The Unlikeliest of Mates

Chapter 10

Author Note: May have yolked up on some Chapell Roan and maxley fics before writing this so sorry if it long and angsty💀 feel free to comment and vote! see yall in a day or so 

Basilio POV: 

The two dress rather quickly, simply unpacking boots and a jacket. Texas winters were cold sure, but not biting. The desert climates did make for a formidable foe in terms of staying warm so it was better to be safe than to dress too lightly assuming it would be warm.

After dressing, Basilio walks outside, the cool air kissing his checks a dusty rose pink as he blows out a breath of white. He looks around on the porch, spotting and envelope on the rocking chair to the left of him. He opens it and inside it is the key to the car and a pair of keys to the house. Jackpot.

Pocketing the keys, he gets into the car, which was a comfortable Jeep Cherokee. The leather, cloth blended interior was nice, however freezing with the given weather. He quickly puts the the key in the ignition, turning on the car and then putting on the heat.

Achilles gets into the passenger seat as the engine roars to life, a hat on his head and a rather thick puffer jacket.

"Why are you dressed like the Michelin man?"

"Just fucking drive. It's too cold for bs right now and I'm hungry so just don't say anything."

Basilio just shrugs and presses on the gas. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Achilles' attitude and it was too cold to argue with anyone. Plus he was absolutely starving. Taking out his phone, he puts in gps instructions to get to the closest grocery store and Target. The route was an easy 30 minutes which surprises him given their location but he can't say he's complaining. Less driving is always welcomed.

The drive is silent minus the sounds of the road crunching and twisting with the maneuvering of the car. They barely beat the tail end of rush hour so there are fewer cars on the road, and the weather is not as agreeable as it could have been. Slush piles up on the side of the wheels, the sky an abysmal grey hue and a frosty rain is coming down on the front window. The window shield whippers to little to get rid of the rain as the cold air it to freeze on the outside but fog up on the inside. It's infuriating to say the least but Basilio tries his best to not let it further sour his mood.

The grocery store comes into view not after long, the gps alerting him as he beings to catch sight of the giant sign off the side of the highway. The parking lot wasn't too packed, so they find a spot a comfortable distance from the automatic doors in the front. They hop out of the car as Basilio jumps out of the jeep and locks the door with his key. Achilles grabs a cart and they enter into the store, welcoming the rush of warm heat hitting their skin.

Basilio moves down the produce array, placing onions, carrots, potatoes, tomatillos, and other necessary items into the basket. He glances around trying to figure out where the other isles are, spotting the breads relatively quickly. Achilles, who he doesn't pay much attention too, falls at the cart being jerked from beneath his weight.

"What the fuck was that."

"Oh, I didn't realize you were leaning on it, I was trying to do down that isle." he says, pointing to the 2nd isle sign.

"Christ, warn me next time. I almost busted my head open."

"Good, maybe then we'll be even."

The wince that follows lets them both know that despite the years between the incident, its still fresh and unsettled. They look at each other, not saying anything, and barely breathing, an unspoken taboo quickly breaking the illusion of any semblance of a good mood they have been creating over the last few hours.

Looking away, Achilles speaks, "Look, I understand If you wanna get even, I won't stop you. It's the least you deserve."

Basilio gapes, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Get even with you? Are you fucking with me? There is no getting even with what you did, and speaking of we need to talk about that. Don't think I was just going to ignore that that happened just because of the past few weeks. Because you have a lot of fucking explaining to do and a lot of apologizing."

"I figured. We can talk when we get home."

"We will." and with that Basilio takes the cart fully away from Achilles and resets course towards the bread isle. He can feel himself heating up, his mind racing with agitation. He hated how swept up he felt in everything, blinded by the illusion of comfort the the morning gave him. The frustration and anger of all that pain from years ago just bubbling up all over again makes him feel almost ill. Hating Achilles was so easy. It's always easy. Not that he wants it to be. Hating someone was never something he enjoyed and felt righteous about.  But hating was easy because he was such a big trigger for him for so long that now that things are falling into place so fast and without any work or build up. And now the comfort is almost dizzying and disorienting.

It scares him. 

Basilio chances a glance back at Achilles and feels miffed. Achilles looks lost, eyes mechanically shifting around the store, body tensed and folded in on himself. He looks away quickly and tries to get what they came for, mindlessly walking through the isles, mentally checking off their thrown together grocery list of items.

The mindless task brought some comfort as he didn't have to think about the situation that was unfolding for them. He simply is doing things.

Rounding isle after isle their cart is nearly filled with everything they need, only a few items left which are mainly cleaning products and silverware. Then the liquor isle comes into sight and an idea pops into his head. They both need to get drunk. Or at least not be sober. Having this conversation sober is an emotionally constipated nightmare that Basilio frankly cannot handle having to navigate right now.

So a bottle of bourbon, red wine, and moscato make their way into the cart nestled between a bag of apples and deli meats. He can feel Achilles' eyes on him but no comments are made. Basilio also grabs a few sodas and makes his way over to check out, Achilles trailing behind him like a child who was scolded. It was odd to see his former friend that way, so submissive and visibly uncomfortable. He tries not to think about it too hard. 

Food and other items paid for, Basilio takes the bags to their car and loads up the trunk. The sun had come out while they were in the store and now he could feel himself getting hot from the rays. Groceries secured, he takes off his jacket and throws it in the backseat then settles into the drivers seat, sticking his key into the key hole, starting the car. Achilles enters the car a minute after having put the cart up at the front of the store.

Pulling out of the parking lot, they fall into a suffocating silence, the quick 30 minutes suddenly feeling like hours.

The paved roads soon turn into the gravel-dirt road as Basilio peels into the offroad, making his way back up into the hillside to their home. His mind was racing with ways to start the conversation, those familiar knots making a home in the bottom of his stomach. He hates confrontation, hates demanding explanations from people though he deserves one for this. He's entitled to one at this point. Years of wondering and agonizing over what he did wrong only to come to conclusions that would never excuse nor explain the beating he received.

Taking a deep breath, the car pulls around the last bend and up to the of the house. He stops the car, putting it in park before twisting around to grab his jacket. The keys get pulled from its place as he get out of the car and unlocks the front door. It feels like entering into his impending doom.

Taking a deep breath, the car pulls around the last bend and up to the of the house. He stops the car, putting it in park before twisting around to grab his jacket. The keys get pulled from its place as he get out of the car and unlocks the front door. It feels like entering into his impending doom.

Basilio leaves the door open, passing Achilles on his way out back to the car to grab some of the grocery bags. Each trip back outside felt more and more exhausting but the task was quick work with the two of them.

Closing the door behind himself, Basilio walks into the kitchen and finds the bourbon on the island and makes quick work of opening it, then locates the new glasses they bought and pours himself half of a 12oz glass before going and sitting on the love seat.

"Take a cup and come sit, we need to talk."