A/N – Big thank-you's go out for this chapter. First to Falsechaos, for being so willing to proofread everything and offer feedback. Second – to Nightengale13 and Krissy for giving me the help I needed with writing Joey. Nightengale, I could never have written this without your help, and I only hope this passes muster.

Chapter Ten

Joey leaned against the wall of his apartment building, soaking wet. After half an hour of sitting on the edge of his bed with his head almost between his knees, for no particular reason, he'd gotten up, gone back downstairs to the street, and started to walk.

And walk.

And walk.

His neighborhood was a rough one. He lived about ten minutes' fast walk from school in one direction, and about five from the business district the other way. Traffic was heavy as always, though most people were smart enough to never stop. The headlights flashed like a passing train against his ceiling, from one window in his corner room to the other.

Joey took a deep breath and pushed away from the rough concrete wall, and started to walk again. It was better than doing nothing. No amount of running would get him away from himself – but walking, if anything, made it easier to think.

The buildings here didn't top four or five stories, but their shadows dropped across the sidewalks and the street. Headlights shone around the corner, and Joey instinctively ducked into a doorway. It might be the cops. He didn't want to be arrested for breaking curfew – didn't want to make up something for why he was out so late when the cops called his place. Not that his dad would care – Joey just didn't feel like dealing with him.

Funny. He was more worried about the cover story than getting caught by the cops. Should he just tell his dad that he was out trying to steal a car? It'd be better than the truth.

Freaked out 'cause I just got back from almost humping my best friend.

Yeah.

Definitely going with the grand-theft auto. Given the two options, he figured his father would be less likely to beat his ass over that than finding out that his kid was gay.

…Gay?

Wait. Not gay. Had a few sort of gay thoughts. Tried out kissing another guy. Not gay. Liking somebody…holding somebody didn't count for that. If it did, he'd have been gay for Yugi for a couple of years now. It was just a few hours…things got a little out of control.

That was all. Just him typically acting before he thought things through.

"Aw, fuck," Joey muttered, slouching in the doorway after the car had passed, "who the hell am I tryin' to kid?"

Though the afternoon was mostly a blur, he knew that he'd done it first. Brought up Duke first. Asked the questions first. Kissed Tristan first. Made a move when he wasn't even sure how he felt. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now…maybe not so good.

For years, whenever Joey bothered to look ahead, his future included Tristan comfortably in it. Best friend. The title was Tristan's because…it was. Because nobody else sounded right with that name. He cared about Yugi, but the title went to Tristan first, and that counted for something.

Without really picturing it, Joey just knew that the tall brunet was in his life for keeps. Until recently, the spot marked out for him was at Joey's side as the constant companion. The friend with the bottomless supply of strength. The best friend. He had never looked at it as anything else, just because there was nobody to hit him on the back of the head and point it out.

Until now. Now…somebody hit him so hard that he was on his knees. And…he couldn't see his way clear anymore. The comfortable place where Tristan had been was torn open for scrutiny. Like a bruise from a baseball thrown too hard, it hurt to touch. Like a bruise, he couldn't resist touching it, just to see if it still hurt.

The headlights passed, and when it was safe to go out again, he straightened and started walking once more.

Nothing was right anymore. Tristan wasn't going to stay where he put him for long, and yesterday they'd just been best friends and now that word kept sneaking into his head whenever he thought about the other boy…

NOT gay, his reflexive thought retorted forcefully again, insisting that one afternoon didn't make somebody gay all their lives. I don't know if he's gay. Maybe he's not.

What if he wasn't…?

Joey jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hunched his shoulders. His best friend? Tristan wouldn't play with him like that. Tristan might tease him, but he'd never play with Joey's feelings over something this…this…

This what? This 'important'? What made it life-or-death? Two guys could beat the living shit out of each other and not get called on it, but if they kissed, then it was suddenly some big deal?

'Don't forget the humping part,' his memory added dryly, 'had his legs locked around you like he was never going to—'

Joey told the sudden onrush of visuals to go the fuck away, thank-you, but the drag of denim and the sensation of Tristan's knees hooked over his hips stubbornly persisted. Geez. What did a guy have to do to quit thinking about that?

'Stop making out with your buddies.'

We DIDN'T make out!

'Says you,' the memories retorted, throwing up the foggy sensation of hands in his hair and a wet tongue in his mouth. He missed a step and faltered to a stop. Great. He couldn't even beat his own head. Except maybe beat it against a wall…which he was contemplating just for the distraction it offered.

This wasn't normal. Not in any way, shape or form. None of this was normal.

But then, lately, real dragons the size of a house were normal. Magic and reincarnation, omens, curses, fate and card games from a couple thousand years ago were normal.

Yet his best friend almost having sex with him on his basement floor…was not?

He decided that he wanted what he had with Tristan to go back to being normal, no matter what the definition. He'd just tell Tristan that. Tristan would understand. Tristan would be happy as hell that he didn't want to do it again.

…Ouch. Resentment towards the brunet surfaced.

His conscience sighed at him. It reminded him that he never had to doubt Tristan – his best friend proved over and over that he would do anything for him. If Joey wanted to, he could probably talk the other boy into it. But that wouldn't be right. And standing where he was now, between going to something he could see the end of and something that he couldn't, Joey didn't want the risk. Risking his own ass was one thing. Risking the one person who'd been with him through everything was another.

Joey pulled his hands out of his pockets, rubbing at the red crescents on his knuckles from the too-tight jeans. He looked up, saw the squares of light coming from open windows in the apartment buildings rising overhead. There were people…some passing before the windows, blocking the light for a moment or two…some who folded their elbows on the sills, heads and shoulders silhouetted against the light. Walking down here, watching them, watching the dark and empty windows beside them, he felt an unexpected loneliness.

He'd explain things to Tristan tomorrow. It was time to go home.