Chapter Text
Eric spends the first week of 1998 skiing with his dad and brother in Eldora.
He hates snow sports. The mountain is so busy, Eric spends most of his time on the slopes fighting through an ocean of bunnies and zombies from Vail. His ski boots are heavy. He hates not being able to work on his projects and bombs. He misses Dylan. But he toes the line for his dad anyway.
Every second of not being able to talk to Dylan sucks. Neither of them have a cell phone, and there’s no public computer access on the whole mountain. On the third day, Eric even considers breaking into the visitor office just to snake a couple minutes online and send Dylan an email.
The following night, he and Kevin sneak out of the hotel room at 2AM with a bottle of Schnapps. Kevin doesn’t know it, but Eric stole it from the back of a catering truck that was conveniently unloading when they were all coming back from the mountain.
Even though Kevin is kind of lame, they find a rotten tree and spend some time kicking it and throwing rocks. Eric wishes he had a pellet gun or pipe bomb.
He thinks about Dylan constantly.
*
The drive home is torture.
His dad goes the speed limit the entire way, they have to stop for gas and to eat two separate times, and then they take the scenic route through Idaho Springs. By the time the car rolls to a slow stop in the driveway, it’s midnight.
Eric throws his door open and turns around to dig his stuff out of the back seat.
“Where’s the fire?” his dad asks, amused.
The reason why Eric is in such a rush isn’t as easy to lie about as pipe bombs and speeding tickets are.
“No rush.” He tries to play it off as he picks his duffle bag up by its twisted handle, but this is the longest he and Dylan have ever been apart, and he’s starting to crack. “I just have a couple things I need to get ready for school tomorrow.”
His dad waves him off.
Inside the house, Eric says goodnight to his sleepy mother, and clatters down the basement stairs. No one has been down here since Eric left on Sunday. The lights are still off, and the piece of tape Eric stuck to the edge of his bedroom door hasn’t been moved.
He doesn’t even stop to take his bulky ski jacket off before he leans over his desk, and boots his computer up.
He grins when he sees Dylan is online.
REB DoMiNe: that was
REB DoMiNe: NNNNNOOOOTT KIDDIIIIIING
REB DoMiNe: the longest week of my LIFE!!!!!!!
RC_VoDKa: =]
RC_VoDKa: i was waiting for you all night
RC_VoDKa: just sitting and staring at your sn lol
REB DoMiNe: rrrrrrrrrrr
REB DoMiNe: we left friggin eldora at 8
RC_VoDKa: wow what too you so long
REB DoMiNe: my dad
REB DoMiNe: he had to stop and look at everything
RC_VoDKa: gay
REB DoMiNe: mhm.
REB DoMiNe: neway
REB DoMiNe: what did you do while i was gone
RC_VoDKa: hmmmm
RC_VoDKa: i played around with that charcoal powder we got
RC_VoDKa: we need to get some steal ball barings from somewhere
REB DoMiNe: ya we can figure that out
RC_VoDKa: played tomb
REB DoMiNe: mhmm.
RC_VoDKa: went bowling
REB DoMiNe: mhm
RC_VoDKa: jerked off a lot lol
REB DoMiNe: heheh
REB DoMiNe: i had a shower every morning and every night =P
RC_VoDKa: oh yeah?
REB DoMiNe: mhmmmm.
REB DoMiNe: gawd
RC_VoDKa: sneak out
REB DoMiNe: my dad is still awake
REB DoMiNe: rrrrrrrrrrr
REB DoMiNe: fuk
REB DoMiNe: give me 20
RC_VoDKa: meet me on buckhorn
Eric closes the chat window.
His parents are definitely still awake, but Eric can smoke them out. His mom was only up waiting for them to get home, and his dad has work in the morning. He just has to be patient. Eric stands there and waffles on what to do for a split second.
Then he hears AIM ding again. He looks at his computer monitor to find a new chat window, and one last message from Dylan.
RC_VoDKa: not seeing you was the cruelest punishment
RC_VoDKa: it made my head twist
Eric closes the window again, mind made up, and turns his computer monitor off.
*
It’s not hard to make it past his parents.
Like a god, Eric always gets what he wants.
He changes back into his regular clothes and sneaks out the kitchen door while his parents are upstairs getting ready for bed. All the lights are off, which means they won’t be coming back down to the main level until the morning. The most nerve wracking part is starting his car, which is parked on the street.
But it’s fine.
He gets away with it.
And he’s enroute to Dylan’s house a few minutes later.
*
Eric turns his music down, and flips his headlights off as he turns onto Buckhorn.
Even though it’s past midnight there are still a few houses lit up with porch lights. It’s enough to spot Dylan, who is standing right where Buckhorn turns into Cougar. Seeing him cuts Eric’s adrenaline into waves, splits his buzzing head into thoughts, and for the first time in a week, he feels normal again.
He leans over to roll down his window as Dylan walks along the shoulder to get to his car.
“Going somewhere?” Eric asks, raising his eyebrows.
Dylan smirks at him through the window and then drops down to peer through it. His cheeks are burnt pink from the cold air.
“I dunno.” They stare at each other and Eric feels his heart ratchet up into his throat. “My mom told me I can’t play with you anymore.”
Eric grins. He tilts his head back against the seat and says, “Get in.”
Dylan grins back, a little evil, and opens the car door. He only gets half of himself inside, one foot still out on the gravelly road, before he reaches over the center console for Eric with both hands. Eric sees it coming, but still lets out a noise of surprise when Dylan yanks him close by the coat and kisses him hard.
Groaning, Eric closes his eyes and kisses back.
They sit there on the shoulder, with the car still running, for way too long. Anyone could see them. Eric turned his headlights off, but the interior dome light is still on. Eric knows they should get out of here before they get caught, but for a split second, he doesn’t give a fuck. He puts a hand in Dylan’s hair and kisses him again.
“DK,” he finally manages, opening his mouth to talk and catching Dylan’s tongue in the process. “Dylan.”
Dylan stops kissing him, but doesn’t loosen the grip he has on Eric’s coat.
“This week sucked,” he says quietly. The light above them flickers as Dylan’s leg shifts, and the passenger door closes enough to turn the sensor off and then on again. “There’s no reason to be alive when you aren’t here.”
That makes Eric’s self control slip. He tugs Dylan into another kiss, and they sit there, making out in the front seat of Eric’s car, until another set of headlights peeks over the horizon up ahead and they jolt apart.
“Fuck,” Eric swears, wiping his face off.
Dylan gets his leg inside and slams the door closed. It’s freezing even though the heat is still running.
They both sit still, slid down a little in their seats, as the other car drives by.
“Not a cop.” Dylan twists around to watch it go, and then looks at Eric. “Let’s get out of here.”
*
Deer Creek Canyon Park is five minutes away from the Klebolds.
It’s too cold to sit outside, so Eric parks near a stretch of low-hanging trees, lets the heat run for a minute extra, and cuts the engine. They should be pretty hard to spot all the way over here.
He grins at Dylan and climbs over the gear shift.
“Ow,” Dylan laughs. They both try to accommodate for the tight fit, but Eric still bumps his head off the ceiling and swears. He grins down at the crazy look on Dylan’s face as they try to get comfortable. Finally Dylan slides down in the seat, and Eric hunches forward. They kiss, and Dylan says into his mouth, “We could have sex here.”
Eric smirks into another wet kiss and counters, “You could suck my dick.”
“Yeah,” Dylan easily agrees. He grabs Eric’s ass with both hands, and they stare at each other as Dylan drops his head back against the seat, and Eric grinds into his lap. “I could do that.” His eyes flutter closed. “Fuck, that feels good.”
It’s a power trip to make Dylan like him like that. But not in the way explosives are. Eric has no practical knowledge about sex.
But he did visit a dumpy little hole in the wall adult bookstore over Christmas break.
He told his parents he was going out bowling and, instead, drove to the seediest part of town, and then parked six blocks away.
The mission was both torturous and deeply personal. Eric was able to get in and out in under five minutes, with the stolen copy of Bound & Gagged tucked into the front of his jacket. The title wasn’t his first choice, but it was the only one he saw with a guy on the cover.
For the first week Eric had it, he couldn’t even crack the plastic wrap. He hid it under the loose floorboard in the bottom of his closet and didn’t mention it to anyone.
He needed to know - he couldn’t stop thinking about it - but he also wasn’t willing to run the risk of entering it into his AOL searches. Under that floorboard, it felt like he was hiding the telltale heart. Except every time Eric thought about opening it to see what was inside, he couldn’t go through with it.
When he finally caved and knifed that plastic wrap open he felt his entire body throb.
He groans and squeezes the back of Dylan’s neck, head tilting to the side as Dylan sucks the side of his jaw and his ear. The car windows are steaming up; cold out there, but hot on the inside.
“Ow,” Eric grimaces, bringing his shoulder up to knock Dylan’s bitey mouth away. Dylan doesn’t relent, just hunches over more, digs his nose into the crook of Eric’s neck, and bites again as he sucks Eric’s throat. Eric laughs this time but hits the back of Dylan’s head and says, “Fuck, ow!”
Dylan relents for real this time but starts trying to feel him up more with his hands. “Sorry,” he says, digging his face into Eric’s shirt.
It’s a rush. It’s all a rush with Dylan. Just endorphins and adrenaline.
“No you’re not,” Eric pants, pressing back to ride Dylan’s dick through his BDUs.
He’s going to come. The inside of his boxers are already wet.
“I’m not,” Dylan laughs, out of breath. It feels so good. Eric’s head is empty in a way the medication never manages. The grinding gets shorter and harder, and then Dylan pants, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Dylan comes in his pants, and grabs Eric hard around the waist as he thrusts up. Eric gets knocked up into the ceiling, and has to lift one arm to brace himself as he sticks his other hand into his pants and jerks off.
He may not be a social butterfly, but he knows how to do this. How to put that look on Dylan’s face he’s never seen anywhere else.
When he comes, he lets go of the ceiling and flops over Dylan. They’re both breathing hard.
Eric rests his face against the shoulder of Dylan’s t-shirt, the feel and smell soft and familiar, and closes his eyes.
*
School gets worse after Christmas break ends.
Eric doesn’t know what happened - if someone found something out, or if he’s just got a bright pink FAG sign spray painted on his back now that he and Dylan have been fooling around - but he ends up in the crosshairs. There’s a group of guys Eric doesn’t know well, but they have something to say to him every time they cross paths.
A day into the new semester, they walk by and shove Eric face-first into his open locker.
“Fuckin’ fag,” one laughs, voices fading away. “Dumb homo bitch.”
No one in the halls says anything. It’s any other day.
Eric straightens himself up, then slams his locker door closed as hard as he can.
*
“DK!” he laughs, hauling ass through the snow. “Fuck!”
The other side of the creek bed blows up. There’s no other word for it. One second it looks like a regular creek covered in snow - a Colorado Christmas card - and the next, there’s mud and pebbles and water blasting through the air.
Dylan screams WOOOOOO! so loud, birds flap from the tree tops.
“That was so awesome.” Eric is genuinely proud of himself. Pazzie - the bomb, Eric has started giving each one a name due to them all being a ‘labor of love’ - was a huge success. He laughs as Dylan walks by and hits Eric’s ass with a lazy, long smack. Eric turns his head to keep him in his eyesight, and grins. “Did you see how high that went?”
Dylan grins back. “You could blow someone’s brains out with that.”
“Hell yeah,” Eric agrees. He steps up onto one of the big ancient boulders sunk deep into the edge of the river, and surveys the damage below. “Mark that one down as a success.”
They’re both quiet for a second, just the sound of the rushing, violent creek. Then Dylan walks over, boots crunching the frozen river rock, and comes to stand beside Eric’s boulder. As he lights a cigarette, Eric rests one hand on his shoulder for balance.
“We should get a camera from school,” Dylan says. “We could film our mission tests.”
With a fond, crooked smile on his face, Eric looks down at Dylan, and moves his gloved hand from Dylan’s shoulder, and up into his hair. It’s messy from the wind. Eric sinks his fingers in and tugs. Then Dylan laughs in the way Eric is learning means he’s turned on, and not just appreciating the joke.
When Dylan tries to duck away, shoulders squeezed up to his ears, Eric just pulls a little more, and then stoops down to ask right into the side of Dylan’s temple, “How’d you get so smart?”
“Fuck, stop.” Dylan makes that noise again - that laugh - and Eric gets a rush. He lets go of Dylan’s hair, and slides his hand down over the back of his head to grip the nape of his neck instead. Dylan shoves back. “Hey. Unless you wanna suck my dick in the woods.”
Eric thinks about those guys he saw in the magazine. He jerked off to one picture so many times, his dick hurt.
“Is that an offer?” He’s dead serious.
Dylan looks up at him, because when Eric is standing on the boulder, he’s taller. They make hard eye contact, and then Dylan squints and grins. Eric would do it. He thinks about getting to his knees in the snow and pulling down Dylan’s BDUs just enough to get his dick out.
After a moment of chicken, Dylan says, “Don’t let me keep you.”
Eric drops off of the boulder with a crunch in the snow. He laughs as he reaches for Dylan’s pants with his gloved hand. They bump into each other, giggling, feeling stupid, and Dylan holds his cigarette to the side as Eric clumsily feels up his crotch.
Then there’s the crack and echo of wood snapping in the distance, and they both jump apart.
“Fuck.” All of a sudden Eric’s heart is beating in his throat. They both look around wildly, trying to figure out if anyone saw. After a few minutes, Eric says, “Let’s get out of here.”
Dylan tosses his butt in the creek and they hike back up to the park.
*
At Zach’s request, they’re in the church parking lot and listening to the new Primordial CD.
Eric hates it. The band is gay, Zach is lame, and Dylan keeps pretending like he gives a shit about anything Zach is saying.
He sits behind the wheel and smokes cigarettes as Zach and Dylan joke around, passing a crinkly family sized bag of Doritos between Dylan’s passenger seat to the back seat, where Zach is sitting and drinking beer by himself.
Eric daydreams about dropping with Zach into combat. How the smartest, fastest person would win.
Natural selection.
“Alright, I better peace,” Zach finally says. He stretches his hand up between the two front seats to get his shitty CD back. “Maybe we can hang out this weekend.”
Dylan ejects Zach’s CD from Eric’s CD player and flips the case open with the other hand.
“Sure.” Not a chance. Eric watches as Dylan hands Zach his CD back, and then opens the passenger door. He climbs out first and pops the seat so Zach can get out. Zach awkwardly unfolds himself from the very back seat, jacket getting stuck up on his sides as he twists. Once he’s outside, Eric hears Dylan ask, “You sure you don’t want a ride home?”
Zach is a little out of breath. “Nah, man. Gonna go see Devon.”
“Ah.” Dylan blindly reaches back into the car and flips the seat back. Eric watches his fingers wrap around the head rest, knuckles stained with gun powder. A dirty little secret. “Alright, man. See ya.”
Eric leans into the wheel and echoes a flat, “BYE.”
“Bye, man.” Zach already sounds like he’s walking away. “Catch you two later.”
Eric stares at the lower half of Dylan’s body framed in the car door, lanky legs tapering down into his clunky, tied up boots.
“Can we have some real fun now?” he complains as Dylan gets back in.
Laughing, Dylan closes the door and asks, “What do you have in mind?”
*
They decide to go back to Deer Creek Canyon Park, which has become their de facto makeout spot over the last month.
But before that - Eric wants to light off some fireworks.
“Hey, how about there?” Dylan asks, pointing up ahead. Eric’s headlights stretch over the gravel road. It’s pretty deserted, there’s a white van and a red truck parked along the shoulder, but no one is in them. “We can blow up Zach’s beer bottles.”
Eric pulls alongside the van and truck and throws it into park.
“I think I have some barrages.” He turns his ignition off and looks over at Dylan. “Do you still wanna make the smoke bombs this weekend? I have all the stuff now.”
Dylan stretches his arm out like they’re at the movie theatre. He rests it along the back of Eric’s head rest, fingers curling around Eric’s collar. He tips his chin to the side and smiles. “Hell yeah I do.”
“My parents should be gone Saturday night,” Eric says. “Alright, let’s get out.”
Zach drank three beers while they were sitting in the parking lot, so Eric digs his empties out from clinking around in the back seat and lines them up against a log. As he’s going back and forth between his trunk and the bottles, setting things up, Dylan says, “Hey I think there’s some stuff in this van.”
“What kind of stuff?” Eric asks. He lights one of his fireworks and takes a step back, watching as it ignites and burns and sizzles into a thousand tiny stars. It shoots up into the ink black sky and explodes. Then Eric turns to see what Dylan’s up to. “DK?”
The van Dylan is talking about says WESTOVER MECHANICAL SERVICES down the side. Dylan is at the passenger side window, trying to block the light with his hands as he peers in.
“I dunno.” Dylan shifts around, trying to get a better look. Eric lights another barrage. “Looks pretty good though. There might be some fuses and stuff we could use.”
That gets Eric’s attention. They’ve been researching parts - Eric found some plans for timed explosives online - and all of it is overpriced and a pain in the ass to get a hold of. So he leaves his final bottle unbroken and crunches over to where Dylan is standing.
“We could probably break the window,” he says after a second.
Dylan grins and pulls him in for a cold, excited kiss.
It isn’t easy to break the window, but it’s fun. They dig through Eric’s trunk and find a pair of thick ski gloves to split - Eric takes the right one, and Dylan takes the left. Before they walk back over to the van they light off the last barrage and kick around the chunky brown pieces of beer bottle until they crack.
“Alright, let’s do this,” Dylan finally says. He balls up his fist and punches the van window.
Eric’s entire body floods with adrenaline and dopamine. The way Dylan flips from regular guy to VoDKa turns Eric on, and knowing he’ll never be on the receiving end of DK’s rage makes him melt to a puddle.
“Fuck!” Dylan exclaims, out of breath. He punches again, a third time, mad. “We need something to throw through it.”
As Dylan steps away to look for something heavy, Eric gives it a try. It’s way harder than it looks in the movies. When Eric’s gloved knuckles connect with the glass, there is no give, just a solid, hollow thunk.
Dylan comes back with a really big rock.
“Step back,” he warns, nodding Eric towards where they parked. “This is gonna get everywhere.”
It takes forever even with the rock. Eric stands to the side and keeps lookout as Dylan throws the rock at the window. It bounces off and lands on the ground loudly four times, but on the fifth, it hits just right. The window explodes into shards, and the rock lands inside the van on the passenger seat.
“Fuck yeah.” Eric steps forward and cleans the sharp glass from around the window frame with his ski glove. “That was awesome.”
Dylan laughs and watches as Eric unlocks the door for them from the inside.
The van is a score. They get a bunch of gauges, a meter, a calculator, a full socket tool set, and a professional grade flashlight. Eric snags the pair of sunglasses he sees in the center console, and Dylan takes a checkbook he finds in the glove compartment because he says he knows how to commit check fraud.
It takes 15 minutes, from the first punch to Dylan loading the last piece into Eric’s back seat.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Eric laughs, running around the side of his car.
Dylan drops into the passenger seat and they peel out of the gravel lot together.
*
Deer Creek Canyon Park is closed by the time they get there.
Eric idles at the long metal park gate as Dylan gets out of the car to investigate. The headlights illuminate Dylan’s body in the dead of the night. It doesn’t even look like the gate was locked, because it takes less than a minute for Dylan to untwist the chain and get it open. When he turns around and gives Eric a blind two thumbs up, Eric laughs happily and revs the engine.
He rolls just inside the park entrance and waits as Dylan closes the gate behind them.
“We got it all to ourselves,” Dylan announces, dropping back into the passenger seat.
Eric gives him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Well, you don’t say.”
They park where they always do, up near the trailhead. The lot is empty other than Eric’s car - there aren’t any overnight campers at this time of year. Eric peers through the windshield at the inky view outside. It’s pitch black, simultaneously claustrophobic and infinite.
Dylan taps the dome light on and puts one of his mix CDs in Eric’s car deck.
“We could probably go to my place,” Eric says, watching as Dylan picks up the socket tool set they stole. He flips the lid open. All Eric can focus on are the knobs of Dylan’s wrists and the way his fingers flex over the ratchet handles. “My parents will be asleep.”
Since they got suspended in November, Eric hasn’t been allowed back in the Klebold house.
“Yeah. We should put this stuff in your closet.” Dylan clicks the case back together, and reaches for the flashlight. “We can definitely use it all. That was a successful mission.”
He clicks the flashlight on. Eric squints and says, “Wow, that is really bright.”
“It’s got a clip on it.” Dylan snaps it open and then closed again. “See?”
Eric reaches over and takes the flashlight out of Dylan’s hand.
“Looks expensive,” he reviews, looking it over. It’s nice and heavy too. “We better put this stuff in the trunk.” Eric reaches to pop his trunk, and then opens his door. As he sticks one leg out, he says to Dylan, “You wanna watch Event Horizon tonight?”
Dylan is already getting out, too, socket set in one hand.
He doesn’t get to answer. Once Eric stands up outside, he realizes they aren’t alone out here.
“Boys,” the cop greets. His cruiser is a few feet away, lights off.
Eric feels his heart sink into his feet.
Behind him, on the other side of the car, Dylan freezes.
“Officer.” It’s the best thing Eric can think of.
The cop looks at him, and then Dylan. He shines his flashlight in both their faces.
“What are you up to?” he asks. “You been drinking?”
Dylan answers this time. “No, sir,” he says.
“We were just messing around.” As soon as it’s out of Eric’s mouth, he regrets saying it.
His pulse begins to ratchet up as the cop makes his way around the car. Fuck, Eric thinks, gritting his teeth and tightening his jaw.
“I heard you had some expensive stuff in here,” the cop says conversationally, and as soon as he says it, Eric knows they’re fucked. His shoulders sag, and he pivots a little, just enough to look at Dylan over the hood of the car. “Mind showing me?”
Eric exhales through his nose sharply. “Sure.”
It’s awful and infuriating to show the cop the things they stole. Dylan stands at the side, silent, as Eric points everything out. Eric can tell he’s fuming.
“Boys,” the cop says. “Where did these things come from?”
Dylan finally talks. He lies and says, “It was all in the grass. Near Deer Creek Canyon Road.”
“Yeah,” Eric agrees easily. “Everything was just laying there. We thought it was free.”
The cop doesn’t believe them, and Eric knows it.
“Now boys.” He sets the socket set on Eric’s roof and looks at them both critically. “If that’s the truth, I’ll have them send another deputy to check it out, and he’ll let me know what he thinks. So be honest, now.”
Eric’s heart sinks. He and Dylan look at each other over the top of Eric’s car.
“We stole it,” Dylan admits, still maintaining eye contact with Eric. “We broke into a truck, and we took everything we could find.”
Rage unfurls in Eric’s chest as the cop reaches for his belt and unclips his handcuffs. He feels the adrenaline ricocheting through his body, and for one small, split second, he fantasizes about disarming the cop and unloading a clip into his chest.
“I appreciate you boys telling the truth,” the cop says. Eric’s fist clenches at his side. “Now we’ll be going to the station.” Then he reaches up and says into his radio, “I got a 10-49, we need another deputy out at Deer Creek Canyon Park. I got two kids here admitting to break and entry and stolen possession. I’ll be taking one, we need transport for the other.”
Dylan looks right at Eric and says, “Fuck.”
“Son, I’ll get you to turn around.” Eric does so, on autopilot. He rests his hands at the small of his back, and feels the cool click of metal around them. “My name is Deputy Walsh. I’ll be taking you to the station tonight.”
The handcuffs are tight around his wrists, brutally restrictive. He grits out, “Eric. Harris.”
“And you?” the cop asks Dylan.
Dylan replies, with a flat voice, “My name is Dylan Klebold.”
Just like Walsh said, they’re separated and taken into custody. He gets them both in handcuffs, and leaves Dylan bent over the hood of Eric’s car as he loads Eric into the back of his cruiser. Eric watches through the window as the deputy pats Dylan down, just like he did to Eric. The red and blue lights flash. Dylan’s body painted in neon.
A few minutes later, a second cruiser arrives, rolling through the night, wheels crunching over the grit and twigs on the ground.
Eric groans and presses his forehead into the metal grate that separates the back seat from the front seat.
His parents are going to take everything away from him. Again.
*
They’re booked and released at the police station about an hour later.
Eric’s dad meets him there, face pulled tight with anger and worry. They don’t take mug shots, but they roll Eric’s thumb against an ink pad and press it flat to the paper attached to his booking forms. Eric sits silently. He doesn’t speak unless asked a direct question by the cops or his dad.
His dad spends the whole night trying to get ahold of their family lawyer. Eric doesn’t try to make any small talk.
He keeps looking around, waiting, but he doesn’t get to see Dylan at all.
*
“You’re going to face some serious consequences for this, Eric,” his dad tells him, voice terse and serious, on the ride home. “Some very serious consequences.”
Eric quietly says, “Yes, sir,” and continues to stare out the passenger side window.
It’s almost 4AM by the time they get back home. Snow is just starting to drift down from the sky as Eric walks up the stone path.
His mom is asleep on the couch with the cordless phone in one hand.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” is all his dad will say.
*
Eric uses his computer for school, so he doesn’t get his dial-up privileges taken away.
But Dylan isn’t online so it doesn’t matter.
All weekend, Eric checks his buddy list. But it’s just the same dull grey screen name every time.
*
Getting to leave for school on Monday morning is a relief.
Eric pulls into the parking lot at school 30 minutes earlier than he usually would. It’s the first time he’s been in his car all weekend, because part of his punishment is that he’s only allowed to use it to drive to school and back… at least until his parents can work something permanent out.
As he rolls into his spot, Dylan stands up from where he was sitting and waiting on the curb.
“Fucking faggot ass pussies,” he greets Eric, swinging the passenger side door open. He flops down into the seat and grimaces. “I’m grounded for a month.”
Eric snorts. “That’s it?”
“I’m also not supposed to see you at all,” Dylan says, but it’s dismissive. He rolls his eyes and looks over at Eric. “I’ll strap a bomb to my neck before that happens.”
That makes Eric smile.
“I got my car taken away,” he counters, which is ironic, considering they’re both sitting in it right now. The front seat continues to be the most accessible purlieu of their relationship. “I’m only allowed to use it for school.”
Dylan flippantly pulls his cigarettes out. “Gay.”
“Man, fuck that cop,” Eric complains. The rage boils up suddenly, because with Dylan here, Eric sees no point in trying to contain it. He lets it muscle through and fill him with hate. “He was listening to us the whole time.”
Lighting a cigarette, Dylan scoffs and agrees, “Fucking donut patrol.”
“And you know what?” It was hard spending the whole weekend unable to vent to Dylan, the only person on earth who understands him. Dylan makes a ‘hmm’ noise. “We did that stupid ass mechanic a favor.”
Dylan immediately agrees. “I bet he learned his lesson.”
“It was his own fault!” Eric slaps the palm of his hand against the edge of his steering wheel, and makes an aggravated sound. “I wish we killed that fat fuck cop.”
Laughing, Dylan adds, “It would have been easy.”
“God yeah,” Eric groans. He rubs his knuckles into his eyes until he sees stars, suddenly deep in a fantasy that ends with the two of them speeding off into the night. NBK. He raises his eyebrows and looks over at Dylan passionately. “We could have strapped that cop car up with bombs and blown it into the sky.”
Dylan grins over at him again.
“Nobody can keep me away from you,” he says. “My parents can suck my dick. And I don’t give a fuck about that mechanic. Or the cop.”
For the first time since Friday, Eric laughs, happy.
“Come over tonight.” He knows it’s a big ask, that Dylan is going to have to be on his best behavior for at least a few weeks. “We can watch a movie and play tomb.”
Dylan looks at him seriously. “You’ll see me.”
“Alright,” Eric agrees, raising his eyebrows. “Well, I’ll be waiting.”
Snorting, Dylan gets his cigarettes out, and opens the car door.
“They can’t drag me away from fate,” he says, giving Eric a look. “I won’t let them.”
Then he sticks his foot out, climbs out of Eric’s passenger seat, and gently presses the door closed behind him. All the warm air gets sucked out as Dylan leaves.
Eric watches him walk away before punching the steering wheel as hard as he can.
*
At 9:45, boots crunch in the snow by Eric’s bedroom window.
He stretches up to unhook the lock and slide it open.
“I begged my parents to let me hang out with Brooks tonight,” Dylan complains, half in, and half out. His legs dangle down Eric’s bedroom wall, boots almost on the floor. “And they agreed, because they think-” He drops, carpet cushioning his landing. “-it would be ‘good for me’.” He shakes his head, and grabs Eric’s face with both hands. “Fuck that.”
With a grin squished by Dylan’s thumbs, Eric agrees, “I’m better.”
“You’re a homicidal maniac,” Dylan counters affectionately.
Eric leans into the kiss, and then says, “I have vodka.”
“Good, cause I brought this.” Dylan pulls two tall cans of beer out of his jacket pockets. “They were in my brother’s bag.”
Even beer and vodka is slim pickings compared to what they usually have. Fuck Brooks Brown for ratting him out to his parents.
“Good haul,” Eric appraises. “We can watch a movie once my parents go to bed.”
They dick around in Eric’s room for a while. Dylan flips through a rifle magazine on Eric’s bed, and Eric goes online for a bit, talks to a couple stupid people from school and then spends a little bit of time working on an assignment.
Just after 11, the creaky upstairs floor gets quiet.
Eric goes out into the TV room first. Waits at the bottom of the basement stairs, just to make sure, and then turns the cable box on, volume low.
“Poltergeist is on,” he says as Dylan creeps out of his bedroom.
Even though the plan was to drink and hang out, neither of them make it to midnight. It was a bullshit weekend, and a shitty Monday, and by 11:30 they’re both asleep on the couch, Dylan’s head cradled against Eric’s thigh.
*
Eric has to start seeing a new psychologist after the break and entry.
He charms his way through the first three therapy sessions, agrees to the new prescription they want him to try out, and acts really nice at the receptionist every time he has to stand there and choose a time for his next appointment.
As soon as he leaves the building, the smile drops off his face.
Then the emotion worksheets his therapist gave him for ‘homework’ get balled up and thrown onto the floor of his car.
“Stupid,” he says to himself, glaring in the rear view as he reverses out of the parking lot.
His shift at Blackjack is starting in ten minutes and it’s going to take him that long to get there. Jason hasn’t put him and Dylan on the same shift since November, so it’s going to be another shitty day flipping pizzas by himself. He has to wait for someone to cross the sidewalk before he can pull out of the parking lot, so he lights a cigarette and glares at them.
When he gets home a few hours later, Dylan is finally online again, but away.
His away message says fate put me in need of you.
Eric looks over at his bedroom window. Nothing but the cold black night swirling by outside.
*
Eric is minding his business in the hallway when a group of guys approach him.
“What kind of girl would do that to you?” one of them sneers, getting in Eric’s face. Eric grits his teeth together and tries to lean back. “I thought you were some kind of fag or something.”
He didn’t realize Dylan bit a hickey into the side of his neck until this guy and his stupid friends point it out. Eric keeps his expression as neutral as he can, even though his heart is thudding in his throat.
“What, don’t have an answer, pretty boy?” he jeers, shoving Eric by the shoulder this time. The force of it snaps Eric sideways, elbow banging into his open locker. “What kind of dumb slut would give that to you?”
The words are out of Eric’s mouth before he can stop them.
“Your mom,” he sneers. “And she said to say ‘hi’ when I saw you.”
Anger tightens all the muscles in the guy’s face. “What did you say?”
“So, hi-” Eric grins, cutting himself off when the guy picks him up by the front of his t-shirt, and slams him back into the locker.
He’s short enough that his toes dangle uselessly against the floor.
“Hey!” an authoritative voice calls from down the hall. Eric gulps against the collar of his shirt, which is digging into his throat and making it hard to breathe. “Get to class!”
Eric drops down onto his feet when the guy lets go of him, but he isn’t expecting it, so he falls back against the locker loudly, and then stumbles to the side. The guy laughs and jeers with his friends as they walk away.
“Fuck,” Eric gulps, rubbing his throat. His shirt is all stretched out in front now, too.
There’s a clack of heels on the shiny floor, and Eric thinks the teacher is coming to help him.
“The bell went five minutes ago,” she says, looking down at him. “You better hurry.”
Eric glares up at her, grabs his book off the floor, and slams the locker as he walks away.
*
They get letters about their court date in March.
“We need to come up with a plan,” Dylan says.
It’s 8 at night, and they’re sitting on top of the metal jungle gym in the park across from the movie theatre. They have tickets to see Progeny at 9.
“Yeah.” Eric lights a cigarette and snorts. “I can be a good boy.”
All they have to do is sell their newly reformed lifestyles for a little while. Long enough to get their parents and Eric’s psychologist off their backs.
“Not me,” Dylan admits, grinning at him crookedly. “I got suspended again.”
It’s news to Eric. His eyebrows jerk up, and, genuinely surprised, he snaps, “What?”
“I got caught ‘defacing school property’,” Dylan says in a serious voice. Then he crosses his arms over his chest and makes a face. “I scratched my locker with a knife. They called my dad and everything.”
Eric groans dramatically. “For how long?”
“Just a week.” Dylan shrugs and slumps his shoulders.
Their boots clunk together as Eric kicks his foot.
“That’s bullshit,” he says passionately, expression tightening up. He notices the curious look on Dylan’s face, and explains, “One of the faggots from the football team knocked me into my locker today, and nobody said shit about it.”
Dylan snorts and starts picking at his fingernails. “Guess they were too busy stringing me up to care.”
“What were you writing?” Eric asks curiously, flicking his burnt cigarette butt into the darkness below.
"My initial. V. That's when a TA caught me, anyway," he says, rolling his eyes. “I wanted to do an R, too. Thank god I didn't, because my dad probably would have figured it out.”
Eric doesn’t want to talk about that. Their parents finding out about the way they are with each other is even more terrifying than getting caught with the arsenal they’re building. If Eric’s parents knew about Dylan, he’d be on a one-way trip to conversion camp and he’d never see this town or NBK ever again.
“Was he mad?” he asks, curious. If Eric got suspended again, his dad would be pissed.
Dylan shrugs. “Only a little. He told me we would spend the whole week working on the car.”
“Gay,” Eric says back. He rubs the spot on his shoulder that took the brunt of the impact when he got smashed into the locker and adds, “At least they didn’t take your computer away this time.”
Dylan shrugs again.
“Yeah. I figure it’ll keep him off my back for a while.” He knots his eyebrows together and looks at Eric seriously. “Did you get hurt?”
Eric shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
Dylan doesn’t say anything else about it, but he does get that look on his face.
*
The movie is really, really bad.
There were maybe a dozen other people in the theatre when they got here, but 20 minutes into the movie, one couple gets up and leaves.
Eric doesn’t mind it. He and Dylan sit at the back by themselves, and Dylan laughs every time the movie flashes back to a scene where the main character gets artificially impregnated by an alien. It’s a pretty good way to spend an otherwise shitty Friday night. He’d sit around in the dark anywhere as long as Dylan was there, too.
It is annoying though. If his parents hadn’t revoked his car privileges, he and Dylan would be parked somewhere else right now. Eric drinks one of the two beers they snuck in, and then eats most of the box of Nerds that Dylan stole from the concession counter.
Every time he glances over at Dylan, Dylan is watching the movie with a smile on his face.
Eric bumps Dylan’s elbow off the arm rest and grins when Dylan looks over at him curiously.
Then he takes Dylan’s hand, and flattens it out over his zipper.
“What?” he mouths, arching his eyebrows. When Dylan gives him a look, Eric presses his hips up into Dylan’s hand, and covers it with both of his own.
Dylan narrows his eyes at Eric, and then glances over his shoulder at the exit. Eric knows what he’s looking for, but there are no employees hanging around, and the other people watching the movie are way down at the front of the theatre.
He seems to come to the same conclusion Eric did. As Dylan turns to look back at the screen, he spreads his fingers out and rubs the cradle of his palm over Eric’s dick.
Grinning, Eric tries to go back to watching the movie, but it’s too hard to concentrate.
His head gets all jumbled up with too many thoughts when Dylan touches him. He bites his lip and tries not to lift his hips up off the chair as Dylan rocks his hand back and forth between Eric’s legs.
Eric spreads his knees and tips his head back, staring up at the pitch black ceiling. His right elbow hurts because it’s taking his weight, and his left hand is still tight around Dylan’s forearm. He could probably come in his pants. He’d just have to walk home with dirty underwear.
The plot is finally starting to reach its climax when Dylan taps Eric’s belly with the back of his hand.
Eric looks over, disoriented, and watches as Dylan gives him their signal for ‘follow me.’ Eric nods, squeezes his dick one last time, and then presses his legs to the side so Dylan can get past him and go first.
They leave all their garbage and Dylan’s half finished beer behind.
Dylan worked in this theatre the summer before tenth grade, so he knows which screens are best, and where all the bathrooms are.
The rest of the mezzanine is quiet as they walk along the dim, confetti colored corridor. It smells like movie popcorn and cigarettes. Eric glances back over his shoulder and follows Dylan through an exit door.
On the other side is another hallway, this one bland and beige.
Dylan goes first again, bouncing down three shallow steps. He looks back to make sure Eric is still with him before he pops open another door.
It’s a custodial closet. Dylan pulls Eric in after him, and then locks them in by sticking a mop through the door handle.
“I knew kids who would come in here to smoke,” he explains, and Eric nods, and then they’re kissing.
Eric bangs back against the concrete wall, and it’s the same as getting thrown into his locker was, but it feels different on the inside. He twists both hands into the belly of Dylan’s t-shirt to pull him down, get him close, and Dylan stoops over, both arms around Eric’s narrow waist.
“Do you know what to,” Eric says into Dylan’s mouth. “How to do it?”
He’s breathing so fast he has to tip his head away from Dylan and press his skull into the wall behind them. Eric gulps, and swallows, and groans when Dylan kisses him one more time and untucks the sides of his t-shirt.
“I think about it all the time,” Dylan tells him, and Eric does too. It’s in his brain all the time, since he bought that magazine and for weeks before it. Dylan smiles crookedly. “I watch so much porn and pretend it’s you.”
Eric groans and lets his head fall to the side as Dylan goes back to sucking on his jaw. “Great.”
“I can be gentle,” Dylan says.
Maybe, or maybe not. Eric doesn’t even know if he wants it gentle. All the times he’s fantasized about sex, it’s been brutal. He thumps his head back again and swallows, throat dry. Dylan pulls away to look at him, and they stare at each other.
If this is like everything else, then Eric needs to be all in.
“You don’t have to be,” he says, and he means it. As long as it’s DK.
The corners of Dylan’s mouth lift up into a smile and he moves in to kiss Eric again. He makes it serious this time, and holds Eric by the jaw as he presses them against the wall. Eric holds onto Dylan’s shoulder with one hand, and unbuttons his BDUs with the other.
He’s been uncomfortably hard since they were watching the movie.
“Turn around,” Dylan tells him, so Eric pulls away and does that, moving so his nose almost bumps into the wall. “Tell me if it hurts.”
Eric won’t. He can take a hit, and he’ll take this, too. He wants to. He nods though, and tries to look back over his shoulder as he feels Dylan moving around. Dylan’s hands rest on Eric’s hips again, and he presses his mouth against the back of Eric’s shoulder.
“Don’t fuck around,” Eric pants, adrenaline making him agitated. “Just do it.”
Dylan grinds against the small of Eric’s back and twists his hands into Eric’s waist. “Bossy.”
“Yeah, well.” Eric’s heart starts to beat fast as Dylan tugs his belt open, and then his pants and his underwear down, until everything is bunched up around his thighs and his ass is hanging out like he’s about to get beat. A roll of terror and excitement edges through him. “I don’t want to get caught.”
Dylan grins and steps close again, shoving Eric’s t-shirt up around his chest.
“That’s the fun of it,” he says, and spits. “Just like lighting a bomb. Except this time, I'll kill anyone who sees us.”
An ugly whip of feelings crash through Eric’s chest. He turns his face to the side and grits, “DK.”
“I’m going,” Dylan whispers back, spitting again. He does something, Eric can’t see, and bites out a strangled, “Fuck.”
When Dylan grabs him again, Eric feels his dick press into his ass. Eric gets another surge of adrenaline, breathing fast, and steadies himself with both forearms pressed against the wall. He rests his forehead on them and closes his eyes.
Dylan wraps his lanky fingers around Eric’s hips and holds him still.
Eric doesn’t mean to, but he pants out a startled, “Fuck,” as nothing happens for a second, and then Dylan pulls an inch back and spits again, presses forward at a new angle, and sinks a little bit inside. Eric doesn’t know what happens, all of a sudden he has no control over himself, and his legs start to shake. He pants against his forearm, spit everywhere, and manages a, “Holy fuck, wait.”
It doesn’t hurt like he thought it would hurt, but his body starts pumping the adrenaline anyways.
He feels jerky and lightheaded as he stands there trying to catch his breath.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dylan is saying behind him, grip tight on Eric’s hips.
Eric widens his stance as much as he can with his pants choking him out around his thighs, and groans as his body tightens itself up and sends another round of shockwaves through his nervous system.
“Okay,” he finally says. He reaches for his dick. “Fuck, go, Dylan.”
Dylan spits again, and Eric feels it, and then he’s pushing in more, and Eric just breathes hard against the meat of his arm and keeps one hand tight around his dick because he doesn’t know what else to do.
“I’m trying so hard not to, to,” Dylan stammers out, repeating himself. “To come.”
Eric shakes his head and thunks temple first into the wall.
“You can,” he manages, brutally jerking himself off. “You can.”
Dylan lets out a shaky breath. He fucks Eric slow for a minute, and Eric groans, unable to stop himself from making noise, even if he sounds like a girl. He pushes himself back from the wall with his sweaty hand, and Dylan fucks him twice more before he pulls out abruptly.
“Fuck, don’t do that,” Eric complains, gulping, twisting closer to the wall.
Behind him, Dylan makes a tight, sharp noise, and then swears, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, ugh.”
“Jesus,” Eric groans, squeezing his eyes closed as he comes.
Dylan staggers forward, and they both fall against the wall, one of Dylan’s hands coming up to twist around Eric's waist with a squeeze.
It takes them a minute to catch their breath. Then Dylan quietly says, “If anyone hurts you, I really would kill them.”
And that’s where it starts.