In the Fishbowl - 7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks to Jim for editing!

Travis looked like shit. He also swore that he’d gone home early after leaving the party the night before, and hadn’t left once throughout the night. But, he looked like shit, and that’s why Kyle wasn’t buying any of it as he slid the plate of pancakes Travis had asked for when he’d turned up outside his door twenty minutes before. He was out of breakfast food--which, by all means shouldn’t have mattered because Kyle knew that neither Travis or Ryan ever ate breakfast--and he wanted something in his stomach before he had to get to work. Which was a little more believable, but still, Travis rarely showed up first thing in the morning, unless he wanted something.

Whatever it was, though, he hadn’t asked for it yet. Just the pancakes. So, Kyle was still waiting. Kyle was also getting tired of waiting, but he couldn’t just ask Travis what it was that he wanted because now, Travis was on the phone, and what Kyle was witnessing seemed rare, and strange.

First, when the phone had rung, Travis had looked surprised, and a bit wary. It was as if he didn’t want to answer, but knew he had to; and now, with Kyle hovering over him, he seemed to be choosing his words very carefully.

“I understand. Yeah, I know it’s the first, but you said I could wait until... Look, just one more week. I’ll get you last month’s, too.” He paused, listening, and glared at Kyle when he caught him staring, so Kyle went back to the frying pan on the stove for his own pancakes. “What if I send you half now, half on Monday?” Travis asked. “Things have been a little rough this month... just give me until Monday... Yes, I swear, you’ll have it then... Thank you.... uh-huh. I get it. Gotta go. Bye.”

Travis hung up with an exhausted sigh, and Kyle looked over his shoulder to regard him speculatively before he went to sit at the table. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

“No,” Travis replied, digging a fork into his food. “Why?”

Kyle nodded at the phone now next to Travis’s plate. “What was that all about?”

“Just a bill I need to pay,” Travis said, and then did his best to shovel as much of his pancakes as he could into his mouth.

“What bill? You don’t have bills. You have your phone... but you split everything else with Ryan, and...”

Travis swallowed hard to better interrupt. “Hey, when did you become my accountant?”

“I’m not trying to be... look, I was just curious.”

“It’s my phone bill,” Travis said quickly. “Okay?”

“You got behind on paying your phone bill?”

“Yep.”

“So I’ll loan you the money.”

“What?” Travis said around a mouthful of food.

“That way you don’t have to worry about it. You’ll pay me back.”

“Um... thanks, but I’m good.”

“Oh, come on. It’s what, two months? It can’t be that much, Travis; your phone’s never even turned on.”

“I said no, alright?” Travis snapped, surprising Kyle. But, before Kyle had time to take offense, Travis caught himself. “Thank you, okay? I appreciate it... but I’ve got it under control.”

“Alright. That’s fair enough... so, if you didn’t come over to borrow money, what are you doing here?”

“Huh?”

“Come on, Travis. When was the last time you just stopped by without a reason?”

Before he got offended, Travis had the decency to determine if Kyle’s assessment was accurate. He decided that his friend might have a point. “I don’t need anything, if that’s what you mean. I just wanted... company.”

Kyle studied him for a moment, was surprised to find that he believed what Travis was saying, and then nodded. “Okay then... so can I ask you something?”

“Not about my phone bill.”

“Not that,” Kyle replied, smiling. “More like... I wanna know why you’ve been lying to my cousin.”

“Lying to Nicky?” Travis was reasonably confused, because he couldn’t remember talking to Nicky since they’d first met.

“Yeah. Any reason why he thinks you come from a big, happy family?”

“What?”

“He was asking about it last night,” Kyle replied. “He wanted to know where this big happy family was.”

Travis raised an eyebrow, tried to figure out where Kyle’s cousin would get an idea like that, and then laughed when he did. “I didn’t say that to Nicky.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. I said it to the Chesleys when I had dinner with them. Aiden heard it, and if Nicky thinks it then it’s because Aiden told him. You people gossip too much.” But, Travis couldn’t help being a little pleased with himself. Not only was Aiden Knightly thinking about him, he was talking about him.

“Why would you tell them a story like that?” Kyle asked, baffled.

Travis shrugged. “The poor orphan story doesn’t really make good dinner conversation. Why do you think?”

“I don’t know... but you don’t have to go around lying to people...”

“I didn’t lie. I told ‘em what they wanted to hear.”

“You told them what you wanted them to hear,” Kyle corrected.

“So? I don’t need the pity, okay? Shit, can we drop this? What’s with you this morning? Never mind. I gotta get to work.”

Travis stood with his plate to bring it to the sink, and Kyle quickly followed him.

“Travis, wait... I didn’t mean...”

“It’s fine,” Travis insisted, blowing him off.

“It’s just that you never talk about where you come from.”

“I’m not going to start now. Listen, I’ve really gotta get to work, Kyle. We’ll talk later.” Preferably, Travis thought, when Kyle was in a much more agreeable mood. Meaning, of course, less nosy.

Kyle sighed. “Yeah. Later.”

***

Owen Dovan wasn’t the type who had the patience for a treadmill. When he ran, he preferred the openness of the outdoors and the changing scenery. But on the colder winter days, he’d learned to make an exception, and on Thursday morning when Nicky had interrupted his easy attempt at sleeping in to go to the gym, Owen hadn’t put up much of a fight.

Running side by side on squeaky equipment, they passed a single bottle of water between them when there was a need for it and discussed how they hadn’t spent much time catching up since Nicky got back. “I wanted to hang out last night,” Nicky was saying, “but it looked like you were busy.”

Owen glanced sidelong at his dark-haired friend and tried not to frown. Nicky had an uncanny way of making him feel guilty, whether he deserved to or not. Decidedly, Owen felt that this time, it was not.

“It was a party, Nicky. People see each other at parties. We saw each other last night.”

“Yeah, a little,” Nicky allowed. “But...”

Owen groaned inwardly and suddenly moved off his treadmill to jog in place for a few moments as he slowed down and caught his breath. By the time he grabbed his small bag, Nicky was there to follow him to the weights, and Owen finally said, “If you want to know, why don’t you just ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

“This is about Dennis, right?”

“Well, it is kinda strange seeing you around him,” Nicky admitted. “I mean, don’t get me wrong... I don’t really know the guy. But, no one else can stand him as far as I can see, and the last time I checked, you decided that you could feel sorry for him, but not be...I mean, it’s not like you ever went out of your way to become his friend before. What are you doing, Owen?”

“I don’t know,” Owen said honestly. “But he’s not bad--Dennis; he’s alright, you know?”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

“Whatever. Look, Nicky, I don’t really care if you like him or not, okay? Just because I’ve been talking to Dennis doesn’t mean it has to change things between us... Right?”

Nicky looked surprised, and then punched Owen’s shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. “Right--it doesn’t! Why the hell would you even say that?”

“Because it sounds like you want to make a big deal over nothing.”

“Fine. I’ll drop it.”

“Good.”

Nicky crossed his arms as he watched Owen slide back on the bench press, having no intention to spot for him. But, Owen had barely touched the bar before Nicky said, “You’re fucking impatient today, you know?”

“No,” Owen replied, sitting up to look obnoxiously patient. “But please, go ahead and explain it to me.”

Nicky frowned. He was quickly growing tired of the underlying bad moods that he caught his friends in lately, and he was pretty sure that Owen’s current one was due to more than his bringing up Dennis. It was inconvenient, since all Nicky had wanted to do was spend the morning with his best friend. Maybe catch up on the better times in their childhood, laugh at inside jokes... but Owen was making it clear now that it wasn’t going to happen.

“You know what?” Nicky said decidedly. “I’m gonna get out of here.”

“Nicky...”

“Maybe I’ll stop by the club later, see if you’re working.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Well, I’m not staying if you’re going to think I’m attacking you every time I open my mouth.”

“I’m not. I’m sorry... I mean, I’m not... doing that.”

“Yes you are.”

“Whatever. I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

Owen was silent for a moment, and then, “It’s just, do you ever feel like everyone is attacking you? And, I know it sounds like self-pity, but things have been... alone. I feel like I’ve been alone, and when I’m around people, it’s like all I can think about is that they’re just waiting for me to leave so they can start talking about me behind my back.”

“What?”

“I know. Self-pity.”

“More like paranoia,” Nicky remarked as he forced Owen over along the bench so he could sit down. “You can’t do that to yourself.”

“I know.”

“No,” Nicky cut him off, “I mean you can’t do that to yourself. The last time you got shit all twisted in your head I didn’t see you for months just because you thought I was pissed you were gay. If you’re even thinking about...”

“What? Leaving?” Owen interrupted. “Nicky, my whole family is here. And you can relax, anyway. It’s not about you. It’s Aiden, and it’s stupid, because we agreed on distance. And now, I’m afraid to leave the house just in case I might run into him.”

“That is stupid,” Nicky agreed. “It’s not like you guys are fighting though, right?”

“No. We never fought. I feel like we were supposed to, and now that I want to it’s too late.”

“You wanna fight?”

Owen sighed. “I want things to feel normal again. But you know what? It can’t be normal now.”

“Owen, I think you’re... you’re rushing it, you know? You can’t just snap your fingers and make your feelings for him go away. You can’t avoid him forever, either. I think you should try talking to him. It’s not like you guys weren’t friends, too. Sometimes... sometimes it even seemed like you were friends first.”

“Well, we’re not now,” Owen said impatiently. “We’re not friends, and we can’t be friends... and I can’t talk to him because even though trying to make sure I don’t see him hurts, seeing him is even worse, because all I think about when I see him is how much I want him back.”

Nicky’s eyes widened slightly, because really, as much as he knew that Owen cared about Aiden, he never would have expected his best friend to say that.

“You want him back?”

Owen seemed to think about that for a minute, and then nodded. “I know more that I do than I know that I don’t.”

“But you’re still not sure? Didn’t you tell me that this was your decision, too? It wasn’t just him, right?”

“No. At the time, I thought it was a good idea. I mean, we’re hardly out of high school, you know? And things got so heavy so fast. Shit. We lived in the same room since we were seventeen... I’m not saying I think all of it was a mistake. I liked it that way. And I think we needed each other... There was all this drama, but when the drama wasn’t there so much it was just us, and... I think we had too much of each other. I didn’t know who I was without him, and this whole thing was supposed to give us a chance to figure it out. I don’t know, be alone for a while... maybe see what it’s like with someone else. But it’s been months, and the only thing I’ve figured out is that I don’t want to try to be with someone else. I mean, being alone... it’s okay for a while. To focus on school and work... I don’t think I ever would have figured out that I really wanted to help with the club while I was with Aiden, because when I was with him, it was all about him. But now that I’m figuring things out for me, it sucks not having him to share it with.”

“Has it occurred to you to say any of this to Aiden?”

Owen sighed. “It wouldn’t matter even if I did. I haven’t moved on. Aiden has.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I saw him with Travis last night,” Owen said irritably. He was almost accusing, as if he’d discovered a secret that the universe was still trying to keep from him.

“Travis?”

“Kyle’s friend. Travis.”

“I know who he is,” Nicky stated. “What I don’t get is what you mean by with Aiden.”

“I mean, they looked close.”

Nicky frowned as he got Owen’s meaning, and then he shook his head. “Travis can’t be gay. I didn’t get that with him at all.”

“You didn’t get it with me until I told you,” Owen pointed out, and even Nicky could admit that he had a good argument.

“Still, I think you’re way off base, Owe. I know I haven’t seen Aiden much since getting back, but if he was with someone else...”

“Even if they aren’t together, Aiden was interested. If he wants to be with Travis... then, there’s nothing I can do but deal with it. But, just so there’s no misunderstanding... Travis--asshole.”

***

It was Jeff. Or maybe Jake. Justin? Travis really needed to remember the guy’s name, he mused, or later when he tried to figure out how to get a hold of him on Tenth Street, no one would have the slightest idea who he was talking about. And Travis had his mind set on finding this Jeff... Jake... Justin? Joe! That was it. Joe or JJ.

Travis remembered him from the first few weeks that he’d been in town; when he’d really needed cash Joe had come in handy. Travis didn’t know how old he was. Alcohol and plenty of drugs tended to conceal a person’s true age, but he was certainly older than Travis, and from what Travis remembered, brawling with him had been more like roughhousing with a good buddy. They’d both go into it seriously enough, but when it was all said and done, this particular man had always managed to keep a smile and high spirits, win or lose.

Unfortunately, it would likely take some fast talking to get this particular guy to agree to the fight that Travis had in mind. In the past Travis had never once witnessed money changing in Joe’s hands. He never placed a bet, and he never took up an offer where money was offered. Which was just strange as far as Travis was concerned. But then, so was the fact that Travis was the only one who Joe had ever agreed to fight on the street. He seemed like a good enough guy, though, and Travis had a feeling that if he explained that he really needed Joe to do this, especially now that Dennis was out of the question, and Travis needed his money a week ago, Joe wouldn’t let him down.

As Travis reached the entrance of the Gordon dealership he knelt down to pick up a small red tack, cracked down the center. Inspecting it first, and then sliding it into his pocket he pushed open the front door. The lobby was mostly empty, which suited him just fine since he had a look on his face displaying both frustration and random goofiness as he attempted to remember what his schedule was for the rest of the day. He couldn’t remember if he’d asked for one or two shifts at the video store after he finished work for John Gordon. He supposed that either would be just fine. Two shifts meant a guaranteed higher number on his next paycheck, and one shift meant starting his search for Joe sooner.

“Good morning, Travis.”

Travis nodded at the greeting and gestured his own in the direction it had come from. It was when he realizedwhere it had come from that he had to stop, consider whether or not it had happened, and then turned and stared oddly at John Gordon, who had seated himself behind several stacks of paperwork spread over the long table occasionally used for refreshments during annual sales.

“Good morning?” Travis repeated. John Gordon had no more response than an arched brow, so Travis was quick to pull a chair up to the other side of the table, giving off the intentional vibes of fretful mother. “What’s wrong? Must be bad.”

Mr. Gordon flipped through some of the papers in front of him, scribbling in a few things when necessary. “The front desk should be wiped down before anyone comes in here. Looks dirty.”

Travis looked at him in mock horror. “You want me to work? Shouldn’t you tell me what a worthless pansy I am first? I’m about twenty minutes late, you know...Good God, man! I’m about to tell you how much you look like warmed-over shit, the least you could do is say ‘Good morning, asshole.’”

Travis waited, and waited some more, but apart from a glance or two of irritation sent in his direction, Mr. Gordon wasn’t his usual charming self. Travis wondered if he should be worried.

“Um... Mr. Gordon? Are you sick or something?”

“I don’t look sick, do I?” His voice was rough, but nowhere near as biting as Travis thought it should be.

“I was thinking more along the lines of mental illness... but, yeah. Guess not. So is it the wife then? She still trying to cut ya off at the balls? Go ahead, yell at me for it. It’ll make you feel better.”

Travis frowned when there was still nothing from his employer, who seemed a little too stoic this morning. It was oddly unsettling, and Travis was pretty sure that he would have preferred the yelling. He opened his mouth, ready to make another comment about Mr. Gordon’s soon-to-be ex-wife, but something stopped him, and he found himself staring at the old man as he remembered what Dennis Gordon had mentioned the night before.

So, are you all bent ‘cause the son you never mentioned caught you serving tacos? Tell me the truth now, what’d he think of your costume?The words were right on the tip of Travis’s tongue, but somehow, he prevented it from saying them as he stood up and looked down at his boss again. “Well... I’m gonna go stand at the end of the parking lot and beg people who already have nice cars to come buy our junkers,” he remarked, once again looking for a rise out of John Gordon, who was always proud of his merchandise. But still, not even a dirty look came Travis’s way. “Okay then. Anyway, about that thing we’ve got going... I’ll be set for sometime this weekend if you are. Call me when you’re ready to talk details.”

At that, Mr. Gordon finally looked up seriously. “We’ll talk before you leave, and it’s up to you to make sure it happens before you have to be somewhere else, so don’t eventhink of flaking on me, boy.”

***

For a dog so prone to clumsiness, Dennis had to admit that Valentine sure had a knack for keeping her balance when she stuck her little body as far out the window as she could just to get the wind in her face. It was one of her favorite pastimes, and since she rarely ever got to go for a ride in the car, Dennis didn’t deny her it even when the temperatures hadn’t crawled above the low twenties.

He hadn’t intended to bring the dog with him when he’d left the house, and yet, by the time he’d made it to his car, she was still there in his arms, almost as if he were afraid to let go. And maybe in a way, he was. He wanted the emotional support. Yes, he knew she was a dog, but as far as Dennis was concerned, she was better than nothing, and maybe then some. Already having her in the car, listening to her occasional impatient whines when they passed an area she thought she knew, was helping to keep him calm. And being calm--that was something that Dennis needed now.

He’d already passed the Gordon dealership twice, and he was circling back a third time. It wasn’t easy for him, after spending a great deal of time avoiding even the street where it was located since he’d stopped speaking to his parents. Even harder, knowing that he was determined to pull into that parking lot sometime before he ran out of gas.

There were a lot of memories here for Dennis. The parking lot alone was the last place he remembered feeling normal. Phil Clayton when they were best friends, and a whole group of other stupid jocks used to meet there on late nights before a school dance, or maybe the homecoming game. They were stupid, and obnoxious, but they were kids with a few beers each. They laughed, they joked, they pumped each other up for any activities that a night could bring, but they were normal. Dennis had felt normal. He remembered kissing his first girlfriend in that parking lot, and passing a football with his brother back when the game was still fun. He remembered the first summer that he’d gone to work with his dad, so proud every time the old man cheated someone out of an extra dollar, and he’d brag to his mother about it when she brought them lunch. He remembered all of this.

But, Dennis remembered other things, too. He remembered the time in that parking lot where Phil Clayton had accused him of flunking a test just to get kicked off the football team. Phil had been right. But what Phil never would have understood was that it was Denis’s only way off the team as far as his family was concerned, because they sure as hell hadn’t been concerned about the way playing could risk permanent damage to an already painful knee injury. Dennis had earned himself a black eye that night; it was Phil’s doing, and the end of their friendship.

And that parking lot, it was the last place he remembered talking to his parents, too. He’d left their house on foot one night. Lyle had only been visiting then, had taken Dennis’s car without asking, because Lyle always did what he wanted to do. So, Dennis had decided that he should start doing what he wanted, too. He’d ended up at the Chesleys’, and called his parents the next morning to say that he wanted his things. They’d been furious, refused. A week later, Mr. Chesley had somehow convinced them to change their minds, and the dealership is where they met. His father had been unable to speak to him without screaming. His mother had been cold, and they told him then that he wasn’t their son anymore. Dennis remembered being more okay with that than not.

All in this stupid parking lot.

He reached to touch Valentine’s head when she finally seated herself in the passenger seat, just as they entered the dealership, but she wasn’t what he was paying attention to. It was empty, as Dennis expected it to be on a weekday morning, except for the garage, where there was a short line of vehicles waiting to take advantage of warranties that had hadn’t yet expired. He didn’t see any of the usual sales associates out on the lot as he searched for a place to park, but as he passed by the front of the store there was a familiar face as he spotted Travis taking out a bag of garbage. He did a double take when he spotted Dennis’s vehicle, but Dennis didn’t stop as he decided to park directly on a sidewalk, right in a fire zone, kept a window cracked for Valentine, and left his vehicle. He couldn’t stop, he realized, because if he did that now, he’d never go through with what he intended to do.

The lobby hadn’t changed. The dull colors of the room hadn’t faded any. Perhaps they’d been touched up. But, the building that had once been a comfortable place to enter and do his homework after school now felt like nothing more than a sterile room, and the faint scent of bleach and new tires made him feel nauseous; but he seemed to hold his composure as he looked slowly around the room until his eyes fell reluctantly on that face that he knew had been there all along.

John Gordon seemed so much bigger in his dark suit, and even from across the room Dennis felt like the man was towering over him, though this was one of the few times in his life that the man didn’t seem very intimidating. Perhaps that was because Dennis had managed to work the element of surprise in his favor. His father had not expected to see him there in the dealership anymore than Dennis had expected to see him the night before.

For a moment Dennis didn’t know what to say, or what to do. He tried to remember the plan. Get out of the car, walk through the front doors, go to the office, you’ll take the old man off guard while he’s sitting at his desk. But, John Gordon was not at his desk, and while Dennis had still taken him off guard, he hadn’t intended to do it in the lobby. Perhaps it shouldn’t have made a difference, but Dennis wanted to correct what he saw as a problem, so without saying a word, he continued on with his original plan and headed towards John Gordon’s office. Here, he looked directly at the chair behind the desk, as if his father was seated in it, and tried hard not to notice that there were still pictures of his family--including the same ones of himself that had always been there--lining the walls.

Dennis heard footsteps behind him, shiny shoes stopping just outside the door, and the eyes he sensed on his back made his spine grow rigid, but he avoided looking entirely uncomfortable. That would have been a mistake. Long ago he’d learned to think of his father as a predatory animal: never show your fear. Today, Dennis Gordon was in control, and he wanted to keep it that way.

More footsteps, and then the door closed. But still, Dennis didn’t turn around. He waited until his father had walked around the room to stand behind the desk that Dennis was still facing. For a moment it appeared as though neither of them were going to speak, and the tension was so thick that it would have been a surprise if the thought of walking away hadn’t entered one of their minds, and then Mr. Gordon cleared his throat.

“Are you lost, son?” John finally asked.

Dennis met his eyes, and forced himself to hold them. “I don’t care.”

John Gordon shook his head, clearly not understanding.

“I don’t care,” Dennis repeated, his voice becoming firmer. “I don’t care about you. I don’t care about Mom, or Lyle, and I don’t care about what’s going on with any of you.”

John Gordon looked surprised or amused. Either way, Dennis hated that look.

“Really?” the old man responded. “And you found your way here just to let me know?”

“No,” Dennis said. That had only been a reminder for both of them, and maybe, he mused, his way to avoid any sharp words his father might say by coming up with his own first. “I’m here because I want it to stop.”

John Gordon released a little laugh before he turned a cold stare on Dennis which was capable of making him feel about two inches tall.

“You want what to stop?” John asked. “I thought you didn’t care about anything.”

“I want Mom to stop calling me.”

At this, surprise registered in John’s face, and then suspicion, though it wasn’t entirely directed towards Dennis.

“Oh? So what has she been saying?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her, but she’s been calling the place I’m staying at, and then Lyle did. You can tell them to stop.”

John laughed. “Oh can I?”

“I’m done with everyone in this family.”

“Oh, don’t be such a pussy, Dennis!” the old man suddenly snapped. “You’ll never be done with your family, otherwise you never would’ve walked in here; and if you want your mother to stop calling you can tell her yourself.”

“I came here to tell you I want to be left alone! You can tell all of them...”

“I don’t talk to your mother anymore, Dennis. But, something tells me you already knew that.”

“And Lyle?”

John stared at his youngest son for a moment, and then snorted. “So you don’t care about any of us any more, but you’re still curious enough to want the details, are ya?”

Dennis sucked in a deep breath, and held it. “Like I said, I just wanna be left alone. Tell them I don’t want to hear from them anymore.”

Dennis turned, moved to the door and swung it open, only to stop short when he heard his father’s voice again.

“Hey, you really need to work on your game face, boy! You really think you’re fooling anyone walking in here like king shit? You’re nothing and you’ll always be nothing. Isn’t it so true... You’re no son of mine.”

Dennis turned slowly, not liking the burning sensation he felt in his nose and behind his eyes. It was stupid, he knew, but his father always had a way of making him feel small and sad before he felt angry, and that was the case now. “I know,” Dennis finally replied. “And that already makes me something better, doesn’t it?”

John Gordon gritted his teeth, and it seemed to take him a great deal of control to keep from drawing his son into further argument, which is why Dennis was quick to walk away, having already had enough.

Dennis didn’t close the office door, and he didn’t look back. Feeling shaken, it was all he could do to keep from running the rest of the way to the front door. He was better, he told himself. Even if his father had made a good point. Dennis never had to walk into that dealership. He could have picked up the phone the next time his mother called, and he could have directly told her to leave him alone. Not only that, but even as cold as she’d always been, it would have been easier to deal with her than it was for Dennis to see his father. So maybe he was curious. He could admit that. He was curious because when he’d left his family, they’d given him every indication that they were better off without him, and maybe now that they were falling apart, he should consider himself lucky that he’d gotten away when he had. But, the satisfaction he’d expected to feel realizing this wasn’t there, and hearing his father express how useless he found him again didn’t seem worth being brave enough to get that close to him.

He stopped outside, taking in a deep breath and trying not to mind the way the cold air seemed to choke him. He looked right, saw his car, and made a straight path towards his, checking his pockets for his keys. He just wanted to go. He wanted to forget about the last ten minutes, and he wanted to forget the look on his father’s face the night before when he’d gone through that drive-thru. Mostly, he wanted to forget about what had provoked him to visit the dealership in the first place.

Opening the front door of his car, Dennis automatically put out a hand to prevent Valentine from jumping out at him, but she snuck by, anyway, when a heavy hand suddenly dropped on his shoulder and caused him to spin around defensively.

“Whoa!” Travis said, taking a step back just in case Dennis decided to swing at him, and while Dennis was busy catching himself, Travis took it upon himself to snatch up the small dog. “Go easy, man. Just me.”

Dennis huffed. “Just you.” He frowned, took Valentine back and unceremoniously shoved her into the car.

Travis cocked his head and waited for Dennis to meet his eyes again. “Yeah, because I work here, and you... are full of surprises. Did you come to see me?”

“What? No.”

Travis laughed. “I know. So what were you talking to your dad about? I had my ear against the door the whole time, but it was surprisingly thick.”

Dennis’s eyes started to narrow, but then he just shook his head and let out a breath. “Look, since I... don’t hate you for some reason, here’s fair warning: If you can steer clear of John Gordon for the rest of the day, I’d do it.”

“You pissed him off, then?” Travis replied casually. “Good. I was starting to worry about him. So... you don’t hate me? That’s a compliment, right? Coming from you?”

Dennis blinked at the boyish smile on Travis’s face, opened his mouth to respond, and then snapped his jaw shut when he smartly decided against it.

“I have to go.”

“You don’t have to,” Travis said decisively. “But you want to. I’m okay with that. Are you working tonight?”

“What?”

“Work? Pizzas. Drive,” Travis finished, putting up his hands on an invisible steering wheel.”

“Yes,” Dennis said slowly. “Why? You’re not planning to order any more pizzas?”

“No, I just wanted to know if you feel like doing something afterwards.”

Dennis crossed his arms, and seemed to consider Travis more than the question. “I don’t get off until two,” he finally said, and then turned back to his car. “And I’ve really gotta go.”

“Two’s good,” Travis replied, surprising Dennis enough to draw his attention back.

“I didn’t mean...”

“Most of the people I consider friends generally sleep at night,” Travis interrupted to explain. “I consider everything else I go out for, work, and to be honest with you, you look like you could do with a little fun as much as I can. If it counts for anything, I don’t hate you, either, but I probably shouldn’t since I try not to hate anyone. Too much energy. So, two o’clock?”

“I don’t know yet,” Dennis replied, and then seemed to wait for Travis to tell him never mind. But, Travis only shrugged.

“Alright. I’ll check back with you later, then.”

“Later?”

“Yeah... um, and you were right, about having to go now,” Travis said, and when Dennis regarded him quizzically he explained, “Your dad’s been looking out the window for the last two minutes, at least. Wouldn’t look if I were you.”

Dennis’s eyes widened slightly at that, and despite his curiosity, he managed to take the offered advice, refusing to look as he gave Travis Beltnick one nod, got into his car, and drove out of the dealership with the same memories haunting him as when he’d driven in.

***

The last thing he remembered was coming home much too early.

Travis had made it to Tenth Street just after ten o’clock, if only because there was a lack of anything else to do. He’d wasted no time before he started asking around for Joe, who he knew nothing about apart from his first name, and found a guy who knew a guy who might know Joe. He followed this small lead to a liquor store, which he’d been thrown out of twice before he managed to explain to the guy working that he only wanted to talk, not buy, and according to the guy, his sister once dated a Joe but he didn’t know if it was the Joe that Travis was looking for. Almost an hour later Travis had convinced him to call his sister when he refused to leave the front of the store. The woman said she had a phone number for Joe, but refused to give it up, so finally Travis had left his number with her, asking if she’d pass it on to Joe. He hoped that she would, since he’d promised fifty bucks if Joe actually called.

All of this activity hadn’t been as physical as Travis was accustomed to when starting off a good night, so he was unable to explain the sudden desire to go home (and god forbid) rest. Travis hadn’t even stopped to tease Aiden, who’d been conveniently alone, even if he’d been regarding Travis suspiciously ever since the party. Instead, he’d taken a shower long enough to wrinkle his fingertips, and he’d hardly dried off before he stumbled into bed and closed his eyes.

Now, though, an hour-and-a-half later according to the clock, Travis was wide awake. The muscles in his stomach were clenching involuntarily, a nervous knot had emerged in his throat, making it hurt to swallow, his knuckles were white around his flashlight, and once again he lay in a bed of sweat and trembling skin.

But what seemed worse than whatever demons had come to wake him in the night was that his bedroom door was wide open--open because he’d regrettably neglected to lock it--his roommate was standing wide-eyed over his bed, and Aiden Knightly was in the doorway, looking curious and too sincerely concerned for Travis’s tastes.

Sitting up unsteadily, Travis frowned as he realized that the reason his eyes refused to open all the way was because someone had turned on the light. Ryan’s hand, which was still on his shoulder from shaking him awake, felt like dead weight and Travis shoved it off as he desperately attempted to regain some composure.

“Are you alright?” Ryan demanded, and when Travis met his eyes, he realized that his roommate really was worried. It was strange to see on Ryan Sader. Apart from his occasional irritable moods which mostly revolved around his ex-girlfriend, Travis knew him as the guy who was bothered by very little. That’s part of what he’d always liked about Ryan.

“I’m fine,” Travis forced out in a coarse voice as he stood, acting as if his jogging pants weren’t damp from sweat, and that his knees weren’t about to collapse beneath him. “I’m fine. Bad dream.”

“Yeah, you fucking...” Ryan started, but Travis was quick to cut him off as he ushered him to the door.

“Is that the right time on the clock?” he asked stupidly, and when Ryan didn’t answer him, he looked at Aiden. “Is it?”

“Yeah,” Aiden replied. His dark brow was knitted, and he was regarding Travis as if answers were supposed to be written all over his half-dressed body. Travis didn’t like it at all.

“I have to be somewhere,” Travis said, when neither of them seemed interested in leaving.

It was Ryan who released an exasperated breath first. “Yeah. Fine,” Ryan said. “I’m going back to bed.”

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Travis thought to call after his roommate, and Ryan responded with a short wave over his shoulder. When Travis turned his attention back to Aiden, it was only to find him frowning again. But this time, he was looking at the flashlight still in Travis’s hand, rather than at Travis himself. Travis wasn’t one who felt self-conscious often, but this was certainly enough to push him towards it. Forcing himself to breathe, he turned his mouth up into a sly smile, aimed it at Aiden, and did the only thing he knew how to do. “I’m gonna take a shower. You wanna come?”

That was enough to drive Aiden back, and as Travis shut the door to breathe deeply in an attempt to find relief for pounding nerves, he was grateful for it this time.

***

Aiden followed Ryan out to the kitchen, where he’d gone instead of his room. He leaned against the counter, comfortably crossing his arms as he watched Ryan look through the refrigerator until he found the half-full bottle of water he was looking for.

“That was weird,” Aiden commented.

Ryan nodded, pushing fingers through his messy hair. “Yeah.”

“Does it happen a lot?” Aiden asked, and Ryan thought on it for a minute.

“I don’t think so... I don’t know. We don’t really keep the same schedules... Hey, were you awake? Did you hear him?”

Aiden gave a nod. “I heard him.”

“What was he yelling about?” Ryan asked curiously.

Aiden shrugged. “Sounded like Allan.”