[ chris will definitely be getting josh back. possibly when he actually has a chance to actually a develop a kind of plan; if the foil hat battle is anything to go on, plans usually work much better than spontaneity in chris' case.
chris sits up when josh retreats, feeling a little dizzy but mostly happy to no longer be part of the couch cushions. he's also happy that josh hasn't reclaimed his beanie; it's a consolation prize for being severely beaten, but it's a prize nonetheless. he readjusts it, placing it where it should actually sit on his skull, blonde hair poking out from under the brim. he catches josh's moment of stillness, but doesn't think too much of it. his friend's obviously not off the deep end yet, so he should be fine for another round. besides, they can't get into that much trouble with just the two of them in the house. probably. ]
Thanks for letting me live.
[ chris offers josh a lazy grin as he gets up. he's a little shaky on his feet when he first stands, but he's off to the kitchen in a reasonable amount of time. the bourbon has served them well so far, so he retrieves another bottle of it, along with two tall glasses, strawberry vodka, and some expensive-looking soju. if he's remembering correctly, jess made some sort of concoction with similar ingredients once, but chris knows next to nothing about mixing drinks, so he collects up all five items and heads back to the living room. if josh wants something slightly more fancy he can make it himself. he manages not to break anything as he sets everything on the table. ]
I hope your wrath is appeased. [ he gives this awkward little bow before collapsing back on the couch, stretching out his legs and nudging josh's thigh with a foot. ]
[ watching chris walk away, josh drones to his retreating back: ] Well, you're no good to me dead, right?
[ then, upon chris' triumphant return from the war, josh looks at the booze haul and lets out a low, amused whistle. ] You really weren't kidding about the peace offering, huh.
[ not that he's complaining. josh props himself up a little, leaning forward with a lopsided smile. ]
Oh, I'm appeased. Very, very appeased.
[ he isn't really one for mixed drinks either—well, the mixing of drinks, as he hasn't exactly tried to make anything more complicated than a screwdriver or a whiskey ginger. he'll drink anything, given the chance, but it's always easier to get it straight from the source than to spend time whipping up a cocktail. the goal has always been to get drunk as fast as possible, rather than to savor the taste, so he's never considered it something he needed to study up on.
absentmindedly, he presses his leg back against chris' foot in pseudo-retaliation, looking over their choices. well, at this point, anything would taste good.
he breaks the seal on the new bottle of bourbon, takes a swig, and slides it across the coffee table toward chris. the vodka's next; he opens it up, pours about two shots' worth into one of the glasses, and, after a second's blurry deliberation of the hangul on the bottle of soju, opens that as well to pour a shot in with the vodka. the tastes should mix pretty good, given that soju's basically vodka-lite; he sips it. yeah, it's okay. the strawberry flavor's doing most of the work. again, not that he's complaining.
that done, josh reclines against the arm of the couch again, content to drink this one a little more slowly—he can feel himself getting pretty fucking buzzed, and if he stood up now, it probably wouldn't end well for anyone involved. so, for the time being, he just throws a leg up on the couch beside chris' and nudges him back properly this time, indicating the beanie with a slow blink and a nod of his head. ]
Hey, look at that. Your hipster transformation is complete. Ashley's gonna love it.
[ chris lies back and redirects his attention to the television, watching the characters worriedly witness the news reports of crop circles popping up all over. they've already missed some crucial story details with their play-fighting, but it doesn't much matter. they could probably recite the whole thing if they wanted to. chris' not feeling the usual sense of foreboding that goes along with signs either, but only because he's too busy feeling warm and relaxed. he sips at the bourbon when it's offered, and waits for josh to finish experimenting with the bottles chris had so graciously given him.
he doesn't feel the need to get creative, so when josh settles back onto the couch, chris just pours some vodka into his glass, swallows a mouthful, and then cradles the glass against his chest. he considers nudging josh back, but that could lead into an entirely new competition way too fast, so he holds off.
the comment comes as a bit of a surprise, and chris touches the edge of the hat idly, self-conscious and helpless to do anything about the heat suddenly flushing the tips of his ears. he tells himself that if he hadn't had so much to drink, that wouldn't be happening. he huffs a laugh and glances at the film again. ]
[ yeah, she might actually laugh at him, but chris doesn't need to know that.
josh is barely paying attention to the film anymore; it's become a kind of white noise, hazy quotes and lines and plot details he could recite in his sleep. the strings-heavy soundtrack isn't even doing much to creep him out. all he feels is warm and floaty, which had been the desired effect from the beginning, and paying attention to any singular thing is becoming more and more difficult. the only thing he feels when merrill freaks out over the news footage of the birthday party is a vague sense of unease, which dissipates easily with another drink of his vodka mix.
he drags his eyes back to chris, tilting his head in casual assessment. that's a shade of red he doesn't think he's seen before. ]
You can keep it, if you want. [ he glances away, shrugging a shoulder. not like he can't buy a new one. ] Y'know—maybe show it off a little. Get her attention.
[ chris snorts at the comment. josh has always been so sure of himself whenever it comes to chris' - mostly nonexistent - love life. if chris had half of his confidence in the same area, he probably wouldn't still be single. he keeps watching the movie, but it's becoming less and less interesting, more like a collection of images than anything coherent. he's slowly slipping out of the headspace required to actually pay attention.
when he feels josh's eyes on him, he takes another drink, attempting to hide behind the glass without much success. ]
She'd laugh. She'd one hundred percent laugh. [ he laughs a little self-deprecating laugh himself. ] And I'm not gonna keep it. It's yours. I doubt I pull it off like you do, anyway.
[ he hasn't actually seen it, but he can guess. still, he's not taking it off right away. in a secret part of his brain, he'd like to think that a good luck charm from your best friend has got to be extra lucky. and who knows? maybe ash would think it was cute or nice or whatever. they'd match. maybe it would be one of those lame couple things.
he glances at josh, a little relieved to no longer be watched, and leans his cheek against the back couch cushion. he glances side-long at the television, an arm draped over his stomach. ]
If I haven't gotten her attention by now, I don't know what the fuck to do.
[ josh waves a hand dismissively, and the motion of it somehow manages to make his head feel full of water. there's something to be said for the glasses-beanie combo, especially in this day and age. ]
You pull it off fine, bro. I got, like, a hundred anyway.
[ chris doesn't need josh's confidence, he needs josh's acting skills. that had been lesson number one: fake it 'til you make it, and josh has the faking part down to an art. in reality, he's just as nervous and insecure as the rest of them, projecting assertiveness to throw people off the scent of his own self-doubt. it helps that it's easier to be confident about someone else's love life. despite appearances, josh hasn't had too much experience in that arena either—mostly by virtue of shying away from any real, human intimacy. you wouldn't guess it by the way he acts, but that's exactly by design.
one day, he'll realize that he's projecting, that it's a bad habit of his, that doing this for chris isn't going to magically fix his own loneliness. it might help him come to terms with a few things about himself, but for now—for now, it's all about chris, and, as usual, josh has no compunctions about making that known. ]
I dunno, Christopher, maybe actually ask her out? That'd be a good next step.
[ it comes out a little more forcefully than he intends, laced with with the slurred exasperation of an onlooker who's tired of watching two people refuse to cross the event horizon with each other. they've been over this, but nothing's changed. the liquor's probably not helping. ]
You gotta... take the plunge, man. She's not gonna wait forever.
[ well, she might. it's entirely possible. josh is less certain about her, but it's obvious she likes chris back—though to what degree... no, no, josh is pretty sure it's a mutual level of attraction. but if that's the case, why hasn't ash asked chris out herself? god, it'd be so much easier if one of them would just... do something. maybe they really are made for each other if they're both so hung up on the first fucking step. he's beginning to think there might need to be some kind of intervention.
it's a reflex by now to shut down that particular train of thought, to shove away those sudden and familiar feelings of annoyance. chris deserves to be happy, so josh is gonna do what he can to get him there. that's what best friends are for. ]
[ and he does mean that, even if he can't always take josh's praises to heart. it's too easy to observe josh's charms and mike's good-looks and matt's athleticism and feel slightly less than; it's one of those habits that takes shape when you're an insecure preteen and hangs on way longer than it should. he has his humour, though, and that usually works for him whether he's feeling self-assured or self-conscious. and josh is always trying to pump him up.
he picks up on the frustration in josh's voice; he probably doesn't mean it to sound like that, but an abundance of alcohol doesn't usually result in self-restraint. josh does have reason to be frustrated, anyway. he's been trying to help for so long, it must be disappointing to see chris constantly shamble around his feelings. chris is frustrated, too.
the liquor's definitely not helping. why are they talking about this again? chris was laughing his ass off less than ten minutes ago. ]
I know, it's stupid, I just-- I don't even know. Maybe it's not... right.
[ he rubs at his forehead. he's pretty sure that ashley feels something towards him. there's energy there that's unique to just them. but he's also considered the fact that she's never tried to initiate anything, never suggested they try a date and see what happens, so maybe it's not that kind of connection. chris might need to just be her friend and chase someone else, but the idea doesn't really sit well in his stomach. maybe that's the vodka. he goes ahead and nudges josh's leg again. ]
Am I a complete shithead?
[ an important question. he smiles weakly and looks at josh. ]
[ as is the norm with josh, if the conversation doesn't eventually circle around to how much sex someone is or isn't having, he's probably been replaced by a pod person. that's just how it is. he doesn't make the rules.
and maybe it's the steady haze of alcohol, but josh can't help but react poorly to that—it just seems so simple from his perspective, such a tiny, fixable thing. chris is going off-script and josh can't process it. ]
Not right? How can it not be right? She's smart, she's sweet, she's exactly your brand of nerdy-hot. What's not to like?
[ a sharp-edged part of him wants to snap yes, totally, now just get on with it already! and you're never gonna know unless you try! not because he wants to hurt chris' feelings, but because he—he really thinks it'd be good for chris, to get a girlfriend, to finally get laid, to have someone like ash. someone who can care for him in return, who won't drain him dry, who won't lie to him or hold him back, who'll be able to get out of bed on bad days even if she's sad and function like a normal human being. chris deserves that much.
but there's a time and place to be a sarcastic, pushy wingman. chris is struggling, just like him, and josh can't bring himself to put the wind out of his sails. with effort, he shuts his mouth, lets his eyes fall to the coffee table for a brief moment, presses his lips to the cool rim of his glass. not long enough for chris to take his silence as an answer, but long enough to get himself together, push through the cotton in his brain. even though things aren't... going to plan, it's okay. it's just the same old, same old. and that's fine. it doesn't mean anything. they can still have a good time.
drawing his gaze back up again, josh plasters on a reassuring grin he tries his hardest to feel. he nudges back, pressing the ball of his socked foot into chris' thigh. ]
Not to me, Cochise. We're partners. If you're a shithead, that makes me one too, right?
[ chris should know that by now. when josh runs out of party tricks, other people's sex lives are his go-to - sometimes even before the tricks run dry, if he's in the mood.
he smiles slightly, looking down pensively into his half-empty glass. ash is all those things, and-- so much more. she's a rare breed of everything chris likes in a girl, and he recognizes that; he knew that pretty much from the beginning, since the time when they only saw each other in libraries to flip through books and mostly just pretend to study. josh knows it, too. ]
Nothing. There's nothing not to like.
[ that's clear. so maybe he's the problem. there's that constant fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, of pushing what they have to a dangerous limit and watching it break. he doesn't want her to reject him and he doesn't want her to hate him for asking a stupid question like are you in love with me, too? it's possible he's a coward and always will be.
being friends is safer on all accounts. it means familiarity. he's thought about what could go wrong as a result of confessing and he's been as pessimistic to imagine what could go wrong if they actually got together. one of them being seeing a lot less of josh, which he figures must have crossed josh's mind at least once before, and that always makes chris wonder why his best friend is so adamant about setting him up. of course, josh has always been the type to put chris' needs first; maybe josh just decided it would be worth it.
and chris appreciates it - always has, always will - but it doesn't mean he doesn't wish josh would think about his own interests as priority once in a while. he watches josh avert his gaze and focus his attention on his glass for a minute, wondering what he's thinking - for once, chris doesn't feel like he has a good idea of what's flitting around in josh's head.
he's half-reassured when josh grins, and then a little more when josh's foot presses against his leg. it's not perfect and they're leaving so much unsaid, but maybe tonight's not the night. he lets himself laugh and some of the prickly tension in him lets go, slips away. ]
Shitheads in arms. Me and you.
[ he's still slumped in his seat, head resting against the back of the couch, but he raises up his glass in this silly little toast. ]
[ and that's the eternal conundrum, isn't it: push people away, or keep them close? accept their help? the thought that chris might leave him has absolutely crossed josh's mind once or twice or a hundred times over the course of their friendship; it's always a storm of conflicting emotions whenever he thinks about it, which is why he tries not to. josh can be selfish, he knows that, his self-medication is proof of it, but in this—he has to be charitable. he's convinced himself that seeing chris with a good life is the best thing for the both of them. you know, in the end, he's doing chris a favor. chris has it in him. he just doesn't know it yet.
it won't mean ashley is suddenly gonna... replace him, or whatever. right? josh is—he's still gonna be chris' best friend. it's not like chris has to...
choose, or anything.
josh raises his drink, his stomach giving an uncomfortable, sickly roll. maybe vodka on top of bourbon wasn't such a great idea. he would lean forward to clink the glass against chris', but he can't bring himself to move; he only sinks deeper into the cushions and extends his arm in a vague, upward motion, trusting the heat of their tangled legs convey the last couple of inches for him, the sentiment he hasn't managed to express with words. his grin, however, remains steady. ]
Yeah, man. To you and me. Shitheads for—for life.
[ toast complete, he knocks back a solid gulp of the vodka-soju, squeezing his eyes shut at the burn. yeah. for life. ]
Edited (i tried so hard and i got so far) 2015-10-24 04:05 (UTC)
[ chris might get there eventually. he might work up the courage to tell ashley what he's been bottling up and sweeping under the rug for so long now, but he-- he honestly doesn't know when it'll happen. it's all unsure. but with josh it's different. chris isn't going anywhere, and he's confident in the fact that josh isn't going anywhere either. they'll get through all the shit together and they'll eventually figure out how to make everything work. josh'll keep pestering chris to get laid and chris'll quietly try to keep josh from going off the deep end and - as lame as it sounds - they'll be the best damn friends in the world.
at least, chris would like to think so.
chris snorts when josh sinks deeper, clinking chris' glass in spirit only. they make a pathetic pair at the moment, slumped and drunk, but it's so much better than being alone. the couch is comfortably warm with the two of them stretched out on it, and the movie just keeps playing, not longer setting the mood but keeping them company. ]
For life. [ he tilts back his glass and grins at the way josh's face twists. karma hits him a second later as he coughs on the vodka's taste; he should probably be done now, but there are a few swallows left, so he still doesn't set the glass down.
he's had enough to make him slightly less cautious about their topics of discussion, and with all this talk of ashley, he latches onto something related. nevermind the tiny warning his brain provides him when he opens his mouth; he wants to ask and so he does. ]
And what about you? What about-- what about Sam?
Edited (but in the end it doesn't even matter) 2015-10-26 01:08 (UTC)
[ they are a pretty pitiful pair, holed up drinking like this, but josh wouldn't have it any other way. he laughs quietly when chris coughs—murmuring steady there, bud—and then has to fend off the heavy-headed, floating sensation that brings, like someone's suspended his brain in a jar somewhere, and has just picked it up to look at it. he blinks, a slow drag of his eyelids, and focuses on chris' face to ground himself in the moment.
at the question, though, josh's gaze flickers down and away, avoidant. as quickly as his limbs will allow, he finishes the last of his drink and unsteadily sets the glass down on the coffee table, slumping back into position as the alcohol slithers its way down to his stomach.
his tongue feels numb in his mouth, but his voice still manages to come out sharp. ]
What about her?
[ even drunk, josh is very aware that he doesn't want to talk about this. he knows immediately what chris is getting at—how couldn't he know?—but he doesn't... it's just not the point. it's never the point. still, he can't make himself shut down the thread of conversation just yet; the part of him not up to his gills in liquor would have deflected already, just like earlier, but drunk josh doesn't quite have the same presence of mind to keep topics like this at arm's length. ]
[ chris can see the way all they've poured up tonight is starting to wear on josh; he looks tired, his movements heavy and unsteady as he rocks forward to put his glass down and then returns to the safety of the couch. chris is starting to feel it, too - like his head is full of cotton and his insides are getting heavier - but josh seems father gone. maybe the soju is to blame. whatever the reason, chris figures it's only fair that he finish what he's started and knocks back the rest of his vodka, placing his glass on the table with an air of solidarity.
he's a strange mix of exhausted and content, and while he notices josh's physical reaction to the question, it doesn't feel like dangerous territory yet. it's due in part to the little cocoon of coziness they've made here, made perfect by the whole 'two happy shitheads' conversation. his watered down brain can't help but ignore the possible consequences. he adjusts josh's beanie like he's adjusting a pillow as he leans back into his place in the couch, head nestled against the armrest and the back. he presses on, feeling more curious than threatened by the weird tone josh's retort takes on. ]
You like her, don't you? At least a little?
[ he really doesn't see how josh could say no. they always seem to hit it off, apart from the times she's scolding him and chris for doing something hilarious and stupid. they got along well, seemed to flirt in a casual way a lot of the time. with all of josh's charisma, chris wondered why he'd never asked her out - especially when he was so sure of his plans that involved chris asking ashley out.
chris just hopes that it doesn't have to do with the medication and the therapist and the other, harder stuff that chris is sworn to secrecy about. he thinks - knows - that sam would understand, that she'd accept it for what it was. hell, she's probably better equipped to handle it than chris was. but josh might not believe that, and the thought of him limiting himself because of it tightens something in chris's chest. ]
[ josh swallows around the dryness of his mouth, tonguing against the back of his teeth. in the warmth they've made together—this single shared couch, their own little bubble in a big empty house—it doesn't seem like such a big deal to answer honestly. sober, josh would be kicking himself; sober, josh would be laughing it off. sure, man. she's hot, if you're into the whole, like, greenpeace soccer mom vibe.
instead, he clumsily laces his fingers across his abdomen, allowing his eyes to drift up, and up, until he's staring hazily at the dim ceiling. ]
Yeah, I guess. A little.
[ sam. hannah's friend. his too, in a way, but more hannah's than his. hannah's best friend.
it's true. he likes her well enough. she doesn't really reciprocate his flirting; she's way more likely to roll her eyes at him than respond in kind, but that's fine. it means it's safe to keep going—keep it fun, keep it casual, surface-level, no expectations either way. he's not sure he has a crush on her. it's not really like that. it's more of... well, if he could, if he was the dating type, if he was like mike, he probably would. just to see. just to try.
but he's not, and he can't. every time the idea surfaces, a tiny beacon of hope in the eternal fog of bullshit, josh makes himself forget it. the prospect of a normal relationship, a chance at experiencing something sweet and intimate—it's not possible. it's just not. how is anyone supposed to deal with him like that when he can barely deal with himself?
well, he could always lie. he's gotten pretty good at it over the years, the whole acting thing. but you're not supposed to keep people in the dark when you're in love. you're not supposed to.
chris is the closest he's ever let anyone get, and josh is still terrified of what chris might think if he found out about the worst parts of him: the dark corners, the fragmented, wrong spaces, the miserable spirals of thought that keep him from sleep, numb, unable even to cry. what he does to cope. it fucking sucks in josh's head, and he knows that. why would he dump that shit on other people? for all their good intentions, they'll never be able to help. he can never be fixed. his illness will never go away.
but they might.
maybe sam would understand. he gets the feeling she'd be a good listener, if he reached out, if anything happened, and—well, if he couldn't talk to chris, maybe he'd be able to talk to her. but if he opened up, put everything on the table, then what? would she take the plunge, warm-hearted and well-meaning? would she eventually draw away, frustrated and annoyed, when, inevitably, he'd mess up? would she look at him differently—like a helpless, ailing animal, or like something broken, to be treated with the utmost care?
josh doesn't want her to look at him any differently. hell, he's lucky that chris doesn't. chris has never treated him like a glass ornament, and josh appreciates that more that chris will ever know. he can't take that chance again, just in case his luck runs out, but he can live vicariously through other people—he can make sure his friends have the time of their lives from a good, safe distance. he's always been the kind of guy to look at things through a camera lens anyway. it's not... it's not a big deal.
it'd be easier if it was just sex. feelings wouldn't have to get involved. but it wouldn't be 'just sex' with sam, either; he already knows her.
josh lolls his head to the side, cheek pressing against the fabric of the armrest. his chest feels tight. the sensation radiates up to his throat, a nameless ache. a little, but... ]
But not... [ the words come slowly, gradually. ] But not enough, you know? There's no, uh. Connection. Not like between you and Ash.
[ josh is slow to answer and chris can practically feel him thinking it over, considering it with an intensity his slogging brain is probably finding a little difficult at the moment. ]
Well, I think she likes you, too.
[ chris gives a little shrug that's meant to be both encouraging and non-threatening. he doesn't want to apply too much pressure to the topic - they're both tired, both wary of pissing the other off - but he wants to know if josh has thought about the possibility before, and if he hasn't, chris wishes he would.
it definitely seems like sam likes him well enough. she's always honest about her feelings and chris has never seen her show any kind dislike for josh; she's usually in a good mood around him, smiley and teasing and at ease. and maybe that's not enough but it seems like an important start, one that has lots of potential. but he doesn't think that sam would be the one to ask, to start something. if josh wants to cross that bridge, he'll have to build it first. but that, too, seems pretty unlikely. this is the part of josh that chris does have trouble reading. feelings and intentions get shoved behind other things and chris can't work them out, can't be sure that he can identify them for what they truly are.
he watches josh rest his heavy head against the armrest like he's pulling himself away from the complicated thoughts. maybe that's best. still, he can't let josh pass off the facts as nothing. ]
Hey. [ he lifts his chin, a tired attempt to capture josh's attention. ] Maybe you just can't see it yet.
[ he nods, knowingly, looking at josh through heavy lids only getting heavier. there's always the possibility that a relationship like that - with sam, with someone really good and really smart and really caring - would be good for josh. ] Maybe it'd be great.
[ they're both terrible at taking their own advice; that's why they have to toss it back at each other every now and then, so maybe it'll seem fresh and new coming from the other person's mouth. ]
[ josh's foggy gaze fixes back on chris, who looks as tired as he feels—and who's still trying to be a bro, even when his eyes are falling shut. what a champ. ]
You think?
[ and maybe it's the liquor, but he can't squash the small bloom of hope at chris' words. sam, samantha, sammy... if only. hey, it probably would be great. josh can imagine it now: sam, his wife, two and a half kids, white picket fence. dreamy. yeah, right. ]
Yeah. [ but... ] Maybe.
[ maybe. maybe. maybe he's right, maybe he's wrong. josh allows the corner of his mouth to quirk up in a self-deprecating lilt. he's not so far gone not to realize what's happening here—that chris' is turning his own advice right back on him. serves him right, he guesses. a taste of his own medicine. still, he doesn't think he has it in him to sustain a conversation about that possibility, not when he's like this. it'll have to stay locked up inside him. but this time, it'll be chris' words knocking around his head instead of his own, and that's a little better. at least, for now, when he's too drunk to really think about it.
with a long sigh, he lets his eyes fall shut, focusing instead on how he can feel the rise and fall of his stomach underneath his hands with each steady breath. it's lulling; he feels the weight of his tiredness pour down on top of him in gentle, soothing waves. without opening his eyes, he nudges chris' leg again and mumbles out a topic change, cotton-headed and heavy-tongued. ]
Well, now I can't see at all. But don't even think about sneaking out on me, bro. I'll know. [ he means—when he's asleep, because he can feel it creeping up on him. it's a joke, almost; he knows chris is in no condition to be driving back home, but he wants to make sure, even so. ] And I know—I know where you live. I'll... drag you right back.
[ it doesn't even make sense, but he feels better confirming to himself that chris isn't going anywhere. ]
Edited (sometimes words get complicated) 2015-11-04 03:31 (UTC)
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no subject
chris sits up when josh retreats, feeling a little dizzy but mostly happy to no longer be part of the couch cushions. he's also happy that josh hasn't reclaimed his beanie; it's a consolation prize for being severely beaten, but it's a prize nonetheless. he readjusts it, placing it where it should actually sit on his skull, blonde hair poking out from under the brim. he catches josh's moment of stillness, but doesn't think too much of it. his friend's obviously not off the deep end yet, so he should be fine for another round. besides, they can't get into that much trouble with just the two of them in the house. probably. ]
Thanks for letting me live.
[ chris offers josh a lazy grin as he gets up. he's a little shaky on his feet when he first stands, but he's off to the kitchen in a reasonable amount of time. the bourbon has served them well so far, so he retrieves another bottle of it, along with two tall glasses, strawberry vodka, and some expensive-looking soju. if he's remembering correctly, jess made some sort of concoction with similar ingredients once, but chris knows next to nothing about mixing drinks, so he collects up all five items and heads back to the living room. if josh wants something slightly more fancy he can make it himself. he manages not to break anything as he sets everything on the table. ]
I hope your wrath is appeased. [ he gives this awkward little bow before collapsing back on the couch, stretching out his legs and nudging josh's thigh with a foot. ]
no subject
[ then, upon chris' triumphant return from the war, josh looks at the booze haul and lets out a low, amused whistle. ] You really weren't kidding about the peace offering, huh.
[ not that he's complaining. josh props himself up a little, leaning forward with a lopsided smile. ]
Oh, I'm appeased. Very, very appeased.
[ he isn't really one for mixed drinks either—well, the mixing of drinks, as he hasn't exactly tried to make anything more complicated than a screwdriver or a whiskey ginger. he'll drink anything, given the chance, but it's always easier to get it straight from the source than to spend time whipping up a cocktail. the goal has always been to get drunk as fast as possible, rather than to savor the taste, so he's never considered it something he needed to study up on.
absentmindedly, he presses his leg back against chris' foot in pseudo-retaliation, looking over their choices. well, at this point, anything would taste good.
he breaks the seal on the new bottle of bourbon, takes a swig, and slides it across the coffee table toward chris. the vodka's next; he opens it up, pours about two shots' worth into one of the glasses, and, after a second's blurry deliberation of the hangul on the bottle of soju, opens that as well to pour a shot in with the vodka. the tastes should mix pretty good, given that soju's basically vodka-lite; he sips it. yeah, it's okay. the strawberry flavor's doing most of the work. again, not that he's complaining.
that done, josh reclines against the arm of the couch again, content to drink this one a little more slowly—he can feel himself getting pretty fucking buzzed, and if he stood up now, it probably wouldn't end well for anyone involved. so, for the time being, he just throws a leg up on the couch beside chris' and nudges him back properly this time, indicating the beanie with a slow blink and a nod of his head. ]
Hey, look at that. Your hipster transformation is complete. Ashley's gonna love it.
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[ chris lies back and redirects his attention to the television, watching the characters worriedly witness the news reports of crop circles popping up all over. they've already missed some crucial story details with their play-fighting, but it doesn't much matter. they could probably recite the whole thing if they wanted to. chris' not feeling the usual sense of foreboding that goes along with signs either, but only because he's too busy feeling warm and relaxed. he sips at the bourbon when it's offered, and waits for josh to finish experimenting with the bottles chris had so graciously given him.
he doesn't feel the need to get creative, so when josh settles back onto the couch, chris just pours some vodka into his glass, swallows a mouthful, and then cradles the glass against his chest. he considers nudging josh back, but that could lead into an entirely new competition way too fast, so he holds off.
the comment comes as a bit of a surprise, and chris touches the edge of the hat idly, self-conscious and helpless to do anything about the heat suddenly flushing the tips of his ears. he tells himself that if he hadn't had so much to drink, that wouldn't be happening. he huffs a laugh and glances at the film again. ]
You think?
[ he's inclined to think she'd laugh at him. ]
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[ yeah, she might actually laugh at him, but chris doesn't need to know that.
josh is barely paying attention to the film anymore; it's become a kind of white noise, hazy quotes and lines and plot details he could recite in his sleep. the strings-heavy soundtrack isn't even doing much to creep him out. all he feels is warm and floaty, which had been the desired effect from the beginning, and paying attention to any singular thing is becoming more and more difficult. the only thing he feels when merrill freaks out over the news footage of the birthday party is a vague sense of unease, which dissipates easily with another drink of his vodka mix.
he drags his eyes back to chris, tilting his head in casual assessment. that's a shade of red he doesn't think he's seen before. ]
You can keep it, if you want. [ he glances away, shrugging a shoulder. not like he can't buy a new one. ] Y'know—maybe show it off a little. Get her attention.
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when he feels josh's eyes on him, he takes another drink, attempting to hide behind the glass without much success. ]
She'd laugh. She'd one hundred percent laugh. [ he laughs a little self-deprecating laugh himself. ] And I'm not gonna keep it. It's yours. I doubt I pull it off like you do, anyway.
[ he hasn't actually seen it, but he can guess. still, he's not taking it off right away. in a secret part of his brain, he'd like to think that a good luck charm from your best friend has got to be extra lucky. and who knows? maybe ash would think it was cute or nice or whatever. they'd match. maybe it would be one of those lame couple things.
he glances at josh, a little relieved to no longer be watched, and leans his cheek against the back couch cushion. he glances side-long at the television, an arm draped over his stomach. ]
If I haven't gotten her attention by now, I don't know what the fuck to do.
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You pull it off fine, bro. I got, like, a hundred anyway.
[ chris doesn't need josh's confidence, he needs josh's acting skills. that had been lesson number one: fake it 'til you make it, and josh has the faking part down to an art. in reality, he's just as nervous and insecure as the rest of them, projecting assertiveness to throw people off the scent of his own self-doubt. it helps that it's easier to be confident about someone else's love life. despite appearances, josh hasn't had too much experience in that arena either—mostly by virtue of shying away from any real, human intimacy. you wouldn't guess it by the way he acts, but that's exactly by design.
one day, he'll realize that he's projecting, that it's a bad habit of his, that doing this for chris isn't going to magically fix his own loneliness. it might help him come to terms with a few things about himself, but for now—for now, it's all about chris, and, as usual, josh has no compunctions about making that known. ]
I dunno, Christopher, maybe actually ask her out? That'd be a good next step.
[ it comes out a little more forcefully than he intends, laced with with the slurred exasperation of an onlooker who's tired of watching two people refuse to cross the event horizon with each other. they've been over this, but nothing's changed. the liquor's probably not helping. ]
You gotta... take the plunge, man. She's not gonna wait forever.
[ well, she might. it's entirely possible. josh is less certain about her, but it's obvious she likes chris back—though to what degree... no, no, josh is pretty sure it's a mutual level of attraction. but if that's the case, why hasn't ash asked chris out herself? god, it'd be so much easier if one of them would just... do something. maybe they really are made for each other if they're both so hung up on the first fucking step. he's beginning to think there might need to be some kind of intervention.
it's a reflex by now to shut down that particular train of thought, to shove away those sudden and familiar feelings of annoyance. chris deserves to be happy, so josh is gonna do what he can to get him there. that's what best friends are for. ]
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[ and he does mean that, even if he can't always take josh's praises to heart. it's too easy to observe josh's charms and mike's good-looks and matt's athleticism and feel slightly less than; it's one of those habits that takes shape when you're an insecure preteen and hangs on way longer than it should. he has his humour, though, and that usually works for him whether he's feeling self-assured or self-conscious. and josh is always trying to pump him up.
he picks up on the frustration in josh's voice; he probably doesn't mean it to sound like that, but an abundance of alcohol doesn't usually result in self-restraint. josh does have reason to be frustrated, anyway. he's been trying to help for so long, it must be disappointing to see chris constantly shamble around his feelings. chris is frustrated, too.
the liquor's definitely not helping. why are they talking about this again? chris was laughing his ass off less than ten minutes ago. ]
I know, it's stupid, I just-- I don't even know. Maybe it's not... right.
[ he rubs at his forehead. he's pretty sure that ashley feels something towards him. there's energy there that's unique to just them. but he's also considered the fact that she's never tried to initiate anything, never suggested they try a date and see what happens, so maybe it's not that kind of connection. chris might need to just be her friend and chase someone else, but the idea doesn't really sit well in his stomach. maybe that's the vodka. he goes ahead and nudges josh's leg again. ]
Am I a complete shithead?
[ an important question. he smiles weakly and looks at josh. ]
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and maybe it's the steady haze of alcohol, but josh can't help but react poorly to that—it just seems so simple from his perspective, such a tiny, fixable thing. chris is going off-script and josh can't process it. ]
Not right? How can it not be right? She's smart, she's sweet, she's exactly your brand of nerdy-hot. What's not to like?
[ a sharp-edged part of him wants to snap yes, totally, now just get on with it already! and you're never gonna know unless you try! not because he wants to hurt chris' feelings, but because he—he really thinks it'd be good for chris, to get a girlfriend, to finally get laid, to have someone like ash. someone who can care for him in return, who won't drain him dry, who won't lie to him or hold him back, who'll be able to get out of bed on bad days even if she's sad and function like a normal human being. chris deserves that much.
but there's a time and place to be a sarcastic, pushy wingman. chris is struggling, just like him, and josh can't bring himself to put the wind out of his sails. with effort, he shuts his mouth, lets his eyes fall to the coffee table for a brief moment, presses his lips to the cool rim of his glass. not long enough for chris to take his silence as an answer, but long enough to get himself together, push through the cotton in his brain. even though things aren't... going to plan, it's okay. it's just the same old, same old. and that's fine. it doesn't mean anything. they can still have a good time.
drawing his gaze back up again, josh plasters on a reassuring grin he tries his hardest to feel. he nudges back, pressing the ball of his socked foot into chris' thigh. ]
Not to me, Cochise. We're partners. If you're a shithead, that makes me one too, right?
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he smiles slightly, looking down pensively into his half-empty glass. ash is all those things, and-- so much more. she's a rare breed of everything chris likes in a girl, and he recognizes that; he knew that pretty much from the beginning, since the time when they only saw each other in libraries to flip through books and mostly just pretend to study. josh knows it, too. ]
Nothing. There's nothing not to like.
[ that's clear. so maybe he's the problem. there's that constant fear of saying or doing the wrong thing, of pushing what they have to a dangerous limit and watching it break. he doesn't want her to reject him and he doesn't want her to hate him for asking a stupid question like are you in love with me, too? it's possible he's a coward and always will be.
being friends is safer on all accounts. it means familiarity. he's thought about what could go wrong as a result of confessing and he's been as pessimistic to imagine what could go wrong if they actually got together. one of them being seeing a lot less of josh, which he figures must have crossed josh's mind at least once before, and that always makes chris wonder why his best friend is so adamant about setting him up. of course, josh has always been the type to put chris' needs first; maybe josh just decided it would be worth it.
and chris appreciates it - always has, always will - but it doesn't mean he doesn't wish josh would think about his own interests as priority once in a while. he watches josh avert his gaze and focus his attention on his glass for a minute, wondering what he's thinking - for once, chris doesn't feel like he has a good idea of what's flitting around in josh's head.
he's half-reassured when josh grins, and then a little more when josh's foot presses against his leg. it's not perfect and they're leaving so much unsaid, but maybe tonight's not the night. he lets himself laugh and some of the prickly tension in him lets go, slips away. ]
Shitheads in arms. Me and you.
[ he's still slumped in his seat, head resting against the back of the couch, but he raises up his glass in this silly little toast. ]
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it won't mean ashley is suddenly gonna... replace him, or whatever. right? josh is—he's still gonna be chris' best friend. it's not like chris has to...
choose, or anything.
josh raises his drink, his stomach giving an uncomfortable, sickly roll. maybe vodka on top of bourbon wasn't such a great idea. he would lean forward to clink the glass against chris', but he can't bring himself to move; he only sinks deeper into the cushions and extends his arm in a vague, upward motion, trusting the heat of their tangled legs convey the last couple of inches for him, the sentiment he hasn't managed to express with words. his grin, however, remains steady. ]
Yeah, man. To you and me. Shitheads for—for life.
[ toast complete, he knocks back a solid gulp of the vodka-soju, squeezing his eyes shut at the burn. yeah. for life. ]
your foreshadowing is beautiful
at least, chris would like to think so.
chris snorts when josh sinks deeper, clinking chris' glass in spirit only. they make a pathetic pair at the moment, slumped and drunk, but it's so much better than being alone. the couch is comfortably warm with the two of them stretched out on it, and the movie just keeps playing, not longer setting the mood but keeping them company. ]
For life. [ he tilts back his glass and grins at the way josh's face twists. karma hits him a second later as he coughs on the vodka's taste; he should probably be done now, but there are a few swallows left, so he still doesn't set the glass down.
he's had enough to make him slightly less cautious about their topics of discussion, and with all this talk of ashley, he latches onto something related. nevermind the tiny warning his brain provides him when he opens his mouth; he wants to ask and so he does. ]
And what about you? What about-- what about Sam?
s-sob thank you (╯︵╰,)
at the question, though, josh's gaze flickers down and away, avoidant. as quickly as his limbs will allow, he finishes the last of his drink and unsteadily sets the glass down on the coffee table, slumping back into position as the alcohol slithers its way down to his stomach.
his tongue feels numb in his mouth, but his voice still manages to come out sharp. ]
What about her?
[ even drunk, josh is very aware that he doesn't want to talk about this. he knows immediately what chris is getting at—how couldn't he know?—but he doesn't... it's just not the point. it's never the point. still, he can't make himself shut down the thread of conversation just yet; the part of him not up to his gills in liquor would have deflected already, just like earlier, but drunk josh doesn't quite have the same presence of mind to keep topics like this at arm's length. ]
(っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ
he's a strange mix of exhausted and content, and while he notices josh's physical reaction to the question, it doesn't feel like dangerous territory yet. it's due in part to the little cocoon of coziness they've made here, made perfect by the whole 'two happy shitheads' conversation. his watered down brain can't help but ignore the possible consequences. he adjusts josh's beanie like he's adjusting a pillow as he leans back into his place in the couch, head nestled against the armrest and the back. he presses on, feeling more curious than threatened by the weird tone josh's retort takes on. ]
You like her, don't you? At least a little?
[ he really doesn't see how josh could say no. they always seem to hit it off, apart from the times she's scolding him and chris for doing something hilarious and stupid. they got along well, seemed to flirt in a casual way a lot of the time. with all of josh's charisma, chris wondered why he'd never asked her out - especially when he was so sure of his plans that involved chris asking ashley out.
chris just hopes that it doesn't have to do with the medication and the therapist and the other, harder stuff that chris is sworn to secrecy about. he thinks - knows - that sam would understand, that she'd accept it for what it was. hell, she's probably better equipped to handle it than chris was. but josh might not believe that, and the thought of him limiting himself because of it tightens something in chris's chest. ]
｡ﾟ(ɔ ˘̩╭╮˘̩)˘̩╭╮˘̩ c)゜：。
instead, he clumsily laces his fingers across his abdomen, allowing his eyes to drift up, and up, until he's staring hazily at the dim ceiling. ]
Yeah, I guess. A little.
[ sam. hannah's friend. his too, in a way, but more hannah's than his. hannah's best friend.
it's true. he likes her well enough. she doesn't really reciprocate his flirting; she's way more likely to roll her eyes at him than respond in kind, but that's fine. it means it's safe to keep going—keep it fun, keep it casual, surface-level, no expectations either way. he's not sure he has a crush on her. it's not really like that. it's more of... well, if he could, if he was the dating type, if he was like mike, he probably would. just to see. just to try.
but he's not, and he can't. every time the idea surfaces, a tiny beacon of hope in the eternal fog of bullshit, josh makes himself forget it. the prospect of a normal relationship, a chance at experiencing something sweet and intimate—it's not possible. it's just not. how is anyone supposed to deal with him like that when he can barely deal with himself?
well, he could always lie. he's gotten pretty good at it over the years, the whole acting thing. but you're not supposed to keep people in the dark when you're in love. you're not supposed to.
chris is the closest he's ever let anyone get, and josh is still terrified of what chris might think if he found out about the worst parts of him: the dark corners, the fragmented, wrong spaces, the miserable spirals of thought that keep him from sleep, numb, unable even to cry. what he does to cope. it fucking sucks in josh's head, and he knows that. why would he dump that shit on other people? for all their good intentions, they'll never be able to help. he can never be fixed. his illness will never go away.
but they might.
maybe sam would understand. he gets the feeling she'd be a good listener, if he reached out, if anything happened, and—well, if he couldn't talk to chris, maybe he'd be able to talk to her. but if he opened up, put everything on the table, then what? would she take the plunge, warm-hearted and well-meaning? would she eventually draw away, frustrated and annoyed, when, inevitably, he'd mess up? would she look at him differently—like a helpless, ailing animal, or like something broken, to be treated with the utmost care?
josh doesn't want her to look at him any differently. hell, he's lucky that chris doesn't. chris has never treated him like a glass ornament, and josh appreciates that more that chris will ever know. he can't take that chance again, just in case his luck runs out, but he can live vicariously through other people—he can make sure his friends have the time of their lives from a good, safe distance. he's always been the kind of guy to look at things through a camera lens anyway. it's not... it's not a big deal.
it'd be easier if it was just sex. feelings wouldn't have to get involved. but it wouldn't be 'just sex' with sam, either; he already knows her.
josh lolls his head to the side, cheek pressing against the fabric of the armrest. his chest feels tight. the sensation radiates up to his throat, a nameless ache. a little, but... ]
But not... [ the words come slowly, gradually. ] But not enough, you know? There's no, uh. Connection. Not like between you and Ash.
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Well, I think she likes you, too.
[ chris gives a little shrug that's meant to be both encouraging and non-threatening. he doesn't want to apply too much pressure to the topic - they're both tired, both wary of pissing the other off - but he wants to know if josh has thought about the possibility before, and if he hasn't, chris wishes he would.
it definitely seems like sam likes him well enough. she's always honest about her feelings and chris has never seen her show any kind dislike for josh; she's usually in a good mood around him, smiley and teasing and at ease. and maybe that's not enough but it seems like an important start, one that has lots of potential. but he doesn't think that sam would be the one to ask, to start something. if josh wants to cross that bridge, he'll have to build it first. but that, too, seems pretty unlikely. this is the part of josh that chris does have trouble reading. feelings and intentions get shoved behind other things and chris can't work them out, can't be sure that he can identify them for what they truly are.
he watches josh rest his heavy head against the armrest like he's pulling himself away from the complicated thoughts. maybe that's best. still, he can't let josh pass off the facts as nothing. ]
Hey. [ he lifts his chin, a tired attempt to capture josh's attention. ] Maybe you just can't see it yet.
[ he nods, knowingly, looking at josh through heavy lids only getting heavier. there's always the possibility that a relationship like that - with sam, with someone really good and really smart and really caring - would be good for josh. ] Maybe it'd be great.
[ they're both terrible at taking their own advice; that's why they have to toss it back at each other every now and then, so maybe it'll seem fresh and new coming from the other person's mouth. ]
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You think?
[ and maybe it's the liquor, but he can't squash the small bloom of hope at chris' words. sam, samantha, sammy... if only. hey, it probably would be great. josh can imagine it now: sam, his wife, two and a half kids, white picket fence. dreamy. yeah, right. ]
Yeah. [ but... ] Maybe.
[ maybe. maybe. maybe he's right, maybe he's wrong. josh allows the corner of his mouth to quirk up in a self-deprecating lilt. he's not so far gone not to realize what's happening here—that chris' is turning his own advice right back on him. serves him right, he guesses. a taste of his own medicine. still, he doesn't think he has it in him to sustain a conversation about that possibility, not when he's like this. it'll have to stay locked up inside him. but this time, it'll be chris' words knocking around his head instead of his own, and that's a little better. at least, for now, when he's too drunk to really think about it.
with a long sigh, he lets his eyes fall shut, focusing instead on how he can feel the rise and fall of his stomach underneath his hands with each steady breath. it's lulling; he feels the weight of his tiredness pour down on top of him in gentle, soothing waves. without opening his eyes, he nudges chris' leg again and mumbles out a topic change, cotton-headed and heavy-tongued. ]
Well, now I can't see at all. But don't even think about sneaking out on me, bro. I'll know. [ he means—when he's asleep, because he can feel it creeping up on him. it's a joke, almost; he knows chris is in no condition to be driving back home, but he wants to make sure, even so. ] And I know—I know where you live. I'll... drag you right back.
[ it doesn't even make sense, but he feels better confirming to himself that chris isn't going anywhere. ]