Dayton didn't think it would end this way. Bex was supposed to save him, some how. But she didn't.
Not to say he'd enjoyed it all that much at Bex's. It really wasn't nearly as fun as he'd always hoped. But then maybe that's the way it really was. Not supposed to be like something in a magazine. Everyone had their quirks.
He knew his own Dad couldn't stand his mother, but he still lived with her. It was if they'd found a thrill in fighting. Maybe he could to.
It just didn't seem to hit him, at first when Bex told him to leave. It was so unnerving. How could she? She'd been so persuasive in the beginning.
"It'll be so much fun having our own place," Bex cooed about it for the longest time. She had a way of talking him into things. Like buying crap at thrift stores he knew she'd never really want, but just took it, hoping some day for the good stuff. Was that the way it worked?
She disgusted him now.
Initially, he'd gone over just to get the television for his gaming system. By all rights, it was his television. But then he saw the bed. Her bed. How could she think he could possibly stand the thought of the two of them in that bed. The bed that was their bed.
It smelled of them now. Sweet and sadly savory. It irked him even more. He'd dragged the whole thing out of the house and put it in the back of his truck. Then there was the dresser. Why not? Just another part of him he'd left behind. He couldn't not take it. So it with his now. But in the bedroom. At least he had his own room here.
"What the fuck are you doing with Bex's bed?" Chris found it in the back yard.
"It wasn't just hers." He was stern about this. It needed to be rid of. He had a box of matches.
"What are you doing?" Chris squinted shaking his head.
"Leave me the fuck alone." He kept staring at the bed as if it were the past, and it was a sacrifice now.
He struck a match then and tossed it on the bed he'd soaked in gasoline.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Chris looked at him as if he were nuts.
"I can't help it," Dayton could barely breathe the words. This life was over, and he wasn't sure if anything would ever be what it could seem. Could it?
They watched the flames leap up like an ugly yet beautiful dance. The flames licked at the branches of the elm tree out back. Smoke boiled up into the clouds.
Neither said a word for the longest time.
"Just let it be over, will you?" Chris' voice cracked.
"Yeah, you're right." He could hate Bex for good now.
Chris handed him a beer then. Dayton wasn't sure if he needed it. Not right now. Things happened when they drank. It was usually a good time. A really good time. Possibly, left unspeakable.
It hadn't really happened. Had it? Just a blur. An inkling here and there. He only kissed Chris when he was drunk. Never happened anytime else. Never.
It was a mute subject. Chris never said anything about it. But Dayton could feel Chris' lips even now. Some things were hard to forget. Even if he wanted to.
Dayton drank at his beer then. It was an awful taste. Truly.
"Maybe we need something stronger," Dayton suggested.
"Got any whiskey?"
"Maybe." Chris just looked at him. "Got a two liter Pepsi, too."
"Might be nice." Chasing down a beer with Pepsi and whiskey.
"I'll make you a drink then." Chris was casual about this sort of thing.
Dayton just smiled. It was time to get shit-faced and wonder what the morning would bring. And if it did, could he bring it on without having to pushed under in oblivion to find out what truly made him tick.