[ti]private[/ti]do no harm

The plan to abandon Finn at the hotel room so he can drown in the Jacuzzi had fallen through. Angelo had left too late, and the entrance to UNOVRCon required most to walk through the Arena Plaza anyway so — here he was.

He was tapping through his phone as he followed Finn to a food truck, maintaining his sanity by reading people’s live tweets about the event. This would be a mistake he would come to regret.

❗Silvermoon is nearby!

He blinked. Angelo didn’t have a very– extensive friends list, so this hadn’t been a possibility he anticipated. Fear seized his heart. He wasn’t ready, and while he made the effort to make his in-game avatar close to his real face — no catfishing here — he still felt woefully under-prepared to subject people to his actual person.

He looked up, eyes flicking in search. There were far too many people around, but his eyes latched onto a head of light hair, the stranger baring the most resemblance to his online friend—

The pretty stranger that Finn was accosting.

“Fuck.” His hand tightened around his phone. Maybe it was someone else?

But the stranger’s eyes eventually catch him, pinning him there, wide. They fished out their phone and it’s a gavel upon Angelo’s fate. A situation he can’t run from.

(And why would you run from this? What kind of a friend are you?)

“Finn.” The name was pushed out as if hurt. Angelo’s eyes were set on his roommate, trying not to meet Silvermoon’s. Heat crawled up his neck as he called attention to himself, his hand moving to pull Finn back by his arm. His voice was heavy and quiet; exhausted. Stop crowding a stranger, you fuck. “They aren’t interested. Just back off.”

Delivered in the same tone as a Can we go now?

Angelo’s hand was shrugged off, Finn — the bull of the century, captain shitlord — adamantly refusing his ticket out of a future harassment charge. This was expected, of course, but it still didn’t make Angelo any less pissed off.

The thing is, Angelo knew these types of people intimately. Had been plagued by them every day of his life; the kinds of people who treat others like rugs, wiping their boots thinking they have the right as long as there isn’t a ‘No’ — and then asking why they weren't told sooner.

And he was doing it to Silvermoon. Silvermoon who, while still a largely unknown presence in his life, deserved better than to have their con experience sullied by his brat of a roommate.

So when he heard that soft voice ask if he and Finn were friends, Angelo tore his glare from Finn and finally met their eyes.

“We are not friends.” The truth without a second’s hesitance. Angelo hated him, and Finn considered his existence either a convenience to exploit, a pest to ignore, or a target to torment. But if he considered his voice so worthless, then it shouldn’t matter what he says next.

“We’re dating. He’s my cheating shithead of a boyfriend, and I advise you to stay away.”

It’s only after the words complete their Slip ‘N Slide journey from his brain and out of his mouth that Angelo realized just what he said. He did not allow this to show. He did not turn his head to see how Finn was reacting, despite feeling the burning gaze on his profile.

(He did still take massive psychic damage at seeing Silvermoon’s reaction, but he had already accepted the friendship was over.)

Finn protested, and Angelo internally braced himself to be grabbed or hit, but it seemed the humiliation was an instant kill. Angelo couldn’t describe the feeling — something between mortification and a sense of triumph. He called Finn names, but he had never stood up to him to this extent.

But it’s a victory short-lived. As Finn stomped off, Angelo reached to pinch the bridge of his nose under his glasses, pressing his eyes closed as regret seeped in, thick and slow as molasses. What the fuck had he done?

He’s internally debating between hitchhiking to Cleveland or starting anew in San Francisco when Silvermoon regarded him. He blinked, shocked to see them still there, and then stifled a laugh.

“I— no, sorry, I lied. We aren’t dating. I would never.” He sighed, wiping his face and readjusting his glasses. “I just said that so he’d leave. I doubt he would’ve left you alone otherwise.”

He bowed his head, grateful for his complexion; grateful that they can’t see just how embarrassed he was. He had been burning like a barbecue since this encounter started. “And I’m—sorry, that you had to witness that. Pleasure to meet you, I'm Angelo. And, uh… good… bye forever? If you want that.” They’ve been so nice. It's too bad his first impression subjected them to horrors.

To his relief, jumping to assumptions had not broken their friendship, only his dignity. He smiled as they thanked him, putting their name to memory. Kasey. It suited them.

“Lunch, huh?” What he should be doing was turning around and heading back to the hotel so he could grab his bags before Finn decided they looked better on the driveway. Maybe look for a new room. There was no telling what the man was capable of now that he’d royally pissed him off.

But he looked at Kasey, the first internet friend he had met in person, and he thought about the con. Once in a lifetime. “I could go for lunch.” He could still grab them from a driveway. Unlike some people, he understood laundry.

He tilted his head, glancing over to the line, which had thinned considerably after that short fiasco. “You wanted taco rice bowls?”

He couldn’t help smiling a bit. Not in delight, but the kind that accompanied tilted brows – a sympathetic smile. Empathetic, if anything. “Of course it is. Who doesn’t want a rice bowl after all that?” If anything, dessert would’ve been warranted, but he was glad Kasey was eating a proper meal.

Angelo took in the menu as Kasey asked him about his order. “… I know I said rice bowl, but those tacos look insane.” He likely wouldn’t ever get used to the culinary marvels out here. “I’ll take the chicken taco and the lemonade too.”

He paused, noticing the wallet. His hand shot up immediately. “Kasey– no, you’re not– I’ll pay for mine.” He would’ve assumed they were just paying for their own order, but from the big watery eyes they were shooting him, he kind of felt like someone being apologized to.

Which didn’t make sense. He was in the wrong.

He took out his wallet, staring them down with the same intent his parents employed when facing off with other relatives during a dinner-checkout-manners-face-off. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. Thank you.”

He’s beaten so swiftly that he didn’t even have time to process it. His eyes widened at the beeping and— there it was. He had failed the courtesy standoff.

Angelo snorted, stifling a laugh behind his hand. “You're pretty quick.” he hadn’t anticipated that audacity from Kasey, and couldn’t help be impressed.

He lowered his hand to a wide, if a bit exasperated smile, his brows curved with a fondness. “Okay, deal. I'm getting you lunch the next time you save me, then.” Though he did hope it wouldn’t come to that. He hoped he didn’t need saving at all.

“Where do you want to sit?” With their food in hand, that left the dilemma of finding a spot. It was lunch hour, most of the tables at the plaza were taken. People were already beginning to sit on the benches, on ledges, or just finding corners to stand around and eat with their groups.