dichotomy ; gawsten

thirty two

"No," Awsten mumbles. "I-I needa talk to you."

"Did he do something?" Are the first words out of Otto's mouth, when they're finally curled up on the couch. He's sitting on Otto's lap with his arms wrapped around his neck and his head resting on his shoulder.

He bites his lip and closes his eyes. "We're dating. I think. Or testing the waters. I dunno. We're just not friends."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good," he says immediately. "Fuck, you shoulda heard what he said, it was just. I don't even know how ta-" He pauses. He doesn't know how to explain it. He can't put what Geoff said into words. He doesn't think he's realized what the words completely mean yet. "I dunno. People don't usually feel that way about me."

"Aws, you know he-"

"I know." His breath hitches in his throat as he cuts Otto off. He lifts his head up. "Don't, okay? It's not about that."

"You know it is."

"Please," he begs. He can't think about that right now please no not after this not right now nonono. "Stop."

"I'll stop," Otto relents, holding a hand up in surrender. "But we need to talk about that some time too, okay? You can't lock it up."

"M'sorry." He lets his head flop back down onto Otto's shoulder and moves forward to bury it in Otto's neck. "Don't you and Grace have plans or something? What am I fucking up this time?"

"I actually just got home from a date, thanks," Otto replies. "We got Chipotle and walked Godfrey and Lily around the park for hours. So stop tryna change the subject. You got me. I'm here. What's going on?"

"I don't know!" He exclaims. He punches at Otto's shoulder weakly. His heart isn't racing anymore but it feels like it's panting, on its knees, on the side of the road. Like everything's been sucked out and it's left to flop down to the concrete and go unconscious, go dead to the world; everything's too much and he's so tired and all he wants to do is lay on the floor and not exist for a small, controlled amount of time. "I don't know what this is or why I feel it I should be happy why the fuck am I havin' a fuckin' panic attack over this what if I don't actually feel anything and I asked him out 'cause I felt bad I-"

He stops. His chest is heaving. It feels like all the walls are getting closer. He's dizzy it's too much it's everywhere it won't stop why won't it stop what the fuck is going on why is this happening stopstopstop.

"Awsten, hey, here. You're okay." Otto's voice sounds soft. He feels pressure against his back. He leans into the touch, gasps heavily and presses a hand against his chest.

It won't stop why won't it stop he can't stop it won't stop.

"Stay with me Aws, you're okay. Feel my hand? Everything's okay, you're fine, try to breathe. Deep breaths. Just focus on that."

He follows Otto – he never thought watching someone else obnoxiously puff out their chest and make a huge show of their lungs expanding and contracting would help his own remember how to do their job, but apparently, it does – and eventually the breaths come, shaky and slow, but much less laden with panic than they were. And then he slumps back against Otto's neck, closes his eyes and breathes out heavily. The paint layers of pain are warm blankets of exhaustion and all he wants to do is crawl into a hole.

"Do you like Geoff?" Otto's question comes after a couple moments of silence. "Do you feel the same way about him? Like, based on what he said?"

He stops. Hugs. Touches. Geoff's hands in his hair. Sleepy cuddles. Back rubs. Holding hands. Forehead kisses...lip kisses. He bites down on his lip as the thought comes. Lip kisses. Kissing Geoff.

He wishes the circumstances were different.

He wishes he weren't the rational one.

He wishes it'd lasted longer.

And then his mind drifts to the future; falling asleep with Geoff's breath against his neck, resting his head on Geoff's shoulder and tilting upward to kiss his chin, turning to hide his face in Geoff's chest in public to block out the whispers from everyone around them, warm nights and sleepy cuddles and soft kisses and running through the sunflowers and kissing on the mountaintops, sitting at the peak with his head on Geoff's shoulder and listening to him describe in vivid detail what the landscape looked like-

"Y-Yeah," he chokes out. "I think I do."

"Then what's the problem?"

And it feels like the bubble he's created for himself with those scenarios has been popped and the sparkly pink liquid is coating his clothes and skin. He swallows again, pushes his face further into Otto's neck as they arrive, beginning at his legs and traveling up, intertwining together and wrapping themselves around his body, coming up to his neck and taking its entirety in their talons.

And they squeeze and his breath no longer comes as he chokes out a name into Otto's skin and waits for the tears to join.

And they do.