Less than Three

A story by kazoua

--

August had a thought that he could never really articulate. He always had difficulties being, oh, eloquent. Most of the time, it didn't bother him. Some of the time, like now, it did.

"Andrew," he said slowly, in thought, tugging the other's hoodie, "Why do people… get… jealous? You know? Jealous… like when they see people they like with people they don't like or something like that…? Like… seeing their girl or their man with another person and feeling threatened or something… Jealous. Why do they get jealous?"

Home-made burrito halfway in his mouth, Andrew just… bit down and kept his eyes down. Chewing and not tasting anything but California, he shrugged to avoid the question. He hated it when August asked those stupid questions.

August's eyes trailed across the wall and then back onto his friend. "I mean… Shawn was… Not jealous. No. I don't think he ever got jealous because of me because I didn't really flirt with other guys, because, truth be told, I have no idea how to flirt. Wait. I don't know how to flirt. But… Shawn's friend, the, um, the weird one. He says I'm flirty. But I'm not. So I don't know how people would ever get jealous.

"But Julian was always jealous. And I can't understand why. I didn't want anyone else or… anyone else. No one but him, for a while, but then he… You know, yeah? You know."

Soda, a big gulp that probably didn't make him at all attractive, and then a shrug. That was everything Andrew offered to reassure August. Until, well, until the guilt started to settle. He knew August was never comfortable with discussing his two ex-boyfriends.

So, begrudgingly, he said, "My ex was never jealous. It was always me."

"Why?"

Both of them straightened their bodies. August, in interest. Andrew, in embarrassment.

"What do you mean, 'why?'"

August let the question arise again by asking, "I mean what I mean. Why do people get jealous? Or, for this, you? Why did you get jealous and your ex not get jealous?"

Uneasy, Andrew clamped his mouth shut. Then, still uneasy, he cursed, "Fuck. Why the fuck do you want to know? You don't get it 'cause you didn't even like your ex's."

"I liked Shawn and Julian while it lasted." August licked his dry lips. "I was offended when they slept around but I wasn't jealous. That's what I want to know, Andrew. So never talk to me again or ask me to make you Asian food or Mexican food. You can just suck it."

Andrew, angry that he was always the bad guy, self-conscious that he made such a happy kid upset, mumbled, "Don't get so butt hurt about everything. If you even liked them, you would have cried a river and begged them to forgive your little prudish ass."

"I'm not a prude," August stated, distracted by the insult, "I'm just not a slut."

Letting the tenseness that almost permeated the room dissipate, Andrew hacked a cough meant to hide his laugh. "You? Please, August," he teased with a smirk on his face, "You wouldn't even kiss the poor guys."

August's face twisted to accommodate his grimace, fully showing the disgust at such an implication. "Ew! Of course not! Ew. Ew. Me, August, me? Kiss a boy? What're you thinking, Andrew? Just - oh goshness - don't even - guhh - totally, just, grossness - ewww…"

"What? You've never wanted to even kiss a guy before. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Still disgusted by the prior statement, August shook his head, "Just, eww, Shawn? No no no. He was so not kissable. Cute but not cute. Not at all, ew. Julian was just, golly, not the type to get freaky with. Not even with a tongue, 'cause he was… uhhh. Ew ew ew." He looked at Andrew, confusion and frown apparent. "Why would you even think that? Them? You think I'd actually physically do stuff with them?"

Before Andrew could pretend that he knew all along what August was saying, the other boy just shook his again. He said, "You, yeah, I'd kiss a million times again and over again, but that's because you got a great personality and you're amazing and so hot. Julian was looks and a cruddy personality. I would never think of that because he'd only, uh, just, eww-ness. Total ew, Andrew, don't you know? And Shawn was not a looker, not at all, not at all. What're you thinking? Thinking I would kiss them… you crazy boy."

For some reason, Andrew only managed to comprehend August's first statement. So, too slow for this boy, he just asked, "What?" like he often asked 'what?' "You'd kiss me but not your ex's?"

August looked at Andrew like he was crazy. "Wow, boy, are you slow?" His eyebrows were raised. "Of course I'd kiss you. What do you think I'm doing here? Waiting for the bus?" He looked up, his own thoughts making his mental path stray. "In your kitchen? No, no. That was a horrible rhetorical question. I should've just asked if you… were… born yester… day? No. That probably wouldn't've worked either. Huh."

He blinked a few times more than he would have normally, focusing back onto Andrew's face. "You're nice and stupid in a real nice way. So, yep, I'd kiss you. You're cute and I think you'd look even cuter if you just stopped frowning so much. But wait. Is that awkward to say? 'Cause we're friends and I don't think friends are supposed to say stuff like that, because friends aren't supposed to want to be more than just friends?"

"You want to be more than friends?" Andrew asked, mouth slightly agape and face contorted as if he couldn't understand August past the words that spewed from his filter-less mouth.

But August was simple. He didn't want anything more than what he knew he wanted. And, at that point, from Andrew, August didn't want anything more than simple contact.

"Oh my," August sighed, shaking his head disappointingly, "Were you even listening to me? Why would I want to be more than friends? That's just not what friends do, silly, so stop your silliness before you start showing it at school. You don't want to ruin your rep, right? Big, tough, BA you?"

Andrew was going to ask another question and try to make sense of that warped conversation, but then August reached over the table and handed him a napkin, saying, "You have some guac right there."

--

"I always take a nap," August declared, every bit sure that it was a normal part of daily life, "My mom's neurologist told me power napping is a great way to have a great day, so let's take a nap right now."

Andrew looked at August's bed and scoffed. "You're so weird," he said. Even though he made his voice sounds peeved and disinterested, he let his eyes follow the way August slipped off jeans and pulled on sweatpants.

"I'm not weird," August said distractedly, not using too much of an effort to defend himself, taking off his shirt and throwing it on the floor. He pushed the clothes that were on his bed to the floor, thinking to himself that he'll probably clean up later. "Naps are good for my mood and I take naps everyday, so I'm always in a good mood. You should try it with me, Andrew, 'cause you're always so mad and that's not healthy at all."

Andrew nodded and grunted something to signify he heard, but he didn't listen. With no idea as to what August said, and frankly not caring, Andrew settled himself next to his friend.

Both of them on top of the blanket, it was probably quiet for ten seconds before August started to talk again. "This is a weird time to think about this, because you're all in bed with me and everything, but I can't help but wonder how many people you've slept with before. So, yeah, Andrew?"

"I don't know," Andrew responded cleanly.

August nodded equally as cleanly, but his words weren't made with any poise. Slowly, stumbling on the thoughts, he began, "There's lots of rumors about you and I know you know, but I don't like to think about rumors because most of the time they're just untrue. But I've heard rumors about you and your family, but I bet they're silly and unwarranted, because people say you're a man whore… and, and I don't think that about you at all. And I'm sorry if that's rude, because I don't mean it rudely, but I just heard about it and was wondering how true or how false it is… and… Yeah. Just, you know… I just…"

It was quiet for a while, and Andrew just sighed, not knowing that was his cue to reassure this confused boy.

Eventually, August mumbled, "Never mind. I think that's not a good thing to ask you, so you don't have to answer, but, because it's just not polite and too rude, and… I'm confusing myself again, Andrew. Have a nice nap."

--

Andrew tried not to blush and imagine everything August mentioned. August and sex didn't seem like it would add up, beforehand. But with the boy in front of him, nothing but a wife beater and shorts on, talking about various sexual acts… Andrew was finding it hard not to think of August doing those… things…

"I mean," August continued nonstop and in one breath, "It's not like, I mean, it's like sex - but, it is sex, technically, so is that why people like to do it? That? That it?"

"People just do," Andrew mumbled, trying to avoid saying he liked to do that certain act, "And it's not like it's a kink. It's common enough. Not everyone does it, but a lot of people do it."

August nodded and crossed his arms. He looked up, eyes slightly squinted as he tried to reason. "I'm not super innocent, because I know it'll feel good and all, because blowjobs are supposed to be hot in ways sex can't be and vise-versa, but really? I don't think I'll be able to do it, 'cause I'll probably be too embarrassed. I feel icky enough imagining someone orally sexing me, but me? Doing that to another penis at the same time and not dieing of embarrassment? Not gunna happen anytime soon."

Keeping his head down and his blush hidden, Andrew just shrugged.

"Aw golly." August shivered in disgust. "Anal sex. It sounds good in theory, because sex always sounds good in theory, but I don't even know about that one. And because I'm gay that's supposed to be normal, or I think it's supposed to be normal, so it's not supposed to freak me out. But, geez. It does."

Still keeping his head down and trying hard not to imagine anal sex and August in the same situation, Andrew grunted, "You're weird. But not every homosexual enjoys it."

August nodded and said, "That's good to know, but I can't help but think if I'm the weirdo or if the majority of everyone else is weird… 'Cause if I think about it, goodness, it's unhygienic and uncomfortable. I can't even - it's just - eww. Having a guy finger me? Am I weird for thinking that's gross and not hot? Scratch that. I already know I'm weird." He shook off all that dirtiness thinking about sex gave him.

Suddenly, as if he didn't realize this early, August asked, "Hey…? Andrew. You're not a virgin like me and the rest of my friends. Can you tell me if sex is really as 'ew' as I think it is? Maybe it's just 'cause I haven't experienced it yet is why I think like I do, but I seriously can't imagine the future talk between me and my lover."

Andrew almost said something that would have insinuated the irony of their situation, but he knew better. He was sex-starved, horny since he was ten. August wasn't like that. Even though he said he wasn't 'super innocent,' he was, in a way, innocent because of that statement.

So, deciding to be the more knowledgeable individual in this awkward conversation, Andrew tried to reassure and finalize by saying, "Stereotypically, couples are supposed to talk out all that before they start having sex. You can just… tell your future hubby what positions you like and it'll be… all good."

"Positions? I didn't even think about that yet," August stated.

Andrew groaned loudly and exaggeratedly, not wanting to continue.

August smiled wide and laughed lightly, more than ever motivated to torture his friend.

"Why're you so uncomfortable?" he asked with all the sincerity he needed to make Andrew look at him in he face, "You're the only person I can talk to about this."

When Andrew didn't say anything, the more talkative of the two teenagers didn't waste a moment. He continued, voice trailing in a stream-of-consciousness that he only allowed with people he trusted, "So… Yeah, what was I talking about? Positions, mm, yeah, positions. I don't know too much about positions. I know there are bunches, enough to fill books, but I only know of the basic ones."

Andrew shifted, getting ready for all those nasty images he knew were going to occupy his mind.

"Missionary, I think the normal one is called, yeah?" August looked at his hands to pick nonexistent dirt from under his perfectly even nails. "I think I could do that, but it's weird, looking at someone's face while going at it. At least, I think so. But everything else seems so, guh, uncomfortable. How am I supposed to do some of that stuff? I can't even kneel without hearing my knees pop, and that's painful, Andrew. How could I have sex, hands and knees and all that stuff? Impossible, right?"

All Andrew could offer, at that point, trying to ignore thoughts of August on his hands and knees, was a simple, "You get used to it."

August sat up straighter. "You've done that before? I always had the feeling you were more of a… what's the word for it? Top? Topper? Dick inserter person?" he asked.

Andrew slouched down more, mortification now the factor staining his cheeks red. He mumbled, "I don't like it, but I've done it. Feels weird, but some guys like doing that better. Being bottom."

Nodding, August smiled at his friend's discomfort. He knew he shouldn't find enjoyment, but, well, to face the fact, he did.

"What about being on the bottom? Not being the 'bottom' person or whatever, but being on the bottom during the sex part. How about that?"

Andrew shrugged, shifting his body weight, and said, "It's all right. Nothing too special."

It was… quiet for a while. Not a heavy quiet, when the conversation couldn't go on. But a light, soft quiet. It was just… comfortable silence.

But, like always, it stopped as soon as August opened his mouth again.

"Okay, wait," he said sharply, "You've had sex. Sexed up guys and had other guys sex you up, right? So, yeah, you should know all the ups and downs to sex already, so why don't you just tell me? Oh, yeah, unless you're a real kinky douche underneath all your normality, huh? Getting your kicks out of whips and chains and stuff?"

Andrew snorted grossly, because he knew he was awful, bad - awfully bad at doing rough sex. He could remember his ex-boyfriend, the cheating, whiny, ungrateful boy Andrew still missed so much, telling him to do it harder and rougher and nastier when all Andrew wanted to do was make love.

"Fuck no," he stated decisively. Although he was being truthful, he made his next words sound sarcastic. "I'm all into soft music and roses and making love into the sheets, August."

August looked at Andrew strangely.

Biting on his lips in consideration because that sounded like a really good idea, one that he could probably actually do, and eyebrow raised in skepticism because he thought Andrew would never be the overtly romantic type in bed, he said, "Uh huh. Sure thing, boy."

--

It was another day of annoyingness, because August was on a mission.

"C'mon Andrew," he whined desperately, tugging the other's hoodie in an abject plea, "I don't want to be embarrassed when I finally do have sex. You have to show me, so I can know, so I won't have to do this with my future love-for-life! That'll be so embarrassing, having to ask the man I'm going to someday fall in lovey-dovey love with! I'll be old, looking back, and wishing that my first time was so much better because I suck at giving head or I'm a bad lovemaking lovermaker or something."

Andrew looked away and tried to pry August's hands off his clothes. He said, "What the fuck, August? Get the hell off of me. I'm not going to teach you how to fuck. You just fuck or watch porn and get better at it eventually. No one has real natural skill. Practice on some idiot."

Not knowing what he was saying was slightly offensive, okay, really offensive, August groaned, "Andrew. Why can't you be that idiot? I don't want to get married and sleep with my hubby and have him realize I'm cruddy in bed. That's embarrassing and stupid and I need to know, eventually, not now, but in general, I need to know."

Pretty sure his entire face was red, going down to his neck, Andrew quickly tore off his hoodie so August would detach along with it. That wasn't the smart thing to do, because it made the blush that went down his neck visible, but Andrew lived.

"You just…" Andrew started, thinking of a quick answer to a very difficult question, "Just look hot and participate in whatever your imaginary lover dude wants. You're going to be bottom, regardless. Just move when he moves. That's it. Leave me alone and make me a burrito."

Having too much fun embarrassing Andrew, August laughed and smiled, saying, "But c'mon. I need more than that, silly. How does it start? How do I know it's starting? How do I make it end? What if he sucks in bed and I just want to get it over with? I need to know tricks, Andrew! Hot little body movement and tongue motions and the whole shebang, so I'll know what to do when the time comes."

Andrew sighed, giving up, and acerbically asked, "What do you want from me? Do you want me to fuckin' show you or something?"

Not really understanding what Andrew meant, but perfectly understanding those spoken words, August nodded with a smile that lifted his left cheek higher than his right. "Yep. You got it. Show me," he chirped.

August didn't know, and he really wouldn't ever figure it out, but Andrew had a strong desire to fuck him over at that moment. But, of course, weak and in need of a California burrito, the angry teenager just scoffed at nothing and sat on the bed.

For a moment, August stared at him, not really getting it. For a moment, Andrew stared back, hoping August would laugh it off and call him 'silly' again.

"Wait." Andrew waited. "Is this lesson starting? So am I supposed to be on the bed with you? Gee, I think I'm supposed to be on the bed with you." August started to babble nervously. "Uh, wait, never mind, Andrew. Yeah. This is weird, right? This is weird, I think, so we shouldn't do this anymore, because friends don't really do stuff like this. My bad suggestion, sorry. So, I'm sorry, so, yeah, don't take me so seriously, Andrew. So, sorry."

Bad idea getting worse, Andrew said, "Just getting on the freakin' bed and I'll show you how to do it. Don't be such a pussy."

August's knees locked like his bedroom door. "Uhh, okay?" he said questioningly, walking forwards awkwardly until he sat next to Andrew.

Andrew, much more comfortable now that he was making August embarrassed, started, "Usually kissing is a clue, if you don't know when."

"Mhm," August mumbled, nodding at the floor.

He wasn't… slow. August, that is. He wasn't stupid. Smart, maybe, if his grades had any weight in this consideration. But it didn't, so, maybe he was stupid. Maybe he wasn't. He may have been naïve when dealing with Julian and Shawn, but he was sure he knew when another person wanted him.

Well, that and the fact Andrew was pulling him closer to make their lips touch was probably a big hint.

--

"This is… awkward turtle?" August said slowly, "Because if you're getting hard, I'm pretty darn sure this is supposed to be an awkward turtle moment, because you are not supposed to get hard because of this."

Embarrassed, Andrew shoved the straddling boy off his lap, gently, and said, not-so gently, "Fuck you."

--

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" August asked, honesty always a reason for his stupid questions.

Andrew, with a drunken boy in his lap who probably wasn't even gay, scoffed, "What the fuck are you talking about?" When August just raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, Andrew continued, saying, "Don't think you're so special. Why would I care if you're jealous?"

August smiled. But. It was fake. Stretched back and stretched wide, but it didn't lift in the slightest.

"Just, yeah, sometimes I think you think I like you. And you, well, me. But then sometimes I think I don't, so that means sometimes I think I do. But I don't, really, because I'm being silly again, and I'm not getting jealous so you really should stop before this kid's brother beats you up. Varsity boys aren't very fun to play around with."

The words were a little too quick for Andrew to catch and understand. "What?" he asked, suddenly forgetting the individual situated on his thighs, worried that he just missed some ounce of truth that would have outweighed all the nonsense that constituted August.

August giggled and shook his head like he thought Andrew was being the silly one. "C'mon, Andrew," he said to the carpet, trying not to mind all those weird and strange and somewhat painful feelings he was accumulating somewhere approximate to his chest, "Don't be rude. You've a horny, bi-curious kiddo on you. Live it up and milk it for all it's worth. And that wasn't a dirty joke, Andrew, because I just don't do those."

"What?"

"Bye-bye. I'm going now. Bye."

--

"Can I come in?" Andrew asked, making sure he didn't seem desperate or angry. He tried to keep his voice flat, neutral at best.

August raised an eyebrow, not used to seeing Andrew in anything other than those customary shorts and hoodies. Jeans and a nice shirt was not expected, although he should have expected it.

August stated, "My parents are out." It wasn't a warning, really, but rather just to let him know. There was no one else in that house. If he came in, it would only be the two of them. Alone. "But sure, yeah, what the hey, right? Come right on in and do not act as if you did nothing wrong."

Quickly, Andrew snapped, "Do you think you're my fucking boyfriend, August? Get it fucking straight, okay? You're not. I don't need your Goddamn permission to fuck. We're fucking friends."

Licking his lips, the eighteen year old boy, still feeling like a kid even though he was legally an adult, sighed. "Oh, boy," he started, "Are we fighting? I don't like it when people fight, Andrew, because, well, you know why, so let's not fight, hm?"

He stepped to the side and let Andrew into his house.

And, for a while, they were both quiet.

--

"One person, okay?" August tried to say without a stutter or gasp, "I'm only going to have sex with one person, so we can't have sex, because we're not going to last, because we're not even together."

Andrew pushed forwards again. "Shut up. You talk more than my ex."

Truthful, because August was impulsive and always stated everything on his mind without a filter, he spilled, "I hate it when you call him 'my ex' because it makes me think you still want him."

"I do," Andrew grunted, "I was in love with him for four years. I still want him."

That made little pangs echo in August's brain, but he didn't understand it. He never understood why it happened when Andrew said stuff like that. "I want to have sex with you but I don't want to have sex."

"Make up your mind." Andrew brought his right hand down to rub against August's covered erection. It made the boy squeak in surprise, and that oddly made him want to grind harder against him.

"Stop it," August groaned without meaning to. "Stop. I don't wanna lose my virginity because I'm not like that because I'm just not like that. Only one person for my entire life because that's just what I want."

Andrew brushed his lips against August's neck and then reached down to grip his thighs. Pulling closer and tugging closer, because their clothes were too much of a barrier and Andrew just want a little contact with this boy. Warm, sweaty skin to warm, sweaty skin.

He just wanted to feel August pressed against him like… like sex was only a means to get that close.

--

"You can leave now." The air was cold, so August hugged the blanket closer. "I mean," he continued, "It's not as if it matters, right?"

Andrew mouth turned down. "I'm not going to let you act like you're a victim or something. It's not like you didn't want to."

August was always honest, so he huddled inward, confused and a little more than upset. Two conflicting feelings. Of course he wanted to. Of course. Of course… Because, yes, of course. Of course he wanted to. When, when it started… August, he, August wanted to… Of course he did. He wanted it. He wanted to lose his virginity and he wanted to give it to Andrew.

"You… don't have to stay…" He shrugged it off, all of it, all of the emotions and confusions and ambiguities. "You're not my boyfriend. You're not even a one night stand. You're… my friend… Yeah. You're my friend."

--

"Why'd you get me flowers?" August asked, sincerely confused as to why he had a bouquet of purple-red tulips in his arms… along with a super cute, greenie green Yoshi plushie and a box of delicious lollipops from Sees' Candies and an expensive wristwatch.

Andrew didn't really know why he got the flowers, but he knew why he bought those other gifts. He frowned and tried not to grumble, "Sorry." Even though he did extend an effort, it still came out a grumble of reluctance and petulance.

August nodded, no smile on his face, and slowly stated, "You remembered what candy I like. That's weird, you weirdo, because I only mentioned this once and you were drunk…"

His words trailed, and for the once, Andrew knew why it was important.

"I'm sorry." His voice was a little stronger, a little more sincere. "It's just… I told you how, how Spence…" Mentally, he realized he was starting to talk his ex-boyfriend again… and that wasn't very smart at this moment. "It's… Fuck. I'm sorry. That's it. I'm sorry."

"For what?" August asked, voice a little less strong but still as sincere as it ever was. "Which thing are you sorry for?"

At that, Andrew faltered.

What was he sorry for? Everything? No. Not everything.

"I'm…" Dry lips were licked. "Are you still upset?"

August looked at the lollipops and the plush toy, and almost felt inclined to forgive Andrew just on that basis. But August wasn't a liar. So, he said, "Yes."

When he looked up and at Andrew's handsome face, he let a small smile appear anyways. "Don't be silly, Andrew," he chided softly, "Just because I'm still upset doesn't mean I'm still mad, so take your watch back because I don't feel comfortable accepting gifts like that."

Again, Andrew felt like he was doing something wrong as he asked, "Why not? I bought it for you."

August shook his head, disappointed he had to explain it, and simply said, "It's an Asian thing, you whitewash boy. Can't accept gifts like that 'cause it implies you like me much more than you actually like me, and that's just not good, so you have to take it back. You understand, right?"

--

August whistled a sweet little tune that he probably heard on the radio. "We should, I dunno, see a therapist. Psychologist. A shrink. Something. Okie doke? Together, alright? Because I need to say things and you need to say things, and we should just say them to each other."

Weirded out, Andrew just nodded slowly with his eyebrows raised. "Yeah," he replied, heavy sarcasm, "And when we're done, we can go to imaginary couples' counseling and fuck all our nonexistent relationship problems away."

August laughed, even though it wasn't a joke. Andrew frowned, even though he thought he was funny.

He coughed into his elbow, instead, and just shrugged and asked, "Why do we need to see a therapist for, huh? Spence sees one every week and he stills flips the fuck out whenever someone mentions his parents. I'm no where near as bad." He titled his head at August. "And you don't even have problems. Why the hell would you even need to go for?"

August smiled at that statement and looked up and then to his left. He laughed, "Goodness. I don't even know. I'm probably like an onion or something. Yes or no? A whole bunch of layers and whatnot, but I'm not really all that complex, so I dunno, Andrew. I don't know." His shrug was light, natural, as if he really thought he was simple through and through.

"Then it'd just be me talking, huh?" he asked sarcastically, every bit sure that he was the more fucked up individual of the two, "We can get some ice cream and some sad music and I can spill my guts and tell you every single little drama I've put myself through."

August touched his spiked hair and said, "Mm. Maybe, Andrew. But I was thinking more, you know, me and you and just talking things out. Preferably with a profession in the room, but it's cool if you don't want anyone else, because I wouldn't want anyone else to hear, so, yeah. Yeah." Almost lost in the spin of his own suggestion, he just finished with a smile and hoped Andrew wouldn't get mad at him.

Andrew looked down. "That's stupid."

"No," August defended, "That's smart! Some people just need to talk and you should really talk more. To me, because, I, you know… You should talk to me more. About real stuff not fake stuff. Important stuff."

Truthfully, Andrew wanted to refuse, to play off his avoidance, but he couldn't. So, weak and knowing it, he mumbled, "Whatever. Sure."

--

"My dad…"

August nodded, hearing Andrew but not really wanting to hear Andrew at the same time. They were back to back, as children sometimes sat, but they were eighteen and seventeen and awkward and comfortable and too young for their age.

Andrew kept his eyes glued to the opposite wall. A sigh opened his continuation, "My dad… He…"

August nodded again, knowing the other felt it rather than saw it. But that was probably better, he supposed. Feeling and seeing, it just mattered. And with Andrew's deep tinged-with-sadness voice, all August knew was that he wanted to hear the words without hearing the story.

Teeth gritting, Andrew scoffed, "Everyone knows who my dad is already. What the fuck does it matter? Doesn't fuckin' matter. You know. Everyone knows. It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," August corrected quickly, "It matters. I'm not from here, so I don't know those rumors, so I don't know what you're talking about, so, it does. Matters, that is. It does matter."

Andrew almost felt the impulse to stand up and leave August there, alone in that stupid baby-blue, clean, square room. "Don't lie to me. You know I hate it when - fuck - hated it when he fucking lied to me all the time. And you know what everyone's said about my dad."

"What?" August almost smiled even though this wasn't the time to smile, "That your old man was a pedophile? S'that what you're talking about? My gramps is a pedo too; I told you already. Sixteen goes great with sixty. Little kids are in style now, don't you know?"

Always so angry like August was always so happy, Andrew moved to stand and leave, nearly spitting, "Fuck you, August. Think you're so fucking funny? This is my fuckin' life here." The hurt nearly made his eyes water, because he trusted August to be serious for once… and Andrew was stupid to think that he could trust August to sit still and understand he was going out of his freaking mind.

Before Andrew really could stand up, August was on his knees, ready to force him back into a sitting position. "Golly, Andrew." August smiled again, but at his own words this time. "Don't be such a baby, because you're really acting like a baby. Just tell me so you can tell me and I don't have to, you know, guess."

Looking straight at that face and all that sincerity, Andrew faltered. "It's… true," he said eventually, "It's all true. That's what I want to say. That's it."

August carefully hummed in acknowledgment. He liked Andrew's voice better when he was calm. Anger seemed to tinge it and alter it in ways August didn't or couldn't understand. "So, yep, what about it?" It, being the rumors that plagued this suburban city. "It's true? What about it?"

Licking his lips, nervous for some reason, Andrew just mumbled, "It's… all of it. Everything. Everything is true about everything." He never told anyone about his life problems before. The whole world, or, his whole world… already knew about it.

Back to back, again, he started to spill his life. "Everything about my dad… about the kind of person I used to be, back in San Diego, going crazy on anyone who even looked at me wrong. Everything about Spence and how he left me for some stupid little punk, and about how I was arrested… and about what my friends and I did… and and and…"

He swallowed his spit, but it tasted sour and unpleasant and like stomach acid.

"… my dad, and… how he… what he did… to me…"

--

August is pretty sure he is in love with this boy. But he has a little pride, somewhere in him. Maybe.

Or, okay, maybe not.

"I think I might be in love with you," he states easily, shrugging while doing so, "But I also think I might not. So I'm probably not. Just me being me and a teenie teen at the same time."

Andrew is pretty sure August is off his rocker. So, he grunts, "Huh?" without even listening to the words. He hears them, of course, because it's impossible not to with the other boy's back against his, but he doesn't listen.

"I think I might like you." August looks to the side and sees Andrew's hand. He wants to hold on and never let go in that girly way he's only read about in books and seen in movies. "Maybe I don't, because I might not. I'm pretty sure I'm just really happy with you right now, and that's why I want to hold your hand."

He wiggles to turn around and sees Andrew straighten his back to remain sitting up. It makes him smile silly like he always smiles so silly. "I'm really proud of you," he says loudly, without the gentleness or hush needed to soften the statement.

Andrew shrugs and it's quiet.

END

YAY! New oneshot! This story is not supposed to be read while considering Alphabet Soup, although it contains a character from it.

So, I've had it in my head for ages, and I finally decided to just get it over with and post it. It's supposed to have information gaps, if you readers don't really understand August's or Andrew's past. Concentrate on the l.o.v.e, yeah?

If you have any questions or comments, feel free to p.m. me.