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Since he started working at the Publix sandwich counter, Ron sees the same boy come in almost everyday.
He looks to be around Ron’s age, 18 or 19 maybe, with dark brown hair and huge, hazel eyes. He’s got to be only an inch shorter than Ron, but his stature makes him seem much smaller. He only seems to have one outfit. Ron can see the delicate ridges of his collarbone and sternum through the ripped neck of his shirt, pronounced with the black pucca shell choker around his neck. He wears tiny shorts that leave almost nothing to the imagination, his slender, creamy thighs completely exposed, highlighted even more by the thick, high rubber boots that come up to his knees. There is dirt on his face and shirt and mud on his shoes and his hair looks unwashed. He's probably homeless. He always looks so unhappy. He’s the prettiest thing Ron has ever seen.
Ron clocks in for his shift at 10:00 sharp, and waits until 1:00 for his first glimpse of dirt boy. He never fails to show up on time, walking through the deli line like a zombie.
Ron rings him up for a bag of chips and watches him trudge over to the sitting area, opening his bag of Doritos and eating them slowly. He pulls out a phone with a cracked screen and scrolls while he eats. Ron can’t really see from here, but it looks like Reddit or something.
After the 2nd week of seeing him eat like a bird, Ron cracks. He makes the most inconspicuous sandwich he can think of, a turkey and cheese on white bread with a little bit of mayo, wraps it in wax paper and waits for his 2:00 break. Dirt boy usually doesn’t leave until 2:15. He approaches him the way he would a wayward gator, posture as unthreatening as possible, hands where everyone can see them.
“You should eat something more than chips.”
The boy’s head snaps up. “Who are you?”
He has a funny accent. Ron can’t place it. “Ron. I work here. You come and get chips from the deli everyday. I ring you up sometimes.”
“Oh.” The boy turns back to his phone. “Yeah, I’ve seen you.”
“That’s cool.” Ron tries again. “What’s your name?”
“Kieren,” he replies without looking up.
Ron places the sandwich down on the table. “Nice to meet ya. I uh, made this for you.”
That gets his attention. Kieren raises an eyebrow and grabs the sandwich. “Why? Won’t you get in trouble for giving me this?”
“I get a free sandwich per shift.” Ron stares at his dirty face. “Dude this might sound really rude so I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just like, watch you starve. You look homeless. I wanted to help.”
“Ah.” Keiren picks at the edges of the paper.
“Are you homeless?”
Kieren shrugs. “I guess.”
Ron can’t loom over him anymore, it’s too weird. He pulls up a chair, still mindful of his distance.
“You live out here? With your folks or something?”
“Just me.”
Ron pulls off his hairnet and shakes out his curls, not missing the way Kieren’s eyes track the movement. He smiles. “You have a weird accent.”
“Um. So do you,” Kieren says.
Ron bristles at that. “It’s a normal southern accent. My people are from the south, that’s all.”
“Well, I have a normal Australian accent.”
“Damn, that’s crazy. Why are you all the way over here? That’s across the entire world,” Ron says. He can’t even imagine it, going that far away somewhere. He’s only ever been to 3 states in his life, none of them above the mason-dixie line.
“The forums were saying the worm might be here. Lots of swamp to dig in.”
It takes Ron a second to digest that people his age still use forums. It would be rude to comment on it, probably. He focuses on the important part of Kieren’s statement. “What worm?”
“Uh.” Kieren’s eyes dart around the store. “The one that controls everything.”
So homeless and insane. If he wasn’t so beautiful he would be easy to ignore. Ron is unfortunately hooked.
“Controls what?”
“Me,” Kieren says cautiously. He unwraps the sandwich and takes a small bite. “Other people have them too but mine just focuses but mainly on me.”
“Like, a normal worm? Like an earthworm? I got tons of those shits in my Aunt’s backyard. I mean, you could go outside and find dozens.”
“I know,” Kieren says solemnly. “That’s why I’m here. Some really good posters from the forums said this is the right country and state to look for it.”
“But it’s not just a normal worm,” Ron says.
“It only looks like a normal worm.” Another bite, then another. Kieren wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “It’s got powers, though.”
“What powers?” Ron starts to ask, but his manager is giving him a nasty side eye over the counter. He checks his phone, break time is up. “Hey, finish that sandwich, okay? Maybe we can talk tomorrow?”
Kieren nods. The sandwich is almost finished. Ron feels a little better knowing that he’s eaten something today. “Thank you,” he mumbles, and Ron smiles and waves him off.
Over the course of the next two weeks, Kieren comes in and eats whatever sandwich Ron presses into his hands, ones that grow steadily more complex with vegetables and as calorie dense as Ron can possibly make them. He always eats the entire thing but continues to look slimmer and slimmer to Ron, his clothes shabbier, the bags under his eyes darker. They talk, sometimes about random things, like the weather, sometimes about the differences between America and Australia, but it always circles back to the worm. All Ron can really understand is that’s why he’s here. To dig.
“How do you afford to come all the way out here?” Ron asks. “Ain’t plane tickets real expensive?”
“My dad hung himself,” Kieren says, perfectly calm. “My sister and I had to share the insurance money with our mum, but I got some inheritance. At first I used it to hire someone to help me dig in the backyard for the worm, but mum got pissed about that. I just used the rest of mine for a plane ticket out here. It was expensive, though, about $1,200.”
Ron really doesn’t know what to say after that, other than he’s sorry. Kieren nods uncomfortably when he does so.
Two weeks after that, Kieren lingers after Ron’s break is finished and asks him if he wants to help him dig. He waits for Ron to clock out and they head out to Kieren's place together to grab some digging gear. Ron watches Kieren from his peripheral as he drives. Kieren sits stiffly on the fabric bench seat, facing the window, watching the traffic beyond. Ron puts a hand on his knee for just a moment, just his knuckles brushing against Keiren really, but Kieren almost jumps.
Kieren’s place is not really a place, it’s a tarp strung up between two trees in the crevice of where the beach meets the woods.There is a backpack, pair of boots, sleeping bag, and two shovels outside of it. Ron’s heart breaks for him.
“You sleep here? Fuck, that’s insane.” Ron looks around the area. There aren’t any other encampments about, but it can’t be safe, a skinny little thing like Kieren out here all alone.
Kieren shrugs. “It’s close to the swamp.”
“You see gators out there?”
“A couple times,” Kieren says. “I don’t think the worm wants me to get eaten by one, though, so they usually don’t fuck with me.” He bends over at the waist to grab the shovels, shirt riding up. Ron oogles him.
Fuck, he has such a tiny waist. Bent over like this, the small athletic shorts ride up his backside, revealing almost every inch of thigh, stopping just below the swell of his ass. Without the stupid boots his calves are also visible. Ron wants to wrap his hand around every part of his legs. He wants to pick him up and wash him off and see what’s under that baggy shirt. Ron’s never wanted anyone more in his life. He might die.
He has to get it under control. He forces himself to look away.
Ron can’t get over the derelict camp. He lived rough, sure, spent the night in dilapidated houses and crumbling foster homes, the back of a car once or twice. This is so much worse. “Do you have a shower out here?”
Kieren points at the beach shower station and about 100 feet away. Ron’s used those before. The water comes out freezing cold and full of rust.
“Wanna come use mine sometime? We live at my great aunt's place. It’s nothing fancy or anything, but the water’s much nicer than this here.”
They dig together several times after Ron gets off of work, usually in silence, in sections of woods that Ron has never heard of, next to streams and beaches and muddy puddles. They never find anything but regular worms, never THE worm, and Kieren always looks more sad than he did before that started. Ron can tell Kieren is getting weaker. He has to take a lot of breaks in between holes. His hands shake, sometimes. Ron doesn’t have much money, not after helping his aunt with the bills and feeding the kids, but he continues to make him a fat sandwich every single day and tries his best to send him back to his hovel with a gas station candy bar after they dig.
A few days later, Kieren eventually takes him up on his offer for a real shower. Ron’s positively giddy. He drives them home from Publix and cracks open a white Monster to share.
“Where is your family?”
Ron hums. “It’s just my sister and brother really. Our aunt is kinda new. She’s not like, our direct aunt, one of those extended family types. We kinda tracked her down last year after some big stuff happened. She’s letting us crash with her for free. We’d be really fucked otherwise.”
Kieren doesn’t reply. They pass the Monster can back and forth until it’s empty.
“Where is your aunt?” Kieren asks when they pop open the screen door. Ron takes in the empty ashtray, the empty TV tray next to the couch, the leftover cans of PBR and coke on the dining room table.
He shrugs. “Probably at bingo or something. The kids are at school.”
Kieren looks at the pictures on the walls. None of them are of Ron or his family. Mostly it’s just poorly drawn portraits of dogs.
“Bathrooms over there,” Ron points down a hallway. “There should be towels and stuff on the rack.”
Kieren heads towards it. “Do you have razors? An electric shaver?”
“Under the sink, I think.”
“You’re not coming?” Kieren asks. He sounds hurt.
Ron’s heart skips a beat. “You want me in there with you?”
“Of course,” he says, so they both clamor inside. Ron sits on the toilet lid while Kieren strips down to his boxers. Ron tries very hard not to stare at his pretty body.
“Fill the tub,” he requests, so Ron does. He perches on the edge of the tub and starts with his legs, rubbing soap all over them, rinsing the dirt off first. He takes the razor Ron hands him and makes a clean swipe down his shin. Ron’s eyes bulge out of his skull.
“Are you gay,” Ron blurts.
Kieren’s brow furrows. “Yeah. Why?”
“I’ve never seen a guy with no leg hair before.” Ron doesn’t know much about the ranking of gay activities, but that’s gotta be up there on the ladder with fondling and making out with tongue.
Kieren stares at him. “More hair, the more the dirt sticks,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I’m on my knees a lot.”
Ron knows that’s not a sexual statement, but it still makes him blush. Kieren notices. “Haven’t done that before,” he mumbles. “The worm doesn’t want me to waste my energy that way.”
“I haven’t uh, done that either,” Ron contributes. “Um. Not yet.”
Kieren offers him a small smile. Ron plays four matches of clash of clans while Kieren finishes shaving his legs and face, then touches up the sides of his undercut with the electric trimmer. It doesn’t feel too weird to sit there in silence as Kieren moves around him, more domestic than anything, as if they’ve known each other since they were ten and instead of almost two months. The sound of running water doesn’t feel so scary with him around. It must be nice for Kieren to finally feel clean.
While Kieren finally gets in the shower, Ron puts on the nicest tee shirt he has, one that stretches nicely across the muscles of his chest, and checkered board shorts. He adds a shark tooth and shell necklace and sprays on some axe body spray finishes off the look. He ruffles his blonde curls in the mirror. He looks pretty good.
Someone knocks on the door. “Ron!! Who are you with in there??”
It’s Dee. Ron opens the door just a hair. “It’s just me and Kieren. We’re getting ready to go somewhere, we’ll be out soon.”
“Y’all fuckin’?” She asks. “You’ve been in there forever.”
“You shouldn’t be saying shit like that!” Ron chastises. He shuts the door in her face. Kieren emerges from the shower curtain in a cloud of steam moments later. He drips all over the bathmat, looking forlorn when he sees his filthy clothes in the sink.
“Can I borrow some clothes?”
Ron gives Kieren a soft long sleeve tee that swims on him and a pair of basketball shorts with the drawstring pulled to the absolute limit. They still slide down his hips. Ron eyes his feet, judges them to be fairly close enough in size to share a pair of sandals, and passes them over. He tries to not stare at Kieren’s smooth calves while he buckles them on.
“Wanna go somewhere?” Ron asks. The ‘on a date’ in the question is silent. He holds the bathroom door open so Kieren can duck through.
Kieren seems to pick up on it. “Yeah, we can go out.”
“You wanna go see the manatees?”
Kieren fixes him with a blank stare. “The what?”
“Manatees. You can see em in all the shallow water canals. They just float, they’re called sea cows.” Ron roots around the fridge and emerges with a head of lettuce. “They eat plants.”
Kieren looks from the fridge to the lettuce and back again. “Sea cow,” he repeats.
Ron beams at him. “You’ll love em’. They are kinda cute, I promise.”
They pile into the truck and make for the marina and somehow manage to find a nice secluded spot to sit. The water is clear enough down here to see them float by, slow and placid yet huge. Ron’s always like them; he finds the way they move to be peaceful. Kieren looks utterly impressed. Big win, Ron thinks. If only he could get him to smile too.
Ron throws an arm around Kieren’s shoulders. Kieren stiffens. Ron’s siblings hug him all the time, even his aunt sometimes. It’s not the same as a romantic hug, sure, but it’s always warm, always welcome. Maybe Kieren doesn’t want to be touched.
Ron pulls back slowly. “Shit, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to make ya uncomfortable.”
“It’s not that,” Kieren says quietly. “Nobody has touched me I guess. Not for a really really long time.”
Ron’s heart twinges in sympathy. “Sorry, baby. That sucks.”
Kieren’s head whips around. “Baby?”
Ron gives him a sheepish look. “Sorry, shoulda have asked ya first. People here say that a lot. Baby and sweetheart and stuff. Calling you Kieren is nice and all, but I guess I just want something sweeter, you know? You’re weird but you’re sweet.”
“You don’t have to be sweet to me,” Kieren says quietly. “The worm doesn’t like it.”
“The worm doesn’t want you to be like, cared for?”
“No.”
“So it doesn’t like me?”
“It hates you,” Kieren whispers. “It wishes you would do awful things to me, painful things. Instead you just take care of me no matter how…” He throws some lettuce in the water. “No matter how weird I am. It really hates that.”
“That’s really fucked up.”
Kieren says nothing. He tosses in more lettuce.
Ron presses a light kiss on his cheek. “I’ll never hurt you.”
“I know.”
“So then like, what else does the worm tell you?”
“That I’m worthless.” Kieren watches the manatee eat. “Mostly that I’m ugly, or pathetic and stupid. You know, for not being able to find it. It’s like, always wanting me to hurt myself too, kill myself just like my dad. I used to try to die to just make it shut up. Then I thought if I hurt myself like it wanted then maybe it would go away. It didn’t.”
He rolls up his sleeve. His left arm is covered in cuts, dozens of them, little silver and red lines that must have been made with a razor blade or pocket knife. It was too dim in Ron’s bathroom to see them, but they are vivid now in the sunlight. “It didn’t work.” He looks back up to Ron. “So now I have to find it.”
Ron swallows thickly. He's never seen anything like this before. Even just looking at them might make him sick. “Is that why you’re always wearing long sleeves? Even though it’s hot?”
Kieren nods. “The worm doesn’t like the attention.”
Ron gently takes his forearm and puts it in his lap. “Never met anyone who did this,” Ron says quietly. He rubs his thumb over the scars. Kieren sits perfectly still and lets him. “Only on TV.”
Kieren shrugs. “It made my sister and mum really mad. It seems my sister got the maddest, after everything that happened. Dad offed himself, though, so I think they were a little more distracted than some shallow cuts. You can see the rope marks on the tree in the backyard of where he made the noose.”
It’s a horrible fucking story. Ron evaluates Kieren's arm. Some of the scars don’t look very shallow. Kieren doesn’t say anything. He lets his head drop into Ron’s shoulder, necklace digging into Ron’s skin. Ron continues rubbing his forearm. He should probably share some of this story, too.
“There was a big storm in South Carolina last year,” Ron starts. Kieren lifts his head a little, big eyes shining green in the light.
“Me and Dee and Will, we were living back then with someone really shit. We didn’t have a choice or nothing, because our parents died ages ago. So it was just us and this guy who loved to beat on us. I guess just me really, the other ones were too little. Never too bad to scar or nothing, but it would hurt. He mainly just wanted us to shut up.”
Kieren squeezes his hand briefly. Ron continues.
“It wasn’t too bad, we had a place to sleep and we were all together. But one night a storm came, and it like never stopped. Flooded the city so bad that we got stuck in our old house. Bull sharks, big ones, swam in from the ocean and kept fucking shit up. Only made us more stuck in the house and everything. I had to swim with one in the water. It was so fuckin’ close to me and everything, but I had to do it just to get some supplies. I’m good at holding my breath, but I don’t really swim no more. Not like that.”
Ron draws in a shaky breath.
“I never did that stuff you did, the cutting, but…I’m still cared of the rain,” Ron admits. “I’m always afraid it’s not going to stop. That and my siblings dying. The storm took so much from me. Not just having to swim with the shark around, but being stuck. Seeing our old foster parent get eaten by em. It sucked so bad, I never want it to happen again. Took us down here for a fresh start.
Kieren waits for him to continue.
“I used to think that I dunno, if I could stop it from raining or I could hide from it, everyone could be safe. But I couldn’t. I hated it.”
“Hated what?”
“Hated how little control I had. So I just had to like…keep at it, doing the things I can control. Try to worry less about the things I can’t.”
“I can do that,” Kieren whispers. “Once the worm is gone.”
Ron pats Kieren’s thigh. “So I kinda get it,” Ron says. Another manatee floats by. He drops some lettuce in front of its head. “Get you, like understand you. Digging with the prospect of a reward probably feels real good, once you find something. Purpose and all that.”
The manatee raises its head. Kieren tosses a fistful of lettuce in too. “Yeah.”
“Can I kiss you?” Ron asks. “I might die if I don’t. I’m sorry.”
Kieren looks surprised, but he doesn’t protest. He leans in first, placing a hand on Ron’s jaw and tilting it forward, pressing his lips gently against Ron’s. Ron cradles Kieren's face in his hands. It's so warm and soft against his fingers, now that his cheeks were clean and smooth , his mouth chocolaty and sweet from the candy bar they shared on the way over.
They kiss, and kiss, and kiss, come up for air, and kiss again. By the time they part, all the manatees surrounding them are waiting to be fed. They toss the rest in the water and head back to the car.
It’s absolute agony to drop Kieren off that night. He almost asks him to come home with him, but Kieren places a chaste kiss on his cheek, and tells him the worm will be waiting for him in the morning. Kieren would come see him at work as usual.
Unsatisfied but overall happy with the day, Ron goes home.
The kids give him grief the second he gets in the door.
“How is your boyfriend?” Dee says without looking up from her phone.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Ron says defensively. He sets the truck keys in a little ceramic bowl in the shape of a rooster. “We are just… hanging out.”
“Friends don’t lock themselves in the shower for hours together,” Will says. He scoops a huge helping of Coco puffs into his mouth. “That was pretty gay.”
Ron blushes.
“The manatee date was also gay,” Dee confirms.
“Super gay,” Will confirms. “But he’s weird and eats dirt so maybe he likes them.”
“Why are y’all being so fucking rude?” Ron asks. He ruffles Dee’s hair. She scowls at him. “Kieren doesn’t eat dirt. He just digs a lot.”
“Digging a lot is weird.”
“Nah, it’s not. It’s just dirt. Washes off.”
Will shrugs. “You both eat gay dirt,” he says, and Dee giggles.
Ron laughs at that. “Good fucking lord. Maybe it was a fuckin’ a date, so what?”
“As long as you admit it,” Dee says haughtily. “Want some coco puffs?”
Kieren does meet him at work the next day. He looks extra tired, even more thin than usual. He’s still wearing Ron’s clothes, but now they have dirt worked into them. Ron kind of feels like crying. He makes Kieren’s favorite, a toasted cheesy bread sub with salami and ham, and sneaks him a cookie, desperate to get some calories in him. Kieren eats almost all of it.
He can’t bring himself to take Kieren back to his decrepit little camp that night. It starts raining on the way over, so badly at one point that Ron gets nervous for himself, let alone Kieren. No way he can rough it on the beach like this with no coat or warmth or proper shelter.
When Kieren moves to leave, Ron leaves the engine on and doesn't unlock the door.
“What if you came home with me?”
“What, for tonight?”
“For forever,” Ron wants to say. “Yeah, for tonight. You can get back in the shower, stay out of the rain. Sleep in a proper bed. I’ll take the couch and everything, don’t worry.”
Kieren considers this for a long moment. “I’m not worried,” Kieren says. “About the bed.”
A hopeful smile blooms on Ron’s face. “So you’ll come?”
Kieren nods. They make their way back home, and back in the bathroom. Ron sits on the bathmat instead of the toilet this time, and passes bottles and soaps directly to Kieren behind the curtain. He gets to dress him in clean clothes again, and make them both some dinner, crammed in front of the little living room TV. They watch some nature special, and after Ron clears their plates, he settles onto the couch and takes Kieren’s hand.
“This is killing you,” He says kindly. “I can’t- I can’t watch you suffer, babe. I like you so much, and you’re like, starving and getting sick because of all the digging and sleeping outside.”
Kieren shakes his head, but doesn’t retract his hand. “I can’t stop, not till I squish it-”
“Once you do, what happens? Will it bring you back to life, if this kills ya? What will you devote your life to after this, you know?”
Kieren shakes his head. “It won’t kill me, things will be better. They have to be.”
“I kinda feel like your worm is my rain,” Ron says gently. “I’ll help ya keep looking, but I don’t think that it’s the worm. You’re digging for something else, maybe. Something about you ya think ya lost.” He takes one of Kieren’s slack hands between his own. “I’d like to help you find it.”
Kieren’s eyes glisten with unshed tears. He shakes his head from side to side. “That’s not- no one can. That’s the thing.”
“Hey.” Ron stands up, dragging Kieren with him. “Come here.”
Ron wraps his arms around Kieren’s little waist and lifts, nudging him to wrap his legs around his hips. He weighs almost nothing. Kieren clutches his neck, burying his face into Ron’s shoulder. Ron brings a hand up to stroke his hair, the other arm firmly holding him, before settling back onto the couch again, Kieren clinging to him. Kieren makes a choked noise, halfway between a sigh and a sob.
“Shhh,” Ron soothes. Ron slips under Kieren’s oversized shirt, petting the smooth expanse of his back gently. He can feel every single ridge of his spine. “I got ya.”
Ron feels a few tears seep into the neck of his shirt, and then a lot, and then Kieren is full body sobbing. Ron rocks them both slowly, letting him cry it out. After what seems like hours, Kieren turns towards him, still crying a little bit, hiccuping softly. Ron blows on his red face gently, shushing him while he does so.
“Something my mom used to do,” Ron explains when Kieren’s eyes widen. “Always calmed me down, I dunno.”
“Do it again,” Kieren says, and Ron complies until Kieren’s tears eventually subside. Ron kisses his damp cheeks, pushing the hair away from Kieren's flushed forehead. He grasps his chin, nudging his face up to look at him.
“It’s the fucked up trauma and your past and shit,” Ron tells him gently. “I think you and I both know it’s not really a worm. It’s all those fucked up feelings. We can work on it, you know? You and me. Don’t have to be in the dirt to do that, yeah?”
Kieren stares at him, hazel into clear blue, and when he nods his head, a choked ‘yeah’ on his lips, Ron feels like crying too. Kieren rests his head on Ron’s clavicle and is silent for a long moment.
“You promise?”
Ron rubs gentle circles into his shoulder blades. “Promise what?”
“That you’ll help me work on it.”
“Wouldn’t have said that if I didn’t mean it,” Ron says. Kieren hums when Ron shifts him in his arms. “Baby? You gunna fall asleep on me?”
Kieren nods slowly. “I was trying to.”
“Hold on,” Ron says. He lifts himself and Kieren off the couch with a bit of effort and carries him down the hallway towards his room.
Will barrels out of his room, blocking their path, mouth agape. “I knew you were boyfriends!”
Kieren lifts up his head. “Little Ron,” he greets sleepily. “Ron, Is that what he calls me?”
Will narrows his eyes. “He was always denyin’ it! Me and Dee know better.”
“Ron.” Kieren plops his head back down into Ron’s shoulder . “Don’t lie to little Ron.”
“Baby, I wasn't trying to,” Ron says, choosing to ignore his brother and sidesteps to continue his trek. “He was just being annoying.”
Kieren actually moans when Ron lays him down on the bed.
“Been a while, yeah?” says Ron, and Kieren nods. He remains placid and sweet as Ron takes off his socks and moves to slide him under the covers. Kieren lifts his arms.
“Everything,” he says, so Ron slides his shorts off too, then his giant shirt, leaving him utterly bare but for a pair of checkered boxers and his choker. He’s so, so pretty, Ron can barely stand it. Ron chubs up a little in his pants, readjusting himself when he sits on the bed.
Kieren’s eyes are closed, but he somehow notices. “Later. We can fuck around then.”
Ron pulls his shirt off eagerly. He slides in next to him and nudges Kieren on his side. Spooned against Kieren’s naked back, they are a perfect fit.
“Mmmh,” Kieren mumbles. “Thank you.”
Ron bites his tongue from blurting out how much he loves him. He settles for lacing their fingers together instead, squeezing tightly. Kieren squeezes back.
“You’re welcome.”