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it was christmas, and hugo couldn't seem to be off his phone. whether he was having one-sided conversations with porter, that usually got left on read, or writing down notes for his next song, he always had something to keep him occupied and it was all in a 4.7 inch screen.even though there was never a response, he knew porter was reading his countless texts, but it saddened him that he wouldn't see his "best friend" until february. even then, they'd constantly be ripped apart by interviewers and fans. and although he enjoyed the attention, he'd much prefer a hotel room alone with porter. but he did like when they got their little alone moments, because it was just them.they'd been to the majority of the states in the north american stretch of the tour before, when they were on their respective album tours, so sightseeing wasn't really an option, giving them more downtime to have more "moments".as much as he enjoyed porters company, he knew that the man needed space.it wasn't fun, but they always had to spend time apart. it'd be just like old times, when they only knew each other over the internet.god, that gave him flashbacks. flashbacks to when he'd have to conceal his conversations every time his parents searched his devices and flashbacks to old times when they were just deamon and ekowraith.he wanted to call porter so badly but he knew that it was either too late at night or it was just straight up weird. besides, he was always busy, right?he tried to shake the thoughts away as he worked on music, and occasionally he'd open the shelter file and just listen. listen and smile. if only he could listen to porter singing it.his smile slowly faded and his expression was shock when his phone rang, and it was porter on the other end of the line.in his shocked frenzy, he hung up by accident, and started cursing at himself.
how could he be so stupid?
it's like he could've closed that multi-thousand mile distance one more time, at least before february, and he threw that chance away.all he wanted was to feel porters soft skin, and his lips. fuck it, he just wanted porter. he just wanted to hear that sweet singing voice. he wanted to hear porter speaking, even if it was screaming into a mic, that'd be enough.he typed out a text, apologising for hanging up. any cares about mistakenly typing french were just... gone.he left the message without sending it, and looked around his room, slowly letting the memories of him and porter flood back into his mind.like that time he and porter decided to wear onesies for a whole day, and they were giggling as porter tried to speak his fake french, with hugo laughing like a lunatic beside him, because he understood everything.'j'ai fini du papillon, et uh...'hugo's laughing had gotten extremely loud by that point and porter stopped, laughing a little as well."what? what'd i say?"hugo could barely speak, so he waited until he calmed down to tell porter what he had said."you said 'i ate a butterfly'. 'j'ai fini du papillon' means 'i ate a butterfly'."he spoke out loud, like porter was there beside him, and he felt a sudden warmth in his hand and in his entire body, but that quickly faded when he realised.
porter isn't there.
he let out a sigh and opened his phone again, checking the time.he prayed his eyelids would become so heavy that they'd just shut tight, but no, it didn't happen.nothing ever went hugo's way. if they did, he'd be lying with porter, arms wrapped around him, and he'd be happy.he wouldn't be sitting at one in the morning reminiscing about old memories whilst he dreaded sending a stupid message.what was the point? what was the point in even wanting to be friends with someone he knew he could never love. porter was straight, no doubt about that.and it hurt hugo when he saw porter eyeing up another girl, because he was right there.and it hurt him when they hugged, because it was just "friends". never more, never less.and hugo couldn't abide by that.