Devil's Backbone

Jason: Aw, you think I've gotten work done on my face? That's nice of you.

Jason: I came out of the womb this perfect and no knife or needle can change that, babe.

Luke: You're going to look like one of those women on my favorite soap opera who have had too much plastic surgery

Luke: Bold words, kid

There wasn’t a single part of this that Rhys didn’t absolutely hate. From the struggles he’d dealt with on his own to the ultimate decision he’d made to walk away from Luke and the life they could have had together. Hell, even standing here now, unable to simply reach out and pull Luke into him received a portion of that detest. But he’d made his decision, had stuck to it over the months despite learning of what had become of the other, and despite knowing that Luke may have needed him the most. “That’s not —,” fair, he wanted to say, but the word got caught in his throat. Nothing about either of their circumstances were fair, from Luke’s unfortunate family history to the diagnosis Rhys had received only a few short months ago. To claim such a thing on Luke’s words seemed childish and trivial in comparison. Instead, he wiped a hand over his face and bit back uttering any more such words.

Fingers that had been wrapped around Luke’s wrists dropped away almost instantly, as if he’d been burned, Rhys noting the greater distance that had been forced between them. It twisted at his heart even more so than he thought possible. After all, he’d been the one to create that distance. With his gaze dropping to the few feet of concrete that separated them, he tried to focus on the words that were spoken from the other, trying to understand where Luke was coming from. But over and over again, he could hear the underlying tone of the words: that this was all Rhys’ fault. The distance, the animosity, the detest of seemingly even being in each other’s presence all boiled down to Rhys not being able to handle what separated them. And he was growing tired of that. “I should go?” He repeated the words as his gaze shot up, eyes narrowing at the other, “Fuck you, Luke. If you can’t handle this, you can walk the fuck away. If you can’t stand me being around, then fucking leave.” Without a second thought, Rhys stepped forward, grabbing Luke’s shoulder to force him to face him. “You going to jail had nothing to do with me. I didn’t send those guys in there and I didn’t force you to fight them. You can blame me or hate me for leaving, because I deserve that.” His voice had risen higher than he’d wanted, his anger having gotten the better of him in those few moments of consideration. He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage, and before he’d allowed himself to take the necessary deep breaths to calm down, he felt the sharp pain that shot through his chest. A hand instantly rose as he stepped back, pressing the heel to the center, “Fuck.”

Eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment as Rhys took a deep breath, stepping further away from Luke as he tried to reign in the emotions getting the better of him. “If you don’t want to do this shit, then it’s done. We go our separate ways,” he stated more calmly than he’d been speaking before, eyes slowly opening to take in the sight of the other. “You don’t have to worry anymore about what we’re supposed to do.”

“Listen, Rhys, I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t handle it because I can’t – everything in my fucking head is a mess.” Luke almost felt guilty for telling Rhys to leave, when Luke was the one who had started the interaction in the first place. “You’re the one who likes to walk, right? Ain’t that a bitch when it’s the other way around.” He went easily when the cop grabbed him, as if not to escalate it any further. He was the one throwing punches, anyway. Rhys’ words, however, surprised him. Leaning back, Luke searched the other man’s features, like he was trying to figure out whether or not the other was being sincere. “At least we can agree on one thing.” He clenched his hand into a fist, though it lessened when he saw Rhys bend a little, hand going towards his chest. “Rhys?” He couldn’t have faked concern even if he’d tried. His hand shot out, grabbing hold of the other’s bicep before he released him. “What the fuck is wrong?”

Salem shrugged her shoulders at Luke. “Suuuure it’s broken. I’m sure that’s what the problem is.” The detective sat on the piano bench next to her buddy and put her own fingers on the keys. She’d taken classical lessons when she’d been a child and then through her teenage years. “Here, can I try?” Salem asked wanting to know if she still had what it took to play.

“The what thing?” The question rolled from her lips as a single brow perked up. Confusion hit her for a second, especially because of how spacey she was when it came to thing. But it was soon that the light bulb above her head was going off and she was able to connect the dots. “That’s the ‘if it doesn’t spark joy get rid of it’ lady, right? Yeah no, I can’t get behind that. Because some days somethings spark joy and other days other things spark joy. She’s dumb, not here for it. But anyway, the Inventing Room. It’s like this dessert shop. You go in, make whatever you want with literally like every option there is. It’s dope and great for people who love to eat sweets like me.” Which was ironic considering she had a degree in nutrition and was a fitness instructor. “So you mean you can’t speed and get caught, right?”

“You’re insane, you know that?” Luke managed a smile, looking over at her. “A dessert shop? Sounds like your kind of place. I don’t think that’s the smartest thing. Especially because that means you’ll be there every other day. Did you just say dope?” He wrinkled his nose, trying not to wheeze as he laughed, “Exactly. If I speed and get caught, back to...god knows where, this time. So we have to mildly behave. Or go somewhere no one would find us.”

Despite all the claims he made, despite all the arguments that he’d tried to win, Rhys was fully aware of how much he deserved the punch. With the knowledge that he would certainly be feeling it tomorrow, he couldn’t fault Luke for taking the swing when he’d had the chance. In the end, Rhys had still walked away, and he still had abandoned the other when he’d needed him the most. Hell, if the roles had been reversed, Rhys would have likely swung more than once. But as it were, he was still him, and Luke was still Luke, planting them firmly on the opposing sides they seemed destined to remain on.

“No,” the word came out soft, much softer than it should have from someone who had just been punched in the face. From someone who had moments ago almost lost control of his own emotions. Nothing between them, nor surrounding them had ever been easy. They’d been seemingly set on a path of destruction, and instead of trying to change that, Rhys had chosen to run. Now he was paying for that, in more ways than one. Before he’d gotten the chance to say anything more, before he could get his mind to focus on the necessary words he needed to speak, fingers were curling themselves into the front of his shirt. Dropping his gaze momentarily to Luke’s hands, he fought the urge to reach up, to encircle his own fingers around the other’s wrists. Instead, he forced his gaze back up to familiar features, “You don’t get it.” The words were low, Rhys seemingly whispering them into the short space that still managed to be between them. “I was never afraid of seeing you as a criminal. I was afraid of watching you get taken away from me.” But he’d been too young, too stupid and foolish to ever consider those words before. He’d only ever seen it from one side, always eager to remain just and true, that he’d never considered what it was like for Luke. Finally reaching his hands up to encircle digits around the other’s wrists, he attempted to ease the hands from his shirt, to draw them away from where he couldn’t risk getting hurt. He wouldn’t have cared if Luke wanted to punch him again, so long as he avoided getting hit in the chest. There was no telling how much his heart could take. “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do, or how we’re suppose to do it.”

“And it happened anyway, so what don’t you get?” Luke was unable to make his voice soft; it was just never him. He was rough around the edges, incapable of trying to soften any blows. Maybe he would’ve always ended up where he was. The inevitability of it all had always been on his mind. He’d never really been destined for greatness. Becoming a mechanic had been reasonable, and his hands were forever calloused with the scars of his life. 

He winced at the shot placed before him. He couldn’t even say he was worried about a hangover. Not everyone had hangovers on Tuesdays but he did. And apparently so did Luke. “I keep telling you I haven’t been a virgin for a long while now and you just don’t believe me.” He hesitated to place fingers around the small glass but then quickly took the shot. “Can you even afford these? If we’re celebrating, at least let me pay. I’m the one that got you into this mess.”

Luke’s smile only grew bigger as he listened to Jason. Shaking his head, he actually didn’t know how much money was in his wallet. Probably about ten dollars, if he thought about it. “Yeah, you were paying all along.” He shrugged his shoulders, clearing his throat, “You know, you’re a shitty defense lawyer – but I don’t blame you.”

Jason: For some reason, I just don't believe you.

Jason: I always look good. Including my nose. Which is very straight so excuse you. And something I need for recreational activities.

Luke: I always tell the truth, hence the jail time

Luke: It's only straight if I tilt my head to the side just a bit.

Jason: Are you jealous?

Jason: My odds are doubled with the girls involved.

Jason: If you do, be careful with my nose.

Luke: No one said I don't mind a girl every now and then

Luke: Hell, after prison, even you look good

Jason: My sex life is pretty alive thanks to Tinder.

Jason: You should make an app for meeting people in jail. Call it Cellmate.

Luke: must be a pretty sorry one

Luke: did you make a profile for your right hand so you'd have one match??

The pair of them were akin to oil and water, seemingly unable to mix no matter how hard they tried. They came from different circumstances, were raised on separate paths, had chosen opposing careers to fulfill their lives with. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, Rhys could never quite get Luke out of his goddamn head. Even now, with the man standing before him, words of past conversations flitting around his mind, bringing forth memories and feelings he had tried to bury in the past. The words being spoken were only further sending him down a path that set his heart beating faster, that brought the pounding into his ears to the point of being nearly unable to hear anything else. But the words of Luke comparing Rhys to his mother twisted at the organ, reminding him of soft words being spoken in the dark of a bedroom, uttered in secret and meant only for his own ears. He didn’t even know how to respond, jaw tight as he stared across the short space at the man he had once thought to know better than anyone else. Yet before he even had a chance to utter a word, a fist was slamming into the side of his jaw, snapping his head to the side as he stumbled. A metallic taste was quickly brought to the tip of his tongue, and Rhys could only assume that his teeth had cut into the inside of his lip. The pounding in his ears only seemed to heighten, drowning out the heated words that spewed from the other’s tongue. Reaching a hand up to press digits against the wounded lip was seemingly done on auto-pilot, Rhys’ eyes blinking as he worked to collect what had just transpired. As his hand dropped away, he slowly turned back to Luke, narrowed eyes seeking out his features.

“Is that what you fucking think?” His words were low, tongue snaking out to toy with the split at the edge of his lips. “You think any of this has been fucking easy? Walking away from you, trying to ignore the part of me that wanted to go back? I didn’t know what to do, Luke. I was confused, and I thought I was doing what was best.” He couldn’t bring himself to mention the times he’d nearly gone down to the jail, nor the times he’d reached for a piece of paper with the intention of writing down whatever apology he could muster, only to scribble it out. “I don’t want you gone, I’ve never fucking wanted that. I fucked up, alright? I know that. I put my fucking selfish needs above us. But fuck, when I —,” but the words caught in his throat, lodged in there with no hope of getting them passed his tongue. A hand reached up yet again, wiping across his mouth as he inhaled sharply. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he dropped his hand away, releasing the breath he’d just taken in. “I’m sorry, for all the fucking stupid shit I’ve done.”

The silence from Rhys was louder than any word could have been. Luke hadn’t even realized he’d gone far enough to strike out until he saw the red on the other’s lips – and he still couldn’t apologize. He remembered countless evenings, promises from when he’d been young and foolish – and now they were here. Luke had almost been certain he’d have the kind of life he wanted; free without any chains, free to love who he wanted, and go wherever it was they wanted. Instead, Bellevue had pulled him back, and Seattle had become his cage. Soon there was nothing that could be solved without the use of fists, and he’d brought that back out with him. No one would understand how fighting would give you days in solitary – and no one understood what that meant for a mind. But he’d thought about Rhys; he’d thought about how maybe someone would post his bail, or someone would look into the case, see the injustices his friend hadn’t been able to prove before, and help him. But no one came. Rhys never came.

“Wow, look at you.” Nate shook his head. Dare he admit his eyes were glassy? He had other friends. His only friend was not Luke. And yet, he was acting like his child just graduated preschool or something. He placed palms on either side of Luke’s shoulders and then his face. “Darling, I’ve missed ya.” Seeing him in the flesh just wasn’t the same as eerily sad phone calls or visits. “Tell me you made someone your bitch. Were you the bitch? God, you were, weren’t you?”

@lukecxlloway

Luke rolled his eyes with a smile, though he didn’t move away even as he felt calloused palms cup his face. It was nice to remember that there were actually people who cared for his wellbeing – it was one of the only ways he continued getting up in the morning. “What can I say? I like dick – just not yours. Too small,” he grinned, pulling the other into a hug before he released him. “What have you been doin’? What kinda shit you getting into, now?”

A scoff parted his lips, if only because Rhys had no other words to say on the matter. He couldn’t even formulate a better lie to pass off onto Luke in the hopes of portraying some life that he didn’t lead. The date had only happened because he’d been pushed into it, and the moment it had ended, Rhys was more relieved than he’d been in months. But Luke, no, he didn’t need to know that. A hand lifted, swiping across his face as the words sunk in, reiterating once again how terrible of a person he’d been. “Longest conversation,” he once again scoffed at the words, eyes rolling at the statement. “Did you want to sit down for dinner and hash out the details of your gang each night? Go over how apparently wrong I was about them?” A brow perked at the questions, but Rhys was simply being an asshole now, the edges of his lips tipped higher. The slight presence of the smirk, however, was quickly wiped from his features with a few choice words from Luke. “You’re right, I didn’t trust you. I didn’t trust that this wouldn’t have gone sideways if I brought it up to you. I couldn’t trust that it wasn’t always going to end up like this, us on different sides of the law.” Because how could he get passed that without simply handing over his badge, without giving up on the one thing that would have, could have ever truly kept him from Luke. Rot in a jail cell — the words shot right through him, twisting the organ that already threatened to ruin him. Before he knew it, Rhys was stepping forward, cutting off what distance still separated them, “Fuck you and your stupid goddamn self. I cared, more than you’ll ever know it seems. I read over that entire case file, each and every statement. But what the fuck did you expect me to do? Run down and plead with the judge?”

Stay — it was such a simple and easy concept. How he could have tried harder to look past their differences, to come to terms with the opposing ways they chose to live their lives. Instead, Rhys had taken the easier route and packed his things before he could change his mind, before he could let Luke change his mind. Even now, his mind debated on what was easier, what was safer in this situation. And walking away seemed like it. But he stayed, planted firmly in front of Luke as his gaze shifted back and forth over the other’s features, “And what would you have done if I was around? Let me do my job?” His voice was lower now, calmer as he put the question out there. Because in truth, Rhys truly wanted to know if him being there would have changed the outcome of what Luke had done.

Jason: Not a virgin.

Jason: I don't feel gay enough to use Grindr. I feel safe on Tinder, generally speaking.

Luke: That's what all virgins say

Jason: ... If you see me on Tinder, swipe left.

Luke: Jesus, I really was right about you being a virgin

“I told you the drinks were on me, so don’t stop now.” Pushing another shot towards Jason, Luke rose an eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you’re worried about a hangover. Everyone has hangovers on Tuesdays. Plus, we’re celebrating. Are you still a virgin or did you manage to rectify that within the year?”