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Jake’s cheek leans against his elbow where it rests on the window ledge, staring at the world passing by in a blur of colour. His fingers tap absently on the door of the car as the shit radio plays some shit track that Bradley hums along to. His feet are up on the dashboard, tracking mud onto the clean surface that had been so taken care of until he ruined it. He’s making quite a name for himself, doing that now.
“Where are we going to go first?” Bradley asks, as the song ends and there’s a couple moments of silence before the next begins. He’s still smiling faintly, the adrenaline and giddiness of rebellion keeping him going. Jake envies him. He’s just been feeling hollow for the past day.
“Mm… Norway or something. I wanna fight a bear,” Jake responds, his mouth half squished against his elbow and his words half-muffled.
“You wouldn’t win. Besides, there are bears in America.”
“I don’t fucking… How about Fiji?”
“What’s there?”
“Cannibals, according to Herman Melville.”
Bradley’s nose scrunches in that cute way it does when he’s disgusted. “I don’t think that’s accurate. Anyway, why would we want to be eaten?”
“Well where do you wanna go?” Jake sighs, crossing his arms and leaning against the seat and the door, fiddling with the seatbelt in his hand.
“England—No, Germany, er… The west part. Or, maybe Switzerland. Oh, no, how about France?”
Jake raises his eyebrows at him, unable to stop himself from smiling slightly, despite how he tries to stop it. Bradley shrugs at him, taking his eyes off the road to grin at him in that goofy way that is reminiscent of everything Jake hates that he loves about Bradley Bradshaw. He shouldn’t like him at all. They’re different in almost every way, from their social circles to their interests, but Jake has found himself sucked into Bradley’s orbit and can’t seem to stay away. It started with a chance encounter in their school’s shitty library, with Jake stumbling over his words and asking Bradley for help finding a book because he was the only person there Jake wasn’t worried about embarrassing himself in front of. From then on he was enamoured.
And now here they are, in a car they’d stolen from Bradley’s godfather and making plans on how to spend their newfound freedom.
Jake ignores the guilt that threatens to drain him of anything good and leave only a husk of what he could be behind. He isn’t forcing Bradley to do this. It had been his fucking idea, Jake just went along with it because what the fuck else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t go home, and he couldn’t pretend that showing up at Bradley’s door near midnight in tears was something they could just ignore. He’d never had the opportunity before, he supposes. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, other than to hide under his bed covers and wish he was in line for a swift death sometime soon. Now he’s got an accomplice and he’s gonna make the most of it, damn it.
“You ever been to Europe before?” Jake asks him, spotting a flickering neon sign up ahead through the torrents of rain crashing down onto the car, drenching the windscreen and almost drowning out his voice. He points it out to Bradley, who nods in acknowledgement.
“Nope, but I wanna go real bad. It just looks nice, you know? All the history… Don’t you think it would be cool?”
“I dunno. Never been.”
“But just imagine.”
“I…Sure, yeah, I guess.”
“There, see? How about we go to Europe first, and then we can go fight bears and whatever other insane things you come up with,” Bradley says as he pulls into the entrance beside the sign, squinting past the wipers swiping rapidly across the windscreen and pulling into an empty spot near the front door.
The motel looks a little worse for wear. The wood seems old and some of the red paint is chipping off, along with cheap looking doors and thin windows. It looks like every other highway motel that cropped up a couple decades ago with no accounting for quality, and Jake follows Bradley out of the car, holding his hands over his head in vain to protect himself from the rain as they run under the metal stair landing at the side of the building. Bradley wipes some rain away that had been streaking down his face and they trudge their way to what appears to be the office. Bradley holds the door open for him and Jake tries to stand up straighter, broaden his shoulders and lift his chin. He’s not scrawny, but he still looks seventeen. Bradley’s godfather always says that he has a young face and he’ll regret wanting to grow up when he starts looking older. Jake doubts that somehow, especially as the guy behind the counter gives him a funny look when he walks in. Bradley looks older than him at least, as well as actually being older, so he can get them into places that will only check his ID and ignore Jake. He keeps behind Bradley as he wanders up to the counter, leaning his already soaked elbows on the polished wood, much to the chagrin of the proprietor.
“Can we get a room for the night?” Bradley asks, and the guy shrugs. He doesn’t look that much older than them, dark sideswept hair and big dark eyes with an odd intensity behind them that make him look softer, and somewhat cute. Jake stares at him because it’s polite to make eye contact. No other reason.
“Two beds or one?” The guy asks, glancing at Jake before opening a thick book and scribbling something in pen on it.
Bradley falls quiet, glancing back at Jake who shrugs and shakes his head. The guy behind the counter sighs and dumps the heavy book on the counter next to Bradley’s elbow.
“People come here for all sorts of reasons, just pick.”
“One,” Bradley says sheepishly, and the guy taps an empty spot on the page next to the date. The spots above it all have names scrawled into them, and Bradley’s given a pen to sign himself in. The guy goes and picks up a key from a rack of them. A twirly 5 is written above it, etched into the wood. Jake comes up to the counter to look down at the book. Bradley has written a scribbly Rooster Sereshaw into the box. He bites back a smile and takes the key from the proprietor, while Bradley hands him the money for the room.
“You don’t need me to show you where it is, do you?”
“Nah, we’ll figure it out,” Jake says, and the guy merely nods and takes the book back, not even looking at the name and sitting back down, picking up a magazine he’d been reading before they came in. Bradley’s hand finds his and tugs him along, leading them back outside and down the small pathway, to the door labelled with their room number. He unlocks it and gestures for Jake to enter with a small flourish. Jake rolls his eyes and makes his way inside, while Bradley runs out to the car to grab his bag.
The room is nothing special, boring beige walls and boring beige bed sheets. The curtains are too thin to keep out the cold and printed with an ugly leaf pattern that wouldn’t be out of place in a tearoom. Jake pulls them closed anyway, rubbing his arms through the thick fabric of his hoodie. He wishes he grabbed a jacket before he left. He wishes he grabbed literally anything before he left. He hadn’t thought of anything except getting away, and now here he is with quite literally only the clothes on his back.
He kicks off his worn shoes and leans back on the bed, sighing as he sinks into the mattress. It’s not particularly comfortable, but he’s tired and cold. It’s good enough for now.
The door clicks open behind him and he tilts his head back to look at Bradley come in, shutting the orange door shut behind him and toeing off his own shoes. He switches off the overhead light, oddly, and drops his bag next to the bed and sits down next to Jake, who pulls himself up into sitting and scoots over to Bradley. Bradley clicks on the lamp on the table next to the bed and then pulls his rucksack up onto the bed, taking out something wrapped in aluminium and dropping his bag back down, moving back to lay whatever it is between them.
“What’s…” Jake trails off as Bradley unwraps it. It’s a pile of chocolate chip cookies, wonky and wonderfully homemade.
“Remember how I said I was baking with Ice and Mav? Well, I figured we could still have our Valentine’s date after all. I mean, I’ve got us dinner and… I’m pretty sure there’s water in my bag, so there’s drinks, and there’s,” he motions to the lamp, “atmospheric lighting. What more could you possibly need?”
His cheeks have gone a pinkish-red and he starts looking embarrassed, not quite meeting Jake’s eyes and folding his hands in his lap like he does when he’s nervous. Jake blinks at him, swallowing down the hollow feeling rising in his throat. He thought Bradley had forgotten about Valentine’s day, it seemed less important than their half-baked plan to run away into the sunset together. He supposes that’s what he gets for underestimating how fucking loving Bradley is. It’s going to kill Jake, because one day he’s going to hold Bradley and he’s not going to let go until he’s sure they’ll never be separated, because he can’t imagine going a day without this.
He leans over their baked dinner, and tilts Bradley’s face up so he can kiss him. He’s never been particularly good at it, overthinking every little brush of contact and movement, but it still feels pretty good, because he’s close to Bradley, and he doesn’t know how else to tell him those words that he so desperately wants to say, but can’t spit out.
“It’s perfect,” he says, even though it’s not what he wants to say. “It’s…”
He looks away and takes a second to breathe before he actually embarasses himself.
“I’m feeling pretty romanced right now.”
Bradley giggles. “I’d hope so.”
Jake smiles at him and breaks one of their cookies in half, handing the other half to Bradley and practically melting into the sweetness. He’s pretty sure he forgot to eat today. Trust Bradley to make up for his shortcomings without even intending to.
“Fucking hell, is there anything you aren’t amazing at?” He groans, scarfing down the rest of the cookie and crunching on the next one, leaving the last for Bradley, who’s looking rather pleased with himself.
They spend a little while just like that. Jake moves the empty foil out of the way so he can slump into Bradley’s arms, who’s leaning against the headboard. He mutters to Jake to move for a moment so that they can get under the covers, and Jake takes the opportunity to lose his jeans and chuck his hoodie into a pile by the bed, ignoring Bradley’s wolf-whistle and taking Bradley’s jacket to lay atop the pile. He clicks off the lamp and slides under the covers right after, cuddling up to Bradley and enjoying the warmth against his cheek as he hugs him tightly. Bradley’s fingers keep grazing his cheek and Jake keeps reminding himself not to tense up. He’s not doing a very good job of it.
“I think we should talk about it,” Bradley says softly, and Jake looks up at him. A very thin sliver of golden light beams in from the gap in the curtains, and it hits Bradley at just the right angle to illuminate half his face. He looks concerned, maybe even a little sad, and Jake hates seeing him sad. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want Bradley to be upset even more.
“I’m sure you can guess what happened,” Jake mumbles, and Bradley holds him closer. In the minute space between them, Jake feels safer. Like the world outside doesn’t exist. It’s only them, in a tiny double bed in a tiny motel room, and he would tell Bradley anything.
“We were arguing about you,” he starts, and Bradley tenses. Jake pulls him down slightly so that he can brush their cheeks together. “He told me we were too close. Said you were corrupting me or some shit. I told him he’s full of shit. He asked if there was anything going on, and I said ‘Maybe there is, fuck are you gonna do about it?’ and then—”
“He hit you?”
“Sure did. Hasn’t happened in a while. Kinda thought he was over that. Anyway I said fuck this, fuck you, and I left. Didn’t start crying until I was at your door, honest.”
He doesn’t say that he only started crying because the comfort of seeing Bradley was too much and he just wanted to collapse into the safety of Bradley’s arms forever, and all of these feelings came crashing through him as soon as Bradley opened the door. That would be fucking lame.
“You had every reason to cry,” Bradley says softly, stroking his fingertips lightly over the bruise on Jake’s cheek before moving up to thread his fingers through his hair, scratching lightly against his scalp. “I’ll actually kill him.”
“Don’t bother,” Jake mumbles against the skin of Bradley’s throat, feeling his breath fan out over it from how close they are. “At least we’re getting away.”
Bradley’s hand stills for a moment, before resuming, but it says enough.
“We’re not going to Europe, are we?” Bradley sighs. Jake says nothing, merely swallows and stares at nothing in particular. “Jake… What are we doing?”
“I’m not going back.”
“I didn’t ask you to. Just… I don’t know, why don’t you stay with me? You know Ice and Mav wouldn’t complain. They already have basically adopted you.”
“Because if he knows where I am, he’s gonna come find me. He lives to make my life miserable, he’ll take me away from you.”
“We can’t live on the run. We just… Can’t.”
“Why not? I can get a job, we can live paycheck to paycheck and rent some shit apartment and then we can work our way up. It’ll—It’ll work out.”
Bradley sounds utterly hopeless as he says, “You’re not even eighteen.”
“But you are. You can deal with all the legal shit, right?”
“I don’t know how, Jake, for fuck’s sake, I don’t know what the fuck to do.”
Jake is at a loss for words, already out of excuses and assurances. He grimaces and disentangles himself from Bradley, sitting up to face him properly. He isn’t going back to that house. He’ll strike off on his own if he has to, get a simple unskilled job and finish high school another time, get his own place and work his way up. He can seize the American dream, even if he goes about it in a slightly odd way.
He just… Would rather do it with Bradley.
“What… What are we going to do?” Bradley asks, his voice small in the deafening silence of the room, interrupted only by the pattering of the rain on the windowpane, rattling the glass.
“I…”
Jake doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he can do this without Bradley.
“What about your other family? Can’t you stay with them for a while?” Bradley asks, and Jake shrugs. He’s close with his grandparents, but they live in Austin and he may never see Bradley again if he’s whisked away all the way to Texas. The thought makes him sick.
“Probably, but they’re in Texas.”
“I could drive you down?”
Jake steels his resolve and forces himself to take a deep ragged breath.
“No. You’re right. This whole thing is fucking stupid.”
“Hey.” Bradley sits up and his hand finds Jake’s unmarred cheek, stroking it with his thumb as Jake tilts his face into his palm. “I’m not forcing you to go home. I don’t want you there either. I just want you to be happy and safe.”
“I know,” Jake says with a sigh, turning so he can kiss Bradley’s palm. “I know.”
“There’s a train from LA to Texas,” Bradley mutters, and Jake falls quiet, a buzz of excitement crackling through him.
“It’s probably expensive as fuck.”
“We brought a lot of money.”
“But… That’s yours.”
“It’s ours. And I want you to use it, if it’s gonna help.”
Jake wants to cry. He fucking hates Bradley Bradshaw, he decides. Hates him so much that the thought of leaving him is devastating.
“I hate you,” he says aloud, because his eyes are traitorous and weak and his wet cheeks scrunch as he sniffles.
“I know. I love you too,” Bradley says. Jake can see his smile in the shaft of light across his face and he leans forward again, sinking back into Bradley’s arms and wishing they were in a different place, at a different time. He wishes they could never leave each other. He wishes it were that simple.
“What am I gonna do?” Jake asks again, because the only thing his brain wants to do is stay here with Bradley forever, until they’ve both returned to dust.
“Call your grandparents, we’ll figure out a way to get you down there, and then you have to call me every single day.”
Jake snorts, snuggling closer to Bradley.
“And don’t come back homophobic. That would kinda suck.”
Jake laughs, and it feels genuine. “I’ll try not to.”
They perfect the plan by adding nothing and changing nothing, but by telling each other of all of their dreams for the future, until Jake is mumbling through the haze of sleep and Bradley’s words are slurred. Jake holds him tighter as he feels himself drifting off, unwilling to let go just yet. He knows he’ll have to soon, too soon, but he can have this moment. He can have the warmth of a shared bed with the only person besides himself that he’s ever truly loved, and the knowledge that it’s mutual. Bradley wants him, and Jake can’t imagine not needing him.
The shitshow of his family life looms over him like a shadow, but Jake sighs deeply and only smells Bradley, and it doesn’t seem so urgent. He can deal with it tomorrow.
They’ll deal with it tomorrow. Together.