Alex’s dress shoes glimmered softly at the top of the staircase. His formal shirt was perfectly tucked into his reasonable black pants, and not a wrinkle was to be found anywhere- unless you were counting below his eyes, then you may have found one or two. He patted himself down, even though he knew that he was perfectly presentable. But this assumption was a mistake he had made before. There was always something that was off, but he would have to wait and see what that was.

The stairs didn’t creak as he descended them. One of the benefits of having strong, polished mahogany steps is knowing that you will never fall through them. Falling down them was another matter entirely, however. Along the wall, surrounded by gold and silver frames, were pictures of days gone by. Mr. Gaiman had described them as ‘an ode to old accomplishments,’ and they appeared to fit that bill perfectly. The first photograph was giant and sat at the very beginning of the path down. It was of a woman, clad in a dress that would make even Princess Diana blush. It trailed off behind her, like a wave of dandelion petals in a stream. But it was the woman in the dress that drew the eye. Her smile was brighter than a diamond, even through the cloudy veil. Her golden-brown skin was smooth, and every detail about her seemed to be the result of meticulous and careful planning. While she wasn’t known as Mrs. Gaiman then, it would be the name she would go by now. The whole thing could be mistaken for a painting if it weren’t for the hyper realism and the unmistakable mark of a lens flair.

A step down was an article cut out from a newspaper. The page had yellowed and corroded over the years, but the bold words were still crystal clear. “Anthony Gaiman Wins Election!” Below was a picture of a crowd, all shouting and cheering as pouring confetti hung frozen in the air. Alex could barely see his father standing tall and proud on the podium, but he got the gist of it.

The montage of memories continued on. There were the typical political accolades, with Mr. Gaiman shaking hands with someone who was probably important as they stared blankly at the camera. A few more news articles popped up near the middle, declaring the occasional bit of praise for a political decision or whatnot. The clear standout in this pantheon of praise was that of Mrs. Gaiman, standing next to a disheveled looking man in a suit. This had been the time where she had won her very first case, saving Mr. Doyle from twenty years in prison after being accused of embezzlement. Alex never thought he was innocent, and neither did the press. But that’s the power of a lawyer, he expected.

Near the bottom of the staircase, there was a picture that Alex always glanced at, no matter how many times he passed it. It was a photo of his father and mother, together. This wasn’t much to scoff at, but it always felt strange to see them so close. Mr. Gaiman was standing, as he always did, straight, firm, and proper. Meanwhile, Mrs. Gaiman took an elegant seat in front of him, with a hearty bump in her stomach. In a way, Alex figured that this was his first photo. Which was a shame, he thought. They could have at least gotten a better angle on him. But this wasn’t why he always looked when he went by. For a long time, he didn’t know why he did that himself. He assumed it must just be eye-catching. But then, one day, it accrued to him. This was the last picture on the ‘ode to past accomplishments,’ but neither of them was smiling. Both of their lips sat firmly still, like the Mona Lisa trapped in thought. But unlike her, there was no question that they weren’t happy. They weren’t sad either. They were just… there. It had also accrued to Alex, despite him not wanting it to, that this was the only image of him on the wall. After this, there was nothing but sleek grey paint. He knew that he shouldn’t take that to mean anything, but there was no denying the sting.

Alex came to a set of wooden doors and stopped. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. With one final check of his clothes, and a quick pat of his hair, he put on a wide smile. It was so practiced that it was like he was trying to serve as a testament to the skills of his dentist. But they wouldn’t notice- they never noticed.

As the doors swung wide, he was greeted with the view of his mother and father sitting at the dinner table. The thing was long, stretching on for what felt like a hundred miles of pine. At the very end of the journey, sitting across from each other, Mr. Gaiman and Mrs. Gaiman were enjoying their breakfast. Seeing how it was in a china bowl, Alex assumed it was some type of fancy soup that the chef had made. The type that he, of course, had never liked. This was a shame, considering that a third bowl had been placed on the other end of the table. Clearly, this was meant for him.

He couldn’t help but see that his parents didn’t bother looking up when he entered. Maybe he had done a good enough job of being polite that they simply hadn’t noticed. But that was a wish he had dropped a long time ago.

With his smile still firmly in place, he took his seat at the table. Quickly remembering that the correct spoon was the one next to the knives, he dug into it. And by ‘dug,’ I mean, he slowly lowered his utensil into the orange liquid and brought it gingerly into his mouth. The sound of metal on china was the only noise in the room, excluding the soft tick from a grandfather clock in the corner. He wondered if he would finish his meal by the time anyone spoke. Some days, he got to be that lucky.

Mrs. Gaiman finally broke the silence as she carefully set aside her silver spoon. “I understand that you have a meeting today?” She said to her husband. Well, she said it close to him, for they never met eyes. “Is the subject about what I think it is?”

Mr. Gaiman’s square black jaw clenched as he momentarily paused the consumption of his meal. “It depends on what you think it is.”

“It is my understanding that it’s about the Treasurer, and his recent actions,” she replied carefully.

“Then you would think correctly,” his voice rumbled. “I would infer that you have something to say about this?”

The woman’s head tilted ever-so-slightly. “With such an important legal matter at hand, would it not be wise to ask for expert advice? After all, it is not every day that the state’s funds mysteriously end up in an account offshore.”

The man thought for a moment. “It is being handled.”

“I see.”

The conversation stopped there, though Alex was sure that it wasn’t over. In a constant war of wills, it was like an immovable object was meeting an unstoppable force. No one had any idea about what would happen next.

“It has come to my attention,” Mrs. Gaiman began. “That our son would like to borrow one of the cars.”

Mr. Gaiman’s political experience was enough to keep him from appearing annoyed that his breakfast was being interrupted once again. “Does he, now?”

“I informed him that the answer was no, considering previous incidents.”

“A reasonable decision.” The man agreed.

“I’ll be careful.” Alex spoke up. “The last time was an accident. I didn’t see the pothole in the rain, and I apologize.”

The two at the other end of the table regarded the boy the way one regards an unexpected bug in the room. “An error was still made,” Mrs. Gaiman explained. “It is unwise to let the same mistake happen twice.”

Alex nodded. “I understand.”

The soup growing cold, Mr. Gaiman turned his attention to the matter at hand. “What purpose does he have in wanting the car?”

“It’s Wednesday, Anthony,” the woman said, casting her eyes downward. “It would be his piano lesson.”

“Then there is no reason why our driver would not suffice,” Mr. Gaiman declared, seeming to put the matter to rest.

“Is it alright if I take the bus instead?” Alex could feel the mention of public transport send a ripple through the room. “I would like time to just sit and clear my head.”

“If you think you will be able to accomplish that on a bus, then you are clearly mistaken,” Mrs. Gaiman remarked. “There is no telling what type of people will be on there. Besides, our driver’s car is perfectly able to provide the same accomplishment.”

“But mom,” Alex protested. “The car is so dark and cramped. I feel like I’m being squeezed inside of a sardine can!”

Two silent looks shot his outburst down in a fiery explosion. “The answer, as I have said before, is no,” the woman decreed.

Mr. Gaiman, for the first time, looked at his son. “What have we discussed that you have just forgotten?”

Alex felt the façade of his smile drop a bit as he struggled to remember. “Um…”

“It’s ‘Mrs. Gaiman,’” he explained with a disappointed sigh. “Not ‘mom.’”

The boy nodded. “Yes. Sorry, I forgot.”

The man’s eyes lowered. “If you truly wish to… ‘clear your head,’ then you can simply walk to your lesson.”

“But it’s a mile and a half away,” the boy explained. “I’m sure that I won’t damage the car in such a short distance.”

Mrs. Gaiman decided to speak up. “But as said previously, errors do happen.”

Looking at his parents, Alex realized that there would be no convincing them. “Well then. I’ll walk.”

If he didn’t know his father, he could’ve sworn that a little smile appeared on his lips. “Then it is settled.” Reaching down, he wiped his mouth clean with an embroidered napkin.

For some reason, Alex wasn’t feeling all that hungry right now. “I should be going, then.” The chair behind him creaked as he stood up, the need for manners vanishing like the sun over the horizon.

He made it as far as the door before he heard his father call out. “Stop.”

Although he didn’t want to, Alex listened. “Yes, fath…” He remembered himself. “Mr. Gaiman?”

He heard the man relax in his chair as something shuffled on the table. “I would like to think that the rules of my house are very clear. I admit that in the past, I have been lenient with you. I have allowed you permissions that I should have considered more carefully. But there are certain things that I take as a blatant disregard for my authority.”

Alex turned to see his father holding up a bottle of nail polish. He was gripping it at the end of his fingers, like a crime-scene investigator trying not to contaminate the evidence. “What’s that?” The boy narrowed his brows. “Is that moms?”

“It’s not my brand,” Mrs. Gaiman said without looking up. “And very rarely do I wear red.”

Ignoring that his son just broke another rule, Mr. Gaiman continued. “It was located in your room, inside of your school bag. Would you care to give an explanation of this?”

Tilting his head, Alex looked at the bottle long and hard. He huffed as he shrugged his shoulders. “No idea how that got there. Oh, wait! Dorothy!”

“Dorothy?” His mother repeated.

“She sits beside me during math,” he explained. “She always wears that color on her nails! I bet she accidentally put it in my bag instead of hers. I’ve done that too. Once I shoved my entire notebook into hers, and we both didn’t notice until the next day.”

“How careless of you.” Mr. Gaiman twirled the container to look at it closely. “You said that she always wears it?”

Since that was what he said, that was what he had to go with. “Yeah, all the time.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “How curious then, that it’s nearly full?”

Alex shifted in his spot. “Guess she just got a new bottle.”

Reaching behind himself, Mr. Gaiman dropped the nail polish into a garbage bin with a thud. Alex jumped a bit at the sound, though he kept his relaxed composure. “As you know,” the man began. “In this house, things of that nature are not permitted. If, for example, you, as a male, were of the habit of wearing this product yourself, there would be necessary consequences. The world, contrary to popular belief, is black and white. There are things that are wrong, and there are things that are right. Men are born to lead. We are here to be strong, and to provide for our family in the way that we always have throughout history. Men are not born to play dress up and devote themselves to frivolous things. This is something that is naturally wrong, as nature calls it. Do you understand this?”

Alex nodded his head.

“That is good, because you, no matter how much you try to deny it, are my son. We have an image to uphold. I am in a position where I must lead, and to do that, I do not need to have distractions littering the gossip columns in an effort to distract me from my duty. May I offer you a bit of advice?”

What was he going to say? No? “Sure.”

“I would suggest that you distance yourself from this, ‘Dorothy.’ She seems to be… a harmful influence.”

“I’ll talk to my teacher about it,” Alex replied coldly. “Maybe we can change the seat arrangement.”

Their gazes met for a moment, each looking past the other and into their soul. Alex could see a powerful man that had the influence to do whatever he wanted. But there was bitter irony behind those eyes. He could change the laws, change his house, and do anything the way that he wanted. But the one thing that wouldn’t budge was standing in the dining room right now. It was living under his roof, eating his food, and driving his cars. It was like a virus, eating away at the simplicity of the structure. What Mr. Gaiman saw behind his eyes… well, that was for him to know. Alex turned to his mother, but she was only nodding softly as the conversation carried on. There was another bit of irony. It would seem that he, of all subjects, was something they could finally agree on.

Alex turned away and started towards the door, preparing himself for the long walk ahead. But his father wasn’t quite done with him, and he raised a hand to stop him. “Yes?” The boy asked softly.

Mr. Gaiman thought for a moment, before simply saying. “You’ve missed a button on your shirt.”

…

The road was rough- which would typically be considered a good thing. One wouldn’t want their car driving on soft terrain. But for Alex, it was like his feet had developed blisters in the matter of seconds. His fancy dress shoes weren’t so fancy after the first-half mile, and he tried to ignore the sweat dripping from his head. He had never been particularly athletic. In the past, his attention was pulled towards the drama club instead of the sports teams, which was a choice he was now regretting. His sense of fashion crumbled too, as he unbuttoned several pins from his dress shirt.

Spotting a rather seat-shaped rock, he decided to stop for a rest. It was in the middle of nowhere, with a long winding road headed towards a vague destination that not even a map could help him with. The one saving grace of this whole ordeal was that a row of grey clouds had blocked the sun out. This prompted the boy to close his hands in a prayer position, and to promise to never say he hated stormy weather again. Though he had to admit that the trees weren’t helping. Occasionally, a leaf would fall and whip across his face. He’d spit, rubbing the dirt off with indignation, before returning to rest.

Alex realized that he would be late for his piano lesson if he stayed here any longer. But it wasn’t like that was much of an issue.

Only then did he hear the rumbling of an engine headed his way. His head perked up, and his body stiffened. It wasn’t lost on him that he was alone, at an undisclosed location, and with no way to defend himself. Anything could happen, and he would be making headlines as the latest missing kid. Frankly, he would prefer his newspaper debut to be a rave review for an upstanding performance- thank you very much.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Picking himself up, he started marching along the road, trying to act as casual as possible. But the giant, dirty, orange truck that was approaching him slowly from behind tested his composure. Especially when it stopped rolling, like it had chosen to take a minute to observe what it was seeing. Alex couldn’t help but look back. His heart jumped when he saw the thing just sitting there, like it was waiting to start a race. He kept going, practicing the smile he would give if they decided to engage him.

The engine purred as the truck started rolling forward again. It was at a sloth’s pace, but it was making distance with the boy inch-by-inch. Alex wiped his forehead free of sweat and tried to remain calm. But soon, his field of view was taken over by vibrant orange as a set of wheels appeared beside him. He didn’t want to look at the driver, but he could tell that the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Keeping pace with the boy, the window of the truck rolled down with a crank. “What do you think you’re doing out here?” A cranky male voice asked. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Alex knew that ignoring him wasn’t going to work and turned to his new ‘road-pal.’ The boy was young, probably around his age, with a baseball hat on top of his head. “Just taking a stroll.”

The boy in the truck chuckled, “sure you are.”

Alex kept walking, giving his best smile. “Do you need anything?”

Reaching up, the boy scratched his head from under his hat. “Yeah. Get in the truck.”

“Why would I do that?” Came the obvious question.

“Because you won’t like what happens if you don’t.” Came the ominous reply.

As Alex stopped, so did the truck, and both of them stood their ground. “Is that a threat?” he asked, not sounding worried or alarmed.

From behind the clouds, a bit of sunlight managed to peek through. It beamed down through the windshield, casting the driver in a soft glow. He looked strong, like he would be able to lift something heavy without much trouble. With a frown, he started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, his warm black skin seeming a bit grey as the clouds passed over again. “Yes,” he declared suddenly.

Alex shuddered a bit, crossing his arms as he contemplated which way he should start running. “I don’t believe you,” he said, not sounding too sure. “Why don’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because I don’t want to.” The boy replied. “Get in the truck.”

“But I don’t know you.”

The driver rolled his eyes, his hand reaching down into the compartment beside him. “Yeah, yeah, say that all you like. But if you know what’s best for you, you won’t make me tell you for a third time.”

Perhaps it would have been better to accept his demands, but Alex didn’t budge. He gritted his teeth, calling the bluff. “No.”

A deep sigh escaped from the open window. “You did this to yourself.”

In a flash, something flew out of the compartment. Alex flinched and took a step back, preparing for the worst. When nothing happened, he was quite relieved, but also a bit surprised. Instead, the driver had turned his focus to the radio, shoving a silver disk into an extended metal tray.

“What are you doing?” Alex cried. “No, that’s not what I think it is!”

“You only have yourself to blame!” The tray slid back as the man turned a nob on the dash.

Suddenly, a song started to play at max volume, ringing through Alex’s ears and sending a flock of birds flying over the trees. “No! no! You monster!” Alex screamed, covering his ears. “Country music? How can you be so cruel?”

The driver smiled widely as his torture continued. “You should have gotten in the truck, Alex.”

The boy fell to his knees, gripping dramatically at the door handle. “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry! I’ll get in the truck, I promise! But you have to turn it off!”

“Hmm.” The boy in the truck thought softly for a moment. “Not sure if it’s too late to apologize.”

Alex boosted himself up, looking his tormenter in the eyes with a pleading stare. “DeAndre, you can’t do this to me! You know how much it hurts me! The tractors… the beer… the vague suggestion of what a particular woman looks like… you have to make it stop!”

“You act like it’s bad,” Deandre said with a shake of his head. “This is my favorite song.”

If there had been any woodland creatures fuzzy enough to serve as earplugs, Alex would have likely shoved them down his ears. Reaching out, he grabbed the boy by the shoulders, giving him his best ‘please stop it, oh god stop it,’ look. “I’ll get in the truck! I promise!”

The tormenter had some mercy left in his soul, and he reached over and clicked the off switch. “Fine. But if you try to run, I’ll get out my greatest-hits album.”

Alex’s eyes widened in horror. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Get in the truck before I come out there and kick your ass.”

“Fine.”

With the game being over, Alex picked himself up and made his way over to the passenger side door. Inside, the leather-bound seats had clearly seen better days. Rough patches of upturned foam stuck out in awkward places, and it was difficult to find a place to sit comfortably. As he slid in, he felt a rough patch scrape against his skin. It didn’t bother him, though. He had become used to it by now.

DeAndre put his foot on the pedal, and the truck sped forward. As the road moved along, he noticed that his passenger had already propped his feet up on the dash. He thought about saying something about it, but then he would have to explain why he wanted to keep his twenty-year-old truck clean. It was kind of a moot point, considering that the dirt and grime everywhere was abundant. “So,” he said, figuring that he would have to be the one to start this conversation. “Why the hell were you walking down the road by yourself?”

Alex sunk into the airless cushions poking into his back and sighed. “Mom and dad wouldn’t let me take a car.”

“Really? Not even to your ‘piano lessons?’” DeAndre stuck him a look. “Thought you told them it was only a few miles away.”

“I also told them that it was every Wednesday. Not every other Wednesday.” He couldn’t help but notice as his driver gave him a glancing smirk. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it was something. What was that smile for?”

“Just you,” DeAndre admitted. “Kinda funny.”

“I take it that you’re not talking about my humor,” Alex chided.

DeAndre chuckled. “The piano? Really? That’s what you go with for a cover story?”

“What’s wrong with the piano?” Alex asked as he indignantly crossed his arms. “It’s a perfectly fine instrument.”

“I know that. But not with you playing it.” He winced as Alex slapped him across the arm. “Hey, I’m just saying.”

The boy was inconsolable. “You’ve never even heard me play! How could you know I was bad at it?”

DeAndre took his eyes off the road to give him a pointed stare.

“Alright, yes. I’m terrible at it! It sounds like a cat got loose and clambered over the keys. Is that what you want me to say?” He pouted as he turned his face- not willing to grace his driver with the sad look.

“The piano is so lame,” DeAndre couldn’t help but say. “Why didn’t you go with the guitar? Or hell, do the violin- that way you can blend in with the high society of your parents.”

Alex scoffed so loud his tongue nearly rolled back. “I’d rather die! Oh god, I can imagine it now. Me, dressed in some stupid suit, playing to a crowd of old rich people who’ll clap briefly at the end. Death would be a mercy.”

“Yeah, but you’d look good in a suit,” DeAndre remarked with a passing look.

“God, then I would just be a copy of my father.” The thought made Alex shudder. “Do you know he keeps a closet full of suits? Same color, same arrangement, all on hangers in his room? You would think that a bit of color wouldn’t kill him, but it’s the same one each time.”

“Sounds about right.” DeAndre turned the wheel as the truck started down a dirt path. The rumble and grit of rocks crackled beneath the tires as they sped through an empty field. Overhead, the clouds silhouetted the short yellow grass as they rolled by. “How about just the tie?”

“No, it wouldn’t look right.” Alex sighed. “You know I only signed up for those piano lessons so I could have an excuse to see you, right?”

DeAndre cracked a smile. “Yeah.”

Alex smiled back and looked out his window, watching as the tires treaded over the sunken path. He remembered that this particular path hadn’t existed a while ago. It had been a regular old, abandoned field that no one paid any mind to. But now, thanks to his constant piano lessons, a way forward was clear as the sunken mud led them up a steep hill.

“How’s work?” The passenger asked as the engine blared.

“It’s work,” the driver replied. “Didn’t get crushed by a falling log, so I guess it went well.”

“How’s Patrick’s fingers? Still swollen?”

“They had to amputate the pinky.”

“Oh shit. That sucks.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “More work for me.”

The truck barreled to the top of the hill, and DeAndre threw the gear into park. The engine purred down as he ripped the key from the socket. With a shove, he put the thing into the pocket of his jeans, causing a rattle when it collided with the rest of his collection.

“Permission to get out?” Alex asked with a grin.

“Hop under the tires while you’re at it.” DeAndre said with another eyeroll.

A cold breeze met Alex as he stepped out of the truck, which felt like heaven after his walk. Lifting his arms out in the wind, he embraced the view. They were on the top of a very small mountain. If you fell down the cliff side of bumpy rocks and roots, you probably would only come away with a couple of bruises and scrapes. However, peeking through the branches of the nearby trees was a sight to behold. From here, you could just see the edge of a town in the distance. A water tower poked up, standing out in the forest that surrounded the whole area. Somewhere, a light was flashing. Alex had tried before to figure out what in town was making it, but his efforts had been in vain. But he enjoyed making up the stories for what it could be. Maybe it was a fallen plane, landing somewhere just out of reach? No, someone would have noticed. In all likelihood, it was only an overexcited road sign, but that was too boring to accept.

“God, don’t you love it here?” Alex asked, taking it all in. “I could stay here forever.”

“You’d die of hunger,” the ever realist that was DeAndre pointed out. “Or an animal would get you.”

Alex frowned. “I’d fight them off.”

“With what?”

“My bare hands.”

“You couldn’t kill a fly with those things.”

“Then you’ll protect me.” He said with a smile.

DeAndre returned the expression but added: “Cute. But if I see a bear, I’m running. Stay here all you want, but you don’t fuck with mother nature.”

Alex’s arms flopped to his sides. “My hero.”

Strolling over to the edge of the cliff side, DeAndre picked up a rock and tossed it over. He watched as it banged against the sides of the ground, creating gashes as it flipped into a patch of briars. It seemed to amuse him.

“How’d you find this place?” Alex asked, wondering why his driver was so entertained by basic physics.

“A friend of mine had a dad who used to own that field,” He explained. “Told me about the view.”

“Well, tell your friend thank you, because I couldn’t think of a better place to be our ‘little getaway.’”

DeAndre pursed his lips. “I’ll put it in Patrick’s get-well card.”

For a moment, the two just stood there, happy in the silence. Alex wasn’t lying earlier. If it was up to him, and if he was able, he would have probably stayed here forever. But even as that thought crossed his mind, the cold wind blew stronger. He felt a shiver and folded his arms in a pointless effort to keep warm. Like all things, there was always a downside.

“Alex,” DeAndre said, his tone changing into something more serious. “How long do you think this will last?”

The boy thought for a moment. “Well, until you drive us back, I guess.”

“You know what I mean.” He snapped. “Not the trip. Us.”

Alex shook his head, looking into the forest as if in search of another subject to talk about. “What type of question is that?”

“A reasonable one.” DeAndre stood straighter. “You know this isn’t natural?”

“What? Us?” Alex snapped his head back. “What do you mean?”

“People are already starting to catch on. I get looks sometimes. Like weird ones. Dad wonders why I take the truck out, and I’m not like you. I can’t make up a lie on the spot. So, I just say I have ‘places to be.’ He leaves me alone most days, but he’s getting more pressed about it.”

Alex shrugged, denying the problem. “If you want me to come up with something, you can just ask. Tell him you’ve got a side-job.”

“You’re missing the point,” DeAndre rubbed his eyes as he turned around. “If he finds out about us, that’s it. I’m out of the house and out of my job. I don’t have money, Alex. I can’t go anywhere new to start again.”

“This is only a problem if we don’t get caught.” Alex put on his most convincing smile. “Which won’t happen.”

“You say that like you know it!” DeAndre cried. “Can you be one-hundred percent sure that you’re right? Can you promise me that? You’ve told me about your parents, man. They’re crazy control freaks! They have to know, right?”

The memory of the nail polish situation was still fresh in Alex’s mind, though he didn’t show it. Makeup was one thing. Having a boyfriend was an entirely different matter. But it wasn’t like he was hiding DeAndre inside of his school bag. He could manage it. He had to. “I’m sure,” he replied. “Besides, if I get caught, it’s not like they’re going to know it’s you.”

“But what about you?” DeAndre said, pacing up and down. “What happens to you when you get caught? Do I just never hear from you again? Who knows what your parents will do?”

“DeAndre, you’re overreacting. It’s not the end of the world, it’s just Wednesday. We meet what, once every two weeks? No one is going to find out.”

“You really don’t see the problem with that?” Annoyed, DeAndre walked over to the truck, leaning against the hood. “We only see each other twice a month. Is that anyway to live?”

Alex strolled over and did the same, looking awkward as he took a place beside him. “People go for longer without seeing each other. We can manage.”

“But I don’t want to manage, Alex. I want to live!” He shouted. “I want to wake up in the morning and know that I have a place to live tomorrow! When I’m with you… I don’t know that I can do that.”

“What are you saying?” Alex said, his heart sinking.

“I’m…” he struggled to form his thoughts into words. “I’m not saying anything.”

The silence, ironically, spoke volumes. The two sat there, leaning against the orange hood of the truck, wondering about the future. After a moment, Alex’s face went narrow, and his teeth gritted the air with a hateful vengeance. “Why is it so hard just to be yourself?” He asked no one in particular.

DeAndre didn’t have an answer, so he didn’t give it. Instead, he leaned over and pressed his forehead against Alex’s. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He replied. “Just… give it time. One day, when we make it out of here, it will be good. Something great is waiting for us in the future. I’m sure it is.”

Slowly, DeAndre smiled, though it was clear that he didn’t share the boy’s sentiments. “Maybe.”

“I love you,” Alex spoke, looking up.

Again, DeAndre didn’t reply. Instead, he bent down and planted a firm kiss on Alex’s lips. The two held their positions for a moment before letting go. Silently, they looked into each other’s eyes, not caring to look any further.

On cue, a scream erupted from the forest. The two jumped back, like a bolt of lightning had struck their bodies. “What the hell was that?” DeAndre cried, with his eyes growing wide.

“It sounded like an animal,” Alex observed as he clutched his beating chest. “Maybe we scared it?”

Another cry escaped from the woods, but this time it was clear. It was raggedy and breathless, like someone screaming without air in their lungs. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound pretty.

“We should go.” DeAndre said, already headed to the truck.

“Wait, I think I see it.” Alex shouted as his eyes narrowed. In the woods, he saw something jump and push past a tangle of bushes. He didn’t know why, but he felt compelled to go after it. “Come on!”

DeAndre stood surprised as his boyfriend uncharacteristically bounded into the woods. He had seen him cry over stubbing his toe before, so this was quite the change of pace. Apparently, the thought of bears, wolves, and snakes hadn’t occurred to him “Wait… don’t.” He said, but he was already following him in.

In the dark shade of the forest, Alex was hot on the trail. He was like a bloodhound, following the overwhelming urge to pursue. Speaking of blood- there appeared to be plenty of it. It came in fragile red spots along the foliage on the ground, like little pinpricks. The screaming had turned to a distant moaning, or rather a mumble that got quieter and quieter the closer he came. But then, suddenly, he found the source of the bloodstains.

Following the blur that was his boyfriend, DeAndre was surprised to find him stopped in front of a mass of briars and vines. “What are you…” but then he saw it.

Somehow, through sheer blind fear, a deer had launched itself inside the tangled web. Kicking legs and flying hooves lashed out at the air as the creature moaned quietly. It was a grisly sight, with a gushing wound being evident on its side. Its eyes flickered, though it didn’t stop struggling.

Alex looked back, a tear in his eye. “We can’t just leave it.”

DeAndre had to admit that abandoning the poor thing seemed cruel. “Let’s get him down.”

As DeAndre clambered forward, Alex felt an odd sensation fill his mind. It was like the world was pushing outwards and turning everything around him hazy. He shrugged it off as he reached out, pulling and pounding at the vines. But even as he did so, he couldn’t help but feel the vines in his hands were off. They weren’t stringy, like how he imagined something that grew in a forest would be. They felt rough, and taught, like the ropes he used to control backstage at a theater production. Even as the two of them managed to get the deer down, the world seemed lifeless. The trees, the deer, and even DeAndre felt stilted. The green in the trees felt like paint, and the smell of it stung his nose. Why had everything stop moving? Was it his cue?

“I think it’s dying.”

Blinking rapidly, Alex stared at the creature in his lap. It didn’t take a veterinarian to tell that it was dying- it only took the bullet-hole in its side. Its matted, grey fur was turning red as a river of blood streamed out. The deer looked frightened, like it wanted to run away desperately. But, of course, it couldn’t.

“What do we do?” DeAndre asked, clearly not prepared for this.

“I… uh…” Alex didn’t know either. This wasn’t the sort of thing he was taught in private school. “We… help it along.”

“It clearly can’t run.” Came the reply.

“No…” Alex swallowed. “We help it along.”

DeAndre’s eyes filled with understanding. “Oh.” He bent down, rubbing the unfortunate creature along the head. “How?”

It was a dreaded question. What would be the best method to end a life? They looked around, feeling almost ashamed of their intent. But no matter how hard they looked, there was nothing they could find.

With a trembling hand, Alex reached out and grabbed one of the sturdy vines. DeAndre gave him a look like he was crazy, and he had to admit that he agreed. “What else do we have?” He asked, the makeshift rope curling around his fingers. “Should we just leave it to suffer?”

The boy nodded hesitantly. “I’ll hold it down, you… do the rest.”

“But you’re stronger!” Alex protested. “It would be better if you did it.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t want to come here. This one’s on you. Besides, it won’t make much of a difference.”

Alex wanted to argue, but the deer cried out again in a painful wail. He was wasting time. It needed to be ended.

DeAndre knelt down, continuing to soothe the deer with his pets. With his free hand, he applied pressure to the body, making sure that it wouldn’t be able to fight back. Next came the gruesome bit, as Alex slowly wrapped the rope around its neck. He nearly puked at the thought of what was about to happen.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Alex pulled. The vines held true as the seconds passed. The deer didn’t struggle, which made it even harder to continue the act. They had to wonder if they were doing the right thing? It surely didn’t feel like it. After a minute, the lights in the deer’s eyes had faded, and Alex released the rope.

“That was horrible,” DeAndre pouted, rocking over to his side.

“Yeah.”

The boy hadn’t let his eyes drift away from the corpse. Even now, the world still felt wrong. It wasn’t right, any of this. The trees were in the wrong places, and the light was positioned incorrectly. This couldn’t have happened. This didn’t happen. But it was, wasn’t it? He was being paranoid… he was being like… like…

“Are you okay?” DeAndre’s voice sounded worried as he leaned over.

“No, I’m not.” Alex shook off his thoughts. “We just killed something.”

“But you were right,” he said. “It needed to happen.”

“Yeah, but…”

The world went spinning as Alex felt a hoof slam against the side of his head. The two fell back in shock and pain as the deer reared up, kicking itself into a standing position. With a limp that wasn’t affecting its speed, the animal flew back into the woods, kicking up crumbled leaves.

DeAndre saw a mark immediately appear on his boyfriend’s head, with a small bit of blood peeking through his skin. “Alex, are you okay?”

Though he was capable of speaking, the boy didn’t want to. Right now, he wanted to crumble into a ball and be left alone. But it wasn’t the pain in his head that was bringing tears to his eyes- it was the one in his heart. He couldn’t do it, could he? No matter what he did, it was like he was always getting something wrong. He was a fool to think that he and DeAndre could ever work out. This relationship, like everything he ever did, would just end in failure, wouldn’t it? But, as it was in his nature, he put on a smile and looked up at his worried boyfriend.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Don’t worry.”