13

Winston stands on the tip of his toes, turning his face in this and that direction as he looks in the mirror. Leans closer to overcome the poor lighting and the murky mirror, the bottom left corner cracked. It's replaceable, he knows, entirely fixable, even. But he never saw the point.

Biting his lip, he pokes at his hair. It flops right back over his forehead, the strands dry and rough like sandpaper. He wonders if he should start using conditioner. Would Jason even ever touch his hair, though? Isn't that kind of a weird thing to worry about?

It's only their first date, after all.

Sighing, Winston steps back and emerges from the tiny on-suite bathroom. He goes right back to the couch---which serves as a bed during the nights---and putters around as he moves from outfit to outfit, all expertly laid out on the furniture. Picking one up, he glances at the shirt and then the pants he thought suited it, and then back to the shirt again. He drops them, and moves onto the next one.

It's Friday, it's date-night, and Winston has no idea what he's doing.

After another spin around the room---which isn't very big so he's getting pretty dizzy from all this spinning---and he gives up. Pulls his phone out from under a pile of disqualified clothing (he wasn't even aware he owned that much clothing) and calls Gary before he can spiral even further.

"Ye—llow?" Gary yawns in the middle of the greeting, the video call easily revealing Gary's dark circles under his eyes.

Winston's eyebrows furrow, and he asks, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm—" yawn "fine." Gary rubs his eyes and squints at the camera. It's in selfie mode so everything is a little distorted and the quality isn't very good, but Winston can still see the exhaustion emanating off Gary. Gary, too, seems to realize that Winston doesn't quite believe him, because he adds, "I was just up late studying last night, is all."

Winston narrows his eyes. "Have you been crying?" he asks, not because it looks like it but because he wants to cover all his bases. And it's always better to ask and be wrong than to never ask at all.

"No," but Gary's smile is waner than usual, and Winston's eyes merely narrow further. At this, Gary mulishly looks at him through the camera for a moment and then sighs theatrically. He rolls his eyes and drawls, "I promise, I didn't cry myself to sleep, alright. It was-other stuff. Not crying. I'm not even really sad, just... anyway, no tears, so you don't need to look so doubtful."

Winston bites his lip. He looks down at the floor for a moment, then back up and says, "If you're sure," but he doesn't manage to keep the doubt out of his voice.

Gary rolls his eyes again. "Yes, I'm sure. And besides, you have a date tonight, don't you?" Then he wiggles his eyebrows and lowers his voice into a husky mess. "Isn't that why you called?"

"You knew?"

"Of course," Gary wiggles his eyebrows again. "I know everything." Then he laughs manically and tosses his head about like the supervillain did on last nights episode of Super Crimes. "I know it all! Nothing is unknowable to me, for I am... The Great All-Knowing Gareth! Fear me, mortal man!" More maniacal laughter until finally Gary just starts wheezing and it all ends on a coughing note.

Winston waits until the coughing has subsided before he asks, "So you're okay, then?"

"I'm fine, fine," Gary waves a hand and coughs softly once more. He grimaces slightly but hides it quickly enough (?), shifting around on whatever he's sitting and momentarily shaking the camera into an unintelligible mess. Winston almost gets a headache, but the screen solidifies again soon enough.

Gary visibly takes a deep breath. He shakes his head a little and says, "Alright. So, you called about your date?"

Winston nods. "I was just..." he starts but can't think of a way to finish it so he simply lets it go. Shrugs, dropping down onto his couch and bending over to rest his forearms on his legs.

"Do you feel comfortable, going on the date?" asks Gary.

Winston presses his lips together. He wants a reflexive 'yes' but it doesn't come, and his lips whiten briefly from the harsh way he's pressing them together. After a second, he refocuses his gaze on Gary and shrugs, biting his lip briefly. "I don't know," is what he ends up saying. He shrugs again.

"Okay," Gary nods. He tilts his head. "Then, do you feel uncomfortable?"

"No."

Gary smiles. "Good," he says, sounding inordinately pleased. Kind of smug, even. Winston narrows his eyes but Gary bulldozes right over him, adding, "Then I hope you have a good time tonight. Text me if you need me to call you with a fake excuse if you wanna ditch out. And let me know how it goes, Winnie."

"Of course," Winston murmurs. Gary smiles at him, mouthing bye before the call is ended.

Winston stares at the phone for a long second.

Then he inhales deeply through his nose and puts the phone down---carefully, so it doesn't break--on the couch. He puts his hands on his wide waist and glares at the various clothing laid out. "Alright," he tells himself, "Let's get this done."

Winston proceeds to swish through the apartment, closing his eyes and spinning around. When he stops, he points blindly at a point and squints an eye open, peeking carefully. Exhales softly when he doesn't hate the clothing option he ends up with. Grabs the clothes and hurries through the process of dressing, stumbling back into the bathroom once he's done and picking up the discarded mascara.

Looking at it doubtfully for a moment, he narrows his eyes. He doesn't usually go with mascara—his eyelashes are as blond as his hair and it's pretty obvious when he's using it—but he likes it. It makes him feel... pretty. Maybe even beautiful.

He hopes Jason thinks so, too.

Biting his lips, he finishes putting on the mascara and stares at his reflection. He breathes, calmly, and holds his breath until the static in his head goes away.

It's going pretty well, all things considered.

"There," he finally says and leans back. Putting the mascara down, he sighs and brushes a hand through his hair. The disheveled look works for him (according to Gareth's mother) and so he doesn't even bother to do something it. Wouldn't even know what to do with it, honestly. It's too long to slick back, he thinks.

The apartment is empty—it's just him. Tiny, only a studio without even a proper kitchen, he emerges into the arrow room and bustles about, tossing all the clothes into the closet taking up nearly a sixth of the room. It's lucky enough that there's a washing machine shoved into the bathroom, he supposes, so at least he doesn't have to carry his laundry up five flights of stairs, but it steals precious, precious space so maybe it all evens out.

Pulling on his jacket and pulling the zipper up as high as it can go, Winston heads out and very nearly runs down the stairs, slowing down only as he starts wheezing from the effort.

At the bottom, he text Jason a quick "on my way"

The bus takes twenty minutes to get to the theater, and he has to wait another ten for it to arrive at his station. He bounces on his toes every couple of minutes, excitement and something eerily similar to dread turning into nausea.

But finally, he arrives.

Jason is waiting outside the cinema, leaning on the with a leg up and his face pointed downwards toward his phone. In the darkness below the overhead ceiling just outside the entrance, the lighting from the phone lights up his face, nothing less than glowing on him and Winston... stops in the middle of a step, slowly rocking back until he stands entirely still.

Freezes.

Gulps.

Hands clenching and heart skipping a beat, his stomach flutters harshly and he gasps on his next breath.

Then he forces another breath down his throat, squares his shoulders back, and waves. "Jason!" Winston calls, nearly tripping on thin air when Jason actually looks up at him, and it's even worse when the man smiles.

Winston might be in trouble.