Chapter Text
this is the story of the man who fell from grace
the man who rose from concrete
in attempt to change his fate
the man covered in bruises
at the step of heaven's gate
searched for purpose and acceptance
'til he finally found his place
2015
june - pompano beach, florida
There was this kid who found his way back to Florida.
Heard there was a kid down there who was gonna be star born exceptional, the kind you watch with a shake of your head, jaw dropped, eyes wide, impossible, something you beg to be a part of, just to be in that aura, God given glory.
So yeah there was this kid who found his way back to Florida from Alabama, who dragged his friend with him, as an excuse to get away from Texas for a little while.
Heard there was a kid down there who – turned – caught their eyes – more beautiful than they could ever imagine and he wasn’t even on turf.
Lamar had clocked him as a Florida returner with a single glance. There was something about Florida skin. It was used to the humidity. It was used to the grind. It was used to the baked back streets and the dark corners. Always be running.
Didn't make no quip 'bout it.
Just found each other on the beach then made their way up the streets to the main artery.
Florida returner mentioned going back to their friend, the one that was from Texas, who they left at the treasure shop that Lamar knew well, maybe fondly exasperated that Texas like the kitchy things, the ones that were old and ancient shit, the things that had come outta the ocean and had been reborn and also the things you’ll never find again, uniquely made by hand.
“Knew you were Florida.”
Florida returner raised a brow at him, a little scoff of breath like he was amused. "Been up in Georgia for a bit." Didn't say Lamar was wrong and Lamar knew he wasn't but it settled in him, like a piece slotting into place, when the acknowledgement came that he was right. And Georgia made sense, them boys were always running too.
And speaking of - one nudge of their shoulders, excuse being that they had to get close to avoid a running group of kids heading for the beach, that exhilarating taste of summer you’ll never get back, and a shared huff of a laugh, almost lost to the breeze, and then him and Florida returner were fucking gone, running and matching each other, stride to stride, glide to glide, getting back to their deep roots.
They were one.
Found the shop Texas must be at for Florida returner swung to a stop, settling into final stance, barely even panting, even with the humidity like a wet hot slick wrap tight ‘round their ribs. Lamar wasn’t doing none of that panting neither. Hands on hips, head tilted to the sky to catch a glimpse of star hidden by cloud. Didn’t catch that Florida returner was watching black moonlight blue skin glisten sweet and enticing with sweat. But Lamar did catch a star and it gave him courage.
“Wanna be in the NFL, man. Don’t wanna be stuck out here. Wanna be a part of something bigger than all this.”
Framed the star with football spinning hands. This was the most Lamar had said 'bout his goals. Normally he kept his head down, bowed in prayer or down for the grind. His momma knew of course. She knew where he was heading – to the stars than beyond.
But this kid was making words unfurl out his mouth like he was holding the other end of a glorious, rainbowed ribbon.
The kid's nose piercing, a silver cross, glinted in the stars like another part of the constellations. His eyes, deeper than the ocean, than the muck and the mire. His smile, something that didn't come 'round often but when it did, it made Lamar feel like he was soaring. Imagined a time where something like that would come ‘round nice and easy, without any thought at all. And the way he watched Lamar like he was observing and would keep doing it ‘till he understood every hidden part made Lamar shiver, a strange experience in this thick heat.
“I get it. I wanna be a running back.”
Lamar couldn't help but laugh at that. Of course. This Florida returner wasn’t built like no receiver. Wasn’t small, tiny, lightning quick. Wasn’t lithe, tall, a back shoulder, deep ball catcher. Wasn’t built thick and tough, a blocking tight end. But he had the air of a dodge and weaver, someone who saw lanes you couldn’t possibly dream of, someone who zoomed past you between one breath and the next. A running back. Shit. Lamar kicked the dirt a little, mourning the loss of getting a running back like this kid kinda like how he grieved for that one receiver. Like Pop Warner and too close-knit backseats and too sweaty locker rooms and one too many hits.
Lamar shook his head and wondered if he was gonna meet another dreamer and loose them just the same. How it would feel. He didn’t wanna think of it. Instead imagined a better world. Smiles and laughs that came simple and easy. Having this Florida returner on the same team with him. God, a guy who could run and dodge it all despite his tree trunk size, someone who wasn’t built like one thing but something altogether unique. One glance and yeah through work out shorts, he saw his thighs and imagined searing his mark there, to tongue those abs and chase inked stories and to feel the weight of that body pressing down on him and keeping him sweetly still, bold in ways he hadn’t been since last year, forward in ways he thought he had told himself he’d keep to the field and not with boys, lesson learned, or maybe not, all teeth and hands and-.
Swallowed hard. “Shit. That’s what they wanna turn me into.”
It had gotten old after the first game Lamar couldn’t throw the ball in time and had run out into space, dodging and weaving. What was it with people and their fucking opinions? It was like they weren’t privy to God’s grace, to how God nudged and yanked you in the right direction. If God wanted him to be a running back or hell even a receiver, God wouldn’t’ve put him as the leader of the field, as the one to shoulder the whole world, as the one to make everything right, fixed and set and growing, arc and spin and spiral, star dazzling.
Florida returner blinked at him, wider than the last blink, shock maybe. Lamar shrugged at that. It was what it was. His momma had more fight in her ‘bout it, was more proud ‘bout him being good at many things, was more quick to be mad ‘bout how they always tried to shove him into the tightest box and knew his potential better than Lamar could ever hope for, was always the one yelling at him after a loss, why you throw like that, why didn’t you run, why did you run, why you let them beat you, and on and on.
“Real shit?” Lamar nodded and Lamar didn’t expect the curious, “Whatchu doing then?”
Lamar figured it was obvious with how he was built but maybe Florida returner was thinking like all the others, running back and if running back didn’t work then receiver, anything but what he was God driven to do.
“Quarterbacking, man.”
Florida returner took a second to parse that, looking Lamar up and down in a heated, all seeking glance that made those stupid shivers rack his frame again.
“Damn. Who would’a thought…”
Florida returner sounded like he wasn’t just talking ‘bout what they had been discussing. But Lamar didn’t have time to ask ‘cause the door to the shop creaked open, got slammed back, an apology low and deep at the end of it, the wave away call of the shop owner, Daryl, Lamar knew him well as he always snuck the really cool seashells for Lamar when no one was really looking, and then there was another one standing before Lamar, side by side with Florida returner.
Florida returner glanced at, what Lamar assumed to be his Texas friend, and the two eased into each other’s space so well that it spelt years of trust and friendship. Lamar felt wrong for yearning to ease between that too tight space.
And, shit, where was this Texas kid even from? He had southern gentleman, take it all slow, written all over him. About as tall as them. Thinner, lithe, especially next to Florida returner. A receiver. Deep ball. Head thrown over the shoulder. Always tracking. Always speeding off the break. A wave down the end zone, right here, you don’t even gotta look, just throw, trust. There was also something so damn suave ‘bout how he stood, how he carried himself.
And fuck was he just as handsome as Florida returner.
Lamar watched Texas’s tight long locks bounce about. There was a reason for it maybe, in how some of them twisted, kinda like how cornrows had all them different patterns. Lamar wanted to thumb all the grooves, all the ways they stuck out his head, how they might’ve been laid just so, but then Texas looked at him, up and down like Florida returner had and now it wasn’t just shivers but hot prick needles digging straight to his heart.
Before this, Lamar had been at Sunrise Skate on the south side, just walking ‘round, and had drank some sorta juice and vodka, biting and cheap, not so hidden in some dude's trunk, and once Lamar felt the thorn of his thoughts slide off his mind like water, he went back to walking ‘round and that was when he stumbled upon Florida returner at the beach.
And right now, Lamar regretted that sip of juice ‘cause tongue loose, “Damn, whose this?”
Florida returner blinked a little faster, in shock maybe, and Lamar felt a thorn prick on its way out - what if these dudes fucking shoot me?
But damn would it be worth it.
Worth it as – red dot – second line – Texas merely smiled soft and slow at him like a deep night, cicada, firefly lullaby. Voice deep like sucking mud - “DeAndre. You?”
Swallowed, couldn't, stumbled, “Uh…Lamar. You ain't Florida.”
Shake of the head, a hint of mirth that made his eyes golden - “South Carolina.”
So, Texas was originally from South Carolina. Lamar did a silly little fist pump, loving that he was right, that he had called it, but still felt a bit stupid that he didn’t just take a stab in the dark, ‘cause, “Damn I could'a guessed that.”
Texas – South Carolina – DeAndre – tilted his head at him. “Why?”
Lamar didn't know how to say it - that Carolina boys were like slow moving, shimmering ponds, all them stones and creatures, always knowing all your secrets, pulsed deep like 808s – so he shrugged, saying, “You got the aura, man. Like how I knew you’s was Florida,” laughing a bit as he did, nodding to Florida returner.
Florida returner met his eyes and Lamar hoped that in his begging gaze that Florida returner would give him his name too. But DeAndre distracted his quest with a little laugh, quiet in the breeze, almost lost, never doubted, a quiet thing. “Good aura I hope.”
Lamar ducked his head a bit at that. “Yeah…good.”
More than good really but Lamar was at a loss for descriptors. All he had in his head was a bunch of silly poetics, things his momma said made him too much a thinker, too lost in his head, drowning in the water.
As the silence cut in, Lamar felt suddenly small next to DeAndre and Derrick. They were about the same height he was guessing but he still felt tiny, new, raw like a kid fresh on the football field. Completely green. Waiting for the vets to guide him ‘round even though this was his space, his town.
Clearing his throat, he tried to grasp normalcy. “Was just over at Sunrise Skate. Sound like your kinda thing?”
Florida returner and DeAndre glanced at each other. DeAndre shrugged in response to Florida returner’s raised eyebrow. The silent way they spoke. The way they entered each other’s space as if they always belonged.
Lamar wished he had that.
Normally all he got was wayward nomads, boys who didn’t stick ‘round, boys who he only saw in the night and never the day, boys who never cared much to see him on the field or if they did it was only wanting him when he won and when every other boy was gone and the locker room was deathly quiet, boys who saw him as an experiment or something to use, boys who wanted him one moment but was gone once he inevitably fucked up, boys who’d forget his name ‘till it was everywhere and they couldn’t escape the niggling sense of blurry memory.
Lamar was used to the swinging, heart shattering door of it. Lamar had gotten numb to it. Had gotten used to the fact that no one would touch him like that one boy ever again. That all he’d be was something to use then skip out on.
But DeAndre and Florida returner weirdly made him believe and yearn for something deeper, for something that stayed no matter the miles, the losses and the wins, the soar to the stars and beyond, that something like that was even possible.
“Yeah. We up for it,” Florida returner said. Then, with DeAndre’s nudge, he added, “Derrick.”
Derrick. DeAndre. Names that Lamar could suck on like saltwater taffy. Names that he would call endlessly into the night. Names that he would kneel for, pray for, follow for, lead for.
“Alright. Let’s go then.”
Together, they all walked over to Sunrise Skate, Lamar an observer to Derrick pointing things out for DeAndre. Derrick wasn’t from this particular area but he knew enough and it was intriguing to hear things he was familiar with from someone Lamar hadn’t met before. It soothed the shivers a little and soon enough he was at the front door of Sunrise Skate, nudging it open and holding it wide enough for Derrick and DeAndre to slip by.
In that quick second, Lamar caught salt stuck breeze, something fruity like mango, and something sweet yet musky. Lamar could’ve guessed but he didn’t want to, just stuck crazily yearning to know those scents forwards and backwards, inner and outer, ‘till it was a part of his very own makeup.
“Lamar?”
Lamar jolted. God. He had never felt this fucking stuck, this fucking crazed. Not since…well, there was no sense in reminiscing on dead things. Shaking his head, he quickly shut the front door and skirted ‘round Derrick’s and DeAndre’s twin confused gazes with a “Skates are over there.”
Derrick kept watching him for a moment longer than he finally nodded and vanished, taking the task he was given in Lamar’s second half-baked attempt to scramble for normalcy. It was wild that Derrick had even listened to him and it felt good like they had been friends forever, like there was indeed some sliver of space between DeAndre and Derrick where he could fit. Somehow it also made it easier to relax into the rhythm of routine, almost like Derrick knew he needed it and let him lead, of Derrick coming back over with skates for DeAndre and a raised brow for Lamar. “13's.” Then Derrick was gone again, off to get theirs.
Lamar watched him for a beat, how Derrick settled his elbows on the counter, casual like he had always been here, and chatted up the guy behind the counter, laughing even with him. Every person had sides to them. Lamar was tilting each one, looking for cracks and shimmers, agitating his heart over and over again on every curve and dip and-.
“C’mere, Lamar.”
The sound of his name out DeAndre’s mouth startled him, nearly melting at the way that deep voice curled the vowels and growled the end. God was probably watching him and laughing away at how he stumbled then glanced at DeAndre like he had forgotten he was even there. DeAndre nodded to an empty table behind them, guiding them both, taking the lead, and none of it felt wrong. It all felt so easy to follow just like how DeAndre had commanded.
New route.
Cut back this way.
Over the shoulder.
Score – “I haven't done this shit since high school.”
Everything in Lamar froze.
Just staring at DeAndre, hopeless, as DeAndre sat down at the table and got to work on the skates, pulling out the laces to loosen them up like DeAndre was doing to his fucking heart, and God please no, Derrick and him couldn't be that much older, could they?
Desperate, scrambling, where was the part where he could materialize through, “College?”
DeAndre shoved his feet into the skates, tying them tight and tilting his head back and forth like a yes and a no.
And that was when the thorns in Lamar's mind finally pierced all at once and the slurry in his mind cleared enough for reality to jolt through.
Florida boy coming over from Georgia.
With a friend from Texas who was originally from South Carolina.
Georgia – Alabama.
South Carolina – Clemson.
Fuck.
Lamar chocked out, “DeAndre Hopkins and Derrick Henry?” Because of course. Of fucking course. How could Lamar not have seen it, the guy that ran through bodies at Alabama and the star of Texas?
DeAndre merely patted the seat next to him as if the revelation hadn’t shaken the foundation of what was happening here. Lamar sat down in a heap, running a hand over his face and cursing himself, staring at DeAndre like he was brand new. Sure, he hadn’t found himself watching too much of college but in his quest to find a home for himself, he should’ve known and heard ‘bout the running back from Florida. And it wasn’t worth too much to watch the Texans lately, scrambling ‘round with average to way below average quarterback play, living still in the shadow of that horrendous 2013 season, a waste really of that Clemson talent, but he should’ve recognized a star. Either that sip of juice was doing damage to his memory or he was too down bad to think past the haze. Whichever it was, it didn’t bode well for him.
DeAndre shrugged, settling his legs down and gently rolling the bottom blade back and forth on the carpet. Lamar watched the moving blade, helpless to DeAndre trying to soothe him. “You good, man. Not everyone watches college. Or any other team 'sides their home team.” DeAndre was doing his best but Lamar's mind was spinning too fast to be caught, almost like if that blade had run off from the skate, bolts rusted off and laces all tugged out.
Laid back against the table, feeling how the cheap wood and laminate dug into his spine, and breathed out, “Fuck, man. You don't gotta be hanging 'round with some kid like this.”
It was like all them boys all over again.
College boys who came back to Florida and who sought out something familiar and easy. Lamar fit that description. Didn’t mind if the other kid was twenty or twenty-five. So what if he was eighteen. He knew what to watch out for, knew the hints to be petrified ‘bout, knew how to run and care for himself, had learned how it felt when good things were dead ‘fore they were ever even gone.
But he didn’t want that with DeAndre and Derrick. He wanted something better than all that. And here he was, a complete and utter fucking fool. Said he was gonna be a quarterback but couldn’t even recognize the stars of college and NFL. Fuck he was so fucking stupid. He always did this. Got hung up on the guys that had something in their eyes – all heart, all bite, no bark. Or if they did, they always meant it, could back it up how deep they howled.
Lamar scooted away from DeAndre, knowing that it would come soon, how DeAndre would be done with him – man you don’t even know us, how good could you possibly be, man you just a young thing and I’d never want you like that, I’d never even use you like all the other college boys, all I’d do is leave you like-.
Lamar startled when he felt a hand on the crook of his elbow, wrapping ‘round bone and skin like it was a common thing. The warmth from DeAndre’s sure fingers – he was a receiver, it was in his grip, gentle yet commanding, sure and strong, hooked just right as if to cradle and hold and keep – bloomed deep within Lamar and he shuddered out the pain trying to squeeze his heart dry.
“Lamar.” That beautiful deep unfurl. Lamar couldn’t help it. He had to look at DeAndre, to face whatever was gonna be there in his soothing creek deep eyes. What he found looking back was a softness he hadn’t expected. DeAndre was so good at that, like how Derrick was so good at observing you and blinking at you. It was its own language, like there were layers to how the both of them quietly operated and gave themselves away, wearing their heart in their eyes rather than on their sleeves.
In this layer of softness, Lamar knew, sudden and raw, that DeAndre was worried ‘bout him, that somewhere, somehow, DeAndre cared ‘bout him enough to maybe even dare to know why.
“Man, drop all this shit. We here same as you. Just wanting a bit of fun in the downtime. 'Sides...”
Lamar watched, wide eyed, as that softness tightened to something too strong and dizzying. That gaze, those eyes, swept down his form once more before meeting his eyes again. “You eighteen, right?”
The way DeAndre said it felt like a searing kiss.
Lamar felt like he was drowning, like he was tilting into DeAndre’s touch and words and the hand on his elbow was rubbing now and Lamar was two seconds away from begging for it, yeah I’m eighteen and I don’t care how young that might seem but I swear I’m down for it, for whatever you wanna give.
Swallowed hard, “Yeah.”
DeAndre smiled at that, teeny and tiny but there, and Lamar shivered as DeAndre took his hand away and asked, “Where you going?”
The switch up in the convo made Lamar startle, stumble. He blinked back into reality, doing his best to skid his brain into working. Best he could do was one worded answers, feeling like his whole soul had just got shaken up.
Cleared his throat. “Uh, Louisville.”
DeAndre raised a brow at him. “Quarterback?” Of course DeAndre had clocked him faster and quicker than Derrick had. What was it that gave Lamar away this time? Then DeAndre, soft again, added, “Don't let 'em force you into receiving.”
Had DeAndre gotten a taste of those kinda questions? The people that saw how you were built and when it didn’t fit into a neat box, they questioned what you were doing trying to get in, trying to make a name for yourself?
Lamar almost laughed to himself imagining DeAndre as a quarterback. In his mind, DeAndre didn’t have the build for it, almost didn’t have the personality for it neither. He was too much like Earth, settled and calm and grooved in the right spots to keep others safe. Lamar knew when to be cocky, when to be sure, when to be so confident that the only answer was overcoming and winning. Lamar knew when to turn the thoughts off, to focus, to be a laser thin wire against a wall of imposing men. He knew when to gather the wayward and get them on the right path. There were of course areas where Lamar knew that with time would come easier. Like vocalizing what he liked and didn’t like, like taking charge with vocals not just with guiding hands, audibles at the line to switch it up, get the defense tripping on what was actually possible.
But if there was something that Lamar had known since birth, ‘sides quarterbacking, God driven, was this, “I'd be dead 'fore I'd let that happen.”
DeAndre huffed that quiet thing of his. This close, Lamar felt it and he leaned into it, subconscious. DeAndre’s hand squeezed his skin gently, almost as if he was encouraging it, the fight, the lean in, the whatever it was they were doing. Gently, just for them to hear, “Good.”
The undulating praise made the shivers show up again, almost like the perfect ones could indeed make you feel lovesick.
“So you is that quarterback we were looking for.”
Derrick’s voice came ‘round the bend and Lamar leaned back enough to see him walk over and set the skates on the carpet in front of Lamar.
Lamar tilted his head at that, curious, as he took the skates, undid the laces, and slipped his feet in. Tying them tight, he said, “You hear ‘bout me or something?” ‘Cause it was crazy to think that an NFL and college star would hear ‘bout some kid in Florida.
“Yeah, you all we guys talk ‘bout.”
Lamar couldn’t even understand that, blinking at Derrick and DeAndre slow and disbelieving.
“We all were waiting to see where you’d go.” Derrick said this as if to say, too bad it won’t be Alabama.
Now, Lamar knew he was worth more than what anyone could hope he’d be. And he was that way because he worked hard, kept his head down, and settled into the gritty grind of it. He knew who he was and what he was capable of and what could be ahead and that the dreams that had plagued him since he was young were gonna unfold. If you dream it, you get it.
But he also didn’t think many people knew him or at least knew him in the sense that they should’ve. He had interviews and he had people show up at his high school games, watching him run and cut and juke and toss a shot to the endzone on his tippy toes. And he could see it in their eyes, how he was either a miracle or a sinner, going too much outside one box and creating his own, how people could hate the things they’d never understand.
Shook his head. “Crazy to think people be knowing me like that.” Shrugged. “Good thing, though.” Because whether or not other people wanted it didn’t matter. What was gonna happen was gonna happen, God driven. So if God wanted him on top of the mountain, as he so strived and dreamed for, then he would be. Simple.
DeAndre and Derrick smiled twin soft grins, proudness welling deep in their eyes. Lamar saw it in how each eye glowed, in how they were different from all the other looks he had been given. Like he wasn’t a sainted miracle, a hero and he wasn’t no sinner neither. He was just…
A human being.
Someone to look towards. Flower to sun. Like an instinctual thing. Someone worth knowing.
Lamar always felt like his dreams were capable, real, tangible things.
In their eyes, Lamar also felt like he himself was just as capable, just as real, just as tangible.
Tried to roll his shoulder away and look elsewhere but DeAndre caught his arm again, elbow crook, and Derrick’s hand ghosted his spine, hot and wide, and he was trapped between them and their praise, flower to sun, sun to flower.
Ducked his head, still couldn’t escape it.
“Seriously. You gonna be the best thing out there,” DeAndre assured it.
Derrick finished it, teasing but true, “But you knew that already.”
It had the flavors of past haunts and it was said with the same kinda awe. It froze Lamar’s heart for the briefest of seconds, thinking this was gonna be over too, just like that, a separation of skin and wound.
But when the freezing melted and all he felt was too warm and joyous, he dared himself to believe better endings were possible, that all of this was merely the beginning.
Met those eyes, golden, and said, feeling pink with it already, “Being so sweet’s gonna get you nowhere quick with me.”
Derrick raised a brow at that. His hand quit its ghosting and pressed firm along Lamar’s spine. The shock of full heat made Lamar nearly gasp something off broken and too raw. Straightened in the after waves but then settled into it, allowing Derrick to touch him, low and possessive. Close to his ear, warming skin, smelling like summer fruit and beach breeze, something like the muskiness of a too long drive and a single sip of fruit punch, “Don’t believe that for a second.”
Glanced through his lashes to find DeAndre watching him, taking in his reactions like he was a new route, a new way forward. DeAndre must’ve sensed Lamar looking ‘cause he reached a hand out and tilted Lamar’s head up. That raw, off broken gasp stuttered out and DeAndre’s eyes darkened and in it, Lamar felt stuck, mud and mire.
DeAndre hummed in agreement, the sound rattling through Lamar’s bones. “We shall see, hm?”
It gave Lamar shivers imagining it, what else DeAndre and Derrick could do to win favor with him. But sinking into that so sudden might spell disaster so Lamar steered them elsewhere, scared maybe, petrified more likely, and said, “One day. And quit all that. We here to skate, ain’t we?”
Slipped from the warm bubble that was being between Derrick and DeAndre, blading slowly a bit along the carpet so as not to roll too quick and fall. Stopped at the spot where you dip on to the skating rink.
“Wherever the quarterback goes.”
DeAndre’s comment was said in soft grace and Lamar glanced back to see Derrick and DeAndre right behind him, watching him just the same.
Wherever the quarterback goes.
It felt like adding another dream – I hope this is for real, I hope this is for forever.
Lamar was drowning again but really, he could’ve predicted that one, easy. It was just how things happened with him. He went with the tide and the tide usually led him to some beach, some court, some field, some rink, in the backseat, under the stars, catching moments as you walked and wandered.
Of course...of course.
Lamar dipped his skates down and glided on to the floor.
Dipping and swerving hardwood with its dents and skid marks, and molded corners of the ceiling tiles, and bright lights to match the swing and pump of the booming bass, something catchy like bubblegum pop and then the harsh crash into rap. It was one of the few places Lamar felt at home at. It was like slipping back into younger, easier days, the ones where he'd walk down from school to the rink or the beach or the field. These three places had molded him. That didn't discredit his momma's guiding hand nor the mother henning he always got from his sisters but when neither of them was there, those three places filled in the gaps as well as whatever the boys who were sweet on him left behind.
He was a mixture of it all and he never felt all the pieces of himself become whole 'till he was on or with one of those five things. On the rink, on the beach, on the field, stuck to his momma's side, or in a boy's arms. That last one was dangerous, somehow even more than him taking a too hard hit or twisting and breaking something. It also felt like four of those things were always trying to tie together within his very soul.
'Cause of course he'd be in the rink with the two boys he was falling for, easy as water, as the sun rising and setting, as the moon and her tides. If it wasn't the rink, he was sure it would've been the court or the field. Maybe someday it'd all tie together.
But for now, despite the danger, he let himself believe once more that this time could be different, that he could paint over all the wrongs and the pains and the goodbyes with South Carolina charm and Florida returner calm.
Did a spin, twisting to make sure DeAndre and Derrick were still making circuits with him. Derrick was taking a breather, against the rink, watching everyone else move. The spinning neon lights cut him up into parts, looking best in midnight blue and bruised purple. Lamar caught his gaze and was soothed by Derrick's nod, go on, do what you wanna, I'll be right here.
So Lamar held his hand out for DeAndre to grab. DeAndre raised a brow at him, probably much more comfortable running a route than skating but DeAndre took his hand nonetheless, pulling Lamar into him with a stomach diving lurch of their skates and then Lamar was surrounded by sweet musk, by DeAndre's glimmering tiny smile.
It almost made Lamar wanna chuck the skates off, slip into his slides, get in Derrick's car and just go somewhere with the both of them, somewhere far from Florida and nowhere near where those two were heading. Instead, Lamar swung their arms then switched up their positions, turning back 'round and as the dark corners swallowed them up, Lamar dared to lean back a bit, ‘cause maybe all those times before begged him to dream bold, grinding his ass against the curve of DeAndre's soft dick. Played it off like an excuse. “Sorry, blades be slippy as fuck.”
DeAndre stilled then he huffed that soft little thing that must’ve meant he was amused. A hand ghosted along the hem of his shorts like a gentle warning and when all Lamar did was hum, hopefully not as desperate sounding as he thought it was, DeAndre's thumb skipped then slipped under the band of Lamar's shorts, smoothing along skin and bone.
The touch was so different than all the rest of them boys. Something that pulled you in gentle. You would never realize you were drowning ‘till you were curled up on the sea floor.
Breath ghosting his ear, that same scent of fruit punch that had meddled up Derrick’s tongue, “You think you so slick. Tell me you less obvious on the field.”
“I can show you.”
“Don't. God'll get us there.”
DeAndre had said it as the words were full of hope, some sort of starry and wild eyed promise. It made Lamar wanna melt into his fucking hands as images seared into his brain. Of him throwing the football down field, trusting that DeAndre was down there somewhere, waiting for him, always in sync. Of him cradling the football into Derrick's trusted elbow bend, watching from afar as Derrick blurred past him and took it-.
Home.
Let DeAndre rock them a bit, side to side, a soft sway, then DeAndre nudged him and he was sad to go, sad to break their little bubble, but gliding away led him to Derrick, strong arms catching him as the blades seemed to wanna go skyward.
Derrick’s hand low on his spine again, blade with me, so Lamar did. The songs switched beats ‘round, the floor was dizzying, and Lamar was laughing at DeAndre’s baby bird hobble and DeAndre’s teeny glare and the way they orbited each other made Lamar feel like anything was possible.
It was of course over too soon.
Lamar was feeling the curl of eleven at night, of his momma probably wondering he was at, so he skidded to a stop and at the table, switched skates out for his slides. He didn’t even wait for DeAndre and Derrick to notice him. They were in their own little world, leaning against the rink and talking low to one another.
It gave Lamar a bit of reprieve, to be outside their bubble. Maybe he could use the fresh air, the sting and tight wrap of humidity.
Slipped outside. Felt like his head popped like a balloon as he did. A rush of hot humid clarity overtook him, sticking to his skin, shaking him almost.
Tipped his head back and stared up at the night.
It felt like ice water, thinking of what in the hell he was doing here. He hadn’t been caught by a boy in a minute and offseason was ‘bout to switch to a new place, new season, new team, new parts of himself that he had to master and overcome, things to grind for and dream for.
And here he was, suddenly wishing he wasn’t ‘bout to do any of that. Almost wished he could fast forward, to the future that DeAndre seemed to see and promise.
Something like-.
“Found you.”
Arms wrapped ‘round his waist, loose – Derrick. Like all the times before, Lamar leaned into it, letting the shock of Derrick’s realness settle in his bones and then be washed away by how Derrick’s mouth found the curve of his neck.
“You eat yet?”
Lamar shook his head. All night he hadn’t felt it but it was like as soon as Derrick mentioned it, it awoke his stomach and it started growling hard.
Heard DeAndre laugh to his left and he turned to see DeAndre watching him, amused like he knew what was coming, and sure enough, when they had walked and gotten to Derrick’s car left abandoned at the beach, Derrick opened the back seat and made DeAndre’s amusement the truth, digging for whatever it was he had brought.
Lamar looked at DeAndre for an explanation. It kinda made sense if the trip was long but this felt calculated, an instinctual thing.
DeAndre supplied an answer with a fond, “It’s Derrick’s thing. Feed others, not the self. He gets real intense 'bout it.”
“Real shit? What’s he got?”
DeAndre smiled at his curiosity. “He's got chicken salad chilling in a cooler.”
Lamar turned to go meet Derrick where he was rummaging in the car. It was crazy, to have a mostly kinda stranger try and care for him and he, at the absolute very least, had to go be grateful.
DeAndre only raised a brow at him but didn't say a word 'bout Lamar's innate instinct to be polite. His momma hadn't raised no sorry excuse for a man, thank you very much.
“Heard you trying to feed me.”
Derrick merely chose to stay silent, instead handing him a bowl of scooped out chicken salad. Lamar held it in wonderment. Guy was so prepared that he had bowls and probably cutlery. Lamar wondered if that was what him and DeAndre were gonna do, sit on the beach and eat ‘fore heading somewhere else, if they had instead gotten derailed by Lamar’s presence, like fate, here’s that quarterback everyone’s been talking ‘bout.
“Thanks. You didn't have to.” Lamar managed to get the words out before thumbing a bite into his mouth, too eager to get something into his stomach.
Derrick shook his head at him, both amused and disconcerted. “Really? Polite boys have a limit?”
“Nah. Starved, man.”
Derrick nodded almost smugly as if he knew Lamar would come sniffing ‘round what he had. Then he plopped a fork into the bowl, steel chiming against porcelain. So Lamar was right. Derrick had bowls and cutlery.
“Here, just in case.”
It was said in jest and Lamar was instantly amused. “I don't know...thumb ain't got those prongs, you know. Doesn't make for a smooth experience.”
“Well excuse my lack of spoons.”
“You had a bowl. You ain't have the whole kitchen in there?”
“Wanna see?”
And then suddenly Derrick was pressing Lamar against the car, the switch up and the heat of his confidence and the molten warmth of his body and the humidity of summer in Florida, it was fucking dangerous, all of it mixed to destroy him. Breathed out, “Fuck, man.” Tilted his head back and Derrick's lips were in that exposed open space between neck and shoulder as if he had been waiting impatiently to get back to it.
Lamar had guessed that DeAndre would be the first to confidence him into some sorta situation and sure DeAndre had allowed Lamar to grind on him and had touched him but he hadn't overwhelmed him like this. He hadn't expected it from Derrick - the shock was making him tremble.
“Surprised you, huh?” Derrick murmured.
“Shit. Yeah. Thought DeAndre...”
“DeAndre talks but he doesn't act, he follows.”
And that was why DeAndre didn't say a word when Lamar rolled ‘round to the other side of the car ‘cause he had known how it'd play out. It was funny how DeAndre and Derrick operated, like two halves of the same whole, giving each other space to feel Lamar out for themselves. It made Lamar feel like he was getting bounced between them and each pass was making him fall harder and faster and with a drowning end.
“Feel like he'd hate hearing that.”
“He does. But he shuts up eventually.”
DeAndre’s voice from around the bend, “‘Cause you make me shut up,” and then DeAndre was next to him. Lamar tilted into DeAndre’s space, biting his bottom lip hard as DeAndre put a hand on him again, same spot, right in the crook of his elbow, laying claim. And then Lamar watched, helpless, breathless, as Derrick tilted into DeAndre’s space and DeAndre met his waiting mouth.
They kissed like they had decades to sink into it. Slow, tender, something that Lamar had never been a part of. If there was kissing, it was rushed, heated, mostly breath and all spit and tongue, no finesse, no standing there getting your whole self learned by someone else’s tongue.
It made everything in Lamar’s mind go siren scream quiet.
So. Derrick and DeAndre were together. Which made sense. Logical, rational. He had seen it in the way they tilted into each other’s space, in the way that it felt like there wasn’t any room between them for someone else.
Logical, rational.
It tore Lamar’s whole fucking heart out. He didn’t think anything could hurt worse than hits on the court, the E.R. doors shutting, and the lack of met eyes at the very end of it all. But here he was, feeling hollowed out and gutted.
Leaned back against the car, watching helplessly as DeAndre hooked a hand in Derrick’s t and pulled him in more like he was insatiable for it. Lamar betted that they tasted like fruit punch. Swallowed hard and thumbed another bite of chicken salad in his mouth, biting the tip of his nail after he chewed.
The kissing must’ve lasted for another meltingly loud second before Derrick slipped from the kiss first. His hand was on DeAndre’s spine like he had laid it on Lamar, just as low, just as possessive. And DeAndre’s hand was on Derrick’s elbow crook, opposite side, calm and secure, receiver hands. And they were looking at one another with the type of heat that never went down easy.
Then DeAndre looked at Lamar, eyebrow raised, with eyes that seemed to be foggy with wherever Derrick had taken him during that kiss. Couldn't look at DeAndre, too much in yearning, dutifully in trance, so Lamar switched thumb to fork and scooped more chicken salad in his mouth ‘till it was gone. Then Derrick took the bowl and set it back inside the cooler where everything else was kept.
DeAndre leaned into him and Lamar accepted his weight, listening to Derrick dig around more in the cooler. DeAndre hummed, “Under the chips.” Derrick made a noise, of course, as he found whatever it was and leaned out the car to hold it out to Lamar.
A water bottle of red liquid, brighter than blood, thick with sugar.
Fruit punch.
The same taste that had been in Derrick and DeAndre’s mouth all night.
Lamar hoped he wasn’t shaking as he took the bottle, twisted off the cap, and took a sip. He let it settle on his tongue, the bright fruity punch of feeling like he was being tongued by them, being kissed deep and held there to claim. Took another rough sip and swallowed the heart shaped lump in his throat.
Yeah, Lamar was fucked.
Easy. Simple.
And Derrick and DeAndre watched him like they knew. Sipped some more, swallowed, breathed, took it in, then, sorrowful, DeAndre tilted his head at Derrick and Derrick nodded. In that dance, Lamar understood that this strange night was over, ending, final, four seconds on the clock was sometimes never enough.
“We gotta get back to Dallas. Do some training.”
DeAndre scuffed his shoe on the pavement, looking out into the night like he couldn’t quite meet Lamar’s eyes, like Dallas was out there somewhere too far away to even comprehend. Lamar wanted to scream it, take me with you, but he wasn’t as bold as he had been, didn’t think him being vocal like this was possible unless it was on a field.
Shrugged. “Okay.” Because what else could Lamar do? He snugly fit the cap back on the bottle, swishing the half full liquid back and forth. Should he put it back? Or should he hold on to it? Derrick answered for him, gently covering Lamar’s hand with his own, warm from the humid night, and tipping the bottle closer to his chest, keep it.
So Lamar kept a death grip on it and stared into deepness as Derrick said, “Nice meeting you.” A nod to add to the punctuation, a shake of their joined hands as if to emphasize then Derrick let go of Lamar's hand.
Cold, frozen, biting bottom lip, Lamar choked out, “Yeah. Same.”
DeAndre finally came back from wherever he had been and nodded at him too. “And good luck with wherever you going.”
Lamar nodded in rhythm with DeAndre. It felt like they were all robots going through the motions of saying goodbye because they didn’t want to do such a crazy thing as actually feel it.
“Appreciate it. You too.”
His words indeed sounded too simple, too disjointed, like he wasn’t sure how to human his way outta this in a normal fashion.
Lamar stepped away from the car, still holding the water bottle, thumb ravaging the plastic paper label, and watched as Derrick walked over to the driver side, swung inside and started the car. Robotic motions. Automatic. Things you did when there was goodbye. Windows rolled down. DeAndre sinking into the passenger side, long legs tucked in a bit. Separate arms hanging out that open space. Different sets of eyes but twins in how deep they captured Lamar just standing there.
“See you, Lamar.” A wave from DeAndre. DeAndre seemed to always say Lamar’s full name. Derrick chose an abbreviation, “See you, L.”
And then they were gone.
Lamar watched until the headlights became blurs, until the waves entered his own eyes, until he was matching the ocean, salt for salt.
He knew he had to trust God to steer him right.
He just hoped this time around maybe the ending wouldn’t hurt so bad.
But he wasn’t kidding no one.
Took that long walk back home.
Unlocked the front door and winded ‘round to the living room, unsurprised to find his momma up, sitting on the couch, half dozed as the television screen flickered shopping channel commercials at her. Lamar set the water bottle of fruit punch down on the carpet and reached for the fuzzy blanket over top the couch, laying it down gentle on his momma. She stirred at the movement, half dozed indeed, and grabbed his hand, loose but strong.
“You back, baby?”
Lamar hummed. “Yeah, momma.”
His momma blinked at him, soft eyes taking him in, x-rayed. “Meet anyone nice?”
Had she seen it on him?
That he had been irrevocably scarred again by some boys.
Lamar shrugged, choosing to be honest ‘cause there was no such thing as lying to his momma. “Yeah. Two of ‘em. Great guys.”
His momma squeezed his hand, another punctuation mark. “Good, good.” And that must’ve been enough for her eyes fluttered shut and she was asleep within seconds. Lamar watched her ‘till her hand went sleep limp in his hold. Made sure she was tucked in then grabbed the water bottle and walked over to the television, shutting it off. Glanced up at the mantel, the photographs, the glinting frames, of connections and all it meant.
In order of the oldest - the twins, Rozlyn and Shéy, Desirae, and then him, the baby. Photos of them through the years blinked back at him. Stuck on Shéy, on the one person outta all them that ran and never looked back. Too similar to Shéy sometimes. Wondered if one day he'd show back up, if one day they could reconcile the storm.
Shook his head and slipped away to his room. Set the water bottle on his nightstand, red liquid looking like blood, like what made your heart pump in the dark. Watched it settle for a minute then wrapped his arms 'round himself, figuring he wouldn't bother changing, almost like he wanted to keep the sweet musk fruitiness of the night stuck to his skin, didn’t feel like shedding memories or imprints.
Paced a bit then took out his phone, daring to send something to Desirae 'bout this night. Family was funny. You had the ones you could tell anything to, the ones you'd tell nothing to. With Roz and Des, Lamar could tell them anything and it'd be scary but they'd be there for him through anything. But Des understood a bit deeper what it was like to be queer.
‘Membered that conversation that took place in his bedroom. Des always liked talking, was way more extroverted then he could ever be. His momma had explained once that Des got that from her too, all the girls echoing her in one way or another, with Roz being the headstrong and stubborn one. Momma had always said too that she was the one that had pulled their daddy outta his head. And here Des was, continuously pulling him outta his. His momma had been concerned ‘bout him, seeing him hanging ‘round with boys and getting lost in 'em, hearing him talk about Damien getting beat for the same kinda things, the fear and worry of it all, and had pulled Des in to talk to him.
That conversation had been so eye opening. Lamar hadn’t ever guessed that Des was like him but he felt less alone with that knowledge. She had laid on his bed and listened as Lamar talked ‘bout that one boy in particular and she had smiled warmly and teased him a good deal. And when things fell apart, Des had been the first one he told and she had held him as he struggled to pick up the pieces.
So of course he would reach out to her now, that scene and all them feelings and all them looks thrumming through his system, feeling irrevocably changed and imprinted.
Sent out a text in the dark.
i think i found the ones
And Des, of course, was not surprised.
look at you baby bro
proud of you
you know your heart was always too big to only carry one
keep me updated!!
It sounded so hopeful the way she spun it. Could it be possible then that lighter, brighter things were on the horizon?
Collapsed on to the bed on his back, staring at the ceiling as time ticked away. He figured sharing with Des what had happened was gonna unhook this exhaustion from him plus after a whirlwind of a night, he felt like his body should’ve collapsed into sleep by now. Instead, it was thrumming with an energy he couldn’t parse, almost like the adrenaline crash of a win and the pickup of the pieces spill of a loss. Tossed and turned for another minute ‘fore he finally looked at the clock, watching the numbers slide together and realized what day it was now.
June 4th.
Lamar might be many things but he was mostly a love-struck idiot ‘cept now there were two sides of him vying for purchase on his slippery heart.
Sighing hard, Lamar grabbed his phone, pulling up the contact he should’ve blocked but didn’t, and sent a message because he was foolish, stuck, love struck, and didn’t let go of things easy. He used a lot of things for motivation. Maybe one day he’d be more mature and he wouldn’t hold on as strong. Or maybe it was just who he was. Always on the delicate balance of holding on to every hurt and letting it go just enough to be able to breathe again.
Whatever he was, he sent the words out there.
happy birthday
wherever you is enjoy it
Locked his phone and set it on the bed. He knew the response would come quick, it always did. And soon enough his phone vibrated with a response.
Stared up at the spinning white glaring ceiling and tongued his cheek, fruit punch. Fuck. Unlocked his phone, saw the words splayed there and felt his heart shatter once again, how many times was it gonna loose its pieces?
hey baby
still in hollywood for now
good luck with the ville
like i said
you gonna be the greatest thing out there
bet on that shit
The words spun in Lamar’s mind. Somehow he hadn’t expected Marquise to stick around the area. Somehow he stupidly thought Marquise leaving meant he left the state, the country, the fucking Earth. But here it was, evidence to the contrary.
Some things truly never changed.
Marquise was in Hollywood.
Lamar was in Pompano.
And Lamar was once again heat sick in love.
Took a damning sip of fruit punch, heart blood.
Yeah, some things truly never change.
2014
june – fort lauderdale / pompano
They were teenagers. Young. Immature. Wild dreamers.
Lamar spun the football on his finger, watching that boy from Hollywood whip past him in a black blue all confidence blur. Lamar didn't even mind that Hollywood was repping the score for the other team, didn't even care if he'd lose to someone like that. Instead, his competitiveness drove deep into his heart and he wished that they were on the same team, destroying everyone 'round them and leaving them – breathless.
When Lamar went next, quarterback drills after begging the coach to let him try just once, he hoped that Hollywood was watching him on the sidelines, wishing for the same things he was, that it was him catching the ball.
Lamar settled into stance – bounced – spun – kept his feet sure and his hips fluid – arc – soar - caught – touchdown.
All the coaches looked like they saw a miracle that they'd hope they could wipe clean from their minds. But they couldn't. Wouldn't. No matter how much they felt they could.
In a blur – Lamar was surrounded by people, dapping, hugging – but Lamar felt the sizzle, the crack in the humid air – of a lightning blur, strike, something deep in his very core.
“Beautiful, Pompano. Not as good as it could be with me down there.”
Stared at Hollywood – he came up to Lamar's shoulder so he was a tiny, quick thing and Lamar knew there were different receiver types but he liked the look of this one, of someone who could make him – breathless.
“Nah, 'course not.” Then gave his name, “Lamar.”
Hollywood hummed as if he had just been given something musical. He pointed a finger at Lamar, up and down, same as how his eyes looked at him. “Gonna have to 'member you. See where you end up.” Then with a tilt of his head as if he wasn't sure if he should but finally giving in, “Marquise.”
Marquise.
Lamar knew 'bout the butterflies in his tummy when he was 'round boys but he never voiced it. Locker rooms. Hallways. On the beach. On the rink. On the field. In someone's car after a game, trapped and quiet. In someone's house, late-night confessions. He merged and mirrored within groups of people, was always down to do whatever with whomever, never really minding who he was deep down. He mostly just kept things to himself, kept that stuff in his head. Maybe it was a trust thing. He didn't know. But still he had only voiced it twice. Once with Snoop and once with his momma. Two people he trusted with his whole soul.
'Cept he hadn't talked to Snoop in a minute and it made Lamar shake imagining how he'd explain Marquise to him. Snoop was something else entirely. Ever since that first time Lamar went against him in tenth grade and Lamar saw how he cut up the field like him, it was sealed. Then Snoop had come up to him after the game and it was like the crowds parted, the sea gave way, and there was Snoop, without his helmet on, and the most blinding smile and his eyes were so warm, shades of muck and mire and storms, of someone who would mean a lot to him.
After that, Snoop and him caught up when they could - Daina, Pompano, somewhere in the middle - it never mattered where. And those captured moments were when Lamar truly felt the power and weight of Snoop's demeanor, a joyful Earthiness, like he shrugged off everything, like he didn’t mind the tides, would be positive all the way through it. You really did need people like that, people who were joyful and calm, people who took you through all the bad like it was a mere bump in the road. No surprise then that Snoop settled Lamar’s mind when he was 'round.
'Membered that fateful walk on the beach when Lamar had mentioned it offhandedly, maybe something had triggered his thoughts to sway that way. No. That was what it was. It had been seeing Damien getting beat at school.
Lamar remembered how fucking terrified he had been that night, trying to cry quiet in his room, must've been after rescuing Damien from almost getting beat to death for it after school, felt like everyone'd see him for what he really was but he was trying to play it off as him being kind and you don't hate for that type of shit. It was a real struggle understanding that God never made mistakes. What you felt was what you felt. God'd be far more righteous over you lying to yourself and others. At least that was how Lamar thought about it after years and years of struggle.
That didn't mean he still wasn't scared 'bout others, 'bout himself getting beat just like Damien, of his momma knowing and hating him for something he couldn't control. So that was why he was trying to be quiet 'bout it but his momma had laser fucking focus when it came to him, don't cry. And catching him crying was just as bad as catching him lying. So no part of him was surprised when she had paused some show and had come into his room and there was no hiding from her after that.
She didn't understand it but she wanted to and she still loved him and it was a blessing, the truest kind. That same night was when he said he needed to walk all this out and his momma told him to be back by one, the latest she ever really allowed, and he was so grateful for her grace, her tenderness that he almost felt compelled to stay but she urged him on. And that was when he had called Snoop, seeing if he was 'round. Snoop had heard it in his voice and then he must've seen it in his movements, the way he stayed stuck to the tide as if it could wash him clean.
That night he confessed twice.
And both times - open arms.
But somehow...explaining Marquise...it almost felt more terrifying than all that.
Lamar swallowed hard, Marquise watching the movement with an eagle eye as he said, “How ‘bout this…if you lose, you show me how much that loss hurt.”
Lamar startled a little, not expecting the forwardness, of the way Marquise had clocked him. Maybe Lamar was obvious in the way he had watched him run, an addictive thing. Maybe Lamar was obvious in how every loss hurt and sometimes emotional things wrung that sting out. Maybe it was kinda how Snoop just knew that something was wrong that night. His body was screaming for a confessional, inching back to tide.
And apparently his body was also screaming for Marquise.
And y'know, it could be a trick, Marquise was a stranger after all but Lamar figured being true to yourself was better than lying. Better to get hit, through fists or on the field, for being true than being a liar, not living to your standard or what was capable, the stars above. Those losses stung the hardest, stuck ‘round the hardest.
So what if this was just another one.
Lamar trusted himself that no matter the stick or the sting, he’d make it, don’t cry.
Shrugged like it was a casual thing they were discussing and said, “Okay, yeah, sure.”
Marquise’s smile was blinding – can’t you feel the storm?
And it had been sealed that day – a fate Lamar should've felt the warning of.
+
Lamar’s team had in fact lost that match. But in the moment, Lamar didn’t care ‘cause Marquise was shoving him against the locker room doors, holding his jaw to keep him still, accessing the pulse of his thoughts, then dipping down to tongue the sweat from his neck like a starved, crazed little thing and Marquise kissed like a fucking rocket and soon Marquise was begging for it and it was wild, wasn’t it?
How Marquise made Lamar bold in a way Lamar didn't understand at first 'till Marquise was gone.
Marquise was all forwardness, all going going gone. He was the one that had kissed Lamar first, had ratcheted up the pace before Lamar could get a chance to question it. Had been the one to grab Lamar's hand and shove it into his shorts at the beach, it's nighttime, L, ain't no one gonna see you. Had been the one to tease Lamar ruthlessly, you really hadn't gotten any have you, Mr. Marvelous, 'till Lamar had Marquise bouncing on his dick in the backseat of a maybe stolen car whose tapes were oddly all Fleetwood Mac and Gloria Estefan and Barbara Lewis, hello stranger, the rhythms gonna get you and the sound of my voice will haunt you.
Marquise never told his stories or explained his reasoning’s well. He just showed up and Lamar followed. To the park, to the beach, to the court, to the rink, to anywhere Lamar could get him. Sneaking in the bedroom window and curling up against Lamar, talking in whispers and trying to keep their giggles down, that breathy way Marquise got when Lamar switched the convo 'round to what Marquise liked done to him, the sound of 'em tonguing and kissing for hours, learning each other through taste. Baking cupcakes in the kitchen, Marquise licking the batter from Lamar’s mouth just like he did from the bowl. Sharing a full bag of chips as they walked the beach, dashing into the tide and chasing each other with water. Sharing secrets and confessionals under the smoke and the bite of vodka. Jumping from railings and skirting backyards in the dead of night and sneaking into parties where no one knew their name, getting the attention of all the boys and girls and possessing each other senseless after. Throwing a football just so Lamar could watch Marquise be an angelic midnight black blur – catch it, slide and tuck and dive.
Acting like kids who had the whole world in front of them, what was one more day of pretending nothing bad could ever happen, could ever tear them apart?
Marquise was just all fire, all blur, all lightning strike, no promise of the clouds breaking after.
That was summer.
And then summer was gone.
And so was Marquise.
Lamar knew Pompano wasn't far from Hollywood. Down 1-95. Thirty minutes tops. But Marquise disappeared like he had gone to fucking Antarctica.
Lamar was used to Marquise being at the park those first few weeks of school, the last year, his senior year 'fore college. He was all stress, trying to trust God when the shakes got to be too much but it was hard and he had to forgive himself for the weakness. And Marquise had been helping with that. After games. Sweat filled. Sticky skin. Sneaking a hand job in the locker rooms after. All fast, heated quickness, so fast that it never gave Lamar time to think – a blessing. And sometimes Marquise would walk down to the beach with him, listening to Lamar let loose all the while.
And even though Marquise just showed up, he still answered Lamar's texts and calls. Lamar had tried several texts and then several calls before he gave up and turned towards the park. Maybe he would just wander 'round 'fore going home. His momma knew where he would be and wouldn't be worried, would want him home by midnight at the very least. So he had time to kill. Time that he felt like walking through the spools of it, unwinding.
And it was a damn good thing he had decided to.
Heard jeers, some wild laughs that were mean and grating, heard the beat hit smack of skin against skin.
Glanced 'round to the court.
Under the rim, against the pole – Marquise.
Lamar's heart froze inside his chest and his mind went siren loud than shatteringly blank as he watched, wide eyed, as this group of guys surrounded Marquise. They were jeering at him, spitting on him, and the leader of the group held the stance of a wild fighter, the kind that didn't care, violence was a means to a singular end, a look that Lamar recognized – Damien.
They were the same ones that had hit Damien and now they were back for another round.
Except, unlike Damien, Marquise held his head high.
From far away, Lamar couldn't tell but Marquise's left eye looked swollen and painful, but still Marquise held his swaying head high and said something that none of the group liked so the leader wound his hand back and-.
Lamar was not a fighter. He wasn't a hitter. Wasn't even much of a mosh pit guy. Even if he did sneak into parties, he stuck to a particular chill vibe, rather than join in the center. He didn't like the energy. Turn the cheek and all that, forgive and forget. Don't cry. But this time...this time...
Lamar grabbed the back of the leader's hoodie, rookie mistake to be wearing that, and pounded his fist into the stupid fuck's stupid grinning face 'fore he could even think and then in a blink, the group of boys become a blur of swinging punches and at the end, Lamar was surprised to find that half of them had bolted, the leader was bleeding and scrambling, holding his jaw and watching him, that spark of brutal recognition then the spitting cursed words that Lamar didn't hear 'cause Marquise was blinking in and out on him and only one boy was left to get rid of except...
Lamar recognized him the most - the name clicking in - Isaiah King. Isaiah had been one of the good ones then he had gotten caught by the wrong crowd and he was standing there at the edge of the court, staring at the scene in front of him like all this was a fucking nightmare. And it was worse than that - it was - the consequences of hate, the violence of hating outta fear.
Isaiah stumbled towards them and Lamar wanted to yell at him to go hang out with his asshole friends instead but something in Isaiah's eyes told Lamar that Isaiah didn't mean harm. Nothing in his touch was filled with violence, hate. In fact, Isaiah's whole self was trembling as he grabbed on to Lamar, begging with his eyes to maybe try making up for all the bad he might've caused. Forgiveness. Turn the other cheek. Maybe Isaiah meant it. Maybe he didn't. But that was up to Isaiah. For now, Lamar could use the help so he wiped his nose and mouth of someone's else's blood mixed with his own spit and nodded.
Isaiah breathed, shaky, a silent thank you, and then together they held Marquise up best they could, Lamar murmuring low to Marquise, hoping he'd hear his promise, his will to make this right, “We gonna get you to a hospital,” and Marquise was still thank God with them but he was trying to push him and Isaiah away with weaker and weaker hands and Lamar didn't fucking care, Isaiah having none of it either as he bit out, "Let us help you fucking idiot."
"Here, let me," Lamar said. Isaiah hesitated, hands working up and down Marquise's arms like the touch could do healing powers but then Isaiah nodded, stepped back. And Lamar dragged Marquise up then he picked him up, easy. There had been moments where Lamar had used that to his advantage to press Marquise down, stay, but now…now…funny how when tragedy hits, your body finds the subconscious echo of previous touches, previous holds.
Held on to Marquise now not unlike then, stay, and fucking booked it to the nearest hospital, Isaiah hot on his heels.
Burst through the doors – begged for a nurse – watched as they helped settle Marquise on a gurney – what's his name, what's his birthday – Marquise Brown June 4th 1997 – like an automatic thing. Couldn't even fucking breathe as the doors pushed open and Marquise on that gurney disappeared through the lights and the rush.
Shaking, near crying, Lamar ran a hand through his hair then down his face. He didn't know Marquise's family. He didn't know how to tell them what had happened. All he could do was collapse on to a seat in the emergency room. Isaiah had disappeared from him, tracking down a nurse, and then coming back 'round with an ice pack. He handed it to Lamar and Lamar nodded his thanks before holding it gently against his bruised and bloody knuckles. Together, him and Isaiah stared at those doors like they held all the answers.
Who knows how long had passed when Isaiah finally spoke - "I knew what they were doing but I still fucking hung out with them and..." Shook his head, fiercely rubbing his eyes of its tears.
Lamar gently nudged their shoulders together and that little gentle touch was enough to cut Isaiah's strings 'cause he collapsed against Lamar and cried into Lamar's t. Lamar didn't mind, reaching his free hand up to press a warm hand against Isaiah's spine, hopefully infusing enough warmth into Isaiah to maybe melt whatever had happened for him to get with those assholes in the first place.
A few moments of shattering and then Isaiah picked his head up, glancing 'round like demons were waiting 'round every corner. "I should go 'fore they find me. Make it worse, y'know." Isaiah slowly stood, legs shaking like it was their first time on this planet.
Lamar looked at him. "You sure?"
Isaiah waved him off then he ran a hand through his curls, shaking his head, eyes wild. "Got some things to correct, y'know. Thank God for you, Lamar. For Marquise. The both of you. Fuck, man. I hope I see you on the otherside."
None of that sounded right. Sounded more like a boy with a gun in his hands, running the streets, covered in blood. Sounded like someone who had just lost someone important and was 'bout to make it even.
Lamar stood up, hovering his hands 'round Isaiah 'fore giving in, grabbing Isaiah's hands and pulling him towards him. Tried to stop the cycle, tried to stop this night from spiraling further. "Isaiah, please."
Isaiah breathed out, shaky, and pressed their foreheads together. In that teeny space, Isaiah laid his promise, "I won't kill no one, L. But 'm gonna stop hanging with 'em, let 'em know they can't fuck with people like that no more. Whatever it takes. Tell Marquise I'll explain it all to him one day."
Had to trust Isaiah that he'd do the right thing. Had to trust that God had a deep hold on him, would steer him right, would make him hesitate when needed. "You better come back."
Isaiah let go of him, winking at him, "I always do," bloody and shaking and shivering, then he was gone.
Lamar tried to breathe through the weight of the thousand things that had happened this night, impossible really, as the world blurred 'round him. Everyone and everything rushed by him, someone pushed papers at him, wanted to know allergies and medications and Lamar shook his head to every single one. Funny. He and Marquise had been fucking for weeks now but Lamar didn’t know the little details. Medical things and family situation. He was useless. All he had was a city.
Pressed his hands into his eyes and agonized over his weaknesses, his faults.
And that was how his momma had found him.
Arms wrapped ‘round his shaking form and he knew those by fucking heart, tilted into them like he was drowning and let his momma shush him.
“It’s okay, baby. I got the nurses on the right track. They getting a hold of Marquise’s family.”
Lamar’s momma had known about Marquise, how could Lamar ever keep that from her? But still Lamar was astounded and warmed that his momma just knew when she was needed, knowing when her wandering son got into trouble, like always.
“‘M sorry.”
Hands caressed his head - words shushed him down. “None of that, baby. Just think of the positive. You got there just in time.”
So why did Lamar feel like it was all his fault?
Marquise may’ve been the one to start the fire but Lamar was the one that had made it public, had lit the world with what they were, and made them look.
And he had started this when Damien had gotten beat.
It was a succession of events that he should’ve seen from a mile away.
So he suffered in this guilt for what felt like hours before those horrible doors opened and a doctor stepped out, asking for him.
His momma took the melting ice pack from his knuckles, every part of him feeling numb as he lifted his head, blinded from the lights, blinking back burning tears, and was gently led to Marquise’s room, the doctor talking about making visits quick and that the hits didn’t damage anything vital and all it was was swollen and bleeding skin and a broken nose.
All it was…all it was…
It was-.
Lamar stood next to Marquise’s bed. He held on to the metal rails like it was a ledge. And Marquise looked at him like he was destroyed. One eye completely swollen, one nearly there. Bruised face. Crooked broken nose. Crusted thick blood from nose to lip. A river of it.
And all it was…it was…
“This is my fault. This is my fucking fault.”
Marquise breathed in, out, shaky, then he moved his head back and forth, no, don’t.
But Lamar was right. He was ‘cause – “Those guys. Same as...I've seen 'em 'round before.”
Marquise’s hand twitched, c’mere, and Lamar desperately grabbed Marquise’s hand, gently hooking his fingers through Marquise’s, mindful of the tubes and wires. Marquise bit his nails into Lamar’s skin and Lamar didn’t even feel the sting of that reprimand.
“Lamar.” His name came out so wrong, came out so garbled. Lamar looked to the side and tilted his head at the cup of water on the side table. Marquise nodded and Lamar used his free hand to grab it and hold it up to Marquise’s splattered and swollen mouth. Straw tucked into place, Lamar coaxed Marquise to suck with a trembling, “Go ahead, I gotchu,” and Marquise did, gentle little sips before his mouth had enough and he waved it away. Lamar set the cup back on the table and glanced at Marquise swallowing, rough and deep, ‘fore he grounded out, “Don’t matter. Gonna kill who they wanna.”
Like there was no rhyme or reason to violence. Which yes of course that was true. But sometimes violence had a thread, a beginning, a place to start from.
Marquise shook his head again then said, “Kiss me, L.”
Lamar startled, looking pointedly from Marquise’s busted eye to his broken nose to his swollen mouth as all evidence as to why that could not happen. But Marquise was incessant, using weak fingers to nip once more into Lamar’s skin, please.
Lamar shoved humor into the situation, awkward and trembling, “Thought you only begged when I was in you.”
That made Marquise bunch Lamar's bloodied, torn shirt and yank him in until Lamar was kissing him. Gently. Barely skin to skin. Lamar spent a millisecond pressing their mouths together before Lamar ended it. But he stayed close like that, shutting his eyes and licking the blood from his lips. Marquise chased his tongue with his, muscle to muscle and Lamar had to hook his hand ‘round Marquise’s and pull him off but just before Lamar could, Marquise looked at him, eyes all swollen and shut and yet glimmering with a thousand lightning strikes, and breathed out, “You gonna be the best fucking thing I'll ever see.”
The words stunned Lamar quiet then all of a sudden, the room was all noise, all screaming, as Marquise's family finally showed.
And Lamar backed away from it all, trying to meet Marquise's eyes one last time but it was useless. As Lamar left the hospital, he somehow felt like despite the storm, despite this, despite exposing them and getting Marquise hurt…maybe Marquise didn’t hate him like he thought.
So maybe it was that or maybe the fear of a loss - whatever it was - Lamar told his momma he wasn't going home, was instead gonna head back to the beach. Paced up and down the sand and waited, turned on his heel and waited, 'till Snoop was there.
Took one look at him and bolted towards him. "Lamar, what the fuck happened?" And okay so maybe Lamar should have stopped at home and changed, he was still bloody - bloody t shirt, bloody knuckles - covered in the smears of Marquise's bloody mouth. Probably looked like a victim himself. Was 'bout to explain it when Snoop wrapped his arms 'round him and he wanted to protest, tell him not to get close, but Snoop wasn't having any of it, just holding him tighter, so he let it, let Snoop hold him and just...
Clawed his hands into the back of Snoop's t and gutted everything out, these wild last few weeks, its harrowing end that he felt coming like a train hit.
And by the end of it, Snoop had gently lowered them into the sand and they were a bundle of two bodies melting into one and Lamar would never forget this, never stop wishing for it.
And when he got that text from Marquise, he tried to will that melting hold from memory, curled up in the center of his bed, windows open, everything spinning.
maybe you right
we should stay away from each other
safer that way
see you on the other side of the stars baby
And Lamar understood a stark, cold fact, the kind that comes cold and frozen after the heat of a blinding storm, that something had become irrevocably broken and he could never get that back, when the rain washes you clean, you’ll know.
the berries turn and they twist
don't tell me that was the last kiss
well, if it was, it was classic
that brings me peace of mind
2016
january – louisville / arlington / glendale
Lamar knew it was a crazy ass decision and someone should’ve definitely steered him away from this but he almost felt God driven compelled to go there. Maybe he was thinking with heart, less with rational mind but he almost didn’t care.
And, well, maybe he was mostly doing it outta some twisted guilt ‘cause he hadn’t gone to the Heisman ceremony when Derrick had won. He had just sat at home, watching with bated breath and then pure elation as Derrick took the stage with the Heisman trophy in hand. Had sent what felt like a thousand exclamation points and blurs of him dancing on insta. But he hadn’t been there, backstage, in the crowd, side by side with DeAndre as Derrick made history, as he held the embodiment of all his hard work.
This….thing with DeAndre and Derrick was labelless, a stray without a name, something that wandered the streets and curled up at the houses that didn’t mind it sleeping on their porch. It was something that Lamar didn’t know what to do with like this was all boundaryless and every step forward or question or wonderment felt like an overstep into something cloudy and petrifying.
So he felt like it was safe for him to be at home, safe to send things across the digital divide, safe to watch from afar as Derrick and DeAndre sent him a video of saying hi and then them kissing, looking so fucking damn good in suits and ties, fancy and sweet and fuzzy. It had made Lamar’s head spin. And then he swung straight into prep for that final game against Texas A&M and his team had won and Derrick’s team had won too and was on the way to the finals and he hadn’t been there for that game neither so yeah – guilty – lovesick – whatever you wanna call it, he was now here.
Drunk maybe on what was possible.
As if beyond this cloudiness was something stable, like solid ground was siren sweetening him into doing something so far outside what was normal for him.
He didn’t do bold, didn’t do vocal. Only on the field did he step outside of that and make himself known, you won’t ever forget me. But yet here he was as if this thing with Derrick and DeAndre was making him crazed, blurring the lines.
Listened to his heart and went, followed ‘cause he wanted to be there for the both of them, he truly did. And he let that pull the wool over the rational. So, yeah, here he was, about to take that drive to Arlington and from Arlington, he hoped that him and DeAndre could go to Glendale to see Derrick and give him support for the big championship game. And with his heart settled, maybe he could prep for the next season. The little things. Sometimes it was about eating right and working out and mentally maturing and seeing things better and working on his passing, the consistent grind.
But sometimes it meant getting your heart in order.
And Lamar was about to do just that, black duffle bag slung over his shoulder, everything done for the weekend even if it was right at the start of spring semester, nothing going on class wise as he didn’t have anything on Mondays and Wednesdays, free to make decisions that would cause fate fault lines, when a voice stopped him.
“Now where the hell you sneaking off to?”
Lamar stilled from where he was about to bend into the car. Took a moment to process that this was happening how he feared and yet how he knew it’d happen. Sighed, acceptance, and straightened up.
Thumbing the arc of the driver side door of his trusted Toyota, he looked at Jaire on the other side. Jaire had his arms on top of the roof, all casual, head tilted, all curious. Jaire was shirtless, letting the cool October night hit his sweaty skin. In the middle of a workout no less. Lamar knew the timing well enough to make it instinct. He chose it for a reason and yet he knew, deep down, that Jaire would show up. And here Jaire was, asking for questions and definitions and things Lamar didn’t have a dictionary for.
Lamar tried to play it cool, simple. Opened the backseat door, threw his duffle bag inside, shut the door, and shrugged. “Arlington.”
He felt more so than heard Jaire’s huff. Disappointed. Yet with an air of, of course. Jaire’s fingers drummed against the roof to the tune of, “And what the fuck is in Arlington?”
Jaire spat the word like it was poison, like it was something that didn’t make sense, that didn’t have a marker on any known map, like it was so far outside the universe that getting there was a pipe dream.
Lamar thumbed into a rusted bit on the roof, apologizing internally as he peeled off a fleck of paint. He didn’t wanna have to explain his motives. He just wanted to do it already, to be on the road, unable to turn back. But maybe that was the point of this song and dance. To get someone to unstick his heart, open up his head.
“‘M just seeing some guys I know.”
Guys - plural. Know - as if that encapsulated everything he was doing with DeAndre and Derrick. Seeing – almost the right word for, well, all of it.
Jaire blinked at him then spat out, “Some guys. I ain’t heard of no guys.”
Which was fair. Jaire was always trying to figure out Lamar’s type. Lamar was tempted to say, look in a mirror, Jaire. ‘Cause, truly, if Lamar wasn’t doing whatever he was doing with DeAndre and Derrick, Jaire would’ve been one of them ones. Eyes. It was always the ones that splayed their hearts out, dissected, in their eyes.
But that kinda trail of thinking was solitary and boundaryless and hard to articulate in words. Could only helplessly watch as Jaire ripped him apart – eyes like clear gems crystallizing a thousand fires.
“Now, look, I know we ain’t been friends long but I know you, L. I had to practically lock you in the dorm to get you to admit you liked guys. But I saw it in your eyes first. And I’m seeing the same shit in them now. You can’t hide from me. This ain’t ‘bout just some guys.”
Lamar hung his head like he was at the gallows, worrying his bottom lip. He didn’t even know how to explain it, didn’t even wanna attempt to. How could he define what he was doing with Derrick and DeAndre? Just hanging out whenever they could, stealing moments in the middle of seasons and before training camps. And it was just some touching, intimate and close, something more than just casual. Sometimes a bit of grinding, some teasing, nothing too sexual. But he was falling faster than how his heart beat when he was around ‘em. So how could he explain the storm of his thoughts? Something that had the taste of the backseat, in the shadows of the beach. Something that was more than all that. Starry. Wild.
Whatever it was, he felt like maybe he could trust Jaire with this, with something that was wrapping tight ‘round his heart like another cell, another vein. And maybe somewhere, not as down deep as he thought, he truly had been hoping for Jaire to catch him and make him speak all along.
Maybe just wanted someone to ask – whatchu doing with them, what are they doing with you.
Started at the beginning – when Lamar didn’t know them but should’ve.
Looked at Jaire, said, “You probably know ‘em.” That made Jaire’s head tilt even more and Lamar watched as the pieces began to gather in Jaire’s mind like a storm before Lamar nudged in the final piece, “Derrick Henry. DeAndre Hopkins.” And with that, Lamar slipped inside the car, slamming the door shut. He knew this silent peace wouldn’t last long so he let himself enjoy it for a hot blissful second before the passenger door whipped open and Jaire threw himself into the passenger seat.
All jumping energy, Jaire banged the dash then grabbed at Lamar’s arm. The whirlwind of it wasn’t what Lamar had expected so he let Jaire claw into him as he exclaimed, “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. This is golden. Spectacular. Delicious even. Oh you are such a slut, L. You even slutted better than me!”
Jaire’s fingers turned into claws, digging into Lamar’s skin, a warning. Then Jaire’s joyousness switched to a pout within seconds and Lamar knew that this was Jaire’s way of getting all the details out of Lamar. And Lamar knew that no matter how much he wanted to just wrench everything out, he felt like he had to hold firm. At least for a little while. At least until he had a better grasp on what the hell he was doing.
Unstuck Jaire’s fingers one by one and said to the beat of it, “Absolutely not.”
“Fine, fine. But you will tell me how all this went down.”
And Lamar acquiesced because, in the end, Jaire always won. “I know.”
“Just…” Lamar glanced at Jaire, worried now as that serious look took over Jaire’s eyes. It was the same kinda look Jaire got when he had to shoulder the whole entire field, just like Lamar, and their darkened eyes would meet across the way, sideline to field, and they’d nod at each other. And Lamar was nodding now, instinct, inching Jaire’s words out just like his fight and bite, no bark, “Be careful. Don’t want you getting like…murdered and shit.”
Lamar understood those words to mean what it truly did, an invitation, can I come with you?
And again, maybe this was also what Lamar had been wishing for, that no matter what, Jaire would follow him and he’d do the same. It was gonna fucking hurt loosing Jaire to wherever he was gonna go. But like Hell he’d treat Jaire like all the other boys. No twice a year texts. He’d try. For Jaire, he would.
Thumbed the steering wheel, fingernail fighting grooves, and saw how Jaire settled into the passenger seat, already clicking in the seatbelt without being told.
Easy to assume then - “Betting you got your things packed?”
Jaire took a second to stare disbelieving out the windshield into the night before he whipped his head to eye Lamar like, do you even know me? “They’re in the trunk already, my boy.”
Of course.
Lamar should’ve known.
But still he couldn’t help but be shocked at how well Jaire knew him so soon, so quick. Telling you, man. The ones with eyes. They always be knowing you faster than your heart could beat.
“You lying to me?”
Jaire rolled his eyes. “Lamar. C’mon. You been shifty since like beginning of December, acting all caged up and shit. I knew you were plotting something so I got ready for it.”
Lamar sat there in that knowledge, sinking deep. What were the signs? He knew his body didn’t give away much unless he was frustrated then he was more likely to pace, to throw something off kilter and shake his head in agitated disbelief. But when he was planning something…how did he look? In Jaire’s eyes, what had shown him the way ahead?
Lamar wanted to ask but Jaire was already plowing ahead in front of him. “My intuition is God given, baby. Respect it.” Lamar could only shake his head at that. Jaire clicked his tongue at him and patted Lamar’s knee, shaking the bone. “Now drive. And get me some snacks.”
And Lamar really couldn’t argue with any of that.
+
They were idling in a gas station, Lamar curled over the steering wheel a bit, watching the sun rise. Jaire was getting more snacks and coffee for them each. They had switched halfway through then Lamar took back the wheel for the last hour of no man’s land Texas.
Lamar looked out into that sun, its hues of soft spun purples and pinks and oranges and wondered if Marquise had made him bolder than he thought. Maybe people left imprints and grooves on you and you didn’t necessarily change your whole everything but there were little signs along the way. Like how past him wouldn’t’ve ever done this. Past him would’ve lied in his thoughts and waited for the cement storm of them to encase him. He would’ve waited for DeAndre and Derrick to say something, do something.
Maybe being bold had its moments.
The passenger door opened then shut and the car got filled with the sugar sweet high of donuts and the bitter hook of coffee.
Jaire placed the donuts on the floor then settled the coffees into the center console. “There you go, my boy. Hot and black just like you.”
Lamar shoved Jaire’s shoulder, rolling his eyes as Jaire practically cackled. Grumbled his thanks and took the cup. He sipped teeth first, letting the hot liquid touch bone before he swallowed it. Jaire always thought he was crazy – why you always teething everything. Hot. Cold. It was like he had to test the waters. The hints of his usual cautiousness, think and feel everything out first.
Sometimes he wondered what past him was on for him to pull Derrick and DeAndre into his orbit like he did.
A finger snapped in front of his eyes and he glared at Jaire’s c’mon talk to me stare. When he didn’t budge, Jaire sighed and said, “Fine. I’ll ask. What’re we doing next? Getting a hotel? Waiting outside the stadium with a boombox?”
Lamar didn’t even wanna imagine the embarrassment of that. Although something told him that DeAndre would’ve liked that. And Derrick would ask for another song. Something embarrassing, an ass shaking and pussy popping song probably.
Took another teething sip before a full one then said, “Get a hotel I guess.”
Jaire nodded. “Cool. Great. What time’s the game?”
Lamar watched the sun curl and kiss the ground before ballooning up, wide. “4:35.”
Jaire promptly took the coffee straight out of Lamar’s hands and put the keys in its place. Decision made. Go with it or go home.
“Nap time it is. And you napping with me. None of this staring at a wall and stressing shit. Made me sick just looking at you when I came out the gas station.”
Lamar shook his head at that. Jaire should be used to his introspectiveness, to the flavors of it. Yet still Jaire bitched and tried to get Lamar outside those walls. In a way, Lamar appreciated it, the hand to take you back off the edge.
Stuck the keys in the ignition, feeling the car spark to life. Was about to go from park to drive when Jaire added, in the middle of grabbing the donuts on the floor, “You let ‘em know you here?”
A crinkle. A splash of powder. Lamar shook his head.
“Wow.” Jaire stared at him in fake disbelief then he shoved the donut in his mouth, chewing wide and open, and Lamar lamented the crumb additions to his poor car’s interior. Jaire swallowed then jabbed a finger at him. “Surprising him, huh?” Jaire waggled his eyebrows at that but Lamar rolled his eyes and shrugged.
“I guess. But not like how you thinking.”
Again, Lamar wouldn’t’ve been shocked if Jaire produced a boombox, some roses, and a box of chocolates from his suitcase in the trunk. Instead, Jaire did none of that and just breathed out, “Boy you suck at this. I don’t know why they like you.”
Lamar didn’t really know why either and was about to say that when Jaire cut in, “But you ain’t going nowhere if you don’t sleep off that purple under your eyes and eat something. You too much of a stick.”
Lamar knew what Jaire meant – you too skinny to be quarterback, you gotta have some fluff to absorb Dlineman.
Lamar shrugged and said, “I just move around ‘em.”
Jaire shoved another donut in his mouth. Licking powder, he said, “Uh huh. Wait ‘till the NFL, baby. They’ll love slamming into you.”
“If they can catch me.”
“Cocky ass. Drive. ‘M too tired for you.”
So Lamar did. Finally switched to park and let Jaire guide them to the nearest hotel. Parked the car. Into the lobby. Paid for two nights, Jaire’s raised eyebrow at that did not help Lamar not stutter out how many nights he wanted. Grabbed the key and took the shaking elevator to the fourth floor. 457. Two queen beds. Jaire claimed the one nearest the window, throwing his suitcase on the bed and then promptly throwing his body right down next to it, face down and everything.
Lamar set his duffle bag on the lone chair in the corner then stood there like an idiot, sighing to himself and worrying his bottom lip over his own craziness.
Watched, helpless, as Jaire spread his arms up and down the crinkly sheets. “Your big ass head so loud, ‘m not shocked everyone can fucking hear it.” Moved his head just enough to stare Lamar down, up, and through. “Get on the damn bed already and sleep ‘fore I kill you myself.”
Lamar nodded, grateful that Jaire was giving him direction. Not so grateful that Jaire bitched at him the whole time but Lamar kinda deserved it. It was true that Jaire had a choice but Lamar probably forced his hand ‘bout all this.
Shrugged off the jacket he had thrown on in the ‘ville and tossed it on top of his duffle. He felt weird and hot and sticky, that odd sensation that came with being in a car too long. Sighed and flopped on to the other bed, rolling on to his side so he could see Jaire.
Jaire moved just enough to once again get his eyes on him. “They probably been waiting to see you, L. So calm down. It’s all good.”
Lamar shut his eyes to those words. It was so hard to believe them. But he let their cottony softness fill his mind with a flash cut of images. Throwing to DeAndre. Tucking the ball into the safe crook of Derrick’s arm. Somewhere down field. They pulled him in, kissed him, tasting of fruit. Envelopment.
Breathed out, "Did I ever tell you 'bout Marquise?"
Lamar felt Jaire's loud and weighty stare on him. Before Jaire could push him, he breathed out, "Pop Warner. Y'know the football camps? Well...Marquise was a receiver for the other team. He, uh, knew what I was, that I wanted him." Opened his eyes, watching as the swirls on the ceiling could never compare to the storm that was Marquise.
Turned his head to find Jaire was walking over to his side of the room. Jaire pushed him and Lamar dutifully scooted over. Side by side, Jaire looked at him, patient and sweet, letting him continue on, "He kissed me after a loss. Took all my thoughts outta my head. So easy to fall into. We fucked for a couple weeks that summer 'fore he ended it."
Jaire narrowed his eyes. "This why you fucked up over DeAndre and Derrick? Thinking it'll happen again?"
Swallowed hard. "Maybe."
"Tell me."
This was the hard part - that humid buzzing night of hits and blood and swollen skin and a startling flutter of words - "Hadn't heard from him in a bit so I just walked 'round and then I found him getting beat by some guys I recognized. Rescued him. Took him outta there to the hospital. And...Marquise texted me after..." Dug his fingers into the sheets, tugging at loose threads. "Said it wasn't worth it to keep going how we was, safer that way."
Jaire's frown deepened. "That's fucking bullshit."
Lamar shrugged at that 'cause what else could he have done? Pushed Marquise into something he didn't want no more?
Jaire grabbed Lamar's plucking fingers and held them fast and strong. "Listen, Lamar. That's a fucking excuse if I ever heard one but like don't let that stop you from this good thing you got going on, okay?"
Don't let it stop you - keep going.
He didn't know how to stop the tide of fear and worry, of feeling all the insecurities, if Marquise leaving meant he wasn't gonna be loved by anyone else ever again, had to just...
Believe.
Shut his eyes to the tune of Jaire breathing and let himself fall down deep to what was possible, what was capable, what was a daring thing to dream.
+
The game was fucking God awful to the point where Lamar was sure half of the Texans fans had left by halftime. Lamar was wincing the whole time just wishing for it to be over. Jaire curled up next to him, teething the plastic of his beer cup and cursing in sympathy as the game finally ended its cruelty – 30 to 0 – Chiefs.
The dejected air was suffocating and Lamar felt like maybe he shouldn’t go into that locker room, that maybe all those guys deserved was some peace in order to break and come out on the other side better than they were before.
But Jaire slung an arm 'round Lamar's shoulder and promptly steered him to the one place that they absolutely should not be. Tried to dig his heels in but Jaire was strong when he wanted to be, pushing and shoving and Lamar lamented Jaire’s name and cursed him but Jaire kept pushing.
“Shh keep quiet. Act like you belong here.”
Right – that seemed like an impossible feat. But Lamar tried to. He had walked down many a tunnel, had been in many stadiums. Straightened up a little and let Jaire guide them with true purpose. In the sea of people, under the wave of nearly dead quiet sadness that only a loss could create, no one seemed to care or bother ‘bout them slipping into the locker room.
Lamar ducked his head when several eyes glanced at them. Jaire didn’t mind one bit, taking it all in before he zeroed in on Jadeveon watching them right back. Jaire nodded Jadeveon over and with a raised brow, Jadeveon met them at the doorway. “Lamar and Jaire, right? Whatchu two here for?”
Lamar was not surprised that Jadeveon knew them both. Lamar was sure that him and Jaire had been making enough noise to get some notice even if it was just their first year at Louisville. It also made him curious, had DeAndre ever talked about him?
Shook that off and said, “DHop around?”
Jadeveon didn’t seem surprised that Lamar had asked that, solidifying something terrifying, that DeAndre had mentioned him somewhere down the line. Jadeveon tossed his head to the far side of the locker room. “Just went in the showers. You cool to stay. Most everyone's gone anyway.”
Lamar’s heart stilled a little at that. This would require waiting for DeAndre which he wasn’t sure he could handle. Being in a dead quiet sad place like this and just waiting to surprise DeAndre at the worst possible moment felt like the worst thing to be doing. Maybe being bold had its consequences. Maybe-.
Jaire patted Lamar on the head, startling Lamar back to reality. Jaire swung him back and forth a little, get your head right, and said, too cheerful and bright, “Alright, boy, good luck in there. 'M gonna swing back to the hotel but you let me know if you need a pickup.”
Promptly dug out Lamar’s car keys from Lamar’s pocket, no care in the world, and all Lamar could do was glare at Jaire. Jaire raised a brow back, you’ll lose if you fight me. Which was pretty much too true. So Lamar lamented his life and gave in. “Sounds good.”
One more head pat and Jaire was slipping out from around him and nearing the hallway. Before Jaire could fully go, Lamar cleared his throat and said, “Appreciate you. I mean it.”
Because without Jaire being by his side, would Lamar have ever made it this far? Lamar might’ve still been somewhere halfway between the ‘ville and Arlington, heart sick, watching the sunset like he was sorrowfully incapable of adding some substance to this thing he had with DeAndre and Derrick.
Sometimes boldness came at the heels of someone pushing you forward.
Jaire rested his hand on the doorframe and smiled. He looked so fucking good like that. In day old sweats and a wrinkled t, still sleepy, but with eyes warm and clear like gems.
“What're best friends for?”
Jaire winked then he was gone.
And Lamar was left in the whirlwind of it.
Shaking his head, he listened to Jadeveon’s direction and found DeAndre’s locker. He’d wait there like a maiden at the doors to the castle pacing for her knight to return.
Sat down and took it all in.
The locker room smelt like a hard loss, raw sweat and the salt of held back tears, and the ring of dead silence.
Leaned his head back against the edge of DeAndre's locker and looked up at the name nailed in at the top, wondering what it would look like next to his and Derrick's. He once again imagined a field splayed out before him, bouncing and settling into stance. Read the defense in a few spare seconds. Felt the wind of an oncoming rush. Ran a bit to the side and there, thrown, arc and spiral. 10. DeAndre would still wear 10. And he’d be leaping for it and the ball would land in his hands as if it was magnetic. He’d be graceful and lithe, something powerful and coiled, like a panther. Awaiting there. Under the bright lights.
“Lamar?”
Lamar blinked back into reality. Stared up at zinging, buzzing harsh lights and a gorgeous name tag of someone he breathed for in the middle of the night. Then tilted his head back down to Earth, glancing at where DeAndre was coming towards him. He was shirtless. Towel slung around his hips, a hand pinching it closed. Locks were in a silk scarf, hooked up underneath to tie and hold them back.
He looked beautiful like that, even after a loss, like he was untouchable yet also a canvas from which to start anew.
“Baby, whatchu doing here?”
The nickname wet his heart in warmth and he shivered, fuck DeAndre was so good at that, at curling names like imprints. And, fuck, yeah, it was a great question wasn’t it, one that he didn’t have an answer for. It was like Marquise had gotten a hold of him and he had followed a crazed idea like it was – fate – and then Jaire had pulled him the rest of the way like it was – fate.
So he shrugged and said something that was close enough to all that, “Felt like it.”
DeAndre huffed that little laugh of his, soft spun amusement. Shook his head. Wandered over to Lamar, hovering over him and doing something startling. DeAndre kissed the top of his head then reached up into the cubby above to pull out a shirt. Rustling around, “’Course you did.” DeAndre was so close, shower warm, did that mean DeAndre liked the hot sting of the water on his skin or was that just something for a loss. DeAndre was so close, it felt like they were living together, like this was something normal, routine.
Startled into some strange allure, Lamar felt like he was fucking drowning. DeAndre eased off him just enough to tug the shirt on and with it came the towel and Lamar choked on dry desert spit. DeAndre had of course thrown on briefs so DeAndre’s dick wasn’t directly in his face, a real shame that was, and entranced, allure, something like drowning, something like hiding in the shadows on the floor of a skating rink, something like when you’re standing there in the middle of the street and you feel it, the ocean, the breeze, something like-.
Lamar wrapped an arm around DeAndre’s waist, pulling him back in. DeAndre did that little laugh again. One warm hot hand hooked on Lamar’s elbow crook then swept behind to encourage Lamar’s head to tip. Listened, pressing his face against DeAndre’s belly and shutting his eyes. Sweet. Musk. Warm.
“You too easy, baby.”
Dangerous words – Lamar wanted to tongue DeAndre, sink DeAndre’s dick into his mouth and feel DeAndre’s fingers guide him – but Lamar wasn’t that bold. He was still mostly himself so he merely glanced up at DeAndre. “Acting like you don’t like it.”
Something entered DeAndre’s eyes, a gleam that Lamar hadn’t seen before like something was sparking.
“‘Course I do.”
Like he meant something else but before Lamar could ask, DeAndre was petting his neck, thumbing the edge of his hair, and saying, “Sorry you had to see us get our ass whipped.”
Lamar shut his eyes to DeAndre’s sweet ministrations. There was something about receiver hands. When they cradled you, you felt the safest you’d ever be.
Tilted back just to see, felt DeAndre catch him and smiled, soft, when DeAndre laughed that little thing again, you think you so slick.
Lamar breathed then said, “Don't mind it. All's it is is better timing.” Though, didn’t everyone take losses a bit different? Maybe it was wrong to come all this way. Maybe it was bad timing. Maybe being bold really did have its consequences. On shaky ground now, “Unless you don't want me here?”
Felt DeAndre’s nails bite his skin, stop it, and he frowned, opening his eyes to find DeAndre accessing him, long and slow. “Don't ever say that.” Then soft, gentle, “C'mere, baby.”
Lamar wondered what DeAndre wanted from him. He let himself be pulled up then DeAndre opened his arms, beckoning him in, stand with me in the center here as if in a storm, but Lamar paused. “Nuh uh. Shouldn't I be the one doing the holding?”
DeAndre raised an eyebrow at him. “Damn, you get all spitfire with no sleep, hm?”
Lamar scratched the back of his head, right over the spot DeAndre had touched. “Sorry.”
DeAndre reached for him, hand on inside elbow crook, and Lamar listened to the pull, unsticking his frozen feet and heart and stepping into the shower warmth of DeAndre. “There you go.”
That praise again – it made Lamar wanna get down on his knees, made him wanna worship just to hear it again. He shivered and tucked his head right up underneath DeAndre’s chin, bending his spine enough to do so. He cursed that they were pretty much the same height give or take a few teeny millimeters. But he also wouldn’t wanna change it for the world. How he can still dip and bend into DeAndre and DeAndre would hold him just like this, hand on elbow crook and hand whispering back up to press against the back of his neck, receiver strong and safe.
“Holding you, holding me...none of it matters long as we touching. You feel me?”
Lamar did, feel him that was, both in words and physical space. DeAndre’s warmth, the soft up and down of his chest as he breathed, the slick squeak of his clean skin, the sureness in his fingertips.
Shut his eyes to it, murmuring, “Yeah,” from somewhere down deep.
Maybe DeAndre was right. Maybe being bold meant getting more of this. Maybe cracking open his rib cage and taking a crazy long ass drive just to see and to feel meant he could turn this thing into something fate wrought permanent.
A gentle rock of DeAndre’s body, settling on his other foot. It felt like a lullaby, getting soothed and swayed. Gently, that soft amused laugh again, “Baby you gonna fall asleep on me.”
Lamar was gonna protest that even though the evidence was clear and he truly was about to but then his phone blasted Simba. Jaire had shaken his hips, stuck his tongue out, and put on his playlist day one of being in the same dorm together. They had moved all their stuff in and figured out where to organize and put stuff away to those songs. It wasn’t really Lamar’s style but he enjoyed the songs nonetheless, enjoying how the guy flowed and the beats, how Jaire rapped to every bit, enjoying Jaire’s happiness. Then Jaire had promptly put Simba in Lamar’s phone as Jaire's ringtone, “One, 'm also a villain, get that right. And two, J Cole right that he the best thing to come outta North Carolina but 'm number two, baby." Exposure of Jaire's endless confidence, searing and bright, just a little taste of what Lamar was 'bout to witness on the field.
So now Simba was pounding through the sadness and the tears and the sweet warmth, the two-toned atmosphere that was drowning this room. Lamar shook his head and reluctantly unstuck himself from DeAndre and pulled out his phone. One quick peek at DeAndre and he was looking at him, curious and smiling, even softly rapping the song underneath the beat and that made Lamar so curious.
DeAndre shook his head, we got all the time for that, so Lamar tucked that information away for later and explained, "'S Jaire.” Lamar shrugged. “You know how best friends be.”
DeAndre nodded sagely and Lamar promptly answered the call, switching at the last daring moment to speaker ‘cause he maybe trusted Jaire a bit too much.
“L!” Jaire’s voice screamed out into the void and Lamar quickly lowered the volume a little bit. “Yo, it’s been like an hour. You coming back with your boy thing or am I picking you up?”
Lamar felt his insides twist and he stared at DeAndre as he started laughing. Quick before Lamar could react, DeAndre answered, “‘M gonna take him back. You at a hotel?”
Lamar could practically hear Jaire’s happy little gasp. “Yo, it’s him! He’s real! Yeah, we at a hotel. L can tell you where. And get here soon. You guys got a long drive ahead.”
Worrying his bottom lip, Lamar watched as those words settled into DeAndre’s mind. DeAndre met his gaze, questioning, and Lamar didn’t wanna say it here, out loud, not with Jaire right there being like, if you guys weren’t talking ‘bout your plans what the hell were you doing, and Lamar didn’t know if he could handle DeAndre’s reaction to that. So he quickly said, “Yeah we going. Give us like twenty minutes.” Then he hung up before Jaire could say anything else.
A nudge of his shoulder, the narrowed suspicious curious look of DeAndre’s gaze. “Where we going after this, baby?”
Lamar breathed through the weight of exposure and said, “Derrick’s game.” Shrugged, tried to be nonchalant, “You going?”
DeAndre was quiet for a beat too long, moving 'round Lamar to dig 'round his duffle bag, pulling out a pair of sweats and sliding them on his legs, a shame. Then DeAndre shook his head and for a hot second Lamar thought everything was over, that before any of it could become permanent, forever, DeAndre was tossing him to the side, DeAndre was-.
Grabbing his hands, pulling him in, so close, DeAndre could press their lips together, Lamar could tongue away the sting of the loss, DeAndre could-.
That same spark from before, the unfurl of, “‘Course ‘m going and you coming with me.”
No room for argument. Lamar would never protest anyway. It was what he wanted, what he burned for. Could DeAndre read it in him? How much Lamar was bending towards him, practically begging. Hand on his jaw, thumbing the bone and Lamar breathed out, too fast and nearly choked.
DeAndre watched every little reaction like he was in fact gonna kiss him, like he was gonna make it real, so very fucking real, but then, doused in ice, DeAndre let go of him and turned to his locker, grabbing his duffel bag and nodding to the way out.
Lamar wanted to say it, why don’t you kiss me like you do with Derrick, this back and forth is fucking killing me, but instead he left it all definitionless and empty and followed DeAndre out the door and into the night.
Low forties, the sting of cooler weather, more on the side of what Lamar was used to, less so at the 'ville whose winters he was still not used to despite half a year there. Still, Lamar breathed in its sting, letting it cool the warmth overtaking him and to replace that air of sadness, of a loss.
Kept close to DeAndre and waited for DeAndre to unlock his car. A Rolls-Royce Wraith. Slick black exterior, interior. Opened the door and settled into soft black leather. Of course DeAndre would look damn good in a car like this, something that fit that suave and calm yet luxurious personality, Southern charm lullaby.
Breathed in. DeAndre’s car smelled just like him. Sweet like soft pink petals and yet with something warm and musky underneath. Coiling 'round him in soft pulses. Stretched his legs out and rubbed at his sore eyes while DeAndre set his bag in the trunk. Then DeAndre was next to him, settling into the driver's seat, hand on the gear shift, a glance up of his eyes, a soft smile.
"Where to, baby?"
It made Lamar wanna say - anywhere. Instead, he worried his bottom lip and said the address to the hotel, just twenty minutes north of the stadium. He had to bite his lip and hold back the claw of his heart when all he wanted to say was maybe not anywhere but - take me to yours instead, to Dallas.
The destinations, the endings.
Lamar rested his head against the passenger seat window and watched the world blur and collide. When DeAndre parked, he didn't wanna leave, even when DeAndre got out first, grabbing his bag and waiting for him, patiently and calmly.
Tripping on boldness, stumbling through waves of something he couldn't name. Shook his head and tried to take that dive, forget the consequences, if DeAndre didn't wanna be here with him, he could've just left.
But he hadn't.
So it was.
Got out of the car, walking over to DeAndre and together they entered the hotel, stopping in the lobby. Lamar glanced 'round, thinking as to where Jaire might be, feeling that he wasn't in the hotel room, was instead doing his usual waiting 'round for Lamar.
Found the hotel convenience store to the left of the front desk and walked in, DeAndre on his heels. And yeah there Jaire was, a bag of chips in his teeth and was about to choose a drink 'fore he felt Lamar's eyes and turned to meet his gaze.
Jaire's hand grabbed the bag from his teeth and he grinned, his attention immediately drawn to DeAndre. "Hey, man, nice to finally meet you."
DeAndre nodded. "You too, man."
Jaire eyed Lamar like, he's so fucking cute, how the hell did you snag him, and Lamar had zero answer for that.
"Y'all hungry?" Jaire shook the bag of chips like he was trying to entice them. "It's all going on Lamar's tab."
Lamar narrowed his eyes at Jaire and pulled him by his free hand towards the elevators. "Think that's enough for you."
Jaire pouted but he let Lamar drag him. DeAndre's soft chuckle of amusement followed them like musical notes as Lamar thumbed the button for the elevator.
Jaire shrugged Lamar off and opened his bag of chips, munching and saying through crumbs, "How you look worse than the guy who just played?"
DeAndre's soft laugh switched to loud and he, daring, how was he so bold without ever hesitating, wrapped an arm 'round Lamar's waist, warm and reassuring. "Don't take drives well do you, baby?"
No, Lamar really didn't. But he took this drive anyway 'cause it was worth it, so very fucking worth it, despite the exhaustion and the lack of sleep and the lack of eating.
Jaire nodded to every word DeAndre said and stepped into the elevator once it came, DeAndre and Lamar shuffling in as one behind him. Jaire elbowed the button for floor four and said, "He always like this with games too. Looking like a demon on the field then looking like death after."
DeAndre glanced at Lamar and Lamar couldn't handle the heat in DeAndre's gaze, choosing instead to steal a few chips outta the bag in Jaire's hands for himself. The salt and oil did nothing to numb how much he wanted to taste DeAndre in that moment.
"'S from carrying the whole world."
Said like DeAndre was entranced. Said like DeAndre wanted him as much as he did. Lamar bowed his head a bit as Jaire hummed in agreement.
Thankfully the elevator stopped and the doors opened and Jaire led them to the hotel room. Hit the keycard against the lock and opened it.
Lamar was quick to lie down on the bed, suddenly feeling dizzy, like everything was spiraling. It was one thing to come here. It was another to really actually be living it. And to have no way to hide how much he wanted to stay by DeAndre's side.
And of course...
Of course DeAndre followed him, never letting him go far as if DeAndre was afraid he'd disappear, laying down next to Lamar, a few too teeny inches between them.
Jaire plopped on to the other bed and was ignoring them, checking his socials and finishing his chips.
Left Lamar to be lost deep in his own thoughts, about how close him and DeAndre were laying down next to each other. First time for this, for this level of closeness. Used to little moments here and there. Used to capturing the ghost of things. But now they were close, so close and how was he supposed to sleep like this? Buzzing in his skin. Foolishly pretending that being close like this wasn't agonizing, that such a simple action could carry so much weight.
"Baby?"
Lamar stilled, feeling DeAndre's hand glide up from the bed to his elbow, pulling him back towards DeAndre gently but firmly. Lamar was petrified of having DeAndre see him, unsure and fretting and oddly guilty as if it was somehow wrong to be worrying 'bout this so much.
"C'mere."
Lamar finally listened to that gravelly command, turning 'till he was on his back, staring up at DeAndre.
DeAndre assessed him, a quick second to get it right. "You think too much, baby. Just lie on me. Shut your eyes for a bit. Don't gotta fully sleep but I need your eyes rested 'fore you go through another car ride."
Lamar nodded. Rational. Logical. Something to hook on to that was reassuring and calm. But still petrifying. Lamar worried his bottom lip.
So DeAndre thankfully, gratefully took over.
He laid back down next to Lamar and pulled Lamar over 'till Lamar had his head lying on DeAndre's belly. Up and down. Rising with breath. DeAndre's hand curling low on his neck, a blooming warmth, shut your eyes. So Lamar did. Squeezed them shut as he forced himself to get over the worrying weirdness of this. And it was like once the commands and the actions were taken from him, he felt like he could finally melt into the trust of DeAndre's hold on him. Lost himself to it - DeAndre's hand smoothing up and down his back, ruffling his shirt and shivering his spine, and the up and down rhythm of DeAndre's breathing and the murmur of praise, "There you go. Good."
And Lamar felt like he could've stayed there forever, drifting in this in between space, in this scent of pure sweet and musk which was doing dizzying things to him again as listened to the sounds of life all around him while he remained in this tiny cocoon. One of the few moments he had of pure peace. If all his thoughts erased, it happened. But it rarely ever did nowadays. And it was worth so much for DeAndre to give him this, something indescribable that he could never hope to explain.
And then it was sorrowfully, devastatingly over far too soon.
DeAndre's hand left his spine. Jaire was saying something about needing to get going if they wanted to be in Glendale by the afternoon. Their voices carried 'round him in and out. It was nice to hear them get along, though he was betting that Jaire was vibrating 'bout not getting to grill DeAndre like how he wanted. But they were speaking and joking even, getting along, and Lamar loved to be a part of the process, swimming 'round their conversations.
"C'mon, baby."
Lamar wanted to bitch and complain, that he could happily stay here for hours 'till he finally drifted off to sleep but Jaire was right. Glendale was waiting for them, Derrick was waiting for them.
He gently rolled off DeAndre, slowly sitting up as he did. He blinked at DeAndre like he was brand new, rubbing at his sore eyes. DeAndre laughed at him, soft, unfurled.
"Thought you was for sure gonna sleep on me this time."
Lamar shrugged. "We got plans. Can't be doing that." Even though he had really wanted to.
Gently, DeAndre's hand skidded the sheets before finding Lamar's fingers, wrapping 'round bone and skin, warm, surrounding. DeAndre's gaze was just as warm, enveloping.
"You too cute, baby. Now, c'mon."
Cute.
Lamar had never been called cute. Though Marquise calling him funny all the time probably alluded to a similarity but still. Lamar couldn't take that word, that look, trying to glance elsewhere, anywhere, and he unfortunately found Jaire standing by the door, looking like he had just seen a miracle. Jaw dropped. Eyes wide.
Lamar winced, prepping for it, as, yep, Jaire nearly squealed out, "Awe, you two are too much. See, I ain't never seen Lamar like this. You a magic worker, man."
DeAndre glanced at Jaire, that curious lilt to his eyebrow spelling far too much trouble, and Lamar was quick to slide off the bed and join Jaire at the door. Jaire grabbed him and shook him and he shouldered Jaire off, quit that.
Jaire looked like he still wanted to say something but he thankfully shut his mouth and waved Lamar’s car keys at him, eyebrow raised, and Lamar waved him off, it’s fine, and Lamar bid goodbye to both Jaire and his trusty Toyota. He could almost feel his Toyota cry in sadness but it’d be fine, he hoped. Jaire gave him one final salute. Lamar copied it and then stepped out the door, DeAndre following him out.
Once they were alone, DeAndre wrapped an arm 'round his shoulders, guiding him to the elevator, as he murmured low, "Ain't going too fast for you, baby?"
What a sweet fucking harrowing question. Lamar felt like his heart was trying to kill itself as it beat hard against his ribs. Was it too much? Laying down next to each other, laying on each other, getting closer, more intimate touches, and even softer words?
Lamar felt like yes it was too fast, too much, but he also didn't want it to end. No part of him wanted to never have these captured moments with DeAndre and Derrick both. Wanted more of it. Truly, wholeheartedly.
Pressed the button for the first floor then dared himself, bold and wanting, to wrap his arms 'round DeAndre's neck. Felt DeAndre startle a little, not expecting it maybe, but then DeAndre hooked an arm 'round him and pressed their foreheads together, the both of them breathing in the same air, in the same kinda way. In that too close, not close enough space, Lamar murmured, "You killing me with everything you do but wouldn't want it any other way."
DeAndre nuzzled up under Lamar's jaw and Lamar trembled, desperately wanting a kiss, but instead he let DeAndre nose his neck and say, "Same, baby. You killing me too."
The utter fondness and heat in those words made Lamar wanna shove DeAndre against the elevator walls and kiss him already.
But in a way, he knew it'd be sweeter if he waited for that right moment, if he took all the teeny steps to get there.
One day...one day...
The elevator doors opened and DeAndre let go of him but didn't go far. Gently, skidding, DeAndre's hand in his, DeAndre and him intertwined as they walked back to the parking lot.
Same motions - DeAndre setting their bags back into the trunk - Lamar getting into the passenger seat.
Except something new this time 'round. The driver side door opened, DeAndre popping his head in and handing Lamar a hoodie, probably snagged from his bag. How DeAndre knew that scent was what did it for Lamar, what comforted him and what soothed him, left him breathless. Too fucking sweet. Hoped his smile showed how grateful he was as he took the hoodie and slipped it on. Surrounded by sweet musk on all sides, a poor imitation of laying on DeAndre but one Lamar would happily take, sinking into it and shutting his eyes.
A sudden rush of warmth, another kiss to the top of his head, knowing DeAndre’s tells and the things he liked to do just ‘cause was gonna be a highlight reel permanently stained in Lamar’s mind. And still he sunk into it. And still he drowned, he drowned, he-.
“Go to sleep, baby.”
He was gone.
Just like that.
He told himself he’d wake somewhere halfway through to give DeAndre a break.
But until then he dreamed.
And what he dreamed was – the field – Lamar was under the bright lights, dark night, wearing an all-black uniform, spinning the football on his finger. The crowd was screaming but he barely heard it. All his focus was on watching Derrick and DeAndre jog up from the sideline to stand next to him, on the same line, same team. They wore all black too, looking good like that, like shadows, a part of the darkness.
Something hot and leaden swam in his belly as hunger slid into place in Derrick and DeAndre's eyes, thickening the muck and mire to the same color of darkness they wore.
And Lamar felt it – the limited time – the borrowed kind – the one where thirty seconds were on the clock and the game couldn’t be tied, couldn’t go into overtime – no it was time to win, to have it all.
Pulled Derrick and DeAndre with him into the huddle. The offensive lineman and the fullback and the other receiver were familiar on the fringes but everything else about them was fuzzy. All that was clear to Lamar was Derrick and DeAndre.
One tilt of DeAndre’s head and DeAndre met his eyes, burning. Lamar felt like he could get DeAndre to his knees like this, get DeAndre under his command and control. Shook, trembled as Derrick pressed a hand low on his spine, guiding him forward to where the center was waiting.
Wherever the quarterback goes.
Stepped into stance, where he belonged, DeAndre and Derrick following him 'till DeAndre and him were side by side and Derrick was waiting patiently like a thrumming freight train behind him, receiver and running back and quarterback.
Didn't even need to say it - Lamar broke the imaginary huddle, DeAndre broke off the line, Lamar arched back and threw, and in the arc and spiral, in how DeAndre bent and twisted and leaped – something like – fate – DeAndre caught it – and when that wasn’t enough – when the two point conversion was right there as if to prove – everything – Derrick took the ball from his hands and shot through the tiniest of gaps, trucking the defense as if they were merely shadows to the endzone – everything.
And underneath the goalpost, Derrick opened his arms and Lamar leapt up into them and Derrick caught him, kissing him as confetti fluttered down and when Derrick stole his breath, DeAndre was there to make sure he never got it back and Derrick and DeAndre were saying something sweet and sticky in his ear and it was mixing with the roar of the crowd and it was-.
“Baby?”
Lamar startled awake.
His hands were clutched tight like he was still holding on to Derrick’s shoulders and his body thrummed with the energy and adrenaline only winning could give you.
Blinked into reality, staring ‘round and glancing at DeAndre looking amusedly at him. “You slept like a damn log on a lake.”
Lamar frowned at that. “Where we at?”
DeAndre’s amusement only grew. “El Paso.”
Lamar stilled. “Fuck. Was supposed to wake up sooner than that.”
“No worries, baby. You needed it.”
Lamar wanted to protest that. DeAndre had just played. He needed the rest far more than he did. But something in DeAndre’s gaze told him not to worry about it so he didn’t, instead letting the untold settle in the quiet space between them.
“Stopped for gas. Need anything?”
Lamar thought of coffee and a piss and nodded. He stretched a little and tried to get what he had just dreamed outta his head but he felt like he was going insane sometimes. Getting these little tastes of what was possible with DeAndre and Derrick was starting to become dangerous. Shaking his head, he opened the passenger door and got out.
Looked over his shoulder. DeAndre had gotten out too and was popping the gas tank and filling the car up. With him occupied, Lamar felt safe to leave. He almost wanted DeAndre to question him for once, whatchu dreaming of. But again. The little things. The little tastes. Maybe it’d build towards a future. Lamar could only hope.
Walked inside the gas station, took a piss first, then hovered by the coffee machines. He yanked the lever down for one then another. Wasn’t sure if DeAndre was a coffee person but whatever, he’d drink it if not. Was in the middle of toying with creams and sugars, this shit was too hard without a guide, when his phone buzzed.
He pulled it out and blinked when Derrick came up on his insta, you two think youre so sneaky, i can tell thats el paso. It was written underneath an image that DeAndre had sent in their group chat of Lamar dozing away in the passenger seat minutes before Lamar had woken up. Lamar stared at that picture and felt something crash spark and pop in his heart. He wondered what Derrick thought of him, if he thought he was remotely attractive snuggled up in DeAndre’s hoodie with his face all creased up and smushed by the window, lit up in neon by the gas station sign.
Shaking his head, Lamar pocketed his phone, grabbed a few creamers and sugars just in case, paid, and headed out the door.
Stared at DeAndre with his arms on the hood of his car, phone in his hand, typing. Lamar wondered what DeAndre was gonna say to Derrick, if Derrick was cool with all this happening.
All this guessing was gonna make Lamar sick. He opened the passenger door, tucking the coffees into the center console and settling all the creamers and sugars on top in precarious positions. Then he walked to the other side of the car and nudged DeAndre with his hip. DeAndre didn’t look at him but he leaned into his space. And this close up, Lamar could see what DeAndre was typing out, dont think any of us are subtle, be there in 6-7 hrs, love you
The love you tacked at the end shattered the pieces that had gotten carved off with the first message. Rational, logical. Another reminder that what DeAndre and Derrick had was so far beyond what Lamar was doing with them.
Tried not to bite out but probably failing, “I’ll drive. You rest.”
Definitely failing as DeAndre set his phone down and looked at Lamar, eyebrow raised, calculating him. But Lamar didn’t give DeAndre a chance to ask ‘fore he took the keys left on the driver seat and climbed in. Shut the door. Tried to breathe.
love you
love you
love you
Like a haunting fucking mantra – that must’ve been what DeAndre and Derrick was gonna say in his dream – ironic.
Started the car and waited there on the precipice as DeAndre finally opened the passenger door and slipped inside. DeAndre quietly handed him his phone, the address to the hotel Derrick was at already pulled up. Lamar took it and stared at it. DeAndre hadn’t been wrong about the time. Great. It’d give Lamar so much time to sink into his own head.
Lamar propped DeAndre’s phone in that tiny space between back of the center console and the first coffee and was about to switch to drive when a hand on his stopped him breathless.
Couldn’t even look at DeAndre as DeAndre said, “You coming ‘cause we want you there. Simple as that.”
Lamar tried to understand those words but they were getting drowned out by love you – love you – love you. Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry. Gathered himself best he could and nodded. “Okay.”
DeAndre echoed it, “Okay,” but he sounded unsure, worried. And Lamar hated that. He wished DeAndre would just kiss him, would tell him the same things he told Derrick, would grab him and promise him, this is forever, I fucking swear. Instead, Lamar nodded to the coffees and said, “Didn’t know what you wanted.”
DeAndre watched him for a too long second before he finally picked up a coffee and the balancing act of sugars and creams. “All good, baby.” He dipped his thumb just so against the little tab that opened up the coffee and slipped one sugar and one cream in. Lamar committed that to memory and finally switched from park to drive.
He could do this, couldn’t he?
Commit so many things to memory. To build up the little things, the little tastes. There was a future at the end of this, right?
Because if there wasn’t…if there wasn’t…
DeAndre looked beautiful resting against the passenger side window, eyes finally shut and chest smoothing out in a calm up and down rhythm. In the passing rising sun, in the glow of what was to come, oh Lamar prayed.
He prayed the whole six and a half hours to Glendale.
And he prayed when he parked the car.
And he prayed when he opened up the driver’s side door, pacing for a quick second with his hand over his mouth.
And he prayed when he opened the passenger side door and swept his hands slow and soft up and into DeAndre’s locks, thumbing the hairline in a gentle whirl.
And he prayed when DeAndre opened his eyes, fluttering soft, and murmured for him, holding on to him right back.
And he prayed when Derrick saw DeAndre’s car pull up, watching for it out the hotel window, and came over to them.
Derrick was in black sweats and an old Alabama t, normal, casual. Almost felt like a long-awaited reunion, like Derrick hadn’t been able to sleep knowing what was to come.
And Lamar prayed when he watched Derrick help pull DeAndre up and into his arms and this was how DeAndre and Derrick held on – DeAndre had his arms wrapped ‘round Derrick’s neck and Derrick’s hand was low on DeAndre’s spine – and Derrick was shushing him and it was – love you love you love you – and then Derrick looked at Lamar and held his left arm out – inviting him in – because we want you here.
And maybe Lamar was a fucking fool for believing.
But he did.
He did.
‘Cause God he could feel it.
DeAndre side by side with him, Derrick behind him, and their dreams and their futures real and unspooled before them.
Please – God – don’t take this from me, not this, anything but this.
So maybe he should just enjoy it – just in case.
Breathed. Then let himself give in. Shuffled towards Derrick and let Derrick pull him until him and DeAndre were smushed side by side in his arms.
“There we go. Perfect.”
And in Derrick’s words, Lamar heard, thank you for coming out, for supporting me. And Lamar pressed his face against Derrick’s shoulder, breathed in mint and mango, and tried not to cry.
He could believe. He could do it, force himself to relax and sink into this moment. He could keep every little imprint and memory. Besides, if he didn’t give this his all, what honesty would he be given back?
Hooked a hand on Derrick’s t, keeping him there. He felt how Derrick looked at him but he ignored it in favor of holding on. Surrounded by both of their warmth made Lamar wanna shut his eyes and Derrick was certainly still watching him for he said, “Alright. Upstairs. You two need sleep.”
No arguments were to be had. Lamar reluctantly unhooked himself from Derrick, shoving his twitching hands into the pockets of his shorts, head down, following along behind DeAndre and Derrick into the hotel.
“Before sleep, we gotta eat,” DeAndre said, pausing just outside the elevator. Derrick looked at him and nodded.
“You going now?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. C’mon, Lamar,” and Derrick pulled Lamar into the awaiting elevator. Lamar could only nod a quick goodbye to DeAndre which DeAndre smiled and nodded back at and then the elevator doors shut and it was just him and Derrick.
Lamar leaned back against the elevator walls and shut his eyes. He felt like the insides of his head and heart were in turmoil, like rocks when they finally get turned over after centuries of rest. Marquise had made him bold but had also made him frightened of the dark things that were always possible.
And here he was, acting crazy bold and in fear again.
Outside perspective - it was wild to him that he had made it here, to this moment, with Derrick and DeAndre, time spent together like this thing was something special. A kinda wandering where you had others beside you.
It was - well he didn't have the words for it - only these spinning thoughts, muddy and crawly and a thousand shades of a thousand different images and definitions.
A hand curling 'round his waist to press low against his spine, "You think so loud yet you give me nothing to guess on."
Asking - whatchu thinking 'bout - but Lamar didn't know how to start that conversation and he certainly didn't wanna start it without DeAndre.
Lamar shrugged. "I think 'bout a lotta things."
Derrick chuckled. "I see that. Clear as day." Swung 'round so Derrick was standing in front of him, hovering so near and close. A shuffle of Lamar's feet and then their foreheads were being pressed together. Shut eyes. Breathed on Derrick and inhaled mango on the next.
"Just...it's crazy 'm here."
Derrick hummed. "Yeah I know. You don't seem the type." That hand on Lamar's spine melted up to cradle the back of his head, to keep him there, to trap him and still him. "But 'm glad you here. 'M glad you trying for me and DeAndre."
Somewhere in the depths of it - you doing so good - so why did Lamar feel like he wasn't doing anything but tripping, stumbling, falling, turned into a scared and wild fool? Worse than the first time he took the field. He hadn't been confident then. He had been just some skinny kid asking for a chance and then taking it by the horns. That first game he learned quick who he was in times of distress, in times where he had to shoulder it all, in times when things weren't exactly crystal clear. Turned out that he was pretty good at that. So he settled into it like a stance and kept going on that path.
Funny how such a thing led him to - Marquise - Jaire - DeAndre and Derrick. Sometimes you gotta wonder - God was a path carver. He knew better than anyone where you were to be led.
And maybe his bold, crazy actions seemed wild to him but made all the sense to God.
Felt the elevator shake, heard the doors whoosh and let Derrick pull him out, interlaced hands, a squeeze for reassurance, and he let Derrick lead them down the hall, turn the corner, and at the door.
Derrick let go of one hand to find the key card then scanned it. The click of the lock. The pull of Lamar into the room.
"Lay down, L."
And Lamar did, immediately collapsing on the bed and sinking into it for the briefest of blissful moments before he felt the bed dip and Derrick moving 'round him 'till he was sitting against the headboard. Derrick glanced at him, tilted head, then the reach of his hand, c'mere. No speaking, Lamar knew now that it was possible for him to teethe past the fear and settle into what he desired, scooting his body up 'till he was in between Derrick's legs, head pillowed on Derrick's rising chest.
Lamar knew that sometimes the fear would win just like how losses and injuries and miscues sometimes just happen. But for now, in this moment, he was safe, warm, loose and melted. Derrick was built like a freight train but somehow, relaxed like this, his muscles were a soft unyielding stable thing. “Thought you'd be solid as fuck.”
Derrick laughed, bouncing him a little. Lamar hummed and shut his eyes, leaning into the sweetness of Derrick's hand low on his spine again, massaging gently along bone and muscle. He felt his back twitch now and then as Derrick found tough spots and knuckled them melty soft.
“Sore?”
Lamar spun that word ‘round his mind and felt how his legs were shaky on the walk up, in how they were asking for a breathing moment after a long season, how they bitched and moaned after being in cars off and on for two days.
Kicked his feet a little, laughing when Derrick lifted his to meet them, trapping them under, tangling them.
“Legs mostly.”
Derrick chimed his fingers up and down his spine and Lamar shut his eyes to it, the warmth and the sharp sweet of mango and the solidness of Derrick beneath him not unlike the solidness of Derrick being behind him on the field, that one moment from his dream.
“Might be ‘cause you running all the time.”
Lamar shrugged loosely at that. He didn’t mind it. It was just how he was. There were harsh moments where he had to learn when not to run, when to let the throw down field happen instead, and when to slide or throw the ball away, not juke and dive and bolt. It was fluid, an ever-changing landscape, being a dual threat quarterback like he was. Moments where he had to be bottled and moments where he had to unleash and the strange watery moments in between.
Derrick’s fingers paused halfway down his spine and Lamar listened, lifting his head up enough to catch Derrick’s gaze. “How 'bout you let me massage them for you?"
Served like a question, a curious thing, but it came on the heels of a plea. Lamar tasted and rolled it ‘round his mind, settling his arms on Derrick’s chest and resting his chin there, watching Derrick back.
“Real shit?”
Said it almost like how DeAndre did, “‘Course.”
Lamar usually didn’t have people randomly offering up massages to him but his legs were aching and Derrick was so solid yet soft. It was almost like – believe in the process, in the plea deep within the vowels.
“Okay. Yeah.”
Lamar said it as he pushed himself up and off Derrick. Derrick scooted out from under him, kneeling on the bed, waiting, with this strangely melty smile on his face that Lamar had never seen. Lamar quickly laid back down on his belly, feeling hot and exposed, sudden and raw.
“There you go.”
God.
Lamar completely did not appreciate how well DeAndre and Derrick could curl praise, syrupy soft and deep, in how they commanded him so well, and how he listened, of course he listened.
“Shut your eyes, L.”
So Lamar did.
Let Derrick touch him like he was reverent. Started slow, at the beginning. Thumbs rubbed along Lamar’s ankle bone, tickling along his toes and working out blistered tension. Lamar wiggled his feet into the touch, feeling how Derrick’s fingernails trailed gently along curves and dips in heel and bone, digging deep into the muscle. Let Lamar's foot flex, loose and massaged of tension, curving a hand ‘round his ankle, holding on gentle, and Lamar felt like he was being dragged into water but it wasn’t a fearful kind. He felt safe. Like how DeAndre cradled the back of his head. Running back and receiver hands, how they cradled you.
Shivered as Derrick’s palms worked upwards, up to calf, digging into the muscles deep and thorough. Lamar couldn’t help but hum into it, wincing at the slight pain as he succumbed to every ministration, feeling like the season was getting thumbed and massaged out his muscles. The season had been a rollercoaster of back-to-back losses then back-to-back wins with some losses mixed in. It had been tiring, exhaustive to go from Pompano to taking on a whole entire university football team on his back. And it hadn't gone well in some moments and then went well in others.
"Talk to me, L."
Lamar startled a little. This was new. Derrick had never poked and prodded before, out of curiosity, out of interest, out of anything really. It felt like - I wanna get to know you - and it warmed Lamar just as well as Derrick’s hands on him. Shivered, shook and startled as Derrick’s nails dizzied up and down the ball of his foot. Breathed out, "You making it hard to talk."
Derrick laughed, thumb slipping just soft enough along the underside of Lamar’s foot to tickle. Lamar jolted into the feathery touch, humming when Derrick soothed it away with a gentle hold of his foot. "Try anyway."
The back and forth made Lamar wanna be a little tease, just like Derrick's fingers daring to burn a warm trail from his foot to the underside of his knee, a whisper of what was possible.
"Whatchu study?" Derrick's hand paused in its journey back up to Lamar’s calf. Not seeing Derrick’s reactions was driving Lamar fucking crazy so he looked behind him to see Derrick startled but somehow still unsurprised, shaking his head in amusement as Lamar added, "You said to talk. Didn't specify it had to be 'bout me."
"Of course. I should'a known." Derrick's thumb along the middle of Lamar’s calf whirled slow and soft as he answered, "Biology."
Now it was Lamar’s turn to be startled, staring at Derrick in shock as he said, "Real shit? You a fucking running back biologist? With the fucking goggles and everything?"
Lamar couldn't help but laugh as he imagined Derrick wearing those lab goggles that he hadn’t worn since high school, dodging defenders and getting a touchdown. Derrick narrowed his eyes at him, shut the fuck up, nails biting into Lamar's skin, a reprimand that switched to amusement to something like lightning, licking down and curling into Lamar’s vertebrae. How easy it was for Derrick and DeAndre to switch it up on him, keep him guessing, keep him pleading for more of it.
Derrick sighed, knowing Lamar was gonna dig further so he gave himself up, saying, "Always found it interesting. When nothing else was going right, y'know."
Lamar immediately thought of the ocean, how if you stood still in the middle of Pompano's streets, you could hear her whispering.
"Same with water."
Derrick titled his head at that. "Yeah?"
Lamar hummed. "Always 'round you, y'know, when you grow up next to it." Now it was Derrick laughing in that soft you don’t even know how funny you being right now kinda way. "Whatchu laughing for?"
Derrick raised a brow at him. “C’mon, L. You don't seem the outdoorsy type. I keep having to tell DeAndre to cool it with the ideas."
Ideas - things that bloomed in the deepest depths of your heart.
Lamar desperately wanted to hear these ideas, to have something to hold on to during the season when things weren’t going right and he had to grasp on to something in order to keep going.
Tried to swallow the plea, got lost in its weight anyway, tidal wave. "Tell me."
Derrick’s hands curled ‘round the back of Lamar’s knee, pinning Lamar gently to the bed and Lamar’s eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of seconds as if to hold in that feeling. Then he met Derrick’s gaze and fell inside it as Derrick exploded out the images, “ATVs in Yulee, some hiking. DeAndre’s got a boat too. Clemson’s right on the water, got too many places to name."
Lamar hadn’t been on an ATV since he was a kid, during some family cookout with the cousins. Wanted to know how it felt to ride them in Yulee, to get Derrick’s history as they drove through mud and divots. Had been in lakes but never on 'em to do fishing or things like that, never had been his style was he was younger, when everything in his head was harder to silence. Wasn’t surprising really that DeAndre had a boat, was probably given at birth in South Carolina, but Lamar wanted to see it, to feel it, to be in it, in the middle of the water, DeAndre guiding them. Desperately wanted to also have DeAndre chart the lakes and the islands and the little spots of history, the trails that wound and curled ‘round the edges of Clemson.
Wanted all of it so bad that Lamar almost wanted to say, forget ‘bout the game, ‘bout our responsibilities to too many things, let’s just get away.
Instead, he murmured truths, "Outside's fine. Never like being away from the water for long. Other stuff, not so much 'less I wanna." Then quietly, "I'd like it with you guys."
Felt the silence after those words and bowed his head to its weight. Derrick’s hands had been still the whole time they’d been speaking, settled warm on the back of Lamar’s knees. But now they moved up under Lamar's shorts with drowsy purpose, cradling the back of his hamstrings, the other side of his thighs. It was intimate, close, tender, something that Derrick touched like he belonged there and it made Lamar dizzy as Derrick spoke, just as warm as his hands, as possessive as his hold, “Yeah? Would kill for that too."
And then that was when Lamar realized what Derrick was doing, Derrick was touching him like this and speaking ‘bout soft things all to get his mind pulled outta his head, no time to think or do nothing, just had to feel as Derrick's hands palmed his hamstring muscles. Slow, soft circles of his palm as if he was putting those muscles under a spell, those fidgety things that didn't like the stopping and the starting, in how Lamar pivoted in two seconds to bolt and run. Derrick molded his fingers into those muscles as if he could coax them to finally-.
Let go - pressed his face into the sheets, needing desperately to put this fucking need careening through him into some sorta action, sucking the sheet between his teeth and gnawing on it to the tune of Derrick’s thumb and voice casual as you please, “Biceps femoris.” The word was foreign, incomprehensible, but it must be a muscle, on the right side, Derrick’s fingers smoothing along its edges. Digging to the middle – “Semitendinosus,” and then to the left, “Semimembranosus.” Lamar was under some sorta Latin spell, feeling like there was something blooming hot and heavy in the wake of Derrick’s roving touch. Then those fucking fingers slipped up further, teasing the hem of his briefs, back and forth. Never had someone touch him into silence like this. Never had someone melt his thoughts so far outta his head that thinking wasn’t something he ever wanted to do again. Just wanted to imagine and feel and get torn apart just like this. It was - hot - molten - just -.
"You thinking again. Keep talking."
Lamar huffed, letting go of the sheet between his teeth and breathing out, "Says the guy with the hands on my thigh."
A tease, a lilt - "Yeah?" Then Derrick's thumbs finally slipped up and under Lamar's underwear, edging the way to naked skin just under the swell of his ass and Lamar couldn't stop it if he tried. He groaned low in his throat and kicked at Derrick a bit when all Derrick did was hum, amused, gotchu. Slid his hands back down to not so intimate territory, hands curling 'round Lamar’s calf, back to digging into the muscles there. "Lamar. Keep talking."
Freed from the hands on his thighs, pressing him into the bed just how he fucking liked of course, Lamar sucked the sheet back into his mouth, teething stitches before finally saying, "General. Didn't know what to choose."
His voice sounded fucking wrecked, stumbling over sounds and consonants like they were all brand new. That stupid little hum of Derrick’s again and he said, sounding so normal and unaffected, “Business maybe."
The image burst the seams and Lamar smothered a laugh into the sheets, tonguing at stitches and lamenting his life. "You insulting me."
"Or just wanting you in a suit and tie."
Fuck.
There Derrick went again, swooping heat low in Lamar’s belly. Lamar wanted to beg, please just do something. But Derrick swung the direction of this little game and said, “Shush, L. Just focus on me, okay?"
As if he had had his fun. As if Lamar had gotten tortured enough. Lamar wanted to bite back a response but Derrick was thumbing his skin again, digging in, and naming muscles, Latin and spells, and the heat softened its hook, made him feel drowsy and curse Derrick for being right, for being so damn good at this.
And soon enough, Lamar was drifting in some in between state, and when he felt Derrick let go of him and get the door for DeAndre, he could’ve said something to indicate he was kinda awake but he didn’t, choosing instead to listen to DeAndre and Derrick moving and talking around him.
Keys on the dresser, DeAndre saying, “Our boy asleep yet?”
Our. Lamar felt that word ping into his heart and settle somewhere unknown and deep.
A ruffle of clothes, they were hugging maybe. Derrick explaining, “Massaged his legs and he was out in seconds. Was gonna wake him once you got here.”
“Nah, let him chill a bit.”
It was strange, the amount of times grace followed DeAndre and Derrick’s words and actions. Grace to be yourself. Grace to fuck up yet change for the better. Grace to just simply be.
“What time we gotta be down there?” DeAndre asked.
“By 2. Game’s at 6:30.”
“2…” The harsh rustle of plastic bags and plastic containers. “Babe, you wanna eat something 'fore it? I know how you like to eat late but this a big one.”
“And a big celebration after.”
DeAndre chuckled. “Right. Never mind then.”
The sink of the bed as DeAndre sat down, the sound of fork into lettuce, scooped 'round, chewed. DeAndre was close enough to where Lamar felt his knee press against him. In tune, the bed dipped again as Derrick sat back down next to him, Derrick's hand finding its usual spot low on his spine.
Getting them both close like this was a fuzzy soft warmth that Lamar felt like he was drowning in. He almost didn't wanna get up, wanted to lay here forever, in between them like this ‘cause after would be another season and he felt like digging claws in to try and stay in this strange space.
A gentle chime of fingers up his spine and he leaned into the slight dig of DeAndre's knee, not minding one bit how DeAndre hummed soft amusement at him like, I knew you was up.
“Gotta eat a little bit, L.” Derrick's concern with DeAndre's gentle command at the foothills of it, “C'mere, baby.”
Lamar pretended to grumble and grovel but he moved easy enough like water, rolling until he was on his back just as DeAndre scooched over enough to make room for him. Staring up at them both, Lamar felt like he was kneeling at an altar.
“There you is.”
The words, the scene, the feel, the scents - it all made Lamar yearn once more for a kiss, for the softness dipped into his mouth, the hot caress possession. But instead he sat up, laughing when DeAndre waved the fork at him like it was an airplane. “Fuck off.”
DeAndre laughed with him then handed the fork and the container over like a normal human.
Lamar dug into the salad, DeAndre remarking, "Guess you fine with poppyseed."
Lamar hadn't even noticed the different dressing but he worked a leaf in his mouth, now tasting the poppyseeds, something that made it creamy, and a bit of sweet honey. Swallowed and shrugged. "'S good." Stabbed the fork into a slice of apple and ate that too.
DeAndre shook his head at him, amused, then he gently forked some vegetables into an empty spot next to the salad. Steamed broccoli, cauliflower, and green beans. Almost felt like DeAndre was trying to learn him. Lamar happily ate each of them and DeAndre nudged the rest of the green beans into his. Derrick chuckled behind them and Lamar glanced at him, Derrick explaining, "We hate 'em."
DeAndre rolled his eyes at that. "They fine but they ain't that good neither."
Derrick shook his head. "Shit's stringy. Like celery."
Lamar couldn't help but laugh, forking a green bean and chewing at its stringy body. It didn't bother him though fresh green beans were always better than the canned shit. Shrugged, he said, "Celery's way worse. Least green beans don't taste like dirt especially we you get 'em fresh."
In near echo, DeAndre and Derrick said, "True," which just made Lamar laugh more. Felt the weight of twin smiles and he ducked his head, focusing back on eating and watching DeAndre go back to eating too, learning him right back. DeAndre left the slices of apples for last like he wanted to savor them, pushing them to the edges when he found one and eating 'round them. Lamar looked at his own salad, pushing out the apple slices and forking them over on to DeAndre's.
DeAndre glanced at him and Derrick chuckled, "Took one second to realize you a feign for those things."
That made DeAndre stick his tongue out at Derrick but he smiled nonetheless 'bout it. "Thanks, baby."
Lamar echoed his smile and finished the vegetables. Derrick took the container from him, standing up to put it in the trash can. Leaned into DeAndre, shutting his eyes. "You still sleepy, baby?" Lamar could only hum at that, groaning when Derrick said, "We gotta get going, L," as he grabbed his outfit and headed for the bathroom.
The little moments - the tender things - the intimate touches - learning each other as they fell - Lamar just wanted to sink into it but the team bus was no doubt waiting for Derrick and all the other players.
Hesitated for a second than he got off the bed and followed Derrick to the bathroom, leaning against the doorway. Derrick gave him a curious little smile but he let Lamar watch. Took his sweats and t off, standing there in just briefs, tattoos on full display. Lamar could actually seem them now, could understand the clouds and the glory and the family portraits and the crown on his belly that was low enough to get a teeny bit covered by wiry pubic hair. The need to tongue and bite, a feeling growing deep in him since 2015. Especially at the sight of exposed cut hip bones, of abs, and muscles, of how goddamn thick Derrick was in every way, even his ass was. Made sense with how Derrick needed to have all his weight and muscle concentrated in one area, using it as a force to push off into blurring, punishing runs.
Swallowed this unimaginable heat and focused on helping, gathering up Derrick's t and sweats, folding them and setting them on the bathroom counter next to dress pants and shirt. A brush of Derrick's hand against his spine, let me, and Lamar stepped back enough for Derrick to reach for the dress pants, dark navy blue, almost black. Watched outta the corner of his eye as Derrick pulled them on. ‘Fore Derrick could stop him this time, he grabbed the dress shirt, thumbing the pattern. Light, almost washed out looking burgundy with gray flowers throughout, its petals looking like geometric sunflowers as it reached and blended with every other petal. A quiet ode to the Crimson Tide.
Derrick's fingers met his over petal, each of them thumbing out the buttons 'till Derrick could shrug it on. It looked even better on his skin, on his stature, the washed-out softness and yet the brutal cut of the sunflower's petals, like a tender stable force, exactly who Derrick was. Lamar buttoned the shirt, fingers brushing soft, warm skin. Hesitated with the topmost button, this one too?. But Derrick shook his head and Lamar left it unbuttoned, smoothing out the collar with his thumbs.
Stepped back and let Derrick tuck the ends of the dress shirt into his pants, Lamar turning to the bathroom sink and grabbing the watch Derrick always wore, the cross that always adorned his nose, and the cross necklace that swung visible from his neck as he ran. Handed all three over and leaned against the bathroom sink, trying to breathe through the heat of this moment, as he watched Derrick clasp the watch on, slip in his nose ring, and duck his head enough to get the cross necklace settled on his chest.
Maybe no sense in breathing at all as Derrick, finally ready, picked his head up and met Lamar's gaze.
In that muck and mire, Lamar felt it all - determination, confidence, an ability to withstand every tide and every single storm - and it swept over him - drowned him - and he shakily breathed out as Derrick stepped closer, barely an inch 'tween them, and cradled the back of his head, compelling with sure fingers 'till their foreheads pressed together - and Lamar helplessly shut his eyes to it - to Derrick's fingers sinking into his curls, incessantly thumbing down his neck, under the hem of his t, across the river span of his collarbone, up his neck, tilting Lamar's head up, forcing Lamar to open his eyes and meet that gaze again - trembling in it.
"You seriously so fucking perfect."
Lamar wanted to argue that - what had he done to deserve such praise? But that thought quieted, snuffed out, as Derrick pressed a simple kiss to his forehead - soft, warm - as if he had sealed it.
And so it was.
Lamar was somehow perfect and Derrick was somehow beyond words - maybe the both of them were - in the stars.
Had to let Derrick know that whatever came next, whatever it took, no matter how many times they might stumble or hide or run, just-.
"DeAndre and I will be there 'fore whatever happens."
Derrick slipped his hands down to encircle Lamar's waist, thumbs brushing ribs. "Like I said. Perfect." Then Derrick let go of him and reached for a bag on the counter, unzipping it and pulling out his cologne. Mango. Lamar couldn't help eyeing it and Derrick chuckled, sweetly amused, as he gently grabbed Lamar's wrist, thumbing pulse, 'fore he spritzed a bit there, blooming mango in its wake. Lamar, no hesitation, immediately pressed it to his nose, inhaling deep. Derrick shook his head at him as he sprayed his own wrists, rubbing them close, and the dip of his collarbone, near the collar. Eyed those spots too and felt drunk on it as Derrick murmured, "Better on me, hm?" knowing Lamar like he had an x ray up to him, found heart, there it was, gotchu.
Lamar knew everything in him was warm and overheated and it was probably very obvious that he was trying his damndest not to get hard but still…still…Lamar dropped his wrists and edged out the bathroom, daring to look at Derrick as he gave as good as he got, "Better on naked skin actually."
Left Derrick blinking at him in pure awe and turned on his heel only to immediately almost run into DeAndre. DeAndre wrapped an arm 'round him, his gaze on Derrick standing there still awestruck in the bathroom.
"Lamar's right, y'know."
A damning wink and then DeAndre steered Lamar towards the door. "Let's leave Derrick to gather his wits, hm?" Words murmured low in Lamar's ear, Lamar trembling now for a new reason as DeAndre opened the door, nudging him out into the hallway. Stayed close to DeAndre's side and it was funny, wasn't it? Learning each other also meant understanding what made each of them shake in pleasure, what made them wanna control, what made them wanna be vulnerable.
Lamar had those brief wild weeks with Marquise as the only thing he could learn from. Everything sexual 'fore Marquise had been him just letting guys fuck him and that was it. He didn't attempt control, didn't try to dig his claws into it 'till Marquise. Marquise had been more vulnerable than him, more willing to submit. Was how Lamar learned to control. But also how Lamar learned 'bout the sweetness of letting go in the hands of someone you wholeheartedly trusted. So yeah he had been fucked 'fore but it never meant anything, never sunk him deep, never made him wanna be vulnerable. Just a means to an end, pleasure for the sake of pleasure, no deep connection.
It truly had never been who Lamar was and it had taken Marquise to spin those thoughts and now DeAndre and Derrick were settling it into a truth.
He could give as good as he got and he could control but he could also be vulnerable. It was something he desperately wanted to explore with DeAndre and Derrick beyond mere words and with pure action. But they hadn't even kissed yet. So Lamar was stuck with words and with these trembling shakes and with this careening yearning need.
Leaned against DeAndre, DeAndre asking, soft and quiet, "You good, baby? Too much?
In the same way he had asked - "Ain't going too fast for you, baby?"
Again that same heart stopping feeling and all Lamar could do was echo what he had before 'cause it was true. Despite all the fear, the questions, the ruminations, the constant thinking, the wonderings of the whys, still, he'd never regret this journey 'cause..."Wouldn't want any other way."
DeAndre smiled at the repetition and stayed quiet after that, letting Lamar have his moment too. Endlessly grateful for them, for the pauses and the highs, never the lows, fighting past darkness to what was possible, the light and the sun, the stars.
The door opened, Derrick stepping out into the hallway, glancing at Lamar and DeAndre leaning on each other. Derrick had thrown on a suit jacket, also deep navy blue, almost black. And Lamar loved the mix of colors, of the blues and maroons. Derrick just looked utterly perfect and that'd never change, Lamar was sure of that.
Handed the keycard over to DeAndre and then Derrick nodded, good to go, and they walked in a line to the elevator, staying close all the way to outside the hotel.
Half an hour early 'till the bus came so they sat on a bench outside, taking in the fresh air. Lamar had been too busy looking at the hustle of the outside world that he didn't hear his phone going off 'till DeAndre said, “Someone’s calling you, baby.”
Lamar pulled out his phone and stared at the screen, wincing when he saw it was his momma. She always knew when he was wandering. It was like once after the season hit, he was aimless and she was always on him, wondering what he was doing, how he was doing, where he was, that type of shit. He didn’t think she’d ever stop doing it. For that, he was a bit grateful. Every wandering son without a dad ‘round needed a momma to steer them back to something stable.
Answered the call, “Hey, momma.”
Right outta the gate ‘cause of course she knew, “Baby, where you at?”
“Uh, Glendale. Arizona. With them guys from last year. I met ‘em at the rink.”
“Hmm.”
Lamar felt the judgement in that singular hum and ducked his head like she was present and real. “I’ll be back before my classes start. Promise.”
“And you got everything you needed done before you left?”
“Of course.”
Then curious with a hint of suspicion - “Well at least you got some sense during all this. Now what’re their names, baby? You never said.”
Lamar looked over to his left where Derrick and DeAndre were talking, hand waving and everything, laughing. Joy looked so good on them. It smoothed them out, made them seem heavenly and limitless. “Derrick Henry. DeAndre Hopkins. They’re, uh, both football players. Derrick’s ‘bout to have his last college season and DeAndre’s in the NFL.”
“I see. Well you don’t normally do this with just anyone so if you trust them, so do I.”
Trust – grace – the belief that you could hold on to something without a boundary, without a name. Lamar clutched his phone hard like it was a lifeline, a rope swinging at the edge. “Yeah, momma, I do.”
“Okay, baby. When we meet these boys of yours…”
No hesitation. No room for argument. Lamar nodded dutifully to her command, knowing it was useless to try and get ‘round the inevitable embarrassment that was gonna be his momma meeting DeAndre and Derrick. “Yeah you will. Promise.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you to it. Let me know when you get back.”
“I will.”
“Bye baby. Momma loves you.”
“Love you.”
Lamar let his momma end the call without doing anything, just listening to the harsh ending sound its beeps, waiting patiently for his phone to vibrate again, knowing Des or Roz had been impatiently waiting for their momma to call him.
Funny how Roz and Des took turns protecting him, two sides of the same coin. How Des got the words outta him and how Roz pulled him back from the brink. The physical and the mental.
Wondered which one would try to understand Arlington and Glendale and these boys who had captured Lamar's heart.
It ended up being the both of 'em. Roz called but it was on speaker, Lamar could hear the kids in the background, Des saying something to them.
"Momma said you's in Glendale."
Lamar nodded to himself, looking at DeAndre and Derrick glancing at him, all their eyes meeting, as Lamar said, "Yeah, 'm with DeAndre and Derrick."
"So they have names now? What 'bout faces?"
Looked down at his shoes, breaking eye contact, hoping DeAndre and Derrick would look away too. Thankfully they did, talking low to one another, heads bowed. Lamar snuck a pic of them and sent it to Roz.
"They exist. Promise."
Knew Roz got the pic when she cooed. Then static, the scramble of Des grabbing her phone so she could see too, her exclamation echoing Roz's coo, "Oh look at 'em! Wait a minute. That DeAndre and Derrick?"
Lamar hummed affirmation and Des gasped. Roz said something, waiting impatiently for an explanation, heard it spin from Des's mouth and now both of his sisters were saying how cute his boys were.
Lamar let them squeal 'bout it for a minute then he interjected, "'M going now. Gotta get Derrick on the bus for his game."
"Okay, okay. We hear you. But don't let those boys be a stranger!" Roz said it in the same way that their momma had, a totally not hidden threat to do as she said.
Lamar agreed and reassured them then said his goodbyes to them and the kids and then they were gone again. He'd have to wander to L.A. soon to go see them all.
But Lamar had other things occupying his attention at the moment.
Locked and pocketed his phone then shuffled closer to DeAndre and Derrick and nodded to them. “We good.”
Didn't expect DeAndre to catch the thread but he did, glancing at him, small and soft, “No dad, right?”
DeAndre had guessed correctly and maybe he had seen the similar signs. Lamar worried his bottom lip. “Yeah. He passed when my grandma did. When I was five.”
“Shit. Mine died too. Five months old." DeAndre knocked his knee against Lamar's and his mind went somewhere else, a much darker place as he said, "Didn't know love could go right, y'know. My momma, she got blinded by this chick her boyfriend was fucking. Imagine that. You get cheated on then you get blinded in the same second." DeAndre shook his head and Lamar's heart twisted deep in his chest, seeking DeAndre's hand and holding on soft, warm.
Insane to think that as a child, DeAndre had witnessed that, had to maybe even call the ambulance or had to stand there as it got called, either way, had to listen to his momma screaming and sobbing over something so horrific. And to think she made it through all that to raise him and his siblings.
Then a little detail clicked in Lamar's mind and he gutted out, "That why you give her your touchdown balls?" 'Cause now it made sense. Lamar had seen DeAndre do it enough times he figured it was simply tradition but he hadn't known she was blind, hadn't known that...
"To keep close to her, yeah. She can't see me succeed so next best thing, y'know."
It made Lamar wanna cry in agony and yet pure adoration. DeAndre was so fucking sweet, it matched the scent of him, matched how he touched and how he spoke, low and undulating and sugary. Leaned against DeAndre's shoulder, kissing t shirt clothed bone and skin, hoping it would someway find its way to heart. DeAndre knocked their heads gently together, gratefulness in every action, Derrick joining Lamar's hand on DeAndre's knee.
"Feel like that asshole and my dad would'a ran in the same fucked up circles."
Even DeAndre seemed confused as he and Lamar glanced at Derrick, DeAndre exclaiming, “Shit really?”
Derrick glanced 'tween them, the words somehow coming easy, as he said, “Yeah…I never told you? Known all through Yulee. Drugs, prostitution, DUIs.” Derrick tilted his head to the side, contemplative. “Been in and out so long, nothing good gets built or stays. But I’ve been trying more with him.” Lamar ran his fingers up and down Derrick's hand, creating patterns in the storm, as Derrick continued, “It’s funny…people think it’s a bad thing, growing up wayward, just going from house to house, relative to relative, or hell I even stayed with my coach but like…it’s not. It just shows how much support you have, how much support is also possible.”
Lamar felt those words hook deep within him. He truly would be nothing without his momma, without his family, without the boys he had met along the way. The stepping stones. The things that were gonna lead him back to the tide. The pillars that kept his body and soul and heart alive. And God who kept him risen.
Wanted to say all he was feeling but the team bus was pulling up and the moment was coming, of Derrick pulling on his uniform and taking that field and Lamar couldn't wait to be in the stands, side by side with DeAndre, as they supported him.
Support - tenderness - the little things - each of them standing - holding hands and merging into a circle without speaking - heads bowed - praying quietly out loud for a healthy and triumphant way forward.
And then Derrick was heading on to that bus, nodding at them, and Lamar nodded back, hoping it contained all the ways his heart felt like it was gonna burst.
And when the bus pulled away, DeAndre hooked their arms together and guided them to his car. Got into the passenger seat, looking at DeAndre next to him and they both smiled at one another, something softly endearing.
DeAndre dizzied his hand down, reaching for Lamar's and bringing it up to his mouth, pressing a kiss along the bone, eyeing him the whole time, and Lamar melted into it, the smile on his face brightening. Even when DeAndre settled his hand down, started the car and pulled out the lot to the stadium, Lamar's smile never dimmed.
Only when did Derrick win did his smile reach even brighter levels.
Knew the celebration out on the field was gonna be a while, media swarming in, everyone with their heads turned up to the billowing confetti, the once in a lifetime taste of greatness. Knew Derrick would be a while but still wanting to be there so him and DeAndre hung out in the hallway, sticking close to one another and watching the world unfold and celebrate 'round them.
And when Derrick came down the hall, he looked even better in uniform, in the winner's t, looking at them with such a shimmer to his eyes, that if Lamar hadn't fallen for him before, he surely would've now.
Didn't know how public they wanted things, maybe it was best to keep such unnamed things quiet, so he let DeAndre be the one to step up to Derrick and wrap his arms 'round Derrick's neck, pressing close. Lamar figured that he'd always think it, that they looked beautiful together, like puzzle pieces. Derrick kissed the top of DeAndre's head, shut his eyes. And Lamar stood by, making sure no one dared to break up the moment.
Then Derrick held out a hand for him and just like Glendale, in the parking lot, crazy how so much could change in only a few short hours. No hesitation, no praying. Lamar let himself be led, trusting he was wanted, secure in the knowledge that Derrick and DeAndre wanted him there. Tucked himself into Derrick's other side, kissed right over Derrick's heart and pressed his smile there when Derrick kissed the top of his head too.
Felt like they were in their own little world, savoring the moment, the pounding of Derrick's heart as it settled and came down from the winning high, the strong musky scent of sweat and grass and Earth, of strength and stability. Now he was the one shutting his eyes to it, breathing it in.
An up and down brush of Derrick's palm low on his spine, Derrick murmuring, "Time to go eat."
Agreed with that, nodding, and glanced at DeAndre as DeAndre suggested a fancy place he had been looking at and together they followed Derrick to the locker room.
Nudged in 'tween them and fell into the rhythm of it, of their joy, their adoration.
Sometimes you just know.
And in that moment, Lamar knew.
He'd be fighting himself and a lotta other battles but this...this would make every struggle worth it, he was sure of it.
we gotta find the place
shit, maybe it's near thе stars
where we can feel safе
maybe only way to make it to the light
is through the dark
2016
april - chicago
Lamar slunk down the rows, finding DeAndre easy as if he was covered in spotlight. Soft baby blue suit, stark and bright yet soft against his skin. Breathed past the waves that always hit him after not seeing them for a bit. Settled back into himself, quietly sitting down next to DeAndre and enjoying the look of startled shock on DeAndre’s face.
Then came a warm smile and Lamar couldn't help but echo it, DeAndre saying, you think you so slick, “Thought you said you couldn’t make it."
Lamar shrugged, smiling. “I made time.”
More like he convinced his momma that a flight to Chicago was absolutely necessary. He had watched helplessly as DeAndre and Derrick sent him updates through their little trip to Chicago for draft night. The dates they had, the scenery and the getting to know the little crooks and hidden spots of the city. Lamar had lamented that he couldn't go but his momma would've killed him if he up and vanished again. And still Lamar figured this way Derrick and DeAndre could have some time together.
It was important to treat this thing like it was fragile, allowing each other breathing room. So it was a good thing, wasn't it, for Lamar to be suffering in Louisville. Well. No. It actually wasn't. And he had called his momma 'bout taking a flight out. No part of her had been surprised, had even asked him what took so long. And he was so grateful for her support as he paid for the flight while still on the phone with her. Held his phone close to his chest, pacing the dorm and making Jaire throw a thousand things at him 'fore Jaire said to make it a surprise already and that had sounded so perfect that Lamar knew it was the best route to take.
So here he was, surprising his boys.
DeAndre placed a hand on Lamar’s knee, thumb worrying into bone. Lamar could feel the energy coming off him in waves. Excitement. Fear. And fuck was he so glad that he gave into boldness, Arlington flavored, Glendale forged, and took a plane ride out here.
"Thinking 'm more nervous than Derrick is," DeAndre said.
Lamar could imagine that but he also wondered if it was just 'cause Derrick was a bit better at hiding it. Derrick and DeAndre were the same sides of the stable coin, DeAndre calm 'bout it and Derrick assured 'bout it. It was what cradled Lamar and made his thinking and his feeling seem less like a wild storm incapable of being caught, of ending soft up into the clouds, replaced by sun.
Leaned into DeAndre, murmuring, "God knows where to take him. Trust in that." DeAndre nodded at those words, sliding his fingers into Lamar's, loose, hidden in the shadows, and their hands stayed interlaced like that all through the ceremony, the exhilarating announcement.
And then came the worry.
Lamar felt it like a siren call, like something was wrong. Like hearing those sounds and seeing Marquise against the basketball pole, getting beat swollen and bloody and broken. Something was wrong.
Didn't even hear DeAndre call for him, it getting swallowed by whoever had claimed DeAndre's attention. Didn't hear nothing but a whirl, a blur, a whoosh, the blood roaring in his ears as his heart pounded.
Swung a corner, checking every little nook and cranny and then he saw a slip of fabric and he ran to it, halting when he finally found Derrick, standing there in a corner, in between each wall, staring at the paint as if it was gonna give him all the answers to the world.
Like before - never saying a word - maybe all we are when the tidal wave comes are echoes from before - just acting - moving to stand in front of Derrick, snapping the eye contact with the wall. Derrick blinked, sudden, and then Lamar listened to his heart, hook, and reached for Derrick and Derrick collapsed into him in such a startling way that Lamar almost fell backwards a bit before he righted his stance.
Arms 'round Derrick, tight, an envelopment, letting Derrick rest his face over heart. And then he felt Derrick's breath stutter in a way he had never heard, this must be as close to crying as he'd ever get, and just like with DeAndre in the locker room after a loss, he didn't know how to comfort Derrick. But maybe just being there, holding on was a start. He held Derrick harder, cradling the back of Derrick's head to keep him there, tucked away, stay, murmuring, "I gotchu. All good. Promise you."
A hand on his arm, curling strong, and Lamar tilted his head to see that DeAndre had followed them and his usual calm expression had shattered into worried pieces. It made Lamar hold on to Derrick tighter, knowing deep down that even DeAndre had rarely seen Derrick like this.
A squeeze of DeAndre's hand and DeAndre leaned in just enough to block the two of them as Derrick let go of whatever he had been worrying over. It was funny, the various shades of humanity, how each of us were different depending on the tidal wave. Anger. Grief. Excitement. Joy. Lamar had been getting used to Derrick and DeAndre suffused with joy, excitement, an intimate warmth, a tender concern. But anger, grief, worry, fear - how did they look, how did they handle it?
Maybe this was Derrick's way - being unusually quiet, more so than what was normal, and then needing a moment of this - of being held - of being told - I gotchu.
Maybe that was what Derrick had meant when he had said Lamar was perfect back in Glendale 'cause Lamar had found him without ever being told and had held on to him and had been there for him. And Derrick needed it then just like how he needed it now.
So it was easy - simple - perhaps even perfect - as Lamar held on to Derrick, warm and tight, surrounded. And when Derrick pressed a hand against Lamar's chest, Lamar listened and stepped back enough for Derrick to breathe. Derrick shook his head and Lamar knew he was 'bout to apologize so he stopped that in its tracks, saying, "No need, Derrick. Like I said. DeAndre and me, we here for you."
Derrick stilled a bit at those words then he slowly nodded as the words settled in. "Yeah. Fuck. Don't even know what got me."
DeAndre wrapped an arm 'round Derrick's shoulders, kissing his jaw lightly, sweetly. "Probably everything. 2013 'till now's a long journey, babe."
Long journeys with a defined end leading to a new and raw beginning. Derrick shut his eyes and didn't say a word, agreeing silently with DeAndre.
When Lamar would be in Derrick's shoes, he knew he would be an emotional wreck, would barely be able to hold on to who he was. No wonder Derrick was breaking on them, as the weight gave way only to shoulder something heavier.
Dreams were weightless things but you could never imagine the pressure of its systems.
Derrick knuckled underneath his eyes as he said, “Wanna show you guys something.”
DeAndre looked at Lamar and Lamar shrugged, completely okay with whatever Derrick was comfortable doing. Lamar would be saddened of course but he wouldn't've even minded if Derrick wanted time for himself. Instead, Derrick was doing something wild, impulse driven, as Derrick pulled them towards the parking lot.
And there right under a streetlight, middle row – shiny, sparkling – candy apple red 2012 Dodge Challenger.
“Boys meet Fiona.”
DeAndre glanced at Derrick. “Thought I’d never see her. With the controversy you know…”
Derrick shrugged, unphased by it. All three of them knew Alabama didn’t get him that car. Even without getting the full story, Lamar knew that in his heart.
“Take us for a little spin, babe.”
Derrick was practically glowing as he got in the driver's side. Lamar didn’t even hesitate, getting into the backseat so DeAndre could have passenger, settling down into soft interior, inhaling the bloom of mango and watching Derrick press a hand along the dash, smoothing across the leather stitches. “She ain’t much but…I love her.”
DeAndre hummed and pulled Derrick in by his tie, murmuring low, "‘M proud of you, babe," 'fore kissing him soft and drowsy slow.
Lamar scooted forward, settling his arms on the center console. It didn’t feel right, joining in the kissing, even if it was a chaste little thing so he opted for running his fingers up and down Derrick’s arm, right in the crook, an echo of DeAndre’s usual touch. It was funny. Lamar had never thought of it before but how would he touch Derrick and DeAndre to know he was there, that he cared, that he wanted to be real and true and honest with them, that this belief meant more than he could ever hope to explain?
Maybe it started with simple things like this – Lamar hooked a finger in a ruffled bit of Derrick’s suit jacket, right over elbow where Derrick had pushed the shirt sleeves up.
Derrick broke the kiss with DeAndre and looked at him. Lamar smiled something he hoped was warm and reassuring and said, “To the stars, ‘member? That’s what we going for.”
It was poetics, it was everything Lamar thought about at night when he tossed and turned this thing with Derrick and DeAndre ‘round his mind and through the aching tunnels of his heart.
Funny how – maybe this was what adoration and tender care was too – how someone can bring out the poetics in you.
Derrick didn’t say a word and Lamar was worried that he had overstepped but then Derrick leaned forward and Lamar’s heart stuttered and froze all to get melted, warmed as Derrick simply rested their foreheads together. Skin to skin. Lamar shut his eyes and tried to breathe. Derrick hadn’t kissed him but it felt intimate, tender like he had. But all Derrick did was touch him, fingers resting along the curve of his own. Bone to bone. A slide of Derrick’s hand to the back of his head, warm breath caressing him, petal soft, “You so fucking beautiful.”
Lamar’s frozen melted heart ached so hard he felt like he wasn’t gonna be able to breathe properly after this. This time, he was the one left wrought without speech, just along for the ride as Derrick held him and called him things he had never heard.
Gently, another hand joined theirs on Derrick’s arm and Lamar blinked into reality, pulling back just enough to see DeAndre looking at them with the most tender look.
“To the stars,” DeAndre echoed and hearing them all agree on wild words, prophetic dreams, made Lamar feel so warm.
Maybe it was in fact possible that this thing could be tangible.
Maybe it’d take years. Maybe it’d take a lifetime. But Lamar felt like all he had to do was hold on. And it’d solidify. It would. He had to believe.
Derrick chuckled as he let go of Lamar and smoothed a hand along one of DeAndre’s locks. “You beautiful too.”
DeAndre rolled his eyes at him. Lamar slunk back enough, just watching as they play bickered, breathing deep the return of normal function.
Watching Derrick and DeAndre was its own form of happiness. It settled in him, warm and tender, knocking out the previous fear and worry. Didn't question a thing, trusting Derrick and DeAndre with his whole life and soul and heart, as Derrick finally started the car and pulled out the lot.
Wherever they were going, it didn't matter. Lamar clicked in his seatbelt, bitched about how you got your driving skills from your dad whenever Derrick hit the gas too hard, too fast and Derrick had laughed, wasn't insulted like you would if some stranger had said that.
And as the street signs blurred past, highways came and went, Lamar leaned his head against the window and watched DeAndre grab the aux chord and plug in his phone.
"Jaire showed you Carolina rappers, hm?" DeAndre had thrown the question towards Lamar, head tilted at him to look at him. Lamar nodded at that, knowing that Simba was a Carolina rapper, J Cole, if he 'membered correctly. Jaire played him enough that he recognized how he rapped, knew how the words would slide, how the beat would go. And when he had heard DeAndre rap softly to it when Simba blasted 'round them, he had been endlessly curious but he guessed that there was an easy answer. DeAndre was from South Carolina, ain't no way he hadn't heard 'bout a North Carolina rapper and geography truly didn't even matter, not when J Cole's name was big enough to be part of the big three.
DeAndre spun through J Cole's albums, saying, "He Carolina too?"
Lamar nodded again, explaining, "North Carolina."
DeAndre grinned, excited by that, before settling on the album that he wanted, letting it fill the car. "Not sure what you heard already. But this is J Cole's earlier shit. After Simba."
Lamar hummed and settled into it, from the waves of - i had a dream and so i made a move / you win some, you lose some, that's just how it happens / if they don't know your dreams then they can't shoot 'em down - to - i got some shit i'd like to get off my chest / i spill out my soul, i spit out my stress - to the final pulling strings of - when my story's told, how will they tell it? / will they say i was a giver or remember i was selfish? / will they say i was a sinner or pretend i was a saint? will i go down as a winner, what's the picture they gon' paint? / when i'm gone, let 'em talk, they discussing who i am / when they bury me, just know i wasn't nothing but a man / wasn't nothin' but a man.
Farewell - to somewhere in Indiana, close to the border of Illinois, near the southernmost bend of Lake Michigan, nestled close to the Indiana Dunes National Park.
Didn't do any of those things - too dark for that - Derrick parked the car in a serene, quiet spot - DeAndre got a couple of blankets from the trunk and laid them down - and with eyes gleaming in the dark, sweet and tender, c'mere, Lamar sunk down next to them and this time, he didn't hesitate. DeAndre's proud smile was a heated thing as Lamar laid down in between them, blankets underneath their bodies and beneath that, grass and Earth.
Lamar shut his eyes to the sweetness of crickets and the shuffle of nightlife and the low soft unspool of Derrick and DeAndre talking to each other. Was almost asleep when his phone vibrated, Jaire.
Stared at the words.
tell your boy congrats for me
Curled into Derrick’s chest, wiggling his foot out to find DeAndre’s and hook the two of them together. In a break in their conversation, Lamar said, “Jaire says congrats.”
Derrick’s fingers on his neck stilled their chime. He tilted his head so their heads gently bopped together. “Tell him thanks.”
Lamar tapped it out, stilling a bit at the end of the sentence. He wanted to take a pic and send it, to have some valid and physical proof that he was here with DeAndre and Derrick, under the stars. But it was dark and he didn’t wanna be a dick and put the flash on.
So he simply typed back,
derrick says thanks
think we somewhere in indiana now
its been nice
Nice barely contained how it felt. And he knew Jaire was gonna grill him for details. But Lamar didn’t worry about that. Or the long ass drive back to the ‘ville. No. None of that mattered.
What did was this – Lamar set his phone somewhere off to the side then settled back down against Derrick's chest, turning just enough so he could find DeAndre on his left. DeAndre, eyes shut but sensing him wanting, held his hand out and Lamar hooked their pinkies together.
Hooking on – maybe that was Lamar did – what else was there to do when you were heading for the stars?
2016
october - louisville
Lamar knew there was no avoiding Jaire Alexander.
Jaire would always find you.
Especially after a shit game that Lamar could’ve and should’ve come back and won but fucking didn’t and then of course, of fucking course that was the game that DeAndre had gone to. Because it was against Clemson. In Clemson’s stadium. South Carolina. Where DeAndre was from. And Lamar’s mind was so twisted from it all that he kept thinking that was the only reason he had seen DeAndre in the crowd even though it made sense, didn’t fit with the facts, still was something he agonized about.
At first when Lamar had caught DeAndre’s gaze, he felt like he was seeing ghosts. And he had shivered, as if DeAndre was once again behind him, holding him, touching him.
They hadn’t seen one another since April, since Chicago, the looming southernmost edge of Lake Michigan, under the stars.
There had been training camps and gearing up for the season and they had spoken on insta and Lamar had maybe done not so well when he had seen pics of DeAndre and Derrick out on the lake, fishing and talking. He had wanted to be a part of that so bad but he couldn’t pick up and move all the time. He had school and football, responsibilities and stresses. No matter how much he wanted to send back, send the coordinates, he couldn’t always be bold, no consequences. So he had watched from afar as the pics came through, trying to strike conversations as he stared at how cute DeAndre and Derrick looked in their little forest green fishing vests and the joy, once again the joy, trying to type out shakily, never been fishing.
And DeAndre had jumped on that, no shot, and there were stories there but DeAndre said it was too much for dm and wanted to talk in person, on the boat, on the lake, promising to drag him outdoors again, and Lamar lamented that he had to wait another season for that. It felt like torture, these little tastes and moments. But what else was he gonna do ‘sides grin and bear it? For the belief. For the stars.
So seeing DeAndre in that crowd hadn’t helped him forget the yearning. It clawed up from his heart as he stared, not knowing what was appropriate in that moment. The crowd was going insane, they were bouncing up and down in waves, and there was so much noise. Should he just wave? Or would that be weird?
Shaking his head, he tucked his helmet underneath his arm pit and simply nodded. He hoped its simpleness somehow conveyed everything that was blazing through him.
DeAndre watched him for a beat like he understood then he smiled in return, nodding back.
Lamar wasn’t startled by the sudden urge to throw his helmet to the side and run up there, it was something that had settled next to the yearning. Especially now. During this game. Versus a top team. He knew this game was gonna be a fight. He knew it would require him to shoulder it all. He knew he would have to shift and maneuver his way through defenses like water. And he knew in his soul that he was fully capable of all that and more.
But some tiny part of him wanted to pretend he wasn’t just so he could get DeAndre’s hands on him again, get DeAndre calming him down, soothing. He could use a good old fashioned summer heat South Carolina lullaby, something like fishing on a boat in South Carolina waters.
But he couldn’t. And he shouldn’t. Was just left wondering about a lot of what ifs that he had shoved down deep so he could focus.
And then he had lost that game.
And it felt like he had lost a lot more than that when after, there was no sign of DeAndre.
Sure, he could’ve gotten swallowed in the crowd. And DeAndre probably had a thousand and one things he had to do. Probably had to go back to Texas.
But it hurt.
It squeezed the little belief he had ‘bout this thing and coupled with the loss, it just wasn’t great timing for any of it. Just had to, once again, swallow that hurt.
Some days…sometimes…Lamar got sick and fucking tired of swallowing pain, of letting the darkness get melted into him so it wasn’t there no more. But it was. The imprint. The memory. You go through enough shit, it’s of course automatic to move on. Especially with the extreme highs and lows of football, of gritty wins and soul crushing losses. Used to it. But that didn’t mean it didn’t leave anything behind. The imprint. The memory. And he was sick and tired of pretending that wasn’t who he was. The one who remembered, hooked on.
You remember every loss – of course – even the ones at Pop Warner, even the ones at high school.
And then were some days…sometimes…he didn’t wanna be used to it, didn’t wanna be imprinted by it, didn’t wanna understand this to be who he was.
He just wanted peace.
Some happiness.
To be in between DeAndre and Derrick and just let himself let go for once, instead of being kinda numb to things and yet full of loss memory, always grinding and always thinking ‘bout dreams. Sometimes, he kneeled on grass, midnight, head bowed, letting the dew soak his jeans or the dry grass needle through fabric, and put his heart out there, all its weaknesses and faults, all its brokenness, and dared to reveal – how can I feel all this and still be strong, how can I be me in the ways I can’t change and still be strong, how can I still be able to rise when everything feels so heavy, forgive me for the days of peace I really want, forgive me for the days where I agonize and freeze over how instead of simply just getting through it, forgive me for the days I don’t believe.
It was scary letting yourself sink into those dark times instead of rolling past it. But Lamar figured that was how you got better. Maybe that was also why losses stuck to him. It worked for most, moving on. But for him, maybe it was better that they were barbs, imprints, memories. Maybe there were layers to strength and sometimes the bottommost layer was the darkest. From it, you could rise, pile on the light. All them layers to something so complex. Layers that he was still trying to understand. Layers that he wished he could ask DeAndre and Derrick ‘bout, in between them, arms ‘round him, one hand low on his spine, the other cradled over elbow crook, let go.
So yeah, with his head spinning like this, it was no wonder Jaire found him.
Jaire practically kicked the door to their dorm room down, exploding inside and slamming the door shut. Crawled on to his bed like a panther and surrounded him with Jaire.
See, Jaire got him for the same reason all the others did – eyes. With crystal eyes like that, Lamar knew he had been doomed, day one.
“I know what you need, L. C’mon.”
Odd – Lamar had expected Jaire to immediately sink his teeth into the crux of the situation. But instead, Jaire hovered beside him and around him. Lamar was up against the headboard, knees pulled to his chest. Jaire was practically on top of him, grabbing his knee, shaking the bone to the tune of Jaire’s curiosity.
Thinking on it, Lamar knew that his friendship with Jaire was kinda funny like this. Jaire never hesitated when it came to touch, always grabbing Lamar and holding him when he needed it and always curling up next to him. Jaire was just a touchy, wild thing that Lamar could barely hope to contain. And whoever got Jaire in the end was gonna need a dissertation level of warning ‘cause-.
“You think I didn’t see you? Watching DeAndre like that?”
Lamar froze, breath catching in his throat, staring helplessly as Jaire with his stupid always yapping and prodding mouth and the oddest, clearest, almost gemlike eyes that Lamar had ever seen, exposed his whole soul like there was never any barriers. But Lamar shouldn’t’ve been surprised. This was Jaire. The boy who followed him to Arlington, no questions asked. The boy who prodded him to know every detail ‘bout this thing. So of course Jaire must’ve seen him looking at DeAndre.
Jaire hummed and tilted his head to the side. “You ever wonder why I didn’t look shocked when you told me?”
Lamar had wondered about that but he had been more so consumed with worry that Jaire would hate him for it. Or kill him over it. Hospital doors shutting, the constant beeps, the swollen beaten skin, the sound of those hits. It had sliced through Lamar’s mind and then Jaire hadn’t lead them anywhere near that kinda thing, had instead asked for details like they were at a teenage girl slumber party and Lamar, too shocked, had kept those details to himself. Until now it seems. Jaire truly only had so much patience. Lamar was surprised Jaire had lasted this long ‘cause when he was soft, when he was dark, that was when Jaire needled through.
Jaire grinned, wide and gleaming, crystal eyes sharpening its cuts. “I had an inkling you know. You watch him and Derrick’s tape like a fucking porno."
Maybe in some other scenario, Lamar would’ve laughed at how Jaire had said it, ‘cause honestly it was kinda true. He did watch their tape like he was ‘bout to jump through the screen, but all he felt was caged up and exposed and slit open, head to toe.
He tried to nudge Jaire off him, done with this shit, ripping the band aid off wasn't worth all the crying wounds, the reminders that he saw DeAndre but DeAndre didn’t stick ‘round for the fallout, and what could that even possibly mean, if anything. But Jaire was annoying, in the sense that he was all energy, like a whirlwind, and he maneuvered Lamar’s movements like a master puppeteer, simply pinning Lamar back down to the bed, hands on his hips and legs entangled. Fuck, Lamar imagined that even in sleep, Jaire's mind and heart never fucking stopped. Constantly on edge. Constantly poking and prodding. Constantly full of consuming pride.
Constantly taking his damn soul out.
“You were fucking on one, L. Saw you catching glances at the crowd.”
Lamar tried to play it cool. Rolled his eyes. Huffed out, “You stole the ball from 'em. Were you looking too?"
Jaire rolled his eyes. “Nah, receivers ain't my thing. Too flashy. Too much drama. But you know that."
Lamar did know that. Jaire had practically given him a dissertation on every player on the team – ain’t no one gonna be worth your time but me, said with the cockiest attitude and glimmer in his eyes.
“Yeah, you freak 'nough for the both of you.”
Jaire’s hands bit into his hips and he winced, kicking Jaire with his knee. It only made Jaire’s voice rise as he said, “No distracting me, L. Tell me how you know 'em. Please. Don’t make me beg. It’s ugly.”
“You is ugly yeah.”
Jaire sucker punched his shoulder gently. “Acting all high and mighty when you’s hard right now thinking 'bout showing off for him.”
Lamar hated that Jaire was right. It was strange. His dick hadn’t been rock hard the whole time, that would’ve been impossible, but he still felt like there was a sizzle, a throb to his being that settled low in his belly and made his dick stir every time he thought of DeAndre watching him work the defense and almost come back to win.
And right now, yeah he wasn’t surprised his dick was stirring, interested in the turn in the convo and with how Jaire was pinning him just how he liked, because yes being friends with Jaire meant having late night confessionals almost every night, Jaire was incessant like that but he was also loving about it, always there to listen and never judge. So Jaire was pinning him ‘cause that was where Jaire wanted the conversation to go. To the sexual shit. To how the playback reel of DeAndre being there in the crowd, watching him, had been seared into his brain and was playing a dangerous dance with the way Jaire was pinning him.
“Tell me. Don’t be pretending on me.”
Lamar loathed that word - pretending.
His confidence was a quieter sort, especially in comparison to Jaire, but he didn't fucking pretend. He knew who he was. He knew that DeAndre and Derrick made him feel something that he could never hope to explain, that he was sick with poetics and with longing, that he had wanted DeAndre to stick ‘round so bad and when he hadn’t, he felt like he couldn’t go on, and then he just hated himself more for it, for the way he let a weakness bite him like this.
Should’ve kept on believing in the power of this thing but sometimes things got so shaky, he wasn’t sure what to do. But talking meant exposing all that. A river span, ocean span, continent and universe span of thoughts and emotions, an entanglement that he had been caught in since 2015. But then again this was Jaire. His best friend. This wasn’t like the basketball court, Pompano, hospital, text of endings. This wasn’t none of that. So he could, couldn’t he? Like the drive to Arlington. Meeting Jaire’s gaze across his car, some guys, know, feel.
Breathed it out, slow, “Sunrise Skate. In Pompano,” then fast like running side by side with Derrick, like blading ‘round the rink with Derrick and DeAndre, like the hit of fruit punch knowing that’s what they tasted like, like the first touch and hit of elbow crook and spine, “Last year...'fore school started.”
Jaire stilled, blinking at Lamar like he was suddenly brand new, shiny, raw. “Fuck, L. When you was eighteen?!” Sat back on his knees and shook his head. “You really are a slut, damn.”
Squeezed his eyes shut, “It wasn't like that.”
Because it really wasn’t, was it?
Lamar remembered how he grinded on DeAndre without even asking and winced. So maybe it was like that. That moment burned into his memory like how when DeAndre was standing next to him in the locker room. His dick right there, framed, ready to be sucked into his mouth. Worried his bottom lip and felt his body get shook by the weight of Jaire’s jabbing fingers and stabbing comments, “Uh huh. Skating rink. Grinding a bit in the dark. Kissing in the lot. Fucking in the backseat. C'mon I know what shit goes down there.”
Lamar batted Jaire’s hands away and opened his eyes, shaking his head at Jaire’s wiggling eyebrows and gleaming eyes. “Some of that happened. But not, uh, kissing or sex.”
Or anything like that since.
Jaire grabbed Lamar’s batting hands and held them up as if they were a piece of evidence in a homicide case. Like, these hands haven’t touched nothing, you serious. Jaire sighed hard like he was disappointed, waving Lamar’s hands ‘round as he said, “Just grinding? Damn what a fucking waste. And I missed shoving you two together after the game! Double the fucking waste!”
Lamar once more lamented his life and how he had to be stuck with Jaire. But he also wouldn’t change it for the world neither. How Jaire was stuck to him, how Jaire understood him, how Jaire pulled him to places Lamar wouldn’t’ve ever gone by himself.
Suddenly, that disappointed look was gone and in its place was something cunning. Lamar steeled himself for whatever it was gonna be but still nothing in him was prepared for Jaire to knee walk closer to him ‘till Jaire was hovering over him with that damn look in his eyes and then Jaire murmured low and deep, serious and devious, “Hey, L…let me record you. Send them something to remember you by.”
Lamar stared into crystal eyes and tried to put those words together. He didn’t know what the hell Jaire was talking about. Recording him where? And doing what? When he didn’t say nothing, Jaire tsked and rolled his eyes. “L, c’mon. Ain’t none of you’s soft right now thinking ‘bout them. Show ‘em that. Show ‘em what they be missing.”
Lamar’s whole self seemed to fizzle and die out. Recording him fucking jacking off to the thing but maybe more than thing that was what he had with DeAndre and Derrick…it was fucking crazy, insane. Shocked, rewritten, Lamar shoved Jaire off him and glared at him. “You fucking on one.”
Jaire merely met him, glare for glare and said, “C'mon it ain't like we doing shit together. 'M just helping you out. And you need the help. Them boys fucking want you so bad.”
Everything in Lamar wanted to protest those words. He wanted it thrown out there, sharp, steeled, they don’t even fucking kiss me like they kiss each other. So why would Lamar send them a video like that? They didn’t want him. Even if Derrick had called him beautiful. Even if DeAndre had called him cute and his hands met his in the dark. Even if they said, we want you here, in different ways but the same refrain. That still didn’t change the fact DeAndre didn’t even stay.
Like there were layers to this. There was a stark and clear difference between liking someone and fucking wanting them. They touched but they never touched him like that. They didn’t know that he liked to be pinned like this, like sometimes he needed an eraser to his mind, something that set his heart on pounding fire to drown out his thoughts. They didn’t show these signs of wanting, of desiring to know deeper and further.
So what would the point be of a video of him jacking off for them? To beg and plead? To rip open his rib cage – just another crazy idea – like the drive down to Arlington – like the flight over to Chicago – like all the steps he took but tried not to think about – the consequences to boldness – so maybe this was just another similar path, well worn.
Jaire tsked again and tried to grab for him but he shrugged him off. Should’ve been a warning but Jaire kept talking anyway, “I even asked them for you ‘cause I know you too chicken shit to do it. They cool with it. They wanna see you. Get that through your thick fucking skull, man.”
And all Lamar could do was sit there, staring at Jaire, helpless as Jaire painted the picture for him. “DeAndre looked ready to sing my fucking praises. He loved it. And he told Derrick. Made sure of it. Promised them I wouldn't do nothing with you. I don't cheat. We don't cheat. But we can have a bit of fun. All in the name of making your boy things regret not sticking 'round.”
Regret – grace – staying – leaving.
Marquise had dragged Lamar into wanting without a millisecond to parse what was happening and once he realized it, Marquise was already riding him. There had been no time to think. It was almost what was best sometimes with Lamar. Just get him to not think. Maybe that was why he wished Derrick and DeAndre had kissed him from the jump. So he wouldn’t be here, thinking in endless loops.
Two hands on his jaw, thumb digging into bone, and he stared helplessly at Jaire’s worried gaze. “Hey. Quit thinking ‘bout it and just go with it, okay? I promise you, 100%, that they gonna love it.”
And all Lamar could do was trust that Jaire was right, to trust in the tiny glimpses of hope and belief, in the fact that DeAndre not sticking ‘round after the game didn’t necessarily mean it was over, maybe just bad timing. Had to take a leap, bold, daring as much as he felt sick and torn apart. Maybe this would scream to them, what do you want from me, what do you want from this thing, do you yearn like I do in the most craziest of ways.
So all Lamar could do was lie there as Jaire bounced up from his bed and ran ‘round his side of the room, searching up and down for his phone. God. He felt so fucking vulnerable, just sitting there in sweats and a t. He fiddled with his beanie, pushing it back and forth. Were beanies even sexy? Was hair sexy? Well, DeAndre’s was, with the different ways he had his locks and the different silks he used and he adored Derrick’s braids, was always curious if DeAndre helped him create stories with it. Shaking his head, Lamar looked ‘round the bed, pushing the pillows up to the head of the mattress, shucking off the top cover and leaving just soft lavender sheets open to everything, just as vulnerable as he was.
This was weird. A too hot needle combo of drowning in unknown waters and feeling itchy and scared from DeAndre not sticking ‘round. Like what did people do for this? Should he wear something else? Does it even matter when most of the attention’s gonna be on his dick? Or. Well. What did people even look at when someone jerked off for them? This was so far outta his realm. He almost wished Marquise was here too. Marquise would pull him up on to his lap and get his hand on his dick and start working it for him, encouraging him to take over once the pleasure hit and he wasn’t thinking no more. Instead he was thinking. Endlessly.
“Found it! Alright. So.” Jaire walked back over to Lamar’s bed, standing at the foot of it and tapping away on his phone to pull up the camera. Lamar stared straight into the camera lens. It probably wasn’t even on and he felt like he was gonna throw up. Fucking hell, big games didn’t even trip him up like this. But this was something honest, something weirdly between heartfelt and sexy and pathetically yearning. He felt like he was on a slope, continuously diving down.
“You look good. Keep the beanie on.”
Lamar once again fiddled with it but he tugged it back into place and listened to Jaire’s hand motion to lay back. Against the pillows. Stiff as a fucking dead body in a morgue. Jaire tsked him and said, “Gonna get you outta your stupid thick head with my unbelievable imagination, okay?”
That sounded horrifying. Lamar wanted to protest everything that was happening right now but he also just wanted to stop thinking, to have a moment of just peace. So he gritted his teeth and nodded.
“Good.” The praise didn’t hit right but still it filled Lamar’s mind with images, of DeAndre coming down from the stands, of him lifting Lamar’s helmet up and murmuring to him, low and smooth, “You did so good, baby. Don’t let this loss bother you.”
Lamar shut his eyes to it, to the image, to the feeling, relaxing best he could, trying to conjure the feel of DeAndre’s hand on his elbow and Derrick’s hand low on his spine. Lost in the melting warmth of it, of what he desired.
“Take off your sweats, L. Let ‘em see them running back legs.”
If this was any other time, Lamar would’ve bitched back a response. Stupid fucking Jaire. But he did as he asked because once again like how Jaire pinned him down, Jaire knew exactly what to say and do. To give him direction, a way outta his head. To get him thinking it was Derrick’s hand on his ankle, not to massage his legs but to tug off his sweats and Lamar did just that to the tune of that image, tossing them somewhere, and before Jaire could ask, he shrugged off his t and slung it to the side. His beanie got disrupted but he tugged it back on again to the tune of Jaire’s pleased hum.
“Perfect. Now lay back. Put your hands on the sheets and just listen to me."
Lamar did, imagining it was DeAndre ordering him to be quiet, that it was Derrick’s hands guiding his own to the sheets, stay. Gripped the fabric, tried to breathe. Mango and sweet musk and sweat and something slow, not hurried, not in a back seat or a locker room, somewhere where it could just be them for hours, days, years.
Jaire’s voice from somewhere far away – guiding him – revealing – “When you took the game on your shoulders, did you think of 'em? When you threw the ball, did you imagine DeAndre leaping up for it, back shoulder? All that tight, lean muscle. Dripping in sweat. Running and leaping ‘cause you guided him there. And of course he knew where it was gonna land.”
Jaire was fucking nasty and it was a whirlwind of heat in Lamar's belly. And it drove him wild, insane that Jaire was saying things that Lamar had thought of and dreamt of, things that he hoped would become their future. Him on the line, DeAndre beside him, Derrick behind them and slinging passes and making catches and at the end of it, the kiss under the goal post, the way Derrick would handle him and the way DeAndre would murmur into his ear how good he’s always been. Lamar couldn’t help the desperate jolt of his hips, biting his lip hard to stutter stop a whimper as his dick twitched, leaking at the tip.
“Hmm, when you danced 'round the defense like they were your little playthings, did you imagine them smirking at you, knowing what you was capable of and being so proud 'bout it, thinking they'd say, that's ours?”
Ours – like what DeAndre had called him in the hotel room in Glendale – ours – “Their pride in you. Think it’d fucking melt you, get you going just from one look? I think they’d love cocky you. The one that knows who you are and what you on.”
Lamar couldn't help but tremble, couldn't help the stupid foolish desperate grab of the band of his underwear, disregarding all instruction just to get close to where he wanted his hands, so close to coming just thinking of DeAndre and Derrick watching him with that same kinda look, muck and mire swollen to black.
All eyes, all teeth, tongue darting out, “When you lost that game, did you wanna be taken apart, just like this? Don’t you think they’d love to help you forget?”
Broken, shattered, Lamar let the whimper claw its way out, “Please.”
“Go ahead. Show ‘em.”
With a faraway click of the door that Lamar barely registered, Lamar did. He coaxed his dick out with shaky hands and just that one touch shattered a moan outta his mouth when hard hot skin finally got touched. Quick, fast pulls. Pre was already coating the head like he was leaking with it. Wet and slick. “You so wet for us, baby,” at the heels of every downstroke and “You so beautiful like this,” at every thumb swipe of the head.
Dreamed of the new touches – the sparks of heat that he would feel, if DeAndre would kiss his neck, licking down and then biting the spit slick spots he left behind, if Derrick would use his strength to hold Lamar still, so very still and good for him, in his lap as – fucking – he hadn’t even thought of them fucking into him, taking turns, using him, erasing all the bad and starring him with so much good and – Lamar keened a broken sound and came hard, slick hitting his chest and coating his fingers.
With his free hand, he covered his face and thought of nothing.
His head pounded. His heart thrummed a newfound beat.
And he thought of nothing.
Just breathed.
Then he looked at Jaire’s phone, at the spot where Jaire had been but was now gone and then back to where he hoped Derrick and DeAndre were watching him. Weak, thoughtless, he sat up and grabbed the phone with his free hand.
Decided to be a little mean, a little tease, “That’s for not sticking ‘round.”
And ended the video.
+
Lamar spent the rest of that day in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to distract himself with random YouTube videos and playback reels of his previous games, trying to find soft spots where he could work. The next day was spent in bed watching RedZone, letting the flashes of every game lull him, and when the Texans and the Titans came up, he tried not to think of the video that was innocently sitting deep in a secure folder on his phone. Jaire hadn’t even come back that day ‘till much later, coming in ‘round midnight with the stupidest grin on his face as he took his phone back and sent Lamar the video, see I told you, and Lamar could do nothing but be grateful, even though his nerves were needling him every time his mind dared to wander.
So maybe watching RedZone with the cuts to the Texans and Titans wasn’t the best idea but here Lamar was, letting the footage slough away his thoughts.
Then he felt his phone vibrate.
Jaire was out prowling around so maybe it was him. Lamar grabbed his phone and when he saw who was texting him, he swore that the universe was out to get him or it was simply laughing at him, whatchu think you doing, running and hiding like that? In retrospect, Lamar should’ve had both their numbers already, all them trips crisscrossing along states, but they normally just spoke on insta if they had to.
Yet here the universe was – spinning him towards something.
hey hope its cool jaire gave us your number
just wanted to check on you
its deandre btw
Lamar stared at the words, letting them swim ‘round his head, hook in and yank.
Fucking Jaire goddamn Alexander.
Of course this would be how Lamar finally got their numbers.
And what a terrible time it was to be jumping headfirst into rushing waters.
As if the universe was trying to say – you think you could try to hide your wanting, your yearning, the video of all that accumulated?
Worrying his bottom lip, he tried to think of something to say that had nothing to do with the video burning a hole through his phone. Instead, there should’ve been easier things to mention. Just had to pick one outta the million. Like that game. Exhaustive things. Sad things. The this can’t happen again but of course it will cycle of things. The way he wanted to let himself break in DeAndre’s arms, allowing that one millisecond to have the impact hit before he had to shoulder it off and move on.
He knew that DeAndre and Derrick would get it. Maybe not the whole taking on a team and a city by yourself thing but they'd get what it meant to be that close, to get that far, and get nowhere. It was another reason why Lamar wished that DeAndre had stayed. DeAndre would’ve gotten it, would’ve known just how to talk to him, touch him. Stared at that tape on his nightstand, this is for not sticking ‘round, and thumbed the edge of his phone, staring at the text box then deciding on a semi-truth.
jaires just like that
its cool
im good
And of course DeAndre saw through the semi-truth, knowing there was something deeper, always at the core.
just good huh
Like a question from a faraway universe.
Lamar shut his eyes, switching his wandering hand to the bed, feeling the sheets and bunching it like grass. Knew this kinda thing required an honesty that he was petrified of.
This was not the same as football, as quarterbacking. Even though the highs and lows still got him down some, made him spike the ball in frustration, made him be less shelled up and more vocal, it was still something he was used to, something ingrained in his soul, like it was a part of his makeup.
This, though? This level of honesty. This level of breaking himself open for DeAndre and Derrick to see. The ugly thoughts. The spinning darkness. The way losses imprinted on him. They’d see it. If they cracked open his ribs, they’d see all the losses, all the close calls, all the things he agonized about. His heart was a solitary cell. Worried lines and groves. Dents in the walls. Scratches from trying to get out.
Same with the sexual shit. With the video in his phone. Another way to be vulnerable. If they watched that video and they wanted to know more ‘bout him in that way, then they’d see the fingerprints left behind by Marquise and all the boys before them, the ones that he let use him.
And what would their reactions be to all that?
Maybe it was best that DeAndre hadn’t stayed. If he had…Lamar shook his head and settled on a semi-truth.
kinda yeah
Watched as DeAndre texted back lightning quick like he had been waiting for Lamar to give in, like grinding on him, you think you so slick.
wanna talk
Lamar tossed those words ‘round his mind. No and yes. Some part of him yearned to be ripped open. Another wanted to shoulder it and move on.
When he was growing up, he didn’t see the good sides of relationships often but he felt the familial type attach itself to his soul and not let go, all blood and teeth. But what was this kinda togetherness? Maybe it was grace. Maybe it was a soul bearing honesty. Maybe it was this – someone who shouldered it with you, someone who ripped you open, something like-.
same shit different game
‘Cause it was true, of everything it seemed. Family, togetherness, football, everything in between.
DeAndre’s replies came in succession, each one building upon the other almost like he was crazed with it.
i getcha
you looked real fucking good though
how you carved them up
beautiful
Lamar let those words settle deep and he stared at the tape as his mind replayed the imprint of those letters and vowels. Beautiful. It was wild – he had never been called such a thing and certainly had never felt like it. He had just spent life simply existing. But here he was, getting evidence twice now, sudden and raw and visceral, that maybe, dare he hope it, he was wanted in a way that was less sex and more love, something that was a bit of everything, something that was all sides of what was possible, stars.
Couldn’t help but be curious, needing a desperate answer to the way DeAndre nodded at him and then left.
you watch the whole thing
Stared at the dots, the waiting bump of them, then soft, gently, a cascade of truth, honesty.
yeah of course
sorry i didnt come see you after
didnt know the type you was
if you wanted that kinda thing
It was funny – DeAndre had the same kinda worries Lamar had when he had taken that crazy drive to Arlington and had hovered in that locker room, concerned that his presence wasn’t needed after a loss like that. And what had DeAndre said? Don't ever say that – c’mere – c’mere.
you only doing what id do
all good
Because there was room for mistakes, for fear long as on the other side there was forgiveness, honesty, understanding.
Watched as DeAndre met him there, in that great expanse, and tried to right the wrong.
i shouldve stayed
There were no dots after, no wandering thoughts, nothing to add. Lamar stared at those words and shakily breathed.
you didnt know
Quick, like lightning, summer storm.
damn derricks been telling me i fucked up
gonna fucking hate me even more now lol
im really sorry baby
ill make it up to you
promise
Lamar swallowed back his heart and shut his eyes to the onslaught of DeAndre’s sweetness. There was no need to make things up. But DeAndre acted like it was the biggest slight, leaving him like that and not saying a word. An apology and a promise all wrapped up in something that made it hard for Lamar’s heart to quit its falling.
And then Lamar realized past all that, another truth. Derrick knew. Of course. Rational, logical. But it went deeper than that. ‘Cause Lamar had just been watching RedZone switch to the Texans and the Titans. Texans. Titans. Derrick and DeAndre on either team. Had they snuck in a moment to discuss what had happened in Clemson?
The evidence was there, the threads were being pulled but still Lamar desperately wanted to ask, to know, to understand, to feel what Jaire had alluded to, the idea and the images and the wants and the desires – did you tell Derrick that you watched me just like how I watched you, did you tell Derrick that you wanted me just like how I wanted you?
Shaking with it all, Lamar settled on a faraway truth instead.
youre good
its fine
better than it was
Gentle, soft.
okay but if you need to talk just talk
and hey
The dots appeared, stopped, reappeared and stayed stuck like that. It felt like Lamar’s heart was matching that up and down beat, petrified that thousands of miles away, DeAndre could still see straight through him.
Better yet – even after the loss – still want him.
fucking insane how dominate you been
you can always get back to that side of you
think youre gonna be even better with the losses
scary aint it
that you could become even more beautiful
we cant wait to witness it
Lamar felt it, that drowsy hit of heat low in his belly as his dick twitched, thinking of how DeAndre would’ve curled those words in his ear, beautiful, as Derrick held him down just how he liked. Fuck, he had never been one for sexual shit through text or videos or any of that. Was just so used to the physical, to the quick heat of it. Wasn’t used to the slow build, the kind that could drive you insane.
Awkward, unsure, tripping on how to scream it but not sound so pathetic.
you fucking crazy
Still, DeAndre heard him anyway, past the simple words, the barely there exclamations.
figured youd like that
Fuck – Lamar slipped his fingers under the band of his sweats, teasing the hem of his underwear. He wanted to do it, to tell DeAndre to keep talking like that but he didn’t have to.
DeAndre sent – rapid – quick.
told derrick how badly i wanted a taste of you after that game
derrick was watching at home
begged for vids
Lamar whined low in his throat. He had never been so desperate, send the fucking coordinates. So outta his mind that need snapped through and shattered all thought.
did like showing off for you
was hoping youd notice
Zero explanation – sent the digital version of the tape through text.
there you are baby
we was hoping youd do it
All the nerves and the worries and the fear and the shame melted from him, thoughtless, and DeAndre poured the praise to wash it all away.
if you were my quarterback
2000 easy
trust god baby
i know youll be throwing to me
derricks gonna hit 2000 rushing
you hitting 2000 rushing passing everything
we all be hitting
And one singular thing bloomed from such an overflow of words.
to the stars
And DeAndre echoed it, pressed to heart.
to the stars
And so it was easy then to let go, to settle into this thing and find a home in it.
2016
december – new york
Snow fell in drifts, powdery and light. Lamar blinked as flakes fell in his eyes, blending in with skin and lash.
Coming from Pompano, Kentucky winters were brutal and Lamar had to immediately buy as many layers as he could, huddled under blankets while everyone else seemed to be fine in lighter jackets. They knew he was Florida just from that, Jaire always making fun of him, still Philly bred even if he lived outside Charlotte most his life, this ain’t nothing compared to the northeast.
And Jaire would be saying the same thing now ‘cause Lamar was feeling like New York was a whole other beast compared to Kentucky. It felt like all of Lamar’s bones were frigid. The temperatures were things he was used to seeing in Kentucky but the wind was not. The wind cut through the jacket he was wearing to nudge up into his bones and he felt like he would never get warm.
So that was why he was especially grateful that DeAndre and Derrick were with him. Walking in between them to the venue, Derrick and DeAndre speaking to each other, breaths puffing out and being carried by the wind, the warmth of nearby bodies, close and tightknit.
"If they choose someone else, it's 'cause it's a pity vote,” Derrick said.
Lamar sighed, shaking his head. Derrick and DeAndre had been on this for months now, ever since that terrible Clemson game actually.
Lamar chided, "C’mon, Derrick."
But Derrick shook his head at him. “You deserve it more than those other assholes. Watson? Mayfield? Whoever the fuck they are.”
It was ironic really that Watson was a part of the Heisman conversation. It was like that Clemson game was trying to haunt Lamar everywhere he stepped and breathed. Even had to be ‘round the guy during media day which wasn’t bad honestly but he still felt like he was made of thorns, like he knew he was better. He made it a point not to hang with other quarterbacks. They be competing so why hang out like none of that mattered. Didn’t mean he wasn’t respectful. His momma would’ve killed him if he had treated Deshaun like that.
So media day hadn’t been that bad and Baker and Jabrill and DeDe were great guys, Jabrill especially. He had been all smiles and had been more than happy to drag them all places, show them sights, things to do. There had been a moment between them, something that Lamar would always remember, when Jabrill mentioned offhandedly, all casual, “Just wish my boyfriend could be here.” It was only Lamar and Jabrill, standing outside some fancy chophouse, waiting for the others. Lamar felt frozen, fingers shoved into his pockets, never thinking to bring gloves. He never wore them during cold games so they never crossed his mind. And then Jabrill had said that and Lamar had stared at Jabrill like he was brand new. Jabrill was watching him, that smile finally slipping from his face a little, and Lamar knew that kinda fear. It had followed Lamar ever since 2014. He quickly said, “Man, wish mine could be here too.” And Jabrill had brightened somehow more neon than all his other smiles from before and said, all sudden and hopeful, “Maybe it’ll be a surprise, huh?”. They hadn’t had a chance to talk ‘bout it in the whirl of media and safer topics and family meet and greets. But it hooked in Lamar all the same, that there were people like him on the field somewhere, loving who they wanted ‘cause love was love. If God gave you someone to love, you never questioned its validity. Just accept it. Love was love.
And after that was when DeAndre and Derrick had surprised him, just like how Jabrill had hoped for with his own boyfriend.
Lamar’s momma had promised to meet him at the venue, that his sisters would be there just in time, and Lamar, confused, thinking she was gonna walk with him, was gonna say something when he saw his momma greet two men hanging outside the hotel. And Lamar would know those men anywhere. He had wanted to ask his momma, how you get this coordinated, but all she did was smile and wink at him before leaving with his other family to the venue.
And now he was here, with DeAndre and Derrick, gushing ‘round him.
DeAndre picked up the conversation, "Yeah what like...4k yards offense."
"Almost 5k."
"50 some touchdowns."
"Running and passing."
"30 touchdowns. 21 rushing."
"And what like...1500 rushing yards?"
"Dual threat doesn't even define you right."
"Nothing does."
Lamar ducked his head to all their talking ‘bout his accolades and tried not to let it hook warm and hot in his belly at how they gushed ‘bout him like he was something special. Which, looking at this season, he guessed that he was. But he had bigger dreams than all this. Was focused so hard on that, he almost didn’t think twice ‘bout what he had accomplished before. Like that shit was merely stepping stones while someone else would’ve been seeing miracles.
DeAndre’s hand on his elbow, a sting of chilling wind, DeAndre’s cool lips but hot tongue, a kiss on his neck, an imprint, the gravelly curl of his voice, "Baby. It makes me fucking scream what you did on that field. Seeing you carry this Heisman’s ‘bout to ruin me.”
“Ruin us.” Derrick corrected as he rested his head on Lamar’s shoulder. “This just the beginning, L.”
Felt their faith, their warmth, their encouragement, and breathed into the waves of it, smiling soft to himself, thinking, how could I have spent years and years without this.
Could only say simple words, hopefully full of too much to name, “Thanks.”
DeAndre chuckled, amused, and Derrick hummed in that particular, gotchu, way. Another moment where Lamar wanted to ask for a kiss, to beg it with his eyes, to plead it with the tilt of his head. Instead, he nudged them all into walking again so they did, Derrick and DeAndre slipping off him and standing up. It hurt to lose the closeness but he was made of imprints, of memories so he held on to them, hooked deep, all the way to the venue, through the flash of cameras and the questions, sinking into it as if this shit was easy ‘cause it kinda was. This was nothing compared to the lights on a field. Was just a baby version compared to all that.
But it wasn’t as easy to nod at DeAndre and Derrick in a sad see you later type of way. They each looked at him in their own way, accessing. Then DeAndre said, “Wherever the quarterback goes, baby.”
Meaning – we’re here for you, we’ll follow you wherever you go and no matter what happens, we’ll be by your side, promise.
Lamar wanted to wrap his arms ‘round DeAndre’s neck and feel Derrick’s hand low on his spine. He wanted to be guided home, to a place that didn’t exist yet, God’ll take us there.
Could only nod, murmur another too simple thank you and slink into the crowd, watching them all the while, 'till a pair of familiar hands wrapped 'round his arm, pulled him in. Twin kisses on his cheek and he ducked his head, smiling as Roz and Des surrounded him. They looked beautiful in their dresses. Des was in a shimmery, glittery gray, cut shorter than Roz's. Roz's was a simple navy blue, long and elegant.
"You practically glow 'round them." Des practically screamed the words into Lamar's ear and it filled Lamar with such warmth to hear her support.
Tilted his head at his sisters and wondered, "You two also helped bring 'em here?"
Des shrugged, glancing at Roz who smiled and said, "Figured you needed their support. 'Sides we can finally see them."
Lamar took it as the threat that it was, nodding and saying, "I know."
His sisters could only be so patient but he was grateful that they had stuck to the fringes of the rare moments he got with DeAndre and Derrick, maybe understanding deep and subconscious that they didn't get much time to begin with.
Roz pulled him in and he went, resting against her and smiling when Des squeezed his hand. "You got this, baby bro. Ain't no one better than you." Des was always the loud cheerleader of the bunch, fighting anyone who thought otherwise 'bout her siblings.
One final squeeze, a murmur of gratefulness, then Roz and Des let him be, and Lamar headed back to where he was supposed to be, in the front row with all the other frontrunners. Jabrill perked up when he saw him, pulling him down to sit between Deshaun and him. Deshaun was talking to Baker so it was just him and Jabrill, Jabrill looking at him and saying, “He come surprise you?”
Lamar wondered what about him screamed that but he nodded, not bothering to correct the he with they figuring there was no good time for that explaination so he said instead, “Yeah. You?”
Jabrill nodded. “He did, yeah. Man…you all are such great guys. It’s been nice, y’know.”
Lamar agreed with that. Connections with players were brief unless you were on the same team with them. You had to carve that shit out. But those connections also never died.
“Any time I be seeing you on the field, you better come say hi,” Lamar said.
Jabrill laughed. “Of course, L. And hey, man, between you and me…you gonna get this award. Easy.”
Lamar ducked his head, laughing a bit, outta nerves, outta all the emotions. It had hit him last night when his momma had sat him down and made him write out his speech and everything flashed by, bright and neon, as he wrote out his thanks, his journey. Like he said, all the times before on the field were all stepping stones. But this was forcing him to turn his head, to look back and take them all in, and it was crazy how many people had been with him on this journey. He didn’t wanna leave out a single name but had to keep it small. And, shit, years and years from now, if he turned his head again, what was he gonna see? Who was he gonna see?
“Don’t let it discourage you,” Lamar said, meeting Jabrill’s bright eyes.
Jabrill merely shrugged. “I knew I didn’t have a chance. ‘M just enjoying it.”
Lamar smiled and Jabrill looked like he wanted to say something else but the lights went up and the ceremony started.
And y’know…with all this thinking, all this looking…Lamar still hadn’t expected to win. The speech he gave was a stumbling, emotional filled thing and he probably looked foolish up there but he didn’t care. God gave him a heart for a reason and he was gonna use it.
Surrounded by everyone, being pulled every which way and congratulated, all smiles and happy laughs, and after it all, Lamar felt so fucking exhausted and drained, empty, too many emotions that it was making him wanna sit on the beach in Pompano where it would be warm and the ocean would wash him of all this.
Stood outside the venue and tilted his head up as snowflakes fell instead of the soft beams of the sun, the radiant crystal drops of the ocean.
“How’d you know to get 'em here?”
Lamar’s momma had a hand on his arm, waiting for him patiently. She looked up at him and simply smiled, all knowing. “Baby, you can’t hide what you doing with them from me.”
Lamar wanted to lie and say – I was just trying to find the right time, I’ve been so busy. But maybe he just had no way to explain this thing with DeAndre and Derrick. Maybe ‘cause he had no definition, he didn’t know how to explain it. But his momma knew him far too well. He didn’t just wander to just anybody. Of course he’d do it for friends, he’d drop anything for Jaire, for his teammates. But there was a special, shimmery undercurrent to Lamar’s disappearances to steal some time with DeAndre and Derrick.
And his momma had been waiting long enough for him to stop thinking and wandering and actually speak.
Really, this was just his momma forcing his hand.
“I think we together. We never talked ‘bout it but…” Lamar tilted his head back down from the sky and shrugged, not knowing how to define something that was unspoken.
His momma’s hand squeezed his arm and her gaze was too gentle as she said, “They care ‘bout you, baby.” Then that smile of hers turned devilish and Lamar braced himself for it. “You thinking ‘bout this all wrong. They found me.”
No way to brace for that revelation.
Lamar stared at his momma, feeling like he was slipping on uneven ground. Everything in him was so exhausted and it felt like all the pieces that were left had gotten blown into the New York wind.
Could only choke out, “How?”
His momma eyed him up and down. “I was shopping with the other moms when I saw ‘em. They tried to make it seem like they weren’t watching me back but I knew what they wanted. We had a nice conversation. They’re very sweet boys.”
Then his momma grabbed for him and he dutifully ducked his head so she could press a kiss to his cheek and say, “I trust them with you, baby.”
Words full of so much love and trust and faith. Lamar bent into it, shutting his eyes, and tried to breathe through it.
Then his momma let go of him and gently grabbed his hands, tucking a keycard against his palm. “Go see ‘em, baby. We leave with your sisters in the morning.”
Lamar stared at the keycard, blinking at the evidence, at the trust, at the love, at the faith. He felt like everything was happening too fast, too blurred. Scrambling for normalcy, Lamar gripped the key and nodded to the path ahead. His momma had done enough for him in this life. The least he could do was walk her to the hotel and make sure she got there safe. His momma tsked him but she still hooked their arms together and they made their way, quiet and slow, to the hotel, dodging curious faces all the while to the elevator and up to their floor.
His momma scanned the key and opened the door, glancing at Lamar. “You want a change of clothes, baby?”
Lamar looked at his red velvet suit and frowned. He did wanna be in softer things but he also felt like having DeAndre and Derrick strip him of these layers was gonna mean more than he could ever hope to contain. Still, though, he could at least bring clothes for after. He nodded and watched as his momma walked to his side of the room, digging ‘round his suitcase and pulling out an old worn t from Boynton Beach high, worn white, tiger strips on the arms fading a little with time. She knew without asking what he needed, something that reminded him of easier times, something that reminded him of the ocean, soft and worn. She smoothed out the wrinkles and set a pair of sweats on top, holding them out. He gratefully took them and bent down to kiss her cheek. She shushed him with a shake of her head and a push of her hand and he listened, leaving the room and shutting the door. He waited to hear the deadbolt click before he looked down at the keycard still in his hand.
A little post it note was stuck on top with the room number - 615.
Lamar stared as those numbers coalesced in his mind. Was he just a hopeless fool for thinking those numbers meant what he wanted them to? 615 – June 2015 – the month they met.
Curled his hand until the plastic edges bit into his skin. Shook his head. A damn fool indeed. Turned back to the elevator, slipping in and thumbing the button for floor six. A quick blur of floors and then it shook him out, dropping him in the center of what felt like an overwhelming storm.
Tried to focus on the numbers, on turning the corner, on standing there before 615, barely breathing. Should he knock? Or should he text them? He could text them. Being able to text them was still a new thing for him. He instinctively went to insta and still startled when texts came through from them. Funny. All DeAndre and Derrick had to do was text him ‘bout where he was but instead they had wanted it to be a surprise. Warmth. Full with it. Lamar thumbed out a text and hit send.
momma gave me the key
if you guys not busy im waiting outside
let me know
Tripping, stumbling, still unsure, waiting, with his head bowed. If this was meant to be…if this was meant to be…had to believe…
The door clicked then opened and Lamar barely had a moment to think before DeAndre was pulling him by coat sleeve into the room. And then DeAndre’s arms were coaxing him outta his coat and DeAndre was wrapping a warm arm ‘round his waist and speaking low and sweet to him. “Congrats, baby.”
And then Derrick was walking over to him from where he had been lying on the bed. His hands were bolder than DeAndre’s, immediately curling ‘round the lapels of Lamar’s suit, holding him there for a moment before he began unbuttoning the suit jacket ‘fore Lamar could ask as if Derrick could see it screaming in his eyes, begging.
DeAndre took the clothes from Lamar’s hands, letting go of him to set them on the bed. And then Lamar let them undress him.
It was a slow, mercurial, too warm process.
Derrick met his gaze and said, “Keep watching, angel.”
Angel.
Lamar’s eyes widened and his heart pounded as that nickname settled into him, just as warm as Derrick’s hands, those wide, enveloping things as he swept them up to palm Lamar’s jacket off him. Lamar helped, shrugging the velvet off, DeAndre catching it to fold it and set it on the dresser, the three of them really not wanting to spark Lamar’s momma’s ire.
Shivered from the lack of it and surely not angel and warm hands and Derrick’s serious expression as he unbuttoned Lamar’s dress shirt and once the last button was slipped out its loop, those wide hands spread along his naked skin and each whirl of his palm and chime of his fingers left shivers in its wake, reminiscent of how Derrick massaged his legs, left him so fucking needy that he had to bite at the sheet. Same as then, same as it’ll ever be. No sheet to be found so Lamar worried his bottom lip, trying to stop himself from breathing too fast, a whine threatening to scratch its way outta his throat, angel.
“There you go. Just let yourself feel.”
Same as then, same as it’ll ever be - Derrick touching him into some sorta melty submission, sloughing off all his thoughts and worries and the emotional drain of this day. Nothing mattered but this, Derrick’s hands on his ribs, up and down, cupping his pecs, and dangerously, tenderly leaning in to kiss right over heart. Lamar couldn’t help it, seeking an outlet as he dug his fingers through Derrick’s braids, keeping him there for a moment. That little hum, gotchu, and Lamar knew that if Derrick moved even a centimeter closer, he’d feel his half hard dick stirring at all this attention and sweetness.
Hand on his shoulder, warm mouth no longer chilled by New York wind caressing his neck, “Breathe, baby.”
And so Lamar did, breathing in tune with DeAndre and Derrick, slowly letting Derrick go so he could step back and grab Lamar’s t and sweats. Handed them to Lamar, it’s yours to take. Lamar took them, slipping on his t first then kicking outta his pants and pulling up his sweats. DeAndre smiled at him, soft and encouraging, and that was all Lamar needed to get drawn in, letting DeAndre pull him to the bed, Derrick’s hand ensuring the path forward with a hand low on his spine, thumb dipping and dragging along the edge of his sweats.
“You exhausted, baby.”
Not a question – an observation. Lamar nodded as he settled down in between Derrick and DeAndre. They had discovered a pattern they all liked. Derrick was behind him, arm slung ‘round his waist, and DeAndre was in front of him, hooking their fingers together. Warm. Snug. Lamar felt his half hard dick remain that way, stubborn in yearning with Derrick’s and DeAndre’s nearness. He ignored it best he could, hoping with the tightness of his underwear and the layer of his sweats that DeAndre and Derrick couldn’t see it. Thankfully, neither said anything ‘bout it, just trying to coax him into sleep and God did he want that but something in him refused.
“Don’t wanna sleep yet.”
Derrick’s fingers whispered up and down Lamar’s belly. “Why’s that?”
‘Cause he didn’t wanna shut his eyes and not see them the next time he woke. ‘Cause he didn’t wanna waste what little time they had. ‘Cause he wanted to get to know them more, feel them more, laugh and smile with them more. Always – just – more.
“Can’t we watch a movie or something?”
DeAndre and Derrick’s eyes met over top Lamar and he fidgeted his fingers against Derrick’s hand on his belly, restless, body thrumming with too much energy, too much need.
“Yeah we can do that,” Derrick said as his arms slipped from ‘round him to roll over just enough to grab the T.V. remote and switch the T.V. on. Derrick handed Lamar the remote and then they shifted.
Lamar laid back on Derrick’s chest, Derrick’s arm ‘round him, the other touching relentlessly a burning path from Lamar’s thigh to his ribs, Lamar letting his right leg fall open enough to lay gently on Derrick, giving Derrick’s hands easier access to him, all sprawled out. DeAndre laid on his back next to them, his right leg entangling with Lamar’s left, right knee nudging gently against Lamar’s side. DeAndre pulled Lamar ‘till Lamar listened, settling an arm over DeAndre, close enough so DeAndre could hold on to the crook of Lamar’s elbow, settling there. Lamar felt attached to them and it made him never wanna leave, not again.
Lamar settled on a comedy, one he hadn’t seen yet, something with Kevin Hart from last year, something about groomsmen and a wedding.
Lamar had fun with it for the first half hour then he drifted, DeAndre and Derrick speaking low to each other rumbling soft underneath the movie, and it was easy to let that rhythm finally relax the hook of the ceremony and to let himself dream.
+
Lamar stirred in his sleep, Derrick was still with him but DeAndre was gone, and he didn't like the little sting of worry that accompanied that thought so Lamar rolled off the bed, left the room, and stepped out into the living room, eyes adjusting to soft light. A nightlight. For moments like this he assumed.
DeAndre was at the desk, chess set before him, phone off to the side. DeAndre glanced behind him, immediately concerned. "Baby, you should be asleep."
Lamar walked over to him. "Same as you." DeAndre pulled Lamar in 'till Lamar was sitting on his lap. "You playing chess?" Lamar said it in disbelief as he realized what DeAndre was doing in the low amber glow of the nightlight.
DeAndre hummed as he clicked a piece down in an order that Lamar guessed was right but he had never been one for chess. All the uncles tried to get him into it but the math and the logic just didn't vibe with him. Which was sorta ironic. A football field was similar enough to it and it was ever changing like moves on a chessboard, every single person with their own piece, their own way of thinking. But that came naturally and with growth. Chess most certainly did not.
He rested his head on DeAndre's shoulder as DeAndre said, "I like logic games 'fore bed. Kinda soothing."
Lamar couldn't really believe that but maybe there was something soothing in it kinda like how diagnosing someone's moves on the football field was. Others would find him crazy for saying that, same as with DeAndre and logic games.
"What kinda games?"
"Sudoku. Go. Even got shogi at home."
Lamar recognized maybe one of those words. He nuzzled into DeAndre's shoulder. "Man you a fucking thinker. Crazy. Like Derrick being a running back biologist." Lamar watched as DeAndre's fingers stilled, hovering over the chess piece before he laughed a bit harder than his usual huff of amusement. DeAndre kissed Lamar's neck, the aftershocks of his soft laugh and lips making him shiver.
"If that shocks you..."
Lamar dizzied his fingers along DeAndre's neck, sweeping along the ends of DeAndre's locks a little, keeping DeAndre against his neck so he could talk in that warm space, eliciting more shivers. "Tell me."
"Education." Now it was Lamar's fingers stilling. He stared down at DeAndre like he was brand new. Free from his hold, DeAndre picked his head up and met his curious, blinking stare. "Elementary."
It felt like all the things Lamar had known about DeAndre had suddenly clicked into place. He could imagine DeAndre being an amazing teacher with the cool and calm demeanor that kids would need at that time and he'd be able to be goofy if needed, like a good mix. It almost made Lamar sad that DeAndre couldn't've gone into that 'cause of football.
"Must'a been a hard choice."
DeAndre nodded. "Yeah it was. But Clemson let me go a non-certificate route. They said I could come back after football, re-do some of it if it's been too long, get the certification needed. I'd be older but..."
Lamar tsked him. "Shush. You'd be perfect."
DeAndre eyed him. "Yeah? Says the guy who was shocked."
"Was. I ain't now. It makes sense."
"Derrick as a running back biologist make sense yet?"
"In a weird way." DeAndre hummed and wrapped his arms 'round Lamar, tilting forward 'till their foreheads were touching. Lamar ran his fingers up and down DeAndre's back, hoping he didn't sound as desperate as he was as he said, "Come back to bed."
There was that huff of amusement, the usual quiet sort that hooked in Lamar's belly every time, easy, simple, you think you so slick. "Can't sleep without us both, hm?"
Well. Once Lamar got over the fear, no he really couldn't. He shook his head and DeAndre chased the movement 'till he could kiss gentle and slow along Lamar's jaw. "Fine. Only 'cause you being so cute."
Cute - that word again - like how Derrick called him beautiful - it cracked open his heart sudden and raw.
Hooked his arms on DeAndre's shoulders, daring DeAndre, and DeAndre of course took the challenge, easily lifting Lamar and carrying him back to bed. Set him down gentle in the middle where their usual pattern always took him. A kiss on his forehead, "Bathroom," then he watched DeAndre leave again for the bathroom. In his absence, Lamar curled against Derrick, startling a little when Derrick said, rolling over to meet him face to face in the dark, "He playing Chess or on his phone?"
The question had a clear forked path. Lamar hooked a hand on Derrick's arm, scooting closer. Derrick listened, pulling him in with an arm tight 'round him. "Chess."
Derrick hummed. "I thought so."
"That bad?"
Derrick's hand fell low on Lamar's spine, chasing away the little shocks of worry. "Nah. Chess is what we want. If he on his phone, good luck."
Lamar desperately wanted to know what that was about but DeAndre was padding back into the room, settling down on the bed behind Lamar, easing up next to him 'till Lamar was surrounded by both of their warmth.
"You telling Lamar my secrets?"
Derrick met DeAndre's eyes over Lamar's shoulder. "Telling him what you too stupid to tell him."
Lamar could practically feel DeAndre's glare at that but DeAndre only said, "You ruining the peace, babe. Shut the fuck up."
That made Derrick laugh and Lamar fidgeted 'till Derrick let him go enough that he could roll on to his back. He held a hand out for DeAndre, a peace offering. DeAndre shook his head at him, you don't even know what you doing right now, but he grabbed Lamar's hand, interlacing their fingers with a gentle squeeze. "Go to sleep, baby."
So Lamar did even though something in him still wanted to refuse. He'd wake and this'd be over, forced to go separate ways again, but there was belief and hope at the heels of it, that this might be the end of the day but it was not the end of them. Fell asleep to that warmth, that faith, that truth, and gave in to the tide of it.