A/N: This story is quite an experiment. I've done lots of research to create the character of Cam, but I realize that there is so much still that I'm very ignorant about. Please let me know, either with a review or PM, if I at any time write something that is offensive or completely wrong. Some people will pick up on Cam's secret right away, but I think most will have to wait several chapters before things become clearer. My goal is to be as sensitive to the topic as possible while still crafting an interesting and exciting story - with a unique character to go right along with it.

Thank you to hazeleyedcurly for her incredible encouragement and feedback. Here we go again.

Cam wiped at the invisible tears on his cheeks and pushed the rattling Ford pickup to go faster. Boys don't cry. If he felt like laughing, he might have just then at the ridiculousness of that phrase. Modesto's city limits were quickly disappearing behind him, along with the memories he'd wasted making there in the past five months. It'd all been a fucking waste. Just like Salinas had been, and Alameda long before that.

The truck protested his rough gear shifting and the way his foot slammed into the clutch, but Cam paid it no mind. The thing had grumbled and complained every step of the way since the day he bought it at seventeen.

He stopped at a gas station in Lathrop to piss and get something with caffeine. It was another sweaty summer evening – one in a run of record California highs – and it stained his dirty white tank. Despite the fan spinning lazily from the station's ceiling, there wasn't a lick of coolness to be had inside the store. A blonde haired girl, loudly snapping bubble gum, looked up from the counter and eyed him with interest. Cam smirked despite his black mood. He knew he had that effect. Though not especially tall, he was willowy and lean. Hair that was cropped short at the sides was left long on top and constantly drifted in front of his blue eyes. He shoved back the long brown tendril and raised a brow at the girl.

"Bathroom?" he enquired.

Her eyes flicked to the crotch of his jeans before she lazily pointed a finger to a back hallway. Cam followed her direction. The fluorescent bulb needed changing – it sputtered out a staccato beat, lending a sickly light to the hall. In the intermittent brightness, Cam could see the two doors, one marked female and the other male. He paused for a moment.

The men's washroom was grungy and water-stained. Shoving open the door to a toilet stall, Cam sat and sighed contentedly as the urine he'd been holding in rushed out. He flushed and walked to the sink. The mirror was about the only clean thing in the room, despite a rusted metal corner, and it afforded a good look at the man standing before it.

Cam knew he passed well. He was pretty, but not too much to the point that it raised eyebrows, and years of practice made him good at hiding some of the softer features. He was no glass jaw, thankfully. He had a tiny, gentle nose that licked out at the end, but the swoop of brown hair he kept long at the front usually kept enough of a shadow on his face to make him look mysterious and brooding. His chest was flat, always had been. He had chicken arms, but he'd started working out here and there in the past few months. They had a wiry muscle to them now.

Shoving off from the counter, Cam walked back into the store. He picked up a pack of gum and asked for menthols. As soon as he paid, he ripped the packaging off the carton and slipped a cigarette into his mouth. He shot a sly smile and wink to the girl behind the counter as the door tinkled and closed behind him.

Well it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe
If you don't know by now
And it ain't no use in turning on your light, babe
I'm on the dark side of the road

Cam turned up the radio as the last of the day's sun turned away from his side of the world. The window was rolled down, and at 85 miles per hour, the wind whipped into the cab of the truck and whistled against his skin. Bob Dylan soothed him with a sorrowful growl.

I wish there was something you would do or say
To try and make me change my mind and stay
We never did too much talking, anyway
So don't think twice, it's alright

Suddenly, he was tired for too many reasons. The Ford chugged beneath his feet and Cam swore when he saw the black smoke hitting his windshield. This was the last thing he needed right now. The tank was full and the oiled was freshly changed, but his pickup needed the kind of service that couldn't be done with fuel and a nozzle.

Charming. Our Name Says It All. He pulled his truck up to the side of the road and parked in front of the sign. It sounded like an obnoxious little town, but in the past four years, Cam had been to just about anything off of 205 and 680. He wasn't in a place to judge anymore. He never stayed anywhere long, anyway. Settling against the truck's bench seat, Cam wrestled a dirty blanket from underneath the passenger side and covered the goosebumps that had already began to freckle his skin. His head felt heavy. Tomorrow would be a new day and he could figure this mess out then.

It was time to start all over. Again.