Bo isn't sure what he's doing here again. It's not like last time--he doesn't feel like he's dying. He's sad, certainly, but a cup of tea and a movie, or a phone call to Keye would probably do just as well.
Maybe...
Maybe he just wants to see Enrique.

Heh, now there's a weird thought. Silly.

The diminutive hybrid is pleased to see that Enrique's motorcycle is parked outside, meaning the incubus is probably at home. Barely conscious of what he's doing, he smoothes his shirt (long-sleeved, soft material, skin-tight, black) and checks to make sure the hems of his pants haven't gotten stuck in his sneakers.
He knocks.

Waits.

Huh. Nothing.

Well, maybe he's in another room, or listneing to music, or with a client. Surely he won't mind...

Bo lets himself in, stepping onto the carpet, looking around.

Was that the door?

Enrique wasn't exactly paying attention to anything but his pretty and removing his pretty's clothing (again).

That was the door.

The incubus frowns and sits up, hands resting on Ant's chest.

"Someone's here."

Ant sighs (and it is more a blissful sigh than a sigh of annoyance).

"Do you have to get the door?"

He presumes that Enrique does, because Enrique has a life outside of making Ant's more pleasant.

Which is a pity.

"Enrique...?"
After a quick look around, Bo concludes that he must be in the bedroom (which makes sense, honestly), and approaches the door.

That's funny. It doesn't sound like he's...er, working at the moment.
"Hallo? Are you at home?"

They're, ah, in the other bedroom.

Enrique leans down and kisses Ant's cheek. "Apparently not."

He straightens again.

"I'm home. I'm in here."

"Mmm. Apparently," he murmurs. (Ant always talks softly, but this is especially soft.)

Ant reclines, making himself as at home as it is humanly possible to look.

This should be interesting.

So Bo goes to the other door, opens it and sticks his head in, his eyes roving over the scene.
Interestingly enough, various bits of somewhat-scary equiptment evince no reaction.
But when his eyes land on Ant, he winces animatedly, ducks back out, and shuts the door again.

Enrique blinks.

"... it seems he doesn't like you."

He gets off the bed and stands. Mm, should he dress...? Nah.

Opens the door.

"Little one?"

"Odd."

This is Ant's opinion, and Ant is sticking to it.

He shall hesitate to follow, presuming to give them privacy.

And when I say hesitate, I mean he'll delay for about twenty seconds and then follow.

Bo is standing outside the door, against the opposite wall, with his arms folded.
"Yes?"

The faint crease between his eyebrows suggests that he isn't happy, but can't quite figure out what precisely is wrong.

"What was that all about?"

He leaves the door open, because he doesn't have much sense of privacy.

Ant is his pretty, Bo is his little one.

And ne'er the twain shall meet, apparently. They should like each other. He would enjoy that very much.

In a moment, Ant shall come to lean in the doorway. He shall not, for the moment, say anything.

He is currently rather rumpled - shirt half-open and necklace visible. (Normally it would be hidden his shirt.)

"Nothing." He affects an air of nonchalance.
"I came to...see you. You were busy. I was going to leave again."

And sulk.

"You don't have to."

You could join in!

"What's the trouble this time?"

... Bo tends to come to him in crisis-mode. Forgive him the assumption.

"I can clear out."

If that'd make you more comfortable.

Me 'n him have already gone a round today, it's not like we were just getting started.

Isn't Ant generous?

"There's no trouble."
There doesn't have to be trouble, maybe he just likes Enrique, hm?

He doesn't care much for Ant's generosity. He hisses.
His horns are out.

Enrique looks between them, confused.

"What's that for, little one?"

He's not sure which one to fold in his arms and kiss. He touches Bo's shoulder, frowning.

Needless to say, Ant is also confused.

He's going to be quiet again.

Bo pulls his shoulder away from Enrique's touch, simultaneously dipping and tossing his head, threatening to gouge Enrique with his horns. He bares his teeth.
“Nothing.”

Enrique takes a startled step back.

"The hell?"

He's more surprised than angry, but what was that?

"Don't tell me you're jealous, little one."

Ant frowns. He doesn't want to be a bother.

He's going to go. Now.

Without saying goodbye, in fact, slipping 'round the side of the room to the other door.

Bo snorts.
"Don't be stupid." His voice seems to have taken on a strange metallic quality. "Why would I be jealous of food?"
But it sounds hollow, coming from him, and his voice breaks on the last word.

Enrique is not sure he wants to try again to hug the little one, because it would rather hurt if he got one of those horns in his eye, or something.

"Same reason I was, obviously."

He follows Ant with his eyes.

"Pretty..." Don't go?

Pause, with a bitter twist to his lips.

Food, is he?

Yes, apparently he is.

That hurt, Bo.

But he isn't going anywhere, because Enrique doesn't want him to.

"Because you love him," he says softly. Same reason.

Why does that bother him?
That shouldn't bother him.

Enrique takes a deep breath.

"And you."

Double-whammy, because he hasn't come right out and said that he loves his pretty.

Pause.

"... and you of all people should know better than to call him food." Since, after all, you were so irritable when I referred to your humans that way.

Ant went a bit slack-jawed when Bo expressed that, then doubly so when Enrique replies.

Well, that was unexpected.

"Well. Aren't we a happy family."

If he's a bit sardonic about it, can you blame him? Drama is not his strong suit.

Bo chooses not to respond to Enrique, because things inside are gibbering and refusing to be brought to bear on the situation.

Instead, he shoots Ant a very Keye-esque "Fuck you," complete with New York accent.

"Stop it. Both of you."

Enrique is a trifle shaken - he rather planned not to mention that ever, to either of them.

"Don't fight."

Please?

"I'm sorry."

He's talking to both of them.

"I'm very sorry."

His tone is blank and regretful, and his expression is strained.

He isn't the most emotionally stable in this sort of situation. It's why he avoids this sort of situation.

Bo looks between them, his mouth drawn down, showing a pained glint of teeth.

He settles on Ant again.
"You didn't deserve that."
The smile is sickly and brittle.
"I apologize."

Enrique's arms hang limply at his sides.

"Did you two always hate each other or did you just decide that now?"

His tone is empty.

He doesn't want to be forced to a choice.

"That's quite alright. It's true, isn't it?"

He feels numb. He feels like there's nothing left to hold onto. He wants to run away and find a quiet place and purge all this hurting out and go back to the way things were before he met Enrique. Because it hurts.

"I don't think - I don't know, Jiri."

He doesn't know. He doesn't know or understand what Bo is, what Bo is thinking, or why Bo is so important. He's lost in the dark.

Bo was going to answer this time. Really.
But he gets stuck, mouth open, nearly choking.
"...Jiri?"

Enrique turns white.

"My name."

His real name, that is.

"I was going to tell you in private, little one..."

It's just that there have been all these crises and he really doesn't quite know how to bring it up.

To Ant.

"Don't ever do that again."

Say his name in front of someone else, that is.

Ant goes pale.

"I-"

He has nothing else to say. He knows that was - was horrible.

He didn't mean to. He didn't. It just happened.

He's sorry, and he is at a loss for words, and he turns his head away from both of them.

He might be crying. If he is, he's hiding it.

"You weren't." It's too convenient of an excuse.

Pause.

"I'll go."
And he turns to brush past Ant and do so.
His horns are gone.

"Little one!"

But he has to comfort his pretty...

But Bo might well be leaving forever...

But...

"Please."

Ant doesn't turn around.

"You should go after him," he whispers.

Presuming that Bo has already gotten somewhere that this comment makes sense.

Bo stops--for a moment. There's a sound that might be a cough, and might be a dry sob, and he continues.

Phone call to Keye it is, then. Or tea and a movie. Or some combination of those.
Yeah.