cheater; tradley

seventeen

Cheater ((17))

"I'm really glad we went out today," Jules says as the couple stop outside of Tristan's door.

"Yeah," Tristan smiles. "So am I."

"I'm glad that you're glad, too."

"I'll talk to you later?"

"Of course," Jules smiles, nodding and pulling her jacket tighter around her. Then she hesitantly reaches up on her tiptoes and places a gentle kiss on Tristan's cheek, only to retreat to her previous stance before speaking. "Bye, Tristy."

The blonde watches as she leaves, down the hall and into the elevator and waving as the doors close. He had a good time. They still have to work on that nickname, considering Tristy really wasn't working for him, but if he could overlook that, he was really happy that he decided to go out with her.

Tristan, humming to himself, unlocks his door and pushes it open. He steps into his flat, and his jaw drops open.

"Shit," he mutters to himself.

Bradley struggles to untangle himself from Markus, who jumps away from his boyfriend in surprise. The eyes of both of them widen considerably as Tristan shakes him head, trying to rid the image of Brad and Markus making out on his couch from his mind.

"Sorry," Tristan repeats, over and over again, turning away and shutting the door which has been left open in his surprise. He takes his time making sure it's closed and sliding his shoes off, anything to avoid awkward conversation with the flustered boys.

The two on the couch are quiet, Markus's face flushed with shame, Bradley struggling to find words.

"No, I'm sorry," Brad stumbles over each syllable, completely embarrassed, except really not that embarrassed. More embarrassed for Markus.

"I'm just gonna..." Markus jumps up, grabbing his jacket from the arm of the couch. He leans down and presses a small kiss to Brad's forehead before rushing to the door and putting his shoes on. "Yeah. I'm just gonna go."

Then there were two.

Silence fills the space between them and the rest of the flat, no noise apart from the ticking of the small clock behind Tristan.

And then Tristan bursts. "What the hell?"

"What?" the brown-haired boy questions, tilting his head in confusion.

"What the hell was that?"

"Um...we were..."

"Yeah, I got it. I saw, unfortunately. But why the hell was it happening on my couch, in my flat, in the building that, you know, I live in?"

"You said I could have a friend over. I had a friend over."

"A boyfriend! I expected you to invite James or Connor or something. I was going to come home after an amazing date, chill with my  band mates, and have an overall great day. But then I come home to you, swapping spit with Markus?!"

"I don't understand, Tristan. Why are you so mad about this?"

"I, I just...I-" Tristan stumbles over his words, unsure of the actual reason he's so upset.

"You know," Bradley stands, running a hand through his messy hair. He peers outside into the darkness for a moment. "I think I'm going to stay at Markus's for the night."

"Bradley," Tristan calls, but the curly-haired boy is already out of the flat, door slamming shut behind him. The blonde stands, not moving, and then he lets out a loud sigh. "Shit."