duplicity

tonight

and i'm POSITIVE y'all didn't see another update coming so soon :D 

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PETE

Pete's fingers clicked aimlessly at his mouse. Every few minutes, he would mess up and have to re-do the section he had just done, but, for some reason, he just couldn't seem to concentrate no matter how hard he tried.

His eyes kept glancing to the frosted door of Vegas' office and his heart would skip a beat and lodge itself into his throat all at once. Pete's face would warm and he'd quickly turn his eyes back to his computer screen and aimlessly click once again.

Vegas wasn't inside—he had a business meeting. This was why Pete wasn't inside either, but he still couldn't help himself by looking every once in awhile, thinking about how good it'd feel to be pressed against the glass of the door and fucked into a state of feeling like he was stuck in oblivion.

Ever since Vegas had come over just days prior, Pete couldn't stop thinking about Vegas for even a moment. It was a terrifying feeling, one that he really didn't have any idea of what to do with. He could let it out—that would usually end up with his legs spread and Vegas' thrusting his cock into him while saying disgusting, degrading things to him. Pete liked that though. He had no issues with that, but each time that happened—the feeling only got more intense.

Pete thought he had an idea of what that feeling might be, but he didn't really want to acknowledge it. Not yet. If ever. He couldn't.

Could he?

His phone buzzed and he picked it up from next to his hand, leaning back into his desk chair as he looked at the message, a frown settling on his face.

Maprang: I'm coming over tonight. I think we need to talk.

Pete's fingers hovered over his phone screen. He hadn't talked to Maprang since their fight. Truth be told, he didn't really want to talk to Maprang. He wasn't sure what to say. Apologize for his words? He couldn't. He wouldn't mean it, but he could.

But wasn't that just his life? Saying a lot of things he didn't mean and pretending like he did? Pretending to his father he cared at all about boxing. Saying that he was hoping for a normal, happy relationship with a good woman, just as his grandparents and society expected of him?

For the longest time, that was the issue where the confusion was for Pete. He'd started thinking things about himself and he couldn't really tell if they were true or not. The lies had eventually become so entangled with his reality that in the end even his true self had become muddled in his eyes.

Pete hadn't known in the least who he was. Not until Vegas. Vegas was helping him learn a lot about himself. Maybe not all of it was good—but not every little thing about a person could be good. Pete didn't even necessarily believe in "good" and "bad". People were just people. Fallible. Mistake-ridden. Easily influenced and easily malleable.

He didn't think he was necessarily being influenced by Vegas though. Vegas was just helping Pete see the him that was always there.

"Hey!"

Pete jumped as hands came down on his shoulders. He swung around on reflex, his fist hitting against the arm who had grabbed him. He heard the grunt of pain before he even saw the person's face and he winced, looking up at Porsche with apology.

"I'm sorry! You spooked me. What are you doing sneaking up on someone like that? I told you I did boxing."

"I forgot," Porsche whined, rubbing his arm before lowering himself onto the edge of Pete's desk, like he often did when visiting Pete. Not that he had visited Pete much in recent weeks. In fact, they hadn't talked much at all.