The Long Run

by James Acker

I had errands to run and crutches to burn but one more minute couldn’t hurt.

If you’re getting the impression that my family doesn’t think much of me, I hope you’ll understand why I’ve taken a few steps back from them. It’s not that they ignore me or dislike me. It all comes from a place of love. Which, to me, makes it worse. That this is what love means to Micelis.

It’s funny how violence can pass through like that. How all that anger can come and go. Funny to see what it leaves behind.

And when a guy finds he can’t talk right with anyone in his life, he’s gotta wonder if it’s his own fault. Maybe he forgot how to talk somewhere along the way. Maybe he stayed too silent, too long and now his tongue’s atrophied. Rotted away in his mouth. Or maybe he just has nothing worth saying.

“So I can drink shit beer and watch you turn into an asshole for people we don’t care about? In the woods?”

Wish you were sober by Conan Gray tease

The barber nodded around us. The floor was covered in me. Like I was a Christmas tree and the tiles were covered in my needles. It was too much. It was more than I thought I had.

Whatever they were playing, it wasn’t basketball. Not really. It looked like a game they’d made up. Something that was just theirs. And I remembered how beautiful that could be.

Without really thinking, I put my hand on the small of his back to steady him. It worked but Jesus he was warm. Not sweaty, per se, but it felt like he’d been sitting in the sun all day.

he repeatedly remarked how quickly it got dark. “Damn. Summer must really be over.”

The warm night breeze ran across my face and I had a thought. I gave him the can and rubbed the stubble on my scalp.

Here I was, not even sure what I wanted in vague terms while Sandro had his whole damn life planned out. And he lit up when he described the kinds of sandwiches he’d serve and the seating area arrangement. The apartment he’d own right above the shop. A space to himself.

My pain shook the earth and I wished it would open up and take me.

I wanted to tell Sandro he shouldn’t be sorry. That I wasn’t sorry. That it was okay. It was kind of nice. So, I did.

I couldn’t say the word. It sounded like an insult. Another language. A word I knew but never said out loud. And I felt like an asshole just thinking it.

“You don’t get to—You are or you’re not.”

People are bi Steven

“You taste like barf. And oranges.” I laughed. “I threw up. On the track.” “Oh. Same. Not on the track, but same.” “Nice. I didn’t taste it.” “Mouthwash.” “Tight.”

Gayest convo ever

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. I’ll own that. Dude’s hot as balls, what do you expect? He’s got abs like bricks and one of those Vs around his hips that points to his dick. His ass looks great in every kind of apparel and he’s got this unnaturally clear complexion that looks like the sun.

Those guys knew how to be guys.

Because I’ve spent my life just wanting someone. Letting that want be enough. I’m used to that. But I’m not used to having a friend like this. I’m not used to having a friend. And I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to risk that.

I thought maybe I’d see something to latch onto. Something that’d make some sense of all these new threads in my head.

He’s a good guy and it kind of terrifies me. I feel so stupid around him sometimes. Maybe ’cause I haven’t been talking so well for a while but it’s like I forgot how. I’m always speaking too fast or too slow and my tongue gets whiplash. I end up babbling like an asshole. And in my head, it’s worse. I say one thing off the cuff and my brain reels.

Am I flirting with him? Was he flirting? Is this what flirting looks like between guys? Am I being fair? Am I wasting his time? What about rules? What if I make him angry again? What if I ruin this? Ruin what? What is this?

“Del’s gonna be home. That’s the other part of it. The favor.”

He's scared he's going to say some gay shit

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s the least you could do.” “Fuck offfff. You love it.” “I bear it.” “Sweaty.”

I was starting to understand that Bash didn’t want to be alone. No matter what he did to keep himself that way, Sebastian Villeda was tired of being so far from the world. Exhausted. And he had no idea how to tell the world he missed it. He’d lost his tools. He’d forgotten how to fall back to earth.

Because not a lot of people must know what I know now. I must be one of the lucky few. 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.

King of segues, Sandro Miceli.

“Seb... Bash gets into funks. Sometimes it’s like he becomes someone else. And when people do...whatever it is that you did...he can get mighty funky. When he gets burnt or burnt-out...”

Del had a sleepy way about him. Bash has it too sometimes.

Cansado

“Skip Guitar today. Let’s get food.”

Bossy

I didn’t want to wake Sandro up so I settled for watching him sleep. You know, like a creep.

Sandro had some dirt on his cheek and I thought it would be pretty harmless to flick it off. I ran through my list to see what number “Touching Sandro’s Cheek” would be. times i touched dro: 1. When he drew the MEXICO on my shirt. (Hand on Back) 2. Feeling his beer-soaked tank at the Olympics. (Hand on Chest) 3. Holding him up running through the Sticks. (Arm over Shoulder) 4. When he thought I was making fun of Bumpin’ Grinders. (Pat on Shoulder) 5. The Kiss. (Lips on Lips, Lips on Neck, Hands on Hips) 6. The Kiss: Part 2. (Lips on Lips, Teeth on Teeth, Hands pushing Chest) 7. Slap-fight over radio outside B-Town. (Hands on Various) 8. Living room couch during The Ring Two. (Knee on Knee) 9. Carrying my high ass up the stairs. (Chest on Back) 10. High-five after he fixed Birdie’s coolant tank. (Palm on Palm) 11. Hitting him when he picked up Matty. (Palm on Back) 12. When he calmed me down. (Hand on Wrist)

He had officially, irrevocably invaded my bubble, the only place that felt truly mine, and I didn’t care.

“But we could be hanging out in costumes. With a full liquor cabinet. In my empty house. Real spooky shit.”

We shook for a good long while. Maybe too long. It was funny. Because we were getting so close. I felt close to this person. Yet I was still kicking up all this sand about touching him. Something as simple as a handshake. Or his hand on my wrist. He laughed and pulled his hand away and I felt like Daniel again. Lost at sea. Ignoring the lighthouse. Too stubborn to accept a helping hand. And I decided it was time to come in from the sea.

So, I told him it was Adults Only and he told me to go fuck myself.

“...Lemme see yours.” “You tryna get my shirt off?” “Nah. Just lift your arms. That’s the sweet spot.”

But it was me who turned away this time. I didn’t give him the invite. I didn’t like him looking at me like that. Because Bash was looking at me carefully. With care. And that made me uncomfortable.

Then he touched me. He put his fingers on my jaw like it was no big deal and moved my face toward the light. “What are you doing?” “You said you had brown eyes.” “I wasn’t lying, I swear.” “Nah. They’re like...golden? Didn’t know that was an option.”

He got it. He understood. We were on the same page there. Whatever rule, for whoever’s sake, that was gone. Or altered. I didn’t know for sure and, honestly, I didn’t care. Bash nodded and he kissed me. It was light. More like he was resting his lips on mine. I think he was nervous. I felt a shake in his shoulders come and go. I thought it’d help to lighten the mood. Ease in. So, when he finally took his lips off mine, I cracked up and howled. “FAAAAAAAAAAAG.” We laughed and he hit my chest. “Shut the fuck up.” Then the real kiss. The deep one. The kind of kiss that started all this. Passionate. I could feel his warmth, his skin, finally on me. His care. His hand was in my hand and he was touching me. Bash was touching me. I pulled his body onto mine and heard the candy bowl fall to the floor.

Sandro has a thing with his stomach. I think it’s tied to his thing about people touching him. Anytime he sits, nine times out of ten, if there’s a pillow handy he’ll sort of cuddle with it.

I took a moment to get my words together. Because I wanted to do this. Whatever we were about to do, I wanted it. And I know he did too. But the second I kissed him, the moment he pulled my body onto his, the night had become a blur. I didn’t want a blur. I wanted to take my time. I wanted to see the man I was about to be with.

“Can you grip a basketball?” “I can.” “Damn. Lucky.” “I know, so lucky, it’s so useful.” “Shut up. It’s cool.”

Sandro groaned. “You got a big, round ass, Bash, what do you want me to say? I wanna play bongos on those cheeks till the sun comes up. Sue me.”

“In the best way. It’s fucking...that’s sexy, Dro. You’re so sexy to me, Sandro.” I smiled. Because it was true. But it’s like I was realizing it just as I was saying it. “And I think the way you clear your throat is hot. All deep and shit. And your sweat smells like...you smell so good, dude. Like the beach. And that time you broke that big stick over your knee? I fucking... I thought about that. A lot.” I laughed with him. “I know! I don’t know! I just thought it was hot and I think you’re hot and your hands... I just want them.”

I felt this warmth rush down my chest. Like a swallow of hot mint tea. I let it spread through me, watching Sandro watch me. Seeing how he took me in. And the way he looked at me. The way he fucking looked at me, man. However that boy must see me, to put that kind of smile on a person’s face, that’s how I knew. I knew I’d be okay. Whatever was about to happen, I knew Sandro would keep me safe. Because I knew what I wanted. And I knew what he wanted too. He couldn’t cover up if he tried. He couldn’t cover anything anymore. Neither could I.

Sandro killed the bottle of Jack & Coke. I could feel a burp rise through his chest and get swallowed. It was unreal, being that close to someone.

“Thanks for finding me.”

“Bisexual.” The word hit my ear weird coming out of his mouth. Like Bash was worried he’d mispronounce it. “I don’t know. Sounds made up.” “I’m sure it wouldn’t if you let yourself say it enough.”