Take Your Hand in Mine

Alex stood on the curb outside of his school building, being the only straggler left. Everyone else had dispersed one way or the other nearly ten minutes before, and Peter, Alex's drunk of a dad, still hadn't manage to show up to take his son home. Most normal people would call up a friend, start walking, or take the bus, but Alex couldn't. Not only was he cellphone-less, but he couldn't afford a bus ride (nor did he know the schedule) and it was a near hour long walk.

"Should've just signed up to get on the god damn school bus every fucking day," Alex found himself grumbling to nobody in particular, and he allowed his eyes to roam the main road about fifty feet away, scanning the cars passing in hopes of finding his father's beat-up Sedan.

A car pulling up in front of Alex had the young boy jumping a bit, but when he saw it was just another guy who was probably a bit older—but definitely skinnier and probably wouldn't be able to cause much harm—in a sleek, old, black Ford V8, he relaxed.

"So what's your boyfriend gonna say when he finds out you went for a ride with me?" the man asked, thick eyebrow raised and almost, dare Alex say it, seeming like just an all-around genuine person.

Alex laughed a bit, shook his head. "I don't have a boyfriend."

"So what're you waiting for?" the older boy pressed, smirk threatening to split his lips.

"My dad said he'd pick me up," Alex answered around an embarrassed sigh, shrugging his shoulders to seem a bit more casual and like it wasn't a big deal to be nearly eighteen and still need rides to and from school each day.

"What's your name?" the darker-haired man asked next.

"Alex."

"Do you like waiting for your old man anymore, Alex?"

"Not really," Alex admitted without so much as a single moment’s hesitation.

"Do you like movies?" was the next question to hit his ears, and Alex had to divert his eyes from the attractive man more or less asking him on a date so that he didn't start grinning and give anything away.

When he finally did look back to the older boy sitting in the car, he became momentarily entranced by the pleading puppy dog eyes being thrown his way and, really, how was he supposed to say no?

Before Alex truly knew what was happening, he was throwing his backpack into the back seat. Climbing into the car itself took a bit of trouble due to how his legs would hardly move in his constricting skinny jeans (if he wanted to keep his balls, at least), but when it was finally accomplished, he got himself comfortable and turned to the older boy.

"Can this thing go really fast?" he asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

The only he answer he got came in the form of a smirk, a muttered, "Oh, yeah." Without much of a warning, the elder was twisting the key in the ignition. The engine roared to live before they were peeling away from the curb and speeding down the road.

------

"That was really cool," Alex gushed as the pair walked from the theater side-by-side. They'd gone to see some romance movie called Rebel Love Song. Sort of like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet, really. Minus all of the death. "I wish I could live like that, just... leave it all behind and just... go. Y'know?"

"Yeah," the darker-haired boy agreed softly. He suddenly stopped his walking, causing Alex to turn and follow his lead. "So... you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?" Alex retaliated, genuinely not knowing what the attractive kinda-but-not-really stranger was implying.

The taller male sort of laughed and looked down, shrugging his shoulders. "My name."

And yeah, Alex realized, he still kind of hadn't uncovered that information; it hadn't really seemed all that important. Not in a bad way or anything, but it just hadn't been brought up. Nonetheless, he hummed in faux deliberation and shook his head, turning back towards the car.

"Not yet," he said, throwing a playful glance over his shoulder. "I wanna see where this goes first."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

The elder seemed thoughtful for a moment before he nodded. "I like what I'm seeing."

"Me, too," Alex agreed, biting at his bottom lip as he turned back around and stepped forward again. Neither boy hesitated in leaning in for a kiss, and it was over almost as soon as it started.

------

"I live right across the park," Alex said, pointing in the general direction of his house through the dark. "I can just... walk there. My dad'll probably be home, and I think it's best for both of us if he doesn't see you..."

He leaned in for another kiss with the declaration. Their lips lingered a few moments longer than absolutely necessary, and the smile Alex was donning looked as though it wanted to full-on split his face in half.

Grabbing his bag and jumping from the car, Alex began his walk. A quick wave was sent to the elder, who sped off with another small grin.

Alex was happy. Happier than he'd been in a long time. Of course, the closer he got to his home, the quicker that good feeling diminished. He knew he'd be in trouble. Not only was it after ten, but he hadn't asked for his father's permission—not that he'd be given it in the first place.

While dwelling on what his punishment could possibly be this time, Alex didn't notice three other guys who were clearly older than him—all drinking straight from bottles of whiskey. Their individual alcohol intake level was probably higher than all of their IQs combined.

"Look who it is, guys," the first guy said. He was a bit shorter than Alex, with a mop of curly, near-bleach blonde hair and muscles like bowling balls. He was also the one to catch Alex's attention, who could only stand there like a deer caught in headlights. "Little dark and pale's gonna bone us all tonight in the park."

And just like that, Alex's fears melted away. "No, you guys don't look like you need help with that. Just do each other."

"Dirty words for such a pretty mouth," the guy on the right said. He, like the first, was shorter than Alex, but definitely built just as well. His crew cut made him seem bigger, somehow. More disciplined and intimidating.

"He can say whatever he wants to me," growled the third guy, who was perhaps just a quarter of an inch taller than Alex, yet as wide as the other two. Dark hair, green eyes and a lip piercing advanced, hands dropping down to tug Alex's belt from the loops of his pants.

Before Alex could even think to retaliate or attempt to push them away, a bottle was hitting the third guy in the back of the head—Alex was even willing to bet that it was the same whiskey bottle they'd been passing around before his arrival.

The young teen only risked sticking around long enough to see who his savior was. Of course, it was none other than the man he'd gone on the kinda-sort of date with, but he was still a little surprised. He didn't need to stick around; he didn't need to save Alex.

The rest of the journey home was spent running, Alex's belt undone and half hanging from his jeans with the button popped and the fly down. He was hoping, praying even, that the front door would be unlocked so that he could just get in the house and to his room before his father noticed, but his luck had never been that good.

It was as Alex was contemplating his possible actions and route to freedom did the front door open, Peter Gaskarth and a bottle of beer behind it.

"You want some?" he sneered, dangling the bottle in Alex's line of vision. "Huh?"

"What?" Alex breathed, still in shock from almost being sexually abused and having to run nearly a half a mile.

"You think you can just stay out all night? Come back whenever you please?" He stopped there, drunken vision fully taking in Alex's disheveled appearance. "That vagrant had a little trouble getting off your pants, huh? Maybe you should stop wearing such pussy jeans; anything else would come off so much easier. He could slide it right off."

"Dad, it's not what you think," Alex pressed desperately, hoping to catch something of a break for once.

At just about that time, however, a familiar Ford V8 rolled up on the curb, the driver watching the scene unfold intently. Peter didn't like that, and the only action he saw fit was backhanding Alex across the face before moving out of the doorway and pointing inside, spitting a demand of, "Get in there!"

He turned to face the man in the Ford next, screaming out a, “Hey! Yeah, you. How’s my son? Was he good?” The darker-haired boy could only shake his head, gaze moving down to the steering wheel. Out of his peripherals, he say a light come on in the window to the right of the front door, and he didn’t drive away as he heard Alex’s father call a, “Get back here,” to his son.

The door was slammed shut, and at the same time, Alex climbed from the window, duffle bag in hand. Not a single second was wasted before he started running towards the car, throwing the bag into the backseat and hoisting himself into the front. As the engine was started up, Mr. Gaskarth opened up Alex’s bedroom door, bleary eyes taking notice of the open window and the sudden disappearance of his son.

------

The night was spent driving through lit up tunnels and along dark freeways until they ended up in New York. They were tired and broke, but the older male (who Alex learned was named Jack) was no novice to life on the road. They found a hotel—The Quin—and walked in as casually as they could, Jack’s arm wrapped protectively around Alex’s shoulders. Finding a floor with a maid on it wasn’t too difficult, and once that had been accomplished, they simply had to wait for her to turn her back before grabbing one of the spare keys from the cart in the hall and opening up a random door.

Alex couldn’t help the way his face lit up as he threw himself back onto the king-sized bed. It was bigger than what he was used to, and much more comfortable. The younger boy’s eyes slipped closed lightly as he relished in the feeling, and he only opened them once more when the bed dipped.

“This place is awesome,” he said softly, arms reaching up to curl around Jack’s neck to bring him down, their mouths not touching just yet. The elder was holding himself up over the other boy’s body with his hands on either side of his head, knees next to his hips.

“I’m glad you think so,” Jack said with an easy grin. He leaned in the rest of the way then, lips pressing to Alex’s gently before he pulled away to lay their foreheads together. “Are you sure this is what you want? I mean… I could take you back. You could finish school, get a job… You don’t have to live with him,” he stopped there, doing his best to not get himself worked up over the things he’d witnessed only the night before, “and you can just… you can be normal. You don’t have to do this with me.”

“I want to,” Alex assured, tilting his head enough to rub the tips of their noses together. “I wanna be with you if you wanna be with me.”

“I do,” Jack agreed quickly, settling himself down over Alex’s waist and then shifting to kiss the younger boy some more, hands moving to just touch. Cheeks, neck, hair, arms—it was a sort of comfort to Jack, really. Knowing that someone actually wanted to give being on the road with him a shot. And not just any someone. No, it was someone who he could actually see himself falling in love with, even after only knowing him for less than a day.

They lay like that for a while, swapping lazy presses of lips and swipes of tongues with Jack sometimes moving onto Alex’s neck and jaw, leaving tender kisses in his wake.

“Hey,” Alex whispered after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Come take a shower with me?” Alex suggested, but it was more of a demand. Not that Jack minded.

“Lead the way, baby.”

------

Weeks were spent with the two hotel hopping. It’s not that they didn’t have the money, but as long as they didn’t need to spend any of it, then why do it in the first place? No, their cash was used on food, gas, and they even stopped at a tattoo parlor so that Alex could get a little skull and crossbones cartoon figure behind his ear—“It’ll be like a guide,” he’d said, “because that’s, like, my weak spot, and… y’know?” He’d sounded a little uncomfortable about explaining his reasoning to Jack, who could only pull the shorter boy into his side and tell him what a cute (and really kinda sexy) idea he thought it was.

A little more than a month after that, about three months since Alex had left, Jack decided to pop the question: “So are you sure you still don’t regret being with me? With not getting your diploma and living a normal life?”

Alex had laughed and shook his head. “This is so much better than what everyone else is doing. I wouldn’t trade being with you for the world. I never thought it’d be so… so easy to just leave. Thank you.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow at that, not completely understanding why he was getting thanks for not doing anything in the first place. “For what?”

“For showing me how easy it was. For getting me out of there. I don’t think I ever truly thanked you for saving me from those other bastards that night. I just… thank you so much, Jack. I love you.” The younger boy was hesitant in his admittance, but he knew it was what he wanted, what he needed, to say. When Jack didn’t respond right away, he almost had a panic attack.

The elder, on the other hand, was in a little bit of shock. He didn’t think it was capable for someone to love him. He was just a high school drop out with no ambition or plans, after all. He, as Mr. Gaskarth had put it (and for lack of a better term), was nothing more than a vagrant—one who hadn’t even tried to get into his son’s pants that night, but that isn’t even important anymore.

A good thirty more seconds passed before Jack was reaching out for Alex’s wrist. All it took was a gentle tug for the smaller boy to crash into his chest, but then Jack was pushing him away enough so that he could lean down to connect their lips, trying to convey his feelings in his movements.

“I love you, too,” he replied as he pulled away, immediately diving back in for another kiss. “Fuck, I love you, too.”

“Yeah?” Alex inquired in a whisper, eyes searching for any sign of a lie. He’d learned how to tell when Jack was lying, and while he didn’t do it often (really, only when they were talking to hotel workers and other such people), it still came in pretty damn handy.

“Of course,” Jack murmured, rubbing their noses together before kissing the corner of Alex’s mouth sweetly, lips moving along perfectly tanned (yet somehow still so very pale) skin with an ease only he could acquire at such a time.

“Hey,” Alex suddenly said, and Jack already knew to expect something that could probably cause them some trouble in the long run. When Jack hummed, Alex continued: “I think we should do something.”

“What kinda something?” the elder pushed, already formulating plans in his mind. They could break into an abandoned building, or drop water balloons on people from the roof of the hotel, or they co—

“We should take a picture.”

The taller man faltered there, not really understanding what was so important about taking a picture. Alex wasn’t really one to commemorate things, so he didn’t understand why he’d want to do it for their first ‘I love you’s. That, of course, didn’t stop him from agreeing, and soon the younger was off to find his camera.

------

Back at the Gaskarth household in Baltimore, Peter Gaskarth was just waking up to begin his day. Life had been much more difficult without Alex around—now there was no one else to do the chores or get him more beer when he didn’t feel like standing up.

Nonetheless, he still drank, he was still a slob, and he still didn’t care about the well-being of his son. Alex Gaskarth could’ve died in an explosion for all he cared.

That is, until he went out to check the mail, finding an envelope with no return address. It looked like his son’s handwriting (what he could remember of it, at least), and he opened up the letter as he stood at the end of the driveway, scowl etched deep onto his face.

When the flap had been peeled open, the hung-over man was reaching inside and pulling out a single black-and-white photograph—one of his son and his son’s vagrant kissing, each with a middle finger up and directed at the camera.

A growl was the only thing Peter Gaskarth was able to manage, wrist flicking out harshly to fling the picture and envelope anywhere away from him. He didn’t care. Alex—was that even his name?—was no longer his problem, and that was all that really mattered now anyway.