Voicegay

Infatuation

Tony flopped face down onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, his limbs splayed out like a chalk outline. "Why is life so hard?" He groaned, his voice somewhat muffled by having his face pressed into the sheets.

Layne chuckled from where he was sat on his friend's bedroom floor, his homework spread out around him. "It isn't, you're just a drama queen." He finished dotting the i's and crossing the t's of his last sentence, and looked over to Tony's homework, abandoned in a pile next to his backpack. "Do you think you'll do any work this semester?"

Tony rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling in despair, ignoring Layne's comments. "But he's so hot."

"So you said. 200 times."

"And his voice is so- ugh, so rich."

"What does that even mean?"

"Like chocolate."

Layne rolled his eyes at the all too familiar homoerotic stream of consciousness. "If you're so obsessed with him, why don't you just go talk to him?"

Tony leant up on his elbows to fix his friend with a judgemental glare. "Talk to him? Are you insane? What would I even say?"

"Oh, I don't know. Something completely crazy, like, 'Hi, how're you?'" Layne replied sarcastically, but was unable to hide the smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

Tony rolled his eyes and fell back against the bed in exasperation. Layne had been getting better at holding his own when it came to sassing, and Tony was simultaneously proud of his best friend, and disgruntled that it meant he lost more 'arguments'. "You don't get it."

"No, I get it. You're a weenie."

Tony held up a hand as an (empty) warning, "I am not a weenie."

Layne leant back against the dresser, his arms folded across his chest. "Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm."

"Prove it. Tomorrow, you're gonna go talk to him."

There was a short silence, then, quietly, "...No."

"I knew it!"

Tony didn't have to look to know that Layne had that smug smirk on his face. "Ugh."

"What's this guy's name, anyway?"

Tony sighed dazedly. "Geoff Castelluci."

Layne tried not to roll his eyes at the dreamy tone of voice that accompanied the name, and hummed in thought. "Do you have a picture of him?"

Tony, once again, looked at him as if he were crazy. "Why on earth would I have a picture of him?"

"I just figured you'd have one in your shrine."

Tony threw a pillow, but Layne dodged it skillfully. Dodgeball in gym really was coming in handy, being friends with a Wakim.

"Why do you want a picture anyway?" Tony asked, still staring up at the ceiling as if it were the open night sky.

"Well, I wanna know what he looks like. That way, if you don't talk to him, I will."

Tony sat up at near the speed of light, and glared at Layne with such an intensity that it felt like he might actually be staring into his soul.

"You. Dare."

Layne smirked. "Dare accepted."