Driving Backwards

William was curled in his usual corner with his notebook and pen. He ocassionally looked up to see Sisky and Mike exchanging ideas or just randomly playing their instruments. He was trying to write something; anything at this point.

But he was at a brick wall. It wasn't a writer's block. It was a fucking brick wall. It really wasn't a pleasant thing. He was too preoccupied with other thoughts.

He glared at the black jacket that was hanging opposite him on a random chair. He glared at it as if it was fucking Gabe himself.

When he had found the jacket that morning, shoved accidentally under his bed, while looking for his shoes, he seriously considered strangling himself with it for a while. He took that jacket in his hands, staring at it as if it was death itself coming to take him away.

He finally had decided to just carry it with him for the day. Torturing himself. Yes, he'd be the first to admit that he was a slight masochist. He never put it on; he just carried with him and glared at it while he did. People stared at him weirdly, but, quite frankly, he didn't give a shit.

Seriously, he wanted to take all of the fucking hoodies in the world and burn them all in a huge hate bonfire. Nothing would make him happier.

"Dude."

Bill looked over in the direction of the voice. "What?" he asked.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?" he questioned.

Bill simply glared in response.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Mike. It's not you. He's just PMSing is all. He misses his lover," Sisky informed him.

"Fuck you. He's not my fucking lover," Bill spat. He wanted to take Sisky's head and smush it.

"Dude, you carried around his other hoodie for a month when he left it with you. I'm not going to let you do that again," Sisky pointed out.

"Pft, what the fuck are you going to do about it?" Bill challenged.

Sisky smirked. "Oh, you'll see."

* * * *

Bill couldn't stop cursing at his friends, not even if his own life depended on it. They tied him up, kidnap him in a van, and were about to take him somewhere dangerous.

Okay, not really. But they really did throw him in the back of Mike's car and demand to know where Gabe's house was.

"Fuck you! I don't know where it is!" Bill lied.

"Bullshit! We picked him up before we went to the party. We picked him up at his house, hello," Sisky retorted.

"I don't remember where it is!" Bill insisted.

"Ya, okay. You remember everything, Bill. Nice fucking try," Mike said, rolling his eyes. He peered out of the window to his left. "Is that it right there?"

Sisky leaned over him to look out the window. He saw a big blue van in the driveway. "I think it is, actually. HIT IT!" he exclaimed.

Bill yelped as Mike turned the car into a massive u-turn. He ended up getting thrown against the door. He hated sitting in the backseat. His legs were too fucking long for it.

Then, he was being pulled from the car under someone else's accord. He wasn't sure who had grabbed him, Mike or Sisky, but whoever it was would end up paying. "Let me fucking go! Rape! RAPE!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

He was set on the sidewalk and the black jacket was thrown at him by Sisky. The pair then continued to hop in their car and speed away as if their lives depended on it.

Bill blinked, looking at the jacket in his hands. His friends had completely ditched him so he could return a fucking jacket. He didn't even give a shit about the damn jacket. He hated the jacket. He wished the jacket was alive so he could kill it.

He heard the sound of a door opening behind him, and he turned around slowly. Gabe was standing there, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. No jacket. "B-bill?" he asked.

"Um, ya," William mumbled, stepping forward and shoving the jacket in Gabe's hands. "Here." He then began to walk away. It'd take him a little while to get home, but he didn't care. He just needed to get the fuck out of there.

"William! Wait!" Gabe called, running after him. He wasn't about to let him go. Not after that.

Bill stopped and turned slowly. "What?" he answered in a complete monotone.

"Um... uh... why were you screaming?" Gabe questioned.

"Mike and Sisky would decided it would be really fucking funny to see me get my heart broken again," Bill told him, turning back around and continuing to walk away.

Gabe's throat constricted. He needed to do something, and quick. He couldn't let William go away like that. Not after the look on his face. Will had looked as if he was going to completely collapse right in front of him. He had to think fast. It was now or never. Sick or swim. Do or die. "Bill, please, wait," he said, his voice threatening to break. He was twenty-three fucking years old. He wasn't supposed to ever have the urge to cry.

Bill stopped walking, but didn't turn. Gabe could tell that he wiped his face with his hand. He still said nothing, but just stood there with his back to him.

Gabe stepped forward gingerly, placing a hand lightly on Bill's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Bill shrugged it off. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't even fucking matter," he muttered.

Gabe bit his lip; it was obvious that the younger man was pissed. "It does matter. I should have talked to you. But I'm a coward and I know it. I just... I don't know."

Bill sighs. "Whatever, Gabe. I need to get home."

"I'll drive you," Gabe offers.

Bill shakes his head.

"Don't be stubborn. Get in the van."

"No."

Gabe simply picked up the boy, reminiscing of the week previous when he had done the same thing. It hurt, he had to admit.

"Dude, this is fucked up," Bill stated.

"We're fucked up. Learn to deal," Gabe retorts, setting Bill in the passenger seat and climbing into his own.

Bill looks at Gabe's face, looking to see if there's any bit of emotion.

There's not. Gabe keeps his lips in a straight line, pulling his keys out of his pocket and slipping them into the ignition.

William glared at him. "Why didn't you answer my phone calls?" he demanded, getting it out there. He knew it would come up sooner or later, so why not now?

Gabe throws the black hoodie on as he continues to drive with his knees. "I was busy," he answered.

"Ya fucking right. I barely know you and I already know you're a shit liar," Bill informed him.

"I was scared of confrontation, all right?" Gabe mumbles, taking a right on the stop sign.

Bill frowned. "Confronting what? We're just friends, Gabe. Well, at least we were."

"You know it was more than that."

"Oh really? I wasn't aware of the fact you thought of me that way," Bill grumbles sarcastically.

Gabe gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. "Will you stop being a child for two seconds and shut up? You know the way it was heading."

"How was I supposed to know? You fucking give me so many mixed signals that I don't know what to think. You tell me you're gay and flirt with me. Then you give me a mini lecture about growing up and push me away. So, I apologize that I fucking don't have my crystal ball with me today." William was so mad, he's sure he's probably shaking.

"Exactly why we shouldn't do anything. I'm out of school, and you still need to graduate. I haven't had a real relationship in years, okay? I am not what you're looking for. So quit throwing yourself at me like an insecure little girl." Gabe was equally angry. He couldn't believe he'd spent the last week pining over this kid.

"Quit making fucking excuses to cover up the fact that you're just scared!"

Gabe jerks to a stop. "I'm not scared."

"Wow, so convincing."

"We're at your house. Get out."

"Gladly." William slid from the van and slammed the door. Fucking prick. He went into his house, suddenly feeling the need to write something.