Nights Are Never Black, Just Blue

When people talked about nighttime, it was always about how dark, how black it was. But not for Mars. To him, it was blue. Like being crushed by the waves of the ocean, buried beneath the water.

He could never sleep, anymore. Between thinking of Priestly and thinking avoiding his nightmares. It had been days since he slept, maybe even a week. He could see the dark circles forming beneath his eyes, but he tried to hide them from Priestly. He didn't want to look even uglier than he already did, after all.

Sighing deeply, he stood up and paced. Perhaps Priestly was up and he could talk to him. Maybe it would ease his mind? He doubted it, but it was still early in the night, only around midnight. He didn't think Priestly would be asleep.

He pulled on sweatpants over his boxers, even though it was very hot. Summers were a killer, but at least it'd make it harder for Priestly if he got handsy. Which Mars had no doubt he would.

Mars crept to Priestly's door, knocking lightly. He always felt weird about Priestly's room, for reason's he couldn't explain.

"Marsy, is that you?" called Priestly, his voice light and airy and very much awake. "If it is, and only if it is, you may come inside. My door is always unlocked for you, you know."

"I-I know!" he replied, and he did know. But, there was always some air of inapproachability to Priestly's room. It seemed so foreign, not his. He pushed the door open, running a hand through his hair. He stepped inside, playing with his ponytail. "I...wanted to talk. If that's okay."

He put down his magazine and smiled.

"Your spot's waiting, Marsy. Go on." He patted the spot next to him on the bed, which was suspiciously warm.

There were other telltale signs throughout the room: the lamp, which was still practically frigid to the touch; the stack of magazines, which had been knocked over in his haste to grab one; the haphazardness of the blankets bunched around him, as though they had been thrown off. Even his eyes told a story, still foggy with sleep and blinking far too often as they adjusted to the light.

"I was just thinking of making some warm milk, or perhaps some hot chocolate, if you'd like some as well," he lied.

Mars narrowed his eyes, but he said nothing. Whether or not he noticed, he did not say anything.

He crawled onto the bed, leaning against the headboard until it banged against the wall. It was entirely intentional.

"Save your lies," he replied, meeting Priestly's eyes for a split second. He couldn't hold the stare, though, and he quickly looked away. "You know I don't care what you were doing. I just came to...talk. About some things."

Mars swallowed, crossing his arms. He was jealous of Priestly, and while he was jealous for a lot of reasons, mostly he was jealous of Priestly's ability to still sleep.

"And? What would you like to talk about?" he asked gently enough, awkwardly stretching his arm around Mars's shoulders. Not touching him felt altogether too strange; physical contact was his comfort zone. With Mars especially. He always felt like he needed to touch him, to ensure that he was real, that he was alive and breathing and definitely Mars.

"I've been awake for a while--I could certainly use the company, if not the food for thought."

Mars flinched away from him, but he did not protested any further.

"Um." Actually, Mars didn't know what to talk about. He tried to think of something. "I wanted to talk about your, uhm...your...uh. Your...sexuality."

His eyes widened, and he couldn't help but stare. He opened his mouth to say something, but it took him a few minutes to find the right words.

"...Oh. Well, that's fine, then. What is it you'd like to know?"

This was not what Mars had wanted to ask about, but it was a little bit late for that, now. He supposed it couldn't hurt. Well, he knew it could. But it was too late, now.

"Uh...Uhm. You know. How did you...know? And stuff. Like that."

"Ah," he said, chuckling. "Well, it took some time, and some experimentation. I met and, shall we say, associated with many people...sooner or later I realized I could love anyone. Bodies just don't matter to me. I find lots of people beautiful."

He met Mars's eyes.

"Of course, even then, I didn't fully understand until relatively recently. But now I think I get it. In the end, the best thing to go by is to like what you like--if you love someone so much you'd give them your everything, you know it's real."

"Don't!" he snapped, looking away. "Don't...don't look at me like that."

He shoved Priestly's arm off of him, too.

"I...I don't need to experiment. That's sinful and wrong, and I don't...I know what I am," he grumbled, mostly to himself. He slicked hair out of his face, refusing to look at Priestly. "Never mind. I want to talk about something else."

"Ask away," he said, still smiling. It hurt, but that was not a problem for Marsy's ears.

He barely glanced over at Priestly. He still didn't know what to talk about, anyway. He was even more out of brilliant ideas.

"I...don't know. Why don't you ask me something, or something? Why do I have to do all the work?" he grumbled nonsensically.

"Oh, okay. Is there anyone you like?" he asked innocently enough.

Mars nearly facepalmed. Could Priestly's intentions be any more obvious?

"Do you think I have friends, or something?" he snapped irritably. "No, I get it, you're mocking me. For my lack of friends. The only possible answer I could have would be you, and since I don't like you, I don't even relatively like you, the answer is no. Are you happy?"

He frowned deeper. This was worse than being tormented by nightmares.

He kissed Mars on the forehead.

"It's okay Marsy--I like you too. Would you like me to read you a story, while we're up? Perhaps a Bible passage?"

"No! I'm not five!" he insisted, getting to his feet. "That's it! This was stupid! I can't believe I actually thought I could seriously talk to you about anything! You're...you're stupid! I'm going to go...do..something! Something without you!"

Mars stomped to the kitchen, violently opening the fridge and rummaging for eggs. There were none, so he settled on grabbing a bowlful of strawberries and smearing nutella on them. He would eat until he got sick, and then reprimend himself with a strict workout the next day.