The Silence Of Metawin.

We're Goin Down

They were going to be late to the movie, per usual.

Third just had to put enough hairspray in his hair to add his own personal hole to the ozone layer, and the process had to take a half hour each time. Or else my hair won't have enough volume, yeah, whatever.

Win didn't care about their tardiness though, not really, he was just desperate to spend some quality time with his other half, desperate to get the essence of Gun out of his head and renew some of that waning trust between them.

"We're going to miss the previews."

"They're called previews for a reason, honey. They're not what you actually 'view,' they're what comes before it."

"But if we miss them," he said as he opened the passenger door, "Then we'll miss trailers for our next potential movie and-"

He stopped when he saw the hair.

A dozen, tiny hairs on the head of the seat, easily overlooked by the average person. But Win wasn't average. Win could see.

Third didn't see his horrified expression as he turned the key in the ignition. "And then what, hmm? What were you saying, darling?"

Win didn't comment on the hair, not yet. He wanted a confession first.

"I was saying, and then we'll have to wade through critic reviews to find our next flick. But it will be fine, we're not far."

He racked his brain for ways to approach the situation as they drove, looking for options that didn't end in a screaming match. They reached a brown light and he found he couldn't wait any longer. It was like the color was torturing him.

"So..." He started, focusing on keeping his voice casual. "Have you ever given Mr. Antthaphan a ride in this car?"

Third looked over in confusion. "Are you serious? Why would I do that?"

Win looked straight ahead, staring into the red light.

"Where is this coming from? Oh God, did Dr. Vachirawit give you this idea? If you've been seeing him without me knowing-"

"Answer the question." Win was in no mood for his bullcrap psychological tricks of turning everything back onto him. It was a simple yes or no question, and he expected it to be addressed as such.

Third sighed in defeat. "Yes, I have. Once."

Win felt as if his heart had been trampled upon. He knew that he had a very real problem with them hanging out, and he just went behind his back and-

"Don't you dare pretend like this is any different than when you went to go pick up Bright," he sounded like he was going to cry, "Don't. You. Dare."

He sighed. "I suppose you're right. If I had known that this was what you felt like when Bright and I met up I wouldn't have done it."

"Thank you," Third's voice sounded back under control. "Can we make a pact? I drop all contact with her if you stop seeing Bright."

In different circumstances, something as drastic and ridiculous as that would have been non-negotiable. He could barely keep himself together without seeing Bright at least once a week, having found himself growing mentally and emotionally dependent on him. He also quite enjoyed their conversations, how they could talk about anything and everything and nothing, all at once.

But if him seeing Bright hurt his beloved as much as it hurt to hear that he had given the brown haired devil one measly ride, then perhaps an exception was in order.