It was summer, the sun hung languidly as it slid into night. Jack walked with Dylan, just short of holding hands as they wandered together. There was not much to see but that didn't bother them. Before either knew it the street came to an end. There were rusting metal trailers they called homes behind them and flattened used up corn stalks in front with a forest off to the left and some more decaying units on wheels opposite of it. " Aint nothing like it. " Jack said, and he meant it. If he had cigarettes one would have hung out his mouth, but he did not. " Its fine I guess, " was followed by Dylan's leaning in, looking up to the taller boy. If Jack had cigarettes, he would have bummed one from him and let it hang out of his mouth too. " I don't really like it though. Its just whatever I guess. " He added on with a slight frown. " cept for you of course. I like you. " More silence from the bigger boy followed.
" I like you too. " He finally responded. The frown faded along with the light on the horizon with neither completely gone yet. Dylan shoved his hands inside his pockets, the dark black jeans enveloping his pale hands and gently painted nails. It was colder outside than expected and these clothes did not do much to distract from that fact. He leaned closer again, directing his attention upward. " I really like you. Really, really. " The hair covering his face, his eyes, was a savior. A blonde shield for the frail blue spheres behind. He gazed at the glistening belt buckle of the other, its shine disappearing slowly. " I dont know what I'd do without you. " Now they honed in on the cross that always dangled from the other's neck. The pain resurfaced. It caught the light better than the belt and stole it away. It was an eternally lustrous gold that made him jealous. Why couldn't his hair look like that?
" What's that mean? Really really like me. Aint that what friends are supposed to do? What're you on about? " He questioned, looking off into the distance as if something rather interesting was there which Dylan could not see. " You're so oblivious sometimes, god. " followed in the most frustrated tone Dylan could use. He resorted to leaning closer, resting his head on the other while staring up pleadingly. " I don't understand you, dylan. Unless you're talkin some nerd shit I can most of the time, not now. " They could both agree on that. Dylan pouted but hid his face, inadvertently digging into Jack's shirt. Once he realized what he had done, Dylan reversed course slightly. " I just think you're special. To me, anyway. "
Silence. A long silence that darkened along with the sky. The sun had long been digested in the clouds but the light peaked out partly. " I guess you's special to me too. In a way. " A strange look came over his face. It reminded Dylan of how it looked when Jack tried to figure out the math homework without his inevitable help, seemingly lost in thought. He was looking outward, the wind swaying the short tufts of hair that topped his head and the golden piece around his neck coldly. Dylan rubbed up against Jack and stayed silent as they both watched the grey take over, the last of the light swallowed up finally. The boy shivered, looking to the larger one. " Its late. Can we go in Jack? " He asked uncomfortably. The question came out slowly, deliberately. No response. " Please? " followed, a more urgent tone coming out. Jack flinched as he felt a touch. " What? " He questioned lazily. Dylan repeated the request and then Jack nodded. " ... Sure. "
The dark made the walk. Slowly the boys traced their earlier journey. The streetlights would reflect off the slight metals from Jack's clothes and effortlessly attracted Dylan's attention. It made him feel like a crow after some meaningless baubles, and he giggled to himself at the thought to Jack's detriment. Jack had moved his hand to Dylan's side and squeezed once he heard the smaller boy's noises. Dylan blushed and tried to turn away. He wanted to slap at Jack's hand and tell him to stop. Jack didn't like being hit though, and wasn't one to be moved so easily. Dylan knew and elected to not poke the bear. They'd be there before long, there was no reason to sour the mood. Jack was leading and leading well so Dylan felt as if he had no right to complain.
They arrived. Jack slid the screendoor open with precision, not wanting to deal the last bit of damage that would make it finally come flying off. " Stupid fuckin thing.. be careful. " Dylan snuck in right behind. They entered into his home, looking into a large space that was a combination of the living room and kitchen. Everything smelled like mold out here. The stove was so gunked up with a rancid black material that the gas was effectively useless, only making the clicking noise and pretending to be making an earnest attempt to start. It could still let out that disgusting fume that gas stoves let off, the odor that made Dylan want to puke until he couldn't anymore. The ceilings had a horrible pseudo-popcorn texture and housed some oddly bolbous lighting fixtures which were somehow smeared with grease of some sort or another inside and out. There was something resting at the bottom of the glass - it seemed that way at least, the lighting was low enough to make it hard to tell. The semi-globular lights had a sickening pigmentation, some nasty yellow color that fit the ill feeling one got by witnessing it. The other portion was a bit better, but you were constantly reminded of the first half when you sat down on the feaux-leather couch. Dylan much preferred to be in Jack's room anyway; his parents were rather austere, mean folks from what little he'd seen and heard. It was just second nature by now for Dylan to slink off to the bedroom. Whatever was beyond the relatively limited view of the hallways Dylan possessed was best left alone, both according to Jack and his senses.
This room was better. It wasn't perfect, but nothing was here. The carpet felt vaguely damp and there was a hole in the wall on the eastern flank of the room that he could never shake a sense of unease looking at. When asked he said it was an accident, but this was an odd place for an accident. Not like he'd done anything wrong to Dylan - but there were always rumors, rumors of all types and severities. There would probably be rumors about Dylan, but no one really cared about him enough. That's what he assumed and there was never a reason to suggest otherwise. The only person who cared was right in front of him and he knew what it was like to have that filth spread amongst hostile audiences. But today the hole drew further attention. It was leaving his mind itchy. The physical discomforts were trivial compared to the sinkhole in the back of his mind at this sight that he'd seen a hundred times by now, maybe more. Dylan had returned but he took little notice and opted to stare into the abyssal space instead.
Before he knew it Dylan had a strange can in his hand that tasted disgusting but he didn't care. It went down and the end of the can brought him back to awareness. His pupils at a pinpoint and eyes bored deeply into the flesh of the face, it gave the appearance of fine stonemasonry. Jack placed his hand on the other boy's shoulder. It was rough, a slighter form of the sandpaper from Dylan's cats. Jack said something. It wasn't exactly clear what that something was. More words, more and more. He flinched. He felt hot all over. More timeless floating. It was so warm. Staring up revealed a strange sight. A fleshy tan color was intersected with his blonde streaks and there was not much else. It was so warm, all of it. His hands weren't seen but he could tell they were clutching at something, whatever this mass was in front of him. Some type of mumbling came out of his mouth and the wall he grasped desperately was live, expanding and contracting in a predictable pattern which made his hands move in a simple arc. His vision was rosey tints, it was as if he'd smeared red on his contacts or something similar. The smell was awful, frankly - Jack normally smelt rather pleasantly to Dylan's tastes, but this overwhelmingly salinated sweat and strange mold was too much. He hurt too, with aches in places he didn't remember having. It felt as a jungle in this manmade microclimate, the sun close and tantalizing but blocked through the canopy; his whole being felt melted and weak, but this wasn't so much of a problem at the present moment.
Some more time passed. An indeterminate amount, it could have been an hour or a minute or any other unit with which experiences as these are compassed in. He smiled. A vixenly smile of adoration. So warm, so fuzzy. " I love... " loosely came out, wetted with some strangeness. A tensing was felt, but the boy did not take note. He managed to drool out a " ... love you, " and could not have felt more giddy. The rigidity of his support became undeniable now. What had once had much give had little. At last he felt an active touch, a feeling better than any he had felt. Warmth like boiling cascades, roiling infernally down the weak shoulderblades much the way the falls he'd seen as a young child with his father in the parks. It touched his neck now. The sensation pushed into the fleshy material of his neck, softening it with the sheer heat. The tickly, bristly fur of his arms now came into Dylan's purview, it was a sensation which felt electrical. The view he had was already vague, and it slowly faded as those parts he loved so much dug and dug and dug further. What a gorgeous day, what a brillaint sunset.