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Clay was aggressively tired when he got out of work, so he's definitely off his game when he boards the bus home. Part of the reason why he liked being friends with Apollo was that neither of them had a license, so neither could justifiably tease the other for not being able to drive.
It did suck when he had a long commute home, though.
He didn't think of it when he sat down next to the tall stranger with headphones around his neck, eyes obscured by sunglasses and staring out the window with his chin in his hand. He sat next to strangers on the bus all the time, and he was particularly exhausted today. No time to worry about things like that. He leaned back in his seat and willed himself to stay awake. Clay had missed his stop many a time before. This didn't last particularly long, however. His eyes started to glaze over rather quickly, and he could feel himself beginning to drift off not long after the bus started moving again.
But then he noticed something, sitting between the shoes of the man next to him. A card. A particularly valuable looking one. When he awoke his senses enough to realize just exactly what he was seeing, he quickly tapped his neighbor on the shoulder.
“Hm?” The man barely turned to look at him, his eyes still obscured and his voice gruff. His long hair shifted behind his back, tied by what looked to be a rubber band at the base of his neck.
“Uh, sorry,” Clay said, and he was annoyed because he didn't like to be awkward, “but...is that your card? Down there?” He pointed to the piece of plastic, and the other man glanced down just enough to see what he was indicating to. But when the pieces fit together in his mind, he jerked downward quickly.
“Ah, shit,” he hissed, grabbing it off the ground and hastily shoving it into his pocket. “Thanks. I woulda been in the doghouse with my manager all week if I lost that.” Clay raised an eyebrow. Manager? This guy couldn't have been loaded if he was taking public transportation, but why would retail work need a company card? Maybe things had changed since he'd quit working at that coffee place.
Things went back to silence again quickly, but they soon found themselves in the awkward air after a fraction of a conversation. Clay's eyes drifted to the man's phone, sitting beneath his hand on one of his thighs. When he noticed one of the chains on it, he the words came out before he could stop them: “You're a Gavinners fan?”
“Hm?” The man didn't seem to expect further discussion from him, turning with something like surprise. “Oh.” He glanced down at his phone, tapping a button on it to check for notifications, as if by habit. “Yeah, I guess you could say that...”
“I usually don't meet other guys my age who are really into them” Clay said, an awkward smile on his face. “People always say it's a band for teenage girls, but I love 'em.” He paused, examining the man's blank expression and briefly considering the implications of his words. “Not—Not to insult you or anything!” Clay cried, waving his hands in apology. “Like...like, they're wrong for thinking that guys can't like them. Who says bands have genders or whatever, anyway? That's just weird, right?”
The man watched him without any sort of reaction for a long time, and Clay began to feel increasingly nervous as he eyed him. His eyes still being hidden behind the sunglasses didn't help much. But after a few moments, the corner of his mouth quirked up in something that he could have called amusement.
“Yeah,” he said, obviously not one for many words, “I get what you mean. They're alright.”
“U-Um...” Clay was beginning to feel bad for his terrible conversational skills, but he wanted to make up for what he'd said now that he seemed to have the man's attention. “My friend knows him, y'know! Klavier Gavin, I mean.”
The man raised an eyebrow in interest, showing perhaps the most emotion since he'd noticed his card was on the floor. “Really now?” he asked, a hint of curiosity easing into his tone. Clay began to relax a little. Then again, maybe he thought that he was just making it up. The story was a little out there.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, nodding. “My buddy Apollo, he's a defense attorney. And you know how, like, all the Gavinners are in with the law and stuff like that? Gavin's a prosecutor, remember? So they work together sometimes. It's still pretty weird to me! They only met a few months ago.” He drummed his fingers on his knee. “I think he invited him to a concert in a few weeks, actually...” He was almost too embarrassed to look at the man, wondering if his story even seemed plausible.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, and the interest in his tone put Clay at ease. “I think I've heard of that guy. Read about it in the news or something a while back. He's...interesting. Gavin seems to like him.”
Clay raised an eyebrow this time, wondering why he'd make such a remark. Maybe he was a particularly dedicated fan, just too shy to say anything before that point. “What makes you say that?” he asked. “Not to pry or anything, but...okay, just between you and me? I think my friend kinda has a thing for him.”
The stranger tipped his sunglasses forward slightly, dark eyes watching him from over the rim. Clay was admittedly a bit struck by the sight. They were pretty nice to look at, and he hadn't expected it so suddenly at that.
“Really now,” he said, his tone flat but blatantly interested. “Tell me more.”
“Well!” Clay said, gritting his teeth. “Don't go blabbing that, especially because Apollo would probably scream at me for a year if he found out I said this to anyone...let alone some stranger on a bus...” He shrugged sheepishly, but the man didn't seem to react. “He's just...It's just how he gets when he talks about him, y'know? I know how he is when he has a crush on someone...Plus, I mean, it's Klavier Gavin, y'know? Dude's sex on legs or whatever they call it...”
The man actually laughed at that one, low and throaty. Clay blushed slightly. Between the closer look at his face, boring into Clay's own eyes, and the sound he made, the way the smile played at his lips...He was actually pretty cute. And he seemed really familiar now that he was getting a close look at him.
“Yeah, he's okay,” he said with a slight nod of the head. “He's not my favorite though.”
“Me neither,” Clay said with a bit of a smile. “I'm a Daryan kinda guy, y'know? He just seems really...cool. I can't really put it into words.”
The man's eyes widened a bit at this, but he only seemed taken aback for a moment. “Huh,” he said. “I don't really see fans of him around a lot.”
Clay smiled fully now, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his pictures for a few moments once he had. After a while, it seemed like he'd found what he was looking for, and he held the screen up to the man's face.
He stared at the picture, a photo of Klavier Gavin and Daryan Crescend from a recent photoshoot looking back at him. The man seemed to be looking at it carefully, the two of them posed with their instruments of choice in front of a colorful backdrop.
“He just always looks like he doesn't give a shit, y'know?” he said. “Klavier's cool, and he's a really good songwriter, but he seems kinda...high-maintenance. You get what I mean?”
He laughed again, louder this time, as Clay lowered his phone. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said. The man's phone dinged, and Clay glanced down on reflex as the man's wallpaper greeted him, a small notification from a news website at the top of the screen.
“Oh!” Clay said. “You like sharks, huh?”
The man glanced between him and the phone, but didn't say anything about the quickfire eavesdropping. “Yeah, I do,” he answered. “They're pretty cool.”
“I totally get it,” Clay said, nodding. “I'm more of a space guy myself, actually. I work down at GYAXA. I'm actually training for a space mission.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “Everything I'm saying sounds like absolute bullshit so far, huh?” The man waved dismissively.
“Weirder things have happened,” he answered.
“If you say so,” Clay said, still half-smiling. “But, yeah, I'm a total nerd about that kinda stuff...always have been. So I get when people are really into things like nature and science. Stuff like that. It's really interesting.” He glanced at the scenery outside, realizing that his stop was coming up soon.
“Oh, wow,” Clay continued on. “We're that close already? Sorry, man, I've been talking to you this whole time...I really didn't mean to start a whole conversation or get in your business or anything.” The man's eyes were still on him, and he blushed slightly. He really was handsome. And patient, apparently.
“It's no problem,” the guy said. “Really. It's been a good way to pass the time, I guess.” He tucked his phone back into his pocket, the Gavinners chain still loose outside of it. “I'm not usually a particularly talkative guy, but you've...got a lot of personality. It's kinda cute.”
Clay blushed even deeper now, not expecting such a sudden compliment from a guy he already considered pretty good looking. This was certainly an interesting commute home. “A-Anyway,” he said, glancing away. “I should probably get ready to get off...Don't wanna miss my stop.” The man suddenly took Clay's phone from his hand, slowly and gently, as if asking permission in the middle of the act. Clay's breath hitched slightly, but he realized quickly that he seemed to be typing something in. After a few moments, he handed it back wordlessly.
“It's been fun,” he added.
Clay glanced down at the screen as he stood up, finding a new contact added to his list. The number stared back at him, unfamiliar in its pattern, and a name sat proud at the top: “Daryan.”
The eyes. The laugh. He'd seen interviews with his allegedly beloved band before.
“Wait,” Clay said. “Are you--” He stared at him without any hesitation now, studying his face with interest. His companion lifted the sunglasses up, letting them rest in his hair. “Shit.”
Before he could say anything else, however, the bus dinged to let him know that his stop had arrived.
“Don't worry,” Daryan said with a familiar sly grin, “we can always talk later.”