The Long Run

by James Acker

And I heard the can hit the ground before I understood that Sandro was kissing me. All I could taste was beer.

It felt good. It felt really, really good. I’ll admit it.

And the way Sandro smiled. I think that’s how I knew it was true. That I wanted it. That I wasn’t sorry. That I’d drive that kid anywhere he asked me to. Because what a fucking smile.

Speaking as Alessandro Vincent Miceli, I want to fuck the soul out of him.

So, while I don’t necessarily have a type, per se, I can see the appeal of Bash Villeda. How couldn’t I? He’s beautiful.

I didn’t want Scotty Travello’s body. I wanted his body.

I’m not used to having a friend.

How he snores when he naps on his back but almost purrs when he sleeps on his chest.

got a wallet-sized and put it right in, you guessed it, my wallet.

If he’s affecting you, let him.

Because I could use a friend like Dro.

And he had no idea how to tell the world he missed

It’s got to be a short list of people who know how beautiful that boy looks when he sleeps. I thanked him for trusting me enough to see it.

But just because you know what’s hurting you doesn’t make it hurt any less.

the only place that felt truly mine, and I didn’t care.

Being a loud, showy asshole so people wouldn’t notice what I was really feeling. How much I was feeling.

got a functions exam coming up and really can’t afford gettin’ possessed right now.”

how we came up. The way we are. It can’t be ideal, right?”

“I don’t think you’re fucked-up, Sandro.”

So, I had sex with a dude.

The shorts I drove to AC for. The

“I just wanna look at you, Sandro. And I want you to look at me.”

Why would we ever stop?

“You both are.”

But I smiled. ’Cause it was a nice thought. Being like Sandro.

maybe that splits something inside too.

reminder that someone hurt us. Someone important hurt us then left us. Someone who was supposed to love us.

now I won’t get the chance.

“No more.”

But I felt his hand on my head. Running through my curls. And I let him. And my body breathed. I breathed for the first time in weeks.

There went my band. For the best. Anywho.

That’s how Micelis show they care. You love Ma but she screamed at you when you cried. You love Gio but he pushed you down those stairs. You love Raph but he knocked your front tooth out. You love Pop but he hit you with a goddamn jewelry box. Please stop. You love Bash’s eyebrows but you split one open. You love to talk to him but you never asked if he was okay. You love that boy but you left him bleeding in the fucking dirt. “STOP!”

She asked me what was wrong. I couldn’t remember the last time someone asked me that.

When I grow up, I’m going to make sure my kids have soundproof walls. Soundproof floors. Roofs with railings. And when I get angry or sad, I’ll tell them why I’m crying. I won’t hide myself from them. I’ll tell them I love them and I’ll make sure they know everything about me. If I can’t give them silence, at least I can give them peace.

did it. I made it. I fucking did it. Northwestern. Congratulations.

My senior portrait.

He held me like we were still in the ditch. Like if he held me tight enough, we could fall back to summer and try it all again.

“I’m so proud of you, Dro.”

mumbled something like I love you. I could feel him smile back. “Me too, bud.”

“I love you, Sandro.”

Under my roof, I had a boyfriend.

“I knew you were a good guy, Miceli.”

Convince him that something so great wasn’t ending so soon. As quick as it had begun.

“I wish I knew you sooner, B.”

I’m going to Northwestern. I’m going to get my apartment and my dogs and my new friends. I’ll wear boat shoes and bike to class.

I’ll get new nicknames and tattoos and drink too much and he won’t be there. I’m going to have to find a way to be happy without Bash.

The best.

And they won’t know how lucky they are.

Because they’re going to see how great he’ll become.

“Now, look like you like each other, damn it.”