Work Text:
The idea of moving is Lyle's.
After the murders, Erik just moves in with Lyke at the guest house. They have the most peaceful Christmas of their lives, just snuggling together on the sofa with good food and bad movies and taking lots of naps (same thing on New Year's Eve), and after that, they feel recharged enough to move on.
They sell the house at the beginning of the spring and drive all the way back east since Lyle is focused on getting back to school.
The new house is thankfully nothing like the previous one, and Erik feels so grateful for the change of ambiance, for not having to deal with those more persistent ghosts of guilt that clang to his every step back at Beverly Hills. Their new place is crispy, ventilated, and still smells like plaster and paint. It’s a blank page that promises new beginnings.
It’s close, a walking distance of Princeton, and Lyle insists on showing Erik all his favorite spots on day one, before they even unpack. They have lunch at an Italian canteen Lyle says is his favorite, and then go to campus so he can show Erik around.
There’s so much green space, all the different buildings, with unique architecture; Lyle shows him the one where he goes to classes, his table at the cafeteria, his favorite corner of the library. It’s huge and smells like old paper, ink, and wisdom, and Erik suddenly feels like reading every single book here. An impossible task especially because he’s not a student. Yet.
They're on their way to the front gate, discussing dinner options when while crossing the emerald green front lawn they hear a squeal,
"Lyle?!?" a skinny blond girl runs to them and throws herself in his brother's arms and Erik immediately tenses.
"I can't believe you're back! How was your sabbatical?"
"Wild," Lyle responds, and Erik has to fight the urge to roll his eyes, if she only knew .
"I heard about your parents, I'm so sorry, boo," wtf , Erik frowns. Is she his girlfriend from around here?
"Let's not talk about them," Lyle gently guides her out of the subject and it's always amazing watching his people's skills in action.
"So now I'm a year forwardd, almost as smart as yoou," she chirps, and speaks kinda singing and it's weird.
"Hm, you'll probably have to tutor me, then," Lyle winks and Erik wants to vomit.
"Hey, is that your baby bro?" oh god , Erik just gives her a tight smile and Lyle doesn't correct her as Erik would like him to, considering he's the only one allowed to call him that.
"What a cutie pie," the girl has the audacity to boop his nose, and Erik looks at Lyle in shock only to receive a shake of head and Lyle's usual ‘ just calm down’ face. "We have to introduce him to the guys! Paul is throwing you a welcome-back party as soon as he knows you're here!" She squeaks and claps and Erik wants to go home. To run home.
"How's him?" oh-my-god, seriously??
"In desperate need of your company," ok, if they're engaging in more conversation, Erik will walk home on his own.
"It was nice meeting you," he chooses politeness over truth, and turns to the gates again, not bothering to look if Lyle's coming along.
It's windy now, and he's shivering all over; luckily their place is only three blocks walking. He's not even 10 steps away from Lyle and he hears him running to catch up. He smiles softly to himself. It's like they both have a magnet pulling them together, they can't stay apart for too long. A warmth suddenly surrounds him, along with the smell he can only identify as Lyle's: the expensive signature perfume he has used since he was fifteen, soft leather and sweat, his very own smell, one that makes Erik want to sink into, embrace, and be consumed by. He throws a grateful look in Lyle's direction and wraps the jacket closer to his body.
"That was Tia," he says uselessly, 'cause Erik doesn't care. "We had all the classes together."
"Fun," Erik doesn't hide the bored tone in his monosyllabic response.
"I told her you're coming to the party,"
"You shouldn't lie to her, she seems like a nice girl," more lies.
"You are going,"
"Nuh-uh."
"Erik!," Lyle's exasperated voice doesn't make Erik give in. Not even a little bit, he’s too used to his brother’s tantrums. "I really want you to meet them,"
Eriks gruffs, and doesn't entertain him with a response. The rest of the way back passes in silence, a conformable one. The whole afternoon actually has him thinking hard about how their new routine is going to be.
As comfortable and nice as the new place is, Erik doesn't fancy staying alone there all day while Lyle has classes. He still has some of his modeling photos in the bottom of one of his suitcases so maybe he can send it around, find some gigs. Lyle doesn't know about that and for some reason, he rather keep things like that.
But he would be lying if he said visiting Princeton hadn't woken something deep inside him. He's interested but still hesitates to bring up with Lyle. They spend the rest of the afternoon and long into the night unpacking, and by the time they're going to bed, Lyle comes to his room. Erik's in bed already, with a book and eyes heavy with sleep when he hears a knock on the door. Lyle doesn't wait for him to answer, never needed to, so he enters and comes to sit on the edge of Erik's bed.
"Hey, you okay?" Lyle murmurs, hand landing on Erik's hair, his fingers moving in a caress. "You've been quiet,"
"Just thinking," Erik drops the book on his nightstand and sinks into the pillows, body curling closer to Lyle's.
"About what?" Lyle keeps the caress and Erik gets so relaxed the words slide out of his lips effortlessly,
"About Princeton. About maybe applying," Lyle's hand stops for just a second before continuing, but it's a second enough for Erik to notice.
"You got the grades, the GPA, and tennis, you're already in," there's a pause. "What are you thinking about studying?"
"Something theater-related. Do they have that there?"
"Yeah, lots of stuff," Lyle is weirdly tense and Erik believes he knows why.
Princeton was his space first and he probably wants to keep this something that's his, it's an individuality thing. Erik can understand that, he’s not trying to take that away.
"Look, I promise I won't be clingy or follow you around or embarrass you, okay? I'll be in my place, you won't even notice I'm there. People don't even have to know we're related."
Lyle chuckles softly, "People already know, they all have televisions,"
"Right, " Erik chuckles too.
"And you know I want you with me, always," that makes a lump form in Erik's throat. He does know, but it's always nice to hear it. "All the time. Including at parties,"
"Noo," Erik complains, burning his face on the pillow.
"Yes," Lyle says flatly. "Tomorrow night."
"'m not coming " Erik tries, knowing it's useless,
"You are. Com'on, E. It's our welcome party."
" Your welcome party," Erik insists.
"It's for both of us."
"It's not. They won't even notice if I'm not there,"
"I will," says Lyle firmly. "I want--need you there with me, okay?."
And just like this, the discussion is over.
🍃 🍃 🍃
There are way more people there than just Lyle's friends. His circle, Erik finds out, is small and closed, but they’re still all open arms for 'Lyle's baby bro'. He hates the instant label, but knows he can't show it or it'll get worse.
This is Tia's work, she introduced him like that to all the others. She's one of the two girls in the group, and it's almost funny because they're perfect opposites but also complementary like two sides of the same dime. Despite the skinny frame, she definitely stepped in as the leader of the group while Lyle was gone, her huge blue eyes always have this dangerous glint, like she knows everyone's secrets. Erik had already been uncomfortable around her the first time, but now, seeing how she's manipulative and is always trying to monopolize Lyle's attention, he wants double distance from her.
She has Letty to counterbalance her, a quiet, mysterious brown skin tall girl that looks and moves like a model. She's gorgeous, has long dark lashes, and a way to keep Lyle on his toes - the kinda shit Erik knows that keeps his brother interested.
Erik's jealous, he knows, even if it pains him to admit it since he has, objectively, no reason to be. But looking at the three of them interacting twists something in his stomach.
They're both painfully obviously in love with him and little do they know Lyle will never make a choice. Eventually, they will fight over him, not that Erik gives a shit, he just feels bad about a broken friendship over a potential boyfriend. It's stupid.
Or maybe they'll agree to share him and the three of them will develop a weird three-way relationship and move in together. The idea is horrifying and makes Erik sick.
The rest of the group, three guys that are hovering him on the sofa, mistake his staring for something else:
"They're hot, huh?" one of them, Mike, if Erik's not mistaken, says, and the taller one, the owner of the mansion where the party is happening and the closest to his brother, complements:
"They're all over Lyle but I'm sure one of them will fall for you in a moment," he takes a long drag of the joint in his hand, eyeing Erik openly, "You're pretty cute yourself."
Erik's cheeks burn, the others laugh, and he's hating all this attention.
"Oh, he's blushhiiinng!!" The other guy, an Asian one Erik didn't bother to learn the name, punches his arm, "Maybe he got a thing for you, Paul!"
That couldn't be farthest from the truth, but Paul raises his eyebrows, considering.
"You do?"
"No," Erik finds his hard tone, one he rarely uses.
"But you do have a thing for guys in general?"
Erik blushes again before he can open his mouth to answer and that's enough of an answer for them, they all scream cheers and slap his back, overexcited perhaps due to all the white lines they did just before the party began.
"What about me, am I hot??" The Asian guy raises to his feet and poses in front of him, half opening his shirt, and Erik has to force himself not to look away because he can't, can't be pinned as the shy one. Even if he fears he already has.
"Shut up, Ryan!" that's the name then, "You can't go around asking people if you're hot!" Mike pushes him,
"Why not!? If he's into guys he can judge!"
"Don't worry about them," Paul sits up closer and throws one of his massive arms over Erik's shoulders, making him instinctively shrink into himself, the trauma response fast. Paul offers him the joint, "We don't judge here, chill,"
Erik finds the smile predatory but accepts the joint so he doesn't stick out even more, and after a long drag, he feels his muscles starting to unclench.
"Lyle's gonna be pissed if you hit on his baby broo," Ryan sings to them,
"He's right, I will," Lyle's standing in front of them then, a girl on each arm and Erik hates that image.
"You seem pretty busy," Paul takes the joint back, "Besides, the guy likes dudes, what can we do, we're just so hot, right?" Ryan and Mike laugh with Paul but Lyle's eyes fall on Erik's, heavy and charged with disbelief.
Erik can't help it, he's blushing again, the smoke tickling his throat making him cough and look away. Regardless, Lyle reaches for him and grabs him by the front of his shirt, pulling him up forcefully,
"Can I talk to you for a minute," it isn't really a request, and Erik lets Lyle push him away from the group under the loud teasing.
Lyle pushes him inside the first empty room they come across, slamming the door behind them and pushing Erik back into a wall, coming so close that their chests almost touch.
"What the fuck, dude?" Erik shrinks again, this time waiting for a blow or something. "You told them this before telling me?"
Erik blinks and then finds Lyle's eyes again, and they're sad.
"I didn't tell them," Erik says, quietly, "They... Were joking and I, I don't know, couldn't deny fast enough and they just..."
"But you do? Like guys?"
"Not... Really, but I also don't know if... I mean I'm not.... I don't know," he gives up with a sigh. He wishes he could explain it better, but he doesn't need to, Lyle can read him like an open book. Always could. His expression softens.
"Oh," Lyle says and then chuckles, "Oh, this explains so much,"
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Well, Tia's gonna be disappointed," Lyle says conversationally this time Erik does blush.
"What are you talking about," Erik frowns.
"She and Letty were trying to talk me into a foursome with you," Lyles shrugs but Erik doesn't notice because he's having what feels like a mini-stroke. Like, what. The actual. Fuck. "I said I'd have to check with you, first and-,"
"You were considering?" If Erik could, he'd take a step back away from Lyle because his heart's beating so fast so hard he's afraid that from that close his brother can hear it. Or worse, feel it.
"Yeah, if you were into it, sure," he shrugs again and Erik can't stop picturing it; how would it be to be in the same room, in the same bed as his brother while he fucked someone? The sounds he would make, the way he would move, what would happen if their eyes locked-- No. If he looked at Lyle in such a moment, he would know. One look would be more than enough for him to guess what was really going on in Erik's mind. And that would change them forever. Which can’t happen.
"No," Erik whispers, still lost inside his own mind, so when Lyle touches his neck he almost jumps out of his skin.
"I know, calm down," Lyle's thumb caresses his skin softly in small circles that would be comforting if Erik's not suddenly aware that with his hand there, Lyle is definitely feeling his rapid pulse. "I wouldn't make you uncomfortable. But I also don't want you to feel you can't tell me stuff, okay?" Lyle gets closer and pecks Erik's lips and he has to fight with everything he has not to kiss back with the intensity he really wants. Instead, he melts against the wall behind him, sure that if Lyle comes any closer, he'll be nothing but a puddle. "I love you no matter what. You can tell me anything."
Anything but that.
"Okay," Erik rasps, but his heart doesn't decelerate.
Lyle smiles and finally pulls away and Erik can breathe again. He lets his brother pull him out of the room and back into the party, and from then on accepts all the drinks that land in his hands. Anything to muffle the noise in his head, the vivid images that his mind keeps conjuring that now don't include either of the girls.
🍃 🍃 🍃
Enrollment is easier than expected; all Erik needs is his grades, GPA, and two letters, one from his previous tennis coach and one from their lawyer; this last one includes a fat donation check. He gets in to start his classes immediately since he's already two weeks late for spring classes. After that they fall into a comfortable routine; classes all morning, some extras in the afternoon, either that or they hit the gym together, when it’s time they walk back home and then eat dinner, and crowd one of their rooms to study together in a comfortable silence until late hours when they go to sleep in their respective rooms. Occasionally. More often than not, they end up sleeping in the same bed, tangled in a mess of limbs, sheets, and books.
Weekends are difficult for Erik though. Lyle is always out hanging with his friends, and though they always insist for him to come he's never really in the mood to watch Lyle shamelessly flirting with the girls all the time. He's both glad and lucky that most parties don't move to their place because then it's harder to sneak off. So he busies himself every Saturday with tennis, the pool, more studying or reading.
He's at the library one morning when he comes across a poster about the school's psychology program for the students. He immediately books Saturday mornings. There are quite a few names for him to choose, each listed by their methodology, but as he doesn't know the difference he ends up picking the last name he likes the best: Berry.
The next Saturday morning he ignores Lyle’s protests and goes to the Psychological Studies building, where he’s warmly welcomed by this girl; too young, must be student, and she guides him to an office that’s like the study rooms of any other building with antiques, old furniture, and tall windows, only smaller.
He’s immediately comfortable. She offers him coffee or tea, which he declines; he's too nervous and will end up drinking a lot, and he doesn't want to have to go pee in the middle of the session. When she leaves, telling him the doctor will be with him shortly, he struggles a little to decide if he should sit or not and where, and before he can decide a man enters the room.
The doctor is as tall as him, not too young to seem like a fresh graduate nor too old to not understand his young struggles. He’s just a guy with a gentle smile and soft eyes behind the round glasses.
“I’m doctor Berry,” he says, offering a hand, “but you can call me Henry.”
“I think I’ll just call you doctor,” Erik takes the hand firmly. “I’m Erik. Erik Menendez.”
“Why don’t you take a seat?”
Erik hesitates a little more and decides for the small couch com the corner as Henry sits in a chair opposite to him.
“So,” the doctor begins, “what brings you here today?”
And that’s the question isn’t it? Erik doesn’t even know where to start. Maybe he should begin with the simplest problem.
“I have a broken heart,”
Henry Berry opens his notepad.
🍃 🍃 🍃
He tries hard not to bump into Lyle at school too much, he's always surrounded by friends. It's easy during class periods because they're in different buildings but lunchtime is a common space. The cafeteria has a huge open space with trees and little stone tables scattered around. Erik always prefers sitting outside near the trees, and Lyle always stays inside. Today, he chose a table right in front of Erik's favorite tree so it's impossible not to stare. Letty is sitting on his lap and Tia's sitting on top of the table, naked thigh so close to his lunch it's nearly unsanitary. No one seems to care though, the other guys are laughing and joking as usual, pushing each other like 7th graders.
Sometimes Erik can't fucking stand them. He's so focused on observing the group that he doesn't notice the guy who approaches and then sits by his side, not until he says,
"Dostoyevsky? That's dense,"
Erik looks at him and his frown eases a little. He's seen that guy before, they have some classes together. Tall, curly short hair, golden like a halo around his head. The teachers call him cherubim. Those blue eyes helped the nickname, too.
"Yeah, that Mind and Secrets class is really taking a toll on me," Erik closes the book he wasn't really reading and focuses his attention on the guy.
"It's really not that hard. I'm doing it for the second time 'cause I really like Professor Tate's approach."
"You did this twice on purpose ??" mysterious Cherubim laughs,
"It's fun, it makes you think," Erik notices he has a nice smile. He smiles back.
"I worry about your idea of fun,"
"Stop, I'm sure we can match notions of fun in some other way... Let's say... What are your thoughts on music?"
"I'm afraid I'm on the boring side of that, I like the classics... I like some pop stuff too, mostly what my brother listens to,"
"Right, you're one of the Menendez, right?" Erik doesn't have time to be embarrassed because the guy keeps going, "the chill one."
Erik laughs at that and remembers what Dr. Berry said. Be open to new things . He offers his hand, "Erik." The guy takes his hand,
"Richard. But please don't call me that, only my father calls me that. Don't call me 'Dick' either, I hate that. And I promise I ain’t one. It's Richie."
"Okay, Richie."
A long chime interrupts them, calling everyone to their following classes.
"Classical Play Writing, right?" Richie gets up and offers Erik a hand to do the same.
"Yeah," Erik accepts the hand and lets Riche raise him swiftly, and they leave together towards the Theater and Art building. Erik is completely oblivious to Lyle's stare, following them.
🍃 🍃 🍃
It's late at night, and they’re both absorbed in their respective homework when Lyle finally addresses the subject. Erik has been waiting for this, considering the looks he's been receiving all afternoon. They're both lying in Lyle's bed, reading quietly together when he suddenly says,
"Why were you talking to that Dick guy?"
"He doesn't like being called like that," Erik almost adds 'it's Richie' but he doesn't wanna add to that fire. He keeps his eyes on his notebook, but he's not really paying attention anymore.
"Yeah, that's why we call him that, duh," Erik rolls his eyes and doesn't say anything else because he knows Lyle's not done. "He’s a douche, you know. I had classes with him in the first year.”
“Which ones?” Erik can't imagine which classes he and Richie could have in common.
“I don’t remember, some writing thing,” Lyle sighs,
“You don't even know--,”
“He's a poet,” and that makes Erik laugh,
“And since when that’s a bad thing?”
“ Means he thinks in a dumb way. Whatever, I don't want you around that fag--,”,
“That what?” Erik pushes to a sitting position immediately, pulse spiking in pure shock.
“Erik--,”
“So what, am I one too?”
“You know that's not what I mean,” Lyle flushes, but Erik’s livid,
“Then what did you mean?”
“He's, he's different-...”
“Maybe that's exactly what I need right now, different,” he wondered if Richie saw him right now-- if he would still call him the ‘chill one’. “We came here for a fresh start, didn't we?” Venom bleeds into every word, and he catches how it stings on Lyle but he doesn't care. He gets out of bed and storms off to his room, slamming the door in the process.
🍃 🍃 🍃
They’re talking normally the next morning because it’s impossible not to, Erik could never stay mad at Lyle for long, and deep down he knows that that line of thinking isn’t Lyle’s fault. Thankfully Lye doesn’t say anything else about Richie, and Erik doesn’t bring the subject up either.
This time Erik does catch Lyle staring at them during lunch and he stares back, challenging, but that only makes his brother look away. Richie is very nice and funny and Erik loves the attention, he can’t deny. He decides to go for another of Henry's advice, invite something new to your comfort zone, and he waits until Lyle’s neck deep in some pasta during dinner to say,
“I invited Richie over this weekend, ok?” He thought about asking permission then decided against it. It's his place, too. Lyle stops chewing for a moment and stares at him. Erik gets nervous so he continues; “We have a project to work on together.”
It’s not a complete lie, but they kinda have decided to just read some of the material first, together. And there’s no reason they can't do this sitting by the pool, right? Lyle swallows and shrugs dismissively,
“Whatever dude, I won’t be home anyway,” but he’s bothered and Erik can tell by the way his shoulders get drawn together. He just doesn’t get why, and Lyle clearly won’t tell him. He mutters something as he excuses himself from the table that sounds suspiciously like ‘justdon’tfuckhimonmybed’ and Erik flushes absolutely red,
“Why on earth--,”
“I don’t know, what if he has weird kinks, he’s a poet!”
“That’s not even how poetry works!!” but Lyle is out of the kitchen already heading upstairs.
When Erik joins him in his room with his books later, he kicks Lyle before lying by his side on the bed muttering ‘stupid ass’, but then Lyle is asking him to help with a weird politics class question, and the commentary is quickly forgotten.
That is, until Saturday afternoon, when the words hit Erik again when he opens the door to Richie. He blushes because his mind actually pictures them fucking in Lyle’s bed and it’s weirdly arousing, probably because it’s prohibited. Prohibition always tastes better.
These thoughts get him shy for good ten minutes in, but Richie is unaffected by it, he’s relaxed, even takes off his shirt next to the pool where they dragged their books. He asks Erik to spread some sunscreen on his back and in this position he misses how bad Erik's hands are shaking.
Lyle sees this tough, from up Erik’s balcony on the second floor and Erik just frowns at him like, what he’s even doing there? He doesn’t come into his room without Erik being there too unless he has a good reason. Spying clearly classifies as one.
Erik eventually forgets about it because Richard’s presence is so exhilarating; he makes Erik laugh every five minutes, has all these profound thoughts about life and existence, and… He’s a poet. Which here means he knows his way around words.
Erik’s completely absorbed by Richie’s views on how writing affects modern society when Lyle slams the glass door that separates the living room from the pool area open to announce he’s leaving, don’t wait up, remember what he said about his damn room.
He’s being rude on purpose, Erik knows and doesn’t even acknowledge Richard’s presence, but the blondie waves at him anyway, with a friendly smile. A waste, ‘cause Lyle storms off as soon as he sees it. Erik sighs, apologies for his brother’s manners and Richie just shrugs and answers with:
“The Chill One,”
The afternoon passes in a blur, they swim, sunbathe, read a lot, and talk. When the daylight starts to fade to a lilac hue, Erik gets some snacks inside and makes them cocktails that Richard showers with compliments. Later when he’s about to leave, night is already high in the sky, darkening corners and dropping little silver strings of moonlight. At the door, Richard thanks Erik for the lovely day and offers a suggestion,
“Can I interest you in something more private next weekend?” Erik's heart skips a beat, and he leans against the door frame with a cool poise to mask his wobbling legs.
“What do you have in mind?”
“There's this secret bar I know that serves the best fruit cocktails you'll ever have. And I say this confidently, knowing you came from Beverly Hills. You like super sweet fruity drinks?”
“Yeah…” Erik raises a brow and there's a silent second of them just looking at each other. “Is it a date?”
“Yes,” Richie smiles then pinches his chin sweetly, "It's a date, Erik.”
He gets closer and leans in but it's hardly a kiss, just a soft caress of lips, a silent and delicate promise.
After he's gone Erik takes a long shower and for the first time in so long, he’s able to jerk off and come without thinking about Lyle. It's a good sign, he thinks. Should he tell his therapist? This feels like progress.
When he falls asleep, he still has a smile on his lips and Lyle isn’t home yet.
🍃 🍃 🍃
Lyle ignores most of Richard’s presence subject the next day, apart from a provocative remark here and there like,
“Is he a good kisser?” that gets replied with,
“Shut up, Lyle,”
or,
“I don't think I wanna get in the pool until it gets cleaned again,”
“Don't be gross, Lyle.”
and
“Why were you in my room?”
“Was tryna see the philosophical texts at the bottom of the pool.”
Probably just the tip of the iceberg of what he’s feeling, but enough to show Erik how much he cares. He rules all the comments out as Lyle being the overprotective older brother he always is, but some other things slightly change after that. He's back to sleeping in Erik’s bed the immediately following night. He’s also suspiciously over-caring during the week, he cooks for them, does their laundry without being asked, and even cleans the pool himself. He goes grocery shopping with Erik, makes a point of cuddling him every night, and if Erik's not in his bed Lyle will follow him to his, or lie on him on the couch, wherever he is. Erik's like his gigantic teddy bear that he can't sleep without. He pecks him good morning and good night.
Erik already thinks Lyke spoils him too much, but now he's getting dangerously used to this. Deep inside he knows it's too good to be true, he’s kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it does, as he's been expecting, Saturday afternoon when he comes home after tennis practice. Lyle's pacing behind the kitchen counter, shoulders tense and a frown.
“There's mail for you,” he doesn't even bother saying hi, which is a bad sign. Erik drops his bag and approaches the counter, noticing the envelopes are… open.
“You went through my mail?!”
“We just got here, how did you get mail so fast? I was curious! What if it was love poems from Dick?”
“Even more reason for you not to snoop, you little shit,” Erik takes the papers backing a few steps, for what he doesn't know, certainly not privacy, since Lyle read it already. “...and I told you it's Richie.”
“Yeah, I’m not calling him that,” there’s a silent pause while Erik reads and Lyle leans on the counter. “I could've saved you from terrible sonnets that would end your love or something, you know.” Erik slowly raises his eyes to him.
“Are you trying to quote Jane Austen to me?”
“See, I can be a poet too!”
“She wasn't -- listen, Lyle, stop going through my stuff.” Erik can't help but blush a little, what he's holding it's the first, and very enthusiastic reply, of the photos he sent.
Lyle nods, but he's biting his lips, the worried frown still plastered on his face.
“Are you, are you sure this is the path you wanna follow?”
Erik's fingers tense and he crumples the letter without meaning to.
“For now, yes.” His tone is pure defensiveness. He's having a weird flashback of someone else getting batshit crazy about his photos. He won't bear this bullshit coming from Lyle, too.
“I just thought… With the theater thing you would focus on that…?” Lyle's words trail off and Erik's about to lose his temper,
“Can't I do both?”
“Of course, you can,” Lyle says apologetically, and Erik turns to the stairs before he says something else he might regret,
“Well, then,” he goes to his room because he has a date to get ready for, and slams the door.
He regrets a second after doing it, it feels so childish, but then again he’s too stubborn to back out now. He takes a long shower, and chooses the most provocative clothes he has because he wants to both annoy Lyle and tease Richard, and ain't he lucky he has a perfect outfit that will get him both things at the same time? He even puts some makeup on, some eyeliner, and glitter around the eyes, it makes him feel hot and powerful.
But when he passes the living room again on his way out, Lyle says nothing. Erik expected a snarky commentary about his see-through shirt, or about the ‘too tight pants’, or about Richie in general but only silence comes. Not even the usual ‘have fun’. Nothing. Lyle is sprawled on the couch with the TV on and doesn’t even look at him.
Erik grits his teeth and slams the door again before he can stop himself. It’s stupid, he knows, and he’s about to open again and apologize when he hears Richie’s car horn, and he has to go. Richard immediately whistles when he gets in,
“Now I feel underdressed,” he says, and Erik blushes a little,
“Well, I didn’t know where we were going, so.”
“Relax, you look great. More than great. You look hot. And handsome. And I better start driving before I ravish you here and now,”
Erik laughs and blushes and feels great. Maybe he’ll be able to relax a bit after all.
The place Richie chooses is a tiny cabin almost out of town, all softly lit with string lights and little lamps here and there. It does have the best fruit cocktails he ever had, as promised, and Erik is in the middle of his third, a strawberry-melon mix when Richie kisses him.
They’re standing up, half hugging and half dancing to a soft rock song playing low. Richie has been getting closer and closer the last few minutes and now, with a mere inch separating them, he looks at Erik with a question in his eyes. Erik gives a slightest little nod and Richie leans in to close the space between them. He's gentle and mindful, he kisses like Erik is something to be revered. Nothing like he's ever been kissed before.
It doesn't last long, Richard pulls away before Erik can really correspond, but it's enough to make Erik blush, and his heart race. There's this weird sensation he's doing something wrong, but there's nothing wrong, he reminds himself, absolutely nothing wrong here.
In an attempt to prove himself just that, he's the one that initiates the next kiss, grabbing the front of Richie's shirt and bringing their mouths together more firmly, he's not made of glass damnit, he's not gonna break.
This kiss lasts a little more, their lips moving together, getting to know each other, and Richard is still somehow hesitant, respectful to a fault.
“You're so beautiful, Erik…”
Erik feels bad that the compliment does nothing for him this time. Deep down he really wants this to work, needs it to work, so he can get over Lyle and the stupid feelings he's having.
It's a disgusting thing to think, but their parents actually helped to keep these thoughts at bay, when it was the four of them there was always so much happening that he barely had time to think about how he felt for Lyle. Here they're all over each other all day, every day, just the two of them, and it's impossible not to think. Wonder. Want. So he really needs this to work, Richie it's a perfect distraction from the dirty thoughts spiraling in his head, a nice way to burn off his sexual frustration too.
So Erik ignores the compliment and goes for another kiss, more aggressive this time, he licks Richie's lips asking for permission, and gets it, their tongues meeting in seconds, sliding, pushing, pressing together. Richie tastes like pineapple and mint, and it's really good until it isn't.
At first, Erik feels warm and adored and slowly it changes, now all the enthusiasm and saliva is making him feel a little off. Mostly, because the tongue in his mouth isn't Lyle's and that feels like a transgression. Another topic to discuss with Dr. Berry he supposes. ‘Why I can't be intimate with other people without thinking I'm cheating on a person that has nothing to do with my relationships’ seems like a good way to start his next Saturday morning.
Lyle. That fucker ruins everything, even when he's not around. Erik can't stop thinking about the fight they had earlier either. It wasn't so much as a fight, they had so much worse before, but when Erik passed him on his way to the door Lyle simply stayed quiet and that was definitely not like him and...
He has to go home and fix this.
When they pull away, there's a string of spit still connecting their lips, which Erik quickly wipes away. He has a shy and low tone when he asks,
“I wanna go home,” he fears Richie will interpret wrong, but he's a sensible man of words and he immediately gets it,
“Did I…? I’m sorry, I didn't mean to—”
“It's fine,” Erik rushes to reassure him, “We're fine. Everything's fine, I just…”
“Hey, if you're not in the mood, that's totally cool.”
“Thank you for understanding,” Erik pouts a little and Richard just smiles easily and leaves to bring the car.
The road back gets Erik more anxious; each passing mile drives him more agitated and Richard notices and keeps talking to distract him. Erik is thankful, he really is, and he'll make sure to tell Richie that on Monday, when he's not so anxious he can barely talk.
Overall the way back feels faster despite them taking the same route and once Richie stops in front of his house, everything is dark and Erik feels something squeezing his chest. He kisses Richie's cheek and thanks him for the night, and the other boy smiles and says he'll see him on Monday and that's it. As simple as that.
With a sigh, Erik walks to the house thinking he won't wake Lyle up, but he will definitely go to his bed to cuddle him and they can talk in the morning.
That is… If he's home. Lyle may have left after he went out, Erik thinks, a heavy weight settling on the depths of his stomach, the house being all dark doesn't mean he's asleep, he wouldn't stay home alone, that's simply not who he is.
As he slides the key in the lock, he's so convinced of the theory he's not even trying to be quiet anymore; he's a couple steps in, taking off his coat when a yellow light suddenly comes on, sending Erik's heart tripping and his mind overflowing with dark, hurtful memories. His body tenses in lightspeed because this is too familiar, in a bad way, like he's about to get punished for getting home late. But it's Lyle sitting on the same sofa Erik left him, almost in the same position even, and he's not violent-angry, just bothered-beyond-belief-angry.
“Bit early to be back from a party, isn't it?”
Erik sighs, unclenching his muscles one by one one,
“I was with Richie,”
“Yeah, I figured that much. You two are getting awfully close, aren't you.”
“What's the matter with that…?”
“You didn't tell him, did you?”
“No. And before you ask, I didn't tell Henry either. So fuck off.”
“Henry,” Lyle mad cackles, “So you two are on a first-name basis now? Isn't he supposed to be your doctor ? Isn't there like some distancing rules for this shit?”
“What does it matter to you?”
Lyle crosses his arms and presses his lips together in a fine line, looking away and refusing to answer. That annoys Erik even more. He came home with an apology on the tip of his tongue but as always, Lyle just has to make things ten times more difficult. And Erik can’t help but fall right into his taunting attitude.
“Why are you so bothered by everyone else in my life? You have your friends and two girlfriends, and I can't have anyone besides you? No friends, no therapists, no job? You realize how unfair that is?!”
“It was supposed to be just the two of us!!” Lyle hits the nearby table but the loud noise is muffled by Erik's heart thumps, heavy and hard as a mallet. Erik stutters and falls quiet; he doesn't want to have hope, he won't dare to, he thought he had buried that stupid feeling weeks ago when he first saw the girls, but it flourishes inside his heart right this second again, like all the dirty he covered it with was just fertile soil.
“Lyle, what.... what do you mean by that,”
“It was always supposed to be just the two of us!” He repeats loudly, “I hate that... I hate that I have to share you, you know?” Erik thinks he does, but he won't give his brother the easy way out.
“I… don't. What do you mean?”
“I didn't want you in Princeton, not because you're my clingy little brother, but because you’re not anymore. Because you're cute but also gorgeous and smart and hot and I didn’t want you to make friends and stop being around me and I definitely didn’t want you making boyfriends. This dude, this 'Richie' guy, are you two dating?” Lyle has an angry but desperate look, and Erik shrinks inside because they went on just one date but he knows what his brother means. And he'll lie, he'll lie through his teeth to calm Lyle down, to reassure him.
“...no.” he mumbles, hoping Lyle doesn't catch his lie as easily as he had done so many times before, but when he looks up Lyle is sighing in relief, the heels of his hands pressing in his eyes,
“Thank god,” he mutters more to himself, Erik's just close enough to hear, and hope grows again but there are so many vines of doubt squeezing his heart every beat hurts,
“Why? Why 'thank god'?
“Because,” Lyle mewls, but Erik is not easing things for him, no, not this time,
“Because what Lyle?”
“Because I can't bear the thought of you two... or you with anyone else for that matter!” He explodes, and Erik keeps his eyes on Lyle's, red and wet and sincere. Lyle won’t say it and he decides to risk it.
“Anyone else... but you,” he whispers, “...right?”
A tear escapes and runs down Lyle’s face and he begs,
“Please don't freak out. I know how this may sound, after everything I’ve done to you, but I really一”
“Lyle.” Erik gets closer slowly until his hands reach Lyle’s chest and slide up, framing his neck delicately,
“I don't mind being only with you,” Lyle sniffs, still some despair in those eyes that Erik wants to erase, now, “In fact, I prefer it that way. Only you and me.”
Lyle's arms wrap around him, tight, bringing their bodies together chest to tights, so much force into it Erik doesn't know where one begins and the other ends. It’s wonderful. It's paradise, it's everything he ever hoped, ever so desperately wanted.
“Are you serious,” Lyle sounds skeptical like he’s waiting for this all to be a joke, “are you sure?”
“Never been so sure of anything else in my life,” Erik says leaning in and Lyle closes the gap fast and urgent, pressing their lips together with bruising force, but Erik loves it, feels the vines in his heart breaking and the pumping muscle expanding, growing twice as big, filling his chest, expelling all the insecurity and fear he ever felt about this, about them. Lyle's kisses reveal the repressed desperation the two of them felt all this time, every sweep of the powerful tongue against his, every sigh placed against his lips is a silent promise of more, of forever.
Another kiss, and then one more, they can’t seem to let each other go, not even to properly breathe, and Erik’s knees are going weak. Lyle’s strong arms are still around him, but not exactly supporting them upright, and suddenly Erik finds himself lying down on the couch Lyle was spread out hours ago, under his brother, barely breathing.
“God I wanted this…” a sigh and Lyle confesses in a whisper, “I wanted this for so long,”
Erik wants to say, ‘me too’, but there’s a lump in his throat so he just kisses Lyle instead, trying to show him how much he wants it too in one heated kiss. Their legs are entangled together, the sofa is big, but not big enough for two grown men to lie side by side, so Lyle is on top of him, and his warm weight is comforting, but not nearly enough. Erik wants more contact, he's desperate to feel Lyle's skin against his own, he wants to feel their heartbeats touching, only skin and bones separating them.
Both shirts are on the floor the following second, Erik’s hands roaming all the expanse of Lyle’s chest he can reach, while his brother has other ideas and goes straight for his belt, one hand undoing it and the other, palming the obvious bulge in his tight pants ripping a high pitch moan from Erik.
“I hate that you went to see him like this,” Lyle growls and some dark satisfaction spreads inside Erik’s chest and flows down his stomach, continuing down his navel too.
“I was trying to rile you up,” he confesses, panting,
“You got it,” Lyle squeezes harder, making him cry with pleasure, “You look so hot and none of it was for me, it made me… so mad,” Lye pulls his pants down hard, and Eric has to squirm to help him get them out. His black boxers underneath are wet already, tented, and Lyle gets down to mouth it, the feeling knocking Erik’s remaining breath away.
“Please,” he whines, hands coming to Lyle’s hair, but he pushes them away holding Erik’s wrists down against the soft sofa cushions.
“Did you touch him with these hands?”
“N-no,” Erik pouts, breathless,
“Erik,” it’s a warning and it sets the depths of his abdomen on fire,
“I didn’t!”
Lyle kisses him, aggressive at first, then slowing down to a heavy caress, and lets go of his wrists,
“Promise me you won’t,” Lyle murmurs against his lips and Erik melts,
“I won’t, I swear,” Erik gets his hands back on his hair and this time Lyle doesn’t stop him, “It’s only you and me, forever,”
Lyle kisses his neck and Erik slips his eyes close, biting his lower lip to stop the sounds that insist on coming to his lips. Lyle mouths down to his chest, sucks a nipple, flicking the hard nub with his tongue until Erik squirms again, before continuing down, his tongue following Erik’s abs, following his V line down, then he takes the elastic band with his teeth to pull down.
Erik’s breathless, props into his elbows to see, to appreciate the view, what a view , of Lyle going down on him, licking his hard shaft all over before taking him in his mouth in one go. Erik’s head falls back, and he closes his eyes, lost in total paradise, Lyle’s tongue doing wonders, swirling around the head, sliding heavily on the underside, turning him into a total moaning mess.
If he keeps this up Erik will come in record time; he’d never had anyone doing this to him, at least not… That he wanted. It’s different with Lyle, he feels cared for but also hot, irresistible, worshiped, and he supposes that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
“Lyle… Please, baby, go easy,” he pleads, but that only makes his brother moan, and the vibrations it sends around his dick push Erik closer to the edge. He absently notices Lyle humping the couch and can only think how hot that is, turning someone on so much that they can’t hold themselves back; he wants to tell Lyle to stop, that he wants to be the one that makes him come, but words are too difficult to articulate now, only whimpers leave his lips.
Lyle chooses this moment to swallow around him and it’s just too much, Erik barely has time to give his hair a light tug to warn him, before letting out broken whines and coming. His brother ignores his warnings though, just keeps moving his head, milking every last drop out of him, until Erik’s crying with overstimulation.
He's so far up in his cloud nine it takes him a few seconds to notice Lyle didn’t come, that he’s jerking himself over him not touching him, just looking and okay, it's great how selfless he is when it comes to the two of them but it's not the time for this, so Erik pants,
"Fuck me, Lyle,"
"Oh God," his hand speeds up and Erik blindly reaches for Lyle's wrist to stop him before he comes,
"I'm not dirty talking to make you come, I'm serious, I want—want you inside me," he breathes it all in a broken whisper, and Lyle cries and groans, and stops his movements. Erik keeps his eyes open and looks up at Lyle as he runs his fingers on the mess he's just made on his belly, covering them on his own come. Then, he uses them to wet his hole and after a second, pushes two fingers inside, scissoring a bit, blushing at the way Lyle is looking at him, eyes darkened by desire. He half feels like a porn star, but if it gets him this kinda stare then it’s worth it. He doesn’t do it for long, soon Lyle bats his hand away replacing it with his own; he’s rougher and faster and Erik’s legs tremble.
The precum dripping from Lyle's dick is enough to make him all wet and when he lines up, he hesitates one more time, and mutters,
“Are you sure about this…?”
“Yes,” Erik hisses and slides a hand down to grab his brother's dick and guide him inside until he's halfway in when Erik loses both his breath and strength, falling back to the couch with a hoarse moan.
Lyle keeps going and the sensation is familiar but completely new; it hurts but in a bearable way, laced with a pleasure he'd never felt before. A whine escapes his lips when Lyle bottoms out, breathless, trembling, but still moving slowly for his sake.
“Lyle…,” he mewls, hands caressing his brother's tense back, feeling all the lines of muscle, his arched spine, the soft curve of his strong shoulders,
“God, you feel so…” Lyle has his face buried in his neck, his pants making a humid spot, “... perfect.”
“Please,” Erik begs, his cheeks blushing with how needy he sounds, “please, fuck me,”
When Lyle starts moving his hips is electrifying. Despite the slow pace, the way Lyle’s dick claims a space inside him, pressing against his walls vigorously, makes him squirm. Lyle slides an arm under him, between his lower back and the couch, and pulls him close, crushing him into a tight hug while still fucking him slow and Erik sighs, legs falling open as he relaxes in Lyle’s arms.
This… This is different from everything before, this is what the novels call 'making love'. Erik would definitely be disgusted with the term if he wasn’t so busy trying not to fall apart with every intense thrust. He blindly mouths Lyle’s face, searching for his mouth, and when Lyle turns to kiss him, it’s like he’s being devoured. The combination of Lyle sucking his tongue and rolling his hips to get deeper inside him forces a whine out of his lips, that Lyle swallows before biting his lower lip hard enough to bleed.
“Please,” Erik begs again, “more,” is all he can say, but Lyle always could read his mind. And his body. Like an open book.
He changes the angle slightly, Erik slides down a little more but maintains the hard embrace as he snaps his hip between Erik’s legs faster, harder, until there’s tears in his eyes and he’s too breathless to even call his brother’s name.
Lyle calls his though, chants his name like a prayer, bites his shoulder, grabs his hair and it’s too much, Lyle wants all of him and that notion makes him dizzy with desire, makes his dick throb--despite still being soft, Erik knows he’ll come again.
When Lyle comes, he’s still holding Erik tight to his chest which vibrates with his growls and broken breaths. Erik feels himself weak gushing between their joined bellies, and he shivers in Lyle’s arms.
“Did you just…?”
“Shut up,” he counters, weakly. Lyle tries to get off him, but Erik holds him tight, and he relaxes back into the embrace, letting his weight crush Erik against the sofa with a sigh. It's perfect. Calming, grounding. His hands come up to toy with the sweaty hairs on Lyle’s nape.
“Can you please not tell your therapist about that,” Lyle has a lazy voice and Erik knows he’s joking but he just has to respond,
“Oh, but I’ll have to,” Lyle raises his head in shock, and before he speaks Erik continues, “You see I told him you broke my heart,”
“I--I, didn’t, I-, when,” Lyle’s cute, all confused and anxious like this, it brings a huge and sincere smile to Erik’s lips.
“Relax, I didn’t say who you were or anything. I just say someone did. And now I’ll have to say that someone is healing it up.”
Lyle takes a deep breath and takes Erik's hand in his, squeezing a bit, bringing it to his lips to kiss his knuckles.
“Yeah, well,” Lyle spreads his hand, up his arm and shoulder with quick kisses, “I’ll do my best,” next kiss is on Erik’s lips and it gets him smiling.