As the bus pulled up, and the doors swung open I waited for the noise to wash over me. But just the drivers old country classics that two-stepped out -

Had everyone stayed home?

I walked aboard, and my boots almost echoing.

"Abbot." The driver nodded, and I nodded back.

The bus was as packed as always, I saw as I turned to them. I felt their eyes splashing over me like rain drops, running down my buzzcut to spatter at my feet.

Curious. Some...cautious. Skeptical. Surprised.

The attention had me briefly glancing down - making sure there wasn't a stain on my shirt, that my jeans were zipped up.

I walked down the aisle - and the sound finally began to pour in behind me - soft at first.

"Doors." And "Returnee?" "How long?"

Of course the whole town new most of it by now - because my blessedly sweet mother prayed, with her worship circle. For a miracle. And I was truly grateful the ladies were there for her, I just wish they hadn't prayed so loudly that not only God had heard it, but apparently the entire town.

As the bus returned to a more normal raucous, and glances I began to receive returned to the boredom I was use to, it still wasn't quite what it had been before -

Derek's loud hooting was the most obviously absent - staring down as I neared. I saw the tight grip he had on his phone -

I barely slowed - just enough.

Only somebody clever would even notice.

I saw Jason relaxed, every time I forgot how pretty he was - as he looked up at me and smiled, it surprised me as his chin came up in a nod but I was already looking past him.

Brandon.

I stared at him, looking at his arms, his neck and chest. Felt all that strength again over me, crushing me and already I was primed, I felt the flush - my readiness, to put myself against him and finish. He'd beaten me twice, but the match-up went to five.

So I'd turned to him with all my teeth bared in a snarling grin, with all the laughter. My laughter - in my eyes, to finally-

Dark circles had eclipsed his joy, the sparkling twilight - I had heard Eileen say it was awful; I knew he went to the dungeon, but Eileen had a woman's understanding. She wouldn't see what a man could find there -

I searched his features for all the fun and playfulness, that vulgar knowing that clashed over my sensibilities when I had been weak. All the challenge and casual arrogance, the invitation that had once left me breathless, I wanted to see it again.

Instead a wrinkled t-shirt, scruffy. His forehead flat as I had once thought his eyes to be, and the half-grin that was just a bulge, the limp of an injured man.

I felt all that building pressure of my excitement draining out. I was so disappointed, so deflated, I'd hardly caught Hannah as she glanced up at me, nearly causing me to trip. It was so brief. But she looked at me! Saw me!

Those eyes, not a drop of pity. Lovely and intelligent and - I sat down in the back, replaying it over and over in my mind, looking for all the meaning you could hold in a look. The murmurs of the bus forgotten, the mixed words -

Between surprised disbelief to jealous uncertainty the followed the edges of my name, repeated. Instead I thought of how her eyes had reached out like soft hands, as though I'd been a book upon a shelf to catch her eye.

A story, intriguing, as she looked over my cover and thought to open, and I wanted to feel her fingers trace these words, to hold the velum of my binding. Would she enjoy my story? Dark ink pleasures writ over white paper possibilities?

I breathed deeply, trying to catch the softness of her scent in the air, but found the musk of leaked deodorant, and Brandon stood in front of me. His shoulders crushed but still pushing back the aisle with their width.

He dropped to my left - a ripple that jostled the mechanical movements of the bus, and finally spoke.

"It's true."

I nodded.

The rustle of fabric - the slow tap, tap, tap, and cut of tobacco over everything else, filling his grim silence and expression. I felt none of the awesome presence from before, just the shadow of his attention tasing over me.

"I barely survived..." It was almost a gasp. The way the words broke out of his mouth, scrambling past his teeth, "One day. I had to run, I hid...I couldn't do anything, even then, I almost...I barely survived."

The slow shake of his head, as though he could feel the heavy memory bouncing around in his head, still bruising his ego. I realized he wasn't talking to me - not so much as confessing -

His voice was hoarse - and I knew if I turned my head I'd see - the leak of emotion, and I knew what he felt, the shame. The sin - "Best. She jumped up...I hadn't slept in days, I didn't mean to...I was having a nightmare and she just wanted to -"

The mess of his words, as they tumbled out faster out of order, all his mistakes, his failings. I heard the fear that had poisoned his heart, that was still beating through his chest and poisoning his mind, I could hear the pant of breath that came like he was running, still running. And I realized -

He never fell. He didn't trip over himself into the depression, that muddy ravine, like I had. He hadn't stopped to cower because he survived on his feet, had been strong enough -

I throbbed with admiration, with the audacity -

He had literally ran to a dungeon. After everybody poured out in pieces. Ran through it. Chased by monsters - Survived.

Was terrified - still terrified, that he was weak, or broken, a coward - because he had to run to live. So he runs right to me, the only person that could possibly judge him because I'm the only person he knows that survived longer, lays all the shame out right in public without a thought - all the fear.

Doesn't hold anything back -

For I could tell him what was wrong with him. So he could fix it.

And he called himself a coward!

Did he think I wasn't afraid?

I laughed. I laughed until I was crying with him, wiping away my own tears, I had to make myself stop to look over at him - I didn't know what to say. Because there weren't words -

Silence.

And I handed him a cookie.

I felt him take it from my hand and look it over, heard the slow bite and finally, the rough slide of calloused hands over skin and beard, the soft sniffle turn into a rough snort that was almost laughter.

And then we were both laughing. Together.

I turned my head and found what I needed - the half grin pulled over his tucked dip, the peppered sheen where he'd licked crumbs off dry lips. I saw skin toned and glowing flush with our new vitality. I saw the flex of his body that rippled easily as he looked back at me, cocking his head to a question -

Yes -

Eyes hungry. The fear fled, chased off by laughter -

Yes!

A deeper need taking it's place -

YES!

In the silence - the words unspoken, still they roar!

WE ARE MEN!

Fight. Fight. Fight.

Each beat of the heart, each breath - matched. The match -

Fight. Fight. Fight.

To smash together, two rocks, hard and unyielding, to knock off the round grip of fear and weakness until we are just sharp edges, honed to cut the softest touch -

To cut past the guard of each others defenses and find the weakness, to know and penetrate it so we can fill it with strength.

We were standing, staring at each other. His brow twisted with hard ridges, inches away then connecting, pushing at each other - I dared him to make the first move, offered him the advantage, teasing him to admit he was weaker - that he needed it.

"Get the hell off the bus!" Bus? Swinging over to the driver the world came crashing back into place, the bus empty, stopped, for a moment it had just been me and him.

Against the world. Against ourselves.

How close we'd been to fighting right there - ripping each other apart over the seats.

She pulled back from my stare, grumbling - "...I need a damn cigarette."

The urge pushed away, not far. Just saved for later - I left to find new books, and he left with friends,

Later -

Mrs. Bertie's, Math. I was sitting in the back already - when the bell rang. I felt her pause as she saw me take the seat, a suspicious narrowing of her eyes. But she didn't say anything - as students trickled in, just before the bell.

Brandon glanced over, then came right to his seat, next to mine, the dark circles washed away, and I felt relief that his sadness and doubt had truly passed.

The last thing I wanted was to kick him while he was already down - as he lowered himself into the seat, and felt my hand.

The pinch.

I felt him tense in surprise, as he threw his neck around and stared at me - wide eyed before dancing back into the laughter we had shared on the bus, not half a grin but all.

He raised a fist as though to punch my shoulder, as I returned his grin, then turned away.

"You liked that Brandon." I whispered, "Didn't you."

I tried to swallow the laughter, the giggle that escaped from feeling his ass tighten in surprise, shaking my head at that big fish eye'd surprise. The flush of embarrassment!

Class went by so slow, gym was still hours away - I couldn't focus on math. I spent the time crafting, working inside myself, occupied with the projects as the only distraction that would even let time pass until I made it to gym.