The fire was out and cold air crept in through the cracks in the cabin’s walls, curling damp and unforgiving around D’s back. He blinked into the dim light of early morning, muscles sore from sleeping on hardwood, his limbs tangled with the boy’s beside him.

Joey.

Still curled up close, his face soft with sleep, one hand resting over D’s chest like it belonged there.

D didn’t move for a moment. He just looked.

Joey’s lashes twitched, his pink lips parted on a quiet breath, and D could feel every rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him in contrast to the cold floor beneath. A streak of ash smudged his cheek. His blond hair was a mess. He looked like sin and salvation rolled into one.

D smiled faintly, leaned in, and pressed his mouth to Joey’s forehead. Then his temple. Then lower—his nose, his cheekbone, his jaw.

Joey stirred with a shiver and murmured, “Mmm… D…”

Fuck.

That voice. Wrecked and breathy, barely awake. D’s blood responded instantly, a flush of heat rushing through his stomach.

Joey blinked up at him, lips curling into a dazed little smile. “You’re s-staring.”

“You’re cute when you sleep,” D muttered, dipping down to kiss him again. “Quiet. Manageable.”

“Mm. Rude,” Joey said, but his voice was syrupy. His arms tightened around D’s neck, hips shifting closer. “W-warm…”

D rolled them until Joey was on his back and settled between his thighs, his mouth dragging hotly down his neck.

Joey gasped, legs winding around D’s waist. “Darius…”

“I know, baby.” D grinned against his skin, sliding a hand beneath Joey’s shirt, savoring the way he shivered.

But then—

Grrrrrowl.

Joey froze. So did D.

Another low rumble came from Joey’s belly, even louder this time.

“…Was that your stomach?” D asked, deadpan.

Joey turned bright red. “I—shut up!”

D laughed and kissed his cheek, his own hunger gnawing at him now too. “I was about to devour you, but I guess we’re both actually starving.”

Joey looked up at him, still breathless, eyes wide with frustration and longing. “C-can we… maybe later?”

“Oh yeah.” D grinned. “I’m not done with you. Not by a long shot.” He kissed Joey slowly, deliberately, before finally peeling away with a groan and sitting up. “But first—we need food. And water. And to get the hell outta these woods.”

Joey sighed but nodded. “Okay. S-survival first.”

They pulled their boots back on, stiff from the cold, then bundled up best they could in the flannels they’d borrowed from the farm, brushing ash and dirt off each other. D packed the old tool bag and slung the shotgun over his back while Joey hesitated by the table, fiddling with the dusty radio he’d repaired.

He ran his fingers along the dials one last time. “…Maybe it’ll cheer up the next guy that finds this place,” he said softly.

D walked over and kissed his temple. “You’re such a sap.”

Joey smiled and shrugged. “S-sorry.”

“Don’t be.” D pulled him close for one more quick hug. “Let’s get moving.”

Outside, the morning was gray and foggy. The air sharp with dew. They climbed onto the ATV, D gripping the bars while Joey wrapped himself snugly around his back.

The engine growled to life.

“Which way?” Joey asked.

“Southeast,” D said, squinting at the sun just beginning to rise. “If we’re lucky, we’ll hit a road before we run outta—”

Phhhhpff.

The engine sputtered, choked, and then reluctantly caught again.

D winced. “—gas.”

The sun was just a pale smear behind the trees as D steered the ATV over another narrow ridge, the tires crunching over frostbitten leaves and hidden stones. Branches whipped past, clawing at their sleeves, but he didn’t slow down. Couldn’t. The further they got from the farmhouse, the better. He didn’t care where the hell they ended up—only that they weren’t standing still.

Joey clung to him from behind, arms tight around his waist, head tucked between D’s shoulder blades. Every bump in the trail jolted them together, but D didn’t mind the closeness. Joey was warm against his back. Trusting. Breathing steady. D couldn’t tell if he was calm or just trying to be. Either way, it grounded him.

The trees had thickened thirty minutes ago, turning the ATV path into a barely-there game trail, all roots and deadfall. D kept them moving, even when it meant weaving awkwardly around trunks or ducking beneath low-hanging limbs. He could feel the machine starting to strain—the slope, the terrain, the gas—but stopping wasn’t an option.

Not yet.

His fingers ached against the handlebars. His thoughts churned in circles. They’d lost everything. Again. And there was still so far to go.

But Joey was here. That meant something. That meant everything.

He leaned into the next turn, picking up speed. South. Southeast. They had to hit a road eventually.

Maybe another forty minutes passed like that before the ATV died beneath them with a choking cough and a rattle that echoed too loud in the stillness.

D eased the handlebars down with a sigh, the faint crunch of dried leaves beneath the tires the only response.

All around them, the woods pressed in—tall and endless, their branches tangled like arms reaching toward the overcast sky. No road in sight. No birdsong. Just the distant whisper of wind threading through pine needles and the drip of melting frost from high branches.

Joey slid off the back, stretching his legs with a wince. “W-well…” he said softly, arms wrapping around his own torso like a cold was creeping in from beneath his skin. “Wh-what now?”

D stared straight ahead for a beat, his jaw tight, hands still clenching the throttle like he could will it back to life. He gave the plastic a quiet smack, just to do something. But it didn’t make him feel better.

He stood, grabbed the shotgun from where it had been strapped behind the seat, and slung it over his shoulder.

“Now, we walk,” he muttered.

Joey looked up at him, wide-eyed and anxious. “Do you… d-do you even know which w-way we’re going?”

D glanced at the sun—or what he thought was the sun, a vague smudge behind layers of cloud. “South-east. Mostly.”

Joey hesitated, clearly unconvinced, then nodded anyway. He followed without another word.

They left the ATV behind, half-buried in frostbitten leaves and dirt. A ghost of their short-lived escape. The silence seemed louder without its engine rumbling beneath them.

D didn’t say it aloud, but the woods felt different now. Less like cover—more like a trap. Every step forward felt like a gamble, the weight of the shotgun on his back a cold reminder that if trouble found them again, this time they were on foot. Alone.

And still wanted.

They started walking. But the trees didn’t end.

They just kept going. Uphill. Down again. Climbing over roots, stepping around muddy patches and rotted logs, scraping through underbrush that felt more like a wall than a trail. D wasn’t even sure if they were still going southeast anymore. The sun was too high, too hazy behind the clouds to use as a guide.

He kept the shotgun slung over one shoulder and his free hand on Joey’s arm whenever the terrain got tricky—steep hills slick with leaves, crumbling edges, sudden drops. It had been hours. He wasn’t even sure how many. His thighs ached. His mouth was dry. And Joey… Joey was starting to fall behind.

At first, Joey had tried to keep up. He stuck close, even made a couple dumb jokes about how “this was worse than gym class,” but now—now he was lagging. Tripping more. Breathing heavy, head down. D slowed his pace every few steps, but it didn’t help much. The boy was wilting.

They reached another hill, this one steeper than the last, and D turned to offer a hand—just in time to see Joey’s boot catch a root.

“Joey—!”

Too late.

Joey fell hard, knees scraping the jagged edge of a stone. He landed with a thud and a sharp yelp, palms hitting the dirt, and for a second, he didn’t move.

D rushed back, dropping to a crouch. “Shit—hey. You okay?”

Joey sat back, tears already in his eyes, streaks of red blooming across both knees where his jeans had torn. “F-fuck—fuck, I’m s-so sick of this—” His voice broke into a high, angry sob. “W-we’re n-never getting out of here!”

“Hey.” D put a hand on his shoulder, but Joey shook it off and curled forward, both hands pulling at his hair.

“We’re lost!” he cried, voice cracking. “W-we don’t have food, or water, or a p-plan—and w-we’re just walking in c-circles!”

“Joey,” D said more firmly, gripping his shoulders now. “Look at me.”

Joey’s chest heaved. His lip trembled. But he looked.

D stared back at him, steady and calm, even if inside he was starting to feel the weight of it too—the endless trees, the hopelessness, the damn ache in his legs. “I know it’s hard,” he said quietly. “And I know it feels like we’re stuck. But we’re not. We’re moving. We’re surviving. That’s all we gotta do right now, okay? Keep going. We will get out. We will find a road. We will eat again. I swear it.”

Joey shook his head, eyes wet. “Y-you don’t know that…”

“I don’t,” D admitted, brushing Joey’s hair off his forehead. “But I believe it. And I need you to believe it too. Just a little. Just enough to keep moving.”

Joey sniffled, his breathing ragged. Then he collapsed into D’s chest, arms wrapping tight around him, his whole body shivering with fear and exhaustion.

D held him close, strong and sure, rocking him gently while the wind moved through the branches above them. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, kissing the crown of Joey’s head. “We’re going to get through this, alright?”

They sat there for a while. Long enough for the worst of Joey’s shaking to pass, the tears to slow. D didn’t rush it. He rubbed Joey’s back, whispered stupid little reassurances, pressed kisses to his temple until Joey finally pulled back with a hiccup and wiped his face on his sleeve.

“S-sorry,” Joey whispered.

“Don’t be,” D said. “You held it together longer than most would’ve.”

Joey gave a soft, shaky laugh. “Y-yeah.”

“C’mon.” D stood and offered both hands. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He helped Joey to his feet and dabbed at the scrapes with the corner of his flannel. Not much they could do about them now but they’d clot soon enough.

As they started walking again, D kept a hand on Joey’s back, guiding him around tough spots, helping him over slippery roots and ditches. His grip was steady. Constant.

By the time noon approached, the woods were brighter but no less dense. Still, they were moving forward. One mile at a time. Together.

An hour passed. Maybe more. The sun was slanting through the trees now, turning frost to steam. The trail, if it could even be called that, had narrowed to barely a thread—just broken leaves and soft mud, the prints of deer and raccoons in their path.

Joey was quiet again, his hand brushing D’s now and then, like he needed the contact. D squeezed back each time, wordless.

Then he heard it.

Voices.

Male. Low. Carrying through the trees.

D stopped short and threw his arm out.

Joey went still, blinking up at him, confused, until he heard it too.

“…ain’t nothin’ out here—”
“Shut up. Just listen.”
“—swear I saw tracks—”

D’s pulse jumped. He spun toward Joey, whispering, “Don’t say a word.”

But Joey’s face had lit up—hope blooming too fast, too bright. “Wait—th-they could help us—!”

“Joey—”

“HEY!” Joey called out, voice cracking. “H-HELLO—?!”

The forest went still.

Then the voices stopped. Leaves crunched. Stomping.

D cursed and grabbed Joey’s arm. “What the fuck did I just say?!”

“I—I thought—!”

Too late.

D yanked Joey behind him just as the first shape appeared through the trees.

And then another. And another.

Three men.

The first guy was tall and muscular through the shoulders, wearing a brown canvas jacket and an orange hunting cap over a salt-and-pepper buzzcut. He carried a scoped rifle like it was part of his arm and his eyes were narrow, calculating. D mentally tagged him Tank.

The second was leaner, younger, maybe mid-20s. He held his shotgun a little too tightly, twitchy-like, and had a round face dusted in acne, a hoodie tucked under his camo vest. Pimples.

The last man was the oldest. He wore full camo from head to toe with a grizzled beard and a limp. He had a lever-action rifle strapped crosswise over his chest, but his hand was resting on the grip. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Beard. Probably the one in charge.

“Well,” he said, voice low and even. “Ain’t this a surprise.”

Tank’s eyes narrowed on them as Joey stepped forward, hands raised. D stayed back, silent, letting Joey talk first.

“W-we’re lost,” Joey said quickly. “Been trying to find a way outta here f-for hours.”

Pimples scoffed. “With a shotgun?”

“It’s not—it’s just for a-animals,” Joey stammered. “In case s-something c-comes at us—”

“We were camping,” D cut in, firm and calm. “Got turned around when the fog rolled in. Haven’t seen a road since yesterday.”

Beard nodded slowly, like he was almost buying it. “You got names?”

D didn’t blink. “Does it matter?”

Tank chuckled. “Y’know, that’s funny. ‘Cause the sheriff came knockin’ at our porch just this morning.” He adjusted his grip on the rifle. “Said to keep an eye out for two fellas—armed, dangerous. One of ‘em’s young, blond, with a stutter. Other’s older, big, black. Said they were wanted for murder.”

Joey stiffened.

D could feel the boy trembling at his side.

“Doesn’t that sound like y’all?” Beard asked in an overly sweet voice and the other two hunters laughed.

D’s fingers brushed the butt of the shotgun slung across his back. “Let us pass. We don’t want trouble.”

“See, but that’s the thing.” Tank stepped forward. “We do. You two show up, we make the call, they haul you in. Maybe there’s a reward. Maybe we get our faces on TV.”

“Heroes,” Pimples muttered, almost gleeful.

The tension snapped.

D moved first.

In one fluid motion, he drew the shotgun from his shoulder and fired—not at them, but into the trees overhead. The blast shattered the silence, a thunderous crack that sent birds screaming skyward and split a thick branch clean off.

Beard flinched and dove behind a pine. Pimples yelped and scrambled for cover, crouching under a downed log. Only Tank—too close, too dumb—rushed forward. He tossed his weapon and charged.

“Joey—get down!” D barked, shoving him behind a thick tree trunk as Tank barreled into him like a bull.

The shotgun clattered out of D’s hands as they collided. Tank slammed him into the dirt, fists already swinging, raw power behind each blow. D blocked one, took another in the jaw, gritted his teeth and retaliated—hook to the ribs, elbow to the throat. But Tank was solid, strong as hell, and they rolled in the leaves, struggling for dominance, snapping branches and crunching dry pine needles as they fought.

Tank got a fist into D’s gut and D grunted. He managed to twist, bracing a forearm across the man’s throat and trying to push him back, but then—

“D!” Joey’s voice, high, panicked.

D turned just in time to see Pimples wrestling with the blond, the shotgun between them. Pimples had grabbed Joey by the arm, yanking him roughly, trying to wrench the gun away. Joey swung his arms and flailed, clearly terrified and overmatched.

“No!” D roared, red exploding in his vision.

He kneed Tank hard in the groin and the man let out a strangled wheeze and curled sideways. D shoved him off and lunged toward Joey—barely three strides away—

“Don’t.”

D froze.

Beard had emerged from the trees, rifle leveled square at his chest. One eye squinted down the sight, the other glinting with cruel amusement.

“Go on,” he said, fingering the trigger. “One more step. Give me an excuse.”

D stood panting, sweat streaking dirt down his neck, chest heaving. His hands curled into fists at his sides. He wasn’t ready to die—not here, not like this—but he could see it in the old man’s eyes.

Beard wanted it.

“You got any last words, boy?” Beard muttered, fingers tightening on the trigger.

Behind them, Pimples shoved Joey hard against the tree. The shotgun fell loose, tumbling into the leaves.

Joey scrambled for it, sobbing. “No—stop—!”

Pimples grabbed for him again.

But Joey’s hand closed on the shotgun first.

He spun. Swung wide.

CRACK

The butt of the gun slammed into Pimples’s skull. The man staggered backward, dazed, and collapsed to his knees.

Joey stood over him, shaking. His face was red, eyes wide and glassy with tears, a fresh bruise blooming purple along his jaw. Then, he turned and pointed the gun straight at Beard.

“L-leave him alone!” he screamed. “D-drop it!”

Beard didn’t move. “You ain’t gonna shoot me.”

Joey’s hands trembled on the stock. His mouth wobbled. “I—I will—”

Beard took a step closer.

Joey closed his eyes.

BANG

Beard screamed as the bullet tore into his knee. He dropped to the forest floor with a howl of pain and writhed, clutching his leg, cursing loud and ugly.

Joey stared down at the gun, horrified. “I—I didn’t m-mean—oh god—”

D was at his side in seconds. He took the gun gently from Joey’s hands and pulled him close.

“Good boy,” D whispered, pressing a soft kiss into the back of his sweaty neck. “You saved my life, baby.”

But Joey shook his head against D’s chest. “I—I didn’t know what to do—I j-just—”

“I know. You did good. You did exactly what you had to.”

He felt Joey shudder against him, one hand clinging to his shirt. But D didn’t let him fall apart—not yet.

“Look at me,” he said. “Can you hold the gun?”

Joey looked up, dazed. Slowly, he nodded.

D pressed the shotgun into his hands again. “Keep it on ‘em. Just like before. I’ll do the rest.”

Joey stood there, pale and shaking, but he turned toward the groaning men on the ground and leveled the gun at them, the muzzle quivering but steady.

D dug into the tool bag he’d dropped earlier in the leaves and pulled out the coil of wire he’d been saving for emergencies. He moved fast, tying wrists and ankles tight, yanking knots hard enough to make the hunters cry out.

Beard bared his teeth when it was his turn. “They’ll c-come for you,” he spat. “You’re dead men.”

D knelt by his head. “Where’s your truck?”

Beard didn’t answer. His lips pressed into a firm, white line.

Huffing, D pressed his hand into Beard’s injured knee and the man screamed.

“Where’s your damned truck?!”

“J-just west—quarter mile back that way!” Beard gasped. “Old trail by the logging road—keys in the visor!”

D stood smoothly. He looked at Joey—still crying silently, still holding the gun. It hurt to see him like that. But they were almost out.

He stepped forward and grabbed Joey’s wrist. “C’mon.”

Joey dropped the gun and followed, stumbling at first, still dazed.

The trees closed in behind them, swallowing the wounded groans of the men they left tied in the dirt.

They didn’t look back.

They ran for nearly twenty minutes, branches tearing at their clothes, the cold air burning in and out of their lungs. The world narrowed to footfalls and breath, the desperate need to move, to get away, to survive.

Then, D spotted it.

A rust-red pickup, parked crooked in a break of trees. Mud-streaked. No plates on the front. It was half-concealed by brush, but unmistakable.

“Joey,” he gasped, grabbing the boy’s arm and pointing. “There.”

They stumbled down the embankment toward it. The door was unlocked, keys under the visor just like Beard had said. And in the bed of the truck—salvation.

A blue cooler, worn and faded.

D yanked it open and let out a laugh, dizzy with relief. Bottled water. Sandwiches wrapped in plastic. Trail mix. A 6-pack of beers.

“Jack-fuckin’-pot,” he muttered.

Joey climbed in behind him, panting, pale and trembling. D handed him a bottle and a sandwich, and Joey took it with shaking hands, barely unwrapping it before he started eating.

“I-I shot him…” Joey whispered between bites. “Oh my god, D, I shot that guy.”

“I know,” D said gently, cracking open a water for himself. “You also saved my life. I could see it in his eyes, Joey. He was going to shoot me.”

Joey shook his head, tears spilling. “But…wh-what if he d-dies?”

“He won’t. Trust me,” D said, kneeling in front of him, voice low and even. “That bastard was tough as hell. He’ll crawl his way back to his family and laugh about it one day. Hell, all three of ‘em probably know these woods better than their own wives. They'll make it home.”

Joey sniffled, voice small. “Y-you think?”

D reached up and thumbed a tear off his cheek. “Yeah. I do. And when they do, they’ll have one hell of a story to tell at the bar. ‘Remember that time we got our asses handed to us by that big black guy and the pretty one with the stutter?’” He smirked, trying to tease a smile out of him.

Joey huffed, one wet little laugh escaping. “I’m not p-pretty…”

“You’re gorgeous. Shut up and drink your water.”

Joey nodded, wiping at his watery green eyes again.

In the truck’s back seat, D found some spare clothes—old flannels, extra socks, a couple threadbare towels that still smelled faintly of diesel. He helped Joey clean up, wiping blood and dirt off his hands, drying the sweat from his brow. Then they changed quickly, swapping out their mud-caked layers for the least offensive of what they could find.

Afterwards, they looked… average. Like two good ol’ boys fresh out of the woods.

Exactly what they needed.

D climbed behind the wheel, shoved the keys in the ignition, then turned it.

The engine rumbled to life beneath them.

Joey buckled in beside him, still sniffling, still quiet, but when D looked over at him—really looked—there was something else under all that fear. A new kind of strength. He’d pulled the trigger. He’d made the impossible choice.

And they were still here.

D reached over and squeezed his hand. Joey held on. And together, they pulled out of the brush and drove toward the next unknown.

It took another fifteen minutes of winding through forest roads before they found it.

A real road. Two lanes of faded pavement and cracked yellow lines, stretching like a lifeline through the trees.

Joey let out a breathless laugh and sagged in his seat. “T-thank god…”

D didn’t answer. He just steered the truck onto the shoulder, checked both directions, then eased them onto the empty stretch of highway heading east. The tires hummed, steady and low, a sound that felt almost unreal after the chaos of the past few hours.

They were finally out.

The trees thinned as they went, giving way to fields, gas stations, truck stops—civilization again. They’d gone a few miles before Joey turned his face toward D and asked softly, “W-what do we do now?”

D kept his eyes on the road. “We don’t drive this thing too far. Once those bastards crawl their way home—and they will—they’re gonna report it stolen. Cops’ll be looking.”

Joey’s shoulders slumped. “So… d-ditch it?”

“That’s the plan,” D said. “We’ve got some money.” He paused, flicked on the blinker for the next turnoff. “We’ll hit the next decent-sized town. Get bus tickets. Abandon the truck somewhere quiet, no cameras.”

Joey nodded, processing. “Bus to… w-where?”

“Charleston,” D said. “Eventually. But we’ll get tickets to a smaller town nearby. Make it a little harder to track us.” He glanced at Joey. “You good with that?”

Joey gave a tight smile. “B-better than freezing to death in the w-woods.”

They drove for thirty more minutes, the sun warm through the windshield, the landscape shifting slowly around them. Finally, D pulled off at a travel plaza that stretched along the highway, a mix of trucker stations, food joints, and a small bus depot tucked along one side.

D parked out back behind a row of dumpsters and low brush, then got out to check things over. No visible cameras, no one looking their direction, and either way, they looked… normal. Like tired hunters or campers passing through. Nothing outwardly suspicious.

D left Joey to wait in the truck then headed inside the depot. It didn’t take long. Two one-way tickets, cash. But the next bus south wasn’t for another two hours.

D cursed under his breath as he came back to the truck, tossing the paper tickets on the dash. “We’re stuck here for a while.”

Joey slumped again. “H-how long?”

“Two hours.”

“Two h-hours?”

“Yeah.” D drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “We’ll hang out somewhere quiet. Not worth the risk driving into town.”

He pulled them behind a mostly-abandoned strip mall a few streets over—just an empty lot, an old car wash, and some weeds. Quiet. Private.

Joey was quiet for a minute, then his gaze drifted toward the cooler in the backseat. “…Hey, D?”

“What.”

Joey gave a little smile. “W-we never touched the beer.”

D raised a brow. “And?”

Joey looked at him with exaggerated innocence. “I j-just think… it’d b-be a shame to let it go to w-waste.”

D gave him a look. “Joey.”

“Come on,” Joey wheedled, voice soft, teasing. “W-we’ve earned it. You almost d-died today. I—I shot a guy. My f-first time shooting anyone.” His smile was crooked now, too sharp to be real. “I think we d-deserve a drink.”

D hesitated. Then sighed. “Just one.”

Joey was already reaching into the cooler. He grabbed one for himself, then handed a second to D.

D took the amber bottle, frowning faintly with disapproval. He hoped he wouldn’t end up regretting this.

Already feeling like this was a terrible idea, he sipped the beer. It was warm. Cheap. Barely worth finishing.

Joey, meanwhile, was halfway through his first, the bottle tipped back like he couldn’t drink it fast enough. A little foam clung to his upper lip when he grinned.

D raised an eyebrow. “You even legal?”

Joey wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “N-not quite. Turned twenty in S-September.”

D scoffed. “So a whole year early.”

Joey just grinned wider and popped open another. “Close e-enough.”

“Jesus.” D shook his head. “You better stop at two. I’m not carrying your drunk ass onto the bus.”

Joey snorted, taking a long pull. “P-please. I’ve been drunk b-before.”

“Oh yeah?”

Joey nodded, already flushed. “L-last time was with J-Josh. A couple m-months before my b-birthday. He found this h-half-broke-down forklift behind the old tr-train yard and decided it’d be f-fun to ‘borrow’ it.” He made air quotes, slurring a little. “I think we th-thought we could fix it up or r-race it or something, I d-dunno. We were t-trashed though. Drove it straight into a d-dumpster.”

D snorted. “Good one.”

“It was so l-loud, we thought the c-cops were comin’, so Josh pulled me into a s-shipping container to h-hide. I was c-crying and laughing. Then we found th-this blow-up sex doll inside—I’m n-not even kidding—and when t-the security guy s-showed up, Josh pops o-out like, ‘DON’T LOOK, S-SHE’S NAKED!’ The security g-guy just stood there like—” Joey made a dumbfounded expression. “D-didn’t even call the cops. Just told us to g-go home.”

D shook his head, chuckling. “Sounds like your whole family needs a babysitter.”

Joey’s smile dimmed a little but didn’t disappear. “Yeah, well. My m-mom tries, I g-guess. She just lets us d-do whatever. Always tired, a-always hurting from h-her migraines… Dad d-doesn’t ever help her e-either. He doesn’t talk m-much. He works, d-drinks. Never really d-does anything. And my sister S-Sara’s always dumpin’ her kids on us, j-just making everything w-worse. M-my brothers are both jerks… Ronnie thinks he’s b-better than everyone, and he never m-misses the chance to stop by and rub it in e-everybody’s faces and Josh… J-Josh is always in t-trouble but he just g-gets away with everything. He just talks his way out. It’s kinda a-amazing, a-actually.”

“Mmm. Amazing.” D took a longer sip, watching Joey over the rim of the bottle. “I don’t think so, Joey. You’re done letting your family drag you into dumb shit.”

Joey blinked at him.

“I mean it,” D said, voice firm but soft. “That house... You’re not going back to that place, sweetheart.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s not a home. It’s a storm waiting to swallow you.”

Joey looked away for a moment, biting his lip. Then, with the last swig of his second beer, he reached for a third and cracked it open, knocking it back carelessly. He perked back up, then, his voice brighter, drunker. “O-okay. So… in our n-new life—we’ve got a l-little fixer-upper, right?”

D sighed but nodded. “Right.”

“And a d-dog. No, two dogs. You’re a personal t-trainer, I fix cars—j-junkers, like old classics. We got ch-chickens, and a garden. And one of those c-cute porch swings.”

“That’s right.” D smiled faintly. “We’re going full domestic.”

Joey nodded, his green eyes half-lidded now. “Every night, we m-make dinner. And then we have amazing sex. Like, e-every night.” He leaned in closer, face open and dopey. “I’ll suck y-your dick and maybe… m-maybe we’ll go all the way. I won’t be a v-virgin anymore.”

D went still.

Joey watched him, a sleepy smile playing at his mouth.

D finished his beer in one long swallow. Then he set the bottle aside, gaze sharp as a blade. “There’s no maybe about it.”

Joey swallowed, his eyes getting big. “W-what?”

“I am going to fuck you,” D said, voice low and deliberate. “And once I do, you’ll never want anyone else.”

Joey whimpered a little, his breath hitching.

D leaned across the truck’s bench seat and took Joey’s third beer right out of his hand—still half full—setting it aside with the others. Then he grabbed Joey by the waist and pulled him in.

Their mouths met hard—hungry, wet, full of heat and longing and leftover adrenaline. Joey gasped into the kiss, fingers scrambling for D’s shoulders, his chest, anything solid to hold onto. D cupped the back of his neck, kissed him deep, tasting beer and need and something warm and aching.

Joey kissed him back like he couldn’t help it, his lips pressing against D’s with all the desperate eagerness of a boy who’d been waiting forever.

D groaned, sliding his fingers through Joey’s soft hair, pulling him even closer, but Joey resisted a little, moaning into his mouth.

“D?”

D nipped Joey’s plump bottom lip, then pulled back to look at him. “What is it, baby?”

“I—I want…” Joey’s cheeks flushed an adorable pink, but he looked up determinedly. “I w-want to suck your c-cock again,” he said softly, his green eyes sparkling in the afternoon light. “I-I want to get r-really good, s-so I can make you h-happy.”

“Oh, Joey.” D reached up to stroke Joey’s warm cheek and the boy leaned into his touch with a sigh, eyes fluttering partway shut. “Everything you do makes me happy. But alright… I’m more than willing to let you practice.” He spread his legs a little, his dick already filling with blood. “Go ahead, baby. Take it out.”

Joey smiled a little, lips curling upward with the encouragement. He looked down at D’s groin and saw he was rock hard, the thick length straining noticeably against the fly of D’s jeans. He reached out timidly and started to work on the zipper and D helped him, leaning back and popping the button at the top. He raised his hips then, and shoved his pants down to mid-thigh, exposing himself to Joey’s wide, amazed eyes.

Joey swallowed as he gazed down at D’s cock, visibly pulsing with need. He was obviously nervous, but he kept his eyes locked on D’s twitching shaft as he curled up on the bench seat and tucked his legs underneath him. He lowered himself then, resting on his elbows so his face was level with D’s erection.

D dropped a gentle hand onto the back of Joey’s head, playing with his soft, unruly hair as the boy studied him with fascination for another couple seconds. Then, Joey licked his lips and stretched out a hand, wrapping his fingers around D and squeezing firm.

D hissed, pressing harder into the back of Joey’s skull as Joey began stroking him experimentally. His hand moved up and down D’s silky shaft, fingers playing along the veins bulging just underneath. He avoided the head, focusing just on the shaft, squeezing, rubbing, pulling the delicate flesh in a hypnotic rhythm that soon had D panting.

“Joey…” he murmured, voice rumbling deep in his chest and Joey looked up at him, smiling.

“I-I’m gonna s-suck it now.”

“Sounds good,” D groaned.

Still smiling, Joey got a good grip on the base then guided D’s cock closer to his face. His lips parted, slowly, too damned slowly, and D watched with baited breath as Joey dramatically took him into his mouth.

“Mmmm,” he hummed the second his lips closed around D’s cockhead and he started to suck, soft at first, then harder, his tongue pressing into the little notch of tight skin just under the head.

“Oh god…Joey,” D moaned, his fingers digging into the nape of the boy’s neck, encouraging him, urging him to take more, and Joey happily obliged, his lips sliding further down D’s thick shaft, tongue swirling around the head. “Fuck…that’s perfect, baby. Keep goin’.”

And Joey did. For several long minutes, he bobbed up and down, learning D’s cock with his lips and tongue. He was moaning, too, enjoying the taste, the feel, the rush of their illicit coupling. They both felt the danger of it, the risk of being caught, but neither of them cared. If anything, it only made the act more arousing.

D’s breath hitched as he watched Joey suck him over and over, his pink lips stretched wide around his shaft. A lock of Joey’s blond hair had fallen into his face as he pushed himself to take more of D’s cock and his half-lidded green eyes shimmered with love and determination. He was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, and D shakily stroked his face and lips as he felt himself racing toward an orgasm.

Joey had pulled back a little and was sucking enthusiastically on D’s cockhead again, making loud, wet sounds with his lips when D came hard, biting down on his cheek to keep from crying out.

And the best part? Joey didn’t shy away. He drank D’s come down in one big swallow then sat back on his knees with a big, beaming smile on his face.

D didn’t even pause to recover. His breathing still ragged, he shoved Joey back against the window and was on him in an instant. Kissing him, sucking his lips, tasting himself on Joey’s tongue.

Joey awkwardly pulled his legs up, opening his thighs so D could press closer and when he did, he immediately felt Joey’s erection straining against him.

“Oh…oooh,” Joey moaned into D’s mouth and D pushed a hand between them, fumbling with the fastenings on his jeans. The second he’d freed them, he shoved inside and caught Joey’s hot needy flesh in his hand. “Darius! Mmm, oh god, yesss…”

Smirking, D swallowed Joey’s noises with another hard, possessive kiss. He wanted to devour Joey, every part of him. He didn’t want to miss a single second of his perfection. Keeping Joey pinned to the window, he masturbated the boy expertly with his hand, greedily drinking him in while he did it, savoring his every sound; his gasps, his moans, delighting in his hesitant touches, enjoying his warm, musky scent; sweat and cigarettes mixed with something faint and sweet, like apples.

Joey bucked into his hand, desperately arching his back to get D to touch him more, harder, faster. He lasted a couple more minutes like that, moving frantically, his breath coming hot and quick against D’s wet lips. Then, suddenly, he gripped D’s bicep with a single, trembling hand and let out a little whimper as he finally succumbed to his pleasure.

“That’s good, baby. Come for me,” D whispered, pulling back to watch Joey shake through his orgasm. He’d managed to collect most of Joey’s come in his hand, and he removed it from the boy’s pants and casually licked himself clean.

Joey slumped back against the window with a dreamy, fucked-out smile on his face, his cheeks still flushed. D tucked himself away and wiped his hand off with one of the old towels they'd found earlier. Then he turned back to Joey and gently brushed a damp lock of blond hair out of his eyes.

“Jesus,” D murmured, still catching his breath. “You made that look like your favorite damn thing in the world.”

Joey grinned sheepishly, still a little dazed. “Wasn’t bad…”

He sat up straighter and began fumbling with his own jeans, trying to get them fastened again while discreetly fixing his hair with trembling hands. It was no use. His hair was a mess—rumpled, sweaty, clinging to his forehead in wild, chaotic clumps.

D chuckled. “What are you doing?”

“Tr-trying to m-make it look l-less like I just…” Joey trailed off, blushing to the tips of his ears.

D reached over and ruffled his hair even more. “No chance, Blondie. You look well-fucked.”

Joey groaned and buried his face in his hands. “S-shut up…”

“I’m serious though,” D added, dropping the teasing. “You did a really good job. That mouth of yours should be illegal.”

Joey peeked at him through his fingers, flushed and delighted. “Th-think I deserve a reward?”

D smirked. “Wasn’t the beer enough?”

“Nope.”

D raised an eyebrow. “What kind of reward are we talkin’?”

Joey straightened up with mock seriousness. “Gas s-station run. We’ve been out of c-cigarettes since yesterday and I need snacks for the b-bus trip.”

D gave him a dry look. “You planning to eat nothing but sugar and nicotine all the way to South Carolina?”

Joey gave him the puppy dog eyes. “Pleease…”

D sighed dramatically. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” He started the truck. “But make it quick. We don’t have a lot of cash left, and we’ll need a room when we get to Charleston.”

Joey bounced in his seat, instantly more animated. “I’ll be good.”

They pulled into a grimy little gas station about five minutes down the road, the kind of place with flickering lights and half the pumps wrapped in caution tape. Joey was out of the truck before it fully stopped, racing toward the automatic doors.

Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead and the aisles smelled like burnt coffee and cheap detergent. D trailed behind, already eyeing the security camera above the counter.

Joey wandered toward the candy aisle, filling his arms with snacks, then turned dramatically and looked at D with a devilish grin.

“Maybe I sh-should steal this,” he whispered.

D raised a brow. “Don’t.”

Joey held the candy bar higher. “I’m doing it.”

“You little—” D reached over and smacked him on the ass, hard.

Joey yelped and jumped a foot, dropping the candy bar with a squeak. The cashier, a bored-looking guy in a stained hoodie, looked up at the sound, eyebrows arching.

“…the fuck?”

“Sorry.” D gave the guy a tight nod and smiled, “He’s mine.”

“Clearly,” the guy said, deadpan.

Outside, Joey lit a cigarette while D carried the plastic bag of snacks and drinks. They leaned against the truck, shoulder to shoulder, and passed the pack back and forth.

Joey popped a gummy worm into his mouth between drags. “Mmm. These are s-so good together.”

D gave him a sideways look. “You’re disgusting.”

Joey held the bag up like an offering.

D snatched a gummy worm anyway and popped it into his mouth.

Joey grinned. “See? I’m an in-innovator.”

They smoked in silence a while longer, the sun starting its slow descent. Then D checked his watch, crushed the cigarette under his boot, and turned away from the truck.

“C’mon. Let’s ditch it.”

Joey sighed, took one last puff, then flicked his butt into the gutter. He shouldered the bag of snacks and followed D as they left the truck behind and walked off toward the depot, heading for the next chapter of their escape.

Forty minutes later, they stood outside the bus depot, the overhead security lights flickering to life as dusk rolled in, painting the parking lot in long purple shadows. The rumble of diesel engines echoed off the cracked pavement, and a handful of tired travelers shuffled toward the open doors of the silver-and-blue Greyhound idling at gate 3.

D stood near the rear of the line, one hand on Joey’s back as the boy yawned wide enough to crack his jaw. His eyelids drooped, and his steps were lazy, like he was already dreaming on his feet.

“C’mon,” D muttered softly, nudging him forward.

They climbed the steps together—no luggage, no carry-ons—just a plastic gas station bag crinkling in Joey’s hand. Inside, the bus was dim and humming, the overhead lights switched to a low yellow glow. A mix of travelers were already scattered throughout the seats—seniors with overnight pillows, students with earbuds in, a few folks in work gear dozing with their heads against the glass.

D scanned for open space and spotted two seats in the very back. He gently guided Joey there, letting him slide in first toward the window. Joey didn’t even protest. The moment he sat, he leaned into D, dropping his snack bag to the floor and resting his head on D’s shoulder with a breathy, “Mmm…”

D smiled faintly, adjusting his position to give Joey more room, wrapping an arm loosely around his waist. The boy was out cold in seconds.

As the last of the passengers boarded, a middle-aged Black woman in a pale blue church dress stepped onto the bus, maneuvering several large tote bags and a wide-brimmed sunhat tucked under one arm. Her perfume drifted in behind her—floral and powdery, like gardenia and talcum. D glanced up and blinked.

She looked like his mother. Not exactly, but enough that it hit him like a memory. The proud shoulders, the lined but kind face, the quiet dignity in the way she walked.

She caught his eye as she reached the back and gave a warm, knowing smile.

“Mind if I sit here, sugar?”

D nodded to the seat across the aisle. “Go ahead.”

She started arranging her bags in the space against the window, fussing a little with the way her hat rested. “Lawd, these old knees,” she muttered, easing down in the seat beside it with a satisfied sigh. “Goin’ to see my sister in Kingstree. She’s having surgery next week.”

“That so?” D nodded politely. “Hope she’s alright.”

“Mm-hm. She will be. We’re stubborn, us South Carolina women.” She smiled again and gestured at Joey. “That your boy?”

D looked down at the blond head dozing on his shoulder. “Yeah. He’s… tired. We’ve been hiking all day.”

She chuckled. “Looks like he went twelve rounds with a mountain lion. Poor baby’s wiped out.”

D smiled. “Me too, honestly. No offense, ma’am, but I’m hoping to grab a few hours myself.”

She waved her hand. “Oh, honey, don’t worry ‘bout me. I got a whole book to keep me company.” She pulled a battered paperback from her purse and settled in, quiet and content.

The engine revved beneath them, and the bus gave a gentle lurch as it pulled out of the lot and headed toward the open road. The last of the daylight filtered through the windows, casting pale shadows across Joey’s face.

D reached up, brushed a blond lock from his forehead, and leaned back in his seat. He let his eyes slip shut, the steady vibration of the bus and the soft sound of pages turning beside him lulling him fast. He tightened his arm around Joey, resting his head lightly atop the boy’s.

They had a six-hour drive ahead of them with an hour and a half changeover halfway through, and for now, for this stretch of road, they were safe. Hidden in the dark, wrapped up in each other, and bound for someplace new.

Sleep for D came easy, humming like the engine beneath their feet. They were on the move again. They were almost there. And for the first time in years, D dreamed about the beach.