I need a manpain!Evan icon.
do do do do do, Greek ficlet
Evan Chambers. PG-13. ~ 1150 words. Unbetaed. Spoilers for the most recent episode, but nothing too major.
Maybe one day he'll be small enough to fit between the cracks and he'll finally get to where he wants to be
Rebecca comes back from visiting her mother and doesn't call.
Evan didn't expect her to call. But he spent so much time being so very sure that she wouldn't call that he kind of thought she would after all.
"Dude," Calvin says. "This has been going on longer than you dated. You need to get back on the horse. The vagina horse. You need to get back on a vagina."
"Thanks," Evan says. "That was very provocative imagery."
"Well, it's not like I like picturing it. That. The it-that. Goddamn this is some nasty beer."
"I didn't say you had to help me finish the pitcher."
"One guy working on a pitcher by himself is just sad," Calvin says. He makes a face before chugging back the rest of the glass.
"You're a giver," Evan says. He pours what's left in the pitcher into his own glass.
"Look, just because things didn't work out with Katherine, it doesn't mean you shouldn't try again. Eyes on the prize. Keep looking ahead."
"You're really good with the little inspirational phrases," Evan says, rolling his eyes.
"I played a lot of hockey growing up," says Calvin.
And then he starts looking around the bar with this expression of utter concentration, and oh god, Evan's drunk but he's not drunk enough for this.
"Finish this," Evan says, pushing his mostly empty glass forward. "I've got to get back to the house."
"Or--" Calvin says.
"Next time," Evan says. He stands, and puts his hand on Calvin's shoulder, giving a little squeeze and then a more hardy pat.
Evan doesn't really go have to go back to the house, but the pitcher Calvin helped him finish wasn't his first of the night, and Evan does have to pee. He might as well pee at the house.
He walks across campus and it's quieter than during the day. It's kind of nice. Right up until the point where he walks past Katherine, anyway. Katherine, who's drinking a cappachino with a guy. The guy looks like a total douche. His hair style clearly requires a blow-dryer.
Last year Evan would have made it into something. Walked over and impressed Katherine until she was paying attention to him instead. Growing up in a big house full of busy people, Evan always knew he had to make a lot of noise if he wanted something. He hadn't actually thought about Katherine before Calvin mentioned it, but just on principle: he should be able to get something just by setting his mind to it.
Except that today he walks past them, even ducks his head so that he won't have to make eye contact. Who drinks coffee this late at night, anyway? Sensible people switch to alcohol after five.
Or, after noon, sometimes. Evan's had a few long days.
There are a bunch of guys in the common room when Evan walks through the front door, but they're yelling at the TV, so Evan makes his way up the stairs unnoticed. He checks his phone one more time for good measure before plugging it into the charger and setting it on his desk. He puts his book, with the bookmark still in the same place it was when he picked it up this morning, down as well.
He crawls into bed, still wearing his clothes, and closes his eyes just to see if he'll fall asleep. He doesn't. His stomach is doing weird things. He holds up his wrist and squints at his watch. It's past midnight and Evan hasn't any anything but beer since lunch. Maybe he'll go down to the kitchen.
On his way down, Evan passes a few guys in the hall. They don't look at him.
He fill up a cup of ramen with water and put it in the microwave. It works better to add already-hot water to the noodles, but Evan kind of doesn't give a fuck. It's his third cup of ramen today: it's not like he's eating it for the taste.
It's late and the house is dark and quiet and Evan's had too much to drink. He imagines all the cheap beer and shitty soup floating around in his body. Imagines that maybe it'll show on his skin. Maybe his parents will come to the frat and see that he's been eating salty water and simple starches and they'll feel so bad that they'll give back his trust fund, no strings attached. He's still sober enough to know that he's being stupid, but he can't bring himself to care. Thinking is free.
Maybe once he finishes paying back the house he'll cut back on beer and start buying better food again. Maybe he'll just start buying better beer. The microwave beeps and Evan pulls out the cup. It's hot and he has to set it onto the counter, his fingers smarting.
He pokes at the noodles with a fork. Having something to eat seemed like a good a idea, but he's not actually that hungry after all. He hasn't had much of an appetite lately. Or, his appetite hasn't been for shitty food, and that's all he's got right now.
One of his nannies was Mexican and sometimes for dessert she'd make goat cheese and quince paste. Evan always thought it was more than a little weird, but he misses it now. Misses weird. Hates these stupid noodles.
He throws the cup into the garbage without finishing it. At this rate, he's going to have to start wearing a belt, but he doesn't give a fuck. It's not like he can afford to renew his gym membership when it runs out.
His phone is fully charged when he walks back into his bedroom. He unplugs it and takes it with him when he lies down on his bed. Checks again for any new messages. Rebecca's name is the first in his inbox, and for half a second his heart starts racing, but when he opens the text, it's an old one. He should probably delete it to avoid confusion. Maybe tomorrow. He deletes all the other messages he gets, so it's not like he's going to run out of space.
He stares at the display, which is dark and it's dark and it's dark until all the sudden it lights up and Jesus Christ, he actually got a new message, holy fuck.
A new message from Calvin: tmrw night we can g2 YOUR gentleman's choice. i'm the best i know.
Evan shakes his head. Sets the phone down on the bedside table. He leaves the ringer turned on, just in case.
Evan Chambers. PG-13. ~ 1150 words. Unbetaed. Spoilers for the most recent episode, but nothing too major.
Maybe one day he'll be small enough to fit between the cracks and he'll finally get to where he wants to be
Rebecca comes back from visiting her mother and doesn't call.
Evan didn't expect her to call. But he spent so much time being so very sure that she wouldn't call that he kind of thought she would after all.
"Dude," Calvin says. "This has been going on longer than you dated. You need to get back on the horse. The vagina horse. You need to get back on a vagina."
"Thanks," Evan says. "That was very provocative imagery."
"Well, it's not like I like picturing it. That. The it-that. Goddamn this is some nasty beer."
"I didn't say you had to help me finish the pitcher."
"One guy working on a pitcher by himself is just sad," Calvin says. He makes a face before chugging back the rest of the glass.
"You're a giver," Evan says. He pours what's left in the pitcher into his own glass.
"Look, just because things didn't work out with Katherine, it doesn't mean you shouldn't try again. Eyes on the prize. Keep looking ahead."
"You're really good with the little inspirational phrases," Evan says, rolling his eyes.
"I played a lot of hockey growing up," says Calvin.
And then he starts looking around the bar with this expression of utter concentration, and oh god, Evan's drunk but he's not drunk enough for this.
"Finish this," Evan says, pushing his mostly empty glass forward. "I've got to get back to the house."
"Or--" Calvin says.
"Next time," Evan says. He stands, and puts his hand on Calvin's shoulder, giving a little squeeze and then a more hardy pat.
Evan doesn't really go have to go back to the house, but the pitcher Calvin helped him finish wasn't his first of the night, and Evan does have to pee. He might as well pee at the house.
He walks across campus and it's quieter than during the day. It's kind of nice. Right up until the point where he walks past Katherine, anyway. Katherine, who's drinking a cappachino with a guy. The guy looks like a total douche. His hair style clearly requires a blow-dryer.
Last year Evan would have made it into something. Walked over and impressed Katherine until she was paying attention to him instead. Growing up in a big house full of busy people, Evan always knew he had to make a lot of noise if he wanted something. He hadn't actually thought about Katherine before Calvin mentioned it, but just on principle: he should be able to get something just by setting his mind to it.
Except that today he walks past them, even ducks his head so that he won't have to make eye contact. Who drinks coffee this late at night, anyway? Sensible people switch to alcohol after five.
Or, after noon, sometimes. Evan's had a few long days.
There are a bunch of guys in the common room when Evan walks through the front door, but they're yelling at the TV, so Evan makes his way up the stairs unnoticed. He checks his phone one more time for good measure before plugging it into the charger and setting it on his desk. He puts his book, with the bookmark still in the same place it was when he picked it up this morning, down as well.
He crawls into bed, still wearing his clothes, and closes his eyes just to see if he'll fall asleep. He doesn't. His stomach is doing weird things. He holds up his wrist and squints at his watch. It's past midnight and Evan hasn't any anything but beer since lunch. Maybe he'll go down to the kitchen.
On his way down, Evan passes a few guys in the hall. They don't look at him.
He fill up a cup of ramen with water and put it in the microwave. It works better to add already-hot water to the noodles, but Evan kind of doesn't give a fuck. It's his third cup of ramen today: it's not like he's eating it for the taste.
It's late and the house is dark and quiet and Evan's had too much to drink. He imagines all the cheap beer and shitty soup floating around in his body. Imagines that maybe it'll show on his skin. Maybe his parents will come to the frat and see that he's been eating salty water and simple starches and they'll feel so bad that they'll give back his trust fund, no strings attached. He's still sober enough to know that he's being stupid, but he can't bring himself to care. Thinking is free.
Maybe once he finishes paying back the house he'll cut back on beer and start buying better food again. Maybe he'll just start buying better beer. The microwave beeps and Evan pulls out the cup. It's hot and he has to set it onto the counter, his fingers smarting.
He pokes at the noodles with a fork. Having something to eat seemed like a good a idea, but he's not actually that hungry after all. He hasn't had much of an appetite lately. Or, his appetite hasn't been for shitty food, and that's all he's got right now.
One of his nannies was Mexican and sometimes for dessert she'd make goat cheese and quince paste. Evan always thought it was more than a little weird, but he misses it now. Misses weird. Hates these stupid noodles.
He throws the cup into the garbage without finishing it. At this rate, he's going to have to start wearing a belt, but he doesn't give a fuck. It's not like he can afford to renew his gym membership when it runs out.
His phone is fully charged when he walks back into his bedroom. He unplugs it and takes it with him when he lies down on his bed. Checks again for any new messages. Rebecca's name is the first in his inbox, and for half a second his heart starts racing, but when he opens the text, it's an old one. He should probably delete it to avoid confusion. Maybe tomorrow. He deletes all the other messages he gets, so it's not like he's going to run out of space.
He stares at the display, which is dark and it's dark and it's dark until all the sudden it lights up and Jesus Christ, he actually got a new message, holy fuck.
A new message from Calvin: tmrw night we can g2 YOUR gentleman's choice. i'm the best i know.
Evan shakes his head. Sets the phone down on the bedside table. He leaves the ringer turned on, just in case.