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They were sitting on bean bags on the balcony, sharing a cigarette. It was Curly’s flat; the views were pretty decent. Especially considering the city they were in. Jimmy’s hand rested on his stomach as he stared at the sunset. Curly watched him. Jimmy’s eyes were gentle. His hair looked soft and clean. Not greasy, not damaged due to shitty shampoo. Jimmy’s hair looked just right.
‘I forget, how long will this one last?,’ asked Jimmy, turning to look at his friend. Curly ran his tongue over the lower surface of his upper teeth. Jimmy’s gaze turned curious at Curly’s doubtful expression.
‘Twelve months and a half,’ Curly muttered after a few seconds.
Jimmy threw his head back with a groan. Curly gave him a worried look, which he hid from his friend as he sat up again.
‘Hey, it’s not the longest we’ve been out there,’ Curly stated, passing him the cigarette.
Jimmy took a drag, then exhaled slowly. Sunlight fell on Jimmy’s brown eyes, making them bright orange. They looked nearly red, if Curly squinted. He didn’t squint.
‘Just barely,’ Jimmy said. ‘It’s not like that trip went that well.’
They’d nearly been fired.
‘It’s a bit cold. Let’s go back in,’ said Curly, expertly avoiding the topic.
Jimmy nodded.
‘So many things could happen in that amount of time,’ Jimmy stated, insistently. He killed the cigarette.
Curly turned to give him a questioning look.
‘I suppose so,’ Curly said. Jimmy didn’t reply. It’s not like he wanted to talk about it that bad, anyways. He’d let Curly have this little victory.
They both went back in. Curly stretched.
‘I need to take a shower.’
Jimmy raised an eyebrow.
‘Yeah, you do.’
Curly gave him an exasperated look.
‘Very funny, Jim,’ Curly said, starting to take off his shirt.
‘What, am I wrong?,’ Jimmy said.
Curly turned around and hit Jimmy with his shirt.
‘Hey!’
Jimmy’s smile remained on his face even after he heard the bathroom’s door shut. There were no locks in the standard-issue flat. Courtesy of Pony Express.
Jimmy picked up the notebook on the coffee table. It was Curly’s journal. He refrained from reading the entries and instead looked at the drawings. Curly wasn’t much of an artist, but months of not having much to do can make a creative powerhouse out of anyone. Jimmy scoffed at a crude portrait of Anya taking Curly’s psych evaluation. She’d left a note there:
Nice drawing. But I need you to be more honest next time, okay? Do it for me? :)
‘Cute,’ Jimmy said under his breath.
Her handwriting was neat and round and quite irritating. Jimmy closed the notebook, rolling his eyes. With a sigh, he walked to the fridge by the kitchen: it was all in one big room, except for the bathroom and the bedroom.
His fingers lingered on a picture someone had taken of them on one of their trips; it had been at least five years ago, back when Jimmy and Curly didn’t work together all the time. They’d go from not seeing each other for months to seeing each other every single day.
The sight of Curly in a buzzcut made Jimmy smile. His arm was thrown over Jimmy’s shoulders. Jimmy was looking at Curly, while Curly himself was giving the camera a blinding toothy grin.
Jimmy moved on to the next picture. This was one he’d never seen before: it was a picture of Jimmy sleeping.
‘Kinda creepy, Curly…’
It must’ve been taken during the last trip. Jimmy’s hair was long; he’d begun growing it after the last journey. Now he was encouraging Curly to do the same. While Curly’s hair was wavy, (not curly, ironically enough) Jimmy couldn’t wait to see how he’d look with longer hair.
Jimmy squinted his eyes at the image. In the picture, he was on his bed. It looked as if there was a tear running down his cheek.
‘Jim? Do you want to take a shower?’
Jimmy flinched and straightened his back, turning around to look at Curly. His friend was looking at him expectantly, hands on his hips, where the harsh white towel fabric met skin.
‘Y-yeah,’ said Jimmy, slightly shaken.
Curly gave him a nod and then retreated to his bedroom. Jimmy started to walk towards the bathroom.
‘Do you want to stay at home or go out somewhere?’
Jimmy’s hand paused on the bathroom’s door handle. He turned towards the bedroom and then walked in. Curly was looking through his closet. He stopped when he noticed Jimmy looking at him from the doorway.
‘Hey,’ Curly said. ‘Do you wanna go out or stay in?,’ he repeated.
Jimmy considered it for a moment.
‘Let’s stay in. We always go out during our last night here. Let’s actually enjoy it for once.’
‘Hey, just because we can’t remember those nights doesn’t mean we didn’t enjoy them,’ said Curly, offering him a comfy change of clothes.
Jimmy gave him an unimpressed look, then took the clothes from Curly’s hands.
‘Whatever you say, captain,’ Jimmy said, uttering the last word with complete disdain.
Curly heard him close the door and turn on the shower. He quickly put some clothes on. Then, he left his room and sat on the sofa. He’d rest his eyes for a bit.
After a couple minutes, his half-nap was interrupted.
‘Curly, what the hell?,’ said Jimmy, anger seeping out his mouth.
His voice was muffled by the bathroom door.
‘Yeah?,’ replied Curly, without even bothering to look up.
‘How many times do I have to fucking tell you? Pick up your hair, it’s blocking the drain! Now I have to remove your golden locks myself!’
Curly gave him an apologetic smile, despite knowing Jimmy wouldn’t see it.
‘Sorry, man. I’m not used to having hair this long. I can come in and pick them up, if you’d like.’
Jimmy opened the door and threw a small towel at Curly, who caught it with ease. Jimmy’s friend chuckled.
‘Hey, not to be cheeky but I do live here, Jim,’ Curly said, folding the towel in half.
Jimmy raised an eyebrow at him. His hair was wet, and his face was a bit red from the heat of the shower.
‘Are you kicking me out? Is that it? Do you want me gone?’
A flash of panic crossed Curly’s eyes. His mouth worked. Jimmy tried not to smile. Curly finally seemed to catch up, and he rolled his eyes, some leftover fear still remaining in them. He gave Jimmy a strained smile.
‘Come on, you. That’s not what I meant.’
‘Shut up,’ said Jimmy, then slammed the door shut.
After a few minutes, Jimmy came out. He was wearing Curly’s black Henley and his dark blue sweatpants. Curly stood up and offered Jimmy the remote.
‘Pick something to watch?’
Curly’s eyes bored into Jimmy, who simply stood there, staring back.
‘Are you mad at me?,’ Curly asked, his hand lowering. The remote rested against his thigh.
‘No.’
Curly held up the remote again. The gesture was charged with hesitation. His hand was shaking slightly, and his blue eyes were frantically looking for signs of anger. Jimmy could smell his soap: honey and sandalwood. So basic. So bright. Curly batted his blond eyelashes down at him. Jimmy made a face and took the remote.
‘I’m fine.’
Curly nodded and walked past him and towards the kitchen. From the corner of his eye, Jimmy watched him walk away. After a second, he heard Curly chuckle behind him. It sounded like sunshine. Jimmy knew Curly’s eyes were on him. Warm.
Jimmy furrowed his brow at his thoughts. And at his confusion too: he couldn’t tell whether the thing coiling in his gut was anger or something else. It felt like nervous hunger. Jimmy tried not to look back, even as he heard his approaching footsteps.
‘Are you okay? You seem extra…moody today.’
There it was. Curly was still unsure. Jimmy looked down, trying to hide a smile.
‘Well, I…’ Jimmy trailed off. He gave in and turned to look at Curly. His friend’s blue eyes were fixed on his. They seemed to be able to pierce right through him and read him like a book; yet Jimmy knew that wasn’t the case. Curly never knew what he was thinking. Because if he did, he would’ve been gone already. A long time ago.
Jimmy walked towards Curly. Curly opened one of the drawers, grabbing some chips.
How was Jimmy supposed to tell Curly he wanted to pluck those stupid eyelashes off his eyelids? That he wished all his hair would fall off in the shower because he wanted to run his hand through it? It looked so soft, nearly as welcoming as Curly’s eyes. Curly looked so happy and vulnerable it made Jimmy’s mind shake and his vision redden. A countdown was ticking somewhere. Something was bound to happen. It all made Jimmy’s skin crawl.
He wanted to hurt him. Wanted to hear him writhe under him and see tears running down those cheeks. Curly glanced at him as he put the chips on a bowl.
Jimmy ran his eyes over Curly’s face. The light hit a scar on his face, right under his left eye, where his cheekbones began. It usually wasn’t visible, but Curly had accidentally angled his head so that it would be fully noticeable. The light made the skin look pale where it had been broken and artificially regenerated. Jimmy had done that. Punched Curly after he had said he ‘wouldn’t die alone because he was a wonderful person’. It had been so painfully corny and condescending: absolutely disgusting, in Jimmy’s opinion. They were both extremely drunk then. He’d thought Curly was saying it out of pity. The ride to the hospital had been an interesting one.
Jimmy shook his head.
‘I’m fine, Curly,’ Jimmy said.
He looked at the floor. He flinched when he felt Curly’s arms around him. Jimmy raised his arms and wrapped them around Curly’s bigger frame.
‘Jim,’ said Curly. His breath was warm against his right ear. Jimmy made a noise of acknowledgment. The hug tightened.
‘You know I believe in you. You will do great,’ Curly rubbed circles on Jimmy’s back. His hands were warm and seemed to cover so much ground. A stab of anger hit Jimmy.
‘I couldn’t ask for a better co-pilot.’
Jimmy forced himself to smile. Curly returned his gesture with a genuine smile and then let go of him.
‘You’re a great man,’ stated Curly. There was nothing but honesty and respect in his eyes. Jimmy looked away, suddenly feeling his heart beat faster. He wanted to break something. ‘You’re a great friend.’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ said Jimmy, staring at the floor.
Curly walked over to the sofa and sat down, bowl of chips in hand. Jimmy stared at him for a second. Curly looked up at him, a soft smile gracing his lips.
Jimmy stared. He felt his previous violent thoughts recede. They came in waves. Now, the water was still. But for how long would it last?
‘You know, I’d be happy if we stayed like this,’ Jimmy said as he sat down beside him. ‘It could be you and me, gliding through the stars together,’ Jimmy clarified. He sighed contentedly, making himself comfortable.
He wished he didn’t get so angry at Curly. He wished he could always enjoy his presence. Why was he like this?
‘Until the very end,’ said Jimmy after a pause. Curly’s smile fell. But Jimmy didn’t see it: his eyes were closed and his head tilted backwards. He didn’t see Curly look around, as if something in the room could help put into words what he wanted to say.
Jimmy finally noticed the silence that had built up between them, and he opened his eyes.
‘Curly?,’ he called, voice barely above a whisper. He looked to his right. Curly cleared his throat.
‘I’d be happy if I could stay with you too,’ he said, eyes fixed on his hands.
Jimmy’s eyes widened. Curly didn’t see the colour Jimmy’s cheeks took, or how he shifted in his seat for a good few seconds. How he bit the inside of his cheek.
Curly was too busy thinking about the lie he’d just told. He studied the lines on his palms. The direct meaning of what he’d said was true, but what it implied wasn’t. He wanted to stay with Jimmy, but he didn’t want to remain captain. He wanted to be something else altogether. And he wanted James to follow. But would he? Curly blinked hard: his eyes were unfocusing. He’d gotten too lost in thought.
It also made his skin crawl.
‘Anyways,’ said Jimmy, eventually. His tone was slightly cutting. ‘Horse racing?’
Curly turned to look at him, not noticing the layer of anger tainting his best friend’s features. Once again.
‘Yeah, of course. Whatever you want, Jim,’ Curly replied.