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Music rattled his skull and dozens of conversations kept cutting through the air despite his attempts to block them out. Joe came here to distract himself, but now he's starting to regret that decision. His eyes find the exit and makes a break for it, dodging various limbs flying in front of him along the way. As his feet rush down the stairs, his hands fly to un-zip his hoodie and let the cool September air wash across him once he steps outside. The early autumn air immediately comforts the boy and it feels like he can finally breathe again. He could feel the sweat that was building up while surrounded by bodies packed into a minuscule room almost dissipate out here.
He can still hear the music blaring in the background and people were still floating just outside the building, either leaving for the night or just arriving. With the rancid smell of vomit lingering nearby, he continued down the path until he was a bit further away. He almost considered just leaving altogether… but maybe he just needs a breather. Leaving behind Yanis and Fahd with no heads-up was a bit of a dick move too, so he'll stick around a bit longer. Just to ground himself again. So, he braces against a railing and looks off into the night, the moon hanging above him just barely visible against the cloudy sky and the street lamp behind him. His hands find the lighter in his pocket and began to fidget with it. As he was spinning it around in his fingers, his mind wandered back to earlier in the week. A reminder of why he's here in the first place.
Another screaming match with his mother. She had to pick him up from the cops after he and the other guys were caught "vanadalizing" some old dude's store. Didn't think drawing anything in small sharpie was that big of a deal, but he clearly disagreed. In the moment, he was trying to argue this with the cops and things got a bit heated, which led to him getting taken away and his mother called up late in the night. Looking back, Joe can recognize it was stupid and avoidable, but he was running high on emotions after the week before was filled with more arguments and jabs thrown at him by his own parent. It was a never-ending loop. He and his mom would fight which would cause him to act out later, only for another fight. It was that or just pretending he didn't exist. He's not sure which one was better.
This week though, she slapped him for the first time in a while. Joe could still feel the faint burn against his cheek even now. It happened after he brought up his father. She just… snapped. It wasn't anything exactly new. Joe knew better than to bring up the dad he knows nothing about. It triggered a rage in her that was rarely seen elsewhere. Or sorrow. Or both. It was a topic they never truly talked about. It could be why she hasn't noticed the missing steel lighter in her room. He doesn't know if it was his mom's, or his dad's… but since he took it months ago, she hasn't spoken a word about it. He wonders if she even noticed its absence in the first place.
All of this was eating away at him this whole week, so when Fahd and Yanis invited him along to a party happening on Friday, he jumped at the opportunity. An excuse to be away from home for another night is really all he needed. Except… now he's wondering if that was smart. Joe doesn't want to be here. Not really. It's not actually helping drown out his thoughts in any way, so he can't actually talk to anyone. Not that he even wants to.
He doesn't go out of his way to meet new people. And new people don't go out of their way to introduce themselves first. Whether it's due to the fact that he's an Arab in the middle of a city with people who don't look like him, or the fact that he "seems intimidating" at first glance, or a mix of both… He keeps to himself. The other two boys, Yanis and Fahd, are exceptions. Although, they're not particularly close or anything. They happened to go the same school, share many of the same classes, and just ended up being around each other. Joe considers them friends. Barely. The other two seem closer to each other than Joe either way.
It's when his eyes are glancing down the street, considering whether or not he should ditch, when a soft voice cuts through his internal monologue.
"Hey," Joe turns to see another boy facing him with a cigarette between his fingers. "Got a light?"
The stranger nods his head towards the lighter that takes another swing in Joe's hands, before getting caught in his palm. In this brief pause, Joe takes a second to look over the dude. He looks familiar and yet he can't quite pinpoint from where. The street lamp above doesn't offer much visibility, but he can immediately take note of the boy's pale skin and small drawing next to his thumb in the right hand. Three small dots. His cigarette shakes a little, like the other boy is reminding him of his question.
A few quick flicks of the lighter and a small flame erupts from the metal case, which Joe drags over to the end of the cigarette. The fire clings onto the end and he can immediately catch the whiff of burning nicotine. The other boy offers a small smile as a thank you, before bringing it up to his lips and inching closer to Joe. As he blows out the first puff of smoke, he leans his side against the railing. Now that he's closer, Joe can more clearly see the boy's face.
It's dotted with a few moles, and he can see a very faint stubble around his chin and upper lip. His jaw tightens slightly, letting Joe really see how sharp this boy's facial structure is. Delicate, almost. His eyes then notice how dark his short, cropped hair is. It's so black it almost blends into the background. He wonders for a short moment if it's dyed, but it could just be due to the poor lighting. At this moment, Joe remembers where he recognizes him from. His eyes caught this guy among the dozen faces in the crowd and he couldn't help but stare a tiny bit. Something captivated him. When Joe's eyes glance back down the other boy's eyes find his. This close to one another, Joe can just make out the blue of his pupils. Not quite blue like an afternoon sky, but rather the same shade of the open ocean. It takes a moment for Joe to realize what this looks like. Staring into another person's eyes.
He breaks the stare and goes back to looking off into the street.
"William," the boy to his right squeaks out, "Thanks. For the smoke. Forgot my light at home."
Facing him again, William offers a sly smirk before taking another hit from his cigarette. Joe just offers him a small nod as a response.
But the short silence that lingers is painful, so he quickly spurts out his own name. Out of the corner of his eye, William turns to face him, but doesn't say anything. There's a few more seconds of silence between the two. No words exchanged, letting the sounds of the city fill the space between them. It's interrupted when Joe catches the movement of a cigarette pack flipping open, and William holds it out towards him. He accepts the offer and pulls one out. It's not his first time smoking - he has the lighter for a reason - but he hasn't had one in a while. With the way his chest feels heavy, he needs one. As he's taking a drag, he notices that William is staring him down which causes his heart to skip a beat. He avoids looking at the other boy's eyes.
"Needed a break," Joe initially thinks it's a question, but William continues. "It's a bit much in there right now. Same with you, right?"
"Mhm." He doesn't offer William any words. He can't find any. William doesn't seem to mind much, he just keeps going on.
"You're thinking why'd you even bother coming, huh?"
Joe's eyebrow slightly raises at that. He's right, but he can't be that easy to read. Surely. A curt head nod is all he can manage, which causes William to let out a quiet chuckle.
"Feel the same way. Plus… you probably wouldn't have that face on you the whole time you were in there."
This throws Joe off completely. He didn't say it in a mocking tone, rather a genuine inquiry. The soft spoken voice combined with the thought of William noticing him… And clearly watching him… It causes a heat to rise from his chest into his cheeks that he can't avoid. So, he just avoids facing the other boy at all. Which is when William decides to fully lean his back against the railing, also avoiding any direct eye contact.
"Too many people. Wouldn't have come if I had known, but I got some friends inside who dragged me along."
It's the first time Joe truly spoke in this conversation. An actual sentence, at least. It's also not a lie. Joe figured it was just going to be a small party hosted by some person he doesn't know at his own school, but turns out it was a lot more packed than he expected. It's not like he would recognize many in his own classes, but there's definitely other people here. Which… speaking of…
"How old are you? I haven't seen you until tonight so," Joe fumbles his way through the question but since William turns to face him, clearly attentive, he continues. "You go to a different school?"
William takes a second before answering his questions. He's seventeen - Joe cuts in to say he's the same age - but he goes to some private school across town that the other boy hadn't heard of before. Doesn't explain why he feels like he's seen those eyes before, even if that doesn't make any logical sense. The inexplicable pull towards him doesn't go away.
As William's right hand goes up to take another hit of his cigarette, Joe catches the same three circles that were on his left hand. The former takes notice of the latter's stare and a small chuckle escapes his lips.
"My tattoos?"
Joe couldn't catch himself from showing a face of disbelief causing William to let out another laugh. He didn't even register them as tattoos at first glance, but now that he's looking more closely he can tell it's far more defined than just some doodle with an ink pen.
"You do them yourself?"
William tilts his head, "Only some. My- A friend… did a few others. You can't see most of them. These two," He puts his thumbs together to show off the matching pair that started this conversation. "I did by myself."
Joe pretends not to notice the small stutter in his explanation, but he's more interested in the fact that the other boy has tattoos in the first place. Imagining the other boy's body painted with ink makes his face burn with a desire he's rarely felt. He opens his mouth to ask William to show the others, but he realizes that's a bit awkward to ask someone you just met, so he opts for another question instead.
"Why'd you get them?"
Completely stone-faced, William only responds with a simple: "Why not?"
"I could do them. My friend showed me how to set-up a little homemade tattoo needle, so whenever I was bored…" He trails off after offering further explanation.
Joe feels like William's "Why not?" response is a bit silly. But what does he know? It does add a bit of aloofness to William's otherwise mysterious and reserved nature so far. It makes him a bit more comfortable if Joe were to be honest.
"You ever want one?" William speaks up after a few short seconds of silence.
Joe just shakes his head. He's not entirely against the idea as they do look nice, but his first tattoo would have to hold some greater meaning than just an impulse decision.
After that question, the conversation dies for another minute and the boys go back to breathing in the smoke around them. Joe can't tell how long it's been since he left but he does take note of more and more people wandering outside of the building and drifting down the street. He hasn't seen Fahd or Yanis. Maybe they already left. Part of him wants to go as well, but another sly glance towards William's side profile keeps him rooted in place.
William turns around to fully lean into the railing, his arms hanging over and letting the cigarette burn in between his fingers. The smoke floats into the air as he starts, "So… Why'd you come? You don't wanna be here."
Out of the corner of his eye, Joe can tell William is tilting his head to side, leaned in ever so closer.
"Same reason as you, I guess."
A slight giggle, "Really? You guess?"
"Boredom. Right?"
William concedes, simply nodding. For some reason though, Joe feels an urge to explain himself further. Not spill his guts out to this boy entirely, rather just… open up a bit more.
"Didn't wanna go home tonight. This gives me an excuse. Just gives me some time away." Maybe it's a bit much, but when Joe looks for William's reply, he notices his eyes waver slightly. His lips part slightly and he no longer holds this sharp stare, rather a softer, understanding gaze. William bites his bottom lip for a split second before replies with a curt: "Same."
The two know better than to dig deeper, of course. However, the air noticeably changes. Feels less tense. Like the understanding they both live in broken homes brought them closer. Emotionally, of course, but Joe doesn't seem to notice until now that he's leaning closer to the other boy as well. He probably leaned in to speak quietly, but now he can just barely hear every breath the other takes. His eyes dart to his left noticing the end of his cigarette meeting the end of William's cigarette over the railing. The ashes crush together then float down slowly.
This sight reminds him to thank the guy for a smoke in the first place. "I haven't had one for sec. Don't have a pack on me right now."
"No problem. Figured I should come up to you first, considering… It didn't seem like you'd do the same."
The implication tugs at his heart, but Joe doesn't bother to dig deeper. At least, directly.
"Why'd you stay?"
Joe's question throws William off for a split second. He takes a slow, deep breath before replying.
"I guess," his eyes dart up to Joe's face, "I found my reason for showing up."
A beat.
The air shifts again.
Joe's eyes flick between the cigarettes mashed together to find William's stare. Their eyes lock and it feels as though the world around them freezes for this brief moment. His own dark eyes can't help but get lost in the other's lighter eyes. The same shade as the ocean. Like the lake that was by his childhood home. It's mesmerizing.
His heart pounds against his ribcage, his throat feels constricted like it's getting harder and harder for oxygen to reach his lungs. Joe's waiting for William to break the stare. He doesn't. Instead, he takes another slow breath, leaning his head back slightly before inching closer. He could feel the edge of his shoe brush against the other boy's own. Joe's eyes broke contact first, turning his head to side to avoid facing William at all. But after another beat, he turns back and sees the blue eyes still drilling into his own. Awaiting something. The pale boy hasn't leaned back at all. Reaching ever so closer. Joe could feel his hand slowly raising, reaching towards William's waist. He pushed his own body closer, his forehead almost touching William's. So close to one another, they could feel each other's breath. And they both could tell the other was breathing even faster.
They were just inches away from each other. Just one small push… Both of their eyes closed. Neither one taking the first step. Until…
"William!"
A new voice cried in the background, cutting through the intimate moment. Their eyes shot open and they pulled away slightly. Joe could just faintly hear William mutter a swear underneath his breath, before he turned around. Tilting his head, Joe couldn't recognize who called out his name, but they he'd guess they with William. He turns back to Joe with an apologetic look before walking away.
Shit.
Pitifully, Joe quickly turns away and buries his head against the railing. He takes an extremely deep, long breath before looking up into the sky. He spends the next few minutes taking more drags of his cigarette, letting the nicotine smell fill the air around him. After enough time feeling sorry for himself, he puts out the cig onto the railing and leaves the snub.
He goes back to the entrance and finds Fahd and Yanis standing by the steps. They give him shit for abandoning them for a bit, but he shoots excuses their way until they back off. Turns out, they've been looking for him so they could all leave for the past little while, so luckily Joe doesn't have to hang around the party long feeling awful for fumbling the moment with William.
However, as Joe trails behind Yanis and Fahd down the steps, he feels a hand on his shoulder. Initially bracing due to the unexpected touch, his gaze softens when he turns around to see William.
"Here," William places a hand on Joe's left shoulder. He could feel William was holding something in the palm, but he can't tell quite what right now. As Joe reaches to catch the object, his fingers brush against William's hand and the touch sends shocks up his spine. His fingers latch onto a small pack of cigarettes. William's pack. "You said you didn't have any, so…" He nods his head before turning away and disappearing into the crowd. There's something in Joe that almost wants to chase after him, but that looks pathetic.
When he turns towards his friends, they both look confused. Fahd speaks up first, "Who was that?"
Joe doesn't quite know how to answer.
"Some dude."
It's an awful answer. He knows it. But after the two share a glance towards each other, Fahd snorts then decides to brush it off. They begin walking away from the party, but Joe still trails behind.
After some distance away, Joe's fingers lift up the flap and notices something is written inside. It's a phone number.
---
It's about a half hour later when he arrives home. It's late. He doesn't bother to check how late, but with the moon so high in the sky he knows he'll probably get shit once he walks inside. So, it doesn't surprise him when he sees his mother on the couch staring at him disapprovingly as he steps in and begins taking off his jacket. What does surprise him is that she doesn't say anything. She doesn't need to, of course. The way her eyes bore into him like daggers is enough for the lack of words. But she just sighs deeply before getting up and heading to her bedroom.
Joe's biting the inside of his cheek, bracing for her to come out raging some more. But she doesn't. He takes this opportunity to head to his own room peacefully, closing and locking the door behind him.
His head knocks against the wood behind him as he attempts to ground himself again. His fingers dig through his pockets, finding the lighter. Except he remembers the cigarette pack he buried in there as well. The number.
He quickly pulls it out followed by his phone and collapses in his chair. It rolls back slightly, as he begins typing in the number he sees. His fingers are about to hit the last one, when he stops. Seconds pass. Minutes.
His fingers find themselves suffering from further abuse as he begins to bite his nails.
What if he's asleep? Is it even his number? Did he give me a wrong one? Or did he even write this?
That and a few more dozen questions run through his mind.
Then, he flashes back to how close they were earlier. How easy it would've been to just take another step. Lean a little more closer.
And his thumb slams down on the last number.