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Driver and Lars lay adjacent to each other on Lars’ bed, the earphone wires connecting to the mp3 the only thing connecting them to the other. It’s a tight fit, both of them on Lars’ bed, but they make it work. Driver doesn’t mind squeezing himself to the wall to make room for Lars.
Driver’s left arm formed a “>” shape under his head, his other arm mirroring Lars’.
“I really like this song," Lars nearly whispers. His left arm is tucked underneath his head, his other arm completely still on his side except for his middle finger tapping on his thigh with the beat.
A fond smile forms on Driver’s lips as his eyes scan over Lar’s relaxed features. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Lars affirms, blinking harder than he usually does. A soft, almost reminiscent smile forming on his lips. He shuffles in his bed a little, readjusting his position, taking a breath when he’s finally comfortable again. “I sung this one to Bianca once.”
Driver stays silent, his eyes still glued to Lars as he listened. He didn’t have to speak much with Lars—not that he spoke much anyway. He was content that way, he’s sure Lars is too.
Lars continued, “I was up in the treehouse my dad made for me and Gus and she was sitting the bottom of the tree when I was singing to her.”
“She wasn’t with you? In the treehouse, I mean?”
“No, Bianca was afraid of heights.”
There’s a short pause, Lars’ words hanging in the air.
“I didn’t mind her not coming up. I’d have never forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do.” The bed frame creaked as Lars readjusted his position once more. His face contorted into something resembling discomfort. Or maybe sadness? Lars blinks hard again.
“I miss her a lot, sometimes. I think the entire town does.”
Grief. Driver felt his heart tighten.
Driver wasn’t personally around when Bianca had passed, he wasn’t even around when she was alive, but he could feel the weight in Lars’ voice. He could tell by the visits that frequented Bianca’s grave, he could tell by the array of gifts that people left for her, he could tell by the way the atmosphere would shift to a melancholic one when somebody mentioned her—even more so when they mentioned her by name.
He could tell Bianca had meant a lot to him, and the town.
A soft, barely audible “I’m sorry.” is all Driver could muster.
They fell silent after that. Jazz music playing from Lars’ CD and into each other’s ears as they both lay on their sides, facing each other, silent and motionless.
Driver’s eyes never stayed in one spot for very long, shifting from object to object, almost like he was analyzing every thing possible in his range of vision, a stark difference from Lars, whose eyes were glued to one part of his bedsheet.
Despite Driver’s never-stilling eyes, his attention was on Lars’ music playing in his ear from the earbud. Jazz wasn’t exactly Driver’s go-to when it comes to music, but Lars liked this stuff. Lars went out of his way to share something he enjoyed with Driver. What kind of man would Driver be to brush something like that off?
They both lay there in silence, both paying attention and enjoying the notes and melodies of the music. Lars resumed his tapping along with the beats of the music while Driver lay completely still, relaxed.
Lars is the first one to break the silence, his eyes finally peeling away from the muted green bedding. “You know, you're welcome to stay.”
Driver’s shifts from his position, tilting his head off of the pillow, his eyes finding Lars’. He waits for the other man to continue.
“You’re welcome to stay. Here, in this town.” A soft, crooked smile on Lars’ face emerges as he continues to speak. The music in Driver’s right ear sounds distant now, most of his attention on Lars as he spoke.
“I think the people here are fond of you.” I’m fond of you, Lars wants to say. His mind and voice betray him.
“I don’t know what or who you’re running from..”Lars’ middle finger taps on the back of Driver’s hand. "But you’re safe here.”
Oh, Lars had no clue.
Driver’s head falls back into the pillow with a soft sigh, his eyes momentarily closing before opening again, blue meeting blue. Driver bites the inside of his cheek—a habit he does without the usual toothpick in his mouth that laid lazily between his teeth—he couldn’t stay, not with Lars.
They both hold eye contact, Lars blinking hard twice in a row at some point. Driver doesn’t know how long they stay like that for. Eventually, Lars’ eyes go back to the muted green bedsheets. At this point, another song Driver wasn’t familiar with had come on. He listened anyway.
Outside of the two earbuds, the room is silent, their shared breathing being the only exception. They stay that way for a while until Lars slowly removes his hand from under his head, coming out to lie between him and Lars.
All of Lars’ fingers curl up into his palm except for his pinky.
Driver looks at Lars’ hand, then at Lars, then back at his hand. Driver pulls his right hand from behind his head, moving towards Lars’ hand before moving right beside it, also holding out his pinky finger. He knows how sensitive Lars can be to touch, the last thing he wants to do is hurt him or make him uncomfortable. His eyes look up at Lars, giving Lars an opportunity to move, to take his hand away, but he doesn’t.
Lars’ hand stays motionless between the two. Lars nods. “It’s okay.” I want you to. He almost says, but no words come out.
Driver’s nose scrunches up as he blinks hard, similar to Lars’. Slowly, he moves his hand to intertwine his pinky with the other man’s pinky.
“Is this okay?”
To Lars’ surprise, the warmth of the touch isn’t scalding. He lets a breath escape his lungs, giving Driver’s hand a small squeeze. The mix of the warmth and his favorite songs playing in his ear leaves Lars’ head almost completely empty. He feels himself sink deeper into his pillow.
“Yeah. Doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does.”
Driver couldn’t help the feeling of pride and warmth bubbling up in his chest at that. His smile grew wider at Lars but never quite reaching his eyes. He always wondered how Lars could feel so safe around him out of all people.
A nagging feeling nipped at Driver. It didn’t feel fair to Lars. It didn’t feel fair of Driver to freeload off of him like this. Another feeling nipped at driver now, this time it felt like vines wrapping all around his body, as if trying to consume him.
They didn’t know who they were aiding, welcoming, and accepting into their community. Lars doesn’t know much about Driver’s life before he got here. Only that he used to be a stuntman, and that he was on the run. Kinda. A familiar itch under Driver’s skin started to manifest, his free hand subconsciously balling up into a fist.
Driver takes a breath. He doesn’t want to think like that, not now.
Driver mimicked Lars, relaxing his hand. Driver’s hand slotted itself into the hand of the other man.
Driver doesn’t move, letting Lars decide if he wanted to stay like this or not. Lars slowly opened his hand, moving to interlace it with Driver’s.
Driver scanned Lars’ face for any discomfort, any sign that told Driver to back off. Nothing.
Driver releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as he felt Lars’ hand relax into his, their fingers intertwined with each other.
“It’s not bad.” Lars replied, squirming just a little as he nodded to himself, blinking in that way that Driver finds oddly endearing again.
Lars’ hand is warm against his skin. It’s almost a blooming feeling, like when you’re a little kid holding a cup of hot chocolate with both hands your mom made you on a winter night.
Driver felt a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach. This isn’t fair to both Lars and the people in the town—his family—Driver thought to himself.
Driver nibbled on his cheek again.
Driver drove away from LA to get as far away from Irene as possible, to protect her from any more damage he might be able to cause her and her son.
Now, He’s somewhere entirely new, but the same problem he thought he had solved only manifested into a different form. A different place, a different person, but still with the same risks and the same most probable outcome.
Driver knew he was a danger to himself and others.
But for some reason, Driver can’t bring himself to leave.
Is he really so selfish that he’d be willing to risk the well-being of the man he swore he’d repay for his kindness?
About halfway across the river, the scorpion raised its tail and stung the frog. The frog was both astounded and disconsolate. “Why did you sting me? Now I will die and you will surely drown and die also.”
The scorpion replied, “I can’t help it. It’s who I am. It’s in my nature.”
Yeah. Maybe he was.
Driver didn’t realize his growing grip on Lars hand until he was pulled out of his train of thought by Lars’ strained voice calling out Driver's name. He relaxed his hand holding Lars’ and the hand at his side almost immediately. “Sorry. Didn’t realize.”
Lars hummed, acknowledging the other’s apology. His hands relaxing back into Driver's. Both of the men’s eyes are locked in on their hands, fingers interlocked.
Lars’ eyes drift past their hands and finds Driver’s face. Lars blinks hard as his eyes slowly drift across the entirety of Driver’s face, taking note of the small mole just beside Driver’s mouth.
Maybe it's lovey-dovey music humming to Lars in his ear, but he couldn’t help but think of how pretty Driver looked like this. Pretty, he thought.
“You look very pretty.” Lars says, his eyes darting to Driver’s. Sincerity was dripping off of his voice like honey.
Driver is met with the initial shock at the sudden compliment, which then melts into appreciation, a smile spreading over his face again. “I could say the same about you, Lars.”