The two board the plane in silence. They're riding first class and Jason is ecstatic, but Shane doesn't really care. He just wants to get to the new 'home' and wait this thing out.
"Dibs on this one!" Jason rushes to the window seat and plops down in it, almost knocking his pregnant band mate over.
Shane rolls his eyes, "No, that's okay. I don't wanna sit there. I was just moving in that general direction for no reason."
"Stop ranting and get over it."
"Whatever," the pop star sighs before sitting down next to his obnoxious friend.
As the plane takes off and a few minutes after it's done so Shane begins to feel drained; exhausted. His head uncontrollably falls on Jason's shoulder who in turn pushes it away. "Dude, some one's going to think we're like, sleeping together or something. Don't do that again. Ever."
"Sorry," the accused mumbles. Shane guesses that it never occurred to his oblivious baby daddy that they have slept together before, and that's why they're in the boat, or airplane, they're in at the moment.
The flight continues on like this; Jason snapping at the expecting singer when he's just trying to make simple conversation. Shane finally decides just to shut up and keep to himself because Jason just isn't good company right now.
The plane lands and when Shane needs help with getting his bag down from above, his baby's father hurries to get out of the air craft. Finally, an older man kindly helps the pop star, and then asks for an autograph for his ten-year-old daughter. Shane obliges because really, how rude and bratty would it be for him to say 'no?'"
When he steps onto the concrete pavement his stomach churns. He stumbles a little, but catches himself before falling. That's when he spots Jason, sulking and checking every missed call, text and voice message on his Sidekick. Shane sighs softly, walking up to his band mate and holding his hand above his eyes. He's squinting up at the older boy. "What are you doing?"
Jason shakes his head. "None of your business."
This comment makes Shane want to explode. And he does. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" The pop star's voice is loud enough to be heard by an elderly couple about a hundred yards away, as well as everyone else exiting the air craft.
Baby's daddy finishes up his text message before sliding his phone's screen back into place. He crosses his arms, phone strap allowing the device to hang from his forearm. He narrows his eyes at Shane, leaning in closer and lowering his head as if the pregnant boy couldn't see his face if it were an inch higher. "You wanna know what's wrong with me? I want my life back and I don't want to be stuck here with you!" Shane's eyes fall to the pavement, and then crawl to the toes of his shoes. He just sits there. Waiting.
Nothing happens, just like the time Jason read the note on the back of his birdhouse that he wanted to badly. Baby's daddy stands there, then turns on his heel and the two head to the bag claim area.
--
Because of the remote location of Kiowa, the two are forced into a two hour drive together in a rental car. Jason drives while Shane sits in the passenger's seat, elbow resting on the door and head leaning against the window.
It's around two thirty when the boys drive into Kiowa, and about two thirty-one when they reach the house on 122 7th St. Yes; the town is that small. Driving straight through it would take three minutes and driving down every street, noting the twenty-miles-an-hour speed limit, maybe forty minutes. Maybe.
Shane's eyes lift when Jason turns the car off. He sees the tiny white house and groans. The paint on the wood siding is flaking off, as is it coming from the... well, just about everywhere. Several shingles are falling from the roof and there's a large oak tree that's at least one hundred years old in the front yard, hanging over the home.
"We're here," he lets Shane know before unbuckling his seat belt and climbing out of the car. He fumbles until he finds the new key, marked with a black line of permanent marker, and walks up the three steps to the side walk, then one more to the front door. The pregnant teen hesitates, waiting to get out of the car until Jason goes inside of the house. He follows his baby's daddy and a smell of a wooden house fills his nostrils. Shane sighs, walking past Jason, and goes into the back bedroom before collapsing onto the bed.
Shane doesn't think it's an actual one, though. It's only a bed in the academic sense. That meaning it has a "mattress," sheets, pillows and a comforter. The next door neighbor, Lynn, has already gotten the house ready for the two. Shane thinks it was nice of him to do so, so he doesn't complain about the ugly bedding. "Jason," he calls from his place on the "mattress." Either one; the older boy doesn't hear him or two; he doesn't care. Shane thinks it's the second option, but he's in denial so he tries again. "Jason!"
He appears in the doorway and Shane asks, "Can I use your phone?"
Jason snaps, "No. Where's yours?"
"I had to leave it back at home..."
"Here." He pulls his phone from his pocket and throws it at Shane. He doesn't mean for it to hit the singer straight on the knee but it does, and he catches himself laughing when Shane whimpers. He walks out of the back bedroom and the pregnant boy makes his call.
Two rings and then his mother answers. "Shane, Honey, how was the flight?"
"Hi, Mom. It was okay," he lies.
"Well, how's the house? Do you like it?" she gushes.
"Um, yeah. It's different."
Mrs. Gray sighs softly. "I know it's not what you're accustomed to but you'll get used to it."
"Yeah, you're right," Shane agrees. Though, he can't help but think this is only the beginning.
"Well, I'll let you go rest. I know you're tired."
"Okay. Tell Dad that I love him."
"I will. Bye, Sweetie."
"Bye, Mom." Shane hangs up and sets Jason's phone on the shelf beside the bed. His eyes fall closed and he can't really resist the urge to take a break from consciousness.
