Ciro stretched out on the bed, inhaling a round of stuffed oxygen. It's comfy but it feels different from my bed.

Ugh...I shouldn't have drank that much. 

He turned to his side and held the pillow close to his face. Weird... He sniffed it. It doesn't smell like my pillow, it has a muskier scent.

He leveraged his legs over the bed's edge. He noticed the sheets are different from his. These are grey....

Despite his painfully dried eyes, he studied the room. There's a small television on a depleted dresser. An ashtray and many, many empty beer cans. The walls white paint was peeling and the unvacuumed carpet was loitered with dirty clothes. This isn't my room nor Vargo's. Where the fuck am I? He panicked a bit. He panicked even more now realizing he's only in his boxers. Sitting up, he picked up his pants and shirt. Ugh... He plopped them down, a bit grossed out by the faint smell of alcohol and vomit. A pair of grey sweatpants and white tank top was haphazardly piled near the foot of the bed. He slipped them on. He tied the sweat pants all the ways they could tighten. The top was a bit loose but not too bad. 

Ciro slipped his jacket on before making his way out of the bedroom. 

He halted almost immediately.

V-Vance?

Vance froze as well. 

What? Ciro didn't know what face he made but it relayed the message to the other boy.

"You got wasted at Chester's party...uh you could barely walk straight."

"Um...Vargo was suppose...to...take me home..." Ciro darted his eyes to the ground. Oh so I'm wearing his clothes too...no wonder they're so big on me...

Vance rubbed his neck. Continuing to make coffee, ignoring the fallen glass of water.

"Ya I-I know. Vargo was gonna take you to his place. My place was closer. If a Blue Top pulled you over, the party would of been shut down - we all would get in trouble." 

"Um yeah...that makes sense..." 

"Yeah, makin' coffee. Uh I got a pack and tray by the couch, you can turn the news on...if you want."

Ciro helped himself to it. God only knew how much he needed a smoke.

"Thanks for lendin' me um the clothes...I guess I was a mess, huh?"

"I've seen worse but yeah you can keep those...they don't fit no more. Hey uh do you want cream or sugar?"

Ciro still refused to meet his eyes. 

"Sugar and cream...thanks..."

"How much?" 

Blushing a bit he answered. "Half cream....10...ugh…erm…sugar…"

Van stiffled a laugh.

"Pfft! My God!'

"I can't drink black! It hurts my stomach dude!"

"You can drink vodka but not black coffee?"

"Eh I got diagnosed with stomach issues a few years ago. Doctor don't want me drinking' either. Coffee just hurts more."

"I guess bein' 'kids' we shouldn't even be drinkin' that shit in the first place." Vance pointed to the kitchen round table. Ciro thanked him quietly as he sat at one of the chairs - ashtray in hand.

He watched as the older boy rummaged through the fridge and whisked out a pint of orange juice. He laid out the cup of coffee along with the carton. 

He joined Ciro at the table.

"I got aspirin too. Drink the juice too and you should feel better.”

Ciro sipped from the coffee mug. "Why're you helping so much?" 

Paused, he gulped his coffee slowly before answering. "If ya died on the street or arrested, it'll lead back to Chester. Covering my tracks because my uncle would find out easily."

"Uncle?" Come to think of it, he hasn't seen anyone around. 

"He works Narcotics. When things are slow, they focus on youth offenders, domestic shit, ya know? I don't want my friends gettin' into trouble."

"Isn't it hard to smoke when his whole job is getting it off the streets?" 

Vance opened the juice, took a few swigs and hands it to Ciro. His gaze avoided Ciro's lips.

"Art's a pushover sometimes, a real softie. He kind of looks the other way I think..." 

Because I remind him of her.

A sadness appeared briefly before Vance changed the subject. "What 'bout you? I bet your dad will bust your balls huh?"

Ciro drank from the carton bashfully. "Yeah, I kind of slipped helping church to go. My mom said it was okay though." 

"How do you like it? Church, I mean?"

"I love church. I get to help out with the kids, cook...but..." 

"What?"

The church wouldn't love what I am. Ciro thought as he frowned.

"N-Nothing."

Vance decided not to press and change the subject.

"I gotta admit, you got me worried you might've won!" 

"Huh?" Ciro perked up.

"Last night, the shot game." 

"Ugh yeah, I think I got enough liquor and weed in me to last a year.” 

“Once you feel better I can bike you.”

“Pfft, good joke!” 

“Ain’t jokin'."

“What if one of our Ends see us?”

“We take backroads. Your parents are probably gonna rip you a new one if you're any later. Plus I feel bad you lost.”

“Tch, whatever dude.”

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Whatever.”

Vance grinned in triumph.

Vargo was on his way to see if his friend was home yet. He was still angry about last night but he cared for Ciro. About a block from his friend's house, he noticed a boy biking with another boy on the back. It was Ciro and that Irish prick. 

What the actual fuck? Vargo hurriedly hid behind a divider fence lining a random house. He peaked around to watch. Ciro stepped off of Vance's bike. He squinted. Is that…Vans clothes he wearin’? Now more confused, his chest felt heavy. An off feeling floods over his anger. 

Ciro got off that Paddy’s bike wearing his clothes….

I mean Ci had borrowed clothes all the time from me but we're basically like brothers. Those two aren’t. Paddy’s our enemy number 1.

 He continues to watch.

Van was smiling. They're both yapping but he can’t hear any specific words. Then Ciro began…laughing. His friend smacked the other's arm jokingly. He hears Vance shout, “Ya can keep 'em!”

“Shhhh!” Ciro shushed, grinning. 

Um….  Vargo looked away. What did I just see?

Come to think of it, it was weird at Chester’s party too…

Did they become friends and Ciro just hadn’t told him? 

His fist clenched. He’s irritated. Ci and I tell each other everything…. We don’t hold anything back. 

Why would he keep their friendship secret from me? 

Vargo flipped around. 

If you want to hang out with that prick go on right ahead Ciro.

He retreated back to his house without much of a second glance back at the two other boys with an uneasiness he just couldn't shake off.

An uneasiness he couldn't let go.