Oh My God, They Were Roommates

27 | It's The End Of The World

a/n: Strap in, folks, it's a long ass chapter.

Sora loathed sitting in the back of a Tesla that evening when his mind was scattered elsewhere. He blamed his thoughts on Ray, seeing as they all revolved around that little shit, but he couldn't pinpoint which part of Ray's life had him more worked up. Did it have to do with their recording session?

No, he thought, rubbing his thumb idly beneath the hem of his sleeve. This has to do with that guy who misgendered Ray.

How could Ray know a person like that? In fact, Ray seemed excited to see the guy. As much as he wanted to ask Ray about it, it wasn't his place. He felt inclined, however, to spit in Xavier's coffee mug if he ever got the chance.

"How are you feeling?" Parson's voice came from beside him, resting no more than an arm's length away in the back seat of that Tesla.

Sora straightened a touch, his hand flattening over the front of his black suit and button-up shirt. "Fine. I'm glad to be here with you," he said with a faint, charming smile that made the frustration in his gut churn to a boil of fury. How could he be sitting here playing doll when he could be recording with Ray or interrogating the rat bastard about Xavier.

Who the hell did Xavier think he was? Did he really transfer to USFC just for de Lucía?

"Oh, there's no need for a facade," Parson hummed, the glow from his phone screen reflecting off of Sora's window. Sora glanced at him, and Parson offered a short smile. "Just be yourself."

"Sounds like something a mom would say," Sora said, to which Parson praised with, "See? Infinitely better."

Sora let out a hollow laugh. "This must be a kink of yours I have yet to hear about. Rest assured—stowing away my sass for the night. I'm not here to cause trouble."

Parson reached a hand out, and pressed it firmly to Sora's arm. Sora shivered. Sly move, Sora thought, breath completely vanished, evaporated, vamos, I thought he was about to grab my thigh.

Sora met his eyes as Parson said, "Perhaps I want you to cause trouble," before turning back to his phone and leaving Sora's arm be.

The dinner was taking place at an elaborate ballroom event center where, surrounded by gilded sculptures and marble columns, Sora found himself thrust back into the life he used to have with his parents. The Ikedas were a family of affluent individuals who surrounded themselves with well-behaved children to put on display at events like this just to garner the attention of impressive white men saying, "You've done so well raising them."

It made him want to gag.

Instead, however, he was here for a different but similar purpose: to be put on display.

The first conversation he stood in on, Parson turned to Sora to introduce him as nothing more than, "my nephew."

The person seemed just as alarmed as Sora, but Sora was quicker to recover. He shook the man's hand and said, "I know, shocking that people adopt."

And that, it seemed, was precisely what Parson had hoped for when he paid Sora under the table for his services. The bright way Parson's eyes lit up at Sora's comment had Sora grinning, pleased that he had not only (likely) scored a tip, but had also managed to make one of the guests at the event laugh.

As they mingled and brushed elbows with usually-stuffy business men, Sora kept to Parson's side through the first hour of their night. The guy had, after all, paid quite a hefty sum to get Sora there, and so Sora would oblige his presence. However, after the cocktails and the appetizers, they drifted from the cusp of the bar to find their seats, at which point Parson plucked a flute of champaign from an oncoming silver tray and held it out in front of Sora.