Jealous
(This is an angsty one, sorry! <3)
Periwinkle and lavender are as different as night and day, and Chris knows it, but he isn’t in the mood to put up with this shit right now. “They’re practically the fucking same, Zach. Does it really matter? Just pick one!”
He regrets yelling almost immediately, because it makes Zach turn his head in surprise, which puts their faces much too close together. Chris is contorted around Zach’s body, holding two different ties up to his neck so he can look at himself in the full-length mirror. Because obviously he has to be dressed in his entire tux, complete with freshly polished shoes, just so he can pick out a fucking tie. Chris has been plastered to his back for what feels like forever. He can feel the muscles shift every time Zach reaches up to pet the silk. He can smell Zach—the dark, spicy scent the he wears now, probably because Miles bought it for him.
Chris is a mess by comparison, dressed in ratty jeans and a threadbare shirt. He probably smells like cigarettes and the awful cinnamon gum he chews to make sure he doesn’t smell like cigarettes. He wonders what Miles smells like. Angel tears and unicorn piss, probably. The perfect little—
“Chris?”
“Huh?” Chris shakes himself, makes himself look straight ahead into the mirror, instead of at Zach’s mouth.
“I asked if you were okay.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” He gives the ties a little flick against Zach’s chest and lets his tired arms rest a little more heavily against his shoulders. “Didn’t have my coffee this morning.”
Zach arches an eyebrow at him and smiles. He’s been smiling so often lately. Not those little condescending smirks of his, but authentic, blinding smiles. There’s no doubting that he’s happy.
“So let’s pick one so I can get my caffeine fix,” Chris rushes on. “Come on. Look. Which one?”
Zach finally turns back toward the mirror—thank Christ—and he purses his lips thoughtfully. “Let me see just the blue again?”
Chris bites back his sigh and pulls the lavender one away again, then smooths his palm against Zach’s chest so the blue tie lies flat against his crisp white shirt.
“I like this one,” Zach says, though he doesn’t sound nearly decisive enough about it.
“Me too.” Chris doesn’t really give a good goddamn one way or the other, but he wants Zach to make a decision, so this one torture in a long line of tortures leading up to the wedding will be over already.
“You’re not just saying that because it matches your eyes, are you?”
Zach’s just being cute. He’s grinning at Chris in the mirror, a teasing glint in his eye. He’s making fun of Chris’s narcissism, not implying that he would want Zach to be wearing a tie that matches his eyes when he’s standing at the altar marrying someone else. Chris knows all of that, but it doesn’t keep his stomach from doing nervous cartwheels or keep the blood from rushing to his face.
“Better go with the lavender,” he says, drawing the blue one back, ignoring the sound of silk on skin. He tosses the purple tie over Zach’s shoulder, but this time he doesn’t hold it up for him. He can model it for himself. Chris shoves his hands in his pockets and backs away, out of sight of the mirror.
The next time Zach has this suit on, it’ll be Miles standing next to him. Chris needs to get used to backing away now.
Semper, No.
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