False Start (Boyxboy)

11: BRUISED

Hiro slid himself across the gazebo's floor and plopped the handle down between us. The whiff that was kicked up burned my nostrils. Any other night I would have been reluctant to take that first sip, but I picked up the sticky glass with poised posture, fortified by a strong resolve; Keiji'd gotten drunk and so would I.

Without giving myself even a second to absorb the monumental moment, I rested the bottle on my lower lip and tilted it until the liquor lapped against my mouth. Three tiny sips trickled down my throat, searing it along the way, and then I pulled back as a shudder wracked my body. Hiro hugged his waist, rocking from side to side with laughter.

"Ugh," I grumbled, "that doesn't even taste safe to drink."

Despite saying that, I forced down another swallow, knowing it would be harder to do once the aftertaste was gone. It made me choke, and I found myself laughing too, eyes welling up with hot tears.

When I passed off the bottle, my face still twisted from repulsion, I asked, "Do you think the others are following us?"

"Nah. After they use you as a punching bag, you're made to go on a midnight drunk run together."

That sounded oddly fun to me. The runner's high that had been lingering since our mad dash started to ebb away, devoured by my begrudging.

Hiro tossed back another swig. His fist was clamped around the handle's neck, and I noticed an ugly bruise purpling his now-swollen knuckles. If he'd hit hard enough to welt his own skin then Keiji had to be hurting. The thought made me anxious.

I wonder if Keiji recognized me when I ran away.

"Man, you're a loyal friend," Hiro said, recapturing my attention before I could really sink into brooding.

"What makes you say that?"

"I laid it all on the table yet you held your tongue."

That made me tense up. In the eleven years that I'd known Keiji, I don't think I'd ever talked about him behind his back. Hiro's desire to gripe with someone was making me uncomfortable. I didn't want to stir up conflict, and was still reeling from the way his words had felt like backhanded compassion. However, he'd already planted a poisonous seed in my soul, and I knew that it might be relieving to shed some of my worries. We each took another shot before I spoke up.

"It's more that I was taken off guard. All of that's been bothering me lately, like him acting more aloof toward me than usual. I feel pretty awkward now that I realize other people noticed. I'd thought it might only be in my head."

I'm just the imperfect, pathetic friend. Another shot each. How much more of this do I have to drink to feel it?

"Eh, I don't think anyone but us cares enough to pick up on it. Have you talked to him about how you feel?"

...About how I feel....

A flush that I couldn't suppress crept up my neck and cheeks. "N-no." I fidgeted with the strings of my sweater again, trying to act casual. "It's only been, like, four days that he's been on the team. Anything that I can think to say would be selfish, anyway."

Besides, he didn't do anything wrong. I'm just jealous, and so are you.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I wish I had a friend like you. You're really cool, you know? You're, like, the kind of guy that doesn't know he's cool, which is even cooler. And I'm not just saying that."

I turned my head in his direction, and, to my surprise, it took my vision a second to catch up. It suddenly occurred to me that there was a numbness in my face and fingertips, hotness pulsating from my chest, and what I could only describe as a heavy lightness pulling on my body.

Before I could respond to his kind words, he elbowed me, a goofy grin spreading across his face. "Hey, you're feeling it, aren't you?"

I chuckled. "Yeah, it just hit me."

"Me too, man. Feels good, huh?"

Affection seemed to warm the blood that coursed through my veins. For once, I didn't feel like an outsider.

"Yeah, it does."

His knuckles were bruised, and both of our egos were, too. It seemed like we were bonding over our shared, gloomy empathy. Although it was a little difficult not to bring up what Mori had confided in me about Hiro's grades and college, and though I still felt guilt-ridden and edgy and a jumble of other mildly irritating emotions toward him, I bit it all back, opting to revel in the tenderness instead.

"But you already are my friend, Hiro," I said, offering a heartfelt smile. "Thanks for the compliment and opening up to me and stuff. I'm really sorry that Keiji took your spot on varsity."

He looked a little embarrassed, but happy, as he said, "Thanks, Kaz. I guess someone's win is always someone else's loss. I'll just have to try harder."

Something about the way he said it caused me to lose my breath. It was probably the way it seemed to allude to more than running. I went to mess with my hoodie strings again, but one side had been tugged into the hood. Muttering incoherently, I attempted to dig it back out. It was futile, though. I was growing more tipsy by the minute.

"Oh, I hate when that happens," he laughed when he noticed my predicament. "Here...."

As he leisurely leaned in to try his hand, I could smell the sweat and shampoo in his hair, and the alcohol in his exhales. His cheeks had turned a rosy hue and his eyes had glazed over, altogether seeming to have sunken into a relaxed trance. The strong buzz that I felt had lucidified my senses, so when his knuckle grazed my neck, a pleasant prickle tickled my skin. It was all so innocent, but to my mind seemed sinful.

A wave of respite washed over me when he pulled away, mumbling, "It's no use. You're better off just taking it out."

I could still imagine the heat where his body had been close to me, such a contrast to the cold night air. This small fraction of my heart wished he'd tried to hug me, or kiss me, or I didn't really know what, even though I would have been mortified. Even though I didn't want to want that. Even though I wished it had been Keiji.

Oh, God, is this feeling for real? Is this just an alcohol-induced delusion?

I yanked out the string, nervously chuckling, and twisted at my cartilage ring. "Hey, Hiro, I think we should head back."

"Aw, what?" he whined. "We've got a fourth of the liquor left and a whole night ahead of us!"

I stood up anyway. "Tomorrow will be miserable if we keep going."

And I want to get in bed before Keiji sees that I was gone.