chapter twenty-four - danger boy

chapter twenty-four — danger boy

THE FRECKLES ON HIS SHOULDERS DARKENED IN THE SUN. He hated how he burned, but on the rare occasion he remembered sunscreen, his freckles would start smearing out like watercolors. He hated how they made a little mask on his face, the blur of pigment streaking across his nose, but I loved it. I loved the constellations mapped out on him. I wanted to trace them.

I wanted to taste them.

"Stop daydreaming about Kieran, it's creepy"

"Huh?" I shook my head, half-assedly mopping at my face with the bottom of my shirt.

"I wasn't daydr—"

"—Don't even bother lying," Marco sighed, his hand stuck through the wired holes of the fence. He was trying to pull up the grass on the other sides, the strands slowly accumulating into a small pile by his feet. The pile looked like a strange little nest, strikingly green against the grit of the blacktop.

"It's weird to see you drool over him," He continued, tossing some gravel at my legs, "Kinda sad too"

"I'm not—"

Marco shot me a look and I shifted closer to the fence, defeated.

"—I know"

The sound of a bank shot: rubber hitting polycarbonate, but this court couldn't afford the sound of a bank shot. We settled for the hollow sound of a dying hoop and a weathered ball. Kieran didn't like using the backboard to make his shots nearly as much as he preferred the aesthetic swish of the net, but the net here was ripped. There was nothing left to swish, but Kieran made the most of it, his skin glistening. It was hot outside, his shirt the first thing to go when we'd started a short pick-up game.

Marco and I had tapped out after the first hour though, and I was perfectly content watching Kieran practice, the shirt he'd stolen from me bundled up in my lap as I sat in the shade. Marco seemed imperfectly content to watch neither of us, more concerned with avoiding his own thoughts.

"I know, I know," I fiddled with his shirt, rolling the fabric in between my fingers, "I'm pathetic"

"Not pathetic," Marco mused, tying little knots in the blades, "Well kinda, but you're just mainly really fucking stupid"

The knot he was tying ripped, either side of the grass length dropping to the ground as he sighed heavily. There was another pile by his feet now, littered bodies of his failed projects. They cast a funky shadow against the ground, the sun deciding to gift everything its own dark reflection no matter how small and insignificant it was— even a small pile of grass.

"Stupid?" I echoed mindlessly, mouth disconnected from my eyes as they watched Kieran dribble up and down the court. I caught the ripple of his muscles as he tended to jump, his fingers grazing the rim just barely. So strong.

I want to feel his skin against mine.

I felt like a fucking creep, averting my gaze after just a second. It was fucking unfair. I'd seen girls undress Kieran with their eyes before, climb all over him and force a kiss without even asking if he was okay with it. I felt guilty just looking at him. I'd never do anything to him if he didn't consent, but I wanted to feel okay looking at him, looking at any guy, even if I wasn't harboring a crush on them.

It was like being gay meant I had to be attracted to every guy in existence, but, if I was being honest, George Washington just didn't do it for me.

"Yeah, stupid," Marco threw a grass knot at me, the movement catching my attention more than the impact.

"You think everything's gonna work out in your life if you just sit and wait don't you? Fate, or destiny, or whatever bullshit you've convinced yourself of," Marco was quiet, his whisper strained and barely concealed.

"It's stupid"

"What?" I fully turned to face him, draping Kieran's shirt in my lap like a little blanket. It was an old concert tee my Dad had given to me in middle school. It had somehow found its way into Kieran's closet, but I didn't mind. It looked good on him. And off him.

"You're too nice," Marco sighed, looking me dead on, "Like, you put on this front like you're happy and content to just wait for Kieran to discover himself and then carry him off into the sunset, but you're just lying"

"Lying to us, and yourself," He muttered, resuming his activity. He started to link the grass now, the delicate chain only a few inches long.

"You're not as patient as you think you are"

"I didn't know you could pay attention to reality, Marco" I grinned, composure slipping when he didn't return the smile. My fingers fumbled, finding each other through the material of the shirt. Why am I nervous? He's just spitting some drug-fueled faux-wisdom. It's just Marco.

Marco didn't look at me, his glare focused on a small divot between the ground on the blacktop. His foot shifted and he shoved the toe of his sneakers into the divot, unconcerned as a few strands of grass fell onto his leg.

"I don't know what you m—" I tried again.

"You can't just play saint and wait for things to happen, Lukas"

He dusted the strands off his leg, picking out the stronger ones and adding them to his daisy-less daisy chain.

"I-I can't" I can't do that to Kieran. I can't push. He's not ready.

Marco hummed, brows furrowed as his hands traced over the knots he'd made. He'd stopped adding on to the chain, pulling at the connection to look for any sign of weakness. His eyes were the clearest I'd seen in weeks, and he smelled like detergent.

"I'm not saying do something stupid, Schmitt," His jaw ticked a little, cheeks sucking in as a knot began to unravel, "I'm saying do something"

"Like what?" My throat felt dry and I anxiously looked over to where Kieran was practicing, caught in his own bubble of basketball and blissful ignorance.

"I want to do things, but," Kieran's shirt started to scrunch up in my grip and I quickly smoothed it out, the lettering already peeling from too many days in the direct heat of the court, "I can't do those things"

Marco snorted, a familiar twinkle of amusement returning to his eyes as he watched me with a smirk.

"Things? How scandalous"

I flushed.

"I don't need your sass. Shove it up your ass, Marco"

"Shove it up my ass? Kinda forward aren't you? Take me out to dinner first, big boy"

I buried my head in my hands, reveling in the brief break it brought me from the sun. I closed my eyes, squeezing tight until the orange behind my lids turned black. My lips curved up against my palm, the smell of Axe swimming in my head. The shirt was absolutely doused in it, and my hands were painted with the scent. There was a party later today that Marco had convinced all of us, except Roger, to come to. Parties meant Kieran would amp up the Axe usage.

Marco had a lot of conspiracy theories on how girls kept hitting Kieran up even when he smelled like a middle-school douchebag.

"You're not actually thinking about it, right? You know I'm taken, ri—?"

"Calm thyself, scoundrel," I pulled out of my hermit-crab position, a loose smile on my face.

"You think I need to be more," I paused, racking my head for the right word, "assertive, with how I feel?"

Marco nodded sagely, his hair flopping around a little. The tension from before was gone, his nose crinkled ever so slightly in a perpetual laugh.

"You nervous about how Kieran's gonna react? I can assure you he'd go along with almost anything you pull. He likes you, Lukas," Marco grinned, the smile not fully extending the way I was used to on his face.

"He might be stubborn about it, and kinda stupid too, but he really does like you," Marco sighed at my skepticism, "We have that party later, yeah? Try pushing it a little then, see what happens"

I nodded before I could consider it, immediately regretting it as a familiar look possessed Marco. His eyes flashed dangerously.

Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ     Δ

There were two girls in his lap. Not literally, but it might as well have been literal. Kieran was completely out of it, a long-stemmed bottle of some off-brand alcohol cradled in his lap. His fingers circled the rim, and I felt myself watch the pattern, uncomfortably aware that the girl on his right was doing the same thing. His left arm was wrapped around the other chick's bare waist, tight enough so that he could scroll down the screen of his phone and ignore everyone to his content. She didn't seem to mind though, half her leg propped up on his, hands ensnared in his hair. Her nails were long.

"How long are you gonna watch them?"

"Shut up," I shot back, sipping at the paper cup in my hand. Movies liked to use red solo cups as a symbol of teenage alcoholism, but cheap paper cups worked just fine for broke teenage alcoholics. I was staying sober tonight though. With how shit-faced Kieran was at this point, I knew I'd end up dragging his ass home. He didn't get drunk often, scared of how a hangover would interfere with practice time, but he'd been set on letting loose tonight.

"Lukas, you're being lame as hell" Marco groaned, his body splayed out and taking up half of the couch. DJ supported his legs, nervously darting back and forth between cradling Marco's ankles and balancing their drinks on his forearm. They'd been fighting for the past few weeks, on and off, so I was glad to see them back to their usual selves even though Marco's usual self brought a migraine with it. Michael was sitting off to the side of them, awkwardly cradling his own cup actually filled with something alcoholic. He wasn't the best at handling his drinks, but Michael had assured me he had a ride in case things got too rough.

"I'm not being lame," I held my cup of water up to my face, silently wishing it was the vodka I'd lied it to be. But I can't get drunk. I would commit to a lifetime of sobriety before I let a stranger take Kieran home.

So, for now, I was stuck watching Kieran drown himself in alcohol and strangers. Stuck watching nights like these replay in my head as I wondered why the fuck I'd fallen for someone who couldn't match my feelings. Stuck. Stuck. Stu—

My hand tightened around the paper cup until it caved in, the little water inside sloshing out and splashing onto the sleeves of my shirt.

Stupid.

"You good, Lukas?"

I didn't shake his hand off, finally turning away and looking at the rest of the group. My neck felt hot and I shyly straightened out the squashed paper cup in my hands. It'd torn where it had been bent, thin white lines running across the top half like leaf veins. Red solo cups were damn near indestructible, not paper cups though.

Flimsy.

"Yeah," I shook my head, smiling sheepishly, "Yeah, sorry guys. I'm good"

"Let's go get some air, yeah?"

Michael looped his arm around mine, hauling me to my feet gently. I wasn't even sure why he was here since he didn't really like parties all too much. Michael wasn't bullied outright, but I knew whispers hurt him more than they should've, and parties were just rooms with bodies filled with beer and whispers: two things he hated. His arm felt familiarly warm, hand resting on my bicep as he steered me through the crowd.

"Yo, Schmitt, you good?" A stranger slapped my shoulder, eyes locking in on Michael and I. The faceless shape reeked of weed and the melting plastic of the football field's turf.

"I'm good, bro. Michael's just helping me get some air"

Michael dropped my arm smoothly, the interaction instant and habitual for both of us. I could feel his shoulder still brush against my arm, close enough to be felt, but not close enough for danger. It was dangerous to be too close to an openly gay kid: his rule not mine.

"Damn, that hammered?" The stranger whooped awkwardly, grinning, and pushing past me to move onto a better conversation. He hadn't waited for a response, settling for the grim smile I'd tossed at him.

We made it past the porch, choosing to collapse onto the front lawn. Mysterious damp spots over the ledge of the porch led way to pools of wasted beer and upturned stomachs. It was like a battleground for sanity spread out on the trimmed grass of suburban America, and Paisley Roberts would regret warranting it until the next part came around. We'd found a safe spot though, the grass only slightly damp from midnight fog.

"You know he's gonna sleep with them, right?"

I pulled up some grass at its roots, regretting immediately and letting the blades fall back to the ground gently. I wiped my hand down the side of my jeans, frowning at the small smear the dirt left on the denim.

"Lukas, I don't like seeing you get hur—"

"—bullshit," I sourly combed through the grass, flinching when Michael brought his hand down on my knee heavily.

"What's that supposed to mean? Lukas, I care about yo—"

I turned away from him, mind flickering back to Kieran and the two girls in his lap. You know he's gonna sleep with them, right? Of course, I fucking knew. It was the same thing every month. A month of feeling like I was something different, special, and then in one night everything would come crashing at my feet and I had to plaster on a smile about how fucking proud I was that he'd bagged yet another chick. It hurts.

This month really had felt different. Grandma died and it'd felt like shit, but Kieran had been there. He hadn't let go of me like I would've thought he would a few months ago.

I rubbed at my eyes, tensing up but then relaxing as Michael cautiously wrapped one arm around my shoulders. I let my hands fall, tears beading in the corners of my eyes as I leaned into him ever so slightly. Danger zone.

Danger boy.

I chuckled, sitting up straight and moving out of his grasp. I heard him sigh, wiping at my face one last time before propping my chin up with my knee.

"Am I stupid, Michael?" I cast a sideways glance in Michael's direction, his re-bleached hair muted but bright in the yellow of the porch lamps. The moon was under clouds tonight, and the grass was bathed in shitty incandescent bulb light, a near-perfect match to the color of Michael's streaked hair.

"You think you're stupid?" He wryly smiled, fiddling with his earrings again. One of them was longer than the other, a dangly chain that gently tapped against his neck when he laughed.

I bought those for him.

"Loving a straight guy is stupid, yeah? He's my best fucking friend too. I fuck up, I lose him, and I can't lose him" I swiveled, plucking some more grass out of the lawn. Fuck you, Mr. Roberts. I tossed the blades at Michael, recapturing his attention as he smiled softly, brushing the strands off his lap.

"You love him?"

My throat went dry. I love him?

"Did I say...?" I trailed off, my stomach twisting violently. His hand wrapped tight around her waist, scrolling down his fucking phone.

Her fingers curled in his hair.

"You said you loved him," Michael smiled, the corners of his mouth not fully pulling up. His dimples hadn't deepened either. I used to poke my fingers in them when he laughed.

"That's good, Lukas. First love for you, then? Congrats." His voice struck a bitter chord.

I don't need this right now. Michael stubbornly curled his knees into himself, using his arms as a pillow to rest his head on top. His hair made a shaggy little curtain, eyes just barely visible through the brittle strands. I could see them though, green contacts oddly luminescent as he peered at me, eyes narrowed. I missed his brown eyes sometimes, but then remembered how dangerous they were. I'd lost myself so easily in his stare and hadn't realized how close I was to suffocating.

"Thanks," I bit back, harshly. His eyes widened, brows raising before furrowing roughly.

"Maybe I wasn't the right person to cheer you up," He stretched, pushing off the ground. I didn't follow him, staring up at his frizzy silhouette. He didn't offer me a hand, arms limply at his side as he kicked up the grass under his feet.

"Maybe"

"Lukas, get up! Your ass is gonna be wet"

"Marco, not so loud"

Michael and I turned, my lips curling upwards as Marco tapped the tip of his shoes against my thigh. I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly, rolling onto my knees and standing up slowly.

"Yup, your ass. It be wet." Marco bent, tilting his head to look. I turned, pushing him back as he chased me, unashamedly pulling at my shirt. My curses cut through the night easily, the low base of the house a muted background noise. It was weirdly quiet though, like, I was seeing the world through a bubble.

I couldn't hear much of anything. Low hums of conversation from the house. A little bit of music. Marco's hasty footsteps and grass squishing underfoot. Crickets. It sounded like summer, but it wasn't summer. Far from it.

The wind was lying.

"Marco," I grabbed DJ by the shoulders, spinning him as he held his palms up. Marco eyed us like a wild animal, the alcohol triggering his basketball instincts as he dropped into a low stance, hands out and ready to grab.

"Stop trying to look at my ass"

"Just a peek"

DJ scowled, grabbing Marco's hands as I changed my shield to Michael. His eyes widened worriedly, hands frozen at his sides when I pulled at his shoulders. His head whipped towards me, mouth open in protest.

"The fuck's going on here?"

Marco quit fighting DJ's hold, a sly smile spreading on his face as he looked between Kieran and me.

Don't say anything stupid.

"I was tryna grab Lukas' ass"

Marco grinned like a sleaze, lips quirked up infuriatingly. Kieran took one, two, steps forward, hand cocked.

Oh shit.

Marco never lost his smile, even as a small trickle of blood started out of his nose.

"Kieran you can't just punch people like that," I let go of Michael, curling my arms around Kieran's to restrain him. He tilted his head back and I felt it rest against my chest as he peered up at me. Oh.

He's gorgeous. That's illegal. He can't look at me like that.

He blinked slowly.

Doesn't he know I'm gay? Oh, wait...

"Even if it's only Marco?"

It wasn't the first time Marco had been socked by someone and it definitely wouldn't be the last. He had this innate ability to piss people off, and Kieran and he had fought on more than one occasion. Never about my pants being wet.

"Why'd you leave me in there?"

He's drunk?

"Are you drunk?" I asked stupidly. Waves of liquor washed off of him, the scent pungent and unmasked by the little twinge of Axe that followed him everywhere.

Kieran nodded, lowering his head as his ears flushed pink, ashamed.

"Jus' a little" He confessed, still motionless as my arms loosened around him.

"Take me home?"

He looked back up again, but his voice was small. The hand he'd used to punch Marco flexed and relaxed uncomfortably. He needs ice.

"Yeah," I sighed. I looked up nodding when DJ shot me a lazy thumbs up, helping Marco to his feet. He'd fallen a few seconds after the punch, head nodding to one side like he was about to fall asleep. Marco grinned, his upper lip a deep red, and his fingers stained.

"My ass is wet now" He cheered. DJ wrapped a hand around Michael's arm and hauled him and his wet ass away.

"Let's go," I kept one arm around Kieran, gingerly making him start walking with me to the gate. He leaned into me heavily and I started to realize how out of it he really was. Kieran didn't lean on people. Kieran didn't get drunk.

My hold on him tightened and he didn't say anything.

"Bye, Lukas"

Kieran turned around before I could and we both stared hard at Michael's silhouette. His shirt was too big, like always, and his hair hung in threads over his eyes. I'd almost forgotten how he looked when he was angry.

Kieran clumsily waved, his arm flopping like it was filled with putty. I reached out and grabbed his hand, interlocking his fingers with mine. My face felt hot as he stared at me, blue eyes dangerously curious and alert. I looked away quickly and saw Michael's retreating figure, a small shadow on the Roberts' porch.

Kieran recaught my attention, his fingers tapping against the back of my hand as he experimentally swung our joined palms. I flushed in the streetlight, trying to hide my face as he peered up at me, eyes narrowing into judging slits.

"C'mon, bread boy"

Kieran inhaled steeply before taking off towards my car with a quick, angry march. My wrist almost popped, feet tripping over themselves to keep up with his pace.

His hand felt like fire, burning a painful hole through the center of my palm. Too hot.

I didn't let go.

________________________________________________________________________________

3614 words

Don't worry too much about Marco. DJ will take care of him.

Hello, I hope you're all doing well! Trying to finish this book by September was an ambitious goal, and I'm not an ambitious person, but I shall try my best (and hopefully prevail). This chapter was in Lukas' POV (which you hopefully noticed) and it's honestly so weird to write from his POV. Kieran's is much more fun.

Funness of writing aside, how was this chapter?

After some awkward question-asking, I've determined that the standard teenage boy spends a lot of time thinking/doing/dreaming/etc. about sex, which is kinda weird for me since I have no clue how to incorporate that into my writing of these characters. Again, I'll try my best, and I kindly ask all of you to refrain from cringing too hard at any given moment.

I'll have cringed enough for all of you.

Also, I'm still debating adding more mature scenes, but we'll see how this story progresses.

Okay, sorry for the rambling! Thank you so much for reading!

Have a lovely week and stay safe <3