Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

Blearily, he opened one eye. The light of the street lamp outside his window lent a dim orange glow to the room.

His phone, resting face down on the forty-dollar pressboard night table he'd bought when he'd first moved in, lit up dimly around the edges as it buzzed again.

He closed his eyes, set on ignoring it, but changed his mind after only a moment. It could be work.

Grabbing the phone, he flipped it over and checked the display, the suddenly bright screen hurting his eyes. There were two messages. Both from a blocked number.

>>come outside

>>bring a shovel

There was a flutter in his stomach and for a moment he didn't know if it was excitement or fear. He thought he might be sick.

He turned his neck to glance at the still sleeping form behind him, his fingers tightening on his phone. Closing his eyes, he tried to hold on to the moment. Gabriel's soft, even breaths. The feel of the springs in the mattress under him.

Nothing in this room had the feel of money, but all of it had been hard worked for. Hard work that would mean nothing if he answered this call.

He would, though. He always did.

Throwing his feet over the edge of the bed, he stood and used the light of his screen to locate his jeans and t-shirt. He opened the door slowly, hoping the light creak of an unoiled hinge didn't wake Gabriel.

Moving through the house quietly, he located a shovel in the front hall closet, then slid his feet into a pair of Gabriel's work boots before unlatching the chain and unlocking the door.

Cool air tugged at the sleep-tousled curls of his hair, and he thought, abstractedly, that he was in need of a haircut. He rarely let it get this long, but the new job and the move had kept him busier than usual.

The odour of cigarette smoke reached his nose and it was all the warning he had before rounding the corner and coming face to face with him.

Faded, straight legged jeans, and a worn brown leather jacket. The familiar dark ink that crept out from under a white cotton v-neck and swept up towards an unshaven jaw. Blue-gray eyes the colour of sky before a storm.

It had been two years this time.

The knot in his stomach tightened.

"James," he said, his voice hoarser than he had intended.

James' lips twitched into a lopsided smile as he flicked the still burning butt of his cigarette towards the street. "Alex."

Alex held the shovel out. "Here. Take it and go."

"What? You're not even the tiniest bit curious?"

"No," Alex lied.

James' smile widened. "Bullshit."

Alex gripped the shovel in sweaty palms and averted his gaze. "Just take the damn shovel and go."

It sounded too much like pleading, even to his own ears.

James laughed and plucked the shovel from his hand. Alex heard the car door open and slam as James tossed the shovel into the back.

Alex stood at the edge of the driveway, unable or unwilling to leave. He should turn and walk back into the house. Lock the door, latch the chain. He should, but he didn't.

James opened the driver's side door, then said, softly this time. "Come on, Alex. Get in the car."

The siren lure of his voice, husky and sweet, made it seem like such a reasonable request. Alex never could resist. He was a moon, and James was the sun. He was in the car and buckling his seatbelt before he allowed himself to overthink it.

James dropped into the driver's seat, and without bothering to clip his own seatbelt, he threw the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

"You didn't bring your kit?"

Alex turned his head to watch the house disappear out of view. "No. I don't have it anymore."

"What did you do with it?"

"Buried it," Alex admitted.

He rested his forehead against the side window, the coolness of the glass grounding him in reality. It was too easy to slip away around James.

A finger brushed the side of his ear and he turned to meet James' eyes.

"You kept your translator."

Alex shrugged, trying for nonchalance and failing. His ear tingled where James had touched it and he felt a flush creep over his cheeks.

He had to swallow twice before he could speak. "Where are we going?"

James grinned. "So you are curious."

"A little," Alex replied.

"If it was only a little, you wouldn't have gotten in the car," James said.

"Fine. More than a little," he admitted. "Just tell me where we're going."

"I win," James said.

Alex let out an aggravated sigh. "Don't start that."

James laughed, then without warning, he looped his fingers in Alex's hair and pulled him towards him, their lips meeting over the center console of the car. A fire started somewhere in Alex's core, but James released him almost as suddenly as he had started it and returned his eyes to the road.

"Your hair's longer," he said. "I like it."

Alex tugged self consciously on a dark corkscrew of hair, but didn't answer. Where could he even begin?

James sighed. He opened his mouth, but at that moment the front left wheel dipped down into a pothole, the motion jerking them both forward. Alex, caught by the seatbelt, was yanked back into his seat, while James, unrestrained, slammed into the steering wheel.

Hastily, Alex unclipped his seat belt and reached for James. "Are you okay?"

James grunted, then switched off the engine and leaned back in his seat. "That'll leave a bruise."

"Seriously, are you-"

James waved him off. "I'm fine. Stop fussing."

With one hand holding his side, he reached his other out, opened the driver's side door and heaved himself out of the car.

Alex leaned back against the fabric of the seat back. Ahead of them, illuminated by the glare of the headlights, stood the Pennsylvania State sign.

Pennsylvania. Pursue Your Happiness.

"Alex," James said, and there was something in is his tone that made Alex's skin prickle. "Get out of the car."

"What-"

"Now, get out now!"

Alex reached for the door, but before he could open it, the car slipped further down, as though teetering on the edge of a cliff. He froze.

James yanked open the back driver's side door and climbed across the seats.

"We have to go," he said. "Alex, listen to me. We have to go. There's a rift opening beneath the car."

He reached his arm over Alex's shoulder and pulled open the door. Alex closed his eyes and swallowed. He thought of Gabriel. Poor, ordinary Gabriel still asleep in bed at home.

"Why is it always this way with you?" he whispered.

James' breath stirred the hair on the back of Alex's neck as he answered. "Would you have it any other way?"

"No," Alex replied.

Then reality tore, and the bottom fell out of the world.