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Race wasn’t sure what woke him up. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach and he shifted around in his bed until sleeping became a lost cause.
Throwing off the covers, Race huffed, glaring at the moon shining into his room before he marched out and to the landing across the hall. Out in the night air, Race took a deep breath in, the summer wind tousling his hair.
The door behind him slid open and Race turned to see Spot with a duffel bag in his hands.
“Going somewhere, Spotty?” Race squinted as Spot edged along the deck.
“You know I can’t stay, Race,” Spot sighed, throwing the duffel bag over the edge. It landed with a soft thud on the ground and Spot climbed over the railing. “I’ve got too much past here. I mean, we all do…”
Race frowned, wondering why now of all times Spot was bringing this up. He thought everyone was getting along well in their group home, Spot seemed brighter and happier than Race had ever seen before.
“All right. If you’re going to run, I’m not going to stop you,” Race muttered, turning away from Spot.
He felt betrayed. All that he had built up with Spot felt like a lie and Race almost threw off the hand that touched on his shoulder.
“I’ll be back. Just right now, I gotta figure out things for myself.” Spot’s voice was small, breaking just a little and Race turned back, his heart leading his actions.
“You promise?” Race whispered, his hand landing on Spot’s.
Grabbing onto Race’s hand, Spot held it open before pulling out a switchblade. First cutting his own hand, he bit through the pain then glancing at Race to confirm what would happen next. With a nod, Race braced himself for the sting of the cut, grimacing just a little when Spot held their hands together.
“I promise.”
Who leaned in first, neither were sure, but the kiss Race felt was all he needed. It ended too soon and Spot pulled some bandages out of his pocket, wrapping up his own hand and Race’s.
“Did you have this planned the entire time?” Race laughed quietly as Spot finished the bandages off with a small kiss on Race’s palm.
With a wink, Spot then went back to his climbing, swinging from the second story to the ground like a trained gymnast. Grabbing his bag, Spot waved goodbye to Race as he ran off into the night, an ache growing in Race’s heart.
He could’ve run after Spot, hell, even gone with him, but this was meant for Spot alone. Staring down at the bandaged hand, Race fought back his tears, only hoping that reuniting with Spot would happen sooner rather than later.