BOYS OF SUBURBIA [boy x boy] [Wattys 2018]

✗ FOUR ✗

Niko had never seen a hotter sight.

In his life, he'd seen some pretty good things. Naked girls on poles, naked girls in his bed, naked girls...well, everywhere. But this gangly, good little boy wrapping his lips around the rolled joint obscenely, softly sucking on the tip like it was...Niko tried to shut the images that flashed in his brain, flooded him and fueling an inner desire, igniting sparks, oh God.

Niko had been straight his whole life- straight as a ruler. He had fucked the fittest birds whenever he had a chance to- he loved girls, loved them absolutely, loved how their lithe bodies move when they dance, loved their pouty lips in colourful fuschia and bold red, but now he thought, seeing the boy in his shotgun seat having his first hit of the good stuff was a little...well.

Am I queer? wondered Niko, for a fleeting moment of panic, then thought Nah as the other boy let out a sound of relief after the chemicals soaked in the boy's brain. "Holy shit," the boy's eyes widened, staring at the joint like it was magic or something.

Niko chuckled- awkwardly, for some weird reason. Niko didn't get awkward.. "Keep it," said Niko generously, smirking, and shaking his bag: "I have plenty."

As they sat in the empty parking lot, Niko draped his wrist over his steering wheel to lit up the next joint. It went on like that; both of them sitting in relative, comfortable silence, neither wanting to break it as they broke out their safe shells for a bit of danger, a bit of a smoke. "This is a nice car," said the boy, "Honestly, how did you wager it?"

"It's my brother's," Niko managed to say without stumbling, his heart still seizing in pain at those words. His brother. Miko, thought Niko, remembering his brother's face, his mind painting his brother's tanned skin, dopey smile and dark brown eyes, similar to his own, and how they were clouded in anger when they fought- fought right before he took his car out for a spin and crashed it into a telephone pole, killing himself instantly. The painful thing about sitting in the same car that Miko died in constantly caused Niko to wonder how his brother died and whether it hurt, and if it did, how much it hurt. Niko wondered if Miko was listening to any music when he collided- he probably was. Something like the Rolling Stones or shit like that. Niko could feel himself slipping ever since his brother's death, slipping from routine, slipping from Roger, slipping from the partying excessively with his mates, slipping from the popularity ladders of his school, slipping from his parents, slipping from the rest of the world because he was just hopelessly lost. His brother had died, everybody had moved on except for Niko and his whole reality was one jigsaw puzzle without any pieces.

Then there was this stranger, some cashier at his neighbourhood's convenience store, some boy in the middle of many, somebody who doesn't know of Niko's past or anything that has happened, and never had Niko felt more comfortable with anybody.

The boy was a fascinating specimen, really. He was holding the joint like some sort of nuclear reactor, sucking on it sporadically and not as obsessively latching his lips onto inhale it dry like Niko was. He was trying to make the best of one joint, Niko observed, amused. Niko swigged a good swallow of the vodka, loving how the taste didn't bother him too much anymore. Wordlessly, Niko passed it to the boy, expecting him to reject but surprisingly, the boy took it and chugged it down.

"Oh really?" The boy said, wincing at the alcohol's bitterness as he adjusted his joint up his mouth, "He lets you borrow it?"

"He's dead." It felt even weirder saying it out loud. Not painful, but weird.

"Oh," the boy blinked his blue blue eyes, "I'm- I'm sorry."

And the boy does look genuinely sorry, more genuine than those fake grievers at Miko's funeral. Niko was looking right at him, close enough that he could notice the flecks of green swirling around the boy's otherwise blue eyes, reminding him of the sea. It made his heart flip. Niko leant forward and whispered to him, even though there was nobody within earshot. "It's-uh fine," Niko responded, breath smelling sour with the alcohol and downcasting his eyes to the pedals where his feet rested, "Not your fault."

The boy nodded and drank another good shot. The joint was still sizzling by the corner of his mouth, smoke coiling from the tip. "Doesn't matter," the boy dismissed, smiling. "So how did he died?"

"Car crash," Niko answered. He hadn't even told Roger this, but then again Roger wasn't interested in anything that didn't involve girls, sex, parties, drugs and alcohol. Like Niko, but somehow all of that had faded into background noise. It was funny how just before Miko's death, it was all that mattered.

"Jesus," the boy said, widening his eyes, picking at that cardigan he wore over his uniform. "And this is the car...?"

"Dad manages to fix it," Niko explained, "But it's still...weird. Driving it and knowing he..."

"Yeah."

It was short but it was needed because nothing summed up the situation even better, Niko figured, appreciating how the boy didn't feel the need to butter it up with any more pity parties.

It was the first time Niko had been able to tell anybody about how Miko died without breaking into fists, or worse, tears.

-

aww. Niko's a sap. Anyway, vote, comment and review!