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.
