The Bone Crush (mxm)

Episode 6 - Kings of the World

If there's any word to describe whatever happened ever since we walked into that bar, it would be a shift. A shift in our attitudes and the general mood between us. Because an hour ago, we were trying to break ourselves out of our respective shells, wanting to get out there and see the light but not really succeeding. However, the tipsiness that has surrounded our veins here has cracked open whatever door we were still locked up behind. This bar, and the people in this bar, and the music in this bar, they're making me feel free and light, like I could fly.

Dillon is looking lighter too, like the 15 year old version of him I once knew. Happy and fearless. He's sitting next to me, and it's making me feel so bubbly. There's a glitter in the brown of his eyes, invisible sparkles flying between us that are telling me that it's all okay now. That he's here, and that I'm happy he's here.

Somewhere on the opposite side of the bar, I notice a woman in her mid-30s sitting alone with her drink, but not looking lonely. I look at her for a few seconds and Dillon notices me doing that.

"Her name is Tara, she's 32, and she just hit a critical point in her relationship. She confronted her partner about it and she's here,  in the bar they used to come to together, to celebrate her courage to speak up," Dillon says, his voice louder than it usually is due to the music surrounding us.

I look at him, confused. "Do you know her?"

"So you really forgot, huh?"

I look at him again, struggling to understand what he's saying.

"Oracles," he says simply, and it gets clearer.

Oracles is a little game we used to play where we'd look at random strangers and try to guess what their lives were like. A classic, and I'm surprised how this habit we had slipped my mind.

I scan the place with my eyes again, and take a look at the bartender. "What about him?", I ask Dillon.

"Jackson, 28. He has a kid he wishes he had more time to spend with, instead of serving drinks to losers like us."

"So we're losers?"

"In real life, we might be. But tonight, being here, we're the kings of the world."

I smile at his statement, and as insignificant as it may actually be, I take it as a reflection of reality, as a fact. I feel like the king of the world.

We spend what feels like an hour playing this game, meaninglessly guessing the lives and pasts and futures of people in the bar. I'm laughing, and so is he.

We're out of there, and we're on the streets again. Two ex-best friends with baggage and history, who just spent a really fun night together.

We walk aimlessly, not knowing where out feet might lead us, not knowing where time and life will take our strange relationship,  but we don't think of that right now. Right now, we're content in each other's presence, and we're not letting any thought of the past or the future get in the way of our small escapism.

At some point, we're crossing the road between a mundane sidewalk and another with a better view of the distant lights. I'm so dreamy that I don't pay attention to a speeding car coming my way, and for a split second, my life feels meaningless, as if it could evaporate into thin air so simply...

I feel Dillon's hand grabbing mine and bringing me back to the sidewalk we were on.

I'm breathless, and he's startled, looking at me with wide eyes. 

We're both out of breath, and his hand is still tight and steady around my knuckles.

"You scarred me, asshole!," he says.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." is all I feel I can possibly say.

My hand's in his for a few more seconds, before I leave it.

"Shall we get going?", I ask him, pressed to get away from the lingering feeling of strangeness this place carries.

"No.", he says, firmly and decisively.

"Why not?"

"I wanna stay here for a while."

He moves to sit at the edge of a cliff, and I follow him.

The night sky's enlightened by a few stars, the air is chilly and everything about the view feels peaceful.

I sit down next to him, our legs dangling from the cliffside into the air.

We say nothing for a while. I can see his gaze escaping into the horizon, his mind possibly overflowed with his unknown thoughts.

I let my mind wander, too. 

"You still have it," he says, looking at my naked knee under the shorts I'm wearing. "The scar from the time you fell off the bike."

Him still remembering that distant memory of ours makes my heart beat faster and I automatically smile, touched by his attention to the small details we've been through together.

"Yeah." I say simply, not knowing what o comment.

"Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't, but I don't think it's ever leaving my skin. Not that it's a bad thing."

"It's not a bad thing?"

"I mean it is, but it's also a reminder of some of the happiest days of my life."

I instantly regret what I just said. I'm always careful with my words and I try to never let myself get carried away, but I just did. Fuck.

I search his face for a sign of uncomfortable reaction, but all I can see is a smile. A small, shy, and sincere smile.

A few seconds later, he moves his hand and brushes my knee with his fingers, right above the scar.

I feel all sanity quitting my body, and I forget how to use any of my senses.

His hand stays there, on my knee, and his eyes are distant, as if he's actively trying to avoid mine. I still look at him nonetheless, openly and explicitly.

Eventually, his eyes meet mine, his hand still on my knee. My hand, adjacent to his, slowly moves until my pinky touches his, innocently.

I think he notices it, because his pinky reacts to mine, acknowledging its touch.

I move my hand even closer, and so does he.

For the first time ever, I feel like my emotional investment in Dillon is returned, and it makes my soul scream from happiness.

We continue our little game until my hand's under his, on my knee.

For the rest of our time there, we don't say anything. We're just two old friends holding hands in the middle of the night, looking at a beautiful view, alone in the world.