Acquired Tastes

Chapter Six

Neil didn't see Roman until the next morning, at the track. Roman was already there when Neil arrived, for perhaps the first time. He was sitting, stretching his legs by the starting line, glancing up when Neil walked over. Neither of them spoke as Coach laid out the fairly simple instructions. Roman got to his feet, facing Neil. "Hey," he said, when Neil didn't look at him. "Do you feel okay?"

Neil looked at him, eyebrows lowering, not speaking.

"Okay, then do you want me to do most of the running?"

Neil glared at him. "No. I still want to win."

Roman's jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. He turned away, running his hand through his hair, walking over to the starting line. Neil watched him, tempted to push him aside and go first, but his whole body was still aching from the walk over, and he couldn't quite be bothered to begin running right away.

Running was excruciating. By the time Neil finished his first stretch down and back and Roman took off, Neil's entire body was shaking. He crouched on the ground, arms wrapped around his ribs, desperate for air but finding each breath painful. The edges of his vision had begun to blur. Roman approached, feet speeding across the tarmac. He really wasn't slow; watching him, Neil had to admit that. In fact, running was one of the things Roman was better at; thin and shorter than Neil, Roman might not match the strength of some of the other students, but he ran in smooth motions, an annoyingly nonchalant look on his face even as the sweat gathered on his temples. As he approached, Neil shook his head at him. "You go again," he said between gasps, the shame about saying it made irrelevant by the pain. Roman strode up and came to a stop beside him, bracing himself against his knees.

"I thought you didn't want to lose," he said, spitefully.

"What are you doing?!" Neil demanded, getting to his feet. "Go, go!"

Roman straightened up, eying him. "No," he said, voice cold.

Neil stepped closer, grabbing a fistful of Roman's shirt. "Fuck, Parker, you're the reason I got beat up in the first place."

Roman stared back into his eyes, unblinking, unmoving. The three seconds that they stood felt like an eternity. Unable to take it anymore, Neil took off, body throbbing as he pushed forward with everything he had. At first, all he could think about was Roman, how easy it was to despise him. Over time, though, the pain overcame it, taking over every bit of Neil's mind. He could tell he wasn't close to matching his typical speed as he made his way back towards the starting line, finding no one was there waiting for him.

When Neil made it back to the room, he found Roman sitting on the floor by his bed, back against the edge of it, drawing or something in a notebook, a bottle of vodka sitting on the floor beside him. Neil slammed the door behind himself as he entered, rattling the window, and Roman looked up, eyes widening. For a second, nothing moved.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Neil demanded, stepping towards him. Roman slid away from him, scrambling to his feet, dropping the notebook closed on the floor.

"Get off your high fucking horse," Roman said, when he found his voice. "You told me you didn't want me to run for you. I'm just supposed to let you be shitty and then stick around and fill in for you?"

"I mean, yeah, maybe, if it's your fault I'm hurt to begin with," Neil hissed. He pulled his shirt up, revealing the mess of colors. "Fucking look at this."

Roman's eyes dropped, eyebrows raising briefly. He looked back at Neil, eyes slightly less sure of himself. "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know, maybe fucking sorry? Maybe fucking I'll stop being a shitty partner?"