Neon Rush {M/M} ❀

Ch. 5.2 Crocodile Smile

The fan will be easy to replace, and Zef can manage the first aid for his dad's legs, but the prosthetics CPU? He'll need the same kind used in all the models from that generation. That's needle in a haystack shit.

Plus, he needs to get all this figured out before dawn, when he's gotta get back to the city, to his horror-movie job, to the killer maniac with weird eating habits.

Can't do it all on his own. So, reluctantly, he goes next door.

Leo sits in the camp chair just outside his trailer, full lips wrapped around the neck of a half-drunk beer. His sleek, black hair is tied in a topknot, shirt open to combat the summer heat. A trickle of sweat runs down the gutter of his chest.

Once upon a time, Zef would imagine licking it off.

Only, there was a catch. A snag. Because Zef used to have a big, fat crush on Leo. But then Leo turned out to be the sort of cis gay who, when Zef came out, defaulted to one of two modes: pity or awkward discomfort.

Zef didn't know which he hated more. The pity sucked. It came from a 'sorry you'll never be a real man' place, and fuck that.

The awkward discomfort sucked harder. It was linked to Zef's dumb, childhood crush. Leo seemed to live in fear that the trans guy next-door was going to hamstring him into having sex or else label him transphobic. It stung. Zef didn't want anyone's pity fuck, and his existence shouldn't have felt like a threat to Leo's homosexuality anyway.

Most of all, Zef didn't need cis gay validation.

But did a bitty, petty part of him fantasise about a glorious return to the bayou post-transition, looking sexy and cis-passing and turning Leo's head anyway?

Regrettably. Yeah.

Leo looks up at his approach and— there it is— the awkward smile.

"Hey, Zef. Thought you moved to the city?"

"Yeah. Missed the smell of bog water." He tries to sound casual and just sounds nervous. "Look, I hate asking favours, but...Dad's in a bad way." Leo stands up, but Zef puts out a hand to stop him. "He'll be all right. I just wanted to ask if you had any antibiotics lying around just in case?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, wait here a minute."

Leo goes into his trailer and emerges again, tossing Zef a bottle, pills rattling inside. The label reads 'Amoxicillin 250mg. Take 3 times per day.'

Zef pockets them and gives Leo a sheepish look. "Thanks. I can pay you back later."

"Ah, forget it, Zef. We're practically family, ain't we?"

Zef's throat tightens, the memory of Ollie lodged there. He can see the name on Leo's lips, too. The frayed, live wire—the broken connection between them—crackles with all that remains unsaid.

Leo sighs. "Should visit him, shouldn't we?"

The offer surprises him, but Zef says, "Yeah. Sounds good."

They pick some wildflowers along the way. Little bundles of periwinkle phlox and some copper irises growing around the wooded edge of the bayou. Leo leads the way to the bank where he keeps his old canoe, and they pile in. Every time, Zef thinks it's gonna start spouting leaks, but every time, it holds. They grab paddles and slip between the trees, water whispering against the canoe's flanks. The bloated moon, near-full, reflects off the water enough they don't need a flashlight.

It's not far to paddle. They wanted to make sure it was near enough to see from the banks, no matter what.

The tupelo tree they chose for Ollie rises out of the water tall and tapering, thick around the roots. A knot in those roots forms a little alcove, large enough to get a hand inside. Zef puts the flowers in there—a blooming heart. Carved into the bark beneath, it reads simply: