#Head in hands. Metaphorical whiskey also in hands. Joint in there also somehow

[papanorth]

There's ppl who have followed this blog for 10 years. I've had this blog for 10 years

[erroetcresco]

The Bare Minimum is Better

Aleks goes to a party despite his grounding. James and Aleks finally have the talk they probably should have had a couple weeks ago.

[A03 Link]

So here’s the thing: even on lockdown, Aleks still had to keep up his reputation. It wasn’t like he sold drugs for the money of it, even if that was nice. He did it because that was what he did, and he needed to keep that going. So when Saturday rolled around, he helped at the store until it closed, and went home with his dad. Sure, it was exhausting, but he had a couple of friends - bumps off his house key - to help with that. He waited until his dad was absolutely asleep, which was easy, thanks to those “sleeping pills” of his that started this mess, and then snuck right out the front door. He had sales, and more importantly, an appearance to make.

On his way to the party, he smoked a bean, enjoying the cool March air. It was almost April now, warming up, but still a chill on the wind that kept him alert. He’d be showing up late, but that didn’t matter too much. People didn’t care as much about prices once they were already buzzed, just wanting to prolong their high. Aleks could respect that. After a week of being sober, he also wanted to just get a little fucked up, let go of the stresses keeping him awake at night - and the stressers that were waking him up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting and hard in his boxers. The idea of a party promised normalcy, the kind of normalcy that he hadn’t appreciated until he had to sneak out after a hard day’s work to go after. The house belonged to a member of the wrestling team, and he wasn’t exactly invited as much as expected to show up. If there wasn’t a market for his wares, he wouldn’t be much of a drug dealer, would he?

The house was lit up in every window, with beer cans littering the lawn in front already by the time he made it up the sidewalk. Music leaked from the cracks in the house like cool air, and Aleks felt a smile spread across his face without bidding. This was what he was good at. He slid into the house, and was immediately greeted with a solo cup full of some kind of punch that he downed without second thought. Sure, he supposed that if he was a girl he could have cared, but he was safe enough. A couple of people noticed him immediately and crowded into his company. They were artificially nice, and he knew the reason. As soon as he drew premade joints from his fanny pack, the niceties were over. It was business as usual. They paid him, they all lit up, and joints were passed through the house without a care about the stink the host would have to deal with later. Another cup was pressed into his hand, and he drank without care. Whiskey spread across his tongue, and Aleks found himself dancing, pressed up against a pretty girl with pink leggings and puffing from a joint he had supplied in the living room. He slipped into the bathroom with a couple of jocks to take a line, with another couple twenties slipped into his fanny pack, and then he was somehow in the backyard, crossfaded and nearly twitching, as he watched two members of the wrestling team play-fight.

“I thought you were grounded,” a familiar voice said behind him, and Aleks nearly inhaled his tongue along with the sip of spiked punch he was nursing. He coughed a couple times, and turned his head to look up the one inch that separated him and James.

“What Pops doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him,” Aleks said, coolly enough.

“Fair,” James said, and grinned at him like there was nothing wrong in the entire world. There were children starving in Africa, but the way James was looking made Aleks think they were in heaven. Aleks didn’t have much to say in response, so he just looked back towards the wrestling match.

“Want a drink?” James asked, and Aleks had to look back at him like an idiot.

“I’ve got one in my hand,” he pointed out, gesturing his plastic cup.

“You know what I mean,” James said, and looked patient, like Aleks actually did know. He didn’t. Aleks looked back to the match, enjoying the mudslinging.

“Aleksandr,” James said, calling his attention back, and James actually looked hurt that Aleks hadn’t bothered to answer.

“What?” Aleks asked. James was done up in his party gear, and it occurred to Aleks that maybe this was the first party James had ever attended as just James, and not James, the boyfriend of Steve. James’ hair was teased up, his acid jeans were tight, and his shirt was a retro tie-dye that made Aleks’ eyes hurt.

“I’m trying to…” James trailed off, and gestured, like that would finish his sentence. Aleks just gave him a look, and then an exaggerated shrug. James looked like he was struggling for a moment, and then sighed.

“Trying to what, James?” Aleks asked, when he failed to continue.

“Look, nevermind,” James said. “Do you have a bean?”

That was something Aleks could deal with. Whatever shit that was happening in James head would have to stay there until he decided to share it. Aleks was too fucked up to try and guess at whatever emotional shit was happening there. He fumbled through his fanny pack, one handed, and pulled his last joint out. It was a little smushed, but it hadn’t ripped any.

“Thanks,” James said, and took the joint. He held it up in front of Aleks’ lips, and obediently, Aleks let it slide between them.

“Thought you wanted it?” He mumbled around the joint, as he fumbled for his lighter. James grinned at him, silent until it was lit and Aleks had taken a deep inhale.

“Yeah, but I wanted to smoke it with you,” He said, and Aleks felt his intestines twist. It wasn’t his stomach - it felt too visceral for that. This was a metaphorical olive branch between his lips, burning and giving off smoke. James was trying to be friendly. Aleks had started it, maybe, by letting James stay over with the ludes, but this was different. This was both of them - drunk, maybe, but - level heaved.

“I dunno if that’s a good idea,” Aleks said, before he could regret it, and held the joint over to James. He spat out the bitter taste the words left in his mouth onto the lawn next to him for good measure.

“Whatcha mean?” James asked, sounding clueless. His face, however, had already drawn back. It wasn’t the open face Aleks had come to know in their times fucking around, it was the face James gave people that talked shit about him and Steve. It stung, sure, but less than the burning in his gut over what James had done to him.

“I mean that maybe we smoke this joint,” Aleks said, and that burning crawled up his spine, “and maybe you get on your knees for me,” He was quoting what James had told Steve, in front of everyone “and maybe I love it.”

“Aleks,” James said, like he didn’t want to hear what he was saying.

“Or maybe we share this joint, and we make out” Aleks continued, drink sloshing from his cup when he gestured. Even drunk, he made sure to keep his voice down, keep this under the crowd watching the mock-fight. Unlike James, he didn’t spread his business around. “And then we hang out, mess around. And hang out again. And maybe I like who I’m hanging out with. But then, I’m just a fucking...a fucking revenge plot out of some kind of shitty soap that even the most desperate housewife wouldn’t watch.”

“It wasn’t supposed to-” James started, but Aleks shook his head.

“Man, it doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. We had fun, or whatever,” He looked down at his cup. Silence stretched between them, and Aleks finished his drink.

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you broke up with Steve. Shit was messed up,” Aleks said, and clapped James on the shoulder. “But whatever is whatever, right?” He wasn’t even sure what that was supposed to mean, and left James to figure it out as he marched back into the kitchen to find another drink.

There were shots with a group in the kitchen, and than a shotgunning race with a jock of an unknown sports team - he lost. Than he was stuck with the mystery punch again as he wandered the house, feeling both too fucking sad to participate in any of the revelry and too fucking drunk to leave. He ended up on the front porch, empty cup by his side, smoking a cigarette. It wasn’t exactly unexpected that only a half hour after he had left James in the backyard that the very same man was sitting next to him, pressing a cup into his hand.

“You done telling me off?” He asked. Aleks looked down into the cup. It was clear. He took a sip, and it was just water. He wrinkled his nose at whatever mothering James was attempting.

“Depends. You said I could be a dick,” Aleks said, setting the cup next to him on the porch.

“I deserve it,” James admitted, and plucked the cigarette from his fingers. Aleks hadn’t known James smoked, and the coughing fit that came from the other after one puff confirmed it.

“You don’t have to try and impress me,” Aleks teased, despite himself.

“Just seeing what all the fuss is about,” James answered, and passed the cigarette back. He leaned back on his hands, and sighed loudly.

“What do you want, now?” Aleks asked, before taking a long drag from the cigarette. The embers glowed against the filter, and he tossed it into the grass without a care.

“Don’t want anything,” James answered, easily, and then, stopped. He stopped leaning back, stopped his nonchalant air, and set his hand in his lap. He just stared at them, silent.

“What?” Aleks asked, a little unnerved.

“Well. I don’t want...nothing” James said, quietly. “But you weren’t wrong. Everything you said was true.”

“Yeah, you’re a dick,” Aleks agreed easily, and he meant it in a different way than James normally reveled in.

“Yeah, I am. Was. Am” James said, haltingly, putting pauses between his words. It sounded like he was arguing with himself.

“So?” Aleks asked.

“So maybe I liked hanging out with you, more than the messing around parts. Maybe you…” James paused, and sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to be a dick, but being around you was...better.”

“Yeah, hard to believe the bare minimum is better than what you had,” Aleks said, only slightly sarcastic.

“Shut up,” James shouldered him, but still looked abashed. “I’m trying to say something.”

“So say it,” Aleks said. It was hard not to expect something, anything, but he squashed that part of his brain down, reminded himself of the hurt, of the burn, of the grounding he got from helping James at all.

“I��m just saying that I messed up, but I liked who I was hanging out with. If you want to hang out...or whatever again, you know. I’m just. I’m just saying,” James said, slowly, then all at once. Aleks sat quiet at that, digesting what he meant. James rose from his seat on the porch next to him, and clapped him on the shoulder. “But if I was too much of a dick, I get that. But I’d like to.” As if he were embarrassed, and maybe he was, James cleared his throat, then nodded. He let Aleks not respond, and instead went back into the party. The music swelled as he opened the door, and muffled again as he closed it. Aleks took a sip of the water James had left him, and then, frustrated, threw the cup onto the lawn.

Who the fuck was James to offer that to him? Who was he to think he deserved anything? Who was he to echo Aleks’ own words back to him? Fuck him. Fuck him, fuck his stupid hair, fuck his stupid face, fuck the stupid dreams that kept waking Aleks up at 3 am, fuck the situation he had put them in, fuck….

Aleks decided he was done here. He was done with the conversation, he was done with the party. He started the long walk home, only slightly bobbing and weaving across the sidewalk.