Archive of Our Own

An eruption of cheers cascaded around White, various glasses filled with a dark liquid clinking together in unison. White was comfortably situated on a couch, one of his feet propped up on the edge of the makeshift table in front of him and his other planted on the ground. He could feel the way the worn couch shifted under him as he returned to his relaxed position, sinking back into the cushions after raising his glass to meet with the rest of the group’s glasses in celebration. They had turned the garage into their own dining room, a space ultimately dedicated to full plates of food and good liquor.

The couch shifted once again as the body next to him relaxed after the initial celebration died down, and White resisted the urge to glance over at the person. Sean was the one resting next to him, his lanky body somehow condensed to the cramped area between the makeshift table and the couch. White watched as the man raised his glass to his lips in his peripherals White mimicked the movement, the liquor going down much smoother than expected. The rest of the gang was opposite of the two, Gumpa, Yok, and Gram all opting to pull up a chair of their own. White wasn’t sure how he ended up sharing the couch with Sean, but ever since they left the demonstration happening earlier that night, the taller male seemed to gravitate toward him. It started at the fashion show, and it hadn’t stopped just yet.

White had felt so elated. Sean’s plan had worked, albeit, White made a few tweaks to the ending. But he hadn’t felt more alive in his life, it had been nearly a decade since he had felt his heart swell with such an overwhelming amount of pride, their actions creating a beautiful scene of a fluttering rainbow traveling down the streets as they all shouted for the nasty men in society to fall. And Sean was there with him, his hand firmly clasped around White’s the whole night, a soft smile on his face that nearly matched the wide one that White wore. Something inside of White shifted after the incident, a newfound respect for Sean, and a growing interest in Sean. Shit. It was always something with Sean, wasn’t it? From avoiding a punch at their first meeting to sharing a bed with the guy, their relationship was a bendy roller coaster.

Although, he supposed it was more of Sean and Black’s relationship. White didn’t exist, only his thoughts and actions translated through the group’s existing image of Black.

But just in the span of a day or two, he went from nearly being choked out by the man to holding his hand. And it wasn’t often you’d be holding your friend’s hand under a symbol of pride, a colorful display of love that arrives in all forms. He could remember the feeling so clearly, something unlocking inside of him, something unrelated to their successful mission and related to the way his happiness spiked at the simple action.

They arrived at the garage together after the fashion show and the following events, side by side on their bikes, the same bikes White hadn’t had a clue about not too long ago. He had grown to enjoy the wind flowing past him, the night air chilling his fingertips as he gripped the handlebars and the overall breeze encapsulating his body as Sean revved his engine beside him, challenging him to a race. He enjoyed how breathable, yet simple it felt to play along. If it wasn’t for the adrenaline of the day coursing through his veins, he would’ve thought about just how scary it was he was enjoying stealing Black’s life. But there was no time to let his mind settle. Gumpa was already there at the garage, waiting for the group with a hot meal in mind and a bottle of liquor ready to pour. And Yok and Gram weren’t too far behind them.

“Shit! I’ve never felt this great before.” Yok began, a smile plastered on his face. They all listened intently as he continued, his eyes bright with amusement, “I watched the latest news. Tawi said there were some people trying to attack him, and when the reporters asked him if what’s going on is related to his forest trespassing case, he got so pissed and just stormed out in front of them. It was so satisfying.”

The group laughed at that, White’s own little chuckle escaping him at the thought of a man like Tawi being brought to frustration because of something they accomplished.

“That suggests our efforts were somewhat effective,” Gumpa commented. White could see Sean nod in agreement in his peripherals.

White agreed with the statement as well. He would personally say that their efforts were not just somewhat effective, but had completely shifted the tide of their battle. Their group was no longer alone in the fight against the dirty leaders of the world. Their side of the scale finally had extra weight.

“Black, why didn’t you come up with a different group name?” Yok asked, leaning forward a bit. “ROL doesn’t sound very cool.”

He still wasn’t used to the odd feeling of being called by Black’s name.

“I was in a rush, that didn’t leave much time for being creative. Plus, I didn’t know they would call us that.” White quickly explained, his hands following his words for emphasis, “It can mean various things though. Like… rolling. When we fall, there are still people who keep rolling, because this is for everyone.”

He didn’t miss the way the three across from him all looked at each other in silence before Yok exclaimed, “You’re just bullshitting.”

“Correct,” White replied with a forced smile.

He didn’t want to admit that he had actually put thought into those words, because Black probably wouldn’t have, right?

The three across from him burst out laughing, yet Sean remained silent.

“What did you just do?” Yok asked as the laughter continued, an accusatory finger pointer in White’s direction.

“Okay okay, come on.” Gram said, interrupting the laughter with a wave of his hands, “Now everyone knows how filthy Tawi is, let’s see how many people come out on the streets.”

“Then let’s celebrate Black’s achievement.” Gumpa replied, raising his glass to the middle of the table, “Cheers!”

All of them followed the action, glasses clinking together once more. White couldn’t help but feel his stomach turn at the thought of this being his achievement alone, however. The social media stunt was his doing, sure, but he wouldn’t have been able to get there without the gang. The original plan was Sean’s, and without Gram and Yok, it wouldn’t have been possible at all. Somewhere deep down, White could tell the words had affected Sean too. It wasn’t hard to miss the way Sean lazily raised his glass from beside him, not even attempting to make contact with anyone else’s. They all took another sip from their glass at that, only hesitating once Gumpa spoke again.

“Hey, this is huge. I heard from my guys in the inner circle that Tawi is enraged. He ordered his troops to capture you. There’s even a bounty on your head now. Just… be careful.” Gumpa said, as serious as ever. White heeded the warning.

“A douchebag is always doing douchebag things.” Sean replied, his first words since they had settled down, and White could only find himself internally giggling at the statement whilst also agreeing. The statement was a simple one, yet effectively the truth. Tawi wasn’t going to go down without a fight, they all knew that. They expected the man to put a bounty on their lives as if they were meaningless rats. White didn’t want to be caught up in all of this initially, and he reminded himself that he was getting in deep. His life wasn’t meant to go this way. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He had stepped off of a ledge, straight into the deep end of a lake, and there was no returning from it. He was drowning all over again, yet it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt like a breath of fresh air, finally free from the shackles of his father’s expectations. That freedom was also scary, he was undoubtedly full of fear deep down. There was so much on the line, so much that could go wrong.

However, he also reminded himself that Tawi was the only one who could’ve hurt Black, the only one with the intention to back it up. With Eugene no longer a suspect, it was the only option. So he felt good about this, not only for the sake of the people of Thailand, but also for his brother. His fear could cultivate all it wanted because he was in control at the end of the day.

He had a group around him, friends to support him. They would go down together.

They were ready.

“Because we jeopardized something that benefits him, the more people who speak out against his evilness, the more money he’ll lose.” White said.

They all seemed contemplative at that, silence setting around them. Gram stuffed his face with some food, and Gumpa eventually nodded in agreement, raising his glass for a sip. Sean merely stared at him from his spot, and White finally allowed himself to glance in the taller male’s direction, unable to avoid the way Sean’s gaze practically burned his body. He looked tired, more tired than White had ever seen him before. He wondered if it had something to do with the mission, or if it was something to do with what was said when he had White trapped in a chokehold. Something about his father. Or perhaps it was something else? He hadn’t known the man for long, so reading him was a bit foreign, but he silently hoped they could talk about it soon.

He frowned at the sight. Sean merely raised a brow in return.

“Hey, enough about the logistics of things. This is a celebration, isn’t it?” Yok spoke up, shrugging off the broody atmosphere as if it wasn’t even there to begin with. White watched as the man shoved a hand into one of the pockets of his pants, eventually pulling out a cigarette pack and slapping it down on the table, “I was able to get some good stuff this time around.”

“Good stuff?” White asked.

When all of them turned to look at him like he had just said the dumbest thing in existence, White realized that he was doing a horrible job of pretending to be Black for the millionth time. To compensate, he drank the rest of the contents in his glass in one go, wiping the residue from his lips with the back of his hand. He didn’t know if Black was a showy person or not, his brother seemed to pick and choose whenever he wanted to display his superiority or whatever based on reactions from the gang. So he didn’t make a scene of his action, just merely let it happen, leaning forward to set his empty glass down. Taking it all down in one go was rough, but if being in Russia for a while taught him anything, it was how to handle his liquor.

“Shit, Black. Are you letting the glory get to your head already?” Yok joked, to which Gram shook his head with a smile. Good. So they glossed over his initial reaction.

“Of course he is,” Gram replied, “He probably thinks we should be falling at his feet this very second.”

“No.” White quickly interrupted, “I just figured I’d give you guys a fighting chance.”

They all whooped out a teasing ‘oooh’ at that. He wasn’t planning on getting drunk tonight, it was all talk, but Gumpa was already filling his glass again. White begrudgingly retrieved the newly filled glass, feeling sheepish. Even if White wanted to go crazy, if he ended up getting too wasted, he may end up blowing his cover. Time and time again he had people back in Russia praise his ability to stay rather coherent when drinking, but everyone has a tipping point. If he wanted to continue drinking, he needed to be careful.

“Anyway, this stuff is high dollar, and I got it completely for free. A dude at school passed this off to me for helping with his project.” Yok proudly announced, reaching for the untouched cigarette package. White could only stare, head spinning with a triad of thoughts on the conversation. He wasn’t stupid. This was a conversation about drugs. What kind? He didn’t know. But if he found out his brother was hanging around people who actively participated in messing around with category-one drugs, he was going to rethink every decision he had made.

“We all know that the price tag doesn’t mean anything.” Sean replied.

“Since when did you become an expert?” Yok pointedly asked.

“Since the last time you brought around shitty weed, it still smoked the same.”

Shit. Cannabis. Weed.

White had no opinion on that subject. If anything, his stance was neutrally positive. Russia was strict with its rules, being a diplomat’s son only skewed his view in either a heavily negative way or a money-hungry way, and he had never been around it before. Well, at least, not until that moment. He was vaguely aware of the effects, and he had no underlying desire to try it for himself. But if Yok’s words were anything to go off of, this wasn’t a rare occurrence. They had done this before. Black had done this before.

But White hadn’t. He was just himself, a man who hadn’t even considered the possibility before.

But he wasn’t White right now. He was Black. The same Black who smoked cigarettes and probably dabbled in weed on top of that. That first point was something he had narrowly avoided on multiple occasions, but how was he supposed to get out of this?

“Whatever man,” Yok pulled two joints from the cigarette pack, neatly rolled to perfection. “Don’t be a baby when I don’t let you have any.”

Sean rolled his eyes.

Staring at the joints like a deer caught in headlights, White felt completely stuck. It was surprising how such minuscule objects could produce such a pungent smell. The scent was earthy, yet also strangely metallic to him. It was different. This whole situation was different. He had options. He could somehow maneuver his way out of this and make himself look even more suspicious… or he could play along and hope the substance didn’t make him stupid. He had heard plenty of tales online about bad highs, about strange happenings, and panic attacks. But those bad effects were rare, weren’t they? There was a reason the plant was so popular, there was a reason it was being used medically in multiple countries, including their own.

It couldn’t be that bad.

He laid low for once, taking a sip from his refreshed glass and watching events in front of him play out. Gram and Yok teased each other for a moment while Gumpa chuckled to himself, watching the two with a lighthearted smile. Yok eventually slotted one of the joints between his lips, reaching across the table to offer the other one to Sean, who accepted it without a word.

Shit. They were really doing this, weren’t they?

Yok was quick to light up his joint, taking a hefty drag, his chest rising with the intake. There was no exhale, just Yok passing the joint over to Gram, who immediately brought it to his mouth.

Sean was patting himself down beside him, hands traveling into his pockets with his brows furrowed. White watched the man, curious, his own face twisting into an uncomfortable expression as the smoke that Yok had been holding in finally made its way into the air. He steeled himself with a silent reminder that he was once again playing the role of Black, quite terribly at that, and hid the lower half of his face by bringing his glass to his mouth, letting it rest there.

“Hey, Black. Let me borrow your lighter.” Sean paused, looking up from his lap, the joint he had been previously offered resting between his fingers.

White tilted his head slightly, a frown forming on his face, “I don’t have it on me.”

It was the truth. But he realized how dumb the words were after they left his mouth.

“Damn. Are you serious about quitting?” Gram asked, coughing up a storm between the words. He offered the joint to Gumpa, who merely shook his head. Smoke billowed throughout the air between them, the smell of the source only growing increasingly powerful as the seconds passed. A haze was steadily settling over the table, and White tried his best to ignore it.

“No.” He replied, “I think… I dropped it at the fashion show.”

“Here.” Yok offered his own lighter to Sean, shaking his head as he began a faint conversation with Gram. The lighter landed in Sean’s hands, and Sean immediately flicked it open, the joint lazily hanging from between his lips. The newly spawned flame met with the end of the item, embers burning and glowing a bright orange for a moment.

White watched, an interested gaze firmly planted on the man. Strangely, he could feel his stomach flip with something unreadable, a tight feeling squeezing his gut. Sean’s slightly shoulders rose with the hit, his eyes fluttering shut as the end of the joint burned brighter. His head fell back against the couch, grey smoke flowing into the air from his nose and mouth, slowly dissipating into nothingness.

White was fucked.

Willing himself to look away, he downed a bit more of the liquid in his glass. Okay. That was something. That sight was something.

Gumpa was looking at him, eyebrows taught in a certain way. It reminded him of his dad before he was sat down for a serious discussion at the kitchen table, usually something about how ‘we don’t post about that on social media, we have an image to uphold’ or whatnot. White returned his gaze, like a little kid, eyes wide and questioning. They stared at each other for a moment, Gumpa opening his mouth to speak before closing it again.

Sean’s hand appeared in front of him before White could question the behavior, the burning joint neatly nestled between Sean’s fingers in a silent offering. White blinked, slowly, his free hand moving to accept it. Sean’s half-lidded gaze met White’s, his eyes dark, expression relaxed. But even then, his face reminded White of a dragon, stern and serious, hiding behind a facade of strength. In reality, he knew Sean was afraid of being slain. He turned that fear into passion, and White could only think it was admirable, yet dangerous.

Gram and Yok had burst out in a fit of giggles. But his focus remained on Sean, who was merely staring at him, patiently waiting.

Did he even know how to smoke? It was simple, right?

Leaning forward, White discarded his drink on the table, adjusting the joint in his grip. Gumpa was still looking at him, and he slotted the joint between his lips, hesitating for a moment. Was he really going to do this? He didn’t think it would completely blow his cover to refuse, so there was no reason to accept other than navigating around heightening their suspicions of him. But what were the consequences of accepting?

There were none. It was just the effects he was worried about.

White could handle alcohol all day long, he knew what it did to him, and when to stop. But weed? This was uncharted territory. Although the temptation seemed interesting, there was no way to tell that he wasn’t going to end up going off on a tangent about how he hoped his brother would wake up soon.

After a moment, a beat of silence and hesitation, White apprehensively took a hit, slowly inhaling the offering. The joint between his fingers was slowly burning away, the smoke traveling away from him, swirling into a transparent nothingness. He was suddenly all too aware of his heart pounding away in his chest.

He couldn’t even think at all once smoke began to enter his lungs, willingly taking it in like a match paired with friction, igniting a burn in his lungs. It stung, and his eyes began to water at the intensity. The smoke was held within his lungs for a moment, mimicking what he had seen from the men around him.

Then he broke out into a loud, harsh fit of coughs, the feeling scratching his throat as he attempted to catch his breath. He felt heavy, and his brain felt oddly foggy. He gasped.

“Black.” Sean quickly straightened out beside him, a hand coming down on his shoulder, “Black. Are you okay?”

White managed a nod.

Everyone around the table was looking at him, wide-eyed and silent.

“What?” He croaked out, “You haven’t seen a guy cough before?”

“It’s… just not like you.” Gram said, his words stilted. Yok nodded in agreement, smoke flowing from his lips.

White remained silent for a moment, vision bleary with a certain wetness. The joint was still in his possession, and he took in a deep breath, attempting to steel himself. Okay, maybe he was an idiot for taking such a long hit off of it, but how was he supposed to know it would hurt like that? No one ever talks about it. He didn’t even feel high yet.

“You did say it was high dollar, didn’t you, Yok?” Gumpa asked, to which the man in question nodded once again. “Well, there you go. Black is accustomed to the cheap stuff.”

“Or maybe he has just gone soft.” Yok replied, a giggle erupting from his body soon afterward.

White placed the joint between his lips once again, holding it between his fingers and taking a smaller hit this time, letting himself explore the feeling. It came easier this time, his response to the smoke in his lungs was a small fit of coughs, but it was nothing like the last time. His head felt fuzzier than ever, a sudden, powerful wave of lightheadedness rushing through his body. He looked at the joint, offering it up to Sean with a slow cadence. Their eyes met in the middle once again, Sean’s fingers brushing against his own as the joint was retrieved from him. His heart jumped at the sensation.

“Maybe… you’re.. uh.. just mean.” White said, finally replying to Yok. He didn’t mean to stumble over his words, but the concept of forming a proper sentence seemed far out of reach, words swooshing, speeding through his thought process. His mind felt like mush. But they laughed at him, even Sean cracked a smile.

White sat back against the couch, their laughter buzzing through his mind. The action of sitting back felt like it gave him whiplash, his body feeling unsteady. His limbs started to feel like cotton, the artificial lights of the garage strangely glowing brighter in his vision. He breathed, slow and steady, gaze remaining on Sean.

Sean had looked away, taking a hit, but he looked so much more relaxed than he previously had. He didn’t look tired anymore, only content with himself.

“What are you smiling about?” Gumpa’s voice broke through the laughter, which had grown faint.

“Black is smiling?” Gram sounded shocked.

“Holy shit, he is!” Yok pointed at him.

White attempted to snap out of his haze, feeling his neck and ears begin to burn. He leaned forward, lightly slapping Yok’s hand as they laughed again. The action felt as if it played out in slow motion in White’s mind, his arm snapping back to his side like jelly.

“See, he’s mean.” White said, nearly pouting, though the words weren’t really directed toward anyone in particular.

“Stop bullying him, Yok.” Sean spoke up, his voice sharp despite the soft, floaty feeling in White’s mind. “He deserves to have a good time.”

“Ooooh, standing up for Black, huh?” Yok replied, a permanent smile etched across his features, “What’s going on between you two anyway? You’ve been glued at the hip since the protest.”

Sean and White looked at each other at that. Sean’s head was tilted slightly, his attitude seemingly calm, and definitely more collected than the fire raging in White’s cheeks. He was not drunk or high enough to deal with this.

Gumpa was very obviously looking between them, eyes flicking between the two, and his hands balled in front of his face, contemplative. “Stop bothering them, Yok. Do you want me to bring up what you’ve been doing recently?”

Yok straightened out at that, whining, “That’s not fair.”

At that, White picked up his glass, which was still half-full, and downed the rest of the contents, letting the burn of whiskey distract him for the time being.

Gram was staring him down from across the table, and White couldn’t read his expression for the life of him. Fear spiked somewhere deep in his stomach, but it was drowned in the cottony pit of his mind. Sean was offering him the joint again, and White accepted, easily going for another hit.

“Shit.” He coughed out, tears welling up in the corner of his eyes again. Despite the fact, he could go for another hit like it was nothing, the inhalation itself wasn’t getting any easier. His body swayed involuntarily as he sunk back deeper into the couch, his muscles becoming unglued and relaxed. He finally understood why they called it getting high, his brain unable to comprehend left from right suddenly. He closed his eyes, attempting to hand the joint back to Sean with a slow, uncoordinated gesture. He felt the object slip away from the grip of his fingers, rough, calloused fingers meeting his own, and it suddenly felt so good.

Gumpa had started talking, the words muddled together in White’s concoction of brain soup. Something about the food. Something about possibly turning in early. It all passed through his ability to comprehend basic sentence structure. He heard some plates being slid around, glass creating a hollow sound against the wooden table. White hadn’t even attempted to eat a bite of food that night. The idea was beginning to sound rather appealing as the seconds passed through. He ate at the protest, but that was many hours ago. His stomach was a vacant pit by now.

But he couldn’t find it in himself to move just yet, still feeling rather lightheaded. It was crazy how his body could feel so heavy and slow as if rocks were tied to each of his limbs and delaying his movement, yet his mind felt lifted, above the atmosphere. Everything was heightened.

“Black.” Sean said. White didn’t respond.

“Hey, Black.” Sean gently shook him, a hand on his shoulder. White finally opened his eyes at that.

“Hm?” White responded, just a simple hum and nothing more.

Sean was looking at him, curious, eyebrows raised and head tilted. He released some smoke, a stream flowing upward from his lips, pale white swirling into the stream of lights. His eyes were dark, piercing deep into White’s thought process, his brain stuttering for a moment.

“What’s the plan after this?”

“Uh…” White began, the syllable drawn out, “Should we… really be talking about that right now?”

Gram and Yok were in a heated debate about something, Gumpa was playing the role of mediator. They didn’t seem to care about whatever Sean or White had to say at that moment.

Sean paused, a beat of silence, his voice low once he spoke again, “I mean after this.”

He gestured to the scene around them, and White blinked at that. Oh. He wasn’t talking about the grand scheme of things.

He had planned on going back to Black’s apartment, but he didn’t think he was going to even make it three steps out the door, much less drive Black’s bike all the way across town. His limbs felt too heavy, his mind too clouded and slow. His contacts were starting to bother him too, usually he was blissfully unaware of the feeling, but he could feel the faint, crisp burn of having them in for far too long creeping up on him.

“I don’t know.” White replied, “I don’t…”

He shook his head, attempting to pull back the words as they slipped away from his grasp.

“I don’t think I can drive.”

Sean seemed amused at that, “You can stay here.”

It was a simple solution, really. The easiest thought he had been able to process all night. But it still made his thoughts swim, thoroughly pushing against intense, deep waves of a high. He swallowed, the action somehow feeling thick, clogged, and stiff.

White slowly nodded, “Mm. Okay.”

He had stayed with Sean before. It wasn’t a scary thought. With his nerves buzzing with more than just the adrenaline rush of the night’s earlier activities, it made him feel ready to jump up at that moment, to dive into Sean’s personal space once again and explore.

White was impulsive and curious by nature, something that quite apparently ran in the family. Each agonizing second that passed by persisted in his mind, the effects of the weed consistently hitting him with wave after wave. The effects didn’t shy away from him, his wary and guarded mindset that ordinarily lingered when he was around the gang just steadily slipped away. It took his inhibitions with it. Or perhaps that was the alcohol? He hadn’t had that much, or at least, he didn’t presume so. Maybe it was the mixture of the two. Either way, he could tell his filter was holding onto loose threads. Sean’s invitation only made something deep within his mind perk up like a curious cat and satisfaction was craved.

He desired to know more about the man. From his fiery attitude to his deepest woes. He had seen a great deal of Sean’s emotions, but for some reason, he wanted…

More.

His breath hitched in his throat at that. He silently hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

The night passed by in a muddled blur after that. He managed to completely empty a whole other cup or two of whiskey, his insides warm with the sensation. He managed to take another hit or two as well, and if he focused hard enough, he swore he could taste the cool, minty chill of Sean’s cigarettes on his breath. The shared joint left little to the imagination. He didn’t think his brain would conjure up something that ridiculous on his own. However, the ever-changing flow of his processing ability was hard to decipher at that point.

They had all engaged in a conversation at some point, though a lot of the concepts were lost in his memories. Gram has tried to initiate a philosophical debate on the current judicial system and explain crazy loopholes at some point. It lasted for about five minutes.

Okay. Maybe White wasn’t the only one who wasn’t present enough to handle that.

But they had definitely all enjoyed a conversation about the one thing they all had in common, and that was petty crime. It was a new world to White, but it was part of him now. Yok explained he had been fascinated by street art and partook in doing graffiti long before he had even entered university and the gang was a thing. They all teased him, as the admission wasn’t particularly a surprising one. Sean rolled his eyes, replying with something along the lines of ‘At least I was an honest kid.’

“Oh, so the be gay and do crimes thing started later for you? Late bloomer.” Yok had managed to say through a chest full of laughter, causing all of them to erupt into a crazed fit of laughter. It made White’s stomach hurt with the force, his cheeks cramping, and his newly sensitive lungs also unappreciative of the gesture. But despite the pain, he hadn’t felt that good in ages. Since he was a kid, sitting around in his and Black’s shared room with Todd, giggling about being awake past midnight.

He needed that laughter, honestly.

Life had been looking grim for him from the moment he stepped back onto the soil of Thailand. Experiencing unbearable pain twice, Black’s pain, his brother, who was in a coma with no logical prediction of waking up, and him finally opening his eyes to the corrupt system, walking out on his privileged life without turning back. It was confusing. It was scary. Their actions had given him hope, but nothing could compare to the dopamine caused by good company and laughter that left his body so hard that it made him cry.

As the night grew even older, White finally ate something, and it felt like once he started, it was difficult to stop. No one said anything, so maybe that was just in his mind. Gram and Yok had also begun to fizzle out, their heavy eyes and tired, slumped bodies finally catching up to them. Yok said something about calling a ride, and Gram had opted for piggybacking off of that, saying something about how his current state of mind was Yok’s fault anyway.

That left three, White himself, Sean still beside him, and Gumpa. Gumpa had started to clean up their mess, and Gram and Yok’s empty glasses swept off of the table in an instant. White was still nursing a glass himself, the same with Sean.

Sean had also put out their shared joint a long while ago. They had smoked it down to just below half of the length it used to be.

And White was comfortably numb, his fingertips practically throbbing with the waves of his drunken high. It felt fantastic. He didn’t even know why he was worried to begin with. He felt too lazy to even speak.

Gumpa had eventually returned, moving behind the couch and clapping a hand down on Sean’s shoulder. He gestured toward White, who currently felt as though he had become one with the couch, “Hey, make sure you take care of this one.”

“Take care of him? What is he? A toddler?” Sean replied, but the words held no fight. They were drawn out, slow, and lazy. White cracked a smile at that, somehow registering that Sean’s demeanor was cute.

“I’m fine.” White said, his voice leaving his body in a stilted, slurred attempt at normalcy. “I’m staying here tonight.”

Gumpa looked between them, silent for a moment before giving them a nod of understanding. “Why don’t you guys go ahead and head up then? It’s late, and I can clean up the rest of this. I need you guys energized for tomorrow. And Sean… don’t forget what we talked about.”

White blinked, heavy gaze on both of them, unspoken tension rising.

“Fine. Come on, Black.” Sean sighed, moving to stand up. White did his best to follow, his vision spinning the moment he sat up from his slumped position. Fuck.

He stumbled, his knees buckling under his dizziness. He fell straight against Sean’s frame, who wavered for only a moment before he caught White with a steady grip on his wrists. There was a distance between them, yet White stared up at his face, feeling unusually close, his breath catching in his throat at the dark gaze planted upon him.

“Shit. Sorry.” White finally said, averting his gaze and snapping his wrists out of Sean’s grasp, which only caused him to stumble again.

Sean quickly grabbed him again in response, holding onto one of his wrists with a grip that practically cut his circulation. He looked at White, his brows furrowed, but his expression otherwise unreadable, “...You really are a toddler.”

Gumpa’s smirk caught White’s attention, but before White could come up with a retort, he was being dragged away. He swayed with the rush of his buzz, his feet dragging against the concrete floor as he was led to the ladder that led up to Sean’s room.

“Up.” Sean commanded, carefully guiding White in front of him and letting go of his wrist. White could only nod, eyes suddenly feeling much heavier than before. His hands met with each side of the ladder, cool steel feeling like ice against his heated fingertips. He hesitated, unable to focus on the thin bars. The scene in front of him was blurred and dancing around despite the fact he was standing still. Even so, he shakily hoisted himself up, slow and uncoordinated. His arms felt like jelly.

It must’ve shown, because Sean’s hands hovered over his waist, ready to steady him in case of an accident. White felt his cheeks burn.

He somehow managed to make it all the way up without any issues. Sean followed close behind him. He sat on his knees for a moment at the top of the ladder, silently waiting for the other to join him. It was a long way down from the top. He was too scared to stand up entirely without Sean there to protect him from the fall. But eventually, Sean was there with him. He offered a hand, helping White up without a word, and they made it to his bedroom unharmed. Luckily.

The sliding door closed with a click, and the familiar must of old books and minty cigarettes settled in White’s nostrils. Sean made it to the floor in front of the bed before collapsing right there, his back against the bed and his head in his hands. White followed, although he actually made it to the bed. He sat upright next to Sean, his legs firmly planted on the ground next to the man. His room was just as messy as White had remembered it, nothing had changed. Scattered books and pages littered the desk along with a few empty cans of beer. He wondered if Sean commonly drank, or if he had just neglected to pick the cans up for a couple of days.

“I need to talk to you.” Sean eventually said, voice muffled.

White remained silent for a moment, considering the words the best he could through his foggy mind. Talk to him? Sean never talked things out in his experience. He acted first, with punches or some other kind of physicality directed at his problem. Never words. Words were a second thought. “About what?”

“You know what.”

White had no idea what.

He closed his eyes, finding himself swaying a little with the uncomfortable spin in his vision. He willed it to go away, attempting to focus on his thoughts instead. Talk to him. Sean needed to talk to him. This must be important. What was so important that Sean needed to talk to him? Fear panged deep within his heart for a split second, his one big secret coming to the forefront of his mind. Had he blown his cover somehow? Did he say something weird? Is that what this was about?

The thought was sobering. He opened his eyes, suddenly feeling as though his entire body was thrown into the arctic ocean, his muscles freezing up. Shit.

Was it over? Did they know he wasn’t Black?

Sean didn’t look at him. He only lifted his head from his hands and dug into his pocket, retrieving his pack of cigarettes and digging out the forgotten, half-smoked joint. It was lit within an instant, flame meeting the already burnt end. White could hear his ears start ringing from just how silent the room was, his fear creeping up, growing into a monster with each passing second. He hadn’t even noticed how his breath had quickened, his fingers digging deep into the fabric of his pants near his thighs.

Sean finally looked up at him, offering him the joint. That action alone squashed some of his fear, but he was still on edge. If it wasn’t his identity that was the issue, then what was? Did he do something wrong?

The last thing he could remember doing wrong was screwing up their mission, but Sean had already done something about that. The memory of arms wrapped tightly around his throat was still fresh in his mind. And White had already rectified his actions. So why?

He accepted the joint, his thoughts shooting out one after the other at an unprecedented speed. He could hardly catch them all. He stared at Sean, the lit joint steadily burning away between his fingers. Sean looked oddly sheepish, his shoulders slouched and his eyes shining in the low light of the room.

That’s when it hit him.

“Did you want to apologize?” White leaned forward with a smirk, the buzz in his veins finally settling.

Sean physically straightened up at that, his usual hardened expression returning as his gaze flickered between White’s expression and the joint in his hand. He eventually snatched the joint away, “If you don't want to smoke, give it back.”

Sean was quick to bring the item to his mouth, and White eagerly watched, suddenly aware of their secluded nature. He indulged in the sight like a man withering from dehydration, a smile gently tugging at the corner of his lips.

Pretty.

The thought swooped through his mind, leaving just as quickly as it had arrived.

He reached out, ripping the joint from Sean’s fingers at that.

Sean jumped, “Black!”

White was already in the process of taking a hit, dragging the feeling straight into his lungs, an uncomfortable expression on his face. He coughed, a hand covering his mouth, smoke leaving him in bursts. Sean was staring at him.

The attention felt good.

“Then… what did you want to talk about?” White looked at him expectantly, his wide eyes half-lidded in a comfortable haze. Smoke flowed between them, reminding him of calm, ocean waves as it rested in the air. The substance washed over Sean’s features from White’s point of view, blanketing him in a cascade of gray. And Sean remained silent. His gaze eventually dropped, moving to the lower half of White’s face, lingering for only a moment before he looked away altogether. He watched as Sean nervously toyed with his bottom lip between his teeth, slowly turning himself around to fully face White. He adjusted himself, swaying a little, his eyes just as hazy as they were vulnerable.

“I was… being too hot-headed that day.” Sean started, his words slurring just a little. “I’m letting you share the rest of that with me in return.”

White smiled, his brain suddenly fuzzy and coddled with a warm emotion. It washed over his whole body, making him giggle quietly. “See? You did want to apologize.”

“You’ve changed so much.” Sean said. The words were quiet, as if the statement was a secret that Sean was initially keeping for himself. “You use your brain more. You smile more. And ever since we’ve started this shit, we haven’t had as much support as we have now… and it’s because of you.”

“Right?” White’s smile returned in full force, unable to keep the expression contained. He slurred a bit, blinking slowly, gathering his thoughts together before speaking again, “It’s like… have you uh… have you seen the news? Protestors are even pitching up tents.”

“Mm… I saw.” Sean replied, his eyes bleary. A lazy, proud smile formed on his face, “People curse at Tawi everywhere he goes. The momentum is with us now.”

Sean reached out, gently retrieving the joint from White. Hungrily taking in a hefty drag, the end of the item burned brighter as his chest rose at a leisurely pace. White followed the action with his eyes. For the second time that night, he felt utterly fucked by the sight. Sean looked relaxed, completely in his element. But he also looked so vulnerable, the way he looked at White was not as aggressive anymore. His eyes were no longer those of a dragon, but those of a young man who had been through way too much. White swallowed, placing his palms on top of the bed and carefully sliding down onto the floor. The change in his position made him close his eyes once again, grounding himself in the metaphorical sense. His whole head was an intense whirlpool, and he had to struggle to surface himself.

He finally looked at Sean, intently meeting that uncovered, expecting gaze.

And White hesitated, his words caught in his throat.

“What did… What did Tawi do to you?” White finally asked, his voice soft.

Sean seemed lost, silence following the words. He bowed his head, his hands beginning to restlessly fidget in his lap. The action caught White’s attention, and he retrieved the joint, holding onto it before Sean ended up burning himself with it.

“I’m here to listen.” White reassured, doing his best to articulate his words, eyes still feeling heavy and his muscles lazy, “I don’t know what happened… but you don’t need to keep it to yourself. You might feel better if you share it. You don’t have to deal with it alone.”

Sean looked back up at him, a wet, glassy film over his eyes that wasn’t there before. He continued to fidget, opening his mouth to speak, closing it, and then opening it again. White was about to shut the topic down, scared that he had crossed a line.

But Sean beat him to it.

“My dad worked for Tawi, trafficking his drugs.” Sean admitted.

White’s breath stuttered in his throat. He sat up a little straighter, mentally steeling himself.

“I was shocked too, trust me. I always thought of him as if… he was a hero.” Sean’s eyebrows were furrowed now, his words blurring together and his voice cracking under the pressure of his emotions. The display was sobering for the moment. White could feel himself frown, feeling nothing but sympathy for the man. He didn’t like the sight of Sean - someone who had not only saved his life, but had given him hope - looking so sad. He instinctively reached out with his free hand, his palm splaying out on Sean’s knee and his fingers moving back and forth in an attempt to soothe.

“I remember it so well. I was reading a book and the police started to knock on our door. My mom was so… so taken aback. They said my dad was a drug trafficker. My dad, who I believed was a decent man. But that wasn’t the worst part.” Sean explained, pausing for a moment, his breath exiting his body in a noticeably unsteady manner, “They said he was resisting arrest… and he was shot. Right then and there.”

Sean shook his head with dismay. White leaned in closer, his hand squeezing Sean’s knee and his steady gaze never leaving the other’s face.

“I was so… so mad. I was so mad. I was mad he was a drug dealer. I was mad that he just… betrayed my mom and me. I was mad that he dared to try to teach me to do good things, to be honest, to obey the law.” Sean said, becoming more passionate as he continued, “I was so mad that it turned into hatred. What he did followed me everywhere. Everyone at school hated me. My own friends turned into strangers. And finally… my mom… she got sick and left me alone.”

Sean once again bowed his head, looking toward his hands in his lap, the heavy admission falling between them. White was so close he could smell the familiar scent of linen shampoo and sweat in the man’s hair. His fingers practically throbbed with the thrumming of his heartbeat, the rhythmic pace only picking up at their closeness. Their bodies lingered that way for a moment. And luckily, before White’s high made him do something stupid, Sean looked at him again. White followed his gaze, unable to hold back his sympathetic expression.

Sean didn’t deserve what happened to him.

“I always thought it was too late to find the answer or fix what my dad did. The only person who could’ve swept this shit under the rug was Tawi. He’s got… power. And money. Everyone knows he is a drug lord under that businessman persona, and if they don’t see that, they are fucking stupid. But I thought someone like me could never be on his level. I was nothing.” Sean said, the shine in his eyes swelling, “My life was over. I didn’t want to live anymore. There was nothing left for me.”

White lifted his hand from Sean’s knee, softly cupping the man's face with no hesitation. His thumb gently brushed over the skin in front of his ear, slow, steady, in a pattern. He knew Sean was dangerously reckless, a ticking time bomb ready to explode the moment his mission was in front of him. But hearing him say it, hearing him admit that his life was nothing to him, it hurt. They stared at each other, the words heavy in the air, just as smoke was between them. “But you got past it. You’re strong. That’s why you’re here, Sean.”

“I was just lucky to have met you...” Sean replied, “Your plan gave me a life goal. It gave me a way to fight. You’ve given me a purpose.”

The words practically melted him to his core, suddenly feeling a giddiness that wasn’t there before. Coupled with the effects of the weed, it made him feel like he was above the clouds, past the stratosphere, and at the point of no return. White softly smiled, feeling out of control as his fingers traveled to play with the small, black hoop in Sean’s ear.

“I’m really… really happy that you told me this.” White admitted, “It helps me understand you. And get to know you better.”

Sean’s gaze dropped for a moment, examining White’s body. It ventured back up, blatantly lingering at his lips before it met his interested glare in the middle. He tilted his head slightly, leaning into White’s touch before speaking again. His voice was low, yet so shocked at the same time, “Why do you want to know about me?”

The words went straight to his heart, and he froze in place, the waves of his high urging him to do something so fucking stupid. He had to be reading this wrong. It was just the weed. It had to be.

“Because I want…”

White was fully aware of what he wanted. He practically wanted to eat Sean alive at that very moment, desire burning hungrily in his chest. It was feeding off of his inebriation, spreading like an untamed wildfire. It had never been this intense before. Sean had opened himself up to him. He had trusted White with information close to his heart, and White was falling. He was falling faster than he expected, the substance in his system making emotion feel ten times more intense. It felt wrong to take advantage of that, to take advantage of their altered state of mind. Sean couldn’t want him like that. There was no way.

“You want?” Sean’s calloused hand slid up his arm, resting at his wrist, nimble fingers wrapping around the appendage. He leaned closer.

The seconds ticked by, slow, meticulous. White was a statue, fear pinning him down and freezing him in place. They were so close, heated breaths intermingling. White searched the dark, heavy glare that had remained unwavering. He looked for any sign that this was wrong, that this wasn’t what Sean wanted. He waited.

And Sean kissed him, chapped lips brushing against his own in a gentle, experimental meeting.

White’s heart stuttered.

Sean was pulling away before he could even process the action, his brain lagging far behind the world around him. White shakily inhaled, his gaze stuck on Sean’s dark eyes.

And White kissed him back.

It was against his better judgement, but there was no time to think, not when he had received a taste. He was hungry now. He wanted more, and with his brain swirling with the effect of the plant he had been so graciously offered, he was going to fearlessly take it.

The kiss started out soft. Sean’s lips were motionless against his own at the beginning, with nothing more to it. But then Sean’s hand traveled to his shoulder, gripping it tight and tugging his body closer as their lips began to move in sync.

Scratch whatever the fuck he thought earlier. He had never felt more alive until now.

They grew more eager, letting their emotions guide them. White’s brain was hazy with much more than the weed, his inhibitions clouded by desire. He somehow found himself hovering over Sean’s lap, and he snubbed the lit joint out on the floor, uncaring of the soot it left smeared across it. He abandoned the stick on the ground, dragging Sean deeper into the kiss and guiding the man closer.

His hand slid to the nape of Sean’s neck, fingers splaying out to play with his hair. Their tongues messily slid together, and all White could think about was the way Sean tasted. Whiskey, weed, and mint all infiltrated his senses at once. Sean was leading him along, and White was happily drinking it all in, his thirst finally quenched. It was all so intense. Every movement was registered in his brain, every texture of Sean’s skin, every hot and cold sensation. He could hardly notice the feeling of his heart pounding against his chest.

All he could notice was Sean. His warm hands against his body, his taste against his tongue, the way he was so gentle, yet fierce. Everything about the man was electrifying his senses.

He could hardly remember that Sean didn’t even know about his identity.

Wait.

White suddenly pulled back. He felt breathless, practically gasping for air. The air felt cool as it moved past his slick lips, his grip on Sean loosening by the second.

He was going to explain. He really was.

But Sean, fuck, he was just as breathless. His cheeks were flushed over in a scarlet tint, his hair was disheveled, sticking up in all sorts of directions, and his lips were pouty, shining with spit. White stared. His brain completely short-circuited.

“Pretty.” White said, the word leaving his mouth in accented Russian.

Sean furrowed his brows. “What?”

“It’s…” White stalled. He felt warm. Unnecessarily warm. “It’s Russian. I called you pretty.”

“Since when did you know Russian?”

White remained silent. Suddenly, he was scared. The fear had finally caught up to him. The world was swirling in his vision again. What if Sean was angry at him for hiding his identity? Especially after kissing him. It felt… It felt wrong. It was wrong. It was his own fault, but he really didn’t want to lose this. All of it. He didn’t want to lose the friend group, but he could eventually get over that if he really tried.

But he didn’t think he could get over Sean.

“Sean…” He eventually began. He swallowed, his stomach suddenly feeling sickly as he tried to articulate the subject, “If I’m not Black… the Black that you used to know, would you be okay with that?”

Sean pecked his lips, as if it was the most simple action in the world, his fingers digging into White’s shoulders, “I’ve never known you better than I do right now.”

His eyes suddenly felt wet, his vision blurring. The words would’ve been sickeningly sweet if it wasn’t for the fact that he wasn’t Black. No. He couldn’t let this continue. He needed to leave, to sleep off this high somewhere else. He couldn’t be near Sean right now. He moved.

But Sean’s grip held him in place, as if Sean anticipated that he’d try to run.

“If you’re not Black…” Sean began, his voice low, “Then who are you?”

White’s heart stuttered for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. Sean was instantly searching his gaze, for what, he didn’t know. White was panicking. He wasn’t ready to admit it, he wasn’t ready to face the secret he had been harboring. He knew it was the right thing to do, that it was Sean’s right to know at this point. But he couldn’t.

Shit. Breathe.

He attempted to calm himself, focusing on Sean’s fingers lightly brushing against his shoulders in a soothing motion. Sean looked so vulnerable, so… so scared in his own way. He looked like he was speaking about his father all over again, and it made a pit form in White’s gut. He let go of his thoughts for a second, letting his high guide him again instead. He fell into it, letting his body relax instead of trying to fight it, his fingers moving to fidget with Sean’s earring once again. Sean was being patient.

White took in a deep breath. Okay.

“His brother.” White slowly admitted, the word falling from his lips in a whisper. “I’m his brother.”

He prepared for the worst. He prepared to be thrown off of Sean’s lap, to be denounced as a traitor and pushed out of the garage, never to return again. He prepared to leave Black’s life forever, to trudge all the way back to his childhood home and begrudgingly accept his old way of life.

Sean didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move.

He just looked… relieved?

“And where did you plan on running off to?”

White shook his head, the explanation he had ready just feeling like mush in his mind, “Just… somewhere else. Somewhere far away.”

“Don’t you think I should at least know your name before you go do something like that?” Sean was looking at him expectantly, a brow raised.

He looked away, “It’s White.”

It was out there now. There was no turning back. But there was no explosion, the universe didn’t shift, and the stars didn’t fall. It was the same. Everything was the same. Sean’s body was still underneath his, and his hands were still planted firmly on White’s shoulders. There was no yelling, no violence. Only their breathing, only the smoke still resting in the air.

It had been… so easy.

“White?” Sean parroted. It left his body like a sigh, relief apparent in his tone. It felt so unbelievably good to hear his name in Sean’s voice, his nerves were practically vibrating with the sound. A warm hand cupped White’s face, gently guiding him to look back in Sean’s direction. “I had a feeling…”

“A feeling?” White was speaking before he could even think. Sean had a feeling that he wasn’t Black? And he hadn’t said anything? He frowned. “How long?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Sean shook his head, “The truth is out now, isn’t it? You’re not Black. You’re the person I have feelings for.”

White was immediately kissing Sean again, slow and lazy, drowning in his emotions. A wet drop had begun to slide down his cheek, leaving behind a trail of saltiness, and Sean’s thumb gently wiped it away. Had it really been that easy all along?

They kissed until they were breathless, until the fabric of their shirts was too confining to handle, until their bodies felt too heated to press further. They were left gasping for air, their bare chests quickly rising and falling with the momentum of it all. White had truly never felt more alive.

White eventually collapsed against Sean, his head resting in the crook of the man’s neck. A hand rhythmically stroked his arm, up and down, a squeeze here and there. He was definitely still high, the loopiness of it all still present. But it wasn’t as strong, only soft waves hitting him every now and then. It felt comforting. Sean’s heart was thumping in his chest, and White could clearly hear it. The sound put a small smile on his face.

“White…” Sean said. White looked up at him. “Black and White? Like the colors?”

“You’re just now thinking about that?”

Sean hummed. “How long have you been with us?”

White was silent as he thought about his past with the gang, trying to put it into perspective. It was crazy. He had met Sean not too long ago, the day they had smeared motor oil all over each other replaying in his mind as if it was yesterday. But there was one big event that he wasn’t going to be able to shake, even if he desperately tried. “Since the fire.”

Sean hummed again.

“That makes sense. You were different then. A good different. Black wouldn’t have even thought about running back into the house.” Sean snorted out a laugh. He paused, his next words just as curious as they were painful for White to consider, “Where is he then?”

White sighed, letting Sean’s heartbeat keep him steady. “He’s… in the hospital.”

“In the hospital?”

“Something happened to him.” White explained, closing his eyes, slurring his words along the way, “He was beaten up… pretty badly. And now he’s in a coma… I don’t know if he’ll wake up.”

Sean was silent, nothing but the sound of shallow breaths meeting White’s ears. He knew it was a lot for someone to process, even if Sean and Black weren’t on the best of terms. He wasn’t sure if he was entirely over the infield shock himself. He didn’t think he would be. He wondered if Sean cared about Black enough to feel hurt by the admission. He wondered if Sean would ask him a million questions, would demand an explanation for his infiltration into the gang right then and there.

But none of that came. Instead, Sean moved his hand away from White’s arm, and gently patted his head, calloused fingers sliding against his scalp in the best of ways.

“Are you okay?”

White hadn’t even been asked that once since the whole ordeal. Not even Todd had bothered to ask him.

It brought tears to his eyes, but he held them back. Now wasn’t the time for that. He let out a shaky breath, “I will be.”

It was only the truth. He snuggled against Sean’s shoulder, seeking comfort from the man’s body. Sean only encapsulated him within his grasp, his warm hands trailing up White’s sides and up his arms. The world was silent around them, and if White focused hard enough, he could hear the faint buzz of the artificial lighting around them. The smell of weed was still strong within his nostrils, and he didn’t think it was going anywhere soon. He sighed.

“White?”

His name broke the silence. White looked up at the other man. “Hm?”

“Can I take you somewhere?”

Sean’s dark eyes held fire just as they held care, and White nodded, trusting Sean with his life.

White found himself with his arms tightly wrapped around Sean’s waist, his face buried in the man’s forest green jacket from behind. The smell of the fabric consumed his senses, eyes wide as the breeze flew past them in the cold, nighttime air. Sean's motorcycle hummed underneath him with its engine gladly revving up with the other man at the controls. He silently let Sean guide them to whatever their destination may be, relaxing against the man.

It had initially taken a bit of convincing to get White onto the motorcycle. Sean had to assure him that he was okay to drive, that they’d both be okay. White was skeptical, but he trusted Sean. He trusted that the man wasn’t lying to him about his state of mind. He trusted that they’d be safe.

Once on the bike and with Sean’s body against his own, didn’t let himself think, rather, he let himself enjoy the moment. He let it happen. He let himself wholeheartedly take in the beautiful feeling of Sean’s body so close against his, the comfortable vibration of the motorcycle slowly becoming a familiarity, a soft smile on his face.

They ended up taking a familiar road, the same road Gram had ended up expressing Black’s words to him. ‘Freedom is the oxygen of the soul.’

White was truly starting to understand what his brother meant.

They were somewhere in the forest, farmlands beginning to surround them along with deep greens and browns. It wasn’t too far out of town, White knew that. But it still felt secluded, desolate in its own little way. He could feel the engine steadily rev down, and before he knew it, Sean had stopped.

Sean was quick to grab his hand once they had stepped off, and White looked down at their joined hands, still in disbelief that it had been this easy. Sean wasn’t angry with him. Sean had feelings for him. The confession that had been weighing his heart down was finally lifting him up.

They were parked on a dirt road, rocks and gravel crunching under his feet as Sean led him along. The treeline was approaching. White played with the possibility that all of this had been some elaborate scheme to get him to confess so he could be drug out into the woods in murdered. But he internally laughed at the concept as they entered the forest. Sean moved branches out of the way for him as they trudged through the greenery, a handy flashlight guiding their way through the darkness. White silently thanked Black for wearing chunky boots. If he was wearing his own shoes, he would’ve been impaled by all sorts of thorns already.

There was a light breeze around them, it shook the trees and disheveled his hair. It felt chilly but in a good way. It cooled his heated body, his high still present in the back of his mind. There was a low stream next to them, it cut through the greenery and led somewhere unknown. As they tramped deeper into the forest, he could see moonlight beginning to light up the land, the tree-cover becoming thinner and thinner.

And then it stopped altogether. He was met with sandy shore under his shoes, the sound of ocean waves calmly swooshing against the land, and the smell of salt thick in the air.

The beach. Sean had taken him to the beach.

The moon glistened on the water, sparkles of pale blue meeting his gaze. It looked beautiful, the wide expanse of the gulf seemingly heightening his senses. His heart had never felt more full.

Sean was looking at him, a gentle squeeze of his hand sending him back to reality. He softly smiled.

“Why did you take me here?” White found himself asking.

“Gumpa’s friend owns the farmland,” Sean began to explain, “The forest around it was one of the first places he took us when it came to training.”

White turned his body, facing Sean.

“Black was the one who ended up stumbling onto the beach alone that day. Instead of coming back for us, he stayed.” Sean said, “We found him eventually. He was quiet, no shitty remarks, no glares. We were tired, so all of us sat together and watched the sunset. Talked about our plans. It was probably the first time we all truly got along as a group.”

Sean huffed out a laugh at that, smug in his demeanor as he took White’s other hand in his own, holding onto both tightly. His thumbs brushed over the back of his hands.

“I come back here sometimes when I need to clear my head,” His gaze met with White’s, and White just knew he was a goner, “I just thought you deserved to see it.”

His heart fluttered. He squeezed Sean’s hands at the feeling.

“Thank you.” White managed through the lump in his throat, attempting to push away the tears welling up in his eyes. “And thank you for accepting me. I know it’s…”

“Crazy? Yeah, it is.” Sean replied, his voice soft, “You will tell everyone else too, won't you? I’m not asking for tonight but… I think we all deserve an explanation. A more in-depth one.”

White’s breath hitched at that. Sean had accepted him without any hiccups. But the rest of the group? What would they think? They seemed closer to Black than Sean ever was. Would they be mad at him for taking his place? For toying with Black’s life while he sat in a coma?

Sean was suddenly dragging him into a hug.

That nervous energy was drained from his system as Sean’s warm palms traveled up and down his back. White buried his face against his neck, sighing.

White slowly nodded, “I’ll tell everyone.”

Sean hummed, the low vibrations spreading throughout White’s body. It made him feel warm. The hug was broken, and Sean looked at him again, “Good. I don’t want you to run away from this.”

“I couldn’t run from you even if I tried, Sean.”

Chapped lips pressed against his, and White gladly leaned into it, returning the kiss with his emotions soaring above the clouds. Everything felt right, and White had never been happier.

He would have to tell the group at some point tomorrow, he would have to deal with his brother waking up at some point, and he would have to deal with being put on probation for the group's escapades. But that was okay. The future looked bright for him at that moment on the beach, and he knew he could deal with anything the world decided to throw at him.

He had finally found his purpose, and he had become Sean’s in the process.