In the Fishbowl - 18. Chapter 18

A/N: Thanks to Jim for editing!

If they had fit, Travis would have shoved his fingers right through the heater vents in Dennis’s car as he continuously flexed his hands, waiting for the feeling to come back to the purplish extremities.

Dennis reached forward to turn up the heat, facing forward again when Travis looked at him.

Dennis was having a bad day. Even before their so-called discussion in the theater, Travis had been pushing his nerves. Scratch that, Dennis thought. Travis had snatched up his nerves and strangled them to death. So it was easy for Dennis to blame Travis for his current foul mood. It just sucked that Dennis couldn’t attributeeverything currently putting him on edge to Travis, because whether he liked it or not, it was his fault, too.

Getting too much of his family over the course of the day, and coming to realize feelings that he might have for a certain brunet in his passenger seat had sent Dennis’s world onto its side. He’d grown to believe that he’d never expect loyalty from anyone, yet when Dennis had seen Travis with John Gordon, he’d expected some of that loyalty then. He’d expected something from Travis, at least. Damn if he could figure out what, though. It was stupid to expect anything from anyone in the first place. Expecting it from Travis was sheer stupidity, and Dennis could only blame himself for that.

And Dennis had said things. In that theater he’d gone from trying to ignore what had happened as much as he was trying to ignore Travis to... defending it. Oddly enough, he’d found himself defending it to Travis. Not really what they’d done, but why he’d done it.

Now, he wished he could take it all back. Every single bit of it. Because while all night when Travis and Owen had been talking, and laughing, and all of the things friends were supposed to do to distract each other from the real world, Dennis had been trying hard not to be scared out of his mind.

He didn’t know what he was doing. Having a conversation about the closet he was supposedly in--well, he missed the days when he would kill someone without a second thought for even thinking it. What was happening now felt dangerous, and he was eager to put an end to it before it spun out of his control. Though, putting an end to it didn’t entirely explain what he planned to do. Reining it in seemed a more appropriate choice of words. After all, it wasn’t like he hadn’t just driven across town fifteen miles per hour over the posted speed limits to make sure he’d catch Travis before the guy finished at the car wash.

“How’s your face?” Dennis asked absently. He was still attempting to place his thoughts in an order that might make more sense, and felt the need to distract Travis from whatever he was bound to say that would predictably throw Dennis entirely off.

Travis ran his tongue under his top lip and wriggled his nose, wincing at the sensitivity. “That depends; do you really feel bad about it?”

“That depends; do you feel bad about making me?”

Travis had to think about that for a minute. “I didn’t make you,” he finally decided. “But, maybe I gave you a reason. Either way, you can’t blame me for trying.”

“Yes I can!” Dennis suddenly snapped, but didn’t find it necessary to explain himself, whatsoever. After all, anyone with even a little common sense would understand his complaint.

Travis’s brow arched. “So can I assume you’re still mad at me?”

Dennis released a hard breath through his nostrils. “You can assume that if you ever do anything like what you did in that theater, I’ll kill you.”

Travis shook his head, and actually had the nerve to tsk at his driver. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re losing credibility here.”

“Excuse me?”

Threatening me with death is a little extreme,” Travis pointed out. “No one actually ever says that and means it. It’s more like a figure of speech. If you’re gonna threaten someone, do it with something you’d follow through on. Might come off a little more effective that way. And, when you said don’t do anything like what happened in the theater, did you mean never do it again, or just never do it in a place similar to the theater again?”

“What do you think?”

“I have my theory. But it would be so much easier to hear it from you.”

The only thing Travis heard was the stereo when Dennis turned it up and faced forward again. In response, Travis leaned back in his seat and went along with it, but only for a minute before he suddenly reached forward, turned off the music and looked at Dennis again. “Look, the way I see it, you like me--even if you are acting like a royal dick.”

“You’re good at assuming things,” Dennis replied as he reached for the stereo, only to have Travis shove his hand away from it.

“I’m not assuming anything. Either you’re so taken with me that you missed the turn back there, or you’re not taking me home. Doesn’t matter which,I still win,” Travis childishly concluded, his tone causing Dennis to raise an almost amused eyebrow at him.

“I never planned on taking you home. There’s something I need to give you,” Dennis explained, and then glared at Travis to silence any remark that might be coming. “Now be quiet. Please. I like you better when you’re quiet.”

Travis regarded him curiously for several long minutes, but ultimately let out a breath and looked out his window. “I can live with that.”

Those were the last words Travis spoke for the next fifteen minutes, even including the time it took them to stop for gas. It was almost unsettling, because it wasn’t like the moody silence he’d witnessed from Travis before, or even a tired quiet. It was absolute: the way his hands never left his lap unless he was pushing his hair out of his face; he never once cleared his throat or took in a noticeably deep breath. In fact, there were times when Dennis wondered if he was breathing at all. But, even if it was irritating, he wasn’t about to bring it up, fearing that it would ruin any chance of getting Travis to be silent in the future. Besides, Dennis had a very good hunch that Travis wasn’t going to keep his mouth shut much longer, anyway, especially when they reached the Chesleys’ and Dennis made a point to sneak Travis down to the basement before anyone could notice either of them.

He was right.

Only, Travis didn’t open his mouth to speak. He opened it right over Dennis’s, just as soon as the door was shut. Dennis didn’t know if he should be amused or offended when Travis made a point to place his hands firmly on his host’s wrists, squashing any possible attack that might occur. But even if it was clear he didn’t entirely trust Dennis at the moment, his kiss was anything but cautious, even when Dennis was slow to respond. But he did respond. And as soon as that happened, it seemed that Travis was determined to ruin it when he pulled back and allowed an obnoxiously victorious smile to spread over his face. “Just checking,” Travis remarked.

Dennis made a poor attempt at pretending he wasn’t bothered as he stepped back and turned away. “That’s not what I brought you here for.”

“Why not?” Travis blurted. It seemed like a reasonable question, but as he watched Dennis silently cross his room, he chose not to pursue it. Something about the atmosphere had become noticeably serious, and Travis was becoming more confused by the moment. “Hey... do you think we could call a truce here? I mean, if we’re fighting. Are we fighting? And if we are, why? I mean, I get you’re still... annoyed, but that can be sorted out. Don’t you think? You know, I meant it when I said I wanted to call you. I mean, you seriously wouldn’t believe what I’ve had going on lately--not that I wouldn’t tell you, if you wanted to know... do you want to know?”

Dennis stopped just in front of his closet and finally turned to look at Travis. His face looked red, but it wasn’t clear if that was from the cold or his discomfort. Either way, Travis didn’t have time to figure it out because when Dennis couldn’t quite meet his eyes he turned his back again and disappeared behind the closet door.

Travis sighed, wondering if he should go fish him out of there, but ultimately plopped down on the bed, which Valentine quickly crawled out from underneath of to greet him. He lifted her into his lap, and after a moment of cuddling with her, decided she needed a bath and put her down to refocus on Dennis, who’d emerged from the closet as he slid something into his front pocket. “You can’t give me the silent treatment forever if you’re gonna tell me why I am here,” Travis pointed out. “You said you have something for me?”

“Maybe I changed my mind,” Dennis said quietly, more to himself than to Travis. But, before Travis could even respond to that, Dennis seemed to shake away whatever he was thinking. “You and... John Gordon--getting to be pretty good friends?” he suddenly remarked.

Travis’s lip turned up. “Your dad doesn’t have friends. You know that... look, I told you I can’t lose that job right now. And whether you care or not, your dad’s in a really bad place right now. I don’t know if it’s all about your mom or what--and I’m not telling you this hoping you’ll feel sorry for him,” Travis quickly added when Dennis’s jaw began to clench. “But the guy’s lost it, and if he decided that he needed a friend, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea. I’m not saying I wanna fill the role, but...”

“Oh, like you’d mind,” Dennis snapped. “When I saw you with him today... Christ! I couldn’t figure out who the hell to be mad at. He was treating you like his son.”

Travis blinked, taken aback by this sudden outburst. He’d seen Dennis Gordon angry, but up until now he’d been skeptical of the fact that the guy had any real emotions; even emotional anger. “I don’t think...”

“He’s completely fucked,” Dennis continued, not hearing Travis at all. “When one of his kids isn’t good enough, he goes to the other--my whole fucking life with me and my brother; and now that we’re both disappointments it’s someone else who fits his criteria--which has never been that impressive, by the way. And when you... for you to go along with all that bullshit just for him...” Dennis stopped, shaking his head in disgust, but this gesture was directed towards himself more than Travis. “I know better than to expect anything from you,” he said, and then added to convince himself, “I don’t expect anything...”

“Hey,” Travis cut him off, rising to his feet, as if this allowed him to finally join the argument. “We’re friends. You can expect whatever you want from me. You just have to tell me what the hell it is. But you can,” he insisted, surprising himself. “And that’s something, because not many people expect anything from me, alright? That’s probably my problem...” Travis sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Listen, Dennis, whatever I did today that made you this mad... you don’t have to explain it to me if you don’t want to. But I am sorry. And I’m not looking for a father figure, least of all yours. I just want to keep my job. For what it’s worth... I actually thought when I told you later, you’d get a kick out of hearing about the look on your brother’s face when I lit that shit. Stupid, huh? I guess that’s my problem, too.” He stopped for a moment, partly because he didn’t know what else to add, and in part because he felt it was Dennis’s turn to contribute; preferably, by forgiving him. But Dennis said nothing. He’d gone back to being entirely unreadable, and Travis frowned as his disappointment surfaced. “Okay... look, if you want me to go, you’re gonna have to say it. If not, we’re gonna have to move on to something we do better than talking because I’m done.”

Even after that, Dennis only shrugged. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Travis repeated, having no idea what that was supposed to mean.

“We’re friends,” Dennis said quietly. “And we’re done.” He shrugged again. “And we’re done talking about it.”

Travis’s brow knitted. “I have no idea what just happened here. Did I say something good? Am I off the hook?”

Dennis looked upwards in a tired attempt to roll his eyes as he let out a breath. “I’m really tired.”

“Yeah... okay,” Travis said slowly, and then looked at him for another long moment. He suddenly felt tired, too. Not in the way that would allow him to close his eyes and go to sleep, but tired. “I guess I’ll get going.” He didn’t budge, though. He was too busy contemplating the long walk home in the cold to do that, but ultimately decided not to comment on it. He was suddenly uncomfortable. The feeling was unfamiliar to him, and he quickly decided that he didn’t care for it since it meant he wouldn’t be demanding a ride. “We’re friends,” he found himself saying instead, and then suddenly cut his eyes to Dennis’s green ones. “And that other thing that we are...”

Dennis passed Travis, allowing his shoulder to brush him in the process when he moved towards the small light by his bed as if the room had gone dark and he needed to correct it immediately. “What about it?”

“Um...” Travis paused to follow Dennis with his eyes, and then shook his head when they were facing each other again. “Actually, I don’t know yet.”

He really didn’t know. Was there a something? Dennis suddenly looked a little too defensive to ask, and personally, Travis was in unknown territory here. In most cases, he probably would have answered the question for himself. But then in most cases, he didn’t make a habit of considering the thoughts or feelings of his partners. Dennis was different because... well, Dennis was his friend. Travis wanted that. And it seemed entirely fucked up to him. Because really, what was so special about Dennis? Friends. The people Travis considered friends were like Kyle--for some unexplainable reason they liked him despite his faults; they became frustrated with him time and again and yet, they kept coming back for more. But this guy... sometimes Travis got the feeling that Dennis didn’t even like him, and when he did, Travis had to work for it. Travis wasn’t sure if he minded that or not just yet.

“Are you leaving then?” Dennis asked.

Travis blinked, realizing that he’d been staring for several moments now, and then frowned at Dennis’s question. “Are you actually gonna make me walk home now--after you made me give up my ride?”

Dennis cocked his head, and made a strange gesture of looking at his dog like she was supposed to have the answer before he finally said, “No.”

Travis smiled at that, honestly relieved. It was freezing outside. “We should go now, then. You’ll still get a couple hours of sleep before the sun gets here,” Travis said as he headed for the door. “And maybe if I call you tomorrow you’ll be in the mood to tell me what I was gonna get from you,” he remarked, with a tired but playful smile over his shoulder.

But, Dennis shook his head as he sat on his bed to pull off his shoes. “I didn’t say I was driving you home. I’ve gotta get some sleep.”

Travis turned on his heel, leaned back on the door, and regarded Dennis with such a perplexed look that it might have gotten a laugh, or at the very least, a smile. If Dennis had been looking, that is. He wasn’t, though. The way he was concentrating so hard on the simple task of loosening his shoelaces made it clear enough that he was aware of Travis, and most likely avoiding his eyes.

Travis stepped back through the room silently, not having the same problem; his eyes were so sharp on Dennis Gordon that there was no risk they wouldn’t trap him if he happened to look up. “Just to clarify,” he said, “I can either walk home because I want to, or sleep here because you won’t give me a ride?”

Dennis shrugged one heavy shoulder as he finally stopped fiddling with his laces and pulled one shoe off. “Whatever you say.”

Travis plopped down on the bed suddenly, causing the mattress to bounce and Dennis with it, making it a little harder for him to avoid looking up, though somehow he managed. Travis frowned. “Are you trying to fuck with my head?”

“No.”

“Okay. Just checking.” Travis pulled at his bangs for a moment, and then shoved them back when the ends touched the tip of his nose. He lifted both of his feet, dropped them heavily on the floor, and then looked at Dennis again, who was, surprisingly, watching him now. Still unreadable as all hell. Blank, even. But still, he looked like he wanted to say something and he was only waiting for Travis to ask the right question. Damn inconvenient, Travis thought, since he wasn’t exactly a mind reader. He thought that maybe Dennis needed to figure that out. “You’re gonna have to talk to me here, ya know? ‘Cause if I make you wanna hit me again, I might hit back. I’d rather not.”

“I’m not worried about it.”

“Well maybe you should be,” Travis replied in all seriousness, because in truth, he was. Again, he didn’t know what was happening here. The mystery was beginning to feel like a game, and for once he wasn’t the one making up the rules. That, he knew he didn’t like.

But, Dennis didn’t seem to be playing with him, or even to be slightly amused by his confusion. In fact, he seemed a little aggravated by it before he let out a breath, chewed at his lip and said, “It was stupid. You were stupid in that theater. What goes on in here--that’s no one’s business. Out there you’ll run into consequences. People can get hurt. It’s unnecessary.”

Travis took a moment to process what he was hearing, and not being capable of taking it seriously for even the slightest moment, burst out laughing. “And you say you’re not closeted? Jesus, how can you be worried about something as silly as...”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Dennis cut him off, and then surprised him with, “You wanted to know what my problem was. Now deal with it or get out. I’m tired.”

Travis opened his mouth, closed it again, and then leaned forward until the green in Dennis’s eyes looked like dark shadows. “You know something... I don’t think I understand anything about you,” he said frankly, pausing to shrug to himself. “But I’m not leaving. Too bad that means you don’t get to be tired anymore, huh?”

Dennis’s brow arched momentarily before his eyes closed, a result of Travis’s lips suddenly touching his: soft, persuasive and confident. Difficult for him to respond to again. He was holding back. Travis knew it, but as he lifted his fingers to the side of Dennis’s neck, drawing him closer, he also knew that that nervousness, or doubt, or whatever it was, would pass. Still, Travis wondered if it would be there the next time, too. He wondered if there would even be a next time, for that matter. These questions interested him, and he thought that he might enjoy pursuing the answers.

***

Travis needed to get to work. He’d been good about that lately, just as he generally was when he wasn’t in the middle of a crisis. But as much as his mind was urging him to get moving, his body refused to budge.

His morning hadn’t started as peacefully as it had the last time he’d begun it beneath the Chesleys’ roof. But, that was probably because this time, he’d fallen asleep. It was a general rule for him to avoid doing that anywhere that wasn’t his own room, but lying there in the dark, comfortably warm as he listened to the slow pace of Dennis’s breathing and Valentine’s snoring below the bed had his eyes drifting, and then he’d slipped away. It had only been for a short time--an hour at most if he’d looked at the clock correctly. But it had still been long enough for him to forget where he was, and the sound of unfamiliar pipes whining behind the walls had startled him into reaching for his flashlight, which wasn’t there.

He’d calmed himself quickly, and ten minutes later after cracking the blinds to allow a little morning light into the room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back comfortably against Dennis’s side and wearing pants that weren’t his low on his hips where they’d fallen after he failed to zip them up.

Those pants, the jeans that had been washed and worn so many times that the once coarse material was now soft to the touch... were part of the reason why Travis wasn’t moving. Dennis’s pants. The ones he’d pulled on as he’d stumbled around the bed in search for his clothes. The same pants that he’d helped Dennis out of the night before. The pants that were going to make him late to work. The pants that had managed to answer a question that had been bothering him for a while now; a question that otherwise never would have occurred to him anywhere near Dennis Gordon. Obviously, Travis thought, these pants were turning out to be very busy.

Travis sighed, turning slightly to look over his companion’s closed eyes, soft lashes shadowing his face like crescent fans, slightly parted lips and otherwise peaceful features. He lifted his hand to run the tips of his fingers over Dennis’s bare arm wrapped over the only blanket that hadn’t been tossed from the bed. His bicep twitched, and the thin hair prickled behind Travis’s touch. He wasn’t faking sleep this time. And Travis thought that was too bad, since he had every intention of waking him up, and no energy to work very hard at it. But, while he was there...

Travis leaned further back, and with a careful hand lifted the blanket away from Dennis’s lower back and slid it downwards, allowing the warmth that had been comfortably trapped against Dennis’s body escape and as the fading tan-line separating the muscles in his back from the softer skin rounding off his backside came into sight Travis brought his lips together and blew a direct line of air over his skin until Dennis suddenly trapped the blanket beneath his arm to keep it from venturing further and opened his eyes with a start.

Getting his attention had turned out to be easier than Travis thought it would be, but suddenly, he found himself a little disappointed over that. Still, he stopped his teasing long enough to curiously cock his head in Dennis’s direction, even while his hand moved to the guy’s hip, just to see if he could get away with it. “Are you sleeping?”

“Yes,” Dennis responded testily, turning more firmly onto his stomach when Travis’s thumb strayed a little too far beneath his belly-button. His tired, puffy eyes closed quickly after that, and he was quick to pull his pillow over his head actually believing that he would succeed in escaping back into the world of sleep.

Travis smiled slowly, but his laugh was more pulled from him than intentional as he turned around, lifting himself until he straddled Dennis’s waist. He wasn’t rough about it, or even intrusive. It was actually very simple: he wanted to wake Dennis up, not aggravate him after a mere hour of sleep.

“Mornings obviously aren’t for you,” Travis whispered as his fingers found their way to Dennis’s shoulders, sinking in to rub the muscle there. Dennis tensed, obviously wary over it, but it seemed difficult enough for him to keep that up when Travis’s warm hands deeply massaged their way further down his back.

“Shh,” he heard Dennis mumble. “It’s too early to be morning.”

“I’m awake,” Travis pointed out as he slipped his fingers between Dennis and the mattress, up against his ribs. “And if I have to I’ll make it impossible for you to pretend you’re not.” There was no response to that, and Travis raised his brow at Dennis’s lack of complaint to it. “I’m wearing your pants,” he continued. “They were on the floor. On top of mine. Tried looking for my phone in your pocket. Didn’t find it. I found something else, though.”

Dennis tensed again, this time much more noticeably, and when he abruptly turned over, Travis toppled, landing between Dennis and the wall. He did so gracefully, though, leaning back on half of the pillow, making himself comfortable, just in time to hold up a strip of photographs for Dennis to see.

“This is what you were going to give me?” Travis asked quietly, flipping the images to make eye contact with the blond boy in every image. “I thought I lost it.”

Dennis rubbed at his eyes, attempting to wake up in the moment that he was trying to buy himself. “You didn’t lose it.”

Travis was silent for a long moment. “I’m waiting for you to tell me I left it in your car or something,” he said helpfully, meeting Dennis’s eyes again. But, Dennis shook his head.

“You didn’t.”

“Why’d you take it?”

“You took my dog.”

The reason was complete bullshit, but momentarily sounded better than the real reason, which was Dennis had no idea. For a moment, it seemed that it was good enough as Travis considered it, but ultimately, he shook his head doubtfully, holding off whatever severe response Dennis might have deserved for his excuse. Dennis was actually disappointed.

“The last time I was in your room, you left me alone to go talk to Nicky’s cousin,” Dennis said, leaning forward. He hoped that Travis would figure out the rest, take his picture, and leave him alone. Dennis was feeling awkward, and a lot less confident than he might have been if he’d brought up the subject himself. Not to mention if he’d been wearing clothes.

“Right. Kyle,” Travis said slowly. “And?”

Dennis frowned, sitting up a little to inch away from Travis some, all the while bunching the blanket tighter over his waist with his hands. “Look,” he said irritably. “I planned to give it back.”

“Yeah. I get that,” Travis replied, but now he sounded disappointed.

Dennis forced himself to meet his eyes. “Do you want me to apologize or something?” he demanded, as if that would have been the greatest inconvenience ever.

Travis shrugged. “If you want to.”

Annoyed, Dennis narrowed his eyes. He really would have had a better idea what to say if Travis would bother to fight with him. “Stop being passive-aggressive.”

Travis actually smiled at that. “I’m being passive. You’re being aggressive.”

Dennis gritted his teeth. “Why do you even have that?” he suddenly asked, and realized that while he wasn’t necessarily entitled to it, he wanted an explanation. Those images had disturbed him more than once since they first found their way into his pocket. As much as he’d tried, he couldn’t rationalize what he’d seen, and he suddenly wanted Travis to do it for him.

But the only response Travis had was surprisingly simple. “These are the only pictures I have of my brother. Why wouldn’t I?” He ran his hand in a tired gesture over his face, held the images to his chest and inhaled. Whatever was going on behind those narrow eyes of his, it was quiet and calm, yet complicated.

Dennis frowned to himself, and once again wished that he was wearing pants, which would have made it easier for him to make some distance between himself and the other occupant in his bed. Instead he felt trapped. Maybe he also felt that he deserved to be. “I’m ready to apologize now.”

Travis turned his head to look at Dennis again, but for whatever reason, didn’t seem to expect anything of the sort. He didn’t even bother to ask where that apology was when Dennis said nothing else for over a full minute. Instead, Travis shrugged. “I know sometimes... I talk a lot. But unless it’s something I want, I don’t like talking about me. It’s nothing personal. I don’t know why people always think it is. It’s really not.”

So don’t talk,” Dennis suddenly said, sounding as if he was attempting to give them both a way out of this conversation. “I mean... I don’t care if you don’t. I was just going to give it back, and then... I don’t expect you to talk.”

Travis nodded. “Alright. So long as that’s out of the way.” He paused for a moment, still thinking over whatever was on his mind. “I already knew that about you, though. And I know it’s because you don’t like hearing about other people’s problems because it makes you feel responsible for them, not because you don’t care.”

Dennis yawned widely, or at least made a gesture that suggested that’s what he was doing. “I think I’m gonna go back to sleep for a while,” he said.

“You know, everyone else wants to fix me,” Travis continued. “It makes being around people feel... tired. I get tired. Especially with Kyle. I love the guy like a brother, but Jesus.... every time I tell him something he’s not gonna like to hear, or every time I know he suspects I’m up to something, I’m always wondering who he’s telling about it because he likes to talk, and if he’s talking about me... I end up wondering if everyone I talk to thinks I need fixed, too. I think that’s what’s nice about you. You probably think a whole lot of shit about me, and you probably don’t like a lot of it, but you know that fixing it’s not your problem. And you’re never gonna go talking to anyone else about me. Being around you is like hanging out with Valentine, just a lot more fun.”

Whether Dennis was feigning his casual attention to the matter or genuinely losing interest, that last remark proved to be too much to ignore as he tried to determine if he should be insulted or not. The fact that Travis smiled at him when their eyes met didn’t necessarily give him any clues.

“I don’t see what you see when I look at this,” Travis said quietly as he flipped the images up between his fingers. “I’m not okay with some of what’s here, and I see what you’re seeing in plenty of other places, but all I remember when I look at these was a really good day. Me and Allan... we didn’t get a whole lot of those.” He paused to bring the strip of images closer to Dennis. “Do you think I was cute?”

Dennis nearly rolled his eyes. Only Travis would ask a question like that at a time like this. “I think you were small.”

Travis shrugged. “I guess I was that, too. I used to fit in this little suitcase on wheels... there was this place not far from where we lived. It had all these games... the old arcade stuff, and the little bowling lanes that spit out tickets when you won. They were all free after you paid to get in. We used to save up coins for it--except for the pennies. Those were for something else. But we only had enough for one most of the time, so I’d get in that suitcase and Allan would sneak me in.” Travis paused for a moment, smiling to himself. “But the day we took these pictures I got to walk right through the door with him. He had enough; said he saved it. I think he took it out of Sara’s purse--our foster mom. He was so pissed at her that day. She was stoned out of her mind. She didn’t even blink when she watched Bill beat the crap out of us.” Travis shook his head, and then all too casually said, “I still don’t know what set him off that day. I mean, he always went off, but I was just doing my homework after school. I guess he didn’t like looking at me or something. I was in the living room.” He ran his thumb over his own bruised face in the last image. “It could have been worse, but Allan turned up to take the brunt of it... a few days later he had me smiling again and we cut school to go play games. This was right after we picked up these chocolate bars. We never really got to have those, either, so it was just... we were having a good day. When I can, I’d rather remember that than ... there’s plenty of time to remember everything else, okay? Anyway, thanks.”

Dennis raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

Travis shrugged. “You were gonna give it back.”

He suddenly stood on the mattress, and with one large step, moved over Dennis and onto the floor where he began to push down the jeans he was wearing.

“What are you doing?” Dennis asked.

“I need my own pants if I’m gonna get out of here,” Travis explained, grinning. “And I’ll be late for work if I don’t get out of here now.”

Dennis looked down at his hands briefly and then let himself fall back onto his pillow, attempting to relax, but finding it difficult as he wasn’t sure if their uncomfortable conversation was over yet, not to mention that parts of Travis’s body seemed a whole lot closer when he wasn’t wearing pants. “Listen, about the pictures...”

“I told you, we’re okay,” Travis cut him off. Obviously, the topicwas closed.

“I wasn’t going to apologize.”

Travis paused, holding his pants just in front of his waist and looked at Dennis oddly. “You weren’t? ‘Cause you should, don’t you think. I forgive you--you apologize. It’s backwards, but it works.”

Dennis chose to ignore that. “How long were you with the guy who did that to you?”

Travis met his eyes, obviously wondering how long Dennis planned on staying curious. “Pretty much until the day he bled to death.”

“Travis, if you don’t want to mention it, just say....”

“Four, maybe five years,” Travis answered seriously. “I don’t really remember all of it. I moved in with Sara when I was six. She was my foster mom, already had Allan... I liked her. Things were good for a while; she made snacks all the time... for a while talked about adopting Allan because they’d been together for a while. Her mom didn’t live far away. I liked her, too, but she was sick and when she passed away... I don’t know. Sara got fucked up about it, you know? She wasn’t taking care of herself, or us. Should’ve thrown us both back into the system is what she should have done, but there was no guarantee me and Allan would stay together and by then we were attached... I think she thought she was doing us a favor. And when she met Bill, she wasn’t so sad anymore. We thought things would get better because of it, and he was nice to us. They started staying out late, and we got to do whatever we wanted for a few hours every night when there were no adults, no rules... things changed when Bill moved in. The first time he put his hands on Allan, Sara threw him out, but it was pointless because he was back in a week... I think he was nice for a while. Sometimes he’d take us out when Sara got depressed and went through one of her spells. But the time he started hitting us again she was usually too wasted to notice. Or... we thought she didn’t notice, and Allan was willing to put up with Bill; but the first time he put his hands on me, Allan went to Sara and she said... she said I probably deserved it, and then we knew things were going to be different.” Travis stopped, blinked a few times, as if coming back from another place. “Any more questions? I should answer them fast. I’ve gotta work in an hour and a half and have about zero time left.”

Dennis blinked at the abrupt change in subject. His mind had been too occupied wrapping around his assumptions regarding Travis’s childhood to see it coming. He felt as if he’d been reading a compelling story, and had just lost his page. He was interested. Wanted to know more. It was startling to him, because the topic was so disturbing. Bothersome the way he would usually go out of his way to avoid. Despite his discomfort however, a second startling realization told him that he was on the verge of playing twenty questions the same way Reilly was capable of on his more talkative days. Dennis had always seen the behavior as a somewhat annoying character flaw, and would under any other circumstances refuse to be associated with it. It seemed the only reason he had for allowing the subject to drop this time, however, was the realization that Travis’s insistence on changing the subject for the second time was likely because Dennis wasn’t the only one beginning to feel awkward.

“So go back to sleep. I’ll drive you in an hour.” If Dennis had taken the time to consider that suggestion, he might have choked on it. But it seemed that he hadn’t seen it coming himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want Travis to stay. Actually, it wasn’t that he did want Travis to stay, either. His feelings on the matter were indecisive. But obviously, something in him didn’t want to lose his current company just yet. Or, maybe he was convinced that if Travis rushed off now, in the wake of his private revelations, things could easily seem more awkward and uncomfortable than allowing the tension to clear within each other’s company might be.

In any case, Dennis appeared to be correct.

In whatever way Travis interpreted the invitation, it brought a curious smile to his face as he looked Dennis over carefully, and then finally allowed the pants he was holding to fall back to the floor. “Fine. As long as you understand neither of us are going back to sleep.”