Chapter Text
Ant is glued to his TV, controller in hand, when his phone buzzes somewhere behind him.
Feeling around blindly, he locates the buzzing, distracting device on the bed and grabs it, eyes not leaving the TV screen. It takes him a minute or two to exit whatever hyper-focused state he'd entered and finally look down at his phone.
And then he kind of wishes he hadn't.
The text reads, “u up?”, all lowercase. The contact name is a spider web. Ant almost throws his phone across the fucking room.
He's not angry, not really; just frustrated. Maybe a little hurt. And it's weird, it's cooked, because he's Ant and he's not supposed to get hurt, not supposed to actually care about anything, but he cares about Spider. Has always cared about Spider. Their friendship has been his one safe space for years. And being ditched for months, only to get a midnight text the second Spider's broken up with Missy, doesn't feel great.
“im not some common whore eh” is his reply, and he's typing it a little too hard, a little too angry. But he knows Spider will just read it as aloof, detached, tired, maybe high. Dumb, probably. And that's what Ant wants, anyway, right? That's what he's aiming for. Whatever feelings he's got all of a sudden, whatever thoughts he's unexpectedly having, no one needs to know.
Even though his and Harper's relationship fizzled out quickly enough, Ant was happy for Spider when things worked out with Missy. He was fucking thrilled; no one in this world has ever been as big a supporter of anything as Ant was of Spider. He'd truly thought, since they met in their very first year of primary school, that Spider was the most brilliant person on the planet. His best friend. His other half.
Not that he'd ever say that shit out loud. It was too emotional, too honest, for Spider to ever take well. But he's always known it, and he kind of thought Spider did too. He kind of thought they were soulmates, and they were in it together for life, regardless of anything, or anyone, else.
And then Spider got with Missy, and Ant was happy, he was, but he couldn't help feeling like he was ditched. Sidelined. Completely and utterly forgotten. Spider was obsessed, and maybe it was healthy, maybe it wasn't, that's not for Ant to say, but - but he hated that it meant his own relationship with Spider was basically erased from reality. Gone, like it had never even existed.
He's had no one to play video games with, no one to throw an arm around in the school hallways or lean against at the table in the canteen. No one to smoke or get drunk with at a moment's notice, no permanent carpool buddy, no one attached to his side, his person, no matter the circumstances. He's had nowhere to go when being at his parents' house got too much.
Because Spider had been all of that, and this new version of Spider was always with Missy.
Ant doesn't want to hate it, or her, and he doesn't, not really. Missy is great, and he can't hate anything that makes Spider that happy. But it's sucked, for him. He can acknowledge that. It's sucked that there was no constant presence at his side anymore, that there wasn't a person he knew he could always count on, someone who thought of him as their first priority. It's sucked that he was stuck at his house, with his parents and their strict rules and their harsh words, and he couldn't go to Spider's and crash there and find some semblance of solace in his stupid arms, because his stupid arms were too busy holding Missy.
But he's not mad. He doesn't think he has it in him to really be mad. He does, however, think that Spider's kind of an asshole.
Like the mere word conjured him, Ant's phone buzzes again with a reply from said asshole, pulling him out of his thoughts.
“did i say u were?”
And then:
"im coming over”
No question mark. No question asked at all, really. Just Spider barging in the door like Spider does. Did. Hasn't done in a long time. And Ant is expected to just take it. Is expected to be free and available and ready for him at any and all times.
And a year ago, he would've. Would've loved it, even. But this is not the same Spider he used to know, not to him. And he thinks maybe that makes him not the same Ant, either. They've always been connected like that.
Ant puts on a hoodie and sneaks out of the house as quietly as he can, steering clear of stairs three and eight. They creak. The amount of practice he has might be considered concerning, but he thinks of it a skill, which he knows he doesn't have that many of. So he takes the win, and closes the front door softly behind him.
He waits for Spider on the curb, sees his brows furrow when his car's headlights illuminate Ant. Spider slows down and Ant doesn't wait, doesn't hesitate. He just gets in the car.
Spider is staring at him, jaw slack, mouth hanging open. Ant turns to him. It's the closest they've been in months.
“I thought -“
“Just drive, man.”
Ant knows what he thought. He thought he'd climb in through his bedroom window and into his bed, sprawl out like some kind of giant cat and rant his little heart out. He thought Ant would love it, just like he always used to, would curl up into Spider's side and be warm and soft and kind.
He doesn't feel like being kind. That's new, and maybe a bit worrying. Ant finds that he doesn't particularly care.
When Spider continues to sit there and stare at him, he huffs, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Come on, dude, just drive. Go. Anywhere.”
Finally, Spider turns away from Ant, wordless, silent. Everything feels heavy when he turns the steering wheel and the car begins to move.
They end up near the beach, opting to stay inside the parked car rather than face the chill and wind outside. Spider shifts his body towards Ant. Ant mirrors him. He thinks that's all he knew how to do, at one point. But he’s different now. Bigger. Certainly not better, though.
“You alright, mate?” Spider asks, and there's something hesitant about it, his voice, his posture, all just a little off, like he's approaching a wild animal.
“Fine. So, what is this for?”
Ant knows he's not himself, or at least not the self Spider was expecting, the self that fits him like a puzzle piece. He knows he must be shocked by his behavior. Knows there's no way he could possibly understand a shift this monumental when they've barely spoken in months.
Spider swallows. “What do you mean?” There's hurt in his eyes and it adds insult to injury. Ant has never really known anger, but he feels like maybe he's learning. How dare Spider sit there and look at him with that blue gaze, betrayed and miserable, like Ant is the one hurting him?
Deep down, he hates himself. He's never wanted to hurt Spider, and he still doesn't, even now. The emotions rage in his chest regardless, a storm trapped in the cage of his ribs. He doesn't know any other way to let it out.
Ant can't find it in him to explain the obvious, that they haven't done this in long enough that it warrants the question, and the silence stretches between them, their eyes locked and unyielding. Spider tries again with another question. “Why are you acting so weird?”
That does it.
“Oh. I'm acting weird?”
The sight of Spider recoiling from him, confused and unsure, gives Ant a stomach ache. He feels nauseous and guilty and gutted. But he's also pissed. Fuck this. He's been feeling confused and unsure about their friendship for a while now. He's had his safe space taken, his person gone from his side like a chunk of flesh dug out from his body. Spider can endure a few minutes of that same feeling, if only to make things even.
“What's that supposed to mean?” He sounds almost fearful, like the existence of an unfamiliar version of Ant has the ground giving out under him. Good. Ant has been groundless for months.
“I don’t know, man.” He replies, bitter. “You're the one who ghosted me for like a year.”
“I didn't…” Spider tries. Ant shakes his head, and he trails off, maybe finally realizing what he's done. Finally realizing that this foreign, new Ant is of his creation. He rubs a hand over his face and says, “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Ant says, and he hates this. He wants to lean close to Spider, wants to attach himself to his side like he always used to, wants to be part of a whole again. He's a fucking mess of emotions, frustrated and hurt and angry and sad and a little bit in love. He's missed this dickhead so much, and he can't find himself in the space beside him that always used to feel like home. He's untethered, in a way he's never been around Spider. All he wants is to draw close and find balance again. He doesn't think he has it in him to try.
“Ant,” when Spider finally speaks it's his name that slips out of his mouth, voice thick and pleading, and the world tilts on its axis. A large hand cradles the back of Ant's neck, pulls on the curls at the nape, forcing him to meet those blue, blue eyes. The touch is a shock of electricity, a pang of warmth. “Ant, I'm so sorry.”
Ant looks at him and swallows audibly. He opens his mouth, once, twice. Can't find the words anywhere. Closes it back again.
“I'm so fucking sorry,” Spider repeats. “I didn't mean to, I didn't notice. I fucked up.” His eyes shimmer in the dim light of the car, and Ant wonders if he's going to cry, and if it's his fault.
“I…” Ant is still looking for an answer, something, anything. Spider continues holding him by the back of his neck, waiting. His patience tugs on something deep in Ant's chest; he's always been the one person who didn't find Ant slow - or, at least, the one person who didn't mind. The words scratch at his throat when he finally manages to push them out, muttered and barely intelligible. “I've just kinda been alone, that's all.”
Before he knows what's happening, he's pulled into a tight embrace. He thinks it's the tightest Spider's ever held him, maybe ever held anyone, and Ant's feelings are still all over the place, but he would never turn that down. He hugs back, burying his head in the crook of Spider's neck. Neither of them says anything for a long time, and they'd never admit to anything out loud, but when they pull back, both of their faces are wet with tears. There's a wet patch next to Spider's collar that he doesn't even seem to notice.
“So you and Missy…?” Ant asks finally, voice small. Spider shakes his head, clears his throat.
“It's done.”
“I'm sorry, man.”
“Don't be,” he replies. His fingers are still in Ant's hair, and God, they've been dearly missed. “I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have ghosted you like that, doesn't matter if I've got a girlfriend or not.”
Ant wants to be comforting, but it still stings, and all he manages is, “Yeah.”
“You've never been alone, Ant.” Spider says, and it's emotional, vulnerable, terribly uncharacteristic. Missy really did a number on him. “I'm sorry I made you feel like you were. You've got me, just like always. I'll never fuck it up again.”
“That's a big promise to make,” Ant says hoarsely, cracking a crooked grin. The effect it has on Spider is undeniable. He blooms before the sight of Ant's smile like a flower under the sun.
“I mean it,” Spider insists. His hand moves to grab Ant by his chin, fingertips pressed to his skin so tightly it could bruise. His eyes bore into Ant's when he says, “I'm not going anywhere.”
Ant, still hurt and scared, wants desperately to believe him. And Spider seems different, so he does.
Maybe they've both changed. Maybe for the better. They'll find out, Ant guesses. He just hopes they do it together.