Call Me Milo (boyxboy)

Chapter 3

Sitting at the dinner table, Tucker's mother makes an attempt at typical conversation when she takes a bite and says, "So boys, how was school?" to which Tucker remains silent, twirling his spaghetti around his fork. Chance picks his head up to look at his step-mother in the eyes and slowly thinks up a response to her question that shouldn't have been all that hard to answer.

"Was fine," Chance finally says and returns his eyes back to his dinner plate.

"Well, how about you, Tuck?" Chance's father asks.

Tucker cringes at the new nickname as he remembers the only person to call him that had been his real father. And there wasn't a human being in the world he despised more than that man. Though, Dizzy came a close second.

Tucker swallows his bite and wills himself to turn to look Chance in the eyes as he purses his lips, hoping to see a sign of guilt in his step-brother's eyes. After all, it was Chance who had made his day insufferable.

Surprisingly, Chance has a difficult time keeping eye contact with Tucker and looks back down at his food. Tucker sighs deeply before he pushes himself out from the table and rises. His mother and step-father watch him with confused expressions.

"Aren't you going to eat your vegetables?" his mother asks him as if he's a grade-schooler.

"I don't have time," Tucker replies, picking up his plate and brings it to the sink where he rinses it off. "I have to work."

"Oh, honey," his mother says, turning around to face him. "I forgot it's your first day."

Tucker doesn't reply and instead goes back upstairs to his safe haven of a room and changes into his uniform. He feels a deep pain in the pit of his stomach; nerves stemming from the first day on the job. Plus, to top it off, he doesn't have another pair of glasses to wear and hopes he will be fine without them.

Moments later, Tucker hears a knock on his door as he struggles to pull down the shirt of his uniform before it opens and Chance saunters through, the shirt still stuck around Tucker's shoulders, exposing his bare chest. Chance lets his eyes fall to Tucker's chest briefly but returns them to his face as Tucker hurriedly pulls the shirt down to cover himself completely. Chance clears his throat as Tucker stares at him, unsure of what to do. He doesn't want Chance in his room but knows he cannot say otherwise.

Chance brings his hand to the back of his neck in apparent discomfort and Tucker still silently stares.

"Do you want a ride?"

Tucker is taken aback. He thinks Chance's sole purpose is to make his life a living hell along with the rest of Xapt Caliber. Yet, he's offering him a ride.

"They'll find out we're step-brothers."

Chance sighs and Tucker glances up at his face, looking at the scar that runs down his cheek as he wonders if the rumors about it were true.

"Suit yourself."

Chance walks out, closing the door loudly, though not as far as slamming it shut. Tucker, still feeling shocked, stands still for a few moments. He figures his step-father forced Chance to come offer a ride in order to get them closer to each other or something else along the lines of bonding. But Tucker doesn't want that and drives himself to his new job.

When he arrives, a man with a head of gray hair and kind, blue eyes greets him with a warm smile. He holds out his hand and Tucker takes it, feeling the warmth from the older man's hand.

"Ah, Tucker," the man says. "I'm Fil, the boss."

"Nice to see you again," Tucker replies.

Fil laughs and tells Tucker to follow him to the storage room. "You're going to meet your first coworker."

Fil opens the door to the storage room and they both step in. Tucker spots another guy holding a large cardboard box in his arms. Fil tells him that's his coworker.

The coworker turns around to face Tucker and keeps his hat shielding his eyes so Tucker finds it difficult to get a good look at the guy. He holds his hand out, yellow calluses on his palms, and Tucker takes it, feeling the roughness and warmth of the guy's hand. Then slowly, his coworker lifts his head and says, "I'm Jos-".

Tucker's heart hammers in his chest as he recognizes the emerald eyes which widen and the brown curly hair. The boy instantly closes his lips and refuses to finish what he was saying.

"Josiah," Tucker breathes, recognizing the boy from school who taunts him every chance he can get. Though, at school, they call him Dizzy.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Dizzy says, pulling his hand away from Tucker.

"Josiah," the boss scolds. "Watch your mouth around the newcomer."

Dizzy grins wickedly. "Tucker, you know my name is the same goddamn name as my wretched father. And that's why nobody dares to call me by it. You shouldn't either."

Tucker breaks eye contact with Dizzy and wonders what he is supposed to call him at work. Surely, the boss wouldn't be too thrilled about hearing him be called Dizzy, considering the meaning behind it.

"I see you two are already acquainted," the boss says. "I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad one but while you're at work, you'd better act as professionals no matter where your history lies."

History. That's the thing. These two go back further than anyone could imagine. And something such as their history will get in the way of their work.

"Josiah," the boss continues.

"Oh God," Dizzy says, rolling his eyes in annoyance at being called by his name.

"You're going to be training Tucker tonight."

Dizzy spits. "Like hell."

But Dizzy is one of the reasons why Tucker's working there in the first place. After all, Dizzy is the one who broke his glasses which needed to be replaced. It seems this thought surfaced to his mind because he breathes out and mutters, "Whatever."

The boss takes his leave feeling somewhat uneasy as he feels the tension in the air. Dizzy shoves his hands into the pockets of his worn out jeans which are marked with holes and slowly brings his eyes to meet Tucker's.

Tucker awkwardly stands across from Dizzy in the storage room and doesn't say a word as he's not normally one to speak. And so, Dizzy takes the initiative.

"You do know what the job is, right?" he asks.

As far as Tucker knows, he just needs to restock the convenience store.

"Yes," Tucker replies quietly.

Dizzy breathes out. "I need a smoke right now."

When Tucker doesn't say anything, Dizzy walks past him, slightly brushing his shoulder against Tucker's, though not purposely. He motions with his hand for Tucker to follow him, which he does, timidly so.

The two walk in silence until they reach a large, maroon truck filled with cardboard boxes like the one Dizzy had been holding earlier.

"Grab one," Dizzy instructs and picks up a box himself. The muscles in his arm make it evident of how strong he is and lifts another one on top as he now holds two.

Tucker grabs a box of his own and struggles to lift it. Being the complete opposite of Dizzy, Tucker is dainty, weak to say the least. His arms look as if they belong on a chicken, not on a boy who had to lift fifty-pound boxes. Tucker's knees wobble as he stumbles to keep up with Dizzy who walks back into the storage room. As if sensing Tucker's difficulty, Dizzy slowly places his two boxes on the ground and turns around to face Tucker.

Tucker, holding the box in front of his face, cannot see when Dizzy approaches him. All he feels is the roughness of Dizzy's hands which slide on top of his own, pulling the box from him. Dizzy sets it on the ground and brushes off his jeans.

"Still as weak as ever," Dizzy mutters.

"Your hands are as rough as ever," Tucker mumbles back, surprised that he had spoken.

You see, they're childhood friends.

And nobody knows.

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