Chapter Text
Spot’s scream rings out through the house.
“Stop!” he says, one hand over his racing heart, “I could’a dropped my croissant!” The laughter is uproarious, half the gang on the floor with tears in their eyes. Spot’s face is more flushed than Race has ever seen it, and he snaps a picture of him while he’s got his camera open. This is definitely going on Vine.
It’s a great way to wrap up the night. Davey’s mom hears the screaming and decides it’s too late for this kind of ruckus, coming to Davey’s room to start ushering the group out. Sniper, Smalls, and Mush leave first, loathe to overstay their welcome. Albert and Elmer filter out next, having finished their conversations and said their goodbyes. Katherine and Crutchie hang back, chatting amongst themselves while they wait for Jack to finish talking to Davey. Romeo gives Sarah a quick kiss on the cheek, which she wipes off with mock disgust. It’s followed by a smile though, so he knows it’s okay. They hug and Romeo heads out, popping Davey’s hat back on his head after having stolen it earlier. Spot is still finishing his croissant, and Race waits up for him, as per usual.
It takes Mrs. Jacobs coming in a second time to shoo them before Spot finishes his food and Jack finishes his conversation. The group of them leave together, taking turns hugging Davey and Sarah before they head out.
It’s about halfway through Race’s walk home that they split up; Jack, Katherine, and Crutchie taking a right where Spot and Race stay straight. There are more hugs and kisses on the cheeks, familiar goodbyes for close friends. They go their own ways, aching to be home after a long day. Spot and Race walk in silence for a short while, Race distracted by staring up at what stars he can see through the city lights. The stars are a beautiful constant, bright white sparkles in the night sky that don’t remind Race of his condition.
He’s 23 and he hasn’t found his soulmate yet. The world is still in shades of grey, colors a dream he’s still reaching for. The stars though, the stars are just white light against a black sky, no colors to miss. He can see them clearly, just as they are, and it helps comfort him on nights like these when he longs to find the other half of his heart.
“Hey,” Spot bumps their shoulders together, “Stop thinking so much, I can smell the smoke.” Race snorts and smacks his arm, silently glad to be brought back to the moment. He reaches down and takes Spot’s hand, threading their fingers together. Spot’s palm is warm in his own, and he savors the contact. His heart flutters in his chest, always happy to be close to his best friend.
“Ya think you’ll remember me in a decade?” Race asks. He can’t help but wonder, hoping they’ll still be friends but knowing the world is cruel and nonsensical and anything could happen. He wants to believe they’ll still be living together, maybe in a two bedroom apartment rather than crammed together in a studio. He wants to be confident in their place as best friends, wants to be able to believe they’ll stay together forever. But life has thrown more loss at him than he cares to think on, and he can’t help but worry about losing Spot too.
“Remember you?” Spot scoffs, “How could I forget when you’ll be there chattering in my ear the whole damn time?” His heart feels lighter after the comment. Yeah, Spot will be there. Maybe they won’t be as close, won’t hold hands on their walk home anymore, but they’ll still be together. It helps a little with the anxiety, but the grim thoughts have him itching for a smoke. He uses the hand not entwined with Spot’s to reach back into the side pocket of his bag to pull out a lollipop. He has to use their tangled hands to unwrap it, but once he pops it in his mouth, the taste of peppermint chases away any thought of smoking. Well, most of the urge is gone, at least. It takes a moment for him to overcome his anxiety to actually talk about what’s stressing him out instead of smoking or lollipop-ing about it.
“It’s just-” he sighs heavily, starting to swing their joined hands back and forth, “What if you meet your soulmate and go live with them and have kids and live happily ever after and forget about me?” There may be nothing harder to say than when he gives a small “I don’t wanna lose you, is all.”
“Aww Race,” Spot coos, a soft edge to his voice, “I didn’t know you cared about me so much.” Which isn’t necessarily true, because Race makes it clear regularly how much he cares about Spot, how they’re best friends. Now, Spot may be a tough guy on the outside, but it never quite seems to hold up around Race. The guy’s just too damn earnest. It’s infectious.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, squeezing Race’s hand as they swing, “Even if I find my soulmate, you’ll still be my best friend. And if my soulmate doesn’t want us to be friends anymore, well,” he knocks their shoulders together, “You’re not gonna be the one I give up.” Which, holy shit, is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to him, because to give up your soulmate was nearly unheard of, let alone for a friend rather than a significant other.
“Don’t go getting all sappy on me,” Race teases, eyes feeling a little prickly as he knocks their shoulders together again. They round the final corner to their apartment and Race speaks up.
“I’d give up my soulmate for you too, I think,” he says.
“You think?” Spot teases, “I say I’d give up my soulmate for you and you think you’d give yours up too?” Race tries not to laugh at his incredulous tone.
“Listen!” he replies, grinning wide “I ain’t never had no soulmate before, how should I know!” Spot just laughs, knocking the sides of their heads together gently.
“You should know cause I’m your best friend, dipshit,” he says, “Who’s better than me?” Race thinks a moment, even though he doesn’t have to.
“No one,” he says, “Ain’t no one better than you.”