whitetwoguns | But I ain't no madman.

No gifts. [As if Freddy Newendyke hands out presents so easily.] No.

[He's going to be adamant and clear about that for reasons they both know; White and Orange have a fairly large pool of very good looking acquaintances. But that's not what this is.]

I didn't talk about this just to get out of feeling guilty cause I wanna fuck a buddy.

[Dammnit Freddy it's the receiving too, accepting mementos from other people, remembering them and becoming endeared to them. Larry doesn't want there to be any evidence of anyone but them in their house.]

It was just a question.

[Because there still are quite a few. Larry takes a sip of his coke.]

I can't think of much else right now.

[On the spot.]

[Yeah Freddy you need to think this through a little more except it's not aloud so the kid isn't thinking about anyone else wanting to give him anything either. Except for Lawrence Dimick.]

...You don't have to put up with this if you don't like it.

[That's unavoidable because he can hear it in Larry's voice and detect it in his pattern of questions. The unspoken implication being you don't have to put up with me if you don't like me right now.]

[How do you head out from here and keep things at an even keel? The old man has no idea. All he wanted to know is about the strange talk with Captain America and feast on tacos until he pops.]

How are we supposed to sort this shit out if I can't ask questions.

[Because he wants answers. What desire is lacking for the kid? Is he gonna end up meeting another exception to the rules? Larry pulls back to stand, his cigs are on the coffee table.]

I didn't say you can't ask questions. I don't want you to have to put up with it.

[Oh fuck what misstep did the kid take now?]

[Rustling at the coffee table a little bit. The old man finds his Chesterfields. The box only has about three more. It won't last him the night.]

What do you want me to do?

[How did Freddy think that it would be? It's not a threat or even a spiteful outburst. Another question. He lights his cigarette and looks out to the City lights outside their sliding glass door. Not long before he turns.

Who is doing what wrong? The old man's fumbling for better words.]

I want you to do what you wanna do, man. If you don't like somethin' tell me.

[It doesn't even occur to Freddy that maybe what Larry wants to do is to keep him however way he must, even if it includes tolerating something like this.]

Shit I'm sorry I brought it up. [On his feet too now but not going to join the old man's side.]

Will you just fucking stop for just a minute?

[Words first before he physically makes his way on back. Paws have the impulse to grab him and grab him hard for fear that he will slip away now. Remembering he's got a wound and the history of this sort of thing makes him stop short.]

I didn't say no. I'm not saying no. Can you cut me a goddamn break to process this? You're ahead of me thinking this over.

Okay okay. I'm sorry.

[Ugh stop apologizing, Newendyke, it's just going to make things worse. Without even thinking the kid bites into a taco, like that's going to somehow stop the crap spilling from his mouth.]

I'm gonna run out of cigarettes.

[As though they're carrying on like usual. Larry licks his lips and takes along drag. Now that he has his moment.]

You have any extra?

[Back to the counter even though Freddy may not be there any more.]

[He's still there, with a taco, which he holds by his teeth while getting his cigarettes out. Look he puts a first issue Captain America on the counter too, no doubt getting a greasy finger print on it in the process but Freddy could care less. In just a moment he produces the one Chesterfield in his pack of Marlboros. He holds it up to Larry, like a peace offering.]

Thanks.

[He'll put it with the last few in the box.]

I'll step out in a bit to get more. Did you need anything?

[Words. Where are they? He should be asserting that everything's fine. He should be working his way to kissing and making up. Another puff of his Chesterfield.

Brown eyes are on the comic book. Then right on up to Mr. Orange's face.

The lights from the bar when they first met obscured the freckles on his skin. Music made it hard to hear him at first and coming on closer he got to see a pretty vibrant, cool motherfucker. It'll be great to work with him, he thought. All those rushing longings that are spent out in motels and alleyways came onto him like an ambush. At the time he wished for a few more moments with Mr. Orange.

How many more moments are left? A long moment's passed in silence, there's no music on or the TV. He didn't think to when he first came in. Boy can silence be deafening.]

I'm in it for you man and nobody else.

Naw...

[Freddy shakes his head, acting anything but the vibrant cool motherfucker. Right now he feels more like the stupid kid who asks for everything and gives nothing to warrant having someone like Lawrence Dimick at his side. Even when he says something like that Freddy just doesn't understand why. It's so painfully obvious to him everything he's said tonight has only hurt Larry with his honesty, his stupidity.]

Thanks.

[What else can Freddy say that isn't going to make things worse beyond recanting everything that came out of his mouth when he walked through that door?]

[The old man nods. He's making a list in his head. Cigarettes, hair dye, shaving cream, more Jack Daniels...condoms. Take it, Dimick. You pulled the trigger. You chose this man. And goddamn this isn't worth it to ruin everything you've got.

Like a tough guy he's trying to hide his own wounds, knowing that emoting has already threatened their open honesty.]

You're welcome.

[It feels funny to say.]

I'll head out. Fill up the car and get a few things. If you think of anything we need, lemme know. I'll get it.

[Because going out is something he needs.]

Sure. Yeah I'll let you know.

[Taco out of his mouth, obviously. Listen to this part though, Lawrence Dimick.] I'll be here.

I'll be back.

[And not roam the streets or bury his sorrow in any place or person that'll hold it. He's a liar, a criminal and a killer but he's not that kind of a person. Not right now at least. Larry gets his jacket and makes for the door.]

Coke right?

[Freddy nods, putting on a little smile.]

Uh huh. Coke.

Okay.

[Out the door now, into the night again. Keep on moving, Lawrence Dimick. If there are answers they'll come on to you. Until then, he repeats what he needs to himself. There's something solid and certain in that. Certainty isn't going to be stocked on a shelf for a bargain though.]

But I ain't no madman.

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