Social Casualty

three

"Shh, wait, I can't hear." Harry whispers, crossing his arms. He's slouched in his seat, chewing on a piece of gum.

"It doesn't matter, this film is so boring." Michele leans her head on Harry's shoulder. He stiffens unnoticeably, and purses his lips.

"I think it's alright," he says. They're at the Nightly Double drive-in, except instead of driving their cars in, they pay the twenty-five cents to sit in the chairs instead. It's easier than the struggle of getting your car a good spot and then having to wait long to get out of the maze of cars afterwards. A few of the greasers Harry knows do it too. Most of them who go, actually. He see's Boozer often, as well as Bobcat and Randall, but those are the only ones he knows by name besides Louis.

Harry came with Keith, but he was off somewhere probably sucking on his girlfriends face. He left Michele with him too, claiming she was a babe that likes guys with long hair. Only problem, is that so does Harry.

"Nah. If anything it's one of those boring films that the guys take us girls to so they can make out with us," she says with intention. "That right, Harold?" She looks at him.

Harry stays still. "I-It's Harry."

She bats her eyes. "Whatever." She smiles. "Whad'ya say?" She giggles and inches closer.

Harry stays frozen in his seat. And as the girl gets closer and closer, he tenses up tremendously. It isn't until she's inches away that he stands up. His chair tips over, and he almost does too. "I uh, I forgot I have to go. My aunt needed me to help her with building something for their front room. It was nice seeing you, though." He lies, standing up. The girl pouts and crosses her arms, and Harry gives her a small smile before nodding to the boys and heading off.

His car is far down, alone from any other. He didn't want the hassle and commotion that comes with the end of the film, so he always parks down along the field. Once he gets to his car, he leans his arms and head against the top of it. A heavy sigh leaves his lips.

"Hey." Harry jumps, turning around with wide eyes. A boy emerges from against a tree a few feet from the car. "It's only me, no need to get frisky." Louis laughs. A cigarette hangs from his lips.

"You scared me." Harry shoulders slouch. He leans back against the car.

Louis keeps moving until he's a few feet in front of him. He removes the cigarette, exhaling the smoke towards Harry, who blinks and waves the smoke away with a shake of his head. It puts a smirk on Louis' face. He moves closer one slow step at a time. "What happened to the film, huh?" He raises his eyebrows.

Harry glances far down at the crowd. He gulps. "I, uh, I left. A girl was getting on my nerves." He purses his lips.

Louis' silent for a moment, but then he nods. "She was flirtin with ya? Makin moves on ya that weren't mutual? To any girl, for that matter?" He takes another puff of smoke. When Harry doesn't respond he steps closer. They're only one foot away from each other. "Isn't that right, doll?" Louis reaches his hand up to trace his fingers along the boys jawline.

"I, uhm, well." Louis sidles up against him. "Yes-yes." He whispers.

Louis lets his free hand cup the back of Harry's neck, tugging just a hint on his locks. "You can't be afraid."

Harry lets out a shaky breath as Louis takes a long drag. "I'm not," he says, and after Louis drops and steps on the cigarette, he pulls the boy down by the neck, attacking him in a kiss. He pries Harry's lips open with his tongue, and lets the smoke from his mouth push into Harry's.

Harry's eyes are closed, his head tilted back a bit when Louis moves his lips along his jaw. He breathes out heavily, seeing the bit of leftover smoke disappear into the air.

"Not afraid?" Louis questions, his hands traveling down Harry's torso. He lightly presses his palm against Harry's groin, biting his lip when it causes the younger boy to make the smallest groan.

"I've never d-done." Is all Harry gets out. Louis gently moves him to press against the tree. His hand moves down Harry's thigh, pinching the sensitive skin through his jeans. Harry conceals a whine at that. A good one.

His breath staggers when Louis attaches his lips to his neck. He sucks and kisses to put hickeys here and there, but eventually comes to a stop. "Wai- I." Harry doesn't finish his words. Can't finish them.

"Film is over. People walk home. They'll see ya, pretty thing." Louis mutters.

Harry nods. "Okay." He whispers. "But don't-"

"Don't worry I won't tell anyone." Louis interrupts. He taps the bruises on Harry's neck. "These marks might."

"Can we-"

"We will. I know I'll see ya soon, baby."

The younger boy doesn't know exactly what he means. What he'll do. But the statement sends chills down his spine, and for some reason he wishes that soon will come soon enough.

Louis kisses the corner of his lips, and slips something into his pocket before leaving Harry confused against the big oak tree. He stays there too, until Louis is out of sight, then snaps out of it. He hits himself on the head, groaning.

The ride home to his house isn't real far. His mind is somewhere else the whole time anyway. Neither his father or mother say anything to him when he passes them, even though he's sure that they are at least able to see the love bites on his neck. He shuts the door to his bedroom, and collapses onto the bed. "Oh my god," he rubs his hands over his cheeks, then grabs his pillow, shoves it over his face, and screams.