Work Text:
Prior Walter hated empty rooms.
His empty flat was the worst of them.
Every photograph of Louis—Lou, asshole, traitor, former love of his life—had been hidden away where Prior wouldn't have to look at them. Drawers. Cupboards. Between books. Anywhere he could shove them and pretend they no longer existed.
Not that it worked.
The photograph that used to sit on the mantel had spent exactly three days in the kitchen bin before Prior retrieved it at two in the morning and spent half an hour accusing himself of being pathetic.
He'd wanted to throw them out. God knew he wanted to.
But every time he held one in his hands, some stubborn, humiliating part of him refused.
Maybe it was because the photographs still belonged to a version of Louis that existed before the leaving.
Before the apologies.
Before the empty side of the bed.
Before Prior learned that being abandoned could somehow hurt more than being sick.
Louis had been rambling and nosy and neurotic. He invaded every inch of Prior's space and complained while doing it.
The apartment had felt too small when he was there. Now it felt much, much too large.
Especially with all the moving boxes inside.
Prior shoved the photograph into a small cardboard box, only for it to be immediately snatched away by impatient hands.
"Honestly, darling," Belize murmured, thumbing through the photographs. "Are you really dragging all this baggage to the other side of the city?"
He raised an eyebrow as Prior averted his gaze, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"Belize, you know I'm a calm queen," he said, shaking his head. "But even the most dazzling stars have their kryptonite."
Belize scoffed, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. He handed the box back, interrupting Prior's attempt to cram yet more belongings into an already bulging cardboard box.
"And yours is Louis?" he asked, his voice pitched high in mock disbelief.
Prior took no offence. "Not exactly." He sighed, accepting the box. "I really am over him."
Belize hummed.
Prior glanced down at the photographs. "Some things are just hard to throw away."
Belize smiled as he rounded the bed, holding up a beige ceramic lamp between two fingers. "A sentiment we share," he declared. "This lamp is horrendous." He gave it a small shake for emphasis.
Prior laughed despite himself. "Oh, tell me about it. Louis could talk his way around any subject on Earth, but he was always helpless against his own terrible taste."
Belize snorted. "The man bought that voluntarily?"
"It was a gift."
"A hate crime."
"It was a gift," Prior repeated, smiling. "A gift I couldn't possibly throw away."
Belize stared at the lamp for a moment, then at Prior. "Mm." Without another word, he turned and tossed it onto the growing dump pile.
The lamp landed with an ugly clatter. Belize pressed a hand to his chest. "Tu vas nous manquer," he murmured solemnly.
Prior barked out a laugh.
Belize watched the lamp settle crookedly amongst the rubbish. Then he shrugged. "Not really."
Prior shook his head, still smiling. "You know, most people would wait until I left the room before throwing away my belongings."
"Most people don't have the balls to save you from yourself. Its an ugly vase"
Rolling his eyes Prior picked it up gently "It had sentimental value." he murmured, turning it in his hands.
Belize fixed him with a look. "The sentiment was ugly too."
Prior groaned and dropped the vase back onto the pile in favour of reaching for another box. "Shut up and pack."
"Mmh." Belize picked up a stack of books. "I've been told to shut up most of my life. Normally I'd consider it a personal attack."
Prior snorted. "You're a saint."
"No."
"A humanitarian."
"No."
"A national treasure." Prior teased pressing a hand to his head dramatically as he posed against the wall.
Belize pointed a finger at him. "Careful."
Prior laughed and bumped his shoulder against Belize's as he passed. "Thanks…je t'aime”
Belize's expression softened for just a moment. He waved his hand slightly. “Yeah, yeah.” Then he shoved another box into Prior's arms. "Now keep packing before I change my mind."
Prior hummed and made his way towards the bathroom.
Behind him, Belize called out, "I know how long it takes you to get ready in the morning, so we both know that box is too small, darling."
"Shut it!" Prior called back. "You're one to talk."
Belize barked out a laugh from the bedroom.
Prior set the box down on the edge of the tub and surveyed the cluttered shelves. Bottles of medication stood shoulder to shoulder with stolen makeup, expired moisturiser, and enough hair products to survive a minor apocalypse.
He sighed. Belize was probably right.
As Prior began shoving his favourite items into the box, the soft crackle of a record player drifted through the apartment.
Low jazz soon followed.
Prior smiled despite himself. How Belize had managed to find jazz amongst his collection of trashy glossy pop records, he'd never know. The man had an almost supernatural ability to locate the one respectable album in a pile of nonsense.
Still, he couldn't complain. The music suited the mood.
"You're making me feel like Blanche and her blue piano in here!" he called. "Am I going crazy, or did you conjure this song from thin air?"
From the bedroom, Belize laughed. "You're not quite Miss DuBois."
"Thank God."
"But we both know you're one crazy queen—" Belize appeared in the doorway and stopped.
Prior was standing in front of the mirror, gently tugging at the skin beneath one eye.
The teasing vanished from Belize's face. "Hon."
Prior looked up.
Belize crossed the room and slapped his hand away.
"Ow!"
"Stop that."
Prior rolled his eyes. "I'm just looking."
"You're judging."
Prior opened his mouth. Belize pointed a warning finger at him. "Don't."
"Belize—"
"You're looking better every day."
Prior looked away.
Belize reached up and briefly squeezed the back of his neck. "Don't go picking yourself apart over an eyebag."
Prior huffed. "It isn't an eyebag."
"It is."
"It could be something else."
Belize stared at him. "It's an eyebag."
Despite himself, Prior laughed. "I know. I just..."
Belize sighed. "I know." He picked up a lipstick from the counter and slipped it into his pocket.
Prior immediately pointed. "That's mine."
"Finders keepers."
"Belize."
"Hush." Belize examined the shade critically before reaching for another tube. "Here." He held up a softer cherry-pink colour. "This is yours, sweetheart."
Prior rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be turned towards the mirror.
Belize stepped closer and carefully applied the lipstick. "You need something soft," he murmured. "Something that works with what you've already got."
Prior raised an eyebrow. "What, my devastating personality?"
"No."
"My charm?"
"No."
"My radiant intellect?"
Belize snorted. "Your curls." He finished the last touch and leaned back to inspect his work. "The blonde does half the job for you."
"Only half?" Prior teased, his eyes not quite meeting the mirror.
"The rest is those eyes."
Prior looked up, falling quiet.
Belize met his gaze in the mirror. Then, more gently, he said, "Stop looking for things to fix, darling."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Belize capped the lipstick and pressed it into Prior's hand.
"You're already handsome."
Then he moved away, gathering Prior's various colognes and perfumes from the counter.
Prior nodded stiffly and slipped the lipstick into the box. The bathroom fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence.
Smooth bass notes drifted through the small space as the two worked. Prior used his long limbs to reach products long forgotten on high shelves, while Belize bent to retrieve the things Prior's leg prevented him from reaching himself.
Neither acknowledged the arrangement. They simply worked around one another, as they always had.
By the time everything was packed apart from the bed and a small lamp, Prior had collapsed onto the bare mattress. "Oh—why do I already feel like an old man?" Prior complained.
He looked up as Belize approached the bed, looking bemused. Prior pouted, his eyebrows furrowed. "It's this damn leg. I swear fifty-year-olds could beat me in a race now."
Belize laughed as he dropped down beside his friend's boneless body, giving his ass a light slap.
Prior grumbled.
"Honey, you never liked racing anyway. An old man would win because you don't like to sweat."
Prior gaped. He looked over his shoulder to where Belize sat inspecting his nails as though he hadn't just attempted to rile him up.
"Oh, don't stereotype me. You of all people know queers can sweat. Hell, I've seen you sweat in drag makeup and all." He muttered the last part while attempting to sit up, his leg protesting any form of movement.
Belize snorted. "That was hard work in performance art."
"That was brutal."
"Same thing."
Prior laughed despite himself and fell back onto the mattress with a dramatic groan. "See? Ancient."
"Darling, if one afternoon of packing boxes has you on your deathbed, you were ancient long before today."
"You're a terrible friend."
"And yet here I am."
Prior laughed. "Here you are." He nodded to himself as Belize fell back onto the mattress beside him, the two of them lying shoulder to shoulder.
For a moment, neither spoke. Prior reached over and entwined their hands.
He looked at the side of Belize's face, at the way he studied the cracked ceiling instead of meeting his eyes.
"So..." Prior began.
"Hm?"
Prior sighed and shifted closer, hooking his head against Belize's shoulder. "Why aren't you with your fling thing?"
Belize snorted. "My fling thing?"
"You know."
"No, I don't."
"Your boyfriend from uptown."
Belize let out a long-suffering sigh. "First of all, he's not my boyfriend."
Prior hummed. "And secondly?"
Belize paused. Prior could practically see the cogs turning in his pretty head. He hated when Belize did that—thought too much about how to respond, weighed every word before he spoke it.
Prior hoped, just this once, he'd be honest.
"He..." Belize hesitated. "He didn't think I was focused on the relationship."
Prior stayed quiet, squeezing their joined hands.
Belize huffed out a laugh. "Of course, that didn't stop me rubbing the non-existent relationship in Louis' face when he decided to lecture me."
Prior barked out a laugh. "You're drifting."
Belize shot him a look. "Darling, you're lucky I'm telling you any of this."
"Mm."
Belize looked back at the ceiling. For a moment, the only sound was the soft jazz drifting in from the next room. "Nurses like me..." he said quietly. "Men like me..."
Prior felt his chest tighten. Belize swallowed.
"We aren't exactly built for relationships."
Prior turned his head.
Belize still wouldn't meet his eyes.
Frowning, Prior pulled his hand free and gently cupped Belize's cheek, tipping his head towards him.
"Just because you're a busy man with priorities doesn't mean you're unfit for love," he said quietly. His other hand drifted to rest against Belize's chest. "You're..."
The word caught in his throat.
"Belize, you're the one person who stayed. And..." He swallowed. "If this guy can't see how utterly fabulous and necessary you are in his life, then he's not worth it."
Belize bit his lip. His thumb stroked slowly over the back of Prior's hand.
Prior smiled. "Je t'aime."
Belize rolled his eyes. "Honestly, honey, you're getting really fucking loose with your affection." His voice lacked any real bite.
Prior hummed. "Mm. Maybe it's the old age talking."
Belize snorted. “Or the medication."
"And yet," Prior said, settling more comfortably against his shoulder, "you keep coming back."
Belize shook his head, but Prior caught the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Don't start getting sentimental on me now."
"Too late."
Settling into the silence, Belize's gaze drifted back to the ceiling. "So... new place?"
Prior sighed, his own eyes following the cracks above them. "Yeah. I guess so." A small smile tugged at his lips. "I hear my new roommate's an utter asshole, though," he whispered. "Works all day, comes home just to annoy the crap out of anyone he sees, and from what I recall, he's stubborn as a mule."
Belize snorted.
"And don't get me started on his sex noises—" He was cut off by a pillow hitting him square in the face.
"I'd watch your mouth, considering you're paying less rent."
Prior shoved the pillow away with a grin.
Belize continued without missing a beat. "And you can't complain about sex noises, Miss Headbanger. You may be slow to rise, but God, you can just go on and on—"
Prior's smile faltered slightly. "Not anymore. Best-case scenario these days is I get an erection at all."
The joke hung between them for a moment. Belize hummed thoughtfully. Then, in a tone dripping with mock reverence, he pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Oh, and when you do, the heavens sing." He made a series of terrible choir noises.
Prior groaned and buried his face in the mattress.
"Let's just get this shit into a van so I can sleep."