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Te quiero

Chapter Text

"...Steak Rattlesteak fries. Only at Taco bell for a limited time."

These words were chimed at the camera low and alluring, as if it were telling you something it shouldn't; it was a lewd secret, kept between him and... the camera.

"Alright, Diego, that's a wrap. Good work today."

Diego Kageyama. A name known now by just about nobody- soon all would change. Diego was just starting to make it big; as big as Taco Bell commercials could make you, that is. The cameraman, Remus, who had strange blue curly hair that made his green pepper eyes pop through his pale skin, handed him a rag to wipe his sweat as well as some water. It smelled like chlorine; it smelt like Remus. He always reeked of chlorine.
"Remember, sex sells, but so does being family friendly. With your looks, you could definitely go either way." Remus gave Diego a weak half-smile. He wasn't flirting with him, he was just this open as he was right now to everyone else. Besides, a rose gold heart locket had always been slumped around Remus's neck, and Diego was sure that meant something, but he never wanted to ask.

"I'm not sure how that has anything to do with Taco Bell, but for the future, I'll keep that in mind." Diego let out a small chuckle as he wiped his face.

Acting, for most, is so much more than it appears to be. For Diego, all it is and all it has been was lying. A thick, warm layer of what the world wants him to be. He's done it his whole life, so how does doing it on his screen make it any different? He was a preformed actor; Diego was definitely not a novice to acting techniques.
Clearing up his space, he put his washed up white scarf over his dull pink coat. He gave an indifferent wave to Remus before heading out, and waved to a few extras giving a gritty smile.

Acting was a daily part of Diego's life.

For one, he acted like his life was simple by taking the bus to work. He did this to observe other people's daily actions- get an idea of the character he portrays; he's never Diego Kageyama. Nobody wants to be Diego Kageyama. Not even Diego Kageyama. A 15-minute bus ride can only be so long during the wintertime. Spring would come soon, but this weather was going to fight cold until it's eventual death.
Diego sighed. He could see his own breath. Today was different today. Diego wasn't taking his usual route home. His usual home was with... Well it was with his now ex-girlfriend, Tyla. Long story. It'd be better for another time. He arrived at Herring Heights, a small suburban area owned by a very rich and powerful man; Diego happened to be friends with his eldest son, Peter Herring.

"Friends" was a loose term. Peter, was in fact, an asshole. Even worse than Diego, probably. Not sure. We're gonna have to do a vote on that. Still, he had some human in him... Probably. Who knows. His father certainly raised him to be an ass. As he made his way to his friends less than humble house, he carefully looked down at his feet as he took a step on the thin, course stairs that made their way up. Two things went through Diego's mind: MAN, was this a death waiting to happen and boy, do the Herring's sure hate handicap people. Diego felt like he was walking up to meet the final boss of a video game or even the gates of heaven, which would be more surprising if he ever did climb the latter. He rang the doorbell, and its' chipper tune was less than fitting.

Peter's step-mom (rather to be, she was Peter's dad's fiance), Kitty (great woman), answered the door, her usual curly brown locks that reached to her elbows tied up in a clean and beautiful ponytail. She gave a smile. "Ah, Diego!" Her voice was chipper and had a sweet accent. "I am so happy you've come over. What brings you here today? I was just prepping dinner, please come in. Why don't you join us?" Diego bowed as he enter, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Thank you, but I don't think I'll be staying too long-" He stops to sniff the air. "It smells great though. I've actually come to see Peter, do you happen to know where he is?" Kitty's' eye's smile as she says, "Oh, well, he's hanging in Nova's garden." followed by a soft giggle.

Nova was Peter's younger half-brother. They both have the same father and have no blood relation to Kitty at all. Nova was very eccentric. Diego made sure to stay away from this kid.

He thanked Kitty for her help and headed outside. The Herring's backyard spread enough acres to probably put a few more houses, which a lot of it took up Nova's garden. It was like a maze constructed by a little kid; he didn't even hire a gardener to do it... How much free time could this kid possibly have?

The air tasted like rose petals; that's how Diego knew he was close by. Diego knew how much Peter loved rose petals. He once remembered when they were little how scarred Peter's hands would be playing with the roses. He would always ask him, "Why do you play with their thorns?" to which Peter would say, "I'm just playing with the roses." Oh but he knew. HE KNEW.

Diego was still roaming when suddenly the sound of somebody arrogant clearing their throat made their presence clear. "Ahem." Douchebag.

"Peter," Diego almost sounded a bit surprised at Peter who was sitting under a pure white gazebo, sipping tea while sitting at a fancy looking table.

Peter placed a hand on his lip, amused with the face Diego was making. Diego stared down at his fingers looking at his web piercing; that thing seriously freaked Diego out.

"Diego!" Peter laughed. "Your face- It's so beautiful yet so freaked out! The first isn't my personal opinion- just the media's'- Well, Taco Bell's media- I love it." He laughed some more. Degrading each other: one of their favorite things to do together. :)

"What? At least I don't live with my parents and little brother still." Diego scoffed, crossing his arms.

Peter scooched up out his chair and looked at Diego, getting closer. Another thing that weirded Diego out about Peter: He was always smiling; Diego knew it wasn't always genuine, but he also never knew when it wasn't. He just appeared to be happy. He even sounded happy.

"I don't have a little brother," Was all that he said. He sank his left hand into his dusty blond hair, and Diego wondered how his piercing never got caught. It was weird. He was weird. "What are you here for, anyways?" Peter asked.

"Well, I-" Diego was beginning to regret his last degrade. "Tyla broke up with me; she also kicked me out. I don't really have another place to go." He trembled a bit on his words. Peter hummed as he stroked his chin, then sat right back down and put his feet on the table. He knew what this meant; he knew Diego needed his help.

"You're so lucky to have me.~" He gave a condescending grin.

One day. One day Diego would be better than Peter. When that day came, it would be Diego sitting at that table. Diego making wagers. Diego in control. But for now...

"Alright, what do you want?"

"Oh, nothing."


This was new for Peter Herring. He liked to toy with people, usually, especially Diego. Diego was his friend kind of. Sort of. Peter didn't really have a strong bond with anyone. Peter was weird. Heck, the whole Herring family was weird. RICH people were weird. Diego couldn't wait for the day that he too, could be weird.

"Well, one thing. Since your famous girlfriend dumped you, you probably won't get any more gigs. Or nice things; like money and special treatment. I can't fathom losing such things." He looked down at Diego, playing with his nails. "That's why, I'm going to help you."

"So, you're going to be my new Tyla."

"What, you want to make out now?"

"Relax; I was just using her to get famous."

"Oh, Diego. You're the worst." Peter says this like it's a good thing, a little twinkle in his eye. He pulls out his disgustingly big wallet, which intrigues Diego. Peter carefully orchestrates a grand number in his checkbook; he pulls it out and hands it to Diego.

"Wow, this is..." Diego stopped to take a deep breath. He only dreamed of seeing this much money in his life. Now he was seeing it right in front of him.

"Pocket change? I know." Peter giggles. "Don't tell my father." He says this in an unusual serious diction, which makes Diego a little nervous.

Diego never met Peter's dad, though he knew that rich parent's were usually never good news. He also knew that Kitty was only twenty-years old; forty-years younger than Mr. Herring, three years older than Peter. This made Diego's head hurt.

"Wow, I uh- Thanks. I guess." Diego wasn't all that much of a polite person, or a good person in general. He was grateful, however, he just wasn't good at showing it at all.

"Don't thank me. Just come see me tomorrow. I'll have more for you." With that, He waved a little, and Peter noticed the most gorgeous rose petals pieces placed gently on Peter's collar. They didn't look like one's in Nova's garden; they a solemn shade of blue. It was the last thing Diego saw before he headed out.

It couldn't be...

No, it really couldn't.

Chapter Text

It was in the middle of the night when Peter woke up feeling bilious, he clutched his stomach as he bolted out his room to the end of the hall, barely missing the washroom, he almost didn't make it in time. He gawked and gagged after every cascade; he wanted to stop. He was keeping down this queasy feeling all day and it was finally attacking him at night.

"D...Disgusting," He cupped his hands over his eyes, dragging them down before turning on the sink and washing his face until he felt clean. He looked down and instead of seeing a vile discharge of dinner, he saw little buds of ingrown flowers; he took a whiff of the air. It smelt like spring. Peter felt even worse at the sight. He grabbed the baby of the group.


This kept happening. He looked down what he had disgorged. What direction was his mind going? His hands trembled as he was shaking with these feelings. He ate each and every one of them. It didn't matter if it was transparent, he'd dispose it until it was opaque. Trembling with these emotions, he'd rather sit and dream then go on with them, so he could feel better.


He nearly choked on the last bud. His biggest fear was that one day they'd start to bloom.

"You can't just get rid of your problems by ignoring them altogether." A dark voice said from the other side of the room. Nova was there, standing at the corner of the hall, holding a blue rose. It was almost ethereal.

"Is that..." Peter clutched his chest in disbelief. No, no, no...

"No." Nova looked down. "I painted it. It could be, maybe someday, if you do nothing about it. All you have to do is-"

"Nova," Peter coughed and Nova covered his mouth, a little repulsed. "It's not your concern. Why do you care?"

Nova plays with his bob length hair. "I don't want to see anything I've already seen before, but with somebody I know." He stops to clench his fist. "Even if it's someone who hates me so much... You're still my brother!" Nova quickly took off before Peter could see his face that was consumed with grief. All he could hear was the echoes of his footsteps and how they slowly faded out.


They both had hearts, and they both loved.


The air gleamed, a fresh scent of roses blooming in the air. Thankfully for Peter, it was just the smell of Nova's garden as he continued to perfect it; this was something Nova did everyday. Peter didn't take much notice though however, he hated Nova and ignored him unless spoken too. It wasn't Nova's fault that he was a living betrayal. The product of an affair; Their dad slept with another woman, and that woman was Nova's mother. Where was she now? Somewhere crying is likely; her child was taken from her and this was something only Peter knew. To Nova's knowledge, she was dead. She might as well be.

"Craving something you shouldn't?" A muffled voice spoke from the end of the hall. Nova probably left his TV on. He always had it on really loud because he had trouble paying attention, and although their rooms were at opposite ends of the 5th floor, he could still hear it clearly. As he laid in bed, however, his ears were covered with pillows. He knew that he was.

He remembered when he was young, and how he used to pick roses for a boy he liked. A boy he liked, a boy he shouldn't. Emotions deep in motion; feelings that were once just a silly childhood memory were flooding back up, dehydrated, they needed to be watered. They felt like blooming. It felt amazing, but at the same time it felt he was moribund.

Was this what unrequited love felt like?

He left his love with him along time ago; why did it come back?

"Peter." Nova crossed his arms. "Why are you in bed? It's 2 in the afternoon."

"Diego just came over. I gave him some money and now I'm going to take a nap."

"You can't do that. You have a dinner to rehearse, remember?" Nova swung his arm around the door, letting himself in Peter's room.

One thing about being the product of an affair that Nova enjoyed (and at the same time, he loathed) was that his existence to others was kept under the bridge; his family members paid other people like schools and other business to keep quiet about his relation to the Herring menage, in order to keep their pure and clean image. Of-course, all it was was just an image, nothing more. That was the only thing Nova had that Peter didn't. Peter had more, but that wasn't particularly a good thing.

He had to go to the dining hall. He had to be polite. He had to behave. He had to be good.

He didn't want to be. He didn't want to be he didn't want to be he didn't want to be he didn't want to be he didn't want-

"Diego?" Kitty chirped. "Just left, didn't he? He looked happy," She hummed at she set the table. Peter asked about him.

He took a deep breath, exhaling a soft sigh as he looked for his name tag, which was seated at his usual seat. To the right of his father, where he would show him off; Peter was a gift. A prized possession. His father's masterpiece. To the left is where Kitty would be; she would sit pretty and look down to her plate and be demure. She was a humble trophy taking her place next to her winner, her king.

Thomas L. Herring. A dangerous man.

The Becks showed up. They were rich, yet they were humble, unlike them. They had a young son, around Nova's age; he was allowed to go off and play with him. Like Nova, he had freedom. Peter wanted freedom.

The echoes of a commercial played off in Peter''s mind. "Craving something you shouldn't? Taco Bell, your temptress, has 100% beef in our steak rattlesteak fries are so good, even your snak-" The rest blurred into a strange fuzz of made up words. What the hell was Taco Bell? Peter had no idea. He took a sip of his tea and questioned it.

"Pinky down, Peter."

It was his father. This was something he did by reflex, pinky's out and contrary to the belief it is very rude to drink your tea like that. He inched his pinky away and continued sipping his tea. Ah, English breakfast.

"Right. I know."

"Good. Your head is up high, and your posture is perfect; I assume this dinner will also be." Peter's dad sniffs the air; it was lovely. Kitty truly outdid herself. She gave Thomas a weak smile and took her seat. She whispered to Peter, "You're doing good. I'm so proud of you."

The last words stuck onto him like an insect, and it ate him alive. Kitty was always the one who would deliver these blows, but Peter didn't get her at all. She barely knew him, she barely knew Nova, she was almost his age and yet she still acted like she was as twice as. Why couldn't his father be proud of him? Did he just expect him to be this way?


"I don't want to play dollhouse." Nova crossed his arms looking bored. Oliver sighed, looking around Nova's room. It was cute; white-pink walls with fairy drapes and pink, pink, pink, pink, pink. The color was everywhere. Nova was more emasculated than most boys his age and he couldn't care less. This was who he was.

Oliver was the Beck's boy. He got along very well with Nova, being his only friend, and he thought Nova's room looked too cute.

"Why not? You have a lot." Oliver giggled.

"Those are just gifts. Besides, we're 15. We can do something even better than that." Nova retorted, examining Oliver. Oliver wasn't exactly masculine either; he was a pretty boy who was sweet and a little bit of a crybaby. He was different than Nova. Nova wished he could be as open as Oliver sometimes without feeling so vunerable.

"Like what?"

"I don't know- What do you like to do?"

"Me?" Oliver thought about it for a moment. "I like to cook-"





And just like that, Nova pulled out fluroscent lights, setting them up as he dimmed the lights. He wrapped himself around Oliver, getting a piggy back ride to reach areas he couldn't. Nova was really short; he was only around 5 feet so he couldn't reach a lot of things.

"You know, you don't have to do all this just to dance with me." Oliver says as he put lights up.

Nova grabs the cord for them and plugs them in. "And why don't I? I don't get to see you a lot, so every moment should be nice."

Nova put his hand out, looking away; he was a tad bit embarrassed, but he did this himself. Oliver grabbed his hands and took the lead and they soon moved slowly. Oliver wasn't nervous although he looked a bit uncomfortable. Nova finally looked up to see the look on his face; priceless.

"We should put-"

"Yeah I was just thinking that, Nova. This is definitely weird to do without music." Oliver brought out his phone and shuffled through his songs until he felt he found the right one. "Oh!" He gets an excited look on his face. "Ah, um. I like this one, sorry. It's a little cheesy for your tastes, I know. Bear with me" He plays the song and it starts of with the sound of a soft piano.

They continued where they left off, taking it a bit slower than the song itself. The two got closer and merged cheek to cheek; Oliver noticed Nova was dying on his tippy-toes and he let out a light chuckle. Nova's face flushed and Oliver hunched down a little, fixing his cheek back so that it was touching Nova's peach skin.

"Better?" Oliver smiled.

Nova tilted his head to the side so that Oliver could see his full face; there was a smile so sweet and simple it could take Oliver off his feet. He playfully pushed Oliver, breaking their dance.

"Dancing in the moonlight? In the afternoon?" Nova covered his lips as he laughed, but Oliver could still see that it was curled into a smile.

Oliver realized he was staring at Nova and quickly adjusted himself; if Nova wasn't in front of him right now, he'd probably shake his head, but that'd just make him look crazy right now.

"I like the song!" He says and now they're dancing at a further distance, Nova's hand clasping Oliver's and Oliver's hand on Nova's hip. They executed impromptu whirls and twirls when it fit.


Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody's feeling warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight

We like our fun and we never fight
You can't dance and stay uptight
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancing in the moonlight

Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody's feeling warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight

We get in almost every night
And when that moon is big and bright
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight

Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody's feeling warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight

The Piano riff started again and Nova halted in the middle of a spin. "How long is this song?" It felt like he was spinning forever, but he didn't mind. He could sway in Oliver's arm's forever.

"Oh, this has been on repeat for a while now... I think. Sorry, I have my playlist automatically do that." Oliver grabbed his phone and he was about to pause it but Nova stopped him. "Let's just lie down; I'm tired." Nova said, followed by plopping himself down on the ground. Oliver joined him.

They looked up at the purple lights that were set up and it was like they were out at night staring at the stars.

"Hey..." Nova turned to face Oliver. "How come you never eat dinner with my family?"

Oliver gave a confused look. He shifted to face Nova. "I've always wanted to ask you the same thing. My parents let me hang out with you instead, but sometimes I'd like to just sit and talk with you, too. I also would love for you to meet my family!" Oliver grins and Nova plays with Oliver's hair; his hair and blonde and the tips are dyed and faded into a salmon pink hue.

The two edged closer together. "I'd like that, Oliv-" He felt his breath hit Oliver's face. "Sorry." Nova didn't know why, but his heart was beating to the sound of the song. Oliver bent his face down into his in slow motion, it was almost like a dream how hazy Nova's face blurred the closer they got, and soon they both disappeared into eachother's world. Nova felt his hot mouth over his, and just like the dance, Oliver took the lead.

After what felt like forever, they disbanded and held eachother in their arms. Everything was good.

It could only be like this for so long, however...

Chapter Text

"Aye, Taco Bell?" The voice of a local troublemaker giggled into the drive-thru speaker. Diego couldn't smell him from all the way over there, but he bet he smelled like weed because he sure did talk like he did. Diego gave himself a small pep talk, as if he were convincing himself this would be the day where he would not go feral on a fellow idiotic customer. It was people like this that made him want to shout out muffled curses in his Taco bell hat.

Despite his internal scream for help, these past few weeks went by pretty quick and Diego had not a lot to complain about besides this. He'd gone to Peter's home every other day collecting "gifts"; that doesn't mean he hasn't been making his own money. He had three part time jobs: two were at two different Taco Bells and the other was at Chipotle since their town only had one. Was the free food he got on his break worth it? The answer was "almost". This was the life for a starting actor, albeit a little over-dramatized.

"What would you like to order?" Diego nearly chokes on his words as he forces an enthusiastic tune.

It was almost as if he was sharing his 5-paragraph essay on "Why The Emoji Movie Was Terrible" with an intricate analysis because his order took FOREVER. Diego had just about destroyed the keypad inputting everything. It was worse when the guy who was ordering kept changing his mind every few minutes and had to start all over again. Since when did Taco Bell start serving crackheads? Too soon, Diego thought quietly to himself.

"andshreddedchickenquesaritocombowellwaitmaybelet'snotmakeitacomblsocanIgetapowerburritoi'msortofwatchingmyfigurealsoIneedFIVEtwelvetacopacksthey'renotjustformebythewayIfyouwerewonderingwaitholdonletmeaskmyboyfriendhowmanyweneedokayhesaidthatwe'reprobablygoingtonneedtenohshitweforgottoorderdrinksohwellanywayscanIgetonesmallmountaindew?" He spoke with such a sloppy diction.

"Alright is everything on the screen appear to be correct?"

The man kneels forward from his car window.

"I don't know... I'm dyslexic."

Diego turns off his headset to groan.

"Kidding, kidding! I am, but, ah. Geez. This is a lot of stuff." He talks to another person in his car but Diego could hear most of what he was saying through the mic. "Are you sure you want to cover this? I mean, I know you could... That doesn't matter! ... Okay, okay. I'll pay you back... No, not in money, maybe something else... Woah! Okay! I didn't say that but now you're just assuming things... I mean if you wan-"

"Sir, please." Diego gave attention to his presence. "I'm begging you. Go to the window and pay your total."

He stops talking, as if embarrassed. Diego can't tell what he is, but he feels this man is crazy. "Ah, right! Sorry, I forgot you were here for a second. Okay... I'm... Pulling up now~" He says this as if it's normal to narrate this. This was only Diego's first first hour on the night shift and he already wanted to go home. Or at least go on his lunch break. Something. ANYTHING.

Diego expects to see is a shady looking, beach bum who probably still lives with his mom; he's a little surprised (and somewhat amused) to see a man his age pull up with a sweet silver Porsche, his wrist hanging out the car window, and on his wrist was a submariner Rolex. His hair was deep black but at the tips they were dyed navy and he wore a yellow color-block hoodie that looked too childish to coordinate his expensive wear. He looked like a child living the millionares dream.

"Ah, 70... 80... 90... Alright! That's Two hundred Nintety dollars! Keep the change." He hands him the money with a sleazy grin on his face.

Diego sighs. "Your total is two-hundred ninety-seven."

Rich emo laughs yet again, handing him the extra change. He then studies Diego's face, almost as if he were thinking for the first time. Diego couldn't tell if he was checking him out, but he did have a flirty cat-like look in his eye.

"Hey, I know you. You're the guy from the commercial!"

Diego's eyes light up and he feels his cheeks get hot, a little embarrassed. Wow, someone actually recognized him? This was a first.

"Diego, right? Taco Bell spokesman? Uprising actor-slash-model?"

Uprising WHAT? This was too good to be true.

"Yeah, haha. That's me."

He continued gloating to this guy in the drive-thru about his big break in his "career" until his co-worker, Josh, the only other guy working the night-shift with him handed him ten bags a little clumsily; Diego only wished he did it slower.

The man scavenged through each bag. "It's all perfect. By the way, I'm Monch." Monch... Munch munch munch. His pseudonym made Diego's stomach grumble. He was hungry. He gives the bags to a solemn looking man seated shotgun.

"Monch... It's nice to meet you."

"Yeah... I've gotta go though. Shame! His pitch got lower as if he had to keep quiet. "We'll see you soon though, don't worry much~" He giggled and it sent a sharp jab down Diego's spine; chills. LITERAL CHILLS. What had he meant by that? Before Diego could press any further, he sped off fading into the night...

We'll? As in him and whoever was in his car? He was either going to get killed by these guys or BETTER, maybe he was rich and loaded and he could jump on his heap of fortune and take over. Then maybe instead of taking from Peter, they could work together. Together until, until...

Josh interrupted train of thought. "Sorry... H-Hey, um. There's a line of angry customers. I know you need to working on your acting... I'm not really good with all these guys yelling at me. Want to take over while I prep the food?"

Night-shift went through like a sinking ship.


Peter pulled open the newspaper and began reading about current events, sipping on elderberry tea while watching Nova tend to his garden from his window. His father always wanted him to make sure that that problem stayed out of trouble, the problem being his half-brother. As he paid close attention, he read the newspaper carefully. He never knew when something would be brought up at a dinner party and it was important to his father that he stay on top of current events. He just didn't know why. None of this stuff mattered to Peter, but on the outside, he tried to look enthused. That was easy, usually, however, today's headline sent a sharp pain down his stomach.

Hundreds Missing Young Adults Died From Newly Discovered "Hanahaki" Disease, Reports say

He felt a lump deep in his throat and he took sip of his tea as he started to list off the symptoms describing the victims. Everything all made sense. Coughing up flower petals, jabbing pains, emotional suffering from one-sided or un-confessed love... He had to run the last one by him again multiple times and each time he shook his head. There was no way he was in love. How could love cause this great of pain; was it because it happened to be one-sided? No. It didn't have to be here. It was something else. Something in the water. Someone in his sight? Not a chance.

Reading more it seemed like there were people going so far as to meddle with the victims, stealing the flowers that were in once full bloom. Why would someone take something that was born from such great pain? Something so personal deserved to be left with the victims. But still, it weirded Peter out that people were doing this in the first place.

Diego peered from the side of the room; he was dressed in a fuzzy cashmere sweater so soft and cute it put puppies to shame. Peter wanted to bang shit on his head in order to drop these thoughts from his head but of course they kept coming. He played it cool, giving him a usual interested smile. "Hey." Peter greeted softly.

"Kitty let me in," He explained, putting his sleeve over his chest. He let out a big yawn. "Sorry, I just got off of work... I'm a little tired. I have a new commercial this weekend though. I'm a little happy about that." Diego pulls a chair next to him instead of across from him and it makes Peter shift in his seat a little uncomfortably. Diego looked just about ready to pass out, as his head stirs from the right. He looks up at Peter. "Hey," He grabs him by the chin. "Are you sick?"

"N-no," He involuntarily stammers and curses himself for doing so.

Diego smirks. "Oh, because I was about to say... You look like shit. Utter, unbelievable, repulsed shit. Is it from all that tea you drink and the fact that you live on fiber one bars?"

"I never ate fiber one bars because I don't eat poor people food." Peter laughs but he stifles any more as he covers his mouth. Diego gets up and looks at Peter worriedly. His face was pale and skin was grey. He was etching a garden in his throat and it was ready to bloom, grow out.

No, no, no. Not now. Not in front of Diego. He looks at him and he looks scared but at the same time a little concerned. Was it for him? Or for his own safety?

He doesn't know; it's hard to tell. Diego's always been a little selfish, which gave Peter a feeling of inadequecy. It wasn't his fault. He's always wanted more from this relationship. This weird estranged friendship where they both cared yet hated each other for a long time. He remembered when they first met, the promise they made.

Peter fell to the floor, passed out. "P-Peter?" Diego crept up to him, kneeling over him he shook him gently, though he was a bit freaked out by the whole display. "Peter! Stop it, man!"

Nova continues perfecting the bushes in his garden even as the sun started to go down; he trims them until they're deemed perfect, even if it takes him all day. He tied his hair up, dressed up in a white peter pan collar shirt and brown shorts. He wore an apron around his neck that draped below his knees.

In the background he hears his older brother's friend(were they like that?)Diego's shrieks to which Nova takes a calm deep breathe to. He never really liked that guy, although he did find him a little attractive. Looks weren't everything to him, though. Although Nova was high up about fashion, he wanted someone kind. Someone who actually knew what to do with their emotions, unlike Diego who was a narcissistic mess. Someone like...

"O-Oliver!" He nearly dropped his gardening tools, surprised. "What are you- Why are you here?"

Nova turned around to see Oliver in a tired state. The last time Nova saw Oliver, they were dancing and he was wearing a classic black tux, while Nova was just hanging around in his pajamas. It was probably the closest they had ever gotten. He clutched his chest and felt his face heat up just remembering that night.

"Don't worry. I told my parents that I was coming " Oliver smiled, his teeth were brighter than the sun that was setting over them. Nova let his hair down and dropped his gardening tools.

"I like seeing you... B-But I wasn't quite done here. Not that it matters." Nova fiddled with his apron a little embarrassed. He walks over to Oliver to get a little closer. Oliver pulls him into a hug and shifts his eyes around the garden that surrounded him. Nova's creation. It was a maze of roses, each level a different color. It was art.

"Nova... You did all this?"

"Y-Yeah," He stuttered nervously. "It's what they would've wanted."


Monch sat in his home excitedly, pacing back in forth; he couldn't even sit down for a second. His home was a mess and compared to the car he was driving, it would've been nicer to live in his car. Only it wasn't really his card, it was his friends. He was not the man of wealth he appeared to be.

"Keir, Keir!" Monch nearly loses it, eating his power burrito.

Keir, an upset looking boy, boinks Monch on the head looking agitated. "Sorry, but you were being annoying."

Monch cries as he holds a random candid. "But KEIR! I found our guy! I found our guy. You promised!"

Keir grumbles quietly. He creaks the corner of his face to form a bandit-esque smile.

"There's that smile. Gotta love that smile. You know, if you smiled more-"

Keir looked about ready to bash Monch's head again, and Monch backed up. "Okay, okay, I'll stop talking. But what do we do now?"

Keir places his hands over Monch's shoulder. "I don't know." He says this with a stern look on his face.

"How can you say something SO lame while looking SO cool?" Monch whined as he draped his arm around him. "Nothing to do except wait for further instructions, I guess~" He waves the candid in the air. "His boyfriend looks cute, though. It's a shame."

Keir rolls his eyes. "They're not dating, otherwise how would any of this happen?"

"Oh yeah, I'm dumb."

"Yeah, you're dumb. But it's okay."