Chapter Text
Saturday morning rolled around as any other day and the soothing warmth of the sunlight peeked through the cracks of the curtains in their flat.
Antonio “Racetrack” Higgins sat on an old, breaking college chair that definitely needed to be replaced. He scrolled mindlessly on his phone as he waited for his roommate to fall out of his room, dead as a doornail. A hot cup of coffee sat on the edge of the table, the steam calmly floating towards the sky.
Being roommates with someone in college had its perks. Someone to talk to, help with cleaning, study partner, anything and all and you would have a buddy with you. Race was very grateful for this–especially for the reminders they left on the fridge.
The clock on the far away counter crept closer to 9:45 a.m. and Spot stepped out into the main area, stopping just before the large table to rub his face.
“Morning, sunshine.” Race smiled at Spot as he grabbed the coffee cup slowly.
“Shut up.” He grumbled into the cup.
Race leaned in closer, grinning. “Ooh, someone’s not a morning person.”
“This was a known fact, Race.” Spot rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair.
He winks. “Must have slipped my mind.”
Race stood up and moved himself towards the kitchen counter, helping himself to a cup of water and a pleasing sight for his eyes. Had Spot been working out more?
“Well,” Race started. “Since you’re not being chatty this fine morning, what are you planning to do today? Ride horses and trot to New Mexico? Finally learn how to pull a girl?” Race laughed a little to himself.
“Ha ha,” Spot deadpanned. “You are so funny. You should go into comedy, I’m sure they’ll pay a lot to come and laugh at you.”
Race grabbed an empty plastic water bottle and threw it at Spot's head. He ducked his head, dodging his most powerful attack, and smirked proudly.
“I could totally do stand-up comedy,” Race retorted. “All I need is to be able to stand.” Spot pinched his nose bridge like, ironically, a disappointed parent.
Race changed the subject. “Anyway, what are you actually planning? You can’t stow yourself away in a dingy bedroom the whole weekend.” He placed the water onto the table and sat back down. “It’s a Saturday, why not go enjoy yourself?”
“You think I enjoy myself?” Spot drew out dramatically. “Wow, and here I thought you knew me.
They sit for a moment in silence, the mute noise taking over the atmosphere.
Race noted defeatedly. “So you choose homework and existential dread today, don’t you?”
Spot sighed. “I choose that any day. College doesn’t care about your well-being, the only thing that matters is if I pass or not.”
“Spot,” he whined. “Exams aren’t for so long, you can take a break for just a moment.”
He looked away quickly. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Even just a few hours–”
“Don’t talk to me until after coffee.”
“Stop deflecting.” Why does he always do this?
“I’m not deflecting.”
“Then why did you avoid the conversation?”
“I told you, I didn’t have my coffee yet.” he said matter-of-factly and went back to drinking.
Race slammed his head on the table. “O Dio, you’re impossible.”
“Glad the point got across.”
Race sat back up slowly and looked at him in those avoidant eyes suspiciously.
“Okay, grumpy–” Spot grimaced at the nickname. “–what’s up with you? You at least attempt to carry a conversation sometimes, why are you acting like I kicked a puppy?”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
“Spot.” Race tried to keep eye contact, at least from his side.
Spot looked away for a moment until he finally let out a phrase.
“I have to go see my parents later today” he gestured vaguely. “You know, catch up.”
Race felt proud of himself in getting him to talk. It doesn’t happen often, so he took that as a win. Though he let himself fly on autopilot when talking.
“Catch up? You mean, dodge emotional landmines and pretend you love them?” Shit.
Spot glared at him defensively. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to push.” He raised his hands in surrender, laughing slightly.
He rolled his eyes, but continued. “They’ve been getting so much more pushy about my life. They’re all like ‘find a real job,’ or ‘pursue a fulfilling career.’” He scoffed. “Pre-med is a start, not a finish.”
“Have they been that bad?” Race asked, not knowing what the answer could be.
“They’ve been calling every day and I just want to get away from them.” Spot shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Race didn’t notice his knee bouncing.
Race joked. “And I thought I was attached to you.”
“Do you not even understand what I’m talking about?” Spot shook his head slightly.
“Well, I do, but–”
“You joke too much.”
“How does that relate?” He was taken aback by the question.
“Why do you joke so much?”
“Spot–”
“That’ll come back to bite you someday.”
“Your parents can’t be that bad. They haven’t done much.” Race assumed. They’re just calling, it’s fine, right?
Spot looked down to his cup.
“Right?”
“It’s nothing.”
His smile dropped. “Spot, stop pushing away–”
“Race, no.” He put his cup on the table and the hit rang through the flat.
He fell silent. Shit, he made a mistake. He had to change the subject.
“About earlier,” he started. “I was thinking we take a nice trip down to Jack’s and hang out. You know, talk, play games, bond. You didn’t go last week and it was hell without someone to snark at us.”
He attempted to lighten the mood. “And I’ve been deprived of action and thrill for so long! I yearn for the sweet feeling of heartbreak after a devastating plus four.”
Spot laughs lightly. Success!
“You’re so dramatic.” Still a success.
Race tilted his head. “Aw, what told you that?”
“Your theater classes.”
He gasped. “You pay attention to my hobbies! Oh, you are such a gentleman!” He held his cheek in his hand, staring at him with a glint in his eye.
“Say that again and you can test if acting is gonna get you out of a grave.” He couldn’t say for sure–maybe it was the lighting–but a dusting of pink littered Spot’s cheeks.
“Try me, lovely.”
Spot froze.
“What?” Spot stared at him.
Race paused for a moment.
“What did I say?” He asked. He genuinely did not know. Honestly, it was terrifying.
“You called me lovely.”
…Oh.
“Well, am I wrong?” Race’s face dropped slightly.
Spot stayed quiet.
Race sighed. This guy.
He stood up and grabbed Spot’s bare arm. “Come on, self-deprecator, get dressed. You’re coming with me to Jack’s whether you like it or not.”
Spot groaned. “Come on, do we have to do this?”
“Learn how to be social to others and I wouldn’t have to put you out there.” They walked towards their rooms.
“I hate you so much.” Spot grumbled.
“You love me.” Race glanced to the side.
“Do I?”
He rolled his eyes. “Ugh, so serious.”