photographs | chris chambers ✅

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" I didn't steal the motorcycle." Chris gives a confused expression. Dylan takes a glimpse at him before explaining. " I bought it. Fifty-Five dollars. I was ten, still naïve and shit. I had been saving that entire damn fucking year. I brought it back home, only to find cops around my house. They arrested me on the spot. Let me off with a warning but had to pay this giant fee.

" I learned a couple days later the guy I bought the bike from was part of The Cobras. Ace and him had a plan to sell me the bike they stole, say I did it and keep the money. Him and Ace split the money." Dylan's eyes become glassy. He coughs, trying to make the tears disappear. He pulls the blanket off him, placing it on the ground beside him.

" Why did you buy it?" Chris asks. The latter's mouth opens, only for a whimper to escape. Dylan's jaw moves slowly, his teeth grinding against each other before trying to talk again.

" I bought it for Ace. I-I thought that-y'know maybe if I bought him a bike he would be a little nicer to me, since he had wanted a new one. When I got home from the police station though, Ace kicked me down to the ground and stomped on my arm. He thanked me for the money." His voice cracks at the end. He turns his head away from Chris, feeling like an embarrassment to society. Chris tries to touch his shoulder, only for the latter to jerk, forcing his hand back.

" I'm a fucking idiot," Dylan whispers. His body shakes faintly, his face being hidden behind his hands. Chris pulls him close as he had done for him. Chris can feel his own tears run down from his eyes. He knows he shouldn't feel sorry for him, as Dylan hates feeling look down upon, but this hurts him too.

His body slowly stops shaking, only convulsing as he hiccups. " We gotta' get out this fucking town," Dylan murmurs, pulling his face up from Chris' chest.

" We will, together," he whispers back. Without a thought, he moves a few strands of Dylan's hair from his face. Chris bites his lips, not knowing what to do, all he can do is stare at his features. His brows are scrunched softly as his nose twitches with each sniffle like a bunny. His lips are not fully set but he still has a good pair. And the contrast between his brown eyes and blond hair is mesmerizing.

Chris licks his lips, afraid of doing something he'll regret. Dylan takes a glance at the latter's lips, feeling a magnetic pull towards them before coughing heavily, snapping out of it.

He gets out of Chris' hold, grabbing the gun he left on the ground. He also gives Chris his blanket back. " You should go to bed." It sounds like an order more than anything. Chris slowly feels his heart disappear, breaking as it falls into a bottomless pit. With a small nod, he lays on his mat, forcing himself to sleep.

Dylan stares at his form, biting his lip as tears form in his eyes once again. His breathing grows heavy before slowing down abruptly, a single tear falling down his cheek.