Birthday
Epilogue
It's almost morning; Spot's birthday has been over for a few hours now. The party broke up, finally, with people trickling out alone, or with a group of friends, or for a few lucky people, with a friend, the right friend.
Jack and David are still sitting in the alley. Jack wants a cigarette, but doesn't want to move and wake David; David is asleep, curled up next to him, head resting on Jack's lap. Jack sighs a little, happily.
He's been wondering about things for awhile now. Things he doesn't really understand. Things about boys, and girls, and why people act the way they do; why he feels the way he does. Though really, he's been wondering just how he really feels about the whole thing.
But then there's David. And Jack smiles, places a gentle hand on David's shoulder, and realizes it doesn't matter. Boys or girls, it just doesn't matter. What he wants–who he wants–is David.
*
Spot hurries to get dressed, trying to do it as quietly as possible. He's confused, really, maybe a little scared, if it's even possible for Spot to be scared anymore. He knows what he just did, and knows that Race… Well, things with Race felt okay. Not like being with a girl, but okay.
But he's not queer, he's sure of it.
Race is dozing, half-dressed, in his chair, with a content smile on his face. Spot wants to smile back, but can't bring himself to. It's too strange. He finishes buttoning his shirt and is about to leave, when, "Happy birthday, Spot."
He turns around sharply, and Race still looks half-asleep, gentle smile still in place, and without the shame Spot's feeling.
"Thanks," Spot manages to say.
"Spot, if…" He trails off, stops. It isn't often that Racetrack can't find the right words. "If that wasn't what you wanted, I'm sorry," he finally manages.
Spot says nothing, he can find nothing to say, and shrugs a little. Race stares down at the table, guilt playing across his face, but he doesn't bother to hide it. He could if he wanted to, his poker face has never failed him, but this isn't about poker. It's about a friend, it's about trust.
"I just–" Spot starts, then stops. "I ain't never… I'm not. Like. That."
"Okay," Race agrees. "Me neither."
Spot frowns a little. "But…"
It's Race's turn to shrug. "It wasn't real," he explains. "It was just… two guys looking for someone to trust. Friends helping each other out. Not like it was real."
Spot nods; that's something he can understand. It's easier for him to think that way, and he wonders if that makes it easier for Race, too. He lets out a deep, relieved breath, but has one other thing he needs to know. "Race, you ever been… Like that… With a boy before?"
"Nah," Race answers, and Spot is relieved again. But he wonders if he's being conned. He knows Race could bluff that easily.
But…
"Okay," he says. "I trust you."
Race smiles again, feeling a tiny bit relieved himself. "I trust you too." Spot starts to leave again, but Race calls after him. "So, same time next year?" he asks, but he sounds like he's probably joking.
Spot doesn't answer, just slams the door a little harder than necessary behind him. But despite it all, he's smiling to himself.
*
Specs and Dutchy aren't kissing anymore. They realized that kissing in public like that was probably a bad idea. But neither one wanted to go back inside. Dutchy didn't want to go back to pretending to be who he wasn't, even though he knows he has to as soon as there are other people around. Specs knows, too, and isn't thrilled about it… But he's seen a side of Dutchy no one else has, and that's worth watching Dutchy pretend for everyone else.
And everyone else won't always be there, anyway, so when Specs and Dutchy can be alone together… Specs smiles. He won't just get to spend time with Dutchy after tonight, he'll get to spend time alone with Dutchy.
They aren't making out anymore, but they're sitting next to each other on the stairs, close but not touching, feeling a kind of electricity in the inches between them. It's like a challenge, to see how close they can get without touching, and a contest to see who can go the longest without messing up, putting his hand on the other boy's arm or knee. It's hard, so they have to keep themselves busy.
They keep busy by talking. For the first time, Specs can talk to Dutchy, and he realizes he loves talking to Dutchy. Talking to Dutchy makes him feel special, like maybe he doesn't always have to be on the edge of the group, like he does have some sort of place.
Listening to Specs makes Dutchy feel good. It makes him happy that he can help a friend feel wanted, but it makes him happier because the friend is Specs. And Specs doesn't talk to anyone, really, but he chose Dutchy. So Dutchy hangs on his every word, fascinated by the sound of Specs's voice.
The door keeps opening, people keep coming out and interrupting them. The girls Dutchy was with all night leave, and wonder why he doesn't seem to notice or care, because they don't see that two lost souls have found each other.
*
Mush and Blink haven't made it home yet, but they found a nice little park, not more than a spit of grass with a tree and a bench, and have fallen asleep hand in hand. A slight breeze blows, and Blink suddenly finds himself awake again, and not quite sober yet. But not as drunk as he was, either.
He looks over at Mush, who's got his knees pulled up to his chest, his head resting on his arm resting on his knees, his other arm free so that he didn't have to let go of Blink's hand. And Blink smiles.
He gives Mush's hand a little squeeze, but Mush doesn't stir. But that's okay, because they have plenty of time coming up. Because Blink remembers. He leans in as close to Mush as he can, and looks up at the sky, wishing he could see the moon or stars through the smog and the city lights. He can't, but that's okay. He doesn't need stars for it to be romantic.
He just needs Mush, and he has Mush, so things are perfect as far as he's concerned.