BEGINNINGS

There were certain things about Clifford's life that Ricky was jealous of. He didn't want to be; he hated the feeling, just like he hated being beholden to anyone. But there it was all the same, and no matter what he did Ricky couldn't shake the feeling.

At first it was just a vague longing that started every time he walked into the hotel and didn't stop until well after he found himself back home in his own neighborhood. Anyone would have been jealous of Clifford's life; that was what he told himself every time it happened, but sometimes he wondered if it was true or if he was just trying to make himself feel better. None of Clifford's other friends seemed to think there was anything special about the way he lived, but as far as he knew Ricky was the only one that got to hang out with Clifford at home.

It never occurred to him that Clifford might be curious about the way he lived; there was no reason for him to be, not when he had everything he could ever need right at his fingertips. All he had to do was call room service and they'd get him anything, and if the hotel wouldn't get it Clifford's grandmother would get it for him. He wasn't really jealous of the stuff, though – no, it was more the fact that Clifford was surrounded by people who wanted to look out for him.

He tried not to be jealous of Clifford's other friends and the way his grandmother doted on him; he couldn't really blame people for wanting to be around Clifford, after all. He knew that if he said any of this to Clifford the other boy would tell him he was being stupid, that Clifford's friends were Ricky's friends too. But Ricky knew better; he knew that if it wasn't for Clifford he'd still be the most feared guy at school, and the rest of the kids would still give him a wide berth whenever they saw him coming. The rumors had died down a little since he and Clifford started hanging out together, but he still got weird looks from some of the kids he didn't know. Even his teachers treated him like he was dangerous, and that was never going to change whether Clifford wanted to see it or not.

If Clifford couldn't see the way things were for him at school, there was no way he'd be able to understand Ricky's family. His parents just weren't like the Peaches and they never would be. It wasn't anybody's fault; that was what the shrink at the hospital said whenever he managed to get Ricky to talk about his folks, but secretly Ricky knew the truth. It was his fault, for killing his brother and leaving a hole in their family that would never be filled. Before his brother died things hadn't been perfect, but at least his mother hadn't worn that haunted look all the time. And his father…he had a feeling his father was never going to be the same again, and that was his fault too.

Not that his father had ever had much use for them, but there was a time when he'd done more than sit in front of the TV and drink beer. He used to spend a lot more time with his friends hanging out at the bar in the neighborhood, but sometimes when he was sober he'd take Ricky and his brother down to the garage and let them help him work on his old car. It was a piece of junk, rusted out in spots and most of the time it didn't run, but he'd learned pretty much everything he knew about rebuilding engines from working on his father's car. That was the only reason he was still allowed free reign in the garage, because he was Linderman's kid and that meant he knew what he was doing.

Bringing Clifford to the garage with him wasn't the same as having his father there to show him how to use the tools, or his brother there to get in the way. It wasn't the same, but in a way it was just as good. At first he worried that Clifford was going to hate it, that he'd be bored and want to go back to the hotel where everything was a lot more exciting. He didn't act like he hated it, though; in fact he usually seemed like he was having a pretty good time, even if they were just hanging around in the junk yard looking for spare parts.

Rebuilding motorcycles was the one thing he was good at; it was the one thing he had to offer, so he'd been as relieved as he was nervous when Clifford said he wanted to help Ricky with the new bike. He wasn't sure how good of an idea it was to spend so much time together even now that they'd agreed to forget about the kiss, but it was kind of nice having somebody around again.

So it was natural for him to seek out Clifford after classes were over on Monday; they were friends, after all, and Clifford would want to come to the garage with him to work on the bike. It was their project now, and that meant they either worked on it together or they didn't work on it at all. He had a feeling Clifford wouldn't hold it against him if he decided to work on the bike by himself, but the truth was he didn't want to. He liked the fact that they were doing it together; it was something he understood, something he was good at and something they could share that didn't make him feel like he was in over his head.

He stopped when he reached the other boy's locker, leaning against the metal doors and reaching idly into his pocket for his cigarettes while he waited. He wasn't used to waiting around for Clifford to show up; usually Clifford was the one to find him, and he'd always told himself it didn't matter to him one way or the other if the other boy came looking for him after school. So it shouldn’t have bothered him when he caught sight of flame red hair just a second before he saw Clifford come around the corner, and it shouldn't have bothered him that the two boys were laughing at some private joke and hadn't noticed Ricky standing there.

He watched the two of them approach Clifford's locker, their conversation floating toward him in fragments as they got closer to him. It was hard to tell what they were talking about, but he was almost sure he heard his name as they made their way down the hall. His heart skipped a beat when he realized they were talking about him, but he told himself it was no big deal. They were all friends – at least he and Carson were both friends with Clifford – so he was bound to come up in conversation once in awhile.

Finally Clifford looked up and saw him standing there, and for a second Ricky was struck by the urge to run. He pushed himself off the lockers and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, but that was as far as he got before Clifford reached him, standing in front of him to block his only means of escape. "Hi."

"Hi," Ricky echoed, casting a furtive glance at Carson before he turned his attention back to Clifford.

"We were gonna go get a soda. You're coming, right?"

It wasn't really a question; he could tell Clifford expected him to say yes without a second thought, to nod and fall into line because that was what he always did when it came to Clifford. He wasn't sure how he'd fallen into the habit of following blindly wherever Clifford led, but suddenly he was positive it was only going to get him into trouble. "I don't know, Cliff. There's still a lot of work to do on the bike."

"Come on, just for a little while," Clifford said, turning on the grin that Ricky had a feeling won him a lot of arguments. "It'll be fun. Besides, there's plenty of time to work on the bike."

"I thought you fixed that thing already," Carson said, reminding Ricky that he was still standing next to Clifford.

"Building a new one." Ricky turned away from the other boys, only half-listening to Clifford's explanation about their new project as he led the way toward the front door. He didn't like being the third wheel, but that was exactly how it felt as he walked ahead of the two smaller boys. Everything about him stood out from Clifford and his other friends; he was older than them, bigger, and he lived in a part of the city most of them were scared to go into. Only Clifford was brave – or stupid – enough to venture into Ricky's neighborhood alone, and that was just because he didn't know any better. Sooner or later he was going to figure out that Ricky was different from the rest of them, and then he'd realize Ricky had been right when he said Clifford was wasting his time trying to be Ricky's friend.

He didn't even fit in at the place where the rest of the kids in their class hung out; as soon as they walked into the restaurant everyone looked up at him, a hush falling over the crowd for a second. It wasn't until Clifford stepped out from behind him and made his way over to the counter that the noise started again, and from the hushed almost-whispers Ricky could tell the conversation had shifted from the upcoming school dance to what he was doing there.

It wasn't until Clifford appeared in front of him again that Ricky realized he was still standing in the doorway, and he barely noticed when the smaller boy thrust a soda into his hand. His fingers wrapped around it automatically, and he let Clifford and Carson lead him to a table in the back of the restaurant. He'd hung out with Clifford's friends enough that he should be comfortable with it by now, but he still didn't feel that comfortable around the other kids from their school. Most of them were used to the fact that he and Clifford sort of went together; Carson in particular seemed to have decided that if Clifford thought Ricky was okay then there was no reason to believe all the rumors about him.

The fact that most of them had grown up with him didn't do anything to stop the rumors from spreading in the first place, though. Maybe it was because he'd always kept to himself, going straight home from school to take care of his brother so his mother could go to work. It probably wasn't much of a stretch for the other kids to believe that the big, gangly kid that never talked to anybody was some kind of psychopath, and when he disappeared for his entire sophomore year it hadn't taken much for everyone to believe he was spending it in Juvie.

If they knew the truth it wouldn't be any better; in fact the truth would probably just make things worse, so he'd let them believe what they wanted. Until Clifford came along everything was fine, but now that he'd let the other boy worm his way into his life things were more complicated than Ricky had ever planned on. The worst part was knowing that eventually Clifford would figure out he wasn’t normal, and then Ricky would find himself all alone again. That thought scared him enough to jump at the chance to be Clifford's friend again, but he was starting to wonder if the damage was already done.

~

Clifford watched Ricky's fingers drum against the table for awhile before he stole a quick glance at the other boy's face. Sure enough, he was staring resolutely at the door the same way he'd been doing for the past half hour, and Clifford knew he was thinking about bolting. He wasn't sure why Ricky was so anxious to get out of there; it wasn't like he'd never hung out with the other kids before. Granted, he never said much when they hung out in the park with their other friends, but since they got to the restaurant he hadn't said a word.

He had a feeling that bringing Ricky here had been a mistake, but he wasn't sure how much more time he could spend alone with the other boy without doing something they'd both regret. When he promised to forget about the kiss he'd meant it, but the follow-through was a lot harder than he'd expected. It was all he thought about when they were together, and when they were apart all he could think about was the next time he'd see Ricky again. He kept telling himself it was going to get better, but every day he found himself more and more obsessed.

When they were working on the bike he told himself to focus on what Ricky was doing instead of Ricky himself, but that just let to Clifford fixating on Ricky's hands. As soon as he started thinking about Ricky's hands he remembered what they felt like on him, and his mind immediately went off in a direction he was trying at all costs to avoid. So he tried focusing on Ricky's eyes, but after awhile he started to wonder if that penetrating stare could actually see right into him. Ricky's chest was no good either, and thinking about his mouth just led to all kinds of images he couldn't think about without blushing. He was getting to the point where he could barely even look at the other boy, and he was pretty sure he couldn't spend the rest of his life staring at Ricky's feet.

He needed a break from the unrelenting longing that came over him whenever they were alone together, especially if he was going to get over it and go back to thinking of Ricky as just a friend. Only he'd never really thought of Ricky as just anything, and he was starting to think he never would. It would be impossible when Ricky was so much different than anybody else he knew. That was one of the things he liked most about Ricky, though; he liked the intensity of the time they spent alone together, and he liked the fact that Ricky would tell him things he'd never say to anybody else. But sometimes it got to be a little too intense, and after a whole day of waiting to see Ricky again Clifford wasn't sure he could stand to be alone with him.

Then there was the question that hadn't left him alone since he'd first thought of it – what exactly was Ricky planning to do with all the money he was making off selling the motorcycle? Clifford wasn't sure how much Ed had promised him for building another bike, but Ricky seemed like he was in an awfully big hurry to finish and move on to the next one. Clifford had wracked his brain all night trying to think of another reason Ricky would be in such a hurry, but so far he'd come up empty. That meant he wanted the money for something specific, and Clifford had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what it was.

Not that a little stalling at the soda shop was going to keep Ricky in town if he was determined to leave, but it was all Clifford had thought of so far. He knew if he brought it up to Ricky again the other boy would just deny it, which meant it was up to Clifford to give him a reason to stay. Only he couldn't think of anything he hadn't already offered Ricky, at least not anything that Ricky would want. He already knew what the other boy didn't want from him, but thinking about that was just going to get him into even more trouble.

He caught a glimpse of Ricky fidgeting with the pocket where he kept his cigarettes, and he knew that any second now the other boy would use a nicotine fit as an excuse to make his escape. He didn't even realize he'd made a decision until he was already pushing his chair back, but when he saw Ricky stand up at practically the same moment he knew he'd made the right choice.

"We better go," he said, turning his attention to Carson long enough to make up an excuse. "Ricky's right, there's a lot left to do on the bike."

"Yeah, okay," Carson answered, his gaze drifting toward Ricky for a second before he looked back at Clifford again. It was barely even a glance, but something about the other boy's expression made Clifford wonder what exactly Carson was thinking. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you." Clifford flashed what he hoped was a casual grin and turned toward Ricky, his heart skipping a beat when he realized the other boy was already halfway to the door. He forgot all about the rest of the people in the restaurant as he hurried to catch up with Ricky, following him out of the restaurant and down the sidewalk. By the time Ricky stopped to light his cigarette they were well away from the restaurant, and Clifford was a little out of breath from trying to keep up with the taller boy.

"What's the hurry?" he asked when he finally caught his breath.

Ricky didn't answer right away; instead he just shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette, glancing back in the direction of the restaurant as he exhaled. "I told you, got a lot of work to do on the bike."

"You didn't tell me we had to finish it today," Clifford said, falling into step beside Ricky as they made their way toward the subway station.

"We don’t. Look, if you wanna go back there…"

"I don't," Clifford interrupted, wincing at the unexpected force behind his words. "I mean I said I'd help, and I'm going to help. If you still want me to."

"Don't be stupid."

"Alright then," Clifford said, trying and failing to stifle a grin when Ricky glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. It didn't really matter if Ricky wouldn't come right out and say he wanted Clifford around; he could tell it was true, and that was all that counted. "So when are we supposed to have it done by?"

"The sooner the better," Ricky answered. He took one last drag off his cigarette before he tossed it away and followed Clifford down the steps into the subway. "The sooner we finish the sooner…"

"…we can start on the next one. I know, I know," Clifford finished for him, rolling his eyes as Ricky dropped a token into the turnstile. When they reached the platform he crossed his arms over his chest and turned to face Ricky. "You still haven't said what you're planning to do with all that money."

Ricky shrugged and looked away, a gesture Clifford was sure couldn't be a good sign. "It's not that much money. Figure a couple hundred for the bike, that's a hundred each."

"Each? It's not my money," Clifford said, frowning at the back of Ricky's head as he tried to figure out what the other boy was talking about. He'd never even thought about the fact that Ricky might want to split the money with him; sure, they said they were working on it together, but Ricky was the one doing all the work.

"It's our bike, that makes it our money." Ricky turned to face him again, raising his voice so Clifford could hear him over the sound of the approaching subway. "You helped find all the parts, right? That's something."

Clifford opened his mouth to argue, but before he could get the words out the train doors were opening and Ricky was ushering him into the car. He let himself be led to a seat near the back of the car, sitting down next to Ricky and stealing a glance at the other boy's profile. Ricky's jaw was clenched and Clifford could tell he was still almost as tense as he'd been back in the restaurant, so he decided not to argue about the money after all. He had a feeling it wouldn't go over all that well if he told Ricky he didn't need it, and anyway the less money Ricky made off selling his bike, the longer it would take him to save up enough to leave town.

"You must have something you want to do with the money," he finally said, studying Ricky's expression carefully to make sure he hadn't stepped over another line he wasn't supposed to cross.

Ricky didn't look over at him, but he shrugged again and the movement relaxed a little of the tension out of him. "I don't know. Could rebuild a car, I guess."

"How long would that take?"

"Dunno. Spent a couple years on my dad's car before he sold it," Ricky answered. He shifted far enough to glance down at Clifford, a cute frown furrowing his forehead. "Why?"

"No reason," Clifford answered, biting back the grin that was threatening to form. It wasn't exactly a guarantee, but it was as close to one as he was going to get. And maybe Ricky would let him help with the car too; if spending that much time alone together didn't kill him, he couldn't think of anything he'd rather spend the next couple of years doing.

TBC