What Happened in Winter [boyxboy]

Chapter Twenty-Four

River POV

The morning sun shone through the leaves, scattered shades of green around the Chill the Fuck Out Zone. A cool gust of wind blew in from nowhere and rustled both the tree branches and River awake.

He didn't remember coming here last night. The last thing he could recall was Craft's hard expression and the searing slice of his heart. That pain was still there when River opened his eyes. He felt pathetic and spineless. He had just fled last night, like a one night stand (granted, they didn't do anything like that). Craft had been there when River felt like the world was going to swallow him up and leave no trace, and even took him home and let him sleep there. So, why hadn't River stayed when Craft needed him, waking up with a scream on his tongue and a cold sweat filming his body?

It wasn't long after River was awoken and started beating himself up that the one person he didn't want to face came striding up to him, like last night was a figment of River's imagination.

The tall, broad shouldered boy tossed a pack of Marlboro Red's into River's lap. Attached was a note. River tore the paper off the cardboard and folded it open.

"I called the school this morning. That's your new schedule. I got you switched out of Stevens' class. Thought it might put your mind at ease," Craft said. He had his hands in his plaid business man pants and stared down at River with a complicated expression. "I know you slept here all night."

River scoffed, turning his head away in shame. "How'd you gather that?" He already had a cigarette between his lips and lit it. His insides had been clawing at him for nicotine for hours.

Craft set his jaw and watched River take his first drag. He finally said after a few moments, "I've been watching you from my car since 5:00 this morning."

River coughed, smoke scorching his throat and nose. "You creepy fuck. You've been stalking me."

"I haven't been stalking you," Craft said, his face reddening and eyes darting around. He wouldn't be a very good lawyer. "I was worried. I knew you would do something like this so..." his thought trailed off.

River stood up and grabbed his backpack. Amazingly enough in his stupor last night, he had changed his clothes before he fell asleep. At least he had dignity.

"I appreciate your gesture, Craft. But, I don't like handouts," River said, turning to walk away.

"Then give me back the cigarettes," Craft said.

River pivoted around, narrowing his eyes. "What?"

"If you don't like handouts, give me the cigarettes back and I won't bother you anymore," Craft shrugged.

'Petty bastard,' River cringed to himself. He tapped his foot and squeezed the butt of his cigarette flat between his fingers. He thought he might pop a blood vessel. Craft was baiting him for some reason. Craft wasn't even into River. He just liked the idea of River. No pictures of Jayson were posted in the news, but one quick search of the name 'Jayson Ivanov' on Facebook brought up pictures of a happy boy who looked eerily similar to River. Both had curly, dark hair and pale eyes and skin.

"Fuck you for feeding off my addiction," River hissed. He turned to leave again, but Craft caught his wrist.

Craft POV

"Don't say anything," River said, turning his face away. "Don't make this more difficult that it already is." River snatched his arm away and slinked back inside the school building.

'At least he took the cigarettes,' Craft thought. Then, for the millionth time that day, he asked himself, "what am I doing?" It felt like there was something he was forgetting. Not his feelings about Jay, that trauma-dream (and the many others that popped up out of nowhere for the past two years) made it very apparent how he felt. No, it was deeper than that, somewhere mixed in with splotchy childhood memories from even before Kindergarten. And every time he thought about the cake he gave River yesterday, the memory itched at him, wanting to be remembered.

Now that he thought about it, Craft had felt the same way when he first saw River. He had come to the assumption that he just looked really similar to Jayson and nothing more. But, as he got to know River closely... it was like he already knew him in some long-forgotten way.

While it was true Craft didn't value their friendship in the beginning, Craft really missed River. His heart had been restricted since River left last night and continued to tighten when River disregarded him like that.

Shaking the overwhelming thoughts from his head, Craft headed along the side of the building to the gymnasium. Morning basketball practice would keep him distracted enough.

Kyle POV

For the first time in... probably forever, Kyle didn't have the urge to beat the shit out of someone. It was a strange lack of sensation, his hands didn't itch to swing on some loser kid who could barely walk on two feet.

Kyle dialed the three-digit code into his lock and popped open his locker, staring into the messy abyss, not grabbing anything.

What replaced his fury against humanity was... happiness? Was it happiness? Kyle had been happy before, but this felt different. He felt buoyant, like he could float into space. It was terribly ironic that it was a boy who made him feel this way. Kyle couldn't help but giggle to himself. 'Jesus fuck, I'm turning into a high school girl.'

Kyle's phone vibrated and he snatched it out of his pocket, a shot of white-hot adrenaline coursing through him like lightening. Greyson's name popped up on the screen. But, Kyle didn't get a chance to read the text before someone's shoulder slammed into his.

Kyle didn't think, only reacted. He snapped his elbow back, colliding with the back of some poor bastard's head. The kid's palms slapped hard against the linoleum floor, the sound of his head thunking against the ground echoing off the hallway walls. Kyle didn't have to look back to know the kid was hurt.

Kyle spun around and eyed the kid on the floor, wincing. He was out cold. Kyle looked up and saw none other than Greyson at the other end of the hall.

Before Kyle could start apologizing, Greyson muttered, "Well, shit."

"I can explain," Kyle said, holding up his hands.

"Don't worry. I saw it all," Greyson smiled, walking down the hall and up to Kyle. Kyle felt his stomach drop to his feet and his heart thump erratically. How could Grey look so pretty, even when it was an ungodly hour of the morning?

"My guardian angel, here to rescue me," Kyle said, dramatically swooning with his hands clasped together. Greyson pinched Kyle's cheek and pouted. "I'm no angel. And you aren't either. So, go take him to the nurse's office." Kyle's heart sped even faster, enjoying Greyson's unusually bossy tone.

"Whatever you say, cutie," Kyle mocked as Greyson started to walk away.

The white-haired boy spun around, ten shades of red. "Be careful! Someone might hear...," Greyson said, looking paranoid, glancing over his shoulder.

"So what if they do, hm?" Kyle asked, casting his green eyes down at Grey, his lips pulled back in a coy grin. "I'll just fight them. What they think doesn't matter."

"You need to stop fighting people," Grey said, his tone suddenly serious. Kyle leaned back, not realizing how close he had gotten to Grey. Greyson looked around quickly and subtly hooked his index finger around Kyle's and squeezed tightly. "Talk to me instead. I'll listen to you in the same way you listen to me. I'm here."

Kyle looked down in shock at their linked fingers and slowly back to Greyson's open expression. "O-of course I'll talk to y-you," Kyle stuttered.

Greyson's lips tugged even further up, his eyes squinting shut and - oh god, were those dimples? Kyle thought his heart might stop functioning and he would be the one on the way to the nurse's office.

"Good. Well, you should get going with that," Grey said, gesturing vaguely at the boy on the ground. "Just tell them you accidentally hit him with your locker door. I'll see you in a little bit."

Greyson looked around again for good measure, making sure there were no unwanted on-lookers. He stepped forward, standing on the tips of his toes, and pecked Kyle on the same cheek he had pinched earlier. Kyle brushed his fingertips slightly along the side of his face where Grey had just kissed him.

Greyson blushed furiously, spun around, and raced back down the hallway.

'I hope I get more of those,' Kyle thought to himself, forgetting for a moment who and where he was.