ｇｅｔ ｉｔ ｏｕｔ // ｍｉｓｃ

ａｌｌ ｔｈｅ ｔｈｉｎｇｓ

"You can't come home." The voice was stern, gravel rolling out from the back of her voice, "If you came near here, it'd be a death sentence." 

"Maybe that's why I want  to come home." He croaked back through lost syllables of cellphone reception as he walked past the dim lights of street lamps.

"Please, stay safe, Max." A door slammed loudly in the background, causing the both of them to jump. "Goodbye. Wait until morning."

Pebbles poked at his feet through the souls of his shoes persistently in attempts to irritate him. Walking nowhere seemed like something he would do a lot. Or, not really nowhere, more often than not he would walk the 5 miles it took so he could be with his friend. Friend. For some reason, the use of the word made him sick. It didn't seem like it was enough.

He deserved more than friend.

We don't always get what we deserve, now, do we?

Regardless, Max had already been walking to Ian's house since his sister had called and told him to stay away. It was usually the same routine on Friday nights. He would go out for a walk around 2 in the morning, his dad would soon be driven home by one of his buddies, his sister would call him and tell him to not come back, and when he did come back after staying at a friends his house would be a mess and his dad will have hurt the ones that meant the most to him. Sick bastard, really.

After walking alone in the sickly sweet air of mid March, he walked in front of a beaten up house at the very end of the cul-de-sac that housed his friend. Max walked around to the back of the house and quietly tapped once on the bathroom window, waiting for Ian to open it and let him inside.

He waited for about five minutes before his friend came to him. Max climbed through the window after muttering a weak "hello" to the other. Together, they walked in a comfortable silence to the basement of the house, where Ian slept. The room was dimly lit with an old lamp in one corner and a TV with static in front of the bed. Did a dirty mattress on the floor of a basement count as a bed? Like, if the mattress has sheets and all, is it still a bed? Whatever.

Ian plopped down on the bed and patted the space next to him, motioning Max to join him. He soon sat down and placed his head on Ians shoulder after cradling his legs to his chest and staring at the TVs meaningless pixels. Ian wrapped his arm around Max's shoulders and held him close.

"You deserve more than this. People are already awful to you, the names won't stop if we continue to do this." Max whispered, voice cracking mid sentence.

"It's okay. You get used to it after a while." 

"You deserve better, I only ever come here when I'm not wanted at home." Ian tightened his grip.

"I enjoy having you around, you're always welcome here."

"You make me feel safe." They looked at each other in the eyes. 

"That's good. You should feel safe around me."

"You make me feel like I'm in love." They leaned closer to each other.

"I love you, too."