Higschool!AU Chapter Two (Part 2)
Davey had no idea why his mother insisted on keeping the bakery open in between Christmas and New Year's. Business was, at best, a trickle. It didn't even matter that only Lydia was willing to work all six days and Fabrizio's presence was spotty, at best. Every morning at eight Mary opened the doors, arguing that even if they only had ten customers all day, it was ten more than they would have if they were closed.
Davey usually enjoyed those six days, anyways. Lydia never went home for Christmas, so she and Davey would spend all day hanging out at the counter, blasting music that Davey's mom usually vetoed on the grounds that it was "just too weird".
"What is this shit?" Joey asked, coming behind the counter to grab some cookies. He had used the cafe's calm to his advantage, camping out in the corner on their mother's laptop, writing out his college applications while fueled by the leftover baked goods that would have gone stale from disuse.
"Modest Mouse," Davey said, flipping through the Cosmo Lydia had brought in for entertainment purposes. "Hey, Joey, does it really drive your man wild when you use an ice cube to, uh, fellate him? Apparently the temperature differences really, uh, you know..."
"What?" Joey all but shrieked. "Lydia, what are you letting him read?"
"Educational material," Lydia said, perusing a People magazine. "Hey, we need a straight guy's opinion - would you still do Britney even though she's crazy?"
"Absolutely not," a voice interrupted. "I think even Joey has some self respect."
"Freddy?" Davey squeaked, slamming his magazine down. "What are you doing here?"
"Yeah, I'd like to know that too," Joey said, crossing his arms, his eyes narrow. "Especially since I explicitly told him to go away."
"Hiya Joey," Freddy said happily. "Did you miss me? I missed you."
"Fuck off," Joey replied.
"Hey, Lydia," Freddy said, smiling down at her. "And just for the record, I wouldn't touch Britney with a ten foot pole either. She's gross."
"Yeah," Lydia brandished a picture at him. "What the hell is she doing?"
"Ugh," Freddy raised his eyebrows. "Female artists these days are just depressingly low in the fuckable department."
"Not like the good old days," Davey muttered, flipping to the hot shirtless guy of the month, who was never as hot as advertised.
"Yeah," Freddy said. "Not like - wait, shut up."
"You shut up," Davey replied.
"But seriously," Freddy said. "Take that one chick from that band Chris likes - the one with all the leotards who spits all the beer-"
"Karen O?!" Lydia set down her tabloid abruptly on the counter.
"Enh," Davey said, "you've just insulted Lydia's girlfriend."
"It’s okay," Lydia said, "I understand, he's just blinded by societal beauty standards that are racist and antiquated and set forth by the patriarchy."
"That's me," Freddy said sadly. "Everything I do is for the man."
"It's all right, Lydia," Davey said, patting her on the back. "He told me he'd sleep with Cole Porter. Have you ever seen a picture of him? He looks like a frog."
"So?" Freddy added mildly. “He'd be more appreciative that way. He would really try his best because it's the only sex he’s likely to get."
"That's classy of you," Davey said. "Why are you here, anyways?"
Freddy slid his navy knapsack down from his arms, and pulled a small case out of the first zippered pocket. "You left this in my car," he pushed it across the counter. "Your sad attempt at a jazz Christmas carol compilation. I figured you might want it back."
"Thanks," Davey said, picking it up like it might have acquired some sort of disease. "Well… it's back."
"And I wanted to see what you were up to," Freddy supplied smoothly. "I'm bored. I miss you."
A loud squawk came from the corner of the room.
"You just were bored and wanted to torture Joey," Davey sniffed. "And he's busy trying to get into college."
"That's right!" Joey said, glaring. "You're distracting me."
"You could go back to your corner and work," Lydia said reasonably, getting up to make Freddy a hot chocolate. "Go on, shoo."
"I will not shoo," Joey hissed, leaning down closer to Lydia's height, his voice low enough that only Davey could hear his frantic whispering. "Freddy is trying to seduce Davey."
"I know," Lydia hissed back. "It's cute. Leave them alone."
"He's doing it to get to me!" Joey whispered fiercely. "He did this with the entire JV soccer team."
"Not everything's about you, Joseph," Lydia said, her voice at a normal register as she slid over Freddy's hot chocolate. "On the house. Merry Christmas. Also, Davey wants to know if you'd like it if he blew you while sucking on an ice cube."
"Lydia," Davey and Joey howled simultaneously.
"What?" Freddy asked, blinking slowly.
"Oh my god," Davey said, burying his hands in his hair. "I was reading Cosmo and I was trying to piss Joey off, so I asked him if any of these parts of this article were true, okay?"
"Reading Cosmo is so fucking gay," Joey interjected, taking a vicious bite out of a cookie. "Look at this, they suggest trying being tied up. That's the faggiest fucking thing I've ever seen."
"Joey," Lydia said evenly, "if you do not leave to work on your application, I will verbatim report what you just said to your mother."
"Conspiracy," Joey muttered, getting up. "I'm watching you, Kennedy."
"So, um, this is why you shouldn't come visit," Davey said helplessly, taking a sip of his chai tea that Lydia had made a while ago for lunch.
"But I get free food and sex tips," Freddy said blithely, taking the stool Lydia came around and offered him before bustling off and attempting to look like she wasn't eavesdropping on their conversation as she wiped down the already-spotless windows. "Listen to this - I should invest in cashmere scarves and silk gloves, because they feel nice rubbed all over, like on your -" his face contorted strangely, "-treasure trail. That's funny, I don't think what marks the spot looks even remotely like an x. X-rated perhaps."
"Freddy," Davey whined, burying his face in his arms.
"Ooh, now I like these," Freddy said, flipping back to the beginning "kissing that spot behind the ear, very nice, and so's the hair grabbing."
"Ow," Davey muttered, trying valiantly not to picture all the filthy images Freddy was whispering to him. He hadn't had any sexy Freddy dreams all week and it looked like his streak was going to be ending spectacularly, and soon. Which he could bear, maybe, so long as he had the counter in between them, shielding his lower half from view. That part, he knew, he could never live down, no matter how understandable it was that if Freddy Kennedy was saying how he liked to have sex in a low, throaty voice, you'd probably spring a hard one too.
"Don't like that, hmm," Freddy said thoughtfully. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Please don't," Davey said, lifting up his head to make pleading eyes at Lydia, who was staunchly ignoring him, though the expression on her face said quite clearly she could hear exactly what was going on.
"So what do you like?" Freddy said, taking the lewdest sip of whipped-cream-with-a-little-hot-cocoa Davey had ever seen. He shifted slightly on his stool.
"Uh, nothing?" Davey said, distracted by Freddy's tongue licking his lips, a pleased expression softening his face. "I mean, my experience is pretty limited to girls at eighth grade dances grabbing me and doing something wet to my face. So. Not that. Do we have to talk about it?"
"Yes," Freddy said. "Yes, we really do."
Davey frowned. "There wasn't even any warning beforehand. We were dancing and then all of a sudden, she grabbed my head and there was tongue everywhere. It was like being molested by a very, very, friendly dog."
"Ouch," Freddy said dryly.
"Yeah." Davey agreed, shuddering in memory.
"Well, never fear," Freddy replied brightly, turning the magazine page towards Davey.
"WHAT'S YOUR PASSION PERSONALITY?" the headline read in bright pink lettering. "FIND OUT AND MAKE YOUR SEX LIFE MORE SATISFYING." Beneath it was a graphic of a young man and a considerably older woman having a vigorous pillow fight. Davey shivered unhappily.
"I don't want to take that. Besides, that's obviously more geared towards, you know. Women." Davey pointed out.
"Doesn't matter," Freddy waved a hand dismissively. He pulled out a black ballpoint pen from his knapsack. "Here, I'll even fill it out for you. What are friends for?"
"I don't trust you. You'll choose all the outrageous ones just so I end up being," Davey reached over and flipped the page to the key. "A Seductive Diva. Or something."
"I'll be reasonable, I swear." Freddy laughed. "First question. You're on a monthly shopping splurge. What's in all those shopping bags?" Freddy scanned the responses. "Here we go, 'A brilliant new book.' That's totally you."
"Except for the part where it's not. I don't go on shopping splurges," Davey said. "Because I am not a woman."
"Which man is likely to make you take a double take?" Freddy asked, ignoring Davey. He studied him for a moment. "You don't strike me as the strong-and-silent type."
"No," Davey glanced at Lydia, who had moved from the windows to wiping down tables at the other end of the cafe. Her shoulders were shaking with laughter.
"Well, we'll just skip that one for right now." He broke out into a smile. "Hey, look at this. What's your favorite sex to-"
"I think that's enough," Davey snatched the magazine from Freddy's hands, shoving it behind him abruptly.
"That's all right.” Freddy said. "But you should know you were gearing towards being a Modest Miss."
"Awesome," Davey said. "I'll keep that in mind."
"I was totally a Seductive Diva," Freddy offered. "Just so you know."
"Great," Davey said flatly, flipping to the true and terrifying story about how a girl was raped by a dog, or whatever it was this month.
"Hey, have I gotten naked yet?" Freddy asked hopefully. "You know, in your dreams? Or am I still just confined to burning lasagna with your teachers?"
"Well I don't know," Davey said sardonically, "since Regina told me you do have such trouble keeping your clothes on, it's hardly a matter of point, now is it?"
"She didn't bring you any more pictures, did she?" Freddy asked, eyes narrowing.
"No," Davey sighed, actually mildly disappointed. "No, she's behaving."
"Good," Freddy said emphatically, tapping his pen against the counter in an agitated rhythym, "because you seeing my tiny little..."
"...thing?" Davey offered innocently.
"Yes, that. Once was enough." Freddy paused and cocked his head to the side, and then leaned in. "It's grown since then, you know."
"Uh, congratulations?" Davey said, leaning away, and then grabbing for the Cosmo desperately, as if it was a lifeline. "Um, horoscopes?"
"You know what I see in your future?" Freddy asked, moving away far too slowly for Davey's tastes. "A tall, dark, handsome stranger."
"And there's no one stranger than you," Davey muttered, flipping to the back.
"Exactly," Freddy said.
"Well, Cosmo disagrees," Davey said, reading out loud, "Libra: A retro Venus could stir up old memories. Go ahead and call an ex you haven't seen for awhile to catch up on each other's lives, but don't expect to rekindle romance." He sighed, shaking his head. "Poor Trina Cohen, she really seemed to like me after that Winter Wonderland Ball."
"All lies," Freddy said. "Lies and bullshit."
"Well, when's your birthday?" Davey asked.
"April 19," Freddy muttered reluctantly after a few moments.
"Excellent," Davey said, running his finger across the page. "That makes you an Aires. Not compatible with a Libra, by the way."
"Actually," Lydia cut in, wiping down the front of the mostly-empty display case, "Aires and Libra are exact opposites on the horoscope cycle, which indicates a strong bond. Means you two are completely complementary."
Freddy stared gratefully at her. "Thanks, Lydia."
"Yeah," Davey added sarcastically. "Thanks a lot, Lydia."
"Don't mention it, boys." She continued wiping the display case before putting another CD in the player.
"Sweet holy fuck, look at this." Freddy pointed to the horoscope for Aries. "You're the Diva today. The stars suggest that you kick off the week by indulging one of your guilty pleasures, like buying a pair of earrings or stopping by your favorite bistro for a gourmet dessert." He smiled at Davey expectantly. "I'm not even making this shit up."
"That doesn’t excuse you stalking me," Davey flipped to the front. "There's a section of self-defense, maybe I ought to read that."
"Don't be silly." Freddy paused. "I mean, there's stuff I want to do to you, but it's not bad. There could even be ice cubes involved, if you want." He looked up at Davey hopefully.
"Self defense it is," Davey flipped the page. "What was it, in that movie? Solar plexus, instep, knee and-"
"Groin," Freddy supplied, wincing. "You've seen Miss Congeniality?"
"Yeah," Davey nodded. "It was funny."
"You are so gay, Davey." Freddy twirled his pen around his fingers. "So very, very, gay."
"What?" Davey looked at him over the magazine. "You've seen it too. How come it’s only gay when I watch it?"
"My ex-girlfriend rented it," Freddy pointed out. "I don't remember much. Just the fighting bit and Sandra Bullock's tits."
Davey snorted. "Figures."
"Wait a minute," Freddy said, tilting his head, "is this my mix?"
"What?" Davey asked, looking up from his real, true-life story of shocking terror. "Oh, yeah, I brought it down so Mom doesn't go completely nuts over what we're playing."
"It's a very sweet mix," Lydia said. "I mean, the first track is totally opening with the right do-me message. Subtle. Classy, not raunchy. I give you props, kid."
"Hear that?" Freddy said, "I get props."
"Congratulations," Davey said tightly. "Look, Freddy, I get that you're bored, but you can't come over and hit on me just for kicks, okay?"
"Hey," Freddy said, grabbing Davey's arm. "If I was bored I could have jerked around with Chris and Nathan. I wanted to see you, okay?"
Davey blinked down at Freddy slowly. He looked so earnest, so hopeful, that Davey felt something in his stomach squirm.Kiss him, kiss him, something in his head whispered. He wanted to. He almost leaned in, he could feel himself beginning to, but then he remembered that Lydia was blatantly watching them while Joey more surreptitiously, glancing suspiciously from behind the laptop screen.
"Yeah," he said softly. "It was good to see you. But I've got to go practice now so, so I'll see you in school?"
"Okay," Freddy said, letting go of Davey's arm and standing up.
"Hey, wait," Davey said, grabbing a small carrot cake that had been sitting in the display case for days. "Take this with you, on the house."
"What?" Freddy asked. "An entire cake?"
"It's Regina's favorite," Davey explained, placing it in a box and reaching back to get the scarlet ribbon his mother kept for the holidays. "She gets it every time she comes in. I knew that before I even knew you. And it's going stale anyways."
"Uh huh," Freddy said. "What about the banana bread?"
"You didn't share that, now did you?" Davey said evenly, grabbing a business card and scribbling something on it before taping it under the ribbon. "There. Tell her Merry Christmas from us."
Lifting an eyebrow, Freddy pushed the ribbon aside and flipped over the card. "Mrs. Kennedy - " he read out loud "Freddy was supposed to share his banana bread with you, but he didn't. Hide this from him and only let him have some if he behaves. Merry Christmas, Davey O'Brian - wait a minute, you're serious?"
"Yup," Davey said cheerfully. "Now aren't you glad you stopped by?"
"Ah, yes," Freddy said. "And to think, I sort of missed you."
Grinning, Davey waved him off until he was outside, placing the cake tenderly on his passenger seat and buckling it in like a baby.
"So you're totally right," Lydia said, coming up from behind him. "He's completely not into you. Almost as much as you're not into him."
"I hate everything," Davey moaned, burying his face in his arms.
"There, there," Lydia said, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry. It's only almost entirely your fault."
- - -
The record store where Freddy worked was a ramshackle building only fifteen minutes from where he lived. There was nothing to distinguish it, save for a dilapidated sign in front that read "WALKER'S RECORDS." Mark-the-owner's last name wasn't even Walker - it was something long and Polish with twice as many consonants as vowels.
The entire place was filled with Mark's touches: bright orange bins of CDs, a broken jukebox in the corner that played jazz only if a quarter was fed into it and it was kicked just so, an umbrella stand stuffed with posters and prints. The records were strewn everywhere, in floor to ceiling bookshelves by the door, stacked in piles by the door waiting be filed, in neat piles by the register waiting to be sold. The records were how Freddy found the job, since his grandfather had frequented it. The records were why he stayed, even if the store was periodically updated for the times, and Fergie albums were ordered alongside Duke Ellington records. The store was still miles beyond a normal music store, and it paid better too, so Freddy could happily have worked there forever.
"And there it goes," Dan said, ceremoniously pulled out a CD out of a thin player at the back of the store. It was no small feat, as Mark had decided to have the CD player installed into a small notch near the ceiling in order to get his two main employees to stop fiddling with it. "The first and last Christmas collection this place will ever play."
Freddy dug around in Dan's black messenger bag, which had been silently vomiting its contents onto the floor for some time. "Where's your lighter? I'm going to burn that."
"I stopped smoking." Dan tossed the CD down. Freddy caught it and pushed his office chair over to the trash bin behind the register, throwing it in. Carefully, Freddy began to cover the upper layer of the can with a layer of old plastic wrappings and empty wrappers. "If he asks you where it went, tell him you don't know, okay?"
Dan raised an eyebrow. "Sure."
"I'm just trying to make sure this thing is gone. You're supposed to make three or four CDs. Mark gave me one and then left." Freddy agonized.
"Shit," Daniel climbed down from the ladder, smoothing down his shirt. "I tried reminding him. I even made him a post-it."
"One CD, eighteen tracks. He didn't even make it himself." Freddy spat disgustedly. "Half of it was from A Chipmunk Christmas. You try listening to that for six hours."
"Ouch," Daniel agreed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He sunk into the chair next to Freddy, picking up the thick textbook that lay in front of him. "I'm sorry for skipping out on you. I had to work on my thesis."
"It's all right," Freddy admitted grudgingly. Thanks for covering for me this morning. I had something I needed to do."
"Any time, Freddy." Dan pulled out a fat pink highlighter and started reading.
"I mean, someone I needed to see. He works at the cafe down the street."
"Really?" Dan asked politely. He pulled out a notebook and flipped through a few pages.
"I've been trying to get him to come down here," Freddy replied, "He's one of those piano types, you know? Mark loves piano types." He stretched.
"Huh," Dan said, tapping his pen. He looked up slowly, grinning. Freddy colored.
"Okay, fine, you got me," Freddy said, throwing his hands in the air. "I like him, okay? I really like him."
"Wait," Dan said, closing his textbook, "is this the guy you hooked up with last summer who you said had god-like prowess in areas I'm not allowed to discuss or I'll get fired?"
"No, that was Simon," Freddy said, "and he played, uh, the tuba, I think? Which is why he was so good at -"
"Yes, yes," Dan said hastily, cutting Freddy off. "Sorry. My mistake. Did you hook up with someone after Simon I don't know about?"
"No," Freddy said.
"You haven't hooked up with this guy?" Dan asked, looking interested for the first time. "How long have you known him?"
"September," Freddy muttered, putting his head in his arms.
"And you've had a hard-on for this guy since then?"
"Only since November!" Freddy said defensively. "He was just really hot before that!"
"Wait, you have standards for hotness?" Dan said. "I thought it was, like, breathing."
"He has these hands," Freddy said dreamily. "They're, like, all long and graceful and amazing."
"Don't tell me," Dan said dryly, "they have ten fingers."
"Oh my god, his fingers," Freddy sighed. "watching him play piano is better than porn, I swear. And when he eats, he, like, licks them. And his mouth. It's all pink and curvy, but not, like, girly, you know? And oh my god, his hair. I want to, like, grab it. And make out with him. A lot."
"I thought he wasn't just a physical thing," Dan said.
"Oh, it's not," Freddy said, finally able to rhapsodize about Davey the way he'd wanted to since, okay, he'd met the guy. "He's, like, a fucking genius, okay, he's fifteen and he's like some genius composer, and he's got this absolute asshole of a brother, but he's nothing like him, which is just, it's weird, because they're really close. And he's totally hilarious. He's just so sarcastic and looks totally innocent but you say something and it's just like, like, wham, and he's quipping back at you, and..."
"Got it, you like this guy," Dan said, raising a quelling hand. "So why won't you sleep with him?"
"Don't know if he wants to," Freddy said mournfully. "Sometimes he seems really into me and is sharing his éclairs and then the next second he's running away."
"Yo, I totally feel you, dude," piped up a kid who looked about thirteen and was wearing pants three sizes too big for him. "There's this girl who's totally banging in my nutritional science class, yo. She's like a solid ten, right? But when I come all to her she's all like 'oh totally' and then like 'get out of my face and stop pretending you're black, yo'."
"That's quality advice," Freddy said, "considering you're blonde."
"So was the real Slim Shady," the kid said sagely.
"Yeah?" Dan asked, "And how's his marriage working out?"
"Dude," the kid nodded, "you guys are like, deep."
- - -
.
Davey sprawled out over his bed. Freddy's mix CD was playing softly, the peice of paper tracks messily spelled out in scratchy handwriting resting next to his face. It was a good CD, Davey thought. Not as planned-out as a mix by Lydia, who always took time to make sure that the songs went together. It was clear that Freddy didn't take the same level of care; although most songs, whether it was Ella's sultry voice or Chet's or anyone else, seemed to sing shamelessly out the same message - "Davey, I'd like to get into your pants, please."
"Hi, Mog," Davey said softly, reaching his fingers to the floor when Mog poked her head out from under the radiator. Dutifully, she stalked over to be adored, arching her back under his hand, licking his palm before continuing on her path, slinking under his keyboard and then his desk, unwilling to provide Davey with too much distraction. You are sad and pathetic her green eyes said. figure out your stupid human problems on your own.
The problem with Freddy, Davey thought, was that he was everywhere, like some big stupid dog, always panting and jumping all over him. At lunch, in band, after school, and now the cafe even, flirting one moment and then pleading with him to come over to the record store the next. And at some point in time, that had changed from odd and horrible to...well, still odd and horrible, but in a different, not altogether really that horrible way, because at least Freddy was someone new, someone exciting. At least being around him was an experience. And it was sad, Davey thought, that at the age of fifteen the most exciting thing in his life was that his mildly attractive friend had graduated to stalking him. Davey rolled over and crushed his face into his pillow. "I need a life," he mumbled softly.
"Dinner time!" Joey hollered from somewhere far away. "Stop playing that fag music and get down here."
"It isn't fag music, it's jazz," Davey shouted, opening his door. "I'm guessing if you're calling it that, Mom isn't home."
"Book club," Joey said. "Have some mac n' cheese."
"Thanks," Davey said, taking the bowl from Joey and sitting down at the table. He wasn't really hungry, but he figured if he poked at his bowl long enough and maybe had a few mouthfuls Joey wouldn't look too much into it, which, judging by Joey's facial expression, was clearly too much to hope for.
"Okay, I know I didn't fuck up the recipe this time," Joey said, "I checked twice. And the pasta isn't crunchy."
"No, it's fine," Davey said, taking a big spoonful and swallowing it down. "Mmmmm, Annie's." He gave Joey a big, bright smile. "Delicious. You used the extra-rich recipe this time, didn't you?"
"You're pining," Joey said suspiciously, pointing his spoon at Davey. "You sit in your room reading and moping with your fucking cat because that's, like, the only kind of pussy you like, and you play that stupid CD over and over. Are you, like, cutting? Because Mom'll totally kill you before you kill yourself."
"What?" Davey said. "No! No. No. A bazillion times no. Here," he thrust his wrists out at Joey. "Look, I'm clean, okay."
"So you're jerking off?" Joey said, leering through a mouthful of shells. "Nice."
"I'm thinking," Davey said loftily, folding his arms. "I realize it's a foreign concept, but some of us like to indulge in it every so often."
"So what are you thinking about?" Joey asked. "C'mon, dude, brothers, right? You can tell me."
Davey cocked his head to the side, considering. "I really don't think I can," he said finally. "I think you'll kill me. Or somebody else. But there will definitely be murder involved."
"Swear to God I won't," Joey said solemnly. "It would really make getting into college a bitch."
"Promise?"
"May I never jerk off thinking about Jessica Alba's breasts again if I lie," Joey said solemnly.
"Okay," said Davey, because invoking Jessica Alba meant Joey was serious. "Freddy's trying to get me to hook up with him. And I sort of want to."
"Excuse me?" Joey choked, looking at Davey like he had just admitted to drowning kittens.
"He's really nice!" Davey said defensively. "And he's funny and really hot, okay? And we have a lot in common and I think he really has, like, a thing for me."
"Okay see this? This is why I told you to stay away from him," Joey said. "This is his thing. He gets people who used to be really smart to suddenly become really stupid around him, and then he, like, lunges for the kill, and the next thing you know your virginity is out of the window and you are crawling with venereal diseases."
"Well then," Davey said, suddenly finding he had his appetite again. "It's a good thing you were never smart to begin with."
"Exactly!" Joey exclaimed. "I mean, no, Davey, you don't understand. Those feelings you have? He doesn't have them, because he is a gigilo-bot from the future, or something. "
"The kind that makes mix CDs and visits bakeries?" Davey asked. "Why would he do all that if he didn't like me?"
"To get to me," Joey said. "Which is why I didn't want you to get involved - it's between me and Kennedy, okay? Not you."
"You're right," Davey said, "I forgot, everything is about you."
"To him!" Joey shouted. "Look, he blew the entire JV soccer team last year. All of them. Just to piss me off. And you know who was on that team? Vlad Stoyavich."
"Ew," said Davey, wrinkling his nose. Vlad was skinny and oily, completely and utterly ignorant to the finer points of hygiene or even seeing a barber. He alternated every day between two sweatshirts and two pairs of pants, and might have been redeemable under all of that if he didn't have a permanent scowl or a constant pubescent mustache that made him look like a rapist, in Davey's opinion. The only reason he probably had survived through high school was he was freakishly fast, some sort of long-distance track star. Davey had a working theory that was because all the other runners hung back to avoid smelling or looking at him, but had yet to prove that.
"Exactly," Joey said. "You don't put your mouth anywhere near that kid unless you've got some serious issues."
"So what's your suggestion, then?" Davey said. "In case you haven't noticed, he's kind of my only friend."
"So make new ones," Joey said. "Can't you join some dorky club? What about GSA? Maybe you'll actually meet a reasonable dude there and forget all about Kennedy."
"I guess," Davey said moodily. There had been some girls in the clarinet section who'd been bugging him to join ever since they figured out he was gay, which was pretty much the second day of school. They were large and wore black and could probably beat Davey up and were way more vocally excited about their mutual gayness than Davey was.
"Look, you have to do something, dude," Joey said sagely. "Kennedy's like a fungus. This is how it starts and next thing you know, you're sucking face with the same lips that were on Vlad Stoyavich's dick."
"Ew," Davey said, pushing away his bowl. "That is gross."
"It's the truth," Joey said. "So seriously, make some gay friends. Or else. And don't say I didn't warn you."
"Right," Davey said morosely. It wasn't a terrible option, he supposed. It was certainly better than Vlad Stoyavich. Most options were.
- - -
"Where have you been?" Freddy said one day, cornering Davey at his locker. Davey had been avoiding him for almost a week, and it was driving him nuts. He tried to make his tone casual, only sounding casual for Freddy meant tacking on an awkward laugh at the end of every sentence.
"I had a meeting," Davey said evasively, frowning at his textbooks before taking one out with a sigh.
"Oh," Freddy said, tapping his mouth with a finger. For some reason, the motion caused Davey’s eyes to widen, but instead of the tips of his ears turning pink, he looked mildly revolted. Which was ridiculous, because Freddy’s lips were fine, the last time he checked.
"Yeah, oh." Davey said.
"Did you see what I just did there?" Freddy grinned, leaning in. "I didn't even ask you what for. Because I'm mature and if you don't think I need to know, I don't."
"You don't. Besides," Davey agreed. "It's not the kind of thing you'd be interested in."
And well, that was a challenge if Freddy ever heard one. It took only two weeks for Freddy to sniff Davey out, and it would have taken less if Davey wasn't so quiet and stealthy. One day he finally managed to pin down that Davey had been sneaking off to GSA, and after that he made sure to strategically go into their next meeting early, placing himself so him straddling the chair was the first thing Davey saw when he came in to discuss the details of the Fruitcake Bake Sale.
Sure enough, when Davey came in, he shot Freddy an irritated glare and poked him in the side. "What are you doing here?"
"Learning about a bake sale,” Freddy said innocently. Why?"
"You aren't even gay." Davey hissed back. "And this is the gay-straight alliance."
"Bisexual," Freddy retorted. "So if you think about it, I'm both gay and straight, aren't I? An alliance in the same person."
"That," Davey replied slowly. "is the dumbest thing I've heard in a long, long time."
"I'm pretty sure that liking cock," Freddy looked Davey up and down quickly, "makes me qualified to be here. In some capacity, anyway. Besides, not everything is about you. I just wanted to do my part. Help the cause or whatever." He waved a hand. "How long is this meeting going to take?"
"All of lunch," Davey explained patiently. "That's why it's a lunch meeting."
"Gotcha," Freddy said, stealing one of Davey's sandwich halves and making sure to moan extra-pornographically over it, just because he liked the way Davey's ears turned bright red. It made him feel a little less tuned out.
"Freddy," Davey said tightly, "I know this is the GSA, but we don't just sit here and discuss sex, okay? We're, we're -"
"Selling fruitcakes?" Freddy said, licking his lips slowly, partially to get the special dijon mayo that Mary always used that Freddy swore came from the hand of God, and partially because it made Davey's eyes go a little crazy.
"We're trying to get a gay speaker," Davey said tightly. "June is gay pride month, so we thought we could get someone cool to come, you know, say things. But we need money to get someone."
"I could speak," Freddy said. "Because no one here loves the cock as much as me."
"What about the lesbians?" Davey asked. "That's not fair to them."
"They could speak the next period," Freddy explained, "about how when they make out it's not only like free porn, but it also feels great."
"I don't think that's why they do it," Davey said. "I also think that they could kick your ass."
"Well I think -” Freddy began, but he got cut off by Kate (or, as Freddy referred to her, The Head Lesbian) calling the meeting to order. He probably should have been listening, because Davey was, and he was volunteering these baked goods and helping decide who should make what sign. But it was really hard to care when Davey was waving his hand enthusiastically or giving the other freshman, Kyle, a quiet grin that made his eyes crinkle sweetly. Freddy sort of wanted to punch Kyle in the face. He understood that Davey was really, really, really cute. He understood that when Davey was eating or talking or breathing that all anyone could or should be thinking about was how glorious he would look naked. He sympathized with the little twink. He did. But he made sure to spell out to Kyle silently by glaring at him and scooting his chair closer to Davey's, throwing a casual arm around the back, he had a prior claim, a claim that Davey managed to somehow make look more valid by completely disregarding the fact that Freddy was all but lifting his leg and peeing on him to mark his territory. Kyle gave him a sheepish, subdued grin and started offering to bring paper plates, which was totally the cop-out of doing as little as possible, and only further cemented Freddy's belief that Kyle was a turd.
"So what did you think?" Davey asked after the meeting had broken up, finally starting in earnest on his sandwich half.
"I'll stick with track," Freddy said dryly, stretching and making sure Davey followed his shirt as it artfully hiked up. "But thanks all the same."
"Okay," Davey said, sounding a little relieved. There was an awkward silence as Davey ate and Freddy tried to figure out something to say to grab Davey's focus, since it seemed to be slipping further and further out of his reach by the second.
"Hey, no practice today," he said finally. "I can give you a ride home."
"Oh, thanks," Davey said, looking pathetically grateful, but unfortunately not in a let-me-repay-you-by-getting-naked way. "It's supposed to be sleeting and I forgot my boots at home and -"
"No problem," Freddy said softly. "Seriously, on my way."
"Thanks," Davey said, giving Freddy the same approving smile he'd flashed at Kyle earlier. "That means a - are you staring at my mouth?"
"No," Freddy said guiltily, even though that was exactly what he'd been doing, because Davey had been touching his tongue to the corners and he was only human, dammit.
"I have something on my mouth, don't I?" Davey said desperately, wiping at his mouth. "Wait, is it, where is it, I can't find -"
"Here," Freddy said automatically, reaching out and brushing his thumb across Davey's lips before realizing exactly what he was doing and freezing. Davey felt coiled and tense under his fingers, his eyes huge and vulnerable looking, as if pleading with Freddy though for what Freddy didn't know. As if in a trance, Freddy swiped his thumb across one more time and pressed it into a corner like a kiss before raising it to his own mouth and licking it clean. He felt like he was watching as if from a great distance as Davey's eyes went sharp and predatory, like it wasn't his stomach that was twisting hotly and his hormones that weren't screaming at him.
"Mustard," Freddy said roughly. "You know how I like the mayo mustard."
"Uh, yeah," Davey said, swallowing as he put his lunch away. "You're really...crazy about it."
"Yup," Freddy said. "Would do a lot of crazy things for dijon. That's me."
"Right," Dave said. "So I'm going to go -"
"No, it's getting late," Freddy said, standing, "I've got music theory."
"Right," Davey said nervously. "I'll see you in the lot then?"
"Yeah, of course," Freddy said, watching Davey turn tail and all but run out of the room, wilting under the all-judging lesbians and their too-knowing smiles.
- - -
"Freddy's a jerk." Kate told Davey in band the next day, shaking her head. “You need to watch out."
"No one's saying he isn't, Kate." Liz whispered back, poking her in the side with the edge of her clarinet. Liz was the vice president, Kate's neighbor and best friend, who was straight, she said, no matter what the rumors said. Davey believed her, mostly because she was three inches taller than him and was on swim team, so her arms were huge. Kate and Liz were the ones who roped him into GSA, and ever since he'd started showing up they'd adopted him as their personal puppy, because, as Kate put it "I think if we ever so much as talked to Kyle he might die of shock". Usually they only wrote notes to Davey on the edges of their sheet music, but Mr. Jones had decided, as he did every year, that everyone had gotten far too lazy; and the only way to save the spring concert was to hold a furious round of sectionals. He was currently yelling at the first flautist, an anonymous freshman girl whose wide eyes were filling up fast with tears. A vein jutted out sharply from his temple with every word. All of the other freshmen looked shocked and fearful, which Davey couldn't understand. If they actually practiced, he'd complained to Kate and Liz, they wouldn't be in this predicament, to which Liz had just cooed and called him an idiot savant.
"I asked him to join before, remember?" Kate whispered, leaning her dark short hair into Liz's blonde dreadlocks. "He said he was happy that I was a...” she trailed off. "A carpet muncher, but that was no reason to start a club about it. Unless if I was planning to mack on other girls during the meetings." She sighed. "Although I suppose that he must be pretty into you, Davey, if he even showed up."
"What?" Davey squawked, clapping a hand over his mouth as Mr. Jones sent a cursory glare in his direction. "No, no, no, no, no, no," he moaned under his breath frantically. "Not you two too! You were my safe haven. Lydia, you know, who packs all the stuff from the bakery for the bake sales, she's been on my case ever since he started visiting me when I'm working."
"Awww!" Liz sighed, clasping her hands. "See, Kate? He's visiting Davey at work."
"I think he just wants in Davey's pants," Kate said, bored.
"Thank you," Davey muttered.
"...and after that he wants to ask you to junior prom and maybe to go steady." Kate smirked, clapping him on the back.
"Urk," Davey said, burying his face in his hands.
"He was so into you at the meeting," Liz sighed, looking up from the trashy romance novel she'd brought out to read about fifteen minutes ago. "He wouldn't stop touching you. I think he made Kyle have a nervous breakdown."
"Oh no," Davey said mournfully, "what did Freddy do now?"
"He basically peed on you to mark his territory," Liz said matter-of-factly. "Kyle sort of had a crush on you before that, but now he's too afraid to."
"Wait a minute, Kyle had a crush on me?" Davey said. "Now you're just making things up."
"Well," Kate said, "now I know why he thinks Freddy doesn't like him. He's actually just that stupid."
"I am not," Davey said indignantly.
"Of course you're not," Liz said soothingly. "Just like Freddy isn't staring at you now like he wants to eat you with a spoon."
Surreptitiously, Davey snuck a glance over his shoulder. Freddy was leaning on his stand, head propped up on his arm. He was staring at the back of Davey's head with a rapturous expression on his face, as if he was reading some sort of intense story etched out on the back of his neck. His mouth hung open slightly, his trumpet dangled from his lap, the edge just skimming the carpeted floor. He was so lost that when Mr. Jones motioned for the horn section to play, Freddy didn't move at all.
"Kennedy." Mr. Jones said sharply. Freddy jumped. "Sit up and put that smart mouth to use." The entire class twittered.
Freddy's mouth twisted into a smirk, as if everyone was laughing at a marvelous joke he had made. Kate rolled her eyes. He raised his trumpet to his lips and played- but the moment the section was over and Mr. Jones moved to percussion, the trumpet went right back to his lap, and he resumed watching.
"I think it's sweet," Liz said.
"It is kind of funny," Kate agreed. "He never gets like this. Like, ever."
"He doesn't like me, okay?" Davey said, "We're friends."
"Right, because he always eats lunch with his other friends," Liz said. "Or follows them around, or gives them rides home..."
"Or follows them to GSA meetings and gets territorial..." Kate continued.
"Shut up," Davey said crossly, sneaking a glance at Freddy, who had developed a bit of a dreamy smile. When he noticed Davey watching him, the smile became huge and full-blown, and Freddy gave Davey a enormous, lewd wink, mouthing 'hey' and waving.
"Disgusting," Kate said.
"Adorable," Liz sighed.
- - -
"See you during lunch, Davey," Freddy said, slowing to a stop in front of the cafe.
"I forgot to warn you, I've got a GSA meeting." Davey pressed eject on the CD player, and stuffed the CD into a smooth black booklet. "So you'll have to figure out how to put some bread together and some meat in between instead of stealing parts of my lunch."
"Guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon then."
"Can't,” Davey said. “Kate's driving me home. I promised to lend her and Liz fruitcake recipes. "
"Lesbians," Freddy said with affectionate contempt. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Well, I've got track the rest of this week."
"See you whenever, then," Davey said, hiking his backpack over his shoulder and climbing out. "Thanks for the ride!" He shut Freddy's car door and started off towards the cafe entrance, where Freddy could spot Lydia's arm in the window waving at him.
"Yeah," Freddy repeated to himself, driving home. "Whenever."
"You're moping," Regina told him later that night, preparing for one of her bridge parties. She carefully picked up the two trays she had prepared that morning, one loaded with fruit: the good kind of fruit, not only apples and grapes and orange sections but nectarines, mango cubes and kiwi halves as well, the other tray with mini roast beef sandwiches. She set them down on the coffee table, along with wine glasses and few bottles of wine (they never quite got around to playing bridge at the best bridge parties) and then kicked Freddy's foot from where he lay sprawled on the sofa, face down.
"I am not." Freddy leaned over and pulled the needle off of the record player he lugged into the living room. "I'm relaxing."
"You have a room," Regina pointed out. "You have a very large room downstairs, remember? You have a nice room where you can mope all you want. I wish you wouldn't sleep on that couch; the bridge ladies are coming around in twenty minutes."
"This couch is more comfortable. Besides, I'm not moping. I'm listening to music."
"That's why we put you in the basement, dear." She patted him on the shoulder. "And that's why I put your grandfather out back. So you can listen to music whenever you want and he can hammer away." She danced from foot to foot nervously. "Can't you just move to that armchair, Freddy? I need to tidy up in here."
"Yeah, yeah." Freddy got up and padded over to the large leather chair at the side of the room. He dropped into it heavily. The chair creaked softly.
Regina vacuumed the carpet hurriedly, and then set the cleaner neatly back in the hall closet. "That's done, then." She sat down next to Freddy, holding his hand in between hers. She glanced at the clock. "That gives me fifteen minutes left to deal with whatever's wrong with you. What's wrong, Freddy?"
"Nothing's wrong," Freddy said, pulling his hand back and stretching. "I'm fine."
"Is school what's not wrong?" Regina asked. "Did you have a fight with someone? Is there something going on with Davey?" Freddy flinched, slightly.
"Bingo," Regina said, triumphantly. "Everything shows on your face. What's wrong with Davey?" She frowned. "I thought we agreed you were going to be nice to him from now on."
"I am nice to him," Freddy said, defensively. "I am very, very, nice to him."
"Then what's the matter?"
Freddy fiddled with a box of records he brought up from the basement. Regina waited. "It doesn't matter. If I'm nice to him or not."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think he's into me." He pulled a record carefully out of the box. Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Songbook was printed on the front cover. She smiled up at him against a background of bright green and orange. "And no goddamn amount of rides is going to change that, is it?" He swiped a mango cube and stuffed it in his mouth.
"What on earth makes you say that?" Regina asked. "Whenever I go to the bakery he just can't stop talking about how nice you are to him."
"He just...won't make a move," Freddy said. "It's almost February. I think if he wanted to make a move, he would have done something by now."
"Davey's a bit more reserved," Regina said, swatting his hand as he reached for a second piece of mango. "Just because he doesn't try to take your pants off doesn't mean he's not interested, dear."
Freddy hated when his grandmother tacked on a 'dear' like that made up for the fact that she had just said something that should not ever have been uttered by anyone's grandmother, ever. "Thanks bunches, Regina," he said acidly. "That makes me feel super-great. And weren't you telling me to back off?"
"Either extreme is a bad idea," Regina said sensibly. "Sometimes you must use that brain I know you have in there somewhere."
"Again," Freddy said, "Thanks."
"Think, Frederick," Regina said with barely-held calm, "and preferably before the bridge club comes. Do you have any reason to think that Davey would be interested?"
"He... He looks at me," Freddy muttered. "A lot. And he doesn't like people touching him, but he lets me. And sometimes he gives me this look and blushes and I sort of think...but he doesn't say anything."
"Would he?" Regina said softly.
"No," Freddy whined.
"So perhaps," Regina said "it would be best, if Davey is not demonstrative and you are, to find a way of figuring it out."
"Are you suggesting I make a move?" Freddy asked incredulously. "Are you, my grandmother, saying I should jump him?"
"No," Regina said calmly, getting up to answer the doorbell, "but I am suggesting rather strongly that you go down to that cave of yours. Now."
"Fine," Freddy said, swiping some kiwis while Regina wasn't in the room.
- - -
Davey knew he was doing the right thing, getting distance from Freddy and making new friends. But just because he knew that didn't make it easier. No matter how many disparaging remarks Joey and Kate made, Davey missed Freddy. He felt cloudy and gloomy constantly, except for the few glimmering moments from band that he would run over and over in his head (though he'd staunchly deny doing so). He could feel his mom watching him constantly, like maybe he was on suicide watch. Lydia had abandoned him to close and clean up because, in her own words "if I watch you mope and hear that fucking mix CD one more time I swear to God I'm going to stab you, and I should warn you I'm carrying a serrated knife."
Davey glanced up when he heard the bells. "We're closed - oh, hi," he muttered, seeing it was Freddy, presumably straight from track practice. His hair was wet and windswept and Davey had the sudden and highly inappropriate urge to lick Freddy pretty much all over.
"Hi," Freddy said, leaning against the doorway. His cheeks were pink. "Uh, I can come back some other time-"
"It's fine," Davey shook his head. He slid open the display case and started to unload the old pastries into a basket. "What’s up?"
"Nothing much," Freddy sat on a stool in front of the counter. "I just thought I'd swing by. I haven't seen much of you in a while."
"Yeah," Davey felt his face growing hot. "I've been sort of busy lately. School, piano."
"Hey," Freddy raised his hands. "You don’t have to tell me twice." He rested his keys on the counter and grinned at the tip jar. Joey's donation to the cafe had a large picture of Jessica Alba taped up on the side, with a speech bubble trailing from her mouth that read "SHOW ME YOUR TIPS."
"This is so weird," he said, "I've never been somewhere like this, when it’s completely empty. I feel like I’m breaking in or something."
"Okay, creepy." Davey threw a wet washcloth at Freddy. "You're definitely staying on that side of the counter."
"Because that's what I was planning to do," Freddy rolled his eyes, peeling the cloth off of his shoulder. "Break into your mom's cafe for her pastries. You know they're irresistible."
"Irresistible," Davey agreed. "I knew you were just hanging around me for a chance to get at my lunch."
"Had to start somewhere. You know I can't help myself."
"You'll end up doing unmentionable things to anyone who has a bit of cheesecake." Davey grinned. "Or who knows how to make it and understands that yes, Freddy, it actually contains cheese."
"It doesn't seem like it does," Freddy protested. "I thought it was just a name thing. Like hamburger or eggplant."
Davey shouldered the box of pastries from the display case and brought the mouth to the trash bin, shaking the box so that they all tumbled out. "You're hopeless."
"No, I'm not. What the hell are you doing with those?"
"Throwing them out." Davey shrugged. "We start fresh every day. Sarah and Lydia usually take stuff to a shelter on Tuesdays."
"Where are they?" Freddy looked around. "I mean, do you usually do all this by yourself?"
"Uh, not really." Davey closed the bin. "Lydia had to leave early. I've just got to close up."
He nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned around to see Freddy looming over him. He must have jumped over the counter silently, and was standing behind him, looking down at him from beneath his eyelashes. He was standing oddly close, even for someone who didn't understand personal boundaries, someone who thought that Davey's lap made for an excellent pillow or that his shoulders were splendid armrests. Davey swallowed hard.
"Let me help you out," Freddy said softly. "Do you have any dishes? I'm a dish washing king."
"Uh, no?" Davey said, backing up. "That's Fabrizio's job. I'm actually sort of done here."
"Okay," Freddy said, stepping in close again. He smelled good, Davey noticed, like Old Spice. Maybe Davey should consider changing what deodorant he used.
"I have homework," Davey lied. He'd finished his homework in study hall, but Freddy didn't know that, and he was sort of crowding Davey and blocking the exits. "So I should probably, you know, lock up and, uh, go."
"Probably," Freddy muttered, shuffling backwards a little. "Sorry, I'll just, you know, get out of your hair." He looked a little like Davey had just kicked him
"Hey," Davey said softly touching his arm. "It was nice to see you. I missed you too."
"I did not miss you," Freddy said indignantly. "I never said I missed you."
"Oh, right," Davey grinned. "You were just all mopey and sulking around and making bad excuses, but you absolutely did not miss me."
"Exactly," Freddy said, crossing his arms. "There was no missing going on."
"It's okay, you know," Davey said. "I said I missed you, you can admit you missed me."
"You missed me?" Freddy said, looking sort of dumbfounded.
"Uh, sort of?" Davey asked, twisting his hands in his apron. "I mean, a little. Kind of."
"Well then," Freddy said stepping forward again, blocking Davey's exits. "I guess I kind of missed you too."
"Good," Davey said breathlessly. "Good. We're in agreement about the missing. So I'll just go...do my homework then."
"Um," Freddy said, putting his arm on the counter so Davey couldn't duck past him, "I kind of...don't want you to."
"What?" Davey asked stupidly.
"Don't go," Freddy said desperately. "Just...don't. Don't go."
"I can't just stand here," Davey said, annoyed, "you're going to have to do something."
"I can do something," Freddy said, leaning in so he was barely an inch from Davey's mouth. "I'm going to do something right now."
"Wha-" Davey began, before he was cut off by Freddy's mouth on his.
This is surprisingly wet, Davey thought vaguely, his hands flailing a little before grabbing on to Freddy's arms. That can't be good. Except, well, it was. Because Freddy knew what he was doing, he completely knew what he was doing. One of his hands was huge and warm across the side of Davey's face, holding him still and sort of petting him, and the other was very conveniently holding him up by the small of his back, which was good because Davey felt, very distinctly, that if it weren't for the magnetic pull of Freddy's lips, he would probably fall over. He wasn't pushy, like Davey had thought (and he'd thought about it a lot). There was no uncontrollable tongue action, just soft lips slotted carefully in place, kissing. It was sweet, Davey thought, and quite literally, because Freddy tasted like Gatorade and cookies and screw it, Davey thought, pulling Freddy closer, he was kissing him back.
Freddy made a noise that sounded suspiciously squeaky and girlish and there was his tongue, gently teasing at Davey's upper lip, his hand buried in Davey's hair stroking in a frantic counterpoint. Davey could feel every muscle in Freddy's body pressed against his, tense and quivering from barely-restrained something or other. He couldn't figure out what it was until there was a very unmistakable poking feeling against his thigh, which, oh, Davey thought hazily, was probably the direction most kissing Freddy had done went.
Oh, Davey thought again. Oh dammit.
"No," Freddy whispered when he felt Davey pulling away. "Don't, no, Davey."
"This is really, really bad," Davey said, trying to pull away further, but Freddy was still imploringly running his fingers behind Davey's ear, his arm a warm weight holding him up.
"But you kissed me back," Freddy said bleakly. "I didn't, did I make you?"
"No," Davey said miserably. "No, I wanted to."
"Cool," Freddy said, leaning in, and Davey only managed to duck away just in time.
"I don't do this," he said tightly. "Freddy, stop. I'm not, I'm not doing this with you."
"But why," Freddy whined.
"Because I'm not like you, okay?" Davey said, finally managing to free himself. "I don't hook up with people just because. I don't make out with people just to mess with their brothers."
"That's not why," Freddy said, and oh god, he was blushing, Davey thought, feeling a little weak-kneed. He was blushing and his mouth was kind of puffy and pink and his hair was standing up funny from where Davey had grabbed him and Davey sort of wanted to grab him again. He wanted to do a lot of grabbing. "I've - God, I've had such a fucking crush on you, Davey, since fucking November, okay? I really, really, really like you."
"Yeah," Davey said tightly, "You do now, but once you, you've got me, how long's that going to last? How long do you ever stay interested in anyone?" Freddy's silence was enough of an answer. "I don't do that," Davey said quietly. "I like you too, okay? But I just, I don't stop liking people once I've gotten them."
"But you're different," Freddy said, shyly reaching out for Davey, who was helpless against letting Freddy pull him back in again. "I'm fucking nuts about you okay. I can't stop thinking about you."
"You will once you have me," Davey said, looking down at his traitorous hands that had clenched in Freddy's shirt. "I know you don't think so, but I can't do this, okay? You're my," he swallowed. "You're the best friend I've ever had," he finally managed. "I'm not going to do this."
"I won't make you," Freddy said, his arm dropping from around Davey. "I guess, if you want to go, you should go. Do your homework."
"Right," Davey said. "That stuff."
"I, uh, I'm not giving you a ride tomorrow, am I?"
"No," Davey said. "You weren't."
"That's probably best," Freddy said. "Just...give it some time."
"I'll, uh, see you Monday, then," Davey said. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Freddy said. "I shouldn't have, you know, forced you."
"You didn't," Davey said. "I'd have punched you if I didn't want you to."
"Good," Freddy said tightly. "Great, now all I have to worry about is Joey punching me."
"I'm not going to tell if you won't," Davey said.
"Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not telling him."
"Cool," Davey said. "Cool. On Monday it'll just be, you know, normal."
"Right," Freddy said. "Normal. Talk to you then."
"Bye," Davey said quietly, waiting until Freddy had left and driven away before running upstairs, grateful Joey and his mother were in their respective rooms and didn't catch him running into his room and wishing it was still as easy as it used to be to cry.
Soundtrack
Brandy Alexander - Feist (lyrics)
Trailer Trash - Modest Mouse (lyrics)
Sideways - Let's Go Sailing (lyrics)