53 | Where Are the O's

                                    

                                          
Trevor
"Okay, I'm not even going to mention the fact that you left me two blocks away, standing out in the cold, alone at—what—" Chase brought his arm up to eye the time on his shabby wristwatch "—half past two in the morning!
Chase, being his usual melodramatic self, had his nose up in the air, his arms crossed, as we walked down the now festive street, which was alive with drunken New Year partygoers, firecrackers of varying noises, and colorful smokes filling up the vast darkness of the night. 
"Okay, great, then don't," I said, smiling cheekily. I shivered as a gust of cold night breeze blew across my bare face; I exhaled into my hands, rubbed them together, and shoved them into my jean pockets. 
He rolled his eyes in response. "I could've been mugged! Murdered! Or worse—" the blonde shuddered at the thought "—raped." 
"Chase, I assure you, there are no muggers, murderers, or rapists lurking about in these parts," I said. "Besides," I added, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips, "why would they waste their time on you? Surely, they've got better things to do."
Chase rolled his eyes again, but this time, he struggled to suppress a smile. He cleared his throat. "Happy New Year, Trev," he said in an off-putting, high-pitched voice, with a strange sort of glint in his eyes.
"Happy indeed," I laughed, shaking my head at his poor impression of Morgan. "Don't you need to get home? Aren't Mr. and Mrs. Humphrey looking for you?"
"Nah, man," Chase chuckled bitterly. "My parents aren't talking to me, remember?"
"Ah," I replied, "the gay thing. Sorry."
He shook his head, raising a hand. "It's fine."
"So—er—where've you been staying?" 
At my inquiry, Chase shot me a weird look. "Do you really think things are that bad?"
Flustered, I fumbled for words, "Well, no, uh—it's not that I think—in fact, I don't think—um, no, 'cause you're an adult and—"
Chase roared with laughter that had enough undertone of mockery, I stopped tripping over my own words. "Okay, relax, Trev. I'm staying at this motel downtown."
I rolled my eyes. "So I was right, you fag," I huffed, a playful smile on my lips. 
"Shut up," laughed Chase, lightly shoving me to the side.
"Y'know... You could stay at my place, if you want."
Chase turned to look at me with wide, hopeful eyes. 
Before he could answer, I quickly held up my hand and added in a tone that made it clear I was just joshing, "No homo, though."
Chase burst out laughing. "Please, the last thing I'd want is to fuck you," he scoffed. He shook his head. "But—if you're serious—I might just take you up on that."
"Good, then," I said, beaming.
"But you're absolutely sure about this? It's such a hassle, and I—"
"Chase, stop," I cut him off at once. "It's fine. I'm happy to help out."
A smile slowly crept up on the boy's face before he slung his arm over my shoulders and gave me an affectionate noogie. 
"Thanks, man. I—I really appreciate it." 
I wiggled out of his grasp and playfully pushed him away from me. "What did I say about no homo?" I grinned, earning a hearty laugh from him. 
A comfortable silence settled over us two then, and we walked down the road some more, occasionally passing children playing with poppers.