TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of religion, strong language, alcohol.

4. Vice.

Did you want him there, or did he just show up?

Mid-summer, 2015. Mason’s father is a preacher at a quieter, smaller church in the town. Pretty insignificant, Eliseo thinks, that the church’s only youth are Mason’s older sisters and him. Southern Baptism was always the butt of Eliseo’s internal jokes. His dad’s family was supposedly Catholic, and he did think the symbolism of the Rosary was kind of dope, but that was the extent of Christian knowledge that Eliseo had. What he did know was that his father’s alcoholism ran deep in an ancestral history of bad decisions. 

Eliseo had never been to Mason’s house, and he had never seen it either. He only noticed the smell of cats and mildew on Mason’s hoodie he always wore.

Eliseo did clean his room that day, or, well, he made his bed at least, and cracked the window to let the stale aroma of cigarettes and mold thin out. He’d never been self-conscious about anything that belonged to him, but it didn’t hurt to try for a decent impression.

Mason lingered at the front door, shifting his weight like the threshold itself was a test.
“What, are you a vampire or something? You can come in, dude.” Eliseo tried to laugh, light, casual.

The boys sat cross-legged on the carpet. Life Is Beautiful by Sixx:A.M. crackled through an old CD player. Eliseo talked too fast, between bursts of song, showing off the mismatched bottles hidden under the bed. Vodkas in water bottles, bourbons in soda bottles, his strange little collection.

“How many shots fit into a Coke bottle?” Eliseo grinned, pouring anyway. “Enough for a damned good time.”
Mason let his shoulders drop a little. The smallest laugh slipped out, surprised, like he hadn’t planned to let it escape. It took a funeral to make me feel alive.

Later, Mason stretched out on Eliseo’s bed, watching him play Metal Gear Solid 3. Eliseo rambled about lore, conspiracies, tiny details that “actually mattered if you thought about it.” Mason’s eyes grew heavy, and by the time Eliseo turned to comment, Mason was asleep.

For a long moment, Eliseo just watched the steady rise and fall of his chest in the glow of the TV. He muted the game, then shut it off completely. He paced once around the room, wondering if he should just take the floor.

Eventually he decided there was enough space. He moved quietly, careful not to wake him. As Eliseo eased onto the mattress, Mason startled, his eyes snapping open with fear, body jerking back hard enough to almost send Eliseo tumbling.

“Shit. Sorry,” Eliseo blurted, hands raised. “I wasn’t sure if I should just crash on the floor or what.”

Mason’s breathing slowed. He hesitated, then scooted back, leaving just enough room to signal Eliseo could stay.

Eliseo lay stiff, staring at the ceiling. “I can turn around so it’s not weird for you.”

Mason surprised him. He shifted closer instead, laying an arm across Eliseo’s side. His gaze flicked up, cautious, unreadable, like he was bracing for impact. His lips brushed Eliseo’s forehead, so quick it could’ve been an accident, or a mistake he’d regret if Eliseo called it out.

Eliseo’s chest locked tight. Maybe it was the liquor, the burn still heavy in his stomach, the dizzy blur of too many Coke-bottle shots. They’d both had more than they should have, and maybe that was why the air between them felt too thin, why every movement carried a charge.

It wasn’t affection he felt so much as a rush of something urgent, a pressure to hold on before it disappeared. He pulled Mason closer, an arm behind his head, anchoring him to his chest. His heart pounded, not from thrill but from the panic of needing him there. Stroking Mason’s hair felt automatic, like soothing a scared animal, but Eliseo kept staring at the wall, as if any movement might shatter the moment.

“You’re the first and only friend I’ve ever had, Mace,” he whispered, voice cracking at the edges. “Thank you.”

Mason didn’t answer. He pressed his face harder against Eliseo’s chest, and for a second Eliseo swore he felt him trembling.

Do you think only having one person to care about could have changed you for the worse?

Eliseo does not remember.