Archie frowned, plonking down beside Joda and ruffling his dark, curly hair. “Hey, you’ll be fine. Just chill out with your aunts.”

Joda took a shuddering little breath. “Ok, yeah. I will.” He wrapped his arms around Archie’s waist, squishing him closer. He let out a startled little choking noise.

“Phanks,” came a muffled, watery reply from somewhere in Archie’s coat.

He sighed, patting Joda on the shoulder. “Anytime, numbskull. Anytime.”

The was an indigent snort. Archie laughed. It was really hot, and he was tired, but he didn’t let go of Joda. Just for a little, Archie thought. He won't fall asleep.

But they did, on the couch, surrounded by fans, creaking and shuddering and pushing air. Outside, a car honked. They didn’t hear it.

Joda woke up first, bleary and fearful, with a mouthful of Archies sweater. He peeled himself off and sat up, his heart thumping. His brain was fuzzy and terrified. His mouth tasted like ozone, adrenaline, and wool. Why had he been afraid? A dream, he thought he remembered, but it was already gone. Weird. Hands shaking, but trembling less and less by the second, he dusted himself off, looking over to where Archie was snoring softly, curled up in a ball and drooling on the headrest. He smiled and then shivered. The sun was much lower than whenever they had drifted off, and the room was starting to cool. Poking Archie, he got up and began to switch off the fans, only struggling with a couple of the oldest ones. Cursing, he gave up and turned them off from the wall. He shoved Archie, who fell gracefully to the floor with a loud thump.

“Huh? Wazzup?”

Joda grinned. “Get up loser.”

Archie rolled over, stretching. “Hnnngh. Why?”

“Uhhh.” Joda thought for a second. He kicked Archie. “Cause we’re gonna go play basketball.”

“Is that the best you can come up with?”

“Hell yeah.” Joda let his bottom lip tremble, staring down at the boy lying on the floor. “You’re supposed to be comforting me, remember.” He flung an arm across his face, pouting. “I’ll be so upset if we can’t go.”

Archie groaned, using the couch to pull himself to his feet, long lanky legs trembling. “Fine, but I’m only watching.”

Joda fist pumped, letting out a triumphant hoot. “Come on then, let's get going then, Chop chop.”

“You’re the worst. I hate you. Passionately.”

Joda charged out of the room, dragging a still sleep ruffled Archie behind him. He sped back in, grabbing a basketball left there from some previous visit. He clapped Archie on the back as he popped back out.

“Ooff. Five outta ten. Generic but effective.”

He sped past the candle holders, the clawed table, the oil painting. Down the stairs, clinging to the golden railing. The dark, polished oak panels gleamed, and Joda paid them no mind. By the time they reached the front door, Archie was gasping for breath. He bent over, wheezing. “Just-huf-just chill for a sec, ok?”

Joda bounced on the balls of his feet, piles of tousled curls flopping in all directions. Before him, suburbia lay sprawled, lazing about in the last afternoon rays of light. The horizon was a creeping, faded orange, and everything seemed quiet.

“You good yet?

Archie looked over to where Joda just in front of him, head cocked in question. The light had softened his features, his usually sharp angular face a canvas of olive undertones and smooth warm light. Archie always did have an artist's eye. He grinned. “Yeap.” And then as an afterthought. “As long as I don't have to actually play.”

Joda beamed, bouncing back to reach up and swing an arm around his shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

“Yes, we shall.” Giggling, Archie pointed down at their feet. “You have to stand on tiptoes to reach.”

The shorter boy squawked, turning to slap Archie, but he just laughed, swinging his own arm around Joda’s shoulders. The two tottered down the driveway, arguing and giggling, one tall and pale, and the other dark haired and olive skinned. And sunburnt. And short. By the end of the driveway, Joda was in hysterics. Snorting, he poked Archie in the side, who yelped. “Hey! What was that for?”

Joda stared up at him, smirking wickedly. “You’re it.”

“I’m what?”

Joda shoved him and made a run for it in.

“Get back here!”

He just laughed, tank top flapping behind him, lithe legs pumping. Past the trees, the hedges, the white picket fences. Quick flashes of dark green and white. He whooped, and the sound carried down the hill before him, echoing over the soft fading houses. He was young and fast and stupid, and it was great.

And then there was a shove from behind.

“Tag!” Archie crowded, catching the back of his shirt before Joda could taste pavement. They were both wheezing and gasping and laughing, and the sun was setting behind them. Joda stumbled and righted himself, trembling with mirth and exertion, clutching the basketball to his chest.

“Ok, ok you got me.” He grinned. “Let's go actually play some basketball before the sun sets.”

“Agreed. No more running.” Archie shook his head, ruffling Joda’s hair again. He jogged to the front, leaving the other boy grumbling indignantly, trying to smooth his curls back into place with one hand. “Come on, we’re nearly there, thanks to your little game.”

“Aww, come off it. You love my games.”

“Not likely.”

“Likely.”

“You’re impossible.”

Joda grinned, bouncing the ball as he hurried to catch up. “Impossibly awesome.” Archie snorted, half heartedly batting at the ball, but Joda simply scoffed and switched hands. “Your game is weak.”

“I know, I know. That's why I don't play.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Whatever.”

They had already reached the fence that surrounded the basketball courts and Archie hopped right over, stumbling a little as he hit the concrete on the other side. Joda grumbled and went around to the gate. He shoved an accusing finger in Archie’s direction. “Not a word, wise guy.”

Archie held his hands skyward in mock surrender, innocent eyes on full beam. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Damn right you don’t.” Joda took his leave, jogging over to the hoop. He positioned himself right on the edge of the faded white pointer line. His hands ran over the ball, feeling the familiar grooves and bumps. He breathed in. And out. Then bent his knee, surging up, wiry muscles tensing. He let the ball go with a graceful little flick, smirking as he heard the satisfying thwop of it dropping through the net.

Joda cheered, the sound echoing out over the otherwise abandoned courts. He chased after the ball, scooping it up before it could bounce away.

“Nice one.” Archie clapped, beaming, from the middle of the courts. “You didn’t even warm up.”

Joda grinned back. “That was my warm up.”

The next few minutes were a blur. Joda shot hoop after hoop, his world reduced to a flash of orange, the dull grey of the courts. The swish of the net. Thwop, thwop, thwop. The shock of his trainers reuniting with the concrete, when he’d just felt like he was flying. In the corner of his vision, Joda saw Archie sit, legs crossed, drawing in the dirt with a stick.

Eventually, he stopped, clutching the ball like a lifeline, whole body trembling. He blinked, feeling a little dazed. Archie snorted, waving his stick.

“You get really into it when we come here, chill out.”

Joda frowned, glancing over at Archie. “Low blow, man.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Come on, Joda, I wasn’t being serious.” Archie kept chattering, hand movements growing increasingly frantic as he rushed to correct whatever mistake he’d made. Joda just grimaced, spinning the ball thoughtfully. “I’m sorry.” Archie finished, sucking in a deep breath.

Joda shook his head. “It's fine.”

Archie’s shoulders slumped, swiping a hand through the dust in front of him.

“As long as you play with me.”

Archie’s head shot back up, watching Joda with wide eyes. “Ummm. I don’t really-uh. You know I don’t like basketball.” He ran a hand through his chestnut hair. “I- we’ve talked about this.”

Joda just held out the ball. “Shoot a few hoops and I forget all about that little comment.”

Archie blanched. “I-I wasn’t being serious”

“You’ve said that already.”

Joda watched Archie spluttering, pale hands clenching and unclenching frantically. What little light left had started to fade, the trees around the courts rustling, and full of shadows. He stumbled forward, suddenly dizzy. The trees span.

“Joda? You ok?” Archie was looking down at him, now standing, eyebrows creased in worry. Joda blinked, his brain full of static.

“Joda?” A voice cut through the white noise. He whipped around, shoving Archie away. The static began growing to a screeching crescendo.

“Fuck off, Archie. I’m fine.” He rubbed his forehead. He could barely hear himself. “You playing or what?”

Archie looked shocked. The white noise began to fade, tapering off as quickly as it came. Joda’s ears felt strange and empty, even though the ringing had only lasted a few seconds. He could sense the discomfort rolling off the other boy in waves. Fear, fear of embarrassment? Concern. Concern for him? Archie had always been easy to read, Joda thought, but this was a whole new level.

Archie himself was still standing exactly where Joda had pushed him, silent and gaping. Joda glared.

“Archie, are you even listening?”

The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he took an aborted step backward, eyes wide. There were a few seconds of silence. Suddenly, Joda felt a stab of anger, and he gasped. It wasn’t his.

Archie clenched his jaw, emotions seemingly processed. “You’ve never spoken to me like that.” He hissed quietly. “Ever.” He took a step forward, towering over Joda. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” His eyes cleared for a second. “Is there something you’re not telling me? Cause you know you can tell me anything, right?”

There were another few seconds of silence. Joda thought he heard the faint clanking of the fence, but it was drowned out by the buzzing rage slowly building in his mind, a much more familiar static. “Nothing’s gotten into me.” He jutted his chin out, meeting Archie’s eyes with a steely glare. “You’re just too much of a coward to play basketball. It’s not that big of a deal, just hold the ball, maybe bounce it a couple of times.”

Archie was very still. “W-What?”

Joda leaned forward. “You heard me.” Why was he so angry? He wasn’t quite sure, but it didn’t matter. “You’re a coward.”

Archie just looked at him. A few seconds passed, and then slowly, a blank look stole across his face. “Fine.” He spat, backing up. “I don’t have to deal with this. I’m going home.”

Joda scowled. “What? Where am I gonna go?”

Archie whirled back to face him, face twisted in fury. “I couldn’t care less.” He yelled, jumping the fence, stiff, angry strides carrying him into the dark of evening.

Joda sank to the ground, sitting in the middle of the court. He smeared his hands about in the dust, thick and grey and fine stuff that stuck to his fingers. He felt empty, somehow. Blank. And guilty. The guilt came in waves, crashing against Joda’s temple, screaming and tearing at his mind. He sat on the court as darkness reached out from the trees, the shadows, covering him softly. He sat on the court for a long time.

A car honked in the distance. He didn’t hear it.