sprung from cages on highway nine - killadelphias (2024)

Chapter 1: see i'm not the man that i thought i would be

Chapter Text

If you lived here, you’d be home now.

f*ck that.

Home. Hallmark card bullsh*t. Dustin’s biggest mistake was sticking around long after that word had worn out its welcome. The familiar existed less as a comfort and more as a lifeline that tethered and chained. His second mistake was fighting for as long as he had against the notion that he was anything other than a product of his environment. Home. Steady as the waves, reliable as the returning surf. Death, taxes, and the ocean tides. So it goes. Start walking in any direction, landlocked or a stone’s skip away, and your feet eventually soaked up the ocean. He was one of those melodramatic fools who bought into sentimental nonsense like that when stuck in his own head. Obviously, all roads lead to the ocean. Wasn’t that profound.

In the silence of his mind, no one called him out on all that sap, all that sticky melancholy. When he was left alone for so long, getting introspective to pass the boring days was about all he had for company. He hated his hometown. He adored the place. The warring contradiction that resided inside himself was enough to make him want to stand in his yard and scream and hope that nosy neighbors looked over to cast judgment.

Home again, home again.

In Dustin Snow’s case, home was a town both stuck in the past and rushing inevitably towards change - the plight of tourist towns up and down the coast. It was a place that held such bitterness and resentment in his life, but was still the best damn place in the whole-wide f*cked up world. Conflict fueled that longing ache that always drew sentimental types back to whatever home was or could be . Where else was he supposed to be, anyway? Months and months of being tired and bored with himself were ending. Salvation was returning. Excitement. A best friend. A guarantee. The end of fighting loneliness.

It had been a long, cold winter. He’d barely made it out alive. His best friend would laugh in his face if he heard about the dramatic fashion in which Dustin had whined and cried about the whole affair, having spent his own time apart in literal proximity to the Siberian tundra. It made winter in New Jersey small stakes in comparison.

Barring no storms over the Atlantic that would delay the flight, Alexei was returning that afternoon. Dustin was definitely not meticulously tracking the flight progress on his phone, not at all. Accidentally opening the airline app and glancing at the displayed data was a happenstance, a blip of a mistake. This was simply the byproduct of clumsy fingers slipping over the screen, among other excuses given by a coward. He refreshed the app one last time and grinned at the update. Alexei’s plane had landed. Dustin let out a long breath and placed the phone back down, though still within easy reach. Not long now. There were only several hours left to ease himself off the ledge and back into control. The illusion of calm.

His shaking leg would bring down the walls of his house if he wasn’t careful about regulating his anxious energy. He got up from the couch and dabbed more paint on his brush, humming along to the music that filled his lonely home. Perhaps his choice of a chaotic Stravinsky suite wasn’t the best one to help calm his mood. Itching skin and claustrophobia notwithstanding, Dustin parked himself at his canvas and powered through painting his latest commission. He had seriously considered volunteering to pick Alexei up from the airport so he didn’t miss a precious second, but he’d nixed the idea before ever suggesting it out loud. Parading around their rabid codependence with eager curb-side service the second the man stepped back onto American soil verged a little too on-the-cuff, even for them.

Winter had been a long and dull exercise in patience. He’d spent far too many gray Friday afternoons driving the two hour plus stretch down the Expressway and the Nine to plant himself in town over the weekends. Ivan, his summertime boss, paid decently - all in cash - for his help maintaining the piers against the winter elements, but the bleakness of a half-populated beach town was a hard sell otherwise. Few people who mattered to Dustin lived there in the off-season anymore. You didn’t get anywhere sticking around a dump like that. Plus, he had classes, despite how long he was dragging out earning his credits, delaying full-fledged adulthood with semi-self awareness.

He used to have Alexei. They’d weather-out the winter and create their own havoc and amusem*nt when the tourists left and a significant percentage of locals abandoned town for the mainland, or Philly, or Florida, or anywhere f*cking else. It hadn’t mattered when someone else was around to pass the long days and suffer through stagnant boredom. Flying solo? No thanks. Then they graduated high school. And the Motherland had her own demands.

Anyway, they were kids back then. His parents had still lived in state and Ivan had functioned as the uncle he literally was to Alexei rather than an employer constantly doing his nephew and his deadbeat friends a big favor.

Dab, dab, stroke. Painting grounded his focus. He was blessed with steady hands, useful for both making the paint go exactly where he wanted without much error and for reacting to rubber pucks slapped at his face, speed in the high nineties. He mouthed mindlessly along to the wordless music and leaned close to outline one of the taller buildings taking shape on the canvas. His painting style for the commission was dynamic and brash, but palatable enough for the type of yuppies who wandered into the little gallery space where he’d shown his work back in the city. Rich people bought the stupidest sh*t. It was a good painting, sure, but meaningless in the end.

A dull crash. The door slammed. Dustin spun around so fast that he almost knocked the damned canvas off the easel. Maybe an uncalculated and spontaneous splatter of paint on the canvas would lend some improvement. He’d gotten lost in the music and the colors and hadn’t looked at his phone all afternoon, missing the chain of texts from the man he’d been desperate to hear from.

“What is this painting? Look like big muddy mess.”

Despite the attempted insult, an easy smile was paired with rolled eyes. Alexei was right. The painting was pretty much sh*t. Marketable, expensive sh*t, but half-assed trash all the same.

“It’s supposed to be messy, dude. It’s an abstract skyline?”

Alexei moved closer to the canvas, eyes squinting as he studied. Dustin cleaned off the brush as his painting was scrutinized by his favorite, most honest critic. He glanced over at his highly anticipated arrival, raising eyebrows at the garish Nike Air sneakers that sported about seven different neon color blocks. Still a mild footwear choice for the guy. He’d posted about the sneaker acquisition earlier in the month, updating his adoring Instagram followers about the all-night bid war he’d gotten himself into before winning the damn things. Dustin smiled fondly as Alexei crowded behind him, careless about where he stepped. Dripped paint stained the soles of his luxury footwear where he stood on the tarp. Dustin didn’t tell him.

“Not looking like city I ever see.”

“Eh, it’s Philly. Far from finished. Just started defining the skyline.”

“Philly? Should use more orange.”

Dustin rolled his eyes, “There’s more than one Philly sport, bud.”

“Just saying. Make big improvement.”

“Yeah, well. The assholes who are buying it won’t care what f*cking colors I use. Abstract postmodern bullsh*t is trendy again, apparently.” Dustin started closing up his paints and gently shoved Alexei out of the way as he organized his chaos. “This sh*t is a little reductive, but what the f*ck ever. That gallery show landed me enough commission requests to pay off a few bills and keep me outta shifts at Acme til your dumb ass got back for pier start-up.”

“I leave you too long. Turn into yuppie asshole, too.”

“Yeah, alright. That’ll be the day.”

“Big yuppie. Look what you listen to! What is this?”

“Dude, this is Prokofiev, totally reimagined. Thought it would be a nice welcome home soundtrack. Russian composers to ease the bridge, with a twist.”

“Is little bit weird,” he said with a shrug and an uneasy smile, not wanting to completely shoot down Dustin’s well-meaning efforts but unable to mask the fact that he kind of totally hated the music.

“This girl from school mixed everything,” Dustin mumbled as he lit up a fresh cigarette. He took a long drag, eyes following as Alexei wandered the living room and reacquainted himself with the familiar hangout spot after so many months away. “I thought it was kinda dope. She was a f*ckin’ piece of work, but decent taste in music.”

“Who is this girl?” He asked with teasing interest as he tried not to trip over the piles of junk that filled the room. “You never mention girl.”

“Just a fling. Ditched her, kept the mixes.”

“Aw, so sweet,” he joked while Dustin swatted wandering hands as they reached for his phone. “Ok, ok. You change, you pick. But put on something actually fun, yeah? No offense.”

“Simpleton.”

Dustin switched to one of the playlists curated for his musically less-adventurous friend. Alexei beamed and expressed his gratitude for the change in the airwaves. Not that he despised any ounce of culture - but the man was in too hype of a mood to just sit and listen to strange, experimental low-fi and remixed classical tracks. Alexei swiped the cigarette from Dustin’s mouth and stole a drag. It was snatched back and he was shoved away again so paint clean-up could be finished. Dustin smiled around the dampness of the filter as he rebalanced it between his lips, the first real connection truly cementing his best friend’s return. He let the cigarette linger against his mouth even after inhaling, as if trying to steal every trace of him. Sharing had selfish, hidden benefits. He tried not to blush.

After the final brush was properly cleaned, Dustin stood up, bracing himself in the three seconds of calm before giant, gangly arms wrapped him up in a crushing embrace. Alexei smelled like day-old cologne and stale airplane, which Dustin noted as he let himself be manhandled and spun around to the babbling sounds of how much he had been missed. He was a grown man, being twirled around by his equally grown best friend. It was enough to almost make him swoon. Alexei gave the goddamn best hugs in the world and he was so f*cking greedy for one.

His feet touched solid land (too soon, in his opinion) but they remained standing close. Alexei, ever without boundaries, inspected Dustin’s hair, with fingers messing it up, smoothing it down, and then carding through again to leave it wildly out of place. Dustin let him explore without protest, completely bemused by the gesture but not questioning for fear of him stopping.

“You grow out? Good. Look much better than awful shave side style.”

“Uh, yeah. Trying to. Since you and everyone f*cking else chirped me about that disaster in November. Christ, one bad haircut and your rep is nonexistent.”

“Not chirp so much if you not Snap me so many picture,” he winked. “Why let Chip give you haircut? Made you look like little baby. Baby with beard.”

“Bro, I f*cking know that now. I was trying to save money and he f*cking told me he knew what he was doing! And look at you - that mop is practically a mullet.”

“You jealous of good flow.”

“Makes you look like total Eurotrash.”

“Jealous!”

Alexei shook his hair out and laughed, proud of the length he’d been working on during his time away, with no intention of cutting it any time soon. Dustin grabbed his faded Founders hat and covered his own hair to end the attention, brim to the back. The sight of the hat elicited a dramatic scoff and a swiping arm that Dustin expertly dodged.

“Ugh. You still insist on being traitor? Thinking living in city will influence you to right side. How you not getting murdered living there, wearing this?”

“Perseverance and a blank stare. Coming off that cup win helps,” Dustin added with a wink.

“Blehh. Who cares, cup win . Old news. Psssh. DC is bunch of assholes.”

“Damn straight. And why do you care - thought you were a Falcs fan now? Talk about a bandwagoner after the Spectrum sucked three seasons straight.”

“Eh, leave me alone. I keep options open. Anyway, why you still support team who trade away your boy right after they win? Big time bullsh*t, you cry and cry about.”

“I did not f*cking cry about that trade.”

He had.

“You totally cry about overrated hipster goalie. I was there on phone!”

“Whatever, man. Holden Bradley is a fantastic goalie and got a sh*t deal but I’m not about to abandon my team over one lousy trade.”

“If you are any smart you would…”

“Bandwagoner,” Dustin chimed again.

“Traitor.”

“Missed you, too, bud.”

Alexei stuck his tongue out, then walked away laughing. Clearly, Dustin was meant to read his mind and simply follow him out the front door without question. Also, clearly, Dustin knew what was expected, no hesitation.

“Hey, Snowy,” he said, voice soft as he turned back, halfway down the stairs. Dustin bumped into him when the big fool literally stopped in place. “I’m liking your painting, you know? Always. So talented. You need hear art critic to try be even better but… is nice.”

“Uh. Thanks.”

Alexei beamed at him, pleased with his own believed sense of wisdom, and jumped down the rest of the stairs, cursing as he stumbled and nearly face planted into the dry grass. What was Dustin supposed to do with that comment? Giddiness threatened the corner of his mouth, partially from watching Alexei continue to yell about his dramatic fall and, embarrassingly, from being the recipient of that earnest smile. He would surely melt under such direct light, such dazzling attention.

Once he righted himself from his tripping debacle, Alexei headed out into the street, walking straight down the middle. f*ck sidewalks. They owned their town. Without a solid direction in mind, they wandered down the block, zig-zagging up and down side streets, until they veered towards the general direction of the beach. Alexei claimed that he needed to keep moving to starve off jet lag as he chattered on and on about his time overseas. He regaled all the bullsh*t that his father had him doing the last few months and repeated the standard resentful comments and complaints that went along with mention of the man. Dustin mostly listened or added an agreeable expletive towards Mashkov Senior, forever a favored subject of mockery. The man really cramped their style. Stipulations of circ*mstance, so be it. Dustin had never actually met the guy in person and he hoped to avoid the experience as long as possible. He f*cking despised the massive prick.

“Glad you’re back, man. Away from all that sh*t.”

“Yes. Am very glad. But, you know. Can admit, nice to be around team. Good to see them play, travel. Some guys I make friends, have fun time when we play a little.”

“Ok, but at what cost? Most of the time your job sounds like sh*t.”

Alexei knocked into him playfully, “You only wanting me all to yourself.”

There were so many ways Dustin could respond to that statement, and almost all of them would ruin everything. He braced himself with one of his toothy smiles, innocuously ingenuine but serving as a deflection of inward panic at the prospect of being seen for what he was and who he was - a terrible friend. What Alexei had said was one hundred percent correct. Dustin changed the subject into an attempt at a long worn-out argument.

“Still can’t believe you left me here in this sh*tty town all winter. Again. ”

“You are barely even here!” Alexei complained, not taking the bait, and threw his arms around wildly in protest. “Big shot artist in Philly.”

“Dude, you severely overestimate my presence in the art world. It’s all college sh*t.”

“Which one had f*cking gallery opening? Huh? Not me! You are big shot.”

“Gallery opening? Tates, I told you. My class had an expo at a gallery. It’s not my gallery. One single show.”

“Oh, boo. Still living exciting big city life.”

“You were in and out of Moscow for seven f*ckin’ months? And you flew around Eastern Europe on daddy’s private jet? Your life is absolutely more exotic. I was in Wildcrest almost every goddamn weekend after the new year nailing down boards and adjusting f*cking wingnuts on the f*cking Ferris wheel. Your uncle ran me goddamn ragged.”

“Dima only lets me use jet few times,” Alexei waved his hand to dismiss Dustin’s entire tirade, overly blasé about his personal access to a private jet. “Mostly go on train. Was little sh*t towns, little sh*t rinks scoping talent. Not exotic. Even sleeping in barn for few days! Three days travel and we find no town motel. Player’s family makes us sleep in barn. Like baby Jesus.”

Dustin stared at him, the comment having stopped him in his tracks. “Dude. You’re telling me the full story as soon as we find somewhere to chill.”

Alexei grinned at the memory. He’d been specifically saving that tale for their in-person reunion. He knew what played well with his best friend and had mentally prepared a rousing retelling with signature embellishments.

“I tell you, barn actually better than some hotel I stay in. And ugh, so many train ride. So boring. Think I probably have more boring winter.”

“Yeah, well, you try taking the f*ckin’ turnpike back and forth as much as I did and not lose your damn mind. sh*t’s depressing.”

“Oh, you love this town.”

“Correction. You love this town. I’m here cause I got nothin’ better to do. Ever hear of a consolation prize?”

“Like... sh*tty stuffed duck at fishing game on South Pier?”

“Yeah, buddy. That’s you,” Dustin teased. Alexei laughed again, knowing his friend was entirely full of sh*t.

“Maybe I’m duck prize but then you win me and treasure forever, so sappy. What is word? For feel so pathetic over all that stuff in bedroom and junk all over house? Just throw away!”

“Sentimental,” he sighed.

“Yes! That is you.”

“Fine. What’s wrong with being a little sentimental?”

“A little? Snowy. Belonging on Hoarders.”

He wasn’t wrong.

His life in Wildcrest was full of discarded shards and piles of memories cast aside but never fully disposed of - his house being the biggest collector of dust. It was inherited from his grandfather and contained the detritus of three generations of Snow. Furniture left behind by his parents and grandfather filled the home, covered in his boredom-spawned painted doodles and sagging or chipping with age. A threadbare, plaid couch full of fondness and still wide enough for two grown men to share sat in the living room. Countless movie ticket stubs were tacked above his mirror. Each name badge he ever wore from Wawa and Acme and Mariner’s Pier were taped along the doorframe to the kitchen. Broken hockey sticks were piled under the window. Long empty hermit crab cages gathered next to the toilet for some inexplicable reason. Every unclaimed article of clothing Alexei had ever left behind resided in a messy pile in the corner of his room.

“I’m not that bad…” Dustin grumbled. “You’re f*cking worse. Your place is a dump.”

“That is from being lazy. You are living in mess because you are sentimental sap!”

They reached the end of the street as their conversation shifted into childish insults. Stairs leading to the boardwalk were nestled in a quiet loading area next to a hotel, and were taken two at a time in their competitive race to be the first to reach the top. Dustin lifted his chin and savored the bracing breeze that ruffled his cap. He placed a hand on top to keep it in place until the swell of air bypassed them. Walking the boards for the hell of it, without his grubby clothes and toolbox while he froze in the frigid wind coming off the mid-January ocean, was a welcome change. Only a stray jogger crossed their path. The boardwalk and beach would be thriving and lively in a few week’s time. Alexei pulled Dustin along faster, to hurry up and lean with him over the rails to look out at the ocean, beyond one of South Jersey’s infamously massive expanses of beach. His rush to look out was as if the sand and sea wouldn’t be there the next day. True enough, somewhat. Often in the summer haze, the water was barely visible through the shimmering heat rising above the sand.

Pinks and blues blurred and bled, casting rich color as the sun set slow and lazy behind their backs on the other side of the line-up of hotels currently sitting vacant along the boardwalk. Dustin felt perfectly calm and Alexei was home. Jet-lagged to hell and back, but he’d recover. They were young and stupid, with the promise of summer stretching out ahead.

“Not so bad.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re right,” Dustin sighed.

“Liking sound of that.”

“Shut up, man. But, yeah. I guess,” he started to admit, which prompted a wide smile from his best friend.

Alexei had Dustin completely wrapped around his finger, even if he happened to be full of sh*t. He could boast that sort of hold if he ever really investigated the way Dustin caved to his whims and worshiped the ground he walked on. If he ever took the initiative to notice, to catch him in the act, saw how Dustin looked at him when Alexei looked away.

“Town ain’t so bad. Unfortunately, I might be a little fond of this absolute sh*t show.”

Admitting it made Alexei smile even wider, smug and content with the truth. They stood there for a long while, happy to bask in their reunion with gulls screaming overhead and salt on the breeze. For a few days, maybe even a week or so, the two of them would have the run of the town. No where to report and nothing going on, obligations and work on pause until preparations for the summer season began. Dustin welcomed the chaos and crowds, life restored, relenting to the wiles of tourist season. It was bearable again. Maybe a little mayhem would shake the deep-set jaded film that coated his soul. Alexei was back . Maybe this year, this fall, he wouldn’t have to leave. Or, even if Alexei left, things would change and they’d get out together. Never look back. Maybe this time, this summer, Dustin would finally get to the place he longed to be and say the things that had been on the tip of his tongue for years.

Alexei wrapped an arm around Dustin’s shoulders and began the full recount of his time abroad. The stories that Dustin had already heard over the phone with eight time zones between them felt fresh and exciting with the accompanying rumble of Alexei’s voice against his back. Dustin leaned into the embrace, choking down every emotion itching under his skin.

Maybe, maybe. What if. Get it out while he was still young. Say what he wanted to say before it completely ate him from within, killing him slowly. The arm around Dustin’s shoulders burned.

His biggest mistake of all was falling in love, a long, long time ago.

“Hey, did I tell you I ended up passing that seminar after all?”

“Bro! So happy for you! See? No need for so much worry.”

Sorrento’s was one of the few places currently open on the boardwalk. They stayed open throughout the year - someone had to deliver pizza to the local population, the staple diet of many a Jerseyan resident in time of need, in time of hunger, and, hell, in time of sheer boredom. Order a damn pie and shut your mouth. Or talk and talk and talk. Alexei and Dustin had the place to themselves. The sole waitress working the shop left them alone. She knew them. Knew their antics. The boys were loud. Best to hang by the phone and turn a blind eye and hope they didn’t destroy anything this visit.

“When are you finish classes? Not still going, no?”

“Wrapped last week. Nine more f*ckin’ credits done. Totally free til the fall. Slow process, you know. Getting there.”

“Am glad. Know you could do it.” From across the booth, he clapped a hand on Dustin’s arm in a show of proud support. He shoved the remainder of his third slice into his mouth and proceeded to wax poetic about his bro’s accomplishments. “My baby bird! All grown up! So smart whenever he leaves the nest for big city!”

“Come on, don’t be gross. f*ckin’ chew with your mouth closed.” They swatted at each other like ten-year-olds for a moment until Dustin picked up the drink menu and slapped him away in an astounding display of maturity. “Anyway. You, uh, you still debating taking it up?”

Alexei frowned briefly, a dark flash before the easy smile slid back in place. “Eh, maybe. Feels little bit too late but, who knows? Maybe one day. But no way I’m take class in summer -”

“Oh, yeah, f*ck that.”

“And you know, go back home, never know how many months.” He sighed. “Just want stay here, but…”

It felt out of place after the joyous celebration, but a troubled expression shadowed Alexei’s face. Dustin hated these moments. Anything less than carefree joy lingering too long on Alexei felt sour and wrong. Early on in their friendship, Dustin had sworn that he’d do whatever he could to ensure the sight was a rarity. The guy acted like half a moron and was a walking disaster when unattended, but he was one of the good ones. The best one. And Dustin knew he didn’t deserve what his family put him through. He’d shown up in Dustin’s life as the sad, somewhat shy product of a broken home and that had caused more than a little protectiveness on Dustin’s part, with the added side effect of him gazing upwards at the pedestal upon which his friend resided in his mind’s eye. The more Alexei talked about his most recent visit home, the angrier Dustin felt. It wasn’t right. He listened to the latest woes and bit his tongue until he couldn’t.

“Man, f*ck Russia.”

“Hey! Stop insult my homeland,” Alexei weakly quipped while Dustin expressed clear disgust.

“f*ck your father’s sh*t, then. You like it better here and we both f*cking know it, dude. I don’t know. I keep wishing you’d grow a pair and stop going back. He’s such a manipulative dick.”

Alexei dropped the strained smile at the harsh words and picked at his latest slice, peeling off the congealed cheese with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. He slapped it back onto the bread and sighed - long, deep, and full of the words he couldn’t find. He hated this fight - their only argument full of substance and not their typical day-to-day bickering. It hit too close, too true.

“Not so easy. One day I will try. One day… be brave and tell Dima I stay here.” He pondered for a moment. “Maybe this year. Would be nice. Take break from all these months and months away.”

The sequence of the words this year burned Dustin’s ears. He knew not to place stock in that time frame but he couldn’t help it - he clung to the smallest shimmers of hope and followed them like a bright star on the darkest night. His life was full of maybe’s and he chose to ignore this very important usage. This would be his downfall.

“Just use good old uncle Ivan as leverage or some sh*t. He wants you to stay. Heard that from him all f*cking winter. Man bitches like it’s an Olympic f*cking sport.”

“Oh, I hear it from him, too. Ivan your new best friend.” Again, he stuck his tongue out as he teases, his signature childish quirk. “Dima haaaates Ivan. Not good argument.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Dustin flicked a spot of sauce at Alexei, which prompted a balled-up napkin to be thrown at his face. Retaliation came in the form of a smear of sauce down Alexei’s cheek after a dramatic lunge across the table. It was a flurry of limbs and grabbing hands and criminal misuse of pizza before the waitress returned with a scowl, popping her gum with all the stormy fury of a hurricane.

She slammed the check down on the table, breaking them apart.

“Holy God almighty, you two are how old? We done here, boys? We done actin’ like goddamn animals? It’s f*ckin’ May. Seriously? I gotta put up with your sh*t again all summer, and it’s only f*ckin’ May.”

“Sorry, Giana,” they deadpanned in unison, not sorry in the least. She rolled her eyes and strutted away.

“Clean that sh*t up!”

They fought down very unbecoming giggles as she cursed them under her breath in harsh sounding Italian on her warpath back to the front of the shop.

“Leave her a good tip,” Dustin said.

“You leave tip. You start!”

“Whose got daddy’s money to throw around, huh? I’m f*ckin’ poor. Take advantage of that sh*tty situation for something useful other than buying another hideous pair of shoes.”

“Maybe try sell more sh*tty paintings to rich assholes and you pick up check for once!”

“f*ck off, Tater,” Dustin laughed as he pulled himself out of the booth. There was pizza sauce in Alexei’s hair and Dustin was going to let him find it on his own.

He gathered up their trash and tossed it all onto the metal pizza tray. Figured that after their scolding they should head out on their own before Giana had the pleasure of kicking them out. Alexei stacked the few remaining slices and wrapped them in napkins, taking the rest of their meal to go. It was a greasy mess, but hell if they had the nerve to ask for a box after their welcome was worn. Alexei easily caved and threw a few generous bills on the table. Dustin was right in calling him out - he was definitely good for it so much more than Dustin could ever wish to be.

Day one of the dynamic-duo back in action and they were already tip-toeing the line of getting thrown out of their first boardwalk establishment of the season. Might be a new record.

Night had fallen by the time they’d departed the pizza place. There wasn’t much for entertainment by means of walking the empty boardwalk. The amusem*nt piers weren’t even lit up, save for the streetlamps along the pathways. It was so quiet. Dustin was content to simply walk and listen and to be the devotee giving undivided attention.

He was so f*cked. Dustin knew. This wasn’t a big revelation, nor was it recent. It was fine. He had the pleasure of rediscovering it every single time Alexei returned home, an addict re-thrust into an abundance of vice. Luckily, for his sake, Alexei never f*cking stopped talking. A convenient mask for the moments in which Dustin was rendered speechless, from some sort of awe at hitting the jackpot of ride-or-die friends and smacked by waves of attraction. Alexei talked and Dustin could openly stare, with little fanfare as to anything out of the ordinary at a surface glance.

Eventually they wandered off the boardwalk. Eerie silence blanketed the streets only a few blocks removed from the shore, the roar of the breaking waves too faint to make an impression in the residential blocks. A passing car or voices carried from inside homes along the street broke up the nothingness in the air. As did their loud conversation and laughter as they made their way back to Snowy’s place, muscle memory leading them down well-traveled paths.

“What now? So jet-lagged but not want sleep yet.”

“Have you even been home yet?” Dustin asked as he unlocked the front door and led them inside.

Alexei shrugged. “Olesa picked me up from plane and we drop off bags. Then come right over here.”

His lips curled in a smile, quietly touched that Alexei had barely touched down before running over to see him. How he had thought of him first, even before settling in at his cousin’s house. Dustin turned away and walked into the kitchen, giving himself a reprieve as he focused on abating the blush that spilled across his cheeks, his body’s tell-tale betrayal in showing how f*cking gone he was for his best friend.

Get a f*cking grip, man. He’s been home for like three hours. The whole summer, the whole f*cking summer…

“Onto the important sh*t. I have a gift for you,” Dustin chimed, changing the subject before his face got stuck on the smitten setting. “It’s a sharable gift, but you’re gonna f*cking thank me.”

He dug around his cabinets for the triple sealed, custom stash container stored inside another container, hidden behind boxes of bulk granola. He’d lived alone in the house for years, but precautionary habits die hard. The Tupperware conglomeration was slapped down on the kitchen island and a beaming smile broke out across Alexei’s face once he realized what was happening. Eyebrows excitedly pushed their limits as he pointed both index fingers down at the container, clownish grin shining strong as he bounced in place. It was Christmas in May.

“Where you get all this?!” He asked in awe, then popped off the final lid and took a whiff. His face contorted into an expression of pleasure that had Dustin shifting a little as he stifled a cough. The blush was back.

“Philly has the best weed, man. Told you I’d pull through. Been stockpiling for months.”

Alexei pumped his fist in celebration, absolutely giddy. Dustin hopped up on the counter while Alexei dug through the box, inspecting the plentiful stash. His kitchen was fairly small, and he had a better vantage point from up there. Didn’t feel as short next to his monster of a friend.

“Not have to buy sh*tty weed from Dougie at his stupid shirt store for a while! Yes!” He leaned over and slapped a palm hard on either side of Dustin’s face. “Such good news I could kiss you right now!”

“Then do it,” Dustin quipped before he could stop himself, instantly wanting to punch himself in the face. f*ck. He was going to throw up.

Alexei laughed loud and patted Dustin’s cheeks twice before letting go and returning to inspecting the treasure trove of illicit wonders. Dustin let out a slow breath and kind of wanted to punch Alexei in the face as well, for good measure.

“Where this all come from? Always such baby about buying, can’t imagine-”

“Chip’s a dick but he always keeps his promises, got us a sweet deal and did the legwork. All I did was pony up the cash.” At the revelation of truth, Alexei hummed in understanding. He wasn’t wrong. Snowy was helplessly awkward at buying, usually leaning on the Mashkov charm to secure smooth dealings. “I sold a pretty decent painting off to pay for this sh*t. Should last us pretty close through June if we pace.”

“I change my mind yet on your brother. Not so much jerk now!”

“Nah, he’s still a jerk. You wanna kick off and do the honors?”

“f*ck yes,” Alexei pulled out paper also stored in the container and got to work prepping a joint on the counter. Nimble fingers worked quick, practiced from their years of f*cking around and toking up in stolen moments. He happily knocked his side into Dustin’s swinging legs as he rolled, totally at home in the little kitchen. “Is weird I miss this? Putting together? Missing weed classic so much. Everyone using vape or stupid gummy bears.”

“Tell me about it, man. It’s an epidemic. Can’t stand all that f*ckin’ infused candy sh*t.”

“Everyone over there into other sh*t, you know,” he smirked and tapped his nose. “Is lot to keep up with. This is better.”

“Glad to be of service.”

Alexei put a hand on Dustin’s knee and nodded in solidarity. Dustin tried not to flinch. Or impulsively cover it with his own. Or grab it and drag it all the way up his thigh and risk ruining a friendship in three impulsive seconds of selfish curiosity. Why did his hand need to be so big, so perfectly warm with strong, solid fingers? Dustin loved Alexei’s hands, always had. He shifted and coughed again, letting out another shaky breath once the hand retreated.

Rolled and ready, sparks lit up the dim kitchen. After initial hits, they passed the joint back and forth as they left Dustin’s place again and headed over to Alexei’s to root through the mess he’d left behind and unpack what he’d brought back to the states. Easy and light, they drifted casually down the main street, down a few blocks here and up another, zig-zagging down preferred shortcuts. They reached the multi-story condo Alexei shared with relatives, not far from the amusem*nt piers, and let conversation flow as they attempted to make the place livable again.

Alexei eventually faced defeat by the after-effects of international travel and talking himself to exhaustion, with the contents of his suitcases and closet spread all around with little progress made towards organization. Dustin sprawled across the bed, too, once Alexei had fully nodded off. They’d shared it countless times over the years and it wouldn’t even be questioned if Alexei was the first to wake and found his best bro curled against his body. A true bro let his other bro crash in his bed if said bro was too tired and stoned to walk himself home at three in the morning.

His limbs were heavy. Eyelids, too. But Dustin fought off immediately falling asleep. He tossed his hat on the floor and nestled close to a steady heartbeat. Dustin didn’t want to succumb yet. He’d rested all fall and winter, a man in perpetual hibernation, coasting like a ghost until life incarnate spread back into every corner of the little island. He was greedy and hated himself for it, but Dustin felt lighter than he had in months. Felt like he was where he belonged, mind and body.

He fell asleep watching the rise and fall of Alexei’s chest, purposely breathing at the same pace.

Other than the occasional odd job Ivan tasked them with concerning pre-season opening the amusem*nt parks, the weeks leading up to the start of the summer season at the piers were free reign - free to explore, and free to reacquaint themselves with all Wildcrest had to offer. Not like they needed much. They knew practically every inch of the town. It was a brief respite between scheduled obligations and responsibility, existing in some dusty liminal space of aimless wandering. Empty streets, empty beaches. Businesses still unopened, grates pulled down over windows and doors. Why drink in empty bars when you could drink under the pier or in your damn house for a fraction of the cost? What else was there to do other than cruising in Alexei’s sports car while arguing over music choices and the NHL playoffs, and playing the same video games in the same ratty living rooms that they had for years? It was nothing worthwhile. It was squandered time. It was bliss.

School was still in session until mid-June, so using their old high school’s outdoor basketball courts for practice was off-limits in the middle of the day when they decided to put down the video game controllers. Every year, without fail, they attempted other means until summer vacation allowed for use of the basketball courts, but every year they got run-off and kicked out of every tennis court in town. Not that there were so many that it was an outstandingly impressive feat, but still. Why did it matter if they skated on the courts? Who was playing f*cking tennis?

“That a record?” Dustin called as he jogged away from the screaming park maintenance man, bare socks hitting the pavement. Skates were slung under one arm as he shoved his other equipment into his bag with frantic attempts to carry it all. He was still wearing his helmet and chest protector.

Alexei skated ahead, laughing with wild abandon in the middle of the road.

“You catch up with me or I’m have to carry you?” Alexei joked, looping back to circle around Dustin, who was barely running and out of breath. “Why you take off wheels?”

“Dude, I f*cking panicked!”

“Alright, I carry you.”

“Yeah, right. Carry me and all my f*cking equiptment and all the f*cking beer - woah, what the f*ck !?”

He was airborne, lifted off the ground as Alexei insisted he was f*cking Superman, with no limits to human mechanics or strength. Or the laws of physics. Surprising them both, he managed to roll them almost half a block before his arms gave out and he dropped Dustin and his precarious bag of gear onto someone’s yard. The giant oaf came tumbling down with his wheels still spinning in place as he smothered a screaming Dustin Snow beneath his tangled mass of limbs. An elbow was digging into Dustin’s throat. He pried the arm away and fought his way out from under Alexei, cursing at the end of a hockey stick jabbing into his side as he rolled out.

“What the f*ck, man? You’re f*ckin’ heavy as sh*t. Trying to kill me.”

“Leave me die here,” Alexei groaned into the plant nearest to his face.

“Excuse me? I’m the one whose life just flashed before his eyes. Gotta tell you - looked pretty sh*tty so far.”

“You think beer is ok?”

“f*ck. I f*cking hope so, asshole,” he answered with genuine concern.

A screen door slammed in the vicinity over their heads and an older woman in a nauseating yellow housecoat began to scream at them from her porch.

“What’s going on out here?! Get off my lawn! You’re in my begonias!”

Dustin grabbed Tater by the arms and hauled him out of the flowerbeds, tripping over themselves as they fled. Shrieking curses flew from the rickety old porch as Dustin booked it, recently offending goalie stick dragging along as he ran while Alexei attempted to sprint in roller blades.

“Holy sh*t, holy sh*t.”

Breathless, they reached the main drag of Atlantic Avenue. They took one look at each other and burst into hysterical laughter over the absurd stupidity of it all. They were grown adults. In some legal sense.

Improvisation. The parking garage under the Atlantic Towers condos worked just as well for some crude street hockey. It was the next best open area to play on flat, smooth concrete. Sure, the support beams for the building got in the way, but it was just the two of them hanging out and practicing for the hell of it. The case for relenting and finding an empty parking lot could be made as an obvious solution, but why not try for smooth concrete if they could swing it? Dustin re-donned his gear and set up the flimsy, collapsible net against the wall. Alexei skated around, gliding with true natural grace, spinning through the beams and showing off fancy stick work. He was a sight to behold. Dustin couldn’t deny being transfixed by the display - Alexei in this element, with focused skill and easy fluidity in his movements. Put wheels or blades on the guy, give him a hockey stick, and the man who was usually so gangly and stumbled on solid land became captivating and graceful.

Having any legitimate excuse to stare was refreshing. Focus was required when objects were being slapped at high velocity towards his face. He’d better f*cking look. Alexei pulled back and slammed as hard a shot as a street-play stick and a hard plastic puck would allow. The shot was blocked. Alexei was fast, but Dustin was often faster. He smirked underneath his cheap mask as the appreciative whoop echoed around the garage. It wasn’t much of a game when one dude skated around a condo complex parking garage, lacking that sweet scrape of blade on ice and the heavy weight of rubber in his glove, but a wide smile and a head tap as Alexei took back the puck still provided enough of a reward.

“Nice save, Snowy,” Alexei called over his shoulder as he skated back across the lot. “Still fast like big cat.”

“Nice shot.” He reset, crouched low in the net. Alexei shot again, managing to finally snipe one past. “Hey, when does that AC beer league start up? Last year was chill.”

“Not for whole month almost. But I check with Pavvy, tell him add us to roster. Def happen again.”

“Think Ivan will give us the time off to make the trek? Might be on Fridays, again.”

“Oh, Ivan will have to deal. Not missing it!” Alexei skated off in a tight one-footed spin, arms wide, reminiscent of a figure skating flourish.

Mentioning the Atlantic City league provided a considerable mood shift. Alexei expressed his excitement at the prospect of a real game, or, as real of a game as one could find in the area. Especially considering their short-lived time in the parking garage. Yet again, their impromptu practice and general f*cking around was cut short by a passing Towers worker none too thrilled to discover two guys well out of their teens skating around the garage. They vacated before anyone official could arrive to make a scene. Disinterested in scouring town for a third place to set up shop, they ditched the idea and headed towards the beach.

“Man, I really don't want to carry this sh*t all the way down to the water. Let’s drink under the boardwalk. We’re right here.”

The bag of equipment was yanked out of his hands and replaced with Alexei’s stick and skates.

“Hush. Stop complaining. I carry bags. You carry stick.”

“Dude, I was kidding. I can manage. You don't have to-”

“No, I don't. But I am.” Alexei adjusted his hoard of luggage and strode forward with stubborn pride. “You do need stop whine, whine, whine...”

“I say one thing and you make me feel like a total tool. I can carry my f*cking bag.”

With a scoff, Alexei bit back at him in unfriendly Russian and the argument ended. Dustin resigned to the kindness and braced himself for the first long haul of the season down to the ocean's edge. In this bizarre section of Jersey shoreline, the beach stretched out massive from boardwalk to water. Something about currents and whatever the opposite of sand erosion was - even the beach sucked in their beach town. Can’t have sh*t in South Jersey. It was a terrible walk in the heat of summer. Wasn’t fantastic dragging a case of beer and a bag of equipment down through the dirty gray sand and cool misty haze of late spring, either. It was entirely unnecessary, but Alexei was like a dog with a bone. If he wanted to go to the beach, he was going to the beach. Weather be damned.

Alexei pulled his shirt off immediately upon reaching the shoreline and Dustin instantly lost his train of thought at the sight of the strong back muscles shaking off a shudder as the sea wind whipped. Stubborn fool. Dustin dropped everything he was carrying as he watched the discarding of pants as well, tossed haphazardly onto the sand. Pulling off of socks wasn’t as exciting and Dustin used the precious few seconds undistracted to try and gather his wits and reboot his brain.

“Uhhh, Tater? You planning on swimming, or-”

“Yes. Why walk all the way to ocean and not go in water? Is not cold.”

“It can’t be over fifty-some here, man. Gonna be f*cking frigid as f*ck.”

“Weather app tells me high sixty-two today!”

“Ok, cool. But does it f*cking feel like it?! Tater. Tater!”

Pleading went unheard as Alexei waded into the shallow waves, firmly trying not to show any reaction as the sure to be freeing water splashed around his ankles.

His arms immediately drew in tight against his sides, body seizing up as he stood in the cold ocean looking ridiculous as hell in his tiny little boxer shorts and nothing else. Dustin’s eyes darted in rapid movement, honed from tracking pucks on the ice, caught between cataloging all that skin and finding the strength to look instead towards the pale gray clouds overhead. Dustin hummed to himself, relenting to enjoy both the beauty of sea and man since Alexei was paying him no mind at all. Residing in a beach town meant many afternoons strolling the beaches or walking around town under blazing sun, shirts ditched to even out their tans, but context was everything. Standing mostly naked on a windy beach, shivering alone in the surf - it looked entirely out of place and bordered on obscene. Dustin’s temple twitched as Alexei jumped around in an attempt to reignite circulation to frozen ankles. This action only further prompted Dustin to stare at his ass. There was plenty to stare at. Oh, it was so unfair.

Alexei shivered again, almost violently. Dustin didn’t sympathize, but the sight of his suffering at least halted his leering.

“f*cking cold, yeah? What’d I say? The f*ck are you trying to accomplish?”

“Is fine! Like bathwater. Is tropical, comparing to Russian winter,” he insisted through chattering teeth.

“Everything is f*cking tropical compared to Russian winter. Know what you do during the Russian winter? f*cking complain to me about the goddamn Russian winter!”

“Yeah, yeah. Stop being chicken sh*t and join!” He waded out knee length to prove a point, determined not to cave despite how obvious he was feeling the chill. Pride was an incredible thing. “Feels soooo refreshing!”

Dustin rolled his sweats up to his knees. He possessed not even the faintest glint of interest in walking out more than a few inches deep. Creative strings of expletives shot from his mouth the moment the cold water swirled around his feet. His outburst included some of the few Russian swear words he knew to add to the spirit of the frigid theme - much to Alexei’s pure delight.

“f*ck, it’s cold. Happy? Are you done being…” He trailed off, watching a disaster unfold. “Well, sh*t. There ya go, ya absolute f*cking dip.”

No sooner had Alexei waded out mid-thigh, turned and gloated at Dustin, did an unexpected wave sneak up when he had his back turned to the ocean. He should have known to never do such a thing.

The freezing wave slapped hard against his bare back. It caught him off-guard with enough force that he stumbled over, footing lost as he tripped, fully submerged into the frigid water. Dustin watched unimpressed from the tide line as the wave that knocked Alexei down washed thin over his own cold feet, far from the flailing scene before him. Alexei pulled himself up and sprinted past Dustin for dry land and his clothing. In his rush to seek warmth, Dustin bit his lip to stifle the whistle that threatened his lips as he snuck a glance at the way wet briefs clung and hid absolutely nothing. He shook his head and let the mixture of self-hatred and smug satisfaction battle it out for dominance. Didn’t matter who won. He was a f*cking loser either way.

Garments were gathered in a struggle of frantic desperation to drape and tangle around himself, doing little to alleviate the unpleasant temperature. Alexei shook his hair and grimaced in resemblance to a very large and put-out cat who’d fallen into a fish tank. To really sell his misery, he broke out The Pout. He knew the power that was held in sporting one protruding, lush lip. Paired with pleading eyes, The Pout dealt a knock-out combo that made the most stoic of adversaries cave. The mocking bark of laughter at his entire self meant nothing. Wait for it.

“Not too cold, he insisted! And with such confidence!” Dustin chided, gesturing with a regal flourish towards the king of the fools.

“Shut up! You try it! At least I am man enough.”

“No thanks, bud. Pride is a useless concept to me. Keep it. Though, yours has washed a mile out to sea by now, from the looks of that fall.”

“Thinking it would be fun, first day back at beach. Why you so mean to me?!”

He pursed his lips into place and declined his head, fixated on Dustin like a sniper’s red dot precision.

And there it was. The relenting cave.

Big, brown hound-dog eyes pleaded for pity and cut through any judgment and lack of pity. Easy. Like the weakling he was, Dustin unzipped his hoodie and handed it over with feigned reluctance. The garment was grabbed with gratitude and Alexei quickly wrapped it around his shaking shoulders. He tugged on the soft fabric to enclose his wet skin and starve off the wind, trying to cover as much chest as possible. Alexei’s toothy, thankful grin made Dustin want to scream. Major oversight. It was the cutest sh*t he’d ever seen, this moron of a man freezing on the beach in soaked boxer briefs with his wrists sticking out of too-short sleeves from a tiny borrowed hoodie. His borrowed hoodie.

“So funny you still buy your clothes at Children’s Place.” The chirp was weak to begin with, and even weaker when delivered through chattering teeth.

Dustin glared hard at him, not bothering to dignify the comment with a response. The hoodie wasn’t that small. Alexei was just too damn big. The wind picked up, sending a fresh wave of cold air whipping against them both. For all of his chastising about Dustin’s earlier whining, the cold and the wind forced sounds so pathetic from Alexei that Dustin had to intervene.

“Oh, come here. Worse than a f*cking child…”

He opened his arms for Alexei to sheepishly shuffle into, pressing his damp body all along Dustin like a spoiled pet seeking attention.

“Small but warm,” Alexei hummed in contentment, crushing Dustin closer like he was trying to absorb all available body heat and leave none to share. It was kind of working.

“Why do you constantly call me small?” Dustin asked, muffled against his collar. “I’m not that small. You’re just freakishly massive.”

“No, I am normal. You small and mean like yappy dog.”

“I”ll push you back in the f*cking ocean.”

“Ok, ok. Sssh.”

With his head tucked perfectly against Alexei’s neck, he allowed himself a selfish moment of indulgence, barely a care that sea water was dripping from Alexei’s wet hair onto his face. He rubbed his hands down the broad expanse of his best friend’s back, savoring the fleeting moment among the grander scheme of things not allowed. He was a pathetic loser in every aspect of the word, but a loser holding the man he loved on an isolated beach - just the two of them and the ocean and the way Alexei hummed in contented pleasure as Dustin attempted to force warmth back into his skin. It was enough to tide Dustin over for many reminiscent days ahead.

“Hmmm, my small Snowy. Little Snowflake.”

“Stop.”

“Snow Angel.”

“Shut the f*ck up, Tater Tot .”

“Jokes on you, I like that one. All nicknames you give me are good.”

He squeezed Dustin tighter, using him like a human towel as the clinging ocean dampness transferred between the two.

“Ughhhh, getting me soaked, you idiot… enough. We’re done. Get off. You’ll live. Give me back my hot body.”

Alexei reluctantly pulled away and sat down in a heap onto the beach, cringing at the way the dirty gray sand clung to his wet legs. Dustin joined and passed him a beer from the case that had somehow survived crashing into flower beds and their treacherous and pointless journey down to the shoreline.

They sipped and focused on getting warm and toasted to the upcoming summer, the cold-as-f*ck-ocean, and all that lingered on the horizon. The overcast clouds threatened rain. Didn’t matter to Alexei. He was already drenched. If the inevitable happened, Dustin would shut up and deal. Rain or shine. There he sat, dutiful and long-suffering and f*cking smitten with an absolute buffoon.

All leisurely dreams end when you’re woken up to the reality of day-to-day life. They couldn’t be wanderers on a warpath of destruction and free time forever. The town’s desolation dissipated as residents filtered back to fill empty homes and empty streets. Those who sought work elsewhere while the shops and restaurants and attractions closed for the cold season returned, ready for the long stretch of months ahead, the dichotomy of the hectic busy season brought on by those highly-sought lazy vacation days of tourist invasion.

Most importantly, the piers were waking up.

No one vacationed in Wildcrest over the winter, of course. A needed reprieve from thousands of feet stomping down the wooden boardwalk, night after night of monotonous summer stampede. Rides required maintenance, rotting boards were ripped up for new ones to be nailed down once they reached their storied end, and Ivan’s never-ending list of demands needed to be met. During the winter months, Alexei was obviously out of the picture and avoided the bulk of the maintenance period in the chilling weather for his litany of job duties overseas. Dustin wondered if that was half the reason the guy agreed to suffer his father’s wrath and fury back home - threat of manual labor.

Ivan couldn’t count on his multitude of primadonna daughters to lift a manicured finger and assist at the piers. Luckily, he had a ready squad of desperate low-lifes and hangabouts in town all fighting to suck-up and put in construction time over the fall and winter in the far-off hope that he’d promote them to something better for the summer season. Including Dustin. Reliable. Always there, through all seasons, representing a surrogate set of hands in Alexei’s absence while additionally holding one of the coveted supervisory positions at the theme park. He was like a barnacle clinging to the pier support beams. Ivan paid him back in more than paycheck. For many years, he’d acted as a pseudo-replacement for his father who’d fled to Florida with more lucrative job opportunities and was one of the few friendly faces Dustin respected around Wildcrest, despite the air of sleaze that permeated Ivan’s methods of running his various businesses.

May bled away, receding out with the low tide and replaced with car loads of mainland escapees washing up in every corner once Memorial Day kicked off the unofficial start of summer. Dustin and Alexei had to prepare for the influx of people they were partially responsible for: the tourists they were going to deal with nightly and the mass of workers employed by Mariner’s Piers. It was a crude United Nations gathering from June through September. Mixed in among the town’s supply of high schoolers were the temporary transplants from afar. They arrived from all over, though Ivan had a personal bias for any Eastern European compatriots. Theme parks and vacation destinations and student work visa programs went hand-in-hand. Gotta love that appealing American dollar and the young folks desperate for menial labor to earn it.

There was something interesting and unique about walking the boardwalk and hearing the distinctive mix of local accents overlapping with a dozen or so other languages tossed around as you passed the game counters and store fronts. It was especially fun for Alexei, being able to yell back at his underlings, loud and crude while oblivious tourists wandered past with only a hint of annoyance as language barriers kept the vulgarities hidden. It was an entertaining perk. Entertaining to Alexei and Dustin, at least. Maybe not so much to Ivan, seen fuming after his nephew when he caught him goofing around, adding his own outbursts and outrage to the mix.

Their coworkers being from another country was also handy for a summer fling, knowing that if it didn’t fizzle out on its own, they had to fly back home at the end of the season. Dustin and Alexei exploited that little cheat code with considerable frequency, as did many. Welcome to Mariner’s Piers.

For starters: to hit on your fellow coworkers and feel at least somewhat confident doing so in your horrendous uniforms, you had to try to make them look as tolerable and decent as possible. Hard sell, but Dustin and Alexei gave it their best efforts.

“Ughhhh. Need all new pants!” Alexei bellowed into the fluorescent lighting above the aisle. He flipped through the racks of khaki shorts at the local consignment shop with disgust, pouting at the sea of beige.

“What’d you do to your old ones? There’s no way you could have grown more. Seriously, man. Too f*cking tall already.”

Alexei laughed, swiping over the rack at Dustin’s head, just to rub it in that he had the reach. Dustin ducked, throwing the pair he’d been inspecting over the aisle in the hope of smacking Alexei in the face. Snap reactions unleashed a flurry of fabric and gangly arms trying to grab through the clothing, which only created a huge mess. A pointed cough and a stern look from one of the staff worked as an effective cease and desist. Couldn’t take those two anywhere. A change in height or muscle mass did not automatically correlate with growing up . Case and point.

“Sucks for you, man. Look at all that sh*t you gotta pick up now,” Dustin said, gesturing to the pile on the other side of the rack. To his benefit, most of the items had ended up on Alexei’s side during their scuffle.

“Asshole. You start.”

“Tough break. Hey, throw me back those darker pants on the top. Was kinda diggin’ them.”

“Blehh,” he tossed the tan jeans over the aisle. “Hipster look. Typical. Not for me.”

“Skinny pants don’t make someone a hipster. And no one even says f*cking hipster anymore, it’s not goddamn 2012. But whatever, these look so much better than those f*cking ugly dad shorts you always buy. Can’t you afford designer sh*t at the damn outlets or something? Fancy dad pants?”

Alexei was wearing an authentic Gucci t-shirt while he browsed thrift store racks, for f*ck’s sake.

“Shut up. Work pants sooo boring, why waste money on boring stuff you are forced to buying? Get deals for boring clothing. Save big money for fun things.”

Dustin tossed over a pair that looked half-decent. “ Here. These look long enough to accommodate human sasquatch limbs.”

The pair of pants were still the same basic beige, but the uniform pretty much limited interesting options. Dustin figured the weird leg pockets on the pants held a resemblance to the cargo look that charmed Alexei so much.

“These almost good. But my thighs way too thick for skinny jeans,” he declared with sadness in his voice after inspecting the pair that had been thrown at him to check out.

Dustin snickered at how utterly dejected the guy sounded.

“Your thighs are too thick ? Telling you, man. The problems you encounter are f*ckin’ abnormal.”

“ Yesss . Is weird, I know. All my long work pants… trash. Too tight.” He flicked dramatically through another few pairs of pants on the rack that didn’t pass his inspection, wire hangers clinking mockingly. “Oh, totally, I tell you. You would not believe! My thighs and ass are like, sooo massive right now,” he said in some attempt at a voice, but Dustin couldn’t place it. Swedish? Valley Girl? Offensively flamboyant?

“What,” Dustin deadpanned, “are you trying to say?”

“I show you! Come here! Look! Feel them, Snowy. Is like trees. Not twig stick like you anymore.”

“Was more referring to that awful impression you were trying out but uh, no thanks, man. I’m good.”

“Bet you I can crush melon with these thighs. Too much power for one man.”

Oh my god, Tater. Stop talking about your thighs. Your thick, massive, toned - STOP.

“Why would you even want to do that?” Dustin asked slowly.

“Impress people. Maybe we sell tickets. My thighs are super deadly weapons.”

Dustin breathed deep, in and out. Focused on anything but the pose Alexei was striking in the middle of the damn aisle. It was so f*cking stupid but then again, Dustin knew by now what did and did not do it for him. Unfortunately, this was on the do list. He wished he was on the do list. And hated himself for being jealous of a hypothetical melon.

“...hard work all the time, you know? Hang out with guys over there and all they do is ‘let’s go to gym! Hey, new idea! Hit the gym?’ And skate. Work out. Repeat. Is hard keep up with team guys and now…” He droned on and on and complained about his hot body and Dustin held back all the snide comments he absolutely was going to roast him with later once all the blood returned to his head. Let the poor dude find his pants, then give him sh*t for complaining about getting f*cking ripped.

Alexei finally found some pants that met his high standards. He held up a few pairs of the typical bland cargo shorts he always wore to work, indistinguishable from every other pair he owned. They were baggy and Dustin immediately hated them, knowing they would accentuate none of Alexei’s best qualities. They were so damn dorky. Tater shrugged and threw them over his arm despite the judgment he received. He liked them. Got the job done.

“Why even ask my opinion if you’re just gonna buy the same lame sh*t as always?”

“I know if you hate, must be good taste for me. Can’t all be hipster skinny jeans. Cut off blood flow to legs, have to amputate. I refuse being shorter than you!”

All Dustin gave in response was an exaggerated eye roll as he found another decent pair he could cut down into shorts. He had a specific look he liked, so what? They were forced into the god awful, tacky as hell uniform polos at work. By the time you added the name badge, the lanyard, the giant radio that belonged in a different century, and the keys, he looked absolutely ridiculous. They all did. Theme parks were sad*stic.

“You… you really think I maybe look good in pants like you?” Alexei asked in a soft voice, but scared the hell out of Dustin as he suddenly appeared on his side of the racks where the long pants hung.

“Jesus f*ck, man. Where the f*ck did you come from?” He slammed his hands down on the rack to steady himself, glaring up at an unbothered Alexei standing way too close. He did not understand how the guy flipped so easily from a bull in a china shop to cat-like stealth in the blink of an eye.

“Sorry. What you think? Maybe not needing all these baggy ones, same as always. What is point of working out if I hide in lame ugly dad pants,” he added in a fairly good imitation of Dustin.

An image of Alexei walking around in tight skinny jeans all summer long flashed in his mind. True, he’d already seen the guy fall into the ocean wearing barely anything, and Alexei often managed to lose his clothes over the course of their plentiful party shenanigans, but this was a bonus level. Form fitting jeans, showing off those skating-toned thighs? Enticing.

Be encouraging, guided the one-track part of his mind. Yes. Tell him yes. Tell him to ditch the f*cking cargo monstrosities and force himself into tight as f*ck pants so you have something to look at every night. Always had such a nice ass, what are we working with again now? Turn around, Tater. Refresh my mind. Holy f*ck, you f*cking perv. Get a f*cking grip, Snow. Goddamn it.

“Snowy? What you think?”

“I think you should wear what makes you comfortable, dude.” Quick save. He’d been staring like a freak at the rack as his brain went haywire over yet another bout of sexual frustration. “Get the cargos if you want.”

He was stronger than this, dammit. For so many years, he’d managed to control his wandering mind throughout their entire damn friendship. His attraction had never been this much of a problem, only a tiny nuisance lingering in the dark corners of his mind, but wholly manageable. A fun thing to think about at night when it was just him and his hand and a slightly guilty conscience. Don’t give it all away, now. Especially when the guy was obviously feeling self conscious about himself. f*cking inappropriate.

“Maybe I try one?”

“Yeah. Try one,” Dustin said and exhaled slowly through his nose, perfectly in control.

“Ok. Help me find decent one and you give me opinion. Where is that pair with cool pockets? I’ll try on. ”

He felt faint. Dustin was going to pass out.

Had it always been this bad? The torch he’d carried for years and years simmered and burned like the smoldering embers on a beach bonfire. Dustin had always, always been so careful not to stoke the glowing core too often, never letting himself fully embrace the warmth. Something had changed, some tectonic shield had shifted in his resolve and damaged his self-control that guarded the place where his true feelings were kept in lock-down. He felt the licks of the newly ignited flames against his face, scorching him from his usually safe distance. Too close to danger, now. He was a weak man. And desire consumed.

Why even entertain the fantasy of having him and telling him and ruining it all? His best friend was home again, a constant in his life. This was enough. It had to be enough. His best friend.

Why wasn’t that enough?

Chapter 2: it's a beautiful day to be an asshole

Chapter Text

“SHOTS!”

With linked arms, Dustin and Alexei tossed back their glasses of cheap, burning liquor along with the crowd. The blaring music was mindless, as was the entire vibe permeating the party which was being held to celebrate the summer season’s soon return. Cheap week reeked in the air and mingled with the sour stickiness of spilled beer. Eyes shone bright as the group’s little glasses slammed out of sync on the table. One glass broke and elicited a booming laugh as the wet shards skidded around their hands, left carelessly in the puddle of rum. Alexei whooped loudly and ignored the mess. He jostled the nearest person and shook him with raucous laughter, well on his way to inebriation and just as excited as the first time he’d attended a real rager.

Alexei's house shone with strung up Christmas lights placed haphazardly in crisscrossing lines across the ceiling. The walls were plastered with the same movie posters and decorations that had been there for years. Most have seen better days, faded from age or with rips retaped over a dozen times from damage done by some party-goer who’d run into the wall and pulled the flimsy poster from its thumbtack. The furniture may have been worn but the sound system was state-of-the-art. The house was messy and familiar. It resembled what four people who'd never been to college assumed the inside of a frat house looked like based on imagination and rumor and Hollywood's take on the derelict side of the collegiate aesthetic. Dustin had always assumed that was kind of the point of the condo. Adulthood in limbo. To be trashy on purpose was an art form.

All the usual local suspects filtered in and out of the party to announce their return to the island, back in town for another summer working and partying along the Jersey coast. Some had never really left, only now ditching self-imposed hibernation to down drinks with the same people they’d been getting sh*tfaced with for well over a decade. Who the f*ck needed to ever attend a formal high school reunion when you never stopped wasting your life away with the same people year after year?

“Oh f*ck, Real Greg’s about to make a total ass of himself,” Dustin said, pointing at one of their more irritating coworkers - and also a fellow member of their graduating class. Greg slid up to Alexei’s cousin Olesa with an armful of beers and a hopeful leer. “You’d think he’d get the f*cking hint after the fifth time she dumped him.”

Alexei watched Olesa eye Greg suspiciously before accepting a beer, neon acrylic claws curling around the can. She sneered down, towering over the guy, before snatching the hideous yellow bucket hat he constantly wore off of his head to place on her own - a crown donned by the king of the idiots, commandeered by idiocricy’s queen mother. She looked amused. He looked smitten. Alexei and Dustin were repulsed.

The disturbing mating dance between two hopeless people who pretended that they couldn’t stand each other began anew. Fake blonde extensions were flipped over Olesa’s broad shoulders as she chugged the can of beer that had been proffered as a peace offering. It was nature at its worst, humanity at the most predictable. Dustin and Alexei both paused their by-stander commentary to their group as Olesa finally smiled at the damn fool beaming up at her, tapping him on the nose with a long, fuschia-colored nail and the look of someone truly in love.

“Gross. Maybe deserving one another.”

Dustin snorted and added, “For sure, man. Who else would ever want either of them?”

Alexei winced as he watched his cousin move in for the kill, like a lioness seducing a meerkat, as Olesa leaned down and sloppily smashed their faces together. A collective groan was let out by the group and everyone dispersed to drown their soiled mood with more booze now that they were no longer transfixed by a real life mimicry of every relationship that had ever resonated with die-hard viewers of reality television.

Olesa and Greg continued to passionately go at it and Alexei covered Dustin’s eyes with his hands.

“Do not look. I protect from horrible things.”

“Seeing them suck face is a human rights violation in most developed countries. Spare me the torture!” Dustin laughed, covering Alexei’s hands with his own through exasperated laughter. He let it go on for a moment before he removed the hands blocking the grotesque display, only to be wrapped up in protective arms that cradled him close.

“Ugh, why are they like this? How you kiss girl like that? Is not right.”

“I don’t know man, kinda looks like she’s the one disrespecting him,” he joked, muffled into Alexei’s neck. Dustin’s head spun as he inhaled a lungful of Alexei’s cologne and he hated himself for the way the bottom of his stomach dropped out at the thought that the scent would linger on his own neck due to their proximity. Disgusting. f*cking pathetic. He was released a few moments later and kept his gaze pointed away from danger. “Thanks for the save, man. All outta bleach at the moment.”

“Who cares if people do whatever at party, but this? Cruel. Nasty!”

In the privacy of his traitorous mind, an image flashed that Dustin immediately tried to repress, at least until he was alone and able to process it. His own face was starting to piss himself off, with the way it betrayed private thoughts and sent involuntary and unwelcome hot waves across his face. Olesa and Greg were gross, not because the public act of passion was inherently gross, but because of their history, their irritating personalities, and the way they dominated the gossip cycle with the same obnoxious sh*t year after year. Would it feel gross if Alexei was so overcome with passion that he needed to publicly declare that Dustin was his? What if Dustin latched himself to Alexei and had his desire reciprocated? Impossible, but he felt for the couple kissing in the living room. He hated them, sure. But he’d be a liar if he denied that he wanted the same.

“Ughhh. Is like… fish. Two fish. During the feeding time at fish zoo.”

Dustin softly groaned as they briefly parted for air and watched as Greg swiped at his mouth. Ok, he didn’t want exactly what they had. Hot pink lipstick left serious damage across Greg’s skin, debauched and obscene.

“Stop looking already, f*ck! Your cousins are the goddamn worst, man. sh*t taste in men. All of them. Like, Greg ? Again? Seriously?”

“Yo, what did I do now?! I just got here! Let a man get settled in before you start talking sh*t.”

Certain voices possessed the uncanny ability to make spines curl and long to roll straight out of someone’s body. Far, far away and fled out to sea where they could peacefully drown themselves in silence. The far less tolerated Greg from the Mariner’s crowd had one of those voices, with little exaggeration. He arrived with a fresh wave of outrage over finance bullsh*t, as was the theme of nearly all Mashkov-Petrikova joint party ventures. Greg Vitali slid into the outskirts of the gathered inner circle with all the subtlety of a purposefully amplified pick-up truck muffler, blasting their engine like an overcompensating asshole down the street. Vitali was the definition of trashy - not on purpose - but not perfected into an artform either.

“We’re talking about that dumb f*ck,” Dustin gestured a thumb in the direction of Greg and Olesa. If Dustin had to witness their public canoodling, he was going to gift that image to all who dared cross his path. Occupational hazards of attending a sh*tty house party thrown by the most obnoxious twenty-somethings in town.

“Oh, come on! Whaddaya doin’ makin’ me look at that?” The two lovebirds were wrapped around each other with their open beers cradled between them, spilling a little onto their clothing. “Already they’re at it with this sh*t? First f*cking party. EY YO, PELLEGRINI ! Real f*ckin’ embarrassing! Vacate , capisce? No one wants to see that sh*t! Party foul, asshole!”

Greg separated from Olesa with a horrifying suction noise, audible over the world’s worst timed break in the music. Dustin mimicked a dry heave. Might not have been fake, actually. Through squinted eyes he spotted his namesake nemesis, flipped him off, and went back to making out with his disastrous dream girl.

Vitali gave the finger in return, though Greg’s attention was preoccupied. He turned to Alexei and launched into a tirade, causing most of those lingering around to give up and wander off in search of literally anyone else to talk to now that the world’s biggest buzzkill was claiming victims.

Mid-sentence, Dustin cut him off and asked, “Wasn’t Pellegrini living at your house a few months back?”

Gossip was gossip, and the messy lives of his forced acquaintances would make due at a time when the only thing that truly interested him was putting more alcohol in his body. Vitali lit up at the invitation to rant and regaled his woes in a way that neither Alexei nor Dustin particularly cared to over-indulge. Once the guy hooked a captive audience it was difficult to slip away, like a pair of lobsters in a trap, unsure how they ended up there but powerless to break free from their cage. Vitali’s accent grew thicker and his hands flew wilder the more he droned.

“Let me tell you about f*ckin’ dumb f*ck Pellegrini. That guy is a real freeloader, ya know? Stays on my couch for weeks and weeks after she kicks him out again and do I get a thank you? Do I get any recognition for the kindness provided outta my own heart? Not a thing. He’s always pullin’ this sh*t. Real piece of garbage. I hate freeloaders like that. Hey, Tater, what kinda beer ya got here? We got pizza or somethin’? Don’t hold out on me, man.”

“Go in kitchen,” Alexei answered, already exhausted. “My cousins buy everything. I don’t know.”

“Whadda mean, you don’t know? Who has a party and doesn’t f*ckin’ know?”

“Natalya throw this one. I just live here,” he shrugged.

“Whatever, man,” he sneered dismissively and strolled away.

“f*ckin’ greaseball,” Dustin mumbled under his breath. “God, it’s so f*cking bleak. Why does everyone we know suck?”

Tater shrugged and downed the rest of the can he had been holding, crushed it in his giant mitt of a hand, and then tossed it to the floor without a second thought. Dustin stared slack-jawed at the can on the floor, teetering in place as a small remnant of beer spilled onto the tile.

“Really?

“Payback to Olesa for… take your pick.”

“Bud, you live here, too?”

Again, Alexei shrugged. He’d worry about it later. The place was already a dump. What was one more can?

“Ugh, need stronger drink but stupid Vitali is in kitchen.”

Dustin considered his options. Sometimes it was fun to play the hero, however small the challenge.

“What do you want?”

“To drink?”

“No, I’m taking dinner orders. Yes , to drink. I’ll sneak by. f*ckin’ stealthy as sh*t, he’ll never catch me.”

“Ha, ok Snowy. No chance of hell you break free and not get stuck listen to that asshole again. I will go. I’m bigger. Pick him up like kitten if he gets at me.”

Why don’t you pick me up like a kitten. What? Oh, f*ck off! I hate myself I hate myself I hate myself…

“Nope. Watch me.”

Impulsively, Dustin pulled his shirt off and draped it over his head, wrapped around with as little of his face as possible showing, but still allowing visibility. He strode quickly into the kitchen with tunnel vision-like focus honed in on the horde of supplies amassed on the counter. Vitali was yapping to another newly trapped coworker of theirs and spared him a quick glance, frowning briefly to turn back to his victim. Macho assholes like him wouldn’t dare let their gaze linger too long on a fellow dude blasting some skin at an indoors house party. Which was the entire point. He prided himself on his time-tested, secret ability to weaponize insecure male heterosexuals. It was incredibly easy. Dustin grabbed two cups and the first bottle he could reach and quickly retreated out of the room. Alexei could barely contain his laughter when Dustin returned, triumphant.

“Did not expect that. Technically did the job, but I’m expect big show, some super spy moves.”

“Got us the booze, eh?”

Alexei snatched the bottle to inspect. He scoffed upon viewing the label.

“Malibu? I hate this.”

“Go get your own sh*t, then,” he said with offense and snatched the bottle back.

He poured out a generous amount into a plastic cup and slammed the rum on the table. It wasn’t the type of situation where it mattered what he was drinking. Being overly particular about the method was useless when the goal was to become as inebriated as possible, and fast. The menagerie of unpleasant people milling around the house played out a repetitive nightmare that rehashed everything terrible about high school. A reality show gone wrong and an insult to good taste. The same people would attend a dozen or so parties over the next few months and Dustin would complain about each and every one despite never truly considering skipping the scene. So it goes.

“Take that off,” Dustin demanded, flicking at Alexei’s shirt.

He felt reckless, like he wanted to see how far he could push things. Being back in that environment devolved him into a version of himself he didn't like, a pale ghost of teenage repression through means of acting like an obnoxious ass when the true intent leaned more towards flirtatious. They all got away with it. Secret ability, though, in Dustin's case. Weaponize it.

“Why?” Alexei asked, even though he was already ripping the shirt off. “We look like two assholes, just stand here like this!”

“Exactly. I don’t know. Solidarity. Here, f*cking drink.” He handed over the bottle and let his eyes rake over the exposed expanse of bare chest in front of him.

He appeared drunk enough that lingering eyes were a side effect, not purposeful, from any outside perspective. Dustin held the bottle up while Alexei drank straight from it, not bothering to fill a cup. Their hands overlapped and Dustin grinned at the line of rum that had missed Alexei's mouth in his hasty swig of the bottle, dripping down his neck. He watched the drops trail down like rainwater racing down a window. As a kid, he'd trace the pathways with his finger. As a terrible friend, he wanted to trace the liquor with his tongue.

“I can get that for you,” Dustin blurted out, voice raised over the music. His face flushed redder, mortified at what his brain to mouth filter had allowed. Kill him.

“No need, remember? Not my problem.”

Alexei laughed and tossed his unused cup to the floor, where it skidded near his previously discarded beer cans. Dustin let out an exhale of relief. His slip up meant nothing.

“You’re really not cleaning this sh*thole up tomorrow?”

“Nope. All Natalya planning, all Olesa cleaning. She promises, so trash is her problem.”

“Tater, I think your cousin’s about to f*ck Real Greg right in the middle of the goddamn living room,” Dustin said as he pointed across the room to new developments in their grotesque display.

Olesa, being the much taller of the two, had Greg pinned against the wall with his legs around her waist. Their abandoned beer cans lay scattered on the ground, causing beer to seep around their shoes. Her impressive feat of strength was the only redeeming aspect of the entire debacle, and had Dustin nodding in genuine respect when he considered the fact. Having seen enough, Alexei yelled his cousin's name from across the room. Olesa reacted like an alley cat in heat, scowling and yowling as it was ripped away from its mate. Horrendous and furious sounding Russian filled the room, dominating even over the music, as Alexei yelled at her to take it upstairs and Olesa shrieked at him to mind his business. Nevertheless, Greg was dragged the the arm across the room and down the hallway. He shot the room one horrible, lipstick smeared grin before ascending the stairs with the most intense woman on the island.

“f*ck your goddamn cousins, man,” Dustin said calmly and drained his cup. He tossed it behind his back, smirking as he heard it clatter somewhere on the floor. Reaching for their shared bottle, he added, “Let’s find some poor f*ck to destroy at pong.”

After three solid wins and Alexi's unsportsmanlike reaction to a loss later, excessive drinking proved to be the great equalizer of our times. Cramming so many people into the crowded, run-down, ill-designed beach condo forced you to either suck it up and deal with your nearest party neighbor or get the f*ck out and find something else to do with yourself on a Thursday evening.

Beer pong couldn’t hold their attention forever. A handful of folks migrated outside to expand the havoc into the tiny backyard. Dustin wished he’d brought something to smoke, as circling up outside in the grass elicited the ideal vibe. Despite being unable to get doubly f*cked-up and crossfade into oblivion, he persisted in making an ass of himself with only the cheap booze fueling his buzz. Alexei insisted that Dustin ‘ siiiiiing, Snowy, play song for us! Having such great voice,’ after the busted old guitar he’d ditched at the house many, many parties ago was unearthed from some corner of hoarded relics. It was fairly out of tune and his numb drunk fingers stumbled over the strings in an ambitious attempt to adjust it to be as playable as possible under his duress. Anything for Alexei, especially when he begged so nicely. Didn’t help that all the while, Alexei pressed in from behind, crowding and trying to help as if he knew anything about guitars. And he was still sans shirt - they both were. Their clothing was long lost to the endless abyss inside the house.

“Coulda swore this thing got busted to hell at that god awful foam party you attempted two years ago. S’why I bought the new one.”

“It survived! Lucky us.”

“Should wait ‘til I have my real guitar and not this hunk of trash,” Dustin grumbled as he tightened the strings and tested the sound. He plucked a simple chord and winced. “Not up to my standards.”

“And leave us all waiting like big tease? You brag and brag and now not even gonna play,” Alexei pouted and undraped himself from Dustin’s back to flop down across the circle.

“When the f*ck was I bragging? You were, you were begging , man,” he slurred with a barely suppressed giggle.

“Oh! I go get my harmonica! Bless you all with true musician.”

Four people at once yelled out, “NO!”

The harmonica was a curse, not a blessing.

“You all soooo rude. Unappreciate my musical talent.”

“On that note, I will spare everyone from the musical stylings of Tater.”

“Booooo. I play harmonica like Bruce.”

Dustin giggled again, unable to help himself. “Slander and lies. First name terms with the Boss, ha. You wish. Sac-ri-lege. Why does my guitar have extra strings? The f*ck?

They were moving and multiplying, in and out of focus as his eyes crossed and the laughter continued to bubble out of him. God, he was f*cking wasted.

“Wrong, wrong. I play better.” Alexei mimicked an air-harmonica solo, with all the horror and cringe wrought from watching your fellow human play charades alone.

“f*ck right off. For that, I’m doing some Creedence,” Dustin threatened.

He followed through at the group's encouragement and received a dramatic eye roll and hand wave from Alexei’s position on the ground as the first chords drifted into the night. Steady as he could manage in his current state, Dustin sang one of his tried and true standards from one of his favorite bands, from his back catalog of songs still able to be played under duress of binge drinking.

“Long as I remember, the rain’s been comin’ down…”

Despite the predictability of Dustin’s preference for what he deemed ‘old man rock,’ Alexei shifted into an easy smile, small and soft, and relaxed into the grass. His best friend didn’t do this as often as he used to, these impromptu solo jam sessions at parties. Dustin never wanted to be that guy , the asshole at a party with the guitar, but if certain people asked, certain people got what they wanted. His hobby band with a few guys from high school may have been long displaced and disbanded, but picking up the guitar to play to something other than his living room walls felt nice. Loosen the crowd with alcohol and slur some classic rock, make all the girls in the circle swoon. Easy mode. It wasn’t only for them.

“ So, so you think you can tell ,” he sang, finishing out his short set with a personal favorite. “ Heaven from hell… ”

Two of the girls in the circle fawned over him as he ducked his head and set the guitar aside at the song’s conclusion, pointedly not watching Alexei smiling and laughing at the newest shiny source of attention. His head rested on some random girl's lap, wearing the flirtatious smirk thar graced his face whenever he was trying not to end the night alone.

“Do Freebird !” was yelled by some ass near the open patio door during the lull. “ Freebird !”

“f*ck off!” Dustin shot back as the girls crowding him giggled.

“Snowy hates Freebird . Favorite song Simple Man . Same singer,” Alexei cooed at the girl who was hanging on his every motion. “Am I right, Snowy? I remember?”

“You got it,” he answered, smiling at Alexei remembering that fact.

Actually, his true favorite song was Fire on High , but that was too pretentious to ever admit aloud to another person. Alexei’s correction was accurate enough, and it ensured that the dopey grin on Dustin’s face wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He was drunk. So drunk. Drunk people smiled like that, unable to stop themselves from laughing at nothing, everything. That’s all it was. Drunk. His best friend did not have that much of a hold over him and every pathetic little emotion he felt. Not at all. He wasn’t in love.

“Sing it for next one?”

He wanted to. Dance, clown. Ask me anything. I’ll do literally anything you ask me.

“Nah, taking a break.”

Alexei tried the infamous pout on Dustin for a split second before the girl attached to his side demanded his focus and tore him away from staring at the man, seconds from caving.

“So are you in a band or something?” the girl on his left asked, pressed close against his shoulder as he picked at the grass, tossing a few strands absently. “Do you ever play shows? I’d totally go.”

She smelled nice, and felt nicer as a delicate but deliberate hand absently trailing along his arm, fingers tracing over one of his tattoos. Girls were always fascinated by them, he found. The classic, bold nautical pieces mixed with fine lined flora and branches, ships and wings, all in stark monochrome against pale arms. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and hoped the old standard still worked. She shifted closer. Too predictable. Too f*cking easy.

Men liked his tattoos as well, but he couldn't think about that. The troublesome fixation on Alexei was bad enough. That part of his life needed to take a back burner now that he was deep into the pits of Wildcrest. Burn it up, while he was at it. Turn it to ashes.

He turned the charm up several notches and focused on the girl sitting next to him, desperate for his attention. Time to shift gears, force himself back into his imprisoned role as a hometown heartthrob. Don't let anyone see him for who he was and what he wanted.

“Nah. All the guys moved away. Tonite I'm filling the role of ‘guy at the party who whips out his guitar’ and hopes he doesn’t sound like absolute trash. While… trashed.”

She giggled. He smiled back, a feral grin pulling at the corners of his mouth, showing too many teeth. His eyes briefly shifted over to Alexei to see if he was being watched - he wasn’t.

The band had never been a fully-realized endeavor. Just another one-time dream that died along with so many other small town casualties. Not that they were even good enough to dream. Competition for the tiny local gigs at bars, a handful of grad parties, and one single disastrous wedding was slim to none during the heyday of Dustin's garage band. It was yet another little kid’s folly. Professional sports. Playing in a band that went somewhere. A painter who actually cared about what they created and could make a living making art. Someone loving you back. Sharing secrets and coming out unscathed. Leaving town for good. So it goes.

“Well, you were great tonight. I like your singing voice. Pretty hot, even if you’re trashed.”

He drifted between listening and admonishing himself as secondhand embarrassment washed over him. He wasn’t that good. When he sang, everyone around him was also too drunk to care.

The girl had a strange accent that he couldn’t place and Dustin might have asked her where she was from if he could focus. The night’s indulgences caught up with him, limiting his ability to hold a meaningful conversation. He assumed that she was one of the seasonal workers for Mariner’s, but he never asked. She talked and talked and Dustin half-listened, half-stared across the yard. He may have been smitten with an oblivious man, currently occupied with his own girl over by the shed - and not as discreet as he thought he was being - but Dustin wasn’t dead. He wasn’t a monk. Nothing about him was self-sacrificing, far too selfish for any sort of grand sympathies. The girl was cute, and not as irritating as the coworkers and old schoolmates milling around the party. She wasn't what he wanted but - why the hell not? Dustin wound an arm around her waist and pulled her close. He faked the matching grin he received after pulling back from a kiss that interrupted their rapidly failing conversation.

“Let’s go inside and get a drink,” he suggested with no intention of doing that.

“Definitely,” she cooed, taking his arm and leading the way.

He’d try to remember to ask for her name once they got inside the house. At present, he was too busy focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and not looking backwards, increasing the distance between himself and the activities in the yard.

After another impulsive but lingering, rum-tinged kiss or three or seven later, in a blink and miss decision he disappeared as a stow away in the upstairs bathroom along with his temporary distraction. Quick and frantic - the standard precedent. Tongue and teeth and heady sighs from rough hands tangled in hair, both pulling at clothes with that loose-limbed desire to get naked in someone else’s bathroom. The girl couldn’t stop giggling as she was hoisted onto the sink counter. Laughing mouths sought skin wherever they managed to collide in their rush to chase their lowered inhibitions. Her legs curled around Dustin’s waist to trap him close, keep him steady. At least he’d already lost his shirt earlier in the evening, one less step. Her shirt was quickly pulled up and tossed to the side, falling in the toilet during their haste to disrobe.

Before they could even get decently handsy, the girl’s friend pounded on the door and demanded that she be walked home, screaming about some guy downstairs who wouldn’t leave her alone. She said something about ‘chicks before dicks’ that made him want to curse whatever bad teen movie he’d landed in, and they both relented to the pleading from the other side of the door.

Dustin helped her off the counter. She left the bathroom with her sopping toilet-water shirt dripping a sad path behind in her departure. He buttoned his pants and mentally cursed whichever imbecile caused the girl’s friend to barge in and end the fun early. Maybe it was for the best. Sexual frustration fueled by jealousy never led anywhere that he was overly excited to visit in the first place.

And now, he was alone. Drunk and worked up and admittedly relieved. Was he too old to be hooking up with some seasonal worker in the upstairs bathroom of the guy he was in love with? Age was the least of his issues.

He avoided the mirror, knowing that his hair was f*cked up beyond fixing. He could feel the cakey, clodded liner gathering in the corners of his eyes, sweat streaking black lighting down the side of his face. All riled up and nothing to do about it - Dustin decided it was time to bounce. He was already able to tell that come morning, he’d be nursing an incredible hangover. The benefits of a youthful metabolism and tolerance for heavy substance usage were becoming a thing of the past. He was far from ancient, but felt like dust and dirt on the bottom of his shoe when considering that negatives far outweighed positives in the summation of the night.

The walk back to his side of town did nothing to sober him up, though it was refreshing to stroll with the cool ocean breeze as company. The motels off the main drag (the ones that had survived another off season and hadn’t closed for good over the winter) were lit up once again, blinking and flashing in their dated, nostalgic charm. Neon signs buzzed over the sidewalks, boasting vacancy as it was still too early to see any one place overflowing with cars. Soon, vacationers would hang out on their balconies in the middle of the night, either also partaking in booze-fueled bad decisions themselves or getting free entertainment by means of watching people like himself drunkenly stumble their way back to where they belonged.

His hands itched for the carton of cigarettes squashed in his back pocket, the nasty little habit he'd yet to kick. Boasting about only doing it when drinking at parties was an easy cliche to toss around, but who was he kidding? Better said than done. He always smoked more in Wildcrest. Drunken fingers fumbled with his lighter. He cursed when the flame flickered out as he stumbled over a pothole in the street. Master of restraint, resolve, and denying himself the things he really wanted - he shoved the carton back in his pants. The spark remained dormant, ignoring the craving because of the hassle. Maybe the bigger cliche of it all was his giving up when things were anything but easy. So it goes. It was so f*cking quiet.

His phone buzzed and he stopped to investigate.

2:49AM
Tatertot
> you leeeave!!!!
> ((((((
Snow
> yeah getting pretty late and we got work tmrrow man
> gonna be hunover as siht the first day
> going the f*ck to sleep soon as i get t the f*ck home
Tatertot
> sleeeep!! yes!!
> sleep here come back
> leave me lonly
> 😞😞😞😞
Snow
> looked pretty occupied when i left
> lose your girl so fast? Smart girl
Tatertot
> so mean to me!!!
> yeah i lose girl
> i d k she just ditch me leave says too cold outside thn gone (((
> i even find someone else and they leave too
> such lame first party blahhh
Snow
> looks like we both struck outt tonight man
Tatertot
> never say struck out
> only lonly after theey leave
> 👀👀👀
Snow
> oh
> 👍
> actually i rescind that
> just means you have sh*t stamina brooooo
Tatertot
> so mean!
> two girls one night means stamnima FINE
Snow
> sure
3:19AM
Tatertot
> ok sooooooo
> totally kdding
> i strike out it was all lies i cant lie to you lolll
> big yikes
Snow
> faaaail
Tatertot
> rude !!! lonely ow
> now i mean
> jk ow is right thats my heart yuo break
Snow
> sorry man i’m almost home
Tatertot
> booooooo!!
Snow
> now who’s rude, huh?
> all i do for you and you boo me
Tatertot
> no you are boo
> like kids on the twitter say
> i miss you already boo
> 😉😉😜😘
Snow
> lol ok
> i believe that slang is woefully out of date though but f*ck if i really care
Tatertot
> :?? cool
Snow
> home now. goin to sleep this sh*t off f
> see you @ the pier. Brace yourself for day one of hell
Tatertot
> cant beleivee you gonna not even say GOODNIITE 2 me
Snow
> nite, tater :)
Tatertot
> ))))))))))))) ❤️❤️ XX

Dustin threw his phone down onto the empty space next to him on the bed. With his arm covering his eyes as he smiled like a dope at the ceiling, the phone chimed once more. Dustin neglected to look at the text chain, purposely left unread to facilitate the fantasy that the sender was lingering, that Alexei was there with him, mumbling into his own side of the pillow. The phone screen lit up again to deliver one final text and Dustin closed his eyes, imagining the place where the phone lay was taken up by a warm body and the only person to whom he’d ever wanted to say goodnight. His stomach lurched from the phantom spinning of the room as the booze in his system settled while he lay there, wishing for something better than the current state of his life. The room spun and throbbed until he fell asleep with a smitten glow that surrounded his aching, inebriated head but did nothing to cushion his endless fall.

Dustin’s hands shook as he attempted to pin his flashy supervisor name tag to his garish, neon green and black striped polo. Every single sensation was hitting him like a freight train sent straight from hell to f*ck with his recovery, from the tortuous light of the afternoon sun to the embroidered words on his uniform, itching unbearably against his skin. He’d spent the bulk of the morning hunched over the toilet, heaving up his organs. It hadn’t even been that great of a party to have to suffer through the level of misery he was facing in the aftermath. The devastation wrought on his decrepit twenty seven year old body after a night of binge drinking was a sad, sobering notion. Braving the mirror was a mistake. He looked rough as sh*t. He applied an extra sweep of liner before leaving, hoping that the aesthetic of deliberately dark framed eyes distracted from his otherwise sallow appearance akin to a clammy, dead fish. He’d never say anything quite as lame as claiming the eyeliner was like battle armor or some hollow, feel-good hokey sh*t, but it did hide some of the worst damage and negate his eye bags when he felt like death incarnate. It was one tiny thing he could control when his insides clenched and his head pounded.

Also, if he was a little vain, then so what? There were worse things to be.

A pair of joints were sealed in a baggie and shoved into his back pocket for him and Alexei to utilize later in the shift, depending on how quickly the first day back became unbearable. Dustin would give it about an hour. It was a generous assessment. Sure, he had been looking forward to some structure in his life, but now confronted with the reality of the situation? The realization that you actually had to do work at your job hit hard. How dare his job make him do that? Inhumane.

Heavy feet dragged along the boardwalk as he headed to his shift, feeling more and more preemptively exhausted as the park pier grew closer. Four to midnight - the typical supervisor’s shift. The reality of the next eight hours loomed like a semi truck over his head. Or a skyscraper. Something heavy and able to crush him like an insect. His headache raged, exasperated by the bright sunlight and the stream of folks walking the boards, jostling into him with zero bodily awareness. He was not going to survive the shift, let alone an entire summer of this sh*t. Maybe he’d take up day drinking and numb himself to be able to participate as an actively functioning member of society with the added benefit of remembering nothing at the end of the summer.

He'd been so insularly focused on Alexei's return to town and the excitement of having his best friend back in his life for the guaranteed four month time frame that he'd temporarily forgotten all that summer actually entailed. The same thing happened every single year and somehow, he was never prepared to face it.

In the blink of an eye, he was inside the employee area, basically blacking out while awake and ending up at his destination, a skill built upon years and years of muscle memory. The thumping, screeching sound of the roller coaster rattled overhead. The loading dock at the beginning of the coaster track was situated directly above the employees only area - a sprawling complex beneath the pier. The entire building seemed to shake at any given moment as rides raged overhead, along with the hundreds and sometimes thousands of feet plodding along the boardwalk.

Three piers made up Mariner’s amusem*nts. Dustin and Alexei monitored rides in the middle pier, but covered shifts elsewhere on the rare occasion they were called over as backup. The middle pier was the busiest park, but it had the best food - which was what won Alexei over when lobbying for his pick of pier to work. Which, in turn, was what won over Dustin. So it goes.

As Dustin made his way down the hall after clocking in and attaching his radio and keys, he was physically accosted no less than four times by people way too excited to be back at work. Familiar coworkers who hadn’t made an appearance at the previous night’s party felt the need to clap him on the back as hard as they could while his more screechy underlings giggled and hung off his shoulders in forced embraces as he tried to make his way to the surface level and reluctantly start his hellish shift.

“Ok, ok. Get off me. Jesus f*ck, I’ve been here like eight goddamn minutes,” he grumbled as Gianna Number Three detached her claws from his back.

“Oh, Dustin! I missed your shining personality sooo much!”

“Mutual. Assuredly.”

“LOL is that even a word?”

“Don’t ever say ‘el-oh-el’ out loud in my presence again.”

Gianna Number Three giggled and skipped away to greet someone else, leaving Dustin to sigh and scowl and do all of the standard Dustin things that made him such a pleasant person to be around.

Where the f*ck was Alexei? He was not mentally prepared to face the shift alone. Alexei’s clipboard hook at the supervisor station had been empty when Dustin picked up his own. And the asshole hadn’t waited around for him? Unbelievable. Dustin contemplated his options. He could wander the pier in search of his partner in crime, his savior from all things unbearable, and run the risk of getting pulled in every direction by needy tourists and workers alike before he had his backup by his side. Alternatively, he could very well call over the radio, asking Alexei’s location. Therein lie the secondary pit-fall - alerting his superiors that he was present and ready to accept whatever meaningless assignment they might spring on him, earlier than intended.

As he stared at the schedule of shift assignments on the front page of his clipboard, not really taking in the information, he remembered the existence of cell phones. His hangover wasn’t exactly allowing his brain to fire on all cylinders.

4:16PM
Snow
> bro where the f*ck are you
Tatertot
> (...)
> (...)

The typing dots appeared and disappeared several times before they didn’t return at all. What the f*ck? Dustin sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Well. Time to face the sh*t show. Alone. He was a grown ass man. He could handle it. He should be able to f*cking handle it.

He couldn’t handle it. He was gonna throw up.

Dustin fought down the rising bile and posted up by the coaster entrance. He schooled himself into customer service mode as a lady with two small children immediately approached him with a barrage of questions about ticket pricing. Dustin’s vocal inflections as he faked his way through an Oscar-worthy performance in forced politeness made him internally cringe as every word left his mouth. The woman was being ridiculous. He did not personally set the prices and had zero sway over any of the grievances she was wailing at him. It was too early in his shift, and too thin of a crowd, to either lay into her or brush her off. He led her to the main ticketing hub in the center of the pier and pawned her off to the manager there as soon as was appropriate.

Free from the snares of his first demanding tourist, Dustin started his rounds, seeking out his list of new hires for introductions and for spot checks to make sure that they weren’t sending riders off to their demise by way of shoddy harnesses and faulty track brakes. Such were the exciting duties of a rides supervisor.

“Guess who!”

Big arms suddenly grabbed him from behind and dragged him backwards a few steps. He let out a soundly undignified yell as his body was forcibly yanked, one leg airborne as he completely lost balance.

To the surprise of no one (Dustin least of all), Alexei was wearing one of his treasured, standard pairs of baggy cargo shorts - dad fashion in full display. So much for their thrifting trip and the thought of trying something new. His footwear, however, told a different story, as they always did. Today he donned a pair of limited edition Puma high-tops from yet another late night bid war. The dusky rose gold and pale yellow color blocks clashed viciously with his work polo. He stumbled in those ugly sneakers as Dustin thrashed in his grasp from the surprise greeting. Dustin hoped the ugly shoes scuffed.

“Let me go, asshole! Where were you?” Alexei gave apologetic eyes and an exaggerated frown as Dustin complained. “Already been harrassed by some f*ckin’ mom pissed off over f*ckin’ ticket prices.”

“With uncle. Make me come early, see him before shift, you know. Talk, talk, talk…”

“Next time you see that greedy fat bastard, mention his outrageous price gouging over tickets.”

The prices increased every year and despite that pattern, people continued to fork over the cash. Not without complaint, but attendance never wavered. Hence, the incentive to raise that number and rake in the rewards of sweet, sweet tourist exploitation.

“Since when you become man of the people? Fighting for little guy just wanting ride ferris wheel and not take out bank loan.”

“Fight the power, man.” He elbowed Alexei after receiving an unimpressed smirk. “And by that, I mean fight any force that causes extraneous complaints to be sh*t my direction.”

“Pssh, you think you have hard life? Ivan need make all this money to buy naggy wife second Porsche and Louboutins. You really want deny suffering woman shoes, cars? So cold. So heartless, Snowy.”

Finally, after talking so much bullsh*t and delaying doing any actual work, they started, actually started , walking the pier to make their rounds, checking that everyone was at the station they were assigned to operate or maintain during their shift.

“Anyway. Everything good with Ivan?”

“Oh, so many peaches. Big lazy, wanting me be his little snitch. Giving same speech every season, ‘ Alexei! You need be my eyes and ears out there! Watch section, set example!’ Blah, blah. You know. So he won’t need check park himself. Only sitting in office, getting fatter. Which I’m thinking impossible, but he may outdo himself this year. Need airlift to bring from house to office soon.”

Dustin didn’t even try to hide his snort of a laugh while Alexei rambled. He knew Alexei had meant peachy , but it was too cute to correct and run the risk of never hearing the mistake again. Funny. He meant funny. Not cute. Whatever. His mood lifted considerably now that he wasn’t fending for himself like a hopeless ball of stress. It was fine. So many peaches. Dustin lost himself in the calm tinder of Alexei’s voice as he ceaselessly ranted, drowning out all other aspects of noise as rides raged overhead. Children screamed, gulls screamed louder. Alexei talked. And Dustin was centered.

“Maybe you come early, go with me next time, save me from his annoying sh*t all alone. He likes you! Says as much. Only tolerating me.”

“Any single, additional minute I can prevent being invested here is time spent not being miserable as f*ck so, no. No thank you.”

“Not even for me?” Alexei asked, batting his eyes.

Words caught in Dustin’s throat. He avoided incriminating himself with a stuttered response and instead headed up the ramp to the big coaster for their daily inspections. Once at the loading dock, Dustin got to work. He ran through a settings inspection on the operational switchboard, checked technical items off on his clipboard, and recorded stat readouts to be reported to the maintenance team at the end of each shift. All the while, Alexei and Dustin rifled off questions to the frantic teenagers jogging up and down the coaster carts to ensure that riders had proper seat belt fastenings. Everyone sweated under the bright lights of the loading dock canopy.

“Brody! Tell me the correct switchboard procedure for a track shift after a post-launch malfunction and I’ll see what I can do about getting you guys some extra fans,” Dustin called over the din of the coaster clicking out of the dock and up the first hill.

“What? Really? I didn’t know I was going to be tested? It’s like, my first day back?”

“Is it? Are you asking me if it’s your first day back?”

“What?”

“Bro. They made you a lead operator. You need to know this stuff.”

“Track shifts are maintenance team problems! Aren’t I just supposed to radio them?”

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta get that brake failsafe started when the misalignment happens. Next coaster’s gotta run through,” he continued as Brody visibly panicked.

“Snowy, leave the babies alone! Day one and you make Brody cry? Not good look,” Alexei said into the dispatch microphone. Brody blushed bright red, protesting loudly that he wasn’t about to cry. “Tears not make roller coaster safe, Brody. Learn your sh*t. Lives at stake!”

“Tater! Don’t f*cking curse into the mic! There are guests around!” Dustin shouted back, smirking as Brody continued to panic. “Kid, brush up on the operations manual. I'll be back around in an hour for that answer.”

So it began. The terrorizing of newbies and general f*cking around continued as the afternoon slipped into evening. They made their rounds, checking in first on the more hazardous rides and giving all the newly promoted operators sh*t. They’d been in their shoes a few years back and those taking up the mantle of promotion understood the pecking order. Being a dick was an earned privilege. At least now they had an excuse, however thin. It wasn’t as if their actually important job duties and adherence to safety procedures were being neglected if they took advantage and rode the slightest power trip available.

“Hey, I’m heading on my thirty. You coming with?” Dustin called out over the music once he could no longer stand being out on the boards.

Alexei was preoccupied goofing off with some little kids in line, dancing with a total lack of embarrassment or shame to the eighties song blasting over the Music Express speakers.He looked ridiculous. Dustin adored him.

“This song is jam! I meet you after song over. At our spot, yes?” He laughed and shimmed back down to the kids’ level.

Once he was clocked out and settled at his place of solitude, he leaned over the railing, looking out to the ocean. The overlook on the lower level of the pier was inaccessible to all but employees. It housed a small, roofed deck with steep stairs that lead down to the sand, as a back route for emergencies. Or smoke breaks. Same kin. Most preferred to gather around the clock-in station or the break room, prioritizing air conditioning and gossip over solitude. You could never truly escape the chaos, but on the lower level of the pier you could actually hear the ocean’s waves.

A lighter’s snick and spark broke the quiet. He lit the end of one of the joints he’d snuck in to combat first day nerves and quell the lingering remnants of his wicked hangover. If he still felt a little out of sorts and off-kilter on his first day back on the job, then so what? Toeing the line between caring enough to perform the job properly and compartmentalizing how much he didn’t give a f*ck about the place was a tough job. His life's dream was not to still be slogging through shifts at the same place he’d worked since he was teenager, but where else on the island was better? He inhaled the sweet smoke deep into his lungs, savored the burn at the back of his throat, then exhaled, stress leaving his body with the delicate tendrils of smoke streaming into the air. He leaned against the railing and tipped himself forward, almost doubled over as he tried to catch the downwind and lessen the heady scent of marijuana from clinging to his clothing.

“The f*ck are you looking at over railing?”

Dustin turned his head slowly at the sound of Alexei’s voice, joint between his lips as his hands braced against the rail. His smile twisted and he blew another cloud of smoke from the corner of his mouth.

“Want a hit?” He coughed and offered the slowly burning joint to the new arrival.

“Maybe not for first day. Already have trouble remember new people's names.”

Dustin scoffed and turned back towards the beach, adding, “That’s why we make them wear name tags, man.”

Alexei rolled his eyes and shoved him over. There was plenty of room against the rail, but he maneuvered his way right into Dustin’s space. He snatched the joint from Dustin’s lips and took a hit, initial resistance a flimsy excuse to begin with. Heavy inhale, hold for a moment. Let the feeling take root in your veins, in your blood. Let it smooth down the rough edges and soften the world. Savor the burn like a familiar friend. Exhale. Alexei blew his smoke in Dustin’s face and grinned at the recoil.

“f*ck, don’t blow that at me. Why do you think I’ve been dangling over the f*ckin’ ledge? To look at the sand? Move the f*ck downwind.”

“So rude and prissy.”

“I’ll be pleasant as hell once I’m riding this high. Doing everyone a public service, here.”

They passed the joint back and forth. Dustin caught himself staring at Alexei’s mouth every time he took his turn, admiring the plush curves that wet the shared end of the joint. Dustin longed to lean over and steal his next exhale like it wouldn’t immediately be a shotgun blast through his heart. The insanity of ending a friendship for one insufficient mimic of a kiss. Maybe Alexei would go for it. Maybe he’d laugh and take a drag, move in to casually share smoke, share a breath like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it was a joke, a prank. Nothing weird about nearly locking lips with your bro - anything done for the good of getting loaded wasn’t gay. Getting high is no hom*o, Snowy. Everyone knowing this! Dustin put the joint back in his mouth and blotted out the images that flashed through his mind, featuring Alexei’s big hands gripping his jaw to hold him in place and his deep voice telling him to open his mouth and breathe in. Not real. Not real. Not real.

The sun was low in the sky, casting shadows across Alexei’s face as they stood on the little deck under the pier, steps away from the rest of the world. His lips looked so soft. Dustin’s head was pounding.

Why was it getting so hard to focus around Alexei? It had been a long winter, the worst one endured since Alexei had begun ditching him each fall. He had been an addict struggling with withdrawal. And his vice now reignited his senses. His world was Alexei, Alexei, Alexei. Life breathed back into his veins and every corner of the bleak little island town. There was only so much a man could take before he broke down and spilled every incriminating, embarrassing thought and urge. Dustin turned away from staring at the man who plagued his every thought and hated himself for every feeling secreted inside his mind, sinking deeper into the abyss of his own undoing.

Another moment lost to the breeze. The joint reached the end of its life, barely anything left to hold except for smoldering ash and a bit of a burn from where it was pinched between finger and thumb. Dustin flicked it to the floor and stomped out the miniscule roach before swishing the remnants of ash down to the sand below. Mellow. Heavy limbs and an involuntary, lazy grin. At least his nerves had faded, and his hangover induced headache was not but a gentle throb in the back of his head. Alexei’s arm was warm where it rested against his while they savored the final minutes of their too-short break. The point of contact was a line of fire, smoldering his skin. f*ck it. Everything was heavy and felt so f*cking nice. His head lolled onto the edge of Alexei’s shoulder, the part he could reach. Just for a moment.

“We should be heading up. Unfortunately,” he drawled, with a slow voice that required effort to leave his throat. Moving his head too fast gave him the spins. He steadied himself, stumbling as he pried away from Alexei, his point of balance. “f*ck. This was a bad f*cking idea. I’m so f*cking high, man.”

“I am very, very gone,” Alexei said, slow as poured concrete. “No one names.”

“What?”

“No one names. Learning names,” he mumbled. “Bad.”

“Got it, got it. Yeah, this was a bad idea.”

“We are in so much sh*t.”

They both laughed and giggled as they stretched their legs, seemingly stuck in time as their brains operated on a generous five second delay. They were barely functional after they lit up but the long, monotonous, boring shifts were not survivable without the assistance. Win-win, lose-lose. The job was going to suck no matter what. Might as well get high and go operate heavy machinery.

One down. A hundred or so to go. He used to count down shifts and count down the days. That was before he realized that the side effect of counting down the days brought to light the depressing reality of friends leaving at the end and people moving on and the summer fading away. Some friends never returned. Some left him all fall and winter for Europe, sending him into emotional upheaval. So it goes. He stopped counting. Certain things were best left to suffering in the moment, even if that moment was a repetitive four long months.

Summer still felt too short every time Dustin left Alexei off at the airport.

Nevertheless, with day one in the books, Dustin’s sole mission was to get out of the locker area as fast as possible. He tossed his inspection clipboard onto its hook with total disdain. Similarly, he unclipped his radio like it physically pained him to touch the damn device. Keys clattered into their holding area. An answer was snapped at one of the newer supervisors who for some reason couldn’t read the labels where all of the aforementioned paraphernalia was to be returned. Storming away from the station, he pulled off his tacky Mariner’s polo and shoved it into his bag, then jogged away from the employee building.

The pier was quieter after the rides stopped, though the sound of workers loudly emceeing the games of chance split the night air. Rides shut down at midnight, but food and games operated deep into the wee hours. Everything stayed open later during the week of the Fourth, but until Hell Week, he was punctually out of uniform as soon as possible after the clock struck twelve.

“First day back party!” The declaration was screamed into his ear, interrupting his leisurely stroll. It made him jump about a foot in the air. Totally not chill. “We getting f*cked up tonight, brahhh!”

“Jesus f*cking Christ, Thirdy. What the f*ck?”

“Bro, I got you!”

“Yeah. Established. Congrats.”

“Seemed a bit stressed to death tonight. You good?”

“And so you thought jumping me in the middle of the night would calm me down?” Dustin laughed and resumed his pace now that his heart rate was lowering. “You’re a real f*ckin’ friend, man.”

“Yeah, yeah. You lived.”

“Funny you think I was stressed. Second half of my shift was pretty f*ckin’ chill ,” he said with heavy implication. Randall was intrigued.

“Yeah? Chill or like, chill chill.”

“Do you even gotta ask?”

“Snow. Snowy. Dustin. My good man. You, uh, wanna hook a brother up?”

Despite giving him half a heart attack, Dustin pulled out his second joint to pass back and forth as they continued along the beach. He’d planned on relighting to refresh his buzz and sharing with someone he actually liked was preferable to the freeloading hounds who would, without fail, descend on him as soon as he arrived at the bonfire. He wasn’t in a community aid style mood. Randall was a good dude, one of the more amicable acquaintances left over from high school. He’d graduated three years before Dustin and Alexei and had risen through the ranks alongside them at the park. Another poor soul stuck at the Shore, working at the same job over the summer, unable to fully escape the hometown grip on certain folks’ inability to grow up and move on to somewhere and something else.

Light from a small, makeshift bonfire signaled that they were nearing the destination - a typically ignored stretch of beach at the end of an old, abandoned go-kart pier. All of Mariner’s storage and discarded junk and old rides took residence on the pier. A selective inner circle of supervisors and managers often met around the area after late shifts. Posed with the option of going home to sleep away the exhaustion or to drink up and light up by the ocean - the latter was the obvious choice.

“Ey, Snow! Where the f*ck’s Tater?” was called out as soon as he and Randall were spotted strolling into the site.

“Not my turn to watch him.”

Mandy, his least favorite coworker, a girl who wore her obnoxious disposition like a badge of honor, marched right up to him and began spouting off her complaints far too close for Dustin’s preciously fragile constitution to handle, especially after midnight.

“Tater is on beer duty tonight and he’s, like, a total f*ckin’ no show! I ain’t bouta walk all the way to f*ckin’ Greene’s and I also ain’t bouta sit here sober! Where’s our boy?”

“Mandy. Maaaaaandy,” Randall cut in, placing his palms on each of her pouting cheeks. “Calm down. Imma give you a word of advice - stop being a freeloader. Be an independent bitch. Bring your own booze.”

“But he said he’d pick it up for me!” The whiny tone in her voice could make paint peel. Right off the damn wall. Dustin swore she’d crawled straight from the deepest circle of bronzer-coated hell and landed in Jersey. Well. Loaded statement. “This totally blows!”

“Girl, are you for real ? Some people live in countries where they got war. It’ll be fine.”

“But-”

“Ssshhhh. Girl. Go somewhere. Begone. You’re killin’ my buzz.”

He released her face with a flourish and planted himself in the sand, muttering under his breath about crazy ass bitches and it’s the first goddamn day . Dustin met him in a fist bump of solidarity and took a spot nearby. He leaned back on his elbows and stared up at the few sparse stars that cut through the amusem*nt park’s light pollution. It was nice. Despite all else, at that moment, he felt happy. Maybe it was the weed or maybe it was the low reverb of his friend’s voice chattering on about some hijinks he’d gotten up to during his shift, but contentment settled heavy around his general person as he lay fireside on the beach. Dustin made a bigger deal out of things than he should. He knew that about himself, how he was prone to catastrophize and judge and avoid the bright side. It just might be a decent summer. Look at him being all positive.

Tater finally arrived not too long after, lugging with him two cases of beer and a few bottles of liquor shoved into a bag. The group immediately swarmed, grabbing what they wanted like ungrateful piranhas. Alexei dropped the stockpile and removed himself from the frenzy, securing a pack of the pretentious local brew that Dustin preferred. He’d picked that up special and made it a point to mention that with smug pride. He’d also brought over a few cans of the bulk stuff for Randall, who was content to drink the beer of the average man.

“Happy I got your favorite?” Alexei asked, with a soft voice and tired eyes.

He passed a bottle to Dustin and cracked open his own with his stupid dolphin shaped bottle opener he’d stolen from a gift shop years ago. Personally, Alexei was pretty picky about his hard liquors but beer - take it or leave it. It served its purpose and he could care less about name brand or taste or hipster cred for choosing a local craft label.

“Thanks.” Bottles clinked together before they sipped in uncanny unison. “Thought you hated this stuff?”

“Never say that. Why you think?” he answered with gentle outrage. His smile never left his eyes despite the faux-wounded gesture to his chest.

“ Because you always rip on me for drinking it?”

“Ha, no! Only rip on you for being picky.”

His large hand ruffled Dustin’s hair and jostled him around in the way that always caused protest, despite how easily, every time, Dustin leaned into the touch. Every time. It was borderline involuntary. Dustin wanted to crawl into his lap.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder, they rattled through the evening’s work-related grievances and spared the requested moments of small talk as people wandered by, sat down, and got up again to make their rounds to the next person. Their cliquey management group were all stuck in it together - codependent and irritated with one another but, regardless, close as hell. Soldiers in the trenches, fighting a battle of circ*mstance and no better option.

Where else were they going to work? What was Dustin going to do? Bartend and scrape by on commission work? Fight for minimum wage shifts with the foreign summer transplants at a boardwalk souvenir shop? Go back to his old job at the Wawa by the highway and try to be a manager in some far off timeframe like his father had done? f*ck, no. Mariner’s Pier was a cake walk compared to the other sad options. The pay was decent and the availability of work was consistent. He was essential . Ivan had told him as much when he’d broken down over the winter and threatened to quit.

You simply surrendered part of your sanity as consolation for steady work when trapped in the prison of your hometown.

“Nothing appeals to me less than standing behind a f*ckin’ bar, making drinks for assholes down from New York or, god forbid, f*ckin’ Quebec,” he mused as they compared the unappealing alternatives to managing amusem*nt park rides and the half-wits who operated them.

“f*ck, man. That’s gotta be the worst,” Randall added. “Everyone says Canadians are supposed to be nice and some sh*t, but f*ck. It ain’t all that. We were all lied to.”

“Don’t let Marty hear you,” Alexei warned, referencing a mutual friend. He managed the LaFontaine Motel on the main street and joined them for pick-up games on occasion. And was originally from the very province they were trashing.

“Marty. Marty ?” Randall laughed. “He’s an exception to the rule. His ass would be the first to agree with me. The stories he’s told me, man. Nothin’ but backs up my point.”

“Well. You know. Rude as hell or full-on, chipper-as-f*ck Canadian stereotype, they keep this town in business,” Dustin mused.

He grabbed another bottle and downed a third of it in one go, feeling pretty damn mellow at that point, hovering at a fantastic cross buzz. Though, he was a little afraid to stand. Which he noticed out loud with wonder in his voice.

“Man, I can’t feel my f*ckin’ legs.”

Randall burst out laughing, shoving at Dustin’s shoulder. He toppled right over and stayed there. Whatever. Alexei joined in laughing at his friend’s expense as Dustin tested out stretching his legs, voicing his amazement that they still seemed to be in working order after all.

“You white boys can never hold your herb, man! Or your booze!”

“f*ck off. Never leaving this beach…” Dustin mumbled into the sand, perfectly content to have his face smashed against the grit as it got into hair. And a little in his mouth.

“Is ok, Snowy. We live here now.”

“Yall have fun. Imma go bug George. Girl lookin’ fiiiine tonight.”

“She never going for you, Thirdy! Give up!” Alexei called as Randall left to make an ass of himself in front of their boss.

Dustin managed to flip himself over, head resting against a very solid and incredibly comfortable thigh. He was exhausted. And Alexei felt very warm. The hand carding through the fringe of his bangs, gently removing the sand stuck to his sweaty skin, felt incredibly soothing. He could very well fall asleep exactly like that. The darkness of his brain was spinning, fighting the battle over whether he was more high or drunk, but it enveloped him in a pulsing calmness. He nuzzled further, curling in on himself and whatever it was that he’d found to nap on like some emotionally stunted cat.

He passed out for a while, missing the fondest of smiles that settled across Alexei’s face. Alexei was a loud, center-of attention kind of guy, but he was perfectly happy in that moment to sit quietly on the outer edge of the action, away from the revelry as his coworkers drank and danced around an old stereo, instead with his feet warmed by fire as his best friend slept half-curled in his lap.

Chapter 3: it'd be safest if you ran

Chapter Text

Another hangover greeted him but Dustin could not for the whole of his pathetic being remember getting into bed the night before, let alone recall walking home. He did not awake in the sand, but in the comfort of his own bed, however worn the sheets and lopsided the mattress were after all those years. By the time he had blinked into consciousness and turned to glance at his bedside clock, the bright red letters signaled less than an hour before his shift.

“f*ck,” he sighed, and turned back over to smother his face in the pillow to suppress a scream.

Time to do it all over again. Day two. Stop counting the days.

Go to work.

Deal with your f*cking life. This is it.

Do it all again. Wake the f*ck up and face the afternoon sun. Deal with your hangover. Pretend you’re an adult. You’re not a child anymore, dipsh*t.

Fall asleep and yearn for something more than this.

Day four.

Alexei and Dustin posted up against a line queue while shoveling curly fries into their mouths as they watched one of their coworkers attempt to diffuse a situation happening at the kiddie balloon ride. They stood by as backup, allowing the operator to practice de-escalating the situation before they swooped in with the hammer of justice to either appease the screaming mother or kick her out. Her child was clearly too small to go on the ride by herself, but the mom insisted that she should be allowed to ride anyway. Alexei provided commentary under his breath as the argument went down, quietly relaying his predictions of what the woman was going to say next, much to Dustin’s amusem*nt. He got most of it right. Angry tourists were plenty but they weren’t exactly unique or creative when they blew up in some underpaid and overworked employee’s face. You’ve heard it once, you’ve heard it fifty times. No one was special.

Thankfully, neither had to step in to intervene. The mother gave up and tugged her tiny child away, storming out of line. Entertainment now over, they moved on to the next issue that was beckoned by radio.

A lost kid that happened to be found crying alone only a few yards from their parents occupied all of five minutes. A vomit covered, and thus crying in disgust, Tilt-a-Whirl operator was escorted to first aid to get cleaned up. They made their rounds, bartered free food from the snack vendors, avoided their manager, and yelled at preteens running through the crowds. All in an evening's work.

Dustin turned down doing anything after work. A full night’s sleep was calling his name. His body couldn’t handle the toll of a fifth hangover in a row, either, to say the least.

The next day was unbearable. Dustin barely registered the passage of time other than how it seemed to stand still in some strange, penance-by-boredom themed purgatorial rung. Alexei had been summoned off-site to help his uncle manage a delivery of refurbished bumper cars that were replacing the old units at the northern amusem*nt pier, leaving Dustin to suffer and wander his posting on the central location alone. Having to actually work hard for once to pick up the slack created by missing half of his usual tag-team was pure misery in his eyes. He’d even forgotten to bring drugs to work. How irresponsible of him. By the time his thirty had rolled around, he was one minor inconvenience away from offing himself by method of grabbing onto one of the underwater tracks on the flume ride. At least electrocution by those means would land the amusem*nt park on the news. Someone might even make a documentary about them all and expose all of Mariner’s dark secrets for the pretentious film bro, tuning in years later on whatever form the home box office was taking those days. Sadly, his tragic love story would follow him to the grave. So it goes.

On Thursday, Alexei caught a seagull.

Not for the hell of it, though it wouldn’t be unbelievable if it had been. Alexei had ‘befriended’ many stray cats in his time and had once taken a rat home to the condo to the horror of his cousins. The capture happened for no reason other than to restore order from the pandemonium and havoc wrought by one large, rampaging gull. Alexei caught a seagull and cemented himself firmly into the sure to be historic Mariner’s Pier lore, yet again.

“There’s a bird in here ,” came the deceptively calm statement relayed over the radio, about two hours or so into their shift.

The innocuous statement went unregistered by all parties with a radio, perhaps due to the blasé nature in which it had been delivered. Matter of fact - there’s a bird. There were birds everywhere. It was the damn seaside. What was the big news?

As the seeds of mayhem were being planted on the other side of the pier, Dustin and Alexei were busy commentating on the antics and attributes of a group of college girls standing in line for the ferris wheel. More accurately, they ogled and stood appreciating their appealing assets, among other alliterative actions. Even more accurately still, Alexei had halted in his tracks to drool over some girl like it was feeding time at the zoo, proving that otherwise decent men reverted into the most primal of pigs with the slightest enticement of T&A. Dustin joined in because Alexei was transfixed and wasn’t planning to walk anywhere else for the time being, having been suddenly afflicted with magnets for eyes.

“Look at her. Look at skirt . Who dress like that at amusem*nt park? Obscene,” Alexei commented. His eyes raked up long, tanned legs and stopped to fixate on the flimsy piece of clothing - a tight blue skirt that held him in complete captivation. “Totally can totally tell she’s not wearing anything under that. Swear to god.”

“You can't possibly tell that.”

“Genuine perfection. Work of art.” Alexei kissed his fingers like a cartoon caricature of a chef.

“Well, you know I’m an art lover. Big time art lover,” Dustin added with half-hearted interest.

While considering himself an admirer of any fine looking human, regardless of gender or any other identifier, the years had more than taken their toll on him. A younger Dustin Snow would have been drooling alongside his best friend, mouth watering like Tom to Jerry, like Scooby and Shaggy to an intricately animated hoagie. Dustin's tastes had shifted to broad shoulders and strong hands, with bodies flat in all the right places. The voluptuous creature in the blue skirt was a little too much woman for his current cravings.

“There’s a bird .” The radio crackled a second time, desperation bleeding through on this call. “ It’s inside .”

The girl turned to say something to her friend, flicked her hair over her shoulder, and laughed with a dazzling smile. She had a pretty face, but Alexei barely registered that feature. Everyone had faces. Faces were fine. Common, even. A body like that? Alert the press.

“You think they’re real?” Alexei mused after a breathy sigh, truly stupid in the head. “Flawless.”

“Her ass or her tit*? Never mind, does it really matter? You of all people tellin’ me you’d turn her down if her ass or tit* were fake?”

“You can get… fake ass?”

“Buddy, you can enhance anything and everything these days.”

“She look too perfect. No way both real, yeah?”

The radio burst through with another frantic plea.

“It’s flying around in here. Anyone available? Hello?”

“Need find out. Cannot sleep tonight not knowing truth.”

“No worries, man. I got you. I’ll let you know what they're like. Promise,” Dustin joked. Alexei sputtered and pushed at his friend’s shoulder.

It wasn't as if cupid's horny arrow had struck Dustin in a sudden change of direction, but his competitive streak flared and raised its ugly head. Grotesque, envious. The monstrous part of himself that he despised wanted to try to steal the girl away only so Alexei couldn't have her. He wanted her too much.

If Dustin couldn't get who he wanted, and he had to stand and listen to that person lustfully wax p*rnographic about who they wanted, then he'd sabotage all parties involved.

“No one in games is responding to me! Rides?! Answer me, you f*ckers! Anyone??”

“I call dibs first!”

“Dibs? Since when? f*ck your dibs.”

“It’s sh*tting all over the skee ball lanes!”

“f*ck you, I call!”

“When!?”

“I point her out first! Call dibs!”

“f*ck off, that’s not how it works.”

Her tube top had ridden up further to show off her lower back tattoo. Sharp tribal lines spanned her toned lower back with a little stylized heart situated in the middle. Alexei slapped at Dustin's cheek to refocus his attention and call him back to admire the latest discovery.

“Is like we're supposed to be looking. Who gets tattoo there and wants no one look? Might as well be flashing neon sign.”

“It certainly draws the eye.”

“I love tattoos. So hot.”

The corner of Dustin’s mouth twitched at the comment and a phantom itch ghosted over his own ink. He absently rubbed at his upper arms, where the majority of his work was etched. Were there people out there who were arm guys? There had to be. He was a leg guy himself, but maybe decently fit dudes with random, pretentious tattoos were somebody's type, too? He could plead his case. For a split second of insanity he contemplated if it would be worth it to get a tramp stamp. Maybe one of those badass double-headed eagles? That would send a blatant message to a certain man with specific tastes.

f*ck. Dustin closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, embarrassed by the trajectory of his own stupid brain. Kill him now. This was a new low.

The Ferris wheel line inched forward, drawing the object of obsession a little further away. The girl bent over slightly to brush something off of her knee, stretching the skirt tighter, the action prompting Alexei to groan and mutter something under his breath that Dustin was unable to translate. The group of girls took the steps to get situated in their cart, as their turn to load onto the ride had come. Little Miss Perfect Ass ascended into the air as their ride around the big wheel began.

“Asking her out after she get off ride,” Alexei declared, slapping a hand on the queue railing to drive home the point like an auctioneer ending the sale early.

“Correct. That is my plan,” Dustin sniped back, smirking as Alexei threw his head back and laughed.

“Not happening. I ask her out. You shut face, stand here look pretty. But most important - quiet. I call dibs. Is simple. Already decide.”

Dustin’s cheek twitched at the mention of the word pretty .

“I have it cornered! It’s huge , guys! Someone please get in here!”

“Actually man, f*ck off with this dibs sh*t. You can’t just make a declaration like that and expect me to accept. You’ll start saying that about every pers-, uh, every chick we see.”

“WELL! Fine! What you suggest?”

Dustin shrugged and crossed his arms.

Neither of them, not the man bewitched and bothered by a hot body nor the one being abrasive out of jealous spite, stopped to consider the option that the woman might not want either of them, and that despite all of their deliberations, a resounding double rejection was the most possible outcome.

Alexei groaned again and fished around in his pocket at Dustin’s lack of suggestion. “Flip coin?”

“Flip a coin ? What are we, f*ckin’ thirteen f*ckin’ years old?”

“Time will run out!” Alexei glanced to the sky and watched the wheel spin. “Flip a coin is fair. Respectable. Is leaving to fate.”

“No f*cking way,” Dustin argued with the slightest flavor of whine. This latest bratty tactic was otherwise called stalling. Argue until the ride was over. Make a scene over a petty, childish competition. Lose her in the crowd. He had an agenda.

“Arm wrestle?” Alexei offered.

“Oh, and that’s fair.”

“What? What you mean?” Dustin gestured to Alexei’s massive arms with the implication that his outrage was obvious. Alexei instead grinned, so f*cking charming in that way that made many helpless people cave, in this instance knowing he was the stronger of the two and feigning innocence. It worked. The Pout struck another victim (the same victim, over and over again). Dustin propped his arm on the barrier with his hand open to await his idiotic partner.

“The bird’s still in here! Things have taken a bad f*cking turn! Hello? Someone please respond! ”

“Totally unbalanced,” Dustin complained, giving all he got with his sweaty hand clasped and feet planted.

“Well maybe we both ask her and all have very interesting night? You think girl into two?” Alexei suggested as they grappled on the barrier fence. “I never actually have threesome before.”

“What the f*ck does that mean?!”

He almost lost his grip as his outrage took on a shrill volume. Dustin’s head was about to implode if Alexei was honestly suggesting that they double team this conquest, totally new territory that he was not mentally prepared to actually think about right then and there in the middle of the pier. Sure. Yes. Absolutely, he wanted to get Alexei into bed. But at what cost?

“I’m kidding! Your face, Snowy!! Why are you blush so hard?”

“Shut the f*ck up. Stop trying to distract me,” he spat through gritted teeth as he fought to keep his arm upright and his brain free of the mental images of both him and the hot chick on their knees in front of Alexei, or him sandwiched between the two. A rolodex of filthy images flashed through his brain at hyperspeed. Dustin felt lightheaded.

“f*ck all of you people! f*ck this goddamn gull! Where the f*ck is everyone??”

“Who is this? Location, please.” Another supervisor finally responded.

“FUNLAND ARCADE! THERE’S A f*ckING BIRD IN HERE IF YOU HAVEN’T HEARD!”

Screaming and a loud crash filled the background of the panicked call. The grappling duo dropped their hands from their desperate feat of strength, eyebrows raised in new concern as the person on the other side frantically screamed into their radio.

Mutual attention immediately diverted to the Bird Situation™. One more expletive-filled radio call was sent into the airwaves - one that sounded more like an active murderous rampage and not a mere case of a bird loose in an arcade. A moment of nonverbal agreement was all it took for Dustin and Alexei to completely forget their lust-filled argument and speed off to the arcade at the entrance of the pier. It wasn’t every day that a games person lowered themselves to plead for help from the rides staff. Turf wars ran rampant on Mariner’s Piers. What else were people going to preoccupy themselves with for drama’s sake at work? Workplace relationships and inter-departmental rivalries were all these people had going.

The hot girl and her group of friends exited the ride, oblivious to the fact that the universe had spared them from dealing with something truly, insultingly stupid.

Screaming and argumentative voices carried from behind glass as they approached the arcade, both far too out of breath for men who considered themselves athletes. Dustin lingered back, disinclined to step inside while the frantic games attendant unleashed on the one manager who had responded. By the gist of the yelling (gull cawing all the while from its perch on a stuffed prize hanging from an overhead chain), no one in rides had bothered to turn their radios up that night apart from Georgia Martin, the department manager on duty. Combined with the games zone being short-staffed that shift and unable to send help, the rage the games employee felt from being ignored was seething. How dare they make him resort to contacting someone from rides in his time of need? Humiliating!

“So. How are we catch this bird?” Alexei interrupted, chipper as a cartoon. He pointed above to the gull, smiling somewhat maniacally at the creature as it took up another bout of shrieking.

“I don’t f*cking know! A f*cking gun?!” Will, the games attendant, spat out in an octave rivaling the pitch of the gull. His beet red face was nearly as red as his hair, and flushed deeper the louder he yelled.

“Ok. Where we get gun? Maybe… oh! Maintenance man Nickolai was having gun in past. I call him. He very good shot. He get bird like that ,” Alexei said, smacking his hands together in emphasis.

“Whoa, whoa, whoaaa. We are not shooting the bird! We are not shooting a gun !” George pleaded. She desperately turned to Will. “Literally, anything else? Have you just tried opening the doors and letting it fly out?”

“Yeah, birds prefer sky. Open doors, shoo him out,” Alexei added, matter of fact. Dustin stifled his laughter.

The gull took up a fresh round of screaming. A stray feather slowly drifted down, falling to rest in the middle of the four park workers. Will turned to Alexei and gestured aimlessly, severely mistaken in having expected wisdom from the man.

“Why you look at me like that?”

“Isn’t Ivan your uncle?” Will shot back in the snottiest voice Alexei had ever heard.

“Does this matter? Ivan all our boss, no?”

“Call him! This is a major problem! Use your clout for something other than stealing food for once, I know how you operate!”

“f*ck you, I’m not call Ivan for this sh*t. You call me for help, I help! If you hate all my suggestion then Snowy and I will go.”

“Leave my name outta this, man. I’m just here to see how this mess shakes out,” Dustin mumbled as he subtly continued recording on his phone. His Insta story was going to be one for the ages.

The gull shrieked again and flapped frantically down to perch on top of a line of crane machines. Dustin zoomed in on the bird, filling his screen with its bobbing head. The bird crooned laughter-like in what he swore was mocking smugness.

“Guys! This isn’t helpful! We need to start actually brainstorming a plan of action. Preferably without firing a weapon on park property. Will’s right - that thing is way too stupid to find its way back out the door anytime soon and no one, I repeat no one , is to shoot at it. Honestly, I swear…” she sighed at the end. Wise words from Georgia Martin. A much needed sense of rationality.

Taking flight again, and flapping too close for comfort near a woman and her kid trying to flee past the deliberating staff - the bird was on the move. Gulls were always loud, the plague of seaside towns and the enemy of the crowds who generated all sorts of delightful garbage for them to scavenge. The sheer volume of the creature made thinking difficult with how much louder it sounded when trapped indoors, swooping too close for comfort.

“Throw some f*ckin’ fries on the floor. Or whatever. Then we… catch it.” Dustin offered, trailing off lamely.

“That’s… not awful? Makes sense.” Georgia then asked the obvious question. “But how do we catch it?”

“Snowy have goalie reflex. Fast hands.”

“I’m not catching the damn gull.”

“Fast hands! Fast hands!” Alexei grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, half-dancing his body around in delight to the tune of his impromptu sing-song, much to Dustin’s immediate embarrassment. “Snowy. I know you will catch this bird. Believe in you. Please, save us.”

He leaned in and attempted to plant an overly dramatic kiss on his friend's cheek, not an out of the ordinary comedic gesture of his, but too much for Dustin to indulge at present. Sometimes, for all his good-natured playfulness and joking around, Alexei took things too far for even Dustin’s taste. He shoved the hands off his shoulders and flinched backwards before lips could touch him. Everyone was staring at him expectantly and he didn’t like that at all.

“No, f*ck off. You catch the f*cking bird.”

He crossed his arms and stepped himself right out of the conversation to lean against a Galaga console, refusing the forced position of savior. Alexei pouted and sent him a rare look of annoyance. Whatever. He felt bad for randomly snapping but he hated being put on the spot like that. He resented the casual intimacy of a comedic kiss for the sake of a joke, especially after having to listen to his crush drone on about wanting to f*ck some random girl for the worst part of an hour. It was too raw, too bizarre of a night.

“Fine. I catch it. Snowy, since is your brilliant idea - go get fries.”

“What happens after I throw the fries on the floor?”

“Why you care? Get the fries.”

“Fine.”

He left the arcade. Gladly.

One comment and he had his best friend pissed off at him over a problem that shouldn’t even have been their problem to begin with. He laughed to himself as he stormed over to the nearby Nathan’s hotdog stand. If we were actually f*cking working for once then I’m sure this wouldn’t have fallen to us. Georgia had arrived on the scene before them. Her jurisdiction was rides, but as a manager, these things technically crossed lines into that level of management. They shouldn’t even be involved, but were so quick to jump into anything to avoid doing their own f*cking jobs and mind their damn business.

After a smooth explanation of the seagull ordeal, retold with a dash of coolly reworked exaggeration, the Nathan’s line supervisor gave him a pity bucket of fries. He stole a few for his efforts as he walked back over to the arcade, taking his sweet ass time. No rush. Not like there was a frantic, wild animal terrorizing the patrons or anything.

The scene when he returned to the arcade was this: Georgia was calmly soothing a teenager who had seagull sh*t in her hair, standing off to the side and doing her best to stop the girl from having an absolute meltdown. Over by the counter, and on the counter, were the others, testing the limitations of physics and rational decision making. Will was perched on Alexei’s shoulders, standing stretched out in an attempt to reach an expanse of decorative netting that was being used to hold back a display of stuffed prizes above the ticket redemption counter. The girl behind the counter braced her hands against Alexei’s ankles as the only tethering force between retaining upright balance and certain disaster.

“What the f*ck, George?” Dustin asked in breathless awe, now that the crying teen had been ushered outside.

The flap of wings filled the air in between continued sounds of bird distress. It smelled the fries, eager to swoop and gearing up for an assault.

“Do you honestly think there was a chance in hell of me maintaining a hold on this situation after you ditched? Between the three of them we’re working with maybe two brain cells.”

“What’s the distribution of those two brain cells right now?”

“Probably with the bird. I’m about to turn around to maintain deniability from the inevitable injuries.”

Before either could avert their guilty gazes, Dustin and Georgia watched a cascade of cheap fur descended upon the precarious morons. Thankfully, Dustin captured it all on film, phone recording in one hand, while the bucket of fries remained tucked beneath his arm. In some divine intervention of a wasted miracle, the three members of the world’s worst thought-out human ladder stood victorious on solid ground, holding the netting. Earlier tiff forgotten, Alexei beamed, shaking his portion of the net in Snowy’s direction. He punted one of the rotund panda stuffed prizes at full force, narrowly missing Georgia's head. She picked it up and threw it back now that Will had feet on solid ground and Alexei was no longer responsible for the kid's limbs remaining unbroken. She missed them both entirely and stormed away.

“Snowy! You have fries?”

“Yup.”

“Ok. Get bird attention.”

Whatever the hell that meant. He picked up one of the fallen stuffed sharks and hurled it at the bird to disturb its perch high up near the ceiling. Once in flight, a fry was launched. The creature instantly forgot about being startled by the fuzzy toy and dove down to capture the free food being tossed. Alexei crouched around the corner of a pinball machine, netting stretched between his hands. Dustin kept up a steady stream of projectile French fries, trying to distract the gull from the giant man stalking it nearby.

In a flash, after a flurry of wings and the worst bird sounds yet, the netting covered the damn thing once it landed on the floor to attack a pile of fries thrown in front of the skee ball lineup. Alexei moved fast. He scooped it up as the gull shrieked and struggled. The two games employees whooped and congratulated him on absolute prowess of a skill no one in a normal situation would consider impressive. Dustin smiled to himself as Alexei beamed and bowed from the outpouring of praise bestowed simply because of his sheer dumb luck and brazen attitude. Georgia had her phone out, having decided that recording the final capture was more important than pouting over a failed stuffed animal throw or the concept of plausible deniability. Dustin shrugged with indifference as the phone pointed his way, directing her to Alexei, showing off the pitiful creature to whatever future audience would bear witness.

“What I should do with this?” Alexei asked, holding the bird in his hands so gently, like it was something precious and not a vindictive sea bird. He pet the thing's head, despite the flinching and fighting from the poor animal.

“Let it outside, dipsh*t!” Dustin yelled, pushing him towards the door before Alexei got too attached to the damn thing and tried to become friends with the bird and take it home. In eleventh grade, Alexei had tried to raise a horseshoe crab in his bathtub.

Untangled from the net, the gull took off into the night into sweet freedom. The gull landed on the top of a nearby gift shop roof and opened its beak to scream unencumbered by the limitations of indoor soundproofing, head tossed back in that violent bobbing motion that made seagulls seem like the most self-absorbed members of the animal kingdom, laughing at their own chaos. The din of the pier absorbed the noise call, an echo along with every other seagull circling above the hordes of humanity going about their evening on the boardwalk below. Life went on, undisturbed by the events inside one random arcade on the Jersey boardwalk. Gulls shrieked and hundreds of people walked beneath their perches, rarely even glancing upwards to look and listen.

Alexei and Dustin went back inside to return the netting. Will muttered his reluctant thanks, much calmer now that his adversary had been vanquished and the high of victory had worn off. Georgia was nowhere to be seen, having taken her chance to bounce as soon as the action ended. The games staff glanced around the disorderly state of the arcade and dared to ask for help in cleaning up the stuffed animals scattered across the floor and the bird sh*t and loose French fries left as a reminder of the destruction so recently wrought. With a resounding f*ck no , the rivalry between rides and games was reignited. Dustin and Alexei took their leave without sparring a second’s consideration to lend a hand.

“So long and f*ck you, games! Good luck cleaning all the bird sh*t! It’s been real!”

They’d both long forgotten about the hot chick at the Ferris wheel.

A certain kind of darkness was woven into the repetitive monotony that Dustin and the merry band of lost young adults faced day in and day out while working on the pier and surviving the best they could in their hometown. Survival depended on the imbibing of booze and the hollow dissatisfaction after taking solace and pleasure in another person. They were all the ghosts of children who ticked months and years off the calendar, but never really grew up. Never left. Or, for those like Dustin, it was like they were unable to shake some disease, willingly leaving and coming back at the changing of seasons. They couldn’t stay away from their favorite excuse. Reality was painted with hometown blues and black edges that haloed the mental photographs of home, familiar and comforting so long as you partook in your substance of choice to soften the shadows and spread them like wet feathers, so when they brushed your body, the darkness didn’t stick.

Neon and artifice kept the darkness hazy, as the vacancy signs lit up their no’s and the flashing bulbs on the awnings spanning the boardwalk starved off sunsets. It was manufactured fun and promised relaxation and a lie, from the beaches to the piers and from laughter and memories to the promise of all of your problems fading away. What couldn’t be fixed with a little sea and sunshine? What if you fell in love and couldn’t shake it, no matter how deeply you knew that it was all for nothing? What if you hated yourself and pretended everything was ok? Clock in. Sneak a smoke under the boardwalk and climb back up to resume your shift as a tourist tells you, “Aren’t you a lucky sonofabitch, getting to spend the entire summer at the beach. It must feel like you’re always on vacation!”

Killing a tourist was still a crime in the state of New Jersey. And Dustin didn’t have the sort of connections that could handle him calling in a favor like that.

Another work day ended and the usual suspects sat around the bonfire on the desolation stretch of beach, swapping stale complaints and sharing cheap alcohol. Snowy idly played guitar with less shame than he normally felt for being that guy . He’d brought his nice one from home for that evening’s gathering, better than the partially destroyed one that had been unearthed at Alexei’s place. He sang another one of his sexually charged cover songs with undertones of pining that no one important picked up on but made the girls swoon. Alexei stuffed his face with food pilfered from the pier vendors while Dustin pretended that he wasn’t turned on by the way the man of his dreams could annihilate an entire funnel cake in under three minutes. It was another mundane, black-edged night where he laughed hard at Alexei’s lame jokes and fought down the urge to lick powdered sugar directly off of his best friend’s face. Same old, same old. So it goes. Add another three A.M. where his head hit the pillow, mind replaying every laugh and every heavy feeling of an arm thrown across his shoulders, to his menagerie of pathetic evenings ended alone.

Dustin wasn’t about to sit around all summer wallowing, pining with an aching heart. f*ck that. He was a human with needs, and not one to self-sacrifice in the name of love, if he even stooped to call it that. A hopeless romantic heart resided on the back burner when the immediate opportunity presented itself. A theoretical hot chick, standing in the Ferris wheel line with an impressive rack and intriguing only as to steal her from Alexei was one thing. The real deal, a coworker leaning close and talking his ear off or a girl clinging to his arm while she laughed at every bad joke and snarky comment was another beast entirely. There was a nice spot under the flume ride that was secluded and out of sight. A little damp, but it was the summer. Big deal. There were the employee bathrooms. The backrooms of some of the games stalls were a popular hook-up locale - perfect when paired with games workers themselves who weren’t looking for attachment, either. The maintenance sheds under the coaster track. So many choices to try to move on, get over him. Hate himself more with every hook-up. He hated himself even worse when he watched Alexei partake and do the same, with a satisfied grin after his own indulgences. He was the normal one. Alexei wasn't the one choking down bile and regret each time it happened.

“See you at bonfire later, Angelina? Oh, your shirt inside-outside!” Alexei called to the girl walking out from the latest tryst under the flume, returning to her post at the ring toss stall. She flipped him off.

Dustin watched him adjust his polo as he emerged from the secluded maintenance area underneath the ride, and accepted the high-five as he finished his post as look-out, thankful that Alexei was too self-absorbed to realize that he did not take nearly as many turns doing as such himself.

Fight down the threat of nausea. Get over yourself. Force your heart to stop beating so heavy. Try not to cry. Dustin was sick with acrid envy. He'd trade anything to be the one emerging from under the bowels of some amusem*nt ride, looking like he'd obviously just gotten laid, with Alexei grinning behind him.

“Bro, she is so intense. Def hit her up another day. Now? Needing nap.”

“Break time?”

“Read my mind. Go to deck. I catch up with food.”

Now that he was alone, waiting for Alexei to return with dinner, the adrenaline of his minor panic attack trickled away and the stagnant shadows rolled in over the churning tide, mist on the waves. Waiting. He was always waiting. Never satisfied. Jealousy and resentment cheapened his fondest friendship. It did not need to be that way. It was no way to live. Something was seriously f*cking wrong with him.

He was surviving. Not living. Blood pumped through his veins to keep a hollow heart beating.

Dustin lit his joint and inhaled, body full of nothing but smoke.

Not every shot was a bullseye. Not every night was a debaucherous romp and a skeevy joke between buds, a high-five after a conquest and a story to tell around the fire. Sometimes in life, moments actually mattered. You meet people. And then you say goodbye.

The pair of girls had asked for assistance with their electronic lockers in the holding area at the bottom of the coaster loading docks. After their locks malfunctioned, Alexei and Dustin happened to be walking by and were flagged down to assist. Standard tourist encounter, low stakes aggravation. While posted up by the kiddie boat ride, the girls approached them and hadn’t left, as the hours passed. As long as their radios stayed tuned on and they glanced at their clipboards every once and a while when a passing coworker spotted you standing there, they were pretty much golden.

Another day. Another evening. Another shift ended by hanging out at the beach, scattered across the sand around the fire as beers disappeared and the attempt was made to prolong the night as far as possible, fighting the next day full of more of the same.

The locker girls had earned a coveted invitation to the after hours bonfire. Dustin passed the girl who’d palled up with him another beer. Larissa. Larissa with the calm, sharp eyes and killer piercings and finger tats on her left hand. Her vibe was reserved and observant, but she could hold a damn conversation, and he liked that. Most of the tourists he met during the season had absolutely f*cking nothing to say. Spring breakers and party girls. Woo girls and cool girls down to have a good time and little else. Wasn’t usually an issue that bothered him when he wasn’t planning on seeing the person after the next morning, but meaningful human contact was refreshing.

He always wondered how pairs of girls decided who was going to go after which guy when presented with himself and Alexei. Did girls discuss their game plan beforehand? ‘You take the tall, muppet-looking one, I’ll go for the surly redhead with the tats’ Was expertly subtle texting happening simultaneously while sharing introductory conversations or was it intrinsic and spontaneous? Maybe it all depended on the randomness of walking patterns, on whom ended up walking next to whom, whose arm brushed the other’s first, sparking the first move in that complicated game of flirtation. He always wondered - who was the prize and who was the consolation?

Maybe he shouldn’t be saying all of that out loud.

He was a little drunk. So what? The girl was laughing. Quiet and under breath, but that had to be a good thing, else she’d have ditched him mid-ramble.

“You’re really overthinking this,” she teased, deadpan as she tipped back the rest of her can. “And I’m two drinks past you. Bit surprised you’re this much of a lightweight.”

“‘Scuse you. Only a little drunk. A little. Anyways, it was a valid observation. Can you blame a guy for wondering?”

She smiled. “ Brah, I can’t go around giving away all our secrets. Not sure a guy who can’t hold his beer even deserves insight into the intricate rituals of feminine behavior.”

And she was smart. Oh, he liked this one. Larissa took another long chug of the truly sh*tty beer (Greg Vitali was on drinks duty that night and went with Natty, as always), but said nothing else. He didn’t know what to say either, feeling really very inadequate stacked up against this girl. He was untethered. Out of his element. He pulled out his phone, idly grasping at straws. He needed to preoccupy his hands before he did something stupid. She wasn’t a girl he wanted to quickly get into bed to satisfy some physical obligation and get it over with, or someone he was struggling to converse with - sitting on the beach with her was enough. And it felt strange.

“So. You like music?” was what his brilliant mind landed on. He bit his cheek the moment the words left his mouth and sucked on blood.

“ Do I like music ?” She mimicked back to him slowly, on the verge of completely cracking her calm facade at the hilarious banality of his conversational attempts. He wanted to faceplant into the sand. What a f*cking dumbass.

“You know what I mean. f*ck it. Here.” He shoved his phone at her. “I don’t know, pick whatever. It’s too f*cking quiet.”

She hummed and scrolled through his meticulously curated playlist collection and chose something low key, unadventurous but chill enough to fill the background gaps as they conversed and tip-toed around anything that signified taking the next step. Dustin didn’t want to rush into this one. He wasn’t on Alexei’s level of inhibition, who he could see nearby across the beach, dancing dirty by the bonfire with Larissa’s friend, much more disinclined to chat and get to know when there were other ways of knowing to be had.

Girl meets boy and boy focuses on something different, something other than the throes of notching his bedpost while fending off a deep harbored crush. Boy hopes girl doesn’t think he’s an asshole, hopes that she might be in town at the start of a vacation, rather than at the end of one. It didn’t have to be all one night stands and coworkers-with-benefits and distractions and pretending. Boy was thinking of making his first move. Boy was wondering when the last time was that he took someone on an actual f*cking date within the city limited of Wildcrest. Girl was… sketching.

“Huh. That’s cool,” he commented absently, glancing at her little notebook. “f*cking dope.”

“Thanks, man,” she exaggerated in a joking, squeaky voice and continued to shade what looked like an abstract mountain range. She cleared her throat and explained, “It’s a rough tat design for a friend.”

“Sweet. You design yours?”

“Some. Got a lot of fellow friends in the biz. What about you? You ink?”

“Nah, just design them. For myself and whoever. But I… paint,” he added, unsure why he felt shy about his hobby slash college major slash alternate source of income.

“Nice.” She erased a crooked line on the mountain range and retraced her intended path. He admired her linework for a moment before feeling slightly antsy, weirdly intrusive, and looked away. “Me too. Painting.”

The scratch of the pencil on paper drew his eyes back. He watched more lines appear on the page in quick, sure strokes as she gently nodded her head to the music.

“You want another drink?”

“Wouldn’t turn one down,” she mused.

“Cool. Don’t disappear on me. It’s a f*ckin’ huge beach if you hadn’t noticed. Stick around and I’ll tell ya the whole exciting tale about sand erosion in south Jersey. Or, uh. De-erosion. The opposite. Lotsa f*ckin’ sand.”

She snorted soft laughter, not looking up from her sketch pad. “Genuinely cannot wait, man.”

Getting drinks from where they’d dropped the cooler meant walking past where Alexei had taken up residence. The other girl, name completely drawing a blank as Dustin watched from the corner of his eye in feigned disinterest, was wrapped around his friend with all the physical enthusiasm her small frame could manage. It wasn’t as bad as watching the antics of the Petrikova cousins but, well, they were related after all. There was a familial likeness in their methods of seduction, whether Alexei would ever admit to it or not. At least Alexei had a sophistication about him that the three sisters severely lacked, though all shared an embarrassing streak of shameless exhibitionism and disregard that other people might be watching.

Dustin couldn’t help but let his mind wander to tired subjects, even with a really cool chick waiting for him further down the beach. If the situation were different, would he allow himself to let go and get swept up in a moment like that? Despite the deep-seated infatuation, did he honestly even want that from Alexei? He already had so much of his friend’s attention - was he being ridiculous in wanting even more? Was he so greedy? Would he be able to handle the full, burning force of attention and affection directed at him, and only him? Maybe he wasn’t in love, instead only preoccupying himself with the man since he hadn’t found a better option yet, hadn’t fallen for anyone else. Maybe it was misplaced attraction and nothing more. Didn’t matter. He was off limits, a torturous dream. An impossible fantasy.

Dustin held tight to the armful of beers he was cradling and marched away, brave face set firm in the false belief that he was unaffected by that terrifying impulse to pull the girl off Alexei’s lap and risk it all by replacing himself. The image made his head spin and his pulse race.

Larissa gladly accepted her beer and cracked it open, finishing half before Dustin even got a few sips down of his. He stared slightly agape as she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand.

“How are you putting them away like that? You’re so f*cking tiny.”

“Spent a lot of time with pseudo frat boys in college. Kinda had to learn to hold my own.”

“Nice. I like that in a woman,” he said with a smirk. She smiled back at that and downed the rest just to enjoy his admiring reaction. “So, when did you graduate?”

As they eased into common topics, Dustin continued to play it close to the chest, a little timid. Larissa exhibited a more reserved mood than the typical girls he met at the shore, though she loosened up as they chatted. It was a welcome pace change, a refreshing reprieve. He didn’t feel the need to show off or talk a big game. He had the feeling that she would call him on his bullsh*t if he tried the usual shtick. They flipped through her sketchbook and he had her scroll through his art-centric Instagram account. Talking, really talking, with someone who understood his field of study and could revel and commiserate hadn’t happened outside of his college circle in a long time. Kindred spirits understood the duality of being creative and having to be creative to scrape by, earn your keep. They eventually put aside sketch books and social media and admired each other’s vast ink collections. Her acrylic nails traced fine-lined pirate ships on his biceps and he let himself indulge in gently turning her arm to study the art on her skin. He admired the dazzle of planets that circled her soft forearm up to her elbow and laughed at a series of crude, stick-n-poke ducks wrapped around her wrist. He even showed her the embarrassing Mickey Mouse tat on his hip.

“Oh, I know there’s a story with that one. Totally doesn’t vibe with this whole image you got going on.”

“What image?”

“Just, your whole,” she gestured vaguely at his entire person. “All that. The little Jason mask tracks, but I never pegged you to be a fan of the mouse.”

He shrugged. She wasn’t wrong.

“Graduation joke with Tater. He has a matching tat, same spot. No mask, though. It’s funny, cause I f*cking hate Disney.”

“Tater?”

“Uh, Alexei.” He felt strange, like it was wrong to talk about him to her. The feeling was brushed past as fast as possible, leaving it for later unpacking. “The dude your friend is jerking off over there.”

“What, ew . For real?” She craned her head to look past Dustin, hoping her friend had the decency to not .

“Kidding. They look close to it though.”

“Get a room!” Larissa yelled. She shook her head at the sound of her friend’s loud laughter and something unintelligible yelled in her general direction. “f*cking mess.”

She laughed softly to herself again and stared up at the sky, squinting at the bright moon. Dustin searched for something to say, toeing the line between enjoying her company and thinking about how to make a move. The classic lean-in, arm around the back, adjust an errant strand of hair. Check, check, check. Larissa turned her gaze away from whatever was so interesting about the night sky and looked at Dustin with a hard gaze. He leaned in and she leaned back, hands sliding on the sand. She let out a small burst of laughter at his instant freeze and panicked expression as she caught herself from falling completely backwards.

“Uh. Sorry. sh*t.”

“Dude, it’s chill.” He shifted away and started to remove his arm. She reached out to keep his arm in place, siding up close. “Stay here, it’s kind of cold. I just don’t think I’m planning on sleeping with you? Sorry for rejecting your kiss but like… yeah.”

“It’s fine. It’s good.”

“Cool. I like you, but not sure I want that right now? You can totally ditch me if I ruined your whole plan here, I get it.”

“No, I like… talking to you. We can keep chilling. If you’re cool with that?”

She nodded against his shoulder and he tightened his arm around her, happy to steal his warmth. So he was the consolation prize. That was fine. If his night was not going anywhere further than chatting with a cool chick on the beach, he could handle it with ego unbruised. Maybe a little bruised. Mostly unscathed. Content to sit on the beach with the pressure switched off, sand scratching at the bare parts of his legs as Larissa regaled in her calm fashion about her wilder friend. He listened, let her lean against him and didn’t push for more. Her quiet presence soothed him. She possessed a sort of right-there-under-the-skin insecurity about her that he could relate to and could understand.

“Thanks for not, like, being an asshole, man,” she announced during a lull in conversation.

“Thanks for not thinking I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not.”

“I mean, I kind of am. Caught me on a good night.”

“Wish I’d known you in college. Would have been cool to be friends,” she added after another comfortable pause.

“We could… still be friends? Golden age of digital connection, all that sh*t. How long are you in town?”

“Tomorrow.”

Figured. He tried not to deflate too obviously, but disappointment flitted across his face nonetheless.

“Ah. Not much time to work on this friendship thing. sh*t.”

“I mean, here. Give me your phone, I’ll add my digits. If you’re ever in Boston, you know. Come check out my studio. One artist to another. You can see that giant mural I talked about and I’ll do some ink on the house.”

“If I ever find myself in Boston for some god awful reason that’ll definitely be the highlight.”

“Shut up with the hate, it’s such a cool city. As if Wildcrest, New Jersey is a mecca of civilization,” she scoffed, handing him back his phone.

“I’m not defending this place, either, are you kidding me? They both suck.”

She punched his arm and grabbed one of the lukewarm remaining beers, brushing off the sand coated onto the metal from condensation. In the distance, she watched Camilla and Alexei finally disentangle themselves and start to leave hand-in-hand. Both she and Dustin watched until they became shadowy figures headed for some place with a bit more privacy.

“Hey, is your friend cool? Like, should I be fine with letting Camilla wander off into the night with the guy?”

“Cool’s not the word I’d personally choose for that goofy dude but yeah, he’s safe. He’s great. He’s a great guy. For sure.” Larissa nodded, apparently satisfied enough with the answer to not rush off after Camilla and defend her friend’s honor.

“Good. I’m choosing to trust you. Since you’re not an asshole,” she joked. “Apparently.”

“She’s in good hands. He’s my… best friend. There’s not a nicer dude she could have been picked up by in this god forsaken town.”

“Pssh , as if she wasn’t the one doing the picking up. Camilla was determined to try to talk to him again after the locker fiasco. Your buddy’s in for a good time based on the sh*t she was saying.”

“Good for him ,” Dustin muttered into his beer can and hoped Larissa didn’t hear. If she had, she never mentioned it, instead launching into another tale of college antics which prompted an exchange of drunk stories and regaling the antics of their respective best friends.

They’d been facing the waves, laughing about a story involving Alexei and his disastrous year participating in their high school’s musical for the sole sake of hooking up with one of the leads, when Dustin noticed how quiet it had gotten. He paused the current song on his phone, and turned back to the bonfire, no longer burning. The remaining few people on the beach were either sitting with other highly wasted folks, deliberating on how the f*ck they were dragging themselves home, or were actively leaving. It was very late. The waves sounded louder the longer Dustin sat there in the sand, watching them crash and recede in the stillness of the night.

“Hey, uh, this is purely a friendly suggestion, but do you want me to walk you back to wherever you’re staying? Pretty late.”

“Nah, thought I’d just sleep here on the beach.”

“Oh. I guess that’s-”

“Kidding, dude. Let’s go.”

It was a short walk to the Malibu Motel, a block back from the main street and only a few streets down from their stretch of beach. With the motel in sight and a sigh of that’s me from Larissa, he stopped short, wondering if he should say his farewells or walk her the entire way to her door and feel even weirder about prolonging their inevitable goodbye. Why make it uncomfortable with that awkward fumble outside the room like some hapless guy in a nineteen-fifties sitcom, lingering on the porch to tell her he had a real swell time. Should he hug her? Give her a wave and turn away? He probably wasn’t ever going to see Larissa again. Why was he lingering? As he ran through the options at lightning speed before the moment completely stalled, Larissa slipped her hand into his and pulled him up the sidewalk with a sort of new determination.

She reached up as far on her tip-toes as her short stature would allow, tugging him down to kiss him soundly, pulling back slowly as Dustin’s brain caught up with his too-shocked-to-react lips.

“What’s happening?” Dustin asked, brain-dumb while they stood outside a door on the lower level.

“Changed my mind. Offer’s on the table if you want to f*ck me.”

“Uh. What."

“You don’t have to, dude,” she laughed. “But I really like you. Feeling so much less nervous now, I guess.”

One heavy beat passed before Dustin let go of her hand and placed both of his gently on either side of her face to swoop down to her level, lips pressing firm but chaste. He could feel her hum into the kiss.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you. I was totally fine with just walking you here and dipping."

“Dude, it’s chill. Come on. You’re really, um. You know what you look like.”

“Ok. Sure, and uh, thanks? You’re f*cking hot, too.” She snorted and averted her eyes, shrugging in a way that indicated that she was aware but still felt like it was weird to admit to people that you understood you were attractive. “I’m serious. f*cking smoke show and if you’re down, then hell yeah.”

“Hell yeah, dude.”

She fumbled with the key as Dustin stood patiently behind her, still hesitant about the shift in mood but absolutely eager to step out of the light above the motel door.

Door unlocked. Moment of hesitation. Dustin followed her inside, glanced around in the dim lighting. Her key clinked on the dresser by the window and she closed the blinds, then stepped into his space. She craned her neck up to look up at him. Another beat of silence and then Larissa’s back hit the door. Dustin felt her gasp of breath against his mouth, and then her smile took its place. Given the green light, he was all in. He liked this girl, quiet and cute and slightly mysterious and leaving the next day. Fine. Why not? He kissed down the line of her neck, breathing out hard at the feeling of her fast, sure hands trying to work off his belt.

“Hey. Slow down. We don’t have to rush.”

“Ok. Ok, yeah,” she said in a rush of breath, muffled against his chest, a quiet pocket of breathing between them as they lingered in the entranceway. She removed her hands from his waistband, running them up his chest. “You’re really hot. Sorry, I keep bringing it up, it’s just. Damn.”

“You’re really pretty. And you kind of scare me a little.”

“You, too,” she answered softly, hand fisted in his shirt. A blink. Eyes locked. The motel room was cold but the kindled heat between them gave the whir of the air conditioning no notice.

She slid as close as possible with her hands still gripped tight to his belt, slower now as she pulled the canvas through the metal clasp, eyes never leaving Dustin’s as she nimbly unbuttoned and unzipped. They paused one last moment, with a giggle shared, and then there was no need to draw it out. Dustin hoisted her up, eye level, if only for a moment. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down as her back hit the bed. They didn’t say much after that.

His shirt disappeared as her hands greedily continued to skim across his modest abs and all that tanned skin, contrasted to her soft paleness and swirling patchwork of intricate tattoos here and there. Her pants were discarded in another blink, breath hitching a moment later as her legs wrapped around his neck, heels dug into his back as he kissed and licked a pathway down, moaning at the same time she did. The arch of her back drew her thighs to clench around Dustin’s ears in a spasm of pleasure, causing the sensation that he was drowning underwater. What a fantastic way to die.

Flip. After reducing her to a panting, writing mess twice , he was caught off guard and shoved onto his back, with Larissa grinning down at him as she ripped open the foil he numbly slapped into her eager hands. Oh, what a f*cking move. He nearly came from the show of force alone, but reeled it in with a hard pinch to his own thigh to calm down. Heavy breaths filled the room as she took her time, positioning them both however she wanted. He didn’t care, and he let her do anything she wanted with him. Dustin thought her scrunched up face was still so f*cking pretty as they moved together, with his hands guiding her hips as her breath caught on soft whimpers each time he drove into her. Her hands slipped on the sweat on his chest from exhaustion and with her legs reduced to jello, Larissa relented and gave up her effort with a shaky laugh. He flipped her onto her back and rucked up the dated motel comforter before he took over, pulling it down and away to stop themselves from sliding further on it. He took control, and allowed themselves to get lost outside of their own heads, existing in that zero to one hundred heat that crackled between them until they both fell over the edge.

“I think one of your nails broke off on my scalp when I was going down on you.”

Larissa burst into loud laughter, turning her face into the pillow after the outburst. Her tears and sweat damp face left a dark streak of mascara across the pillowcase as she wiped her eyes on the hotel linen. She lifted up enough to peer at Dustin with one eye, peering out from a sweaty curtain of hair.

“sh*t, sorry. Are you ok?”

“It’s fine. Don’t think you broke skin or anything.” He rubbed the back of his head, showing her that his hand came away without any blood. “See? No harm done. I’ve had worse happen in the moment."

"Like?"

"Dislocated my jaw once."

"Yeah, right. You were f*cking good but there's no way you popped a jaw going down on a girl."

The compliment - total ego boost, foremost - spurred him to share the rest of the story.

"Hand to god, uh, one time this guy kneed me in the face after he finished. So f*cking rude." He joked about it with the faintest, cautious shake in his laugh, not used to openly divulging that sort of detail, the kind of truthful revelation he kept close to the chest, under lock and key.

She quirked an eyebrow and gave an intrigued yet impressed head nod, letting the comment simply exist.

“I stand corrected. Anyway, I don’t usually wear that kind of sh*t. Camilla insisted we get ‘New Jersey manicures’ on this vacay. Still don’t know what that is,” she said as she inspected her nails. She smiled at the missing acrylic on her left middle finger. Worth it.

“Oh, I get it completely. The neon yellow definitely fits the bill,” he said and he inspected the nails in question. It was a funny story for the future, at least.

He pressed an indulgent and lingering kiss to her knuckles, one by one, however corny the move might be. Larissa rolled her eyes and draped a leg over his, once again stealing body heat, shivering in her cooling sweat. She rested her head against his shoulder as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. This was always the weird part for him. Stay or leave? Try to go again or lay there awkwardly until the other person falls asleep and then decide to stay or leave. This time, Dustin wanted to stay. He still didn’t know if that would be the smart decision.

“So, that was, uh. That was fun.”

“Yup.”

“Should I… go?”

“Nah, brah. You should crash here. It's late.” She leaned in and kissed the conflicted look off his face, adjusting her position to untuck the sheet and crawl under. “Chill out and get in here, it’s freezing.”

They managed to go another round, lazier the second time, before they both passed out from the late hour and pure exhaustion. When the morning arrived, after spending way too long staring at the back of Larissa’s head in his inability to fall back asleep, he finally attempted to slip out without notice. She caught him in the middle of putting his pants back on and was promptly laughed at. This was why he never stayed over and rarely took someone home to his place in town. What do you say when it’s over, knowing it can and will go nowhere? It was different back in the city, with fellow students and the general, permanent population more likely to exist as options for more than a one-night stand. Tourists passed through. And he only slept with coworkers who weren’t from Wildcrest. Those were the rules. No men, no classmates. No emotions.

Larissa was too cool, and they might even try to stay connected through social media or something, but that was it. Another in a string of the one night stand epidemic he actively spread, reducing this awesome girl to just another name on a media feed in some app on his phone. Who was he kidding? They met less than twelve hours ago. He wasn’t falling for the girl, but he couldn’t deny the slight stumble into feelings, a trip off the curb into actual emotions towards another human.

Whatever. He had to go.

“Sit down a moment and actually say goodbye to me?” she said with a sleep-rough voice trailing into a yawn.

“Sorry. It’s always so f*cking weird, right?

“Yeah.” She stretched out her arms and yawned again. “Last night was really good. Wish I had another day in town.”

“For sure, for sure. Is that like, set in stone?” he asked on stupid impulse, playing all of his obvious cards. She shot him a look, but drew up to his place on the edge of the bed, holding the covers around her shoulders with one hand while the other tugged on his t-shirt collar.

Her mouth was hot in startling contrast to the cold room, and Dustin sought that warmth hungrily, as long as she’d allow. Before he got too well reacquainted, she shoved him back, flopping back into her nest of blankets. Larissa covered her face with her hands and groaned into her palms, parting a few fingers to peer one eye at Dustin, who wished he’d been much quieter when putting his clothes back on moments previous.

So insistent on attention while he tried to make a peaceful exit, and now she could barely look at him. The signs were there, and had been since they’d sat together on the beach. Illiterate. Blindsided. And he decided to open his stupid mouth.

“I mean. I’d be down to see where it goes, ya know? Sound like a f*cking sap here and I never try this sort of thing, but. I don’t know. Boston’s not that far from Philly? Right?”

“Ughhh. This sucks, man. I kind of like you? f*ck.”

“That’s a bad thing?”

“Yeah.”

He’d felt stupid as soon as he’d opened his mouth about his feelings and regret grew with each passing second. And yet, he kept digging in, kept talking.

"No chance of a vacation extension?"

She dropped her hands and tore herself out of bed, finally turning off the damn freezing air conditioner. With another deep sigh, she started gathering items from around the room, organizing to pack.

“Listen. Ok. Full disclosure, but it’s different in Boston. We have an open arrangement until we tie the knot, but my fiancé's back in town, too, next week so, vacation's over. For sure. I had a good time this trip but... I gotta get back to my life.”

The chill that shot down his spine undid every good feeling he’d manifested over the past twelve or so hours. Eviscerated. Like cool mercury filling his bones and coating the marrow. This wasn’t his scene. He didn’t get involved in sh*t like that. f*ck getting close to people. He felt so stupid.

“Cool. That's great.”

Time to leave. He continued backing towards the door, wishing he could rewind a few minutes and just have f*cking said goodbye and let it drop. There were things he would have been better off not f*cking knowing.

“You’re a good dude. We can stay in touch? As friends?”

“For sure,” he said through gritted teeth. He slapped the comforter and stood up. “I’m gonna go.”

“I’m sorry, Dustin.” He nodded again, tight lipped as she continued staring at him expectantly. “And not to push you out, but I gotta pack and find out wherever the f*ck Camilla is so we can check out. Should I … be worried?”

“Your friend’s fine. Tater, uh, Alexei likes to make them breakfast in the morning. She clearly picked the right dude. I’m just the guy who tries to sneak out after a hook up and makes an ass out of himself when he asks out an engaged chick who lives in another f*cking city."

She again reiterated that she had a great night and that everything was fine. He tried not to stare too hard at the hickey on her neck and think about her taking that home to someone else. They exchanged a final, awkward farewell and he slipped out the door, squinting into the morning sun. He wasn’t angry, just tired. What had he expected? To meet some girl in town on vacation and whisk her away to his oh-so glamorous life? She, clearly, already had one waiting.

The melancholy did not lessen as he put distance between himself and the Malibu, sucking down a cigarette with a desperation that left the ashes staining his fingertips. His entire mood shifted off-kilter as he replayed every word and laugh, and each hitch of breath. He should have turned Larissa down and gone home, thus avoiding the stomach dropping embarrassment brought on by hypotheticals, what-ifs, and nevers. Every heavy feeling he’d carried for so long mixed and mingled - pangs of lingering care for a girl he knew so briefly and a man he’d loved forever, loudly refracted from places he wished would remain quiet as he faced himself alone again. Another morning coming home, crawling right into bed despite the blazing sun, and hoping by some miracle he didn’t feel the same way when he woke.

5:22AM
Tatertot
> holy f*ck snowy very weird night
> maybe getting too old for this
> this chick crazy (((((
> oh no o;lsjfsf9
9:46AM
Tatertot
> omg she leaving
> finally free
> nothing left in soul idk what the f*ck just happen
> do i sleep or i evenn bother
> have so much to tell
> snowwwwy
> hope you have funner time wink wink loll
> ok good nite snowy !!!!!!! i give u tmi tomorrw
1:39PM
Snow
> but you got laid tho right?
Tatertot
> HE LIIIIVES
> and lol yeah but
> ( typing ….)
Snow
> No complaints then, man. No complaints.
Tatertot
> k listen S
> u dont understand
> u werent there
Snow
> Sure as f*ck wasn’t there. Be a little weird if I was there.
Tatertot
> my back torn the f*ck up
> is like crime scene
Snow
> ?????
>The fuuuuck?
Tatertot
> GIRL WAS CRAZY! MOST AGGRESSIVE WOMAN.
> CAT CLAWS. SHE SCREAMS ALLLL NIGHHT not in sexy way even if she think was sexy way
> it was NOT (((
> scaryyyyyy
> olesa bang on wall yell us to shut up
> feel like my dick gonna fall off
Snow
> What. The actual f*ck.
Tatertot
> idk how explain that lol
> not mean less true
> she was like energy bunny
> u know like batteries bunny????? That this chick
> you ever watch lady tennis match?? how they yell?? SHE IS TENNIS PLAYER. THEEY YELL IN BED TOO. SCARY.
> SNOWY ITS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE SCARY
> so tired i think i may actual die
> she f*ck soul out my life this is not good thing
> treat me like piece of meat
> i have feelings too!!!! so much more than hot body
> she wanting like round five and i tell her she need to leaaaaave
Snow
> I honestly do not know what to say about this conversation.
Tatertot
> idk you need 2 hear in person my night insan girl insane i never even go to sleep
Snow
> f*cking what did you do between the time she left and the time i texted you then?
Tatertot
> lay here one eye open
> ever being so exhausted sleeping impossible
> this. is that.
Snow
> Jesus f*cking christ
> Wow dude
Tatertot
> DAAA so messed up
> but!!!!
> what i can say
> guess dick game too bomb make girls lose their mind
Snow
> Oh my god.
> Shut the entire f*ck UP
Tatertot
> this thing is more curse not blessing
> legendary
> people not able help themselv
> my burden to live with
> 😜😜
Snow
> Goddddd will you stop talking about your dick??? I’m going to block your number.
> unbelievable
Tatertot
> no very believeable maybe i make you believe it
> 😜
Snow
> 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Chapter 4: if i hadn't blown the whole thing years ago

Chapter Text

Appearing before him was a giant whale. Blue. Battered. In desperate need of love and care.

The great beast spanned the entirety of the side of the arcade building and was the unwilling witness to some truly aggravating, frustrating conversations taking place beneath its majesty and disrepair. It was a big f*cking whale and Dustin’s headache somehow felt even bigger.

“So? You like her so much you still can try. Boston is not so far away.”

Dustin frowned and dabbed more light gray paint around the underside of the creature. Alexei stood so close that Dustin could feel the brush of his sleeves as he gestured while he spoke, radiating his typical intensity. They were rounding out hour three of the painting project and Dustin was sick of discussing and dissecting the Larissa situation.

He'd taken the night off from Mariner’s to work on the community refurbishment project, commissioned to touch-up the giant whale scene painted years ago on the side of the arcade near the first pier. It had been there since before he was a kid and required some love. Not the most interesting of projects, but his check for the paint job was worth more than he’d make in over a week patrolling Mariner’s. And, it fulfilled a silly childhood dream of painting something permanent in Wildcrest. He'd have preferred to have left a mark via a Dustin Snow original mural, but adding his own flourishes to the iconic arcade facade was a worthwhile stepping stone.

Alexei decided to f*ck off from work as well and bother the ever-loving sh*t out of him as he painted. He could absolutely spare a night off without pay. Chump change to the golden boy. Any other night, and Dustin would have adored the extra time together, just the two of them. He begged for those moments, mentally on his knees for Alexei at all times. The Larissa situation had put a damper on all else. He’d been too honest about his feelings on the ordeal. It was one thing to casually hook up with someone and crack jokes or brag about a previous night’s conquest, but being prodded into psychoanalyzing his one night stand with the person he had genuine feelings for - torture. Add in a layer of uncomfortable confusion due to the fact that he’d felt a flicker of something for Larissa, however stupid it was of him to succumb so fast and fall so hard in mere hours. He was embarrassed. And Alexei was too nosy, too kind. Too there for him, always there for him.

The bleakest part was how off-kilter the subject matter was, regardless of Dustin’s secrets and longing. Real, long-term relationships were non-existent for either man. It was a sobering reality. They were men operating as children, perpetually coasting on the remaining fumes of senior week, the dregs of high school parties, and the summation of wild moments from every single summer in a row, lined-up like pills on the counter. Take your medicine. Stunt emotional growth. The party never ended if you ignored the bartender’s last call.

For better or worse, they told each other everything (almost everything). There was no reason that this should feel so off-limits, like he was protecting a part of himself. Dustin had expected to laugh and listen to Alexei’s exaggerated tales of his insane sex marathon with Larissa’s friend. It was fun when they were ripping on Alexei’s lack of stamina after round four at five in the morning and how his jaw still ached half a day removed from the ordeal (which, what the hell?). Expanding on an off-hand comment concerning Dustin’s conflicted feelings about an unplanned girl-who-got-away situation had not been on the agenda. And Alexei was notoriously terrible at taking a hint and dropping a subject, laser focused until he personally grew bored.

“Boston’s far enough, man. Not even worth entertaining the idea.”

“Why not? You should go for it. Could turn out better than you think. She was pretty. Similar interests, right? You say she’s cool.” He was still so close and nudged Dustin’s side from where he crowded into his space. “Is ok to have little crush.”

Dustin side-stepped to maintain some distance, take a breath. The sneering irony of Alexei giving him permission to have a crush on someone was cruel and sickly hysterical. A crush. How f*cking quaint.

“None of that matters. I'm not gonna get in the middle of whatever was going on with her weird ass open relationship. Not interested in that complicated sh*t even if she was local.”

“If you like her, why give up so easily?”

“Dude, it was a one time thing that happened to be more emotionally fulfilling than f*cking some chick in the stock room or in your damn upstairs bathroom at some sh*t party. It’s whatever.”

Alexei drew back with a combination of mock and genuine outrage, hand clutched to his chest like he’d been slapped.

“My parties are not sh*t!”

“They are.” Alexei gasped again, head rolling to the side with an exaggerated flutter of his eyes as he pretended that he was hearing the most eviscerating news in town, channeling every middle aged lady gossiping around the brunch table. Scandal and shock. Dustin broke into a smile and shook his head. “Wouldn’t miss a single one, man. But, come on. Are you kidding?”

“Never. Pose?” Alexei pulled his phone out while Dustin attempted to re-focus on the mural. He snapped a few action shots and filmed a bit of actual painting that he would later add to his various social media stories with some inane song playing in the background. Dustin dropped his plastered smile as soon as the phone was pocketed.

“If Larissa not have boyfriend or live closer, what would you really want? Like, for sure, no other obstacle. Try to date her?”

“Holy f*ck, why are we still talking about this,” Dustin grunted from around the stick of a brush he had clamped between his teeth as he detailed a multi-color shading effect on a section of coral.

“I just wonder! Making conversation.”

“That’s an entirely different situation. If she lived closer and had no boyfriend, why wouldn’t I try to date her?”

“Only asking. You never date anyone. Just wonder.”

Dustin was about to bash his head against the side of the arcade.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you’re making it into this huge deal when it’s f*cking not. There’s no point talking about it because she is literally the definition of unavailable. It’s fine, ok. I’m fine.”

Usually endearing, and oftentimes overbearing, Alexei refused to drop the bone like a dog panting for attention, circling his companion in the hopes of fetch. His over-investment into the struggles and problems of those closest to him got him into more trouble than was worth.

“What if someone here wanting date you? Who you ever try date who live here? Never. Not since school. So maybe you need try someone you meet, even if so far away sometime.”

Pins inserted into his eyeballs would be more pleasant than having to listen to Alexei’s prodding spiel. Was this an otherworldly punishment? Had Wildcrest served as some purgatorial plane without his realization of death long ago? Dustin begged the universe for answers. Why was this happening to him? Why were the thoughts and hopes that plagued him spouting from the mouth of the very person who haunted him? He wanted to scream. Or shake Alexei until his skull rattled, telling him all the while that he was the answer to every stupid question he asked. It would be so simple to spill his guts, get it over with. End the tired conversation. End their friendship, more likely. So it goes.

“Why do you care so much? You know someone who’s interested?” Dustin snapped with more force than he’d really meant to throw behind his words.

“No. I’m just try to understand. You never tell me you like someone and now you do. Was a surprise to hear, I guess. Makes me sad to see you are sad.”

“I’m not sad, man. Come here.” He motioned Alexei over to face him and placed his hands on either side of his head to impart his final verdict. Sometimes he needed to mimic the guy’s methods of communication to get a point across. If you can’t shut them up, act just as obnoxious. He reiterated, hands jostling Alexei’s face as he said, “You and I both had very different, but very weird nights. My heart is not broken. I’m ok. Ok?”

“Ok. I just think... Sometimes these days you're seeming…” he sighed and switched over to Russian, something he lately only did when he purposefully did not want to be completely honest.

“Thanks. Totally understood that,” Dustin grumbled.

“Oh well. I learn English. You can learn Russian.” He continued ranting in words Dustin did not understand, smug as he prattled on in rapid fire. Alexei got a flick of paint directed at his arm in response.

Alexei eventually trailed off, finished speaking his piece while Dustin resumed painting. He lingered close, in the way but not enough to hinder Dustin’s work. Dustin shuffled over to the pair of ladders where paint cans and palettes were perched, thwarted from mixing his next color when big arms wrapped around him from behind. He spun around in the encircled limbs and returned the gesture, sinking into the embrace. Alexei was so warm, so solid against his body.

“Sorry I’m such annoying person,” Alexei mumbled into Dustin’s neck. “I just worry for you, so much.”

“Bud. You’re not annoying. It’s ok. Can you please tell me what you said? Just a little insight? ”

He pulled back just enough to look Dustin in the eye. It was intense, honed-in and direct. Dustin wanted to shrink away but he stayed the course and held the heavy gaze. If the universe cared about him at all, it would prevent Alexei from noticing the staccato beating of his heart, his racing pulse, and the dilatation of his pupils. The gangly arms smothering him fell to wrap around his waist, hands clasped together at the small of his back like they were about to sway to some faded eighties love song at a middle school dance. He rolled with the set-up, hoping that making an internal joke out of it might make him less likely to pass out. It shouldn’t mean anything even though every touch shared between them meant everything. Following through with his private joke, he rested his arms on Alexei’s shoulders and let his fingertips absently brush the long hair dangling against broad shoulders, like he was dancing with the prom king.

He had been, back in the day. Of course Alexei had been. Plastic crown and toothy grin and flashbulbs as he danced with some cheerleader in a matching headpiece. Dustin remembered the night. He’d wanted to cover them both in pig’s blood and commit widespread arson. He hadn’t exactly ever been normal about Alexei. To say the least.

Dustin released his arms and stepped back. It was always too much.

Alexei smiled down at him, unnatural and kind of pinched, the kind of smile you quickly flashed at strangers in the street when you felt that weird requirement of putting up a fleeting, positive emotion due to stringent societal norms.

“You seem... Little bit, uh. Little unhappy. Little. Hostile?”

“Maybe a little. It’s not a big deal. Just because I’m not walking around shooting f*cking sunshine out my ass, I’m not completely drowning in misery. I'm just... bored,” he answered, words spoken with slow spaces in the in-betweens.

“Bored!? Offensive! Is not boring here.” He slightly spun them as he voiced mock defense at the statement. “So, I bore you now?”

He smiled, clearly joking, trying to add lightness to the strange mood he’d unintentionally created.

“To be fair, it's been a little boring. Most exciting thing I've done lately is paint this f*cking whale. I'm literally watching paint dry.”

“Maybe we trade off vibes. Last night? Too much excitement. Take years off my life.”

“Well, we can’t all live up to your constant wild sexcapades, you know. Might be too much for me. Maybe a little boredom is ok.”

“You promise you are ok? I just, I worry? I know in the winter, when I’m gone - especially this year… I just worry.”

It had been a long, hard winter. And Dustin knew Ivan only ever kept some of his promises. He wasn’t really family. He was the best friend of his favorite nephew. Of course Ivan would hint that there was something going on with him if said friend had a mental breakdown and had spent several weeks rotting away in his guest bedroom.

“Are you still depressed? What happened? I wait for you to tell me, but. I wait. You never say.”

Dustin shrugged. What was there to say? Certainly, not the truth.

“Everyone’s a little depressed, bud. sh*t just happened. Rough winter. I’m ok.”

“Please tell me if you are not. If it’s… bad.”

“I’m ok, Tater. Promise.”

Despite all the melodramatics, an old whale still needed to be rescued from the plight of flaking paint. Alexei sat himself down on the curb and ditched his efforts to have an honest heart-to-heart. He launched into another retelling of his own wild night with a new self-deprecating twist to lighten the tense mood, even if the tale had already been delved into three, four, five times over. It was topical. And their lives were fairly boring, all things considered. Alexei's retelling veered away from bragging and steered into the sheer disbelief of having lived the ordeal. His experience started to sound more like something out of a borderline sexual thriller art house film. Dustin was into (or, pretended to be more into than was the truth) that sort of weirdo artistic movie sh*t, so his brain was primed to wander. Camilla from Boston. Cemented into their personal lore.

It didn’t take too long for the pair to get distracted from the task at hand, deciding that a break from doctoring the whale was needed by way of smoking up under the nearby boardwalk. Smoke from their joint spilled up through the planks to scandalize the tourists stomping overhead with the illicit aroma.

“Let me help,” Alexei whined as Dustin mixed a fresh batch of navy blue to start working on the chipped section of ocean underneath the tail.

“f*ck, no. There are zero artistic bones in your body. How’s that gonna reflect on me when they see the really good sh*t and your f*cked up section standing out next to it? No f*ckin’ way, man.”

“Come onnnn, Snowy! Little bit help with ocean part. How hard is slapping blue paint on top of old blue paint. Just mix and give me brush. I promise. You will be impress by how good I paint.”

“No!” Dustin yelled as a grab was made for his brush as he tried to balance on his ladder. “Get off me, you’re gonna make me spill this sh*t everywhere.”

Alexei did manage to steal a detailing brush off the cart, as well as a small amount of some bright paint, conceding to sit down on the curb and paint his sneakers instead of the wall. He was sporting one of his lesser-valued Puma Sky pairs, already a horrendous shade of hot salmon. The swirls of aqua and acid yellow he clumsily detailed on top of the leather were revolting. Dustin let out a snort of laughter at the sight. Whatever worked. Anything to distract and keep Alexei from sabotaging his hard work.

He was laying the groundwork for a beautifully shaded giant seahorse, so disproportionate next to the whale, when Alexei grew bored again and approached. His sneakers were entirely destroyed and dripping across the sidewalk.

“Are you proud of yourself? Was that your goal?” Dustin asked, pointing at the hideous sneakers and the sloppy paint application staining the surrounding concrete.

“Yes. Is super cool.”

“Coolest kicks on the whole damn B-Walk, man. Messiest, too.”

“Thinking they might start trend, yes? I start offer for custom work. Make side money.”

“Dude, you know what?” Dustin began, playing along with Alexei’s prideful paint job. Everything started to sound like a fantastic idea when you were high. “We should convince some of the high school dopes that this is like, a thing now. It’ll be hilarious. You know how susceptible those guys are. Make them ruin their f*ckin’ prized kicks.”

“Oh my god, Snowy! Too funny. Yes! I am so in. They all gonna look so f*cking dumb.”

Later in the evening, Alexei wandered up the stairs to the boardwalk and conned some dinner away from a friend working one of the nearest food stands. A couple of free rides on the roller coster were bartered as promise for the exchange of a pizza and some sodas, which was an easy deal since Alexei let his non-rides worker friends ride stuff for free all the time with no incentive. Dustin made progress on the mural while they chatted and goofed off, never trailing back to their earlier, painfully heavier conversation. Paint was flicked at one another, careful to avoid screwing up the work in progress on the wall but not careful enough to avoid smattering their faces and hair with childish drops as they toed the line between idiot boys being typical idiot boys and the very textbook definition of flirting.

On an otherwise dull Tuesday, Alexei Mashkov’s thighs made a grand appearance. In all their rippling, muscled, bronzed and bare glory. All of his thighs. More thigh than was otherwise appropriate for a man in a modest position of authority. This man was responsible for the safety of living, human people. A daunting truth.

Dustin was going to lose his mind. He should have seen the foreshadowing, he really should have. In full confidence, there stood Alexei in the shortest khaki shorts he’d ever seen passed off as part of the Mariner’s uniform. This particular June evening boasted high temperatures, but it wasn’t hot enough that Dustin should be experiencing heat stroke. Once certain that his heath was actually in order and he wasn’t hallucinating from the power of the sun, he took notice of the rest of the ensemble apart from the crafty-cutoff cargo shorts.

Dear f*cking god.

Accentuating the look further, despite the shorts existing as a spectacle all on their own, Alexei sported colorful, knee high tube socks and one of the old neon-striped bucket hats that someone in marketing had attempted to incorporate into the uniform options over half a decade ago. Where the hell he’d dug that floppy, dejected monstrocity out from - who knew. Between the socks, the painted shoes, the hideous hat, and the pièce de résistance shorts themselves - Alexei looked remarkably stupid. He was so f*cking pleased with himself.

Dustin was still massively, devotedly attracted to him. He wasn’t proud.

“Tater! What… the actual hell… are you wearing?” Georgia asked in a panic before Dustin could articulate words. They hadn’t left the supervisor’s station yet.

Georgia’s gaze darted between Alexei and Dustin, silently begging for backup. Dustin was useless and unhelpful, currently blue-screening in real time. Each stupid thing Alexei did only served to turn Dustin on more. His eyes kept tracking back to the miniscule article of clothing with magnet-like determination. It was a lot to take in. Maybe it was the level of confidence that Alexei exuded when he pulled stunts like this. Maybe it was the way he didn’t care what people thought, parading himself around like a fool to become the center of attention and make everyone else laugh at him. Always the deliverer of the punch line but never the sole butt of the joke. He existed on his own terms. That sort of attitude was attractive in a man. Maybe it was the thighs. Most likely the thighs.

Right on cue since something obnoxious was happening, their fellow supervisor Mandy walked by and let out a single, shocked screech of laughter. If anything else served as a greater mood killer, Dustin never wanted to encounter it.

“Daaaayum, Tater. Legs for daaaaays,” she announced like she was emceeing in a WWE ring, with hands circled around her mouth to make herself needlessly louder. “Duuude, are those my socks?!”

“Da, you leave at my house. Mine now!”

She snapped a picture of the ensemble and immediately sent it to the supervisor’s group chat, and raucously laughed together as the responses rolled in. They were kindred spirits, Mandy and Alexei, but Dustin found her barely palatable. She accompanied Alexei to the most atrocious clubs in ‘Crest, since Dustin adamantly refused to step foot in those places. She yelled most of her words and wore more bronzer than was acceptable past the year 2012 and was as gay as the day was long. And he was pretty sure those two had the exact same taste in women. Listening to her and Alexei converse for too long risked brain damage to anyone brave enough to pay attention. Jealous wasn’t the right word for how Dustin felt about her. Resentful? Perhaps.

Through grade school, they’d never clicked, classmates since kindergarten. Alexei arrived when they were freshman in high school. Dustin was the first person he’d met as a new student, and the rest was history. He was a little protective. Dustin had never been able to enmesh himself with people posing competition for Alexei’s attention. Separate circles. Aloof to outsiders. Eternally devoted.

“So, what you think?” Alexei asked once Mandy left him to gather her shift equipment.

“Why?” Dustin managed to squeak when Alexei marched himself and his shorts over with giddy excitement.

“Why not! Summer of trend setting!”

“Trend towards setting everything you’re currently wearing on fire. Burn away the evidence,” he lied, trying to feign disgust when he really just wanted to sink his teeth into his goddamn toned thighs, forever taunting his self control. Legs for days. f*ck Mandy for being right.

“But Snowy! Then I’m naked. You want me walk around work naked? Scandal!”

He didn’t dignify that with a comment. He couldn’t. Honestly, he didn’t trust himself and his weak ass traitor of a mouth, not being led by his brain at the moment. Alexei turned back around to talk to Mandy at the clipboard station and Dustin flat out stared at his ass in those tight, tiny shorts. The entire situation was a shock to the system compared to night after night of baggy cargo shorts and not what once were skinny jeans, now landing just above mid-thigh.

Georgia conceded that there was nothing officially on record that said he couldn’t wear what he was currently wearing. Technically, the uniform specifications in the employee handbook outlined the polos for each department and level within (solids for seasonal and standard tier, stripes for management), to be paired with tan colored shorts or pants. That was all. They were also allowed hats that bore the Mariner’s logo. There was nothing that dictated pant length. A missed regulation and an unfortunate oversight. He was golden.

“In all seriousness, what the f*ck happened? Why did your pants… shrink.”

“You hate?”

“Not… exactly,” he mumbled as they walked.

“You know how we buy those new pants? I put on. Then mess up. Bad.”

“I’m imagining you trying to put them on and your gargantuan legs hulking out the seams. Did the hat and socks manifest instead of the green skin?”

“You are NERD! No, I want to make long pants into shorts, yes? Hate how skinny pants feel so tight on ankles. Want to make them like how you wear, you know? How you cut pants at knee? Always look nice. So… I cut. Mean to cut off for only at knee but… measure wrong. Cut too much. Then also uneven so I am stupid and cut other leg for match and… vot-tak! Is not what I want but too funny!”

Internally, Dustin found it endearingly cute that Alexei initiated the endeavor not to pull a practical joke, but to mimic his own personal style, doing so because he thought he looked nice. The sentiment restored Dustin’s will to live for at least a week or two. His poor pathetic heart ached. So it goes.

“That’s… ok. I mean, I guess I see what happened. They’re just way too short, dude.”

“Yeah! But I pull off. Pull off whole look. Admit!”

“The f*ckin’ accessorizing might be a little… much.”

“Ok, fine. But it makes you laugh? Worth it if you laugh,” he said as he knocked into Dustin with a soft, pleased grin.

“Hell yeah, f*ckin’ laugh-riot. You look like a deranged, gazelle-legged clown stripper on spring break.”

“Know me so well, Snowy! Exactly what I go for with this.”

“Man, shut the f*ck up.”

For a while, work went on as usual - the only difference being the addition of a twinge more sexual frustration on Dustin’s part as he tried and failed to avert his eyes whenever Alexei did anything that required bending. He managed. For the most part. He’d dealt with worse. Not while attempting to work, but he had enough self control to keep his mouth shut and only sneak a glance when unavoidable. Unfortunately, the longer they walked around in public, the more coworkers they encountered and the more they had to go through the whole spiel of regaling hilarity and laughter at the whole ensemble. As more people egged him on during one his pranking or joking moods, Alexei’s ability to drop a subject lessened and lessened until he wore out his welcome, grinding the joke into the dirt.

Sighting another unwilling victim, Alexei strutted over to the poor kid manning the funhouse line with the grin of the devil himself stretched across his face. He stood all up in the dude’s space, trying to elicit a reaction. One leg was propped on a spare crate while he stood with hands on his hips, elbows stuck out like the arms of a trophy. The young attendant was three seconds away from a complete meltdown.

“You look like the flamboyant cousin of Captain Morgan who manages a Gap clothing store in Miami,” Dustin called to him as he fought through hysterics.

“Who is Captain Morgan? We know him from league games?”

“Dude, no. I forgot you don’t drink anything but sh*t vodka. He’s that whiskey pirate! On the bottle!”

“Ohhhh, yes! I know whiskey pirate!” He re-posed with a flourish, brandishing an invisible sword.

“You look like a gay dentist on safari at a Fire Island petting zoo!”

“What does that mean!?”

“You look like if that monkey from Dora the Explorer became a human and immediately discovered Grindr.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but can you two do this… anywhere else? I’m not sure this is appropriate?”

Tony, the funhouse attendant, used one hand to shield his face out of genuine embarrassment when Alexei flexed his leg and bent forward, leaning even more into the mortified kid’s space.

“Why? Am just demonstrate new rides uniform.”

Dustin stepped in, adding fuel to the fire. “He’s not joking around. It’s gonna be mandatory.”

“I don’t believe you? You guys are kinda acting like assholes.”

“Only kinda?” Dustin innocently asked once he regained his composure having laughed himself to near tears at Tony's reaction.

“My uncle owning park. I can make happen. Get those thighs ready.”

“Um, so for me that’s going to be a resounding f*ck no. No thanks? I’d rather not?”

“Hey. There are kids here. Don’t f*cking swear, Tony.”

“You work in rides - you show your thighs. New motto. New rule!” Alexei cheered, shuffling poor Tony around by the shoulders in a two-man congo line as he attempted to collect tickets from the few people in line.

“You guys are making me nervous! I gotta get these tickets!”

“Work through the pain, Tangredi! This is your Training Day!”

“Was that a reference? I don’t understand that one! Why is this happening to me? I used to really like you guys. Am I being filmed on hidden camera?”

“Aw, missed idea! Should have filmed reaction of everyone! Booo. Thanks for idea too late.”

“You’re welcome! Can you guys please go away now? If that’s not super rude to ask? I hate everything that is happening right now.”

They eventually left him alone to find their next target and unleash further suffering. Dustin saved every photo that had been sent to the group chat. For reasons. He could crop out the worst parts. He had priorities.

There were only two people in his immediate circle that knew the truth. The other side of Dustin. His whole self. His big secret.

His brother knew about the long-harbored crush. Dustin hadn’t planned on telling him about it unless relevant because, f*ck, that was embarrassing, right? Talking bro-to-bro about your crush on your best dude friend? Awkward.

The truth came out during a messy night of heavy drinking while watching the Philly Spectrums get obliterated by the Founders a few years back. He drank to celebrate the big win while Chip drowned his sorrows to dull the incessant roasting his little bro dished after their teams clashed. Hockey and beer and Chip’s recent break-up with some chick morphed into honesty hour. The night ended with woeful wiles on heartbreak and heartsickness, some pretentious metaphors were woven comparing being a faithful sports fan with secret devotion to an out-of-reach love and by the end of the night, Chip knew all about how pathetically head-over-heels his brother was for his childhood friend. Absolute chirp fodder, but the support was true.

Other than Chip (who'd accepted his not-so-straight proclivities long before the Alexei confession, but wasn’t the most tactful or mature of confidants), Dustin turned to the fishing pier for some wholesome, man to man conversation and solidarity.

Navigating the streets up to the north end of the island was difficult enough with a canvas strapped to his back, but he was also transporting a dismantled fishing pole, a tackle box, and bag of Wawa hoagies that bounced around in his bike’s basket. Every true townie had a basket on their bike, even the gruff Italian goons Dustin knew who ran the surf shop at the end of the boardwalk. How else were they going to transport their bocce ball sets for the nightly matches on the beach? Roads were flat and the island wasn’t that big. If you had nothing going on, why not save a little gas and pedal? Alexei chirped the hell outta him for his stupid basket, but what did he know anyway? Dude could barely ride a bike. Not everyone owned a Ferrari that they drove to go six blocks.

Guy was already set up at the end of the pier, with his pants rolled up to the knee and his legs dangling over the dockside a few paces away from his bait shop. The ‘Closed for Lunch’ sign hung in the window, lacking a return time as Guy did things at his own pace. He saluted a wave when Dustin arrived and started setting up his pole.

“Anything biting?”

“Two seabass in the cooler. Crab traps are getting full. Not ‘bout to stand behind the counter when the catching’s this good.”

“Nice,” he offered a fist bump and settled in, hooking bait from out of Guy’s pail and securing the rod holder. He distributed the hoagies and thermoses of coffee and settled down on the hot, sun-baked wooden planks.

An off-chance meeting when Dustin severely f*cked up his dad’s fishing pole in middle school had spawned an odd friendship. Guy helped him fix the pole and Dustin began hanging around the fishing pier, forcing gas station food and teenage angst onto his randomly acquired fishing partner. Dustin liked catching fish, but hated eating it. Food that retained the taste of the ocean - he could do without. He gave his hauls to Guy, along with a heaping pile of constant gossip.

The man was also his best customer. Dustin sold him a painting or two each season (at a severely discounted price, the man none the wiser) ever since he’d started formally putting paint to canvas. Guy had a fondness for overly dramatic paintings of pirate ships.

“Brought your latest commission,” Dustin said as he cleared away his hoagie wrapper and grabbed the painting.

“Already? Called that one in only last week. Been bored?”

“Pretty much. Decent way to pass the time. Not to brag, but this one’s f*ckin’ wicked.”

He scooted back to spin the canvas around, smiling wide when Guy let out a long whistle. Clearly pleased, he nodded in appreciation. The painting depicted a classic galleon, skull and crossbones proud as the ship breached a violent, rising wave. He’d created nearly a dozen similar pieces for Guy in the past and the man was never disappointed. A man of simple taste - he knew what he liked and stuck to it.

“Quite a beaut, eh?” Guy noted in admiration as he thoroughly inspected the painting, turning it this way and that to watch the thick brushstrokes of dried paint catch the sunlight and cast shadows, adding to the churning waves that stood frozen against the canvas. “Brag all ya want.”

“Check out the figurehead. I added that squid thing you talked about after all.”

“Goin’ in the den, right over my desk. Been waitin’ to replace that f*ckin’ hideous bird piece my sister gifted me. Tacky ass motel art. Near outta wall space otherwise. Got half a mind to toss that thing right off the pier.”

“I know the one. Don’t talk to me about birds. Bout sick of f*cking birds.”

Guy raised an eyebrow, amused by the vitriol in which Dustin admonished his dislike. This prompted Dustin to launch into a long-winded retelling of the Gull in the Arcade Massacree, exaggerating where the story needed it and telling straight the parts that did not need any assistance, accompanied by video and photos blessedly taken for posterity.

“Gull catching skills aside, how is the ol’ boy?” Guy teased with a wicked smirk once Dustin’s tirade hit an endpoint.

Dustin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It stood on end as he sweated in the sun. Where to even begin.

“He’s good, you know? He’s good. Same old big, beautiful idiot making my life hell and keeping sane here. While simultaneously making me lose my damn sanity. It’s great,” he offered a genuine smile as he shared the honest, sappy vulnerability.

Guy never judged him, not about that sort of thing. Especially not after the past winter. Ivan's wasn't the only couch that had cradled and housed a boy on the brink of self-destruction.

“Oh, to be young and in love. Good excuse for all the stupid sh*t you two get up to, I swear.”

“Hey, now. You’re not that old. Sure, you act about sixty but you’re a ways off there, pal.”

“Respect your elders.”

“Respect your elders, my ass. You graduated f*cking high school in the nineties. That’s modern f*cking day.”

“Feels like a lifetime ago,” he mused. Wistful and with a touch of sadness that clung to him like so much sea salt on an ocean breeze, he stared out into the steady midday waves. Stubby fingers traced over the plain gold band he still wore, years later.

“Don’t waste it, kid,” he said, breaking the calm. “Only advice I can give you. Don’t miss out.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Ain’t sayin’ it’s not. Just sayin’. If the moment ever comes, don’t waste it.”

“Noted.” Dustin got up to check the fishing pole and fought the urge to reel it back in and cast out again so soon, having only re-baited a few minutes previously. Throwing the line was always more fun to him than sitting and waiting for the bite.

He sat back down and asked, “What if the moment never comes?”

“Make your own moment.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You truly waitin’ around for him?”

“Not exactly.”

“Ah, but you might be, eh? You can be honest. It’s your life. Who am I to judge? Waiting on a ghost, and all.”

“Look, it’s not like I’ve met anyone else that lives up. If I do, then I do. If that doesn’t happen for a while, well, I’ll keep harboring this thing for him. At least he’s in my life, even if it's not my ideal. I’ll manage.” He immediately winced, hoping his comment held no offense considering the present company.

“No pressure,” Guy laughed, easing Dustin’s worry that he’d put his foot in his mouth. “Just offering my wise, worldly advice to the youth of the day. Least I can offer in my old age.”

“Holy f*ck, again with this? You act like I’m thirteen and you’re f*ckin’ eighty goddamn years old! You’re on Twitter, for f*cks sake. We swap f*cking Spotify playlists.”

“You know, Betty White is on Twitter. So. Levity.”

“Betty White is not on Twitter.”

“She is. I follow her.”

“Then there's no way it’s actually her typing that sh*t out.” Guy shrugged. “Hold up. Are you insinuating a comparison between yourself and a literal Golden Girl? Is this what’s happening?”

“Fightin’ about old age and gossiping about boys? You tell me if I'm that far off.”

Once the idea had been implanted, that fabled moment of fate Guy had referenced seemed to jump out at Dustin every other day, taunting him and his hesitance to unchain the bindings of a secret. How many times did they find themselves surrounded by people at a house party, circled up as Dustin crooned another hauntingly charged tune on the guitar while Alexei smiled like a dope at him and then immediately at some random girl? How convenient would it have been to cut in and actually sing some blatant truths, a heartfelt dedication from across the circle? How many times did they find themselves alone over the course of a shift, hiding in some hidden corner of the park to laugh and joke and share some of Dustin’s stash, crowded together like the whole wide world didn’t exist for them to spread out and breathe. They were always together, trudging along through a lifetime of moments.

June was almost halfway gone. An afternoon playoff game provided Dustin with another in a long series of compromising situations that would prompt an outsider to muse. Look at them and how lucky it is that those two have each other. The wistful wishing of it all stuck in Dustin's throat, sticky like tar. How lucky? He felt lucky to have survived as long as he had, having perpetually choked on words and truths and simple statements that could change and ruin everything he held dear.

The soothing sounds of blades on ice, a player’s yell, the scrape of a puck, and running commentary filled Dustin’s living room. Game six of the finals played on the big screen that looked completely out of place in the dated decor of his house. Priorities. Dustin actively rooted against Boston, who’d knocked out the Founders in the semi-finals. He diverted all of his hopes to the irrelevant central division team that he was reluctantly supporting out of spite. Boston was on his current sh*t-list, for unrelated reasons.

Getting belligerent about a team he barely cared about was an excuse to day-drink himself stupid and settle further against Alexei on the couch. Low stakes on the screen. Higher and higher in the flesh. The thought lingered in the back of his head to do something, test the waters, but so did Alexei’s hand, carding gently through his hair as the other balanced hot wings against the arm of the couch. Dustin settled in and said nothing, did nothing. Drank yet another beer and trusted his mouth to shout about botched penalty calls and complain about hot sauce dripped on his couch rather than anything important. He had the boy he liked firm and solid against his side, breathing down his neck. Why ruin a good thing?

He kept his mouth shut (except to continue shouting at the television in hopes that his outrage bypassed the limitations of technology and influenced the refs from his position on the couch in South Jersey) and his hands to himself. Alexei reveled in human contact, that was all. That was normal. He was a touchy guy. They’d always been this way. Alexei was like that with anyone who indulged his rabid teddy bear tendencies. Every work shift, Dustin watched the guy smother some other poor fool with his gangly arms, or drape himself over someone at a beach party. He and Mandy melded into a single form when they were together, and there was absolutely nothing more to that. Hell, he'd swallowed his diagust and watched as Alexei cuddled with f*cking Vitali at the last house party. He was an overly-friendly guy. It was nice to be the subject of all that affection - but he wasn’t special, at least not in that regard. He had to keep reminding himself, shooting down his own hopes.

Why ruin it after all this time? Wasn’t this enough? To attribute how Alexei acted to anything beyond their perfectly comfortable and open friendship felt like a betrayal. Why call attention to Alexei’s casual affection and risk it disappearing forever? Why now?

Compromising positions were commonplace, barely anything to dwell on for too long. Barely anything to report to nosy, gossip-hungry fishermen, anyway. Cuddling on the couch. An arm around his shoulders as they did their Mariner’s rounds. Both arms draped around him as they sat on the beach, drinking and listening to the latest stories from their coworkers as they hung out around a bonfire in the wee night hours. All normal.

Almost.

Dustin did feel that lick of shame upon having a door wrenched open, caught practically in each other’s lap by their superior. There was something about the in-your face implication of being found in a compromising position in a cramped stockroom that circled back past embarrassment into sheer guilt. Didn’t matter that Georgia was a friend. Didn’t matter that deep down, Dustin knew her judgment coincided with their slacking off from work, and not any implication of intimacy.

There wasn’t a lot of room to break apart from one another, seeing as the storage closet was used as a games stock area shoved full of stuffed animals. It was cramped and perfect for their intended purpose of trying to hotbox and make the most while toking up on their break. Must have lost track of time. It looked like they were in the middle of fully going at it, legs sprawled together with flushed, sweaty faces close as they shared a lighter and breathed smoke into shared air.

It was maybe a little more than compromising.

Georgia stared at Dustin. Dustin stared at Georgia. Alexei stared at Dustin. Georgia broke the tension.

“What the hell is this!?”

They were greeted with a face demonstrating the full Georgia Martin signature wrath, true form rare and mythically captivating, and not something you wanted to cause. She stood fuming while her eyes darted between the two, and finally fixated on the joint hanging limply from where it stuck to Alexei’s lip. She sighed deeply at the pair of delinquents. The evidentiary scent of a stuffy closet and potent, earthy smoke was thick. She could kill them. She could really kill them and no one would feel sorry for the guys.

“How’d you find us?” Dustin asked. Dumb question, wrong question. Georgia frowned harder as her eyes followed the smoke trailing from the end of the joint and flicked her hand wildly in the air to mimic the rising smoke.

Alexei kicked at him as soon as he said it, from his perch on a giant, stuffed, orange knock-off Pikachu. He removed the joint and tried his darndest to shrink in on himself against the wall of prizes. A few small Angry Birds fell loose as he sank in further, prompting an involuntary fit of giggles from Dustin as the fat little birds rolled past Georgia’s feet.

“How’d I find you? Been searching for you everywhere since apparently you turned your damn radios off. Greg ratted you out. Said he last saw you head off this way an hour ago and hadn’t seen you since.”

“f*ck Greg,” Alexei muttered.

“Which Greg was it? f*ckin’ Pellegrini, I bet. Traitor. Payback for making him test drive the seal cars and high jacking the lock on him.”

“Haaa, that was good. But Real Greg is real asshole.”

“Dude, both Greg’s are assholes, they’re f*cking useless-”

Georgia cut them off after listening to their bullsh*t with disbelief. “Dustin! Alexei! Not important! You guys missed your checks! You can f*ck around and do whatever bullsh*t it is you do to take up the rest of your time and I’ll act like I don’t know about it, but lord almighty, you can’t miss your checks. Literally the only important part of this stupid job.”

“Sorry. Went on break and I guess we lost track of time?”

“Got that right. Look. It’s a safety thing! This isn't Action Park. It isn't nineteen eighty-six . We have procedures. I should write you up!” Alexei smirked at the comment, which pissed her off further. “What? Think I won’t?”

“No disrespect, but you think my uncle cares that I goof off one time?”

"One time? Guys. Come on. Just try. A little. There’s people who deal with protocols other than your lazy uncle. So. Watch it. Switch to games if you want a job with zero responsibility. Got a headstart being in here, yeah? Want me to put in a good word with Jeanine in HR for the transfer?”

She cut off whatever ill-planned comment Alexei was going to try to joke back with by ripping the joint from Alexei’s fingers.

“Stop f*cking around and forcing me do your jobs. I’m not gonna bail you out again. All I’m asking for is minimal effort. Don’t. Miss. Your f*cking. Checks.”

“Here,” Dustin pulled out a fresh, full joint and offered it as a peace offering. It was snatched away and pocketed immediately. She motioned for the lighter as well. “Sorry, George. We’re morons.”

“Unforgiven but it’s a start. Get back out there. Stop smoking and making out on company time,” she took a long drag of the still lit joint and then dropped it to the floor, crushing it with her shoe.

Dustin nearly tripped over himself as he jumped down from, well, Alexei’s lap. His entire body felt like it had glitched briefly into a parallel dimension before slamming back into present space.

“No, no. We weren’t-”

“I really do not give a f*ck, boys. Move it.”

Alexei burst out laughing as soon as she stormed away. It was infectious whilst under their current condition, regardless of the momentary stab of discomforting call-out.

Dustin wiped a tear from his eye and said, “We pissed her the f*ck, off man.”

“Poor George. We need do something to make up for her. Before she tell everyone she catch us f*cking in games closet for revenge.”

The standard reactionary brain-delay that overcame Dustin in highly stoned states almost, almost caused him to make some insane snap suggestion of “would that really be that bad?” or some similar nightmare slip.

“Wait. So were we f*cking for revenge or is telling people about it the revenge?” If he made it into a joke, it was funny and fake. And safe. “I’m confused about our arrangement.”

“Why not both? Secret hookups like secret meeting. Like James Bond. I’m only sleep with you to get everyone’s information.”

“Oh, real nice. Here I thought we were partners.”

“No. Is only ploy for revenging. Sorry, Snowy. You are sexy bond girl in this relationship. Only a pawn I use for blackmail.”

“What we had was real! Wait, what are we getting revenge on, again? I’m way too stoned to rationalize this.”

They ventured back into the public eye, overcompensating for their absence by darting from ride to ride and over-enthusiastically chatting about status reports with the operators and ticket collectors. They were too blitzed to function normally, riding the weighted-down sensation where everything was hilarious and everything was exciting, even as words and directions were delivered at half-speed.

And then Ivan showed up.

Cold terror struck the duo, nearly killing a really stellar high. Ivan, Ivan, Ivan. The man, myth, and unfortunate reality. Ivan was a very rich, very large, and very stereotypical Eastern European man who wore full, tacky suits no matter the weather and spoke in an even more booming, excitable voice than his favorite nephew, albeit, more intimidating because of who he was and how he carried himself. The fact that he was walking around the park horrified Dustin, as the lazy ass rarely ventured out of his office at the north pier. When he did muster up the urge to check up the other two legs of his connected theme parks, he was typically surrounded by his equally unnerving entourage of associates as they did a walkthrough. On that night in particular, he arrived alone.

Ivan strode up to the boys, both still reeking of weed, red eyed and fresh from screwing up the most basic of job duties. He called their names with arms outstretched, approaching with excitement and hard claps on the back.

They could cry. They both could truly break down and sob. Their drug-addled constitutions went unnoticed. He didn’t say a f*cking word about their major protocal break or anything about the entire incident. They were sure Georgia had followed through with her threat and his visit was spawned from rage and near certain, swift retaliation. Coincidence was one hell of a drug - causation from the highs and lows of absolute worry bred whiplash singed relief. They played their giddy enthusiasm off as a symptom of kiss-assery.

Alexei and Dustin flanked Ivan like perfectly exemplary carny bodyguards as he made his impromptu rounds. They stopped at any rides they passed along their stroll, unnerving the poor attendants who knew who he was, eyes bugging out once they read his nametag. Ivan shared in his nephew’s fantastic mood and praised Dustin’s expert knowledge about the goings-on of Mariner’s.

“Good, good. Know I can trust you boys to keep an eye out on my park.” Hands clapped on backs once again.

Loud, booming laughter was shared between the three men and Georgia’s eyes rolled a concerning amount as she listened to it all and said nothing after being roped into joining the traveling circus. Every time Ivan turned away from her, her expression turned murderous.

“Owing her big time,” Alexei whispered to Dustin as Georgia shifted between silent rage and the world’s most impressively perfect hospitality voice.

“Oh, yeah. For sure. We totally don’t deserve her having our backs like this. We gotta do something,” he added.

“Good. Ok. After work, we make plan.”

They rode the doting praise throughout the remainder of the night and felt the heated aggravation from the seasonal workers who were sick of their sh*t. Maybe they did take things too far. Scanning over the faces of the teenagers loading tourists onto the flume ride, he witnessed emotions ranging from boredom to apathy, and from misery to the brink of tears. The job could be incredible, and it could be soul-crushing. There was a time when he stood on the other end of the hierarchy, young and bitter and pissed off while he watched his supervisors goof off and carry on when he was the one stuck clipping belts on the Italian Trapeze and yelling at kids to stop entwining the swings. He’d suffered. He’d done his time. Maybe he could attempt to be a little nicer to his subordinates. Maybe he could try to make it less obvious that he got away with anything and everything. Maybe he could do his job.

Hideous polos were exchanged for street clothes once finally free from Ivan and Georgia and the eight hours Mariner’s claimed five or six nights a week. They left the pier and walked through the thinning late night crowds to hit the main boardwalk in search of something nice for Georgia.

“I’m starting to lean towards the revolutionary idea that George would appreciate us just doing our f*cking jobs sometimes, yeah?” Dustin said as they stared at yet another case of tacky jewelry hawked inside the never-ending line-up of boardwalk gift shops.

“Probably.”

“God, I don’t even know her style. What am I looking at here,” he gestured to the display of necklaces and rings under the glass. How was he supposed to know what anyone liked? It all looked the damn same. “Does she even wear jewelry? f*ck if I know. I think she wears earrings sometimes but I can’t remember.”

“I never see her outside work uniform anymore. Other than in bikini playing volleyball with us those couple times.”

“You would fixate on that.”

“Ok, I am useless. Can only picture beach outfit now. Not helpful, but nice thought.”

“One track mind, man. Focus,” Dustin mumbled, powering through the flaring jolt of resentment and envy. Not the time. Never the time.

“What? Can you blame a guy? Georgia is very good looking. Is compliment,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. Dustin flashed a strained smile and turned away to feign interest in gaudy charm bracelets. “Oh! I know what we buy.”

“If you say a new swimsuit I’m honestly going to slap you.”

“Maybe I’m check her Instagram, see if she wearing jewelry,” Alexei relented. He pulled out his phone and began to scroll.

“You boys needing help? Buy something nice for girlfriends, hmm? Oh. Oy blyad.”

Alexei whipped his head up at the sound of the girl behind the counter’s voice. They locked eyes and he mumbled something harsh sounding in Russian under his breath. With all the sweetness of sour milk, she responded, clearly hostile. He stumbled back, nearly taking out a rack of knock-off handbags and sputtered as the girl stared at him like she was seconds away from pulling a knife. Dustin didn’t doubt that she possessed the capacity to actually do it, and likely had one strapped somewhere under her dress. Alexei pushed the rack upright and fled the store as she called after him, flinging curses as he clumsily bolted with Dustin in tow.

“What the f*ck was that about?” Dustin asked after they took refuge behind a giant hermit crab display a few shops away from the potential shanking.

“Nastya,” he sighed.

“Yeah, a nasty one. Who the f*ck was that?”

“No, is her name. Nastya.”

“Really?” Alexei nodded his head as his eyes scanned the passing crowds like she was going to jump out and attack. “Goddamn. Life didn’t pull any punches sticking her with that mess of a name, f*ck. Who-”

“Is normal name, how you never hear?”

“Whatever, fine. Who the f*ck is she?”

“Uhh. Ex-girlfriend? Not really? Ex-something. I think she go back to Russia and stay but,” he sighed deeply, “guess not.”

“Yikes. When was this? I don’t remember this one.”

“Oh, just a few weeks maybe two summers ago? Clingy, crazy girl. This was the one who punched me in face and gave me black eye when I tell her I can’t stand her and we need stop seeing each other because I think she is scary and mean!”

“f*cking christ, Tater. I remember the black eye but I didn’t know that was what happened. sh*t, I assumed you’d just got into one of your scraps at the club.”

“Yes! Nastya punch me! She is worst!”

He clung to the front of Dustin’s shirt as he explained, repulsion splashed across his eyes. Dustin laid a comforting hand on one of the arms still latching to his shirt. Alexei rambled on and on about what a basket case Nastya was, explaining all the trouble she caused. sh*t, this girl really did a number on him. Why didn’t I know all of this?

“Horrible person,” Alexei practically spat as he deemed it safe enough to venture back down the boardwalk. “Can you believe she wants me marry her after we go out for only two weeks!? Only wants me because of family money! No thank you.”

“What the f*ck? That’s f*cked up. Why didn’t you ever tell me all of this? f*ck, dude.”

“Too embarrassing, the way she acts. Too… everything. Not good time. She’s… so mean. Oh, what is word? Like crazy person but so much worse?”

“Psychopath?”

“Psychopath! That is Nastya,” he sighed through a full body shudder.

Dustin wished that he’d known. It saddened him to discover a gap that wide inside of their friendship. What had been so important two summers ago to have missed that entire mess?

Surface level conversation and shallow chats filled the day, not far-fetched for a decade long friendship that consisted of strong comforts and familiarity. There was so much more to the both of them, and so much he was finding they lacked despite a storied history. His own feelings ran so much deeper, always simmering just below the surface. Too much honesty would disturb that calm, and challenge still waters. He knew Alexei understood that he cared, understood a mutual connection of having each other’s back and always being there for one another. Like brothers, the unfortunate familial aura of it all, forcing labels that choked truths.

The words he wanted to convey hovered so close to becoming spoken reality. As always, they were brushed aside. So dramatic, this inner turmoil. How helpful, how easy it should be, to tell him to stop and listen! Everything will be alright. You don’t have to worry about people like that anymore, someone loves you. Someone loves you, someone loves you, someone...

“I feel bad I didn’t know about this sh*t. Are you really alright?”

“Oh, is all ok.” He waved a hand in the air as if he was chasing away the entire experience. “Only annoyed to see her again. If she tries talk to me… can always run away again. Just another weird, crazy girl. Big yikes?”

“The biggest. You attract the weirdest people, dude.”

“Maybe I attract all people but the crazy weird ones stick out,” he joked, playfully smug but half-serious all the same. They passed another novelty shop and Dustin asked if they wanted to continue the intended hunt. “No more jewelry store. Bad vibe. Maybe we just do something nice for George and stop shopping. Is stupid plan. Only piss her off more if we buy bad gift.”

“Solid. Let’s get some food, I’m starving.”

Loaded with armfuls of food they actually had to pay for (food vendors near the north end of the boardwalk were not as chummy as the usual ones they bartered with at their own pier), they found a quiet bench facing the dunes and sat down. How they both managed to stay so fit despite living off greasy carnival-type fare was beyond the laws of nutrition, but they dug into the feast of funnel cake batter covered confections, slices of pizza, and milkshakes without concern. Dustin maintained a fraction of dignity as he ate, even as pizza grease and powdered sugar dripped all over his knees. Alexei made gluttony into an art form.

“You know, forget all problems and how annoying tourist people always are - best job,” Alexei said in grand declaration through a mouthful of deep fried oreos. “Is not so bad, right? Having best summer. And, is only June!”

Alexei tossed an arm around his shoulders and squeezed him close, a gesture that never failed to make Dustin’s pathetic little heart race. He relaxed further into the contact when the arm remained in place, and sank against his friend’s side with ease.

“Maybe we do this forever, huh? Is tradition. So we can always work together. Best time. Over and over.”

“Eternal summer,” Dustin mused.

Some of the powdered sugar from the funnel cake had splashed across Alexei’s cheek. Indulging an impulse, Dustin brushed it aside and tried not to blush as he realized what he’d done, slightly horrified at the brazen gesture. Alexei only smiled cheerily at him and took another overly large bite of sweet, sugary heart attack fodder.

Residual recklessness prompted Dustin to blurt out his next mistake. He hadn’t intended to start an argument, but sitting and stewing in a moment rarely went as he planned. There were things locked so far down inside, an accidental admission was nigh impossible. Other subjects churned so often at the forefront of his mind, it was inevitable that Dustin eventually allowed them to ignite a blow-up.

“f*cking sucks that we only ever get the summer.”

“What do you mean?”

He knew what Dustin was getting at, but he wanted him to say it before jumping to the standard defense, sensing the beginning of a tired discussion inching out into the open once more.

“I wish… I wish things were like they used to be. It really, really sucks when you're not here.”

“I know. Wish summer longer.”

Dustin sighed. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

Alexei finished the last of his food and sucked the left-over crumbs and grease from his fingers. Dustin tore his eyes away. He had to stop. The constant distraction and hyper-focus on every little unintentionally attractive thing Alexei did was pushing him closer and closer to the brink. It made him feel like a worse person for it, unable to regulate his self control. Unable to have a normal conversation, sniping at his friend for no reason and offering less and less patience. It wasn’t his best friend’s fault that he couldn’t accept their friendship as enough anymore. It wasn’t Alexei’s fault that he was a freak.

Neither said anything and let the silence settle heavy in the air. Alexei shifted on the bench, and inched closer to Dustin, then moved back again, fingers tapping on his knees as he struggled to stop fidgeting. He shifted his sneakers (sporting fuchsia Reebok classics with yellow soles and laces, that night) and staved a bout of restless jitters in his bouncing leg by abruptly standing up. He hated fighting.

Dustin looked up at him, jolting when Alexei stood. Alexei opened his mouth to speak, then decided against it. He shook his head with hands raised, shoulders shrugging - a man conflicted. What do you want from me?

“How long are we gonna keep doing this?” Dustin said with terse resignation to having the conversation. “Work on the f*cking pier and f*ck around for four months. What happens if I ever manage to f*cking graduate?”

“Why having to stop just because of college? Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Tater, really? Dude, I’m not working at the goddamn shore with a f*cking college degree. What’s the point? I’m trying to get out of here. Aren’t you?”

“I do get out of here,” he added, bracing himself for whatever comment Dustin was sure to fight back with against the eternally sore subject.

“Yeah and you always come back here. You’re missing the point.”

“So you want me to never come back? Stay over there all seasons, all year?”

Dustin stiffened at the simple but horrible statement, glancing at the ground. To even entertain the thought bordered on cruelty.

“f*ck, no. Don’t even joke about that sh*t.” He forced steadiness into his voice. “You know that’s absolutely not what I’m saying.”

“I know. Just being asshole.”

During the lull, Alexei sat back down and leaned against Dustin, such a casual thing, with long legs propped up against the rails as they watched the dark peek of ocean from over the dunes. His touched were always so freely given, and Dustin cherished each and every one, even knowing that he was not as special as he liked to pretend, and that he was not a unique recipient to Alexei’s friendship. Some days he could convince himself that it was all for him and that he was the object of his best friend’s eye. Some days, he even deluded himself into the far-off, hopeful possibility that Alexei shared the same guilty secrets, and harbored hidden desires and affections in the pits of his heart. This was not one of those days. Dustin leaned into Alexei and let the sunken feeling in his stomach ground him in the reality of their situation. They were friends. And Dustin was too close to asking for too much.

“You do know working for my father isn’t always fun, yes? Actually, fun is very rare.”

“Obviously. But that doesn’t change the fact that you keep working for the sh*thead.”

“Yeah. I do. Some days better than others, someday are… lots of trouble. Hard to cope. I like spend time with team. Being scout is challenge. I like that. Not like how he does business, you know. But, what am I to do? The money is good. I’m save for future. Is true I’m not work for him forever but I’m not ready to stop. I think… in my heart I think maybe I rather taking sh*t pay here and escape. But is not such an easy option. To move here for real. Big change, big decision, you know?”

“Is it all money for you?”

“Money. Family. Yes. Is that such bad crime? Wanting to have money?”

Nothing compared to a famous father and a bottomless pit of a bank account. He knew he could never stack up.

“You never know. Maybe there’s something here for you. And you have family here, too. I know your dad and Ivan crawled out of the same f*cking gutter, but at least he treats you like an actual son. I just hate seeing you unhappy. When you don’t need to be.”

“I am happy here-”

“I know that. Later, I’m talking about later. When you’re over there, listen. I get depressed as sh*t come fall, and we’ve talked about that, and like, college is f*cked,” he sighed, resigned to his neediness, resigned to being just as secretly clingy as nightmares like Nastya. “Who knows what would happen if we were both here? We could be happy. You… having you around makes me feel so much happier. Do I-”

“Yes,” Alexei answered before the words left Dustin’s mouth. “You make me happy, too, Dustin. You know you do. I miss you, all the time.”

“Maybe I should follow you over there. Be your assistant or some sh*t,” Dustin said, half-joking. Half insane, entirely devoted.

“You would hate. You’re too good, could never sit on train for ten hours just to meet family in little town, scam son into sign terrible contract. Wouldn’t want you to deal with that. Do all Dima’s other bullsh*t.”

“It’s funny that you think I have morals.”

“You do. You are good.” Alexei wrapped his arms completely around Dustin and pleaded into his neck, “Believe me when I tell you - one day I say enough is enough? One day.”

Dustin felt the hot breath against his neck and the outline of a hard-lined smile teased just under his jaw, definitely not purposeful but it made his head spin all the same. He so wanted to get through to Alexei, make him understand that his concerns went beyond a selfish need to have his best friend always close, always living for his best happiness. But the conversation always ended before they got too deep, with Alexei physically smothering the words. It was as if he secretly knew every one of Dustin’s buttons to press, how to distract and divert attention away from any disagreement. He patted Dustin’s shoulder as if to say, here I am. Here we are now. The clash and complement of a heavy overthinker and the island’s most spontaneous disaster waged on, ever steady.

“Yeah, Tater. I believe you,” Dustin assured him in a breathless sort of laugh, placing his palm over Alexei’s jittery knee. The movement stilled.

He wanted to believe him. He wished he was good.

Chapter 5: the agony and the irony, they're killing me

Chapter Text

Monster and Redbull and Wawa coffee and all sorts of chemicals charading as energy sloshed around their veins as they stood like dead weight under the flume ride. It was cool by the mist that drifted off of the ride, a hideaway for them to savor splashes of admittedly gross recycled water as the next boat plunged down the tracks. The ride’s water could be pumping straight from the rest area toilets and neither Dustin nor Alexei would deem themselves to care in their current states.

Both had attempted to stay up all night to play a new release game that had dropped at midnight after their previous shift. Despite running on three hours of sleep that they had involuntarily succumbed to in the early afternoon before work, they considered the night well worth it even if they now felt akin to turnpike roadkill. Or maybe a dead fish on the beach as the sun beat down. Either way, they’d fallen uncomfortably asleep on the living room floor and awoke in a state of nausea and that awful, empty shell feeling from pulling an all-nighter. It was a good thing that their jobs were essentially brainless ninety percent of the time. They’d certainly left theirs back at Dustin’s house, somewhere around hour seven of zombie killing.

“Look over at rookie over there. Over by tilting whirl.”

“Tilt-o-whirl. Say over again?”

“Over, over.” He giggled like he was drunk and wacked the back of his hand against Dustin’s head, pleased with the returning chuckle for his efforts. “Just look. He tries to flirt. Always flirting with that girl.”

“Aw, the baby.” They both cooed over their trainee supervisor, watching him attempt to chat up the operator manning the ride as he made his best effort pretending to adjust the control mechanics.

“Doesn't take twenty minutes to check on the f*cking sh*tty tilt-o-whirl. That’s a five minute switch board check, max.”

“Facts. You ever ride that?”

“Dude, I’ve ridden everything here. You told me you did, too.”

“We never go on that one together so, I don’t remember. Hate that ride. Not even fun. Is only… puking.”

“Weak, bro. Can’t handle the heat, stay outta… stay outta. f*ck. I don’t f*cking know.” The exhaustion was winning by a longshot.

“We need nap.”

Thankfully, they exercised both self-control and self-preservation and nixed their usual first break joint. Results under present conditions would be disastrous. Their drug of choice would render them comatose if indulged, so on a rare bout of sound decision-making, their usual break time indulgence was foregone. They retreated to the usual privacy of the overlook deck and sat side by side. Alexei lounged with his chest pressed against the rails so his feet could dangle over the sand while Dustin slumped opposite, back to the ocean. Boneless limbs, weary eyes, and that strange hollow feeling that followed a night without enough sleep, not dissimilar to a car straining down the highway while the empty tank light blinked in desperation.

“Talk to me. Otherwise I'm actually gonna nap and once I'm out I don't think you'll be able to get me up. Can’t wait to end this f*cking shift and pass right the f*ck out.”

“Sleep like dead. Be calling exorcism guy to wake you up.”

“Hmmm. Maybe you mean necromancer. Raises the dead.”

“Snowy. Wow. Always such nerd.”

“And yet you keep me around anyway.” Unable to keep his neck propped up, he let it loll against Alexei's shoulder with zero hesitation or internal chastising. This went beyond stolen touches from a secret crush. He was about to pass out.

Alexei informed him that he wasn't as tired as Dustin probably was, and promised to wake him in twenty minutes if he truly wanted to nap.

“Nah, man. That’s not fair. I'm ok. Just keep talking to me. Golden. f*ckin’ golden.”

Alexei drew him closer and smiled soft against his rather messy hair. He trailed a hand gently down his sleepy friend’s arm, practically holding him upright as they both fought off their exhaustion.

“Snowy?”

“Hmm?”

“Is nice like this.”

“Be nicer if we were f*ckin’ asleep but that’s not on the table right now.”

“I say you can,” he reminded him, met with unintelligible grumbles muttered into his shoulder. “Hmm. Like you sleepy a little.”

“Why? Feel like sh*t.”

“You’re nice. Less mad at the whole world. Soft.”

“M’not f*ckin’ soft.”

“Sssshh. Soft.”

If Dustin was functioning at full awareness, his brain would have reached critical mass, hyper-focused on the arm around him and the gentle exploration of the hand in his hair and the reverb of that low voice pressed right against his side. Instead, he lay propped up like a ragdoll and focused on keeping his eyes open. He didn’t even protest as the telltale sound of a phone camera shuttered, capturing a private moment that Alexei would nonetheless share on some form of social media. He couldn’t even feel embarrassed. He secretly liked being shown off, but was too borderline self-conscious to ever post something like that on his own. Later, he’d greedily check his feeds and save whatever fleeting moment was uploaded into digital memory.

The world was hazy and calm and Dustin wanted nothing more than to kiss Alexei. A short turn and a few inches upwards and he could seal his fate as easily as breathing, even if he had trouble with something as basic and simple as that sometimes when Alexei was around. He could do it. Why not? See what the f*ck would happen if their lips met and he hadn’t asked first, hadn’t considered the entire action from all the angles and every outcome. Could it really be that simple? A split decision that turned out to not be that big of a deal. Reciprocation. And Alexei kissing him back, confessing a matching set of secrets and long-hidden feelings. And all prompted by another one of Guy’s aforementioned moments, well within Dustin’s grasp. This could be the one.

Or.

Or maybe everything would crash down and he’d be left sitting there alone on the floor, and wouldn’t that be the most terrible thing? To ruin the moment they were sharing for his own indulgence with no guarantee that it would deliver him any sort of peace? Everyone placed romance and love so high up, mocking him from a gilded pedestal. Why couldn’t what he had with Alexei be enough? Friendship and brotherhood and all of that self-inflicted inadequacy. What did longing for that far-away dream of reciprocated love ever do for him? Why did he let it consume him?

Or.

Why couldn't he get everything he wanted? Would that be so wrong?

It was enough. It was enough. Alexei held him tighter and it was undoubtedly enough.

“Hey. So what you think of rookie sup talking to Min?”

“What do I think about it?” Dustin answered, voice all scratchy and rough as he continued to struggle to stay conscious. “Good luck? Poor girl if she goes for it? Kid’s helpless.”

“Could be fun scheme. What else we have going on for rest of shift?”

“What, you want to help set them up?”

“Yeah. Could be fun.”

“I don’t think we should intervene with anyone’s love life.”

“Why not? You say yourself, Poots is helpless.”

“God, he f*ckin’ hates that nickname. Rule one - don’t bring that up in front of Min. Private roasting only. Rule two - maybe, just maybe ? We stay outta other people’s business? Like, just this f*cking once.”

“Is so funny nickname. But, why not help? We are bored. He has zero game. We have game. Is like, doing public service to help poor rookie sup with crush.”

“Do we really have game, though?”

“Yes! We have so much success, hook up with lot of people. We have game. I think, better or worse, is proof we have something going on people are liking.”

“Yeah, but how long does any of it last?”

“What’s wrong with having good time? I’m not say Poots need marry this girl, just help him hook up with her.”

Dustin squirmed in his spot and resented how tired he was, how loose it was making his tongue. Alexei was too close, and took up too much space inside his soul. He stopped himself from arguing and paused before admitting anything incriminating. They were trapped in a cycle.

You have fun, have a good time. Sometimes you receive a number you never had any intention of calling or they have no honest hopes of seeing light up their screen after the fun was over and partied departed. A straggler might linger for a week. A misfortunate situation might follow you longer. Never anything to dwell on, never anyone to make a lasting impression. Larissa was the closest in years down the shore, and Dustin had been doomed from the start. When your stockpile of options consisted of seasonal workers, the same stale jackasses you went to high school with, and tourist chicks on vacation, long-term didn’t make that much sense. He had a life at college but it wasn’t much different. He swapped the location but kept the same habits.

There was something f*cking wrong with him and he had no business giving any other human being love advice. Or life advice. The entire concept needed to be forbidden.

“I don’t know anymore, man. Maybe I want more than just a good time. I’m f*ckin’ tired. Just really f*ckin’ tired.”

“Maybe some people like having good time. No slu*t-shaming.”

“slu*t-shaming? Who the f*ck taught you that?”

“I am watching news! I know current events!”

“No one is - wow. Anyway.” He really had to reboot after that outburst and collect himself. Hilarious, but he was too exhausted to even properly laugh. “I’m just saying, maybe I’m looking for something other than a one-night pick-up.”

“Oh? You… like someone? Now you want talk about that? Who!! Can’t be Boston girl, you get so mad when I bring up Boston girl.”

“No, it’s not the f*cking Boston girl. It’s… theoretical.” He sighed when Alexei jostled him and shot him his typical confused puppy look. God, Dustin wanted to kiss him. “It’s just a thought.”

“Ok,” Alexei relented, then grew strangely wistful when he said, “Can’t remember last time I have real relationship. Maybe for years?”

“Probably. I don’t know what the f*ck you get up to back in Moscow. Could never keep up with your Russian exploits. For all I know, you have some little Russian wife stowed away in that penthouse apartment and that’s why you keep going the f*ck back.”

Alexei laughed hard at that and patted Dustin’s arm.

“You don’t know half of it, little Snowy.” Dustin scrunched his face at the slight condescension, shooting him a confused, incredulous look. Alexei grinned and continued. “No. I’m not have secret wife. Don’t worry.”

“I would hope the f*ck not.”

“You know what? Probably… high school is longest. Eva, I think. That summer after we graduate? That was few months of senior year and most of summer until she goes to college. All I can remember that wasn’t ending after few weeks.”

“I dated Christy McNamera for, I think, eight months in junior year? She took me to the dumb f*ck prom and everything. Remember that ugly-as-all-sin tux?”

“So bad. Orange clashing with your hair, looking awful.”

“Man, I went along with anything when I was going out with her. Definition of young and f*cking stupid.” Alexei mouthed whipped at the comment, receiving a pinch to the neck in retaliation. “She dumped me immediately when she went to college, same as Eva.”

“Rude.”

“Nah, I don’t blame them. Woulda done the same, truthfully. But that was… that was the longest.”

“Beat me. For sure.”

He continued on, not sure why he felt the need to keep listing his romantic history. He was on a roll.

“Actually,” his voice cracked as he made the decision to admit the next story. He cleared his throat and continued, bravely, if only in the secrecy of his own conscience. “I guess there was maybe someone for a while last winter? It’s not my longest but I guess. Longest in recent history, and not in f*cking high school at least.”

“Really? When ? You never say.”

“Yeah. Though, to be fair, it was one of those ‘hey let’s meet up at the bar’ and we’d end up hooking up at the end of the night bullsh*t situations, ya know? We weren’t exactly dating . More like twenty pathetic one-night stands in a row with the same person until it just f*cking stopped.”

Purposefully, and obviously, Dustin neglected to mention that this person had been a dude. No sir, not admitting that. No sirs at all. Kept that secret on lock. Sure as sh*t couldn’t call it dating when more often than not, they ended up f*cking in a bathroom stall because they both understood the arrangement. His sexuality was an open non-issue away from Wildcrest. Being in his hometown stunted him and prevented him from changing anything about himself that might have differed from his origins.

He just couldn’t do it yet. He couldn’t face Alexei, even if the chances were high that he wouldn’t hate him. The hypothetical margins that he’d receive a bad reaction were terrifying enough that he was nowhere close to even planning to consider the possibility of floating the idea that he wasn’t even remotely straight to his best friend. He liked men. And he really liked one man. Telling that man any detail that could lead a trail back to the full, raw truth? Out of his mind if he pretended he was ready to entertain the thought of sharing.

“Sounding like dating?” Alexei quipped at Dustin’s vague admission.

“In a way, if you’re caught up in semantics.”

Alexei sighed and slapped his hands down onto the deck, adjusting his aching joints from sitting so stiffly, so full-body tired.

“When did we get so pathetic! So sad all the time! Getting too old, think about life in such bleak way. Like two grumpy old men, blah blah, sit on pier and remind ourselves of high school, act sad about end of glory days.”

“No way, man,” Dustin immediately shot back. “Those weren’t the glory days.”

“No? You don’t think? Felt like best time.”

“In high school? No f*cking way.”

“So, you think now is best time? I have fun summer so far, but we way more crazy back then.”

Hidden away in the deep recesses of the big Maybe lived the subtle, sprawling Almost. Dustin cataloged the Realities, the Definites. A friendly smile. That goofy looking face and the big arms that gestured wildy and pulled him close. The sun warming his back and the ever-present ocean tow. High school had been a glorious time, but not the be-all-end-all. It couldn't be. He wouldn't settle for that. Wild nights and minimal cares, the sort of problems that in the back of your mind you knew would fade as soon as you got over yourself. Those days were gone forever along with every excuse of youth.

Rose-tinted memories were tacked to the wall, printed on old film that crumbled and chipped when you handled the Polaroids too much. The ink stained your hands. Keep them pinned if you can and look, but don't touch. Don't try to wallpaper your bedroom with the old snapshots. You have to add fresh paint to the walls. You can't survive in a room surrounded by broken film. Easier said than done, when you still lived in the room with pin marks in the plaster and loose photos scattered on the floor.

No rule stated that one must run away from their hometown as quickly and fast as you could manage. Stability was great. Stability was sought after. For a long time, Dustin felt the tug, the calling that sought to draw him away. Felt it ever since he became the one solitary life-line holding the old address to the family name. When you were stuck in an era of stale repetition, in those groundhog days of your life, you couldn’t help but to look back to a time when none of the introspection and worry and struggle and conflict occupied the once carefree spaces of your mind. You didn’t know any better.

And then you learned. Don’t look back, you can never truly look back. Memories weren’t the same as life. He needed to shed the Remember Whens and stomp out his Maybes.

“Here? Now? Definitely not the glory days.” He shifted closer but turned his face away from Alexei. Everything was spelled out too clearly as he said with all the hopeful honesty in his hidden heart, “Maybe we haven’t reached them yet.”

He stood up. Back to work. Their break was over.

Having a preference for ice was the consequential downside to being stricken with a remote beach town and the greater marketability of roller rinks to ice arenas in the southern half of the state. Old complaint. Tired circ*mstances. Lacing up a pair of inlines still felt right and good and cathartic. School had been let out for weeks and the smooth blacktop of the high school basketball court was available for the group of grown men to skate on and smack plastic objects at one another.

“Got a little rust on those wheels, eh Thirdy?” Marty called as his defense partner stumbled over his own blades as he took a warm-up lap.

“Give me a break! Traded in blades for bikes and it’s super awkward!” Randall shot back, kicking up speed as he fell back into old rhythms. “Been a minute.”

“Excuses, excuses, mon ami. I’ll carry the weight of this duo if I must,” he added, arm clutched to his chest in exaggerated dramatics. “But, what else is new, eh?”

They went back and forth at each other while everyone finished strapping on blades and padding and warmed-up. It was a decent turnout for a thrown together last-minute gathering of the remnants from the old crowd. A bunch of the guys had apparently gotten together to watch game seven of the finals and had started reminiscing about the old days and the now defunct rec roller league. Marty and Thirdy took it upon themselves to reach out to some of the old crew and see if they could drum up enough interest to man at least a skeleton crew to get a game going some upcoming afternoon.

And here they all were. If you put out desperate vibes, the desperate will arrive.

Contributions from Alexei and Dustin consisted of a few guys from the piers and their deadbeat friends. Dustin didn’t really hold any interest in getting to know them outside of a rare pick-up game, but they filled positions and gave him hard enough shots to block, letting him feel like he’d done something with himself on an afternoon. Guy even showed up, doing the group a solid in the opposing net. Not his preferred role, but no one else was willing to take one for the gang and fully suit up between the pipes. He’d never admit it, but rink position mattered little to him. Anything was a needed departure from cursing at fish and selling bait to the locals.

“You’d think they were holding the playoffs at f*ckin’ North Wildcrest High the way you two old heads are running your mouths,” Dustin called as he tightened his chest protector while Marty and Thirdy continued to trade friendly barbs. “We good? I’m good. Let’s f*ckin’ go.”

“Alright, let’s go boys!” Guy yelled from the other net.

Dustin tapped his stick on the pavement and braced himself. This was his element. This felt right.

After the game concluded and everyone was milling around, getting drunk in the sun in their sweaty gear, Alexei flopped down in the shade beside Snowy, stretching out. It had been fantastic to be back in goal with an actual challenge, more than Alexei shooting aimlessly at him in the parking garage, but he wasn’t in top form. He needed to start working out more if this was going to become a regular thing.

“Snowy. I want tell you few days ago but I forget. AC league! Pavlenko? Defense guy I used to pair? He says they finally start up games. Signed us up.”

If that was true, he really needed to get into shape, fast.

“Yeah? Sounds f*ckin’ sweet, bud. Did you talk to Ivan about it? Is he gonna give us sh*t for Fridays?”

“We will have no trouble. Don’t worry.”

“f*cking hope not. I miss ice so bad.”

“Me too.” His wide smile bared too many teeth, entire body wild with lingering adrenaline after a hard skate and promising news. “Should I ask other guys? See if any who went before want go up with us? Pavvy says tough to find guys for full teams lately. People move out of AC so much.”

“Seems to be the trend,” he mumbled.

Wildcrest wasn’t the best place but you couldn’t pay him enough to consider living in Atlantic f*cking City. A bleak pit of a town. He'd attended some of the world’s saddest bachelor parties there with Chip and his crew. Unfortunately, it housed the closest ice rink.

“Yeah, buddy. Get the word out. Marty, Thirdy. I dunno about Guy but I’ll let him know. But none of these kids. No offense. They’re good for these matches but I don’t want to end up stuck in a car with them all the way up to the damn place f*ckin’ baby sitting if they whine about needing a ride.”

“Yes. Good call. No annoying babies.”

He skated off to inquire with Thirdy and Marty and the older guys as Fitzgerald and his bro squad chugged beers by the benches and reveled in the novelty of drinking beer on their old school grounds (or current school, for a few of them), cheap thrills from faux delinquency. Dustin rolled his eyes and watched the kids goof off with a beer can that had been crushed down into a makeshift puck as if the action was the height of comedy.

He tipped back against the chain link fence and observed the kids from his spot in the shade, feeling sated from the game, but wistful for a time when he didn't worry so much, when every moment was pure, good or bad, lacking that bitter tint.

The days saunter by and the nights fade and the days pass and,

And,

And you may find yourself at another party, in another endless, recycled cycle of hazy booze and heavy electronic music. And you may find laughter loud in your ear as your best friend - the love of your life - grabs you by the shoulders and jumps to the beat. What day of the week was it? How did he get here?

They all blended together at this point. The work shifts and the parties and the people. So he drank. And drank. And laughed with the love of his life and jumped out of sync with the music.

His red cup never ran empty, no matter how many times the damn thing was tipped back into his grinning mouth. He hated this song. He loved this song. He was pressed up against the wall while some insistent, short little thing kissed him with sticky, glossy lips and tasted of beer. His hands were on her waist and she’d stolen his hat. Then she disappeared and some guy screamed at him as he tried to focus on the words. His hat was on the floor. He was laughing as Alexei screamed back at the guy and shoved him away, loud and booming and Dustin laughed even louder as Alexei placed the hat back onto his head with such incredible gentleness. He wanted to kiss him. He didn't. He took another drink, cup seemingly materializing in his hand once more. They were dancing again. How did they get here? Drink.

Ping pong balls bounced into their rivals cup. Drink. Wait, it wasn’t their turn. They won that round. Drink anyway. Who cares? Everyone should take a drink. And everyone laughed as Alexei nearly barreled Dustin over in gloating celebration, more of a tackle than a hug. Dustin took a drink to stop himself from jumping into his arms. Drink twice, just to be safe. Plink. White ball in beer. Drink again. Drink faster as the fireworks started off outside, how exciting. Everyone ran out to watch dazzling fountains of light blast overhead and ignored the irresponsibility of shooting off bottle rockets and other aerial pyrotechnics overhead in the crowded suburbs. Sirens grew closer and closer with each burst of light.

“This is so f*cking stupid,” Dustin yelled as he and a few people ducked down a side street, retreating from the condo and the scene of disturbing the peace. “We’re allowed to drink. f*ckin’, f*ckin’ adults…”

“We’re running because of the fireworks, dumbass,” someone corrected.

Dustin tripped whoever it was that gave him sass, rudely smirking at the curses thrown his way. It was Greg. He hated Greg. He hoped he hadn’t admitted that out loud. Or did he really care if he had? f*ck. He tripped over his own feet that time. He was so drunk.

“Instant Karma, bitch.”

“f*ck off, Vitali.”

Alexei trotted up to his side and smacked a hand down onto his shoulder to brace himself from falling, nearly launching them both face-first into the pavement. His heavy arm felt like lead under the duress of inebriated brain processing, and he slid it soundly across Dustin’s shoulders as they walked, stumbling along their own messy path as the group staggered to the shore. He pried one of the bottles Dustin cradled in his arms and popped the cap, taking a long swig as they crossed the street. Couldn’t allow the modicum of sobriety earned from running from the cops to linger while any sort of liquor was in reach. Refuel and resume the interrupted party mood.

“So, what is plan? Where we go?”

“Bonfire spot. I assume?”

“Ok. You’re leader.”

“Nah, I’m just walking. Why am I the leader? That’s your job, bud. Be the leader and help me walk,” he giggled under Alexei’s arm, grinning stupidly down at his sneakers as he was dragged along.

“You run first! Everyone follows!”

“I did?”

When did he become so jumpy at the first sound of the police? Wasn’t even his house. Or his fireworks. And he was so far past legal drinking age that he was more likely to be arrested and put out of his misery for the crime of being so pathetically uncool. Laughter muffled against his neck signaled that yet another stream of drunken thought had been rambled out loud. Better watch himself. His guard was down. And Alexei was practically climbing him. Was he truly expected to be held accountable for his actions when he had six foot four of hot guy plastered to his side?

“Mister pretentious. Only you care about being cool at house party,” Alexei ribbed as he squeezed him tighter against his side, so hard that they finally tripped over each other in the difficulty to walk so closely pressed together.

They reached the beach and immediately tumbled over, again, at the change in footing, sand tripping them up as drunken feet attempted to walk. None of the bottles broke, thankfully. There may have been a riot if that happened. Not that he was planning to share, but drunks tended to mourn the loss of any potential alcohol in their nearest vicinity. Dustin also might have started throwing punches if any of the assholes nearby had yelled out party foul or the like at him. He hated that sh*t. Let him be. Let him lay laughing in the sand as Alexei rolled them over and away from their collection of booze. Carefree and untethered to normal hangups and deeply-guarded actions, he reached out and brushed off the sand sticking to Alexei’s face. His cheeks were hot to the touch, flushed and bunched from a wide grinned expression, softened around those hound-dog eyes.

Terrifying choices were made as drunk people managed to start up the bonfire. It burned and blazed with the cardboard and plywood pulled out from their tarp by the junky, defunct pier. Burn the boardwalk. Burn the whole town down if you must. Better off.

A flashbulb time skip, and Dustin was sitting around the fire with an open bottle in his hand, liquor lukewarm down his throat. Drink. How much did it take to get alcohol poisoning? The edges were dark and fuzzy. He spilled half of the damn thing down his shirt. Blackout and he was shirtless and laying across someone’s lap with knobby knees digging into his back. A slow blink, and Alexei’s face was illuminated in firelight above as he laughed obnoxiously at something someone across the circle had said. It was the best sound in the world. Drink.

“Hey, this song? I know this song?”

“You asking me if you know this one? Can’t help you there, buddy,” Dustin slurred.

“No, no. Shh.” His hands splayed out in the air as if he was trying to physically hold back sound. “Where I know this from?”

Whoever had propped their phone against the driftwood posed around the bonfire had landed on a throwback playlist featuring the melancholy standards of the nineties. On brand for the era, on brand for Dustin. Moody, gloomy love songs were his forte. They’d played this one in particular in his old band, with his crooning vocals and subliminal feelings sung into the mic, dedicated to the guy towering at the back of the crowd in whatever sh*tty bar they'd landed a gig, not even old enough to buy a drink there. He was watching Dustin sing again, puzzling over his friend mouthing the words from the position in his lap. And he didn’t even know. Dustin muttered a gruff, this one’s for you, asshole , as the chorus came around again.

“ Faaade into you. I think it’s strange you never knew ,” he sang softly, voice rough from screaming during the stupid beer pong match earlier at the party. “You don’t remember?”

“It is right there! I know this! I figure out.”

“Keep thinkin’, Tates.” He continued slurring the lyrics, etched into his brain from all the pointless band practice and cheap gigs and nights spent pining from the stage. “ A stranger’s heart without a home… ”

“You sing this one! Yes.”

“I am singing, bud.” He kept calling him bud like a reflex. Bud is for friends, bud is for your pals. It was a tongue trip away from another pet name and his garbled, drunken words could provide excuses if the mistake was made and the endearments slipped.

“You sing this in your band.”

“Bingo." He added a moronic little flourish of his hand, letting the sand he’d been playing with breeze out of his fingers. It landed mostly on his own face. Alexei laughed softly at his expense and didn’t offer to help brush the sand away to Dustin’s disappointment. "Always loved playing this one."

“Why you guys stop doing shows?" Dustin shrugged and spit out some of the sand that had gotten in his mouth. “Miss your band. You guys were so good.”

“We were another f*ckin’ garage band from Jersey but whatever. Something to do.”

“So humble. Good singer, good painter, good goalie. So talented, my Snowy!”

Dustin beamed stupidly indulgent at the compliments, at the possessive naming. Unfortunately, he had to share. They weren’t alone on the beach, after all.

“Snow was in a band?” Someone asked.

Dustin closed his eyes and pretended not to hear. He didn’t quite feel like taking an extended trip down memory lane to rehash the whole era. It was difficult enough focusing on forming complete sentences, let alone trusting himself to monitor his words. Caught up in the feelings from the song and the intoxicating laughter and attention from Alexei, he’d forgotten they weren’t alone. f*ck, his head pounded. The bottles emptied so quickly all night. He was so drunk. The world was spinning, spinning, spinning out of his grip. Alexei was too loud, too bright. His entire soul hurt.

“Yes! Best band. Fourth Liners ? I think was name.” He felt Dustin nod against his thigh and continued, ignoring the long sigh that signified that he really didn’t want to take this reminiscent journey. “Yes! Ok. Was so fun, those shows. Snow sings so good, plays guitar. I always think, not drummer? Snowy seems like drummer because he is a goalie and both are so weird. Best singer. Why you guys stop playing?"

“Holy sh*t, you're wasted. Already f*cking asked that,” Dustin complained. He hated how whiny he sounded. He did not feel great. Maybe having another drink would help.

“I miss going to shows. Such fun time,” Alexei said, breezing past Dustin’s growing surliness.

“You miss getting free booze after the shows,” Dustin added. “Cuttin’ into my payout, always. Freeloader.”

“No! Well. Yes. Miss you playing, more. Only hear you play like, so drunk at party now.”

“Yeah. Just an asshole at a party, playin’ guitar. f*ckin’ embarrassing...”

“I try be supportive! Support talent of my best buddy.”

“Don’t need to lie to make me feel better. I’m pathetic. Sick of lies, f*ckin’... f*ckin’ lyin’ all the time.”

“I mean everything!. Am always honest. No more pity party.” Dustin groaned and started to complain some more, but Alexei wasn’t listening. “You no fun when you get like this. Cheer up. Get up.”

“Hell no, man. And f*ck you. You don’t even know ,” he spat out.

Regret would decimate him come morning, but at that moment it was very important to Dustin that he act as bitchy as possible. Party drunk Dustin was morphing into the rare, angry drunk version, for no damn reason other than to break his own f*cking heart. So it goes.

“Maybe I’m not want to know. You are mean drunk tonight. Annoying.”

The subject changed and not for the better. Dustin couldn’t follow, but he could tell nothing coming out of his mouth was great. It was like he was outside of his own body, looking down and unable to prevent himself from being a complete asshole, arguing and spreading his foul agenda the longer he and Alexei remained in the same vicinity. Why did anyone put up with him? He couldn't blame Alexei for staying away for the bulk of the year. He was pathetic.

Activities far more interesting than Dustin’s self-deprecating wallow-fest caught Alexei’s wandering attention. He patted Dustin’s cheek and mumbled something in his mother tongue, then slid his legs out from under deadweight and a bad time to head off for the commotion by the shoreline. No one liked being around a sad drunk when they were having a good night. He trotted off to look at the giant fish that had apparently washed ashore. Dustin pretended not to be mad that a gross, dead fish was more appealing than his sorry company at present. He ditched the plentiful collection of beer he’d brought and crawled over to the circle in search of something stronger. Rooting through people’s stuff for alcohol was basically rock bottom, but who f*cking cared at that point? Alexei certainly didn’t care. His hand felt the distinctive shape of a bottle of hard liquor. Vodka. Perfect. Cap off, drink it straight.

Ruin everything.

Alternatively, he could have gone home instead of continuing the downfall but when had anyone under duress and that much liquor in the bloodstream ever made the correct judgment call?

Everything had been a blur since the frantic run from the cops, but somehow, the feeling grew worse. Unclear flashes of encounters faded in and out, snippets of shouted words seemed to echo back at him. Yelling, so much yelling. Who the f*ck was yelling? His head hurt so much. For some reason he was soaked as if he’d been in the ocean. What kind of asshole tried to swim in the dark? Not him. Who the f*ck did this to him? Where were the drinks? Where was anyone?

After what felt like only several seconds removed from stealing the booze out of a stranger’s bag - the sun was blinding and the sand was scratchy against his cheek. f*ck. This was going to go down as one of the worst mornings in recent memory. Distant memory, too. He was far too old to excuse waking up hungover (or maybe still a little drunk) on a nearly deserted beach. In broad daylight. He could see a sparse few others huddled up around the ashes of the bonfire, poking at the burnt remnants of logs in hopes that they would spontaneously light. Two girls were still passed out against one another, propped up against the crate with part of the tarp covering their legs as a blanket. He hoped they were alive. Not his problem.

He could hear the bells of bikes along the boardwalk and the distant warning call of the tramcar blaring its announcement to watch out and get out of the damn way. Meaning - it was not early. Might not even be the morning. People were up and at ‘em, living their wholesome lives on a sunny weekday while Dustin wiped the grit and drool from his chin and forehead and blinked himself into consciousness. Where was Alexei? Was he suffering, too?

That asshole. Nowhere in sight.

He’d left him there. Alone. On the beach.

Perfect. Fine. It was perfectly fine. People got arrested for pulling a stunt like this, sleeping on the beach. He’d lucked out. Dustin trudged off the beach and stomped up the stairs leading up to the boardwalk and threw himself down onto the bench along the railing. One of his most stringent rules as a Wildcrest native was about to be broken - he was going to pay to take the tram back to his side of town. Like a f*cking tourist. Like a total dweeb. He spun his hat forward, a rare display of brim facing ahead like some wannabe Marvel hero failing at going incognito. It was the most he could work with under the circ*mstances. Somehow, he hadn’t lost his wallet despite losing track of his entire body for an entire black-out session. He shelled out the three bucks to the driver and slumped down in the sticky pleather seat, hunched over onto his arms as he keeled forwards against the front of the seat backs in front of him when the cart jolted. Hopefully no one he knew recognized him. f*ck. He just realized he’d lost his shirt.

Maybe this was a sign that it was finally time to jump ship and get the hell out of town, though. Forced to relocate under the duress of sheer morbid embarrassment, in the event that he had been seen.

The tram took him all the way to the end of the boardwalk after an undignified fifteen minutes later. The walk to his place was substantially cut down and the small part of his pride that recognized how much of a danger to himself wandering home in his state would have been was thankful. His tired, aching body had literally just hit the bed, sinking into the perfectly worn, Dustin-shaped indent in the old mattress when a loud knocking pounded against his front door. He ignored it. It grew louder. The doorbell had been busted for years with no personal investment taken into getting it fixed, but he heard the worn-down and sickly electrical buzz of the broken thing cast its prolonged death rattle into the living room. The sound was faint and unpleasant, especially when faced with either ignoring it and falling asleep or deciding if he was willing to attend to the intrusion and possibly commit reckless violence. The bell rang again. He’d scrawled DOORBELL BROKEN in sharpie directly on the siding above the f*cking useless thing, but apparently the asshole pressing it was too braindead to read.

“Stop f*cking pressing the goddamn bell you illiterate f*cking waste of space! I swear to f*ck, I’m going to rip the thing out of the wall and jam it down your mother f*cking throat,” he rambled loudly, hoping that the person on the other side of the door could hear him.

He wrenched open the door. It was Alexei, who really should have known better.

“Hi!” Cheery. A beam of light cutting through the doom and gloom. "Let me in?"

Not today. There would be no waxing poetic and throwing himself at the chance to be coddled and mothered. Alexei smiled patiently in wait for his greeting to be returned and for his best bro to be as delighted to see him as he was to see Dustin. Nothing. His smile wobbled slightly, shoulders deflating when for a split second, he swore the door was about to slam in his face. He wasn’t far off.

Dustin remained unimpressed, mouth set tight. He ignored the dopey grin and hand raised in a stupid little wave. Any other time, he’d be caving to his friend's infectious joy and fighting the urge to jump his bones for the sheer blessing of his company. But on that sh*tfest of a morning, his only desire in life was to crawl back into bed and sleep away the miserable, regretful hangover. Sleeping facedown on a beach was hell on sandy earth.

Being abandoned on the beach by said man standing on his doorstep wasn't helping matters.

“You ok?” Alexei asked, with a concerned frowning etched deeply across his face. Dustin busied himself with prying the decaying, rusted housing of the door bell out of the door frame. He never wanted to hear that sound again. “Not answer texts.”

“You know the f*cking doorbell’s been dead for literal years.”

“Yeah… but I know it works a little? And you not answering phone. Or my knocking.”

“I was trying to sleep.”

With a final tug, the wires separated from the internal frame. He tossed the remains of the defeated evil contraption into the tangled mess of a bush besides the porch steps. f*ck it. That was how he lived now. In total squalor. His place was a goddamn pit. Might as well full-ass it and embrace living like a slob. He felt like one. Waking up alone, hungover, and filthy in the middle of a deserted beach made him feel pretty f*cking gross. His life was spiraling out of control.

“Ok. Sorry,” Alexei said, confusion apparent.

Dustin stared past him into the middle distance, dead-eyed glare directed at the house across the street with all its stupid little oceanic themed knick-knacks in the yard and the way its paint wasn’t peeling off the wood like his own shack. A by-product of his silent rage was hatred of any house on the island that showed a lick of caring at the moment. Why did he live in such a dump? It was his own fault and he was beyond pissed that he’d let it get this bad.

“What do you want?”

“Are you ok?” Alexei asked with genuine, kind concern, ignoring Dustin’s foul mood. “I’m worried for you.”

“I’m hungover and my entire body feels like fresh sh*t. I want to sleep.”

“Me too. Big party. Rough night! I was thinking we need-”

“No. Not interested. You left me on the f*cking beach. Asshole.”

The last dregs of forced cheer vanished from his face. “If I’m asshole, they need new word for you. Why you think I leave you on beach in first place?”

“Just f*ck off, alright.”

If another human being could look more dejected, Dustin never wanted to meet them. It just might break the little bit of a heart he had left. Tater could barely lift his eyes as he gave a tiny, miniscule blip of a smile before resigning himself to the lost cause. Dustin choked on the apology he immediately owed. He was such an asshole. The king. A terrible friend.

“Tater. Wait-”

“See you at work.”

He briskly turned and walked away, flipped him off from overhead, and hopped back on his bike. Dustin kicked the rickety wooden railing of his steps as he watched his retreating form pedal away from the house, never once turning back. Too keyed-up to solve the imminent issue of exhaustion, he ignored the call of his bed and paced the few feet on his porch. His restless legs threatened to sprint as he debated chasing down a man on a bike. Maybe instead he’d kick down his porch railing, release the lactic tension and feel something for three seconds.

Returning to bed was out of the question - that was his disappointing reality. Sleeping was the easiest way to avoid your problems, but impossible when it felt like a pile of rocks had settled into the deep pit of his stomach. He stepped back into the house, letting the old screen door slam - the piercing creak of the hinge was worse than that death-rattle buzz of the traitorous doorbell. He sat down hard in his comfortable, but partially dilapidated armchair and tilted his head back as he tried to think of nothing.The phantom bright lights of hangover brain flashed against the blackness of his closed eyelids, like sunspots from staring at the sky when you knew you shouldn’t.

Dead-end town, bad attitude, worse decisions. He may have been abandoned on the beach but no one forced those drinks down his throat. No one forced him to get black-out drunk, so far gone that he couldn’t even make it home. It had been one monotonous party too many, and something in him had snapped - in the moment he’d wanted nothing more than to drown himself in booze.The ocean was right there, waiting beside the party. Would have been quicker and easier than the slow liquid death of drinking until memory was darkness.

All his fault. What a sh*t show. f*cking avoidable things up as always and feeling every bit the prototypical All-American Dream, hungover and miserable. Missed-chances and chosen mistakes. The false promises teased at the bottom of a bottle. Hating the world and blaming everything but yourself until all other options were exhausted. He was f*cking thriving. Instead of doing anything to right his wrongs, he paced around his yard and scowled at every glaring flaw on the old house. He picked at the lifting metal siding and let it snap back with a metallic scrape against the underlayer of rust. He knelt in the messy mixture of gravel and burnt grass that served as a pathway to the front door and picked out clumps of weeds for the illusion of productivity. The hot sun beating down made him feel alive as he attempted to sweat off his lingering hangover.

Hours later - and after way too many cigarettes - he had to face the inevitable. Another day. Another shift. This particular evening on the pier was guaranteed to be most unpleasant. He showed up an hour late.

Tension at work was thick. An especially keen observer would notice that Dustin and Alexei were both present and were not making their rounds together, unattached at the hip. Alexei appeared in fine enough spirits despite missing his partner in crime. Dustin stood awkward and surly by the ferris wheel ramp, absently checking off boxes on the daily paperwork, convincing himself that he wasn’t glancing up every three seconds with all the jitters of a junkie on day one of sobriety to hopefully catch that loping, almost-skip of a walk headed his direction. He was displaced, ignored. Were they now passing ships and nothing more, the tide finally leading them adrift to opposing shores? The beginning of the end?

One f*cking mistake and some supposed drunken, sharp exchange of words was not a sign of the end times, get a damn grip. Be the bigger man and apologize . He wasn’t the one who’d gotten the door slammed in his face that morning. He was the issue. He was the problem.

Easier said than done. Pride was a disease.

Whatever expression crossed his face when Alexei finally passed by his vicinity betrayed any good intentions. Alexei managed a neutral hey as they passed each other by the ferris wheel, but he averted his gaze when their eyes briefly caught. He kept his head down, scrawled on his clipboard, and kept moving. f*cking bleak outlook if the situation was forcing actual work to be accomplished by the guy, especially on a day so slow and sparsely crowded. Miserable. Dustin was absolutely miserable. And he had all the tools to fix everything.

Georgia Martin swooped in to call him out and kill him with kindness. The bullsh*t was going to end if she had anything to do about it.

“Hey? Everything alright?” she asked out of convention rather than genuine investigation. She knew. The entire world knew that Dustin Snow was in a bad mood. “Soooo, you were an hour late today. I’ll spare you the scolding. What’s up?”

“f*cking bullsh*t,” was what he landed on as an answer.

“You’re in rare form. Come on.”

Dustin grumbled under his breath and did not budge, eyes darting anywhere but Georgia’s inquiring face. Anyone working the pier could tell he was pissed off. Nature’s order was out of whack.

With a resigned sigh, she played her money card. “Snow. I was at that party last night. Wasn’t a pretty scene.”

That caught him off guard. And caused a full-body cringe. f*ck. She’d routinely declared herself above attending their sh*tty parties and after-shift bonfires the summer she’d made manager.

“sh*t. Well, that’s embarrassing as hell.”

“Got that right.” She glanced around and grabbed his arm this time, forcing him to move. “Come on. We’re going on break.”

Out of sight and out of ear shot, Georgia walked him down to the multi-purpose spot under the flume ride, backed by the vibration and whine of the ride motors and damp from a small leak from the boat channels. She utilized the locale to make calls to upper management when she needed to negate any eavesdroppers. Despite the dire situation at hand, Dustin internally cracked up at the thought of another coworker seeing him walk to the infamous hook-up spot with Georgia Martin. He half-hoped Alexei saw them together. Hysterical. Georgia’s expression, however, was not so funny. Stoney, but concerned, she faced him with an expression that said he wasn’t leaving the impromptu cove until he presented his boss with a serious attitude adjustment.

“What’s going on with you and Tater? It’s messing with everyone’s vibe. They all look up to you two, you know. Unfortunately. Yall were messy at that party. What happened?”

“Last night,” he sighed through a heavy release of breath. He cleared his throat and spoke louder above the motors. “Last night was a disaster. This morning was a disaster. Tater’s f*cking pissed at me and I’m pissed at him and in the back of my mind… I feel like I shouldn’t be. I don’t f*cking know.”

“I’ve never seen either of you that wasted, or that angry. I was gonna surprise you since I for some stupid reason decided to grace the party with my presence - couple of us were walking the boardwalk when we saw the bonfire, but, anyway. It was… yall were gone .” Dustin accepted the blatant call out with zero argument and a full-bodied, embarrassed cringe. “You were arguing, not sure about what. Almost sounded like a break-up, to be honest. Lot of sh*t about being a terrible friend, Tater was crying, well, more than he usually cries -”

A few little words drowned out the rest of her recounting of the disastrous night before. He wasn’t sure what he looked like as she continued to ramble, but the face journey was guaranteed to be globe-trotting. Or like he’d ran face first into a glass wall, springing back when alarm bells echoed.

“We weren’t breaking up,” he insisted with a hysterical edge. He wanted to die.

“I know that. It was a joke. Though, honestly, I never know what the deal is with you two. Just saying. It sounded like a messy fight.”

“We’re not- it’s not like that. We’re not, we’re not f*cking dating.”

Something broke in him. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the hangover. The toll of everything. Alexei. Georgia’s eternal disappointment. His own personal disappointment. The f*cking depression and meltdown during the offseason, never fully healed. Alexei. Always Alexei.

“I didn’t say that you were. Snow, I’m joking. Why do you look so -” she clamped her mouth shut and paused, eyes narrowed as Dustin focused on deeply inspecting the ceiling of the alcove, unblinking even as dirty flume water dripped onto his cheeks and forehead. “sh*t. Oh . I get it.”

“f*ck off. No. No, you don’t f*cking get it.”

“Hey, you can talk to me -”

“Nothing to get.”

The way his voice shook would convince no one with a pulse.

Dustin pulled his shirt collar up above his eyes while Georgia braced a hand on her forehead, clearly in mental anguish. He took a deep breath and wiped the sweat and flume water from his face, then pulled his shirt back down. It was so f*cking hot and muggy under the ride near the machines, why did anyone use that spot as a hook up zone? It was disgusting. Stoicism in place as best as he could humanly manage, he forced a jarring cough to bring Georgia out of her brain cartwheels. Now or never. She'd already seen through him. His fault. All his fault.

Say it, say it, say it. Just say it. Tell someone.

Unburden.

“Ok. I mean, you’re not… wrong. I’m like, uh. I’m kind of… in love with the dude. f*ck.”

It was a plunge into ice, then fire. His face burned. His skin felt tight across his entire body, like it didn't fit his frame correctly as his entire body seized up, tense from follicle to toenail. This could ruin him. It could free him.

“Hmm. Ok,” she nodded, looking at his whole person, taking him in. “So, what? He reject you last night or something? Is this a topical dilemma?”

Dustin laughed, cold, and shrugged. “I don’t f*cking know. f*cking hope not. I don’t know what the f*ck I said. You were there. Any brilliant insight would be phenomenal.”

“All I know is that you and Tater were screaming at each other - well, you were screaming. I think he was trying to calm you down. I was hanging with Randall and Jenny and we kinda booked it back to the boardwalk once we realized it wasn’t exactly a party. You just were so wasted, Snow. Sorry.”

Dustin winced. He remembered running through the alley from fireworks, and possibly falling in the ocean at some point. Vaguely, he remembered snippets of conversation, sitting in someone’s lap, and drinking way past when he should have called it quits. Screaming at Alexei was not in his collection of horrible memories.

“What were we yelling about?”

“I didn’t hear it all, you were really messed up. Could barely stand, Alexei was trying to help you up as yall argued. We all felt like we shouldn’t be listening.”

“Nothing? It was enough for you to think it was some sort of f*cking lover’s spat.”

“Dustin, that was a stupid joke until you decided to spill your secrets.”

“Well, that’s f*cking fantastic.”

Losing his grip on his entire life, Dustin pulled a cig out from the carton in his back pocket.

“You want a light?”

Before his typically impressive reflexes could make the save, Georgia flicked the offered cigarette from between his finger tips. They both watched as it fell swiftly to the floor to land in a dirty run-off puddle from one of the flume water pumps. He glared at her. She stared back at him, hands on her hips like she was about to give him the read of his life.

“Wow. Really?”

He made to retrieve another, for himself this time, and she lunged forward in an attempt at snatching the carton from his back pocket. He was faster this time, and his goalie reflexes kicked in to save the carton. She groaned as he backed away from her and expertly lit one up with a skilled flick of a wrist for that sweet first inhale.

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re a hypocrite. You smoke up with us all the time.”

“Not really? Once this summer. I don’t do that sh*t anymore.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know you’re too good for us little people anymore.”

She didn’t take the bait and rolled her eyes. “You already smell like an ashtray. Must you continue?”

“Dude, I’m in distress!” He half-yelled and threw his hands up. He crouched down and took a long, long drag. Smoke billowed on an exhale across the water, gently disturbing his reflection in the filthy puddle. Georgia got down on the same level. She gently pulled the cigarette from his mouth, took one long inhale, then stubbed it out in the water. A bubble of laughter escaped from Dustin’s throat as he watched the cherry fizzle and die. So it goes.

“Are you ok?”

“George. What the f*ck am I going to do?”

“About the Tater situation? Maybe start with an apology. Figure out why you were airing your dirty laundry out on that beach. Best friends shouldn’t scream at each other on the beach at two in the morning whether they’re f*cking or not.” Dustin couldn’t help but laugh at that as well, however hollow the sound.

“You have any intention of telling him?” She asked as Dustin pushed the ruined cigarette around the puddle.

He let all the air in his lungs slip out slowly and watched it create more ripples across the puddle, moving the cigarette butt around like a ship on the waves. It was trash under an amusem*nt park ride. It was not something beautiful. There were no flowery proclamations to be made. The world was not a tidy, perfect place.

“I’m not ready for that.”

“Listen, if anything changes,” Georgia started, after realizing Dustin wasn’t going to contribute more on his own, “and you want to pursue this crazy thing, I’m in your corner. Literally. Standing there shooting you a thumbs up. Might be your boss now but I’m still your friend. Tater’s friend too, but we don’t really have little talks like this.”

“George. What the f*ck am I supposed to do?” He repeated. She shrugged and offered a small smile.

“Don’t know what to tell you. I guess… figure out what’s worth the most to you. Tell him. Or don’t. I don’t have the answers. But you gotta do something . You can’t stay miserable. And you’re miserable as hell and it’s making me sad. Work on whatever it is that happened last night to make your bad mood affect my day.”

“He’s everything. I can’t lose him over dumb f*cking feelings that I all the sudden can’t f*cking manage after living with this sh*t for a f*cking decade.”

“Well, Tater’s a pretty straightforward dude and you're kind of a train wreck, Snow. But, break's over."

"The f*ck? This counts as my break? So f*cking unfair, dude."

With one last exasperated shake of her head, an awkward attempt at a hug, and an order to go do some work, she left him to contemplate his situation alone in the murky underbelly of the flume ride. The rumble of the track and whirr of the motor kept him company as he came to the hasty decision that it was time to move the f*ck on and get over being in love with his best friend and that whole hopeless situation. He hated being pitied. It was pathetic. Unchill. He was over it. Dead and done, tired of relying on the fall-back crutch of inconvenient feelings preventing him from living his goddamn life.

Flimsy and headstrong and sure that his emotions were in control, he convinced himself that it was truly that easy. So f*cking easy. Gotta get out while he was young.

He paced around the pier until he finally located Alexei. Giving a friendly smile and a brighter outlook, Dustin took the high road and broke their reluctant silence. Alexei’s returning smile and obvious release of tension as his shoulders dropped in relief undid all of Dustin’s pep talks, all of his insistence that it was so simple to move on from love and lies and longing. He lunged forward and hugged Dustin close in one of his all-encompassing embraces that lifted the recipient off the ground. Once Dustin had feet planted back on the boardwalk, they launched into overlapping, rapid fire conversation. Apologies. Forgiveness. Love.

Who the f*ck was he kidding? Who even was he if he wasn’t in love with a hopeless cause and pining over lost time? Who was Dustin Snow if he wasn’t head over heels in love with Alexei Mashkov? What was he looking for, living for , if he wasn’t waiting for everything he’d ever wanted with no end in sight? He sat on the shoreline and watched for a horizon that never budged. Waiting, waiting, waiting. Almost. Maybe.

Chapter 6: there's a joke here somewhere and it's on me

Chapter Text

A cooler of beers, smuggled down to their setup on the crowded beach, separated them as they sunbathed on towels they’d lifted from the nearest Sunsations shop. It was the kind of summer day that inspired the sluggish catching of rays and filled the air with that sweet aroma of seaside and sunscreen. Dustin groped up to the cooler’s lid without repositioning from the perfect angle he’d found, no divots or lumps of sand pressing uncomfortably into his face and stomach. Why move and risk it? He managed to flick the cooler open and rooted around the ice for a fresh can. The struggle went on and on the longer he refused to lift his body and make the job easier for himself.

“Sit up and get beer already. You make so much noise,” Alexei complained, muffled into the towel covered sand. A piece of ice was tossed onto his back in retaliation.

The sudden intrusion of cold did not cause the reaction Dustin was aiming for - Alexei moaned softly at the cool ice on his sun-burnt back instead of voicing startled outrage. The sound shot straight through Dustin, immediately reddening his face in instant regret. The sun blazed hot against their backs and the ice melted fast. Alexei requested another one and Dustin pretended he hadn’t heard.

Rental umbrella spaces were plentiful, but only god-awful tourists spent money on shade. Dustin and Alexei sweated and burned out of sheer pride and a commitment to rejecting everything that reeked of summer consumerism. They were also f*cking cheapskates. Not even Alexei and all of his smooth-talk backed discounts and family hook-ups could swindle the stickler beach rental workers out of earning their full quota.

It wasn’t often that the pair graced the south end of the island’s stretch of beaches, preferring the opposite end with smaller crowds and open spaces on the sand. Alexei wanted to post up in the thick of the action for the afternoon. Dustin owed him. Day-drinking on a public beach was made far easier when surrounded by hundreds of other crowded beach encampments. Lifeguards were preoccupied with watching the throngs of kids splashing in the low tide while sneaking glances at babes strutting past in skimpy suits. Catching folks with alcoholic contraband was a low priority. The occasional beach patrol officer broke-up disputes between arguing tourists, found lost children, and, on an exciting day for them, busted someone for pot. Marijuana was easier to track due to the odor wafting on the breeze, whereas a cooler of beer looked like a cooler of anything else hauled to the beach. An open can? Shove that sh*t into the sand and cover it with your towel. You were a fool if you got caught and an even bigger chump if you didn’t even try to get away with it.

They'd specifically laid out their towels and cooler near a large encampment of chain-smoking, argumentative French Canadian tourists, flag flying proud over their tents and umbrellas. Beach patrol never bothered that sort of crowd, who were all too eager to argue with authorities and feign ignorance to the posted rules. The constant, static crackle of their radio station touting bizarre foreign rap was yet another small sacrifice Dustin and Alexei put up with as they camouflaged their drinking habits. If their awful music got too loud, Alexei would crank his own preferred homeland tunes. It rarely came to international music disputes, but he was always prepared for the potential battle with a tourist. This was his damn beach.

Until it was time to brace-up and fight through the out-of-towners standing knee deep in the shallows, they drank and people-watched and roasted in the heat. The amusem*nt parks on the piers stood in stark silhouette a mile down the beach, rising proud through the sun haze and sea mist. The wooden coaster framed the expanse with a foreboding majesty only those who worked there uniquely understood. Spots of yellow topping the skyride traveled up and down wires invisible from that far of a distance. Picturesque, but taunting all the same. A nice backdrop for family photos, but an unrelenting reality for the locals who were forced to serve it. They had another endless shift later in the evening.

Low-tide simmered with small waves and plentiful seaweed from an overnight ocean churn that tangled around their limbs as they both bobbed chest deep in the water. They floated far enough out to sea that the majority of day-trippers and their screaming spawn were out of reach, most sticking to wading in the shallows, but close enough that a lifeguard’s whistle didn’t embarrass them by corralling them inland. Otherwise normal humans forgot how to act in public when a beach was involved, and the two filled their swim with judgment cast upon the out of towners who invaded the shore. Making fun of tourists was interspersed with bouts of slapping floating kelp against each other’s faces. Despite insisting on having dignity, Dustin and Alexei were no exception to the rule of entirely idiotic behavior upon entering the big blue. Or, more accurately: murky teal-brown. They were in Jersey, after all. No one pretended that Wildcrest's destiny was to end up as a pre-loaded, tropical desktop background on a computer.

Dustin spat out stray seaweed as Alexei giggled like he was six years old. “f*cking gross, man. That one got in my mouth.”

“Boo-hoo, you splash my eye.”

“Mouth is worse! Seaweed is disgusting.”

“Mouth not sting! Act like little bitch over seaweed.”

“Dude, we’re in the ocean. You’re going to get ocean water in your eyes.”

As a reward for all the complaining, Alexei slapped Dustin in the mouth again with another stray piece of slimy kelp. Two grown men in their late twenties began flailing and dunking each other in the breakers like overgrown children. The nearest lifeguard blew his whistle in their direction as limbs flailed in the retreating drift. The shrill warning killed the vibe, making them feel like a bunch of assholes who couldn’t handle the shore.

“f*cking weak,” Dustin complained as they paddled closer to shore. Alexei yanked his leg one last time to pull Dustin underwater, thinking he was the world’s most hilarious man.

The scuffle resumed for a few more moments, allowing Dustin to launch a fair retaliation, before they gave up on trying to make the other inhale disgusting ocean. Both relented and simply tread water in relative peace. Being out to sea with Alexei was always an interesting experience for Dustin. The water leveled all people equal, at least in terms of stature if you could swim. Heads bobbed above while feet and legs kicked below to keep their owners afloat and breathing. It was a place to truly, literally, see eye to eye.

Alexei scrubbed a hand over his forehead, smoothing back wet bangs as he chattered aimlessly while Dustin flat out stared and tried not to swoon over every charming little quirk. Nothing more than that firm lack of nerve prevented him from reaching out and wrapping his arms around Alexei’s neck and clinging to him amongst the waves. His stomach dropped like he’d plunged down the first hill on the wooden coaster in the distance as his eyeline followed the sweep of tongue against stray drops of seawater clinging to Alexei’s lips. He longed to taste the salt clinging there and pull those full lips against his own until the only flavor left was Alexei, undistilled. How many kisses would it take to erase the sea? Dustin wanted him so damn badly that his limbs ached with restraint.

He was doing a real fantastic f*cking job of getting over the damn guy.

After that terrifying conversation with Georgia on the worst day he’d experienced in a very long time, Dustin had taken the high road and confronted Alexei on the pier. Words shouted under the duress of horrendous amounts of booze were easier to leave in the past than to rehash and beat to death - ignorance was the preferred choice of the emotionally stunted man. Was that the best method for working through issues, to ignore and brush under an old rug? No. They both knew that they’d f*cked up. Alexei reassured Dustin that they'd both been immature, with Dustin having drunkenly launched into their tired arguments about the off-season and how exactly he viewed some of Alexei's life choices, while Alexei tried to force him to talk about his mental health issues. Neither of which were ideal to discuss under extreme inebriation. More of the same. Stupid. Repetitive. There they were again. Better to forget and leave whatever fight had transpired unfinished and unspoken. In a stunning bout of maturity, they made the decision to take a week off from partying and overindulgence of illicit substances.

Those brown eyes, sad and hang-dog on any other face, dazzled in the sun reflecting off the sea - the kind of eyes that made even the strongest man want to spill all of his secrets. Dustin closed his own and dipped his head under the water to dull his brain and focus on the rush of cold water against the thin skin of his eyelids. That, too, was not spoken, same as the fight. The crush. The feelings. The entire catalog of secret dilemmas residing in Dustin’s heart. Maybe another time. Probably never. Dustin stayed underwater for as long as his lungs allowed. Nothing had changed upon resurfacing. The ocean water stung his eyes.

“Hey. I want to tell you good news. Big news! Almost forgetting.”

“Ivan’s giving us the week off with pay?” Dustin joked. His voice sounded weak after holding his breath for so long.

“No, but we can skip work Friday and is all cool. All Fridays.”

Missing work, always an excellent concept. One of the better iterations when Alexei made a declaration of ‘big news.’ Him buying a new pair of ridiculously priced sneakers was big news. Him making friends with a bug that landed on his face and then showing Dustin the bug was big news. A free funnel cake was usually the biggest news.

Dustin put two and two together as Alexei anticipated his understanding. He broke into a splitting grin.

“ Friday. Oh, sh*t that means the league is back. f*ckin’ sweet, dude!” He punctuated the excitement with a playful shove in the water.

“We got ice! AC! Every Friday off!” He shoved back at Dustin in his own excitement, knocking them both slightly under water. Didn’t even matter as they splashed around like two excitable dogs in the surf, an apt comparison.

Alexei floated on his back once they settled, riding the starting crest of a wave. “No more Friday shifts!”

“That’s the best f*cking sentence in existence.”

“Yes it is! AC! AC! City of lights,” he sighed, weirdly dreamy.

“That is absolutely not what they call Atlantic f*ckin’ City but you know what, bro?”

“What?”

“City of f*ckin’ lights, bud. Buckle the f*ck up, we’re going on a roadie!.”

“Snowy! Yes!!”

Jubilant bro-vibes radiated over their pocket of ocean. Ice! Skate blades and actual f*cking hockey! Dustin could cry. They raced back to shore, paddling over the breakers and barreling over a few kids and a high-strung mom who was left shrieking in their wake. They ran once they reached the shallows, kicking up water into the faces of anyone near. Tough luck, vacationers. Not even a small child was safe when two rowdy boys were in need of celebratory brewskies to kick-off the start of summer beer league hockey season. f*ck the beach patrol. Dustin watched Alexei over the brim of his can, bronzed and beautiful and steadfast. And to think that he very nearly f*cked that all up over a petty argument that he could barely remember.

Friday arrived in a blink. The rest of the week was a cakewalk compared to the usual trudge. Sure, the routine would settle again and the novelty would wear off back to monotony as the summer days ticked off on the calendar, but the new excitement derived from the promise of actual ice hockey would tide over the typically dull meanwhile.

After a short stop at the Wawa just before city limits (to stock up on hoagies, Redbull, and more junk food than necessary for an hour’s drive) and a quick detour to pick up the customary case of beer, they were en route to America’s playground, baby Sin City - that marvelously bleak dump of a place. Whatever moniker you landed on, who gave a f*ck? It was Atlantic City. Love it or leave it. There was a pretty decent rink on the outskirts. The damned town could be as dank, dangerous, and dirty as it wanted. They weren’t visiting to gamble and party in a filthy casino or sunbathe on a litter covered beach.

The Nine was a breeze as they flew past the traffic lined up to get into town, always nauseating on a Friday evening. Alexei’s car revved as he sped past the gridlock over the bridge where the highway met the island, flashing the bird to the line of cars stopped at the entrance toll booth. He zipped onto the Parkway and gabbed about how fast he could crank it now that they were out of island limits, as if they didn't have the same conversation every time he and Dustin went out for a ride. Despite driving like the damn car was disposable, he was supremely proud of the little cherry red sports car. The drive to AC was a clear path, about an hour flat. Dustin would not be shocked (or remotely impressed) if they shaved fifteen minutes from the time with the way Alexei was flying. Alexei drove like a maniac at the best of times, and with an early start and scarce traffic, they were booking. Looking out the window made Dustin feel dizzy so he focused on manning the playlist and arguing with Alexei over his music choices.

“Next time you can put together the playlist. You told me I could DJ this trip,” Dustin said in defense of his music. He relented and skipped what was playing, but Alexei groaned once again at the first few notes of the next song.

“Thinking you know is hype situation and so you play hype music.”

“This is hype music. Lazy, ungrateful f*ck.”

“So boring.”

“Dude. My music is fine! What’s wrong with it? Sure, it’s not club trash, but it’s damn good driving music.”

“Sad boy music! Old man music! Where are jams , Snowy?” Alexei whined after Dustin reluctantly hit skip yet again.

“These are jams. This is all good sh*t. You’re so f*cking uncultured.”

“Who is this ? Is so booooring!” he complained as if he was in physical pain, gesturing in exaggeration as he listed the reasons the song choices were the most depressing sounds ever forcibly presented to his ears.

“Keep your f*cking hands on the wheel! Bon Iver and Sufjan are not boring! I’m only playing upbeat tracks for your fragile disposition!” Dustin yelled back, grabbing one of the rampantly motioning hands flying near his face and guiding it back to moderate safety.

“Upbeat ?! On which planet!?”

“Jesus, dude. Don’t f*cking kill us before we even make it out of the god forsaken cape.”

“Pass me Red Bull, please?” Alexei shifted into total calm, as if seconds earlier he hadn’t almost driven them off the highway. “This music gonna make me die from making me sad and tired.”

After a renewed music argument and a small collection of empty Red Bull cans clattering around the floor, they settled on a compromise of nineties rap and the occasional party song, circa twenty-twelve. If only to end Alexei’s ceaseless whining. Dustin could appreciate a good hip-hop throwback, but he kept his comments to himself when yet another mind-numbing Martin Garrix or Flo Rida song played, like the inane songs they blasted at arenas during warm-ups. Alexei attempted to sing along to each and every one with rapt enthusiasm, even through mouthfuls of Wawa’s finest meatball and swiss. Dustin slipped in an old Black Keys song that Alexei either didn’t hate or didn’t notice, then began testing his fate and played a moderately popular indie song every few pseudo dubstep disasters.

Not to be fooled, Alexei had taken to grabbing at the phone, protesting being goaded into listening to deviations from the agreed upon theme. His fingers would brush Dustin’s thigh where the phone rested, which would only prompt yet another insufferably mellow track, tempting Alexei to reach out again. Dustin took what he could get where he could get it, even if his thrills came cheap. He hated himself. But what else was new?

“Aw, stop switching songs! Keep energy up! In zone now!” Dustin sighed and skipped to the next one. “Oh, hell yes. This is favorite song. I lied all those others. Yes !”

He launched into a garbled recitation of Thrift Shop with all the gusto of a man performing for America’s vote on some horrible singing show. Dustin was so in love that it manifested into physical pain, body and soul.

A stolen touch was the limit of Dustin’s bravery, schemed to steal while sitting in that fast car with that obnoxious boy, the man who forgot and forgave even the most hurtful of words because their friendship superseded any petty, drunken fight. That man who, without question, accepted a simple sorry without expecting much more. That man whose hand laid so heavy on his shoulder, shaking him in happiness as another favorite song played in the rotation. Everything was his favorite; he had so much love to give. Dustin wished he could give the same. Surely, he had enough lurking in the depths, so much that it scared him how easily the surplus of love could spill over and expose his entire being if he ever truly allowed the dam to break. He held his breath when Alexei smiled at him and felt the beating pressure of the whole of his devotion, tethered and stuck somewhere behind the stone wall of his ribs.

Blinking ahead on the horizon beyond the highway, Atlantic City waited. That familiar rink on the outskirts was right on the borderland between suburb and city where strip malls and feeder roads wove together to create the muddled tapestry of America. It was the same rink from when they were kids and thought that they could go somewhere with a hockey career, as if some professional scout would show up to a rec-league scrimmage in a podunk sports facility in southern New Jersey. They were kids with everything to prove in a place where no one really looked. So it goes.

They parked and hauled out their giant equipment bags, but not before Alexei suddenly dropped all his sh*t on the ground and wrapped his arms around Dustin in a crushing hug. Dustin couldn’t do anything but stand shock still, holding onto the straps of his bag and in shock before letting go and returning the embrace.

He was released and breathed out, “What was that for?”

“In super good mood. So glad to be back.”

“Yeah. Same, man. I really missed playing with you.”

Alexei beamed and it was brighter than all the casino lights glittering in the distance.

The AC Skate Pavilion sign flickered above as they walked inside. Alexei carried the beer. Entering the old rink unleashed a wave of nostalgia, as it did each season. While the entire town of Wildcrest existed as a shrine to teenage stomping grounds forevermore, the rink was their home away from their hometown, their favorite place for time spent together. They’d gotten lucky in that they were able to leverage managerial and familial clout at Mariner’s the last few summers, affording them to dip on Fridays, even if every season Alexei had to re-do the dog-and-pony show to prod and plead with his uncle to ask for the special schedule accommodation.

Pavlenko spotted Alexei moments after they entered the locker room. He barreled into his fellow defensem*n and compartriot with hearty back slaps and an excited launch into rapid-fire Russian. Dustin wished he understood more than the passing phrase and wondered what Alexei sounded like in his native tongue, with full capacity and no limitations. He’d been back and forth to the states for well over a decade and had survived the lack-luster public school system, but it would never quite be the same. It was strange to consider all of the sides he didn’t fully know, the parts of Alexei that were hidden and out-of-reach. He was greedy. Dustin wanted them all.

One of the older guys wandered around the locker room passed out either green or yellow helmet covers for teams, lording power over picking who he wanted to play together. Alexei intercepted and worked his wondrous charm to ensure that himself, Dustin, and Pavvy all got the same color slips.

Before he put on all his padding, Dustin walked over to the mirrors and leaned across the sink to get a closer view of his face, eye black in hand. He really f*cking hoped no one gave him sh*t over the habit. The liner was applied thicker than the subtle swipe of black he wore on a normal day, serving the purpose of game performance rather than vanity. f*ck ‘em, if anyone said anything. Didn’t happen a lot, but the occasional high school aged asshole working Mariner’s would throw vulgarities his way after catching a glimpse of the pseudo eyeliner. Whatever. He liked wearing it.

Alexei shot him a smile as he laced up, tapping a finger near his own eye and gave a thumbs up in recognition of the extra eye-black. Dustin could count on those same trusty fists to lay someone out if anyone gave him sh*t.

“Looks nice. Game day style,” he said.

Dustin inwardly thanked the chill in the air for causing ruddy cheeks on everyone getting ready.

“Thanks, man.” He felt the heat on his face but knew he was safe.

“How you think I look in eye stuff? I never try.”

The image gave Dustin a split second headrush before he played off the stutter in expression with a soundless laugh.

“Bud, not sure you could pull that off," Dustin lied.

Alexei shrugged with that feral grin stretched wide. “Ok, Snowy. Maybe someday you do for me and we see. Can’t steal all the pretty all of time.”

Well, that was quite enough. Dustin moved along to his stall and tried not to get all worked up over empty locker room talk. He had a f*cking game to play. He wasn’t there to indulge in stereotypically macho pseudo-flirtation. It was the same weird hockey bro sh*t as usual. Why did they all feel the need to dish out borderline cutesy chat-up lines, complimenting each other’s hair and being up in each other’s sh*t but turning on all that the moment they stepped onto the ice? Truly bizarre creatures. The rituals were intricate but they were all so deeply stupid.

Commotion continued when he unzipped the part of his bag that housed his helmet, causing a fresh ripple of chatter. He balanced it on his lap while he downed a gatorade, playing aloof under the barrage of sudden attention.

“Fuuuuck, Snow. Sexy as hell paint job, bro.”

“That’s a f*ckin’ beaut. Where’d ya get the custom job?”

“Did it myself,” he answered casually.

“Really!? Why you never show me,” Alexei asked, roughly shoving past the circle of admirers to take a look at the delicate, perfectly airbrushed wings along the sides of a light blue base. His fingers traced the lines like he was touching something fragile.

The helmet clashed with the Winter Classic Founders jersey Dustin brought for the league games, but that wasn’t important. He’d painted what had come to him naturally. There had always been a thematic, recurring fascination with wings in his artistic ventures, when he put in any sort of effort. Nautical sh*t and birds. Just look at his tattoos. Fly away, sail away. Real life stagnated. Surface level metaphors, wedged under his skin just as shallow as the ink that lined ships and swallows, guiding stars and an eagle stuck in flight.

Dustin smiled, soft and slightly embarrassed under the pile of people looking at him. Despite the various questions, he, of course, addressed Alexei first. “Surprise? You like it?”

“Looks so nice.” Dustin let him pick it up to inspect. He wouldn’t have let any of the others do the same. Maybe he’d let Guy take a look if he showed up to a game. As a fellow art lover, he possessed the level of respect required; as if guys weren’t about to shoot pieces of rubber towards that very helmet at high velocity in ten f*cking minutes time for the better part of the evening.

Alexei traced a finger down the main plume of wings along the temple, smiling fondly. “Wings. Is perfect for you.”

“Yup. That’s my thing,” he said, somewhat self-consciously. He rubbed at the small bird inked on the space between thumb and forefinger on his left hand, wings stretched across the webbing, as if he could wipe it off and make people stop looking at him.

“Bro, did you really paint that?”

“Yup,” he repeated with a pop, continuing to feel increasingly awkward about the small crowd that had gathered to stare and admire. “Had a paint booth class last semester. All this sick equipment up for use. Figured I’d test it out.”

“You could make dece cash off paint jobs like this. Tellin’ ya, man.”

“f*ckin’ sick. Almost too nice to play with.”

Everyone eventually scattered to finish dressing or moved on to smother some other poor soul in the room. Skates on. Left first, then right. It felt weird to don the full padding after weeks of roller matches with his lightweight get-up. Felt better, though. He waddled out of the locker room towards the rink as most had already taken the ice. Alexei caught him just outside the glass and leaned down for their standard helmet tap they shared anytime they played on actual ice together.

“You ready, Snowy?”

“f*ck yeah, bud.”

He shook Dustin’s helmet-clad head with his big bulky glove and then rushed forward to hit the ice, skating a graceful loop around the rink. Dustin tore his eyes away and headed to the crease, savoring the first rush of blade against ice, gliding with ease after an initial shaky adjustment. Like riding a bike. Muscle memory. He tapped his stick against the left post, then the right, before settling down to stretch. The guys designated to their team circled up once he was ready, taking practice shots while Dustin braced to block. He smiled under his face protector with each deflection and each heavy thump into his glove. Alexei fired a blazing snipe that would have gone over his left shoulder if not for a hop and snap reaction.

“Glad I am on your team,” Alexei joked as he skated by. He then tore off back out to center to continue sh*t talking the other side. The guys, even those on his own arbitrary team, were unleashing a steady stream of insults at his expense.

The flashy, tacky-as-all-f*ck jersey Alexei decided to throw on for the night was causing quite a commotion with some of the local guys. It was the garish green, red, and yellow official jersey of the team he worked for - or the outlet by which he was forced to do the bidding of his father (whichever iteration Dustin felt like assigning to Alexei’s job that day). To be fair, it was ugly as sin. Didn’t mean the guy deserved the fresh stream of chirps being tossed at him. The jersey may have looked hideous, but it was proof in the flesh that he was the only one with an actual foot in the professional hockey world that they all longed to have been a part of in some way - even if his last name sewn on the back exemplified that he was also only playing pretend with daddy's money, a naive puppet on a flashy string.

“Whoa! Christmas tree, oh f*ckin’ Christmas tree!”

“Times Square lookin’ motherf*cker right here. Hope they’re paying you to whor* out your body as a f*ckin’ billboard.”

“In Soviet Russia, jersey wears you !”

“God damn it, Tater, look at that f*ckin’ piece of sh*t. That sweater’s got more adware than my computer after a hot night.”

“Nice one, Raddy. Impressive self-roast, you filthy f*ck.”

“Yeah, yeah. But I’m not the asshole looking like a f*ckin’ eurotrash NASCAR driver out here.”

“Brave of you wear Trenton Terror jersey when your team lose more games than IQ point you have,” Alexei dished back, unbothered. He preened under the scrutiny while he skillfully bounced a puck up and down on his stick.

Dustin had to chuckle at that one. His boy was getting feisty, albeit stooping to juvenile chirps. Every single man currently on the ice embodied different strains of moron. Dustin went back to warming up his butterfly and dropping into the splits, still delighted at his flexibility even if his endurance might not have much to write home about, supremely thankful to be in net and not out there having to skate around. With the small number of players present, the ice time they were going to have to contend with was daunting. No f*cking thanks.

“What’s that monstrosity of a mascot supposed to f*cking be?”

People hadn’t dropped picking on poor Alexei yet. If he wasn’t so competitive, Dustin might have let Alexei’s latest beaut of a slapper through in a show of sympathy. He caught it high right and tossed it aside, smirking as Alexei shook his head and pointed at him, both impressed at the save and clearly trying to hide how exasperated he was starting to get at the continued jersey chirps.

“Mascot? Eh, little bit deer, little bit lion. Beak of eagle,” he answered nonchalantly. “Better looking than you.”

“Alexei. Let’s shut these f*ckers up and not let a damn thing past. Besides, I don’t want to lose and get second dibs on beer. f*cking Raddy brought Natty yet again,” Pavvy spouted off to Alexei so only they could understand.

“Raddy is sh*t on backhand. Watch him, it'll be walls all night. Let's make Snowy’s job easy,” he laughed and shook his head, reaching out a glove to tap in agreement.

“Hey, hey. English only! English only!”

“Shut the f*ck up, Conrad, ya f*ckin’ bender. When you can talk sh*t in two languages, be my guest, you talentless fat f*ck,” Dustin spat back, lazily swiping his stick in Raddy’s direction as he circled past.

The guy nearly tripped over himself in the attempt to dodge Dustin’s stick. The asshole dared to actually tape his jersey sleeves like he was a hot shot in the show while being unable to stay balanced when a goalie took an errant swing at him during warm-ups. Embarrassing.

“Ah, Mashkov’s a big boy, he can defend himself.”

“Go back to your f*cking side. Why are you even over here? You're skimming the edges because your frosty ass can’t skate too far from the boards, falling over and sh*t. f*ck off.”

“Ok, are we playin’ hockey tonight? Are we playin’ f*ckin’ hockey or are we gonna bitch at each other like a bunch of high strung juniors primadonnas? Shut up and circle up,” the ref jawed as warm-up came to an end, cutting through the tapestry of macho bullsh*t.

“Da. Khorosho,” Pavvy mouthed to Alexei, eye roll dripping with sarcasm. " Raddy gets f*cking nothing tonight. "

“Come on, boys! Alright!” Dustin called, tapping his stick on the ice as they all shut the f*ck up and met at center to kick off the game.

The tired high schooler serving as second ref dropped the puck with a glazed look in his eyes and spent the rest of his evening dodging breakaways and weakly blowing the whistle at showboating wash-ups who treated a Friday night pick-up hockey game like it was life or death. These were guys so obviously in love with the game and, despite taking themselves all too seriously, they had a fantastic bout of it. Between the two raggedy, thrown together teams, they barely had enough bodies to fill two lines a piece, with a guy or two extra to sub when someone was heaving for air after a long shift.

Dustin's leaping save to catch a tough shot across net elicited a smattering of cheers from the sparse crowd in the spectator area. A squad of teenagers were sprawled out high up in the stands, the typical rink rats who had f*ck else to do on a Friday night. Someone's girlfriend sat alone halfway down the bleachers, bored out of her mind and wishing she’d been a little less clingy and stayed home, tapping away on her phone. She'd missed her boyfriend's lone goal. A few stragglers wandered in from the public skating session going on at the rink on the opposite side of the building, took a look for a few minutes, then went back. Wasn’t exactly a popular spectator situation. It was all very informal, low stakes. There were no brackets and no standings. They paid a few bucks each for ice time and contributed a few more towards the stand-in lineys.

Never felt that way in the midst of the game, that it was pointless without pressure, not unlike the street matches back in town. Those served more as a reason to hang out with the townie guys and goof off for an hour in an organized setting. As inane as it sounded when he looked back with adequate perspective, out there on the ice, Dustin felt the shots he couldn’t save just as deeply as if it truly mattered. He’d always been like that, even as a kid. Being back in net was incredible, natural - but he took missing an easy, routine goal personally. Loud cursing bounced off the rink walls as Raddy laughed and gloated about his assist on the fairly unimpressive goal. Alexei was there in an instant to cut through the continued vulgar tirade Dustin muttered under his breath with a pat to the helmet and a string of Russian made to sound so sweet. Honey and vinegar, as Alexei’s devilish smile slid onto his face like oil, signaling trouble. He was ready to rough up anyone who dared to get chippy too close to his goalie. No one makes Snowy sad on my watch.

Fighting wasn't exactly encouraged at the pick-up games, but it wasn’t uncommon. Alexei had thrown down before during a game. This soon into the season was pushing it, however.

“Hey now, let’s not get you thrown out our first game, yeah? Chill the f*ck out,” Dustin called with laughter in his voice as Alexei mouthed off and shoved at Raddy. And the rando who’d scored, for good measure.

The ref broke up the scuffle and everyone skated back into place for the faceoff while Alexei continued running his mouth even as he took a rest on the bench. Alexei and Dustin’s side eked out a win after all was said and done. More said than done, honestly. A few of the teens from the bleachers ran down to the glass post-game to ramble at a few of the guys, clearly angling to feel cooler than they were, cuss words flowing freely and buttering up the older players with awe-struck recounts of a few sick plays from the game. The level of impression these kids took away from mediocre hockey was truly flattering to the crowd of wash-ups and wannabes. Dustin let one interested kid take a closer look at his helmet. Should feel a lot more pathetic that the approval he lauded highest was that of a sixteen year old he didn’t even know, but he was a sixteen year old asshole himself once. Guys that age were brutally honest and rarely impressed. If the kid thought his helmet was sick, well. f*ck off and let him feel some sort of way about it. He was damn proud of that paint job.

Beer flowed, hijinks ensued. Ill-will from the chippier moments during the game were left on the ice. After much needed showers, they all drank down their fair share, then vacated the locker room for the next squad of players to take over. The organized adult league game started after theirs. Some of the guys wanted to stick around to watch but a handful were set on going out for the night, hopped-up on lingering adrenaline.

“You boys in? We’ve been hitting up this sweet bar at Showboat after games.”

“After games? Bro, we had this game and one f*ckin' open stick and puck sesh last week."

“f*ck off, I’m trying to drum up a tradition, yeah?”

“Just saying, I don’t wanna lock us down to one place.”

“Oh, well f*ck me for having an idea!”

“Thinking we are head back down,” Alexei cut in before the argument between Deller and Raddy turned into full-fledged shouting. “Next time? Showboat?”

“Yeah, yeah, losers. Go back to the boonies.”

“Where do you think ‘Crest even is? It’s on the f*ckin’ coast,” Dustin asked as he threw their bags into the backseat. “f*ckin’ boonies. f*ck off.”

“The cape is basically piney country. Buncha f*ckin’ hicks,” Raddy joked.

“Honestly, who the f*ck is this guy?” Dustin laughed, in general disbelief. “I have sincere doubts that this asshole knows basic state geography.”

“What, I’m supposed to know every little blip of a redneck town?”

“f*ck you, man. We’re an international vacation destination.” Dustin couldn’t believe how hard he was defending Wildcrest. To be fair, the slander was ridiculously unfounded. Love it or hate it, you had to defend your hometown in the face of intrastate rivalry.

“Ain’t never been that far south.”

“It’s an hour away,” Dustin said with zero inflection. Raddy shrugged. He really wasn’t a fan of this dude. The rest of the group was chill. Raddy? Unfortunate that he still showed up each season. “Wow. Alright, I can’t with this sh*t. Where are you from again?”

“Up near Seaside, told you I ain’t got a reason to go south.”

"Seaside Heights? If I’m out in the boonies, you’re in f*ckin’ central, man.”

“Dude, no way. Are you f*cking kidding me? I ain’t from central.”

“Next week? Can I count on you again?” Pavvy asked, leading Alexei away from the continued geographical argument. He crushed the rest of his beer and hoped that the ensuing debate didn’t end with fists. “Save me from getting paired with one of these sh*theads.”

“We’ll pair all season. I saw what my other options are. Not… promising,” he joked, head inclining to where Raddy was gesturing wildly as Dustin stared at him with zero emotion. Scary. “ I think we better head out. Dustin’s expression says that he’s a minute away from leaving a crater where a human face once existed.”

Pavvy laughed, shrugging, “Would that be the worst thing?”

Game one was in the books. Dustin and Alexei put the city behind them and sped off down the Parkway with home in mind. It had been a good night. A great night. Lacing up, really lacing up rather than slipping on an old set of wheels, had felt like welcoming back a friend. Maybe it wasn't so novel for Alexei with his lifestyle and job, but he’d had the time of his life out there all the same. Skating with salt of the Earth folks was a world away from the self-conscious act of putting yourself out there for a team bonding event with guys who humored him because he was the over-enthusiastic, overly-involved son of the team’s owner.

“So much funner play with guys who are friends instead of guys who work for you,” Alexei suddenly blurted after they tired of recapping the game ad nauseam.

The biting huff of laughter slipped before Dustin could help it.

“Ha, yeah. That makes sense.” He eyed Alexei and saw the smirk, signaling it was ok to joke. He dropped it for a different approach. “I think I might join a legit adult league when I go back to the city in the fall. You know those leagues are always desperate for goalies.”

“Yeah? Could be fun.”

“For sure. Something a little more formal? With a schedule and sh*t. Where dudes don’t start drinking in the second f*cking period.”

“Would be sweet. You should do.”

“Think I will, man. Think I definitely will. Why wait until f*cking summer when I could be playing year round.”

He hummed to himself during the pause in conversation, about to, yet again, drag up the old argument and test his luck, disregarding the fact that they were still going to be stuck in a car together for forty-five more minutes.

“I’d love to see you out there, too. With me. Make this a regular thing after the summer. You were a f*ckin’ beauty out there tonight, bud. Need my faithful D-man protecting me from the assholes of Philly rec league.”

“Hmm. Yeah. Maybe,” he said, voice soft. That was all he said. Huh. Dustin was half looking forward to battling it out again, feeling somewhere deep and hopeful that his relentless nagging might eventually wear the guy down.

“Maybe?”

“Definitely. One day, promise. You know how it goes. No fight about it tonight, yeah?”

He placed a hand on Dustin’s shoulder and squeezed, clearly wanting to smother away all further questions with one of his crushing hugs, but faced the limits of mobility in the confines of the car. He let his hand slip away. Dustin wanted to catch it and cradle it in his lap for the remainder of the trip home. No fight, but no energy either. Their adrenaline was waning, leaving behind reminders that they weren’t as in shape as they’d thought. Dustin mentioned as much out loud and declared that he was going to start running in the mornings, which earned him a laugh and ridicule about his love of a lazy morning lie-in.

Soft music played on the radio with no hard complaints from Alexei. He allowed the slow stuff and the acoustics, too tired to belt along and dance at the wheel. Didn’t even make a fuss when a country song slipped into the mix. Complaints of a different brand filled the car. Stiff legs and aching joints caused mutual commiseration, from Dustin’s entire everything and from Alexei having ice time in the high forties. Crouching down and dropping into insane splays of limb, in Dustin’s situation, had taken their toll. He knew that some athletes plunged themselves into icy baths and freezing cold when the game rampaged on the body. In that moment, he sought warmth.

“Wish I had a hot tub,” Dustin sighed. “Be f*ckin’ sweet. Everything hurts.”

“Oh, Ivan has hot tub. You want go over?”

“Ew. I’m not dunking myself into any contained body of water your greaseball uncle cooks himself in,” Dustin said with a shudder.

“I never use for same reason.”

“Oh, but you’ll subject my poor body to that scum?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “You whine so much is least I can do for making you stop whine, whine, whine.”

The banter continued, intermixed with yet more verbal replays of the game and hopes for the rest of the season. It was a return to high school, the later years when they got tired of the irritated push-back from parents and were able to drive themselves to the one or two a week practices and the weekend games and tourneys. Flashbacks faded into the present - the two of them in one of Alexei’s flashy cars, compromises on music selections, a backseat full of reeking equipment, and a love of the only sport that truly ever caught their attention.

“Oh! I remember!” Alexei blurted out mid-lyric he was humming along to, then said nothing. The humming continued.

Dustin waited for him to drop the rest of the sentence. Alexei did that sometimes, finding it hard to internally contain a thought when it threw off too much instant excitement like a solar flare. He declared things like he’d just solved a global issue and couldn’t wait to tell the world, his brain to mouth filter inadequate for the proclamations. Alexei lacked the capacity to do anything quietly or by halves. He was too much, all the time. Dustin loved that about him. He’d also love for the man to finish his damn thoughts.

“Cool. Congrats, bud?”

“For what, what I do?”

“Jesus, Tater. Starting to get goldfish brain on me. You remember? Remember what? Ring a bell?”

“Oh. Yes. Was gonna keep surprise. Was talking out loud.”

“Piquing my curiosity, bud.”

“Secret.”

“Tease.”

“Blue Lagoon Motel!” he blurted out. Yeah. There it was. History always repeated and Alexei could never play the long con.

“Blue Lagoon Motel. Ok." Dustin paused to allow him to explain, suppressing a laugh when he was met with no reaction. "You're making amazing progress on that sentence."

“Yes.” Again, Dustin was met with silence as Alexei stared out at the inky black highway with a strangely focused expression. Both of his hands grasped the wheel with an iron grip.

“Dude. You’re killing me here. Just spill. You’re so bad at secrets.”

“Ha! Am not,” he adamantly insisted, battling a goofy smirk at the accusation while trying not to feel offense at the call-out of his own big mouth.

“Seriously? You know you want to tell me,” Dustin chimed. Alexei bit his lip and shook his head, attempting to stay strong. “It’s killing you more than it’s killing me.”

“Blue Lagoon Motel has heated pool,” he rushed out, voice all soft and smooth, pride shining through for his brilliant idea. “Best I can give since hot tub is gross.”

Ah. Mystery solved. Too f*cking easy.

“That, uh. That could work.” The twinge in his leg flared up as he shifted in the seat. Realistically, drawing a bath at home for a good long soak would provide a better outcome, but he wasn’t as tiny as Alexei insisted on calling him and that damn bath was a tight fit. A whole pool? Divine.

“Have to sneak in, probably. Is really nice pool. I sneak in before.”

Tinged with the promise of shenanigans and potential trespassing, Dustin had to admit it was an ingenious suggestion. Pushing the limits of law-breaking to ensure a good time was their specialty. The Blue Lagoon pool was legendary in town. He knew the pool well. Ended up there after prom, with it being one of the more exotic places in town to a teenage mind. The strange, deep blue lighting and fake teal palm trees that dotted the property added up to an aesthetic of tacky sensuality, paired with that absolutely glorious pool. Most motel pools in town would be closed by the time they returned to Wildcrest. If they were quiet and eluded detection from the property managers, their plan could work.

That was the catch. Alexei? Calm and collected? Major flaw. Dustin was up for anything.

Once back in town and nearing the motel, they formulated their method of pulling off the heist, plotting it out as if they’d be walking away from the ordeal with a trunk full of stolen diamonds. They parked the car around back so they would be able to sneak up through the side path and hop over the pool fence at the point furthest out of view of the reception lobby. A key-locked gate was no deterrent for a pair of athletes. It wasn’t overly tall. Alexei hopped over first and helped Dustin climb next. So far, so good. Minimal clatter of metal fencing and heavy-footed men. They walked like the opening act in a criminal’s ballet, toes leading as they skirted the fence edge towards the pool area. Clothing was dropped along the water’s edge for easy access in the highly probable event that they were discovered.

“We could do skinny dip?” Alexei joked while his fingers teased along the waistband of his boxers, eyebrows raising and lowering like a damn cartoon sleaze.

Dustin tracked the movement of Alexei’s fingers as the garment threatened to be pulled off and tossed with the rest. He imagined that the strange racing sensation inside his chest and tingling down his arms was his body fighting off a heart-attack. And fighting the chorus of yes yes yes knocking at the back of his throat. He knew he was staring at that portion of skin, the thick line of hair trailing from navel to fabric. He licked his lips and hoped he appeared normal instead of being a heartbeat away from dropping to his knees to yank those stupid boxers off without any more hesitation. His composure was waning. Alexei snapped his own waistband with a snort and shook Dustin from his brief trance.

Dustin gently cleared his throat, summing up the turmoil in one undignified squeak of a word.

“No.”

“Why? Blue Lagoon Motel. Is sexiest motel in town. Feels right.”

“No. Keep your damn shorts on. What if we gotta book it?” Alexei only offered a second exaggerated waggle of eyebrows as a response. Unbelievable. “N.”

“Prude.”

“Sure. That’s fine. Call me a prude because I don’t think you should trespass and streak. I’m looking out for you, man.”

“Why you get so boring in your old age?”

Alexei pouted but shuffled over to the pool, slightly hunched over as if that was going to help hide his height. The main lights had been turned off on the sundeck and lounging area, with only the blue orbs outside each room and the few lighted posts on each corner of the pool casting dream-like lighting around the property. The water was inky and dark like a painting of the sea. The filter hummed - a convenient cover for whispered voices. They were dark shadows of stealth, walking with light feet and held breath. Entering through the shallow end stairs prevented splashing and they shuffled down to chest level as quickly as possible to linger on the underwater ramp that faded into the deep end. The less body above the water, the less potential noise.

The temperature was perfect, like warm bath water. Not exactly a hot tub, but soothing all the same. Dustin never understood why so many people sought out hot tubs and heavily heated pools in the peak of summertime heat, when the sun was already beating down. He preferred the cool promise of Atlantic waves, an escape when the high nineties and triple digits sweated everyone out and burned with purpose on those cloudless dog days. The warmth of the pool water at night was warmer than the night air, with only the moon shining cool light while the sun’s heat lingered on day baked asphalt. Dustin dipped his hair back into the water and tried not to sigh too loudly, as indulgence shivered down his spine as the water soothed his scalp and aching muscles. Mood blue lights reflected off the water and navy ripples spread as they backed further into the deep, until only their heads remained above. It was a mirror of their time in the waves a few days prior. Eye level and treading, though toes skimmed the bottom without much need to paddle upright.

If Dusting was alone, between the temperature of the water and the incessant hum of the filter, he imagined a dead float would provide ideal conditions for sensory deprivation. Letting go and congealing the senses into one buzzing cocoon might actually fix him, but as he closed his eyes and tried to pretend, he felt the ever present awareness of Alexei’s body. Even with the heavy scent of chlorine, he could still smell Alexei’s cologne cutting through the air, which he’d reapplied after the game. It smelt like masculinity and money and the confidence of a man who knew what it added to his whole image. Dustin’s head was always swimming in the scent. He could smell it even when they were apart like a ghost forever haunting him.

“Nice, yes? Very warm,” Alexei said in a hush.

Dustin was proud of him for using his rare quiet voice. It rumbled deep, reverberating through the water against his chest and sent goosebumps all along his arms, even in the warm water. He wanted to press up against him, chest to chest, and feel that low-voice move through him completely, get drunk on that f*cking cologne. The thought made him pre-emptively lightheaded. Underwater, he exaggerated a stretch of his arms and took another dip backwards to wet his hair once more. In some other life he imagined Alexei studying the cords of his neck as he stretched backward, as intoxicated by the other’s mere presence as he was, nearly unable to help himself. It was ridiculous. Dustin situated himself upright and found Alexei turned away, face doused in shadow until Dustin spoke again to call his attention back, desperate as always for his attention. So it goes.

“Was initially a little doubtful we could pull this sh*t off. f*ckin’ delivered, man. Thanks.”

Alexei beamed, moving closer so his voice wouldn’t carry. Sometimes when he smiled like that, Dustin couldn’t breathe.

“For you, only best. Feeling less hurt? I know is just pool but, helps a little? Like acrobat class in water. Science.” He dipped under, resurfacing slowly with the water line right below his eyes so that he was glancing up at Dustin, so open and honest and hopeful that his plan was serving its purpose.

“Water aerobics, you mean?” Alexei nodded his head, breath still held as he lingered mostly below the surface. “Smart. Definitely on the right track.”

Dustin stretched the rest of his aching limbs under water, legs straining in ways unable to easily accomplish on land. He planted one foot flat to the ramp and grabbed the other, working it as high as he could stretch, toes breaking the surface of the water. Might have accidentally kicked Alexei a few times in the process, but the guy wouldn’t back away. Alexei resurfaced with a new smile, reaching out to steady Dustin as their knees bumped again.

“Here, kick out leg. I help you from fall. You fall and make splash and we get caught.”

f*ck, Dustin was so f*cking smitten with this man. The instant expression of concern paired with the quick formulation of an insanely silly plan, completely devised with the intent to ease a smidge of his professed pain - the definition of charming. Truly, Dustin did not believe he deserved this treatment. He twisted and stretched as those giant hands helped him balance while he tried not to drown in the depths of his own heart.

“I say already so many times, but tonight was best. Wish we could do every day. Maybe in another life, everything different,” Alexei said as Dustin used him for balance as he worked on what felt like his hip popping back into place. “Play together. Everything for real.”

“You don't think we would get bored?”

“No. Don't think so,” Alexei said without pause, immediate and steadfast. “Not if you and I together. Is nice thought.”

He was so close, practically speaking directly into Dustin’s mouth, nose-to-nose and leaving no room for Dustin’s brain to focus on anything but every bead of water slipping down Alexei’s face, begging to be licked away. It was snapping, electric and dangerous in the water. Dustin worried that within this proximity, Alexei would be able to feel the heat of his face, hotter than the night air and the pool water and any plausible cause. It was not fair, not normal. People didn’t act like that. Alexei did not understand his effect, what he was doing - to Dustin, it bordered on cruel and unusual. Dustin needed to duck under and swim Olympic-quick to the pool’s edge. Maybe that crackling electricity would do him a favor and knock him out, body lifeless in the water and unable to do anything traitorous.

Dustin dropped his leg and let out air hard through his nose, watching the way it disturbed the water in small ripples. Something must have given away on his face, as Alexei expressed concern.

“You ok?”

“Of course, bud.”

“Look sad.”

“Nah. Tired.” Alexei was still so close even as they stopped their balancing act and Dustin needed to breathe. “Dude, you’re crowding me here. There’s a lot of pool.”

“Sssh. We look smaller all crowd together. Less chance being seen. And I talk so quiet you barely hear me.”

“You’re not as quiet as you think.”

Solid logic on Alexei’s part, but Dustin was rapidly losing his mind. He stepped back. Once, twice. Enough to be able to breathe his own air. Alexei had no self awareness, no sense of personal space. The ramp to the deep end cut off at a sudden, sharp drop and caused his foot to slip. He tipped back on a gasp, prepared to go under and cause a commotion. Large, firm hands steadied him, bracketing his waist like a lasso. He could feel the tangle of their legs and the too-gentle feeling of his toes gliding along strong calves. If he pressed down in that position, he’d be seated in Alexei’s lap. f*ck, it took everything in his brain’s strained willpower to not close the gap and grind down onto the man cradling him, letting his traitorous body win the battle. He wished he’d fallen a little faster, avoiding the dilemma.

“Got you. Tell you be careful, not make big splash,” Alexei said after pulling Dustin back to the shallow end. His hands lingered on Dustin’s sides. “And you want blame me for noise. Hmm.”

There was no on/off switch, no simple fix, no means to an end without losing a part of himself in the process. Not loving him wasn’t an option, wasn’t possible. Dustin looked into those kind eyes and thought maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe one day instead of how do I stop this? Was this that big moment that plagued him, that resided in the most secret and cherished part of his mind, his heart? Why did Alexei taunt him like this? Was there any hope at all?

Why did Alexei touch him so often, so gently? Why did he put on his signature fragrance after showering following the game? He knew they were going home, just the two of them. Why was it necessary? Did he know how it drove Dustin mad? Did he wear it on purpose? Was there intention behind the way his thumbs brushed Dustin’s hips underwater or was he simply pulling him upright, saving him from swallowing pool water as he slipped and sank? A thousand questions lingered and tickled at the back of Dustin’s throat, choking him. He didn’t need the water. He breathed in his own drowning every time he deigned to pretend that Alexei possessed even a smidge of the capacity to feel the same madness as him. So it goes.

Large hands fell away and Alexei finally took that step back. He stared off towards the motel, smiling with closed eyes as he bobbed in the water. It would be so easy for Dustin to slide them together, let his legs drift apart and wrap around a lap that would perfectly support and align and hold him close in the pool. He would wind his arms around a strong neck and drag that smile down those few inches so he could replace it with true heat in the artificial lagoon. Coming there was a giant, glaring mistake. Alexei was too handsy, too oblivious and kind. Dustin was greedy with want and he was going to break. What if he just f*cking kissed him? Maybe Alexei would go along with it? Maybe he would shove Dustin into the water, splashing loud to alert the sleeping world to an intruder, disgusted. A hand here, a smile pressed there, a set of legs brushed together - all fine in the correct, approved context. There were no questions asked between friends, no assumptions of meaning. History provided the precedent; Dustin added his own bullsh*t.

Alexei had already moved on to talk about something else, mouth always moving, unable to truly process the levity of the silent moments in-between one instance of panic and the next. Better off. The rumble of his ever-present voice blocked each and every one of Dustin’s internal freak-outs from physically manifesting. Alexei laughed under his breath, trying to control the volume and doing a half-assed job of it, and swam around while Dustin balanced in place. He’d taken over his own stretching duties. There was no way he could handle Alexei grabbing his leg again. He dipped his head under and let the strain of held breath pull at his lungs, savoring the burn as he tried to replace one extreme with the next. This was reality - for years, Alexei had every chance to make a move himself and the fantasy world had not materialized. Why was it all on Dustin? Alexei had agency. Alexei had feelings. And even in every moment that Dustin scrutinized and fantasized about, Alexei hadn’t yet done anything. He didn’t want him. Dustin resurfaced and felt centered as he took in air, breathing a fresh dose of reality. He’d survived that long.

Despite their best efforts, they were caught. A disgruntled motel manager approached the pool area and yelled at them to get out of the water before she called the cops for trespassing. Dustin never doubted the threats of anyone with a local accent that thick. Her raised voice was tinged with righteous New Jersey fury. Both Alexei and Dustin bolted from the water, propriety and soft-footed movements a practice from a simpler time. They tripped and knocked over loungers and a poolside umbrella while motel guests from nearby rooms gawked and screamed at the manager, displeased at being disturbed.

Alexei didn’t bother putting his clothes back on once inside the car. He sat down in his wet underwear on the leather seats, unconcerned about ruining the upholstery of his fancy sports car. He owned nice, expensive things and didn’t bat an eye over roughing them up or actually using them. Even so, Dustin folded up his pants to sit on and absorb the pool water dripping from his body while also throwing on his shirt.

“Oh sh*t, go!” Dustin warned, slapping at Alexei’s arm.

Red and blue lights bounced off the side of a motel down the street, signaling the need to floor it and make a get away. One sure downside to living in their tiny beach town was that no matter where you were, it didn’t take long for the pigs to come squealing. Nothing else better to do other than patrol drunken tourists and respond immediately to irate motel owners and the assholes who broke into their pools.

“She actually called cops?! So funny!” Alexei laughed, high-pitched as he started the car and rolled out of the back lot. “Hope we not leave anything behind!”

“f*cking hell, man. What a crazy bitch! sh*t, where’s my wallet?”

Dustin checked for his wallet, keys, and phone. Wallet and keys were accounted for on the floor of the car and his phone was still plugged into the aux. He fished around in Alexei’s discarded pants, rolled up in a ball on top of their equipment bags in the back. His legs splayed across the front seat as he stretched into the back to search for his friend’s missing items.

“Found your sh*t. We’re good, man. Left no evidence. Aw, f*ck!” he grunted as he was forced forward, ending up strewn across Alexei’s lap as he slammed on his breaks at a red light. “What the f*ck are you doing?! Gonna throw me through the goddamn windshield, asshole!”

“Catch you, yeah? Is fine,” Alexei joked. He patted a friendly hand on Dustin’s ass as it stuck in the air while he was stuck mostly upside down in the car. Dustin struggled to un-wedge himself and really needed that hand to remove itself from his body immediately.

“Drive like a f*cking freak every other goddamn moment of your life and the minute I lean outta my seat you start to obey traffic rules!”

“Fuzz is out for us! Can’t look suspicious! Drive slow, stop at lights.”

“This doesn’t look suspicious?” Dustin said, slightly hysterical. He attempted to push himself off Alexei’s lap once more and struggled with the tangled angle. He was fairly flexible but all of his weight was off-balance against a twisted arm, with one foot trapped in the seat belt and the other propped up near the window. “Uh. So, I’m f*cking stuck.”

One arm lingered over the center console, reaching toward the back seat where he’d been clutching Alexei’s wallet only a moment earlier. His chest was wedged between Alexei and the steering wheel, with his face pressed dangerously close to his friend’s crotch. It was ridiculous. It looked suggestive as hell. He could feel his stubble scratch against a damp, bare thigh as he breathed against thin, chlorine saturated fabric. This was… precarious. And a little obscene. The light turned greened and the car lurched forward, jerking Dustin further into dangerous territory.

“Oh my god! Snowy! This is so funny. You don’t even know.”

“You sure about that?” He grumbled into Alexei’s thigh, trying not to move his lips too much.

“Yes! Everyone driving by sees me and thinks, oh look at this champ. Getting some action. Road head on Atlantic Boulevard,” he joked with a sneer, placing a hand gently against the back of Dustin’s neck in simulation of all he was describing. Dustin’s entire body shivered with the insinuation. What the f*ck was happening?

f*ck it. Dustin bit his thigh in retaliation. Hard.

“Hey! What the hell?! Think you bite my skin off.”

“I’ll bite off more than your stupid leg if you don’t help me up right the f*ck now. Right. Now.”

“Ohh, bad manners! Don’t use teeth there! Nasty boy,” he muttered, still highly amused with himself. Using one hand, he steered and turned onto the next street while the other pulled at Dustin’s shoulder and shirt to lift him off of his lap, maneuvering him like an angry kitten back into his seat.

“What the f*ck was that?”

“Sorry for slam on breaks.”

“I am honestly speechless,” he continued as he straightened out his shirt and patted at mussed hair, already a mess from the pool. So much for never blushing. His face was beet red. “You’re so f*cking weird. And obnoxious.”

“Why? Am master of comedy.”

“Where the f*ck are we even driving?” He asked, keen to change the subject as he willed his heart rate to get under control.

He was so pissed off at Alexei and really, really wanted to suck his dick about it. Whatever. He was a f*cked up guy. He’d come to terms with it. His entire face was as fire-red as Vineland’s finest signature produce. The phantom weight of Alexei’s hand to the back of the neck was going to fuel the dirty fantasies he kept under lock and key inside his brain for the remainder of his living years.

“I don’t know! I just drive because the cops show up! Try to be casual!”

“Loop around and let’s just go to my place. Drive normal.”

“My normal or -”

“I don’t care. Just. I don’t care. Gotta get out of this f*cking car.”

Tater laughed to himself. He reached over and ruffled the hair Dustin had finally gotten to lie correctly. Pointless to fight the oaf away, he leaned back in his seat and let him play with his hair, pushing the still slightly wet strands in weird directions in childish hopes of it drying stupid. Dustin was beyond mentally and physically exhausted and unable to feel any more keyed-up over the action than he already was.

“You need relax. We head back, chill out. Maybe watch something? Continue tourney game from last night?”

“Smoke up,” he added, letting a sly smile slide into place.

“Duh! What good are you except for freeload weed from?”

“Ha, he admits it! Barely a revelation.”

“Who else you share stash with?” Alexei asked softly, hand trailing out of damp locks to stealthily steal Dustin’s phone and change the synced playlist to one of his preferred mixes.

“Bro. We’ve got like, five minutes left in the ride?” Dustin snatched his phone back. “Relentless, man.”

“Why you keep my playlist on phone if you hate so much?”

Dustin shrugged. Wasn’t that obvious?

It all felt so obvious.

Passenger side wheels jumped onto the curb as Alexei parked outside of Dustin’s house, just as badly as always. Alexei got out of the car, still clad in only his boxers and Jordans - that day’s sneaker choice was a contrasting baby blue and neon yellow Aerospace model that looked even more clunky and hideous against miles of bare leg and nothing else. Dustin snapped a picture for posterity’s sake, certain that a normal human would feel a smidge of shame in walking around the yard in wet underwear and ugly as sin sneakers. The big freak himself would be delighted that the picture would feature in his bro’s instagram story. Dustin understood this and posted the photo without question or permission. Best friends.

“When are you gonna learn how to park that thing properly?”

“Why? What’s wrong with my park job?” Dustin gestured at the curb as Alexei either played dumb or truly believed it was acceptable. “Oh, is fine. I have good tires.”

“That’s not my concern!”

“Sssh. Calm down,” he cooed, hands placed on either side of Dustin’s face like he was shushing a nervous dog. “Go inside, smoke a joint, watch TV with me. Sound good?”

“Fine,” was all he could manage to breathe out as big hands squished his cheeks. Alexei dropped his hands and headed into the house, where Dustin hoped he would provide peace of mind by putting on some clothes. “You still park like f*cking dogsh*t!”

After consideration, Dustin hauled his own equipment bag from the car but left Alexei’s in the backseat. If the fool wanted his nice car to reek of stinking hockey gear then that was his prerogative and his own problem to deal with come morning. Sure, Dustin could offer his friend a kindness and lug both of their bags across the lawn to air out on the back porch, but Alexei’s cavalier attitude about his possessions needed to face consequences. True enough that Dustin didn’t exactly show respect to the hand-me-down Snow residence, but the things that meant something to him, the things that were his own - you bet your ass he cared for them. His new helmet with the delicate paint job and his motorcycle? His collection of high quality art supplies? The utmost care. There were times when he felt uncomfortable taking the bike out for fear of something happening to it. Alexei treated his Ferrari like he picked it up at a flea market.

The equipment bag dropped to the floor as Dustin entered his home, jaw dropping with a painful click along with it, as he was greeted by the sight of Alexei’s retreating bare ass. Wet boxers lay carelessly discarded mere feet from the door. He stared, mouth remaining involuntarily lax and open as Alexei turned without a care into Dustin’s bedroom. Was it a moment of weakness or a moment unable to be helped, as Dustin’s eyes honed directly in on the half-second voyeuristic glimpse of dick that flashed as the man turned and then disappeared into the room. He’d awoken from filthy, taunting dreams that began in that exact scenario. Alexei would wander into his bedroom, clad in nothing but his signature smirk, smug as all hell, and join him in bed. It would start like most mornings where he let himself into the house, unannounced. The difference being, in his dreams, he’d join Dustin with familiar ease, so entirely carefree, instead of simply shaking him awake with a laugh before leaving the room. He’d wake Dustin up with confident hands and a searing kiss, hot body bare and inviting. Dustin wouldn’t have to say anything - he’d know exactly what they both needed. It was one of his tamer fantasies, but it was his absolute favorite. It was the familiarity, it was the needlessness of communication. It was being totally in sync, and totally desperate for one another.

This was entirely unfair.

Dustin continued to stare at the empty hallway, mind absolutely blank, save for the rapid beating of his heart and the neon signs blaring in his subconscious, daring him to follow and push that beautiful, naked as sin man of his lustful dreams onto his bed to live out every stupid fantasy. Maybe Alexei was waiting for him. Sprawled out on the covers, beautiful co*ck in hand, waiting for Dustin’s brain to reboot and savor the feast he’d laid out for him. Join him. Take over. Take what he wanted, needed. All for him, always for him. He just needed Dustin to be brave after all those years.

If only that was true.

Totally unaffected and shattering Dustin’s dreams, Alexei walked back out of the room in a borrowed pair of gym shorts and an unzipped hoodie that he’d forgotten at the house at some point in the past. Dustin remained in the open doorway as his mind replayed a stuck loop of that perfect ass and those long legs walking down the hall with carefree confidence. Spoken words flew over his head, followed by laughter that did much of the same. Alexei took up residence on the couch with an unlit joint posed between his lips as he flipped through the channels. Dustin imagined stalking over and taking the joint from him with his own lips, then lingering there for a while to see what happened. No.

Snap out of it, you f*cking freak. You can do it, you can act f*cking normal. He’s your best friend. He doesn’t want you. Don’t f*cking ruin it.

“You ok? Come inside, Snowy. Find me lighter. Can’t find one. What you are doing over there?”

“It’s my own damn house, I’ll come when I want. In the house. My house. I’ll come inside my house when I want.” f*cking hell, f*ck his stupid rambling mouth. “f*ck off.”

“I think maybe you need smoke more than me. Needing be less tense!”

He wanted to scream. Needed to scream. He pushed his equipment bag inside and dragged it down the hall into the spare room, then went into his bedroom to don dry clothes and let out that scream into his pillow - not as loud as he’d like due to present company. As he changed, standing naked in the room, he seriously considered walking out into the living room like that, playing Alexei’s games, seeing how the other man reacted. Was Alexei trying to call his bluff, posing a challenge, or was it total nonchalance and comfort in friendship? Would Dustin really ruin all that close comfort to test a far-fetched theory, play out a high-stakes game of chicken? No. But, oh, how he wanted to ruin it all.

He conceded into putting his clothes on and kept the fantasies and reckless lust inside the privacy of his mind. None of his secrets had any reason to interfere with normal, ritual bro-time. Just because Dustin was losing the ability to ignore his complicated emotions didn’t mean anything had to change that night. Alexei would never be waiting for him on the bed. He wasn’t teasing and tempting. He just was . And it was not his fault.

Next to the couch, the armchair sat empty and inviting, but Dustin shoved his way onto the couch anyway, pushing Alexei upwards to make room. They overlapped limb and body, pressed close as usual. Alexei threw an arm across Dustin’s shoulders, hugging him to his side before letting go to pester him again about the damn lighter. One was fished out from under the couch, where so much junk went to die or lie in wait. They passed the joint back and forth, as familiar as breathing, sharing indirect kisses from the damp end of the paper. Dustin settled against Alexei’s warm body and let the tension drain from his shoulders. Scratchy chest hair and that damn gold chain pressed into his stubbled cheek from where Alexei had turned to let him rest his heavy head, but he ignored the normal flip between thrill or irritation, too comfortable and tired to internally wax poetic. He breathed in the lingering scent of chlorine and cologne as he resisted closing his eyes quite so soon.

The shifting light from rotating television channels bounced off the dark walls as he scrolled idly on his phone. It was nice. He could deal with this. He had this. Alexei was by his side. That should be enough.

“Not much on. You want watch movie? Netflix?”

“Don’t really care. Put on something brainless. Tired of thinking.”

His fingers scratched at Dustin’s scalp, aimless and instinctual. Dustin suppressed the urge to moan and nuzzled back like the world’s most spoiled, repressed cat.

“What’s on ESPN?” Dustin mumbled. Alexei flipped to the channel.

“Golf championship rerun from earlier?”

“Ew. f*ck golf,” Dustin groaned.

“I like golf.”

“I know and you suck.”

“How you know? Refuse play with me. Am pretty good at golf…”

“I’m saying that golf sucks. The entire concept of golf is f*cking awful. Represents everything that’s wrong with our current society. If you’re good at it then that’s really f*ckin’ lame.”

A flick to the ear for his dramatics. Dustin considered biting him in retaliation but all he could reach was either a mouthful of chest hair or a damn nipple and well, that would be rather hard to play off as normal behavior. He continued muttering about Alexei’s bouts of embarrassing yuppie behavior as Alexei humored him by switching the screen to the listings guide to fend off the inevitable tirade if he kept the golf program running.

“Fine, so bitchy. Oh! Ghost Hunters or Catfish? Look like marathon on cable, not having to switch input.”

“Bud, it’s two f*ckin’ buttons to switch to streaming.” He got another flick to his ear for the snark. He mumbled into Alexei’s chest, “Fine. Ghost Hunters.”

He wasn’t in the mood to watch a show centered around hopeful romantic wish fulfillment and eventual heartbreak.

“Good with me.” He surfed back around through the low numbers to find the random travel channel the show was on and stopped abruptly on a local news station. “Oh my god.”

“What,” Dustin barely asked, not looking up from his phone as he browsed articles on the societal and environmental harm of golf culture. He wasn’t ready to drop that subject yet.

“Vanessa. Vanessa.”

“Who?”

“Vanessa! News channel seven! Look, is her!”

Dustin cast his eyes upwards, instantly rolling them with a groan at the sight of the beat reporter currently on screen. Alexei slapped gently at Dustin’s face as if he wasn’t capable of looking at the screen on his own.

“Stop hitting me.”

“Look!”

“I’m looking! I know who it f*cking is! She covers sports sh*t in the city.”

“Vanessa. Channel seven,” he said in a captivated, dreamy voice. "How long you know this? Why you never say?"

“Do you even remember her last name?”

“Not need one. Can have mine.”

Dustin groaned again and turned back to his phone and readjusted his position against his friend’s side. He didn’t blame the dude for practically drooling over his head - she’d been way out of his league back in the day and now ? The woman could be on Sports Illustrated if she was interested in something like that. Whip smart and talented, to add on to her list of assets. In high school, Alexei had been obsessed with her and after nearly a decade removed from the environment, had not dropped the apparent captivation.

“Why you never tell me she’s on TV!?" He repeated and leaned closer to the screen. "She look so good. Wow. Look how low her shirt! They let people dress like that on news? Wow. Shook.”

“Shook? Really?”

“Yes. Most perfect woman I ever see.”

“That’s nice.”

“What, you not think so? Snowy. Look at her! Looks so good when we in school together and look at her now. Body perfect.”

“Don’t get too excited, Tater. I’m literally lying right on you. Please.”

Yes. Please. f*cking freak. I want you to. I can pretend - f*ck. God, I hate myself.

“Make no promises.”

“Gross.”

“Is not gross!”

“Gross, man. Whatever. Hey, maybe you’ll be inspired now to watch the news more and stop getting all of your information from f*cking Twitter headlines.”

“Maybe now I finally move to city, stay all year. Get her give me one-on-one interview, yeah?” He said with a laugh. Even when he was trying to be sleazy he came off cartoonish.

“Don’t even joke, man. If that’s what entices you to cut the f*cking cord and stick around I shoulda keyed you in a long f*ckin’ time ago to the wonders of late night local journalism,” he joked, smiling against skin.

“Hold out on me, Snowy. Good friend would help best bro out, use connections. Set best pal up.”

“What connections do you think I have other than living in f*cking Philly?”

The fingers scratching at the nape of his neck paired oddly with his sour mood. Dustin was hyper aware of their points of contact, the vulgar splay of legs and so much warm skin against his cheek and chest. It wasn’t Alexei’s fault, but Dustin’s mind raced. f*ck off for being so oblivious, offering his body with stipulations. Tempting him with no payoff. Maybe he was a sick freak who knew about his effect on Dustin and delighted in throwing it in his face. You’ll never have this! Dustin bit his lip, bit back the twitching need to pounce and kiss every taunting word silent and eliminate the good natured brotherly affection. The guy was an overbearing puppy. You couldn’t kick him. You couldn’t stay angry, or envious. Even when the him in question was breaking your heart and perving out over the impressive tit* of some sports reporter.

“If it was within my power, I’d be delighted to watch you get rejected by her twice, man. Chirp material for years. Can’t wait.”

“Always so mean! Worst wingman! You know, I’m all successful now. She’d like me. One that got away.”

“Oh, she got away from you real fast, bud.”

“Am so much more mature now! And, we work in same industry. Lot to talk about. Easily seduce with sports talk and then, bam.”

“Bam.”

“We bang.”

“Yeah. I got that.”

“Gonna win her over this time, show you even girls like that think I’m catch.”

“Whatever makes you feel better and gets you to sleep at night, dude,” he said, fighting through a yawn. “Can we watch some f*ckin’ paranormal themed reality televison now that your adolescent jerk-*ff fodder has been replenished?”

“Yes. Double yes to that.”

“Gross.”

“Ok. Maybe little bit gross. Oh! This real good episode.”

Dustin hummed in half-hearted consideration and continued messing around on his phone, half-paying attention as the paranormal dude squad on television freaked out over another bout of creaky stairs and wind whipping open doors in some rickety old house. Eventually, after not a very impressive time at all, Dustin drifted asleep, phone clattering carelessly to the floor as his fingers went slack. Alexei lasted a little bit longer, but not by much, at least completing an episode and a half before succumbing to exhaustion.

The next morning, Alexei managed to slip out from under his best friend, borrowed Dustin’s bicycle for a trip to Wawa, and returned with coffee and breakfast - all without waking Dustin. He’d left everything he’d picked up on the table near the couch with a messily scrawled note, letting him know that he had an early meeting with Ivan and had to bounce before Dustin was awake.

ENJOY FOOD! COFFEE!!! XOXO TATERTOT : )

Full sun greeted Dustin as he peeled his sweaty face from sticking to the old fabric of the couch, drool tacky against his cheek. The coffee was made exactly how Dustin took it, waiting for him in his thermos - still hot. The pork roll and egg sandwich was sloppily loaded with his preferred brand of hot sauce. It was all so well-thought out and considerate, with all details covered. He stared at the goofy smiley face that had signed off the note under the blocky handwriting. After breakfast was finished and the coffee gulped down to kick-start wakefulness, he stowed the little note in one of his many junk drawers, wedged among ticket stubs and old lanyards and brochures and every worthless, treasured memento from over a lifetime’s worth of friendship.

Could anyone with an iota of understanding and compassion blame a guy for going out of his mind when this was the sh*t he had to deal with on an average day? Mixed signals could be seen from space. Astronauts orbiting in the space station gazed out of their windows, eyes cast towards the coast, and offered their sympathies towards a mysterious, blinding signal of longing blinking hopelessly from the Jersey shoreline. What did it really matter? Love took many forms. Where in the world was he going to find someone else, a friend who wanted and needed his presence in a way as intimately woven as they currently existed? Why change anything? Why ruin it?

There was nothing mixed about it. These were the actions of a best friend, one who cherished him despite every flaw. Why did he have to be in love? What good had that ever done him?

It wasn’t enough.

Chapter 7: started from the bottom and i'm still at the bottom

Chapter Text

Returning to the old grind was unbearable following the best damn night of the summer so far, the strange whirlwind of emotions notwithstanding. Being back on the ice was more invigorating than any single moment on the piers. Tourists asked repetitive questions about tickets and lines for rides and Dustin’s eyes glazed over. His coworkers droned on and on about some unfunny, uninteresting story about something that happened during the shift he’d missed and his eyes glazed over. His eyes glazed over even as Alexei chattered excitedly about his own thrilling tale from something that occurred early in the shift. He felt guilty about that one, a rare indifference to Alexei’s conversation. Every hour felt like two and every person who approached him was testing fate in the face of him losing his calm facade, blowing up for no reason other than being unable to handle any of it much longer.

How many times was he expected to answer the same questions? How many times was he going to walk in circles around the pier, check items off of a list, and yell at people for being on their phones while the damn ferris wheel or roller coaster was operating? He could quit. Nothing was stopping him. He could find another f*cking brainless job.

“Where would you go?” Alexei asked when Dustin voiced the appeal of walking out. He gestured the question with a corn dog he’d swindled as part of a haul from a food vendor. The dripping mustard narrowly avoided hitting Dustin’s arm. “What place in town better than here?”

“There’s so many places better than the piers, Tates. Watch that f*cking corndog.”

He squinted his eyes childishly in defiance and took a huge bite. “Was gonna share but now, nope. All mine.”

“That’s… ok. Chew your food, man. Geez.”

“Where else you want work? So curious. This is good gig.” He tossed the picked-clean stick behind him and started on his second.

“I know that. Not like I’m actually gonna leave, just complaining, dude. Options are f*cked. I don’t think I’m mentally strong enough to cashier again. Stocking shelves is somehow worse than this sh*t. I don’t know.”

“Oh! Fruit truck driver. Work morning instead of night?”

“They make sh*t money. And what the f*ck do I know about fruit?”

“You can be garbage man. Same hours.”

“No.”

“What’s wrong with garbage man? Too good for you?” The corndog was pointed in his face in accusation - a deep fried police baton wielded by a damn clown.

“f*ck off. Do you want to be a garbage man?”

“No, but am not one looking for new job. Oh man! Might have exciting day where you find body in trash.”

“Dude, what the f*ck?”

“Mobsters,” he whispered, waggling his eyebrows as if he was letting him in on a big secret, like he was the first person to insinuate that there was mob activity in the state of New Jersey.

“This ain’t Newark, man. Or Philly. There’s no mafia in Crest. And they totally ditch people in junk yards. For the record.”

“Ok, so work in junk yard? I bet mob guys pay out good money to hide secrets for them.”

“Why do I have to work in a place where they’re hiding bodies?”

"You're the one want excitement! What is more exciting than help cover up mob stuff!?"

Mustard did hit Dustin that time as out of control arm gestures enhanced a stupid point. He wiped it from his cheek and spread the yellow projectile on Alexei's shirt. Alexei finished his current corndog and shoved the stick and a smear of mustard down the back of Dustin' shirt with impressive agility.

Dustin launched at him.

"You're such an asshole!"

“My ideas more interesting than your ideas! You have no ideas!” he argued, as they delved into wrestling, with Alexei cradling his styrofoam container of precious battered food away from scrambling hands.

Their juvenile scramble was cut off by the loud and intrusive crackle of the radio. Dustin continued to grip at Alexei's sleeve, mostly unaware he was still latched on to the fabric despite the paused fight, one hand subconsciously cupping a bicep. It felt so nice and solid under his palm and he squeezed it once, mortification washing over his body as he caught himself. Even so, Dustin did not remove his hand and Alexei did not notice, or at least gave no indication that he had.

“Alexei. Alexei! Do you copy?”

“Ugh, Ivan,” he scoffed, voice dripping with disinterest.

He demolished the remainder of the last corndog in rapid speed and dropped the container with his extra mustard to the ground. Dustin’s eyes followed the trajectory of the last stick he flipped high into the air, landing several yards away in front of a confused kid waiting in line for the mini-coaster. He frowned down at the blotch of neon yellow condiment oozing onto his sneaker from where it had splattered.

Alexei lifted his radio and held in the button, total disdain evident on his face and mouth full of deep fried delight. Dustin's arm raised with Alexei's before he'd realized he'd still been attached. He dropped his hand and stepped away, with the phantom sensation of burning tingling his finger tips. The feeling was shaken when he remembered the mustard. He wiped it from his shoe onto Alexei’s. Again, he didn’t notice.

“Alexei here. Sup, uncle?”

“Do not ‘sup’ me. Channel two.” Alexei switched over and indicated he was there. “Need you to come to North Pier. Big issue with go-karts.”

“Ok. We will head over soon.”

“No, no. Not ‘we.’ Come just you. Big problem. Have maintenance people here needing supervisor. No messing around. Contractors on clock.”

“You know I mean Dustin. Can help out.”

“No. Ten minutes. North pier. Guys on clock. Want avoid paying them overtime. Come now.”

Alexei groaned loud enough to garner stares from families milling around the vicinity. A few birds flew off a railing at the sound. He stormed off towards the employee golf cart station with Dustin snapping at his heels, highly offended.

“What an ass! What did I do to him?”

“He has been super bitchy lately, so many problems with maintenance guys fighting with each other. Anya fighting with him, too. I don’t blame her. He is huge asshole. And she probably tired of getting plowed by lazy, out of shape old man!”

“Dude, that’s f*cking gross.”

“Tell that to poor Anya.”

“Ugh. Whatever. I should show up anyway! He’s probably desperate to get away and is dumping this sh*t on you to take care of since he can’t be bothered to leave his office for five f*cking minutes. Doubt he’ll even stick around once you show up. I’d put money on it, actually. I’m that f*cking confident.”

“Probably. But don’t want you in trouble,” Alexei said as he hopped in one of the carts. “I get you in enough trouble. Ivan is lately on warpath. Very bad. Sorry to ditch you. My family is… I don’t know. Pick a word! You know the story!”

“How are you the only decent person in your entire extended family?”

“No idea,” Alexei said, pausing with a soft smile. “Back soon?” The question was more of a gentle plea to the universe than an expectation.

“Please.”

“See ya, Snowy!” He called after revving the engine and peeling out from the cart shed, already laying heavy on the horn, blasting it continuously for cathartic means. The horn both parted the crowd and irritated all in his vicinity. If he was going to be annoyed, so was everyone else.

Dustin stood under the shed awning with even less purpose than usual, feeling useless and genuinely put out that Ivan didn’t trust him. All of those winter months devoted to fixing up his properties and being at his beck and call, hammering nails into loose boards - did it all mean nothing? The long chats and assurances that he was a part of their family while Dustin ruminated on his stagnant life on the nights in between his construction shifts? The long drives down the turnpike in his brother’s sh*tty car or ambling through the backroads, freezing on his bike, where all for what? So Ivan could avoid paying top dollar for manual labor? And to be told that he was a problem? He felt like dejected dog sh*t.

Here launched another round in the ring, fighting against his own self-deprecation. Maybe it was his own fault, making his presence unreliable in the blink of a wasted month, abusing Ivan’s trust in giving him the tiniest portion of power in the sh*ttiest imitation of leadership on the piers. Wasting time, yet again. Proving everyone right. Deadbeat tendencies fully exposed. The charm only went so far when actual problems occurred. He could schmooze and smile and fall at the man’s every word, but he was a businessman trained to see through people’s smoke and mirrors when he was looking for folks to step up. That person was not Dustin.

Or. Maybe none of that was true. Ivan never indicated anything but delight and a gruff camaraderie with him, up until the situation at hand. He didn’t know anything about go-karts or managing contractors. Why would he be useful for a job he knew nothing about? Alexei was the better maintenance guy. Dustin only understood the theoretical in minor rides upkeep as required for his supervisory job. This wasn’t about him. Didn’t stop Dustin from cycling through his latest crisis of existential panic. He needed a smoke.

Other than Ivan’s call and avoiding multiple corn-dog adjacent projectiles, the night had been aggravatingly slow. He longed for a disaster. Better to have a reason for panic and misery than misery for its own sake. Randall was working. He could go latch onto him for a change, or seek out one of the tolerable others. As he walked his rounds, he saw Mandy hanging out by the Crazy Mouse, popping her gum and chatting up the girl who ran that ride. He was almost desperate enough to insert himself into that situation and brave three hours of Mandy’s personality.

No. Almost, but no. Stooping to that level was an act of desperation he really could not justify.

Still no sign of Alexei. No texts, no calls. Dustin was running under the assumption that a thrilling story awaited him once Alexei had access to a phone. The shift was nearing the end and… nothing. Not that they’d made plans or anything firm, but Dustin had counted on a typical post-work trek down the beach to see if anyone was gathered at the bonfire spot. It had been a few nights since they’d enjoyed the normalcy of their traditional after work event. With his shift over, he was finally able to clock out. He hung up his radio, turned in his clipboard, and changed out of his work shirt. Every few seconds in the employee hallway, he snuck glances towards the door, hoping for a glimpse of that gangly giant clambering over to turn in his own equipment. It was after midnight. Where the f*ck was Alexei?

“Ah, now here’s a man who looks lost. Where’s Tater? Thought I heard something over the radio but I had it turned down on break.”

“And here you are always calling us out for doing the same damn thing on break. What a little hypocritical slacker,” Dustin joked back to George.

Those radios were the bane of his existence. The plight of being constantly accessible was unbearable. Something about hearing his name called over and over again until he answered while he was taking a piss in the bathroom grated on every shred of patience and good humor.

“Snow. I’m not in the mood.”

“Sorry,” he quickly amended, though he hadn’t thought he’d been that blatantly rude. Dustin took in her appearance and overall demeanor and tried not to wince. Her eyes were red-rimmed and dark with smudged mascara, while the bags under her eyes indicated a lack of sleep. “sh*t. What’s up?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she sighed, then immediately jumped on the complaint train. “This damn job. It’s - never mind. It’s irrelevant.”

“What’re you doing now?”

“Right now? Feeling miserable and talking to you,” she quipped back, proud of herself for stooping to his signature brand of assholery.

“Well, we can fix that. Wanna get a drink and annoy each other with our personal problems?”

“Down for the drink, at least.” Dustin closed his locker and followed Georgia through the hallway as she unbuckled her own equipment. “Where is your better half, anyway? Not like I needed him much tonight, but your mopey ass could have used the company. Watched your lost puppy act all shift.”

“No idea. Some sh*t with Ivan. Hey, want to hit Barq’s? Pretty sure Thirdy’s little bro is ‘tending tonight and he’ll cut us a break.”

“You’re such a freeloader, I swear. You guys are gonna get Randall and that poor kid in trouble.”

“Can you blame me? This town bleeds me dry. Take what you can get.”

Wandering off the boardwalk and into town to brush elbows with the tourist crowd at the bars was unappealing. Barq’s was on the beach. They could knock on the back door after a quick text and be on their way with a six-pack hook-up of the weird craft stuff he liked from the place. Easy. Him and Alexei did it all the time to pre-game the beach gatherings, or sometimes before a party. Drinks you didn’t have to pay for always tasted better. And so did actual, quality beer. Savor the decent drinks before they were forced to shove down Natty or whatever low brow swill was typically stocked at the ragers.

“Actually, you know what,” she said through the corner of her mouth as an idea formed, inspired by the cheapskate scowling before her. She scanned the hallway, eyes narrowed. A hint of trouble played on her face. “Walk normal. Act casual.”

She tapped Dustin’s arm and headed off down the hall.

“Saying that never makes the other person do anything normal, it’s a tried and true trope.”

“Dear lord, you’re a piece of work. Stop. Talking,” she chided as she led him down the hall, stopping outside what looked like a closet.

The placard on the door read: MAINTENANCE ONLY - RAGING OASIS. She opened the door to a control room that housed a desk facing a few screens. The screens played staticy security footage of the water park area at the back of the pier. It closed every day at dusk and Dustin had only the tiniest inkling of what George was doing in there. He lingered in the door frame, peeking around the wall to watch her click through screens at rapid fire while also keeping a lookout in the hallway.

“Remember Shruti?” Vaguely. He remembered the name. “She worked security until last season? You know her. Anyway, we used to chill in Oasis after hours. Showed me some tricks when she left so I could carry on the tradition of ripping this dump off.”

“Look at you . Full on corrupt.”

“You don’t even know the half of it. ‘Sides. Been here long enough. I’m owed a little indulgence.”

“Feel that, bro.”

George circled through a few more screens before finding the one she was looking for, stopping with a determined expression on the grainy image of the Tiki Shack Bar. Click. The security footage filled the entire screen. Click, and she switched to the camera feed covering the side entrance to the water park. Click. Another screen of mostly sand and wall. Click. She shut off the necessary camera feeds and smiled. It wasn’t a very sophisticated system.

“Oh, sh*t. This is really what we’re doing?”

“Caught on? Knew you were a smart boy. Let’s go. The system resets every half hour to create backups. I don’t know how it all works but Shruti and I never had an issue if we got in and out quick. It’s a stupid amusem*nt park, not the Pentagon but you know. There’s cameras.”

“Full of surprises, boss. Little criminal.”

“Do not refer to me as your boss anymore tonight, bro . We’re beyond that. It’s weird.”

With a mock salute to indicate newfound respect, Dustin followed Georgia out of the relocked security closet with purpose. No one was hanging around the hallway to see them, but Georgia shuffled them along - no time to spare lingering around the labyrinth underneath the roller coaster. The lights of Mariner’s twinkled behind the pair as they sped briskly up the ramp by the ferris wheel, past the darkened water park entrance gate, and down the vertical ladder behind the lazy river maintenance shed that landed them into the sand. They hurried along the walls of the amusem*nt pier, Georgia in the lead. Her hand skimmed along the concrete and fencing to stay on path as they made their way through the near darkness. Dustin tried his best to stick close and not step on Georgia’s heels as they shuffled on the sand. Abruptly, Georgia grabbed Dustin by the arm and pulled him against the wall of a small building near a collection of garbage bins. She turned him against the fake bamboo planks attached to the structure.

“Pick what you want. Be quick. Just get something for tonight. I doubt anyone’s doing hardcore inventory in this sh*tty bar but let’s not push it and get greedy.”

After her little speech concluded, she unlocked the backdoor. They walked with light feet through the small kitchen where deep-fried frozen snack foods were made for the day-drinkers who frequented the tacky poolside bar shack. Margaritas and mozzarella sticks. Essentials for a day laying lazy at an absurd water park. Dustin always thought it was more than pathetic that tourists shelled out fifty bucks to sit around a pool and go down a few sh*tty waterslides when the actual beach surrounded them. The back-half of the water park, where Georgia and Dustin were currently pilfering booze from, was attached to Mariner’s amusem*nt park, partially situated on the literal sand. At high tide, the ocean waves were only a dozen or so yards away from the back fence. Pathetic.

People loved to day drink at a waterpark while the water slides and lazy river played babysitter to their screaming children. It was yet another exploitative, cash-grab Wildcrest tourist trap and Ivan Petrikov was raking in everyone’s f*cking money.

“Goddamn capitalism,” Dustin muttered as he shone his phone flashlight on the plentiful stash of half empty bottles of liquor along the barback.

He randomly grabbed two nearby bottles and headed out the back, Georgia in tow. She relocked the door and forged ahead, leading them in the direction of the ocean.

“Man, you’re a lot cooler than I thought,” Dustin admitted, letting the awe bleed into his voice without shame. Georgia let out a bark of a laugh and turned to give him a sideways look. “I mean. Breaking into Oasis for a booze heist? That’s kinda dope. Didn’t know you had it in ya.”

“Thanks for the backhand, dude . The dopest honor. Thanks, man .”

“That’s supposed to be me? I definitely do not sound like that.”

“You’re right, that was too cartoonish. Forgot to bust out my aloof monotone.” She shushed him before he could protest. “Here, this spot’s good. Wanna go up the chair? Far enough from the pier. Quiet.”

He shrugged and followed her towards the abandoned lifeguard chair, stark white in solitude just beyond the tide line. True dark night was polluted by the store fronts and light poles along the boardwalk, though that particular stretch between the second and third pier had a few dim spots, where the gaps between vibrant, garish games and attractions cast an empty space of partial tranquility onto the beach. Voices drifted across the beach, but the ocean stole the show. Maybe not for the moment. Beauty was in high supply and stronger men and women would be caught with wandering eyes. Dustin was not a strong man. He lingered at the bottom of the chair ladder as Georgia climbed up first, failing to not stare. She was gorgeous, athletic and intimidating, and he wished he wasn’t so f*cking weak. It had been a rough summer and Dustin was as confused as he’d ever been. Hot was hot. And breaking into your workplace to steal alcohol for him was enough for him to lust over, apparently.

Georgia settled herself against one side of the wide lifeguard chair. Her teeth-baring smile shone bright in the dark, a beam to rival the moon. In his typical fashion of never catching a break, Dustin stumbled on his climb up the ladder and took the gentle ribbing from above in stride as he passed his bottle over-head while he regained his footing.

“Alright there, Snow?” She laughed. Dustin grumbled in response and took his spot opposite on the chair. She opened her bottle and took a swig. “Isn’t this better than hanging around Barq’s with all the tourists?”

“Totally have a greater appreciation for stolen booze over free booze. f*ckin’ wild.”

She laughed and kicked her foot against his. He ignored the way his heart rate jumped, briefly, at the shift of skin against skin, calf to ankle.

Apparently in his haste, he’d grabbed wine and momentarily panicked that a cork and lack of means to remove it would ruin the entire endeavor. He had to laugh at finding it was thankfully a screw cap, cheap and easy to remove. As if the tiki bar at the waterpark was going to stock the type of wine that required a corkscrew. Bottles were clinked together, though his plastic container provided only an unsatisfying thud against Georgia’s bottle. His prediction was correct: the wine was horrendous. Dustin tried not to sputter at his first sip. He glanced again at the bottle and scowled at the nondescript brand and the mocking, dopey expression on the ugly cartoon parrot mascot paired with what he was certain was Sangria Special typed in the f*cking Papyrus font. Spare him the humanity.

“What are you drinking that put that face on your face?”

“sh*t’s downright terrible,” he admitted, but took another sip. Booze was booze. She reached over to read the label and snorted at the sight of the sad cartoon bird and the even sadder tropical ‘dad on vacation’ shirt it wore. “Somehow this sh*t simultaneously tastes like cough syrup and melted fruit from the bottom of a trashcan. So. f*cking. Bad. It’s like a half step up from goddamn Mad Dog jubilee.”

Despite this, he took another long gulp. At least it was free.

“Whatever works,” Georgia laughed around the lip of her own bottle.

“Speaking of work ... you good? Wanna talk about whatever had you all distraught earlier?”

“Distraught?” She shot him a look, lips pursed at his typical melodrama, “Distraught might be a little too strong. Just a bad day.”

Pacing his words slowly, he prompted a second time, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Let me get deeper into this bottle first. Kinda sick of talking about work.”

“Kinda hard not to default to work sh*t when you’re hanging out with your boss,” Dustin mumbled, meaning to be heard but hoping she’d breeze past his comment.

“Boy, you are always so stuck on the boss thing. We are sitting on a lifeguard chair. After hours. Drinking stolen Schnapps. I am not your boss right now.”

“Schnapps? That’s what you picked? f*ckin’ gross. What kind?”

“Peach.” He mock retched and she took another gulp in defiance of judgment. “Shut up. Why’d you pick wine? Who picks wine? Why did they even have that? It’s hot in that shack.”

“I don’t know, to make some disgusting, overpriced sangria or whatever? Judging by the name on the f*cking label. Who the f*ck picks Schnapps if presented with options?”

“Whatever. Wine’s still a weird choice.”

“It was f*cking dark! I just grabbed something!” She shook her head and kicked at his foot again. He responded with a responding tap, in disbelief that he was actually sitting there playing goddamn footsie with his boss.

“You know, George? Gotta say. Still so f*cking impressed with this whole endeavor.”

“Sure. Hey, maybe… keep this between us, yeah? Don’t tell anyone. Especially not Tater.”

“Super f*cking funny how you think I can keep my mouth shut to him about this. Stealing booze from Oasis? Hilarious. He’s gonna lose it.”

“I’m serious, Snow. Know I’m asking the impossible, but your boyfriend absolutely lacks the capacity to be discreet.”

Dustin laughed loud, too loud, immediately shaking his head. “He’s not my boyfriend! We’ve f*cking been over this.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell him.”

“It’s just Tater! If I tell him to keep quiet about it, he will. He’s not f*cking stupid.”

“Seriously? He’ll be lifting stuff from there every day.”

“You know the dude doesn’t need to steal sh*tty booze from that damn shack. He gets free sh*t everywhere.”

“Can’t you listen to me for once, I swear-” she started with irritation, cut off by Dustin’s loud laughter.

“See, how am I supposed to drop the boss thing when you get all authoritative on my ass?”

“You’re obsessed with the boss thing! Can’t we just have a drink together and forget all that?”

“Hey, George. Kinda f*cking hot when you yell at me like that,” he joked. Half-joked. Pretty much was telling the truth. He was f*cking blushing like a schoolboy. Georgia looked like she may slap him.

As he braced for impact, her expression softened. She knocked her foot against Dustin’s once more with a guarded smile as she closed back in on herself. She turned away to look down at the sand below, squinting at the faint remnants of their footprints that had not yet been washed away out past the damp sand of the tideline. Her bottle rested limply on the bench, tap-tapping as she lifted and aborted bringing it up for a drink. Clearly, more than standard issue, surface-level complaints about a bad day at work brewed underneath her calm, deflection-focused demeanor.

Dustin noticed. You couldn’t not notice.

He paused his confused, pseudo-flirting and asked, “Please don’t push me off this stupid f*cking chair for asking again, but - are you ok ?”

A long sigh. And resignation to spitting out the topic on the tip of her tongue. You couldn’t wear someone down who had been planning on doing something on their own. The smallest shove would work. Georgia took a long drag of the rotten tasting peach liquor and spilled her secret.

“I’m leaving. Might as well cut the cord and stop making a big deal about it. I’m leaving,” she admitted in a rush.

She lifted the bottle to her lips to take another sip and fill her mouth with all that bitterness before she could say more, but hesitant hands withdrew. The bottle was balanced between her thighs as she covered her face with her hands, slowly scrubbing upwards into her hair, frizzy where it was typically sleek, further messing up her bun as she pulled away. Messy and at a loss was not her style and she wore it reluctantly. Didn’t look right. Her face schooled into stoicism, holding that regal ease even when vulnerability would be perfectly acceptable.

“You’re sh*tting me,” Dustin said, louder than intended, after her admittance. She glared at him, clearly trying to retain her composure, failing as she sat there with a head full of fly-aways and a metric ton of tension pressing down on her shoulders. Her eyes held back a flood.

“No, I am not. sh*t’s real. sh*t is happening. It’s real as sh*t.”

“What the f*ck? Town? Or just Mariner’s?” He knew it had to be more than quitting the pier to move his rival competitor of outwardly controlled vulnerability into having a breakdown.

“Wildcrest. The whole thing. I’m leaving, Dustin.” She cast her eyes to the rim of her bottle, tracing a finger around the neck as she contemplated the other side of the weighty silence. “I’m out.”

“When?”

“Near the end of the season. Don’t tell anybody,” she managed to take a deep swig of the Schnapps, nearly finishing off the bottle that had been half empty when she’d stolen it. She swallowed and blinked off the burn as Dustin promised to keep his damn mouth shut about the situation. “Honestly, I don’t care what you guys do about the tiki bar. Wait until I’m gone and you guys can ransack it empty for all I care. Keep up my legacy. I’ll even show you how to stop the camera feeds.”

“Maybe... maybe I won’t be around next season either.”

“Yeah? That so?”

Dustin laughed into the night sky, with feral wolf-mouth baring teeth and the coldest eyes. “f*ck no. Am I kidding? I f*cking wish. Felt stupid as soon as I said it.”

“Dude. You have the worst attitude of anyone I know.”

She turned to him in the middle of a weak laugh, smiling through her strange, pained expression with a self-conscious slant to her lips, pinched in how uncomfortable she was with being the unstable one. Dustin held her gaze as it changed from anticipatory to hesitant. He watched her eyes crinkle as she forced herself to shake out of losing her cool. The alcohol made her too vulnerable - empty emotions to fill the void of a conversation she needed to have but did not want to indulge. Dustin misread. And reacted. He swiftly craned upwards with misguided impulsivity before his nerve was lost and he overthought the signals he believed Georgia was throwing his way.

He should have let those nerves flame out instead of fanning them to complete, smoldering embarrassment.

His lips met Georgia’s and he immediately regretted every base urge and snap decision he’d ever made in his entire life. His dignity fled far up the coast and left him with a boozy, buzzing shell of a man about to throw himself off the lifeguard chair and into the ocean. She squeaked away from the kiss after a brief moment of initial shock, one split second return of the kiss before her scrambling retreat. A bubble of laughter slipped past her lips and Dustin felt the cold plunge of water without ever leaving the bench. Her ensuing, loud burst of laughter caused him to melt hot against his own hand as he instinctively covered his face, searing shame hidden away as she echoed into the dark, empty beach.

“I’m sorry, oh my god…” he mumbled into his hand as her shaking shoulder bounced against his own.

“Oh my god, Dustin! What the hell was that!?” She swiped at tears, the dam finally broken. “Props for boldness, zero for finesse!”

Dustin slumped down the chair bench as horizontally as physics would allow.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s not that funny,” she said between attempts at catching her breath. A second wave of giggling hyena noises followed. “Just kidding. That was hysterical. Wow.”

“f*cking… f*cking kill me. Push me off this chair and let me die. Drag me into the waves and let me disappear out to sea.”

“Oh no, this is gonna get me through these last months here, kid. Every time you do something stupid or you f*ck up again, I’ll just remember you trying to kiss me.” She could barely get through the end of the sentence without cracking up. He made to actually get up and climb down the chair, but Georgia pulled his sleeve and grabbed his arm, dragging him against her. “Come here! Now, try to control yourself. This is a friendly hug. Don’t get too excited.”

“f*ck off,” he spat and pulled himself out of the awkward embrace with a sneer. She shot him a look that dripped with acrid pity. He groaned again into his palms. “sh*t. Sorry! Really read that one f*cking wrong.”

“Ya think?”

“Please don’t tell anyone I did that.” He pleaded in a small voice, feeling every bit the smallest man on the planet f*cking earth.

“Obviously. Do you really think I’m gonna let anyone, save for the two people sharing this chair, know that Dustin Snow made a move on me? You’re outta your mind.”

He didn’t appreciate the disdain in the way she’d said his full name, but he got it. He understood. Certainly didn’t want to be the laughingstock of Mariner’s but, still. His ego was as bruised as the disgusting, rotten peaches probably used to make that horrible bottle of Schnapps or his trash fire sangria. It wasn’t a great look for him, or for her. What the f*ck had he been thinking?

“I appreciate you not using my sh*tty indiscretion to reign literal devastation on me at the park. And, again. Sorry.”

She pondered for a moment, and took a bite at something unspoken between them, hoping that what she was about to say would not be out of place. Regardless, he’d just tried to kiss her. She could indulge in a little risky behavior of her own.

“I don’t know, now that I’m thinking about it. Maybe I should tell Tater. Make him jealous. Help a bro out.”

“He’s not going to be jealous of you . You’re absolutely his type. Believe me. The sh*t’s he’s said about you to me in confid-”

She cut him off before whatever train of thought he was on could leave the station. “Ok, stop. I do not want to know. Gross.”

“Sorry, again.” He could not stop apologizing. Dustin didn’t know what else to say.

“It’s fine. Definitely cheered me up, I mean. That was hilarious.”

Out of reflex and seeking comfort, he reached for the wine and took a drink. The bad taste barely registered. “Really f*cking funny from my perspective.”

“Listen, if the circ*mstances were different, maybe? You’re a decent looking guy, I guess?”

“The high praise of being decent looking.”

She cradled his nearest hand and took a deep, centering breath. The way she held it close, his rough palm in between her two strong, slim ones, was almost motherly. Dustin internally flinched at the realization, the recognition of his respect and admiration for his old friend. What had he been thinking? She was so clearly leagues away from his standard romantic conquests, yet in no way could hold a candle to what and who he truly wanted. After the Larissa situation, he’d barely considered anyone but Alexei other than fleeting hook-ups that barely registered as anything more than boredom or drunken weakness, a means to convince himself that he was still capable of feeling something for anyone else. The split second of a bad judgment call proved nothing more than the fact that his life was a complete and utter joke, and not a very clever or compelling one.

“Don’t hold it against me. I’m a little too gay to even get my head around thinking about you like that,” she said softly, adding on a sprinkle of lightness as a palette cleanse to her heavy admission. “You can use that as collateral against me telling people about your ill-fated kiss.”

Instinctively, he squeezed her hands tight, blinking hard as he allowed the seconds to stretch while her words waited in the breeze. Big truths. Dustin finally met her gaze and nodded. She nodded back, emphasizing their permanent wandering into mutually protected information sharing. Secrets, and the giving of an eye for an eye. A kiss for a promise and trust for trust. Dustin felt inadequate - she’d seen him twice now at his worst, three times if the day of the drunken disaster and the next day’s fallout were to be split. Quitting her job and moving away felt gray in contrast to his saturated bullsh*t. And she deserved the brightness of comfort, a comrade in spilled secrets. Who was he to give it to someone when he was so f*cking broken?

“Well. sh*t,” he said, the opposite of eloquent or helpful. Georgia let his hands go to run her fingers through her wilder-by-the-minute hair, fly away baby hairs frizzing in an omnidirectional halo as the more exasperated the night became. “f*ck, wow. Yeah. Ok. That’s. That’s something.”

The full, impressive extent of his vocabulary was being put to good use in his bewilderment.

Georgia breezed on as his brain restarted after facing multiple shutdowns in quick succession. He’d process at his own pace, but she wasn’t going to stall the vital details.

“Goes without saying but, keep that intel on the down low. Not looking to have the gossip hounds at Mariner’s know my business when I’ve only got a few months left here. I’m not, like, not out, I just-”

"No, I get it. I really get it. f*cking... f*cking same. If I was getting the hell outta dodge? Yeah, I wouldn't want to deal with new gossip and sh*t.”

“Well. Now you know.” After another one of the night’s signature loaded, heavy silences, Georgia let out another brief burst of laughter. It caused Dustin to jump in his seat, coming out of nowhere. “Indulge me. What was your big seduction plan gonna be if I had actually kissed you back? Were we gonna go at it down on the beach or were you gonna do me right here in this guard chair?”

She nudged and prodded at his side in gleeful teasing as he fought her away. Relentless, this woman. Let him rest.

“I didn’t plan that far.”

“When I leave Wildcrest, how do I even prove that I existed here without being added as a notch on Dustin Snow’s infamous bedpost. The only souvenir I won’t be taking with me when I leave!”

“f*cking hell, you make me sound like such an asshole,” he groaned as she started in on another laughing fit. “I’m not as bad as Tater. I’d have at least brought you somewhere off the literal middle of the f*cking beach. You deserve better than a lifeguard chair. Under the boardwalk, bare minimum.”

“Ew, oh my god, have you done that before? Do people actually do that?” She asked, horrified. Dustin winked and nodded. “That is so gross.”

“It can be romantic.”

She adamantly disagreed. And wasn’t incorrect. It was a filthy underworld beneath the boardwalk. But, desperate times. Dustin viewed it as a right of passage living at the beachside - it was a landmark, an iconic image, and ever-present whether behind their backs as they faced the ocean, or underfoot during the toils of work. An entire song had been written about the subject, the mystique.

As Georgia carried on laughing through her roast of his romantic (and not so romantic) exploits, Dustin flicked a Spirit from the carton he’d pulled out of his back pocket. He dug for his lighter. Laughter abruptly cut out as Georgia thwarted the action before Dustin could even place the cigarette between his lips. Suddenly empty hands froze where a second earlier he held the little yellow box - she had soundly smacked it out of his hand. He’d attempted to catch the box before it fell away, disappointed immensely that his reflexes failed him. The box and its contents landed with a soft splat in the freshly damp sand from where the tide ebbed only feet from the chair. Dustin peered over his knees and observed half of the cigarettes spilled out from the box, soaking sea water from a divet of what was probably his own foot print from when he’d slipped off of the chair ladder earlier.

“Why?” He said, deadpan and level, though his scowling features threatened a blow up at any second. “f*cking low. There goes ten bucks.”

“Stop smoking,” she answered plainly, inflected nearly as a question - one for which she did not desire an answer, implying that her reason for smacking the box away like an angry cat was so very obvious. This was the second time in not so many days that her self-righteous interference had caused Dustin’s smokes to fall into a water source. Irritating pattern. Unbridled smugness on behalf of the offending party. “You’ll save money.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was watching a cringey PSA on f*cking MTV.”

“You’re an athlete? Smoking is disgusting? It’s super unhealthy? Want another reason?”

“I am infinitely aware. And wait, the f*ck you mean, I’m an athlete? Referring to how I tend net for a f*cking beer league in AC once a week? Not the beacon poster boy promotion for good health and the joy of sport.”

“It’s gross and I hate it and that’s that.”

“If it bothered you so much, you should have just f*cking said.”

“I did! And I thought you said you were trying to quit?” She deflected, irritated.

“I am cutting back. It’s a process.”

“Then I’m speeding you along.”

“f*ck off.”

“Oh, chill. You’ll live.”

“I was trying to chill. Everyone in this f*cking town makes my life so much harder…” he grumbled, turned away to pick at the white paint of the chair. He considered, again, jumping off the chair and starting back towards town. At least he no longer wanted to drown himself and just kind of wanted to be alone. He could sense a bad turn ahead.

“Drink your sh*tty wine and stop bitching. What’s done is done.” She ignored whatever he was grumbling as he followed her demands anyway, sipping at his gross sangria. “Your life really isn’t that hard.”

“‘S’cuse me?” he mouthed around the bottle, eyes squinting at what he considered a rather high-and-mighty expression on her face.

“Oh, buddy, it’s really not. You want me to have at it?”

“Yeah, have at it.” This was why she was always the the boss. The failed friend. Good looking out, always there for the people she cared about. Maybe too much. Toeing the line that divided a step too far, but with a barely resigned sigh, she’d creep past it. Her tonal shifts were immense and jarring. Joke around at work. Ream your ass for slacking off. Steal booze and laugh at someone’s expense over a failed romantic move. Call out all of their flaws. Dustin stared at her, with a challenge in his eyes and his chin up.

Speak your mind, George. What does Miss Goody-Goody have to say now about my life?

“You make everything so much harder than it is or needs to be.” She took a quick drink from her bottle, giving Dustin room to react. He let the bait dangle. “You’re not special for hating your hometown. Or your job. Or for being f*cked up over someone. You’re exhausting.”

What a f*cking whiplash of a night. Felt like they were on the Crazy Mouse ride, veering this way and that, feeling like they were almost going to careen over the edge and then at the last second, they were ripped in a different direction, always accelerating towards something worse. Veiled fun, guaranteed anxiety.

His fingers twitched for a cigarette. f*ck her for interfering with his own adult choices. He finally broke eye contact and gazed back down to the sand where the Spirit box was soaking. Nope. Unsalvageable.

Going into their beach hang-out, Dustin was prepared for a vent sesh, some airing of grievances. He was looking forward to the potential sh*t-talking of some upper management blow-hard that had given Georgia trouble. At the very least, some drama between pier staff and some irate mother of a kid that had an incident on the ride. This unfurling foray into his personal problems was not on his preferred conversational agenda. And certainly not without adequate substances in his system. The wine was not cutting it. At least a tinge of nicotine would take the edge off.

“Tell me more, George. So wise.” Calm and detached was the angle at play.

“Why haven’t you quit if you hate working at Mariner’s so much?”

“Why didn’t you?” he shot back.

With zero lag between swift blows, Georgia answered, “I am quitting. But I don’t hate it.”

“Well…” What was he to say to that without making himself sound worse? “What else am I supposed to do?”

Her laugh was borderline manic. “I don’t know. So many things, Snow. Anything. Stay full time in Philly. You don’t have to come back here, you know? Go work at some other random, boring job in town. Just… change your attitude. Or put up. It’s not that bad.”

“You make a lot of really basic assumptions about my life. It’s not that easy.”

“It’s not that easy for most people. And you’re not as much of a f*ck-up as you claim.” She stopped Dustin before he could interject. “You’re fully capable of changing your situation.”

“Why have you stuck around so long?”

“Are you listening to me? I don’t hate this place. Pay’s good at the pier. My friends still live here. Grad school was expensive and difficult. Kinda just wanted to kick back during the summer. But that’s over. Finally finishing grad and moving on with my life opened my mind to how I want to be as a person.”

“How’s that?”

“Not a negative one. I told you the other day - I’m in your corner. But you’ve gotta be the one to decide what you want. Start somewhere.”

“It’s so funny. I had almost this exact conversation with Tater today. He was a lot nicer, but I landed on the same answer - I do not know what I want to do.”

Take stock. Find value in what surrounds your daily life. If he was unwilling to make a change, change the lens. Wipe the dirt and grime from his vantage point and truly look.

Working at Mariner’s was easy. A guarantee. How many of those does someone get handed in life? Despite his constant diminishment of what folks meant to him - Dustin had plentiful friends in town. They weren’t all bad. Alexei was a part of that crowd, their shared group of friends. The familiarity of a solid squad, going on over a decade was a comfort, not a curse. Living in a house he mostly owned was far more convenient than paying an arm and a leg to live in a half-decent part of Philly with his brother and his brother’s rotating roommate of the month crashing on their couch. Alexei was around in the summers. A guarantee. He could play hockey and not feel awkward as a last minute consideration in the city’s bloated and unfamiliar rec leagues, relearning again and again how to make friends in your late twenties. The work was steady and the revolving door of parties and vacationers was simple, non-committal. You didn’t have to worry about running into a bad hook-up at your regular bar when people only stayed in town for a few days. And, Alexei was in Wildcrest. Worth mentioning twice, as it was the most important factor.

Wildcrest wasn’t exactly living in hell. Maybe. He was taking back-handed advice from someone who lived there and either ignored the flames or fanned them in his direction, but Georgia was the only one in his life brave enough to do either.

He didn’t need to detail his list for her to not intuitively know the reasons he stuck around in a dead end town. Reason. She was smart. She could figure out his priorities. For someone so proudly insistent on being emotionally closed-off, those in-tune could read him like an open book.

Both stared out at the dark waves, following the white lines of foam building and retreating as the next round hit the shore. Dustin checked his phone. No texts. No messages. Georgia sneaked a peek at the screen, lips pursing at the flash of a name before Dustin put it back in his pocket. She sighed and slumped back in the chair, breaking their moment with the confirmed evidence of a big, boisterous presence that may not have joined in person, but hung over them in obvious spirit.

“Oh, god. Please, please tell me you are not coming back here every summer for him.”

“No,” he insisted, the word louder than his preceding dead voiced comments.

“You are. You’re waiting around for him and putting your life on hold for this guy you’re in love with and -”

“George. Stop. I’m not f*cking waiting around for Alexei. I’m afraid to change a lot of sh*t in my life but that’s not the reason.”

Deny. Deny. Deny.

“Kind of inclined to not believe you.”

“Fine. I don’t care? Sorry. I don’t. And why the f*ck don’t you like him all the sudden? I thought you guys were cool."

“I like Tater. He’s a good guy. But, you’re holding yourself back, waiting for the stars to align. You can’t let that be the reason you’re miserable. Or the reason you hate being in this town - if you really, truthfully hate it, or this job. That’s not how love should make you feel.”

“Hmm.”

“Probably not my place and I’m sorry if that was harsh. But it needed said.”

“Haven’t you ever felt misplaced in this town? I have. Don’t know why. Don’t know why it’s so hard to leave, even if I’m only here a few months at a time. Maybe I’m f*cking lazy. Scared of committing to anything. Who the f*ck really knows what they’re doing with their life? Shouldn’t that be comforting? That everyone is f*cking aimless? I keep coming back because it’s something. And it’s easy.”

She nodded, taking in his words. “When you don’t know what to do, any constant is a comfort.”

“You f*cking got it.”

Georgia leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, providing a solid column of support. Her edges were soft, her words were harsh. Tough love. But, it was love, in her own way.

The wine barely provided a buzz but Dustin lifted it once again, searching for that effect. No reprieve to dull the weird vibes of a night avalanching downhill everytime one of them opened their mouth. George silently toasted with her own bottle, lifted above their bent together heads. He mimicked the gesture. Her bottle was drained with one final sip and dropped to the sand with a thud. He offered her his wine and she took a drink. His eyes clung to the dark wine that stained her lips as she stuttered over the foul tasting liquor. The novelty and strangeness of how he’d kissed her only one difficult conversation earlier made his head spin around and around.

The beach was so quiet.

“God, it’s gonna be so f*cking weird that you’ll be gone next season.”

“Summer’s gonna fly now. I’m really gonna miss it. I talked to Ivan tonight about me leaving, officially. That’s why tonight’s shift was so rough.”

“Well, keeping your secret is totally f*cked now. The Russian gossip circle can’t keep their damn mouths shut.”

“He won’t say anything. We’re close. He’s always looked out for me. That man was not pleased when I told him, but we had a long talk. Ivan wants me to pick a replacement for the head rides manager.”

The empty space she left lingering after her comment made his stomach swirl. No f*cking way.

“God, I hope you’re not implying -”

“After all this, you really think I’m gonna force another roadblock on your quest for freedom? I’m not gonna pick you. I refuse on principle to be your new excuse. I thought about it but that ship has sailed, buddy.”

“Can I ask you something?” She shrugged and nodded her head in a duh, obviously indication. “Do you think I should give up? On the, uh… the Tater thing.”

“Hmm. Not my place. But like me refusing to be your excuse, all I'll say is you need to refuse to let him be yours. Don’t hold yourself back for the sake of someone else. Even one you’re in love with.”

“Feels kind of cold.”

“It’s honest.”

“Dude, ok. I’m not searching for the meaning of life or holding myself back over a stupid f*cking crush. Give me some credit,” George made to cut him off but Dustin barreled on - he had a lot he needed to get out into the world, breaking the barrier to bear his bleeding heart woes.

“So, I don’t know what I want. I don’t have some faraway dream or ambition. Only know that it’s something else . It’s not working here forever, living here forever. Eventually, I’ll never come the f*ck back. But right now - I’m not exactly completely miserable. If it was that bad here? Yeah. Of course I’d leave. You know what gets me through the day in the meantime, as I figure sh*t out? That blissful ray of false hope that comes from being in love with him. And if that’s as far as it goes, I’ll live. But it’s nice to pretend. It’s nice to have a reason to care that I’m stuck here, while I’m stuck here. Even if I’m not truly stuck. What’s wrong with fantasizing that one day I might get everything I’ve ever wanted? Hell of a lot more comforting than the great uncertainty. What’s so wrong with that?”

He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t even raised his tone as the raw confession poured from within. The words lingered like echoes across the waves, hanging like so much fog after a storm. Dustin’s face burned. Georgia laid a hand on his knee, which jumped at the sudden touch. They laced their fingers. It was not romantic. It was not out of pity. She did not need to pester and poke at him anymore. He’d said enough, and said it all. The weight was not gone, but someone else had heard what had only ever resided inside his mind. It was enough for the moment.

“That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once in a very long time.”

“Yeah. f*ck.”

Her fingers tightened between his. He squeezed back just as hard. “There’s always hope. I’m sorry.”

“I’m f*cking sorry, too.”

So it goes. High tide was closing in on their chair. The boardwalk was quiet. Everything would either be closing or was already shut down for the night, wee hours heavy on the darkness of an empty beach. Dustin checked his phone, wincing at the late hour. No texts, no calls. They locked arms for support as they ventured across the moonlit sand towards the sightline of civilization with the emptiness of admitted truths trailing in their path. That long walk home, along empty streets and with full motel parking lots for company, provided time to reflect and feel the gravitas of hasty kisses and spoken realities. He was not a miserable person. He felt everything way too deeply, and hyper-focused on the wrong emotions. His life was not that hard.

His cluttered, worn-down, inherited shack-of-a-house felt welcoming that night. Another steadfast fixture tethering him to Wildcrest with deeply rooted nostalgia. He went to bed with cigarette smoke in the air from a stashed pack from under his pillow, dry and not swelling in some puddle. As he smoked, he resigned to calm, clear musings about a for sale sign and the fading ocean in the rearview mirror. The passenger seat was empty.

Melancholy wasn’t a constant intruder. On occasion, even the most staunch grouch woke up on the right side of the bed. Perfect weather, perfect day ahead. Mid-seventies and a pleasant sea breeze drifted through an open bedroom window. Sunshine at the beach must be taken advantage of properly - Jersey might not be paradise but it was a hell of a lot better than a dozen places Dustin could verbally obliterate at a moment’s notice. He was feeling kind about his hometown. Face the morning sun. Taste the momentary bliss.

Ambition drifted in the air as he picked up the dirty clothes strewn about his bedroom and thrown over the living room couch and gathered them into an orderly pile by the washing machine. He might not have taken the final step to actually wash the pile, but straightening up was better than nothing. Even the small act improved the place, making it less of a hovel for his occasional self-loathing. He only lingered on one of Alexei’s left behind shirts for a few seconds, tossing them in with the pile rather than doing something questionable like stowing them under his pillow. Or wearing one. Maybe later.

Not feeling the inclination to linger around the house and dive into deep cleaning and waste the bout of energy on something boring, he slipped on his sneakers and headphones for a morning run. After all, he had vowed to start working out steadily after their first game had proven him more out of shape than he’d have liked. A regular exercise regime cutting back on his binge drinking could provide the cure.

The morning was beautiful, excessively noted, with promise that the sun would be beating down hot as the clock ticked and ticked. Not a cloud in the sky and no warning that an atmospheric change was on the horizon, one that had nothing to do with the weather. Dustin ran and mouthed along to his favorite songs, keeping a modest pace down residential roads. He had distance to cover and leg muscles to loosen. His heart pumped and his lungs strained, proving how very much alive he felt. Any other morning and he would have stayed in bed.

Maybe finally admitting everything to someone else had shifted the wiles and wills of the universe. Life was funny in that way. The universe loved to f*ck with the unsuspecting, hitting them the worst when their guard was down and right after the declaration that Today Waa Going to be a Good Day!

Best laid plans rarely left the bed satisfied.

He jogged through the south end of town after leaving his section, through the extravagant rental houses and seaside mansions, the properties that could hold about four families at once and cost as much money as he’d make in a month to rent a room for a week. He passed Ivan’s hideous, monstrosity of a house - a garish villa-style in buttercream and daisy yellow, with red roses that overpowered the otherwise coastal gardens. Good taste went to that address to die, from the two story faux-grecian columns to the multiple balconies and bleached terracotta shingles. It was the only house on the block with grass instead of the standard white rocks or crushed shells as gravel. The immaculate grass stood in cartoonish green and was manicured with all the trappings of golf course-esque elitism.

Alexei’s car was parked in the alley between it and the next ugly house (partially up on the sidewalk), though Dustin knew he wasn’t home. He never left his cherished Ferrari at his cousin’s place for some drunk to back into since they lived in the sh*tty rental district favored by college kids and the type of vacationer whose sole goal of their trip was to not spend a moment sober. Staying at Ivan's was a rarity, despite it being far nicer than the ramshackle den of iniquity the three sisters maintained.

After leaving the richie-rich district, he looped through the bay neighborhood, where the smaller rental condos and tiny residences lined the water and adjoining streets.He ducked across docks where boats were moored, flipping a wave and grin to the folks he recognized as locals who frequented Guy’s fishing pier. It was his absolute favorite part of town, and where he wished his parents had settled instead of going the cheap route and living in his grandfather's house until they decided to flee to Florida. He'd grown up smack in the middle of tourist country. Beach access was right down the street from his place, convenient, but why would he want to share sand with all those Bennies and troves of Pennsylvanians clogging up the coastline? There was a motel only six houses down from his place, for f*ck’s sake. It was a living nightmare.

Dustin turned out of the bayside neighborhoods and continued the weaving path across the island. Wasn’t that big of a town. He figured he’d drop in on Alexei on his way back around the north end and see if he could rope the guy into joining him for the jog home. Usually awake hours before he was required to be for afternoon shifts, he'd be down for an adventure, bright eyed in the early hours even on days where they’d stayed out until the wee hours of morning. Dustin had no clue how his friend functioned at such high energy at all times. Never seemed like he slept. He rounded on the street with the house in sight. Alexei should be home. He’d be shocked if Alexei was anywhere else.

Dustin pushed the drooping Russian flag tacked above the door frame out of the way and let himself inside. The door was unlocked, typical for the Petrikova home and not a huge priority when every inhabitant of the house slept with a switchblade or some similar weaponry within reach.

No sight of Alexei or any of the sisters greeted him upon entering the kitchen, save for the random guy sipping coffee in front of the plentiful display of liquor bottles. He’d carved himself out a spot on the counter, which caused Dustin to laugh under his breath, considering that it was the only available option. The kitchen table was a disgusting warzone where pizza boxes, empty cans and bottles, stubbed cigarettes, nearly a dozen Wawa slushie cups, and other trash littered the surface. Dustin knew he himself lived in questionable squalor, but this was otherworldly. f*cking slobs. The coffee machine was stained and cracked in places even worse than the last time he stopped in to steal some brew. Even while staring at the sad, old machine, hel decided to tempt fate and pour a cup. The big oaf could total a sports car every other year and replace it with a new one, but he couldn't be bothered to keep an updated and functioning coffee machine.

At the sound of a voice, he popped out his headphones, but found the noise to only be Natayla shouting distantly from upstairs.

Dustin cringed at the contents of the fridge, puzzled at the plethora of condiments and rotting take-out boxes of Chinese food and little else. There was also inexplicably a bra in the fridge, along with someone’s jewel-encrusted cell phone, balanced on top of a sad looking jar of olives. He rolled his eyes and shut the door.

He eyed the lavender snapback sporting an embroidered cat face with a disdained sigh when he saw that the blonde douchebag sitting at the counter had commandeered the carton he was after. It was bad enough having to watch the sister's antics at parties, but having to converse with their ill chosen hook-ups the morning after was a painful penance from having unrestricted access to his best friend's house.

“Hey, could you pass the milk?”

The guy grabbed the carton and held it out, barely looking up as he typed on his phone. Dustin yanked the milk away to pour in his own coffee, scowling at the back of the guy’s head. He had that distinctive air that Dustin associated with the types of tools who worked in front of one of those brainless T-shirt shops or sat in a waterpark lifeguard chair. Some useless job where he could exist as eye candy and contribute little else. Must be one of Polina’s conquests. She liked them small and pretty, like flashy little dogs she could parade around in her purse. Olesa had been exclusively hooking up with Greg ever since the first party and Natalya typically went for the big, dumb, and beefy type. Dustin respected Natayla the most, if only for her taste.

“Which sister, man?” Dustin asked, unable to quench his needless curiosity. Whatever, he enjoyed being right and thrived on the fact that he was fairly decent at reading people. “Polina? Or am I wrong?”

“What?” the guy asked, clearly disinterested in engaging.

“Which sister?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nevermind.”

He sipped his coffee and stared at the guy as he waited for it to fully cool enough so as to not burn the roof of his mouth. As soon as he finished, he planned on searching out Alexei, seeing if he was actually awake. He hoped that the guy was fast asleep on a rare morning lie-in so he could enact some revenge for once and turn the tables on all the times Alexei broke into the Snow residence to startle him awake.

Think of the devil and the man himself appeared. Alexei blearily trudged into the kitchen, wearing one of his ratty white tanks and luxury brand boxers and that silly gold chain that never left his person. Dustin’s eyes drank in the sight from head to toe, peeking over the rim of his coffee cup. Big, dumb, and beefy indeed. Alexei wore the tousled look well and Dustin took full advantage of his sleepy, unobservant friend-slash- loveofhislife not being completely aware of his surroundings as he admired from across the kitchen. He yawned wide, over-dramatic, and slumped against the wall like he demanded any living thing in the vicinity to pay attention. Request granted. Dustin internally berated himself for being so f*cking gone over such a walking cartoon. Those legs were sinful, despite the goofy man attached to them. And there was so much to look at as Alexei stood there, dazed, clearly waiting for something.

Dustin leaned against the counter, smiling self-satisfied and smug, dying with anticipation over how long it would take Alexei to notice that he’d snuck into his house and caught him sleeping in for once.

This was not going to go how Dustin thought.

Unnoticed. Invisible. Alexei did not look his way, unaware of the one person in the room who wasn't even supposed to be there, lingering. Savor the sins of a fly on the wall, defying the natural order by granting himself that oft wished observation of places uninvited. He did not get to dictate the wiles of a universe in possession of a terrible sense of humor. Fly, meet swatter.

The air felt wrong the longer Dustin stood there, like the eerie quiet of the far retreating surf before a tsunami. His eyes darted between Alexei and everywhere else in the kitchen, but he could never catch his gaze. Dustin’s grin faltered. Alexei looked down at the counter instead of across the kitchen, with a sleepy smile directed at another boy. Another man. The blond guy finally looked up from his phone at the new arrival. He flipped over the phone, screen towards the table, demonstrating that all of his attention was now deserved elsewhere. He brought up a hand to rest his head, elbow on the counter and face tilted in clear flirtation. It was like watching a flower follow a sunbeam, the open ease natural towards Alexei’s fond and casual expression. Like it wasn’t novel. Like it wasn’t new.

Dustin had always prided himself on his quiet observation and the damning ability to read people. f*cking hell. Illiterate and suffocating. He couldn’t f*cking breathe.

Every movement was tracked, eyes darting like he was following a puck. Alexei yawned again, a cute little hey , paired with another exaggerated stretch that pulled him into the guy’s space. That one, otherwise meaningless word punched-out a sudden hilly drop to Dustin’s very core, alerting him to imminent danger once the haze of realization started to clear. What the f*ck was going on? No.

No.

Alexei slid a hand across the counter, tapping fingers against the blond guy’s up-turned palm. His grin was slanted and lazy, and Dustin felt like he was going to burn into the disgusting, dirty floor, leaving behind a sad pile of ash. He watched the tug of Alexei’s lip, twitching into a wider grin, brain too whited-out to make out what was being said to that asshole at the counter. The guy’s head inclined backwards, perfect white teeth gleaming as he finally glanced at Dustin. He trailed his fingers through the loose grip Alexei had on his own, thumb gesturing towards the intruder to their intimate morning moment following the night-before. It was all so evident - the existence of a morning-after implied the necessity of a night-before, as the sequence went. So it goes.

No. Absolutely not.

We’ve got company . Dustin heard the statement spoken as if it was muffled underwater. It echoed beyond the blood pounding against his eardrums. Maybe it was spoken and maybe it was imagined. An embarrassing squeak broke the spell, a blip of air leaving a set of lungs too tightly constricted. At that pathetic whimper - Alexei noticed Dustin.

Recognition and reaction and Alexei’s hand flew backwards with the immediate urgency of touching a hot burner on the stove. The slapstick retreat knocked into the collection of bottles, adding plinks of glass against glass and the loud, clumsy steps of a large body backing against a wall. Alexei's eyes were full-blown black, throat working like his words refused to cooperate because he had too many and couldn’t decide on which ones to let burst forth. Dustin stood stock-still, coffee mug half-raised at chest level. They were two prey animals, hackles raised and fur bristled in debilitating panic, both thinking the other was going to tear out the other's throat.

“Heh. Not very talkative this morning, huh? Later, babe. I’m gonna head out,” blond guy said, his voice slick as honey, still smirking like the world champion asshole. He turned to scan Dustin in a once over, snorting at his frozen demeanor. The stand off continued, eerie silence suffocating to the bursting point in the cramped little kitchen, and blondie wasn’t interested in seeing how the brewing mess played out. “Text me later.”

Alexei managed an exaggerated nod, head brushing roughly against the peeling wallpaper as he moved his head up and down like someone who recently discovered the action and was trying to overcompensate for all the years of not knowing the universal human gesture for agreement. Blond guy chuckled to himself and leaned up on his tip-toes to place a soft but lingering goodbye kiss on unresponsive lips. Kiss of truth, kiss of death. Static and a high-pitched ringing filled Dustin’s head. He was going to pass out from lack of oxygen reaching his brain. Breathe. Breathe. It was the one thing he could control and yet, he'd lost the entire ability.

After a moment, brought back to life, Alexei briefly kissed him back, hand covering the one cradling his cheek. He pulled away, pupils still wide with the darkness of danger. His eyes never left the high frequency stand-off they were having with Dustin's equally panicked gaze.

“I’ll see ya Thursday, ‘Lex. Unless you miss me sooner,” blond asshole-tool-devil-incarnate called out as he headed out the door with a swing in his hips and a path of destruction lingering in his wake.

"Lex?” Dustin half-screamed as the front door slammed. His coffee cup hit the floor, shattered, and neither of them blinked.

“Uh. Uhh. Hhhmmg.” And other eloquent noises.

“What? Who was that? What the f*ck,” Dustin whispered. Or whimpered. Maybe he shouted it. "What the f*ck was that?!"

“We. Wuhhh. Ssshhh so. Hnnnnmm.”

“What the f*ck,” he whispered that time. Mostly to himself. His voice was stuck somewhere near his liver. “Ok. Yeah. Ok. f*ck.”

Alexei tried again. His lips moved but Dustin didn't hear what he was saying.

Ankles twitched as the first signal, a helpful hint from his body. He remembered the concept of mobility and the novel idea that when faced with problems of extreme duress - run. You could simply run the f*ck away. And that was what Dustin did, to the book. He took one last glance at the mess he’d made on the floor and walked out of the kitchen with a screeching groan, involuntarily ripped from his throat. He waited until he hit the first step outside the door before he started to speed up, flailing as that ratty flag hit him in the face again. He yanked it from the siding and tossed it into the weeds, breaking into a full run once he reached the sidewalk.

What. The. f*ck.

In a blink of an eye, he was halfway home, blackness encroaching on a mind uncomfortably numb. He now understood why deer ran into traffic. Numbing the unpleasant sensation of living could be acquired by less gory means, however. He adjusted his retreat to three blocks over, lowering himself to patronize the nearest liquor store - the one that only sold sh*tty beer. He bought a case of whatever was by the check-out and ran to his house, ready to drown himself through this existential crisis. Another blink, and he was on his porch. A heaving breath as his body buzzed from the adrenaline of sprinting through abject terror, and he was slamming the case down and ripping into a can, beer sloshing down his neck as he messily gulped it down. The weight of the world once existed as a comfort, his own doubts and problems and heavy secrets bearing down and holding his insecurities in place like an anchor. He was safe as long as everything stayed the same. He was safe in misery, in familiarity, in never having any expectations. The same problems were better than the unfamiliarity and terror of new ones. Now, in the wake of unforeseen destruction, exposing that it all may never have existed in the first place - he floated. Untethered in the horrible openness.

Beer after beer. The beginnings of a small pyramid took shape next to his tattered old lawn chair propped on the back porch. His good guitar rested across his thighs as he strummed, drunkenly, voice warbling as he slurred the lyrics to many a favorite song now forever to be tinged with something bitter. He plucked out the bridge to Folsom Prison as a family wheeled their chairs and cooler down the street towards the beach, not bothering to lower his voice as they passed by his little sideshow.

“Shot a man in Reno, just to watch him diiiiiiiie.”

f*ck. So Alexei definitely slept with that guy. Hooked up with him. Probably f*cked him. All the euphemisms in the world couldn’t hide it. That was probably not the first time he’d f*cked a guy in general. Not the first time he’d f*cked that specific guy. That had not been a hit and run goodbye kiss. The entire sequence looked intimate as f*ck. f*ck. What the f*ck.

What had he missed?

The shock and awe had simmered to a boiling hatred towards that guy from the kitchen. Who was he? How did Alexei know him? Dustin tried to imagine Alexei somewhere, chatting up that f*cking douchebag, that rat-faced looking twink at some club with Mandy, picking up dudes in gay solidarity while she wheeled chicks. It checked out, the more he imagined it, as seamless as everything else in Alexei’s life, that ease of personality he oozed, permeating all aspects of his social circle. f*ck. Did she know? She had to know. Of course she knew. Who else knew? Maybe Dustin was the only one who had been left out in the dark. Georgia hadn't questioned Dustin at all when he had confessed his truth. Did she know about Alexei? Had she been holding out? Was everything in his life some sick and twisted game?

What was real? Who was lying?

How much was there about Alexei’s life that Dustin didn’t know? He recalled the conversation they’d had fairly recently, when Alexei had mentioned the idea of actually dating someone, rather than the typical modus operandi of casual flings, never to be seen again. Dustin had been so disinterested and so distracted by his own petty issues that he hadn’t paid it much mind. Was that the indication that something had been brewing behind the scenes? Was Alexei dating that guy? He was going to puke.

The guitar slipped off his lap and clattered against the porch. His head rested against his knees and he tried not to scream. He screamed a little. If more people were trekking to the beach at that well-timed moment, witness to his mental breakdown, f*ck if he cared. Nothing in his world made sense anymore, why should it for the general population? How could people casually be walking to the beach on a day where Alexei Mashkov had f*cked some random guy?

Another beer gone and the pyramid of cans was kicked over in dramatic fashion, scattering off the porch and around the yard. He didn’t pick them up. The air was sweltering hot, heavy and more akin to deep south swamps rather than a Jersey coastal town. He leaned against the weak wooden decking, arms leaden with booze and exhaustion as he idly peeled strips of paint from the top plank and flicked them into the withering garden of weeds below. It was fine. It was all fine. He was overreacting. He thought of the guy kissing Alexei, leaning up on his tiptoes to plant one with such familiarity. The look he’d shot Dustin felt mocking, like he knew what it had meant for Dustin to have witnessed the act. His stomach bottomed out again, as if the decking had fallen away suddenly. He was surprised he’d been able to hold the beer down, with the nauseous sensation occurring so many times that morning.

The sun was too bright for his pounding head so he took to pacing around his living room, aimlessly rearranging whatever pointless sh*t he bumped into or got stuck scowling at during the trudge around and around the room. He lit up a joint to dull the buzzing filling his brain. Bless that faithful friend. He lit incense to cover the pot and then lit a candle to cut the dueling earthy smoke. Every little task and ritual was meant to center him as he spiraled but his nerves were shot, worn thin like the wisps of smoke that lingered in the heavy, heated air of his living room. The ghosts of shock and anger came through in waves, not receding as hoped.

Every little detail was grating on his nerves. He hated the half-finished painting sitting crooked on his old easel. It took everything in his arsenal of self-control to not thrust his foot through the canvas or frisbee it out into the street. He hated the lumpy old couch taking up way too much space, discolored and nearly threadbare in places where the old material had fallen off with age. Piece of junk. Same as all the tacky knick knacks shoved onto shelves and gathering dust on end tables, left over with everything else his parents had left behind when they moved away after his grandfather passed. Afterthoughts. Just like him. Waiting too long. Faded and forgotten, brittle with age. A fragile, skeletal emotional frame. He picked up the hideous crab shell with the little glued-on sombrero and googly-eyes from the end table and stared at the poor creature’s pathetic face. Why did he own this thing? He’d stolen it from a boardwalk shop in high school when he’d thought the damn trinket was the height of comedy. Alexei made him do it. Alexei made him do such stupid things. Like fall in love. Par for the course. He should throw the thing away or smash it against the wall. A five second, drug-addled brain delay saved the life of the ugly crab.

He placed the crab back onto the table, feeling guilty.

It wasn’t Alexei’s fault. He’d never said anything about his situation , but Dustin had never asked. He’d been so good at hiding it - a sentiment that could refer to either of them. So much energy had been expended second guessing himself, trying to look without getting caught, pointedly not reading into touch and compliment and the insistence of living practically on top of each other in every way but the Big Official possibility. Had he made himself so inaccessible that he would never have been considered a choice? Maybe he wasn’t, even if Alexei knew he was an option? Best friends. Best f*cking friends. Why couldn’t he accept that as enough?

Never enough. He could no longer focus on the hesitation, the fear of him finding out his sexuality, his feelings. Personal vulnerabilities hit harder now. What if he told him? Does it hurt more to never have had the chance at all or to find out exactly what rejection felt like? This felt like the inevitable end and culmination of his worst fear. That it was all true - that Alexei would never want him. He was now going to find out that he'd always known that terrible reality. No more secrets to hide behind.

When he thought about it, that was the thing that had haunted him the most. Always had.

9:41AM
Tatertot
> snowy
> we should talk
> come back
> please we should talk it wasnt what it look like
> ok it was what it look like but we need talk
> please dont hate me
> text me back
> please snowy
10:35AM
> hey
> hey!!!!!!!!!!
Missed call 10:37AM
Missed call 10:39AM
> hey
> are you ok
Missed call 10:46AM
> please dont be mad at me
10:51AM
> f*ck
> stop being asshole answer phone
> asshole!!!!!!!
> no thats mean you are not
> actually yes
> sorry that wasn good ples call me back we need talk????
> never mind later
> ok ill see u at work later ok snowy???
12:18PM
> I always knew you would react like this
> asshole
> pleasee don't hate me
> f*ck you snowy
> fuuuuuckkkk uuuuuuuuu
> no thats mean im sorry please talk to me at work ok?????

His phone was shut off and placed face down on his bedside table, handled gently, like a landmine ready to make a crater of his unfortunate life.

All of his pleading as to why it could never be enough between them? Too much, far too much. The universe had a sick f*cking sense of humor.

Chapter 8: to say the words i wanna say to you would be a lie

Chapter Text

Dustin downed another beer and headed into the shower to clear his head. He ratcheted the water to freezing and let his body shake under the frigid spray, forehead pressed to the tiles. His afternoon shift was looming and he needed to sober up enough to make it to work. Not showing up at all after the morning’s revelatory events was not an option. Not showing up would send the wrong message entirely. Whether right or wrong to let the poor guy suffer in silence, he couldn't respond to those burning texts or pick up the phone - he had to face Alexei in person.

By the time he stumbled out of the shower, he hadn’t sobered up in the slightest. A cigarette and a half can of beer served as dessert after a morning and afternoon of bodily destruction. He only made it halfway through the can before he poured the remainder onto the dead, crispy grass of the lawn, unable to finish it without spewing his guts. He hopped onto his bike, wobbly for about ten feet before he decided that walking to work was pretty much his only option. The bike was ditched in the scraggly garden weeds and he set off down the street. Brazenly, he lit up another cigarette and braced against the heat, with his work polo slung around his bare shoulders as he dripped with sweat. Somehow, he made it to the Wawa a few blocks over (for the resilient comforts of gas station food) and back to Main street mostly unscathed. He flipped off a car that blew its horn at him when he lost his footing and stumbled into the road. Not his proudest afternoon.

Greasy food was shoveled down and he hoped it didn’t come right back up. He was drenched with sweat and reeked of pot and cigarettes. What a f*cking catch. Why the f*ck would Alexei even want him in the first place if this was how he treated his body? He laughed and laughed and laughed even harder as some twelve year old boys glared at him from their skateboards in the convention center parking lot as he tripped on his way through before reaching the boardwalk. Dustin Snow. Local disaster and inspiration as a hometown cautionary tale.

The pier was busy and the boardwalk was crowded, signifying that the shift ahead was sure to be chock full of irritating responsibility and needy patrons. He’d have to fight for time away to have that Important Chat. f*ck, he was a mess. Standing shirtless at his locker made that apparent. How had he gotten there?

“Where the f*ck is my shirt?” he slurred and pondered out loud.

He ransacked through his locker debris, slowly pulling out old papers and boxes of snacks and cruddy, sweat-brined old hats in search of a shirt, letting everything fall to the floor as he half-heartedly searched. His arms were soggy noodles. His brain was a fried egg. His heart was a twisted and useless lump of flesh.

Georgia stood nearby, watching the display with horrified concern, reliable as ever to call it like she saw it.

“Around your shoulders. Are you ok?”

“Absolutely perfect, babe.”

“Well, you look like sh*t. And you reek.” She rummaged around in the staff cabinets and pulled out a can of Febreze to cover up the results of heavy chain smoking. She kindly sprayed him down in a cloud of sickly sweet Hawaiian Aloha, kept on hand for his common proclivity to wake and bake and muddle through his shift. “What happened last night after we split?”

“Food poisoning,” he managed to lie. “Most likely. The midnight Wawa egg rolls struck me down in my prime.”

“Oh, yikes. You should know better than that. I can call in Pacer if you need to leave. We’re really slammed today but you look like -”

“Nah. I’m good. I’ll be good. f*cking fine," he said and slipped over his own sneakers, barely bracing himself against the locker as his face hit the metal of its open door.

Georgia stared at him, mouth agape.

"Are you - are you drunk?!"

"No!! It’s the f*cking gas station egg rolls, you know how it is! I'm just f*cking sick! I’ll be fine.”

At that moment, Alexei walked in and nearly slammed into a wall once he spotted Dustin. He backed away from the area and tripped into a trash can on his backwards retreat, sending it skidding across the floor, reminiscent of a baby giraffe trying to use its gangly legs for the first time after being suddenly dropped into the world. After that round of flailing was complete, he roughly grabbed a clipboard and radio off the supervisor supply wall and ducked as the coiled cord whipped back towards his face when it released from the wall hook. It wacked him right in the eye, causing him to curse loudly and knock into another poor supervisor, also unfortunately at the station, caught in the crossfire. Through the misery and trauma, Dustin couldn’t help but crack a small smile as he watched his friend lose all control of his motor skills.

“You good, buddy?” The other sup asked, harsh.

“Who’s worry? No one worry. All fine!” He blurted as he tried over and over to clip the radio to his belt. With a frustrated yell, he gave up and shoved the radio in his pants pocket, face blaring red. “All good here!”

He stared at Dustin. Dustin stared back, eyes focused off-center, directed somewhere over Alexei’s shoulder.

“What the hell is going on? Does everyone have food poisoning today?” George air-quoted, cutting through Alexei’s dysfunctional destruction and Dustin’s shirtless, sweating, thousand yard gaze. “Pull it together, boys. You’re walking the pier in five.”

Dustin relented to the fact that he would be working that shift and slipped on his polo and gathered his supplies. He had to brush past Alexei, still standing stock still, expression pained and nervous, to reach across and grab a radio and clipboard - gathered calmly, with neither item projectiling across the room. Alexei tracked his every move as Dustin successfully clipped the radio to his belt, adjusted the paperwork on the clipboard, and spun his hat backwards. Dustin took a step back and looked up at Alexei. Alexei looked at the ceiling. They both shifted and pretended to glance at their clipboards and adjust their radios.

It was like robots attempting ballet.

“Well. Let’s get at it,” Dustin sighed, thankful that none of his words slurred. He couldn’t hide the totality of his mistakes, but he would power through and not give Alexei the full reality of his suffering physical state.

“Get at what, what we get at? What is there to get?”

“f*cking christ, dude. Work .”

“Hmm. Uhh. Ok.”

The overtone of panic and awkwardness inlaid on Alexei’s usually exuberant face and embedded in his tone unsettled Dustin to the core. While they walked the pier together, Dustin could tell that Alexei wanted to run. No jokes and no laughter were shared to pass the time and drown out the noise of park guests. No hands grabbed at Dustin’s shoulders to emphasize a point and there were no friendly nudges when an attractive girl walked by them. There were no little breaks every five minutes to gab about nonsense and distract from the monotony. Nothing. Dead mood. The rattling off of ride-machinery stats and settings were the bulk of conversation as Alexei inspected the coaster operator booth while Dustin marked off the clipboard paperwork in turn. No pranks. Nothing to indicate that they were there for anything other than to do their job. How quaint.

Was this to be their future if irrevocable differences were unable to be worked out? Performing as happenstance coworkers instead of their haphazard method acting as if they were two guys who mysteriously found themselves wandering an amusem*nt park night after night, with tasks to fit in-between goofing off and pot smoking and conning their way into free food. Fated to only work together without any of the extra, without the flavor of it all. He could let it ruin them. Knowledge was the first step. It was out there. The puck was in his crease. Pass it to the only person who ever truly mattered. Fix it.

Dustin nearly threw his clipboard into the bumper cart stall when he was hesitantly asked if they should check on the flume ride again. The lines were currently packed because of several log carts being down for the night, but they’d already stopped by the ride twice. Enough.

“No. We’re not checking on the f*cking flume again.”

“Sorry. Seems like good idea. Really busy. Team could use extra help there, but ok. Is bad idea.” He almost sounded offended.

“If it’s that important to you, let’s head over.” Dustin placed his pen back in the clip and started off towards the ride. Alexei grabbed his arm, the first time he’d initiated contact, and then let go like he’d been barbed with something poisonous.

“No, is fine. No flume. You’re against flume. I’m idiot for suggesting. Just disgusting, stupid moron."

“Dude, grow up.”

“You grow up.”

"Oh, f*ck off Tater."

"f*ck you!"

Dustin groaned into his palms. He wanted to scream so loud that the gulls would startle and flee from the top of the Ferris wheel. The elasticity of the entire stupid, childish evening finally snapped back in Dustin’s face like Alexei’s radio strap had hit his own earlier. Enough, enough, enough. If the result of addressing the big gay elephant in the metaphorical room was that they walked away as lesser friends at the end of the conversation, fine. So it goes. It would demonstrate that theirs was a friendship based entirely on bullsh*t. Dustin was tired of being scared. Doubting where he stood. Hiding everything. Bullets should have been bitten long ago.

The lights of the Ferris wheel spokes burned proudly behind Alexei, lighting up now that the sun was going down. Dustin watched them revolve, framing Alexei in shifting blues and greens and brilliant spirals of color. A stray gull flew off from its perch on high, unprompted, and not by the shriek of a man at the end of his rope, though Dustin so desperately needed to scream. Start climbing that rope, buddy. The slack was abundant.

Alexei was the most beautiful thing Dustin had ever seen, standing devastated and downcast under the lights.

“What about the wheel?”

“What about wheel?”

Dustin answered, slow and definitively, “I think we should check on the Ferris wheel.”

“Ok. Guess is better idea than my idea for flume…” Alexei mumbled in an imitation of the world’s saddest kicked puppy.

Dustin could really slap him. Thick as a brick. His inability to tell if Alexei was being purposefully obtuse or felt genuinely dejected over his insistence about the flume ride was upsetting, to say the least. A once open book closed and shelved.

Despite the perfect pout and slumping posture, Alexei turned in the direction of the wheel and walked away, no more questions raised. Dustin marched ahead of him towards the spinning lights. His legs burned as he quickly ascended the inclined ramp at the back of the pier, exhausted from his morning jog and other methods of bodily destruction as he tried to outpace Alexei’s giant strides. Even over the din of rides and the chatter of tourists, he could hear big clumsy feet dragging up the boardwalk. The badge and the uniform gave him the authority to cut the line and push through the crowd waiting for their turn to load into carts. He wasn’t there to check schematics and operations. They were going to ride the damn Ferris wheel.

“Kid,” Dustin started with a tense, manic grin. He lowered his voice. “Tater and I are getting in a bucket. I’m… checking on something. Don’t stop the wheel until I signal for you to let us off. No rider changes. Just keep it spinning."

“Is this legal?” the attendant stage-whispered. Great, it was Tony. The boy with a million questions. “Are supervisors allowed to ride while on duty?”

“I don’t care. Listen to your boss.”

“I don’t know about this…” He fiddled with his name tag, eying Alexei, who wasn’t fully paying attention and instead stared off into the distance, clearly lost in the depths of his own head. A truly scary place to be lost. “Is this necessary maintenance?”

“Tangredi. Dude. Just f*cking do it.”

“What’s the signal? What if I miss it and the wheel goes on forever and you and everyone else is trapped? What if I need to suddenly leave and the next operator doesn’t know the signal? Have you considered doing your work while the ride is stopped?”

“Jesus f*cking christ, kid. Don’t leave. I’m going to wave and scream your name and then you stop the f*cking ride. A toddler in a f*cking vegetative state can handle this sh*t. Please.”

"Um, highly doubtful? They wouldn't have the reach or the mental dexterity to operate large machinery like this."

"TONY!"

“Ok! Don’t blame me if this turns into a catastrophe!” He relented, hands thrown in the air in defeat. Tony could not have known how accurately that assessment summed up the entire situation.

The ride paused and an open cart swayed gently in wait at the loading dock. Dustin cut off the family that was poised for the next load-in, flashing his badge behind him as he shoved at Alexei.

“Get in the bucket.”

He pushed Alexei into the cart, grateful that he allowed himself to be led without a fight. Dustin slid into the opposite bench and told Tony to restart the ride. The gondola bucket swung with a jolt as the rotating journey into the sky began its slow crawl.

“Why we are riding this?”

“We need to talk.”

“Why? What’s wrong with wheel? Should we ride if unsafe?”

Hangover. General headache. Disbelief. All of the above pained Dustin as Alexei maintained his aloof ignorance. Dustin held his palms against his forehead, elbows braced against the tiny circular grip table around the middle pole that connected to the umbrella-like roof above. He sighed all the air from his lungs as Alexei continued to gawk at him with his sad, owlish eyes.

“We need to talk. Nothing to do with the f*cking Ferris wheel. You know what the the f*ck this is about.”

“Oh.” He stared down at his clipboard. Dustin leaned forward and snatched it out of his hands and dropped it with a clatter onto the bench. For the first time, he watched as life returned to those big brown eyes, attention caught by the jarring sound. “Ok, ok. We talk.”

Alexei braced a hand on the side of the cart. He glanced over the side, unable to hide the way he winced.

“sh*t, dude. Are you afraid of heights? We ride the coaster all the time, why didn’t I know that-”

“No, no. Is ok. Not been on wheel in long time. Forget how much cart sways. I’m just… sit very still.”

“We can get off. I’ll make Tony stop it.”

“Is fine! I’m ok. We talk.” His grip tightened on the side as the wheel reached the peak and began the downward turn. “Maybe talk fast?”

“Ok. Sure. Let’s talk.”

“Yes? You start? You’re one who make me get in here.”

Where to even begin? Hey bro, sorry I walked in on you and that dude and ran out and gave you the impression that I’m a hom*ophobic piece of sh*t. Also, what the f*ck was that about? Also also, I’m pretty sure I’ve come to terms with the fact that I'm mostly gay and desperately, pathetically in love with you and have been since I was sixteen goddamn years old. Do you hate me?

Dustin’s stupid mouth landed on, “So, uh. Are you dating that dude?”

Smooth. The level of tact was astounding. They passed the loading area where Tony shot them a double thumbs up, mouth wide in a pained, plastered on smile. Alexei bristled and released his grip on the cart at the accusation. His hand dropped back into his lap.

“What dude?"

"Tater."

"Fine! OK! No."

“No? Oh. I assumed-"

“No! Not dating. He is just…” Another pause as his face colored. With a heaving sigh he took the plunge into the freezing terror of a new type of vulnerability with his best friend. “Just... guy sometimes I am... seeing. You know. We… we hook up. Yeah. Yeah! I'm hook up with, uh. Guys. Sometimes. Not big deal. Big shock,” he said through weak laughter.

“Regularly?” Dusting asked, quicker than was warranted while Alexei tried not to vomit.

“Maybe! Not big deal! Ughhhh.” He covered his face with his hands and admitted through gritted teeth, “I'm not gay! I just… like people, sometimes. Different types of people. This is embarrassing. Find out like this."

“No, don’t be embarrassed. Tater. Tatertots. Come here.”

He leaned forward again, this time with appropriate gentleness as he removed Alexei’s hands from his face, forcing him to look him in the eyes and find no judgment where he expected so much of it. His eyes remained cast down, clearly wanting to be anywhere but in that cart in Dustin’s knowledgeable vicinity. Yet, his fingers clenched tightly around Dustin’s, not loosening one bit as clasped hands fell against that small table in the center of the cart. f*ck, there were tears in Alexei’s eyes. Dustin’s heart broke all over again, for much different reasons than the morning’s massive shock to the system.

“You run away. So fast,” Tater said in a small voice cast like shards of ice, barely audible if not for the fact that Dustin hung on his every word. “Embarrassing. Not expect you find out. Not like that. Not… ever, I think.”

“It’s ok.”

“Is it?” He pulled his hands out of Dustin’s. “I am thinking you probably hate me? You never answer phone.”

“Bud, why would I hate you?”

“How I’m supposed to know! That’s why secrets happen. Didn’t know how to tell you something like that. Me liking girls and guys,” he voice cracked on the admission. “And then you see me and run away. What I’m supposed to think? You hate me? Think I’m gross? Was so scared you maybe think that and then you see me and run and-”

“Holy sh*t, it’s f*cking fine! I’ve been with guys before! I’m into dudes! I'm f*cking gay as hell about guys and it doesn’t f*cking matter! Actually, it kinda matters a whole f*cking lot. Wow, f*ck. God. sh*t. There it is. I wanna jump off of this f*cking ride.”

Through his ineloquent word vomit, he fought down actual vomit and the compulsive feeling that his heat was going to expel itself from his very chest cavity. It felt as if the floor of the Ferris wheel bucket had given way, and he was a nanosecond from slipping out of the ride and plummeting to the pier below to splatter on the boards. Each jumbled admission made him want to die, to shrivel up and blow away in the wind. He was naked and exposed, and Alexei knew (almost) everything. And nothing at all.

Following Dustin’s declaration, Alexei seized up in dramatic fashion, shuffling harshly as he fumbled with his radio until it fell. He struggled to retrieve the radio from the cramped space between the bench and the floor, shaking the entire gondola, all the while refusing eye contact.

“Whoa, you’re going to take the whole f*cking wheel down, big guy. Calm down.”

“Drop radio…”

“f*cking leave it.”

Alexei shot back up and narrowly avoided hitting his head on the small metal table. His brow scrunched as he stared back, deep in contemplation while his big muppet mouth sat in a straight line, straighter than either guy who was sitting in that creamsicle colored Ferris wheel cart. They revolved past Tony again, who waved and grinned at them again until they were out of sight. A bubble of laughter snuck past Alexei’s stone cold face, slipping through as the ridiculous absurdity of the situation they had sequestered themselves into grew odder by the minute. Absolute lunacy.

“Jesus, I’m f*cking this all up,” Dustin sighed.

“You are not joking with me? Not making fun?” A lightness returned to Alexei’s voice, uncertain, but less on the verge of terror. “You… you - really?”

“No. I'm not making fun of you."

"Oh. Ok. Weird."

"Yeah. f*cking weird. Secret's out."

Alexei shook his head in disbelief, staring out at the waves. It was an incredible view, atop the wheel, overlooking the wide ocean. He smiled, still glancing out and over.

“Both never think we are having any secrets between us. Reality breaks us. Breaks our brains. This… so crazy. We both never say. Big yikes.”

“So, we both were just gonna hang around with a person we thought would have a massive hom*ophobic freak out and not be chill about it? Pretty f*cking sad for the both of us.”

Alexei pondered over the statement, continuing slowly and making sure he explained himself correctly. Dustin was steering the same boat. Two oars, fighting the current as the boat progressed in a circle. The Ferris wheel steadily revolved. Seagulls screamed. Alexei sighed again.

“Maybe? Is still new thing for me. I know you're not bad guy, but… didn’t know how to tell you, if I even tell you. Then this morning you run and all day I think. Oh. Worst outcome. It actually happens. What do I do now?”

“You gotta know that I’d never hate you. Never.” He scooted around, causing the gondola to shake again as he moved, and slid right up against Alexei. “Nothing would make me hate you. Especially not this. We're good. We're fine. There's nothing wrong with us. Or what we like."

“I don’t know…”

“Hey. We’re ok. Please, we gotta be ok,” he pleaded. Don’t cry. Don’t f*cking cry.

He didn’t cry. But Alexei did. He leaned against Dustin as several tears spilled from his eyes, unable to remain held back through the hills and valley of emotional intensity. He wrapped his arms around Dustin completely, causing both of their stomachs to involuntarily dip when the cart tipped back further than intended.

“Can we stop now? I hate this ride so much, but also afraid you call me bitch about it.”

“I’m sorry! Let’s get you out of here.” Dustin slid back over to his side, restoring the weight distribution of the cart.

They revolved past the peak, onwards to another slow descent. Dustin leaned over the side of the cart as they neared the loading platform. Tony stood at his post, nervous and manic as he threw up a wave and flashed his wide-mouthed grin.

“Tony! We’re good! Stop us on the next round!”

“What? Keep going another round?” He called back as they passed by each other.

“Stop us the next time!”

Tangredi shrugged and feigned innocence. Dustin’s eyes threatened to spin back and take a look at his own pounding brain.

“Little Tango is idiot. Usually I like him. Now? f*ck him. I. Want. Off. Wheel.”

“He’s f*cking with us. I swear to god, I’m gonna ring that asshole’s neck.”

Alexei chuckled weakly to himself as Dustin went off on a rant about his sorry lot in life, being put in charge of the world’s most incompetent gang of humans this side of the Atlantic. He screamed at Tony again as they approached, and, again, was met with faux-innocent confusion from a guy who newly crowned himself the reigning prank-master. No one pranked Dustin Snow and dared tell the tale without swift retribution.

“I’m transferring that f*ckwad to the goodman sanitation department after we get off this sh*t. Or to go mop up piss hell in the kiddie ball pit on the north pier. Which do you think is worse?”

“Sanitation is cleaning puke sometimes but ball pit is kids peeing pants all day. You pick.”

The little sh*t didn’t even bother with a retort as they passed him again. He shrugged to both his supervisors and to the people who’d bothered to remain in the line, griping loudly while Dustin screamed as he passed by and back around the curve. He pulled out his radio in desperation.

“SOMEONE GET TO THE SOUTH ZONE AND TELL TANGREDI TO STOP THE f*ckING FERRIS WHEEL!”

“Do not curse over the radio.” George responded, immediately. "Is there a situation? Do we need maintenance? Over."

“Tell that absolute sh*tstain Tangredi to stop the goddamn f*cking wheel and I’ll reconsider my f*ckING LANGUAGE. I’m sending that f*cking baby dick to piss hell for the remainder of his worthless f*cking life! OVER! I’M OVER IT!”

“I apologize on behalf of Snowy. Over,” Alexei added.

“Are you,” the crackle of dead air, “are you on the wheel? Over.”

“Routine maintenance! Everything under control. Situation normal,” Tony added with impressive calm. He was not a supervisor. He was not supposed to have a radio.

“Is this Tangredi? What’s happening? Why are you on this channel?” Georgia asked, pitch rising as the situation unfurled to her bewilderment.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s fine. We're all fine here. Uh. How are you, Georgia? Nice night. Good weather. Over."

“I’m heading over. OVER!”

They spun by Tony again and Dustin swore a maelstrom of creative filth as they passed. Parents in line loudly voiced complaints as they covered their children’s ears. As the wheel hit the peak, it began to slow down, jerking to stops and restarting again with the telltale feeling of people exiting and loading into carts. Dustin peered over the side, just barely able to watch a group get into a free cart.

“f*cking piece of sh*t better f*cking brace up when we get to the dock. I'm breaking his f*cking smarmy-ass face."

“Not having fun? Would rather be doing routine check on flume ride now, huh?”

“Oh, shut the f*ck up, Tater.”

Alexei laughed and laughed. He laughed even harder when they eventually arrived at their turn to unload and a short girl was standing where Tony should be waiting, waving cheerily at them as they exited and another pair entered the gondola.

“Who the actual hell are you?”

“Denise?”

“Where’s Tangredi?”

“He tagged me in. He said he was supposed to go on break now,” she said with a smirk. Oh, so the kid had roped an accomplice into his sh*tshow.

They needed to leave the loading dock before Dustin hulked out in a rage and pushed the big wheel off of the pier and into the ocean. Georgia could be seen approaching from the dead middle of the ramp, perfect frown in place like it had been etched onto her very soul. Alexei and Dustin were not keen on sticking around if their scapegoat wasn’t there to absorb the brunt of the berating. Dark settled on the pier as they flitted from ride to ride, dodging their manager and ignoring radio pages. Alexei made sure to avoid the ramp and the wheel area. Tony would live to see another day. Unless, of course, George was feeling especially irritated and ripped him a new one without Dustin around to corroborate any conflicting stories.

Fireworks were set off twice a week at peak season. The pier workers typically ignored them, only glancing coincidentally to catch a temporary burst of light between the intersecting ride tracks and gaps between food and game booth roofs, all until someone called them back to reality. Alexei and Dustin indulged in a reprieve, tucked away in their favorite deck under the coaster oft visited for a smoke or ten minutes of shut eye. They sat on the boardwalk, thigh to thigh as legs dangled over the pier’s edge, watching bursting lights. Dustin hadn’t brought anything illicit, not having felt up to bringing more tools of mental and bodily destruction after a morning of doing just that. A cigarette was passed back and forth. Unnecessary, as Alexei could have smoked his own, but Dustin was again taking small indulgences where he could, inhaling with a thrill around the wet end of a shared vice.

It was easier to talk without the fear or promise of plummeting from a great height. The band aid had been ripped. The cord pulled as wind whipped in their faces, plane looming above their descending backs. The truth lived in the light.

“Why did you never say?”

Dustin let out a deep exhale of smoke and shifted in place, throwing back the question. It was time to talk, but he still felt the tug from deep inside, to deflect and deny and hold onto his secrets for as long as possible.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Did you really think I feel some bad way if you’re liking guys? Where you get that idea? You know I’m friends with Mandy, everyone knows she's gay. I’m not bad guy. I never judge you.”

“It’s different. You know that. You never told me, either. I had literally, no f*cking idea.”

Alexei sat with the statement. He turned down Dustin’s offering of the next drag off the cigarette and pulled at the hem of his shirt, twisting the edge where the stitching was frayed. The nervous movements magnetized Dustin’s eyes and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing his hands to cease his best friend’s discomfort.

“Hey, hey.” He laid a hand over Alexei’s, and the fidgeting stopped. “We’re ok. It’s ok.”

The cigarette was stubbed out with his free hand while Alexei flipped his palm and entwined his fingers with his other. Dustin held in a breath. He released it as his heartbeat rose.

“How long you know? About… I guess, you? When do you know?”

He didn’t want to tell the truth. It hit too close. The night was full of admissions, but he couldn’t bring himself to disclose everything. Not yet. Maybe still, not ever.

“A while. I’ve known for a while. Just haven’t told many people here.” Alexei deserved some facts, so he continued. “I’ve known I’m into men for a long time. I’ve been with guys. Dated a few. At school and back in the city... it’s different back here, back home. I fall into the old sh*t. I don’t… I think I’m done with that now. You were the only one who really mattered. I’m done pretending.”

“A long time? How long is a long time?”

f*ck.

“Long enough for it to be f*cking depressing keeping it on the down-low.”

Alexei squeezed his hand as he whined at the statement, a sad little sound that pulled at Dustin’s heart. He wanted to absorb all of his friend’s discomfort and pain, nearly delirious with wanting to heal whatever wounds bled between their friendship.

“Dustin.” Hearing his name spoken like that, from those specific lips, shook him. “I was so scared. Why was I so scared?”

“It’s a scary world, b-bud,” he stuttered, nearly slipping up and using a different pet name. “We didn’t know. We just didn’t. Putting yourself out there… it’s scary. I don’t think it has anything to do with thinking either of us was going to hate each other. It’s just scary.”

“I’m not really out there, you know? Only few years. Have thoughts since young. Easy to ignore, just think is part of life. Girls are easy enough, I know I’m normal. Guys - I just admire. Is normal, right? Meet friends when working for father’s team - ha. Ha! My father, ugh. How how is doesn't help, you know? Anyway. It just kinda happens. Admitting it. Trying things. Yeah. I don’t really have word. I just like all people. That is the truth.”

He pulled Dustin’s hand close, upwards to rest against his chest, right against his heartbeat.

“Thank you for still being my friend.”

“Listen to me,” Dustin started, then cleared his throat when his voice came out louder than intended. “Nothing - nothing could ever make me stop being your best friend. You are the most important thing in my entire life. It’s cheesy as all f*ck, but we’re in this together, alright?”

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Alexei dropped Dustin’s hand as he continued. They shifted to face each other, still with legs dangling over the boardwalk edge but no longer too embarrassed and tense to make direct eye contact. The icy fear was melting and Dustin continued reassuring his friend that while everything was changing - nothing had to.

“Don’t ever f*cking doubt that. So we had a stupid little secret? It worked out, right? Typical f*cking us, yeah? Same boat. Kinda crazy, right? That we were hiding the same sh*t from each other?”

With a groan that sounded as if it was releasing every ounce of ill-feeling and tension that filled Alexei’s evening, he ran a palm down his face from forehead to neck and slid all the way back to lay flat against the boards.

“We are so stupid.”

“We’re not stupid. Maybe a little stupid.”

“Lot stupid.”

“Yeah, definitely. But’s it’s fine. We were stupid and scared. No one’s fault.”

“Why you get so drunk before shift? I know you were all a mess. Making me think for sure you are so mad at me. Having to get drunk just to work with me."

“Never. Just… being stupid.”

Alexei shrugged. “Then why?”

“Nervous. Since I found out about you, you were going to have to find out about me. There wasn’t any other way. That’s… that’s all,” he lied.

Unable to contain the thought still kicking at the back of his conscience, Dustin repressed his pride and asked a question he’d already asked once that evening. What was the harm, now that everything was out in the air between them? Could they transition into a very different aspect of their friendship, with the fresh acknowledgement of their sexualities and the hidden parts of their lives? Could they just as easily slip into talking about men the same way they constantly talked about women? Could they share experiences and fears and stay the same? He was going to have to try, starting then and there.

“So, you’re really not dating that dude? From the kitchen? It’s,” he paused, psyching up the entire gamut of his maturity, prepared for additional heartbreak, “totally ok if you are. Hope I’ve let you know that. Everything’s fine. We can talk about this stuff. We should talk about it. I'm like, totally supportive."

Half lies. That blond idiot could die in a f*cking ditch for all Dustin cared, but for Alexei - he'd try. What was a little more misery?

"Not date. Is just f*ck buddy. But not really buddy. Just. f*ck guy.”

“f*ck guy? Wow, dude. Classiest f*cking thing I've ever heard. You could just say you’re hooking up but you landed on that! f*cking hell, man."

“Oh, hush. Is what it is. He’s instructor at beach yoga. He hits on me after class and again, hits on me after next class and I think… ok. Not been with guy in a while. Is good looking. Why not?”

“Huh.”

“He is very, very annoying guy. You would hate Kenny. But, not a lot of choice on island without, you know. Put myself out there. Was easy choice and he actually ok with being hush hush.”

“What do we do now? Are you still…hush hush?” Dustin asked, using Alexei’s vernacular to keep it light after all the heavy.

“What do you want to do?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want to do. We don’t have to make some mutual decision. We’re different people. You’ve got your family to contend with. Don't get me wrong, I f*cking hate the thought of the nosy f*cking gossip hounds of Wildcrest privy to my sh*t, but honestly? I don’t think I really give a f*ck. sh*t broke me. f*ck it."

“So was really only me you hide everything from.”

It hurt to hear the borderline betrayal in his voice, still unable to be completely shaken despite their weighty conversations.

“I’m really, really, really sorry. About everything. I didn’t want anyone to know my business. It’s weird here. Easy keeping everything the same and that doesn’t matter now. I’m glad you know about me,” a half-lie, but he had no other choice in soothing the reverberating sting of the day’s events, “and I’m honestly done with the big f*cking secret. I don’t care.”

Perhaps when the sun set and rose and they faced the next day, heavy truths about shared secrets would be as common as any other personal fact. It helped, to not be alone. Codependent. Steadfast. Soulmates, maybe. Even if such a thing was totally nonexistent and out of fantasy worlds. Sitting on that dock, having shared smoke and dissipating secrets, Dustin watched the sparkling rain of lights burst and looked at their reflections on the sea. The firework’s booms echoed oddly as they always did over the beach, with nothing but space and air to catch the reverb over short buildings and so many miles of sand. It wasn’t bravery that fueled Dustin’s admittance. Chance. And panic. And yet the burden felt lighter, even under the sounds of war and scent of fire and all still left unsaid. Soon. Perhaps. Maybe, maybe.

Another time. Another night. He’d waited this long.

“So, Tates? Tell me about this beach yoga. Cannot picture you doing that. What the hell else have you been hiding from me?”

“Mandy makes me go. Is ok. Kinda fun. Then she sets me up after I tell her I think instructor flirts with me. Eggs him on.”

“Are you any good?”

Alexei laughed. “Oh, I am so bad. Even after, uh. Private lessons.”

Dustin tried not to react to that comment and the way Alexei suggestively moved his eyebrows with a cheeky snicker. Stay neutral. Don’t be a dick. Alexei could do what and who he wanted. God, there was too much to process.

“That’s… great. Totally, man. Good for you.”

“Thinking maybe I bring you but you make me look bad. Show me up with your weird bendy limbs.”

“We can practice. I’ll show you some moves,” he said, brazen and flirtatious in return, with a wink for good measure. “You know I can do the splits.”

“Ha ha. Ok, Snowy.” He patted Dustin’s hand where it gripped the pier railing and then stood. “Back to work? Come on.”

Roll on snare drum. The man shot and missed. He’d keep trying. That little thing called hope had settled in and made a home in his head, maybe even his heart if he stooped to sentimental notions. It was time to try for a less transitory lifestyle, so focused on averting disaster while simultaneously plotting how to rush through the storm.

He’d reached the great wide After.

Would he ever get to sleep in again? The pounding on his front door, intermixed with the buzzing of his phone, woke him from his planned morning of laziness. Every night since the big reveal and subsequent heart-to-heart, they’d met up with the normal crew for the typical drinks and bullsh*tting around the bonfire, post-shift. Which was fun and all, but Alexei kept barging into the following mornings with little insistent adventures. Dustin hadn’t been quite hungover on any of these mornings, but as the days wore on, he wasn’t pleased to sacrifice every single opportunity for a lazy lie-in. He ignored the call of his pillow and phone alike in favor of answering the door to get it over with and see what the guy wanted that time.

Bleary eyed and scratchy-voiced, he opened the door. He was surprised Alexei hadn’t busted in and shook him awake instead of expressing feigned politeness.

“What in God’s name are you doing here? f*ckin’ early.”

“We go fishing today.”

“Do I have a say in this?”

“You love fishing. What is issue?”

“Yeah, but why didn’t you plan this last night? Wouldn’t have stayed so late if I knew you were planning on getting me up at the ass crack of dawn again.”

“Oh, hush. Is already after eight. So late already.” He brushed past him into the house, clearly on a mission. Dustin sleepily trailed behind, voicing complaints, as Alexei started gathering supplies. “I’m up an hour already. Is fine. Such big baby.”

“I’m f*cking exhausted, man.”

Alexei turned to pinch both his cheeks, cooing at Dustin like he was five years old and he was his great auntie who lived to embarrass him.

“So I buy coffee for the big baby and he stops whining. Cool?”

“Not cool.” Alexei tutted at him and wandered off. Hopelessly devoted, Dustin followed. “What are you looking for?”

“Get dressed. I gather everything.”

Without asking any more apparently pointless questions, Dustin trudged into his bedroom to dress and face the day. He rooted around for a clean swimsuit that wasn’t reeking of ocean. The laundry pile from his brief cleaning spree the morning before the most fayed job of his life still sat untouched over by the washing machine. Alexei could be heard singing badly and talking to himself in the kitchen, no doubt pilfering food for his constant state of immediate hunger regardless of the fact that they’d definitely be stopping off at Wawa before heading to their fishing spot. Sunscreen, shirt, and his small, beat-up old tackle box were thrown into his backpack. They’d have to stop off at Guy’s to get bait. Sure, there were countless other bait shops less out of the way of where they were going to fish, but it felt like a betrayal to give anyone else in town business.

He grabbed the few joints that Alexei had graciously rolled from his tupperware stash and pocketed them in a baggie. Couldn’t forget the essentials. Alexei finished stuffing his face with what were probably stale Tastycakes and happily skipped his way outside. His fishing pole and pair of roller blades lay on the lawn. An ominous sign.

“Where’s your car?”

“Ivan’s. We get after bait.”

“What the f*ck, why didn’t you just pick it up and drive here?”

Alexei shrugged and proceeded to lace up his blades. Unsurprisingly, Dustin complied with the backwards plan, though he complained as they started down the road.

“Why you so grouchy? You tell me we need more exercise so you don’t pull something during games anymore? We are spry, young men. We skate.”

Alexei shot off after Dustin donned his own equipment, racing ahead with their fishing poles balanced under an arm. His long strides brought him halfway down the street. He circled back, laughing and ripping on Dustin for being so slow. Cars and cyclists breezed by as they rolled down the main drag - not a busy street, by any means. Crest was nicely palatable in that regard, better than some of the beach towns in states further south. Slow and steady, even with Alexei’s energetic bursts to rush ahead. Dustin’s legs were still waking up as they struggled to maintain pace.

Out of the kindness of his heart, or maybe to gloat a little on his speedy roller blading prowess, Alexei looped back to match pace with Dustin. He probably couldn’t manage to be alone and keep his mouth shut from a block and a half ahead, requiring constant attention. They skated adjacent to one another, chatting and flipping off cars who blew their horns as they were taking up an entire traffic lane.

“Go around!” Alexei yelled, following up with a string of Russian in which he hoped was an accentuating factor that canceled out the fact that he was on roller skates, in the middle of the street, wearing entirely too-small shorts, and brandishing a fishing pole as a defensive weapon. Not the image of intimidation when considering he was up against meatheads in their ostentatious jeeps, laying on the horn at him and Dustin.

Alexei whacked his fishing pole against a car that slowed down to talk sh*t. Dustin pulled him to the side of the street, ducking briefly between parked cars until the car sped back up, shockingly without the driver stepping out for a word or one of Alexei fists in his face.

“Dude, stop trying to fight cars.”

“Tell them stop blow horns at me! Respect bike lane!”

“We’re not on bikes!”

“Have wheels, I am bike.”

Dustin couldn’t even dignify that with a response.

“Just skate ahead of me. We have all day to annoy each other. I’ll get there when I get there.”

Eventually they made it to Guy’s shop, acquired their bait and one of those styrofoam fish coolers, and set off for Ivan’s house to finally load up the car. Guy prodded them to stick around and hang out on the pier, but Dustin politely declined after seeing how many folks were already setting up around the docks. Fishing yielded higher success when casting off the ocean pier over sitting shoreside along the bay, but Dustin didn’t really care about catching anything. The solitude and peace were the selling points. Dustin was also doing the unsuspecting people fishing on the pier a service, for he was certain that Alexei would not be able to behave when surrounded by all of those people. The easy morning for those folks would turn into the Alexei show, hyperactive interest in what everyone else was catching, what poles they were using, giving updates on his own catches as if anyone else cared - better to avoid the potential torrential downpour of annoyances and spare an unwilling public from all of that energy.

After picking up the car they stopped for way too much beer from the liquor store and coffee and food from the Wawa nearest the bay. All of the ingredients had been acquired for a perfect day hanging out on the tiny strip of beach under the bridge, where the ocean flowed between the mainland and their island town. With no Mariner’s shift that evening, their only obligation was the attempt to fish and to share in each other’s company. The day was everything summer was intended to be. Nothing more, nothing less.

For all of his grumblings and whiny complaints, Dustin felt incredibly grateful that his best friend refused to allow him to sleep away his entire summer.

The temperature hung heavy in the air with a full-bodied insistence, the heat suspended as if it was something tangible. Cicadas screamed their omnipresent click and buzz, snug in the reeds and scrub around the dunes that lined the few feet of beach that led to the calm bay waters. The shadow of the bridge was favoring a portion of beach farther down - it wouldn’t cover them for hours yet, which was fine with Dustin. His tan could do with some evening out. They stuck their plastic rod holders near the water’s edge and settled into the nearby sand, busying themselves with sticking the beer into their cooler full of ice they’d lifted from a motel’s ice machine. Why pay for ice at the gas station when there were machines sitting in wait at hundreds of motels around town? Their free ice scheme was simply economical.

Alexei was wearing that tacky Mariner’s bucket hat again. Dustin let himself laugh for about a minute before yanking it off his head and tossing it near the shoreline. He was aiming for further out in the water. After some good-natured, retaliatory wrestling that ruined any chance that fish would soon bite due to thrashing that close to the shallows, they finally settled into relaxation. The bucket hat, though a little soggy, remained in the victorious place upon Alexei’s head.

“Oh, you can be radio guy. Talk show. Have so many opinions, now everyone forced to listen to them!”

Conversation took a return to the debate a few nights previous, concerning the subject of Dustin’s work related woes.

“Like a podcast? Yeah, right. Join every other aimless dude our age clogging up an already over-saturated market. That’s not a career.”

“No, no. Radio guy!” Dustin squinted his eyes, shrugging to egg on further clarification. “You know! Like, ‘Dustin Snow on nine-nine-three, bringing all the hits of classic rock! Up next I’m playing very old song. You will loooove this song. Lunch time rewind!’ But, you know. Doing it more interesting.”

“A goddamn radio DJ?”

“Is that official job title? Then yes, that guy. You would be so good! You are liking so much music, lots of radio station choice for job. I say - go for classic rock. Would be perfect job.”

“I mean,” he thought about it for a brief moment, smiling at Alexei’s hopeful expression, “that’s actually not your worst suggestion. Not sure about subjecting the masses to my voice is the best idea, but-”

“Why? Having nice voice,” he admitted, sounding almost reverent when he said it. Not that he hadn’t been paying attention the entire conversation, but Dustin perked up with immediate interest at the comment. “I like listen to you talk. Radio show will be perfect. I will listen. Love hearing you talk about what you love. You love music. Even your sad boy music. Is not for me, but ehh, you know what you're saying.”

“Thanks,” he managed, that voice Alexei liked so much a little raw with suppressed emotion. He finished off his first beer to give himself something to do, something to halt him from saying something embarrassing.

Sweat slicked the line where their thighs pressed close together. Sitting that close was unnecessary in the sweltering heat, inconvenient if they needed to recast their lines and risk tangling them if cast so close. Dustin did not dare move away, didn’t dare be the one to place distance between them. He was playing the long game now, chips on the table, game token a few steps ahead off a lucky roll. An active participant, out of the shadows.

It would be so easy to swing his legs around and bracket either side of Alexei’s lap as he made his play and took a seat. Raise the stakes. Alexei continued to blather on about the radio subject, mouth moving out of focus as Dustin concentrated on the mesmerizing line of gathering sweat above his upper lip. His lips looked so soft and inviting. Dustin wanted to wipe the sweat away. Maybe with his own mouth. He could feel his hands twitch, like his body was about to make the tough decision before his brain fully rationalized the bold move.

Too forward. Too fast. He wasn’t making a move yet but neither was the other man involved in the puzzling equation. Baby steps. Infant steps. Humanity would evolve into something else entirely before Dustin made up his mind.

Alexei passed him another beer from the cooler. He clinked their bottles together after wrenching off the cap with a fistful of the nearby beach towel, endearingly demanding they toast anew with each fresh bottle like an important ritual, protesting if Dustin dared try for a sip before the connection was made.

“So, I used to date this guy in France,” Alexei randomly admitted just as Dustin took a sip of his own drink.

Trying not to choke, he gave his tactless response. “What the f*ck?”

Alexei reared back like he’d been slapped.

“Ok. Rude. Wow.”

“No, no. Sorry. Caught me off guard. sh*t came outta f*cking nowhere.”

Even though their recent confessions occupied Dustin’s literal every waking thought, facing the reality of everything still shocked him to the core when confronted out loud. Alexei. Alexei and men. Alexei and men who were not Dustin. f*ck. He could be normal about it. He could pull a stunning display of acting and pretend to be normal about it.

“Oh. Ok.”

“Well, go on.”

“Is ok we talk about this stuff?” He asked, hesitant. Dustin reset, and schooled his face into one distinctly not full of blindsided shock and prompted him to continue. “Cool. Good. Big gay drama out there, finally.”

Dustin blinked hard at the novelty of the phrase big gay drama. What a f*cking wordsmith.

“When, uh, when was this?”

“Two season ago. Dima sends me to some schools over there for scout. You know France add two teams few seasons back but he wants to steal talent, you know?” Dustin nodded, familiar with the elder Mashkov’s method of management and ruthless back handed business deals, especially concerning player accusations. “So I go, staying maybe month and half. Meet this guy. We have good time. Am always talking like, wah wah, poor us. We never date anyone for so long! But. There have been people. I just never say. Feels nice to talk about now.”

He released a heavy breath, face red from more than the hot sun baking down. The jitters in his bouncing leg said otherwise, and Dustin wanted to steady his nerves and reassure him over and over until the understanding was relentless in truth - everything was ok. It was totally normal to be attracted to men, to date them and admire and hook up with them. They could talk about it. It was fine.

“Guess it’s probably easier in a place like France than back, uh, home.” He always stumbled over that word.

“Oh, big time.” He flicked a stick that had been poking his thigh into the water. His wistful grin was an attempt at not feeling so hollow, resigned to the state of the world. “Not so much sneaky. Not so many people pay attention. Or are caring. And my father not there. But I don't want talk about him.”

“So,” Dustin began, taking the bait to change the subject. He tapped a foot against Alexei's and threw him lidded eyes over the mouth of his bottle. “You like French guys?”

“I guess. Sometimes? I liked him."

“Cool.” He paused for a long moment and drank about half of his bottle in one go. He was vying for sexy but by the time he resurfaced, he was out of breath and felt ridiculous. “I think I’m part French.”

“You probably part everything.” Dustin shook his head and pouted like a child at the bay as yet another flirtation attempt was eviscerated before ever taking flight. f*cking pointless. “Like big mutt. I thought you say part German or Irish or other something,” he mocked with his tongue out.

“Still counts…” Dustin mumbled, mostly to himself.

He checked the pole, no takers yet. Like an impatient little kid, he reeled in and recast, all to the tune of Alexei’s commentary like he was narrating on the fishing channel - if the fishing channel had merged with Cinemax after dark. Only he could make fishing sound so filthy. Of course, Dustin played into it, providing the accompanying sound effects and poses that spurred on Alexei’s spotlight comedy special as they steadily got drunker.

Fortune favored the fool in consideration for decent people everywhere, with luck that their strip of beach was deserted. It was less a beach and more of a sandy shoreline running the length of the bay underneath Crest’s main toll bridge. It was good enough for locals wanting to fish away from any tourists, not exactly easy to find if you didn’t already know the spot. Alexei was parked on the side of the road, half up in the vegetation. They’d cut up their shins on the marsh reeds as they’d climbed down the small dune to get to the sand. It was worth it. Isolation was a rare and treasured commodity in a town constantly infiltrated by outsiders.

By noon, they still hadn’t caught anything but the attention of a few aggressive gulls, bane of their existence, who only lived to annoy and attempt a hoagie heist. Alexei did not kindly to person nor creature alike that tried to steal his food. Dustin spent lunch shielding his own hoagie while he watched Alexei chase away the onslaught of birds, So much for peace and quiet. Dustin preferred the chaos that followed Alexei so much better.

A pathetic little perch was the first catch of the day and was an entire disappointment. Dustin hovered over his shoulder to watch Alexei gently unhook the sad little creature. The fish erred on the side of nearly too small to keep, but Alexei wanted to bask in knowing he had something to show for the day. He joked that he could force two or three fish sticks out of the thing. Really thin fish sticks. Dustin pressed in closer as he finally got the hook loose, head nearly on the other’s shoulder as he listened to the apologetic way Alexei shooshed the flailing creature before slipping it into the ice packed box for keeping. Subtle and yet with intent, he slid a hand onto Alexei’s knee to brace himself as he leaned across to get another beer while Alexei was distracted with the foam cooler lid. His hand remained after settling back down, resting on a strong, warm thigh.

You could never get rejected if you never even tried, never asked the question or never made the move. He was making his move, working up to more if signals reacted rather than crossed each other in the dark, veering away.

“Top me off?” He asked, motioning for an assist with the bottle cap.

Alexei squinted his eyes at him and took the bottle, mumbling light jokes at his expense over scrawny arms, however untrue of a weak chirp. He yanked the cap off with the edge of his shorts and handed it back. Dustin would have gotten it himself but, well. His hand was occupied. Fingers tapped against skin, a slow pattern he hoped would trick his heart rate into mimicking instead of the constant heightened flutter that he couldn’t shake. His creeping hand seemingly had gone unnoticed. Alexei reached his own hand over, holding a beer to clink against Dustin’s bottle, as was the ritual. Alexei drained his bottle and gathered the fishing rod to re-bait and re-cast in hopes of at least a pair of fish to take back. Dustin’s fingers trailed empty through the sand, and let the course particles slip through, over and over.

Unable to sit still very long, Alexei reached the point of his day where he felt the need to film and narrate his daily life. He trotted around, recording and rambling about fishing with all the vigor of a journalist in a war zone, spinning the phone to his face, shoving it into Dustin’s, and showing off the inside of the cooler to record his not-so-impressive catch of the day.

It was all so… normal. Was this how it was going to be? Confessions atop a Ferris wheel yielding normalcy with the taunting knowledge that Alexei was an option, but not an interested one. He'd expected more. He'd expected something. Was it ego? Disappointment and resentment festered in those shadowy places, where secrets used to dwell. Alexei could have him. And he didn't want him. They were best friends. Just because the capacity for attraction and wanting existed, did not mean it was real. The mantras bound Dustin in knots, in strained resignation into settling for the status quo. A friend and nothing more. A teased turning of the tide, but a boat moored in standing waters. He'd fantasized about the impossibility of Alexei confessing his love for him. It had almost seemed possible, for one fleeting, sick evening of truth and understanding.

He was happy - happy they'd been able to mutually unburden, and undertake the shift into being each other's confidante. Dustin still tread water, baggage tied around his ankles as he drowned in the bay. Cutting himself free could still ruin. So it goes.

As the afternoon wore on, they’d managed to snag two more little ones and a nice sized fish that, once back at the house, Dustin cut up and attempted to make into those fish sticks that Alexei expressed so much interest in making. They absolutely failed at cooking the fish. It was eaten anyway in between rounds of brainless shoot ‘em up video games, with the fish smothered in hot sauce like a bunch of ingrates. They washed it down with horribly strong co*cktails cobbled together from the sh*tty liquor Dustin kept on hand. It was terribly domestic.

For once, Alexei returned to his place before midnight, off with a wave and the screeching of his Ferrari's wheels. Dustin immediately went to bed with the promise of shutting off his brain, nauseated with constant overthinking. He smoked a quick joint to attain some peace and drifted into sleep with ease, slipping into the sweet, sweet darkness and the somewhat comforting inevitability that he faced more of the same the next day. Another shift. Another day finding the best in a non-ideal situation. He was in love, but the inferno of accompanying self-hatred had receded to smoke after flame, charred like the roach smoldering in his ashtray. He wasn't going to burn. He was going to move on and breathe free, clean air.

Best laid plans, and all of the same lies. So it goes.

Chapter 9: you just might find you get what you need

Chapter Text

No force within the vastness of the entire, unforgiving universe could have made Dustin take another ill-fated detour into Alexei's house during his morning jog. The last time that happened? Emotional distress and extreme substance abuse. The most important relationship in his life had nearly imploded as a result of over-familiarity and intrusion. It shouldn't have had to be that way. They'd spent the bulk of their lives embedded in each other's orbit, oversharing and overstepping. Boundaries were loose and the front door was merely a flimsy obstacle between feeling lonely and coming home, no matter which porch either found themselves crossing. Dustin couldn’t do it. He couldn't cross that threshold. Even in the throes of his weakest moments of obsession, his self-preservation did indeed look out for his emotional well-being.

It was fine. They were fine. Acceptance and truth. A friendship strengthened having shared the deepest parts of themselves. Well, Dustin still had water to tread, spilling everywhere and leaving a mess with each sodden step. Alexei's lips on another man. Not him, never him. You can't breathe under water.

His eyes burned from the wind and morning sun as he slowed down during his run, a convenient state to blame for watery eyes and constricted lungs. Get a f*cking grip. f*cking pathetic piece of sh*t. Is this how you're going to feel for the rest of your life? Like a magnet or an addict, a junkie trapped inside some celestial body, the gravitational f*cking pull led him to slow to a stroll outside the Petrikova residence. The flag he’d torn down was still tangled in the bushes. Sounds of life inside caught his attention and he strained to listen, trying to pick out who might be awake and wandering around the house. He knew better now. He couldn't stomach another witness to a good morning kiss.

It never bothered him when that person was a woman. Envy, sure. It persisted throughout their entire friendship. How he'd felt that day in the kitchen? It had been ugly and dark, some elusive flaw beyond devastation and heartbreak. And he knew he had no right. Alexei could do what he wanted, be with anyone. And it wasn't him. So it goes.

He ended up back at his house once he grew bored with exercising to hone his physique, and tried to paint, unsure of what else to do. Painting for himself was now a foreign concept, so long since he indulged just for the pleasure of creating. The walls of the living room bore partial paintings and impromptu graffiti. He could add to the mess, create something new and fun to brighten up the place. Hard to motivate when the norm was pieces intended to bring in money or complete a college assignment. Even filling out the showcase he’d done at the end of his semester was half assignment, half enticing product for sale. Did he even enjoy painting? He softly laughed to himself and tossed the supplies he’d started gathering back onto the organized chaos of his living room floor. His creativity was tapped out.

Nothing else to do and not motivated to venture back out after the grueling biking adventure, he flipped on the television to the local sports affiliate and turned the volume low, then impulsively decided to give his mother a ring. It had been a while since he had checked in beyond responding to bland or confused facebook comments on the random garbage that people tagged him in, in that typical mom way. They only spoke for a grand total of three minutes after her initial panic that something was wrong, you never call, what do you need, Dustin? After reaffirming that all was fine and that he simply wanted to say hello, he was shooed off the phone since she was out to lunch with ‘the girls’ and couldn’t talk long. Fine. He’d try again in a month. Maybe.

Boredom was so bad that he didn’t even feel like getting high. He flipped through all his socials one last time before resigning that the day was a loss, facing radio silence from everyone he knew. Video games didn’t appeal, though he’d never held much interest in them without a partner joining him to slay some creature or shoot up some pointless enemy. He grabbed a book off of his neglected ‘to-read’ section of shelf and sprawled across the couch with the sounds of sports analysts for background noise. Work couldn’t come soon enough. The realization was grim, a sure sign that end times were nigh.

Instead of getting on his bike, neither cycle nor motor, he decided to leave early and walk to work once again. He had the distinct feeling that he’d be getting wasted after the shift one way or another and would have to stumble his way home. No problem. Maybe taking the long way to Mariner’s would help shake off his excessive restless energy.

Polo on, radio attached. Clipboard and paper work gathered. Hat on backwards. Even without nicotine or something stronger pumping through his veins - he felt fine. Georgia was right, as she annoyingly often was - he needed to cut back on all that sh*t. Vices for vices sake were one thing, but dependance to get through a single shift wasn’t a coping method he wanted to make rigid as a means of bearable survival. The soul needed boredom. One day at a time. He’d been carrying a huge burden for most of his adult life and yet he hadn’t realized quite how heavy the load was until he finally let himself breathe. With a lighter soul, the moments of banality and irritation are nothing but dust to shake off of your day.

Still early for his shift, he didn’t bother waiting around in the employee area, seeing no reason to waste time staring at the lockers. It was hot and stuffy in the ramshackle hallways and offices under the pier. Alexei would find him - or more likely, Dustin would hear him and gravitate towards his voice.

A mother and her two kids approached him as soon as he emerged from the employee tunnel under the coaster. She was kind and patient and he provided directions to the nearest ticket booth without wanting to commit a felony. One of the seasonal workers approached him with questions about her schedule and he showed her to her station at the kiddie convoy cars. He walked the perimeter of the back end of the pier to check on the Music Express and joke with Tangredi, who was working the ride. They smoothed over the Ferris wheel incident and Dustin gave him sh*t for ditching, all to the soundtrack of a horrible electro Springsteen mix. Dustin gave Tangredi sh*t for that as well, since a small perk of manning the Express was control over syncing the night’s playlist. Sure, the songs were preloaded, but the operator got to choose from the wide array on deck. The remix was an insult to the Boss himself and threatened the rare good mood that Dustin found himself in, clear-headed and coasting in neutral.

Dustin moved on to the bumper cars, only paying them a cursory glance as he climbed the fence, watching the pandemonium on the floor for a few minutes over the din of riders screaming and the electric crackling from the poles that ran against the roof. All appeared in order. He jumped off the banister fencing and continued on to the carousel.

Finally. There he was. Alexei stood by the kiddie wheel, chatting to Mandy while her trainee lingered and listened to their chaotic spiel. The new hire had gotten a double whammy of a trainer pair, set-up for failure if imparted wisdom was being provided by two clowns, exacerbated when in proximity of each other. Georgia lingered nearby, scribbling on her clipboard with her phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. The Stones were playing over the in-park radio and the sky hung above in a bright, deep blue, suspended in oppressive nothingness with not a cloud in sight. Carousel music clashed with the jarring bells from a water gun ride. Gleeful shouts from the game’s winner and the crying of a little kid overlapped the radio music and the booming laughter that was obvious to Dustin as belonging to Alexei. He could distinguish that sound anywhere, under any circ*mstance and through any raucous din. Dustin watched Alexei smile and nod at something Mandy gestured about. He looked so damn beautiful in the sun, not a care in the world. He looked like a man who was incredibly easy to love.

It was all so incredibly loud - the cacophony of amusem*nt park noise and the pounding of Dustin’s heart. He’d tried. He’d tried so f*cking hard. He’d tried for himself, for Alexei. This was the breaking point. The broken dam. The ocean waves that spilled across dry sand, soaking everything in their path before receding and stealing everything with destructive greed, lost to the tides. The peak of this terrifying wave consumed and drowned in its fury and Dustin was tripping, tipping, cresting forward.

He thought he could handle it. Who the f*ck was he kidding?

Enough. Enough watching and admiring and lusting after his best friend. If he ruined everything because of what he was about to do - let it crumble. He didn't want it anymore. f*ck the rest. It was a thread woven in the fabric of who he was and he couldn't unravel the entire world just to free himself. The longing was going to kill him, strangled until blue lips ceased fighting for oxygen. So it goes. Alexei cast a glance to where Dustin stood in between the game booths, caught in the noisy mix and perfect weather. He didn't notice him standing there, watching. In love. Insane. It was the kitchen all over again.

Where had the insistent boredom gone? Where was the calm, centering dust that had settled over the beginnings of his day? This impulsivity ignited out of nowhere and everywhere and always. He’d started the shift with such middling rightness. The fiery ache was about to consume him, body and soul. Approach too quickly and his entire being would strike from the smallest spark if touched. He wanted to burn.

A man could only take so much, forced to endure dreams warring with the waking world and fantasies concocted to taunt. He was only human. f*ck it. Stop watching. Stop thinking about it. f*cking do something. Another day. Another shift. There were only so many days, ticking down until Alexei was on an airplane again and the nerve and the madness went dormant once more, eating away at his organs, a heart dissolved in acid.

He seemed so far away. There could only be a dozen yards between them, but he felt so very far away.

“ALEXEI!”

The name burst out of him as if the utterance would save his soul, a battlefield war-cry for his brother-in-arms against invading armies composed of sun-burnt strangers and the staring faces of nearby coworkers.

At the sound of his name, Alexei whipped his head to where Dustin was blazing with determination. He felt a split second of confusion once he registered who’d called for him, strange to hear anything but one of his numerous nicknames shouted in his best friend’s voice. Tater, Totty, Tates. Nicknames, friend names. Not this brazen scream of his name, so very common and reserved for those less familiar. Cheery and unprepared for what was about to take place, he smiled and waved as Dustin stalked towards him, storming his way to shorten their distance as fast as possible. He was there, he was right there. Dustin threw his clipboard to the floor with a clatter like a bomb, discarding all caution miles behind, dissipating like the dust on a road outta nowhere, leading anywhere at all. He had to get out of the place he'd carved inside his own chest. Let his heart burst through the safety net and truly experience a split second moment where everything was perfect, before rejection shattered the haze and inked out his bright hope with absolute reality. This was the line dashed, between then and now.

Dustin grabbed the lapels of Alexei’s horrible striped shirt and yanked his face down until their lips connected, crashed, and he pushed every word he’d never said into one starved, final declaration. The kiss was the loudest truth Dustin could ever scream. It was clumsy and determined and forced Alexei back a step, one tall leg bent at the knee to keep them both upright, with a hand instinctively rushing up to keep his balance, braced around Dustin’s waist. Dustin poured everything into his kiss as the body against his stood stunned. Though it was an act of his own making, Dustin felt like he had been punched, or had taken a wind-knocking check against the boards. A breathless, tilting of the weighty world's axis shifted the planet from off of Dustin’s shoulders, tipped and rolled away for the time being, so long as their mouths remained connected.

Over a decade previous - a late arrival to a semester underway - this quiet, gangly new student walked into Freshman earth science and infiltrated Dustin’s life. Not so dramatic or life-changing at first, but it didn’t take very long for both of them to realize that something important had happened, something significant had been gifted to them both. The boy had shuffled in and took the open seat to the left. He accepted a nod as Dustin acknowledged his presence after no one else had batted an eye following the teacher’s brief introduction. Maybe he was simply desperate for a new friend in a new town, a new country. Maybe Dustin had lucked out being the first person Alexei had latched onto by sheer convenience of proximity, but his bright eyes and easy smile and talent for causing a commotion to distract from the monotony of high school had drawn Dustin to Alexei like a magnet. Like his instantaneous partner in crime. Like someone who kissed him back in the middle of the pier, surrounded by all of that noise.

A gasp. An intake of breath as a steadying force parted lips that pressed back with hesitation and shock, then relaxation. Acceptance. A return.

The second kiss was always, always better. The first was a test, an experiment. The purpose of a first kiss was to try to gain a second, and beyond. Alexei kissed him back.

A matching crash of clipboard to boardwalk preceded the gentle hands that Alexei raised to grasp at the bent elbows resting against his chest. Dustin’s fists clenched stubbornly around hideous, coarse fabric. He was one bout of anxious show of strength away from ripping the damn collar off completely. Alexei's hand brushed past the rough stubble on Dustin’s jaw, lingering to savor the feeling for a second, and then carded through his hair. He swallowed down the shudder that wracked through the body braced against his. He needed to breathe, Dustin needed to breathe. Dustin didn’t think he'd taken a breath since he’d screamed Alexei’s name from across the pier. Un-f*cking-important.

They didn’t hear the excited squeals from Mandy or see the slack jawed stare of their boss, so caught off guard that her cellphone had slipped from her shoulder and fallen to the ground, face down with an unnoticed, freshly broken screen. Ivan cursed at her on the other end of the line, tinny voice muffled against the planks until he hung up and called back, ringing and ringing. The pier was loud. The world had not fallen away, fading so angels could sing or some nostalgic band could sing about a magic moment as the sun set serenely. The coaster train roared over tracks above, neon lighted tubes advertising greasy food buzzed, and hundreds of feet stomped on wooden boards. Dustin loosened his grip to rest his shaking hands against a strong chest and warm neck, sending goosebumps down Alexei’s spine. Alexei smiled into the kiss and opened his mouth with a move too filthy for Dustin to do anything but briefly kiss back and suddenly pull away.

“f*ck, dude. We’re in public,” he huffed out in a breath of laughter with his face burning and his hips pressed close to hide the stirrings of a further challenge to public decency.

“Dustin,” was all he received in response from Alexei, whose shocked voice was a thin whine as his lips brushed Dustin’s at the peak of each syllable.

At the sound of his name, Dustin closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Alexei’s chin. It was about all he could reach after flattening from off his tiptoes. He fisted his hands again in Alexei’s shirt and contemplated whether arousal or embarrassment had a stronger winning argument to the situation at hand. Someone was starting to talk to them, outside of their hazy bubble, but the words were muffled and far away. His feet froze in place as his heart raced, skin hot and tingling each place in which they remained connected. He needed to kiss this man again, for as long as he could get away with it, until the spell broke.

Or, he could break it himself, always his own worst enemy in the forever war against simply being able to fully experience a moment.

Dustin did the bravest thing he could think to do at that moment and looked up. Alexei’s expression was unreadable, and not one he’d ever seen before on his best friend’s face.

"Why did you kiss me back?" He asked, fully leaning into his own disbelief and doubt.

"Was I… not supposed to?"

Dustin's breath heaved, shrugging his shoulders in a non-committal answer instead of saying any one of the several dozen things he wanted to blurt out in a verbal confession. Couldn’t he just rewind, again and again, and kiss the man for the first time? Replay and relive the hardest thing he’d ever done, seemingly so easy now that the seal was broken. Words were so very pointless. Alexei loosened his grip on Dustin's waist, remaining even and calm while Dustin's mental gymnastics continued to trip over themselves and f*ck up the floor routine.

Above the noise of the pier, the click of the radio turning off was distinct. Dustin followed Alexei’s lead and switched down his own dial. After one delicate hand brushed against his cheek, Dustin felt Alexei grab his wrist and braced for the inevitable pull. As anticipated, he turned to rush off and run away, dragging Dustin with him. They faintly registered Georgia snapping back to life as she shouted after them. They bolted. Alexei led them up the ramp, up past the big wheel where one of the other supervisors stood furiously texting on his phone, calling after them as well. They reached the fencing around the edge of the waterpark, closed for the night.

“What - Tates. There’s a f*cking gate,” Dustin said weakly as he watched Alexei first try to jump the fence, get hit in the crotch by a post, stumble back with a yelp, and then attempt to swing a leg over the fence instead.

“No time! This faster!”

“We have all the time in the world. I have keys,” he said with total resignation to the fact that Alexei was going to do his darndest to get over that fence in the most ridiculous way possible. God, every stupid thing he did was so endearing.

Dustin unlocked the gate, primly closed it behind himself, and then was hastily grabbed by Alexei to continue their mad dash to destinations unknown. Before he could rationalize or giddily laugh at the absurdity of the turn of events, Dustin was spun and slammed against the wall of a storage shed. It wasn’t hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs, but he was breathless all the same as Alexei wrapped his arms around him, mouth attacking him the first moment he was able. It made his head spin. His hat knocked back, hitting the floor with total disregard. He’d never been kissed like that, had never felt that wanted . He wanted to be wanted, needed it.

Dustin had spent so much time imagining being the recipient of all that energy, that intense focus, fantasizing late at night or staring at the man at any hour of the day, but the reality shook him to the core. To be under this spell was intoxicating, and he lost himself in the total headrush of it all. Every wet slide of lips against lips made Dustin feel like he’d jumped off a cliff over, and over, and over. Would he survive this? Would he ever be able to breathe normally again? What happened after the fall, when he hit the ground? It was not real. It was not real. His brain was broken.

It was far from his first kiss, but Dustin almost had trouble keeping up, as if his mind kept jumping, skipping a few paces ahead, brain faster than the eyes as it filled in the gaps. He wrapped a firm hand around the back of Alexei’s head as the kiss was deepened, and not by Dustin, too love-drunk and soaring to do much of anything but respond and try to match pace. He felt inexperienced, shaken. Addicted, already, to the easy slide and the slip of a whimper or a name breathed out in between their need for air. Warm places in his brain sparked with each press of lips and brush of tongue, feeling drunk on the new and exciting novelty of kissing someone he was desperately in love with, finally, after so long. His fingers slipped through strands of soft hair, so long now that it curled at the base of Alexei’s neck. Dustin scraped teeth against Alexei’s strong, gasping jaw, mouthing his way towards his neck as the hot breath above ruffled the fringe of his hair.

The hand that began absently trailing down his body palmed at him through his pants and jolted him from the place where he’d latched onto Alexei’s neck. He’d been content to get all junior high with the mark he’d been working on, instead able to only moan and mouth blindly at the damp stretch of skin. Fingers traced his zipper and he halted them before they could do anything more. He needed to f*cking think.

Too much, all at once, and he was snapped from his brain fog. They couldn’t f*ck in the walkway in-between the waterpark change rooms, surrounded by the overwhelming scent of chlorine and the breeze carrying the odor of a nearby dumpster. In the span of probably ten minutes, he’d finally done what he’d wanted to for nearly ten years. Ten long, heartsick, lovestruck, obsessive years. Getting this far was so mind-bendingly full of disbelief that he had to pause before he f*cking passed out. No need to cram in that much longing and wanting into one write-off encounter the moment he made his move, no matter how willing and enthusiastically Alexei was breathing in his ear and fumbling with his pants. Hand jobs at the waterpark after hours were more for the kind of hook-up where you’d hope to never see the other person again.

“Hey, hey. Wait. f*ck, we should-”

Alexei’s hand retreated and went back to holding Dustin around the waist, caught between pushing his body back against the wall and pulling him flush, close, unable to commit to a motion. He squeezed his hips and muttered apologies.

“Sorry. Sorry! I don't know - ahh. Dustin. Holy sh*t. Sorry. What you want? Tell me, what you want? What are we-”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He leaned up to press a long, lingering kiss after Alexei searched his face for an answer, any hint of clarity.

Holding Dustin’s face between his palms, gentle and desperate, he whispered with pained reverence, “Holy sh*t, Snowy. What are we doing!?"

“sh*t. Let me think.” Dustin stepped back, shifting so he could think clearer without the insistent nagging urge to drag Alexei further back between the sheds and strip everything off, telling him to take him however he wanted. Slow down. This was what happened when you repressed your emotions for the better part of a decade. “We gotta slow down. Breathe.”

He breathed in deep, fighting base instinct as he centered his focus. They were technically still at work. He assumed half the park staff were talking about them, texting furiously, apparent by how his phone had not stopped buzzing since they ran away in brazen idiocy. It was one thing for people to think they were f*cking in some storage shed in the water park and another thing entirely for them to actually follow through. Why the f*ck had he made his big move publicly?

“Breathe. Slow. Yeah. Good idea. f*ck. What is happening?” Alexei asked again, unable to keep the dopey grin from his face and form any sort of substantial statement beyond single word utterances.

“I don’t know,” Dustin said, still hesitant to commit to admitting a feeling even after getting kissed stupid by the guy and having said guy’s hand on his dick. He was a wreck. The big hands on his waist absently alternating between softly stroking his sides and rubbing small circles on his hip bones made it impossible to articulate. With half-lidded eyes and a voice filled with gravel, he asked “What are you thinking?”

“So confused. You just, you kissed me . Think you break my brain,” Alexei admitted, pressing another wicked, searing kiss to Dustin’s eager mouth - and took his time doing so.

They traded gentle passes of lips, less desperate now. Open mouthed, exploratory. Dustin openly moaned when Alexei gripped his waist hard at the same time he sucked on his tongue. It was almost enough to make him drop to his knees right then and there. He tipped his head back against the shed while Alexei trailed fingers down both of his forearms. They linked their hands, so soft, yet anchoring, with fingers woven together as filthy kisses turned chaste and so, so sweet. God, Alexei was a f*cking great kisser, exceeding his every fantasy. Dustin couldn't stop. Full fledged f*cking junkie.

They needed to actually talk about what the hell just happened. Dustin cleared his throat and willed his mouth and brain and heart to cooperate and not f*ck everything up. Making his big move had been so f*cking terrifying, but he hadn’t really had to think about it as it happened. Kissing was so much easier than talking, now that he knew they could do that. With immense success.

“OK, needing you stop. You are very distracting. I'm never, um. I don't know-”

“You never - never what?” Alexei shrugged, head dipped low to hide his eyes. “Talk to me.”

“What do I say?! You start this! You're the one who kissed me.”

“But you kissed me back. Immediately.”

“In shock. Instinct. Felt right. I'm, I'm… Snowy. Dustin. Just talk to me!”

Be brave. He exhaled through his nose, eyes closed, and tried a bit of dreaded honesty. The plunge wasn’t as icy as he feared, impossible with the warm body so close to his, though his hands still shook.

“I… like you so f*cking much, man. And I'm terrified. I can't go back now.” He sighed and closed his eyes again. Baby steps, his forte. Each truth made the next one easier. He opened his eyes and frowned at the puzzled expression on Alexei’s face.

“You don’t need quit your job? Everyone eventually get bored and stop gossip. Is ok.”

God, he loved this idiot. He was so earnest in his reassurance, however false his read was on the situation.

“No. What? Dude, I don’t give a f*ck about that. Us. We can’t go back. I’m scared about what’s going to happen with us . I can't… I can't pretend I don't feel the way I feel about you. Not anymore.”

“Oh,” he said, drawn out in understanding. “What is going to happen? This… so crazy? Today you just decide, ok! Kissing best friend! This is… so weird.”

"Not too weird for you to start trying to jerk off your best friend of a f*cking decade after ten minutes of making out or did you not really consider the mental logistics up until that point?”

The defensive tone was unintended, but navigating through raw vulnerability was not notable within Dustin's skill set. Every reaction and expression and word from Alexei's mouth was brand new territory. He traveled without a map, improvising without a script. He'd anticipated rejection and held out naive hope for reciprocal revelations that Alexei had also been harboring deep secreted obsession and love. This was something else. He'd built his expectations on a fault line. Once split, neither side would catch his fall, and he found himself back in the great abyss.

Alexei shrugged. "Yeah. I don't know! I figure we get off, talk about what the f*ck just happen after! I get caught up sometimes!"

“Tater. You are… kind of a slu*t.”

“I am aware.”

Dustin wanted to laugh hysterically at the flippant nonchalance of the statement. Somehow, in all of his monumental over-thinking and constant worry and analysis and the carrying of his secrets and contemplating every possible angle of actually telling Alexei how he felt or doing something that expressed the general idea - somehow, he hadn’t actually accounted for Alexei . The man could not be predicted. In the very same way that he was entirely predictable.

“So. You… you like me?”

“Are you kidding me? I've thought about doing this for years and… f*ck. Today’s the day. Literally, no f*cking plan. I had variations of a whole big speech that I’ve recited to my stupid goddamn mirror a hundred f*cking times and… I'm so f*cking out of my depth right now. I don't know. I just don't know.”

That same unreadable expression returned to Alexei's face again, and it shook Dustin to the core. What was Alexei thinking? How could he dive into his brain and unspool the hidden depths and save himself the heartache? From embarrassment. From disappointment. From over-playing a bad hand, and from expecting too much, too fast.

Alexei took a deep breath, traced his thumb over Dustin’s soft, reddened lips, and choked out a strained, “Years?”

Dustin did nothing but blink under his intense gaze. He nodded with a gulp as Alexei’s thumb rested motionless against his mouth.

“Years?” he repeated.

“Yeah, man.”

“How?”

“How- what do you mean how? That’s just… yeah.”

“You like me? Like, crush on me type of like me.”

He removed his thumb and held Dustin's jaw against the palm of his hand. The stubble on Dustin's cheek caught against too-soft skin that hadn't seen many days of hard work. The applied force was minimal, but it was enough to keep him from turning away, locked slightly upwards to watch the way Alexei's eyes widened at his repeated confession.

“f*cking - yes? I f*cking like you. So much. I like you.”

“You like me like - you like me ?”

“f*cking Christ, Alexei. I’m - sh*t. I’m so f*cking gone on you, man. It’s a bit of a f*cking problem.”

Alexei stepped back, no longer touching Dustin at all. The imprint of his thumb left a phantom warmth on Dustin’s neck where it had pressed hard into the soft skin just under the hinge of his jaw before his sudden retreat. It was better when they weren’t using words to communicate. Dustin absolutely preferred the kissing.

“What happens now?”

Dustin shrugged, again, though everything he wanted to say lingered like bile at the back of his throat. This was it! This was f*cking it! Unburden, confess. Tell the god damn full truth. He was in love with Alexei. He wanted a life with him, and an always. A forever. The brazen act of running across the pier to kiss Alexei did not exclude him from the ranks of cowards. Telling a guy that you loved him was so f*cking hard. Telling a guy that you desperately needed him to never, ever leave you now was too much to admit.

“What are you wanting to happen? You are one who kissed me. What do you want?”

“I...” he started and tightened his grip on where he thought he was still linked to Alexei, but his fingers clenched on nothing, scrabbling against the empty spaces where gentle, larger fingers slotted only moments before. Alexei wouldn’t break eye contact. His face was an open book - he watched Dustin with blank pages and waited.

Be brave, be f*cking brave. On a sigh, Dustin mustered a half-assed admittance.

“I just want to be with you. You’re my best friend. That should be f*cking good enough, but - I guess I want more. If you're interested. Maybe. f*ck.”

He guessed. He guessed, he guessed. As if Dustin didn’t explicitly know exactly what he wanted. Alexei was not a fawn in the meadow, a bird on the windowsill. He was not so skittish that any emotional confession would send him away like buckshot disrupting the serene fog of morning. Alexei relaced their fingers with a gentleness that startled Dustin more so than any ringing shot, any scream through the dark. His smile was bright but his eyes strained at the corners. He pressed a lingering kiss to Dustin’s forehead - a gesture not unique to that day. On occasion, he’d done so as a joke, a punchline to some ridiculous statement or action, rarely in comfort, never truly genuine and without ulterior humor. This kiss, as chaste as it was, burned Dustin to his core. Alexei’s lips lingered like a brand. He kissed Dustin’s cheeks, once on each side, then placed a swift peck on Dustin’s parted mouth, gone in a flash.

“I never know you are wanting me like this. Years…” He shook his head, mystified. “I wish you say something sooner.”

“When would that have been? You didn't even know I was gay until like, a f*cking week ago.”

“So, that's what you are now? Gay? Officially?”

“It's complicated, but for all intents and purposes - sure. Kinda like a Kinsey five but that's irrelevant. I just f*cking want you. That's it. You're it for me.”

“What is Kinsey?”

His confusion was so adorable that it made Dustin want to kiss him about it. Which was allowed now. He rose up on his toes to do just that.

“Don't worry about it,” he answered as he pulled back and dropped to flat feet.

“I'm worry for you. A lot.”

“Why?”

“You feel so much, so big. Then it blows up. You… make me seem so much more than I am.”

“But you’re f*cking everything to me, Tates. Everything. You don’t… you don’t understand.”

Alexei stared down at Dustin, really looking at his friend with a newness Dustin had never seen directed at him. He allowed himself to get lost one more time before his stupid, self-doubting brain took the reins. Alexei craned down to render Dustin breathless and brain-numb. Alexei did not always understand what prevented Dustin from truly allowing himself happiness, but he knew when his friend needed that push to stop thinking. He knew it was tough work to fight through his confusing exterior, clawing at those strange walls. But it was worth it. Especially if this was what it felt like to be wanted so purely by someone who he already valued so deeply and intimately in his life. He was terrified. So he kissed the boy and hoped Dustin understood that he was with him now, every step. And always had been. Even if he didn’t understand what it all meant just yet.

“There are so many things I want to say to you but I really can’t right now. I can’t f*cking concentrate when you kiss me like that,” Dustin mumbled against Alexei’s mouth.

His brain was a hurricane, a great storm over the sea. Elation. Dread. Passion. Tongue-tied and heart-heavy. As light as the mist. Tethered to reality. He could never rest. Enjoy the moment? Nonsense.

“How about after shift is over, we have long talk. Be super romantic. Walk on beach and be super cute.” He flicked Dustin’s nose to be annoying and Dustin flicked him back, hard, in the neck. Alexei cried out in mock pain, though his smile never left his face. “Even if you’re so mean to me. I think I can like you, too. Ok? Stop worry so much. Is ok. We are going to be ok.”

“You think you can like me?”

“Dustin,” he said in a stern voice, and pressed a quick kiss to the line of Dustin’s doubtful mouth. “Chill. I’m play catch-up here. You spin my life all over the place. I’m glad you did. Ok? We talk more later.”

Under the scrutiny of those big brown eyes, Dustin retraced his steps through a thousand little moments in quick succession, taking stock of a lifetime and giving himself over to trust. The ticking of the clock and the turning of the tides. An eagle’s eye vantage glanced at a bed undone and messy with the limbs of two boys tangled together, turning into two men who didn’t need to entwine their friendship so closely but did so anyway. Lingering looks on hot beaches, eyes tracking a laugh, tracing the lines of their bodies. Every arm slung around each other’s shoulders, every single brush of hand as they walked. Always slightly out of step, as Dustin kept pace while Alexei rushed ahead. A fight on the beach, bonfire burning while voices raised and all of their friends forced themselves to look away. Every drink Dustin ever downed to dull the heartache and keep the good times rolling. And no matter what, no matter how rude or angry or whatever awful mood he was in the night before, Alexei always knocked on his door in the morning. He’d always been there. Had Dustin been there for him just the same? Had he done enough to lay the groundwork for Alexei to want him, too?

There were no mind readers, no one to accurately read your fortune, map your destiny. No perfect, clear paths existed. You hacked your way through the jungle on your own.

“You’re right,” was all Dustin said after a long moment of hesitation and ultimate resignation to acceptance. For the immediate moment. He sighed into Alexei’s mouth for another kiss, that wonderful thing that he was finally allowed. Sometimes even the most miserable bastard stumbled into something good.

“Of course I am right. Don’t worry so much.”

Their phones buzzed and buzzed again, which had been a consistent addition to their secluded moment alone. Alexei began to scroll through the trail of damage. “Oh, wow. Snowy, look at work chat.”

All attention was directed at their screens as Alexei gleefully paged through the chaos of their supervisor’s private group chat. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he read, finding it all absolutely hilarious. Dustin started to read, leaning against Alexei and mutually groaning at the sh*tshow.

“f*cking hell…”

MARINERS ASSHOLES
5:32PM
Gmartin
> guys. get back here.
> you were in the middle of training that operator.
> dustin and alexei.
> guys. you’re on the clock!
> 😡
Fitz
> someone just ran up and told me dustin and alexei were making out by the ticket booth?? is this a prank??
Randallnumero3
> omg yall i saw> f*ckin get it snow eyyyyyyy
> or get it tater? Idk how this works with dudes
> i love and support u both
GregVitali
> ughh ducking seriusly lol is this forreeaal ??
> ducking
> FFf*ckING
Randallnumero3
> bet yall theyre ducking right now lmao
> srry bros just sayin
TheRealGreg
> yoooo so they def were bookin past me to the oasis lol ya really think their bangin down there lol someone go check
Fitz
> is everyone messing with me?? this is definitely a prank? Right??
> either guy care to weigh in??? This joke is kinda weak tbh i don’t really see the humor. kinda weird.
xxMandyxx
> yah it waz hotttt i saw it
> sexy as f*ckGmartin
> Mandy, don’t text and operate the kiddie wheel.
Randallnumero3
> oh my god poots some people are gay have some G D sensitivity
Fitz
> i’m sorry!! this seems like one of their pranks!! are we sure it’s not a prank??
> pretty sure neither of them is gay> tater totally bangs all the new chicks behind the flume ride sooooo i’m pretty sure this is a stupid prank
> sorry for calling you out but you stole my spot bro
> also
> thirdy please don’t call me that!!
> my nickname is Fitz
(( Admin Gmartin changed chatname Fitz to Poots ))
Poots
> aw come on
> we had a deal
Gmartin
> thin ice, rookie.
> 24 hours punishment
Poots
> aw why
Gmartin
> you’re being real uncouth and i won’t stand for it
PacerW
> wtf did i miss im off today i miss everything yall blowin up my phone
> who are totty boy and snowman pranking
Gmartin
> everyone get back to work oh my god.
> there’s no prank, believe me.
xxMandyxx
> georgiaaaaa wut do u knooo tell meeee the deetzzz where did they goooooo
Gmartin
> mandy i swear to god put the phone away. I can see you texting in the operator’s booth.
> at least have the decency to be subtle like the rest of us.
xxMandyxx
> booooo why i get stuck on rides trainin this new bitch and yous all actin f*ckin rude when sumthing interestang goin on
Gmartin
> short straw. that’s life.
TheRealGreg
> oh man i follwed them lol fitz it aint a prank
> unless theyre real committed to the bit… even tho its not like anyone is there to see
> this is indeecint imma walk… away
> fitz it aint a f*ckin prank oh my god i need bleach
Littlemissjenny
> guys leave them alone they’re in love lmaoooo
> mandy check your snap i gotta show u this dumbass kid whose in my line right now its hella hilar
xxMandyxx
> JENNZZZZ lmaooo
> wut a gloriouz mullllllettttt babeeee
> eerryone look at this kid
> 4r57tk.image
Gmartin
> Mandy. I’ll be over there in five minutes.
> turn your radio back on.
xxMandyxx
> 😭😭
OllieOllie
> i don’t give a sh*t about any of this could anyone either pickup or switch shifts with me next tuesday? I work 4-close hit me up
> also i totally thought they were already dating? like. for a while.
6:31PM
JeffTroy93
> wow
> man everything happens at yalls pier sh*t stay boring as sh*t at north
6:48PM
SnowAngel
> you all know we can read this sh*t right?????
> and poots you’re dead to me
Gmartin
> i am so sorry, Dustin...
Poots
> dude why
SnowAngel
> you’re such an asshole
Poots
> ok i’m sorry………
> but i still don’t understand what’s going on
Randallnumero3
> there he is
> f*ck it up boys getttt someeee
> you better hit me up and spill, man!!
SnowAngel
> shut the f*ck up
TheRealGreg
> lol
SnowAngel
> you can shut the f*ck up too
> but jk @ thirds. Nothing but love
> the rest of you can f*ck off straight to hell
Randallnumero3
> 😭❤️
> love you snow
Mashedpotato
> you think after he get some hot hot action snowy act like not so much asshole as usual but what can i say
> i will try my best
> to get stick out his ass lololollll
>loskjo5ttgppl;;
> snowy slap my phone
PacerW
> ollie i can take your shift bro
xxMandyxx
> TATER TATER TELL ME DA DEETZ WUT IZ HAPPENINGARE U LIKE A TIHNG NOW OMGCOME OVER TO THE LIL WHEEL WE NEED TO TALK
Gmartin
> Mandy. Shut. up.
> text him on your own chat. Jfc
> i’m about to lock up your phone again.
Tonytangredi
> (...typing)
> I have a few questions!!!
> are supervisors allowed to date each other? Are snowy or tater gonna have to change piers now due to conflicts of interest or fraternization rules? I really like them both as my bosses. They’re cool. is georgia ok with this happening? I’m ok with it. If that counts for anything? Congrats, guys! who made the first move? Does this have to do with the events that took place on the ferris wheel a few days ago? I think ferris wheels can be pretty romantic, does anyone else agree?
> who doesn’t love a good getting together story, amiright?
Snowangel
> Bro…… how the f*ck are you even in this groupme. It’s supervisors only
Gmartin
> ???
> you’re not even on the user list?
> tony… explain.Tonytangredi
> i don’t know how it happened i just had the chat open??
> Like i always have?
Snowangel
> 👀👀👀
Gmartin
> ......ok.
Tonytangredi
> I’m really happy for you guys. love wins.
Gmartin
> Everyone get back to work.
> 🙄

Needless to say, no one was able to focus once the two lovebirds decided to return to the public’s eye. Georgia, Greg, and Randall were huddled around the carousel when Alexei and Dustin made their grand return from their passionate escape to the closed down Oasis area. Mandy yelled to them from her post at the kiddie wheel and received a stern look from Georgia. Alexei mouthed and motioned for her to text him, all while making vulgar motions from behind Dustin’s back. He was aware. He let it happen. Mandy smiled and turned back to her dejected and utterly confused trainee.

The squad hounded Dustin and Alexei with questions and general nosiness, mostly talking over each other while Dustin attempted to tolerate the onslaught of attention. Alexei basked in it, if only for a moment, saying very little and only chimed in to dispute claims of a prank, before extracting themselves from the group. Even Georgia was being nosy, but they didn’t feel up to talking to any of their coworkers, even the marginally more mature ones. It was all too fresh and they just wanted to get some air. Return to an attempt at normalcy, if this new thing was to be their normal. If someone could actually die of embarrassment, then Dustin would be the first statistic. With one foot in the grave, he faced a sinking feeling of regret that he’d spoiled his big moment after all the years of pent up momentum by inadvertently including every single person in his life. His choice after all. He was the one who had lost his mind and decided to kiss his best friend and fellow supervisor in the middle of broad daylight during work hours. His love sick insanity had made him forget that he worked with the world’s leading experts in gossip.

“You ok? So quiet.” Only an unintelligent sputter passed his lips as Alexei wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He could hear Mandy faintly coo from several yards away, physically fighting the urge to run over and insert herself into the situation.

“All good. Just vibing,” he said and immediately wanted to slap himself in the face. Just vibing? What the f*ck was that? Who was he? God, all the sap of the night was giving him brain rot.

Never missing an opportunity to inject a dose of levity, Georgia offered, “Before you two get back to your rounds - that little caper counts as your collective breaks, by the way. Y’all were gone far too long. Do not disappear again.”

“George! That was emergency,” Alexei gasped dramatically with a hand to his heart. She was not having it.

“Tater.” He blew her a kiss and turned away, disinterested in further scolding. He pulled Dustin along with him. Dustin shot her a sympathetic look as they left. “And no canoodling while on the clock!”

“Canoodling? What decade she from?” Alexei questioned and laughed as he steered them over to the coaster docks, purposefully avoiding the path past the kiddie wheel where Mandy kept shooting him expectant looks as she pointed to her phone.

Excluding Dustin from that conversation was the ultimate kindness. He’d have to split from Alexei at some point so he could get that out of the way before the girl internally combusted, but they indulged together in the new novelty of walking around with the knowledge that every brush of skin was charged and the arm around Dustin’s shoulder meant something more than general bro-y touchiness. He’d never had to imagine what it felt like to be in Alexei’s arms, but now that it was named and known - that made all the difference.

After a valiant attempt at working through the shift, the toll of the evening’s dramatics led them to places they were not supposed to go. On break. Georgia had told them not to take another break. They did it anyway. Did she really expect them to listen to her demands?

Funnel cake and a massive bucket of fries were spread out between them as they settled down at a picnic table behind their favorite food stand - the one located in territory rarely visited by any pesky rides managers on the hunt for slackers. Alexei hadn’t even bartered anything for their dinner. He’d waltzed right through the back door and lifted the food from the ready rack. No one batted an eye. Sometimes, his reputation completely astounded Dustin.

String lights crisscrossed with anti-seagull spikes overhead, a nice feature to guarantee that your food wouldn’t be stolen by one of those dirty, thieving sky rats. Alexei really hated that. Anyone who stole away his food was an enemy to be fought immediately, take no mercy. Dustin reached into the bucket for a handful of gloriously greasy boardwalk fries and counted his blessings that he was the only one who could get away with sharing a plate with the protective man.

Most meals, Dustin winced as he watched Alexei accidentally fling part of his food to the floor or yap on with his mouth open, both charming and grotesque in turn. As they sat in their alcove off the beaten path, Alexei was all shy smiles and a novel sort of resigned softness, almost demure as he dabbed at the ketchup clinging to the corner of his mouth. Their feet bumped together under the table, not quite so juvenile as conceding to playing footsie, but it was comforting knowing the other was there, happy to encroach on each other’s space without having to be practically in each other’s laps. Alexei reached across the table, palm facing skyward, clearly an invitation that said, you can hold my hand, but only if you really want to, no big deal. Dustin let his fingers casually tangle with funnel cake sugar-sticky ones and tried to breathe at a normal rate.

“Is this canoodling?” Alexei joked as his fingers tapped and twitched lightly against Dustin’s palm. His thumb brushed Dustin’s wrist so gently that Dustin couldn’t suppress the shiver.

“I hate the introduction of that word into your vocabulary. Not a fan.”

“I think is good one. Know you think about skip rest of shift and canoodle me under boardwalk, huh?”

His laughter died as abruptly as it so easily started when he saw the hard line of Dustin's mouth and the strain tense across his brow. Dustin began to slide his hand back across the table, stopped with tightening fingers around his wrist. It was too much. He'd done too much.

“What's up?”

“Is this weird? Us?”

Alexei rolled his eyes at the transparent safety zone where Dustin thought he was going to retreat into - no more. Those walls had shattered. Alexei had been invited inside, and he had no intention of simply playing house and helping him to repair his hiding spots. Tough love. Alexei wanted to shake him.

“You want to take back your big move - too late. I'm sit here with boy who likes me and no take backs! Nope, look at me,” he said and waited for eye contact. “You do this. Take forever make some decision, then you regret. Don't regret me.”

“No, what? I don't regret this.”

He didn't. But he understood the call-out wasn't unfounded. Alexei knew how long it took him to go to college, and how long he'd remained unfinished - he'd listened to every rant and fielded every desperate phone call as Dustin rambled in circles about his future or perceived lack thereof. Dustin drowned in decisions made impulsively and decisions that took an unreasonable amount of time. The inability to decide if he hated or loved his hometown. Being in love with a man for a decade and never saying anything. And still not really saying much at all regarding the truth.

Alexei stood from his side of the table and shoved his way beside Dustin, demanding full attention, as if he didn't possess all of Dustin's focus anytime they existed in the same vicinity. He didn't reach for his hand or throw an arm around Dustin's shoulders, but their legs pressed together from thigh to ankle at the small bench, overlapping like so many aspects of their entwined lives.

“What do you want? Just tell me.”

“Why does it have to be about what I want? What do you want? I know I started this when I,” he lowered his voice, shy about acknowledging what happened even though they were alone and what he'd done had taken place in broad daylight with countless witnesses, “kissed you. Yeah. I changed everything. But what do you want to do about it? Do you even - I'm f*cking selfish. Afraid I've ruined it.”

He was being kissed silent before he could spout another word of self-sabotage. Large hands framed his face, solid and firm, like he was both something precious and something that could handle neglecting the white glove treatment. Not delicate, but wanted.

“I can kiss you out of nowhere, too. Ok? So, shut up, maybe? Whine. Worry. Maybe for once you listen,” Alexei spoke against his lips, smiling when Dustin shuddered from the deep vibrations of his voice. He placed one more chaste peck on Dustin's eager lips before scooting back, with one hand lingering at the nape of his neck. Steady, heavy. Like an anchor. It prevented the threat of bolting.

“Yeah. Kinda weird. It’s weird. But I think I’m liking weird. The other day when you are yelling at Tony at the wheel? I sit there and I think - huh. You like guys. I like guys. What if? Is that possible, us? But then I think, no. Too weird. You are my best friend.”

Whatever interjection Dustin was about to provide was cut off again with a firm kiss and an insistent shushing sound before Alexei barreled on with his manifesto. Well. He tried, but his methodology had created a surely foreseen backfire.

“Kinda like this new way of shutting me up, mmhm-”

Again, Alexei leaned in and prevented Dustin from making any sound other than a quick exhale and a soft, involuntary moan against his lips. Alexei’s fingers thread up Dustin’s neck, fingers digging into his scalp as he deepened the kiss. He tugged at the strands of hair caught between his roaming fingers and greedily met Dustin over and over as slow, open-mouthed kisses grew hungry, thoroughly distracted from their current heart-to-heart. f*ck talking. Forget worrying. This was how Dustin wanted to remain.

“Holy sh*t,” he whispered as Alexei pulled away, with a heated grin and spit-slicked lips from where Dustin and bit and pulled and demanded him to stay. “What were we talking about?”

“You. Being annoying and whiny. And crazy.”

“Call me whatever you want, babe, if you’re gonna kiss me like that.”

Alexei chuckled and roughly patted his cheek twice in succession, then stood from the table.

“Come on. Georgia gonna kill us if she find us canoodling. Oh. Sorry.”

“What?”

“Funnel cake sugar in your hair.”

Their romantic walk-and-talk on the beach was interrupted by the squeals of the pestilence named Mandy. She needed to be dealt with before the night could progress, lest her bronzer-saturated head explode from holding back her excited delight all evening. Dustin let her and Alexei converse until she either ran out of breath or ingested enough wine coolers to then become distracted by someone else’s business. Dustin needed to clear his head, anyway, and settle back down to earth. He’d been floating ever since their break.

He settled down near the fire after helping Randall set the wood and ignite the starter flames. They passed a joint in mostly companionable quiet, talking mainly about an album drop from earlier in the week. Randall played Dustin some tracks from the release and never once brought up the Alexei situation. He was a good dude.

Once Mandy was satisfied with whatever tall tales Alexei had bestowed upon her eager attention, he dropped down beside Dustin, sitting close but no different than any other midnight soiree around the fire. Dustin did his best to appear normal, ignoring the itch to drape himself across Alexei’s lap and other pathetic, needy urges. A few others joined to enjoy the warmth on the cooler summer evening. The two Gregs dominated the conversation, getting drunker as they argued over who had worse relationship woes. Vitali was seeing another supervisor from the north pier and Real Greg was on-again with Olesa. They bickered back and forth while everyone around the fire slowly abandoned the circle.

“Want to take that walk or want to keep listen to Greg whine about wanting to bang my cousin more than she let him?”

“I don’t know, it was getting kinda spicy.” Alexei frowned hard and followed up with an exaggerated gagging motion. “Yeah. f*cking disgusting. Let’s go.”

One day, Dustin’s insides would not flip at the feeling of Alexei’s hand slipping into his, fingers spreading between his own. He doubted the sensation would stop anytime soon. He kind of hoped that feeling never actually went away, fading if it must, but never letting him forget how far he’d come from suppressing the constant desire to reach out and perform that simplest of gestures. The night air blew cold off of the ocean but Alexei’s palm was warm. They walked along the water, not quite letting the waves hit their ankles.

“Can I ask you about when you, you know. If you tell people? About you ? Do your parents know?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“Oh. They are not cool about it. Sorry to hear."

Dustin laughed and squeezed Alexei’s hand, easing his instant tone of concern.

“Nah, they’re actually fine. They’re like… total f*cking voids. Haven’t given much of a sh*t about what I do for a long time, you know, so Chip making some stupid joke at my expense during Thanksgiving dinner a couple years back was embarrassing, but whatever. They really didn’t give a f*ck after the truth was out. You know Chip’s the golden boy, anyway.”

Alexei shook his head and mumbled his thoughts on the elder Snow brother. “Chip is moron. But, your parents ok? They are cool?”

“They’re the most uncool folks I know, dude. But, yeah. They’d don’t exactly give a f*ck who I f*ck or what I do as long as I never ask them for a f*cking thing. Why? Planning on coming out to ol’ Dima?”

Dustin’s laugh died as soon as he realized the underlying implications of their conversation and the entire situation as a whole. Somehow, despite it being a major factor in so many other aspects of Alexei’s life, he’d completely forgotten the dreaded father factor in forcing his highly public display of desperation.

“Oh, sh*t. Did I f*ck it up for you by throwing myself at you in public? sh*t."

“No, no. He’s never knowing what I do here, Ivan and him never talk, still drama. I just wonder this for you. Your family is -”

“Cold as hell? It’s in the name.” Alexei rolled his eyes at the tried and true joke and knocked into Dustin, sending him stumbling into the thin edge of the surf.

“How you tell Chip?”

“Didn’t. He walked in on me blowing his friend in his kitchen one day. I was pretty much a known entity after the, uh, incident. As I’ve come to call it - ok. Calm down.”

Before Dustin was even finished with his statement, Alexei burst out laughing, halting them in their tracks to look Dustin in the face and shake his shoulders in uncontained hilarity. “That is so funny! Snowy, oh my god!”

“Ok! It’s a f*cking weird memory.” He retook Alexei’s hand and continued them on their walk.

“Ivan,” Alexei said with a deep sigh after a comfortable moment of quiet and the tide. “Probably should say something.”

Dustin mouthed ew and Alexei shrugged. Ivan was the most emotionally constipated man he knew. He’d never actually met Alexei’s father in person, but he was sure the man was in contention for that title. At least Ivan’s brand of corruption and ruthless business practice only exploited tourist’s wallets and not the lives of promising young hockey talent across an entire continent.

“I know. But he let me live under his roof, is show of respect that I tell it to his face.”

“Pssh, like you ever even sleep there. Why does he need to know your sh*t?”

“Is expression! I’m so bad at lying to him. He's like, you know. More than uncle…"

“Do you even need to tell him?”

“I think - is time. Eye opener. I don’t want to hide. Anything. No more. Long time coming, you speed me along.”

“sh*t.” The unease and the guilt and impulsivity and empty void of unburdened weight was collapsing around him. Elation preceded facing what you’d really done. He’d assumed. “I didn’t f*cking think this through. So f*cking selfish-”

“Snowy! You have to stop! This is me, my life. I am ok. I want to be me, all of me. Is just time now. You did nothing wrong.”

“Still, I-”

“Ssshh.” He plastered himself against Dustin, braced against the whipping wind off the ocean, arms wrapped tight to keep him safe, unable to retreat into himself and his doubts and self-pity. Alexei kissed along his jaw, shutting him up with a long, hard press of his mouth to Dustin’s. “You insist you make me do anything I don’t want to do. You fight to be the one to blame for every problem. Be calm. Stop worry. I want this. I want to try this with you.”

Like a petulant child, Dustin couldn’t stop himself from expressing the whiplash between guilty regret and a demand for more, more, more.

“Try?”

Alexei groaned and leaned in to kiss Dustin quick and sweet, unable to not let it distort into a fond, only slightly irritated smile. Still being such a fresh and novel sensation, Dustin’s breath caught and his heart felt like it stuttered as Alexei pressed his lips to his. How was he supposed to get used to that? When Alexei pulled away he reeled him back in and anchored him there until the next thought interrupted them. This was easy, where airing emotions was not. It was every nerve alight, it was familiar and yet, extraordinarily terrifying in its newness. They stood wind-swept along the surf, weight braced against each other. Dustin melted into it, so weak in his best friend’s arms, spine liquidized under the command of a mouth so soft and hot and confident as it plied at his lips, hypnotizing his brain into a haze as he experienced so much he’d dreamed of for so long. Alexei drew back just enough to look into Dustin’s eyes, unable to stop the involuntary giggle as their gaze met. Dustin frowned.

“What?” His own brain would forever betray him. He was too hyper aware, too unable to shut off and go with the flow. He’d lost himself for a moment. “It’s too weird, right?”

“No?” Alexei shot back, brow furrowed. He co*cked his head to the side like the loyal family dog, inquisitive at the coincidental moment. “Yes. Maybe… little bit weird. But I like it. You open my eyes. Always been there. Now I’m really see you. Is good thing, yes? Is what you want? Try date me?”

What did he want? What did he expect? Undying confessions, a jump two years ahead where they were settled and routine and living in some sh*tty apartment in some random city far away from Wildcrest, no airplanes and oceans between them? Skipping the uncertain beginning stage? This was it. This was telling the man you love that you liked him. This was telling your best friend that friendship was no longer adequate - a definitive statement coinciding with a physical demonstration. This was trying.

“Yeah. I want to try. Pretty f*cking obvious by now, man.”

“Ok, man. Sure thing, dude.”

“Why do people always think it’s funny to mock how I talk? And so inaccurately.”

“Oh, don’t pout, baby. You like better?”

Yeah, he did. He really did.

"Shut up.” He went up on his toes to peck him once, twice. “Are you sure you want to do this? What if this doesn’t work out?”

Alexei grabbed him by the shoulders, not unkind, but firm. Sturdy. “Then it does not work and we are best friends. Maybe is feeling weird. We are weird people. But, we figure out. Weird world. All that happen is my hot friend wanted kiss me for a while and we have fun. Or, we kiss each other for forever. Good deal either way, yes?”

The way in which Alexei viewed the world and coasted along in life both fascinated and frustrated Dustin in ways he could never verbally articulate. Kissing him, nearly seen as blasé like a fun little bonus and not soul-wrenching to have initiated in the first place - what else was Dustin to do but smile and nod and hope that Alexei preferred forever. He couldn't exist in the after if all this turned out to be was a fleeting whim by a curious friend. He loved him, he loved him, he was utterly devoted to him.

He'd gotten the boy. How do I make sure I get to keep him?

Further discussion dissolved at the sound of abrupt commotion that cut through the serene stillness of the night. Both men whipped their heads back to the source of the noise, the epicenter apparently coming from the general direction of the bonfire. Shouting and arguing echoed across the beach. Dustin’s immediate instinct was to freeze in place, like a prey animal exposed in the middle of a field, but Alexei shot up and rushed off towards the sound.

“Way to abandon me, asshole!” Dustin called after Alexei’s form lumbering back up the beach.

“Voice sounds like my cousin! Have to see what’s happening! Maybe serial killer on beach!"

"It's not going to be a f*cking serial killer!"

"You don't know that! Danger!"

When they reached the gathering area, a small group was huddled around a figure on the floor. Olesa was sobbing hysterically into her hands as Mandy and Randall knelt next to her. Vitali was on the phone halfway down the beach towards the boardwalk, clearly talking a mile a minute with his free arm gesturing wildly, as if he was directing a circling airplane, but out of earshot. Others lingered nearby, watching the aftermath of whatever had happened.

Alexei charged over, looming over his usually statuesque and equally boisterous cousin.

“Who did this to you?! Where are they?” He bellowed into the night like a bear protecting its young. Olesa sniffed, tears flowing freely, and hiccuped out her response from her sprawled position on the beach.

“It’s Greg! He’s flipping out!” She wailed, among other unintelligible things through her blubbering tears and wet sobs. She rolled onto her back, feet kicking into the air like an overturned turtle. “My life is over!”

“What he do to you?”

“I’m f*cking pregnant and I want to keep it and he haaaates me! He is so pissed! Literally, just told him. And he ran away! The f*ck am I going to do?!”

“Oh, Olesa,” Alexei cooed and crouched down onto on the sand across from his cousin.

She lifted her face from her hands and immediately crumpled again at the sight of Alexei. Her mascara and eyeliner ran in thin black rivers down her face. She wailed something else indecipherable before launching herself at Alexei to sob in his arms and seek comfort in his tight embrace. Dustin watched the display with mouth agape, unsure of his role. He side-eyed Randall and Mandy, the latter rarely at a loss for words.

Olesa cried and cried while Alexei spoke soft reassurances to her in quiet Russian. He patted her cheeks and attempted to wipe off some of the streaks of black from her face. Those remaining on the beach wandered out of place along the edges or quietly rummaged through the coolers to drink and ignore the melodrama in an attempt to be less intrusive. Dustin sipped at a lukewarm can of beer that had been floating in the melted ice and watched as Alexei and Olesa lay draped over each other by the fire. He could never understand the Mashkov-Petrikova cousin squad. Some days their in-fighting was nasty and bitter and on other occasions they truly embodied a special, familial ride-or-die spirit. Dustin wasn’t close with any of his cousins. He wasn’t even close with his parents. Alexei wasn’t with his either, but the cousin-sisters were like his own siblings. Uncle Ivan was more of a father to him than Dmitri could ever pretend to be - or could purchase.

Dustin distracted himself by watching specific pieces of charred wood embers in the bonfire and didn’t notice the approaching figures until Olesa started shrieking. Alexei fell back against the sand and groaned into the arm that he threw across his eyes as his cousin resumed her hysterical shouting at the sight of the Gregs. Vitali and her Greg had come back, but neither returned the same fervor that Olesa was spouting. Vitali approached and placed a hand on Olesa’s arm, lifting a finger to his mouth with a shushing sound almost got his head bit off for the action. Greg shoved him out of the way and stepped forward. He opened his mouth and then snapped his jaw closed.

He fell to the sand in front of Olesa, who towered tall above him. One knee inflected. Oh, sh*t, Dustin thought. This goddamned fool is really f*cking doing this.

Mandy and Alexei immediately took the initiative to start recording the scene with their phones. Those two would film a car wreck if presented with the subject. Well. The events taking place were close enough.

“Olesa. Olesa Petrikova, woman of my heart. Amore mio. Ti amo.”

“Why do you run? You love me but you run away. Like a bitch,” she spat out. Dustin almost choked on his beer when she kicked a spray of sand in his direction, and literally mimicked spitting on the ground. “You don’t act like a man!”

“You make me so crazy and I never know what to do! I lost my mind! Please, give me another chance. Wanna make it right. I'll never run again. I will be a man and stand with you. And our child. As soon as I reached the boardwalk, I saw that jewelry shop next to the water ice stand, you know the one? That one you took Polina to get that eyebrow piercing redone after the place on Shell street f*cked up and -”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Shut up. Just do it already.”

“Will you…” he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. He smiled and raised his eyebrows, reverting back to his standard goofy demeanor. “Yeah? Whaddya think? Please let me marry you?”

She stared down at him, still kneeling in the sand and looking up at her like he was staring into the sun. She rolled her eyes with all the combined exasperation and fond disdain available on the entire eastern seaboard, and thrust her hand forward, fingers down, wrist popped. Greg slipped on the (fake) gold band inlaid with a series of (fake) black diamonds - her favorite. She patted his face and motioned for him to stand up, immediately rushing forward to clutch at each other, both reducing themselves to more tears now that they were in each other’s arms.

“I don’t deserve you, my love.”

“Aw, baby. You don’t,” she said with absolute authority before her wobbling lip broke into another sob.

A collective groan rung out in place of any congratulatory cheers or applause as the scene divulged into the couple’s typical, mushy, borderline-explicit expression of passion. It was the messiest, whirlwind of a proposal any of those forced to play witness had ever seen.

“Well. Interesting night,” Alexei said to Dustin as they drifted back together now that Olesa’s demand for constant attention was being fulfilled by husband-to-be rather than by the unlucky family member in her vicinity.

“Safe to assume that everyone will be talking about this instead of us tomorrow, at least?”

Hand in hand, with the drama of the day and night literally behind them, they left the beach and boardwalk and headed home, emotionally exhausted. They walked together down the main street towards Dustin’s part of town, nice and slow, with no rush to their destination and conversation light and purposefully meaningless. Once at Dustin’s house, against the rickety old door on the small porch, Alexei kissed him, crowding him up against the wall. It was as intense as all the others, and suddenly over. His eyes smoldered and he stepped back, letting his hand trail from Dustin’s waist until it was gone as he continued down the steps.

“See you tomorrow? Maybe we do something before shift?”

Puzzled, Dustin frowned and stood there confused and let down, alone on his own porch. The self-doubt and worry were tiresome, but the shadows encroached on the butterflies. It was a rainfall of tar. His mind sung alarm bells with each step Alexei made as he backed away.

“Don’t you want to stay?”

He hated how breathless and high his voice sounded as he asked.

Alexei rubbed at his neck and blushed under the scrutiny, shadowed by the light on the porch.

“Eh, better not. Not tonight.”

Dustin moved forward down the stairs and laid a hand on Alexei’s chest and said, going for sultry instead of last ditch desperation, “I really want you to stay.”

“I know. But not tonight. Too much for tonight.”

Dustin groaned against his chest as Alexei ran a comforting hand up his back. “I’m not - you don’t have to treat me like glass. You gotta get the hint, man. If we’re gonna do this.”

“I know you want me. I need do this right, though. You are not one-night stand guy. You’re my best friend.”

“Doesn’t have to be a one night stand. You sleep with everyone else in town, but-”

“Yes ! Exactly! You deserve real Alexei. I want you date real me. I like real you. A lot. Want this to be real. This is good thing to do. We can be slow. You are not going to fall over and die if I don’t f*ck you right now, hmm?”

Dustin supposed this was correct information, but he’d love an official diagnosis before risking his mortality. But, he was right. They’d talked about it. They were trying things. The shift from friendship into more either undertook an adjustment period or tripped through hasty passion. The body and mind and heart had individual agendas.

“Sorry. Sometime soon I’m gonna stop being f*cking embarrassing.”

“Is ok. I like you even if you are very cringe, very dumb.” One quick parting kiss, and Alexei extricated himself from Dustin’s grip on his shirt. “I see you tomorrow. Promise.”

With a spring in his step, Alexei took off for his side of town. He was gone and Dustin was alone again. He slipped into his house as his heart flipped between elation and nervous energy, pacing around, stupid smitten smile coming and going as his mind replayed the events of the day. He couldn’t fall asleep once he fell into bed. He ripped himself out and sat out on his back porch, tipped back on his old lawn chair as he smoked, watching the trails rise and disappear against the backdrop of darkest blue-black sky and sparsely dotted stars. This was good. This was what maturity wrought. Jumping into bed together would be terrible. He snorted with laughter at the realization that Alexei was, by far, the smarter of the two of them. Isn’t this what he had wanted all along? To try for a real, adult relationship? And with the pinnacle of his desires, the prototype himself, no less. Alexei was his ideal, his perfect person. Why mess it all up in a desperate, hormonal rush and the inability to take his time on something important?

He rationalized and retraced their steps in an attempt to distract himself from over-thinking by replaying the sequence from pier to the Oasis and the beach and back again and again. Rewind the tape. It was all out there. He had no more secrets. Nothing had ever felt so bizarre. He’d never felt more vulnerable. Hollow and empty and full to the brim with promise, happiness, and all-consuming dread. There was nowhere left to hide. Had he ruined it all by getting and doing everything he’d ever wanted?

Why couldn’t he let himself be f*cking happy?

1:58AM
Tatertot
> snowy
> so glad you are in my life
> excited to see you tomorrow <333
> think about me before you fall asleep lololol ;)))))
> <3

Maybe everything was going to be alright. He stubbed the remainder of his cigarette out on the railing and went to bed, taking Alexei up on his suggestion, heels dug into the mattress and Alexei’s name breathless on his lips as his over-churned brain finally settled on allowing himself to only feel good things like pleasure and love and happiness.

Chapter 10: sometimes all i think about is you

Chapter Text

“Damn Tater, lookin’ fine today!” Randall called as Alexei walked past his spot next to Dustin on the beach. Alexei gave a confused little thumbs up and continued back to the volleyball game, ball under his arm after retrieving it from where it had bounced out--of--bounds. Randall slapped Dustin on the arm and said, “Good for you man. Genuinely happy for yall.”

“You know,” Dustin said through a mouthful of his hoagie (a bad habit picked--up from Alexei, no doubt), “you don’t have to hit on him on my behalf.”

“That’s your boo though. Just hyping up my dude’s dude. Dunno how it works but I’m just doing the same thing I’d do if he was your chick, bro. I'd do the same for you if he was sitting in the sand.”

Dustin sighed and resigned himself to yet another bizarro interaction with the fellow freaks who inhabited his town.

“Equality.”

Alexei spiked the ball, competitively vicious, and the other side missed. Dustin cheered for Alexei when he glanced his way, clearly looking for that validation and praise. He blew Dustin a kiss and turned back to ready himself for the next play.

Things had been going well. Perfectly fine. They’d hung out every day since the big revelation, with minimal changes to their daily routines, save for the added benefit of a legitimate excuse to hang all over each other and the occasional delight of a kiss, a pair of hands entwined, or shared knowing smiles. Slow and steady. Dustin practiced a fair amount of deep breathing on the daily, focusing on remaining calm and normal every time that Alexei swooped into his presence and stole a kiss, demanding his attention in fresh new ways. It was all so novel and new and… normal. Though, too normal at times. Blindingly normal. Friday came and went, bringing with it another Atlantic City beer league game. Alexei had suggested they stay low-key and Dustin had agreed. The world was an imperfect one, and not everyone that showed up to their pick-up games was a fantastic example of humanity. They couldn’t stop the assholes from being assholes and they wanted to play a little hockey on Friday nights. They’d talked about it. Compromised morals, maybe, but whatever. So it goes.

Slow and steady. Dustin closed his eyes and leaned his head back, exposing his neck to a hidden sun as he stretched. The breeze was cool on his skin. Breathe in. And out.

The weather was cloudy and overcast – perfect for extensive physical exertion on the normally blistering hot sands of the vast stretch of beach where a grouping of volleyball courts were located. A number of folks from the Mariner’s crew had gotten together for an afternoon of drinks and volleyball, enjoying the cloudy beach day while tourists found elsewhere to spend their vacation time. The sand was cool, damp, and compacted from an overnight storm. Threat of continued rain meant out of towners slept away the day or drove to the mainland to go to the zoo or aquarium or outlets instead of filling the boardwalk and beach. Locals loved the rain. It was a cleanse for all of Wildcrest.

Dustin squinted through his unnecessary aviators and tried to find the sun, half-listening to Randall talk beside him. The clouds were dark and imposing from the north. It was gearing up to be a wet shift that night for anyone scheduled; Mariner’s never shut down during peak season. A few years back, Ivan forced them to stay open through part of a hurricane until the authorities forced all boardwalk businesses to close. Because of the f*cking hurricane. A routine summer thunderstorm was nothing to even bat an eye about.

Alexei dove to make a save on the court. He missed and swore furiously as if the game mattered. To him, every game and competition mattered. Dustin smirked at his continuous ranting even as the next set and spike resumed. He’d played a few rounds himself and decided to spend the remainder of time before their shift lazing around. Volleyball was a sport he was fairly good at, as reflexes came into play, but bumming it on the beach appealed more as time closed in on his work shift.

“We lose again,” Alexei pouted as he flopped down next to Dustin, out of breath and sweaty after the conclusion of the latest game. “Such bullsh*t. I think Vitali cheats.”

“How exactly does one cheat in volleyball?” Dustin asked as he pushed the stringy, wet bangs off of Alexei’s forehead. The gesture accomplished nothing as the fringe simply sprung back into place to hang messily over Alexei’s eyes. It was nice to be able to touch him like this, open, without second--guessing.

Alexei nuzzled into the touch and completely crowded Dustin’s space. “All I know is other team cheats and Vitali biggest cheat of all.”

“I believe you, bud. What a scam.”

Pleased with Dustin’s agreement, he pressed a sloppy, wet kiss to Dustin’s cheek and another one that lingered on his mouth for longer than was publicly necessary. He loved this, being the person Alexei doted on and showered with affection – but it was an adjustment period. Alexei had no shame, and loose boundaries. Not Dustin’s usual style. But he’d wanted this, wanted everything about him. So many years of wanting and now he had it? Alexei kissing him, publicly, still startled him like a jumpscare when it happened, but he settled and melted into it every time. Dustin pulled away from the kiss with disbelief over the current state of his life.

To spare poor, patient Randall from their insufferable sappiness, they headed down to the water. Alexei was already in the waves by the time Dustin caught up with his rush ahead, always competitive for no reason and eager to prove that the frigid ocean temperatures were no match for his steely nerve and his Russian blood. Due to the storms, the water was cold. Not as icy as their ill-fated late May ocean dip, but the first few steps into the shallows were a shock to Dustin’s calves. Dustin waded out, arms bent out of the water until submerging them was unavoidable and stopped once he reached the chest high waves. As Dustin adjusted to the temperature, Alexei did a leisurely backstroke against the current and then completely flipped underwater, showing off like some seal behind aquarium glass. Still in the shallows, Dustin dug his feet into the sand underfoot to brace against the whipping waves, churned up from the bad weather. He flinched when Alexei breached the water and shook his wet hair until it was still dripping, but not plastered to his skull, splattering the cold water all over Dustin’s dry shoulders and face.

These were the early days, where limits were tested and small fantasies were enacted. How many times had he and Alexei swam in the ocean, where they shoved and jumped on each other? Innocent, mostly. Just goofing around like guys do, trying to grab the other and push each other underwater, constantly in contact. It was all fun, all a joke. Alexei slipped underwater again and resurfaced directly in Dustin's personal space, mischief painted across his smirk. Dustin pounced before Alexei could grab him first. He caged in Alexei and wound his arms around his neck, immediately rewarded by strong hands that circled his back and carded down slim hips, holding him afloat in the drift. Dustin grinned like the gull who got the fish, stole the fries. Smug and satisfied. His backlog of intruding thoughts were being willed into existence and put into practice. Alexei easily complied. He was not a difficult sell.

“Don’t you dare f*cking throw me,” Dustin threatened as Alexei’s mirthful expression remained a danger, staring down each other nearly nose to nose. He tapped fingers underwater against Dustin’s sides, then playfully grabbed him as if to toss him under.

Dustin gasped and kneed him in instant reaction, but remained upright. A wet finger brushed his lips as he protested, accompanied by Alexei’s loud shushing.

“Won’t throw you. Promise.” He re-looped his arms around Dustin's back, holding him close in apology for his joke. “This is good. Only ‘cause you are warm.”

“Oh, you admit the ocean’s pretty f*cking cold, huh?”

“No, never say that! Just… is nice.”

Dustin adjusted his grip, holding on loose and relaxed. He tipped his neck back to wet his hair and caught Alexei watching him with wide eyes, dark with something new.

“Hey,” Alexei voiced with a dazed, tentative smile. “Thinking so much. You are having that face.”

“I used to imagine this, is all. Every time we’d come out to swim. Sorry if that’s totally f*cking pathetic.”

He could admit those things now, tell Alexei what he liked, what he wanted. It got easier every time he spoke long held truths. He’d spent his entire life flustered and hot over this man. It was time to attempt to return the favor.

“Love that you can pick me up and stuff.” At the admission, Alexei readjusted his hold on Dustin, pulling him that much closer in the water.

“You like that I’m so strong.” His voice was low, but it was clear that he was angling for joking rather than preening. His arms supported Dustin’s legs as he spun them once in the water. All those flexing muscles. Show off. Dustin loved it.

He liked it when guys were bigger than him, when they could manhandle him a little. He wasn't weak, wasn't that small. But the thought appealed. Maybe it was ingrained into him from growing up with Alexei, projecting all of his specific fantasies onto every other male he found attractive, always measuring them up against specimen zero.

“Yup. f*cking hot.”

Alexei beamed, a little surprised but growing confident, as if Dustin hadn't made out with him multiple times since they’d gotten together and reiterated again and again, I want you, I want you .

“Yeah? Say more nice things.”

It was addicting, telling the truth. Admitting things you’ve held deep for so long. It benefitted him in no way to continue holding back. Alexei already knew how he felt. They were dating , for f*ck’s sake. If he was to progress and get what he wanted, keeping his mouth shut was useless. Alexei could handle it. Or he could run away. Maybe it was time to admit if the latter was the case, better now than later.

“Alright, f*ck it. You want to know what I really think about you?” Alexei emphatically nodded his head, still grinning like a cartoon. “Good. Because, f*ck . You’re so f*cking hot, man. I just. God, you pick me up all the f*cking time like it’s nothing and that drives me so f*cking crazy.”

“Oh. Yeah?”

“When we were at the Blue Lagoon? Dude. Almost f*cking jumped you right there . That’s where people book to f*ck their prom dates – I mean, not in the literal pool, but what was I supposed to think? Are you kidding me? I almost gave away the whole damn game right there.”

He broke eye contact and glanced down at the water, but was forced back upwards with fingers at his chin, tipping his face back to look at Alexei. f*ck, that’s what he was talking about. Make him look. Keep me where you want me. Do you want me?

“Snowy, Snowy. Ughhhh.” He looked like his brain was melting. “This is, wow. You mean these things?”

“You’re a f*cking tease and you have no idea what you’ve been doing to me for f*cking… forever.”

“How long is forever?” Alexei asked, grin slipping into something serious and on edge.

He wanted the truth? Dustin was feeling generous. Honest. Addicted to every reaction.

“I’ve had a crush on you…” he paused, took a breath, and admitted in a rush, “freshman year. Freshman f*cking year.”

“Wha – You’re kidding with me? What?”

Dustin rolled his eyes, but continued to hold the gaze that Alexei demanded. The fingers holding his jaw tightened. Alexei looked like he’d walked into a wall.

“We were… fifteen?!”

“I know. I was there.”

Dustin traced a finger over the clasp of the thin chain Alexei wore, fixing it back to center, behind his neck. He felt free.

There was a noticeable shift, like the overcast weather that hung over the entire town, biding its time. They couldn't quite feel or hear the thunder yet, but it lingered. Maybe it wasn't smart to be out in the water with an approaching storm, but a new transfixion rooted them in the sea. Alexei stared down, really looking at him, like he was drinking in the distilled essence of his friend through the power of sight alone, like this was the first time he really, truly looked. Actually allowed himself to entertain what everything meant. The longer he said nothing, the more pronounced was the heat splashed across Dustin’s face, so jarring and hot contrasted against the borderline frigid ocean water. Alexei looked at Dustin like he finally saw him, felt the click that had been trying and trying to latch – initially slotted into place.

“Now you ‘have a face.’ What are you think –”

“Stop talking,” he said in a rush of breath and kissed him.

It was nothing like the passion on the pier – sudden and shocking and desperate, bodies reacting on pure adrenaline like crashing waves. This was exploratory, the press of lips and slide of tongue silently saying I know you, I know you, I need to know you. Alexei let Dustin half slip from the grip of his arms, knocked out of his strong hold with an unexpectedly large wave crest. Reality ebbed around them, standing that close to shore. Their mouths were tinged with sea salt, wetter as the water splashed. Alexei’s mouth against Dustin’s neck mapped a path up to the sensitive stretch beneath his ear. His mouth felt scalding hot compared to the water. Every new sensation made Dustin’s toes curl into the sand. It was slow, it was kissing simply to indulge in each other. They'd kissed hello and lingered on goodbye and both had felt strange, too new. They'd kissed for the first time like there was something to prove – and there had been. Big declarations and that rush of new emotions. Actions instead of impossible words. Here, they existed, explored. Away from the world, away from land itself. Sweet. Slow. Nothing strange at all. The thunder cracked above, distant, but formidable.

With great reluctance, Alexei pulled back. "Thunder. Not so smart being out here in storm."

"Sounds far away,” Dustin protested, voice already sounding wrecked. Alexei smiled at his effect on his friend. His – what was he now? Didn’t matter. His. That was all.

“Come on. Getting back to beach. Race you?”

Before Dustin could make a convincing case to continue indulging in their solitary, wonderful little pocket of ocean, Alexei ducked down and paddled back to shore until the water was too shallow for a man of his size to swim. Dustin half-assed his way through his wake in the breakers and smiled despite himself as Alexei gloated and self-congratulated his meaningless victory. This was the man that had stolen his heart. This was the fool who had invaded every corner of his mind, now and then and for as long as Dustin could remember.

They’d beaten the rain, but only for so long. It poured and poured, torrential, as they stood in brightly colored, heavy plastic ponchos underneath the awning of the loading area for the pirate ship ride. Since Mariner’s never truly shut down, the supervisors and managers braved the rain while the underlings either sat it out in the breakroom, guarded rides from determined tourists stupidly out in the storm, or got sent home. The latter were the lucky ones. A few rides like the walk--through haunted house, the bumper cars, and the Music Express were running, with minimal guests, since they were covered or housed in small buildings. Ridiculous teenagers wandered the piers, dead set on making the most of their beach vacation even during a thunderstorm. It was either that or sit in their motels rooms with their families. Dustin and Alexei had little to do – never a positive situation when their primary daily goal was running out the clock.

“Hey, you think is possible we can hotbox ponchos?”

“Dude, what? That’s kind of a genius idea.”

The standard for genius meant different things to different people.

“You bring something?”

Dustin sighed, disappointed by his lack of foresight. “f*cking nothing on me. Knew f*ck all would be happening tonight. sh*t.”

In the past few days, he hadn’t felt the urge to smoke up. Slipped his mind. He’d been… preoccupied with a good mood. For some reason.

“Eh, is ok. Probably not work. Smoke would leak out bottom, not good hotbox. Not as good as games shed.”

“It could work. Put our hoods together to get maximum air saturation. Smoke rises, ya know?”

“Very true, very true. Always so smart.”

He glanced around, scanning the vicinity through the sheets of heavy rain, and pulled Dustin towards him by the strings of his hood. He smiled through their slow kiss. Neither had anything in their systems, no drug or drink to traverse their veins, but that swirling, dizzy sensation went straight to Dustin’s head. A rush, a surge. Like throwing back the first shot or that deep inhale to start the cherry, holding your breath until your lungs strained. Kissing Alexei was like that first breath of fresh air while the world underfoot swooped and shifted. Dustin hummed into the kiss, safe and dry under their awning on their little patch of boardwalk, out of the rain. It rained and rained and Dustin did not give a single f*ck about his soaked through sneakers and socks and freezing, exposed calves. Alexei’s knobby knees knocked into his thighs, sliding against him as he was backed into the wall of the enclave, slick plastic sliding against his own poncho. The image in his head forced him to break out a laugh, imagining their two bodies in those awful plastic green sheets as they melded into one shapeless monstrosity.

He voiced as much to Alexei when the man gave him a puzzling look at his quiet snickers. Alexei untangled his arms and legs and leaned against the side of the loading dock arch, arm braced against the wall and fist to his face, contemplative. Dustin settled close to steal his body heat. The man was like his own living space heater and the relentless rain became damn cold as the sun went down. Heavy clouds had oppressed the coastline into darkness far earlier than summer’s usual long light. The sunset had barely made an effort.

“Hey. Thinking you look so sexy in rain poncho.”

“Dude, shut the f*ck up,” he laughed and shoved at Alexei’s chest.

Alexei shoved him back, not very hard. “Mean it. You pull off neon green so good.”

“Thanks, bud. Glad to know disgusting, acid colored plastic gets you all hot and bothered.”

“Do me a spin.” Dustin pushed off the wall and obliged, playing along. Alexei rubbed his chin, serious, as he judged Dustin’s full-bodied turn, who committed to the joke with a smoldering look shot over his shoulder, a model in the world’s strangest magazine shoot. He held his hood tight like a babe in the woods, exaggerated pouty lips fighting back more laughter as Alexei, of course, snapped a few photos. “Yes. So hot. I’d for sure f*ck you in poncho.”

“Sweetest f*cking sh*t you say to me, babe.”

“Is truth. I would. Really doing it for me. Think about horrible squeaky plastic sound from poncho while we do it. Oh, yeah .”

Dustin dropped from his latest pose with a scoff and knocked back against the wall as Alexei carried on mimicking terrible imitations of what he thought plastic sounded like as it rubbed together. Alexei snatched the hand that attempted to cover his mouth to stop him. He held it close as they re-crowded together, absorbing Dustin’s involuntary shiver from the cold of the rain.

“Something is seriously wrong in your brain,” Dustin sighed, long-suffering, as Alexei began giggling at the squeaking plastic once more.

“What if this what I’m into? Making my partner wear really ugly plastic thing when we f*ck? Would you leave me, Snowy? So judgey. I thought you liked me! No matter what!”

“Dude, why do all of our conversations go so wildly off the rails. Jesus f*cking Christ...”

“Maybe I'm serious.”

Alexei must have been truly, indescribably bored if he was committing this hard to his inane bit. If that was the game, Dustin was ready to play. Flirting felt so much better with an active recipient, giving and taking.

“Yeah? If that’s what you want, take me out behind the game sheds and f*ck me in this atrocious thing. Not exactly how I imagined our first time but if that’s how it’s gotta be – let’s go. Nut up and prove it, jackass,”

“Psssh. Better than hand jobs in bumper cars after hours,” he teased. Which was an entirely accurate chirp. Before everything so drastically changed and when Dustin was a more pathetic version of himself, it was unfortunate anecdote during his self-inflicted run as a f*cking asshole. “I'm at least take you to employee bathroom to make love. I’m considerate lover.”

“You don’t make love in f*cking rain ponchos at an amusem*nt park anywhere you decide to go. And for the record, Julia insisted on doing it in the bumper car that time. Not my idea.”

Steady rain sounded so loud in the empty spaces. It was static. The soothing sort of white noise. Dustin caught Alexei staring at him again, with the same puzzling face he’d been wearing, on and off, like he was trying to bore through his skull and read his mind. Find out what was nestled beyond the surface.

“You can ask me anything, you know that?” Dustin said, voice soft, gentle. Like the one Alexei so often used on him to soothe him on so many occasions. He smoothed the wet hair back from Alexei’s forehead, letting his palm rest on his cheek as those deep brown eyes slipped closed at the contact, contented hum low in his throat.

“Snowy? You deserve better than bumper cars. Or bathroom. Ok? You will see. Treat you so good, moya lyubov. No more of settle for that. You listen, ok? Deserve better. I give you.”

f*ck. His face heated instantly under the intensity of that gaze. “What did that mean?”

“You figure out,” Alexei said in a rush of breath and followed it up with a quick peck. He turned away, suddenly intent on working on the control panel that they were supposed to be servicing in the operations booth. He didn’t say much else other than half-mumbled commentary on his mechanical fiddling. Hot and bothered to the literal cold shoulder. Dustin was trapped on his perpetual emotional rollercoaster and braced himself for another hill and eventual drop. Alexei didn't touch him for the remainder of the shift.

Wet sneakers squeaked on the tile in the employee room and added to the mass of dripped puddles around the floor. He steadied Alexei’s lumbering stride as he headed to his own locker and lingered on the other’s waist, hand braced to help ensure his dear clumsy friend didn't slip on the slick floor, but he knew it was a flimsy excuse just to touch him. Alexei, kind and classy, hip-checked him with a laugh and continued past, tossing his lanyard into his locker and his poncho over a nearby chair, disinterested in taking the short walk down the hall to hang it up to dry property. Dustin took the time and twenty extra paces out of the room to not be a lazy asshole. He was stopped by Randall, rambling on with too much chipperness for a night as gloomy as that one had been. The bonfire obviously wasn't happening, but a bunch of folks were relocating to Randall's place.

“You want to hit up the party?”

“Where? Everyone still go? Crazy. Who wants sit around wet beach?”

“Nah, man. Mandy and Vitali apparently got people together at Thirdy’s place earlier once they got sent home. If you’re interested.”

“Sure,” he shrugged as he played around on his phone, distracted. “If you want.”

He shut his locker with more force than the situation warranted and strode across the room with tension settling into his shoulders, a stiff march towards the exit. Dustin followed, face scrunched in deep contemplation at Alexei’s retreating back, out the door and into the night. What the f*ck was going on?

Alexei was far enough ahead that with the impressive stride of his legs, Dustin half-jogged to catch up. The thunder rumbled overhead, rain not yet finished. It started to sprinkle after too short of a break in the clouds. The boardwalk was darker than usual with most food stalls and game booths and rides long shut down due to the weather. Long shadows from the skeletal wooden bones of the coaster crisscrossed overhead and cast over their bodies in a funhouse mirror reflection of the pier. The human form dipped in semblance of a nightmare, rushing forward through midnight hallucinations.

Dustin stomped through a large puddle, disturbing the roller coaster shadow rippling across the water. He further soaked his already over-saturated shoes and splashed against Alexei’s legs as he attempted to catch up to his warpath. Finally in reach, he grabbed Alexei's arm and pulled him to a complete stop, jerking him back mid-stride. The rain picked up as they stood in the shadows, adding to the cold that seeped bone-deep. Didn’t matter. Barely registered.

“Dustin! Driving me crazy!”

Dustin let go immediately, jerking from the whiplash and confusion that washed over him in an icy wave worse than the steady rain. What happened? What had he done? How had he ruined it all so suddenly?

He stepped back, eyes wide, not knowing what to say. Alexei lunged forward, grabbing him by the shoulders, and backed him against the wall, under an awning and out of the rain. He slouched down, forehead pressed to Dustin's as droplets of rainwater dripped from his bangs onto Dustin's cheeks and stunned, parted mouth.

“You drive me crazy.” Dustin made to speak but Alexei stopped him before he could get a word out. “So much lately… can’t think. Distracted. I'm think of nothing else! Just you. What are you doing to me? You – everything flipped.”

“Uh, sorry?” He stumbled out, nearly under his breath.

He'd assumed he'd made a misstep – thought Alexei was upset with him for some reason. This was something else entirely, clear by the way Alexei ran his hands down from his shoulders to his waist, holding him close, almost possessive. Desperate. Dustin couldn't breathe. This was new.

“I never – you tell me so many things, change everything. Making me want blurt out all my stupid thoughts and I’m scared I will scare you away. We say, ‘oh, nothing change. Is the same with a little extra.’ No. Is not.”

“Don’t hold back. Please don’t f*cking hold back. You can't scare me away.”

“You really wanting go to party?” Alexei asked, dripping with indication that going there was the last thing on his mind. Only one person, apparently, occupied that space.

“I don’t want to go to the f*cking party,” Dustin said, lips catching on Alexei’s as each word was spoken.

Alexei readjusted his grip, one big hand splayed against Dustin’s neck, keeping him in place, keeping him focused on his eyes while his other hand slid under his rucked--up shirt where he'd been pulling at and fidgeting with the hem.

“Me either. Stay here. Just want spend time, only you.”

“I don’t want to stay here.”

“Why not,” he pressed Dustin harder against the wall with almost a whine in his voice, almost a pout across his mouth.

Almost, for he didn't hold the expression long enough to scrutinize before burying his face in Dustin's neck, breathing deeply and presenting a compelling argument to remain where there were. His lips absently kissed a path along Dustin’s neck like he was trying to collect every drop of rain that lingered on his skin.

“Because we’re adults with houses. And beds. A lot warmer and more comfortable than whatever’s about to happen between us out here in the f*cking freezing rain, bud.”

Alexei snuffed a laugh and lifted his face. He sealed their lips, kissing Dustin with both hands against Dustin’s neck, hands sliding into his hair, like he was mapping a promise, securing his mark. It wasn't without passion, but it was something different, something serious. He pulled away and stepped back, shuffling in place as to shake his brain back into some semblance of rational thinking.

"What are you thinking?" Dustin asked after Alexei continued to stare at him with the face of a man holding everything back. It looked familiar.

“I live closer.”

One day they'd learn that it was perfectly acceptable to behave normally and that not everything ran on a powder keg and a spark applied to a tightrope. Lightning crashed overhead as the downpour continued. They shot off from the dry safety of their awning and sprinted through the maze of stalls and tables and ride barriers. The wet boardwalk was slippery underfoot as they darted from the pier, across the main drag, and into the street. Alexei had dropped Dustin's hand and ran harder, causing Dustin to fall behind in the wake of his longer strides, jumping over stretches of huge puddles that gathered along sidewalk and street. He didn't clear all of them, splashing them both in the rush to get out of the storm and somewhere dry and warm.

Nearly out of breath and with burning calves from the insanity of their sprint to the neighborhood, they reached Alexei's place. They were completely drenched, and in Alexei’s case, partially covered in mud from where he’d slipped while leaping off a curb into someone’s partially-under construction property.

As soon as the front door was wrenched open, Alexei threw himself back onto the rickety old couch swing in the entry room with Dustin following him down, chest to chest, body in his lap. The old piece of furniture creaked under their combined weight and the rusty springs and hinges that allowed it to sway in place threatened to snap as they kissed and kissed on the swaying couch. It had never been like this between them, not yet. Stolen kisses and wandering hands, making out behind the shed during a recent shift. Exchanging a kiss here and there in between rounds of the mindless video game played a few afternoons after they’d gotten together. Lingering presses of mouth and soft sighs as they parted for the night, saying goodbye and purposefully leaving before bed. That all had been amazing – life-altering for Dustin, and he hoped the same for Alexei. Now, entwined and heated and dripping with rainwater in the foyer of Alexei’s condo, it felt like a beginning, a prelude to something more.

“Must you do this at the doorway?”

Dustin jumped back at the irritated voice of Polina, the youngest cousin. She stood there in her sour expression, neon umbrella half open at her sight, arm braced on her hip with all the perfected annoyance of a pampered and spoiled little princess. Alexei shot her a look and he got the same one right back.

“Why it matter? My house, too.”

“I see stupid Olesa and Greg go at it all over this place. Not you, too. Bring your hook-ups to the bedroom like a civilized person.”

“Polly, I’ve known you since you were eleven years old,” Dustin added.

“Even worse.”

She popped open the umbrella and strutted outside, headed off to her white Lexus, actually parked properly on the street with no tired halfway on the curb or scratches on the pristine paint. Unlike her cousin, currently sitting with a boy on his lap and sulking at her retreated from from behind the screen door.

Alexei stood from the old couch, making it creak loudly from the strained release, and deposited Dustin from his lap. He closed the front door, blocking out the sound of the rain and stopping the wind from blowing water into the room. Suddenly less charged and frantic after the interruption, they headed into the kitchen to grab a few drinks before settling in the living room. It was so easy to slide from emotionally tense conversations on the boardwalk to a needy moment the second they got inside the house, but with the momentum slowed yet again, Dustin settled unsure and antsy onto the living room couch. Alexei made to sit down but winced once he saw the state of his pants and shoes, still coated in the mud from when he fell.

He dipped down to give Dustin a quick kiss and word that he’d only be a few minutes changing. Dustin wanted to protest and make a comment chiding how needless that was, if his projected trajectory for the evening was anything remotely close to what he thought was happening earlier. Was this a test? Was he supposed to give Alexei a moment and then follow him down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom? Was this the actuality of several detailed fantasies he’d imagined over the years?

Despite the signals and potential, Dustin remained on the couch in the living room and waited for Alexei to rejoin him.

12:11AM
Kenny 🔥
> heyyyy
> u up???

It was wrong to read it. He knew that. Something hot and ugly rose from Dustin’s gut at the sight of that horrible little flame emoji light up across the screen as he sat on the couch waiting for his best-friend-something-more to return. Alexei’s phone remained where he’d tossed it on the coffee table. Alexei was upstairs. Dustin sat on the couch, not texting him. Someone else was texting Alexei. Someone familiar enough to get a stupid little symbol next to his name. Kenny. Kenny?

Beach yoga.

f*ck.

He hated himself so much for doing so, but he lunged forward and pressed the screen to light it up and read. The idiot never used a passcode.

12:14AM
Kenny 🔥
> im bored af
> my roommate is out
> or I could come there
> come anywhere really lol idc
> check your snap
> 😈

He didn’t mean to open those as well. Well, yes he did. The phone – not his – was in his hands and he’d opened the text message chain of his own free will. Looked at the slu*tty mirror shot and dick pic that followed out of his own choosing as well. He clicked the screen to black and set it down on the table, screen to the chipped wood panel, and waited, hating himself. Hating Kenny as well. He debated responding back with something scathing and rude, blocking his number and deleting all evidence from the evening’s correspondence in a hasty cover-up mission of epicly violating proportions. He wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t. He was insane and jealous and terrified of losing Alexei and almost picked the phone back up when Alexei walked back into the room, clean and dry clothes replacing the dirt. Dustin belonged there, feeling lower than mud.

“Much better, not want get couch all gross, cousins kill me even more. Here, bring for you.”

He sat down heavy onto the couch and wrapped Dustin in an oversized, fluffy beach towel. Orange, with little smiling suns all over it. Orange, like the flame next to another boy’s name. He dropped a soft pair of sweatpants onto Dustin’s lap as well, cheery and kind and sweet and innocent to the fact that the man who loved him, and the man who he might be falling for in return, didn’t trust him at all.

“What is wrong? You look –”

“I f*cking read it! Sorry. I’m – f*ck me, man. sh*t’s f*cked.” He tossed the towel from his shoulders and stood from the couch as Alexei stared at him like he was spouting three heads. “I don’t know why I’m such a f*cking asshole. I just…”

“What are you –”

Dustin picked up the phone and thrust it at his face. Alexei took it from his hands and turned on the screen. He saw new, unread messages and scrolled through, piecing together what the f*ck was happening.

“Ah. Kenny.”

“f*ck! Yeah.” Dusitn stopped his pacing and waited to be screamed at, accused. Anything. “Ok?”

“What’s wrong, solnyshko?”

“Why aren’t you mad? I f*cking read your texts.”

“You wanting me mad? Ok, you’re asshole for read my phone. Can you sit down? Please,” he gestured to the vacated spot on the couch, bored.

He sat back down and waited for the drop that never came. Fine, he’d f*ck it up himself.

“I hate that you’re still talking to other people. If you want me to be honest.”

“Snowy, snowy. I’m not talk to people. I’m dating you? I can’t stop Kenny send me thirst message. But I’m not delete him. Still is friend. I don’t answer for booty call. We’re not f*ck anymore. He sends snap? What are pictures, tell me what you see when you snoop.”

“Why are you being so calm?” Alexei looked at him expectantly. “You know what the pictures were. Why aren’t you mad at me?”

“Because I already knowing you are jealous mess, always.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, why fight? Just don’t read again. I see you feel jealous, I’m just make sure you know is stupid to feel.”

Dustin bit at his own lip, forcibly stopping himself from saying anything that would dig him deeper into his self-inflicted grave of shame and self-pity. Something was terribly wrong with him fundamentally as a person. And it seemed like Alexei didn’t care. He knew him, for better and for worse, even if Dustin felt like the worse outweighed the better.

“What you worry about, make you read? Think I’m not want you? Think I want someone else? No.” He clipped a finger against Dustin’s head, hard. Dustin winced but otherwise accepted the knock. He needed it. “Just you. Not see anyone else. Not need anyone else. You tell me you want me – here we are.”

“Are you sure? We never really talked about being exclusive and –”

His back hit the couch cushions the same time that his head did, with Alexei poised above him, big hands pressing his shoulders down with a dark glint to his eyes.

“We talk about this. You hear what you want to feel sad. I’m make you not sad.”

Dustin squirmed underneath him, legs trapped under the strong press of thighs on either side of his own, pinning him in place. f*ck. He felt the heat rise up his neck.

“How are you gonna make me?” Dustin responded, voice low and challenging.

“Tell me you want me all to yourself,” Alexei said, voice deep and low. He lowered himself further, fully covering Dustin with his body, pressed together so close that his next words rumbled directly against Dustin’s chest, like his voice was somewhere inside Dustin’s own lungs. “Say it. Tell me you want me, only for you.”

“I want you. All for myself.”

“Good. Is what you have.”

With a feral grin, Alexei closed the distance between them, hot mouth soft over Dustin’s own, almost too gentle and teasing for their heated exchange of declarations. He kissed feather-light and infuriating, pulling back each time Dustin tried to chase his lips and kiss him harder. Once Dustin gave in and let his head fall back to the couch with an exaggerated motion and accompanying whine, mouth open in a desperate pant, like he’d let all the vertebrae of his neck destabilize and melt, then and only then did Alexei cave and really kiss him. He was fully in control and knew he had Dustin completely under his spell, at his mercy.

The room was cool from the rain and the wind just outside the open window in the living room, but the air shifted as Alexei and Dustin crashed back together, hungry mouths meeting in a kiss, mouths open and hot as they gave in and stopped pretending. Alexei shifted from his positing bracing Dustin’s shoulders against the cushions to grab at his hair, his scalp, and none too gently, forcing a moan between the two. He was clutching Dustin so tightly that he could barely catch his breath as they kissed and kissed, but Dustin didn’t care. He let Alexei move him around, hold him in place as their hips caught and rocked, grinding together as their tongues mimicked the motions, barely kissing as new pleasure coiled up their spines. They hadn’t reached a point like this yet, barely scratching the surface of what Dustin wanted – and Alexei, too, now that he’d caught up to speed, jumping several paces ahead, wanted it all. Desperately.

He flipped them with somewhat clumsy limbs and a lack of grace, unwilling to put too much distance between their mouths and hips as Dustin was repositioned to close him in from a vantage point on top. Alexei smiled into the next kiss as he slid his large hands down from Dustin’s back to his ass, grabbing to pull him close, rocking upwards with smug success at getting what he wanted.

“Yeah? This your goal?” Dustin teased, nipping at Alexei’s jaw and neck as he reached back to cover one of Alexei’s with his own, goading him into squeezing harder, giving him permission to do anything he wanted to him. “Touch me, baby. f*cking touch me however you want.”

“Don’t want come in pants on couch like sixteen year old,” Alexei groaned as Dustin shifted over him again and again, denim against soft sweats. The friction was amazing, but not nearly enough.

“We missed sixteen, wanted to do this with you when we were sixteen. Fuuuucking hell, ‘Lex.” Dustin nearly finished there on the spot as the hand that had been palming his ass moved to grope at his dick, playing with the zipper before he even registered the change in position.

“You never call me before, like that. I like.” He pulled Dustin’s mouth back to his, licking into his mouth deep before pulling away again with a pleased hum. “Liking a lot.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want, Lex. That’s what you want?”

“I want – bedroom. Not out here.”

They ended up in Alexei’s bedroom with relative ease, mostly from the snap decision by Alexei to launch himself from the couch and rush for the bedroom like a kid on Christmas. Dusting figured he should be flattered by the eagerness. What he didn’t expect was the way Alexei had gotten a head start, abandoning his sweats and top before even reaching his stupid pair of mattresses he used as an excuse for a bed. The man was a multi-millionaire and didn’t own a bed frame. Dustin was in love with him.

Alexei laid there, stripped of his clothes faster than Dustin could react enough to really appreciate watching him disrobe, and rendered the other man speechless. And not for the lack of clothing and all the beautiful, tanned skin on display. No, there were other things to distract and stare at.

“You want join me? Or just look at me? I get it. I like watching sometimes. What you want me to do?”

Dustin, still recovering from whiplash, gulped a breath, and fixed his eyes at a glaringly neon point of focus. “Uh. What the f*ck are you f*cking wearing?”

“Not wear anything, what you mean?” Dustin groaned and fell back against the door. “Oh. What, you hate?”

The obnoxious, tiny lime green briefs in question were causing Dustin physical pain. They were so bright, and so, obscenely tight. It was not an entirely shocking article, considering some of the man’s typical fashion choices, but in this context? Dustin didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Or do. And the man walked around wearing that sort of sh*t under his clothing? Dustin has no idea. His brain was shattering. It wasn't surprising, honestly, knowing the man. Blatant reality was a constant plight upon Dustin's life. His sanity. His resting heart rate. He looked ridiculous, but, in an unfair truth – so f*cking hot.

“Hate is an interesting choice,” Dustin admitted in a strained voice.

Alexei ran a teasing finger along his own waistband, dragging Dustin’s eye line along with it. He was so hard, and covered himself with one big hand as Dustin stared and stared, since he was allowed. Since this was happening.

“You hate so much, get rid of them,” he whispered, so sultry, so deep.

Dustin nodded, head heavy, but he found himself suddenly unable to truly take the plunge. If only they hadn't been interrupted back when adrenaline and flight from the rain led them to their moment in the foyer, momentum steering their passions, then he wouldn’t be faced with sensory overload. Instead, he lingered against the door and gaped at the expanse of Alexei’s entire being, spread out for him to do with as he pleased.

“Actually, not yet. You go first,” Alexei announced, matter-of-fact. “Strip. I want to watch.”

"Are you f*cking serious?"

"Da. Do it slow," he instructed and leaned back with his arms crossed behind his head, the picture of smug satisfaction.

Dustin's eyes darted from the content grin to the gentle back and forth shake of Alexei's bent left knee, legs spread clearly in invitation, waiting for him to perfectly fit in the anticipated space, though not quite yet. Alexei gestured his free hand flippantly, indicating for Dustin to get on with it, start removing an article of clothing. He wondered if he'd feel calmer or less exposed with music, or if that cliche would worsen the ridiculousness of an impromptu strip tease. His current soundtrack consisted of the whirring of the window fan and the reverb of a stereo's bass pounding far off and muffled from a nearby house. The inherent eroticism of the sound of his zipper was jarring, buzzed against his fingers in those few seconds as the teeth pulled apart. He watched Alexei's eyes track the movement, scrutinizing the display put on for only him. Alexei licked his lips. Fire. Dustin’s skin burned, contrasted with the cold, rain soaked clothing still clinging to his body.

It was like Alexei had gained access to all of his long-stored fantasies and had studied each and every one. He was the picture of Dustin’s late night dreams and daytime distractions, laid out on his mattresses in those green briefs, stroking and teasing himself to the image, and only the image, of Dustin just existing there, hoping to see more, feel more. Dustin had imagined this many times, in so many different configurations. Reality made his head spin, his blood rush.

Slow. f*ck slow. Those big brown eyes barely blinked as he shimmied out of his tight, cut off shorts, careful not to give it all away at once and look stupid standing there, bare with his shirt still plastered to his chest. Alexei muttered some words of appreciation under his breath, enjoying the view as Dustin adjusted himself, gripping his dick through his substantially less-colorful boxer briefs to momentarily relieve the ache that had been ever-present since the moment Alexei told him to take him all for himself.

He needed to feel Alexei underneath his body again and press against him, give himself over. They could try this ridiculous performance again sometime when the desperation wasn't boiling his blood. His wet shirt followed without finesse, ripped over his head and slapped to the carpet with a loud, wet splat. He let out one quick, deep breath, allowed Alexei to rake his eyes up from toe to head once, then crashed.

Dustin had never had to imagine how it felt to be wrapped up in Alexei’s arms or how it felt to be completely enveloped by that strong, warm body. He’d suffered a lifetime with that burden of firsthand knowledge. It was something else entirely to be welcomed into those arms with need . Imagination paled, and all those fantasies drained away like a wash of lingering colors on his paint brushes in the sink. Fantasy existed lifeless now that he had the real thing, had the reality of Alexei’s body under his, skin to skin, friction and wet, deep kisses pressed over and over to his mouth and neck and anywhere. Their mingled, panting breath was so fast and hot that it made his head spin, barely a pause taken to catch their breath before lips resealed and a tongue caressed. Toes curled from the slide and from the biting pull of teeth against his lip, from how hard Alexei’s hand pressed against the side of his neck while the other worked its way down his chest. They rolled to their sides, parentheses bracketing their world of soft gasps and roaming hands. Dustin shifted just enough so that Alexei could finally work off his remaining garment, then did the same for himself, tossing both of their briefs somewhere to join the overall mess of the room. Alexei grabbed at Dustin’s thigh and gripped at the curve of his ass, coaxing Dustin to hitch his leg over his, giving him room to work while also letting him thrust into the sweaty crease of Dustin’s hip. At the first touch, unhesitant and purposeful, Dustin was lightheaded. He drowned in blinding white behind his closed eyes, mouth parted, and let himself be manhandled ragdoll-like onto his back.

For the first time in a long time, Dustin thought of nothing else but the pleasure and the heat and the slide of lips and the feeling of Alexei’s hand wrapped around his co*ck, tight and trapped between their bodies. The bliss of an empty mind. He moaned into Alexei’s neck at the upstroke, biting and sucking a mark into the sweat and whatever saliva slick skin was within reach of his mouth. Alexei muttered a chorus of rapid nonsense above his head – it all sounded underwater to Dustin, too consumed to focus. The words were sweet but tinged with unfiltered want and need, filth wrapped in a pretty bow. The deep vibrations of his voice often made Dustin come undone in normal times, though in the privacy of his own mind, but now he found himself too shameless to hide a single thing.

The sounds he made might embarrass him after everything was over, so easy affected by an honestly sloppy hand job, but f*ck it. Alexei’s hands were perfect. His body pressed to his was hot and slick, delivering the most delightful friction to his already oversensitive skin from the thick hair on his chest. He’d never lacked for pleasure and sex whenever the f*ck he’d wanted it, if he’d wanted it, over the past months, but god, he missed men. Hairy and angular, boxing him in, unashamed to maneuver him however they wanted his body to move. So he moaned and swore into Alexei’s neck and tried to return the favor as best he could as the man wrecked his every sense.

“Hey. Dustin. Ok if I go down on you? Want to try that. Good?” Alexei announced, suddenly articulate even as he stroked both of their co*cks together in his amazingly large hands. Dustin responded with a loud and broken noise that sounded like guh, f*ck and tongued at the soft skin under Alexei’s jawline. “Will be good. I treat you so good, promise you.”

Dustin could keep kissing him forever and almost considered keeping Alexei there, attached to his lips, but a far better future awaited. Alexei loomed above him as he propped himself up on elbows. Sweat dripped from his wild hair onto Dustin’s face as he smiled down, so feral. He lumbered backwards and swore as his knees slipped off the edge of his mattress and hit the floor. It was a short drop but he cursed as if it had been several feet.

“Bud. All good? The f*ck did you do?” Dustin asked from his vantage point on the bed with a gravel-like, raw sounding voice. He strained his neck to peer down at Alexei, looking over his own dick blocking the view. Despite the halt and bizarre diversion, he was no less hard. Would take a lot to slow him down at that point.

“All good, no worries. Clumsy,” Alexei reassured, pressing soothing kisses to Dustin’s shin, the corner of his knee, and upwards as he repositioned himself.

Dustin’s own swearing rivaled Alexei’s clumsy outburst the moment Alexei’s mouth was on him. He let his head fall back against the mattress, heels dug in to brace as his back arched.

“f*ck, god. Alexei. f*ck, you’re so f*cking good, of course you f*cking are. Ahh.” Alexei hummed around him, all the way down to the base. “f*ck, feels like I’m gonna f*cking cry.”

He shoved his body forward to spread Dustin’s legs further to bracket his massive shoulders, secretly getting off on testing the limits of that renowned flexibility. One of Dustin’s legs was flung over his shoulder as he repositioned, taking his time, no rush towards the end. He loved that he could bend and stretch Dustin with no complaint, no resistance. Couldn’t wait to see how far he could eventually push that delightful little skill. Call him lazy, but Dustin was far too strung-out and far-gone to do much else but lie there and let Alexei do whatever he wanted with his body as he sucked him down with enthusiasm. Dustin knew he wasn’t going to hold out much longer, though he was greedy to keep Alexei right where he was, as long as the man could stand it. He couldn’t control that much, with the unconscious rolling of his hips chasing the end. One glance down to watch the top of Alexei’s bobbing head and that quick glimpse of his own co*ck disappearing into that red mouth, and he was done. He gave himself over with a reedy whimper as his knees slipped off Alexei’s shoulders, brain whiting out, then black and static.

Every limb felt too heavy to move, suddenly cool as he became overly aware of the pooling sweat on his body, spent and debauched in the most pleasing way. Warmth returned as the mattress pile shifted near his legs. He was left to twitch helplessly as Alexei crawled back up onto the bed and flopped on top of him, knocking the wind out of him.

“You’re f*cking heavy, but come here,” Dustin said, flinging his free arm around Alexei’s back. “Keep me warm.”

Alexei complied with sticky kisses, slow and just as dirty as before his adventurous diversion. Dustin moaned into the kiss, chasing Alexei’s retreating mouth as he tasted himself on his tongue. With all the energy he could muster in his f*cked-out state, he shoved Alexei over to give him space to work. He carded his hand down, lingering on that coarse hair he was so obsessed with, taking his damn time. He shouldn’t tease so much, especially after the incredible spectacle Alexei performed on him, but he adored being allowed to touch and simply feel. He never wanted to stop touching this man, tracing his abs and the crease of his hip. Alexei bit his jaw and groaned as Dustin got close to brushing his neglected arousal, but teased back through the trail of hair below his navel.

“Dustin,” he whined. “So mean. Why you tease me like this? When I’m so nice to you.”

“Sssh. I’m being nice. We have all the time in the world, babe. Just want to enjoy you.”

He pushed at Dustin’s hair, absently messing it up as Dustin procrastinated, a sated man of leisure. “Hey. Tell me if you like? I was good, yes?”

“f*ck yeah, Lex,” he said, testing the name that Alexei had seemed to like so much. He got a lingering kiss and a pleased moan in return after finally putting his hands on Alexei, stroking him slowly. “So f*cking good. Best ever. Want to do that for you.”

He bit at Dustin’s jaw and made a happy little noise in the back of his throat after the statement of praise. Dustin released him and moved to shuffle down the bed and return the favor, but was stopped before he made much progress. Pleased as Alexei was with that train of thought, enough was enough. He caved to drastic demands and covered Dustin’s hand with his own, guiding it back down to his co*ck. No more teasing. He didn’t need long.

“Just hands. I like your hands. Do more another time. Making me crazy.”

“You sure?” Dustin asked, stroking on his own as Alexei let go and left him to go at his own pace. Alexei nodded, locking eyes with Dustin, so f*cking intense. “I really wanted to suck you off.”

He wanted to do more than that. Take him deep until he couldn't breathe, choke on his co*ck, let Alexei use him until he came down his throat, completely at his mercy. But he couldn't say any of that yet. Best to ease your best friend of over a decade plus into how much of a freak you were and how much you wanted him to f*ck your throat until you cried.

"You like this?" Dustin wrapped his hand around the length sliding against his stomach, smearing wetness into the soft hair under his navel. He stroked at a frantic pace, grinning so wide it almost hurt as Alexei panted into his neck, breath heavy and damp against his skin. "This what you need?”

"Yes, yessss. Your hands, Snowy, so nice."

In no time at all, he was spilling over Dustin’s fist with a whine high in his throat, so much quieter than Dustin expected with how loud he was in every other aspect of their lives. Alexei cradled Dustin’s jaw with a firm grip, foreheads touching as his eyes bore into his best friend’s, his something now much more. In every other aspect of his life, he was too loud with a voice booming above the rest. He came with a sigh, a weak catch of voice like there was not enough space to unleash the sound his feelings deserved. Dustin drank the noises down, however soft and sputtering. They kissed and kissed, barely anything more than light touches of lips and the feathered press of tongue as the aftershock of exhaustion won the battle.

He could feel Alexei’s pounding heart beat against his own skin as he came down from the high, a marathon crammed into a very short span of time. A decade of longing and pining and secrets, and Dustin had finally had sex with his best friend and the love of his life. Surreal. A total mind-f*ck of a situation and f*cking surreal.

“Next time you do me first, yeah? Deal?”

Always there with levity. Dustin chuckled and pressed a kiss to his sweaty temple.

“Deal.”

Dustin rolled away to grab something to clean themselves off, likely one of Alexei’s shirts. He threw it back towards where he’d found it and hoped that the entire room was to be considered a loss, praying that the mass of piles around the room would soon head all into the wash. Anyway, he had other things on his mind besides Alexei’s laundry situation, and flopped back onto the mattress. Alexei flung his arm out to draw him over and pull him close. He nearly punched Dustin in the face at the motion. Dustin ducked back before getting decked in the eye. Twice, one of them almost got injured in bed together, now. Par for the course. He cozied up to Alexei’s side, threw a leg over, and let his arms drape across that barrel of a chest he was so damn obsessed with.

What was he supposed to say now? What happens after you finally have sex with the person you’ve been in love with for over a decade?

Alexei beat him to it, like usual, always rushing ahead, leaving him breathless.

“So beautiful, you know. I never –” he leaned in to peck Dustin’s lips once, nose brushing against his cheek with a stunned expression to follow. “Is crazy. Know you so long and I miss this. But, you right here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, for sure. We could have been doing this so long ago.”

“Maybe. I think is better. Better we find our way now. Not sure how to explain.” He stretched onto his back, smiling like the luckiest man on the planet at the ceiling. “More important – Why was that so good?”

“Why was it so good? f*ck off, did you think I was gonna be f*cking terrible in bed?”

Alexei rolled his eyes and rolled back over to kiss his forehead and pat his cheek, ignoring the scowl. “No, I’m meaning… you know what I’m meaning. Is like. Wow. We don’t even know. And that was barely anything.”

“That was more than barely anything, man.”

“I know,” Alexei smiled. He had one arm outstretched, pillowed behind Dustin’s head, and the other propped up his chin as he beamed and reveled in their chat, like kids at a sleepover sharing secrets. “So good. Wait until I actually f*ck you. Maybe make you discover secret of universe.”

“I’m up for it. Willing to test that theory right now.” He shifted his hips closer, demonstrating just how physically interesting that idea sounded.

“Snowy, Snowy. So eager.” He indulged and rolled his hips against Dustin’s for a short moment, answering with his own casual state of arousal, but with no plan to do much more. To be so close was good enough for the moment. “Take our time, not need everything at once. Promise to keep treating you so good. Hey, you want know secret?”

“Absolutely.”

“Really love your arms.”

Dustin snorted a soft laugh, eyes bright and heart full from the admittance.

“Oh, yeah?”

Alexei pulled one of his arms close, over his chest to run his own hand down the bicep, tracing lines of ink and art and tracking his path with mesmerized eyes. His fingers were soft, intentional, and not clumsy at all.

“Your tattoos. Obsessed. Make you look too good, I love that. Is like, is like… I just want my mouth there. Like I want try to lick them off, leave your arm bare.”

“f*ck. You can try.”

It was a bizarre thing to say, but it was the hottest thing anyone had ever said to him in bed. Dustin had to kiss him about it. He pulled back and watched Alexei continue to trace patterns and admire his tattoos and the lines of his modest muscles.

Dustin bit at his shoulder and shifted, lightly shoving Alexei back to lay flat as to use the man’s chest as a place to rest his head. It was his favorite position for when they lounged, but he was always so hesitant to indulge, to pretend too deeply that it meant what he wanted it to mean. Now, it could mean whatever he actually wanted. And he wanted the closeness, the casual intimacy. Sure, they teased brief pleasures in their post-org*smic haze, but even as they lay plastered against one another whilst completely nude, Dustin was content to simply be , to so easily lift his hand and brush Alexei’s hair from his forehead and not dread the potential fallout of being caught halfway through the action, shoved away with disgust. Alexei hummed in response to the gentle touch. For the second, embarrassing time in that bed on that night, Dustin felt like he was going to cry. This time it felt less forgivable, too vulnerable in the midst of pure, all-encompassing emotion. At least before his excuse was the overwhelming feeling of someone’s mouth on his dick, and not the sappy heart twinge from carding his hand through his best friend’s bangs.

“Can I ask – it's stupid.”

“Yeah, you are. We know this. Is ok.” Dustin groaned in mock-annoyance and lifted his head to glare. Alexei shushed him and pushed his head back down to where he’d been resting. “Sorry. Not stupid. Tell me.”

“Did you ever... did you ever think about me? Before we got together?”

Alexei sighed and ran a hand down Dustin’s arm, soothing him before reiterating the truth they both already understood. “I know what you want to hear. But, you know. Maybe once or twice? You're good looking guy. Obviously. I'm having good taste.”

“Obviously.”

“Look. I’m guy with big appetite. Maybe I get off, think what it be like to f*ck you. I think about different people. Lots of people. Is only human. But. I’m not… I don’t want to lie. Not to you, Snowy.”

He wasn’t sure why he kept asking, or why it mattered it all. They were there now, and it was wonderful. It was the after-effect, the calm following the storm. The come-down withdrawal of endorphins and adrenaline and all the emotions swirling as his brain resettled, shifting the silt of good feeling to the bottom as the plentiful sorrow and pity rose floated skyward.

“It’s ok. It’s fine.”

Deflection was a form of protection. But, Alexei wasn’t going to allow it or fall for it anymore.

“Am here now. Want you so much, all the time. You change me. Open my eyes. Am so glad. What I need do to prove I'm attracted to you? You not believe me when I kiss you and tell you how pretty and gorgeous you are? You not believe me when I get so hard from just making out and we can’t get back to work because of what you do to me. Make me feel like teenager again. What more you need?”

“No, that’s - that’s all good. That works.”

“I’m not done talk. My best friend, for so long? My brain broke.” Dustin listened intently to Alexei explain. He sat on edge of every word, one ear open and straining for any note of sour direction and one ear listening to the muffled, pounding heartbeat where it was pressed against Alexei’s chest. “I think about everything and… so glad it’s you. I’m always wanting to be someone’s boyfriend. I’m look everywhere. Maybe look too much.”

“I don’t think I tried very hard. I only really looked at you.”

“Dustin? Come here.” He moved again to lay face to face and Dustin mourned the loss of that beautiful heartbeat pressed to his cheek and the warmth that Alexei never stopped providing. He met Alexei halfway in the sweetest kiss, leaning into the soft, warm hand that covered the entire side of his face, keeping him close. “I’m sorry I’m making you wait so long and give you nothing. I’m still nervous until tonight, my mind - crazy. I tell you over and over. But I want to be with you. Will you forgive me for being nervous? We are best friends, always more. Boyfriend now, maybe? Lover? Friend with benefit? What you want?”

“Alexei, I don’t f*cking care what we call this. I’m f*cking nervous as all hell, too.”

“I never want you to be sad. No more being sad.”

“I can’t promise I’ll never be sad, man.” Alexei made to protest, to reassure and insist that he would forevermore be Dustin’s protector. Dustin didn’t let him say any of that, but he knew. He understood. He could read it all plain and clear in Alexei’s big brown eyes, his face pulled into heartfelt concern. “I want you, good and bad and f*cking annoying and whatever. Can you deal with me? I'm not always a ray of f*cking sunshine. You know this. I'm f*cked up. But... I like you so much. Ok?”

“Ok. Will try my best."

“Me too.”

"And I like you so much, too." He hugged Dustin tight, tight enough to make the man squeak and laugh as he struggled out of the playful, tight embrace. "I’m have other important question.”

“Yeah?”

“You want something? Going to kitchen. Starving. This whole time I talk I'm thinking about myself, just finish up, soooo hungry." He laughed loud and got up from the bed at Dustin’s fond groaning, typical as hell.

Dustin rolled over, face down in the pillow and tried to will his dick to just give up for the night. He’d contemplated suggesting more as soon as their heartfelt sap-session was over. The momentary quota for romance had been filled as soon as Alexei's attention was drawn elsewhere. Dustin mumbled that he was fine with anything but to bring him a beer if they had any.

"And put some clothes on!" He called as loud as possible with a pillow pressed against his mouth.

A few minutes later, Dustin craned his neck towards the door opening, glad to see that Alexei had the decent foresight to wrap a beach towel around his waist. Short lived modesty - he casually dropped it as soon as the door was shut behind him.

"Nice view," Alexei said appreciatively as he leered over Dustin's unchanged position on his stomach. Dustin grinned into his shoulder, daring to even try looking bashful for a moment when his entire point was to try to entice Alexei into fooling around more. Judging by the armful of food cradled in his arms, highly unlikely for the moment.

Dustin enjoyed the eyeful before Alexei clambered back onto the mattress next to him. “I could say the same.” He glanced down, shameless, with focus shifted onto something other than staring at Alexei’s dick for a moment. “Dude. How the f*ck do you have zero tan lines?”

“Lay out in backyard, of course.”

“Of course. Totally. And your cousins? The f*cking neighbors?”

“We have fence. Cousins don’t care. They tan, too.” He laughed at Dustin’s continued scandalization. “You Americans are so repressed.”