She doesn’t even know you. Bass, striking out with a blonde at a bar, sullen despondent, claiming there’s something rotten in him that drives good girls away. He doesn’t want to hear Miles’ pep talk, so Miles grabs his arm and drags him out of the back door, stopping to share a swig from his flash before cutting off Bass’ next self loathing gripe as he grabs a fistful of blonde curls, pressing him against the alleyway wall as insistently as his tongue is prying open Bass’ mouth like he’s starving for the whiskey on his lips and tongue. I know you. He doesn’t say it but he thinks it, one hand still gripping the back of Bass’ head as the other snakes down inside of his pants.
She doesn’t even know you. Bass incredulous as Miles reveals his brand new secret, one about his soon to be sister in law. He tries to explain to Bass, how she makes him feel clean, good, like there’s something worth salvaging inside of him. She sees the good in me. The bottle is almost gone and Bass runs a finger across Miles’ lips as he repeats the all too familiar words. They’re sitting on a rooftop and Bass pulls the arm he has slung around Miles’ shoulder closer till their faces collide, messy, wet. He doesn’t say the words but Miles can read it in the way Bass grabs both sides of his face. I do. I do. I know you. The rough friction of denim on denim as one of Bass’ knees presses between Miles’ and the heaviness of Bass against him, so close his heart is beating against Miles’ chest.
She doesn’t even know you. The third time Bass has decided he’s found the queen for his kingdom. They always let him down. Bass has this need to open up his innermost horrors, to push and push until he finds a breaking point, the point at which he will be rejected. No one can take on all of someone else’s ugliness, but Bass insists on believing each new woman is the one who will. I know you. Miles thinks it but he doesn’t say it. He knows everything that Bass has to reveal, everything that’s sent Bass’ prior lovers running and everything that will drive this one away. I know your ugly truths, Bass. I know and I don’t care; I’ve got my own set to match. Bass doesn’t want to see himself the way that Miles sees him, the way he sees himself. He turns away from Miles’ warning without hearing it and Miles is left with his mouth dry and the sour taste of desolation on his tongue. He drowns it in moonshine.
She doesn’t even know you. Bass’ words flying out from his mouth like a viper’s venom. Miles knows he’s right. Charlie hasn’t asked and he hasn’t insisted, not really. She’s all righteous fury’ because, she still thinks there is a right to get back to. Miles can’t change that she’s going to lose that, no one can. Still, he doesn’t like the picture Bass’ curse paints. Miles has no problem being abhorred, but he needs to choose it. He drinks and he swears and he drives everyone away, but the girl didn’t take no for an answer and she reminded him of both her parents in that. Neither of them had ever accepted that he wasn’t worth wasting their time on… not until it was too late. He walks away from Bass and the promise he hasn’t bothered to make. You know me, Bass. He mutters to himself. Bass knows and the fact that he doesn’t care is the most revolting thing about himself he can think of… that is until later when he wakes in the middle of the night: Bass’ name on his lips and the sheet sticky.
She doesn’t even know you. Bass finding him parked on one of the rusted out cars, staring at the non-existent double feature. She thinks I can change. She thinks I have something better to go back to as a default. Miles laughs bitterly and Bass climbs onto the hood of the car, crawling towards Miles slumped against the windshield. His hands run over the rough denim of Miles’ jeans, over his knees and thighs. Eyes locked onto Miles’, Bass’ hands snake up under Miles shirt and his knees surround Miles’ own. I do. Bass’ hands say as they run over his jeans once more, one hand tugging at Miles’ zipper as the other rakes down his inner thigh. I know you. Miles’ jeans are around his ankles and Bass’ hands grip his thighs and he doesn’t say a word; because, his lips are busy. You know me. Miles doesn’t want to admit but he groans and runs his hands though Bass’ hair, each hitch of his breath corroboration.