Simon pulled into the parking lot of the diner, his headlights sweeping the front and reflecting off the grimy windows and faded sign in the front door. He sighed at the sight of the place, as he parked at the end of a row. As establishments went, it wasn't the greatest, with the peeling booths, cracked linoleum, and the smell of old oil and stale food. He wished David would just quit already, and then the two of them could get as far away from this town as possible.

The thought put a smile on his face as he walked through the door, setting off the little bell above. It was just a little after seven, but the place was already dead. The only customer was a trucker catching a nap in a back booth with his booted feet up on the table. The old proprietor's wife was sitting at the counter and gave him a toothy smile. Just when he was bracing himself for small talk, the kitchen door swung open behind her, and David stepped out.

"Oh," David said, blinking and pausing at the sight of his brother. "Simon. What...?"

"Surprise," Simon said, beaming from ear to ear. "I thought we could take a drive up the coast, maybe stop for some dinner. You're off right?"

"Uh, yeah, but—" David began. Just then the bell over the door dinged as it opened, and his gaze flicked past Simon's shoulder. "Hi."

"Hi," Jason said, coming in and letting the door close behind him.

Simon forced his grimace into a smile as he turned around to face the other man. He met the cool green gaze and widened his smile. "Major Travis," he said brightly. "It's nice to see you again."

Jason's jaw clenched and unclenched as his eyes flicked from Simon to David and back.

"You two met before?" David asked. Coming out from behind the counter, he stood between them, but looked up at Jason. "When?"

Jason met the dark eyes and opened his mouth, but it was Simon who answered.

"I can explain," Simon said smoothly, touching David's elbow. "It's what I came to do tonight. So, why don't we—"

"No," David said, frowning as he pulled away. "Tell me now. Jason?"

Simon's eyes flashed with annoyance as David turned to the other man first.

"It's nothing," Jason said. "We met briefly outside the school a few days ago."

"Days ago?" David glanced at Simon then back to Jason. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'll tell you," Simon said. "Because I went to Jason and asked him to do what was best for you, and he refused."

Jason gave a brief, sharp laugh. "That's some wording."

"I was only looking out for you," Simon said, ignoring the other man and speaking to his brother. "I wanted you to be able to make your decision without thinking you owed anything to anyone."

"David doesn't think he owes me anything," Jason said sharply. He turned to David, looking for reassurance, but the look on the young man's face took the heat from his voice. "Do you, David?"

David hesitated, and that was all it took.

"Well," Jason said. "I didn't realize I was holding you back. My apologies." Without another word he turned and walked out of the diner, setting the bell above the door jingling violently.

**

"Jason!" David called, hurrying out into the parking lot after him. "Jason!"

At his car, Jason stopped and turned around. "What?"

"I didn't mean it like that," David said. "Please, don't misunderstand. I do owe you. But—" he added quickly, stepping forward and taking hold of Jason's arms as the other man made to turn away— "it's not the way you think. It's not an obligation."

"Are you sure about that, David?"

Dark brows furrowed.

"You asked if I was done with you," Jason continued. "That night when you came home and said Simon asked you to leave with him. You asked if I was done with you, as if you thought I was only taking payment in return for helping you."

David looked up at him, barely able to see the face of the figure that was backlit by the lamppost. "You asked me the same thing, though," David said. "Didn't you?" His grip on Jason's arms tightened ever so slightly. "So, didn't you think I was only using you in return?"

The other man's head turned and bowed. No answer voice came from the shadowed face, and that was answer enough. David's grip loosened and his hands slipped down, from Jason's arms to his wrists, his fingers, and then off entirely. They stood in silence.

"You should go," Jason said, finally. "Talk to your brother. I'll see you later."

David wanted to say more, but there was no more to say. So, all he said was, "Okay."

**

The car cruised along the highway, its sleek design cutting through the wind, the engine a quiet hum lost in the sound of the wind. The windows and sunroof were open, letting in cool night air smelling of rain and pine needles. Simon, behind the wheel, glanced at the silent figure in the passenger seat. After the other man had left, David had got into his car with barely a word, and now sat with his head back on the head rest, staring out the window.

"I'm sorry," Simon said. "I didn't mean to upset you. I should have told you we met sooner."

"It's fine," came the murmured reply, the words almost blown away on the wind.

"Despite how it happened," he said, "I'm glad you're here. Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Maybe we can stop for a movie then."

"If you want."

Simon glanced at him, concerned and slightly nervous. He'd never dealt with David like this before. He shifted in his seat, his grip adjusting on the wheel. "Is there something you'd like to do?"

"Can we just...drive for a while?"

"What's the use of a fancy car if you can't drive it, right?" Simon said with a breathy laugh.

So, they drove, the highway zipping past in a dark, forested blur. As they entered the outskirts of the town, where forest gave way to wild grasses and billboards on the ground, David began to cough.

"Are you okay?" Simon asked, frowning.

"Just a little dust," David said, covering his mouth.

"There's water in the glove box," Simon said.

Leaning forward David opened the compartment, then stopped. Too late, Simon remembered what he had in there.

"What is this?" David said. Reaching inside, he took out a sheaf of college pamphlets and applications, prefilled with his information. Except in the space for his address, it wasn't the apartment he shared with Jason, but Simon's apartment listed—in Portland.

"I can explain," Simon began hurriedly. "I was only—"

"I can't believe this," David murmured.

"David, listen," Simon tried, "I haven't done anything yet, I was only hoping when I filled out those applications."

David flipped through the pamphlets. "These aren't even the colleges I was going to apply to. Or the programs."

"Yes," Simon said slowly. "Ms. Davis told me where you did, and I thought these might be better for you. And I know the program isn't what you were going for, but business is a much better—"

"Stop the car," David said.

Simon glanced at him. "What?"

"I said stop the car," David said. "Now."

His voice wasn't loud or harsh, but there was a firmness to it Simon had never heard before. The kind of firmness that made children and pets did as told. He decelerated and nosed the car onto the shoulder of the road. There was nothing around, save an old, faded billboard for dental services. David got out, and Simon followed.

"David," he called after the boy, who was moving away from the car. "David, wait. Talk to me."

"Now you want to talk?" David said, still walking. "After you've decided everything for yourself?"

"I didn't decide any—"

"The envelopes have stamps on them, Simon."

"Alright, so maybe I got a little carried away. But—hey," Simon said, catching his arm and turning him around. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong. I've done this, I've been out in the world, I know what kind of place it is, and I was just trying to help you pick the right path."

"Like they picked the right path for you?" David said, looking up at Simon, his dark eyes hard and smoky. "You're doing exactly what they did to you, deciding everything, what's best for you without your say so. And now you're doing it to me. Jason never did that."

Simon paused at that, a stricken look on his face. It had honestly never occurred to him that he was doing to David what his parents had done to him. He released David's arm, and thankfully, the young man did not take off again, but stood in silence before him.

"I'm sorry," Simon finally said hesitantly, frowning at himself. "I didn't...realize. I was just trying to make up for lost time."

"This is not the way to do it."

Simon cleared his throat. Suddenly he didn't know what to do with his hands. "Look, maybe we can start over," he said. "I still want you to come live with me. I'll pay your tuition, and your rent, and you won't have to work anymore, either."

"What about Jason?"

"I'm not paying his rent."

David could not help a smile, however fleeting, and it made Simon breathe a sigh of relief. "You know what I mean," David said.

Simon chose his words carefully. "I don't like him," he said. "I can't lie about that. I think he's poisoning you and taking advantage."

"And who gave you that idea?"

"Don't blame your principle. She's just looking out for you, too."

David looked up at him. They were standing closer to the billboard than the car, and by its light were able to see the vague features of each other's faces. "But what about him?" David said softly.

Simon gave a sharp sigh. "That's up to you," he said, adding in a mumble, "I guess."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes," Simon said forcefully. He would back off—for now. He felt sure that sometime soon David would see sense and move on to bigger and better things. "Are we okay?"

"Yeah," David said. "I guess," he added, in the same way Simon had before.

It took everything Simon had not to grab him and hug him. "Let's get something to eat," he said. "Anything you want."

"Lobster?"

"Sure," Simon said, as they walked back to the car. "We can get it in peanut sauce and then we can get matching hospital beds. Hey, remember the first time you had shrimp? You swelled up like a balloon and your eyes disappeared."

As Simon laughed into the night, David's smile was hidden in the dark. He remembered, David thought. His chest lighter than it had ever been, he followed his brother into the car, the two reminiscing about days that had been lost in darkness for far too long.