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|~*~|
Ethan was drunk. How many bottles had he had by now? He lost count after number ten.
“I don't think I can do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be friends. Andy- fuck. I'm in love with you!” The words tumbled from his lips without his consent. “And you're here offering your services as a wingman! I mean, it's fucking humiliating! Do you not see that?”
“I- um.”
Ethan sighed. “I need to go.” He pushed himself away from the bar, pretending his head wasn't swimming at the movement.
“What? Ethan, wait!”
The witch paused. He turned to look at the other, surprised when they appeared just inches away. “Andy, what the fuck does he have on me?”
“What?”
“I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but you just said you went to kiss him! Having just met him! But I’m the one who moves too fast?”
“It's not the same, Ethan!”
“No but it is! It's the exact fucking same! And you're a fucking hypocrite!” Ethan suddenly felt so.. small under Andy’s gaze. “And I'm a fucking idiot for thinking that.. for thinking that you were just asking me to be patient.” He didn't meet their eyes. He couldn't. He knew he'd either find pity or straight up indifference and he honestly didn't know which would be worse.
Ethan gripped his cane, running his fingers over the grooves in the wood. He was not about to drunkenly break down in front of Andy. The fact that he was practically groveling at their feet, begging for their love was embarrassing enough.
“Next time, don't be such a coward and just tell someone if you're not interested instead of just stringing them along like that.” His eyes stung with tears but he refused to let them fall.
“I didn't string you along!” Andy scoffed. “I don't know how I feel about you! You confuse me, Ethan! I'm attracted to you, yes, but then you do things that piss me the hell off and I-”
Ethan didn't care to hear what they had to say next. In slow, jagged, movements, he backed them into the shelf. Fisting their shirt, he leaned in. His right arm came to wind around their shoulders, his left holding his shaking legs steady with his cane.
It wasn't a fairytale kiss- not at all. It was rough and confusing but it felt so right. Andy's hand moved to grab Ethan's tunic and pull him closer. It might have even looked endearing to an outsider, though that was the furthest thing from the truth. But for a moment, he could pretend there was no hate between their lips. Pretend that Andy was kissing back because they wanted to—wanted him.
Pretend that Andy might see him as anything other than an infuriating whore.
|~*~|
A week had passed. An entire goddamn week.
It wasn't like anyone would notice. He hadn't checked his mailbox in days. Hell, he hadn't left his house since that night. There were too many feelings. God, how he hated feelings.
He was angry. He was confused. And yes, he was jealous. Those emotions, he could handle. They were familiar. Old friends. But he was also hurt.
How fucking pathetic was that?
He knew Andy would never feel the same. He knew and he still poured his heart out like a fucking idiot. And now he was hurt that they crushed it without a second thought?
He wanted to hate them. Fuck, he needed to hate them. And he hated that he couldn't. He hated that they could call his name and he'd run right over like a lost puppy.
Fucking pathetic.
What was wrong with him? Was it because he'd only ever dated girls? Was it because he had dated so many? It wasn't his fault he had been in so many failed relationships, was it?
Was he just unlovable?
The world was silent. He'd put the fireflies in a cabinet somewhere that Sunday. They were just trying to help, they always are, but the buzzing condolences of a thousand tiny bugs made him want to cry.
“Andy didn't mean it,” they said.
“You two just need to talk,” they said.
“This is why you shouldn't get shitfaced with your crush,” they said. Which was fair, but still.
And where was Angel? Crow had come back with no letter and a full belly, meaning someone had gotten his note. He got nary a “Hey, Lonan! Your bird delivered this letter to me by accident,” nor a “Sorry, Lonan. I can't make it tonight. Rain check?”
Was it because he didn't kiss them? Did they decide he wasn't worth it? Fuck he told them his heart was caught up with someone else! What if Angel did come but saw him talking to Andy? What if-
There was a knock on his door. Actually, it was more of an insistent pounding. His whole house practically shook with the force of it.
“ETHAN!”
Shit.
“YOU BETTER NOT BE DEAD, FUCKER! IF YOU ARE, I’LL KILL YOU!”
Ethan swung the door open as Taylor was raising another fist to knock (bang) the door.
“You can't kill me if I'm dead, Taylor.”
“I'd find a way,” they pushed past him and into the house.
“Yes, Taylor. Of course you can come into my house, Taylor. Thanks for asking, Taylor.” He punctuated his last word, slamming the door shut.
“Yeah, yeah. Pack your shit, fish boy, we're going out.”
“Says who?”
“Says me, now pack before I do it for you!”
“I don't feel like going out.” Ethan grumbled, rushing to his room to stop Taylor from ransacking his home.
“You've not left your house in a week! I don't know why, and the fact that this bad mood came right after Valentine's Day, makes me think I don't really want to.”
“Good, because I wasn't going to tell you.” Ethan didn't have time to duck before his boots came hurling towards his head. “Ow.”
“Now come on, ya sad sack of shite! My fingers are itching to steal.”
|~*~|