Survival Of The Fittest

Koa brightened up considerably after that, a look bordering on excitement flashing across his eyes.

Yeah! YEAH! He was gonna rock it this year! After all, his stint as Demalo Black last year worked out pretty well. Okay sure, most folk just assumed he was going as Regular Luffy instead of Fake Luffy, but still! Long as he gets the laugh right, he was sure to be a hit!

"Inessa? Uuh nope, 'fraid not dude"

Koa was - to the surprise of no one - blissfully unaware of whatever was going on between Ray and Inessa. Nor did it even occur to him to speculate on why Ray asked about her, too busy getting engrossed in Hunter's show to take much notice of it. So much so that he managed to make it through two entire episodes before realising the time.

"Oh! Shoot, gotta deal with a thing..." he said, scrambling from his seat in a hurry. "Later dudes!"

He was barely a foot out of the classroom when the two overheard a hushed laugh escape his lips.

"Zeee-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Hmm, needs work..."

((Koa Tagaloa continued elsewhere...))

“Thanks guys. I’ll DM her.”Sentences Hunter wished were about him for 200. Not like Ray still didn’t send Hunter MtG tips pro bono. Would’ve even without the bacchian history.

A little time passed. Three pairs of eyes, six total. Minus two, at minimum. Ray wasn’t going to presume he knew what the other two were really up to, wasn’t his place. But there was no end to the number of Discord messages he had in queue. Mortimer, Mina, Louie. Nothing from Vivian. Busy life. She was the sort of girl who proved the adage that life found a way. Into his heart, so on. When Ray scrolled through his photo gallery and reminded himself with his own two eyes about what love looked and felt like, that was meant to be shared between him and the shroud of the room’s poor lighting. Phone brightness low. Still unfortunately visible, at least in his mind's eye where everything he did was way too obvious to passerby. His privacy, his unobtrusiveness, his punctuality. Another Kobayashi Maru.Eyes on the screen, Hunter.



“See ya man.”

The third episode rolled. The conversation stayed dead.

Well, Koa was gone. Ray spared him a few kind thoughts and abstractly looked forward to when they'd meet next.

Willing audience was all that was left. Binder to hand, the odd wrinkle carefully ironed out with a thumb that Ray had to double check to make sure existed and was doing what he wanted it to do. He held up the loose-leaf, evenly spaced lines like a grid of space-time under bold and confident pencil strokes that paid lip service to the fundamental principles of art. Proportions and anatomy definitely existed to some extent. Boys in love. Series that Ray had only off-handedly mentioned, weeb shit lost to weeb time (the sort of time that was measured not in calendars but in MAL completions). Series that only existed in dubious quality fan translations of the labor of love of some frothing-at-the-mouth mainland Chinese fujoshi (free Taiwan). That was all the detail Ray provided. Hunter could fill in the rest, as he inevitably would.

“I think it looks alright.” Insofar as it was possible to make out the specifics of lip meeting lip in the room’s cozy twilight.

Hunter nodded at Koa as he headed toward the door. More acknowledgement than he would have bothered with on a normal day, but a normal day was dubiously blessed with more of a crowd such that no one expected him to pay attention to every little coming and going. But the price of relative peace was a bit of necessary social theater, a price he was willing to accept.

And then there were twoplus various specters, Ms. Holland, Ray’s girlfriend, etcetera, unfortunate distractions from otherwise endless possibilities.

The head tilt,relatively, never trulyunfiltered curiosity, blink, Hunter unfolded from his chair, the hands-over-head stretchthe show of skin was at least mostly unintended this time, his shoulders were stiff, hand to god, the slow step, accepting what could reasonably be construed as an invitation to close the distance between them. Settled into Koa’s previously-occupied spot in the seat adjacent, edged it just a touch closer to Ray’s so that he wouldn’t have to lean in too hard for a proper look at the drawing on offer and no closer. Boundaries, etcetera. Reached out to turn the paper just so toward his eyes; if their fingers brushed for just a moment, no one could reasonably doubt it had been an accident.
boundaries, walls between them, just thick enough for footfall, toe to heel. If he stumbled and fell to the wrong side now and then, well, balance had never been his strong suit.
Didn’t recognize the series offhand, not a huge surprise, Inessa’s taste was… questionable? Hunter could at least appreciate the hustle vis-à-vis her dedication, even if the dedication was to that of increasing obscurity and decreasing quality. Lord knew the struggle for decent BL was very real.

“You’re getting better,” Hunter observed, honestly; in this particular realm, at least, he was not inclined to glaze anyone where it wasn’t earned. “Like, I know anatomy practice works but like, evidence, apparent. Makes me the hypocrite, maybe, but like, I never have time.” Brief glance at Ray’s face, soft lips, soft hair, soft skinsummers left plenty of time for practice, lines traced in red, the soft hiss, the sigh, anatomical diagrams in the flesh, eyes flicked back, innocent. “Here-”

Slid his backpack over from under his previous seat with his foot, pulled his beloved Surface Pro from its padded sakura-patterned case, quickly navigated to his current project—as per usual, the thumbnail for his upcoming cover, all he ever had time for, anymore. in theory there was a point in his life where he could draw things because he wanted to; he’d traded that life for clout and hadn’t looked back except for how he did, all of the fucking time. It was whatever. Line kept going up.

“Look at me getting out something timely for once,” Hunter giggled, self-deprecating, not his style, it came out naturally anyway. He’d sent Ray the video when it had dropped a month prior, figured he’d appreciate it (had he remembered to send it to Inessa, probably should have, might have forgotten, who cared). “Probably would have waited but Abby asked and, y’know.” Vague wave. He was a soft touch for her, in a very relative sense. Of course a favor would be owed, but in a “friendly reminder” sort of way and not in a “decapitated horse head under the covers” sort of way, generous terms.

Glanced at Ray again, for another moment. He wanted to—

fuck on every available surface, sure, but in that painful moment of eye contact the easy debauched memories wiped themselves clear, and what struck him in its earnest fury was how strong the urge was to just, lean in, lay his head on his shoulder, soft, sigh, arm around arm, bury his head in his neck and breathe him in, rest an uninterrupted moment for once in his fucking life. Take in the warmth. Sense memories, this time just—peace. Peace and plenty. Burning in his gut, unwanted. Tried backpedaling, papering it over with sweat and spread legs and only got the shining eyes staring back at his, the synchronized heartbeats, god, he just wanted—

He wanted a lot of things.

Caught the smile on his face, unforced, error. Finger twirled in his hair, pulled back to neutral-positive. Unbothered, in his lane. only had to lie about that for a few more months, anyway.

“Anyways. Inessa will be happy, I’m sure.”

“I aim to please,” whoops, fantastic phrasing in this context.

Ray was uncomfortable. Always had been, since the terms of their break up had become something nebulous, boundaries miscible and melting through Ray’s knuckle tight gripEuphemism not intended because this was not the time for it^[1]. Their contract had been signed in words as clearly printed and centered on the line as their circumstances had allowed^[3], and at some point Hunter’s had made way too obvious his poisoned dagger drip drip deep puddle on the floor dislike of Ray’s friends, and Ray’s girlfriend, and everyone in his orbit but the center of the universe (sic, sick sick sic^[4]).

That ship had sailed^[5]. Bottom of the ocean. All AO3 tags associated inactive for months, save for the most dedicated. Read, insane. Read, first name Hunter, last name… so on.

But discomfort, mild shade that was unfair to the accused aside, Ray wasn’t going to make the cloud of unspoken, extremely small-font tension between them anything more combative than it had to be. Better he take a page from Vivian’s playbook. Relax, enjoy the artistry of a bloodied battlefield.

“Anyways, thanks.”^[6]

"I've been doing Proko drills and all that."

A breath, frigid and stiff as the room’s overwhelming and omnipresent air conditioning, an eternal war against nature man was destined to lose over the course of the upcoming century.

“You always get things done, don't be down on yourself? It’s legitimately impressive, y’know? How hard you work.” A soft smile, only the tiniest hint of teeth, which in the darkness of the lights out classroom immediately became the overexposed polaroid focal point on his face.

“I’ve definitely been trying to take a page from your book recently.”

Relax. Let things fall where they might, control the narrative as best he could, deflect and deny the rest. He could try it on as a look. Full return policy: leaving Las Vegas for college, never looking back without the distortion of memories to obscure the bits he’d hated. Hopefully. In actuality, probably the only bits he'd actually remember.

“Like, sorting out everything I owe others before I go. I promised you something a bit ago…? Raturine posed on a bed or something like that.”

---

^[1] Euphemism not intended because this was not the time for it.^[2]
[2] Ray wasn’t Hunter and he wasn’t Mona, heaven forbid. He wasn’t going to play their delulu game and hide his thoughts in plain sight. Only transparency from here on out.
^[3] Things were allowed to change, but again, ideally not in the passive-aggressive way where thoughts were disguised behind sensual (maybe not the best word to choose) artistry with the body and with tiny little asides shoved away for the sake of plausible deniability. Hunter had his mouth— okay, dangerous line of thought. Hunter had his words, he could use them.
^[4] Ray was a cold and lifeless object in the Kuiper Belt, not something as warm and nourishing as the sun, heliocentric his universe was not.
^[5] He knew Vivian’s affection for him didn’t match his for her. As long as they both agreed to meet in the middle, regardless of the different distances covered.
^[6] Ray didn’t understand the ebb and flow of a conversation nearly as well as Vivian did, but he could at least atomize. Like so:

you suuuuure do, sunshine, he did not say out loud with his human mouth, but the thought definitely passed between them, floating in midair for a moment, popping noiselessly

Hunter’s eyes flicked back to his phone screen, the unhurried scroll, the mental catalogue of messages that needed repliesat least one much funnier left on read t-b-h, the silence insistently comfortable, hanging in the moment because that was simply how it was. Comfortable. Was, operative. Impossible, painful, wretched memories of comfort, a mattress worn down to rusted springs. Not to be acknowledged. Smile and roll over. couldn’t even enjoy the thought, the energy for it already sucked out of the room through the air vents

The unpleasantness resharpened and poked between his ribs. Didn’t even know if Ray noticed. He probably didn’t. Passive aggression wasn’t his style, any more than the regular variety. her words, sugar sweet smirk implied, slipping out of innocent lips^[1]

“Welcome as always, sunshine.” He smiled again, neither unforced nor strained but pointed, the predator eyes, the metaphorical canines glinting in the projector light. If he was doomed to memories, the best he could do was shove Ray to the other side of the bedugh. Savored the taste of the momentary discomfort in the flex of his fingers, the flicker of his eyes. bittersweet, maybe. more like ashes. more like stomach acid.

He had, honestly, forgotten the request, made as it was in essentially another lifetime. It really, truly and completely didn’t matter. Ammunition arbitrarily loaded, birdshot in a gun Ray would never intentionally touch. Elbow to desk, Hunter rested his head on the top of his fingers, eyes back on a screen that had been long since become an exclusive purveyor of white noise. Help me, Barnaby Brooks Jr., you’re my only hope, etc.

“Liiiike, don’t even worry about it? I can do it myself if you don’t have time,” shrug, the roll of the shoulders. It was true, and it had never been the point.

Hunter was never the type to take bets he hadn’t already won. His miscalculation was its own ammunition, aimed precariously and permanently at his temple. Cold and bruising for months now. Something had to give.

It wouldn’t, though. Couldn’t. Stakes too high, lips too sweet. Nothing to do but find room to leave scars in return.

it could have been different, in another life, maybe. maybe that was delusional, too. admission of guilt, admission of failure, admission of defeat. couldn't even do that much. something something, would rather fake than make the pain real. right?

---

^[1]for varying definitions of innocent, varying considerations of what had been between those lips, et fucking cetera^[2]
[2]and oh, Hunter could do petty, he could do petulant, he could do passive fucking aggressive. Liiiiike—is the transparency in the room with us right now? If you’re gonna be like that, do it with your chest, king.