It was magical really, the swirling gray clouds mingling with oxygen and carbon dioxide. In the confines of his father’s man-cave, Brik stared at it all with wonder evident in his dilated orbs. He inhales, breathing in the intoxicating noxious fog. Holding his breath, Brik silently reveled in the burning it gave his throat. He enjoyed the pain, for it was the only thing he could really feel, seeing as his emotionally status was questionable, as of late. Brik exhales, little cloudy ovals floating out of his lips. He gently allowed a ghost of a smile to frame his handsome face as he tilted his head and passed the blunt over to his companion, Ky. He plopped against his the leather couch, closing his eyes and basking in the high. His tongue absently toyed with his lip ring whilst his eyes watched Ky suck in the intoxicating gas and blow it back into the atmosphere. There was a comfortable silence between the two friends, save the barely audible vinyl record player, softly humming Back in Black by AC/DC. It was the mere background noise to their high.
As Brik lifted the blunt to his lips, his eyes shifted over to the clock. Furrowing brows, he searched through his foggy thoughts. He had somewhere to be…but where? Then, it hit him. Lizzie’s recital thing was tonight. He face-palmed himself and groaned, jaded. “Recital…” he grunted to Ky, too lazy to form a complete sentence. “Gotta go. Come with me.” He didn’t wait for Ky to protest before raising his finger at the football player and giving him a sly smirk that looked more crooked than usual due to his groggy state. “Girls in tights and leotards, we’re going.” He put out the blunt in the ashtray before slowly standing up.
Brik winced, his foot still tender despite his lack of a cask. He reached for his crutch and placed adjusted the sling on his right arm before limping over to the exit. He grabbed his hoodie from the coat rack and his beanie from the bar then grabbed his car keys, ready to hit the road. He threw the keys over his shoulder, sure that Ky would catch them, being the football star that he was. “You’re driving Baby. Treat her right, okay?” No one could say that Brik was incapable of love, for he loved his car dearly, going as far as to name the vehicle Baby. It was truly his pride and joy.
Wordlessly, Brik led the way to his car. He silently thanked whatever higher power that was looking down on them that his parents were currently away for some sort of high school reunion or some shit like that. Why they’d want to relive high school was beyond him. He squinted his eyes through the sheet of rain that was claiming the town, blurring his vision slightly. A soft breeze caressed his heated cheeks, causing the flesh to glow a rosy pink. Brik ducked his head down, locking the door behind him as he and Ky rushed to his car, dodging the rain as best they could to remain dry. It was obviously a failed attempt, but it was a valiant effort.
Once securely in the passenger’s seat, Brik pulled out his cell phone, texting Avery and telling her that he and Ky were going to see Lizzie. She replied quicker than he expected.
Be safe and pinch Ky’s ass for me. I swear you can bounce a nickel off that work of art!
Shaking his head and holding back a chuckle, Brik typed a reply.
I’m not touching anything below the belt, Avy. I’ll tell him you said, hi.
Another quick reply was plaguing his screen, Fuck you, I want ass grabbing.
He didn’t bother to text back.
Hours later, Brik found himself drooling on Ky’s shoulder, softly mewling in his sleep as he absently nuzzled Ky's neck with his nose in an effort get comfortable. It wasn’t until the crowd was clapping that he snapped out of his sleepy state. “Oh?” he yawned. “It’s over?” He asked Ky. Upon getting his reply, he and Ky made their way to the back stairs to meet up with their friend.
”You,” Brik heard immediately as he limped closer to their destination. There Lizzie was, sweating and breathless…and still clueless as to how close they all really were. “You came to visit me at the hospital. That was so sweet of you.” Brik said nothing, simply rebutting with a modest shrug and a nod. He felt like he should say something like: “Nice performance,” or “You look amazing,” but all that came out through his lack of a filter was—
“Is there any fucking food here? I’m starving,”