CHAPTER TWO
"Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me, if you ever cared to ask. Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me, baby, like a damn sociopath."
~Olivia Rodrigo, 'good 4 u'
~~~
August has always considered himself to be a well-spoken individual. In school, his teachers would praise his essays for being articulate and polished. His boss at the newspaper has noted on several occasions that August's reviews are very eloquent.
But now, staring at the man who left his heart shattered three years ago, August finds himself unable to remember even a single letter of the English alphabet.
He can't believe his eyes, that Griffin Ortiz is actually here, standing so close that August can see every detail of his face. Griffin hasn't changed much, sending August into a dream-like daze where he's caught up in how much he actually missed this man.
His inky black hair looks as soft as ever, although now it's longer on top and shaved on the sides. And while Griffin's skin has always been tan from his Puerto-Rican roots, August notes that his complexion has gotten a bit darker over the past few years.
Still, even through the way Griffin's appearance has changed naturally with age, August can see the physical similarities between the Griffin standing before him now, and the Griffin he knew as children. The one who would run with him to the old convenience store on the corner to grab handfuls of popsicles, when summer's heat made all the kids go wild for cold treats. The one who would crawl with August onto the roof of his house when they were in middle school, and August needed to vent about his parents' divorce. The one who gave August the courage to come out in high school, after Griffin carried his secret for months and supported his friend along the way. That's the Griffin that August has missed.
His brief reminiscing turns sour when the two lock eyes, and August recalls how those dark eyes had looked at him years ago while stomping August's heart into the dust. Swallowing thickly, August reminds himself that the Griffin standing in front of him is not the same Griffin from his childhood. Because past-Griffin would've kicked present-Griffin in the balls for what he did.
"Griffin?" Holden speaks up first, his arm still wrapped around Elliot's shoulders. "What are you doing here?"
Griffin tilts his head to the side with an innocence that nearly makes August laugh from the insanity of the concept.
"Uh... seeing Elliot's show?" Griffin answers, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "What, am I not allowed?"
"We didn't know you were home," Elliot says. His eyes dart over to August, who's still frozen in place.
"I wanted to surprise you. My flight got in a few hours ago, so I quickly stopped by home to get changed and then came here."
"You're staying with mom and dad?" Holden asks his younger brother.
Griffin nods. "For now, until I can find an apartment. The housing market is crazy right now, isn't it? Es una mierda. Anyway, am I going to get a welcome home hug or what?"
Unable to contain a grin, Holden steps into his brother's tight embrace, patting his back. Elliot is next, wrapping his arms around Griffin's neck and telling the latter how good it is to see him. When they separate, Elliot pecks Griffin fondly on the cheek.
Turning his attention to August, Griffin holds out his arms with a toothy smile, and August's chokes on his own spit.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," August finally says.
Without faltering, Griffin laughs and ruffles August's blonde hair, making the shorter boy flinch. As Griffin continues chatting with his brother and Elliot, August stares at him in utter disbelief.
How is Griffin acting so casual right now, as if this isn't the first time he's seen August in years? As if the last time they spoke wasn't one of the worst days of August's life? And yet, here Griffin is, smiling and joking around without a care in the world.
August briefly wonders if Griffin has secretly been a sociopath all these years.
"So, did I hear something about dinner?" Griffin asks, clapping his hands together.
"Yeah!" Holden says enthusiastically. "We were just deciding on where to go. What sounds good—"
"Elliot," August cuts into the conversation. "A word?"
Smiling apologetically, Elliot follows August to the bathroom, leaving the brothers to watch them curiously. As soon as the door closes, August pounces.
"What the hell!" August whisper-screams, slapping Elliot's arm.
"Ow!" Elliot yelps, rubbing his arm.
"What is he doing here? He's not even supposed to be in this state, let alone in the same room as me!"
"I am so sorry," Elliot quickly apologizes. "I had no clue he would be here tonight. Honest."
"Then make him leave!"
"I can't do that! He's Holden's brother. I know you guys had that big blow-up a few years ago, but you can't expect his family to cut him off."
"Funny you should say that, because I'm tempted to cut off his—"
"August!"
"Well!" August throws his arms up. "What do you expect? He's an asshole."
Sighing, Elliot shakes his head. "Honestly, August, I don't know all the details about what happened, except for what I saw at the party. But he's not a bad guy. Trust me, he's grown a lot of the past three years."
August snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure Griffin Ortiz meditated in the mountains with a group of monks, and is now the ultimate saint."
Elliot rolls his eyes. "Come on, I'm serious. I think being away for a while did him a lot of good. Whenever he video-chatted with me and Holden, it seemed like he was doing really well."
Something stabs August in the gut, like a hot blade digging in deep and twisting for good measure. Has Griffin really been fine all this time? While August was rebuilding what Griffin broke, that bastard has been traipsing around grad school, living his best life? That, combined with how unbothered Griffin seems to see him again, August feels rage bubbling up inside of him.
It's not fair, August thinks to himself. It's not fair that Griffin has been living so happily while August is still haunted by nightmares of his face. His dumb, smiling, smug... handsome face. August shakes his head, as if trying to make that last thought tumble right out of his ear.
The bathroom door pushes open, and Holden peeks his head in.
"Hey, is everything alright?" He asks them. August opens his mouth, planning on telling Holden that he needs to throw his brother out.
"Actually—"
"Everything's good!" Elliot quickly says. If looks could kill, Elliot believes he would've dropped dead on the spot from the glare August is currently giving him. "Yup, we were just, er... talking about August's review!"
Holden grins at August. "You better give my babe a good review, yeah? I've bought you enough food over the years to practically be considered a bribe. That bobba tea you and Elliot like so much really adds up."
Despite himself, August chuckles. "I wouldn't dream of tanking Elliot's career with a bad review. Not that he's earned one, since he sings like a freakin' god."
Always the one to shy away from praise, Elliot blushes and ducks his head down.
"Good to hear," Holden nods approvingly. "That means you've earned some dinner tonight, my treat. Griffin wants tacos from that truck across town. Said he missed it while he was at grad school. Sound good?"
"Holden," August sighs. "Look, I know he's your brother, but I just... god, just looking at him makes me want to punch him in the face. I don't think I can handle being in the same vicinity as him, let alone eat tacos together."
"I hear you," Holden says, placing a hand over his chest to show his earnest. "I really do. And trust me, I know Griffin did a shitty thing, but... I mean, he was drunk. He wasn't himself. Give him a chance to make things right, yeah?"
Gritting his teeth, August exhales through his nose. It's not that he blames Holden for standing up for Griffin. For as long as August has known them, the Ortiz brothers have had each other's backs in all situations. Although, August can really do without Holden making excuses for Griffin's behavior. Public humiliation isn't exactly the easiest thing to get over.
"I don't know," August grumbles.
"I'm not asking you to forgive him right away. At least come to dinner with us. Maybe you guys can, I don't know, bury the hatchet? Move forward as those people who are only friends because they know the same people, but wouldn't actually be friends on their own?"
"Sounds like all of my high school friendships," Elliot quips.
"Yeah! You see? Or if that's pushing it, then it can just be for tonight. For old time's sake. What do you say?"
No. Absolutely not. A thousand, resounding, big fat no's. August would much rather walk barefoot on broken glass than spend the evening with Griffin Ortiz. However, August only has three people in this life that he's close to, and two of them are currently staring at him with large, puppy dog eyes.
"If he acts like a dickwad again," Holden adds, "I'll even punch him in the face myself."
"Fine," August huffs. "But for the record, I prefer to do my own punching."
***
If someone were to compile a list of moments with record-breaking palpable tension, August thinks it would look something like this:
1. That kitchen scene from Jurassic Park, where those poor kids are crawling on all fours to get away from the raptors.
2. The climax in Silence of the Lambs, where everything is in infrared while Jodi Foster is stumbling around the pitch-black house of a killer, somehow still looking as fabulous as ever.
3. Last — but not least — this currently awkward scene of the group sitting at a wooden picnic table, street tacos in hand, with August Parker moments away from leaping over the table and strangling Griffin Ortiz.
Granted, two of those are scenes from movies and not actual historical events, but with a filmmaker for a boyfriend, August tends to make more film references than he prefers to admit.
It's not that Griffin has said anything to make August start plotting his death; on the contrary, the boys have hardly spoken two words to each other since sitting down with their tacos. It's more the way Griffin is carrying himself right now, so carefree and at ease. It's utterly baffling to August, whose own heart won't stop racing like a damned hummingbird.
Thankfully, August hasn't had to make awkward conversation with Griffin, since the latter's brother has been interrogating him non-stop.
"What are you going to do now that you have your Master's?" Holden asks his brother.
Mid-chew, Griffin responds with, "Actually, I was hoping to talk to you about that." He swallows his food. "You used to rave about wanting to start your own company. And, well, since you have your Master's in Music Business and I have mine in Music Production, I was thinking we could start one together."
There's a loud crunch when August goes tense, accidentally crushing his taco in his hand.
"Oh my god, are you serious?" Holden says with a grin that reaches his ears. "Eso sería fantástico, yes! I don't have a ton of money saved up yet, but we can work on that!"
August's eye twitches as he struggles to maintain his composure.
"Great!" Griffin chuckles. "Why don't you come with me something this next week to look at apartments? Maybe we'll find one with a spare room that I can turn into a studio. Ya know, until we've saved up enough money for an actual studio."
An apartment. A studio. A company. Much to August's chagrin, it's starting to sound like...
"You're staying?" August blurts, causing the three boys to look his way. "Here? You're not just visiting?"
"No, I'm not just visiting," Griffin says, his voice losing its excitement. "I'm staying here. This place was my home for a long time."
"And you've spent the last three years at your new home. Go back there."
"August," Elliot hisses.
Studying the blonde for a moment, Griffin tilts his head in the way that August once thought was adorable, but now he finds it more frustrating.
Instead of responding like August expects, Griffin just continues to stare at him, to study him, in a way that makes the blonde squirm. The silence builds and builds between the two of them until August starts to laugh from the discomfort of it all.
"You know what?" August starts, standing from his seat. "I tried, I really did. I tried to sit here and be civil, but I just— Jesus Christ. Holden, thanks for the food. I'm going home."
Holden opens his mouth to protest, but Elliot places a hand on his boyfriend's knee, shaking his head with his mouth in a tight line.
August storms away from the table, hands shoved deep in his pockets. The night air has gotten a bit chilly, making August shiver while he walks down the street in search of his car.
"Aug, wait!" An all-too-familiar voice shouts, spurring August to speed up his steps. "Hey, just slow— dammit!"
A loud crash prompts August to finally turn around, and the sight he sees has him slapping a hand over his mouth to keep a laugh from bursting out. Griffin is sprawled out on the sidewalk next to the metal trash can he surely ran into, with garbage scattered around him.
Seeing Griffin covered in week-old noodles from the Chinese restaurant to their left appeases August temper. Kind of.
"Gross," Griffin groans. Standing up, he does his best to wipe the noodles off his burgundy suit. August hates the fact that, even with noodles in his black hair, Griffin looks like he just stepped right out of the pages of a fashion magazine.
When the hell did the bastard get a sense of style? He never dressed that well when they were in school. August usually had to help him pick a decent outfit for parties and whatnot.
"You look like shit," August lies, crossing his arms and straightening his spine in the hopes that it makes him look taller.
"You flatter me," Griffin responds sarcastically.
"Well, thanks for the entertainment, but I'm gonna bounce now."
"Wait," Griffin reaches out and grabs August's arm.
As if burned by the contact, August snatches his arm away. Griffin drops his arm, flexing his fingers while his jaw clenches.
"I want to talk," Griffin insists. All the ease that had previously occupied his face has been replaced with an expression that August can't quite interpret.
"Too bad. I don't wanna."
"Are you seriously going to act like this?"
"Like what?"
"Like a brat."
"Oho!" August guffaws. "And what makes you think you have any right to say that to me? We're not friends, Griffin. We're not anything."
Dropping his gaze to the noodles on the sidewalk, Griffin scratches the bridge of his nose. The action makes August's breath hitch. Ever since they were children, whenever Griffin was nervous about anything, he would scratch the bridge of his nose. Just as he's doing now.
"I know..." Griffin begins in a low voice. "I know we haven't spoken since—"
"Since you made fun of me for being in love with you?" August interjects. "The same day my mom died?"
Gulping, Griffin says, "Yeah... exactly. I know what I did will probably down as one of the shittiest moments in best-friend-history."
August snorts. That's one way of putting it, he thinks to himself.
"But," Griffin says with a deep breath. "I want to make things right. I've really missed you, Aug. What do ya say?"
~~~