“Boy scout,” I say, the inside joke bringing back countless memories of me teasing him for always being prepared for anything, always having the most random odds and ends in his pockets.
We share a laugh, the humor easing the pain between us.
“Do you have something I can write my number on?” he asks, all serious like he’s asking me for nuclear launch codes. “You don’t have to call it, but if you need me, I’ll be there. Alright?”
I stick out my hand, knowing that I shouldn’t, because I don’t want to reject him right now. It would just make me feel worse. He scrawls the number across the back of my hand.
“I probably won’t call,” I whisper. “I–listen, I’m not what you need. And I–you’re not–we’re just not… I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he murmurs, putting his pen away. “But if you need me, I’ll be there.”
“I’m gonna go,” I say, already backing up. Already trying to escape. “I-I’ll see you later?”
“You know where to find me,” he says, putting all the power in my hands. I nod tightly and walk away.
And it might be all in my head, but his stare on my back doesn’t feel anything like Young-gi’s. And despite everything, I wish it were him, not Bruce, staring at me.
The sidewalk under my shoes becomes more cracked and pitted and familiar as I get further from Bruce’s modest neighborhood and closer to my own. My head is spinning with guilt on top of everything else now, because why the fuck did I go to him?
But I know why I went. I want to be fixed. And he was the only person who ever tried to fix me. With him, I was almost a Tommy that was worth caring about. Almost.
I stifle the urge to turn around several times, reminding myself that Bruce doesn’t deserve the mess I’ll make in his life. God, I’m just feeling low, low down.
A familiar street sign, crooked and rusty, pulls my eyes up. I’m almost home. Just a couple blocks away. I wonder with distant apathy if Joshy turned my rent money in. He might have. For all I know, he didn’t, and I’m going to an apartment that has no place for me anymore. If that’s the case, I’ll just go sleep under a bench somewhere. I’m tired as fuck. Every cell in my body is crying for sleep, like as soon as I lay down, I’ll pass out for days.
With a gusty sigh, I kick a rock down the road in front of me, and that’s about when the black vans show up.
Three screech around the corner, and I tense, wondering if I’m about to get caught up in a gang’s turf war. It’s not uncommon here, and sour fear splinters my numbness.
I shuffle back and press myself against a chain-link fence, thinking that if I just stay out of their way, they’ll be less likely to shoot me as they drive by. They roar down the street and I press harder against the fence, willing them to just keep driving.
But the vans skid to a stop right beside me, one pulling up onto the sidewalk behind me and the other in front, the third and final van staying on the street, boxing me in.
Shit.
My heart kicks into overdrive and I start to sweat, the drug lingering in my system making everything feel fuzzy and unimportant while at the same time making everything terrifying. I break into a run as the van doors fly open.
Men pour out, and I dodge someone’s grabbing hand, slipping on some gravel, which slows me down.
“Tommy!” Yosef jumps in front of me, and I get clotheslined by his muscular arm. The air gets knocked out of me as I fall backward, and I stare up at him, gasping for air.
“What–the fuck?” I ask breathlessly, less terrified now, but even more confused. Why the fuck is Yosef here?
“You’re in trouble,” he says, shaking his head like he feels sorry for me. He hauls me up, and brushes me off. “I’ve never seen him so upset.”
Young-gi…He’s mad at me?
“What? But I left!” I wail, letting myself get dragged into the nearest van. Yosef climbs in with me and the doors slide shut, the driver tosses the vehicle into gear.
And just like that, I’ve been abducted.
“Obviously!” Yosef snorts a laugh. “That’s why we had to come get you!”
“I didn’t mean to do anything to him! I’m sorry! I left so he wouldn’t have to deal with me!” I jump across the car and try to grab the door handle but Yosef yanks me back down to the floor of the empty van and plants his immovable ass between me and the exit. My jaw drops as I try to process my dramatic change in circumstances.
“He’s so mad at me that he wants to drag me back just to fuck me up?”
Yosef stares at me, his eyes wide and his eyebrows furrowed, like I’m the craziest motherfucker he’s ever laid eyes on. “Tommy, what the fuck are you talking about?”
