Driving Backwards

William Beckett lied on the ground, palms up, nose up. The winter air surrounded his hair and every other part of him as he kept his delicate eyes closed and focused on his heart rate. There was nothing left to do, his apendages had since gone numb, his fingertips icy to the touch. He should have been wearing a jacket and long pants, after all, it was the beginning of January, but that didn't seem to phase him in the slightest. This was his intention.

Loving is too hard, he decided. They say it's better to have loved and lost, but they were wrong. It was too hard and too difficult. So stupid. So irrational. So pointless. He was the one always getting hurt in the end.

He wondered what his mother would say if he never came home. Would she be surprised that he fell asleep outside? What if he froze to death and no one ever found his body?

Bill was seventeen-years-old, set to be one year older in just one month. He hadn't seen much of life outside the Chicago suburb, but that didn't matter. He figured he knew just about everything he needed to for right now; nothing ever changed in Hoffman Estates. Not anything relevant, anyway. He was tall, around six foot and two inches, and was incredibly skinny. He hated how skinny he was; it just made him look even more awkward and girly. His dark hair sometimes fell into his eyes, hiding the wide-eyed browns from the world. He played guitar and wrote music. He even had his own acoustic CD thing, but no one had really heard to much it. His life was currently a dead end street. He lived there with his friends Mike and Adam.

Sighing to himself, he refused to open his eyes to the sunlight. He didn't want to see the world yet. He wanted to stay in the bubble he had built for himself and never come out.

"Hey, kid," someone called, kicking his shoulder.

They sounded far away to Bill, but he opened his eyes to see a man, probably in his early twenties, looming over him with an unreadable expression. "What?" he asked.

The man frowned, and mumbled something in Spanish. "Aye dios mio, él está intentando probablemente congelar a la muerte en propósito, y voy a tener que hablarlo fuera de él. Grande. Apenas qué necesito," it sounded like, but Will had no idea what it meant. "Like... seriously, why are you lying in the grass in January wearing nothing but shorts, a tank top, and shoes?" he questioned.

Will sat up, peering up at him. "I felt like it," he answered shortly.

The man sat next to him, allowing Will to get a better look at him. He was tan, with a strong chin, dark brown eyes and curly hair to match, and he wearing a purple jacket and jeans that were ripped in the knees. "Dude, it's fucking forty degrees. Do you realize that?" the man asked.

"Yes, I do. I'm just relaxing. Well, I was until you interrupted it," Bill retorted smartly.

"Well, excuse me for being a good samaritian and checking to see if you were alive. But whatever. What are you, like, fifteen, maybe?" the man replied sarcastically.

"Almost eighteen," Bill grumbled. He was always getting mistaken for being younger than he was.

"Well, whatever, you're still a kid. And I was a kid once, and I know that kids don't just lie in parks for fun."

"Ya, maybe you were yesterday," Bill scoffed.

"Ha, ha," the man faux-laughed. "You gonna tell me your name and why you're here?"

"Um, no," Bill stressed, shaking his head. "You could be a crazy rapist who likes to rape kids like me."

The man raised an eyebrow. "If I wanted to rape you, I would have given you candy first. It's the rapist rule of thumb," he explained.

Bill rolled his eyes. "Naturally."

"So, the name?" the man repeated, giving Bill a look that made him want to spill his guts right there.

"William. Or Bill, Will, Bilvy, or whatever other name you can come up with. I basically answer to anything," he informed him. "You?"

"Gabe," he answered.

"Just Gabe?" Bill verified.

"Just Gabe," he stated.

"Well, okay then. Nice to see you then, I guess..." Bill trailed off uncertainly, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

"Don't beat around the bush, kid. Why are you torturing yourself in the cold?" Gabe demanded.

"I told you already. No reason," Bill lied.

"Ya, and I told you already I think you're full of shit."

Will sighed, pushing his hair away from his cold face. He was sure he was flushed beyond compare already. "My girlfriend broke up with me," he mumbled. "Said I was too pretty."

"Ouch. That's rough. That happened to me once... She just didn't like I could pull off skinnys better than she could," Gabe explained.

Will giggled. "Exactly! She was just jealous of my lucious hips!"

Gabe gave him a goofy lop-sided smile. "So you were trying to freeze those lucious hips?"

"Well, like... no. I just wanted to get away. It's a unique feeling. It's like you're part of the earth when you're lying there... Like you're part of something more..." Bill immediately slapped his hand over his mouth. "I'm so sorry, I was rambling, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," Gabe cut him off. "So... what are you doing tonight?"

Bill's heartbeat could be heard pounding up to his ears at a rapid pace. What was he incinuating? "Uh, going to the Midtown show," he mumbled.

Gabe nodded, standing up. "Cool. Maybe I'll see you there." He then proceeded to unzip his jacket and throw it in Bill's lap. "And put some clothes on," he stated, walking away.

Will sat frozen, looking at the cotton pile on his lap. He was so unsure of what had just happened, but that didn't stop him from doing what Gabe had ordered immediately.