Work Text:
Jeff lay awake in bed. His eyes were unable to close. He couldn't get any rest beyond a blink. It strained him to do this. On countless nights he found it difficult to lie down and close his eyes. His body would toss and turn until the early morning or when he would finally reach peak exhaustion. Other times he’d drop near dead on the couch. He was much too young to be so cranky and overworked. He was growing to be a sour old man at just seventeen.
It exhausted him to no end, but tonight was difficult.
He groaned, limping to his Jack and Jill bathroom. The young man pulled himself onto the counter and turned on the lights.
It was worse than he’d thought.
Jeff was no stranger to beatings. Some he’d forgotten, and others were too violent he refused to step foot in his own home for the next week. This one was on another level.
Angry red belt-shaped welts cascaded up and down his legs. They tainted his deep olive skin to a sick yellowy-grape color.
Jeff was smart enough to know there wasn’t a reason for this. He thanked himself for having that much sense.
It took an incredible amount of strength to not pump some lead into the thick skull of his dad. Nights he’d find himself in front of the gun safe, contemplating. Ultimately, he found himself too strong to give in to such urges, but again and again, he’d kept wishing he’d done it. He versed every victory he’d had in his head. Jeff would never stop feeling pride over how he’d taken his father out back and beat him like an old rug. Of course, the police were involved, and the week after, the whole town knew, but he didn’t give not two shits.
He kept his teeth gritted, applying large bandaids to some opened skin. He couldn’t go to work like this. He’d have to call his boss and make up some half-assed excuse. Even riding horses bareback in this condition would tear him up faster than Captain Crunch.
Jeff inhaled when he finished, clenching his tongue between his teeth.
He needed a smoke.
The blonde hopped off his bathroom counter, hobbling over to his dresser and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. Then out of courtesy, he opened his bedroom window.
He paused, realizing.
Jeff had promised to quit, to shake this nasty habit. Liu had begged him to, clinging to his twin’s callused hand as he dragged him down to pray. The brothered prayed so many times for Jeff to quit, but they’d also silently prayed that their daddy would die. If Jeff didn't have a dad, he would be fine. He would live a simple, maybe even typical, life. Maybe God just had it out for him. Was there a God? Heaven must be on fire, he thought.
Jeff pulled out his lighter, flicking it on to begin his chainsmoking session. It was easier than talking about it all. Jeff was loud, sure, but never about his feelings. It was godawful and embarrassing to air it all out. He couldn’t find the words half the time, and thanks to his southern drawl, he was dumbed down to a stereotype. He discovered that trauma went down better with the dull burn of tar and nicotine. He’d pay at the expense of his lunger later in life.
He almost jumped at his phone going off. The young man sighed, taking the cigarette from his lips to see what it was.
Randy, he was the only fucker on the west coast who was lonely enough to snap his best enemy. Jeff would like to say they were on better terms now that they were older, but the pair still had the occasional rumble.
It wasn’t much, other than a picture of the other’s downturned eyes with a caption asking Jeff what he was doing.
Instead of being truthful, Jeff put out his cigarette and responded with a photo of his window, letting the other know he was coming over.
Randy lounged in his room, shocked by the quick reply. He went to kick a few shirts underneath his bed and put a pair of sweatpants on.
He always found Jeff interesting. Something about the cranky country boy intrigued him. Randy often found himself observing the other. His eyes had now memorized Jeff’s face with its sharp and high features. The way his thick hair flowed past his shoulders, nearing his waist. The ginger often pinned his eyes to Jeff’s broad shoulders and the way they pulled together his stout torso and strong legs. He envied him. Hated him.
Randy always enjoyed their encounters, whether it be genuine or malicious. Jeff stood up for himself, and he talked back. The guy had the guts to keep it up. Jeff could land the mother of all haymakers that left Randy seeing stars and tasting his own blood.
A knock at his window stopped him from thinking.
The tall male made his way over, pulling up the blinds to see Jeff squatted outside on the roof with a mean look on his face.
Randy opened the window.
“About damn time,” Jeff sighed as he crawled in.
“You’re the one who insists walkin’ here, babes,” Randy reminded as he sat on his bed and pat the spot beside him.
“Shut your dumbass up,” the blonde scoffed as he sat down.
Randy fixed his eyes on the other, looking him up and down for a second. Only to lock them with Jeff’s own pair.
They sat in silence, staring at one another. Their pupils were blown to the size of the universe and whatever was beyond it.
Jeff reached out and snatched Randy by his freckled shoulder. He pulled the taller boy into his lap and grabbed him by the face to engage in a kiss.
Randy fixed his hips and dug his hands into Jeff’s endless hair. Their lips moved desperately against one another. This wasn’t the first kiss they shared, and it definitely wasn’t the last.
Jeff lowered his hands to Randy’s hips and adjusted the other so he wouldn’t be crushed. It was almost laughable, Randy was nearly a foot taller than Jeff, and here he was in his lap like he was Jeff’s girlfriend.
When their tongues crossed paths, Randy caught the odd taste of nicotine and mint in Jeff’s saliva.
“Did you smoke?” He slurred.
“Mmm, no,” Jeff grumbled in a low voice.
Randy was dumb, but he was smart enough to tell a lie. He was also smart enough to not press Jeffrey Woods, to tell the truth. It would be like talking to a very angry brick wall.
So instead of arguing further, Randy laid the other on his back and broke their kiss in exchange for a hug.
“God, you’re fat,” Jeff squirmed.
“I’m just heavier than you. Now shut up and cuddle me bitch,” he huffed.
“You’re as charming as a rattlesnake,” the shorter snapped.
“And you weren’t born with the grace of southern charm. So can it, hon,” Randy said, laying his face on his supposed enemy's chest.
Jeff sighed and rolled both himself and Randy on their sides. He wasn’t fond of the other’s human blanket-smothering tactic. However, he did enjoy wrapping himself around the ginger and resting his face on his chest.
“Night,” Jeff murmured.
“Love ya,” Randy said as he slowly trailed off into sleep.