Chapter 3
after a short negotiation, they decide to go back to Colson's. Ethan grabs his backpack, and fills a duffel bag with other shit. Colson watches in mild horror as Ethan throws some clothes in there. if Ethan's planning on changing clothes while handcuffed to Colson -
"we need to line up our schedules," Ethan says, throwing his headphones into the bag. Colson feels like he's mostly in the way, but Ethan dodges around him expertly, sometimes tugging at the chain to signal he needs Colson to step a certain way. Colson is just glad their coordination seems to be working now. he checks the time on his phone; it's just past ten a.m. "i have figure drawing at twelve, after which i go to the gym, and then i have dance practice at four."
"wait." Colson tugs at the chain roughly, spinning Ethan around to face him.
"you were serious about the dance practice? how the fuck is that going to work?"
"with a bit of maneuvering, probably," Ethan says. the corner of his mouth curls upwards.
"i know you're not a bad dancer, Colson."
Colson shakes his head.
"you really are taking this as a challenge, aren't you?"
Ethan grins and shrugs.
"what's your schedule like?"
"i'll just make this easy and go along with whatever you have," Colson says, "since i don't have anything urgent. there's a track i'm working on, but i can do that at night. why do you have class on saturday, anyway?"
Ethan shrugs whilst zipping up his bag.
"there were lots of things i wanted to do, and the only way to fit everything was to have class on the weekend."
"huh," Colson only says, sort of forgets he's staring until Ethan straightens up.
"i'm ready."
before they can leave, Davis urges them to sit down on the couch for a while.
"there are a couple of things i want to ask you at the beginning, too," he says, sitting across from them with a pen and a notebook.
"Colson. what do you think about Ethan?"
Colson blinks.
"excuse me?"
"what do you think about him," Davis repeats.
"the first thing that comes to mind. pretend he's not there."
he is right fucking there, though. Colson can feel his eyes on the side of his face.
"he..." he starts, and then holds eye contact with Davis for a solid five seconds.
"is... my friend."
"that's it?" Davis asks, unimpressed.
"what the fuck do you want me to say," Colson hisses, suddenly extremely stressed, because when he thinks about Ethan, a million things come to mind and he can't say any of them. he racks his short-circuiting brain for
something
, just
one
thing to get Davis off his back.
"...eyes."
"eyes," Davis repeats colorlessly. Colson drops his face into his hand and pinches at the bridge of his nose.
"oh my god," he says, "just write that i think he has pretty eyes and be done with it. obviously that's not all i like about him."
"obviously," Davis repeats, sounding vaguely amused, but Colson physically can't lift his head right now. there's the faint scratch of pen on paper, and then Davis asks, "Ethan? what do you think about Colson?"
these are the longest seconds of Colson's life. he waits, face still in his hand, for Ethan to speak, sort of wishes a black hole would materialize out of nowhere so he could fall in it.
"he's okay i guess," Ethan says so fast the words meld together. Colson waits for Davis to ask him
that's it?
but all he does is say
mm-hm,
and scratch the pen against the paper. Colson lifts his face.
"you're not going to ask him to say more? his answer was worse than mine."
"he guesses you're okay," Davis says, giving him a blank look, "that's a pretty exhaustive answer."
"
no it's not,"
Colson says, disbelieving.
"can we just go," Ethan says a bit desperately. Davis gestures towards the door with his arm, signaling they are free to leave.
"give me your backpack," Colson says once they are out of the front door, riding the elevator down.
"i'll help you even though you
guess i'm okay
."
he sees Ethan roll his eyes from the corner of his eye; but there's also a smile tugging at his lips.
"i'm just not sure about your character yet, you know," he muses, and Colson is glad they can have this, easy banter; it removes some of his rigidity. Ethan doesn't mention the comment about his eyes. he has slid his right arm into the sleeve of his denim jacket, wearing it partially. at least it's early september, still warm.
this is the weirdest walk of shame of Colson's life, beating the morning after that one time he had let Davis dress him in a maid costume for halloween. another prime example of Davis's direct involvement in the more questionable experiences in Colson's life. the handcuffs between them are very obvious, and attract strange looks. because of this, Ethan knocks the back of his hand against Colson's, asks,
"do you want to hold hands?"
Colson is sort of horrified to find that his fingers are finding the spaces between Ethan's before he gives them permission to, like some sort of instinct.
"it's not gonna stop people from staring," he half-mumbles. their palms and fingers lightly touching, not fully interlaced. a beat, and Ethan answers:
"i guess not."
he doesn't remove his hand. he's leaving it up to Colson, he realizes, to either hold his hand or back out. Colson swallows, ignores the thing his heart does in his chest, intertwines their fingers. he guides Ethan's hand into the pocket of his hoodie, holds it inside it, hiding the handcuffs this way. after a moment, Ethan squeezes back lightly.
"am i really that bad to be stuck with?" he asks, his tone still light, but Colson thinks he notices a stiffness. he's surprised, a little bit, but when he thinks back, he
was
reluctant until the last moment.
"it's not because it's you," Colson says, eyeing the side of his face, "being handcuffed in general -"
"i know, Colson," Ethan cuts in quickly, and then, voice softening slightly, "it was a joke."
they don't talk much after that, nor do they let go until they're at Colson's front door.
Colson lives by himself in a small apartment atop a recording studio, and the fact that work is close is both a good and a bad thing, according to his friends. bad, because Colson gets caught up in it easily, sometimes forgets to leave the studio for days on end and only goes up to shower and nap and make a bowl of instant ramen.
"i haven't visited in a long time," Ethan muses as they set his bags down in the living room. his gaze slides over the cramped space, the desk, the speakers, the keyboard, the acoustic guitar. it's pretty much still the same.
"this semester's been busy."
"yeah," Colson hums, "i've been working pretty much non-stop, too."
Ethan meets his eyes. Colson is hit with something - something. like melancholia, maybe. the realization how quickly three years have passed. when Ethan was seventeen, eighteen, in high school, he used to come here all the time. Colson taught him stuff about producing, some piano, some basics on the guitar, though he's not that good at the latter and has no doubt Ethan's skill level surpasses his own these days. up here, Ethan told him he would be applying to college to study vocal performance. a few months later, he was standing at Colson's door, slightly out of breath like he'd been running, but a huge smile plastered across his face, telling him he'd been accepted. Colson doesn't think about it much, because it causes his chest to ache in a way that's not just simple melancholia.
they really don't hang out as much as they used to, how they used to, and Colson wonders if it's truly because they are too busy, or if it has, despite two years having passed, something to do with what happened that night.
also: the realization how much has changed, since then. how much Ethan has grown. but maybe, also, how many things have stayed the same.
something flickers across Ethan's face, too brief for Colson to tell what it is. then Ethan grins, and lifts their arms.
"at least this is a chance for us to hang out again."
is that why you wanted to do this
? Colson thinks but doesn't say out loud.
do you miss this? us?
what he does is give the cuffs a tug, knocking their elbows together.
"if you wanted to spend time with me, you could've just said so," he jokes, but also not really, "this is a bit extreme."
in the kitchen, Colson rummages through his cupboards for anything remotely resembling breakfast, whilst ignoring Ethan's pointed comments on how Colson really should purchase a fruit sometime. he digs out a breakfast bar and throws it at Ethan.
"do you want eggs? uh, orange juice? nevermind, this went bad three months ago."
Ethan shakes his head.
"i think Davis's lizard is doing better than you, Colson. and he's been known to eat plastic gift cards."