by Riley Parks
“Blood in, blood out. They got you for life,” Jackson stated with a click of his tongue. “Only way out is a cell or a casket, you know that. You ever been inside?”
“Yeah, a few months here and there for vandalism. Real dumb shit, but got popped enough that if I get caught again I’m going to have to do a year or two.”
“Pigs don’t let you fuck up people’s property in peace anymore, huh?” Jackson teased, laughing when Evan punched him in the arm.
“What were you in for, hmm?” Evan asked with a smirk.
“Don’t know why you’re assuming I’ve ever done time,” Jackson stated with mock indignation.
“You’ve been doing this shit for too long to have never been in prison.”
“Did a bunch of stints in juvie, but only got one weapons charge that put me in MCC for a few months,” Jackson replied, grinning. “What?”
“Never would’ve guessed you were really a good boy,” Evan flirted, placing his food on the floor so he could move closer to Jackson and press his lips against the skin under Jack’s ear. Evan rubbed Jackson’s upper thigh as he sucked a mark into his skin.
“Don’t think ‘good boys’ go to prison, Daywalker.” Jack laughed. “Just good at not getting caught,” he said as Evan pushed Jack’s chest down gently so he was lying flat on the couch.
Evan rested his body weight on Jackson and slid his fingers into his hair as they slotted their mouths together. “I caught you,” he whispered as Jack bit his lower lip a little too hard, just the way Evan liked it. “Mmm.”
“Fucking let you,” Jack hummed, replacing his teeth with his tongue. He smiled into the kiss as Evan rutted the bulge in his pants against Jackson’s crotch. He moaned when Evan’s lips made their way back to Jack’s neck. “Wouldn’t have got me if I didn’t want you to.”
“That right?” Evan asked, his voice muffled against Jackson’s skin. “Think I would’ve worn you down eventually.”
X
Jackson knew it was true. Evan had him before he should have. Who would have thought a failed park fuck would lead to what they had? Jackson had never felt lucky in life. As far as he was concerned, being into guys when his father was a homophobic prick was the antithesis of luck. Realistically, falling for a cokehead who was in a rival gang wasn’t necessarily stumbling across a four-leaf clover, but he felt like he had. Like luck, happiness had always seemed out of reach, until his arms were wrapped firmly around it, around Evan.
They kissed their breath away, only coming up for air when Jackson’s head got light and fuzzy. Evan licked his lips and pulled down Jackson’s sweatpants, stroking his hard cock slowly while he got control of his breathing. “Love your cock,” Evan complimented, eyes focused on the glistening beads of pre-come that collected in his slit. “Think we ever fucked in MCC? That’s where I was locked up, too.”
Jackson laughed, putting his hands behind his head and gazing down at Evan as he was getting jerked off. “I’d remember that. Would’ve actually been turned on if I’d fucked you.”
“If I’d fucked you,” Evan corrected, swiping his thumb along the tip of Jackson’s dick and dragging the stickiness around the head.
“Nah. Not there.” He sighed at the sensation. “Always did the fucking.”
“Then we definitely never fucked.” Evan laughed.
“Never took a cock, Goodwyn?” Jack asked, surprised when Evan shook his head. “Not once?”
“Nope. No drugs could get me high enough to bend over and take it up the ass,” he said with a click of the tongue. “Slept on park benches in the middle of January instead of bottoming.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” Jackson informed, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back as Evan wrapped his lips around Jack’s cock. Evan licked up and down before coming up to the head to purposely lap up the pre-come he’d smeared a few moments earlier.
“I’ll leave all that pleasure for you,” Evan said as he jerked him off again. “My bossy bottom.”
“You’re always saying ‘my,’” Jackson pointed out. “My bossy bottom, my koala comeslut, my baby, my man. Pretty fucking possessive, aren’t you?”
“Over you? Yeah I am,” Evan said with no shame.
“Why?” Jackson licked his lips and raised his eyebrows. “Told me you never grab on to anyone, why do you grab on to me?”
“You really want to know?” Evan asked, his tone reflecting a contradiction of challenge and vulnerability.
“I asked, didn’t I?” Jackson studied his boyfriend’s face, wondering if he’d go for it, if he’d open up. Secretly, he hoped he would, because there was no way Jackson would allow himself to go there first. He needed Evan to.
The redhead pressed a kiss against the tip of Jackson’s dick and then onto his full lips before standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “I’ll tell you someday.”
“What the fuck? Get your dumbass back down here and finish me off,” Jackson ordered.
“Can’t. Got to go,” he said, looking slightly apologetic, but more amused as Jackson pulled up his pants and gave him the finger.
“I’m gonna come in your leftovers.”
“Mmm. Maybe you’ll make that shit taste better.”
“Didn’t like it?”
Evan shrugged. “Like McDonald’s better.”
“So you’re into the best coke and the worst food?”
Evan considered the question and shrugged. “Pretty much. Good coke makes even the shittiest food taste better.”
“So you’re not high right now?” Jack asked, surprised, thinking that he was usually better at identifying moments when his boyfriend wasn’t inebriated.
“Nope. Burned off,” Evan replied as he put his backpack over his shoulders. “You want me to come back?”
“Of course I do.” Jackson sat up and looked at his boyfriend with a thousand thoughts jumbled in his mind, the most important making its way to the top of the heap. “Tell me now then. If you’re not high. Tell me why you grab on to me.”
Evan frowned, his body language revealing how vulnerable he felt. “You know why.”
They’d been dancing around it for weeks and Jackson knew it was time. “Pretend I don’t.”
Evan looked like he was taking a moment to muster up his courage. “Because I love you,” he admitted.
Then he turned on his heels and beat feet out of the apartment.
27
Evan exited the apartment building in disbelief that the words had come out of his mouth so easily, and was more shocked at how profoundly he meant them. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somehow he’d fallen deeply and completely in love with Jackson Jablonic. At least that’s what he thought the feelings were. Evan ached for his lover when they were apart and slowly healed when they were together. He hoped he mended Jackson, too—sutured the cuts and gashes that his hard life had left on him. His boyfriend made Evan want to be better, made him want to be everything.
Before Jackson, Evan had existed often wishing he didn’t, his heart pumping blood that ran tepid in his veins. With Jackson, Evan was flooded with fire that sparked every cell of his body to life. He couldn’t deny that much of their heat lit up the sheets, but it wasn’t about the fucking. As incredible as their sex was, and it was by far the best Evan had ever had, it was the quiet moments spent talking, kissing, or holding each other that made him feel the most alive. He hadn’t thought that love would be in the cards for him, believing that he was owed some sort of karma for showing so little to people who probably deserved much more. He wasn’t sure what he’d done right in life, but it had to be something, otherwise he had a hard time understanding his luck.
Over the past several years he’d lost everything—his family, his home, his sobriety, himself—but none of that fazed him like it should have. He knew that some of his numbness could be attributed to the drugs, but it wasn’t only that. He’d never cared about the things that were important to other people. If something didn’t give
him a thrill, he didn’t understand the point to it, so he’d stuck to painting, cocaine, and men—anything or anyone that brought him that rush. After being with Jackson, he realized that no high could beat the feeling of being in love.
Evan always thought the concept of love was overrated, but that was because he hadn’t felt it.
Until now.
Panic quickly set in when he considered that perhaps Jackson hadn’t been alluding to love when he’d asked him why he grabbed on. Maybe he’d meant something different, more psychological. Had Evan really told a man that he loved him without actually knowing if it was something Jackson felt in return? It wouldn’t matter either way. It wasn’t as though Evan would be able to stop loving Jack if he didn’t love him back. Evan was too far gone for that and expected that at some point he’d be left with his love while Jackson moved on to somebody less complicated.
Pain wasn’t new to Evan. He’d dealt with it before and he’d deal with it again if he had to. Still, the agony of not having Jackson would be crueler than all the trials of Evan’s past.
Reaching into his backpack, he put on his blue beanie, covering his head from the chill of the late September night. Though it was too early for it, the crisp air smelled like snow, making him want to pack some into his nose. He ducked into the alley so he could pour the white powder onto the back of his hand and snorted it up quickly before continuing on his way.
The night was going to be long. He couldn’t go down the line from corner to corner. In order to have less of a chance of being caught, he needed to skip around and then come back and hit the ones he’d passed. Lighting up a cigarette, he started toward the farthest point, deciding to work his way back the best he could. The territory had been Dem Demonz’s before it was taken over by the Block Boys, who had been struggling over the last couple of months to evade the cops, causing their numbers to dwindle greatly. Evidently, the KKz were making a move to take it over before the DDz could take it back.
Truly, Evan didn’t give a shit. For the most part, he did what he was told and stayed out of the politics. The gangs wanted to get pissed about everything and he didn’t have it in him to get worked up over corners as long as he was getting what he needed.
It seemed Kane thought Evan would be more invested in the Klown Killerz than he’d actually become. His brother had been making comments recently about Evan’s marked absence at night and low affect in regard to gang-related business. Instead of worrying about letting him down, Evan wondered why his brother would’ve thought that Evan would get wrapped up in the scene.
He’d never understand why his family would expect him to be different when he never demonstrated a willingness to change. They always wanted him to be somebody else, but he knew only how to be himself. He never tried to tell them how to live their lives, but they didn’t grant him the same consideration.
When he thought back to his childhood, he was unable to reflect on a time where they’d been truly supportive. To them, badgering him to get clean was showing their love, but that wasn’t the type of love he needed. He’d spent his whole life screaming into silence and still nobody heard—until Jackson.
With Evan’s siblings, it was always about how he could lessen their loads. The only time they’d looked for him was when they needed something. Growing up without parents was challenging for all of them, but they’d never treated him the way they treated each other. When Emma or Paul got themselves into trouble, the family rallied around them. It was always as if their poor decisions were a blip on an otherwise perfect record, while Evan’s were who he was.
When he was fifteen, he met a guy named Jorge, who was visiting from Texas. They’d fucked around while he was in town and after he headed back home, they’d kept in touch texting each other. It wasn’t that he gave much of a shit about Jorge, but he was gay, easy, and lived far away from Chicago. All qualities that made him significantly more attractive than he was. When he first suggested that Evan come down for a visit, he’d told him to “fuck off.” He became more interested when Jorge sweetened the deal, sending pictures of the mansion he lived in with a huge pool in the backyard and telling him that his dad was going to Mexico running for his gang that weekend. Evan was enticed by the idea of freedom and spending time in a nice house, with an actual in-ground pool. He felt like he was entitled to an adventure. He’d never left Illinois. His life was flat and boring. He didn’t tell anybody he was going before he did. It took him three days to hitchhike to Texas and once he got down there he stayed for four, fucking, smoking, and blowing copious amounts of Jorge’s dad’s cocaine.
He arrived back on the South Side eleven days later with gonorrhea and a coke habit. The first thing Emma did when he opened the door was ask him to take his little brother Sammy to the park. He argued with her, saying that Paul should take him, but she’d informed him that he was studying at Rachel’s, as he had been all week. Apparently, he had SATs coming up and doing well on them was of paramount importance to the family. Evan never asked her if she’d noticed that he was gone, because either she had and didn’t care, or hadn’t and that was probably worse. So he took Sammy to the park, and when he came back home nobody brought up his absence, leading him to wonder if he’d dreamed it up and never actually left. His burning piss and craving for coke assured him that he had.
He shook his head at the memory, stomping his cigarette on the ground once he’d reached the first corner. There was nothing to their tag, just a stupid sad face in maroon. He sprayed it quickly, hoping that if he kept a good pace he’d be able to get back to Jackson when he was still at least half awake. By the time he’d hit all of the corners, his legs were sore and his fingers were cramped.
Evan (3:15am): Hey
Evan (3:23am): U awake?
A bit of anxiety began to build in his chest, worried that he’d said too much and Jackson was freaked the fuck out. He always left his ringer on so his texts would wake him if he fell asleep, but still there was no reply.
Evan (3:30am): Ignoring me asshole?
Evan (3:35am): U fucking asked
Evan (3:38am): Don’t kno what u wanted
Evan (3:40am): 4 me to lie?
He sighed and walked briskly toward DDz territory. It wasn’t nearby and he probably should’ve been able to talk himself out of it on his trek, but his stubborn mind was leading the way. He wasn’t sure what he thought he’d accomplish by doing it, but he felt compelled to anyway. Getting out his blue paint can, he began to spray right over the DD’s logo, immediately feeling calmer than he had moments earlier. Once he’d completed his piece, he stood back to admire it. Both he and Jackson could look at it as a “Fuck you,” an “I love you,” or maybe a “Fuck you, I love you.” Regardless of how his boyfriend took it, Evan liked the work and felt pretty proud of it, and that felt like enough at the time.
Evan (3:52am): Going back 2 my place
Evan (3:53am): When U wake up go 2 corner of Grant & St. Lawrence
Evan (3:53am): I’m not there but something else is
Evan (3:55am): If it makes u mad fuck u
Evan (3:56am): If u like it fuck u anyway
He lit up one last cigarette as he made his way back to his place, thinking how odd it was that he hadn’t spent a night in his bed in months. He was in his room a lot during the day, but it felt strange to be alone at this hour. Once he closed the door behind him, he turned off his phone and rested his tired body down.
Before falling asleep he chided himself for being so forthcoming with his emotions.
He guessed it was just nice to feel them.
28
Jackson opened his eyes to see his bedroom bathed in sunlight. Letting out a quiet yawn, he turned over to cuddle with Evan, and was surprised he wasn’t there. Panicked, he scrambled for his phone and sighed when he saw he had several missed texts and calls from his boyfriend.
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead as he read them and realized Evan thought he’d been avoiding him due to what he’d admitted the
night before. He was unsure how the redhead could jump to the conclusion that his confession had freaked out Jackson considering he’d practically pulled the words from Evan’s mouth.
Still, it wasn’t lost on him that it was a big deal. He knew Evan. Jackson understood that Evan didn’t say that shit to people. They were similar that way, both reluctant to let themselves go for fear that if they did they’d never be able to drag themselves back. Jack had spent six years with Tamara and he hadn’t been able to utter the phrase, even if just to appease her.
Jackson (8:45am): Fuck 4got to turn ringer on
Jackson (8:45am): Fell asleep
Jackson (8:46am): wasn’t avoiding u
Jackson (8:47am): wanted to hear that
He looked back through all the messages, able to focus on the last few once his brain settled from the realization that he slept through his boyfriend’s attempts to reach him. When Jack reread them, dread immediately pushed down on his chest at the thought of what the impulsive, most likely fucked-up-off-his-ass Klown had done to a Demonz corner.
Jackson (8:49am): what the fuck did u do?
Not stalling another moment, he rolled out of bed, put on his jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, pissed, brushed his teeth, and threw a Sox hat over his bedhead. Growing up, he’d liked the Cubbies, but DDz didn’t root for any motherfuckers that wore blue. Jackson made sure to fasten his thin gold chain around his neck, knowing that if he saw his boyfriend it would drive him crazy, because for some inexplicable reason, it always did.
Shit, he wanted to see Evan. Jackson never thought he’d turn into such a goddamn needy bitch for someone, but Evan had changed everything. Jack chided himself for worrying more about missing out on a morning with his boyfriend than he was about whatever the hell Evan had done.
