allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin - Tumblr blog

allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin · 2 months ago

Text

ᰔ || 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐒 [Oneshot: Forgot My Keys!]

Pairing: Beau Santiago x James Diamond

Characters: Beau Antonio Santiago, James Diamond, Lorraine Santiago, The Mention of: Mr. Reginald Bitters, Maya Isabel Santiago, Kendall Donald Knight, Carlos Garcia, Logan Hortense Mitchell, Katie Knight, Gustavo Rocque & Lightning The TV Wonder Dog

Content Warnings: Fluff, BL, SFW, Mentions of Bullying, Mild Hurt Comfort

Word Count: 5,009

I know only one chapter of Freak Flags is out right now, and Beau and James haven't even met each other yet. But inspiration struck and I had to get this out because I couldn't help myself! I'm not sure if this will remain just a oneshot or if it'll make it into a chapter of Freak Flags somewhere down the line, but this is relatively canon as far as I or anyone else is concerned.

If you are not comfortable reading about any of the themes listed in the Content Warnings, do not interact. Otherwise, please enjoy!

Be sure to check out my Character Introduction Blog if you haven't yet. It'll give you some insight on the original characters that play big roles in Freak Flags. You can also read Freak Flags (as well as this oneshot) on AO3!

For @allthistrashtalkmakemeitchin who listens to me yap about every single Freak Flags idea that comes to mind (and every other idea I have). Love you, dude!

**divider by @saradika-graphics**

Beau and James walked side by side, wearing kindred smiles and holding matching his & her smoothies as they strode into the Palm Woods lobby from the park. James regaled his songwriter companion with a tale of an earlier escapade, one he experienced before Beau’s arrival. It may have sounded silly and a even a tad ridiculous, but it felt so significant at the time, as most of these incidents did.

“Wait, so you and the guys ran a lap around the entire Palm Woods and dove at Mr. Bitters to ring the bell on his desk all for some stupid trophy?” Beau asked in disbelief after taking a quick sip of his pink smoothie.

“It wasn’t ‘some stupid trophy’!” James retorted, bending the fingers of his vacant hand in air quotes. “It was the Palm Woods 500 World Cup!”

“Right, okay,” Beau scoffed with the roll of his eyes as James took a big gulp of his blue smoothie. They shuffled past other Palm Woods teens, the retro lobby furniture of various yellows, oranges, and browns, and the doors leading to the Palm Woods pool. Once stopped at the elevator, James pressed the button pointing up, and together they began waiting for the next available car to bring them upstairs.

“So who ended up winning?” Beau inquired.

“That’s a good question, Beau,” James sighed awkwardly, his upper and lower rows of teeth coming together as his lips curl downward. “But I’m afraid that when I tell you I won’t seem as cool.”

The chime of the elevator alerted Beau and James of the vacant car’s arrival. The doors slid open and granted them entry. The two teens crossed the metal threshold in the floor and simultaneously stepped into the elevator without looking away for even a second.

“Is that your way of telling me you’re a loser?” Beau teased with the quirk of his brow.

“Hey!” James squawked in protest. “James Diamond may be a lot of things, but he is certainly not a loser!”

Beau hummed knowingly in response as the elevator doors met and closed the teens off from the lobby. Despite James’ protest, everything on his face and in his voice told Beau everything he needed to know. He took another sip from his pink smoothie, a prolonged one this time around, as he flashed a teasing look from his half-lidded eyes in James’ direction. The suspected runner-up’s face soured into a childlike pout, his lip teetering on the line of quivering and his brows cresting atop his eyelids as Beau cut him down to size. The elevator ride couldn’t be any slower with those walnut-brown eyes burning a hole through his facade as a champion.

“Okay, Carlos won…” James mumbled in defeat, not noticing how the look in Beau’s eyes changed completely upon his confession until he heard the squeak of a giggle slipping through. The defeated brunette locked eyes with Beau once more and widened them at the sight of the songwriter’s composure slipping away like paper in the wind.

Beau clasped his vacant hand over his mouth, holding back the waterfall of laughter walled up behind his lips like a dam. His voice tremored with the occasional chuckle and chortle slipping through the cracks in spurts and streams. The muddled look in James’ eyes was almost too much to bear. Eventually the pipes in Beau’s voice burst and laughter came spilling out uncontrollably.

He threw his head back, loosely gripping his pink smoothie as it swished and splashed in the confines of its plastic cup while his body tottered with laughter. His hand met the upper left side of his face, partially covering his eye. Beau’s voice ruptured in all sorts of frequencies that were boxed into the walls of the elevator and forced to bounce back and forth in spirals.

As pouty and annoyed as James wanted to stay, he looked at Beau as if he were admiring a work of art. He was experiencing something new, something he’d never seen or heard before. Twinkles of hazel glimmered in James’ eyes as he bore witness to the gift of Beau’s laughter and the features that came along with it—his beaming, radiant smile, the creases by his eyes, the way his hair fluttered in accordance with the rest of his body, even the occasional snort tore his heart out of his chest and left him starstruck.

The elevator doors chimed with a high-pitched ding as they slid open and released the teens to the third floor. They walked out and stood against the wall as Beau’s laughter began to die down. His breaths were heavy and labored, the remnants of giggles still coating his voice as he attempted to piece a few words together.

“Oh my god, you should’ve seen the look on your face!” Beau exclaimed as he wiped a single tear from the corner of his eye. “You looked like a toddler! I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look like—!”

Beau’s voice trailed off as he looked up at James and saw stars in his eyes. His face immediately dropped, and with it, the sugary coating of his voice. He’d never seen James gaze at him so intently. How long had he been staring like that? He couldn’t say.

“...that,” Beau mumbled, picking up right where he left off. He stiffened under James’ gaze and muttered a prolonged ‘uhhh’ before mustering up another response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before,” James uttered breathily.

“Yeah, so?” Beau scoffed.

“I just thought it was nice to hear is all,” James confessed. “I didn’t think you could laugh.”

“Oh, please, James, I’m not made of stone,” Beau refuted with another eye-roll. “But if I’m being completely honest, I don’t think there’s much to laugh about here.”

“Oh, so you’re saying I’m not objectively hilarious?” James asked, bringing his palm to his chest and feigning offense for comedic effect.

“Well, I never said that…” Beau muttered as he lead James down the hall. “Anyway, what happened after Carlos won your little trophy?”

“Well, Mr. Bitters got really mad ‘cause we broke a lot of his stuff,” James answered.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Beau inquired.

“For starters, we broke his computer, two of his lamps, and three of his vases,” James divulged. “We also may have ruined a pair of his pants.”

“How’d you do that?” Beau questioned, hoping the answer would have a modicum of rationality.

“Spaghetti,” James said plainly.

“Well, that makes perfect sense,” Beau remarked sarcastically with the shrug of his shoulders and the shake of his head. “What happened next?”

“Mr. Bitters gave Gustavo a bill for the damages, and he lost his mind ‘cause it was two thousand dollars,” James replied.

“Two thousand dollars?!” Beau shrieked in disbelief. “That’s insane!”

“...and thirty cents,” James added weakly.

“That’s just great,” Beau scoffed amidst the second wind of his sarcasm. “So what did Gustavo do?”

“He told us all to go get jobs and earn the money to pay him back as a way of teaching us responsibility,” James explained. “While Carlos stayed at Rocque Records to work as Gustavo’s assistant, Kendall, Logan, and I went home and looked for work online and in the classifieds.”

“What jobs did you guys end up getting?” Beau queried.

“Kendall and Logan decided to be sign spinners,” James responded.

“And you didn’t?” Beau uttered with narrowing eyes.

“Nope! I told them I’d rather find a better job that doesn’t involve work,” James smirked proudly.

“You are ridiculous,” Beau chuckled.

“Yeah? Well, you like ridiculous,” James teased, his tone of voice lowering as he playfully nudged Beau’s side.

“Oh, shut up,” Beau giggled in response as he pretended to swat James away. “But you still can’t earn money without doing any actual work.”

“That’s where you’re wrong because I got a job as an elbow model!” James declared triumphantly.

“That kind of model exists?” Beau asked with a souring expression of confusion and perplexity.

“Apparently,” James shrugged.

The two teens stopped in front of the door to apartment 3B. They shared an awkward glance, not yet wanting to part ways. It seems time flew by a lot quicker than they anticipated.

“Well, this is me,” Beau remarked stiffly.

“Yep,” James replied, just as stiffly.

Beau and James stood before each other, silent and still. Neither boy wanted to make the move that signified the end of their time together. They remained at the door for a few moments longer just sharing a few side-eyed glances and awkward chuckles until Beau swallowed his pride and spoke up.

“Do you maybe want to come in for a bit?” Beau proposed as he reached for the doorknob.

Wagging his imaginary dog tail and perking up like a sprouting sapling, James wore an infectiously beaming grin and said, “Sure, I’d love to!”

After graciously inviting James into his home, Beau found his mother scrambling through the kitchen with her purse over her shoulder. She rushed to insert a tray of food in the oven before wiping her hands clean and heading for the door.

“Oh, hi, Beau!” Lorraine squeaked, slightly startled. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“Hi, Mom,” Beau greeted plainly.

“Hi, Mrs. Santiago!” James beamed.

“Hi, James, nice to see you again,” Lorraine grinned warmly, rustling through her purse as she reached for the door.

“Where are you going?” Beau inquired.

“To pick up your sister from the arcade. She and Katie are hanging out again, and I offered to bring them both home for Mrs. Knight’s convenience,” Lorraine stated matter-of-factly. “Since I have food in the oven, would you mind keeping an eye on it until I get back?”

“You got it,” Beau obliged.

“Thank you,” Lorraine replied. “James, sweetheart, will you be staying for dinner again?”

“With home cooking like yours? I’d be happy to,” James rejoiced, grinning ear to ear.

“How sweet of you to say,” Lorraine crooned with her palms atop her chest just below her collarbone. “Such a charmer, this one.”

“Mom!” Beau whined in embarrassment, bending his arms and tucking his head between his rising shoulders.

“You flatter me, Mrs. S., but once I tried your delicious corn pudding, I knew I was hooked,” James remarked, punctuating his words with a finger gun and a snap.

“James…” Beau groaned, simultaneously rolling his eyes and his head.

“You mean maizena? We typically eat that for breakfast,” Lorraine replied with a hint of uncertainty. “But if you really like it that much, I’d be more than happy to whip up a fresh batch for you.”

“Sweet!” James exclaimed, pistoning his arm back with a triumphant fist.

“Are you done?” Beau grunted with a dramatic slouch.

Lorraine rolled her eyes and leaned to the right with her hand on her hip. James swung his arm around Beau’s shoulder and pulled him close while saying, “Aw, c’mon, corduroy. Lighten up.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Beau spat, grimacing and crossing his arms.

“Well, you don’t make it easy when you wear the same pair of corduroy pants all the time,” James remarked with a chuckle.

“I do not wear the same pants all the time!” Beau retorted in a whiny tone. “Besides, I’m wearing my beige pair instead of my usual green pair.”

“You’re not making a great case for yourself,” James insisted with the shake of his head.

Despite the contrasting expressions on their faces, Beau and James continued to stand closely together. The songwriter leaned his head on the confident brunette’s shoulder, basking in the serenity of their closeness regardless of their combative banter. Lorraine caged the teens in her lingering gaze of sincerity. It warmed her heart to see that her beloved son had found someone he felt comfortable enough to be himself around. She worried that their change of scenery would be too stressful for Beau to handle, thus stunting him from making friends and enjoying the dwindling time he has left as a teenager. Words couldn’t express how happy it made this mother riddled with worry to be wrong.

“Anyway, I should be back in twenty minutes,” Lorraine declared, leaving a gentle kiss in her wake atop the space on his right cheek teetering on his jawline. “Love you, pajarito.”

“Love you, too,” Beau replied amidst a begrudged smile.

As Lorraine fled the apartment, Beau took one final sip from his pink smoothie until the plastic up was all but empty. He sucked on the straw until the only thing passing through it was air. The songwriter tossed the empty cup into the recycling bin and headed for the couch where he saw James comfortably lounging and setting down the rest of his blue smoothie on the coffee table.

“Y’know, I think I’m starting to notice a pattern,” James proclaimed with his knees apart and his arm thrown over the back of the couch.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Beau queried as he took a seat beside his brunette companion.

“Your mom has a pretty quirky nickname for you that she uses a lot,” James remarked observantly. “What is it again? Pa… something.”

“Pajarito,” Beau corrected. “It means little bird.”

“Why does she call you that? You’re not a bird,” James tittered with the wave of his right hand.

“Well, there’s a story behind that,” Beau admitted. “And that story is I used to sing to the birds when I was young because I was obsessed with Disney princess movies and wanted to copy what they did.”

Beau shook his head in disbelief as he recalled his early childhood memories. He could smile and laugh about it now, but even in his mind they still seemed a tad ridiculous. James leaned his head onto his open palm, crossing his legs and leaning in closer to listen more intently.

“There was this one movie in particular that I couldn’t get enough of called Enchanted. It was my dream at the time to be just like Giselle singing to the animals of Andalasia and, eventually, Harlem,” Beau explained. “So I made it my mission to go out to the backyard every afternoon like clockwork and sing to the birds. I’d sing the exact same song every day, even if I was sick of hearing it. But I was determined to summon at least one bird.”

James was effortlessly amused by Beau’s narrative. He found himself humming and sighing in response to the spellbinding sound of the songwriter’s voice. Every word painted such a pleasant picture that James found to be extraordinarily endearing. It was as if he was listening to a fairytale.

“Then one day it happened. A small flock of house finches gathered on top of the fence while I was in the backyard waiting for something, anything really, to appear. I started singing, but then they all started to fly away. All but one,” Beau grinned through the bliss of reminiscence. “I stood as still as I possibly could with my hand outstretched. I sang quieter and quieter until the finch flew directly onto my hand. I was so excited that I threw my hands in the air and shouted at the top of my lungs as if I’d won the lottery. But I scared the poor thing off and ended up right back where I started.”

“That has got to be the cutest and the funniest thing I’ve heard all day,” James chuckled.

“Yeah? Well, you and literally everyone else I’ve told that story to,” Beau shrugged.

“While we’re on the topic, there is another pattern I’ve started to notice,” James added.

“And what would that be?” Beau asked with the tilt of his head.

“Whenever your mom kisses you on the cheek, it’s always on the same spot near your jaw,” James observed. “How come?”

“You noticed that, huh?” Beau sighed, awkwardly massaging the back of his neck and leaning his elbows where his knees meet his thighs. “Well, there’s a story for that as well.” “Do tell,” James requested confidently.

“Alright,” Beau obliged after sucking in a sharp breath. “When I was in middle school, I had a particularly manipulative bully named Layla. She pretended to be my friend in public but liked to make fun of me when no one else was around, and I never really understood why.”

James’ gaze hardened at the realization that this story would be far less sweet and savory than its predecessor. He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of someone treating Beau with any less respect than he deserved. It was baffling and even a little enraging.

“She made fun of my hair, my clothes, and eventually my face. Pointing out my moles was Layla’s favorite pastime. She’d always say the meanest things about them, but she swore it was all for good reason because, as my friend, it was her job to be honest with me and ‘point out my shortcomings’ so that I could improve and become a better person,” Beau continued. “It got to a point where I wholeheartedly believed her. Everything she said made sense at the time, and I certainly didn’t have the self esteem to argue with her. So I came home to my mom in tears one day under the impression that I was ugly. I told her I’d do whatever it takes to get these moles off my face and go back to being a good person again.”

The more James heard about Beau’s feelings of ugliness and worthlessness, the brighter the flame to his fury flickered behind the pools of hazel in his eyes. He sat there shaking his head in disapproval and scowling at the thought of ever meeting the girl who made Beau feel as terrible as he did. The infuriated brunette wanted so desperately to go back in time and give Layla a piece of his mind.

“I don’t get it,” James grumbled, stopping the songwriter from continuing his story.

“What?” Beau peeped.

“How can someone have the heart to make you feel so terribly about yourself?” James snapped on the cusp of heartbreak, his eyes widening with expressive dismay as he gestured dramatically with his head and hands. “I just don’t get it, you’re amazing. Truly amazing. To think someone would purposefully bring you down the way she did is just mind-boggling. If someone did that to you now I’m not sure what I’d do. I’d just… argh!”

“James, are you… angry?” Beau asked with a hint of amusement.

“No!” James retorted, restlessly bouncing his leg and thumping his foot onto the hardwood floor. “Okay, maybe a little. But can you blame me?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Beau said softly, almost like a purr. He inched closer and gently took James by the hand as they locked eyes in an unwavering gaze of sincerity and earnestness. “No one’s going to hurt me, I promise.”

“Are you sure?” James whimpered like a heartbroken little pup.

“James, I haven’t seen or spoken to Layla in years. I am perfectly fine,” Beau assured. “Besides, what are you going to do? Go back in time and kick her butt?”

“I might,” James replied confidently with a hundred percent certainty.

“James!” Beau cried as he delivered a mild smack against the brunette’s arm.

James snickered and sneered from the thought of his hypothetical endeavor to seek revenge on the songwriter’s behalf. Beau squeezed a sigh out from his lungs as he lowered his head to James’ shoulder. Immediately, James’ confidence and grit shriveled up like paper turning to ash in the heat of a burning fire. His heart somersaulted in his chest, causing his body to freeze while he scrambled to think of how to handle this. James’ arm hovered over Beau and levered up and down as indecisiveness trapped him in an endless loop.

“So, uh…” James mumbled, shakily wrapping his arm around Beau. “What did your mom end up saying to you?”

“Well, she was heartbroken to see me so upset with myself. For a while, it seemed like she was too stunned to say anything. But then she told me about this old Japanese myth that says moles, beauty marks, and freckles appear in spots where you’ve been kissed by your soulmate in a past life,” Beau continued, snuggling up close and loosely clinging to James’ wrist. “I thought it was ridiculous at first because I’d never heard of that myth before, but my mom made a habit of kissing the mole near my jawline every chance she got. That gesture alone made me feel a lot less insecure when new ones started to form.”

“New ones?” James peeped curiously.

“Yeah, I have a few beauty marks scattered across my face that weren’t always there,” Beau remarked as he popped his head up from James’ shoulder. “Like this one on the bridge of my nose or this one directly below my eye. There’s also one on my cheekbone and another next to my sideburn.”

As Beau pointed out every mole, beauty mark, and freckle on his face at varying levels of visibility and placement, entire galaxies twinkled in James’ eyes that lit up his face like a string of fairy lights. Starstruck couldn’t even begin to describe the explosion of affection booming in the confines of his chest like fireworks crashing into the night sky. His entire world opened up, granting him the opportunity to bear witness something one could only see up close. For that, he was eternally grateful.

“They’re like little stars…” James uttered breathlessly.

“What did you say?” Beau asked, slightly turning his head to the side while maintaining a steady gaze on James.

“Eek! Nothing!” James shrieked, clasping his hands over his mouth and turning away to shield his reddening face from the songwriter’s gaze.

“It’s okay, don’t be shy,” Beau assured as he reached for the brunette’s shoulder.

“Shy? Who said anything about being shy? I’m not shy!” James squawked in protest. “If anyone’s shy, it’s you for suggesting that I’m shy, you shy… shy person!”

“James, I’ve seen you charm the pants off of people from all walks of life, I think you handle me just fine,” Beau remarked with absolute certainty.

“Well, when you put it like that, it’s kinda hard to disagree,” James muttered in agreement as he slowly turned back around.

“Yeah. Besides, I liked what you said,” Beau admitted. “It was really sweet.”

“Really?” James queried.

“Really,” Beau affirmed, gently squeezing James’ hands and watching as the cogs in his brain continuing to turn. “But I get the feeling there’s still something on your mind. What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about… kissing you,” James confessed. “Kissing the moles on your face, I mean. I kinda want to kiss every last one.”

“You want to kiss me… on my face?” Beau inquired in disbelief, emphasizing his words with the point of his finger.

“Well, yeah, if you’d let me,” James replied point-blankly.

Beau was momentarily stunned and speechless. It wasn’t that he was particularly nervous, but the thought of someone, much less James, bluntly and earnestly expressing wanting to kiss him was new. He didn’t quite know how to respond. But it was fascinating, thought-provoking, and perhaps a little thrilling. What’s the worse that could happen?

“Y’know what? Sure, go ahead,” Beau obliged contentedly.

“Okay,” James breathed, raising his hands to loosely cup Beau’s cheeks.

He began with a kiss atop the bridge of the songwriter’s nose, a soft peck that left a fleeting impression on his skin. Beau’s fingers met the back of James’ hands until they slinked down to his wrists and wrapped around them like vines on a tree. He struggled to look the brunette in the eye before the first kiss. His eyes were snapped shut and locked under the weight of his furrowing brows.

“One,” James spoke softly right before kissing the mole directly under Beau’s eye. “Two.”

The sound of James’ voice put Beau at ease. He slowly opened one eye after the other and saw the most infectious smile a person could wear on the boy gracing his face with an abundance of gentle, nurturing, sincere kisses.

“Three,” James continued as he kissed the mole on Beau’s right cheekbone. “Four,” he continued while kissing the mole beside Beau’s sideburn.

A begrudged grin crept onto Beau’s face. He couldn’t fight the joy James instilled in him from calming his nerves and turning this beloved gesture into something he could truly smile at. His grip on James’ wrist loosened, and with it, the remainder of his bodily tension. Beau’s fingers met the back James’ hands once more until they were completely clasped over by his palms.

“James, you don’t have to count each one individually,” Beau chuckled.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Would you rather I kiss you like this?” James purred, sprinkling a myriad of kisses across Beau’s face like a salt shaker.

“Hey, quit it!” Beau giggled in between kisses. “You’re smothering me!”

James continued to avidly pepper kisses all across Beau’s face—his forehead, his cheeks, his chin, and his jaw. Not a single spot of skin was left untouched. As sporadic as this gesture was, Beau found himself smiling and laughing uncontrollably. It was an understatement to say that, in this moment, happiness and joy were completely unbridled. They filled every one of his senses, coursed throughout every single vein, and sprung through every last beat of his heart. Each kiss James so graciously offered was followed by a particularly enthusiastic hum until the final kiss atop the mole on Beau’s jaw. An audible ‘mwah’ was left in its wake as James pulled back and gazed longingly at the giggly songwriter before him.

“You’re so weird,” Beau grinned as his laughter subsided.

“And what of it?” James teased. “Is that so wrong?”

“I guess not,” Beau replied, bringing his feet up from the floor and sitting his with knees digging into the couch cushion below. “But count yourself lucky because I just so happen to like weird.”

“Oh, yeah?” James hummed with amusement.

“Yeah,” Beau hummed right back, snaking his hand up James’ chest with a smirk.

James’ eyes followed every movement of Beau’s hand like an officer of the law in pursuit of a wildly evasive criminal. He grabbed hold of the songwriter’s hand, keeping it in place atop his heart so that he may fully immerse himself in the sensation of his heartbeat. It drummed on and on, springing to life with each thumping beat. Beau looked up at James with a renewed sense of vigor. The look in the brunette’s eyes spoke a plethora of words that read like a warning sign. As eager and bewitched as he was, James was still nervous and struggled to make the first move. This was new for him and something he was still getting used to in Beau’s presence. Despite this, James yearned for Beau and had a multitude of ways of showing that. Most of which were surprisingly silent.

“It’s okay, c’mere,” Beau whispered, leaning in ever so slowly until the grazing of their lips resulted in a placid, easygoing, hushed kiss.

His eyes fluttered shut as his hand slithered up the back of James’ neck and nestled through his hair like the bristles of a brush. James felt his heartbeat slowing down, allowing himself to ease into Beau’s kiss. His hand found purchase on Beau’s back, dipping into his muscles and urging him closer. He’d surrendered completely to the craving of wholeness that only the songwriter could satisfy.

Beau hooked his arms around the brunette’s neck, ensnaring him in his embrace and eliciting the response of James’ hands bracing onto his waist. Their hearts began to beat to a parallel rhythm of one another, and their breaths began to saddle in the depths of their lungs like anchors underwater. They began to lose themselves almost completely.

A wayward jiggle of the doorknob caught Beau’s attention and caused his eyes to snap open. He pulled back and shoved James off the couch mere seconds before Lorraine swung the door open.

“Forgot my keys!” Lorraine exclaimed as she re-entered apartment 3B and swiped her keys from the end table by the door. “I went all the way downstairs not knowing where they were and when I realized I left them here, that dog with the sunglasses snatched my purse right out of my hands.”

Beau wore a painfully awkward grin that took up nearly half of his face. He attempted to act natural by sitting cross-legged on the couch with his head resting on his palm while James remained on the floor in complete and total silence. Lorraine tossed her keys into her purse and rummaged through the rest of her belongings to ensure she took everything she needed with her and avoid having to come back again.

“What’s his name again? Thunder or Lightning… something like that. Anyway, your friend Carlos happened to be there when it happened and was kind enough to help me get it back. He’s such a sweet boy, that one. I’m surprised you didn’t invite him over for din—” Lorraine trailed off, stopping in her tracks as her eyes fixated on the brunette boy lying face-first on the floor, “What happened here?”

“Uhhh,” Beau stammered, desperately searching the atmosphere for a plausible excuse. “James… tripped.”

“And you’re just going to sit there?” Lorraine scoffed. “Help him up, I didn’t raise you to be impolite.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Beau obliged stiffly and without hesitation as he helped James up from the floor and back onto the couch.

“Good. I’ll see you boys in a bit,” Lorraine declared as she closed the door behind her and marched out of earshot.

A sigh of relief flushed through Beau’s system as he laid back against the couch with a mild thump and sank into the cushion with his hands over his eyes. That was too close a call.

“Y’know, you could’ve just warned me…” James grunted with his hair all askew.

“Sorry, I panicked,” Beau winced apologetically.

#gaygaygaygay #THEYRE SO GAYYYYY

5 notes · View notes