Chapter Text
II awoke with a heavy groan—within seconds of waking up, he had become aware of two things.
One, he's sore all over his body and his muscles that would normally cooperate with him seemed disinterested in lifting even a single finger currently. Two, there's a deep ache that's set into the very marrow of his bones, the type that comes about from a fitful rest.
He shifted uncomfortably, expecting the softness of his mattress and the familiarity of his linen only to find neither. Begrudgingly he lifted a hand towards his face, rubbing the balls of his palms against his sleep-ridden eyes until they drowsily creaked open to take in his surroundings.
The first thing he noticed were the worn-out beige curtains across the room, they were letting in a frankly absurd amount of sunlight considering the sun hadn't even fully risen yet.
Everything felt too bright for him right now, while he'd normally greet the sun with open arms and a smile, today he wanted nothing more than to roll over and drift back to sleep for at least another three hours.
Gods. What did he do last night to be so exhausted today? The thought passes by II's mind as quickly as it comes, he couldn't remember anything from yesterday which left him with the guess that alcohol was more than likely involved.
It took several agonisingly slow seconds for II to realise he was laying on a couch, pointedly one that wasn't his own. A fuzzy wool blanket had been tossed over him, keeping him warm throughout the night while providing a bit of basic comfort. He appreciated the gesture, even if he didn't know who had done it.
II turned his attention back to the room he'd been placed in—a lounge, clearly. Evident by the dusty box television that sat across the room, it looked as if it hadn't been used in several months and was only there for decoration purposes at this rate.
He glanced at the coffee table next, noting that there was a vase filled with a bouquet of partially wilted flowers. Attached to it was a post-it note, it had a singular sentence written in elegant cursive which took more willpower than II would like to admit to read.
Reminder: Give these to him.
Oh? So they were for somebody, but from the looks of it they never made it to their intended recipient.
The last thing he paid attention to was a massive pin board attached to the wall, it had a multitude of post-it notes, torn open letters, and even a few ripped out journal pages that almost seemed out of place. It was a collage of varying types of things, a brief glimpse into the life of someone II presumed he didn't know.
As the full realisation of this not being his apartment hit him, II let out a displeased sigh while his hands came up to tangle in his blonde curls. It's not the first time he's ended up in a stranger's apartment, but he had tried to put this type of lifestyle behind him a few months back.
One-off relationships were something that had been common for II earlier in the year, he's never had the time to become attached to anyone but one person who wouldn't ever reciprocate. So, he sought out unfamiliar faces as a way to have his needs met.
It worked for a while, up until it didn't.
Turns out it's hard for casual relationships like that to exist for long, especially for months at a time. II would find himself drawing away as soon as emotions became involved, he refused to allow himself to tangle with someone who he didn't see a future with and one-off relationships were just that. One-offs.
II groggily repositioned to sit up, his knees hanging over the edge of the leather couch as he fought back a wave of suppressed nausea. It wasn't anything new for him—after drinking he'd always end up hungover and nearly on death's door. Today was no different in that regard, just a change of scenery.
He decided before he would go searching for the nearest bathroom that he should probably check his phone, at the very least it would give him an exact time of the day so he'd know if he had a few more hours before he had to leave or not.
After a few moments of awkwardly patting at his jeans, he finds his phone nestled within his back right pocket. He fished it out and into his hand where he slid past his lock screen without a second thought, once opened he grimaced to himself at seeing the 20% battery life. At least he knew the time now, it's 7:47.
II turned his attention to his notifications next, some of them had caught his interest. A few were emails related to his office day job, some others were text messages that ranged from scams to hook-ups he's been ignoring for weeks, then there was one last one of importance—messages from one of his friends, more specifically the one he was hopelessly in love with. Yeah, that friend.
Vee [3:21] You're asleep as I'm writing this, but I've left a few bottles of water out in kitchen alongside a bag of crisps.
Vee [3:22] Kitchen is to your left, by the way. Through the arches.
Vee [3:23] If you need anything else, my room is upstairs, first door to the right.
Vee [3:26] I'm going to sleep now, sleep well love x
Oh, the first noise being one of interest.
Oh, the second noise being of realisation.
This isn't a stranger's apartment, it's his apartment—Vessel's.
They've been friends for years, the better half of a decade at this point with no signs of their friendship decaying. They're close as can be, always spending time with one another and collaborating on multiple musical projects together whenever inspiration struck them.
With that in mind, it could come off as strange that II hadn't ever been inside of Vessel's apartment but in his defense the other man has always said that he preferred II's flat and that it's "more comfortable." Whatever that means.
Either way, the only thing that was relevant was he hadn't ever been inside of Vessel's flat. The part that concerned II was how he ended up here, from the looks of things he hadn't done anything inappropriate—or so he hoped—but it didn't make the lingering anxiety about last night disappear either.
The inability to remember something as simple as yesterday was chewing at II, making him fidget in place as he searched through his recent memories and came up empty-handed. Knowing himself, he had one too many shots and one of those sent his memory tumbling over the edge.
It's fine, even if it really isn't.
II let out a small noise of displeasure as he stood to his feet, he fought through another wave of nausea before carefully making his way out of the lounge and into the hallway—it's neat here, organised with the staircase to upstairs, a metal coat hanger, and an array of shoes next to an accent table.
He noticed an open bathroom at the end of the hall which he quickly took to occupying, a sound of relief coming out of him as he didn't have to frantically search for it.
II lingered inside of the bathroom even after he had finished his main goal, now fiddling idly near the sink as he splashed a handful of cool water against his face in an effort to wake himself up further. It worked for the most part, as now he could think for longer than three seconds.
Right, first thing on his to-do list is to gather his things and prepare to leave. While II was close with Vessel, the two of them still had clear boundaries in their relationship that neither crossed—as much as II would love to stay, he didn't want to invade his friend's privacy.
Vessel has always been a private person in nature, it showed even in his preferred nickname. It's something II has never asked about, he wasn't exactly in the position to use it as leverage regardless considering his own nickname is rather unusual.
In a way they're just two misfits—two misfits that stick together and find solace in one another.
II exited the bathroom cautiously, knowing that Vessel was asleep upstairs made him wary of making noise. He tiptoed as quietly as possible around his friend's flat as he collected his things, from his shoes last night, to his winter coat, and even his wallet that had been abandoned on the lounge coffee table.
Once he had everything, he took a once-over to ensure he was all set before he would step out into the chilled streets of London. As much as he loves the city, he'd rather not have to walk for nearly an hour just to make it back to his apartment. For once II could excuse using the tube, even if his wallet would suffer for it.
As II moved towards the archway of the lounge, fully intending on leaving and possibly sending Vessel a thank you text later, his attention had been abruptly caught by the pin board. It started as nothing more than a creeping interest, but his curiosity grew heavily once he was close enough to read some of the entries on the board.
He really shouldn't be doing this, especially not now of all times. Not on his first visit to Vessel's apartment.
One half of II's mind tried to reason with him, insinuating that this would be something he'd regret as he'd inevitably read something that wasn't meant to be seen.
The other half of II's mind threw caution to the wind, it desperately wanted to follow the black cat that manifested as his curiosity. Consequences be damned, the satisfaction would always have him crawling back.
Fine. Maybe II could spare the time to read a few notes before he left, it wouldn't hurt anyone at the end of the day. At least he hoped it wouldn't hurt anyone.
II's eyes meticulously scanned over the pinned papers, speed reading through the majority of them as it'd been a learned skill from years of reading sheet music and having to interpret nonsensical emails into something eligible for whoever his manager was for a day.
He never thought any skills from working in an office would come in handy, but yet here he is...
Most of the papers are mundane in nature, consisting of grocery lists that were weeks old, to things Vessel planned to research, there were even a few chemical formulas written down for... Some odd reason. Vessel's an enigma at times.
One note makes II take pause, this one was written in hot-pink ink with cursive that was notably mindfully crafted compared to the rest. Vessel had taken his time on it, making sure that every detail was perfect before he put his pen down.
August 3rd reminder:
Buy II his favourite coffee (surprise?)
Bring an extra pair of drumsticks
Don't mention it.
The last word was written in purple ink, unlike the rest of the note the letters were scratched into the paper and seemingly frantic. II wasn't sure what "it" was, but he could infer that it was nothing positive. At least the rest of it had been sweet—a warm feeling settled in his chest with the knowledge that Vessel does think about him.
II let out an insightful hum as he looked for something else to read, he found it a moment after in the form of a letter that looked as if it had been scrapped. The ink this time was written in pitch-black, a contrast to the usual host of colours that Vessel loved to use.
August 29th:
When will it be my turn to love?
When will it be my turn to feel him?
When will it be my turn to hold him?
When will it be my turn?
The rest of the note had been torn away, almost as if there was another paragraph. II raised an eyebrow at the note, growing inquisitive but decidedly coming up with blanks as he tried to understand it.
As far as he's known, Vessel's never been one to date for long—he had an affinity with women, that much was clear. II has heard his friend discuss the topic of ideal partners a few times at this rate, and without failure Vessel would always mention women. Not a single utter of a man, thus there hadn't ever been space in his heart for II.
II will lie and say he understands, that it isn't a big deal and he doesn't mind it, but in truth knowing that he'd never have a chance with Vessel was something that had completely crushed his soul.
He'd been so in love with Vessel for months at that point, it seemed almost nonsensical that they wouldn't inevitably tangle into each other's bodies and end up as a couple. Unfortunately II found out that reality rarely ever resembles a cheesy Christmas movie, he had no chance with Vessel and never would.
It'd been devastating to him at the time, he'd been near inconsolable for weeks and it took a few more months before he could drag himself out of his depressive episode. Even now he still frowned and felt bitter whenever he was reminded that he can't be with Vessel—the feelings haven't fully faded, even if II desperately wanted them to.
With a reluctant noise, II pulled away from the corkboard and decided that the sensible half of his mind had been right earlier. He shouldn't have gone digging, he would've never felt the deep sense of yearning return to his ribcage, he wouldn't have felt the need to desperately cling to Vessel for a sense of salvation.
The longing—an ache that he couldn't ever hope to fill, no matter how many bodies he'd laid with, how many people he'd made laugh, nothing could ever fill the Vessel sized void in his heart. They were supposed to be matching puzzle pieces, two halves to the same problem.
II's teeth subconsciously ground against each other, anxiety making his already weary muscles taut. He needed to leave, if he didn't then he felt as if all of his tightly controlled emotions would come pouring past his lips at once.
He's never cared about coming off as abrasive or even foolish to strangers, they don't know him or his history to even begin judging him properly. But Vessel? The thought of making the wrong impression on him, souring his view of II was more than enough to have II constantly walking on eggshells around him.
II worked so hard to maintain an image of perfection around Vessel, that nothing ever bothered him and all of life's issues slid off of him like loose sand. He couldn't risk shattering that delicately maintained façade, they both had a level of professionalism to maintain in their relationship and breaking it could be catastrophic for them.
All their dreams of becoming something together—a proper band—it would be gone in the blink of an eye. II's certain of it.
Even as II took a few hesitant strides towards the front door, he still couldn't bring himself to leave so carelessly. Not without saying goodbye. Vessel deserves that at least, he deserved all the stars in the night sky but II couldn't give that to him.
In another world, II would've been cruel enough to depart without so much as a single word.
In another world, II would've never cared for Vessel as much as he does now.
In another world, they would've been together.
In this world, II decided to turn around, to take a deep inhale before setting his sights on the wooden staircase that led upstairs.
Upstairs, first door to the right.
II would say goodbye, that's all this would be. Nothing less, nothing more. He'd leave once it's said and done, head back to his apartment and compartmentalise all of his emotions into something more manageable like he usually did.
That's all this is—a goodbye between two friends.
Friends.
II despised the way that word settled like acid on his tongue.