"Ha! Eat it Mullet!" I point my finger at him to taunt him like a five year old and hugged my knees to fall back and emphasize my dramatic persona. Now that I've done it I realize how stupid of a decision that was since my back is mostly painted black and blue, but I ride through it. Besides I can't make a scene. Keith has no idea about my life and how it physically impacts me aside from the smoking.

"Oh shut up. You only won because you saw my cards." Keith gave me a pout, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh don't be a sore loser Red." I gave him a smile, half to annoy him and the other half to give myself a pat on the back for that nickname. It might have taken me an hour to think of but that's not the big picture right now.

"What? You get tired of Mullet? Where did Red come from anyways?" He questioned, throwing his cards into the carpet between the two of us like a losing gambler after the winner racks in the symbolic chips.

"I don't know, you're always wearing it somewhere so I kinda just went with it." I point to a plushie on his bed causing Keith to turn around in attempt to see if it's really sitting there, which it is... silently staring us both down.

Keith quickly got up and jumped onto his bed, crushing the plushie with his ass, sitting criss-cross with his hands on his ankles and a childish grin plastered on his face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He tries to hold in his laughs and embarrassment. He has a really nice smile, he should smile more often. 

I look around the room for something in grabbing distance, something to get his attention and stop this weird butterfly tether that began surrounding the room. I notice the towel Keith used during his shower, slung over the backrest of his desk chair and stretch my body to clutch it in my fist, half is for the pain and the other half is so I don't drop it.

I glance back up at Keith, who's laying completely flat in his bed, limbs flailed out like a kid who just stood on the footboard of the bed frame and fell into the mattress without bending his knees. Sighing, I decide to rise from my spot on the hardwood and silently creep towards Keith, towel in hand.

His hair has dried over the time we've spent sitting and laughing like two idiots. His eyes are closed and I can tell he's not sleeping but just taking in the serenity of the room, filled to the brim with our witty comebacks and laughter... genuine laughter. 

He seems completely at peace, like the concoction of dusty sunshine and crisp autumn air is blowing into his lungs and cleansing them of any negativity, ridding him of all the pressures of life with a single breath.

He's definitely someone to admire in a state like this. I would kill to know his secret but then again I don't think I want to kill Keith.

I've been staring too long! Umm... what am I supposed to do now?

Keith opens one eye and I launch the towel at his face, him making a noise of surprise into the fabric of the towel. It's the color of charcoal so in other words it's exactly what I would expect from emo Keith, but not from this bubbly boy sitting in front of me. He pulls down the towel, which now that I think about it, make the purples in his irises really pop.

"Well get down from there, we gotta go." I yelled from my place on the floor. Keith rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Fine just let me change. I might hate parties but I'm not showing up in sweatpants and a rainbow sweater." It takes me a moment to comprehend what he just told me. I only realize when he starts pulling off his sweater revealing his stomach, which is toned nicely, kind of taking me by surprise. I always thought Keith hid in his room and only left for school, so where did 'greek god Keith' come from?

I quickly turn around before I could see anything I wouldn't be able to unsee, sitting on the floor and looking out the window. From the angle I'm at, I can only see my roof from the little sliver the blinds couldn't cover. I wait the five minutes it takes him to change, and turn as he's slipping on his jacket, making full eye contact with me.

This is a different jacket then the one I usually see him in. It's actually the one he wore when we met up at the coffeehouse, and underneath is his signature black T-shirt. He's sporting black leggings which hug his legs in all the ways, cutting off at the ankles, and a pair of maroon converse. 

"Should I bring my backpack with me? You said we were going to stop at Pidge's house first right?" He waves me off, running around his room trying to straighten things out.

"Just leave it here, it won't fit anyways." What does he mean 'it won't fit'? How much crap does he have in his car? Actually, come to think of it, I didn't see a car in the driveway so where is his car? He continues pacing around, fixing a few things then grabs my hand, lifting me up from my home on the ground.

In the span of ten minutes we went from playing alcohol based games (minus the alcohol) to standing outside some random door in the kitchen. He slowly opens the heavy door and we walk through to a garage devoid of cars.

"Umm... Keith where exactly is your car?" I put my hands over my eyes to see if I can adjust my vision to the darkness and find the silhouette of one but, no dice.

"I don't have one." He answers, continuing his walk through the garage towards, what I'm assuming, is the light switch panel. Our hands still intertwined while navigating the crowded room. 

"Then how do you think you're gonna... I don't know... drive to Rolo's house?" I ask sarcastically, trying to emphasize my confusion. Keith only sighs and keeps dragging me blindly through this maze of a garage.

"Just shut up and trust me." He huffs. We stop at a wall and Keith quickly lets go of my hand, just now realizing he was holding on. I don't know why I felt a pang in my chest when he let go, but as the lights finally flashed on, I was able to direct myself to other parts of the garage.

We walk towards a few racks plastered on a peg hole wall. He reaches out for a few things; one being his signature black leather gloves, these ones looking a little different than his daily pair, and two similarly sized cylindrical objects, tossing one towards me. I have pretty quick reflexes so I catch it easily.

"You might need that." I turn it around and my oblivious, dumbass, self just stares at it like it could mean anything in the world. It's a helmet by the way.

This sparked my curiosity as he turned me towards the direction of the garage door. The door was a slightly rusted in the corners from water over the years, but that's not what peaked my interests. A red tarp covered something in front of a pile of broken flower pots, I keep my eyes off the display of shattered ceramic for obvious reasons but I feel like I need to point it out.

I follow him, watching as he runs over like an excited child and pulls it off. It's like watching the cute blonde chick in game shows revealing the grand prize, and Keith's smirk could beat any bitch on tv.

I don't know how I didn't connect the dots sooner but crazy enough, hidden under that ratty, torn up, and grease stained tarp hid a gorgeous motorcycle.

I'm doing cartwheels in my head and freaking the fuck out right now. It's a 1998 Harley Davidson Dyna Low Rider, painted a sexy shade of crimson carmine with charcoal accents.

"Yeah, she's a classic." Keith flips his leg over the bike seat and sits in the front. The bike seat is a little worn through but well repaired and you can tell the handles have been gripped numerous times in hundreds of different places with different amounts of pressure.

"Keith where did you find one of these?"

"Umm... well I kind of built it. I found it in a junkyard. The engine was shot and it was missing a  few key components so I worked to earn money and bought interchangeable parts from the time period. Then I did some cosmetics like the paint job and fixed rusted spots and dents." I'm pretty sure my mouth is open wide, jaw dangling from the string of skin connecting it to my head.

"You... built this?!" He scoffed at my question and I look all along it. I trace the glare of the lights to the glossy paint job with my eyes, the intricate engineer work on the engine and frame are incredible. I let my eyes wander the perimeter of the back wheel onto the exhaust and forwards toward the foot peg, the peg to Keith's toned calves through his black leggings and up to his...

I... I mean the seat of the bike.

It's just breathtaking. Keith was able to preserve a piece of the past and it turned out beautifully. His voice and guitar skills are phenomenal, is there nothing this boy can't turn into art?

He pulls the gloves he's already wearing off his hands shakily and stuffs them into his jacket pocket, replacing them with the darker of the two. Those scars peak through, Keith making no effort to hide it since I've seen them before. I've thought a lot about the explanation he gave when I asked about them, on the bus ride we took to get home. He's had it hard, I could already tell that much even before the I saw the scars on his hands.

He's self conscious about them, that's obvious too. It's not embarrassment, although I don't doubt he hides them behind gloves to avoid drawing unwanted attention or comments. But besides that I can tell there's so much more he's hiding away, burying them under so many layers he's never learnt to shed... I would know.

Every morning I wake up and look into the mirror. I hate everything I see looking back at me but I do it anyway. I see a liar, a fake, someone who tries to be something they're not even if it can never make the one person he wants to be, the person that makes me happy.

The point is I know pain when I see it, and Keith is drowning in it. I only wish I could help but... how would that end? 

Keith's gaze rips me from my trance. I'm greeted with one of his beautiful grins. "You climbing on or what?" His violet eyes gleam as he looks back at his bike. 

"I am not getting on that thing with you Red." The name is starting to stick. No matter how cool the bike may look, I've never seen Keith ride and I'd rather live to graduate High School.

"To bad, you don't have a choice." He kicks the stand up, rolling it out of the garage. "Pidge said they'd kick my ass if you weren't on this bike with me so get on for both of our sakes." He brush his hand through his hair to get it out of his face before looking at me and telling me with his eyes.

Get on the bike or neither of us are leaving this house.

To be completely honest, I wouldn't care if we stayed. Hanging out with Keith isn't that bad, heck it's better than being at home.

But I shrug my shoulders, putting on the helmet and walking into the almost dark atmosphere. The streetlights are on and I sit on the back of his motorcycle before he looks back at me.

"I suggest you hold on." I looked at his waist, not sure what to do. Where do I hold on? I don't want to do something wrong. What will Keith do if I touch him? I'd rather not get a black eye...

He groans annoyed, and grabs my wrists from behind him, surprising me. He takes my arms and wraps them around his waist on my behalf. Keith winces at the touch but relaxes after getting used to the pressure.

He's really warm for an emo child... who knew?

I feel a heat rise up my neck but I it's probably from the warmth in the small breaths of air whipping by. Luckily, to my knowledge, he can't see it between the darkness and the helmet, which means he can't tease me, so score one for Lance! He revved the engine, probably looking for a reaction out of me. My reaction was holding on tighter as his laugh got caught in the wind.  

Then we were off. In that moment we became two carefree teens, taking the world by store. No worries, no abuse family members, no more abandonment (especially if I want to survive this trip).

The streetlights, passing by for mere seconds, look like a shower of comets breaking through the atmosphere, straying far from a path of destruction. Mixed with the deep navy and emerald of the dying sky, the stars look like beads of dew in Charlotte's Web. The painted stripes and dashes on the road merge as Keith picks up the speed, somewhere along the way I end up tightening my grip.

The fastest way to get to Pidge's house is through the town, by unlike the sky the town's alive. Although we don't plan on going to a bar tonight or a club, that doesn't stop adults and 'people of legal drinking age' from getting high on neon lights. 

It feels freeing, like I'm in a dream that'll never end. I want to hold my arms around Keith and watch his stupid hair flap in the night breeze under the constellations. I never want to get off, and if this moment lasted forever I wouldn't complain. No wonder Keith likes this, it's so much better than a car.

But all good things come to an end eventually. And when the trust runs dry and the cement on your walls harden, alcohol is the only thing left to console.

Five bottles of tequila, Three of vodka, and seventeen cans of beer; my father said... yet not enough to make me forget.

My mama and my siblings.

Can they see me now?

Would they approve of my happiness? Or my ways to cope?

I tighten my fists into the fabric of Keith's jacket, breathing in the scent of this mischievous night scene. The air from the mountains echoing through desolate streets and the broken cries of nocturnal animals blowing away in the wind. 

I yell in excitement making Keith laugh, as we drive off into the neighborhood on the other side of the city.

They might not approve of some of my choices but they'd want me to be happy right? Well this makes me happy... freedom makes me feel like I'm flying and if this is the high I can get from adrenaline, never want to come down.

><><><><><><><><

Welp... another chapter!!! Woot! 

Bi Palidudes!