And yes, he’d learned the word wretched thanks to Caspian.
“It probably won’t work anyway,” Caspian muttered but patted his thigh and whistled, prompting Dingo to follow him toward a set of benches made of concrete blocks and wood, where Gunner himself used to often sit around with his so-called friends, but the Brown brothers were likely away in order to secure an alibi, so Gunner didn’t expect to see them around anytime soon.
“Still worth a shot,” he said and took a few gulps of the incredibly potent alcohol before turning to see his brother with the other jar. “Noah! Don’t drink it! Your mom will say it’s my fault if you start puking.” He frowned and was ready to wrestle for the ‘shine, but Caspian was the one to take the container out of Noah’s hand.
“You’re seventeen. If you must drink, stick to beer.”
Noah sucked in air, going red in the faint light of the upcoming morning, but he had the good sense not to argue.
Gunner met Caspian’s gaze and imagined a future where it worked out between the two of them. Sleeping in the same bed. Going on picnics and to the movies. Like a normal couple. But no matter how much his heart yearned for it, he knew it was a pipe dream, so he let the liquor burn his throat again and rubbed his palm against the side of Dingo’s muzzle. The dog hummed, responding to the touch by rolling his hot, damp tongue along Gunner’s palm and down his wrist. And as Gunner closed his eyes, feeling the sticky trail cool, he wished with all his heart for Caspian to get his body back.
Because he was good.
Because he had a future that would be wasted on Gunner.
And because he deserved all the best things.
Caspian took two sips of the moonshine, and his handsome face twisted as he passed the jar back to Gunner. “Here goes nothing.”
“Make sure to make the wish as he licks you,” Gunner said even though warmth was already rushing through his head. Maybe he should have stuck to that first sip. His heart beat fast, as if fate was playing staccato in his chest while he watched Dingo turn his muzzle to sniff Caspian.
If this ridiculous plan worked, would they change right away, or wake up in the correct bodies in the morning, like last time? Technically, it was morning already, so would it only happen after they fell asleep?
Caspian’s throat bobbed, but he extended his hand to Dingo. The dog licked his wrist in a couple of long laps, as if he were sampling the essence of who Caspian was.
“And… what now?” Noah asked in the dull silence that followed.
Caspian shrugged and put his hand on Gunner’s shoulders. “We should go to sleep.”
Gunner’s throat felt tight, and the gentle touch on his shoulder only made it worse. “Where?”
Noah petted his head as if Gunner were his younger brother, not the other way around. “You can stay with me and my mom for a bit. She’ll understand.”
Caspian’s fingers tightened on Gunner’s flesh. His dark, attentive eyes focused on Gunner’s face, and while he looked relaxed, shadows made the hyena tattoo seem sunken, as if the skeletal face was about to burst into tears. “I want us to stay together tonight.”
Gunner was so afraid he’d fall apart that he closed his eyes and didn’t utter a word.
Noah exhaled. “Right. ‘Cause it’s you my mom would expect anyway. You can both stay. She’s got an early shift.”
Caspian’s chest sank, and he rose, pulling Gunner with him. “Thank you. For helping us out with this and… everything.”
“Are you joking? He’s my brother. He was there for me when I needed him, and I’ll always be there for him too,” Noah said and squeezed Gunner’s arm before spinning around, as if he were afraid his face might betray too much emotion. Oh, how Gunner understood him. Living in Caspian’s body gave him an excuse to express himself more, but he’d grown to enjoy it, and the perspective of going back to his real existence weighed heavily on his shoulders. But Caspian was still there for him, even if he’d be gone from Gunner’s miserable life soon enough.
If this worked.
He was disgusted at a part of him that wished it would not.
Noah’s home was a short drive away. They tried to stay quiet while parking in front of the pale single-storey house located in a quiet street close to the woods, but as they approached the door, it swung open, and Noah’s mom, Zahra, stepped out in the black clothes she wore when working in a cafe at the mall, and a large handbag slung over the shoulder. Black box braids slipped across her shoulder when she moved her head, wary of the shadows standing in front of her home so early in the morning. But when she realized who they were, her body language relaxed.