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It was near midnight when Nick got the call. He had been laying in bed, debating if he should break into Glenn’s alcohol stock, knowing the man would never know, never bothering to come home and stay sober for long enough to take stock of his cheap vodka.
Then his phone buzzed, and when he looked he was shocked, expecting to find Glenn’s name, asking drunkenly for a ride home. Instead, he found the face of Cal.
He picked up, and there was a quiet moment where Nick debated hanging up before he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snuffle come through and Nick found himself calling out “Cal?”
There was a relieved sigh and a nervous laugh and then - “Hey Nick, could, uh, could you come pick me up? I’m at the park on Cristo.”
Nick scrambled off his bed, sliding on a pair of old flip flops and grabbing his keys as he spoke, concern clear in his voice, “Yeah, yeah - you good Cal?”
There’s a harsh laugh on the other end of the phone, “Nick I’m calling from the park in the middle of the night, do you think I’m okay?”
Nick winces and heads into the living room, “Sorry - stupid question - you need anything?”
Cal is quiet for a moment, before saying quietly, “Some bandages couldn’t hurt. Or weed.”
Nick pauses at that and moves to the bathroom to grab a box of bandaids and his stash. He rushes out to the car, a beat-up sedan with no AC. Once he’s in the car he puts Cal on speaker, not stupid enough to drive on the phone.
They sit mostly in silence, Nick sometimes updating Cal on his ETA, until he reaches the park. There he spots Cal leaning against the swings, hunched over and holding a duffle bag. The line goes dead as Cal walks towards the car, and when he slides into the passenger seat there is a moment of awkward silence.
Finally, Nick puts the car in park, turning fully towards Cal. The other boy avoids his eyes, instead of looking at his shoes. Nick takes a moment to analyze the boy, taking in his bruised face, the way he holds his left arm, remembering his slight limp as he approaches the car.
Without saying anything, Nick puts the car in drive again, the engine sputtering as it tries to switch over. Cal looks up at the noise, and Nick smirks at the look he is given.
“Look, it was a shit car or no car, and I’m not gonna skate everywhere.”
Cal shrugs, and sinks back into the seat, his shoulders still tensed up, but looking considerably more relaxed than before.
They continue in silence as Nick turns down roads, barely acknowledging the stop signs. He finally pulls into an ancient 7/11, it’s neon sign flickering. He shuts the car off and clambers out, gesturing for Cal to follow. They enter the store, the dinging of the door shockingly loud in the quiet of the night.
The old man behind the counter startles and gives the pair a suspicious look, but Nick ignores him, making a beeline for the medical section. He speaks in a hushed voice over his shoulder to Cal.
“Get something for us to eat and drink, I’ll handle this.”
He glances over the supplies before grabbing a couple of first aid kits and some ointment. He turns around and watches Cal grab a bag of chips before heading to get a cup of ice from the machine. By the time he’s done, Cal is waiting and they head to the register together. They place their items on the counter, and Nick pulls out his wallet.
Cal shoots a sharp look at him, “I’ll get it.”
Nick shakes his head, avoiding looking at the boy, “Nah, I got it, its no biggie.” he glances at the cashier, “Bag everything separate please.”
The man glares at him but does as requested. The pair walk back to the beat-up car, Nick opening the back door instead of the front, forgetting the implications until Cal snickered, leaving Nick blushing and scowling. He ripped open the first aid kit with a little more force than necessary and muttered for Cal to shut up. The boy did, and when Nick glanced up at him he could see the sadness on his face. Nick hesitated before asking the question weighing heavy on him.
“What happened?”
Cal scowled, though he had to have known the question was coming. He let out a long breath before speaking, beginning slowly.
“You know my dad's real religious - I mean so’s my mom, and really my whole family but they aren’t so bad about it. Anyways, dad hasn’t been too happy with me dressing how I do, ‘specially not the makeup and earrings and shit. But he’s put up with it, prolly’ cause he thought it was some kind of phase or whatever. Well then tonight I guess he found out I’m queer as fuck, and that was the end of things,” Cal paused, and pushed his hair back, “ He started yellin’ and shit, just kinda being a dick, asking me if it was true or whatever. But I told him it wasn’t just a phase, and he started beating me up, tossin’ me around and stuff. Mom finally got him to stop, but he told me not to come back until I like girls,” his jaw clenches a bit as he says the next words.
“So I guess I won’t be goin’ back.”
Nick is quiet, his jaw locked, enraged at Cal’s family. Glenn may have been a shit dad, but at least he had just high fived him when he found out Nick was bi. Finally, Nick nodded stiffly at Cal and grabbed a roll of gauze.
“Where are you hurt.”
Cal shrugged off his hoodie, revealing scrapes and bruises on his arms.
“There, I think my ankle got twisted, and there's probably some bruises on my stomach.”
Nick winces a bit at the state of him, but nodded, going to work on the cuts and filling the plastic bags with ice. As he finished, he paused, nervous to continue.
He muttered unintelligibly at first, and after Cal looked at him questioningly he repeated, only barely audible.
“You gotta take off your shirt, so I can check you out.” he blushes at the poor choice of words, muttering an apology.
Cal’s face scrunches up slightly, his cheeks tinged pink, but he does as Nick instructed, tossing his t-shirt to the front of the car. Both boys sit uncomfortably for a second, before Nick leans towards Cal, struggling to see his injuries in the poor light. He prods lightly around the boy's ribs, before attaching ice-filled bags with gauze, trying to avoid touching the other boy and feeling sparks every time he fails.
When he finishes, they scoot awkwardly away from one another, avoiding eye contact as Cal slips his shirt back on. They continued to sit in an uncomfortably long silence, both refusing to speak as their faces flushed red. Eventually, Cal opened the bag of chips, the plastic squeaking in a way that sounded uncannily like a fart.
The two made eye contact and busted out laughing, falling onto one another. Nick’s shoulders shook as he struggled to push himself off of Cal, only to fall back into his arms again.
Once the laughter died down, Nick snatched one of the chips, stuffing it into his mouth as Cal reached for it, satisfied with his accomplishments only for a moment as a bit into it, finding it a horrible combination of stale and soggy. His face contracted in a way that must have been ridiculous, as Cal devolved into hysterical laughter while Nick flung open the door to spit out the chip. He closed it again and fumbled to open the can of red bull Cal had grabbed.
He shot a glare at the still laughing Cal, swallowing the drink before saying “ You try and eat it without spitting it out - god that was nasty.”
Cal shrugged, still snickering at Nick’s misfortune, grabbing the bag and fishing around before finding one he deemed suitable and shoving it in his mouth. There was a noise that could only be described by the phrase ‘moist crunch,’ and Cal’s face screwed up in a horrified expression, but he pushed on in defiance of Nick’s earlier claim. He finally swallows and snatches the offered red bull, Nick’s face poised in mock sympathy.
“I told you.”
Cal takes another gulp, glaring down his nose at Nick, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I still ate it though - bet you can’t eat two of ‘em.”
From there, the two boys went back and forth, shoving handfuls of nasty chips in his mouth, cackling and taking photos of each other's disgusted expressions, passing first red bull, and then weed as they tried to outdo one another.
By the time the bag is finished both are high on caffeine and marijuana and it's nearing three in the morning. Nick plops into the driver's seat cranking the engine, Cal still snickering at the pained noise it makes.
Nick slowly makes his way through the streets, thankful its too early for cars to be out. He pulls into his driveway, and the pair walk inside leaning on one another, flopping down on Nick’s bed as they approach.
They lay there for a long while, both consumed in their own thoughts until Cal lets out a long sigh and then, “I’m tired.”
Nick nods, staring at the chipping paint on his ceiling, trying to process the other boy's words instead of focusing on the way his words came out slower and deeper than usual. Once he realized, though, he jumped up and started backing out of the room, bumping into things as he went.
“Oh, oh yeah - shit that hurt - I’ll just, uh, just crash in Glenn’s room, he’s never - fucking hell whys that there - he’s never gonna sleep there even if he shows up toni - goddamnit - tonight.”
Cal snickered lowly at Nick’s stumbling, “If you don’t think you can make it across the house we can just split the bed.”
Nick was grateful for the dark room as he felt his face heat up, “Oh, no, it’s, yeah, just - walking backward you know?”
Cal snorts, and Nick bolts to Glenn’s room, trying very hard to not think about how adorable Cal’s laugh is and how much he would like to split the bed.