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“C’mon, man. It’s the middle of the night!”
Upon exiting his apartment, Dennis looks tiredly to his left. His neighbour’s door slams shut in the face of a man that looks vaguely familiar but not quite a non-stranger, and Dennis can’t help but sigh. He just wants a cigarette.
“You’ll find somewhere.” Dennis’s neighbour. “Asshole.”
“Listen, I—” The stranger-but-not glances in Dennis’s direction. Some memory seems to be slowly piecing itself together of when and where Dennis might've seen that face before, but at three in the morning in a dim hallway, the process is drawn out. The stranger-but-not frowns. “What the fuck are you looking at?”
In the moment he glances away, Dennis’s neighbour takes the opportunity to shut his door and click the lock shut. Dennis has an idea.
“You smoke?” Dennis asks in lieu of answering. He holds out his pack of Marlboros.
A head shake. A brief once-over. “No, I don’t.” A hesitant reply.
Dennis hums. “Well, you do now. Follow me,” he commands.
The stranger scowls and more pieces fall into place. “No,” he protests. “I don’t even know your name, dude. I’m not gonna follow you to some alley to get murdered.”
Dennis makes a huff of annoyance. “Goddamnit,” he curses, before taking the stranger by the wrist and dragging him along toward the stairs. The journey is silent all the way to the building’s parking lot, but Dennis doesn’t bother to read into it. That isn’t his problem.
“I said I don’t smoke.” A weak protest the moment Dennis pulls out a cigarette and lights it.
Despite his claim, he still accepts when Dennis offers it his way. Despite his claim, he still takes long drags, expertly stomping down the itch in his lungs as he exhales into the crisp night air. Dennis watches every lazy movement intently.
They sit on a curb and share a cigarette like they’re teens. Dennis is the one to finally snuff it out. They don’t speak. The moment is peaceful. Dennis feels a little less alone, and a little more tired. And they still have yet to exchange names.
Dennis’s new acquaintance clears his throat. “Why’d you want to take me out here anyway?”
Dennis does not answer questions that require him to reveal information he’d rather not think about himself. Instead to his stranger he poses, “What did you do to get kicked out of someone’s apartment at three in the morning? Drug deal gone wrong?”
Deservedly, Dennis receives a glare. “No,” the stranger spits. He sighs and leans back on his palms. “He said I was snoring too loud, but I know that’s bullshit ‘cause I don’t snore, and I wasn’t even sleeping. Apparently he was just using me as much as I was using him.”
Dennis can assume what that means, he’s not stupid. In fact, he’s guilty of doing the same. Far too guilty.
Dennis offers out a hand to shake. The stranger gladly accepts. “Dennis.”
A hand slips from Dennis’s. Disbelief infects the air, and bitter recognition leaves a bad taste. For once, Dennis is more certain that he hasn’t done anything wrong. At least not yet, or not that he can remember. And that is never the good kind of wrong.
“Reynolds?” The ask is meek.
Dennis furrows his brow. His arm retracts, hand clenching into a tight fist before fingers are flexed. His heart stutters nervously. “Who wants to know?”
Lips are pulled into a thin line of hesitation and uncertainty. “I don’t know if I want to tell you that.”
“Oh, come on, man. We just shared a cigarette, for Christ’s sake!” Dennis cries. He pushes to his feet so that he can properly face the man who joins him. So that he can properly show off his irritation. “I think I at least deserve a—”
“Mac. McDonald.” It doesn’t register to Dennis at first. The name is familiar enough, but no bells ring. Mac throws his head back and rolls his eyes with a scoff. “Ronnie the Rat? That sound more familiar, asshole?”
Unfortunately for Mac, the nickname serves as a final puzzle piece in Dennis’s memory. Ronnie the Rat, infamous snitch of their high school class with the sole goal of capitalizing on drug sales to peers. He was hated for it, sure, but who could blame him when his monopoly had been successful? Even Dennis had to admit the prick had had some genius to him.
Dennis thinks the silence drags on too long, but he isn’t sure what to say. They had never really been friends, and Dennis had only bought weed off of R— Mac only a handful of times. But looking him over, after all these years, though he’s presumably the same asshole he always had been, Mac looks… good. More than good. Dennis swallows.
“Yeah, it’s… familiar,” Dennis finally says. “You go by Mac now?”
“Always have, actually. Not that you’d know.”
Dennis shrugs helplessly. “Not that I’d know,” he echoes. “Right.”
Mac shakes his head. “This is—what am I still doing here? I should go.” He stands and shoulders past Dennis—so much for a peaceful moment. It isn’t uncommon for the past to ruin things for Dennis. He feels wide awake again, and the sun still has yet to think about rising.
“Wait, Mac,” Dennis calls out. It’s unexpected for Dennis himself, he’s not desperate, he could never afford to be seen as desperate, but something urges him to not let go of Mac so easily. Dennis doesn’t understand, but a must is a must. “I made you follow me because I thought—because I thought it’d be a little more bearable. Less lonely. This—whatever. Actually, y ou know what? You’re… you’re probably right. You should go.”
Mac’s eyes survey Dennis’s face. His expression has gone slack and Dennis doesn’t know what to make of that.
“Make what less lonely?” Mac asks. “Couldn’t sleep or something?”
Dennis nods but says nothing. He doesn’t want to admit anything out loud.
Mac shifts his weight between feet. He folds his arms across his chest. “Me neither,” he says. Mac lifts his chin in the direction of the apartment building. “That’s why I was—”
“I figured,” Dennis interrupts. He supposes Mac deserves to maintain some dignity as well. That, and Dennis knows what he means without the words needing to be said. It would be unnecessary time wasted, in Dennis’s opinion. Brevity is a virtue.
They stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, a standstill of awkwardness that two men their age should not be suffering. It’s a wordless exchange filled with questions, like why does Dennis care so damn much about having Mac stick around?
“Well,” Dennis eventually sighs, “it was nice seeing you, Mac. Thanks for this.”
“Of course, bro.” Mac shrugs a nonchalant shoulder. “Thank you, too, I guess. And get some sleep, man.”
As Mac turns and begins walking away, something foreign starts to stew in Dennis’s chest. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation talking, but Dennis could see himself with a reintroduction to Mac, a new person, someone he could be friends with this time around. The thought feels out of place, but Dennis is compelled.
“Hey, Mac?”
Mac pauses and glances back at Dennis. He waits patiently for Dennis to continue.
“If you ever have trouble sleeping again,” Dennis makes the suggestion before he can stop himself, “you know where to find me.”
Mac considers the offer, catalogues it, and leaves Dennis wearing a grin.