James didn't know what to do, so he placed his hand on Victor's head.

"You know," James said. "You shouldn't use so much product in your hair; it feels a bit stiff."

"What?" Victor blinked repeatedly. He was confused, but at least he wasn't panicking anymore.

James smiled and rubbed a strand of his hair between his fingers. "You use a lot of stuff."

"It's hairspray." Victor chocked. "Why are we talking about my hair again, what's with you and my hair? Are you balding? Is that it? You're balding?

"It's quite fascinating," James said, moving his hand over Victor's head. It occurred to him that he was petting him like a cat. Victor was just watching him, lips parted.

"Why?"

"I don't know; it's always so perfect." James chuckled. "And it's so dark. Do you dye it?"

"No," Victor said.

James pulled his feet under himself and pushed Victor's hair back. "And you have such a great hairline," he said, tracing it with his thumbs, "Not a single bald spot. You know, I've never seen your hair natural."

James was glad he could at least keep Victor distracted. If you can't comfort them with your kindness, distract them with meaningless conversation.

"It's just hairspray!" Victor whined, leaning against the bedframe. James kept his hands on his head.

"It's crunchy, that's what it is."

"Why, would you rather I walk around with limp hair? Plastered to my forehead like I've been sitting in a field all day, getting licked by cows? Who do you think I am?"

James laughed. "That could be a look," he said.

Victor sighed, "You wouldn't understand," he said, gesturing towards James' head. "What do you do, just shove an electric razor in it?" Victor wiped his eyes and couched a couple of times, probably trying to get rid of that tightness in his voice.

"Pretty much." James nodded.

James didn't want to ask Victor if he was alright. It seemed like the type of question that would send him spiraling back. Instead, he leaned towards Victor's bag of snacks and took out two cans of coke.

"Here. Allow me to give you one of your sodas," he said. Victor took it.

"Do you have something against water?" James asked, opening his dose.

"Water doesn't taste like sugar," he said, "And lemon water is an abomination, so leave me alone."

"Lemon water is a scam for people who go on detoxes." James wasn't sure if that was true or not; it was just something he heard people say. It was appropriate enough for their conversation.

"Detox water is not a thing," Victor said. "That's why you have a liver. I should know, mine does a lot of work."

Oh, so he can joke? Who would've thought?

James moved next to him and bumped his shoulder with his. It occurred to him that this was the first conversation they had without it turning into a bickering match.

The knock at the door made both of them jump a little. "James?" Oliver's voice came through.

"Come in!" Victor said before James had the change to think about it. 

"Hi," Oliver looked at both of them. He looked at Victor, then at James, then he sat in front of them. He didn't ask anything, even if Victor's eyes were red. There was no doubt that he had been crying. Oliver didn't ask, and James liked him even more for that.

"Can I have one?" He asked, gesturing towards the soda. Victor pointed at his snack bag. 

"Vanilla coke is better," Oliver said. "Just a fact of life."

"No fucking way," James said. "Cherry Coke, all the way."

Victor frowned. "You're both monsters, and I refuse to endorse this kind of behavior."