Boys Will Be Boys (discontinued)

Chapter Twenty Nine

<Kieran's POV>

"Kieran, the guys are probably waiting for us..."

I pulled Lukas closer to me, hands clenching the material of his shirt loosely. My back felt cold against the fridge, his arms warming up my sides.

"Well, fuck them" I offered simply, pulling him down for a kiss. I felt his lips curve into a smile against my own mouth, more teeth clashing than I would have liked as I deepened the kiss.

"What's taking you guys so— Oh fucking great. Get a fucking room you horny motherfuckers" Lukas jerked backwards and I reluctantly looked around him, rolling my eyes when I saw Marco scowl at us from the door to the basement.

"You offering yours, Bautista?"

Marco flipped me off with a grimace, forcing Lukas and I to the side as he swung the fridge door open. DJ joined us in the kitchen, wearing mismatch socks and a frown.

"Where's your beer, J?" Marco asked, head in the fridge.

"Top right. You know this Marco" DJ answered tiredly, coming around the aid Marco in prying out the six-pack that was wedged tightly in between the leftover Chinese and the fridge wall.

"When did Roger say he'd be here again?" Lukas asked from besides me, absentmindedly tracing circles on my arm. He used to do that before games, said we were making a secret language. He trace random ass shapes into my arms or my back on the bus, drawing out plays with his fingers. One game I wore a shirt with a court drawn out in the back instead of my shooting shirt to make it easier for him.

"Didn't say" DJ answered, popping the cap off the bottles. He said his parents preferred cans, but he preferred the glass. Marco called him a sissy boy. He called himself a classy man.

Roger.

I remembered how tired Roger had looked when I last saw him. I didn't think much of it at the time.

Not my place.

Come to think of it, DJ looked tired too. His dark circles matching Marco's. Marco took a swig from his bottle, suddenly looking years older. DJ, though he didn't look older, didn't look tired either. He looked resigned. Done. Over it.

I turned my head, watching Lukas intently as he continued to trace shapes on my wrist.

I frowned remembering our conversation on the phone the other night.

Can't sleep.

He didn't look like DJ and Marco though. Like Roger.

It's a college thing.

I pushed my worry to the back of my head, tuning back into the conversation at hand.

"Want one, Keiran?"

I shook my head, instead concerned with the light filtering through the kitchen window. It only illuminated the bad shape of the two. The sunlight acted like a fucking highlighter for their tired smiles.

They look like shit.

"I'll take one" Lukas stopped his tracing, reaching out for a bottle. I stiffened without his touch.