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Kenny and Ricky weren't all that close, not like Ricky and Nancy or Kenny and Bobbie (if you'd consider it "close").
But they still shared company with each other, which lead to this particular evening. A smoke filled, nicotine wall painted evening.
They were in Kenny's basement, laying on a greasy old mattress, looking up at the broken light fixture above, like moths attracted to light. Both were off their rocker, completely filled up with weed and other concoctions Kenny could get his hands on.
At first Kenny was really talkative, clogging Ricky's hearing pipe full of all the encounters with "hot chicks" he had and what life back in Scotland was like.
Then they'd gotten some day-old leftovers from the fridge upstairs after Ricky complained about being hungry.
And then they ended up on the mattress, Kenny liked calling it "the mattress of truth", to Ricky it felt more like " the mattress of silent despair and back pain", but it sufficed and his ass was too lazy to get up.
After that they'd slipped into a weird silence, both staring at the light fixture like it was a still life they had to paint for art class, art.. Oh he knew a person that loved art, whom he coincidentally loved himself.
Oh Brookie, sweet and lovely Brookie. His heart melted at the thought of the Brunette with his stupid suspenders and dirty old sketch book.
He wondered what the sketches were off, probably something stupid like flowers or girls, probably Lola. However a small pinch of him wanted to believe in something more than that, part of him wanted to be the muse of Ben's drawings.
Posing for him, staring at those slender, soft hands, watching him draw the person he loved. What a dream. So beautiful, so tender, so passionate, so...
So unrealistic and stupid.
He sighed and snapped back to reality, so Kenny's disgusting basement, to the mattress or despair and to the old light fixture overhead him.
And then he sighed again.
"Dude, what's up with you, thinking bout a girl or something?" Kenny giggled.
"Oh Kenny, Kenny I'm going to hell dude." The other greaser sighed and didn't care to elaborate.
"What for my guy? You didn't kill a man did ya?" The blonde replied in his hazy state of mind.
"Oh no, no it's so much worse dude. I'm a faggot."
Oh.
Kenny stayed silent for a few seconds after that, before lifting himself up to sit on the mattress and look down at his friend.
"Well, you got a lad you like?" Huh? Why would he ask that?!
"You promise you won't tell a soul?" He tries to reassure, scared of the result.
"Of course man, over my dead body. What's said in the Kenny cave, stays in the Kenny cave." He gets as a reply, the words sounding unreal.
"I like Brookie." Ricky mutters, before quickly realizing that doesn't mean shit since the greasers don't know "Brookie".
"The brown haired dude with the weird suspenders?" Kenny looks at him judgingly like him liking a guy who wears suspenders were the actual crime here.
"How'd you know who I meant?"
"Heard you call 'em that after school cuz you ran up to him." The blonde answered, sounding rather unbothered as he picked at his messy bangs.
"So what, you don't care?" He blinks, confused as to why the other isn't already reading him the Bible and splashing holy water onto him like it'd cleanse his soul.
"Nah, don't really give a fuck, ya could do better though, little disappointed.." He takes a curl and wraps it around his finger.
"No, I mean, that he's guy and I'm a guy, that doesn't bother you? Like at all?" The question makes even himself uncomfortable, because he's scare of the answer.
"To be honest with ya Ricky? Nah, if ya like it up the ass so be it, be it a lad or lady. I've never understood why people cared so much about who's getting stuffed anyway. Hell I'd probably get in bed with a guy if he fits my standards, like-" Before he can finish the sentence he freezes.
"Like? So you've also got a guy in mind? I thought you had the hots off Lola?" Ricky looks up at Kenny, highly intrigued by this new information.
"Uhh, I mean not exactly, also I just think Lola's pretty, but she's way outta my league, besides she is dating someone."
"Well if she wasn't, would you still like to date her?"
"No, probably not, she's not really my ideal partner, like she's hot and would probably a good wife, but I like em a little feisty you know?"
Ricky nods, he gets it. He feels the same way about Brookie, the perfect example of what he wants in a lover.
"So you don't really have anyone in mind you'd consider as a partner?" He asks after a short while of contemplating.
"I mean.. I suppose one person, but no way in hell would he ever even think of liking me back." Kenny sighs and leans against the wall the mattress is shoved against.
"Yeah? Ya wanna spill it or?" It is a huge invasion of privacy, but he can't help feeling curious.
"Nooo, you'll laugh at me and call me a fag and stupid or something..." He mumbles back, like Ricky didn't just confess his love for a guy who wears SUSPENDERS to school everyday.
"Well it can't be worse than my silly crush.." He felt like a squeamish high school girl talking to her friends at a sleepover, holy shit this was gay.
"It's Bobbie." The deadpan in Kenny's voice and expression did not help his case one bit.
Ricky just stared at him for a solid minute.
"Are you serious?"
He only got a small nod in response. Holy shit, it was worse.
"I mean have you ever heard his voice over the telephone or seen how he treats his brothers with so much care and love? I'll drop dead before telling him that but God damn if that isn't hot.."
The silence after that was deafening. Neither being able to think of something to say, before Kenny started giggling and Ricky joined him and then they broke into full on laughter.
"Holy shit, that was the gayest shit I've ever heard Kenny, you sure you don't wanna become an actor or a ballerina?" And Kenny could only elbow him before laughing even harder.
"Well now we know we're both little fags, let's agree to never speak of this again?" He sighed and smiled, not a grin, a genuine happy smile.
And the Raven headed greaser nodded.
"Yeah, let's go back to staring at a lamp and smoke another joint."
"I'll roll up a fresh one.."
And they never spoke of it again. Because sometimes it's better to leave secrets who had no reason to be shared locked and unseen, because who needs to see them anyways?