Bad Habits

Reflection Often Leads To Clarity

Dakota wakes the next morning with a sore head. Late afternoon sun shines through the window, bearing down on half-closed eyes, squinting as he struggles to figure out where he is. He definitely isn't home; the sheets smell clean (unlike his) and the annoying buzz of Parker blitzing up one of his gross kale smoothies in the kitchen isn't present.

Whatever, he thinks, as he closes his eyes again and rests his head back down on the hard and incredibly lumpy mattress beneath him.

Memories of last night come flooding back into Dakota's brain as he lies naked under cool sheets of white linen; the way they locked eyes at the bar and both instantly knew what was to come. The way Dakota was given a subtle wink from Hudson as he was led out of the door and the way they couldn't keep their hands off one another in the back of the taxi cab, earning disapproving glares from the driver. And the way they stumbled up the stairs together, kissing on every landing until he was hoisted up into strong arms and slammed against the door. The way that he was passionately kissed and touched on every inch of his body, and the way he lay beneath a pool of toned muscle, and the way that Beck—

Fuck.

Dakota's eyes fly open as he simultaneously shoots up from his hard and lumpy mattress, which turns out to be none other than Beck; the last person on Earth Dakota thought he'd be hooking up with.

He silently slips out of the bed, being extra careful not to wake the rough-looking man beneath him, and scrambles around the room looking for his clothes that had been strewn everywhere in their haste last night. He curses under his breath when he can't find his underwear and decides to just go without — he needs to get out of there as soon as possible. He creeps out of the room, heading for the door as he throws his hoodie over his head and pulls it on as he steps outside, only to be faced with an elderly woman coming out of another door on the same landing. She gives Dakota a look he can't decipher and he doesn't stick around long to figure out what it means.

Patting the pockets of his sweatpants frantically, he realises he doesn't have his wallet with him. He must've lost it at some point in his drunken state, but he can't recall when. So he starts walking the stupidly long route home, making a mental note to cancel his money card once he gets home.

He doesn't mind walking too much, it gives him some time to think. But, he doen't get very far before his phone starts to ring.

"Hello?"

An all-too familiar voice answers back. "Dakota."

"How do you have my number?"

"I never deleted it," Beck says. And then, in a smaller voice, "did you delete mine?"

"Yes," Dakota replies bluntly. "What do you want?"

"You left your boxers."

"Consider them a gift," Dakota says sarcastically.

There's a long, dragged out silence on the other end of the line, and Dakota is about to hang up before Beck says, "you mean... you're commando right now?"

"Yes."

"That's hot."

Dakota sighs. "Last night was a mistake."

"Agree to disagree," Beck replies nonchalantly. "How did you get home?"

"I'm walking."

There's shuffling on the other line. "Let me pick you up."

"No thanks," Dakota replies before swiftly hanging up the phone. He huffs another sigh when he sees his phone battery blink red, indicating it was at 5%.

This is going to be a long walk home.

~

"Koda," Parker breathed a sigh of relief when Dakota trudged through the door, his eyes landing on his lost wallet resting on the coffee table. "Where the fuck have you been? Why haven't you answered my calls?"

Dakota shrugs in response. "Phone died."

"Jesus, Koda. I've been worried all day! Take a fucking charger next time."

Dakota groans and launches himself onto the couch, burying his face into the cushions. "Sorry," he mutters.

"So?" Parker stares at the back of his head expectantly, as if Dakota would be able to read his expression. "Where were you?"

Dakota rolls over onto his side. "Random hookup."

His trek home had given him plenty of time to think. He'd mused over the antics he and Beck had participated in, and then his mind had wondered to their conversation on the phone. Beck had been speaking to him like he hadn't left Dakota stranded in Arizona five years ago with nothing but a notebook of scribbled memories and a heartbreaking goodbye note.

That's when the anger set in, and he felt his fists clenching as he walked further and further away from him. It was always in the quiet that he missed Beck the most; when his mind had the chance to wonder and his heart had a moment to remember.

But now, he doesn't miss Beck. He just hates him.

He wishes he could rid himself of the parts of him that begged for understanding. Understanding of why the fuck he left in the first place. He wishes he could say that he doesn't care anymore, that he is completely over him and he's moved on with his life. That he could see Beck in a bar on a Thursday night and not follow him back to his apartment. He wishes he could say that even after everything Beck put him through, there wasn't a small part of his mind telling him to turn around and walk straight back into Beck's arms as if nothing ever changed.

But, he can't say any of those things. Because even though Dakota was silently kicking himself on the hour-long walk home, his mind was still lingering on the way Beck's lips felt against his own. And the claiming grip Beck had on his waist. And the gentle lines traced on his back after the fact, a comfortable silence dousing them and forcing them to think about what they'd just done.

Dakota decided on the way home that he wasn't going to tell Parker. No way.

"Bullshit," Dakota hears Parker say.

"What?"

"I said bullshit. I know you, Koda. Don't lie to me," he warns.

Dakota sits up. "I'm not lying," he lies.

"You don't like strings attached, Koda. Your random hookups are never overnighters."

"Okay," Dakota sighs. "This one was different."

"I don't know, man. I think you're just trying to fill your Beck void."

Dakota freezes when Parker says Beck's name and catches the black-haired boy screwing his face up.

"Don't make that face, P. He was your best friend."

"Emphasis on the 'was'."

"He made a mistake. We all make mistakes."

Dakota reels back in shock when Parker raises his voice with his next words. "Why do you do that, Dakota?" He asks, arms thrown in the air in frustration.

"Do what?" Dakota is nervous, all of a sudden. Parker never calls him but his full name.

"Why do you speak so highly of him? He did nothing but break you so fucking bad that you're still picking up the pieces of your heart five years later."

Dakota sighs and looks down at his hands, picking at his hangnails. "Thats the thing about love, Parker." He speaks barely above a whisper. "You'll let them get away with murder, even if it's your own."