Freedom Is The Oxygen Of The Soul.

The Taste Of Freedom.

Gram glanced over Black's short figure as he pulled up in front of him, Black's bike entirely too big for such a small man.

A hint of a smile played on Black's lips, but it didn't reach his eyes. The weight of their dangerous lives left an angry imprint on Blacks face, no room for genuine joy. He handed over the spare helmet without a word, the unspoken understanding between them speaking louder than any pleasantries.

Gram climbed onto the bike without hesitation, his head finding refuge in the crook of Black's neck, his fingers clutched at Blacks clothing. The engine roared to life, a symphony of rebellion and adrenaline.

They sped off, the wind rushing around them, a tumultuous dance that matched the turmoil inside Black's mind. He weaved through traffic with skill and precision.

As the sun set on the horizon, the darkness seemed to engulf them, yet, amidst this darkness, there was a flicker of warmth in Black's eyes, a small spark of vulnerability that only Gram had the privilege to witness.

Eventually, they left the city behind, venturing into a deserted part of town. Black brought the bike to a slow stop, the engine purring beneath them, but the silence remained unbroken, heavy with unspoken emotions.

"Freedom is the oxygen of the soul," Black broke the silence, turning to face the twilight sky before glancing back at Gram.

Gram glanced towards Black as the shorter boy dismounted the bike, leave Gram seated.

"You're safe. I won't let you fall, G," Black hummed, nodding towards the bike handles, but Gram didn't move.

Gramp knew the danger they faced, but he also knew the unyielding determination in Black's eyes, a promise that he would protect Gram at all costs.

"What do you fear, Gram?" The question hung in the cold air, and Gram hesitated, his fingers playing with the bottom of his shirt, a nervous habit.

"You, I fear losing you the most."

He couldn't say this; he couldn't let Black know the feelings he had hidden deep inside.

"I don't want to fall." Gram settled on that, fear of the bike made sense, fear of falling made sense.

"You're lying," Black confronted him, his voice desperate, pleading for Gram to open up.

The words caught in Gram's throat, the fear of rejection too overwhelming. But Black knew him better than anyone, saw through his facade, and he couldn't hide any longer.

"I do fear falling," Gram finally admitted, the words heavy with a deeper meaning.

Black saw the truth in Gram's eyes, and it took a moment for the weight of it to sink in. He couldn't deny the warmth that blossomed in his chest, the realisation that their bond was stronger than anything they faced.

"Falling from the bike, or falling for me?" The words came out before Black could stop them, and he felt as though he had been punched as he watched Gram tense up, backing away as much as he could without falling from his spot on the bike.

"S-shit." Unleashed tears formed in Gram's eyes as he felt the word around him crash down.

"Move to the front of the bike, G," Black's voice was gentle, giving Gram the space he needed to process his feelings.

Grateful to ignore the unanswered question, Gram shifted to the front, Black settled in behind him, wrapping his arms around Gram's waist, wrapping him in a blanket of safety.

"We'll take it slow, okay? I'll be right here with you every step of the way," Black promised, his words a lifeline for Gram's heart.

With Black's steady presence, Gram felt his fear subside. Black's hand firmly held his own.

As they rode together, Gram realized that being with Black was his taste of freedom. And yet, the fear of losing this precious bond lingered.

Coming to a soft stop further down the deserted street, Black hesitantly turn Gram to face him.

"You're freedom to me, Gram," Black confessed softly, his eyes locking onto Gram's. "Freedom I haven't tasted before."

Gram leaned in, closing the distance between them, sealing their unspoken connection with a passionate kiss. The taste of rebellion and love lingered on their lips, a feeling they couldn't resist.

The kiss left both boys panting, tongues met and danced as it deepened, feverishly hot and dangerous.

The kiss was freedom to both, and they loved the taste.

"Come on." Black said once they had pulled away, lips bruised and swollen, still slick with spit.

"I'm still teaching you to ride the fucking bike."