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"Spot me 12 bucks, will you dear?"
Race's voice rang out as Spot put him on speaker.
It's the middle of the night, Spot is, once again, awoken by Race's late night calls asking him for money. It has been like this for the past few months. At least once a week, Race'd call and ask for "just a few dollars" he'd "pay back when his number finally comes up."
"Why should I give you any money? It's not like you'll ever actually pay back," the man asked harshly. Spot would try to be nicer if it wasn't for the time of the night, at least a little nicer because Race was probably drunk and probably lost everything he had saved up already.
"Come on Spotty! One day I'll give it all back. You seriously can't land me $12?!"
Race was persistent in the most annoying way.
Spot hated how he'd usually give in. If only the other didn't sound like he was about to cry, maybe he could just hang up.
"Where are you? I'm taking you home." Only now Spot heard the buzzing of a crowd. The race was surrounded by music playing in the distance. It must be one of those clubs he likes so much.
After getting the address out of the race, he got up and drove to the bar. It took him a good moment to find the man inside the crowded space, but when he finally did the sight before him was what he could only describe as pathetic.
Race leaned on the table heavily, with his head down, staring at an empty glass he stirred just to have something to do with his hands. When he looked up, a smile spread on his flushed face.
"I ran out of cigarettes," Race explained, but he wasn't smoking anymore. He promised Jack not to and so far it seemed like he was doing a good job trying to quit.
"You're smoking again?"
"Yesterday was "again." Now I'm still smoking,"
Race teased, lifting himself up from the chair and stumbling right into Spot's arms.
"There is a store down the street. We can go there,"
Spot just shook his head and led the race to the exit.
Race suddenly felt more empty, as if something was missing. It was quite outside, he never liked that. Quiet was far too loud for Race's liking, it allowed him to actually think, and Race didn't like his thoughts, they made him realise that he actually needed to change It was much colder too, as if someone just pulled away from an embrace.
Expect it wasn't a kind and loving one, just uncomfortable. Race realized it was something that you get used to as time passes and when he's away from his usual surroundings it's as if something was missing. Like sleeping in an empty bed for the first time after losing a loved one.
He was pulled out of his train of thoughts when Spot pushed him into the passenger seat and got into the car, starting it almost immediately. He wanted to leave as quickly as possible and Race couldn't blame him for that. At a certain point picking him up must get tiring.
The car drove quietly and to save them the awkward silence Spot put the radio on. A woman's voice announced the weather, it was bound to get colder soon, not like either of them really heard it at all.
When the car stopped at a red light, Spot turned to look at his friend. Leaning out of the window and looking out at the empty streets lit by the streetlamps. Race's legs were pushed up to his chest. His shirt tucked in and his shoes untied. He looked much younger than he actually was. Like back when they were teens. Back when everything was simple, drinking meant sharing a can of Mountain Dew, smoking was a matter of jokes because none of them really did that yet and gambling was for sweets, not money.
Then the light switched green, and the thoughts left his head as soon as they appeared, leaving just bittersweet memories.
Race turned in his seat so that he was facing the other. Spot was so much more serious than him, with his life put together, an actual job and future.
His eyes were focused on the road, his face was stern and brows furrowed.
"At least get me a coffee on our way back!" Race whined.
Soon he was drinking a black coffee they got from McDonald's. $3 more dollars to pay back.
"Why are you doing all this Tony?" None of them needed to specify exactly what Spot meant. They already knew that he was asking about the gambling, smoking and everything else that he did.
"I don't know... I've always done it. It's just who l am. Nomen omen right?"
His voice was quiet. Race wasn't one to be quiet, not usually, now when he took his mind away from everything that he really hated about himself.
"What do you mean, Tony?"
"I don't want to lose myself. That's who I am.
Everyone knows that. It wouldn't be the same..."
"No it wouldn't. It would be better," Spot interrupted.
"How do you know?!" The coffee almost spilled with the way Race moved in his seat. His voice was angry, angry, was what he meant for it to be. It came off broken, too honest for what Race usually puts on, too vulnerable.
"Why wouldn't it get better? You'll still be our friend, Tony. We'll help you every step of the way.
It's like Jack always says we must stick together like glue."
"God, I hate that saying," Race muttered with a small smile. They fell silent again. Not as awkward as before, Race retreated back to looking out of the window.
He knew he needed help. Deep down he'd like to quit smoking altogether, not waste all his money on gambling, just be normal like everyone else is.
Still, he feared he wouldn't be Race anymore, he wouldn't be himself, he'd just be Tony. What if his friends didn't care about him then?
When they got to Spot's place and were both stayed on his sofa, the conversation continued.
"Let us help Race. We'll love you no matter what...
We care. I care." That Race hadn't heard in a while.
Sure he and Spot were friends, maybe more than that. He didn't even know at this point, but he wasn't the type to outright tell you that.
"Since when do you care so much?"
"I've always cared about Racer!"
"You're getting soft!" Race laughed, pulling him into a hug.
After a while, Spot got them both up. "Let's get you to bed now, hm?" For the first time in forever, the race didn't feel empty at the loss of contact, because, for the first time in forever, it didn't mean the end. Just a new, hopefully better, beginning.
And Race was willing to give it a try.
When they both lay down, Race turned to look at Spot.
"Hey….. I'll pay you that money back one day. For the coffee and all.
Spot kissed his forehead. It was just something Race needed to say. It wasn't about money, it was just that race would really make it right.
"Okay..."
They'd make it right.