Chapter Text
March 13th, 1970
Rand could always trust that Kian would bring a lighter to sessions. Not that he didn’t have his own, just that he preferred to light cigarettes with his.
He flicked his glasses up, exhaling smoke through his nose as he crammed his DM screen and campaign binder into a box for later. Rand slipped it carefully under the mud-yellow couch his mother had never found a use for, right beside the rest of his collection.
It wasn’t glamorous by any means, but the years of sentimental promises, inside jokes and scribbled secrets that lay underneath were priceless, however cliche that was.
The humbuzz of a dangling light bulb paired with a silky voice retelling elaborate classroom tales to an occasional musing chuckle murmured behind him.
Friday nights in his basement were slow once they finished playing, reserved for lazy conversation and theories about what would happen to Rick Roll and Lawn Or Der’ the following week. Or whatever eldritch horror they’d end up facing next.
He threw himself on the couch and faced his two friends with a self-satisfied smirk, taking the cigarette from his mouth and blowing rings into the air.
They were sitting side by side. Rolan was slouching over his notes, muttering to himself and wafting away the smoke the other two were puffing out every so often. He wore the same plain navy hoodie and sweats he did every Friday, a pair of rectangle glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose and the gel his mom usually put in his hair already wearing off.
Kian was next to him, tall, lanky and a cig braced loosely in his left hand. He was sitting cross legged in a tight-fitting tank top and bell bottom jeans. Poofy box-dyed blonde hair framed a face that you’d see on the front page of a model magazine, his red painted nails picking restlessly at his character sheet.
Rand himself was never as well dressed or as effortlessly pretty as either of them, though he’d never admit that out loud. While Rolan got nerdier and started thinking about career paths, and Kian got more independent and became an even stronger girl magnet, Rand had stayed the same since middle school. Just a basic graphic tee with a jacket tied around his waist and dark jeans.
Always the same, a walking memory of their childhoods.
Rand continued to puff out circles, getting more precise with each attempt. Rolan looked up at him blearily, blue eyes following the smoke as it dissipated.
“Those aren’t as impressive as you think they are. You learned how to do that, what, last week?” Rolan conceded.
Kian giggled, tapping his cigarette and balancing a glittery crimson d20 between his fingers. “Two weeks, actually.” Rand rolled his eyes, tapping his own smoke before puffing another ring out unfazed. “You’ve gotta admit they’re pretty cool.”
Rolan smiled fondly, something between a laugh and a scoff. “Yeah, real show stopper.”
Rand couldn’t help but smile stupidly back.
“Let him live in his fantasy, dude.” Kian stretched, slipping the sparkly dice set back into his pocket while Rand quickly pulled a straight face again. “Besides, doubt you could do any better rolling a nat 1 in performance.”
Rand and Kian exchanged amused glances as Rolan opened and closed his mouth to try and find a retort. He tugged at the neck of his hoodie in agitation,
“I- You- It was a fumble, you saw!” Kian grinned, “Not what DM said, man!”
Rolan parted his lips, and for a moment it seemed like he might actually start arguing the roll again for the 3rd time that night. He faltered, chewing the inside of his cheek and shaking his head.
“Whatever, not like it matters anymore. I just know it’ll come and bite me in the ass next week…” He groaned, massaging his temple with a forefinger.
There was a short silence afterwards, only broken by pencil scratches and Kian dropping his minifig on the floor accidentally. Rand frowned, leaning forward on the couch and scanning Rolan’s usually quite collected expression.
He could tell when something was off with Rolan, and today was a day where he wasn’t hiding it well.
It took Rolan a moment to register Rand’s scrutinising gaze, but when he did he met it with a sheepish look.
“Something’s wrong. Spill.” Rand blurted, pointing the butt of his cigarette towards him. “What?” Rolan looked taken aback, glancing between his scribbled out notes and Rand before grumbling quietly. “It’s nothing.”
Kian straightened up, “No way, you’ve been in a funk all sesh! Don’t pull that on us.”
“Really, it’s nothing. Nothing serious at least.” Rolan dodged, attempting to hide his face in the fabric of his hoodie. Kian and Rand looked at each other, shooting one another a shit eating smirk.
“Nuh uh, guessing time. Rapid fire.” Kian nudged Rolan then pointed his cigarette at Rand who nodded approvingly, taking a deep breath.
“Parents?”
“Bad grade?”
“Caught stealing cigs?”
“Oh! Your mom!”
“Kian, quit it.”
“Embarrassing photo?”
“Found your stash?”
“Old ex?”
“Rejection?”
“Kicked out?”
“Grounded?”
“Crush?”
“Prom?”
A red flush appeared on what was visible of Rolan’s ears.
Kian clapped triumphantly and Rand choked trying to blow another ring, “Prom?!” They shouted in unison, before immediately eyeing the basement ceiling and hushing themselves up. Rolan rolled his eyes and nodded quietly, seeming to sink deeper into his own clothing by the minute.
Rand’s brow furrowed. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “Wait, did you like, actually get a date or something this year?”
None of them had ever been interested in school dances, mainly because Rolan and Rand were never asked and Kian could never pick which chick from his ever loyal flock he would take.
So, it became their personal ritual to do anything besides button up and embarrass themselves on a dance floor.
Every year they’d skip out and make plans together instead, whether that be robbing the local quickstop, shooting birds at the community house or flicking cigs at Rand’s neighbours for fun.
Rolan hesitated, “Well, no, not yet.”
“What, you mean you haven’t asked her yet?” Kian scooted forward, taking another drag from his cigarette and seeming thoroughly interested in the topic. Rand was bouncing his leg, making brave efforts to keep his nerves in check.
“Honestly I’m thinking I should just drop it entirely.” Rolan straightened his glasses, turning his head away to avoid eye contact with either of them. A part of Rand wanted to agree.
Kian shook his head, enjoying this new piece of gossip, “Drop it? Are you crazy?”
“They probably aren’t interested anyway-” Rolan mumbled.
“Oh, come on, tell us the lucky girl!”
“Not that lucky, really…”
“Dude, don’t be so humble! We won’t diss you if it’s a-”
“Lay off, he doesn’t have to say if he doesn’t want to.” Rand spat bitterly.
Both Rolan and Kian turned to stare at him with shared surprise. Rand swallowed, feeling his cheeks burn as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“Sorry.” Rand muttered shortly.
“It’s fine.” Rolan replied quietly.
For a moment none of them spoke, until Kian piped up again, “Oh shit, speaking of-” He got to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, and Rand couldn’t help letting his eyes linger for a moment more.
Kian nodded towards the basement stairs that led up to the living room. “Can I use your phone?”
Rand nodded, just glad the moment had passed. “Yeah, ‘course. What for?”
Kian crumbled what was left of his cigarette in their shared ashtray, most of the powder in it belonging to Rand. He adorned his feigned, nonchalant voice and added slowly. “Gotta call Rebecca, we’ve uh… got plans for Prom.”
Rand clutched his cig, he felt his knuckles turning white. You too?
“Together?” Rand visibly looked crestfallen, and Kian immediately took notice. “I mean, it’s nothing serious! Just a dance.” He smiled reassuringly, Rand’s stomach churned.
Admittedly, what had he expected? They were growing up, they were getting more mature, this would have happened sooner or later… though he’d personally advocated for it to never happen at all.
He couldn’t hide behind a DM screen in his basement forever.
“Yeah, no. Just a dance. It’s fine.” He choked out stiffly, a lie staining the tip of his tongue. Rolan's eyes were locked on Rand, fixing him with a calculating expression that made his heart skip a beat.
Rand stood up as well and averted his gaze. “Well, hope you both have fun with your new dates. Spike the punch and hijack the music for me, will you?” He’d rather not put a name to the feeling.
Kian nodded with a small grin, snatching up his leopard print jacket and slipping it on. Rand crossed his arms casually, his foot tapping against the wood unconsciously.
From the corner of his eye, Rolan was still looking at him, as though teetering on the edge of saying something while holding his notebook close to his chest.
“Hey actually, why don’t you guys come with us?”
They both stared at Kian, Rand with wide eyes and Rolan with a pursed lip.
“With you and Becky?” Rand quoted.
Kian nodded, having stopped just short of the stairs. He shrugged, “Yeah, why not? You’ve never gone before, and maybeeee…” He mimicked tightening a bowtie with his hands, “... we could change it up this year!”
Change. The word made his skin crawl, however immature it was.
“Besides,” Kian reasoned. “If Rolan’s new girl ghosts him he’ll have a backup date.”
“Kian!” Rolan scolded. His words didn’t hold any actual poison though, in fact, it was strangely fond. Rand glanced between them, face heating up before looking tauntingly at Rolan, “Will I have to be his shoulder to cry on after he gets rejected then?”
Rolan raised a brow, the corners of his mouth upturned despite his efforts to keep a stoic expression. “Neither of you are helping.” They both beamed.
“Sooooo,” Kian drawled hopefully. “S’that a yes?”
“Got nothing else to do.” Rand put out his cigarette and tossed it into the tray, glancing over at Rolan to gauge his response.
“Why not.” Rolan hummed.
“Wicked!” Kian cheered, “I’ll be phoning Becks before I dip. Later dudes, love you!” Kian quickly brushed both of their shoulders with his hand as a way of saying goodbye before rushing up the stairs excitedly.
The touch sent a shiver down the length of Rand’s spine.
‘Love you’, from the depths of his mind he wished he could take those words from the air and put them with the rest of his priceless treasures.
Rand waited until he heard the sound of Kian’s voice and footsteps dying out before turning back to Rolan. He was staring at the foot of the staircase with a distant expression, tapping a pencil against his thigh restlessly.
“So,” Rand cooed, something that appeared to instantly wake Rolan from his own trance. “Do I know her?”
Rolan shrugged, giving him a playful side eye and tucking the pencil behind his ear. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He felt his leg bounce faster. “S’why I asked.” Rand mumbled.
His eyes scanned Rolan distractedly, travelling from the cute rectangle glasses he’d made fun of him for wearing since he’d first gotten them and down to the pink of his lips.
He inhaled sharply, a lump forming at the base of his throat.
Shit.
“Shit,” Rolan blurted, shaking his head and scrambling to his feet. “What time is it?” Rand jumped, accidentally knocking his own glasses down over his eyes. He propped them back up on his head before quickly checking his watch. “Uh, 10:54, why?”
“Because I’m supposed to be back by 11, that’s why.”
Rand helped Rolan collect his stuff in a haphazard frenzy, the two of them rushing up the stairs and back to the screen backdoor. Kian had already left by the time they’d entered the kitchen, the screen propped open and the landline phone hung up the wrong way. A sure sign someone other than the Rand’s had used it.
Rolan stopped at the doorway, looking back at Rand with his hands in the pockets of a jacket two sizes too big for him. He found himself glad that some things never changed, however small they were.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, with your cute little prom date.” Rand teased.
Rolan considered. “I guess you could say that.”
“Natural 1.” Rand reprised.
“Oh, shut up.”
–
March 12th, 1970
It was Thursday, the night before their D&D campaign, and Rolan Deep sat hunch backed in his bed with glasses askew. He rubbed his eyes, clutching his session notebook in one hand and a dull no2 pencil in the other. He bit his lip.
Messy scrawls of corrections, scribbled out sentences and entire page-long letters sat fresh on the paper in front of him. Crumpled up paper balls of his previous attempts lay scattered across blankets and boxes, each one less and less comprehensible than the one before it.
His mind was frazzled and so were his hands, crossing out every word he wrote each time he reread it and second-guessed himself. It was a dumb idea, yet it had harboured in his mind for years.
No matter how many times he’d told himself to suck down the feelings and let them die out, his heart pounded with a mind of its own.
It wouldn’t listen to his own reasoning.
“Rolan, honey? Dinner’s ready!” He sat up immediately, instinctively pulling the notebook close to his chest before sighing deeply to the quiet of his own empty room.
“Be there in a minute!” He called back weakly.
Rolan stared solemnly at what he could safely assume was his 26th attempt at a cohesive letter, pressing the tip of his pencil back to the paper. One last attempt for the night, something he’d told himself over and over again since day one.
'Rand and Kian, do you want to go to prom with me?’ He erased the sentence as soon as he had finished it.
–
March 14th, 1970
To say Rand felt embarrassed standing in front of his sister’s full-length mirror making a 5th attempt to fix his tie would be a grave understatement.
He’d told his parents about the prom last minute to avoid any possibility of them dragging him to a store and making him try on every suit they had in stock.
With what he’d managed to scrape together however, he was beginning to think he would have preferred his mother fuss over blazers and dress shoes for two hours.
A plain white button up stained in grease that he’d stolen from his dad’s closet, black suspenders mismatched with a pair of brown corduroy pants, his regular muddied sneakers and a tie hanging unknotted around his neck.
It wasn’t pretty, and he didn’t need Rachel’s broad smirk visible in the corner of the mirror to tell him that.
“It’s not funny.” He grumbled firmly, yanking at the collar of his shirt and repeatedly undoing and redoing the top button indecisively.
“It’s kind of funny.” She grinned mockingly in the reflection.
Rand pocketed a small box of cigarettes on the way downstairs, making sure to keep it out of his sister’s sight even though he knew she wouldn’t dare to snitch. He stepped into the kitchen a few minutes later, Rachel at his heel and his mother, Donna, standing at the door holding a comb and a bottle of greasy ill-smelling hair gel.
Even despite telling them last minute, his mother had still insisted on chipping in her own petty additions while his father was away at work.
“Oh gosh, it’s worse than I thought!” She cried, already pulling him close and yanking at his hair with the small brush to Rand’s very verbal dismay. He yelped and clawed at her hand, “Ow! Lay off with that thi- SHIT, MA!”
Rand pulled away, clutching at his head and trying to straighten his hair back out to its usual unkempt state while his mother frowned disapprovingly.
“You better not be using that language under my roof or theirs, Timothy.” She shook the comb at him disdainfully. Rand eyed it fearfully as though it might spring to life and attack him itself.
“You’ll ruin your chances of ever winning the heart of one nice young lady with such dirty words!” She scolded. From the corner of his eye, he could already see her squirting a big dollop of hair gel into her palm to go in for a second attempt.
“I’m just going with Kian and Rolan! I don’t need one ‘nice young la’- HEY!” He protested, dodging her hand and retreating back towards the carpeted staircase.
He quickly ducked behind Rachel for cover who guarded him willingly through a fit of her own giggles.
Donna rolled her eyes wearily, “Yes, yes, your friends are mighty fi-” Rand glared, “-kind n’ all, but wouldn’t you rather win yourself an actual date to take to the next one?”
“Yeah, I’m sure greasy ass gel will draw all the ladies in, thanks.” Rachel stifled more laughter, meanwhile his mother had moved over to the sink and was shaking a bar of soap threateningly.
“Good looks go a long way! Getting all dolled up, That’s how I swooned your father, y’know. Our senior dance, prom king and queen we were! Well, in the yearbook misprint at least. Stuck it to that nasty man snatcher Cindy, I did.” She recited, staring at the ceiling with a strange fondness.
Rachel and Rand looked at each other, both waiting quietly for her to snap out of her temporary memory trance.
Like clockwork, she quickly shook her head and returned to her work at the sink, picking up a dirtied dish and blinking firmly. “Really I’m just looking out for you, Timothy! I trust you of course,”
“You don’t.” Rand muttered.
She sighed, drying the plate with a small tea towel and tossing it back onto the counter absentmindedly. “People might get the wrong idea! That’s all.”
Rand bit the inside of his cheek, feeling an uncomfortable dread nip at his stomach. The words seemed to repeat in his mind, each time louder than the one before it. ‘Get the wrong idea’. His sister was looking over her shoulder at him quietly with an unreadable expression, he felt himself swallow harshly.
“It’s fine,” He said with a disguised rigidness in his tone, avoiding eye contact with both of them. He saw with some relief that his mother had thankfully forgotten about the comb and gel in her own daydreaming state on the coffee table.
“They already have dates, anyway.”
Donna raised a brow with a bemused expression, tracing the prongs of a marinara stained fork under the rushing water. “Kian too?”
Rand’s face heated up, “Ma!”
“Oh, Timothy, it was just a question!” She simpered.
–
A few long minutes later, they piled into the car.
The ride there was mostly just arguing. Back and forth between Rand and his mother, a war on whether or not Rand should pick up Rachel from her playdate after the dance.
“Just let her sleep over, she’ll be fine!” Rand reprised for the umpteenth time, leaning against the open car window and rolling his eyes at the blur of houses passing by them.
His mother made a short ‘tsk’ noise with her tongue, “Timothy, you know how I feel about those Smiths and their tyrant little kids.” She hissed before quickly glancing back to Rachel in the rear view mirror.
“No offence, honey.” Rachel simply shrugged.
“If you don’t like them just let her stay home!” He protested.
She flashed him a stern look, “I already called and said we’re dropping her off.”
“Besides, if I call and cancel now I’ll never hear the end of it from that brat’s mother, ‘That Donna woman, so irresponsible’ … Well I’M not the one who lets my kids throw ham sandwiches at 3rd graders, Karen!”
“No offence, honey.” Rachel shrugged again.
“She can walk home then.” Rand mimicked Donna’s honeyed voice, before immediately cutting himself off when he looked over and met his mother’s murderous gaze.
Rand pinched his brow and groaned, taking off his tinted glasses and attempting to wipe them on his shirt defeatedly. “Jesus, fine! We’ll pick her up but next time just let her stay the night. That’s the point of a sleepover.”
Donna nodded approvingly, barely hiding her self-satisfied smirk, which he’d been told matched his own scarily well. He felt the car slow as they pulled into the parking lot, making their way from gravel to asphalt.
Rand immediately froze, eyes darting out the window and scanning the crowd flocking at the entrance.
It was the same decorations they used every year, tacky ribbons and way too outdated music blasting from stereos placed just outside the front doors. Dim flashing lights were seeping out from inside the gymnasium, and Rand found himself surprised at how many people he recognised dancing inside dressed in cheap formal wear.
To any outsider, they blended in quite well. Or, at least one of them did. Rolan was dressed in every parent’s ideal prom getup for their kid; A formal black suit with a small rose attached to the blazer’s pocket, a clean button up, and an actually tied tie.
He quickly rebuttoned the collar of his shirt.
Kian on the other hand had opted for sequins. A glittery red suit buttoned halfway that was earning him disapproving looks from teacher’s at the front doors, polished black dress shoes and large disco ball earrings dangling from his ears. He also noticed what looked to be a few red highlights and clip-on extensions at the tips of his fluffy hair.
He quickly unbuttoned it again.
It took him a while to collect himself, eventually tearing his gaze from the open window to his mother who had just parked the car several spaces away from the entrance. His breath was uneven, once again clocking Rachel staring at him from the back seat.
“So, you’ll be picking her up at 12.” Rand flinched, blinking off his own disorientation and meeting his mother’s raised brow with a bemused look.
“What? Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.” He nodded distractedly, hesitantly placing his hand on the door handle.
They continued to sit unmoving, staring at each other silently.
“... Timothy, if you’re not going to get out of the car already you’ll be spending the night at the Smiths.” Donna scolded.
“Right, right, I’m going.” Rand shook off his anxiousness and opened the door.
He slipped out and felt his feet meet the pavement, straightening up and staring at the building from across the parking lot. Rand watched the crowd disperse, Rolan and Kian’s figures even more visible as he tried to will his legs to move forward.
No Becky or mystery girl in sight, he noted, however selfish it was.
A stomach filled with dread, nausea, and perhaps a horribly misplaced ego, Rand had barely made it past the rear of the car when a voice behind him spoke up.
“Timothy?”
He halted at his name, turning towards his sister.
She stared at him from beside the car, having climbed out from the back seat just after he did. A Star Trek branded bed roll was tucked under one of her arms and something unseen was clutched in her opposite hand. Rachel frowned at him, seeming sheepish as her fists tightened anxiously.
Despite being under the same roof, it was rare they ever really talked to one another. Mostly it was just passing conversation if they happened to cross paths in the halls, to them, ‘bonding’ was a foreign concept.
It wasn’t something Rand was proud of, but they both had their own lives; He had Rolan and Kian and she had… well, he’d never thought to ask.
He spared a glance over his shoulder towards the entrance. It was apparent they’d both caught sight of him, standing side by side as always. Kian’s disco ball earrings were bouncing wildly as he waved enthusiastically in Rand’s direction. Rolan was anxiously trying to hide a pack of cigarettes, avoiding any form of eye contact with entering students. No glasses, he noticed.
Rand looked back with flushed features, tapping his foot against the pavement as Rachel considered her words. He waited, then sighed, picking at his collar and already starting to walk away. “Look, I’ve really gotta-”
“No, wait!” She pleaded, hugging the bed roll tighter. “I just… I just wanted to ask something.”
“You don’t have to answer.” She added quickly.
Rand stalled before slipping his hands into his pockets and sighing frustratedly. “Ask what?”
Rachel pursed her lip, something Rolan always did when he was evaluating some serious situation that only he knew the consequences of. She hesitated, “Earlier…” Rachel glanced back towards the car.
“Ma was talking to you about how you’ve never really dated any girls before.”
He inhaled sharply, “Well, you know how she is. Always on my case about stupid shit.” Rand kicked a stray pebble distractedly. “Really, it’s nothing.”
Rachel nodded quietly, “I know, I just thought…” She trailed off, tugging at her space graphic tee. She looked past him, towards the entrance. “You never really seemed that interested in girls either.”
Rand froze, lips parted in some half-hearted attempt to come up with a response to deny it. He swallowed.
“Do you…”
It took him a moment to follow her gaze, and another as he realised far too late what she was looking at.
“Do you like them?”
Grasshoppers and cicadas chirped away from the bushes, the last sliver of sun disappearing over the horizon. He was scarily aware of his own heartbeat, his own breath, his own sweaty palms and the familiar lie on his tongue that he had prepared ever since he’d first considered the question.
He didn’t want to believe it, or so he’d convinced himself, because if the choice was in his hands he knew what he’d really say.
He’d say it was probably some unspecific summer's day when he’d first met Rolan’s gaze and felt his heart thump right out of his chest.
Or maybe the first time Kian shared a cigarette with him and he felt their hands graze one another as he quietly wished he could hold it tight.
Then again, maybe he would say it was just after the first “Hey.”
“I…” ‘do’ felt like the antidote to some poison he’d kept himself drinking for what felt like forever.
He breathed.
“Of course not.”
It was all he could croak out in that moment, feeling his own nails dig crescents into his forearm.
Coward.
She paused, then nodded quietly. Rachel took her attention from the school entrance and finally met his gaze. Rand’s breath hitched.
He always found himself desperately wanting to look away whenever he made eye contact with anyone. This time however, this time it felt like if he looked away he’d spill everything he knew he couldn’t take back.
Rachel finally averted her gaze and reached out a hand, unballing her fist to reveal a small charm.
It took him a shamefully long time to recognise what it was. Brown and black string were carefully braided together and knotted tight in the back. The letters ‘T’, ‘I’, ‘M’, ‘O’, ‘T’, ‘H’ and ‘Y’ were printed in black against small white beads with tiny acrylic spaceship charms on either side.
By the looks of it, it was sized to fit perfectly around his own wrist.
-
( Some distant singing from the other room had guided his path as he stood in the empty doorway. Rand had quietly watched his sister tie bits of twine and beads from afar.
“You’re still making those dumb bracelets? I thought you got over them.”
Rachel had turned at the sound of his words, her fingers stopping their work on the purple braid as she scowled. “I’m just making a few for my friends.” She paused and waved off his usual bitterness. “… Do you want one?”
“... Of course not.” Rand had lied, the poison singeing his throat. “Way too girly for me.” )
-
He paused, taking it tentatively and carefully tracing a finger over each letter as though he was learning his own name for the first time.
“I know you said you didn’t want one,” Rand turned over the bracelet, staring at the small heart printed on the back of the ‘O’ bead. “... So I made you one anyway. I would have added more but I kinda ran out of time.”
He just stared down at the bracelet, eyes passing over every detail.
Promise.
“Sorry, I hope it’s alright.” She muttered quietly under her breath.
He blinked, nodding insistently and reaching a stained shirt cuff up to his face to dab at his eyes.
“No, yeah- I-'' Rand parted his lips while grasping for some sort of comprehensive answer.
Or maybe just some sort of apology that would make up for all the years he’d neglected to give one.
“... I’ll keep this.” Was the only thing Rand said.
And for a moment, it looked like she had smiled.
Rachel turned and climbed back into the car, giving quiet apologies in response to their mother’s agitated scoldings. Rand watched the car pull away, cupping the charm in his hands and holding it close.
He could have sworn he’d heard her whisper “Good luck.” under her breath.
–
By the time Rand had approached them, Rolan had finally found a pocket to stow away the small pack of cigarettes Kian had convinced him to steal before they arrived. Rand’s head was hung uncharacteristically low, staring down wordlessly at his own fist and clutching something unseen.
“Finally man, thought you were gonna give us the slip!” Kian slid an arm over Rand’s shoulder chipperly.
He saw Rand roll his eyes, pushing a giggling Kian off of him and grumbling something along the lines of “Wouldn’t want to miss ‘The Prom Tragedy of 70’, would I?”
Rolan hesitated, weak to his own curiosity but eventually inquiring in an undertone, “... What’s that?”
Rand had pressed it to his chest, slipping it casually into his pocket. “Nothing, just a gift.”
Rolan saw him fight back a smile.
–