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They spent the next few weeks together as much as they could, although
between John's classes during the day and Dave's shifts at the drug
store at night, it was hard to see one another. They'd fallen into a
sort of rhythm: John would finish class at three o'clock, stop by
Dave's house and pick him up, they'd spend an hour together, and then
John would drop him off at work. At night, he'd pick him up, and
they'd spend another hour together before he dropped Dave off at home.
It was a nice rhythm, one that John wouldn't give up for the world,
even if all his gas money was going out the window, and maybe his
family was starting to wonder where he disapppeared to twice a day.

They were inside his Jeep now, outside of an abandoned drive-in
theater, parked in front of the big, torn screen. The radio station
still played old movies, and every time they came here, John half
expected the place to come to life. He'd never been here before he met
Dave, but the boy had showed it to him a week after meeting him. He'd
told him it was his favorite spot, because he could always come here
to be alone. And alone was right. John was sure there wasn't another
person anywhere near this place.

They kissed here, more often than not. It was one of the only places
where they did, one of the only reasons it held a special place in
John's heart. They were kissing now, of course, Dave leaning back
against the door, John against him. One of Dave's hands was at the
back of John's neck, posessively, the other at the small of his back.
He rarely moved his hands when they did this, although John wanted to
know every plane and curve of Dave's body. Except every time he tried
to slip his hands under Dave's shirt, or reach for Dave's pants, the
boy would pull away without a word. Just like he was doing know, John
thought with exasperation, leaning back in his seat heavily, his
movements showing his irritation.

"Why won't you let me touch you?" he asked, looking into Dave's eye,
who was still sitting back against the door, sideways in the front
seat. "Every time I try you stop me."

"I don't know." Dave never really seemed to know much when it came to
things he didn't want to talk about, which was pretty much everything.
John shot him a look, causing the boy to avert his eyes. "I just..
don't.. want you to."

"Why not? And please don't tell me you don't know. There has to be a
reason, Dave."

"It's just.. I.. " He paused, pursing his lips several times. "It's..
I'm not.. it's.. I don't want you to see.. me."

"I don't understand."

"You can't."

"I can't what?" he asked, turning so that he was facing Dave. "I can't
understand?" He nodded. "Try me."

"John.. "

*"Don't you sometimes wonder if it's worth all this? I mean what
you're fighting for."*

"Please?" he pleaded quietly, moving close to Dave again. The boy
didn't move, just remained there, quiet, still, allowed John to trail
his hand down his chest and to the hem of his shirt, long fingers
slipping underneath the material to find warm skin. He wasn't
flinching, so John assumed he couldn't be afraid.. but he was tense,
John could feel the taught muscles underneath his smooth skin..

.. not so smooth skin.

Wordlessly, John pushed up his shirt, finding a long, deep scar. A
surgical scar. He glanced up at Dave, who was currently finding the
dashboard much more interesting. Further up, he pushed the shirt,
discovering discolored skin, purples, blues and yellows, marring the
perfect olive skin. He looked up at his friend, curious and horrified,
worried and absolutely distraught. "What is this?"

*You might as well question why we breathe. If we stop breathing,
we'll die. If we stop fighting our enemies, the world will die."*

"I told you.. " was the quiet reply. "I told you you wouldn't understand."

"Make me understand," he said, almost urgently. "Who does this to you,
Dave? Is it.. who lives with you? A family member? Your roommate?
Some.. someone else? Your boss?? Dave, I -- "

"It's my old man," the boy nearly spat, and for the first time he saw
anger in those gentle eyes. "He just.. we get into fights a lot. He's
just under a lot of stress. It's not a big deal, we just fight a lot.
I just have a big mouth."

*"Well, what of it? It'll be out of its misery."*

"Dave, you.. " John was apalled. He didn't know what to say, or to
do.. he could only keep looking at the bruised flesh, the permanently
scarred flesh. "You can't justify this.. this is.. it's.. "

"It's nothing," he told him, pulling down his shirt. "It's nothing.
I'm fine."

*"You know how you sound, Mr. Blaine? Like a man who's trying to
convince himself of something he doesn't believe in his heart."*

"Dave, you can't go back there."

"I don't need you to save me," he said, almost seemingly irritated. "I
told you, I'm fine."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"Move out!" John nearly yelled, suddenly excited. "You can move in
with me. Or we can find a place together, and -- "

"Come on, John," was the sighed reply he recieved. "I don't have that
kind of money. Besides, he'd kill me if I even tried it."

"How is that a way to live??" John asked, angry now, but not at Dave.
"You can't live like that."

"I can, and I do," he stated. He looked at John, desperate eyes
meeting his own. "Please, let's not talk about this. I don't want to.
Look, I gave you what you wanted, so let's just.. drop it. Please?"

"Okay," he replied softly. "But.. maybe tonight.. do you want to stay
at my house?"

He shrugged. "I guess so."

"Good," John said. He smiled, reassuringly, and saw Dave's eyes light
up in return.. it was how he smiled most of the time, not with his
mouth but with his eyes.. those captivating, deep eyes that held more
secrets than John would ever know. He reached out, touching Dave's
hand, who responded and pulled him forward, close to him.

He felt, as they looked into each other's eyes, like he should say
something but he didn't know what, so he remained quiet. Dave did the
same. And, as the boy grasped John's shirt and pulled him even closer,
the silence was filled with a kiss.

--------------------------------

Notes: Movie dialogue from "Casablanca"
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