Lit Cigarettes || Angst/BxB Shots

• Philophobia •

Content warnings - Mentions of religious trauma and referenced internalized homophobia

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Auryn Solace stared at the smaller boy like a deer in headlights. His body felt like it wasn't his, and the words that he knew the other needed him to stay were caught in his throat. He bit his tongue, watching mismatched eyes become more translucent as the seconds became minutes.

Osric Livani lost all of his words at once. He lost all of his groundings, his tongue going numb as his body was stolen from him, his anxiety storing it on another planet he couldn't reach.

Auryn spoke first, shattering those thoughts. "Osric, you need to go."

"Auryn, I didn't—"

"Leave," Auryn's voice hurt as it left his throat. "Just go home."

"I didn't mean it." The cracking words stung twice the amount of the panic. For both of them.

The panic that was beginning to strangle their hearts and fill their lungs with toxic fluid was starting to erode the mucus lining. Their skin burned, for two different reasons. They both felt useless. Stupid. Ignorant and a whole plethora of other words that wouldn't even begin to describe the frustration, the shame, the horror of the situation.

"I didn't mean to say it." Osric sounded pathetic like this.

He was outside now, standing in front of the door, limbs shaking like leaves on a dead tree during winter. His breathing had turned unsteady, and he was pleading with Auryn, knowing damn well that he couldn't hear him.

Despite himself, Auryn took in Osric's appearance under the flickering porch light.

He was wearing one of Auryn's sweaters. A red one that was knitted and a little scratchy, and a bit uncomfortable, but it was the biggest one he owned. His eyes were puffy, the color from his angelic face drained. He had gone pale right after he said those three words, the look on his face displaying regret for the last thirty minutes that the two had spent together. His hands were engulfed by the sleeves, hiding an old friendship bracelet Auryn made him at a church camp when they were eight and nine. He knew it was there, and that made every emotion ten times bigger.

Ten times heavier.

Ten times deadlier.

Auryn's eyes averted to the hem near the bottom, where the crocheted material met Osric's acid washed jeans that were at least 2 sizes two big, the sweater almost touching his knees. The threads of the cheap yarn had started to frizz out, and Auryn noticed how he was twisting the threads so tightly around his index finger that the tip was turning a bluish color, his bitten nails hidden under the red yarn. He noticed how Osric had pulled his white hair back again and secured it with a hairtie he probably stole from Auryn's sister — Aria — a few pieces pulled out in substitution for bangs. It was gleaming under the flickering porch light, and Auryn hated that he noticed those small features.

He hated that he was analyzing him, taking in the faint crows feet around his eyes that deepened when he smiled. He hated that he had just pretended not to catch those mismatched eyes stealing glances at his lips when he said Osric's name. He hated that he wasn't bothered by it.

Auryn was scared of this, but somehow Osric admiring him that way, didn't trigger it. Osric's open displays of affection, or his quick flirtations; they didn't bother Auryn.

Until Osric had actually confessed he committed the same sins he knew he despised, Auryn had let his eyes drift to Osric's lips and even let them linger there without reaching for his bible or a crucifix.

However, it was the same sin he was terrified of because it wasn't right. The same sin he was guilty of, but God forbid he admit that. God forbid he be a normal teenager without this overwhelming feeling of following a God he didn't even believe in.

But for a second, Auryn wanted to say it back. He wanted to say those six words back, but he couldn't.

He couldn't face that fear yet.

He wasn't ready to.

He wasn't ready to betray the law of his parents. The law of the church he hated.

That didn't mean it hadn't broke him at least a little bit, because that sweater would smell like his best friend (if he could even call him that now) when he would get it back again.

If he got it back again.

In an all too futile attempt of preventing the growing panic attack right in front of him, Auyrn closed the door a lot harder than he had intended. He'd also say that he hadn't intended to lock it, and he would ignore the feeling of something close to agony when Osric didn't knock or wrestle with the doorknob.

Everything came crashing down after that.

Auryn felt like he was choking, his lungs being torn apart by the overwhelming blockage of bile that was pushing its way up his throat. Static clogged his ears, his eyes becoming bleary with an overwhelming surge of panic. His hands trembled so horribly that he couldn't ease him by making a fist, and for a second, he thought about the time his Father had told him that he would go to hell for these episodes.

Osric's voice didn't leave his head that night.

No matter how many times Auryn prayed to the damned God he didn't believe in, Osric was still there like gum in his hair.

"I'm in love with you, Auryn."

He didn't see Osric Livani much after that.

He never got his favorite sweater back either.