Ruth Sadelle Alderson

colouredmango

Tucked into the corner of the mirror is an old old picture, or rather two; it's the two top pictures from an old photo booth. Alex knows them, remembers them. He has the bottom two, and he can tell you how it starts: Two boys making faces at each other, one boy shoving the other off. Alex has one kid creeping back onto the other's lap, and he has the kiss right at the end, the kiss he never forgot.

But he hasn't seen the top two in years. And he's never seen them in his bedroom.

He stands up and walks over and eases the photograph out, turns it over. Written on the back in Cash's shaky illiterate scrawl is, "I fucking love you." It's worn and faded, like it was written there years ago.

Taped right beside the words is the tiniest flash drive Alex has ever seen.

airgiodslv

He realized his mistake – and the proximity of the dock-hook – a split-second too late. William lunged for the hook, swinging it around in a move that by all rights should have spilled Gabe’s guts all over the metal deck, but Gabe blocked it with his walking stick at the last second and both weapons smashed into the grates lining the hatch, the hook skidding across with a metallic screech and a small shower of sparks.

If William got loose, Gabe wouldn’t be able to protect him, and besides that, it had been a long fucking day. Gabe was running somewhat low on patience. He caught the hook with the stick’s cobra head, twisted them sharply around until William’s arm wrenched in its socket and he fell to his knees trying to keep hold of the hook without dislocating his shoulder, and then Gabe stepped in to yank William’s head back by his gorgeous hair, triggering the trick catch on his stick and pressing the knife blade to William’s throat.

“We’ll work on this,” Gabe said optimistically, driving William forward on his knees and shoving him into the first storage room they came across that had a lock. He slapped the panel to secure the room and then sagged against the wall, suddenly keenly feeling like he’d just been run over by a hoverjet.

airgiodslv

airgiodslv

He doesn’t know why it works. He’d never looked at Gabe and thought, ‘this is what’s missing in my life,’ but two years later, here they are. Gee knows about them – it would have been impossible to hide it from the band, especially for this long – and his attitude seems to be a mix of respect for Mikey’s choice and the steadfast belief that no one could ever be good enough. There are worse reactions; Mikey’s willing to take it.

It’s nice, though, that while Gabe and Gee get along fine, they’ve never been close. Gabe is something that Mikey didn’t have to steal, because Gee never had him first.

inlovewithnight

morganya

He looks down at his phone again, running his fingers over the screen. Maybe--things change, stuff comes up, people realize there are new directions they’d rather go in and that’s fine, that’s awesome, so maybe--

The knock on the door is really loud, startling enough that he half-falls off the couch. He drops his phone, too, and it slides off under the couch as he goes to answer the door. He doesn’t go back for it; no point now.

Gabe is leaning in the doorframe, hat pulled down low so that the brim meets his glasses, which only cover half of the shadows under his eyes. “Hey,” he says. “Hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I’m going to just pretend you didn’t even say anything that dumb, dude.”

Gabe half-smiles--not really, not quite--and tosses his duffel bag past Pete into the entryway. “You were just waiting up for me? Keeping the light on? Thanks, man, that’s so sweet.” There’s an edge to his voice, just a little bit of mocking, but Pete can roll with it. He knows where it’s coming from.

"I want you," Gabe said very distinctly, "to take me back to the motel, put me over your knee and fuckin' beat my ass."

This was not the reaction that Pete was expecting.

"You've been fuckin' driving me nuts, you know?" Gabe said. "I swear to fuckin' God, you need to just get it all out of your system right now because I can't handle this shit anymore. I gotta work, dude, and I can't work if all I can think about is you smacking me until I'm raw."

Pete looked at him. Gabe was breathing hard, and his breath smelled like smoke.

inlovewithnight

Mike takes another drink, determinedly not looking over at Bill. He doesn't give a fuck what Bill does, or doesn't do. He's not his babysitter.

Unfortunately, it turns out that he can declare that all he wants, he's still attuned enough to Bill that his head swivels around like he's doing a community-theater version of The Exorcist the minute Bill starts raising his voice. Mike shouldn't even have been able to hear that over the bar noise, or recognize it through the beer in his system and the sheer annoyance of losing three games straight to the chuckleheads he calls his band. But he hears, and he recognizes, and he's halfway back to the bar by the time Bill draws himself up to his full stupid height and throws the first punch.

• lakeeffectgirl's suggestion of Larabars as a morning snack. I loved the apple flavor, and now I'm going to have to try them all and then buy the ones I like in bulk.


• Sarah's Bad Rabbits and The Young Veins show liveblog.


• siryn99 sending me a link to a post that had my new favorite Gabe and Victoria picture. (I'm such a sucker for them singing together. Which is really about how I'm a sucker for couples who are evenly matched.)


• I made peanut butter last night, so I can eat as many spoonfuls of it as I want today without worrying that I won't have enough for breakfast tomorrow.


• The AP Tour. I would never travel to go see The Cab, but I just bought tickets to see them in my very own hometown on Thursday.