My breath hissed out from between parted dried lips with every step. The cool morning did little for me as my sweat trickled down my forehead, threatening to sting my eyes. The shockwave of the pavement traveled through my body with each footfall, muscles absorbing the impact as I propelled myself further, faster.

I could feel my muscles burning, heart beating erratically, as I pushed myself the last hundred meters.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Dalton as he kept pace beside me easily, his face showing no strain.

I came to a skidding stop as I hit my driveway, bending over immediately as I fought to catch my breath. Muscles trembled with exertion, my throat dry.

"You're getting slower," Dalton observed as he came to a stop beside me, grinning.

"I-" I began before I bent over once more, practically hyperventilating. The ten mile run had left me ragged as I pushed myself harder than I should - still chasing the level of endurance I had been before being left bedridden months before.

"I'm aging for both of us now," I finally managed to say, my grin mirroring his own.

"ED sneak up on you, eh?"

"My dick still works, thank you very much!" I growled out. "Just ask your mom."

"Ah," Dalton was quick to reply. "So that's why she seems so disappointed lately."

I couldn't help but laugh, enjoying the familiar banter even as I caught my breath. The lightheadedness slowly passed, limbs no longer trembling.

"I miss you, buddy." I confessed, the pang heavy in my chest as I righted myself.

"I know, Gray." Dalton answered, his features softening. "I miss you too."

"You know," I began, offering myself a shake of the head even as I smiled. "I know you aren't real. That you're just a ghost of my own fractured psyche, or whatever...

"But I can't help but be glad that you are haunting me."

Dalton said nothing in response to my confession, simply nodding once before glancing away.

Idly I wondered if I was doing nothing more than fanning the flames of my own depression, stoking the mental illness that was no doubt festering within me. I knew that Dalton was dead, that me seeing him, hearing him, was something that couldn't be good.

Thoughts of schizophrenia welled to the surface, or something even more sinister.

I turned away from such thoughts - having dwelled on them for far too long already. Both now, and in the past. No answers ever came, my only reward being that of frustration and a headache.

Wandering over to the garage door, Dalton following close behind, I quickly punched in the code before it started to ascend with a loud grinding.

Grabbing the ninety pound kettlebell, I wandered back outside.

"Sure you don't want to start with the ten?" Dalton asked, a smirk curving the corner of his lips.

"Eat a dick," I muttered, setting the kettlebell between my legs.

Gripping the handle with both hands, I dropped my hips into a squat before exhaling quickly. Pushing myself upwards, I swung the weight until I held it straight out in front of me.

My shoulders screamed in protest before I lowered my arms as I squatted, repeating the action ten times.

Blood rushed into my muscles, burning fiercely as I caught my breath once more.

"Only Navy boys get rest," Dalton chastised, pointing to the ground in front of me in urgence - fingers snapping.

Nodding, I moved into a set of leg cranks. Twenty-four squats followed by twenty-four lunges, twenty-four jump squats, and twenty-four jumping lunges.

My legs began to burn as I moved back to the kettlebell, alternating between the two exercises three more times before I could barely stand - legs quaking.

Falling forward, I caught myself on my hands just as my face was about to collide with the asphalt. Pushing myself until my arms straightened, I kicked both legs inwards until they met my chest and I launched myself upwards in a burpee.

"One...Two...Three..." Dalton counted off each repetition.

My sweat dripped down my face in steady rivulets, wetting the ground beneath me each time I lowered myself in a push up - my hissing breath casting off spittle in every direction.

"...One-Fifty."

Angina spread out across my chest in a fiery path, my throat dry and lips cracking. It was a struggle just to keep upright, my muscles in full revolt from the cardiovascular punishment I unleashed upon myself.

"Fucking hell," I mumbled softly, struggling to catch my breath.

"Nothing like setting fire to your insides for fun, eh?"

I could only nod in response to Dalton's question, the taste of bile thick in my mouth as I tapered down the urge to throw up. My hands trembled where they sat pressed against my hips, an exertion headache beginning to bloom behind my eyes.

"Remember when we could do this shit at seventeen in street clothes and on three hours of sleep?"

His words brought a smile to my face as I finally managed to right myself.

"Maybe there is a thing to those child soldiers, eh?" I laughed, the noise hoarse.

---

"Do you have any plans for today?"

I glanced across the kitchen towards where my mom stood, a coffee in her hand as she regarded me.

Sipping my water, the ice cold liquid like a balm as it traveled down my throat, I set my glass down before answering. "Just going to get a few chores done around here."

"Oh?"

Nodding, "Yeah. Just some minor things. I noticed the deck steps are squeaking, and some nails sticking through the fence need to be plied out."

"You don't need to do that, Gray..." My mother answered softly, very matronly.

Offering her a shrug, "I really don't mind. It's the least I could do."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I have been eating you out of house and home," I grinned unrepentantly.

"Don't remind me," She sighed softly, though her smirk gave her away. "And I thought you ate a lot when you were a teenager."

"I'm a growing boy,"

"You better not be growing!" She chastised, voice conveying mock firmness. "On a completely unrelated note... When are you planning to move out again?"

With a hand across my chest, I feigned hurt. "That one really stings."

"Yeah, yeah," She replied, dismissing my words with a wave of her hand. "I'm sure you'll live. When do you take ownership of the townhouse?"

I glanced towards where a calendar lay pinned to the side of the cupboards. "Next Wednesday" I answered. "The fifteenth."

"What are you going to do for furniture? Are you going to take the bed from your room?"

With a shake of my head, "Nah. Hayden offered to help me pick out some stuff from Leon's and maybe Ashley's if she is up for the drive."

My mother's smile was knowing as she regarded me. "You two are getting close, aren't you?"

I felt as if I were being interrogated - her eyes shining with far too much intellect. Her gaze alone made me feel as if she already knew the answer, yet was baiting me to see if I had the decency to be honest. To her, or myself, I did not know.

"Yes," I finally answered.

Her smile grew, filling her face until her eyes were mere slits.

I couldn't comprehend how my single word evoked such happiness within her, but I was happy nonetheless to see it.

Clasping her hands together, "I can't wait to be a grandma."

The water came pouring out my nose painfully as I began choking in response to my mother's words. I pounded on my chest with my fist, coughing as I fought to clear my lungs.

"You okay?" My mom asked with no small measure of concern in her voice - as if she weren't the one responsible for my affliction.

"We are just friends," I finally managed to sputter, offering her a glare.

I did not trust her for one second when she answered, "Sure."

She still had that knowing smile upon her face.

"I mean it," I said, slightly forcefully. "We are just friends."

With a shrug, she answered "All I said was sure. I'm not arguing."

I wanted to argue further, especially with the daring expression upon her face yet resigned myself to simply sighing as I stood up. My mom moved off to the side as I went about cleaning my dishes, appearing to revel in annoying me with her smile alone.

"I'm going to start on the chores," I offered, heading towards where the basement lay.

"If Hayden is down there I want the door left open!" My mother called out, her voice teasing.

I didn't even give her the dignity of a response, instead grumbling to myself as I descended the wooden steps two at a time in my haste.

The sound of the steps creaking behind me had me glancing over my shoulder, noting Dalton as he followed me down close at my heels.

With the cordless drill in one hand, and my dad's old tool box in the other, Dalton followed me out into the backyard with the lantern clutched in his one hand.

With a cool breeze stirring my hair and clothes, I began screwing the tops of each step into where they connected with the stringer that ran along the side. With each screw I added, I'd set the drill down before bouncing gently on the steps. A squeak rose to greet me each time, frustrating me before I would repeat the process.

Fifteen screws later, I had done nothing more than punish the wooden deck - stairs still squeaking. Leaning back, I studied them with a tilt of my chin.

I was tempted to concede defeat - to move on to the nails that still needed to be plied from the perimeter fence.

"It's the backboards that are squeaking. You need to screw them into each step."

I turned back towards Dalton, "You sure?"

He didn't answer, instead asking "Do bears shit in the woods?"

"You know I'm not as familiar with gay porn as you are," I answered in all seriousness, lips threatening to curve into a smirk even as I did.

"Not those kind of bears, you fuck."

My bark of laughter filled the backyard, enjoying the look of annoyance he offered me.

Acquiescing to his better judgment, I grabbed a handful of screws along with the drill and crawled under the deck. With a wave of my hand I stirred the cobwebs that filled the narrow passage, sending a large juicy spider skittering away.

I could almost imagine it telling me to go fuck myself as it darted away.

"Put the screws into there," Dalton motioned with an outstretched hand, holding the lantern up for me.

Nodding, I did as he said.

Tiny wood shavings pelted me as I went about securing each baseboard, shoulders burning slightly from the awkward position.

I regretted having worked out before - muscles beginning to tremble within seconds.

Several minutes later I crawled back out, testing the stairs. The absence of any squeaks had me smiling, feeling rewarded for my efforts.

"Thanks," I said, turning towards Dalton. My gaze swept across the backyard to find him gone, the only response my words garnering were that of the breeze amidst the trees.