A/N: Oh my god, I hope you beautiful humans are still here. I've missed your comments! I'm sorry for the delay in the update (Work and grad school and tutoring and election has completely destroyed me) but I did it! And I am proud of this chapter, in a way. Hope you all enjoy this attempt! And hope you are all doing well 3
Chapter 39: The Stars Look Very Different Today
The wind flicks against Reno's cheeks and a cold red burn spreads over pale skin. Fading strands the shade of cherries dance in the spring breeze. He leans against the iron railing surrounding the balcony. His nimble fingers wrapping brown blunt paper around lumps of green; long slender digits that had just left trails of pink stripes on my hips only moments ago, move at a steady pace. Hypnotizing.
He rolls a blunt like he fucks.
Slow. Deliberate. Precise.
And I could watch him do both for hours.
"Where'd ya learn to roll like that?" I ask, scooting closer to him. I sit between his open legs, admiring his exposed chest peeking from the unbutton blue and gray plaid shirt he threw on at my stern behest. He had been in a rush to ingest toxins after sweating them out over tangled sheets. His black ripped jeans, not even fully buttoned, hang open like a temptation.
Reno's lips twitch at my question, not even bringing his eyes to look at me. "Jesus camp."
I snort through a laugh I try to hide. "Wait seriously? You went to a Christain camp?"
"Yurp. Didn't you?"
"Well...it was a camp…"
"Lemme guess, had your first gay experience?" he looks at me. Behind him, the sun fades into fiery reds and pinks and I see the twinkle of Manhattan in the distance. Like artificial stars which mirror his glimmering blue eyes.
I consider his question and drop my gaze to the calluses on my fingertips. Think about how I should have brought my guitar to practice a new song while he feeds me weed and sings along with his rough vocals. "Yeah…"
"As is tradition." He flicks his tongue against the paper. The final touch. And my lips tremble and a shiver seizes in the center of my chest. He places the blunt between his lips- lips that had just ran through the length of my body- with a smirk, "How bad was it?" the orange ember lights up the darkened sky like a firefly.
"The camp or the guy," I huff to his chuckle.
"The guy." white smoke erupts from his mouth like a sinister dragon.
This is the first time he's ever flat out asked about Zack. Conversations teetered on the edge of the subject- circled like predator to prey- but never breached the topic. Almost like a silent agreement not to bring up the former flames that singed our skin unless it's offered up like a broken poem missing lines. And…
The timing strange enough.
We've lived together for a week. Engrossed with each other. Stealing kisses away from my parents' watchful eyes. Tiptoeing in the dead of night to fool around under the covers, on edge, waiting for them to get wise to our shennagains. Pulling apart once the sun rose over the stone mansion that lurks beyond our yard like a constant reminder of his former life. We didn't speak on any subject deeper than what to eat
And what game to play.
Or how our names sounded through guttural moans.
Now, a week under house arrest, with me sitting between his legs, on the balcony that offers the perfect view of the darkened bedroom across the way, he decides to finally bring up Zack.
"Why you wanna know?" I take the blunt from his mouth and help myself to the sweet taste of fire. Despite his line of questioning, I can't help but be enamored with how he looks under the darkening sky. His features sharpened like knives, like if I dared to run my hand along his cheek bones I would cut and bleed. His lips twist into a sardonic smirk and small almond eyes shimmer like the moon. And I realize I have been absentmindedly playing with the hem of his shirt.
He stares at me for one beat, then drags his gaze to his former bedroom. Curtains drawn. "Can't be curious about my boyfriend?"
"You could…" I blow smoke away from him, "you just never asked before."
"Yeah well I'm askin' now," he hides his disdain under a soft laugh that lodges in his throat, "you don't have to tell me…"
"Nothing to tell," I say quickly, "He was two years older. Still in the closet. And convinced me that he loved me and if I loved him, I would suck his dick in a canoe. And I was dumb enough to do it."
I exhale. My stomach swims with welled anxiety. And I try to keep the flush of emotions from spilling all over my face. But that was the longest sentence I've ever dedicated to the raven haired boy who robbed me of part of my innocence. My first. In many ways. First kiss under a full moon, after we jumped in- still in our camp uniforms of blue shorts and yellow shirts- the clash of frigid water and the warmth of Summer. The warmth of his body close to mine. The warmth of his lips when they pushed against mine- the quick prick of pain. The hazy confusion that followed. That soured a moment meant to be remembered fondly...instead...I battle with the tightening of my insides as they cringe and turn-
Then Reno's sputtering laughter shatters the memory like glass and I snap my narrowed eyes at him.
"Are you fucking serious?" I shout.
"No no, I'm not laughing at that sad fucking story, babe," he tries to compose himself, but the mocking smile remains. "It's your face-"
"Oh that's better!" I consider throwing the blunt at him, but that would waste perfectly innocent weed, and then try to move to leave my position. But he jumps and wraps his arm around my torso. Locking me against him. And despite this new feeling of comfort, I'm still fucking pissed.
"You looked like you smelled shit or something," he murmurs smoothly like scotch leaning closer, "it was kinda cute."
"Fuck you," I frown but he doesn't waver. "It's not funny."
"Bet it wasn't," he turns and takes a hit of the blunt still between my fingers. Inhale and lifts his head to blow the smoke into the whispering wind. "Bet your second gay experience was way better."
"Debatable," I retort and he smiles before I allow him to close the gap. His lips on mine. And he tastes like electric blue shockwaves.
With the hint of frost.
And before he breaks the kiss, he nips my bottom lip like a reminder.
So different than my first- not even comparable.
"You're a jackass," I hiss through my own smile.
"Nah, I'm your jackass." he plucks the weed from my hand, "stop wasting our shit, fuck."
Difficult not to be rushed with heat when he makes comments like that; our shit, our life, one we are building together on the wreckage of his former existence. And at times like this, where we sit in such an awkward position, but do so we can be as physically close as possible, I don't think about the implications and risks of joining our lives together so young. Not when I'm pulled by the smoothness of his skin, out in the open for the world to see, and I have to run my hands up and down his chest. Feeling the mountains of muscles as his lean stomach retrachs and expands.
"What about you?" I ask, "how was your gay camp experience?"
He snickers, "Uh…" I resent myself for prying, even if he started this conversation, when I see how his eyes glaze over and float away. He moves his hands under the shirt I threw over my body before walking out into the brisk evening air, and his fingers are chilled as they mindlessly travel up my skin. And I gingerly take the blunt from his free hand after he takes one more tense inhale. "It was right before freshman year of high school. Kinda of a right of passage for the men in my family to go to this big time Christain camp for the summer. I already figured I was gay, but never really acted on it. Then I saw my bunk mate and he was fine as fuck it pretty much sealed the deal."
"Boring," I sing.
"Yeah, you want the dirty details?" he smirks to my own grimace as I consider what he means. And maybe I don't want to know every torrid detail of my boyfriend's past before he met and made me his. He tilts his head at my pause, running his hand up my back, sending numbing sensations up my spine and pulling me closer than I thought possible. "You gave your first blowjob in a canoe when you were..."
"Twelve, turning thirteen…." I admit; and swallow that bitter pill. Waiting for a flash of judgement.
"I gave my first blowjob in a church pew when I was fourteen. And then my second thirty minutes later behind the mess hall."
I try to stop my eyes from going wide, "What? Same guy…?"
He shakes his head, "Nah, first guy was my hot bunkmate. Second was a buddy of mine who I told and he wanted to know how it felt. So, you know, being a good friend and all."
There's no hint of shame in his voice; and I realize I've been beating myself up for the last three years over my own actions. Adding an extra set of cement to my feet. Throwing myself in a lake to drown in my mistakes. And I never considered where the shame in my own experience really stemmed from. Always felt like the action itself, the engaging in a sexual act with a boy, who later made me feel like less of a human for it, caused this sense of creeping disgust with myself. That took root in my head, and like a vine crawled down my entire being, choking me. All these years spent hating myself. Maybe I was young...too young. Easily manipulated-
His lips brush along the side of my face. "Where'd you go just now, pretty boy?"
"Just thinking," I take a hit and try to burn the harsh memories from my mind, "You must like giving blow jobs."
"You don't say?" he laughs, a real laugh, one not hindered by uncertainty. And I wish I felt as free as he has in the last week. And while I know there's still a hint of pain in his voice at times, and his eyes drift away from me when we lay in bed together and he catches a glimpse from across the yard of his old curtains moving, but as the days stretch to nights. As days turned into a week in a blink, he has settled. Felt more...himself. And not even the Reno I met seven months ago- the Reno who hid behind dark humor and avoided any conversation which would reveal a part of his past he couldn't bare to acknowledge. Now he kisses his way to my neck, mumbling about how good he is at sucking dick and how I should know practice makes perfect.
And I don't know if it's the weed,
Or the magic of the setting sun over the New York skyline.
Or the confident humor in his voice, that almost distracts me from his nails adding more lines to my skin...
Or that I could never imagine...almost four years from when I stood in front of the first boy I ever kissed while he completely dismantled me with three words...I would be embraced by hopefully the last boy I'll ever kiss while he uses a different set of words to validate me…
But I never felt so in control in the chaos that is my life.
The phone vibrating in my pocket rips us from our trance. And I fish the obnoxious technology from my jeans much to Reno's chagrin. Who leans against the railing with a grumble about answering my phone at the worst possible times. But I shoot him an unamused look before I look down at the caller ID to see Cid's name popping up on the screen. And I let it go for two more rings as I think about whether or not to answer. An unfounded concern creeps up my spine, until I realize I'm being ….stupid.
"Hey-" I start but immediately cut off when his voice shouts into my ear and I pull the phone away with a flinch.
"YOOOOOOOOOO," Cid announces himself to the entire neighborhood, "What's good my brother from another mother!" I hear other voices in the background- mostly male. And I know most schools are on Easter break right now and many of the old group, now tempted by the warming weather and lack of parental guidance, have been getting together during the week. And I've avoided most of the calls for my attendance with regretful reminders of my punishment. But Cid was relentless.
"You know, chillin'" I respond.
"You still on house arrest with your boyfriend?"
Barret's voice leaks into the conversation, "It ain't punishment if he's with his boyfriend."
"You must be getting so much ass right now!" Cid practically screams this for the whole crew to hear and this statement captures Reno's attention who flicks his eyes at me with a smirk I mirror.
I chuckle, "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Oh that's right, you're probably getting the one getting dicked down."
I recoil, "Excuse me?!" And I shoot the laughing red-head a glare.
"Yo! Deadass you are obsessed with that kids dick! Fucking weird, son!" Barret exclaims.
"I'm just sayin', bro! That's fucking sick, he gets to just sit at home and bang his boyfriend all day." A commotion on the other end of the phone; Barret shouting at Cid to stop thinking about me having sex and then putting the images in his head. "Nah, for real, bro, you grounded?"
I'm about to remind him that I am grounded for, according to my dad, literally the rest of my existence on this plane of reality, when Reno snatches the phone from my hand like a viper.
"Hey, fucker," he sings into the receiver, "whatcha all got planned for tonight." Suddenly, Cid decides to whisper his responses into my smirking boyfriend's ear. Who nods along to the no doubt list of delinquent plans the group have for the night. Hanging out in convenience store parking lots, or Vincent's backyard with the fire pit roaring to life, or Mike's Place for greasy overpriced food.
"That shit sounds dumb as fuck," Reno continues taking another hit of the almost forgotten blunt, "but I'll negotiate a suspended sentence for our boyfriend so he can make an appearance."
"Our?" I snap, trying to grab the phone, but Reno uses his abnormally strong legs to trap me in place, and his arm to block my flailing attempts to retrieve the device.
"Cid wants to know if he can tickle your balls later?" Reno laughs.
"No one will get to tickle my balls if you don't give me the phone."
"Damn, homie, you got me in trouble," he laughs, "yo, we'll see you assholes in a minute." He flips the phone close and tosses it to me as if this was appropriate behavior. And continues to mock me with the glow of his eyes as he hands me the rest of the blunt to smoke. "Meetin' at Wendys in Dongan Hills, then potential white trash party."
I roll my eyes, "have fun."
"Don't get pissy with me, pretty boy. I'm about to get you a night out with your friends. If that's what you want?"
I actually hadn't thought about leaving the house for the foreseeable future. Barret wasn't completely off track- this was a pathetic attempt at punishment. I'm literally living with my boyfriend during a combination suspension and Easter break- meaning we haven't even left to go to the brick wall monstrosity that had really felt like a metaphorical prison. Instead, playing video games in the dusty dark basement until we were minutes away from an actual verbal altercation because he sucks at Halo and can't stand losing. Or outside in the warming spring air, where I play the top grunge hits on my guitar and he stares at the front lawn from my stoop. His fading red strands waltzing in the wind. Brows crushed. And eyes so blue they look like shimmering crystals of ice reflecting in the sun. Permanent scowl as if the chirping birds hurl insults at him. And I realize, as I finish off the last of the blunt, his head now resting back on the cold iron railing, him seemingly unaware that his gaze has drifted back to the house across the broken fence, that maybe he needs this night out more than me.
"How you gonna convince my father to let me go for the night?"
He untangles our bodies and I miss the warmth his provided. "Leave that to me, hot stuff. I got you."
My parents had mentioned in passing a potential double date with a buddy of my dads they hadn't seen in years; down visiting from Chicago with his wife. There was an alien eagerness in my mother's voice when she mentioned it- crushed instantly with my father's reluctance after he shot both Reno and I curious stares. As if the setting sun would ignite some carnal desires and we would fuck all over the damn house. As if that already hadn't happened two months ago. And maybe my mom is more wise to us- the concerned frown sometimes gives her away- but she was realistic. You can't keep two teenagers off each other. And you can't babysit them either. My dad thought he could try.
Laughable. I don't know what they thought we had been doing upstairs
Reno jogs down the stairs, having at least enough sense to button up his shirt and pants, and spray us both with cologne in an attempt to hide the stench of pot that clung to our clothing. My dad in the kitchen, home early from work, but still in his suit and tie, standing next to the table looking at the newspaper- probably the finance section if I know him well enough.
"Sup, B-man," Reno says as he enters. My dad looks up from the paper and moves his algae colored eyes between the two of us- reading our bloodshot eyes and rosy cheeks but making no accusations against us. "When are your buddies coming through tonight?"
Dad arches an eyebrow, "Around seven…"
"So what's the game plan?" Reno leans against the wall, arms folded over his chest.
"Just catching up in the yard," my dad shrugs, "probably pick up some food from Killmeyers-"
"Weak sauce!" Reno laughs, "You got your boy and his lady comin' all the way from Chi-town and y'all just gonna hang out on this shit hole island?" My dad opens his mouth to retort, clearly offended from the crease in his brows, but the red-head continues, "You should really hit the town, you know. I mean, when was the time you took the wife out?"
He narrows his eyes at the two of us, straightens himself up, and places his hands on his hips. I stifle the chuckle that threatens to escape my lips. "Why are you so concerned about the last time I took my wife out?"
"I'm just sayin', man, she's been in this house all day every day since she got back. Maybe she needs some fresh air."
"Oh, I'm sure Claudia's well being is why you are so eager for us to leave," he rolls his eyes, "like I don't know what you two are up to, right now."
Reno shifts, drops his smirk into a thin line and loses the edge in his tone. "Whatcha mean?"
"I'm not leaving you two alone in this house," my dad states bluntly attempting to wave Reno's question away like a gnat.
"You never had an issue before."
"It's different now."
"How so?"
"You two are together."
"We were together before."
"Well, I didn't know that!"
His voice cracks. And Reno's eyes twinkle. "What you think is gonna happen if you leave us alone?"
Dad grits his teeth- and he has to know what Reno is doing. And maybe if he had more skills up his sleeve, this conversation would have been over. But the most discipline he's ever enacted is this pathetic grounding. "You know stuff."
And Reno feeds off weakness like it's a rare steak. "That's mad vague, bro."
"You know." My dad rubs the back of his neck. And I can't believe he's getting railroaded by a seventeen year old right now.
"I'm a good christian boy, sir," Reno drawls, his accent on display, "'fraid I have no idea what you're talkin' about."
Now my dad shoots Reno an incredulous look, "Yeah okay, Dallas, Texas."
But he's starting to sweat. And there's the seed Reno planted earlier about my mother needing to leave the suffocating walls of this house. Evident from the fact that it's almost six in the evening, and she's still planting flowers all over the side of the house, opposite of where Reno and I were just using a plant to melt our brains, to keep her hands busy. Idle hands, Cloud she kept reiterating while she dragged the two of us to Home Depot for three hours to stock up on enough shit to create her own botanical garden; then remained outside for the duration of the day, putting together her project while Reno and I were left to our own devices.
And, well, plenty of stuff happened.
"You know, Bass Pro Shops" Reno continues, "you wouldn't really have to worry too much if you let us meet up with our friends."
My dad lets out a huff. "You are free to hang out with whoever you want, Nashville," then my dad darts his eyes to me. I had been standing on the other side of the kitchen, mostly silent, trying to blend into the white walls and wooden cabinets. Knowing this would happen. "Stormy over here is the one that's grounded."
"Really, Stormy?" I swallow back; knowing any snide comment would ruin the traction Reno's garnered. And the red-head shoots me a look which screams stand down.
"Why's he grounded again?" Reno cocks his head to the side.
"He stole his mother's prescription medicine and sold it to kids at your school!"
"Yikes," Reno exclaims and my dad nods like he's finally got him to understand. But instead he rocks back and forth on his heels, dragging his eyes dramatically to the ceiling like he's really thinking about his next phrase. But shrugs. "But he ain't gonna do that shit when I'm around, though." He pauses, and before my dad could protest, continues, "Dealbreaker."
This time, he gives my dad a chance to retort. But the older man has consideration jetting across his eyes as he scans Reno's nearly aloof form. And I've noticed my dad and he had this interesting way of communicating. Jabs towards each other like a fencing match, before my dad halts and looks past the guard Reno built for the true meaning behind his words. And maybe on Reno's end, he's manipulating my father like a puppet. But, I think, and I see it when my dad holds back the smile attempting to crack the facade, that maybe Reno really means half the bullshit coming out of his mouth.
But he isn't giving up that quickly either. And several more tense seconds past and Reno starts to get ancy.
"How bout this, let's say y'all do decide to go out, what time you thinkin' of gettin' back?"
My dad blinks a few times, "Why?"
"I can guarantee we will be home before you get home. At least then you know we can't get into too much trouble."
Dad thinks about this offer, looks over at the front door which creaks open- alerting us to my mother's return. She's mumbling about having to get ready after spending the whole day covered in dirt. And we catch a momentary glimpse of her small form as she rushes up the stairs. He sighs, "Ten thirty."
Reno cringes, "Come on, it's your first date night with the wife in years."
"No it isn't-"
"Come on, Bastian, you don't have to lie to me."
My dad rubs his temples, "Eleven."
"Midnight."
"Seriously!"
"I'm just sayin'. It's a Thursday. You're young and hip. There's tons of shit you crazy kids can get into. She's an heiress to a hotel chain. Maybe spring for the suite for a few hours. I don't know. Treat yourselves."
My turn to cringe at the disgusting thought of my parents engaging in any kind of physical act. But I can see my dad nodding his head, as if realizing it has just been that long since the last time they shared a bed. And maybe they could use a night out on the town, with some other adults, without my mother succumbing to her addiction and throwing up all over the car. I know they've been like two teenagers in love the last few days and gag at the thought.
"Fine," my dad relents with a huff and throws his hands in the air in defeat. "But I swear, if either one of you come back drunk, or high, or I don't know...escorted by police, I'm locking you in separate rooms until next year."
I beg my body to not laugh at my father's piss poor attempt at being stern. Especially when it's so obvious we both smoke a blunt to the face just minutes before. Especially because he can't seem to realize I haven't slept an entire night in just my bed. But I want to give him this moment, because at the end of the day...he's trying. Maybe he isn't the strict parent with established boundaries we shouldn't dare to cross. And he's in over his head with his son's boyfriend living under his roof, and his wife trying to maintain sobriety despite the stressors around her, and his own issues with work, and family-
He needs a break.
"You got it, Boss man," Reno gives him a two finger salute, "We'll be on our best behavior." Reno offers me a wink before he disappears to get ready to meet up with the rest of the crew.
My dad and I look at each other and he does look worn out. The crows feet near his eyes look like deep crevices which hold all his worry. He shakes his head and offers me a shrug. And a sudden burst of alien regret erupts in my chest. My dad and I struggled to understand our separate languages. And I learned early on that the less I said, the less he knew, the more I got away with. And maybe he needs to shoulder some of that blame himself- but I never exactly made shit easy for him.
"Hey dad," I say before I go to follow Reno upstairs, "You're doing a good job."
The smile that flicks across his face looks like a child on Christmas morning. "Yeah…not sure about that..." but there's an uncertainty in his voice that shatters the image.
"I'm alive right?" I wince, dragging the sleeves of my shirt down, "And I've been thinking about what you said a while ago- about my future and college. Reno thinks I should do something with English or History since I like to argue about that kind of shit."
"Heh, Reno should talk, huh?"
We exchange a strained laugh. And I plunge my hands in my pocket, suddenly feeling a rush of guilt. Or shame. Like a rock in the center of my sternum, my chest feels tight and I'm about to turn to walk upstairs when my dad continues:
"Reno burns bright," he says, "just...don't let his light over power yours, okay?…"
And I knit my brows together when I point my stare at him. Like I'm looking through the scope of a gun wondering if I should shoot back with some snide comment but I process his words instead. And take a moment to decipher his language. The half parent, half overgrown teenager who sacrificed his twenties. That cross between understanding some lessons need to be learned and knowing some of the answers.
"Yeah...I won't…" And for some reason, that sounded like a lie.
People love Spring
Attracted to the idea of what was dead returning to life-
Wishing they would be able to transcend nature's law.
But I found Spring to be suffocating with expectations of new beginnings, to cleanse our cluttered winters and weights on our there's just entirely too much pressure to make changes, begin anew. My mother always went away in the Spring. Came back refreshed for the Summer. Where the bbqs and family obligations would drag her to Fall. And then we would be stuck in an eternal winter- the tensions in the house chilling us to the very core of our souls. Spring never brought reprieve. Spring never offered a clean slate. Nah.
Spring tasted sour. Like rhubarb pie. Like too many lemons. That made my face scrunch to the mere idea of the season. Much like my face seemed to contort at the idea of being in public.
We walk down the darkening street. The houses flickering to life as inhabitants get ready for late dinners or settle in for the evening news detailing yet another tragedy to befall the world. The wind carries the smell of cut grass and the aftertaste of dewy cold. The trees that line Benedict Road are lush with green foliage, putting the final familiar touches on this Staten Island Evening. The remnants of Easter decorations still adorn some of the house windows we can see from the sidewalk. Smaller mansions but still an example of human over abundance with their wrapped driveways and luxury vehicles.
Reno and I stick out in this neighborhood- me more than him despite his red hair alerting the world of his existence. He's got on those ripped jeans from earlier, white v-neck and black Under Armour jacket; and I couldn't help but call him out for looking like a Staten Island douchebag complete with the chain that I bought him for his birthday. And he didn't waste time with a quip that my jeans are so tight he can see the outline of my dick if he squints and at least he doesn't have to worry about any chick coming for me with my creepy ass Slipknot shirt under our black hoodie. And did I really need the fingerless gloves with the outline of boney fingers? And how my barbed wire chain, the one he bought me, seemed to be an outside reminder of how I felt on the inside.
And I could have corrected him about making assumptions about my feelings.
But he's right.
We walk in silence, sharing my Ipod headphones as David Bowie sings: Ground control to Major Tom. Close enough to feel the heat of his body, the smell of his Armani cologne. He does burn bright; and that flame melts the ice around me which acts like a I note his thumbs are nestled in his pockets; his slender fingers tapping along to the tunes on the outside of his jeans. And I want nothing more than to reach over and grab his hand.
But the outside world, hidden by the blackening sky, has too many orange street lamps to illuminate our affection. And maybe this neighborhood isn't ready just yet...and I hide my hands in the pocket of my hoodie instead. The cold enveloping my fingers like tiny knives.
The thirty minute walk felt quicker than I remembered and the rumble of cars flying down Hylan Boulevard hum in the distances. I halt before the lights from traffic stops and white Nissans could appear at the bottom of the hill and pull the headphones from our ears. Reno turns with a raised brow and confusion etched across his face.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" my voice shivers, keeping my eyes focused on the task of wrapping the black Ipod in it's wired headphones. And when I look up, he has his trademark smirk.
"Well considering you just had my dick in your mouth, I think we are well past having to ask that question."
I roll my eyes with a snap. "Ugh , you're such a fucking asshole." I plunge the technology into my pocket, deciding against asking anything personal ever again if he's going to be a vulgar fuck about it, and try to brush past him.
But he grabs my shoulders, rooting me to the spot, while small laughs fall like tiny raindrops from his mouth. "Alright, alright, sorry. Shit. What's going on withcha?"
I stifle the groan that rattles my throat. "Why are you in such a good mood?"
"Was that the personal question-"
"Reno," I growl, but he's unfazed. Never losing his grin as he runs his hands down my arms; however he stops at my wrists- not hands- and lingers there. "You're in a good mood, tonight." I observe, hiding the almost bitter resentment I have towards his happy demeanor. Maybe it was a taste of jealousy. My fear has been bubbling to the surface as the days dragged on; exasperated as we walked closer to our destination.
Everyone knew. And I didn't know how I felt about that…
But Reno's dropped gaze startles me from my thoughts. His smile wavers to a pursed frown. And he shrugs, "Needed to get the fuck out of there…"
"You know you can leave at any time…"
He scoffs, "And go where? Got no one to chill with and I ain't tryin to wander around alone."
"What about Rude and Tseng? Aren't you still cool with them…" But that was a weak counter at best, and the frustrated laugh from my boyfriend confirms that feeling. He flat out refused my mother's offer to get a phone so he could even call either of those friends. Put his foot down that he wasn't some charity case and we needed to stop treating him like fragile boy- even if his eyes resembled glass when he came face to face with the reminder of his past glaring over the fence and subtle flinches still rippled through his face when something triggered those painful memories still locked in the back of his throat.
And even if I knew from Tifa and Aerith, who called on their respected boyfriends' behalf, that both Rude and Tseng only wanted to look out for the red-head, he didn't share the same opinion.
"Dunno anymore," he whispers.
And I knew why he found it difficult to reach out to either of them.
"I'm scared too…"
"I ain't scared of shit."
"This is new for both of us…" I press, finding some hidden strength I didn't know existed until Reno began to falter. "I get it. You don't want to call your friends because you're scared. It's okay to be scared. Scared doesn't mean weak, Reno. Fight or flight has been human instinct since the dawn of man. It's survival. And this has been survival for you for the last few years-"
But he unhooks one of his hands to wave away my statement, "Gotta argue with everything I say, yo."
"You don't think I understand…" I frown, "I'm not sure how my friends are gonna react."
Now he laughs, a cutting chuckle that slices through the hum of silence. "Come on, babe, they don't give a fuck...you know that."
"How can you be sure? This will be the first time they really see us together…"
"Wow," he cuts me off, the gentle shake of his head, "you really have no idea what happened that night...did no one tell you?"
I mirror his confused look. And have to toil through shattered memories for the night in question; and all I can think of is the night that set off this domino effect which led us here. To this moment. Underneath a twilight blue sky with flickering artificial lights heading towards my group of friends, together. The night's events, and the aftermath were anything but pretty. "What do you mean?"
He ponders the question. Face blank like sheet of paper. Until a small smirk crawls around his face. "I'll tell you when you're older…"
"Wooooow," I shout, gently shoving him, "You suck-"
"Just your-"
"Don't even start." I sigh, "Fuck, you distracted me- I forgot the actual question."
"Ha, mission accomplished then," he kicks my leg, "come on, quit stalling. I want to make Highwind jealous as fuck."
I didn't forget. I wanted to ask him about the former friends. The ones from his home State with no names. No faces. Empty vessels he's spoken about in passing. Carefully navigated his past, avoiding all the potholes which hold their stories, and shutting down any inquiry from me. Maybe that's why he can't bring himself to talk to Rude or Tseng. And clearly something happened that resides in the darkness of my own memories which gives him the confidence that my friends won't toss us away.
I sigh as he continues our journey. Walk alongside him until the intersection of Hylan and Seaview comes into view.
The clouds overhead roll over the painted sky, contrasting the cars jetting down the street with disregard for human life.
Blaring Hip Hop that vibrates the concrete below our feet.
Sounds of New York accents shouting over exhausts and the crazy can lady's tin jingling within her shopping cart.
Warm air.
Cigarette smoke and trash.
Staten Island at twilight.
Proving even magic exists in hell-
I shelve the question beating against my lips. Deciding we have the rest of our lives to comb through painful memories.
Now...now our future rests in the black tar parking lot of a shitty Wendy's Restaurant.
