above all (m×m) ✔

33) a trickster at heart

Steven was the trickster in their group, the one who made a joke out of everything. He had exerted himself in making the others believe he could be serious when needed to, trying his best to build a new image for himself. He had no intention to slip back to his old habits, and he definitely didn't mean to hurt Brandon like he did.

What do they always say about people staying true to themselves? A zebra can't change its stripes. No matter how hard Steven tried to change, an ounce of a trickster always remained in him, and sometimes it came forth in the worst possible moment.

"Well, don't you look dashing." Steven crooned, giving Brandon an intent once-over. The suit Dam-Bi's cousin had lent them, was form-fitting unlike 99% of Brandon's own clothes.

"I don't know about the color." Brandon muttered. Dam-Bi had insisted the color of the suit was called maroon, but to Steven it just looked like orange-ish red. Underneath, he had a white shirt and a tie still hanging around his neck untied.

"Come here." Steven murmured. When Brandon obediently stepped in front of Steven, he started tying the tie for him. When he was done, he fixed the collar on top of the tie and then tucked Brandon closer for a kiss. "That color.. maroon or whatever, looks pretty damn good on you."

"You don't look bad yourself." Brandon told Steven, a smile spreading on his lips. Steven smirked at his words and gave him a little spin to show off his simple but stylish dark gray suit. He too had a white button-up shirt underneath it, and he practiced his bravado by leaving the two top buttons unbuttoned and by not bothering with a tie.

"We should get going soon. Brenda and Mike will be here any moment." Steven realized, glancing at his watch. 

While he went to pick his shoes, which were in their original packaging in the bedroom, he thought Brandon went to put his on in the hallway. But when he got there, Brandon's shoes were still on the floor and there was no sign of their owner. Steven called his name, but got no answer, so he dashed to the living room while all the possible worst-case scenarios filled his head.

"Brandon?" Steven asked, walking to Brandon, who was sitting on the couch and staring down at his hands. Steven didn't want to sound impatient, but it was the worst possible time to have a meltdown. "What's wrong?"

"I can't do it." Brandon whispered, hanging his head. He wrung his hands together, and let out a defeated sigh. "I just can't, I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" Steven found himself asking, hurt and frustration seeping into his voice. Disappointment was acid in his veins. 

All week they had been planning about their evening together and how Steven would introduce Brandon to everyone important. He hadn't let himself believe Brandon would actually come, not at first. But then Brandon had made it to Perfect Day and made arrangements to get himself something new to wear, and Steven had allowed himself to think: this time he really is going to come.

"There will be so many people, and.. I'm so sorry, Steven, I really am." Brandon glimpsed up at Steven, eyes pained and full of guilt. Something about that made Steven's indignation grow instead of tempering it.

Steven felt a cold, cruel smirk spreading on his lips, and he opened his mouth, not even realizing what he was about to say: "When they start insisting you're an imaginary boyfriend, I can tell them that you are very much real, just a hermit. I just don't know which explanation makes me sound less pathetic."

For a while Brandon just sat there, stunned to silence and staring up at Steven. Then his fists started to ball up, and he shook his head in disbelief. He stood up and spat at Steven: "Fuck you. That's not even funny."