Victor beamed. His eyes went wide and James felt the energy around him shift. He reached towards him and grabbed his wrist. He was afraid that the idiot was going to bolt and run into God knows what.

“We’re walking.” James clarified. “Ok? No running into cars, no running into the woods, get it?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Victor nodded, eagerly, quickly. 

“And close your jacket, you’re going to catch a cold.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Victor said and made no attempt at buttoning his trench coat. James sighed and did it himself. Victor didn’t protest. It was getting colder by the hour and James didn’t want to spend all night walking on empty roads, near woods, near druggies, near anything that might put them in danger. It was the first time in his life when he had that thought. He had spent nights outside, at parties, drunk on beer, and good vibes. But it was just him. He didn’t have to take care of anyone else besides himself. And Victor was a magnet for tragedy.

“Come on.” He held onto Victor’s wrist and started walking.

“Do you have your phone?” James asked, suddenly remembering how out of touch Arlington could be.

“Probably.” He shrugged and moved closer.

“Are you sure you have your wallet? Did you lose anything?”

“I don’t know,” Victor answered, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “I don’t care.”

“Ok,” James told himself to stay calm, collected, and rational. There was no need to punch him in the throat. With all his personality flaws and shit decision-making skills, Victor never did anything to warrant violence.

“Ok.” Victor repeated and pressed his arm against James’. James couldn’t wrap his head around Victor’s attitude towards touching. It was probably the drug messing him up even more. It was also the alcohol in his system.

“How are you feeling?” James asked, watching the steam that came out of his mouth disappear into nothingness. Victor didn’t seem to feel the cold.

“Great! Like I could run! Like I could stop a car with my hands. I feel like I could fuck anyone.”

“Please... please, stop fucking when you’re high.” James pinched the bridge of his nose. “You mentally unstable brat.”

“I’m not a mentally unstable brat,” Victor said. The closeness between them was driving James 100 miles per hour into complete madness. He could smell his hair, he could smell his cologne, he could smell the booze. Victor pulled his arm out of James’ grasp and wrapped it around his waist.

“Why do you hate me so much?” Victor asked, his voice was clear, crisp like the approaching winter.

“I don’t hate you,” James said and it was true. He didn’t hate Victor, he just couldn’t stand him most of the time, yet he craved his presence like a starved man.

Victor snorted a laugh and turned his head towards him. James looked out of instinct and their eyes met.

“You kind of do," he said. He didn’t sound disappointed, or hurt, or upset by it. He stated it like a fact. James had an issue with it the way it sounded, as if it was expected for him to hate Victor.

“I don’t hate you," he said again and rested his hand between Victor’s shoulder blades. “Stop saying that.”

Victor turned his attention towards a house to his left and stopped in his tracks. James tried figuring out what was going to happen and how he could stop it. Then Victor bolted.

“Jesus fuck, Arlington!” Victor grabbed a bike and started pedaling down the road. He was wobbly. James feared he was going to fall and break his teeth. Even more, he was terrified he’ll give himself an asthma attack.

“Victor!”

Victor’s laugh carried, deep and smooth, and happy. He sounded absolutely ecstatic. James ran after him; the frigid air was making his throat hurt.

He stretched his arm out, trying to seize him by the coat, but Victor wasn’t riding straight.

James managed to clutch a fistful of jacket and pulled him back. Victor yelped before his body slammed into James’. The bike fell a few feet away.

“Fucking. Hell.” James was fuming, but Victor was bubbling with laughter.

It was impossible to stay mad when the only thing that he had been wanting for the past weeks was to hear Victor laugh. He calmed down.

“You’re insane. You have to take that bike back.”

“No, I don’t,” Victor said, resting his head on James’ shoulder. “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want. And you can’t make me.”

James sighed. He desperately wanted to call a cab and go to bed. He wanted to talk to Oliver.

“Come on," he said, for the thousand time that evening, and Victor smiled. They walked, and Victor sometimes sprinted, but he didn’t try anything weird again.

James felt a tightness in his chest. Victor had never been this happy while sober.

“Hey, Arlington.”

“What?” Victor was gawking at the sky. It was cloudy and it looked like it was about to rain again.

“Let’s call a cab, ok?”

“I don’t want to. You go ahead,” he said.

“I can’t leave you alone.” James groaned, frustrated. “Victor, I’ll knock you out, I swear to God.”

Victor frowned. “It’s always violence with you, always throwing punches, acting tough, being mean. I’m so tired of it. It’s exhausting. Go be mean to someone else.”

“I’m not being mean.” James was losing his patience.

“Oh, but you are. I can also say that you have your fair share of violent tendencies.” Victor was walking again. The houses were left behind now, as they approached the forest.

They would have to walk at least an hour before the next town. James didn’t want that. He didn’t need that in his life now. The tall trees, the darkness, the lack of any human sound freaked him out.

“My feet hurt, let’s call a cab, please.”

“No.” Victor sounded adamant. He was willing to crawl his way back to the campus than do what James wanted. “No! I don’t want to go back, can’t you just let me be?”

“To what? Kill yourself in the middle of an empty road?”

“To be happy,” Victor said. “I just want to be happy, can’t you just let me be happy for a fucking night?! Just for a little?

The mood shift slapped him across the face.