How it Happened is Irrelevant (Mabbell)

27

TJ's POV:

The feeling of someone's fingertip brushing hair off of my forehead woke me up. "What the fuck?!" I shouted, pushing them out of my bunk. "What the fuck are you doing?!" I demanded, seeing that it was Craig. 

"There are some people here who want to see you," He explained. 

"In my motherfucking underwear at eleven at night?!" I fell back onto the mattress, frustrated that he would wake me for this. I'd gone to bed early because I was exhausted. I'd probably only been sleeping twenty minutes. 

"Okay. There are some police officers who want to see you. Get dressed."

"Officers? What did I do?" Oh, Lord. Please tell me no one saw those guys that were trying to kill Kevin. 

"Cover up your knuckles. It'll make you look bad." He started to walk away while I found stray clothes in the junk bunk. All I could find to cover up my knuckles were a pair of Thrasher's fingerless gloves, which didn't fit me to begin with. I struggled to get my fingers into them, wishing for once in my life I had Max's tiny hands. 

I could feel them cutting off my circulation as I went to go outside and talk to these officers, so I took them off, turning them inside out as I did so. "My gloves!" Kevin complained. I'd guessed that he'd have to speak with the cops as well. 

"You Bell?" One of the officers asked me. He was tall, maybe six foot five. I felt extremely small in that moment. 

I nodded. "Yes, sir." Craig looked almost taken aback at my manners. I would threaten him to never speak of it later. "And how can I help you officers this evening?" I tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn. 

"We heard reports of a violent fight about here maybe two hours ago?" He looked to the other officer, who nodded. 

"21 hundred," She agreed. Contrasting to the other officer, she was maybe only five feet tall. "How did you get those knuckles?" She gestured to my scarred hand.

"One of the people had a weapon: a broken bottle. He was trying to kill my friend."

"It's true!" Kevin chimed in. "TJ didn't do anything wrong."

"How old are you kids?" The taller officer asked. My eyes had adjusted, and I could now read that his nametag said 'Carl Jenkins.' 

"Twenty-five," Kevin and I answered.

"Twenty-six," Craig said afterwards. 

The officers exchanged glances. "Just a couple of kids in a bar fight," The female officer noted. "We'll let you off with a warning," She told us, speaking louder. "Stay out of trouble."

We all nodded, and when they were out of earshot, Craig began to make fun of me. "'And how may I help you officers this evening?'" 

"They're police! I can't talk to them like you guys!"

"Oh, but maybe we can be treated with a bit more of that decorum," Kevin encouraged him. 

"I swear to fucking God-"

"Well stop your swearing. A gentleman never swears." Craig shook his finger at me while Thrasher snickered. 

"I thought that was only applicable for ladies." I paused. "God fucking dammit! See now you've got me using words like applicable."

"No, no. I think it's adorable that you use words like applicable," Craig told me, putting his arm over my shoulder. I would've shrugged it off, but the gesture felt rather comforting. 

"You two are.....a bunch of weirdos," Kevin concluded. 

I wanted to say that Craig was my weirdo, but he's not technically mine yet. I guess that I'd have to fix that. Instead, I leaned up and kissed his cheek quickly.

Kevin shook his head and went back onto the bus. I was about to follow him, but Craig steered me away, walking us out into the cold darkness of the night. "Bus call is in five minutes," I reminded him.

"This'll only take five minutes," he assured me.

"How come Max didn't come out to eavesdrop?"

"He passed out almost the same time you fell asleep."

"Oh."

Our fingers laced. "I've been wondering something lately."

"Will you be mine?" I blurted, aggressively might I add.

He chuckled. "Well, boyfriend does have nice ring to it."

"Is that a yes?"

"I don't know. I've got friends who say I should stay away from dirty-minded, tattoo-covered, guttural-screaming, badass-guitarists like you."

"You flatter me."

"But to answer your question, I think that's a risk I'm willing to take."

"So does this mean I get to be ultra-possessive of you and be jealous all of the time?" I joked.

"It means you can be a little possessive of me, and that we can maybe be a little flirty in public," he clarified nervously.

"I'll take anything I can get. It still doesn't feel real."

He squeezed my hand. "How come?"

"I've just spent so long telling myself I can't have you, but now it's.... I-I realized I never really.... I never tried."

"You were afraid. Nothing wrong with that."

Maybe there wasn't, but that didn't really make me feel better. Thrasher was right, I am a coward.