Running From The Past

CHAPTER 8: TOKENS

8.
Owen and Conan each had a plastic cup full of game tokens. The arcade was bright with neon lights and dazzling designs decorating the interior. Low music was playing in the background with the aroma of pizza lingering in the air since there was a restaurant attached to the side. Not many people were there as it was a weekday and kids were in school.

At least they were supposed to be.

"What game do you wanna play first?" Owen asked him with an excited look on his chiseled features. It was funny how such an intimidating-looking guy had the personality of a dog.

"I don't know. You pick." Conan shrugged. He had never really been to an arcade before. Even when he was younger he had never been fond of socializing, preferring spending his time indoors instead.

Owen's eyes darted over to the game where you shoot basketballs into the hoop and Conan inwardly cringed. Of course he would pick that first.

"We should shoot hoops," he suggested eagerly.

"Alright," Conan complied, timid. He didn't have the heart to say no. He'd just have to soldier through the embarrassment.

They weaseled through the crowded games until they got to the basketball machine. Owen took two coins out of his cup and slotted them inside, one for himself and one for Conan.

Conan watched in disbelief as Owen hit the start button, immediately tossing a ball through the hoop. Then he repeated the action and got every single shot in without fail.

He nervously picked up his own ball and aimed for the net. It bounced off of the rim, almost whacking him in the face, but Owen reached out and caught it just in time with a loud laugh.

"Have you ever played this before?" Owen ignored his machine as he held Conan's basketball, enjoying the shy blush on the smaller boy's cheeks.

"I don't think I've even played actual basketball before," he admitted sheepishly and fumbled with the bottom of his hoodie.

"It's not too hard." He threw the ball up in the air and caught it as he spoke. "You just need to have the right stance, flex your knees a little, hold it like this, pick your target, and voilà!" It went straight through the basket.

Owen handed him a ball from the bottom of the machine. "Now you try."

Conan took it with shaky hands, already knowing there was no way he was going to make the shot.

"Part your legs a little more," he instructed and slid his hand over Conan's that was holding the ball. "No, you have to hold it like this. Good."

Conan felt lightheaded from their close proximity, struggling to breathe properly as Owen positioned his body correctly. "Try now."

He aimed for the basket and the ball almost made it in, circling around the rim before rolling off to the side.

"Maybe we should play something else," he requested hopefully. He was so embarrassed to not be able to do a simple 'guy thing' like shoot a damn basketball.

"It just takes a little practice," Owen persisted. He could sense the boy's embarrassment and wanted him to at least shoot one basket before moving on to something different. "Just follow my lead."

Owen stood behind him and adjusted the way Conan was holding the ball before using his foot to part Conan's legs slightly. He straightened his posture, telling him to bend slightly and encouraged him to try again.

In Owen's mind, he was telling himself that he was a bro helping out another bro. That he was just helping the boy learn to shoot a basketball and how touching him was completely casual. He still didn't quite comprehend the ulterior motives of his subconscious.