Work Text:
"I'm- I'm not a damsel in distress…"
Ryder's gruff voice echoed through the cab like a final warning. Through the rearview mirror, Jethro looked at his best friend, his worst enemy, and his eternal rival from afar. His black, curly hair was greasy and thrown over his forehead in a dubious mess, and his devilish green eyes, which he had envied before, were filled with red lines betraying his serious words, and showing his state of advanced intoxication. Half empty —or half full, depending on the point of view— the vodka bottle rested carelessly in one of his battered hands. He cradled it against him with a tenderness he never showed anyone, not even his wife, Mabel, a good, intelligent woman, whom Jethro had to take care of himself, as if she was his wife.
Ryder smiled a nauseating smile that nevertheless did not change the amazing beauty of his face. Jethro always found it very unfair that such an ugly soul could live in such a beautiful body. When they were kids, Jethro envied Ryder's physique that allowed him to get everything he wanted, from girls to blinding and completely illegitimate success in whatever he undertook. Today, years later, Jethro felt nothing more than a deep discomfort at the idea that the evil that lived in Ryder never struck the blinding shine of his deceptive smile. Women will always ignore the danger they see in him— at least, until it's too late to back out...
"Talk to me," Ryder said and his smile never left his full lips. Jethro returned his eyes to the road and sighed. Their relationship has always been based on a deep and mutual grudge: Jethro looked after Ryder, helped him, kept his head above water, even if he couldn't admit that he wouldn't have succeeded without Jethro. Ryder wasn't a monster, they both grew up together, they were even friends at some point, it was a sad truth that left Jethro with a bitter taste in his mouth. Ryder was just the rotten fruit of his poisonous upbringing.
"Don't be so foolish," Jethro said quietly after a long minute and concentrated on the route the GPS indicated to him. "You may not be a damsel in distress but you're definitely in desperate need of help..."
His wife, Mabel, was the one who made Jethro aware of everything. A few days earlier she had collapsed in his arms and her eyes were filled with silent tears. Her face was filled with such deep fear and distress that it gnawed at his heart like acid. While he held her close to his heart Jethro told her that our weaknesses are sometimes the price to pay to keep a shred of humanity in this world of darkness and hell. A beautiful and insincere speech that brought him back to the worst mistake of his life, the only time he preferred to run away from a fight for fear of losing it. That's why he was here, in an overheated car, next to a friend he no longer knew, a brother he no longer loved, a soul that could no longer be saved. The only hope Jethro had was that maybe Ryder could save himself.
"This is a waste of time," Ryder muttered, resting his head on his hand. If he really thought that, he was an idiot. And Ryder was a lot of things in his life, but he was never stupid. He knew very well that Jethro had never forgotten his betrayal. He used to be wild and smart, he was indifferent and vindictive. Always on the lookout for the slightest weakness, the tiniest drop of blood. In a time that no longer existed except in their distant memories, Jethro called him 'my friend'. They grew up in the worst quarter of New York, where their only concern was if they'll eat the next day, will they have a place to rest their head on? And together these questions didn't bother them so much, they had each other, Jethro pulled Ryder out of trouble and Ryder used his charm to take care of them, and it worked for a while. Until he found Mabel and life moved on, they had to separate ways. Jethro found a job and tried to survive alone and Ryder… Well, Ryder always survived alone, but he had Mabel who later on became his wife. But apparently marrying someone and running from his past wasn't enough, Jethro knew that Ryder's nature was raging, and now it led to here, to them, together, running away like frightened rabbits.
The female GPS's voice instructed Jethro to turn left in five feet, at the next intersection. In three minutes, she noted, they'll be at their destination. To Jethro it was like going back in time, except now instead of going on a road trip, he was running from the law because a woman he barely knew told him to do so, or to be exact, because his heart still beats for a man that no longer loved him. All those years of fighting alone weren't enough to erase his feelings, Ryder's influence was too strong. Ryder worshiped life as much as death. And in their childhood, he taught Jethro to be a real man. One of those who knew how to cry and kill, love and hate, and also make peace after winning a war. Erasing him wasn't that simple.
With a distracted hand Jethro caressed the rough scar that twisted around his left elbow. Follow your instincts. Listen to the voice in your head. It is the one who guides you on the right path. He could hear Ryder's voice in each of his scars, every time he had to defend himself against the cruel world, each time Ryder forced him into a fight just to have fun. And Jethro hated him for it, he hated and loved him for it. Ryder's taught him to survive but not alone, surviving without him was something else entirely. He hated the fact that Mabel got the chance to have him, but Jethro knew he needed to feel sorry for her. She hadn't had the power to save Ryder, only to destroy him.
"A waste of time? I'm saving your ass."
Ryder burst out laughing. His reaction surprised Jethro so much that he almost swerved off the road. "You aren't saving shit, I can take care of my own ass," Ryder contradicted him.
He was right so Jethro attacked with another brutal truth, "Did you ever wonder what was happening to your wife? You made her miserable, doing your shit, getting in trouble and now I'm running from the law with your drunken ass, you can't tell me you don't need help."
Ryder's scarred hands tightened around the bottle he held in front of him as a shield. Alcohol doesn't protect you from anything, idiot. But this was the world Ryder chose to lose himself in, and he got so far away from Jethro that he couldn't reach him. And to be honest, he didn't want it anymore...
"Maybe I should go to jail and be done with it." Fifteen years ago, Jethro would have fought, he would have laughed at him and told him to shut up but time changes. He wasn't ready to lose him but maybe it was the right decision; Ryder never proved himself worthy of saving. Hell, if he could punch him Jethro would. But he told himself that he was doing it for Mabel, although she was the irrefutable proof that the man he had chosen for himself from the first moments of his life was in reality only... an enemy. A Rival and traitor. A man who didn't deserve anything from him.
In their early good days, they said that their rule number one was to never cheat on your friends, the second was to have each other's back... And the third rule was to never take a woman against her will... Jethro was a devout Catholic, devoted to God above all else, but he was raised on the streets by men who saw the Bible as a book of hucksters, a story for harlots. Life went on, and he was conscious of his virtue but blind to his sins. And Ryder broke every rule, one by one. And dragged him to the bottom.
Jethro turned left and as he continued and took the last turn, he then saw himself, a kid barely eighteen years old, traveling on the same road next to such a beautiful boy. Jethro loved him more than anything in the world. Looking back, he wasn't ashamed to admit that he loved him, his beautiful body and his mesmerizing smile. We all fall into this trap, one way or another. Experience comes with mistakes. And Ryder Marx was his worst mistake. He no longer recognized the guy he loved then. And the worst part was that he still loved him the way he was.
Jethro's gaze was fixed on the motel, he stared at the abandoned entrance, mable gave him the address till she could make sure Ryder fled the country. Jethro's role was to make sure Ryder didn't do anything stupid till she found a solution. God knows it wasn't a simple task.
"A motel?" Ryder growled, noticing the sign in turn. "I'd prefer jail over this garbage." The last time they were on the road with that tone, it almost killed Jethro. The owner knew Mabel but didn't like Ryder to say the least, nobody with common sense could stand him. She protected him because Mable asked her to, even if she had every reason in the world to kill him. And God knew if that wasn't enough, Jethro had some great reasons himself to give her… Ryder was just a boy, lighting the fire and watching the world burn, always taking the opportunity to light a cigarette with a big smile on his beautiful face.
"Oh, believe me, jail is much worse," Jethro mumbled quietly. Ryder has danced with death since early childhood. He listened to its whispers, he moved to its music, he adored his promises, and most of all, he prayed to it. He was burning bridges he built with his charm and Jethro would be surprised if someone in jail wouldn't make sure to make him pay for it.
"I can handle myself. I'm not a b- baby," Ryder said drunkenly and he was right. He was a man, addicted to sex and drugs. Ryder never tried to change, soften, or cage his nature. On the contrary, he let it grow and destroyed everything Jethro tried to build.
Jethro stopped the engine of his Jeep and turned his head to his best friend, and signed; he hated lecturing people. "You may not be a baby but you're acting like one."
Ryder rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Don't be so boring, time is different buddy, we aren't as smart as we used to be, I won't try anything dumb."
"We thought we were smart." It was different. He and Ryder thought they were tough guys, protected by their words and big mouths. He found the opportunity to take, and Ryder charmed everyone to give anything they wanted. They did well, they earned enough to live without the fear of losing everything overnight. Until the day Ryder found Mable and he fell in love. And everything went to hell, because of Ryder. Because of his betrayal. But above all, because of him... Jethro has always been his own worst enemy.
"You were smarter than me, so I left," Ryder suddenly admitted, and filled his throat with vodka.
His alcoholic breath tingled Jethro's nostrils. "You look exactly like the nonsense coming out of your mouth..." The green eyes that stared under his mane of brown curls were indifferent and cruel. There was death in that look. "Now get out of the car," Jethro finally said and turned away, opening his door and leaving the car. From behind he heard Ryder cursing under his breath as he opened the door and put his hand on the roof of the car to balance himself. Jethro signed and walked to the entrance not bothering to send another glance at him.
Behind the counter stood a woman Jethro didn't recognize and he let out a breath, it was better than a confrontation that he didn't want. "Hey, a room, for two please," he said with a small smile as he heard Ryder's footsteps behind him.
"Hey doll," Ryder said behind him in his hoarse, drunken voice. Jethro rolled his eyes and turned around, he caught his elbow and pulled Ryder next to him.
"Don't mind him," he said and the look of the young brunette softened as she turned around and grabbed a key. Jethro paid in cash and quickly turned to the stairs, still holding Ryder's elbow.
"Have a nice stay."
her words followed them and Jethro couldn't help but roll his eyes again, "Don't fuck her."
Ryder tried to catch his rate and only chuckled. They finally got to their room and Jethro let go of his elbow, but his legs gave out and Ryder fell to the floor with a loud noise. Jethro didn't bother to pity him, "I'm going to get us some food, you stay here."
"It's not like I have anywhere else to go…" he heard Ryder mumble and his shoulders relaxed as he left the room, without forgetting to lock the room.
"Stop chewing like that."
After hours searching for food in the middle of nowhere, Jethro found an open pizzeria, and now, sitting in front of Ryder in the motel, he started to regret it all, maybe he should have just eaten alone, let Ryder starve, but he knew his annoying ass would probably complain about it till his ears bleed. So he just sat there and ate quietly but Ryder for some reason decided to get on his nerves even more and chew like a two-year-old.
Ryder's reaction was slower than usual, his pupils were wide and he blinked slowly, it created a deeply concerned ache in his stomach. "Then stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you hate me," Ryder mumbled and his piercing green eyes finally lay down on him.
"But I do."
"No, you don't."
"I do," He argued and put down his slice; Ryder always had this talent for making him lose his appetite. It probably came with the talent to get on his nerves and stay there until he lost his shit.
"Don't be so sure," he teased and smiled at him, "You're here with me after all."
Jethro sighed and got up from the floor, he shook off the few crumbs that had fallen on his jeans and turned towards the double bed, "I'm going to sleep, tomorrow we'll talk to Mabel." He took off his shoes and lay down on the bed. His heart betrayed him and raced at an annoying speed; ten years ago sleeping with Ryder in the same bed was fine, they had to do it. But now everything was different, too different.
Jethro was starting to face the other side on the edge of the bed when Ryder got up from the floor and stopped in front of the bed. Ryder was the fucking devil, Jethro thought as Ryder slowly but firmly undid each of the buttons of his shirt, revealing a muscular and smooth upper body, as if carved from marble. And soon the shirt crashed to the floor and Ryder's scared hands lingered on his pants, Jethro stopped him, "you can keep your pants, loco."
Ryder stretched his full lips and winked at him, "you should see yourself." Ryder stared at him for a moment before he let go of his pants and lay on the bed next to him. He wasn't touching him but Jethro could feel his body heat and hear his slow breathing. He felt like a child; a horny teenager who couldn't control his emotions. A little glimpse of Ryder's abs and tattoos and he was starting to consider offering himself like a bitch. He was better than that.
"I'm sorry." Jethor was caught by surprise; it wasn't the words that surprised him, Ryder had a lot of things to be sorry for and occasionally he did apologize but the tone of it was different, he usually joked around, made fun of feelings because humor was the only way he could avoid his feelings and getting hurt. But the way he said the words, like they were sincere, like he meant it, and it made Jethor mad.
"You can't just say sorry, Ryder," he said and turned his body to face him, "You can't say things without meaning it. You just can't," he said and locked his jaw.
"What if I meant it?" Ryder said and turned his head toward him, his pupils were still wide but Jethor could still see a thin green ring.
He sighed and closed his eyes tiredly, "Then I won't believe you." He could feel his green eyes on him but he avoided them; with one glance Ryder could tell what he really felt. He didn't want him to know that he was lying. So he looked at the ceiling. Ryder didn't answer him and Jethor's eyes filled with tears, he was used to this cold shoulder he always got from him, he was used to this emotionless bastard, but a tiny part of his soul, of his whole being, inside of him, still wished for one thing... this almost shameful thing that he couldn't resist. He had to admit it– the only thing he ever wanted was to be with Ryder. It was the only thing he ever asked for, the only thing he longed for. In his life he never complained or asked God for anything he was missing but just that: Ryder. It was the only thing he couldn't resist, his weakness, his madness, the thing that gave him meaning in life. He couldn't believe his dependence on Ryder but it was the simple truth since they were children.
It was a curse Jethor had to carry for the rest of his life, it gnawed at him like poison; wanting something so badly. It was a curse craving for what the other has, a curse with no cure. It didn't matter that Ryder's few words hurt him again and again, nor his dumb actions that pained him, like he didn't matter. Nothing changed his feelings for Ryder, he even doubted if anything will keep him away.
A cold hand covered his and Jethor closed his eyes. A thumb stuck his palm and he focused on it, ignoring every warning bell in his mind. He knew he was being pathetic, taking comfort where he shouldn't, but he didn't care. It was the only thing he could hold onto. Jethor's fingers held Ryder's hand by force, as if it were his only way to break free. An absolute paradox, because it was what caged him from the beginning.
"I'm sorry." he heard him say again and the coldness of Ryder's hand became colder somehow and a certain wetness joined the sensation. That wetness spread from his hand to his whole body like worms were tingling his skin, and very quickly he felt it in his mouth and nose as well, preventing him from breathing regularly. Jethor's lungs fought to provide themselves with oxygen and only when Jethor reached out and separated his hand from Ryder's he could breathe again. Jethor got thrown back into reality and found himself in his bathtub.
The water got lukewarm enough for Jethor to start shivering so he curled up in the middle of his half-full bath, staring at the empty shampoo bottle lying on the edge. He pulled his knees to his chest, and his arms hugged his knees. His red skin told his story like a comic book inked with his blood. It's been months and his mind kept preventing him from forgetting every moment, every pain, every tear. Closing his eyes only made his nightmares grow. The monsters of the past attacked his retina in the shadow of his eyelids, and embedded themselves deep in his pained mind.
His mind always told him to remember, he didn't understand that now Jethor wanted to forget. So, his muscles retreated over the days, his skin withered, his hair became dull. But the memories didn't move away, his mind didn't let go.
But the truth was that his memories were the only thing that served him in the past - and even today - as an anchor. The memories warmed him up on the coldest nights, they lit up his moments in the darkness, those were the memories that made him get up when all he wanted was to just stay down and never get back up. But lately, the memories of the last four months have been driving him insane.
His nights and days were full of a smile stretched on full lips, worthy of the most twisted and erotic nightmares and he fed himself with them because it was his only anchor. Ryder was no longer there. No one was there anymore.