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The sunset has reached the point just over the horizon, where the oranges and yellows of the day have begun to fade to pinks and purples. Sean takes one last drag of his cigarette, letting it burn the back of his throat, feeling the smoke enter his lungs. He holds it for a beat, then lets it out slowly, the mid-October breeze carrying his breath away.
Sean has never been great at drawing sunsets. He’s more of a sketch artist than a painter — color isn’t his forte. And sunsets are basically all color. Sure, he’s attempted it a few times, and Daniel always seemed to like it, as did his prison therapist. But Sean always felt they were hollow, that, while they captured the color and shape a sunset is made of, they failed to capture the feeling that drew him to sunsets in the first place.
The thing is: Sean doesn’t really know what that feeling is. It’s kind of melancholic, kind of uplifting, kind of dazzling. But even those words don’t feel quite right. It’s like, when the sun is high, it’s bright and warm and everything feels just a little bit happier. And at night, it’s sort of calm and peaceful, but it’s also when Sean feels at his lowest, when the sadness that’s lived in his bones for as long as he can remember begins to weigh him down.
A sunset is that perfect in-between, a moment of pure serenity, surrounded on either side by chaos and predictability. And that’s something Sean has never been able to see in his own art.
It’s been over a year since he was released from prison, and coming up on a full year since he started his cross-country nomadic road trip. If he’s being honest, though, he’s kind of sick of the transient lifestyle. He set out hoping to find himself, to see if there was anywhere in this country he felt he could grow his roots. But it’s starting to seem hopeless. Maybe Sean isn’t meant to stay in one place. Maybe going a life without a home is his atonement, his penance for all the things he’s done.
As the sun sinks over the horizon, blanketing the world in darkness, Sean flicks his cigarette to the ground and stomps it out with the front of his shoe. It’s starting to get chilly now. He zips up his suede jacket, pushes himself off the hood of his car, and climbs back into the driver's seat. He’d only stopped for a quick smoke break, and now that the sun was set, he had to find a place to crash for the night.
Before pulling away, he checks his wallet. Low on cash. How much does he have on his card? He checks his account on his phone. Not much, it seems.
Great, no motel tonight, then. It’s starting to get too damn cold to keep camping out in the woods.
Last fall, he’d made his way down to Southern California, and spent the winter there in the warm sunshine. But halfway through December, he started to miss the changing of the seasons. He missed the snow. Christmas just didn’t feel like Christmas without it. Not that he did anything to celebrate anyway.
This year, he decided to head further north, and found himself drifting through Chicago and its surrounding areas. What can he say? He misses the city. He loves seeing people walking around, going about their daily business, leading normal lives. He tries to live vicariously through them, because a normal life is something he wants more than anything.
But that’s not in the cards for him, sadly. He’s doomed to an existence like a sunset — trapped between two states of being, never quite one or the other. Always drifting, but never really leaving.
He has enough money for a decent meal and a drink, maybe, so he heads towards the city and finds a bar on the outskirts that has free parking. Score.
It’s a quiet little place, with a scattering of tables and chairs, and upon a small stage, there’s a man sitting in a folding chair and strumming a guitar. The lighting is dim, but warm, and disjointed conversations between the bar’s few patrons fill the silence between guitar notes.
Sean finds himself a table, and soon a waitress comes to take his order. The menu is a tad pricey, but if he skips the beer, he should have enough for a burger and some fries. His stomach rumbles at the thought of an actual meal.
Sipping on the water the waitress brought for him, Sean takes in the rest of the sights. The bar itself is rather small. It seems the main draw of the place is the stage, raised maybe shoulder-height above the floor with a harsh spotlight shining down on it. A small group of people are seated around it, listening to the man playing onstage. When he finishes the piece he was playing, everybody applauds, and then a woman hops up and begins setting up an electric keyboard. Must be an open mic night or something.
His food arrives partway through the girl’s out-of-tune rendition of “Stay” by Rihanna, and he quickly puts his empty stomach out of its misery. He takes a huge bite and oh man, this is a good burger. Juicy meet, perfectly melted cheese, no onions. Beautiful. It’s been a while since Sean’s had a good meal like this, and even the off-key singing can’t ruin the experience.
When the song ends, Sean claps for her, even though he didn’t particularly enjoy her performance, because it takes more guts than Sean will ever have to get up there onstage and bare your soul like that. He doesn’t see who goes up next, because you’d be hard-pressed to tear him away from this burger for too long, but it must be a guitarist, because he hears them tuning their strings.
Then they start playing. It’s a nice, calming tune, very folksy, and a woman starts singing, her voice floating gently above the music.
“ It’s me, it’s me you’ve come to take. My duality awakes. By midnight time, I could not see, if I were you, or you were me…”
Sean nearly chokes on a french fry. He’s heard this song before. He’s heard this voice before. But it couldn’t be.
He whips his head around, and a woman is sitting on the edge of the stage, her legs dangling above the ground as she plucks away at her guitar. Her long, violet braids rest over her shoulder.
God, it’s been over 15 years, but she looks almost exactly the same. Like she’s an ageless vampire or something. She’s maybe a little taller, and a little fuller, but it’s hard to tell with her sitting so far away. Other than that, Cassidy looks the same as she did in Humboldt all those years ago.
Which is to say, Sean is captivated by her beauty all over again.
Suddenly, he’s no longer the hardened felon, struggling with nearly two decades of baggage, but a wide-eyed, naïve kid, entranced by her voice, by her guitar. By her .
It’s the same here tonight. As she finger-picks the strings, closes her eyes and leans her head back while she sings, Sean is completely and utterly hypnotized. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until she looks up and catches his eye. She smiles at him, but it feels more polite than anything. Sean blushes and turns away, though he still listens to her, and is still just as taken by it as he was half a lifetime ago.
Once her song ends, the entire bar claps, even the waitresses who have a free hand join in. There’s not a ton of people in here, so it’s not like the applause at a Misty Mice concert, but it’s bigger than what the poor Rihanna girl got.
Cassidy smiles and hops down from the stage, stowing her guitar in a bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Sean is about to go catch her before she leaves, but he doesn’t even need to.
She’s coming straight towards him.
“You got a crush on me or somethin’?” she says, her southern accent as strong as ever.
Sean can’t help but smile. “You know, I’m pretty sure that’s one of the first things you said to me when we met, too.”
Cassidy looks confused for a moment, but then, recognition crosses her face. “Sean Diaz?”
He grins. “Hey, Cassidy.”
Sean stands up and Cassidy pulls him into a hug, squeezing him so tightly he feels his bones pop. She smiles at him and ruffles his shaggy hair, laughing happily as she runs a hand through his beard.
“I can’t believe how different you look!”
“I can’t believe how different you don’t !”
Now that she’s up close, Sean can tell some subtle differences — her face has a few new wrinkles, and there are a couple of gray strands in her bangs. But other than that, she’s just Cassidy, same as she ever was.
“I heard about what went down at the border,” she says, face serious. “I’m glad no one was hurt.”
“Me, too.”
“Sucks you went to jail, though.”
“...Yeah.”
Their smiles fade as an awkwardness falls between them. Sean rubs at the back of his neck, and Cassidy twirls a strand of her hair with her finger.
He should have known this would be awkward. It’s been 17 years since they’ve seen each other, and the last time they did was...not exactly the best note to leave off on. Sure, they’ve sent letters to each other, but once Sean went to prison, they stopped writing as much. And nowadays, it’s not like he has a home address for her to send anything to.
Cassidy offers to buy Sean a beer, and considering he has maybe $20 left in his account after his meal and spent the rest of his cash tipping the waitress, it’s not like he’s gonna say no. So they decide to catch up.
“So,” Cass says, sipping her beer. “You’re a long way from Seattle. What brings you all the way out here?”
“I’m sort of on a journey of self-discovery.” Sean laughs at how stupid that sounds. “Okay, okay, no, I’m just wandering. Been driving around the country, seeing what there is to see, going where the wind takes me.”
“Cute,” Cassidy laughs.
“What about you? What are you doing in Chicago? Where’d you go after…” He trails off. Cassidy takes a big gulp of her beer.
“Well, we did the usual, for a while. Roamin’, playin’, fuckin’..." She shoots him a wry smile and winks at him, making his face get so hot. Then, her smile falls, and she takes another drink. "It gets a little boring sometimes.”
“Really? You? Bored of the vagabond lifestyle? Things really have changed.” Sean smiles slyly at her as he takes a drink. Cass bumps him with her hip, and they both laugh.
“Nah, never. I’m still a drifter at heart. I go where the world needs me. And I guess I was needed here, ‘cause it drew me back to you.”
“Aww,” Sean says, blushing. “Is, uh...is Finn with you?”
Smooth, Sean. Real smooth. Everybody knew he had a bit of a crush on Finn back in Humboldt, but aside from the one kiss they shared, they never had a chance to see where it’d lead.
“He’s around,” Cass says, and Sean tries really hard not to let it show on his face how excited that makes him. He’s unsuccessful. “We ain’t traveling together, but we usually end up at the same place. Great minds, and all that.”
“That’s...cool.”
“He’ll be stoked to hear you’re in town.”
“You think so?” Sean bites his lip, failing not to sound too eager.
Cass laughs. “You are so cute, Sean Diaz. Yeah, I think so! He never shuts up about ya!”
“Ha, really?”
“Yeah, really. We even stayed near Seattle a few months, hopin’ we’d run into you. An’ even once I left, every time we’d bump into each other, it was always, ‘Have you seen Sean? Any word from Sean?’ Never, ‘Hi, Cass. How’s it going, Cass? What have you been up to, Cass?’” She laughs, dissolving any animosity that could have inhabited those words.
Meanwhile, Sean’s smile has just been growing. “He really talks about me?”
“All the damn time.”
Sean leans back in his chair and takes a sip. “Wow.”
He feels a little bad, because it’s not like Finn’s been at the forefront of his mind all this time. Sure, he’s thought of him every now and then, especially those lonely nights in prison, when he’d curl up with his pillow and try to cry as silently as possible. He’d think about Finn during those times, and it always filled him with bittersweet joy. Because thinking about Finn made him happy, sure, but it also made him realize that Finn was out there, touring the country, and probably getting laid ten times over. Meanwhile, he was trapped in a cell, crying himself to sleep.
But knowing that he’s stuck in Finn’s mind all these years? That’s worth something.
“He feels real bad, y’know?” Cass says, her tone turning darkly serious. “He ain’t never been able to forgive himself for puttin’ Daniel in danger like that.”
Sean stares at his beer. He sighs, then takes another drink. “I was mad at him for so long. You know I saw him at the hospital?”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I...uh...I had to escape and rescue Daniel from some cult in Nevada...it was — it was this whole thing. But on my way out, I saw him. I passed his window, and he was in there, asleep. I considered waking him up, but I was just...so fucking mad at him. And I had other things on my mind, so I...I just left.”
That decision had eaten at Sean basically since he left the hospital. He had a lot of time to himself on the road, and a lot of time to think. He should have talked to Finn, and he wishes he could get the chance to tell him he forgives him.
And Cass has maybe given him that chance.
Sean gives Cassidy his number, and asks her to tell Finn to call him. After finishing his beer, he thanks Cassidy for the drink, they hug good-bye, and Sean heads out to the car.
“Don’t be a stranger, Diaz,” Cassidy calls out. “Gimme a buzz sometime.”
“I will,” he calls back, throwing up a hand in farewell. “Thanks, Cass.”
# # #
Later that night, Sean is parked out in front of a small wooded area near a suburb just outside of the city, laying on the roof of his car and watching the stars. He’s been to a lot of places, and seen a lot of stars, but the view from each one is unique. The different levels of light pollution, cloud cover, everything is a factor, but it’s always beautiful.
Stars are another thing Sean has trouble sketching, since it’s just dots of light against a sheet of pitch black. It’s not practical to shade an entire page to represent a night sky, so sometimes he’ll just draw them in with pencil, but it never creates the right effect.
He checks his watch. 10:36. If Finn was going to call, he’d likely have done it by now. With a sigh, he’s about to give up and bust out his sleeping bag when, of course, his phone starts ringing. He sits up and fishes it out of his pocket. It’s a number he doesn’t recognize, so if this isn’t Finn, and is just some telemarketer telling him about his vehicle’s expired warranty (a warranty he doesn’t fucking have ), they have the absolute worst timing.
“Hello?” he answers.
“Sean?” The voice on the other end is low and raspy, but it’s Finn. No doubt.
“Hey, man.”
“Sean, oh my God.” Finn takes a shaky breath. “It’s you, man. It’s...it’s really you.”
“Who else would I be?”
Finn laughs, but it’s gravelly, and he chokes up. “God, you asshole ,” he breathes. “Where the hell have you been?! ”
“Uh...prison.”
“Fuck you, man,” he says in a tone completely devoid of malice. “I’ve been looking for you ever since I heard you were released.”
“Yeah, Cass said something about that. Hey, listen. Do you want to meet up? There’s something I’ve been wanting to say, but I feel like it needs to be said in person.”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Name the place.”
# # #
Sean pulls into the lot of the park he agreed to meet Finn at. The park itself is closed, but there’s a nature trail that overlooks a small pond, and Sean thinks it’s pretty. He’s sketched this particular park a few times since arriving in the greater Chicago area. He gets out of the car and walks up the small hill, leaning on the rail that looks out over the pond.
The air is crisp tonight, and the wind is blowing fiercely. Sean zips his jacket back up and puts up his hood. It’s almost midnight, and the entire park glows in the light of the moon, itself reflected in the pond. The image shimmers as the wind blows over the water’s surface.
A small gray Buick, definitely not from this century, pulls into the parking lot and stops next to Sean’s. The headlights switch off, and Sean turns back around as Finn steps out of the car.
The main thing that looks different about Finn is his hair. It used to hang from his head in this gangly mess that Sean can’t believe he found hot (even though he totally still does). But now, it’s held back with a hair tie, and it highlights his face tattoos As he gets closer, Sean can see he’s added a few new ones, a tattoo of a tear beneath the triangles under his left eye, and two diagonal lines stemming from the straight line that goes up his chin. Finn really loves triangles, apparently.
Finn walks up to Sean with his hands stuffed inside his jacket, unable to look him in the eye. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
The word hangs between them, heavy like an anvil, weighing both of them down. They stand there, not talking and not meeting each other’s eyes, until Sean starts shivering from the cold and decides to break the silence.
“So, you’re driving now?”
“Yeah,” Finn says. “A gift from one of my bros. They’re all finally out of prison”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you travelling with them?”
“Nah.”
“Cool.”
God, this is awkward. How did Sean ever talk to Finn before? He can’t even make small talk without his heart pounding out of his chest.
“Sorry I called so late, by the way,” Finn says. “It took me forever to find a payphone that would take my money. I don’t...I don’t have a cell.”
“It’s cool. Not like I was doing anything.” Sean shrugs, and Finn lets the silence hang just a bit too long, so Sean jumps back in with, “Hey, you wanna take a walk?”
Sean kicks away twigs and rocks on the path as he leads Finn around to the bank of the pond. The sound of the branches crunching under his feet evokes memories of camping with Dad and Daniel, in a previous life. He kicks another rock out of the way, and it goes tumbling down into the water. “It’s fucking cold out tonight.”
“Yeah,” Finn says absently.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to move to Costa Rica? Sun and sand? How does somebody so dead-set on tropical paradise end up in a cold-ass city like Chicago?”
“Sean…”
Sean stops walking. He bends down and searches the ground for a nice flat stone. He finds one, and skips it along the water. He can feel Finn’s eyes on him, waiting for him to stop beating around the bush.
“You know when all this first started, after my dad died, I took Daniel out into the woods and I taught him how to skip stones.” Finn doesn’t say anything, so he continues. “That’s one of my favorite memories with him. Isn’t that fucked up? How I look back and treasure this one little moment I spent with my brother, when it’s weighed down by a tragedy like that? It’s like, how can I even look back at that so fondly without also remembering all the pain and grief and...just fucking, everything that I was going through at the time?”
Sean picks up another rock and tosses it out onto the water. It skips three times before sinking with a small sploosh. Satisfied, he takes a breath and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I want you to know, Finn...That night? What...what we did before everything went to shit, when we...when we kissed?” He clears his throat. “Same thing. Even though that was the same night that Daniel went missing, you got injured, and I lost an eye, I don’t think about any of that when I think about you, when I think about kissing you. All I think about is how right it felt, and how your lips fit perfectly with mine. I mean, I know that’s how kissing is supposed to work, but it was new to me, so it’s...it’s what stuck out.”
Finn shuffles his feet in the dirt, as Sean skips another rock. “Sean, I—”
“Finn, I’m so fucking sorry.” Sean glances over at him from the corner of his good eye, and wipes his face on his sleeve. He sniffs, and goes back to skipping rocks. It’s like a distraction, something to keep him tethered, so he doesn’t break down.
“Dude, I’m the one ho should say sorry. I never should have put Daniel in danger like that and…” He trails off, and steps forward, closing the distance between them.
“I forgive you, Finn,” Sean says, skipping another stone. He still can’t look Finn in the face. “I forgave you a long time ago. But I was...I was so mad, and bitter, and scared, so I never told you that when I had the chance.”
Finn makes a sound, like whimpering, and Sean finally turns to look at him. Tears are welling up in Finn’s eyes.
“Dude, are you crying?” Sean says, as if he wasn’t also on the verge of it moments ago.
Finn laughs through his tears, and pulls a hand out of his pocket to playfully shove Sean backways.
“Of course I’m crying, you dumbass,” Finn says. “I’ve waited 17 years to apologize to you, and now you’re coming in here with this talk about memories and skipping stones and kissing, and...shit, man!”
Sean skips one last rock, but it only hops once before plummeting into the water. He turns and takes Finn by the hand. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
“Well, while we’re here, I got something else to say to you.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
Finn hesitates. He looks away and runs his fingers between his dreads. “I, uh...fuck, dude. I don’t think I know how to say this.”
“Sound it out, use your grown-up words.”
“Asshole.” Finn laughs and punches Sean in the chest, and Sean stumbles backwards. He’s smiling, though. He’s smiled more tonight than he has in the last 17 years, he thinks. Finn’s smiling too, but it’s wary, cautious. He’s hesitant, so Sean takes the initiative, stepping back towards Finn, and grabs his hands.
Sean wants to kiss him so badly. He remembers the taste of him on his lips, and wants to taste it again. His life has been nothing but a series of misfortunes, speckled with moments of calm, of joy, moments like skipping stones with Daniel at the lake, watching sunsets, or having his first kiss with Finn by the campfire.
He wants it so badly, it ignites him, fills him with a courage he didn’t have yesterday, and probably won’t have tomorrow. So he takes advantage of it, inhales deeply. “I love you, Finn,” he exhales. “I don’t think I realized it until right now, but...yeah. I like, love you, and shit.”
Finn’s eyes get so bright, and it’s almost uncharacteristic of him. He’s usually all smiles, but it’s always been a cocky smile, a shit-eating grin, a mask to hide his pain. This is brilliant, like all the stars in the sky are swirling around in his irises.
“Fuck, man,” Finn says, smiling. “You stole my thunder.”
“Oh. Sorry,” Sean laughs. “What were you about to say?”
“Literally that, you fucking loser. I love you too.”
He pulls Sean in close, and their lips meet. They taste familiar, like home. Sean frames Finn’s face with his hands, runs the tip of his fingers along the nape of his neck, and melts. Finn’s hands slide down Sean’s sides, finding their place at his hips.
They kiss for what feels like hours, until Finn finally pulls back, and looks at Sean with those same starry eyes. He runs his fingers through Sean’s hair. “You’re getting shaggy. I’m gonna have to get you an appointment at the McNam’hair’a Salon again.”
“ No way!” Sean pulls away and laughs “That haircut you gave me was the most traumatic thing I’ve gone through.”
“Oh, you loved it.”
“Yeah,” Sean admits, grinning. “Yeah, alright. I did.”
He grabs Finn’s hand, and their fingers intertwine. It’s cold as shit, so both of their hands are freezing right now. But Sean doesn’t care. Because for once in his life, he’s happy, and he just wants to enjoy that for a little bit longer.