We Could Take To The Highway
Chapter Six
By: Jondy Macmillan
The initial plan that afternoon had been to check in at a posh hotel in Idaho Falls just before three, but James was running on rage. He drove down I-15, split off into US-20 as fast as he could go, turning winding roads and huge, empty plains into shapeless blurs. They sped through the rest of Idaho, past the snowcapped Grand Tetons in a neighboring state, up into Montana. They edged through a corner of Wyoming where Yellowstone began, right back up into Big Sky Country, the world turning into thick foliage and wandering Buffalo, majestic rivers and valleys and things they sang about in The Star Spangled Banner.
Originally they'd only decided on stopping so that they wouldn't over-exert themselves, so they could actually see America in something more than the fast paced trek between concerts. Now, checking out the middle-of-nowhere was the last thing on James's mind. He wanted to forget; all of this.
Except it was impossible when every time he glanced toward the passenger seat he could see the shadowy bruising along Kendall's cheekbone, the raw-red of his split lip. Whenever his eyes flicked up toward the rearview mirror there was his own face; black and blue along the jaw, the eye, bloody scratches from where Kendall's nails had raked his neck throbbing in time to his pulse.
So James decided not to look anywhere but forwards, where there was nothing but road, the earth and the sky meeting in a faraway horizon. Kendall's elbow bumped his arm every time he reached over to flick through the stations, searching for a voice to save them from the overbearing silence. At least, at first.
They'd lost the radio long before entering National Park territory, and now all he had for company was Kendall's harsh breathing and the constant self-derision in his mind.
Of course Kendall didn't want him. He was straight as a ruler. Pretty girls threw themselves at him after every concert, every hockey game, every place they went as far back as James could remember. James may have had a reputation back in high school as some kind of player, but Kendall was always the one with the charismatic pull. Kissing James that night before their tour must have been horrifying for him, a train wreck that he'd tried to erase from his memory, and James- such an idiot- had dug it all back up, like raw sewage floating to the surface.
Why couldn't he leave well enough alone? James wrenched the steering wheel hard to the left for emphasis, his knee slamming into the door. If he'd just kept his mouth shut and his lips to himself, none of this would have happened. Kendall would be willing to actually look at him instead of pretending the car was being driven by a nameless chauffeur, or fuck, the Invisible Man.
James was thoroughly distraught, convinced he'd never hear his best friend's voice again except through songs on the radio. Once they arrived in Minnesota, he probably wouldn't even get a goodbye.
"James-"
Seriously, how had he let everything turn into such a monumental disaster?
"Dude, slow down-"
He bit his tongue so hard it bled, a sharp metallic taste, bitter down his throat.
"James!"
Up ahead was a sharp turn to the right, and James could see debris littering the road. He'd noticed all the falling rock warning signs as far back as Arizona, but the idea of a landslide was so far out of James's head right now.
Right up until he hit the curve going over ninety, nearly barreling over a cliff save for James's quick reflexes and the old car's excellent traction. None of which even mattered, because as he swerved to avoid the empty space where any sane state would have placed a guardrail, James lost control of the wheel. Up ahead was a boulder so large it could've flattened a Mac Truck, and as James stomped on the brakes again and again, they only missed a head on collision with it by inches.
"Pull over. James! Pull the fuck over!" Kendall was yelling, his grip white knuckled and vice-like on James's arm. At some point, the typical hero, he'd thrown his hand out in front of James's chest, like that would stop him flying through the window if they actually had made impact. Some things never, ever changed.
As soon as he regained control of the wheel, James coasted them at a snail's pace to the next lookout point; a dry patch of dirt for Kodak moments, and the reason the mountain had no preventative measures at all to protect crazy drivers from plunging down into oblivion. He pushed the gear shift into park, slumping against the window. Shit.
Outside of his window, the scenery was gorgeous, surreal. An imperfect background for James's what-the-fuck-just-happened-moment.
"Are you suicidal?" Kendall screamed, his gray-green eyes wide and angry and frightened, "Do you want to die?"
"No," James spat, vehement, but his voice came out a scared whisper. Because it kind of did look like he really had planned on ending them both in a fiery crash, but that hadn't been it at all. He'd just been so angry, and the speed helped him think and-
"God, you're stupid," Kendall's callused hands shook as he unbuckled his seat belt, twisting his body so that his back edged up against the glove compartment. He slammed a palm against the driver's side door as he used the other to grab for James's chin. The gesture lacked gentleness, or any sort of care for the bruise that had blossomed into an ugly black and blue fresco across the taller boy's jaw, "So. Damn. Stupid."
James steadfastly refused to look into Kendall's eyes, even though he was forcing their faces close together, trying to make their eyes meet. He was stupid, and stubborn, and this was all Kendall's fault- but James's fingers were trembling on the wheel. All his adrenaline, all his fury had drained away, leaving nothing but fear and desperation, and somewhere, laced tightly between, something sickly and tenuous he was starting to think of as love.
If love was something that made you want to outrun the whole world, that is.
"Why would you do that? Why would you even- are you insane?"
"Probably," James admitted, tacking on a gruff, "Sorry. I didn't mean- I- that was really close."
"Yeah," Kendall agreed emphatically.
"I am- sorry. I," James tried and failed to regulate his breathing. He'd never been so terrified in his whole life, "I was pissed- at you. And me. And I just- it won't happen again."
"You're sure as hell right it won't," Kendall nodded, "I'm driving."
James watched his friend snatch the keys from the ignition and said faintly, "That's probably best."
"I don't get what you were thinking," and wow, Kendall was in full rant mode, "'Cause fyi, death is not a healthy way to express your anger."
"I know that," James was starting to get annoyed, because scary or not, it's not like he'd done it on purpose. That whole die young, stay pretty thing wasn't his thing. He planned on still being pretty at eighty.
And rich and famous. He was neither rich enough nor famous enough to die quite yet.
Kendall was still leaning back against the glove compartment, staring at him seriously, "It's not the way to get through to me, either."
"That's not what I wanted to- dude-" James shook his head, trying to find words but still refusing to meet his friend's gaze.
"Yeah?" the blond challenged, "What did you want? Do you even know?"
James stared at him, not sure what to say. Quiet, venomous, Kendall hissed, "Is this what you fucking want?"
Kendall kissed him hard, his lips searing, their teeth clicking together. It wasn't anything like what James wanted, but he took it all the same. His eyes were clenched so tight he could see the afterimage of the landscape, only it had become a skeleton world; a wildfire racing across its desolate beauty with the same heat and ferocity as Kendall's mouth on his, the same power to destroy everything in seconds.
James felt like even the sky and the earth couldn't bind him now, like logic, like gravity had disappeared. The only thing that kept him from floating off into outer space was his best friend's lips, the way his tongue ravaged James's mouth.
And then Kendall worked his hand beneath James's jeans and the world slammed back into place.
"Stop," James panted, trying to grab Kendall's wrist, but he was stronger, quicker, and way more determined. His fingers deftly wrapped around James's cock, rough, abrasive, searing. He couldn't have stopped himself from arching into it, even if he'd wanted to. But he was suddenly sure that this wasn't right. He'd never meant to scare Kendall into touching him, and as much as he longed to let his best friend jerk him off right then and there, it felt so much less than consensual, on both their parts.
"Get. The Fuck. Off," James shoved Kendall back, his dick wrenched from his friend's loosened grip. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience, but James absolutely refused to wince. In the flattest voice he could manage, he pushed open the car door and said, "You want to drive? So drive."
He could feel Kendall's hot gaze follow, but he refused to break. If there was one thing James Diamond would never let himself be, it was pitied.
They stayed in a motel on a long, empty stretch of highway, a familiar motif of blue, beige, and white. Mountains loomed in the horizon, yellow painted lines stretching off to their base. When they pulled into the parking lot, James spotted a rainbow lurching out of the clouds. It made him feel lonely, seeing all the wild beauty he'd always attributed to old country westerns.
He wondered what it would be like to live out here, if it would make him feel like an outlaw or just the last survivor of the human race. They were so far away from Grauman's and neon lights and handprints set in cement. This world felt strangely visceral, savage, and so completely unlike pictures on a silver screen. James realized he wasn't the kind of guy who could cope with zero human interaction.
All the wide open space would probably drive him insane.
"I feel like a cowboy. Days on the road, nights in front of a campfire," he told Kendall tentatively, the first words either of them had managed to get out in hours.
A faint smile darted across Kendall's face, and he said haltingly, "Um, we haven't had any campfires. I could buy you a lighter and some marshmallows to toast."
James made a face, "Dude."
Neither of them had actually apologized, but it felt kind of like a start.
Later, once they'd checked in, they kicked around the hotel room as the day stretched longer, the promise of dusk twinkling in the air. Kendall had gone to take a shower, but even though the water was running, James could hear Kendall whispering, a hushed conversation not meant for his ears. As the minutes ticked by, sunset blazed across the hotel room- the ashtray and the pictures of rural America, the reimagining of The Battle of Wyoming painted in saffron, orange, and blood red.
When Kendall emerged, the sun had already dipped low behind the snow capped mountains in a wash of gently fading gold. Night was falling like an oncoming storm, swift and starless. It reshaped the landscape violently, pocked with shadows and danger.
"Who was on the phone?"
Kendall looked guilty, "What?"
"I heard you whispering," James rolled his eyes, because stealth wasn't exactly one of Kendall's talents, and he damn well knew it. Still, he was trying not to sound like an overly suspicious girlfriend, the kind sane guys couldn't stand.
"Oh. Uh, Logan."
"Of course," James deadpanned before he could stop himself. So maybe he was failing the not-sounding-jealous test. And the being-a-good-straight-friend test. And the not-killing-them test. Weird, he'd always gotten decent grades before.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
James figured if he was in for a penny, he might as well go in for a pound. It wasn't like he was exactly super-high in Kendall's esteem at the moment, "It means it's always Logan. Right?"
He didn't bother waiting for an answer, instead grabbing his jacket and the car keys and making a beeline for the door, "I'm getting dinner."
When his hand touched the door knob, Kendall spoke, stopping him in his tracks, "Wait. I- do I really make you feel so insignificant?"
James cocked his head to the side, staring at the wood grain of the door and replying carefully, "I don't know. Maybe. Would you rather I was Logan?"
Shadows devoured Kendall's face, turning him into this grotesque parody of a marble statue, a real boy made fake against the sunny wallpaper, "Sometimes I- look, sometimes I stay away from you. I stick with Logan, because being near you, James, it's hard. Sometimes."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're my best friend. My oldest friend. This thing we have-" he waved a hand vaguely in the air, "-isn't natural."
"Says who? Kendall, being with you- it's the only thing I've ever known."
And it was true. There might have been something before that fateful day when he was ten years old and they first met, but when James searched, all his memories, a parade of good days and bad days, all were filled with a boy with blond hair and a huge, dimpled smile, his gray-green eyes shining and fearless.
Kendall's mouth opened and closed, like he had a million words that he desperately wanted to say, but couldn't, wouldn't. In that moment, he looked nothing like the boy from James's memories who was brave and strong and true, who had tumbled through the woods outside their school with him, trapping and releasing small animals just for the thrill of it; who'd invented shopping cart hole-in-one to make time pass faster. The boy standing in front of James now looked vulnerable, scared, broken. He was a complete stranger.
Or maybe this was how he'd always been. God knew the mask James always wore never cracked, never showed all the things he felt inside; the worry that his mom and dad would never be able to stop hating each other long enough to notice how much he'd achieved, this deep seated yearning for attention, approval- no, vindication from the whole god damned world, and an abiding love for someone who thought he was- what, unnatural, now? A freak?
His shoulders slumped. It was obvious he wasn't going to get a response. Kendall hadn't moved, was staring at him like James had a Medusa-gaze that could turn him to stone. And James was just so, so tired. He did the one thing he was best at; pasted on a smile and acted like he didn't have a care in the world.
James wasn't sure if everyone was like this, but he thought they must be; full of insides that didn't match their outsides. Smiling when happy was the last thing they felt.
"I'm getting dinner," he reiterated, and this time when he twisted the door knob, he met no resistance.
A/N: Uhhh, review? Pretty please? I know, I know the angst stretches on. And it will- I think I've possibly officially pinned this down between eight and ten chapters. The end does loom in the distance. By the way, I'm self promoting here, but over at Livejournal, Goten0040 and I are co-writing a Kendall/James fic that deals with substance abuse and um, boy love. If you're interested, there will be a link on my profile page.