kobes | au inbox; psl now

I'd like it to be a date if you would.

[after a solid five minutes just staring at the handful of words like it's going to somehow unveil itself into something he understands:]

you would. why?

Yeah.

Just because. I like you. The morning we were talking was nice.

Sorry that sounds really lame. I'm a nerd, remember.

it's not i mean

[what, what does he mean? that it's the kind of nice that makes him hold his breath, because what's the catch, where's the other shoe dropping, how is the floor going to disappear from beneath him this time? that he's disarmed by it, over and over?]

it's sweet. maybe a little nerdy, but i'm not mad about it ☺️ yeah sure i'll go on a date with you.

I'll try not to embarrass you with all of my nerd. 😉

Oh. Well. How's later tonight? Or tomorrow night?

[koby huffs out a little laugh, covering his mouth with his free hand when he does, like someone's gonna hear. dangerdangerdanger in his chest like staccato drums but:]

hmmmmmm lemme check my incredibly busy schedule i guess i can cancel tea with the queen if you got something in mind for tonight lizzie will understand 🥰

The Queen? I'm honored you'll cancel. 🥰

Meet you in the garden around 7?

oh yeah, she's a terrible date. you're definitely waaaay more fun, q. yeah, sure. should i wear like garden clothes?

Remember that you called a nerd fun, alright?

I don't know what garden clothes are.
Just wear normal clothes?
Or none. Whatever you like best.

using my words against me, i see though lbr the queen <<<< nerds as far as dates go imo garden clothes like bigass hats and khaki shorts or something u got it i'll flip a coin between my normal shit and naked just for u babe

[and nevermind that it's late, it's nearly july, he's overdue for a check-in -- he'll just get there early, get it over with.]

See you then. 😘

[ and when the time rolls around q gets dressed, something summery but still a little dressed down. funny that he's nervous for a date, but something about koby has been different from the moment he met him. something electric has passed between them, and the idea that this guy said yes? he almost feels silly to trust it.

the last guy he dated was teo, and even that hadn't lasted too long. everything else between then and now has just been silly flings. he's just started down toward the garden where he's set up a little private picnic for them with a blanket and jug of some sangria-esque cocktail that a butler put him onto. a few plates of covered finger foods. he's just approaching and pauses a bit away, taking a deep breath, a bundle of a couple pink roses that match koby's hair color in his hand. ]

[koby gets there early, early enough that he pulls his phone out of his pocket and steels himself and dials the saved number with his stomach pitting, plummeting, like he's a stupid kid again.] Hey. Yeah, it's me, I --

[she cuts him off immediately, of course, and koby's mouth snaps shut like a vise as she launches into a tirade about disrespect, about ungrateful, selfish, disgusting behavior, about clothed you and fed you and raised you and this is the treatment i get, familiar as koby's name, as inevitable as the sun rising and setting, a tirade that she's deep in the middle of by the time he's not early anymore.

by then, by the time quentin arrives, koby doesn't notice him, back turned towards the cute little blanket-and-picnic situation that had made his stomach flip-flop with something strange and light and giddy. he's hunched in on himself, gnawing at his fingernail, any and all trace of confidence gone, trying to explain:] I told you, I'm working on it, I've got -- people interested, politicians, athletes, business owners. It takes time to get these people to trust me, Alvida, they're not -- I'm trying as hard as I can--

[ there's a little hope trying to well up in his gut, a little bit of giddiness that he allows himself to feel. things have been good - and sure the sex is great, but something about koby feels a little bit more than that. so he takes a deep breath to settle his rabbiting nerves and steps up into the gardens. he hears koby and pauses, listening, and the energetic, nervous energy drains out of him.

athletes - it takes time to get these people to trust me -

his blood runs cold for a moment and he thinks back now to the shower - sponsorships, he'd mentioned. money. money, money, money. stupid of him to think there was anything else. stupid of him to think that this drugged up party boy could be anything but what he is. had he put the image of someone else over the guy he hears now? maybe. maybe he did.

he steps around the clearing to see koby, drops the flowers on the picnic blanket he'd laid out. ]

What is it you're trying to do?

[ voice still, low, but there's a fiery hurt behind his eyes. ]

[it’s like something out of a fucked-up movie, the way koby whirls around, almost drops his phone, staring at quentin for a moment with his eyes wide, his heart in his throat. but then it’s dropping, plummeting through his stomach, ending up somewhere in the deepest parts of the earth as he takes in the hurt flickering in quentin’s eyes.

and at the same time – he’s barely surprised. barely feels it as more than a dull punch to the gut, an ache that feels like every empty bed he’s ever woken up to. of course. of fucking course. it was strange and it was lovely and it was doomed from the start.

a quick, shuddery inhale, a reflexive jerk to hang up the phone – he’ll regret it later, alvida will chew him out for an hour minimum, but so fucking what – and koby crosses his arms over his chest, keeps his voice deliberately hollow.]

Talk on the phone. [it’s not the answer quentin means, and he damn well knows it, but there’s a refuge in the emptiness, in numbing down the pulse of regret that laces through him like a wound.]

How long did it take for you to trick me into trusting you?

[ he huffs a little, baffled and hurt, staring across at the very picture of nonchalance. he doesn't want to believe it, though - let himself hope for just half a minute that something could work out. that this might be different, that he might have found someone who understands him in a different way, without asking, without words.

but no. ]

Athletes, politicians, business owners. You set up dates with other people like this, too? Or am I the only idiot?

[koby keeps his arms crossed tightly, fingers curling around his upper arms, trying to ignore the plummeting feeling in his chest. it's stupid. it's ridiculous, feeling like that, stomach churning, heart twisting. he hasn't earned that. the way quentin's seeing him now is exactly how he is.

swallowing tightly, he's deliberately vague, stuffing his phone in his pocket after a moment of standing frozen, mind trying to click between how to get out of this, whether he can salvage things, whether he even -- deserves to try. it's better this way. it'll be better to cut things off now, before either of them get in too deep.

looking deliberately downward, towards quentin's feet instead of his eyes:] Most of them don't want to waste time on dates, actually. But yeah. There's a lot of others. [eyes flicking up, something hollow, shuttered in them:] What did you think this was, Quentin?

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