Chapter Text
The first time Andy saw Sid, he was four years old. His father had just run away to California, and his mother had moved Andy and his sister into a new, smaller house. She put up blue wallpaper with fluffy white clouds to make Andy feel better about the fact that his dad was gone. Andy spent most days feeling confused, increasingly losing himself in his imagination, playing alone in the backyard. One day, a shadow fell over his toys, and he looked up to see a boy in a black t-shirt scowling at him.
“What are you doing?” the boy asked. He seemed angry about something.
“Playing,” Andy said, blinking up at the boy, who was pale and dark-haired.
“Duh,” the boy said, though he was the one who'd asked. “How old are you?”
“Four years.”
The boy scoffed. “I'm five,” he said. Andy sat down and stared up at the boy, holding Woody the cowboy in one hand and Rex the dinosaur in the other.
“Want to play with me?” he asked, not sure what this kid wanted if not that. Sid gave Andy's toys a once-over.
“No,” he said, but he sat down with Andy and watched him play for awhile, his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to translate a foreign language. Eventually, he grabbed Rex and made him into a mad rampaging dinosaur who ate everyone in town.
“That's not fun,” Andy said, pouting. “If everyone's dead then it's like they can't play anymore.”
“Yeah, well, this game is dumb anyway,” Sid said. He stood up and kicked at the dirt. “Have you ever lit fireworks?” he asked.
“No,” Andy said.
“I have,” Sid said, looking up at the sky wistfully. “It was awesome. I wish I had some fireworks.”
Andy didn't really know what to say. He picked up Woody and the others, brushing dirt from them.
“You're a big dork, kid,” Sid said, and Andy glared at him.
“Shut up,” he said, and Sid stomped off, disappearing through a loose plank in the fence that separated his yard from Andy's. Andy huffed in annoyance and turned back to his toys, but he couldn't really concentrate on imaginary games for the rest of the day, his heart still beating fast from his encounter with the neighbor boy, whose name he'd forgotten to ask.
*
Sid started showing up on a regular basis after that, and if he didn't show, Andy would slip through the loose plank and kick around Sid's messy backyard until he emerged from the back door of his house. Sid's games mostly made Andy mad, and he wasn't sure why he bothered playing with him at all. Sometimes they would get in bad fights and avoid each other for weeks. Sid went to Andy's school, but among the other kids he ignored Andy, who mostly played house with the girls. They would always fight over which of them got to be Andy's wife before eventually deciding that they would rather have him be the baby. Andy was terrified of them, so he went along with whatever they wanted.
Sid's favorite games were doctor and interrogation. They were both played in the very back of his yard, underneath the rotting old picnic table, which was shaded by a tree with purple leaves that Andy liked to climb when Sid allowed it. Sid was bossy and even mean, but Andy would show up anyway, to see what sort of mischief Sid was getting into, even after Andy's mother forbade him from going over to Sid's house. Sid's father was a 'bad man,' according to her, and a 'drunk,' according to Sid, who didn't have a mother, only a step-mother and step-sister, both of whom he hated. Andy didn't have a problem with Hannah, Sid's little step-sister, but his step-mother was mean during Andy's few encounters with her, once making a rude remark about his cowboy hat.
By the time Andy was eight and Sid was nine most of their games dissolved into wrestling matches. Usually Sid won, and on some days Andy wouldn't bother putting up a fight, would just lie there under the picnic table while Sid sat on top of him, threatening to spit into his mouth if he didn't divulge the secrets of whatever government agency Sid's terrorist organization was planning on bringing down.
“Hand over those blueprints,” Sid would say, mostly using tickle torture until Andy's eyes were watering, his sides aching. Andy would get so angry, trying to push Sid off, mad at himself for thinking that playing with Sid would actually be fun for once. Trying to struggle free was always hopeless, Sid's thighs pinned tightly around Andy's hips and his hands pressing Andy's shoulders down. He always looked frighteningly happy when he had Andy trapped like this, pretending to be his sadistic doctor or ruthless captor.
One day when they were playing interrogation, Sid threatening to shove a beetle that he'd trapped in a glass jar up Andy's nose if he didn't give him the access code to a government computer, the back door banged open and Sid went as rigid as a startled squirrel, turning toward the house.
“Sid!” his father shouted, sounding furious and unwell, stumbling a little as he came out onto the cracked back patio. “Where the hell are you?”
“Don't say a word,” Sid whispered, dropping down over Andy, the jar with the beetle rolling away. Sid clamped both hands over Andy's mouth and stared down at him with his eyebrows pinched, as if Andy wanted to be found. Andy was afraid of Sid's father, who was rarely awake during the day but never in a good mood when he was.
They stayed like that while Sid's father paced around the patio, ranting and kicking Sid's broken toys out of his way. Sid was breathing hard, his eyes locked on the patio as he crouched low over Andy, hiding from his father. Andy was afraid to even look at the patio, so he kept his eyes on Sid, watching a thin bead of sweat run from his temple down to his chin. Finally, Sid's father banged back inside, muttering a string of curse words that made Andy's heart pound. Sid let out a huff of breath and looked down at Andy, unable to hide the fear in his eyes quickly enough to keep it from him.
“You're lucky you don't have a dad,” Sid said, removing his hands from Andy's mouth but still leaning over him, his back hunched and his elbows in the dirt beside Andy's ears.
“No, I'm not,” Andy said. He realized that he could issue a surprise attack and knock Sid off of him, but the game seemed to be over, anyway. They both just laid there for awhile, their chests pressing together as they drew panted breath, wind rustling through the purple-leafed tree.
“What's your problem, anyway?” Sid asked when he finally sat up. “Why do you come over here just so I can beat up on you?”
“Maybe I won't anymore,” Andy said, surprised to find that he was hurt by this. Sid scoffed and slid off of him, flicking at the jar with the beetle in it. Andy got up with an indignant sniffle and crawled out from under the picnic table, heading for the loose fence plank without looking back.
*
For a couple of weeks, Andy didn't go over to Sid's yard, and Sid didn't come to his. Andy tried to be glad about this, because he didn't miss Sid's tyrannical games or stupid insults, but something about playing by himself wasn't as fun if he hadn't just recently escaped the grip of Sid, feeling like he'd barely made it out with his life. Still, even at eight years old he had pride, and Sid had called him on something he'd worried about for some time. Why did he go over there when he knew Sid was just going to tease and overpower him, eventually dragging him under the picnic table to sit on him while he wore himself out with attempts to get free? Andy decided that he'd just been dumb before, and that he was smarter now.
A few nights after he'd come to this conclusion, Andy was awake in his bed, trying not to be afraid of the thunderstorm that he could hear rumbling in the distance, moving closer. He heard a tapping sound and jumped a little under the blankets, afraid to look at the window, which was where the sound had come from. He gasped and pulled his blankets up to his chin when he saw a dark figure crouched outside the window, sitting on the roof of the back porch.
“Open up, dummy,” the figure said, and Andy let out his breath when he realized it was only Sid. He tossed his blankets aside and went to the window, his heart still pounding. When he opened the window he could smell the rain in the air, though it hadn't started yet. Sid pushed his way inside without waiting for an invitation.
“What are you doing?” Andy asked in a whisper. “I'm supposed to be in bed – I'll get in trouble!”
Sid was agitated, breathing hard and pacing around the room. Andy wanted to tell him to get out, but that thing that drew him to Sid despite his better instincts was growing inside his chest, making him curious.
“My stupid fucking dad had the cops called on him,” Sid says. “I just need to lay low here so they don't – take me away or anything.”
“What?” Andy said. He went to the window, which was still open, the wind blowing that rain-smell in hard. He could hear voices from the front of Sid's yard, and he could see a flash of blue light. When he turned around to gape at Sid in disbelief, he saw that Sid was sitting on the floor with his back to Andy's bed, his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his folded arms.
“Who – who called the police on him?” Andy asked, feeling disoriented and nervous. He thought of calling for his mom, but she would just get mad at him for letting Sid inside. Andy wasn't supposed to talk to him, let alone have him in his room.
“Who do you think?” Sid asked, his voice broken as he lifted his wet face, trying to scowl but only managing a sob. “His dumb wife, my step-mother. I hate her – and him. They're so worthless.” He sobbed and hid his face again.
Andy was dumbstruck. He never, ever thought he would see Sid cry, no matter what happened. He walked slowly across the room, moving with caution, afraid to set Sid off but unwilling to let him sit there crying all by himself. Sid seemed so much smaller than he usually did, curled in on himself as his shoulders shook with sobs.
“It's okay,” Andy said softly as he sat down beside Sid.
“No, it's not,” Sid cried, the words trembling as he pushed out more tears. Andy scooted closer, patting Sid's back very carefully, afraid that Sid would snap up and tell him to get away. When he didn't, Andy slid his arm around Sid's shoulders, resting his knees against Sid's side. Sid was wearing pajama pants and his usual black skull t-shirt, and he didn't have any shoes on. The fight between his step-mother and father must have woken him. Andy moaned a little at the thought of how scary it must have been, bad enough to involve the police. He hugged Sid to him, and to his surprise, Sid didn't push him away, just leaned down to hide his face against Andy's chest, clutching at him.
“It's okay,” Andy said again, because he didn't know what else to say. He pet Sid's hair and hugged him tight, which was what Andy's mother always did when he cried. It seemed to work on Sid, too, his crying quieting to just a few sniffles, and eventually he went quiet, his fist closed in the front of Andy's pajama top.
“I hate them,” Sid said after awhile, the thunder outside getting louder. The wind was making the branches on the trees toss wildly, leaves thrashing. Andy began to feel glad that Sid was safe inside with him.
“You can stay here,” Andy whispered. “If you're quiet.”
Sid didn't say anything, just scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked unrecognizable, soft and scared, and though Andy had indulged some fantasies about making Sid cry, giving him a taste of his own bullying medicine, he wasn't enjoying this at all. He went over to shut the window as the rain arrived outside, pelting the roof of the porch. When he turned back to his bed Sid was climbing into it, turning toward the wall. Andy sighed and climbed in behind him, pulling the blankets up over Sid first, then arranging them over his own legs. He settled down onto his pillow, watching Sid's back as he continued to sniffle and rub at his face.
“Are you okay?” Andy whispered as thunder crashed loudly outside, the kind of thing that would scare him if he wasn't so distracted by the fact that the neighborhood bully was crying in his bed.
“Yeah,” Sid said, his voice smaller and squeakier than Andy had ever heard it. He rolled over, not looking at Andy, just pressing his face to Andy's chest, worming into his arms. Andy wrapped Sid up tightly, thinking he might cry again, but Sid was quiet, his wet eyelashes tickling the hollow of Andy's throat.
Sid never thanked Andy for letting him stay that night, or for holding him while thunder rattled the windowpanes and rain pelted against the house. Andy stayed awake for a long time, petting Sid's short hair while he slept. He'd always liked the idea of caring for someone who needed saving, being a hero, and he also liked the way the short spikes of Sid's buzz cut felt as they tickled against his palm. He fell asleep with his hand cupped around the back of Sid's head, and woke to the feeling of Sid climbing over him, rubbing his eyes and heading toward the window. Andy turned to watch him go, wondering if he should ask Sid to stay, though he knew that wouldn't be a good idea. Sid stopped when he had one leg on either side of the window and looked back at Andy. He seemed like he wanted to say something, then just looked down at his hands and left without speaking. Andy could hear the wet thump of Sid's feet hitting the muddy the yard as he jumped from the roof of the porch.
A couple of weeks later, Andy's family moved to a new house. He didn't see Sid on moving day, too preoccupied with making sure he had all his toys, but he did think about him as the car pulled from the driveway for the last time, and wondered where Sid would go to if he needed shelter from another storm.
*
Andy was zoned into a new elementary school after the move, even though the new house was only a few streets over from the old one. Making friends wasn't easy; Sid seemed to have been right about Andy being a dork. It didn't take him too long to find the school's other dorks and join their ranks, and soon he had some pretty good buddies among them, guys who were considered weak or babyish by the cool kids who used curse words and held hands with girls.
Andy didn't care much about being cool, though sometimes he and his friends pretended they were, cursing and trying to act tough around each other. This charade usually ended when one of the cool boys walked by and smashed the offending dork into a wall before strolling causally away. Aside from these social complications, Andy liked school, especially math and history. He hated grammar, and science could go either way. In fifth grade he decided he wanted to be a geologist and started collecting cool rocks. His friend Tim showed him how to play Dungeons and Dragons, and his friend Paul helped him make a skateboarding ramp. Life was pretty good.
Middle school changed everything. Suddenly their school was three times the size of their elementary school, with three sets of elementary kids all dumped together, the firmly established social hierarchy completely screwed up. Tim almost immediately got a girlfriend, a dorky girl who played an elf mage in their weekend games of D&D, and this horrified Andy, who still had no interest in girls. Paul somehow got cool over the summer and was suddenly smoking cigarettes with his older brother, rolling his eyes at Andy when Andy wanted to pretend they were pro skateboarders who were competing for the world championship. It was like everyone was suddenly infected with a disease that made them try to act older. Tim was talking about first base and second base in a way that didn't relate to baseball, and Paul wasn't talking to Andy at all.
Andy refused to take part in his former friends' attempts to seem cool. It was dumb, and pointless, because the eighth graders still laughed at them and called them babies on the school bus. One day, Andy decided to rebel by wearing one of his faded old Buzz Lightyear t-shirts. He hoped that some of the kids would get a kick out of it and remember what it was like when they weren't pretending to be grown-up all the time.
His masterful shirt plan didn't really work out. Instead, it made him a target at the bus stop and again in the hallways at school, girls laughing loud and boys shoving his shoulders and asking him if he was five years old. Andy was on the verge of calling home sick as he headed for the boys' bathroom after lunch, and when someone grabbed his t-shirt and yanked him backward, he knew he was in for more humiliation at best, a beating at worst.
The last thing he expected when he turned and raised his red-rimmed eyes was Sid. Andy's mouth fell open, and goosebumps rose all over his body. Just looking at Sid made his stomach feel heavier, like Sid was sitting on it the way he always used to. Sid laughed, shaking his head.
“Gimme that,” Sid said, grabbing Andy's bookbag.
“Don't,” Andy said lamely, knowing that he couldn't stop Sid from doing whatever he wanted. Sid had gotten bigger and taller since the last time Andy saw him, and his eyes were just as mean as they'd always been as he threw Andy's bookbag to the ground and grabbed the hem of his shirt.
“Hey – don't!” Andy said, struggling feebly as Sid pulled his shirt off. Andy moaned and crossed his arms over his naked chest, his bottom lip trembling. Everyone else had filed into their classrooms and the hall was empty, but if Sid made him go back to class with no shirt, the laughter would never stop.
“Here, dummy,” Sid said, turning the t-shirt inside out. “Lift up your arms.”
Andy hesitated, then did as Sid asked when he narrowed his eyes. Sid slipped the t-shirt back on him, the smiling Buzz Lightyear hidden on the inside now. Andy was relieved for a moment, but he sucked in his breath when Sid pulled a knife from his back pocket and flipped it open.
“You need to develop some basic survival skills or you'll be dead by Thanksgiving break,” Sid said. He turned Andy around and used the knife to saw off the tag that was poking up against Andy's neck.
“Everyone's going to know I just turned my shirt inside out,” Andy said, his face burning red when Sid turned him around to face him again. “It's like they won or something.”
“Big deal,” Sid said. “If you think you're going to get far in middle school by trying to make a statement or go against the crowd, you're dumber than I thought.”
“I hate you,” Andy said softly, but it didn't feel true, and only made his face burn hotter. Sid grinned, still holding Andy by the shoulders. His braces were gone, and his buzz cut had grown out. His hair seemed darker than Andy remembered.
“Are you in seventh grade?” Andy asked, taking his bookbag when Sid handed it to him.
“Sixth,” Sid said. “For the second year in a row.”
Andy huffed, imagining that Sid had gotten himself held back just so he could torment Andy. This was only Andy's third week at school, and things just kept getting worse. Except that, in a strange way, he was kind of glad to have Sid around again. He wondered if Sid smoked cigarettes and had girlfriends. Probably. He'd always liked lighting things on fire, and he'd gotten kind of good-looking, the sort of boy who girls would have crushes on.
“Do you want survival lessons?” Sid asked as the bell rang, warning students to get into their classrooms.
“What do you mean?” Andy asked, though was pretty sure he understood what Sid was offering. It was embarrassing, and stupid, but Andy had been lonely since he lost his friends to coolness.
“I'll be at Pizza Planet after school,” Sid said. “Meet me there if you want to learn how to not act like a loser.”
Later that night, Sid slapped his forehead and gave Andy his first pro tip: don't show up at Pizza Planet with your mom and your baby sister.
*
With Sid on his side, middle school got better. Sid showed Andy how to dress in looser jeans and cooler t-shirts, and told him which shoes he should beg his mother to buy. The crowd Sid hung out with was mostly comprised of seventh graders who were way too cool for Andy, but they tolerated Andy because Sid vouched for him. Andy wondered all the time why Sid was being nice to him, and all he could come up with was that Sid was still secretly grateful for that night when Andy let him sleep in his bed. When Andy thought about it he got that heavy feeling in his stomach, the same one he got when he watched Sid blow smoke rings. Sid smoked cigarettes, but he didn't have a girlfriend, though one of the girls who hung in their crowd seemed to want him to ask her out. Her name was Jill, and she wore dark eyeliner that made Andy nervous.
“Do you like Jill?” Andy asked one day when he was walking home from school with Sid. Apparently the bus was for losers.
“No,” Sid said without hesitation, and Andy had to chew away a smile. He was glad.
Sid was still a jerk. He made fun of Andy for not knowing anything about music, and brought Andy over to his house after school to play mp3s for him. He showed Andy how to download music for free, and impressed him by finding downloads of movies that had just been released.
“Isn't this stealing?” Andy said one afternoon when they were lying on their stomachs on Sid's bed, watching the newest James Bond movie on Sid's laptop. Sid just laughed. Andy had learned when to drop certain subjects, and he put his chin on his folded arms, feeling guilty as he watched James Bond jump off an exploding yacht.
“When you're ready, I can show you how to download porn,” Sid said after they'd both moved up to the seventh grade, Sid barely passing and Andy on the honor roll.
“Gross,” Andy muttered. There were jokes about porn told at school, but even the jokes made Andy feel queasy.
“I knew you weren't ready,” Sid said. They were walking home from school, Sid twirling his lighter between his fingers like a magician, waiting until they'd gotten far enough from the main road to light a cigarette. “I bet you don't even beat off.”
“Shut up,” Andy said. He did, actually, but this was a very recent development and he didn't want to discuss it with Sid.
Seventh grade was better than sixth, the social hierarchy reestablished. Andy was still friends with Tim, but Paul was long lost to them, a druggie who hung out with high school freshmen on Friday nights. Tim had broken up with his girlfriend and gained about twenty pounds. He was usually pretty depressed and annoying during their D&D games.
“Why do you hang out with that loser Sid?” Tim asked Andy one night when Andy was spending the night at Tim's house, in a sleeping bag on the floor of Tim's bedroom. It was an old sleeping bag with Buzz Lightyear on it, but Tim would never make fun of Andy for such a thing.
“Sid's not a loser,” Andy said, though he knew this wasn't true. Sid smoked, which was stupid, and he didn't care about school, which was going to cost him. He lived alone with his dad now, the step-mother and Hannah long gone. Their house was never clean. At school, Sid outranked both Andy and Tim, but in the real world, Sid was the track to loser-hood.
“He's a freak,” Tim said. “He's always setting stuff on fire, and Jake Vale told me that he told his math teacher to fuck off and got suspended for two days.”
“Yeah.” Andy knew about that already. The math teacher was mean to Sid; she made fun of him for not being very good at math, and made the honor kids twitter with laughter, which made Sid want to burn the whole school down. The walk home from school hadn't been pleasant that day.
“How'd you even get to be friends with him?” Tim asked, and Andy smiled a little in the darkness, because Tim sounded kind of jealous. Andy was officially cooler than Tim now, mostly because of Sid, but also because Tim had bad acne and Andy's face was still clear.
“We lived next door to each other when we were little,” Andy said.
“Well, everyone's going to think you're a freak, too, if you keep hanging around with him.”
“I don't care,” Andy said. “Good.”
It worried him, though, and sometimes Sid didn't seem to fit into his life at all, unless it was just the two of them, alone together in Sid's room after school, staring at the glow of Sid's laptop. Sid stole almost everything he owned, laptop included, and Andy got itchy when he thought about it, feeling bad for the victims of Sid's thefts. Andy was in the science club and played on a rec basketball team, and Sid rolled his eyes when Andy talked about extracurricular activities of any kind. Andy still liked to play make believe, with his D&D friends and sometimes just in his own head. Sid had never liked that, unless their games involved him pinning Andy to the ground and laughing evilly.
“Remember when we used to play doctor?” Andy asked one afternoon when they were in the comforting dark of Sid's room, the shades pulled while Sid scrolled through Youtube videos of people setting off homemade bombs.
“Yeah,” Sid said, muttering, his eyes still on the screen. Andy rolled onto his side and tucked his hand under his cheek, bored by the videos and tired from school. He shut his eyes and marveled at the fact that he was here with his childhood tormentor, who had somehow become his best friend. He fell asleep thinking about those old games of doctor, when Sid would make him do the breath-holding test and the pain threshold test, which involved Sid flipping Andy onto his stomach and twisting his arms behind his back until he screamed. When he opened his eyes Sid was staring at him, his eyelids lowered like a calculating Bond villain. He was pulling at his bottom lip, seemingly lost in thought, and he startled a little when he realized that Andy was awake.
“You fell asleep, stupid,” Sid said, turning back to his laptop, which had faded to the screensaver.
In eighth grade, the gap between Sid and Andy widened. Andy was less scrawny and awkward than he'd been the year before, and was starting to get attention from girls. He also had more friends, boys from his basketball team who were already training with hopes of making the team next year in high school. His grades were good, and he liked watching TV and eating ice cream with his mom and his sister on Friday nights. Sid had started getting stoned with Paul's crowd on Friday nights.
By Thanksgiving, Andy had stopped walking home from school with Sid, instead taking the bus, where he and his friends ruled, occupying the seats at the back and laughing about whatever had happened during the school day. Andy had agreed to go out with a girl named Katrina who was pretty, but he was afraid of her and stammered whenever they were alone together, coming nowhere close to kissing her. The only fun part about having a girlfriend was holding her hand while everybody waited to go to the buses at the end of the day. It made Andy feel envied and cool, and he liked not having to come up with things to say to her; they could just laugh along with their friends.
A couple of days before Christmas, Andy woke up early and padded downstairs in his pajamas to play video games, snow falling outside and the house cozy with heat. He heard voices in the foyer and figured his mother was talking to a repairman or something. When he came to the bottom of the stairs he started to skirt past his mother and the guy she was talking to, and stopped in his tracks when he realized they'd both gone silent and were staring at him. He turned toward them, an eerie sense of semi-recognition passing through him.
“Andy,” the man said, and that's when Andy realized it was his father.
They had an awkward conversation, standing there in the foyer. How was school? Fine. Was he playing any sports? Yes, basketball. Did he still have that old cowboy doll that he'd loved so much? Yes. Woody had been a gift from his father, the last birthday present Andy got from him. As they talked, Andy's mother stood beside him stiffly. Andy could tell that she was mad, that his father wasn't supposed to be here, but that she didn't want to say so in front of Andy.
While his father had a similar awkward meet and greet with Molly, who had no memories of him at all, Andy sneaked up to his room and dressed in his coat and boots, pulling on a hat and scarf. He had to get away before his mother cornered him and made him talk about his feelings or something. His heart had been slamming since he realized that the man downstairs was his father, and he felt like he might throw up as he wondered what this sudden reemergence meant, if he would have to visit that guy on the weekends, if he would have to pretend to love that stranger who'd left them. He climbed out the window and landed in the yard as quietly as he could, muffled by the snow.
He had tears frozen in the corners of his eyes by the time he got to Sid's house, snot under his nose. No one ever came to the door at Sid's house, so Andy didn't bother knocking. He got the key out from under the front mat and let himself in, creeping up the stairs to Sid's room as quietly as he could. They hadn't even spoken in over a month, but Andy figured Sid owed him one.
“Sid?” he whispered as he pushed into Sid's room. Sid was in the bed, turned toward the wall under a pile of blankets, fast asleep. Andy shut the door behind him and wiped his nose and eyes on his gloves, pulling them off along with his boots, coat, and scarf. He left his knit hat on as he padded over to Sid's bed, still wearing his pajamas.
“Wake up,” Andy whispered, pulling on Sid's shoulder. Sid rolled onto his back and glared at him, making Andy regret his decision to come for a moment. His face softened when his eyes focused on Andy, then hardened again. Andy hiccuped a sob and Sid sighed.
“What the hell is this?” Sid said.
“My dad,” Andy said. Sid moved aside as if he didn't need to hear any more, lifting up the blankets for him. Andy let his face pinch up with tears as he climbed under the blankets, the heat trapped underneath them making him think of hibernation, bears sleeping through winter. These were the same unclean sheets that Andy had spent hours on after school, and the slightly dank smell of them was a tremendous comfort as Andy hid his face against Sid's chest and cried hard, ready to turn his whole bloody heart over to Sid as Sid's arms wrapped around him.
“He just s-showed up like I'm supposed to – ” Andy choked out before breaking into tears again. Sid put one hand on the back of Andy's head, his other arm tight around Andy's waist.
“Fuck 'em,” Sid said. “Five more years and we can forget they ever existed.”
“I should have stayed,” Andy said. “Molly – poor Molly, she doesn't even know him.”
“Calm down,” Sid said, his thumb moving on the back of Andy's head. “You're alright.”
“And I miss you,” Andy cried, everything pouring out of him, liquefied. Sid laughed.
“Jesus, Andy,” he said.
Andy stopped talking then, humiliated by that admission and by his crying. Sure, Sid had done this once, but they'd been much younger then. Andy couldn't imagine Sid crying now. He sniffled and squirmed closer, pushing his leg through Sid's, which were bare. Sid was in boxers and a t-shirt, and Andy tried not to think about how good and warm and solid he felt, but it was impossible. He closed his eyes and let out his breath against Sid's shirt, which was damp from his tears.
He didn't mean to fall asleep, but he was so comfortable, and Sid's heartbeat seemed to pull him under. When he opened his eyes they were crusty with salt, his eyelashes stuck together. Sid seemed wide awake, and he shifted back a little as Andy rubbed his eyes clear.
“What time is it?” Andy asked. It was still dark in Sid's room, only a faint grayish glow coming from behind his closed blinds.
“Almost noon,” Sid said.
“Shit.” Andy sat up. His mother would be frantic, Molly panicked. His father would feel rejected, and Andy knew he shouldn't care about that, but he did. “I have to go.”
Sid didn't say anything. Andy slipped out from under the blankets, shivering as he pulled on his boots and coat, then his gloves. He looked back at Sid, who was watching him from the bed.
“Thanks,” Andy said, blushing.
“For what? I didn't do anything.”
Andy rolled his eyes. He stood there in the middle of the room for a few seconds, staring at his shoes.
“I guess I'll see you later,” he said when he could think of nothing else.
“Whatever,” Sid said, rolling back toward the wall. Andy wanted to yell at him, to make him not act like this, but he knew Sid was never going to change. He left through the front door, and the relentless white of the snow had never felt more cruel than it did as he walked back toward his house. He thought of Sid under the blankets in his bed and wondered if he'd gone back to sleep. Probably he was just lying there, scowling at the ceiling. Andy wanted to go back, but he didn't know what he would do or say if he did, so he kept walking, closing his eyes when the wind pushed against him, snow blowing from the trees like pieces of shattered crystal.
As soon as Christmas was over, Andy's father disappeared again. Molly wrote him a few letters that went unanswered, but Andy didn't bother. He was nicer than usual to his mom for awhile, and even tried to be polite to her boyfriend, a douchebag real estate guy named Steve.
School started up again, and instead of going to the bus stop, Andy went to wait for Sid in their usual place. When Sid didn't show, Andy figured he'd just missed him, or maybe Sid was cutting class. He walked to school alone, kicking at the dirty snow. He'd spent a lot of time thinking about Sid over winter break, because even that was easier than thinking about his father. At night, in bed, he pretended that Sid was there with him, under the blankets.
As soon as he returned to school, these feelings stuck out as dangerous and frightening, and Andy tried to get rid of them. He didn't wait for Sid again, taking the bus instead, and he tried kissing Katrina for the first time. It was awkward and weird, and when he reached into his pajama bottoms at night he didn't think about her, or any girls. He thought about the weight of Sid on top of him, how he'd seemed like the heaviest thing in the world when they were kids, and the way Sid's eyes darkened when he smiled. Sid's name was always on his lips as he finished, but as soon as he was done he would feel guilty and weird and determined not to let himself think about Sid that way ever again.
Eighth grade seemed to grow more serious as everyone prepared for high school, and Andy broke up with Katrina around springtime, when he decided he needed to spend more time practicing his basketball. None of the girls in his homeroom would talk to him for awhile, but he didn't really care. It was a relief when Katrina started dating someone else and everybody seemed to forget that she'd ever been with Andy.
He saw Sid in the halls sometimes, usually hanging out with his druggie friends, smirking like he was the only who knew that none of this mattered. Andy's chest tightened whenever their eyes met, and he began to wonder if he was a jerk for avoiding Sid, or if Sid really didn't care. He certainly didn't act like he did, his eyes passing over Andy easily in the halls at school.
When summer finally came, it was a relief to be away from school. Andy spent most of his free time with his friend Brian, who was obsessed with basketball, and with Tim, who was obsessed with anime pornography. He ended up being the one who showed Andy how to find it on the internet. Most of it made Andy feel vaguely sick to his stomach, and he avoided it until he felt desperate to get off on something that didn't involve Sid, that picnic table, the smell of dirt and the sound of those purple leaves rustling.
He was riding his bike by himself one day when he ran into Sid, who was wandering around aimlessly, looking stoned. He grinned when he saw Andy, then jumped out in front of him so he'd have to brake hard on his bike.
“What's up, dork?” Sid asked. His eyes were red and he looked pretty out of it. “Enjoying your summer?”
“Yeah,” Andy said, narrowing his eyes at Sid. “What's wrong with you?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing, I was just smoking with Jimmy Wills.”
“Jimmy Wills is a sophomore.”
“Yeah? So? You know I was always mature for my age.” Sid grinned slickly and Andy recoiled.
“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked, blushing.
“Nothing, man, forget it.” Sid walked over and sat on top of a sewer cover, rubbing at his eyes, yawning. Andy knew he should ride away, but he never wanted to get away from Sid, and would probably never figure out why. He dropped his bike into the grass and sat beside Sid, not looking at him. They both stared at the house across the street.
“You shouldn't be smoking with Jimmy,” Andy said, knowing that Sid would just laugh at him. One of Sid's sneakers was untied, and Andy wanted badly to kneel down and tie it so he wouldn't trip. Sid moaned and rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
“Jimmy's an asshole,” Sid muttered, and something about this statement made Andy laugh. Sid grinned at him like he was glad he'd gotten the joke.
“All of my friends are assholes,” Andy said, maybe just trying to impress Sid, though he had been thinking about this all summer. “My friend Brian, he thinks he's Kobe Bryant or something, he's so full of himself. Every time I outplay him he acts like it was just a lucky shot, and then he won't look me in the eye until he's taken the ball from me. And Tim, God, Tim is a disaster. He doesn't know anything about sex but he's always talking about it like he does, he's so gross.”
Sid laughed, letting his shoulder slump against Andy's, which made Andy sit up straighter, though he didn't move away. Sid was a disaster, too, but there was something more honest about him than any of the other guys Andy knew.
“Nobody wants to play your innocent little games, is that it, Andy?” Sid said. “Shit, you're a real piece of work. Nobody's good enough for Andy.”
“Fuck you, that's not what I meant.”
“I got a game for you, Andy, you want to play a game?”
“What?” Andy asked, his heart pounding. He could smell Sid's sweat, and feel the heat of his skin through the shoulder of his t-shirt. Pathetically, this was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in months.
“It's called gay chicken,” Sid said.
“What the hell is gay chicken?” Andy asked, still so far away from applying that word to himself that his guard wasn't up yet. He was fixating on the 'chicken' element, imagining that stupid dance that people did at weddings.
“It's where we act like we're going to kiss each other, and whoever balks first loses,” Sid said.
“That's stupid,” Andy said. He stared down at his hands.
“You're just saying that 'cause you know you'd lose, 'cause you're an innocent little flower.”
“I am not!” Andy scowled at him, half-ready to tell Sid that he jerked off almost every night now.
“Then let's go,” Sid said, his face already close to Andy's. “Let's play.”
“Fine,” Andy said, his hands curling into fists. The street was quiet and empty, a sprinkler running in the yard across from them. Sid's eyes were boring into Andy's like this was a staring contest, too. Andy didn't let himself blink.
“Ready?” Sid said, moving closer. Andy nodded, staring at Sid's lips, determined not to lose. He moved closer at the same rate that Sid did, both of them checking each other's eyes before looking down at each other's lips again. Sid licked his lips and Andy did the same. He could feel Sid's breath, hot against his mouth, then Sid's wet lips were pressing against his, firm and unafraid. Andy pressed back, pinching his eyes shut, his hands closed tightly over his knees. Sid licked Andy's bottom lip, his tongue stroking against the tip of Andy's when Andy's mouth opened around a shocked little gasp. They pulled back, not far enough, and looked at each other. Sid seemed as stunned as Andy, his eyes suddenly wide and clear.
“I guess we both won,” Sid said. Andy nodded slowly. His lips were buzzing. He wanted Sid to kiss him again. They sat there for awhile, fidgeting as the sun beat down on them.
“Want to go to the pool?” Andy asked, desperate to stay close to him. Sid smirked.
“No,” he said. “Want to go back to my room and make out?”
“No!” Andy said, scowling.
They ended up doing both, the pool first, wrestling each other for a plastic football in the shallow end, then walking to Sid's house in silence, the sun drying them as they went, their towels hanging around their shoulders. The house was empty when they got there, and Andy was shaking by the time Sid shut his bedroom door.
“It's okay,” Sid said, and it was, because Sid held his face while they kissed, backing off when Andy got nervous about how hard they were kissing, and how hard he was inside his bathing suit. All he could think as Sid licked into him was This is the best thing that's ever happened to me, right now, the best thing, nothing will ever be better than this. His chest was fluttery with nerves and he had a death grip on Sid's sharp hipbones, just over the waistband of his bathing suit.
“What do you want to do?” Sid asked as they caught their breath. His hands slid down to Andy's shoulders, squeezing over his sunburn.
“Would you s-sit on me?” Andy asked, and Sid grinned.
Andy spent the rest of the afternoon stretched out on his back in Sid's bed, Sid sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss him. It was like they'd been practicing for this all along. Maybe Sid knew that the whole time, but Andy didn't, though it was hard to believe now that he seemed to have found exactly where he belonged: pinned under Sid, his head framed by Sid's elbows, Sid's hands in his hair, tongue in his mouth, belly pressed flat to Andy's. Andy pretended not to notice when Sid came inside his bathing suit, his whole body going tense and then incredibly loose above Andy's, his breath ragged. Andy hugged Sid's shoulders and wondered if Sid had only been pretending not to notice when Andy did the same thing.
*
In high school, they had to avoid each other or risk being found out. There was no reason for them to run in the same social circles, and Andy was sure that people would see it on their faces if they sat together in the lunch room, Andy swooning toward Sid without noticing and Sid looking at Andy in that way that made him swoon, like he was going to eat Andy for dessert. After school, when Andy was finished with basketball practice and Sid with track, something Andy had convinced him to join so that they'd at least have sports in common, Andy would go over to Sid's house, telling his mother that he was studying with his basketball friends. She seemed to know that something was up, but Andy's grades were good and he wasn't coming home stoned like some of the neighborhood kids, so she didn't complain. Andy knew she'd go through the roof if she knew he was dating the kid who had told her to go screw herself when she asked him if his parents knew he was playing with fireworks.
Sid's room was Andy's favorite place in the world, his guiltiest pleasure. Most days they were freshly showered after their respective practices, but sometimes they'd show up still sweaty, just to make what they in Sid's bed even dirtier. Andy was usually wound pretty tight during the day, especially as high school went on and college started getting talked about, the SATs looming and basketball intensifying, but when he was lying under Sid he was bonelessly relaxed, reduced to pants and whimpers, happy to be held down. He gave Sid his virginity during their junior year, there in Sid's bedroom on a hot Saturday afternoon, the blinds closed against the sun. It didn't even occur to Andy until Sid was inside him that Sid was losing his, too, clinging to Andy so hard that his arms shook.
“Feel different?” Sid asked when they were lying together afterward. It was unremarkable afternoon in every other sense, not prom night or Andy's birthday or anything special. Andy wasn't sure what had made this the day, except that he'd wanted it for awhile and couldn't wait any longer.
“Yeah,” Andy said. “Kind of. Do you?”
Sid just shrugged and smiled. He looked happy, which was becoming pretty rare outside of that bed. He'd quit the track team because they had the nerve to ask him to get up at seven in the morning on weekends for competitions, and he was flunking most of his classes, still technically a sophomore despite the fact that he was seventeen. He talked about quitting school all the time, and Andy begged him not to. He didn't want to lose the only thing they had in common away from the afternoons in bed.
“So where are you going for college?” Sid asked him one night. They were on their way home from Pizza Planet, which was still their favorite restaurant in town. Sid was driving, lighting a cigarette while they were stopped at a red light. Andy looked up from his attempts to find a decent song on the radio.
“Somewhere close to home,” he said.
“Why?” Sid asked with a scoff. Andy glared at him.
“Not 'cause of you,” he said, though he knew Sid would recognize the lie. “My mom – she still needs help around the house with stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Like – moving heavy furniture. I don't know – I – why do you care where I go to college?”
“'Cause I'd kind of like to spend the rest of my life fucking you, if you don't mind too much,” Sid said, muttering. Andy stared. It was by far the most romantic thing Sid had ever said to him.
They went back to Sid's house to have sex, walking past Sid's father on their way upstairs. He was passed out on the couch as usual. Andy always wondered how much Sid's father knew about them; probably nothing, but he'd caught Andy sneaking out the door a few times and had given him knowing, slightly disgusted looks. It was hard to know if he'd remember seeing Andy in the morning.
“Can't tell me you don't want to ride this dick for the rest of your life,” Sid said when they were closed inside his room, Andy bouncing on Sid's lap, his head thrown back and his dick hard in Sid's hand. Andy laughed and then groaned, slamming himself down harder, their skin slapping together.
“Yeah,” he said, letting his head roll back onto Sid's shoulder. “Every night. Every day. God, fuck, feels so good.”
“That's fucking right,” Sid said, sounding proud of himself, and also weirdly tender. His hand moved on Andy's cock in a maddeningly slow pace, like he was trying to draw the moment out. Andy rode him harder in response, grunting with every downward thrust, until Sid got fed up with not being in control and pushed him forward, onto his hands and knees.
“Beg for it,” Sid said, pulling out almost all the way, holding Andy open with just the fat head of his cock. Andy shouted in frustration, thinking of their interrogation games, Sid's talent for torture.
“Need it, please,” he said softly, humiliated, his head dropping between his shoulders and his ass clenching around Sid's cock, trying to pull him back in. “Please, Sid, please.”
“That's a good boy,” Sid said, rubbing the small of Andy's back and pushing in slow, too slow. Andy tried to ram himself backward and Sid grabbed his hips, holding him still. “Steady, little cockslut,” he said, and Andy's hands fisted Sid's sheets. His whole body throbbed with hot embarrassment, and it felt painfully good, being at Sid's mercy, like always. He put his forehead against the mattress and went still, submitting.
“What are you gonna do when you're off at college, huh?” Sid asked, dragging his cock in and out of Andy slowly, teasing him. “How are you gonna get through the days without me around to fuck your greedy ass? Gonna let some other college boys fuck you?”
“No,” Andy said, the word sticking hard in his chest, because it was true and he knew it. “Nobody – no one but you, you –”
“Say it. I own this ass, don't I?”
“Yes, you do, please, please –”
“You want me to fuck this ass like I own it?”
“Yeah, oh, please – ahh!”
Sid gave him what he wanted then, fucking Andy so hard that he slid forward on the bed, biting the blankets to muffle his screams. He didn't even need to jerk his cock to get off; Sid found his prostate and slammed against it with the head of his cock until Andy was reduced to a gibbering mess of nerves, flopping down onto the bed when he came. Sid wasn't far behind, dumping himself down onto Andy's back and burying his long, low groan against Andy's shoulder as he pumped him full.
They stayed like that for awhile afterward, something they normally didn't do. Sid didn't even pull out, just licked at the back of Andy's neck like Andy was his sated mate. Andy laughed at the thought and Sid sighed against his skin.
“When we were kids you were always the best part of my day,” Sid said. “And I couldn't figure out why.”
“Figured it out yet?” Andy asked, half-asleep against the mattress.
“Not really,” Sid said, and Andy laughed. He knew that Sid got something different from this than what he gave to Andy. For Sid, Andy represented hope, some sort of better life that lived on the other side of a tall fence. To Andy, Sid was someone he wanted to rescue, tied to the train tracks of a life that was leading nowhere. He had nightmares all the time that he couldn't get there in time to cut Sid loose.
*
Andy's senior year was a train wreck. Sid dropped out of school three days into the first semester, still technically a sophomore. They had a fight about it, and Sid told Andy to stay out of his fucking business. Andy called Sid a loser to his face for the first time ever, and actually thought Sid was going to hit him for a minute, actually kind of wanted him to. Sid just smirked like he didn't give a shit and walked off, lighting a cigarette. Andy went back to his house and cried into his pillow until his mother came in and rubbed his back, her voice wavering as she begged him to tell her what was wrong.
“I guess I'm gay or whatever,” Andy said, speaking into his pillow, sobbing again once the words were out. His mother just kept stroking his back, and he was afraid to turn and look her in the eyes.
“I know, baby,” she said softly. “It's okay.”
“You – what?” Andy spun around, giving her a betrayed look. “How could you –”
“You're too cute not to have a girlfriend, Andy.” His mother smiled and brushed his tears from his cheeks, making him feel five years old. “Also, Molly saw you at Pizza Planet with your boyfriend.”
“He's not – I,” Andy stuttered, trying to remember anything incriminating Sid might have done to him in public. Maybe it was just obvious when they were together, from the way they looked at each other. His face pinched up with tears again but he fought them away. “He broke up with me,” Andy said, wishing he wasn't having this conversation with his mother, but there was no one else he could talk to about this. “I think.”
“Oh?” His mother looked like she was trying to decide whether or not to be worried. “Well – you'll be graduating soon, going off to college. Maybe it's for the best? Who is this guy, anyway? Molly said he looked kind of – um. Tough?”
“He's – he's nobody. A high school drop-out, as of today. He's got no real family, no goals, no scruples. He's a thief, and a pothead.” The tears welled up in Andy's chest again, but he stuffed them back down. “And I love him. Which is stupid, I know.”
“Whoa,” Andy's mother said, sitting back for a moment, her eyebrows raised. She took a deep breath and slid her arm around Andy's shoulders. “Andy – oh. I hate that you've been going through all this alone. You know – you know I met your father when I was in high school, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” Andy sniffled, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand.
“It's – not a great time to fall in love, generally. You're still figuring things out, and it's all very exciting, but that can cloud your better judgment. I'll always be glad that I loved your father, because he gave me you and Molly, but I wish I had been smarter about who I gave my heart to. Just – be careful, baby. It's good that you recognize this guy's – shortcomings. You're smarter than I was at your age. It's probably a good thing that you broke up, even though it hurts. Now you can focus on your college applications and your AP classes, your basketball, all the other things that are important to you. Right?”
“Right,” Andy said miserably. He put on a happy face for his mother so that she'd leave him alone, then put his face in his pillow again, wincing at the memory of what he'd said to Sid. He tried to convince himself that his mother was right, but he couldn't imagine his life without Sid, those afternoons in his bed, panting and sweating and collapsing together, the way that Sid held him loosely while he dozed. But if it was all about sex, it was better to end it now. Still, Andy felt like there was a throbbing hole in his chest, and he wanted to grovel at Sid's feet and beg forgiveness, but he was afraid Sid would just sneer and dismiss him.
It wasn't hard to avoid Sid now that he wasn't at school, and Andy did everything he could to stop thinking about him, but he couldn't. He missed Sid so much that it was like a weight he was always dragging behind him, making him feel slow and hopeless. He stopped calling his other friends and started spending all his time at home, alternating between studying and staring listlessly at porn on his computer. After basketball practice, instead of heading to Sid's house, he stretched out in his bed and listened to his mp3 player until dinner, every song reminding him of Sid. Sometimes he rolled toward the wall and jerked off, wanting the hand on his cock to be Sid's, unable to imitate his rough palm and slow, certain strokes. He'd fuck himself on his fingers, frustrated enough to cry when they felt nowhere near as good as Sid's cock, missing the feeling of Sid's hands gripping his hips as he worked his way in.
He'd expected to miss the sex, but he also missed sneaking looks at Sid when they passed in the halls at school, Andy's chest tightening with the sweet pressure of their secret. He missed watching stolen movies on Sid's laptop, lying on his side and letting Sid feed him Twizzlers. He missed the way Sid looked at him, like he thought Andy was kind of hilarious but also amazing, worth staring at. He began to feel more and more hollow, longing for the sardonic laughter and irreverent comments, the smell of Sid's sheets and that rough little attempt at a beard rubbing against his balls when Sid lapped at the base of his cock.
One night, a few weeks before winter break, Andy went to a party thrown by one of his basketball teammates. The guy's parents were out of town, and there was a keg, a liquor cabinet, and plenty of pot. Andy didn't want to embarrass himself by trying to smoke, so he opted for vodka, because it mixed easily with Sprite. A couple of hours later he was drunk and alone on the back porch, snow coming down in pathetic little flakes as he dialed Sid's cell phone number.
“Yeah?” Sid said when he answered, and Andy was taken off guard. He'd been composing a long voicemail message in his head, hadn't expected Sid to still be sober enough to pay attention to his phone.
“Hey,” Andy said, slurring. “S'me.”
“No shit. Saw your name on the caller ID.”
Knowing this, Andy was even more surprised that Sid had answered. Maybe Sid wasn't as mad at him as he'd thought. He sat there in silence, his mouth hanging open as he tried to decide what to say.
“I got my college acceptance letters,” Andy said, hoping he wouldn't sound like he was bragging. “I think I'm going to go to UCLA. They have a pretty good geology department. Also, palm trees.”
“Palm trees.” Sid snorted. “Good for you. And I should give a shit why?”
“I didn't say you should,” Andy said, that rage that made him call Sid a loser building in his chest. He was so tired of being dismissed as if he'd meant nothing to Sid all along. “Just – thought you might like to know. Since we fucked for three years.”
“Barely one year. You held out on me until last year, remember? And it was just fucking. You were a sweet piece of ass. Thanks for the memories. Have fun with your palm trees.”
“Sid, wait,” Andy said, afraid his voice would break, but it just wavered. “I – I'm sorry, I just wanted you to stay in school with me, and then you acted like you didn't care what I thought –”
“Yeah, probably 'cause I don't. You done now?”
Andy hung up, shaking with anger. The yard was dark and quiet as he listened to the party raging on inside the house, people with normal high school experiences having a good time. He wanted to be like them, wanted to go back in time and never fall under Sid's spell, wished he'd never slipped through the plank in the fence and into Sid's fucked-up world. He thought about nine-year-old Sid and what would have become of him if Andy hadn't let him into his room that night, then pushed the thoughts away. Sid didn't need him, just wanted to get off, whether it was on bullying him or fucking him. All he'd wanted was to be on top, and Andy had let him win every time.
The rest of his senior year passed quickly, and he did all he could to forget Sid. This became more difficult when Andy took the recycling out to the curb one morning, delirious and wearing nothing but his pajama pants, and found Sid there, loading their garbage into a truck that he was apparently driving. They stared at each other for a moment, and Sid grinned.
“I figured it was fitting,” Sid said, holding his arms out. “Probably exactly what you thought I'd end up doing.”
“What –” Andy said softly, still mostly asleep, still holding onto the recycling. Sid looked different, his hair longer and his beard thicker. Even his chest seemed broader, and he was hiding behind tinted goggles, a fat set of headphones looped around his neck.
“I'll take that, sir,” Sid said, giving Andy a smart ass smirk as he ripped the recycling bin out of his hands. “Tips are not expected, but they are appreciated.”
He tossed the contents of the bin into his truck, then chucked the empty bin onto the grass. Andy was still dumbstruck, staring. Something about the fact that Sid was wearing short sleeves with heavy gloves made him flush.
“Why are you all comatose?” Sid asked, waving his hand in front of Andy's face. “You're really that surprised to see me here?”
Sid didn't seem embarrassed, and he actually seemed happier than Andy had seen him in years, without the frustrations of school and the teachers who'd given up on him, and without Andy around, rubbing his accomplishments in Sid's face. Andy had thought he was over Sid, but he suddenly felt desperate for him, even with the reek of the idling garbage truck close by.
“I'm glad you're okay,” Andy said. “I haven't heard from you.”
“Hard to believe I could live without you, is that it?” Sid said, still joking, but he pushed the goggles up onto his head and showed Andy's his eyes. They were as dark and coolly disinterested as ever, but there was a calmness in them now, and Andy couldn't believe how much older Sid seemed.
“School has sucked without you,” Andy said, though what he really meant was that life had sucked, since he'd hardly ever seen Sid at school even back when he was attending.
“Yeah, well,” Sid said. He seemed at a loss for a moment, as if he hadn't expected Andy to offer him anything resembling kindness. Andy was only half-awake, and too stunned by the sight of Sid to have his defenses up.
“I gotta go,” Sid said, gesturing to the truck. “Trash ain't gonna collect itself.”
“Sid.”
“What?”
Andy just stood there with his mouth open. He watched Sid's eyes rake down his body for the third time, and remembered that he was half-naked. He flushed, folding his arms over his chest, and Sid smirked.
“You look all grown up,” Sid said. Andy was surprised; he hadn't noticed any difference in himself in the past six months.
“So do you,” Andy said. Sid snorted and headed for the driver's side door of the truck.
“I always have been, compared to you,” Sid said.
Andy wanted to shoot back with something like, Yeah, well, you were still a virgin until I came along, but he didn't bother. Sid climbed into the truck, and Andy watched him pull down to the next driveway, load the trash and then the recycling. It was weirdly mesmerizing. Sid looked back and laughed when he saw Andy staring.
“Was I the most exciting thing that ever happened to you or what?” Sid said in a shout, shaking his head.
Andy flicked him off and walked into the house, his face on fire. He hurried into his bedroom, ignoring his mother's announcement that breakfast was ready, locked the door and shoved his pajama pants down, kneeling onto the bed. He bent down with his head to the mattress and pinched his eyes shut, gritting his teeth and jerking his cock as he gave himself over to a fantasy about Sid fucking him while wearing those dirty gloves, that rough leather closed around Andy's hips. He came hard and fast, groaning into the mattress and slumping over, panting. He hated being a slave to this, but he couldn't deny it. He wanted Sid so badly that his bones were burning. He punched his pillow in frustration, listening to the sound of the garbage truck through his open bedroom window.
*
The rest of the school year felt inconsequential, with everyone's college plans already set. Andy ended up going to his senior prom with Katrina, though they went as friends, and Andy got the feeling that she'd somehow figured out that he was gay. He started to suspect that more people had noticed him sneaking around with Sid than he'd realized, girls no longer pursuing him. Prom was fun, but the whole exercise felt kind of hollow. Andy got drunk at the party afterward, but not drunk enough to call Sid, though he did sit in Pete Niehauser's living room reading through old text messages from Sid while the others watched Back to the Future on TV, drunkenly proclaiming it to be the best movie ever. To Andy, they all seemed hopelessly immature, nice enough but not interesting. He walked home alone and stayed up until sunrise, staring at his bedroom window and listening to his mp3 player, favoring old songs that Sid had introduced him to.
All summer, every Wednesday morning, Andy woke to the sound of the garbage truck outside, snuck to the window and peeked out at Sid. He seemed to get bigger and stronger every week, hoisting the garbage bins onto the truck more easily as the months passed. He was usually listening to music, singing to himself obliviously, as if he didn't even remember that this house was Andy's. Andy kept waiting to catch Sid rooting through his garbage in some desperate attempt to catch a glimpse of Andy's life, but Sid just threw the trash into the truck without hesitating.
The time came to pack for college, and Andy was reluctant, everything about his life at home feeling unfinished. His mother told him to sort through his old toys, and just the thought of throwing them away gave him an uneasy pang, though he knew there was no point in saving them; even Molly had outgrown that stuff. When he opened his toy chest to sort out what to trash and what to put up in the attic, he felt a crushing pressure between his ribs. It was a million years ago, those days when he would spend all morning in his own little world, trotting his toys around the backyard, his eyes sneaking to the loose plank that led to Sid's yard and his heart pounding as he tried to talk himself out of going over there. He picked up his cowboy Woody doll and couldn't even bring himself to relegate it to the attic; it was too depressing. Andy's father gave him Woody just a few months before leaving, and when his father was gone Woody became something sacred, a piece of his father that he could still cling to. Later Woody became something else, a sort of friend who would never let him down the way his father had.
Andy sighed and put Woody in the box of things he would bring to college, not sure what his roommate would make of a cowboy doll sitting on his bookshelf but unable to let his old friend go. He thought of the Buzz Lightyear t-shirt he'd tried to wear to middle school and tossed the rest of his old toys into a garbage bag bound for the attic.
It shouldn't have stung so badly to learn that his mother had taken the bag out to the garbage by mistake, but it did, maybe for the thought that it was Sid who had yet again tossed all of Andy's childhood memories into the trash. Andy went up to his room and slammed the door, determined to be angry at his mother and not at himself. Again he'd been reckless, and again something that had once meant a lot to him had been trashed. So what if those things had no place in the life he was headed for? He moaned and sat down on his bed with his head in hands, resisting the urge to pull Woody from the box on his desk and take comfort in the sight of his old toy. He was too old for this sort of shit.
On the day before he left for college, Andy finished packing up his room. He was planning on hitting the road early the next morning for the twelve hour drive to California, wanting to get the whole thing over with in one day. He found a box full of the toys his mother thought she threw away, and while his mother was relieved, her guilt about accidentally trashing them alleviated, Andy felt guilty at the thought that his nostalgia was preventing him from donating the toys to kids who would actually enjoy them. The idea of his old toys collecting dust up in the attic was more depressing than the slightly panicked feeling he got at the thought of giving them away, so he drove them to the address his mother gave him, which ended up being the home of one of the women who ran the daycare. Andy had thought he'd be donating to the daycare itself, but after showing the woman's young daughter all of his old toys he was pretty sure she'd be keeping them herself, which was okay by him. She was adorable, and smart, and he knew his old toys would be in good hands. Even Woody, who somehow got mixed in with the others. Andy didn't want to give him up, but the little girl seemed to know him somehow, and he didn't have the heart to take Woody back from her, knowing that he would only collect dust on his bookshelf at college.
Still, driving away was hard, as if he was leaving his whole childhood behind, severing that part of himself for good. He flipped on the radio and tried to find a song that wasn't sad, not wanting to return to his empty childhood bedroom. When he ended up parked outside of Sid's house, it felt like he'd been drawn there against his will, but that was always how it was with Sid.
He got out of the car, prepared to be rejected, still feeling a little tender after parting with his old toys. The day was bright and hot, and it felt a little bit like the end of the world. Andy knew that Sid was the last person he should expect comfort from, but he also seemed like the only person who could give it.
He knocked on the front door, no longer welcome enough to just walk inside. There was no answer, and the whole street was deadly quiet. It was after noon, and Andy wondered if Sid was still on his garbage route, or if he was out with friends, or up there fucking somebody else. After waiting almost three minutes for an answer at the door, he turned away, feeling drained and small, the prospect of driving to California alone in the morning making him queasy.
“You still here?” someone called as Andy was heading down the cracked driveway, and he looked up, squinting in the sunlight until his eyes focused on the window over the garage. Sid was holding his blinds open, looking down at Andy from his dark bedroom.
“Thought you would have shipped off for college already,” Sid said.
“I'm leaving tomorrow,” Andy said. His whole chest went tense with hope. He wanted to be up in that room, in the cool dark, Sid on top of him, kissing him like it meant something while the little floor fan blew against them. He waited, his hands curling into fists as Sid watched him, his mouth quirking like he was still thinking about how he should handle this development.
“Leaving tomorrow,” Sid said. “So you came for your farewell fuck?”
“I wanted to see you,” Andy said. He had nothing left to lose, and he'd been stripped bare by the simple act of giving his old toys away. Sid was something he could still get back.
“Well, come up,” Sid said, sighing as if this was putting him out. “Door's open.”
Andy walked inside, his vision tunneling as he made his way up the familiar stairs. There was never a single light on inside Sid's house, and the whole place smelled like old pizza and cigarettes. Andy was afraid that Sid would smell like garbage, but when Sid opened the door to his room and grinned at him, he smelled more like Fruit Loops and soap, his black hair damp like he'd just come from the shower. He looked sleepy, and he was zipping a pair of jeans over his boxers as Andy stood there looking at him, begging with his eyes.
“Shit, Andy,” Sid said, sounding a little bit impressed. “C'mere.”
Andy whined a little, mostly at the realization that it could have been this easy all along. He walked forward and put his arms around Sid's shoulders, pressing his face to Sid's neck. Sid's arms wound around his back, one of Sid's thumbs stroking over his t-shirt, and Andy sighed hard, his last, paltry defenses dropping away as he went soft in Sid's arms.
“It's been a weird day,” Andy said, pulling Sid closer, pressing their chests together.
“Been a weird year,” Sid said. He reached up to rub the back of Andy's neck. “Know what I mean?”
“Yeah.” Andy pulled back, keeping his face close to Sid's, wanting to taste his Fruit Loop breath. Sid grinned, still trying to be cool, but Andy could feel his hands shaking.
“I shouldn't have had such a shit fit when you left school,” Andy said. “You seem happier now. I just thought you'd regret it. I know you're going to laugh at me, but I fucking care about what happens to you, alright?”
Sid studied him for a minute, his face unreadable. Andy could see the tan lines that Sid's garbage-collecting goggles had left on his face even in the low light of the room.
“Not gonna laugh at you,” Sid said. He pressed his face to Andy's, holding his gaze for a few seconds before kissing him. Andy let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding all year, pushing it between Sid's lips as they opened for each other, tongues sliding together.
“God, fuck,” Sid said, moaning and reaching down to squeeze Andy's ass. “You taste better than I remembered.”
Andy sort of whimpered, not caring how pathetic he seemed; Sid always forgave him for that, even if he teased him for it, too. He surged up onto his toes as Sid kissed him harder, growling with satisfaction, and Andy laughed against Sid's lips when Sid lifted him off the floor, pulling Andy's legs around his waist.
“Yeah,” Andy said hoarsely as Sid carried him to the bed.
“Yeah?” Sid said, pulling back to smirk at him. “Yeah, that what you came for?”
“Need it, please,” Andy said, already tearing off his clothes as Sid dumped him onto the bed.
“Fuck, I know you do,” Sid said, looking kind of dangerous as he undressed. Andy didn't care; he wanted it all, as hard as Sid would give it.
Sid wasted no time getting Andy's cock in his mouth, and Andy groaned and punched the headboard, his legs opening wider as Sid's beard rubbed over his balls. It had been too long, and Andy was going to come so hard, his hands closing into Sid's hair. Sid moved up to drag his teeth over Andy's nipples and Andy arched, wanting to press every part of himself into Sid's hot mouth. He grabbed Sid's head and yanked him up for a bruising kiss, both of them breathless and sloppy, hungry for each other.
Andy pushed Sid onto his back, knowing that Sid was letting him do it only because he was anticipating his blow job. Sid had gotten much stronger since the last time Andy had been pinned by him, and Andy's cock was leaking just from the sight of Sid's body, his new muscles tightening as he groaned and shoved himself deeper into Andy's mouth.
“Yeah, shit, suck that dick,” Sid said, taking a handful of Andy's hair. “Fucking – ahh, Andy, God. Missed the way you drooled for it, little cocksucker.”
Andy moaned around Sid's cock, trying to take him deeper. It had been awhile, but he hadn't forgotten this feeling, the squeeze of Sid's fat cockhead at the back of his throat as the width of the shaft stretched his lips. He liked the impatient hand in his hair, the filthy words, the way Sid bucked his hips greedily, and he was panting for more when Sid pushed him off.
“Gotta fuck you now,” Sid said, fumbling for lube, looking a little crazed. Andy nodded and flopped onto his back, holding his legs open, his swollen lips parted as he watched Sid slick himself.
“You need to be opened?” Sid asked, crawling forward.
“Nuh-uh. Just do it. Hard, please, I need you so hard.”
Sid just groaned, and Andy loved seeing him fall apart for this. He was slow going in, watching Andy go crazy for the feeling of being stretched, his thumbs working his nipples as he arched and cried out. Sid grabbed both of Andy's hands and pinned them over his head, leaning down to work on Andy's nipples with his mouth as he sank in deeper. Andy was out of his mind with how good it felt, that familiar push, being filled, fucked open by Sid. Maybe he would never figure out why he needed this, but he did, and he groaned into Sid's mouth as Sid covered Andy's lips with his, kissing Andy like he was a thing Sid owned. Andy wanted it, to belong to Sid, still his favorite toy.
“Fuck, you're tight for me,” Sid said, breathing the words into Andy's open mouth. “So fucking tight, Andy – no one's ever been in you 'cept me, have they?”
“Hell no,” Andy said, staring up at Sid, panting. “You f-fucking know I'm yours.”
“That's right,” Sid said, though if the lost look in his eyes was any indication, this was news to him. He kissed Andy again, sighing into him and beginning to roll his hips. They were both sweating already, sliding together so well, like no time had passed at all, Sid's elbows sinking down around Andy's ears, his mouth so hungry and wet that Andy felt like he'd drown. He wanted to drown, to disappear inside this feeling, blown apart by how good it was to get fucked again, to have Sid pounding into him, hovering over him, staring down at Andy with those dark, possessive eyes, like Andy was his captive.
“Fucking look at you,” Sid said, holding Andy's jaw with one hand, his other hand in Andy's hair, tipping his head back. “Blushing under your fucking freckles. Such a little boy.” He licked across Andy's lips, moaning as if he could hardly stand it, and Andy came when Sid reached between them to grab his cock. His fingers were rougher than Andy remembered, hardened during their year apart, and Andy's eyes were leaking as his cock went off in Sid's hand. He reached up and pulled Sid down to him, hiding his wet face against Sid's shoulder as Sid huffed and snapped his hips, driving in deep.
“D'you miss my come s'much as you missed my dick?” Sid asked, barely getting the words out; Andy could hear how tight his jaw was, how hard he was trying to make this last, to hold himself back.
“Yeah,” Andy cried. “Please, fucking – fill me up, make me dirty.”
“Unghh,” Sid groaned out, his hips pistoning crazily now, and Andy knew he would be sore but he didn't care, just opened his legs wider as Sid's face pressed to his neck.
“My dirty boy,” Sid said with a weak laugh. His teeth closed over the slope between Andy's neck and shoulder as his orgasm ripped out of him, and Andy screamed again. He wrapped his arms around Sid's neck, his legs around Sid's back, and listened to Sid pant as he pumped his load into Andy, his teeth slowly dislodging from Andy's skin. Sid sighed and let Andy run his fingers through his hair, which hung in sweaty strands around Andy's face when Sid lifted his head. Sid seemed kind of out of it, his eyes still closed, and he rested his cheek against Andy's.
“Shit,” Sid said, breathing the word out, sounding astonished and so tired.
“Yeah,” Andy said, and he kissed the corner of Sid's eye. Sid bent down to lick over the bite mark he'd left on Andy's shoulder and Andy let his head drop back, his eyes sliding shut as the broken skin throbbed. It was a good throb, like the burn in his ass, Sid's cock still pushed inside him.
“Fucking pretty boy,” Sid muttered as he licked his way up Andy's neck and along his jaw. He sounded kind of irritated, but Andy still took it as a compliment, smiling lazily until Sid found his mouth, kissing him with a softness that could only be attributed to exhaustion. They stayed like that for a long time, and in Andy's mind they were under the picnic table, the purple leaves moving like music in the wind. He wanted this every day, to be reduced to Sid's sated captive, Sid's tongue soothing him back to consciousness, his cock going soft in Andy's opened ass.
“You need a fucking haircut,” Andy said when he finally cracked his eyes open, pushing Sid's hair behind his ear. Sid grinned, but it was a pathetic imitation of his usual smugness, his heart not really in it. His eyes locked on Andy's, and Andy knew he was thinking about what he'd said before, thinking that this was the last time. He still hadn't pulled out.
“Don't let anybody fuck with you at college,” Sid said, his face growing stern and serious. “Don't let the assholes push you around. And don't wear your fucking Buzz Lightyear shirt.”
“Whatever,” Andy said. “It'd probably be cool now, right? Nostalgia, irony, that sort of thing.”
“You'll never be cool, man,” Sid said, still huddled around him, smiling more genuinely now. “You'll always be my little dork.”
“Then you'd better come with me,” Andy said, his heart pounding. “Keep the cool kids from beating me up on the playground. That sort of thing.”
Sid snorted and rolled off of Andy. He cast around on the windowsill and cursed when he found that his pack of cigarettes was empty, throwing it across the room. Andy rolled onto his side and stared at Sid, who was looking up at the ceiling, pushing his hair off of his forehead. He tucked one arm behind his head, his mouth twitching as if he was fighting the urge to say something.
“I mean it,” Andy said. He propped himself up on an elbow and spread one hand across Sid's chest, unable to believe how strong he was now, how easily he'd hoisted Andy off the floor. “Have you got any money saved up? From your job?”
“Some,” Sid said. He scratched at his elbow. “But that's bullshit. I can't fucking move across the country just because we had a good fuck for old time's sake.”
“Don't be a dick,” Andy said. He touched Sid's jaw and turned his face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Please? Don't you want to get away from your dad?”
“Of course I fucking do. But –”
“But what? I've talked to the guy who's going to be my roommate, he's from Ohio. He said he won't be there until Monday, he's got some baseball tournament or something. That would give you almost three days to find an apartment. You could crash in my room while you looked.”
“Jesus,” Sid said, moaning and rubbing his hands over his face. “You're crazy. You think they'd just let me into your dorm with all the other clean cut darlings?”
“We could make you cleaner cut-looking, temporarily,” Andy said, touching Sid's short beard. “But, believe it or not, there are guys with goatees and long hair on college campuses, too.”
Sid scoffed and looked at the ceiling again, his mouth still twitching. Andy kissed his closed lips, then licked against them, coaxing them open.
“Come with me,” Andy said. “Please?” He thought of putting Woody in the box bound for college, and the reason that he did it. “I want to bring something from home, something I love.”
Sid jerked his eyes to Andy's, looking like he'd been slapped. The shock drained from his face, and Andy's heart slammed in his chest. He never could conjure a real mental image of driving his car across the country by himself, and now he was picturing Sid in the passenger seat, the window rolled down, a cigarette wagging between his lips while he ranted about Andy's music choices.
“Please?” Andy said again, rubbing his thumb along Sid's jaw. He didn't want to make the same mistake that his mother had, but he didn't want to live like he had for the past year, and some part of him had always trusted Sid not to hurt him. It was why he'd submitted to those games as a kid, because he liked being brought to the very edge, his heart pounding, breath stuttering, and then being set free. It was why he always came back for more.
“You really need me that bad, huh?” Sid said.
“Yeah,” Andy said. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Sid's chest, the anxiety that had been twisting him into knots for the past year beginning to drain away as Sid's fingers scratched through his hair. “Need you to turn my t-shirts inside out. Show me how to download free porn. Stuff like that.”
Sid laughed, and Andy could hear the relief in it. The blinds were still bent a little from where Sid had held them open when he called down to Andy, and one thin beam of sunlight was streaming through, streaking across Sid's chest and Andy's shoulder.
“Alright, then,” Sid said. He cleared his throat. “If you need me.”
“Yeah. I do.”
They fell asleep, Sid tired from his shift and Andy emotionally drained, glad to wake up to Sid's warm skin and irritable groans. He rolled Sid against him, hugging him hard while he slept. In a few hours they would pack up whatever Sid wanted to take with him: the laptop and the mp3 player, maybe an ashtray or two. Andy craned his neck, taking a last look at the room where he lost his virginity and had his first real, hard kiss. He thought about walking to the other window and looking out at the picnic table where he used to stare up at Sid, but he stayed where he was, afraid that if he saw that picnic table now it would seem much too small. In Andy's memories it was an abandoned warehouse and a sketchy doctor's office, a place big enough to hide in, the first room they ever shared.