While having just been released from prison, due to a night full of misfortunate mistakes, Red McCoy witnesses an old friend of his, son being kicked out of his apartment in the middle of the night.
Beverly Reid had been living on his own since he...
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"Will I ever see you again?" Saying goodbye had been awfully hard for Beverly. He stood from the chair, Red following suit, eyes analyzing the two before him.
Beverly was hesitant on asking, but he needed an answer. It seemed as though Esteban wasn't getting out anytime soon, and Beverly wasn't sure if he his father was even comfortable with regularly conjured visits.
Red's hand made its way to the back of Beverly's neck, massaging it slightly without even realizing it. But Esteban did. The older man frowned, realization washing over his face.
It made sense. The two lived together, Red was abnormally kind toward Beverly, the two would look over to one another for an answer whenever asked a specific question.
Esteban's fingers curled around the telephone. "Bee, are you two—together?"
Beverly blushes profusely, Red's fingers instantly pulling from Beverly's neck.
"No, Esteban, w-we're jut friends, I swear." Red couldn't deny the small tingle of hurt splurging down his spine, as Beverly voiced those words.
Esteban visibly relaxed, watching as Beverly gathered his drink in hand, and zipping his coat up to the very top of his chest.
Beverly took the sign of silence as a time to officially say goodbye. As he sent Esteban a sad smile, the older man shouted. "Wait!"
Beverly waited for his words, as a tear slid down Esteban's cheek. "Please, Bee, visit often."
With that, the two were being escorted by police officers, Beverly's eyes filling with tears—happy tears. But Red didn't understand, why it seemed obvious that Red had been harboring feelings for Esteban's son.
But even while in Red's truck, Red couldn't take his mind off of it. Off of what Beverly meant to him, off of the fact that he already knew Beverly meant everything to him.
Beverly turned to Red, his lips curled into a tight grin. His fingers moved to Red's cheek, tapping it lightly. "What's with the long face? You haven't seen my father in a while, wasn't it nice to—"
"Yeah, it was nice." The interruption caught Beverly off guard, his hand moving from Red's cheek, to be clenched in his lap.
The rest of the ride is silent, Beverly telling himself that no matter how Red acted toward him, he finally got to see his father—and that was worth whatever rift was temporarily apparent.
When they were finally home, Red slammed the driver side door, making his way into the house without another word. Beverly frowned at his actions, his heart beginning to beat faster at the thought of asking Red the one question he died to know.
Are you okay?
But Beverly let it slide. He made his way to his bedroom, pulling the sweater from his torso, and tossing onto a nearby chair.
The hours slowly slid by with the two of them caged up in their rooms, Red not even bothering to tell Beverly that he had made dinner for only himself. Sure, Beverly was capable of making himself dinner, but Red has always made it for him
And now, it seemed like an unofficial tradition.
But finally, Beverly's clock struck 1:47 a.m. And he made a decision he'd already made once.
The first time he'd walked into Red's room on his own accord, the two didn't get very far, only sparing the other a few kisses, and relishing in the eyes of the other.
But this time, Beverly wanted more. He craved more. All he had to do, was go and get it.
