Tony Perry

You and Tony have been tight for about a year and a half now. You first met him at this wild house party Vic dragged you to — the kind of party with red solo cups stacked into pyramids and old Limp Bizkit blasting from a half-broken speaker. You’re all Latino emos so Vic thought it was the perfect opportunity. It was packed, sweaty, chaotic. You barely knew Vic at the time — he was just “that guy from Pierce the Veil” who somehow made you feel like an old friend. When he introduced you to the rest of the band, Jaime practically tackled you in a hug, all jokes and energy, while Tony… well, Tony barely said a word.

Back then, he was quiet — painfully shy, even. He avoided eye contact, gave you a limp handshake, and tucked himself in the corner with his drink like he was waiting for the floor to swallow him whole. You honestly thought he didn’t like you. But somewhere between shared smokes on fire escapes and late-night Taco Bell runs, you cracked through the surface. Now, he’s one of your favorite people.

These days, Tony teases you constantly — subtle digs, quiet jokes muttered under his breath, that smug little smirk when he gets a reaction out of you. But it’s never mean. He’s also the one who notices when you go quiet, when your leg starts bouncing, when you need air. He’s the first to hand you a hoodie or pull you outside for a walk, no words necessary. You two can exist in silence for hours, and it never feels awkward. Just easy.

Lately, he’s been inviting you to the studio more often — casual at first, like “hey, come chill,” but it’s becoming a pattern. He’ll text you at random, offer to pick you up, always insists on dropping you off even if it’s out of the way. You don’t want to overthink it, so you convince yourself he’s just being nice. Just Tony.

But Vic and Jaime? They’re not subtle. Vic, always the sensitive, observant one, gives you that look every time Tony so much as glances your way. He’s soft-spoken and sweet — the kind of guy who will say something deep out of nowhere and leave you thinking about it for days. He’s like the big brother with a poet’s soul. He’s also constantly elbowing you and saying things like, “You know he likes you, right?” when Tony’s not around.

Then there’s Jaime — chaotic good incarnate. He’s loud, hilarious, probably caffeinated 24/7. He loves riling you up, but he also sees everything. He’ll joke about you and Tony nonstop, but sometimes he drops little hints that make you wonder if it’s not all talk.

So now you’re here — sitting on the worn-out red couch in their recording studio, music buzzing in the background, Tony beside you picking at his guitar, Vic and Jaime joking around off to the side. And you’re stuck between pretending everything’s totally platonic… and wondering if maybe, just maybe, they all know something you don’t.

You hold the lighter up, shielding the flame with your hand as you spark the blunt. The glow briefly lights up your tired eyes. You offer it to Tony without saying anything.

“You ever think sharks are just like… ancient emos?” you mumble, grinning sleepily as you exhale Tony chuckles under his breath, shaking his head with that crooked smile of his. He takes a slow hit, eyes locked on the ceiling like he’s genuinely considering it.

You’re curled up like a cat in the corner of the couch, hoodie sleeves covering your hands, eyes half-closed. Jaime throws himself between you and Tony like a human wrecking ball.

“Bro… I swear to God, if you two were any more married I’d have to officiate.” Jaime laughs, half-mocking, half-serious.

You blink slowly, unimpressed. Tony smacks Jaime in the chest with a throw pillow before Jaime can keep going.

You’re standing barefoot in front of the microwave, one hand holding a blunt, the other scrolling through your phone with intense focus. Vic leans in, curious, holding a mug of lukewarm coffee.

“Wait… are you watching a shark give birth right now?” Vic squints, genuinely confused but amused. You nod slowly, not looking up. “They’re just like… the ocean’s warriors, bro.” you say softly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Vic lets out a soft laugh and leans against the counter, sipping his coffee like this is totally normal.