The first time they kissed, it wasn't about passion and unbridled lust. It was more about surprise and strangeness. It was about anger and shoving. It was a prelude about how that they would become more than just two boys tied to the real world only by nicknames and the strike.

--

"I want to know Jack," David said almost coldly. "I have to know. She's my sister."
Jack let the bottle he had been nursing dangle from his fingers. He glanced numbly at David. If it had been any of the other boys, he would've lied. He would've licked his lips and raised his eyebrows in a show. Maybe, if he were sober, he would've lied even to David but he wasn't sober and looking into those blue eyes made him completely earnest.
"No," he said simply. "We aren't."

--

David thought of the Greeks that night. It was a strange thing to think about but maybe his mind was telling him something of what was to come. He pictured the statue of David. David...his name. So many great Davids tied to his name and he wasn't one of them. He hadn't slain a giant even though, in the articles, Denton had referred to he and Jack as giant slayers. David and Goliath. Jack and the Beanstalk. But that statue...with its smooth marble perfection...all of the perfection. He took a deep breath and glanced at Jack.

--

"Thanks," David said quietly. "That's all I wanted to know. That you and her aren't...you know. Because Sarah's not like that."
Jack smiled at him and drained his bottle. It wasn't a happy smile. It was a hazy sort of smile. Like he knew something more that he wasn't telling David.
"Do you love her?" his voice still sounded so quiet.

--


Jack had him pinned against the wall. David let out a gasp as his head came in contact with the hard stone. Jack's hands cupped his face and David found himself grabbing for the folds of his shirt. David thought of the Greeks again. Jack's hands were rough on his cheeks. His mind was frenzied. What was Jack doing? He remembered the fight in the alley. Hadn't Jack grabbed Oscar's head to ram his into it? But what had David done? Had he asked too much about him and his sister?

--

"Davey, I'm too young for love," he said. "But if I weren't...it...I mean, Sarah's nice 'an all but..."
"She's not what you want," David finished.
Jack stared down at his empty bottle, wishing it were full again. But, like all of his wishes, it didn't come true. He didn't answer him but it was as if he had.
"It's not like I'm what she wants either," Jack tried, knowing he was saying too much. "She'd want a guy who could provide for her. All I can do is run away."
David stared at him intently. "Are you running away now Jack?"
Jack let the bottle drop. It splintered on the ground, the shatter the only noise in the air.
"I'm always running," he replied.

--


Jack tasted like smoke and whiskey. His hair felt coarse like he had cut it himself with a knife and a mirror long ago. David's hands were in that hair. It had started mostly because he had been afraid that Jack was about to hit him. So he grabbed his hair in an attempt to keep him from ramming him in the forehead. But no...Jack didn't hurt him. Jack had done something that made David think of the Greeks and the statue of David again. Made him somehow believe everything the article said about boys climbing beanstalks with slingshot-wielding friends to stop the most powerful giant in New York. Jack kissed him.

--

"I never run," David said as they stepped out into the cold. "I'm too scared to. I mean, you're fearless Jack. I have to think over every possible bad thing that could happen and how it would affect everyone and what my actions would do but you...you just do it."
"That just means I'm stupid," Jack argued. "I'd want to be more like you David. I'd want to think about things and not just act."
"Acting on impulse can save your life," he replied. "And it's...never mind."
Jack turned to face him, his breath clouding in the air. "What?"
David stared up at him. "It's like that old fairytale. Rose White and Rose Red...kind of."
Jack's look was all David needed to keep talking without waiting for a reply.
"I think we both need to be like each other. Like how Rose White and Rose Red need to blend together," David explained. " Rose White needed to be wilder and Rose Red needed to tone it down."
"Wouldn't that make Rose Pink?" Jack smiled, canines glinting in a way that made David shiver. "Wasn't the prince a bear or something?"
David rolled his eyes. "Jack—"
"Rose White," he cut him off, staring into David's eyes.
"Rose Red," he whispered back unintentionally.

--


David shoved him away, still tasting him on his lips. His eyes flashed with anger and he stood, gasping for air, on the sidewalk. Jack's lips were wet and his eyes large as if he couldn't believe what he had done. He turned and started to run away. He didn't think, he just ran. Footfalls behind him signaled Jack's pursuit but David wasn't allowing himself to be caught. He stopped. Or maybe he would. He turned around, fists balled. He wanted to hurt Jack. He wanted hurt him badly. But by the time Jack caught up to him, David's fists ached and he had to unclench them. They stared at each other in the dark for what felt like an eternity. Then, on an impulse, David lunged.

--

"You were holding something back," David said in a voice that made the winter weather summery. "What is it about Sarah?"
Jack remembered walking in. Seeing the tan, taut body that didn't belong to him on top of Sarah. He remembered hearing her moan a name that wasn't his as she came. How they sat up when they realized they weren't alone. How he saw the look of surprise on her face and the look of smugness on his.
"I'm just not the one for her," he said quietly. "That's all."

--


David tried to punch Jack. Tried to hurt him and hit him and smack him around but it wasn't very effective. He looked like he was trying to swim rather than having a fight. Jack could've hit him back at any time but he didn't. He just lay there until David tired himself out. Soon the blows turned just to panting as they sprawled on the cold walk. He stared into Jack's eyes for a moment. Blue and brown. It was like their eyes were mixing, blending together in the dark. Rose White and Rose Red.

--

"Then who would be Jack?" David asked. "You're not answering me."
"Why do you care, Dave?" he snapped. "She's your sister, not your daughter. Why should you care if she's makin' it with a scab?"
He put a hand over his mouth. David blanched and fell like a wounded soldier to the ground. If Jack hadn't known better, he would've thought he would see a red rose of blood on his chest, dyeing the white fabric of his longjohns.

--


That night, Jack and David blended together. David thought of the Greeks. He thought of giants and beanstalks and slingshots. But most of all, he thought of flowers. Rose White and Rose Red. Blending together in a powerful alchemy to make something so perfect. Perfect mix of wild and cautious. As he grasped Jack's hipbones in the narrow bunk of the lodging house, he thought of their own alchemy. Rose Jack and Rose Dave...he chuckled inwardly since Jack's lips had ceased any sound from escaping.