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Scott slid up the diner bar, eyes down on the menu immediately. Adam watched him unblinking, he looked how he always had, cocky and self assured. The blood on Adam’s shirt was starting to dry, one of the buttons on his shirt sticking to his chest, peeling away as he breathed. Scott clicked his fingers, waiting for Adam to sit obediently before hooking his foot under the footrest of the stool to pull it slightly closer. He kept it there, their knees touching just enough Adam could feel the scruff of denim against his skin. Scott had peeled the menu off the bar and was studying it with intense sincerity.
“Scott…” Adam was shocked how far away his voice sounded, it hasn’t cracked like that in years. Taking a deep breath to steady himself he tried again.
“Scott, what are we doing?” Glancing over he felt his breath catch a little.
Scott was looking at him finally, his green eyes just as piercing now as they had always been. For a moment they stayed there, eyes locked, holding their breath. Then Scott tutted, turning his face away and back to the menu.
“I'm looking at the menu and then we’re going to eat.”
He had always been able to talk like that, able to convince everyone he knew what he was doing, leading a crowd. Adam could see the cracks through the mask he wore so well, the grip Scott had on the laminated menu, the way his eyes flicked up and down, unfocused, manic. His knee had started to bounce, grazing Adam’s over and over. He wanted to reach out and calm it with his palm, slide up his leg and squeeze his thigh. Four hours earlier he would have. Scott glanced up to meet his eye, holding Adam’s gaze again.
“Oh you mean the like-” His fingers formed into a gun, mimicking shooting quietly. Adam’s stomach rolled, and he turned away to stare at the coffee machine on the other side of the counter. It had all happened so fast, Adam had been so focused on not rising to the aggression from his coworkers he hadn’t even noticed Scott leave out the back. He didn’t know Scott carried, let alone the kind of gun he’d come back with. The edges of his vision blurred.
“Was wondering when you were going to ask that.”
Scott leaned forward to order, smiling confidently at the waitress. Adam could see the flash of his canines in his peripherals. She was laughing, people always laughed at Scott. He knew just how to talk, how to tilt his head, how to flash a grin. Adam had never been able to keep up with him. He’d always felt so grateful for Scott, to be able to be seen by someone like that, to shine by proxy just by being close to him. Next to someone like that you could grow to love being an offshoot, Scott’s friend, Scott’s.
Scott’s hand moved to the small of Adam’s back, including him in the conversation. Blinking, Adam turned to face them both, having to make a conscious effort to refocus his eyes.
“What do you want?” Scott was waving the menu, the light reflecting off the lamination making it impossible to read even if Adam had been able to stomach food.
“I’m fine.” A beat. “Thank you.”
The waitress was turning away, she was so close. Adam wanted to reach across, grab her wrist, beg her for help. The hand on his back balled into a fist of coat that Scott had lent him. He watched her leave to punch in the order, his eyes slipping out of focus again until she came back with Scott’s food. He could shout for help, run, god he could push Scott’s stupid face into his stupid omelette. When Adam had turned 16 he’d begged Scott not to shove his face into the birthday cake, had made him pinky promise not to. The idea of frosting in his hair, having to wipe off the make up his mother was so happy he had finally caved to wearing for photos, the humiliation of it all mixing into a hushed panic attack just before the guests arrived. Scott had soothed him gently, complemented the stupid tulle dress, kissed the top of his head, then shoved his face anyway.
They had always done things at Scott’s pace, at Scott’s whim. As they left the diner Adam squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, trying to ground himself enough to focus. He couldn't read a single facial expression on Scotts face, couldn’t tell what he was planning, or how much more violence he was capable of. Sliding into the passenger seat just as he had always done, he leant forward to press play on the radio hoping the noise would quieten his mind, hoping the familiarity of the scene would calm his nerves.
“Why am I still here?”
The question hung in the air, Scotts mixtape raging on. It was the one he’d made for some girl he’d never end up seeing again, full of bands he barely knew picked just to impress her. It was mostly Adam’s music anyway.
“Like right now?” Scott glanced across at him, one hand gripping the wheel, the other laying behind Adam’s headrest.
“Because you’re better than this. You’re like a whole person, a healthy, adult person just fucking waiting. Today I watched you eat a day old hamburger rather than make a fucking sound, it’s pathetic.”
He seemed to hear his own tone, softening. Shooting Adam a wink, he shifted in his seat.
“But it's fixable man, you’re so- Ace you were just waiting for me to kill you. Just waiting.”
Sucking his teeth, shook his head and removed the hand from the head rest to smack the wheel. Adam lets it linger for a beat, eventually unable to leave it.
“I’m not. Healthy, I mean. I can’t reach the fucking top shelf Scott.”
Watching the road ahead run towards them, the car began to lurch forward as Scott pushed down on the accelerator just enough to make him sweat. He was shaking his head again, gearing up for the fight Adam wasn’t sure he had in him.
“You still give a shit about that-that-”
A police car sped towards them on the other side of the road, sirens screaming. Scott pulled the small revolver from his waistband and held it in his lap. Watching his fingers flex Adam counted his breaths, inhale, exhale, till the car passed them.
“That was years ago, we were kids.”
The gun still in Scotts hands stopped Adam from retaliating, biting the inside of his cheek instead and looking out the window. The distrust sat awkwardly in his chest, foreign, aching. He’d never distrusted Scott before, brought mixer to the party because he knew Scott would forget sure, but actually, genuinely feared him? It itched beneath the skin, the want to bicker like they always did. His eyes met the glint of metal again, but couldn’t hold back.
“You fucking stabbed me-”
“I barely broke the skin-”
“With a nail! A nail!”
“You cried to my mum-”
“I had to go to physio-”
Scott swerved off the road suddenly, pulling to a stop with a jolt. Reaching across the seat he grabbed Adam by the collar of his coat, shoving him back into the car door. The sting of pain shot up Adam’s back, his head smacking against the glass. The moment was over as quick as it had begun, Scott sitting back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose like Adam had pushed him to something he’d been hoping to avoid. Stuck against the door Adam watched, mouth open, waiting, scared to breathe. Eventually Scott sighed, removed his hand and met his eye.
“But you didn’t, did you. Go to physio, you whined and you sat at home, I mean god Ace you barely stretched.”
He paused, sitting up to reach for Adam again. If he noticed the flinch it didn’t phase him, his thumb finding Adam’s cheekbone, stuttering back and forth along the skin. Adam’s eyes flickered closed for a moment, the feeling of Scott’s fingers on his jawline strong and familiar.
“You just did nothing, didn’t you Ace. Just let it wash over you. You’re so-”
Scott seems to struggle for the words, retracting his hand to scratch at his own chin. Something in the burn of Scott’s gaze was wearing Adam down. He had always failed at not loving Scott.
“Apathetic.” Scott was shaking his head, looking back out the front window. “Angry sure, you’ve always been angry, but so apathetic.”
The word unsaid hung in the air, Adam thought about punching Scott across the face. Would he be able to get a good swing in before Scott went for the gun, could he dislodge a tooth, break a bone.
“You think I’m pathetic.”
Scott kicked the car back into drive, pulling out onto the highway. He didn’t deny it. The sun was starting to set to Scott’s left, the gold of the rays framing his portrait, catching on the tense jut of his jaw. He was as beautiful as he had always been, despite it all. The first time they’d fought properly Adam’s elbow had connected with Scott’s bottom lip, the rush of blood shocking them both to silence. It had looked worse than it was, once they’d cleaned him up. But Adam had tasted copper on Scott’s tongue for the rest of the night. He craved it now, the sting of the brutalist way Scott kissed. Pressing his nose into Adam’s, his hands on the scruff of his neck, teeth knocking teeth. Scott kissed like he was being sent off to war, like he was about to serve a life sentence, like he’d never feel the warmth of Adam’s mouth again. Adam wanted to press him into the back seat, make it all go away. He adjusted his position in the passenger seat, the movement causing the dried blood on his shirt to scrape against his chest and the idea was lost.
They’d been driving well into the night, Adam hadn’t bothered to ask where they were going, he doubted Scott knew anyway. He’d toyed with the idea of getting some sleep, but he’d never found a moment where he could relax. Glancing up ahead, the neon lights of a diner made his heart jump.
“Scott-”
“What?” His tone was angrier, the time spent in silence clearly irritating him, he cracked his knuckles against the wheel.
“I gotta piss.”
Sighing through gritted teeth, Scott glanced over, taking him in up and down, then swung the car across several lanes to pull over. Once parked Adam went to open the passenger door only for Scott to grab his wrist. He slid the gun into his belt, covered it with his shirt then raised his hand, clicking his fingers and gesturing for Adam to exit. The car door slammed louder than necessary and Adam was hit with the immediate concern that he’d put all these people in danger. Scott had his hand on the back of Adam’s neck, squeezing once. They’d taken a few steps before Scott stopped, grabbing the scruff of Adam’s shirt to pull him back.
“Did I apologise?”
The question knocked the air out of Adam. Stumbling over his words he tried to meet Scott’s unwavering eye contact.
“For what Scotty?” The nickname sounded unnatural, stuttery. It didn’t sound like Adam at all.
“The whole-” Scott made a small stabbing gesture with his free hand, just too casual to undercut the sincerity in his tone. “The thing.”
Adam shook his head, the weight of it all suddenly overwhelming. He blinked, the edges of his vision blurring with tears. Scott pulled his face towards his, pressing their foreheads together. The familiarity of the gesture pulled a sob up and out of Adam’s mouth, his eyes closing instinctively. Scott’s hand found his face, cradling it gently, the calluses on his palm so familiar they felt like home. He let him tip his head to the side, chase the comfort, the warmth, the security. Let Scott shove his head away, push him forward toward the diner, let the moment get swept away by the tide. The waves roared in Adam’s ears, his phone throbbing in his pocket, an oversight by Scott he hadn’t been able to push himself to take advantage of. The gun in Scott’s waistband sat in the forefront of Adam’s mind, a promise of further violence he wasn’t sure Scott would keep. They slide into a booth in the corner, Adam next to Scott so he could face the empty seats and half awake patrons. Scott was thumbing a diner menu for the second time that day, biting his nail, eyes unfocused. Adam’s hand slid to his knee.
“Scotty, can I go?”
Flinching at the nickname, Scott bounced his knee to lose contact.
“I want my coffee first.”
Adam’s heart clenched, the furrowed lines around Scotts eyes were deepening, he was wavering.
“You could just go right now you know, no one would have to know.”
“Stop talking.”
“Keeping me around is only going to make it worse, I’ll look like a hostage.”
He tried to keep the pleading out of his voice, wondering if Scott could hear the shake in his chest. Smacking the menu down just hard enough to rattle the salt and pepper shakers, Scott grabbed a fist full of Adam’s coat under the table.
“You do not understand what is going on here. I’m going to get my coffee, and then I’m going to decide where we’re going, and then we’re going to go there. I’m deciding. Not you. No more talking.”
The phone in Adam’s pocket was burning a hole that was hard to ignore. It was now or never. For a moment he held Scott’s gaze, he could see the kid he’d loved somewhere in those eyes, could see the teenager he’d followed to the ends of the earth behind the hard expression.
“Can I go now? You can see the bathroom right there.” Adam nodded towards the door, letting Scott be the one to tear his gaze away. Uncurling his fist, he held up two fingers.
“Two minutes. Go.”
Adam forced himself to walk at a normal pace the whole way, worried if he sped up Scott would know. He could feel Scotts eyes through the bathroom door, pressing his forehead to the wood and choking back a sob. The phone was heavier than he remembered, or maybe he’d never had to use it like this before. Opening it, his lock screen flashes up before he can swipe it away, a picture someone had taken last new year at midnight. Scott hadn’t let him kiss him infront of all those people, but he’d thrown his arm around his shoulders instead, pressing his lips to Adam's ear to whisper a secret, private promise to make it up to him when they got home. Adam’s head was tipped back, he was laughing, the shitty 2004 glasses propped up on his head sliding off. Someone later than night had stumbled back into Scott, drunk on the cheap prosecco, tipping Scott’s beer down his front. An innocent mistake, easily rectified, Adam had even laughed. It had taken two of their friends plus Adam to pull Scott off the guy, not before he got one good punch in. Adam had iced his hand, kissed the blood of his knuckles, let Scott pull him up to meet him, as if he wanted to share the taste.
Punching in the numbers, Adam felt like a fool. Maybe Scott had always been like this.
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?”
The casualness of it all made the words catch in Adam’s throat, three numbers and he could end it all.
“Uh- I-” He flipped, leaning his back against the door. “There's a situation at the Kramer Diner.”
“What kind of situation sir?”
The operator sounded a thousand miles away, Adam was sure he could hear Scott bouncing his knee from across the room.
“Someone- There’s a man with a gun.”
Pressing the heel of the hand he wasn’t using into his eye, Adam tried to hold back the wave of nausea.
“Is anyone hurt?”
“No. No, he hasn’t- he won’t necessarily do anything, he might-” He took a shaky breath. “He’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“But he’s threatening people with a gun?”
He could hear the operator typing quickly, it was all happening too fast. He just wanted someone to talk to Scott, take the gun off him, take him home.
“No, well yes he has a gun but-”
The click of keys made his teeth clench, if he could just explain. His words stayed trapped behind his jaw, the roaring of the waves, the clacking of typing, the noise of the diner stopping him from being able to think. Adam wanted to scream.
“Just stay where you are sir, we will have someone with you shortly. Can you stay on the line?”
He huffed in frustration.
“No, no I- I have to go.”
The operator was still talking when he hung up, slumped against the wall like he’d run a mile. The lock screen mocked him for a moment more before turning to black. Adam allowed his knees to finally buckle, allowed himself to slip down against the door, curling into a ball on the bathroom floor. Shrugging Scotts coat off, Adam brought it up to his face to muffle the sobs he couldn’t hold back. He gave himself one minute to feel it, one minute to let it run through his body, hacking crying into the cigarette burnt coat. Then he rose, splashed his face with water and went to face the music. Scott met his eye across the bar, seeming to relax at the sight of him. Adam could feel the guilt gnawing away at his stomach. Returning to his seat, he squeezed Scott’s knee once.
“Let's go.”
It was out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop it. Scott was shaking his head, his arm across the back of Adams' spot. He leant in a little, comforted by the safety of their little corner, his nose bumping Adam’s jaw affectionately before pulling back.
“Coffee first.”
Biting his tongue till he tasted blood, Adam let Scott wait. Let the waitress serve his coffee, let him sip at it apprehensively to check the temperature before drinking it properly. He heard the sirens before anyone else, he’d been hearing them since he hung up the phone.
“Scott.”
His head had whipped up, the mania back in his eyes in full force. The police cars were pulling around the highway, lights flashing in the distance. Scott was up, jolting the table with his thigh sending his coffee over the edge. Several people turned to face the commotion, the waitress returning to try to clean the mess but Scott was already pulling the gun from his waistband.
“Get back!”
Scotts eyes were wide, his trigger hand shaking as it moved from the waitress to the other scattering guests. Adam stumbled out from his place in the booth, moving with new found ease between the room and Scott.
“Scott, you have to stop.”
His eyes seemed to refocus, looking almost shocked to see Adam before him.
“What the fuck?”
There he was, the scared, angry boy Adam had fallen for. It wasn’t enough.
“There’s no point to what you’re doing.”
Adam took a shuddering breath, his eyes burning with tears. He couldn’t look away from Scott.
“I’ve watched you all day, drive around the roads we have driven down our whole lives, talking to me about being nothing but you- Scott you’re nothing. You think you know everything, you think you know me- When was the last time we did anything for me?”
Scott’s hand swayed, his face contorted like he couldn't hear this, head shaking from side to side erratically.
“No, no man I- I do everything for you. I did all of this for you! How can you say this to me, after everything I-”
The police were pulling into the parking lot, pulling Scotts focus.
“Who called them? Who the fuck called them?”
The gun swung wildly, Adam stepped forward, trying desperately to get in Scott’s eyeline for just a second to get his focus off the innocents. He stepped too fast, the movement startling Scott, flinching hard enough to pull the trigger. Adam stumbled backwards, the bullet hitting his shoulder with force unlike anything he’d ever felt. His eyes unfocused as he tried to stay conscious. Scott surged forward, the gun falling away and skittering across the diner floor under the counter. His hands on the wound immediately, Adam’s eyes refocused to meet his.
“Someone get- Fuck! Someone get something!”
No one moved, the police had filed out their cars, it was already over. Scott’s face softened and Adam pressed his forehead up to meet his.
“Why the fuck would you do that?” Scott’s voice cracked, blinking away the wet of tears to ensure he could see Adam's face properly. He seemed to be choking back an apology.
“I called the cops. I did it.”
Scott was nodding against his forehead, shushing him gently but Adam wouldn’t, couldn't, stop.
“It was me. It was me.”
Stepping back, Scott took a shuddering breath to steel himself, the hurt written all over his face. Adam wanted to reach out and pull him back, pull him out the fire escape, and spend his whole life running.
“You’re still in charge Scott.”
Scott was shaking his head, turning to face the window, the red and blue lights bouncing off his eyes.
“You know when you were fourteen you said you wanted to marry me so you’d never have to go back to that house.”
He laughed, wet and a thousand miles away.
“I’ve never been in charge Adam.”
Reaching for the door he paused, Adam stretched out a hand for the back of Scott’s shirt as if he could stop this all now with one touch.
“Scott.”
But the door was open, and Scott had stepped out.
Adam watched his body slump to the floor, unceremonious and unpoetic. Watched a cop step forward and kick his limp arm, watched them call out his time of death. Stepping out into the night air as the evening crashed down around him, Adam slid to his knees next to his friend and rolled his head into his lap. They’d sat like this a lot, Scott’s head in his hands, letting his fingers card through his hair once the weed had kicked in. Scott would let him ramble, content to be touched, content to be held. A secret, private ritual meant just for them. Someone was yelling at him to get back, but Adam wasn’t listening, no one seemed to want to approach them anyway. He was vaguely aware that someone was assuring him the ambulance was on their way, the wound beating its own fragile heartbeat. Pressing his lips to Scotts cheekbone he could pretend it was his, beating alongside his own as it had always done.