The Camping Trip III
What would I do to get into your head
Crawl out my body and into yours instead
-- Greta Isaac, You
The brightness of the morning woke him up with a squint and a very pleasant scent in the air, a concoction of pine and rainwater. The first thing he saw was Laith, dead asleep on his back, close enough that Theodore’s breath must’ve brushed him on the shoulder. His hair, dry now, fell to the side a chic sort of messy. This close to him, Theodore could hold out his arm next to Laith’s and see the difference there, how much thinner he was in comparison, taller than before but still just as scrawny. Laith’s waist alone was thicker than two of his torsos combined.
Glancing Laith down, he realized Laith had slept over the sheets; his shirt rode up at the bottom, exposing a sliver of skin just above the waistband of his shorts, low on the hips. That sent all kinds of shivers down Theodore’s spine, pushing him out of the tent before anything got weird. It was very warm all of a sudden; heat crawled up his neck, breath leaving his lungs. Holy goddamn.
Emily glanced up at him from across the site, a clementine in her hands. She plucked a segment out and offered it to him. Without a word, he walked over and took the seat next to her.
“Good morning and thank you.” He smiled, accepting the offer. It tugged her lips up.
“How are you, Theo? You stayed up pretty late last night.”
“I know; I couldn’t sleep.” Part of him didn’t want to bring up what’d happened at the lake, in case it got Laith in trouble. “Happens a lot with me.”
“Laith is the same way,” she mused. “Nightmares, night terrors, delusions all his life.”
They had a lot more than that in common. Giving him another segment, her eyes moved to Laith’s tent.
“What did you guys do in there?” she asked.
The question burned his face alive. When she looked at him again, the softness from a moment ago was gone, replaced with a much colder, more stern dullness over the black of her eyes.
“Did he touch you?”
“No.” His heart jumped to the roof of his mouth. “I couldn’t sleep and Ryan was too tired to talk to me, so I switched tents. He just kept me company, that’s all. You said he doesn’t sleep either, and that’s true; I fell asleep before him.”
She glanced back at Laith’s tent, head bobbing with a slow nod. With a flick of the wrist, she gave him another segment. “I hope you know you can talk to me.” Her voice was quiet and gentle now. “About anything.”
“You can talk to me too.”
A smile stretched her lips, cheeks rounding with it. “Thank you, Theo.”
***
The dynamic of the group was different without Laith, since he was Ryan’s preferred target and the only one who really fought back. Ryan’s bad jokes and insidious teasing didn’t get under Emily’s skin, but made her laugh and shove him on the shoulder, while Justin was completely unaffected. Ryan could say whatever he wanted and neither of these two would give him the confrontation he craved, so he stopped trying, tossing only his subpar material out to the wind. Emily’s good humor and Justin’s extremely thick skin lightened the atmosphere into a nice, friendly time as they cooked up some breakfast and filled up on juice. Justin talked about the farm and the visits to his mother’s apartment, Emily discussed some music theory with Theodore, and no one let Ryan ruin this.
Theodore missed Laith. Every time conversation picked up again, he found himself thinking back to Laith’s tent and the way he’d been sleeping; that sliver of skin, the tattoo that crawled up the side of his body, the freshness that surrounded him. The cologne he usually wore was much heavier, much richer than that, but it must’ve been a combination of the late-night swim and the nature around them; he didn’t know. It just smelled nice. Laith was nice too, in his own way; obviously haunted by the same monsters, victim of the same visions. Theodore had long accepted that about himself, despite his mother’s insistence in disproving it. It couldn’t be a phase at this point; how could it last sixteen years? He wouldn’t bring it up with her, but it was pretty clear that the monsters just wouldn’t go away.
Laith was the first person he’d met that shared his experiences, except the way he dealt with that was different. He’d mentioned being scared, yet had swum to the bottom of the lake and faced off with the creatures that terrified him. How? The more Theodore thought about him, the more enthralled he became, obsessed with Laith’s peculiar trains of thought, the eccentricities that set him apart from the rest and the way he reacted to the world. The examples he used, the visuals in his head, the constant comparison of real life and art; he was fascinating. Ryan didn’t think he was smart because he hadn’t gone to college, but that was irrelevant; he was smart in his own right.
For as much fun as the group had together, the day still passed incredibly slowly. Theodore caught himself counting the minutes until Laith got up, legs bouncing.
When lunchtime came around and Laith was still in bed, a voice in Theodore’s head begged to shake him awake so he wouldn’t miss it. No one brought him up; they just sat around the campfire and grilled some fish. Theodore asked after him very briefly, pretending not to care. Emily’s response was just as unconcerned, a quick remark about how he’d probably be getting up soon. Something flared up deep inside Theodore; why did nobody care? How could they eat knowing Laith would be eating alone later? When even was “later”? In an act of rebellious solidarity, Theodore decided to wait for him. The others offered him some potatoes, but he explicitly told them he’d only be eating when Laith did. Ryan made a gross comment about that, but otherwise, no one really minded.
Conversations continued as a joint passed around after lunch and beer cans were cracked open. Justin decided against drinking this time, so he’d be sober for the drive. He spoke with smoke in his lungs, words muffled on the joint. Theodore was pretty sure this “joint” was fundamentally different from regular cigarettes, but didn’t know the specifics to consider Justin sober or not while smoking it.
As usual, they spoke of things he didn’t understand, very careful with what they said. The word Burman came up a lot, whatever it meant. There was no data up in the mountains, so Theodore would have to wait to look that up, or ask Laith later.
Eventually, the joint was put out and everyone got up to hit the lake. When Theodore didn’t move, Emily asked if he’d be tagging along. He replied negatively. She gave him a quick look, a disinterested shrug, and left with the others.
The moment they were gone, he pulled Laith’s tent open and climbed inside. Laith was still asleep in pretty much the same position as before, with an arm across his stomach and another one behind his head. Glancing him down again was extremely tempting, but if Theodore did that, there’d be no coming back, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and touched Laith’s arm instead. He shook him a bit, Laith’s name on his tongue, a soft coo. A deep inhale filled the tent before Laith stirred, eyebrows furrowing as consciousness rose within him. Green eyes soon found Theodore’s face, open through thin slits. Laith relaxed under his touch. That was when Theodore very reluctantly decided to stop touching him.
“Good morning, Theo.” Laith’s voice was husky from sleep, but his tone was still soft. Just like that, three words were etched into his memory as the nicest, most meaningful exchange he’d ever had.
“Good afternoon.” He smiled. “I was wondering if you’d like a burger for brunch.”
“A burger for brunch, huh.” Laith rubbed at one of his eyes with a semi-pensive look on his face. “Sure, I’ll have a burger for brunch. What time is it?”
“Two-thirty.”
Laith looked at him. “Theo, this is straight-up lunch. Brunch was at least four hours ago.”
He grinned, laughter bubbling within his chest. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you’d missed too much.”
Laith shrugged and moved to a sitting position, arms up over his head, spine arching with a stretch. Theodore watched that in a sort of daze, entranced by the way his tank top rode up, stomach tensing, almost fully visible. The tattoo on the side of his body was the biggest one yet, crawling from under the waistband of his shorts, a handful of masts and sails that probably sprouted from a medieval ship hidden from view, most likely on his thigh. Theodore tried to picture it, how big it must be, over his hip. If Laith’s shorts rode up a bit, would he be able to see it?
When Laith exhaled, Theodore snapped back to it. Suddenly, he knew he had to leave; his blood ran too warm and his thoughts were starting to all tangle together. With a quick word or two, he excused himself and exited the tent. Being around Laith was fine, but that was just too much. He had a burger to make anyway, and breathing in some fresh air, took a seat by the campfire.
Two patties hit the grill. As soon as they started to sizzle, Laith came out to join him. Curiosity twisted his features as he approached, eyes searching the area, probably for his friends.
“The others are down by the lake,” Theodore explained, adding, for his own wickedness, “They didn’t want to wait for you,” because it was true and Laith should know about it.
In response, Laith simply yawned, disinterested. “Are those seasoned?” A brief gesture towards the grill.
“I think so. They were frozen ready.”
Laith nodded absently, face pointed at the trees. “One day I’ll teach you how to make homemade patties. You’ll never want frozen ready again.”
“How did you learn to cook?”
“Watching videos and making mistakes.”
A wide grin broke across his face, although Laith’s seriousness probably meant that hadn’t been a joke. Still, it was pretty funny.
“What time did you fall asleep last night?” It was a sincere question.
A hum filled the space between them, Laith’s weight leaning back on one hand. The air around him was crisp with sea foam and vetiver leaves. “Six, six-thirty. It’d been bright for a minute.”
“Oh, shit; your night terrors are much worse than mine.”
Laith gave him a look, eyebrows furrowed the tiniest bit. “I didn’t think you swore.”
“I don’t.”
They held the stare.
“Well, you know, there are nights and nights. I was keeping you safe anyway; it’s not like it was all for nothing.”
“And I woke you up eight hours later. I’m… so grateful.” His cheeks flared up, heart skipping a beat.
Laith grinned. “Nah, that’s more than enough. It’s more than I usually get anyway.”
“Are you a four hours is my seven hours type of guy?”
“I’m a four hours has to be my seven hours type of guy.”
He laughed. Realistically, that was just the truth Laith lived, but he was grinning too, so it was fine. “I take it you open the record store.”
“I close it, actually. Stanley is afraid of the dark.”
“So are you.”
Laith shrugged, eyes down at the patties on the grill. “I know it better than he does. You should flip that.”
“Oh, shit.” With tongs in hand, he did as told, turning the perfectly golden brown side up.
“You’re a potty-mouth, Theo.”
“I’m bad now.”
Laith laughed. It was the nicest sound in the world, and making him do it was rewarding in itself. If that were a career, Theodore would enlist today.
***
A nice breeze swept past as they lay on the bed of sticks, resting after lunch. Some of the logs were used for back support, so they could lean and watch the trees. One of Laith’s legs was bent at the knee, shorts hitched up his thigh, a current obsession. Part of a large tattoo poked out from under the hem, rounded at the bottom with some lettering that Theodore couldn’t read sideways. His arm rested on that knee every now and then, open beer can in hand, coming up and down as he sipped from it. Sitting on his right, Theodore had a nice view of the flowers that crawled up to his elbow, though his attention was still elsewhere. Unfortunately, the other leg was stretched out, or he was pretty sure he’d be able to catch a glimpse of the medieval ship too.
“You’re not getting one.” Laith’s voice was friendly despite the bite of his words. It pulled Theodore’s eyes away from his legs to stare up at his face, still pointed at the woods in the distance. “You have no idea how much shit Ryan gave us for that one time.”
Oh, right, yes—he’d been staring at the beer can. “Yeah, it’s fine. Beer’s gross, anyway.”
Laith scoffed good-humorously. “You’ll change your mind when you’re older.”
“I, uh—I actually like it; I don’t know why I said that. Um.” He turned away. “What does Burman mean?”
Laith moved in his peripherals. Without looking, Theodore could see the stare that got him. “That’s someone’s name.”
“Oh.” Their eyes met. “Who is it?”
“Someone we know.” Laith turned around again, knocking back the rest of the can. When it was done, he placed it into the camp’s designated trash bag, which might as well be the designated empty beer can bag at this point. “What did they say about her?”
Her.
“I’m not sure; I couldn’t understand much, but I think it had something to do with the Dead Ponies.” That was a complete shot in the dark; they hadn’t mentioned any names that whole time, but maybe Laith would let something slip. He’d name-dropped before.
“No shit; she runs the place.”
Bingo.
“Is she the reason you guys go there?”
“Pretty much. Her allegiance with the Alvorada has been very profitable so far. At least from what I can tell; I don’t know shit about finance, but morale’s higher than ever. Even the Hollywood boys are talking to us.”
His heart raced, eyes wide—this was it. He’d waited so goddamn long for this. “Are you the Alvorada?”
“We all are.”
“Except for the Hollywood boys.”
“They’d be the Alvorada boys then, don’t you think?”
“What about me?”
The question made Laith look at him.
“You said we all are…”
Green eyes glanced him down, pulse stuttering. “Not you. You’re a good kid.”
“So are you guys.”
Laith turned back around with a look on his face. Before Theodore could say anything else, his brother showed up, coming up the dirt path perfectly dry. They must not have been swimming. Dark eyes found Laith first, eyebrows up with delighted surprise.
“Dude, come play volleyball with me.”
Laith got up without a word. Seeing him follow Ryan out made Theodore’s chest burn. Not only had his brother just ruined his golden opportunity to know more about these people’s lifestyle, but the way he treated Laith just wasn’t right. No one really cared about him; they just drank, smoked and cracked jokes. They obviously appreciated his sense of humor, but didn’t really seem to care about what he had to say, especially when it came to the dark. Whether Ryan had actually come back for him or if he’d just been looking for someone to play volleyball with didn’t matter; he’d still ruined a perfectly fine afternoon.
Laith glanced back at Theodore, nodding towards the lake. “C’mon, don’t fall behind.”
Reluctantly, he got up to follow.
The invitation had made it very clear that Ryan only intended to play with Laith, not Theodore, so he didn’t actually have any intention to join the game. He thought they’d play on the lakeside while he and the others watched from the shade, but Laith had a different idea in mind. When Theodore made to take a seat next to Emily, his name was called, asking if he wouldn’t join in. Ryan promptly dismissed the invitation, speaking for him, saying that baseball was the only sport he cared about. Perhaps it was the offense of being spoken for, or maybe the fact that Laith had been the one to invite him that straightened Theodore up and got him to walk over.
“Yeah, I’d love to join,” he clarified, keeping his eyes trained on his brother. “Thank you, Laith, for inviting me.”
Laith snickered, ball spinning in a hand. The crowd oohed in response. The teasing put a mean scowl on Ryan’s face.
“You don’t give a shit about sports,” Ryan spoke with a grimace. “You only play baseball because mom told you to.”
“I like baseball.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?”
The crowd oohed louder, intrigue in the air. Theodore could feel his face burn.
“Are you any good?” Laith asked.
“I’m… okay.”
His answer made Ryan scoff.
“I don’t need to be good at something to like it!” Theodore immediately retaliated.
“You’re right.” Laith tossed the ball in the air, bouncing it over his head. “Let’s play teams. Theo, you’re with me.”
Ryan held his palms up, a gesture of bewilderment. “Who the fuck am I playing with then?”
“Yourself.”
That put a big grin on Theodore’s face.
“Theo, I’m gonna pass you the ball; give me the one-two.”
“Okay.”
Despite the adrenaline in his veins and the cold sweat on his hands, he tried his best not to botch this. Fortunately, Laith passed him the ball in a very gracious arch that made it easy for him to set it high in the air, where Laith could come in for an attack. The slap was strong and sent the ball flying towards Ryan, who slipped on the rocks and screwed up the bump. Theodore laughed as the atmosphere lightened.
Before the ball hit the ground, Laith managed to slide under it and bump it up with a fist. Very quickly, Ryan set it up high, and when their eyes met, Theodore knew it was time to get ready. Positioning himself under the ball, Ryan served it towards him, so hard that the noise his palm made echoed across the lake. Theodore bumped it successfully, forearms stinging with the impact, and as the ball bounced up, Laith resumed his place next to him, coming in for the assist. Laith set up the one-two and Theodore hit it towards Ryan.
After that, the game ran a little smoother, with the two of them trying to set the ball for each other and Laith swooping in for Ryan whenever he messed up. It happened almost every time Laith hit him with a stronger attack, entirely on purpose.
The crowd made the game even better, reacting to their passes as if it were a real match. At one point, Justin even started narrating it, but used made up words to replace technical terms. It was an obvious ploy to make Theodore screw up, but even when he did, Laith just fixed it for him. In the end, the ball only ever hit the ground a handful of times, when all three of them failed to catch it. Despite Ryan’s meaner attacks always being directed at Theodore, he still had fun, arms burning and all.
They packed up just as it started to get dark. Laith and Ryan took the bed of the truck again, but this time, Theodore decided to join the other two in the cabin, where the radio was on and his brother’s absence lessened the weight over his shoulders. He’d never felt this way about Ryan before; it was weird. Growing up, he remembered Ryan being around a lot and helping him with practically everything, but there had never been any ill-will behind it, or he didn’t think so. Ryan wasn’t the nicest person he’d ever met, always picking fights and starting arguments, but Theodore had never felt targeted before.
He remembered what Laith had told him yesterday, the feeling that Ryan hated him, and unfortunately, it resonated. He knew it wasn’t Ryan’s intention to come off that way though; he was just reading too much into it. Still, in the cabin with Emily and Justin, he closed the back window not to hear his brother’s voice.
“Why do you guys hang out with Ryan?”
The question got two sets of raised eyebrows and a brief glance from Justin, who looked back at the road right after.
“He’s in my class,” Emily explained. “We’re both going to art school. He was pretty much the first person I met on campus and we just hit it off.”
“Don’t you think it’s weird that he doesn’t have any friends besides you guys?”
“I mean… I don’t really have any other friends either. Everyone I know is part of the same group of people.”
The Alvorada, probably. He decided not to bring it up, in case they traced it back to Laith.
“Ryan can be pretty chill sometimes. He just gets worked up when you’re around,” Justin explained. “He’s very protective of you.”
Theodore frowned. “It seems he gets worked up when Laith is around. They’re always fighting.”
“That’s just how Laith is.” Emily shrugged.
“How do you know he’s the problem and not Ryan?”
A deep breath left Emily’s lungs, back leaning against the seat. The look on her face, grave yet poignant, squeezed his heart in a tight fist. “I’ve known Laith since middle school. He has his ups and downs, you know, good days and bad days, except his are always at the extreme ends of the scale, where good is always great and bad is always the worst. He hides that behind this… aloof façade that he puts on, but deep inside, he’s extremely intense and it doesn’t take much to get him there. He’s my best friend—my brother—but I know what he’s capable of. Ryan keeps him in line.”
The fist in Theodore’s chest closed around his throat next, choking him.
“Ryan’s angry and tough; he keeps Laith occupied,” she concluded.
“I think they’re into each other.” Justin smirked.
The thought alone caught a breath in Theodore’s throat.
“Theo’s right; they didn’t use to be this way,” Justin elaborated. “For as much as this kind of teasing’s always been there, it’s gotten much worse, like, on a different level. Ryan’s on him constantly now; he just can’t chill. Laith breathes and he’s on him, grabbing him—it’s kinda hot.”
Emily burst into laughter while reality slipped away from under Theodore’s feet, a familiar feeling. He hid it well.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” His voice trembled. “Ryan just doesn’t leave him alone. It—I don’t know. I just feel bad for him, I guess.”
“Nah, he’s into it,” Justin defended. “The way Ryan keeps touching him—he likes it.”
“I don’t think he does.”
“I mean, for as fucked up as it is to think about the two of them together, that’s exactly his type.” Emily sounded pensive, not totally sold on the idea yet. “I just find it hard to believe Ryan would be into men at all.”
The world darkened at the edges.
“Well, he’s not seeing Christie anymore.” Justin shrugged. “And we never did figure out why. Maybe Laith’s why.”
“No fucking way.” Emily scoffed, a smile on her face. “I would lose it.”
“Who’s uh—who’s Christie?” Theodore asked.
The two glanced at him.
“Ryan’s ex,” Justin told him. “The one he’d been dating for a year.”
“He didn’t tell me about her.”
“Oh.”
Justin and Emily shared a glance.
“Well, he’s a private guy; we only know about her because we were there.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”
Sure… His lungs breathed in slowly. He didn’t know Ryan at all. Right when he thought he’d gotten closer to his brother, keeping his secrets, meeting his friends; it was all a front. He was kept at arm’s length just as much as their parents, disassociated from Ryan’s true personality.
“You guys are rats, aren’t you?”
The question straightened up Emily’s spine and fixed Justin’s eyes on the road, silence from the both of them. Without a word, she turned up the radio. That was answer enough.
***
Justin parked in the same place they’d met up yesterday morning. With his mask back on, Theodore thanked both Justin and Emily for the ride and hopped off the truck. There was a strange feeling in the bottom of his chest, a dull ache.
Ryan spoke to Laith, but Theodore wasn’t paying attention; eyes tracking Ryan as he slung his bag over a shoulder and jumped off the truck. Still on the bed, Laith picked up Theodore’s bag and handed it to him, kneeling down to come meet him. Their eyes met over their masks.
“I need to talk to you.” Those words practically flew out of his mouth, a secret whisper. Laith cocked his head a bit, but didn’t say anything. A look over his own shoulder confirmed Ryan’s distance from the truck, rounding the corner by himself. Theodore met with Laith’s eyes again. “You can do better.” He felt like Daisy saying that.
In response, Laith just looked at him. “I don’t like your brother that way.”
“I know.” He’d only known Laith for two days—two real days—and was convinced he knew him better than his own friends. He actually cared, probably more than they did. “Just watch out.”
Laith nodded, eyes shining under the brightness of the moon. If Theodore could, he’d vault over the side of the truck and leave Ryan behind.
He’d never disliked his brother so much.
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