It takes them the better part of the evening and two large pizzas to research hacking into cell phones from afar, Google not being as helpful as it should be. There are fragments of information about some sort of microchip that would do the work for them, but ordering one without raising red flags all around seems tricky based on the hushed forum mentions. Which is annoying. But not having any tech-savvy friends might just be even more annoying.
Then after seemingly endless forum checks and articles, Rhys finally comes across something that could work for them. It’s tricky and expensive, but money never meant anything to either of them. So buying the tiny device isn’t the problem. No, the problem lies with the fact that they will need to get ahold of Mark’s phone which never seems to be in his hand when they are around. Asking for it would be suspicious too, especially when they have to attach the thing to the camera lens of the phone.
“But why the camera?” Thommy muses, suspicious. “This sounds like a giant scam to me. And look at the price. A transparent film-like shit for fifteen grand… Are we really doing this?”
“It’s a new technology,” Rhys tries to reason, his attention still on the forum comments. “And if these people are right, then it works because the camera is the weakest point of the phone’s system. In most cases, it’s not protected by the operating system’s defenses, so if you want to send something in, it’s the most logical choice.”
“Yeah, but this thing looks like a square contact lens. How is it supposed to do anything?”
“You have a better idea?”
“Steal Mark’s phone and see what he has on it?”
“You think he doesn’t have it code protected?”
“Ugh… fucking security. I miss those old phones that didn’t have security code options.”
“You weren’t even alive when those things were still sold.”
“Yeah, but still. I saw it on the internet. They look like toys.”
“Yes, and today’s phones look like small computers and are just as smart too.”
“Why can’t we do this remotely? You’re a goddamned genius! Can’t you learn computer programing in one night?”
“I’m not some comic book hero.” Rhys rolls his eyes with a tired sigh. He checks the time on the computer, nearly groaning when he sees it’s almost midnight. “Okay, let’s leave the decision until tomorrow.”
“I knew it! You’re not sure about this either!” Thommy crows nudging Rhys’s shoulder, hard. Rhys pushes back on instinct and in a matter of seconds they are wrestling on the couch, Thommy’s large muscles working against Rhys’ agility and speed.
They are pretty evenly matched, but Rhys still finds himself pinned down when they roll off the couch and land on the plush carpet half under the coffee table. Thommy is looming over him with a wicked, smug grin flashing his white teeth. He is planning something, Rhys is sure of it, but he still can’t give up despite his arms being held over his head in a vice grip. Unfortunately, because of their weight difference wrapping his legs around Thommy’s torso accomplishes nothing as he cannot roll them over and only causes Thommy to start laughing and tighten his grip, his ribs ticklish.
“F-fuck, stop that…” he wheezes between hiccuping chuckles. “I-I-I won’t let… you… go… God…”
“Really?” Rhys shifts his hips to the side just enough to be able to move one of his knees and drive it into Thommy’s side.
Thommy grunts and sends him a glare that Rhys answers with a toothy grin. He needs this. Needs to get his mind off Mark and what they are supposed to do to help him. He keeps on grinning, challenging Thommy to do something about the small stabs of Rhys’ knee, only to get the air pushed out of his lungs when Thommy decides that flopping down on him is the best course of action to choose.
“Ba-astard,” Rhys pants but Thommy only hums, shifting his weight to press Rhys deeper into the carpet.
Something hard brushes against Rhys’s thigh. He’s ready to ignore it, knowing it’s a natural reaction to adrenalin and friction at their age, but Thommy looks up right at him, his lips stretched wide.
“Awkward boners suck, huh?” he mutters but doesn’t pull away. “I should just beat it and get it over with but so comfy.”
“Really.”
“Yeah, you’re a surprisingly comfortable pillow despite all your wiry muscles of steel.”
“Wonderful. Now I know what I should be when I grow up.”
“Nice. Can I have you forever?”
“Hell no, who wants you to rub your dick against them?”
“Aww, I have you know…” Thommy pauses, contemplating. “Now that you mention it no one seems to come to mind.”
“Thommy…”
“It’s cool, dude,” Thommy huffs, butting his forehead against Rhys’ gently. “I’m only sixteen and you always refuse to come out to popular places like coffee shops and clubs. And with the lack of cool people at school… I mean there is Ryley of course and maybe James, but yeah it’s just a lack of opportunity thing.”
“Still…”
“You’re not apologizing, are you?” Thommy pulls back with his eyes narrowed.
“No.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
They stay like that for a while, Thommy shifting around until he isn’t squishing Rhys anymore, and do nothing but listen to each other’s quiet breathing. It’s so strange, letting someone this close, letting another person see how weak he really is, but Rhys cannot say he regrets befriending Thommy. His best friend has a way about him that draws others in and wants them to trust him. Some may call him an airhead or an idiot, but they don’t know Thommy the person. They only see the hulking mass of muscles and the goofy but slightly malicious grin and write him off as the fun idiot who only knows how to get into trouble and sass adults off.
They don’t see the crazy way his brain works around numbers. Or his kindness when it comes to people he genuinely cares about. Or his loyalty to the very same people. He is a good person, someone others flock to yet somehow completely overlook. And Rhys hates that.
When the grip on his wrists finally loosens, he pulls his hands free and winds his arms around Thommy’s back. It’s intended to comfort his friend but Rhys cannot help but soak the closeness up too, admitting, if only to himself, that he misses human touch. Misses something he’s only ever known fleetingly.
That night, they curl up together on Rhys’ bed, Thommy’s larger frame covering Rhys back. Rhys wishes he could sleep, slip into oblivion as easily as Thommy seemingly can no matter where he is or how bad the shit they are in. But he can’t, so he simply lies still and listening to Thommy’s quiet, even breaths puffing against the back of his neck. His mind is racing, going in maddening circles, and coming up with every worst-case scenario possible.
What if they are too late?
What if Mark doesn’t care anymore?
What if he’s too deep in already?
What if there is no way back?
Thommy’s arm tightens around his stomach, then a sigh tickles the fine hairs on his neck, telling him that Thommy is either waking up or not sleeping at all.
“You stayed back to talk with Armand,” Rhys says quietly.
“Yeah,” Thommy replies just as softly. “He deserved a thank you for not bringing up that shit about yesterday.”
“Hmm…”
“I know you don’t trust him, but he’s a cool guy. Not like any of the assholes at Edison.”
“It’s been two days.”
“And in those two days, he did more for us than all those stuck up dicks in four years.”
Rhys takes a deep breath, glaring into the darkness of his room. “I’m aware of that,” he grits out. “But he’s hiding something.”
“What could he hide? That he’s a serial killer? Or a hitman? Have you seen the guy? Even at the precinct he looked like a harder wind would blow him away,” Thommy argues with a snort.
“No.” Not even his imagination runs that wild. “But appearances can be deceiving.”
“Yeah. He has guts. But he’s a good guy.”
“Why are you defending him so much, so fast?”
“Because he defended me too.”
“That’s—”
“Look, Rhys, I get it. And I know we already had this conversation yesterday too, but my opinion hasn’t changed. Dim-A gave me a chance, so as reluctant as I am, I’m gonna return the favor.”
“So what? You’re going to suck up to him like those limp dick seniors?”
“No. I’m just going to show him the same respect he shows me. And, don’t think you can fool anyone. Despite the cheeky shit you keep pulling, you’re doing the same.”
“I have no idea—”
“Please. You’ve been watching the guy like a hawk. You’re curious.”
Rhys purses his lips, hating that he’s been caught. Maybe he should have expected it, after all Thommy is his best friend, but it still doesn’t ease the sting of feeling like a fool. Thommy’s smug grin doesn’t help the situation either.
“He still has to work for my respect,” he says in the end, and he is definitely not sulking.
“Sure, bro. Do your worst. But I have a feeling he’s gonna find his way under your skin too.”
“Whatever. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Thommy replies with a quiet laugh and snuggles in close, encasing Rhys’ smaller frame into the cocoon of his muscles.
The next morning doesn’t bring sudden clearance. They are not closer to figuring out what kind of mess Mark has gotten himself into and they still have no one to ask for help. Not even their friends. And if it wasn’t enough the news is all talking about some sort of possible terrorist attack in Manhattan, not far from Yarkost Tower.
The home of one of the most influential families on the East Coast.
Thommy looks at him with a crease between his brows, the mug in his hand suddenly forgotten. “Will your old man…”
“Come back?” Rhys finishes for him, sounding grim even to his ears. “Maybe.”
“Well, shit.”
“Exactly.”
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