himself. What was he supposed to say now? ‘Lol soz that I kissed you bro, but no homo.’ Yeah, like that was an option. Patch was an idiot, but even he knew you shouldn’t just go around kissing your friends like that, guy or girl. If it was a girl, he’d be feeling a lot like a tool for leading her on or something. However, the fact that it had been another dude.. Well. That freaken complicated his shit, didn’t it? Patch wasn’t gay. He wasn’t. He didn’t care what anyone tried to say on the matter, or how his body had reacted while the lights were out and he and Gabe had gotten their kiss on. He was a teenage guy. That was his argument. He was a teenage boy and therefore it wouldn’t matter where the kiss was coming from, it would work him up. Of course, that wasn’t a theory he was willing to test out. Still though, it was what he was sticking to.

Cut-screens were annoying at the best of times, but in that moment, the sandy haired youth was throwing ever cuss word he knew silently at the screen. Why did they need to make these things so long anyway? For someone who had played the game several million times, it was really just an un-wanted break in the killing things. Killing things was exactly the mindless activity Patch needed. There was no way that it could turn into a conversation about feelings... Except when Gabe is a kitty. The kid almost visibly shuddered at his friend as the other boy spoke. Really? Really? He was bringing it up? Shouldn’t they just act like real men and ignore the issue until it went away? That was Patrick’s plan, anyway, and he couldn’t understand why his best friend was so set on ruining that.

Patch’s eyes stayed glued to the TV. He was pretty content just to sit in silence and ignore the conversation until the game started again. That was until a flying Mario hit the side of his head. And hurt. “Oye!” He let out, shooting his best friend a glare as he rubbed the spot where contact had been made. Maybe people were right when they said video games encouraged violence? Still glaring, he tossed his controller aside in a huff. “It was just a freaken’ kiss you wanker.” Came his less than polite reply. “Get over it.” Hey now.. There was an upside in kissing boys- you most certainly couldn’t talk to a girl like that after sucking her face off. Now he just had to hope Gabe got the hint and shut his fat face about it. It wasn’t like it would ever happen again... Nu-uh.. No way.. not ever. At all.

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[gabe]

“Then stop acting like a prissy fucking girl about it!” Gabe’s reply came quick and was accompanied by the boy jumping up off his bed to smack the back of Patch’s head. Didn’t he see that this wasn’t about Gabe wanting to continue their silly mistake from the other night and was instead about him wanting Patrick to stop acting strange? “And it wasn’t just a kiss, you prick, it was you hoover-ing my face for a half hour! Stop acting like you aren’t guilty and get the hell over your big gay freak out.” It was frustrating trying to get the other to understand that it didn’t matter what it was or that it happened and that instead some normalcy between them would be nice. So what if Gabe kind of liked it and was possibly willing to do it again. Ahem, not that he was going to let Patch know that. “And pause the game if you’re gonna throw the controller or we’ll die. We. Will. Die!”

Frustrated, Gabe picked up his pillow and reached back, smacking Patch with it once - and then a second time for good measure - before he plopped down on top of it. Now he was closer to the other boy than he had been this entire time and it was easier to reach him in case he needed another smack. “Seriously though, if you wanted to make out all you had to do was ask. It wouldn’t have been hard. Just an ‘there’s nothing else to do, I’d like to make out with you Gabe. Is that cool? It doesn’t have to mean anything I’m just a seventeen year old boy with a severe hard on for my best friend that I don’t want anyone to know about, let’s roll around in the dark.’” Mostly teasing, Gabe shook his head and then buried his face in the pillow. Why did Patrick have to be so frustrating all the time? Everything was dramatic. Or maybe that was just Patch and his whining that made Gabe think it was dramatic. Yeah, probably.

“Are we cool?” He finally asked, glancing up at the other now. Patch looked good today and Gabe couldn’t deny it. His sandy hair and soft skin… yeah, it was safe to say all those things had been on Gabe’s mind even though he knew they shouldn’t be. But Gabe was boys, boys, boys all the time. It was natural that occasionally one of those boys would be someone he knew well. Someone who was his best friend. His attractive best friend. Someone like Patch, for example. “Because I really can’t take much more of you being a Silent Sally.”

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[PATRICK CONNER PATTISON]

Patch ran a hand through his hair. He was frustrated. Sure, Gabe’s words had helped along the way, but to be honest more than he was annoyed at his friends comments, he was frustrated at his own mind set. Confusion. That’s what he was feeling. Which bugged Patch more than he liked. He wasn’t supposed to feel confused. It had just been a kiss. He was curious and bored, and a teenage boy. What else was he supposed to do? It was just some impulsive action that was supposed to be a one time thing with absolutely no repercussions. That was the silent deal he had made with himself when the lights had come back on and reality had hit him. It hadn’t meant anything. So... why couldn’t he get it out of his mind? Why was it that when he closed his eyes the images of that night flashed in his mind like he was a fly on the wall, re-watching it all.

Sure, none of that was Gabe’s place, but what else could he do besides shove his displaced anger towards his best friend? Especially now when the other boy was bringing it all up and forcing the sandy-haired young man to deal with the issue. “I don’t give a shit about the game.” Came Patch’s sulky mumble. Normally, he would have been the one over-reacting at every little thing pertaining to the video game, but now that he had actual things to stress about, he just had no energy for his usual over-dramatic antics. He also had no energy for dealing with Gabe. Especially not when he was bloody hitting him with a pillow! What the hell even? Trying to dodge the pillow, Patch sent a glare to his best friend. Asshole. Watching as the other boy sat closer (what the hell, why was he sitting closer?), Patch’s eyes narrowed as Gabe started talking again. Those words were not helping things at all.

Getting up, Patch made a few anxious strides in order to get away from the bed. Being close to Gabe right now was not a good idea. He needed to put some distance between himself and the other boy. “Cool?” Patch repeated. A slight hint of hysteria in his tone. No everything was not cool. What made Gabe think that it was cool? He’d just made a freaken joke about them making out again. That wasn’t cool at all. Shaking his head, the boy started pacing a little. Still running his hands through his sandy locks. It seemed to be his go-to move in times of stress for Patch. And this was most definitely a time of stress. “It’s not cool! You seem to think I want to make out with you again, and that’s just not okay. I don’t ever want to kiss your gross mouth again. I’m not gay!” As he spoke, his voice got more and more high-pitches as he worked himself up. “Stop trying to make me gay!”

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[gabe]

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Gabe roared, the sound rising up from the pit of stomach with fury as he launched off the bed. An anger took over and all the things Patch said prior to that last statement were forgotten. All the things he’d tried to say himself were left behind as well. In place of an attempt to mend their friendship was nothing but white hot rage. He advanced on Patch quickly. Usually Gabe’s height and stature weren’t intimidating as most of the time he was slouching or leaning against things but right now he was rigid and tense, standing at full height. Inches felt like miles for missals to travel from his eyes into Patrick’s skull. He wished looks could kill because watching Patch explode against his bedroom wall had to be better than punching him in the face.

This was his best friend. And if Gabe were being honest with himself he’d know that he didn’t really want to hurt the other, that the arm pulling back and the fist curling up in preparation to descend on Patch was a mistake waiting to happen. His other hand was extended forward, pushing his palm into Patrick’s chest to shove him backwards. Gabe thought briefly about pushing him out the door and yelling and yelling until he couldn’t yell anymore. Patch of all people knew what those words did. He knew how they made Gabe feel.

For years Gabe’s brother has tortured him. Between calling his sexuality a disease and throwing physical blows their relationship crumbled quickly. It isn’t something that Gabe ever really divulges. The toxic relationship with his brother is better left private than aired out as dirty laundry for other people to pick up. To the rest of the world he doesn’t care. The words mean nothing to him and those who use them are pathetic and stupid. It doesn’t bother him. But Patch knows the truth, has seen it first hand, and yet there he was practically calling Gabe infectious, diseased, wrong. What happened to them? Had a stupid handful of kisses ruined years of friendship? How was this even Gabe’s fault? Patch had been the one to initiate after the lights went off. And just before the blow up all Gabe had been doing was trying to restore their friendship. Playful jabs, meaningless jokes. Was Patch so immature that he couldn’t handle being poked and prodded at a little bit?

It should have been expected. Patch was a child. Gabe knew that. They’d had hundreds of petty arguments and Patch always won by pouting or throwing a fit. But Gabe didn’t know his immaturity stemmed this far. To be honest, he was disappointed and that disappointed propelled his fist forward. It flew fast, directed at Patch’s nose for the worst of blows. But, at the last second, Gabe’s hand veered to the side and connected with the wall behind Patrick. “Get the fuck out.” His voice was quiet, emotionless. A significant difference from moments ago. “Just leave.”

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