exiled ˚*

dante evers ; like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me

[danteevers]

call ~ sav

S: i just ...

[ a sigh, a hand running through blonde curls ]

S: i feel like you guys shelter me from things, or you don't tell me what's going on anymore. i'm not a kid, i can handle it.

S: it's okay to lose your mind every once in awhile.

D: yeah, sav?

[ patient, the crinkle of pillows as he sits up in bed. a sigh ]

D: i think you're probably right. i'm... i am always thinking about looking out for you.

D: it's just some of the... stuff that went down when we were gone it's... hard to talk about? with anyone. it's not you.

[ he grimaces, a hand down the length of his jaw ]

D: is there something, i dunno, specific you're getting at? a question you have or something? i don't mean to leave you in the dark, make you feel left out.

[danteevers]

m i l e s:

flushed skin takes miles back. way back to one of the first moments he remembers between himself and his high school boyfriend. brilliantly warm and bright cheeks as they each did their best to hide just how emphatic they were about the time they were spending together. cafeteria lunches turned to morning greetings shared at dante’s locker to hours-long ‘study’ sessions at the hollis home to this one moment, just before miles kissed the love of his life for the very first time. hand on his cheek, flushed faces, hesitation, and nothing but a deep desire to be close to the other boy. miles still remembers that dante’s eyes had never been such a distinct ice blue – until now. until this very illuminating moment when dante reveals that there’s green within him for anyone other than himself touching the contractor. how does he bare that only one person sends goosebumps up his arms and down his neck with every deliberate touch? skin covered in them now, his breath leaves his lungs, endlessly affected by the man before him. in all of the same ways as eight short years ago. “all yours,” he lets out in what’s left of the breath inside of him. hands dropped, touch severed, and all that the brunette wants to do is climb over the bar and be enveloped in the safest home he’s ever known. the flip of their first kiss from high school this time – dante’s hand on his cheek, a brief moment, and then dante walks away. and with a whisper, fingers touching lips, miles signs his side of the contract. “got it.”

END THREAD.

[danteevers]

CALL 📱 D.

MERRITT: i was gonna laugh either way. ( smile evident in his words )

MERRITT: oh! ( surprised ) yeah... yeah, that would be cool with me. but we could totally both fit in my hammock. ( a chuckle ) can you... bring fast food? i'm kind of tired of eating hot dogs and trail mix.

DANTE: okay, ( smile too ) great. i'll be there pretty soon. just gonna run home to /get my sleeping bag./

DANTE: sorry, what was that? you want hotdogs and trail mix? ( teasingly ) i got you, bud, no problem.

[danteevers]

CALL 📱 D.

( unavoidable grin - never head dante like this before )

MERRITT: ah, shit, you're fucking smitten, nerd. ( a chuckle, wistful gaze and a beat ) oh, i /know/ and i'm glad, even if he's not my favorite person... you deserve whatever makes you happy. and if that's miles. ( a grunt ) i'll deal.

( beaming, dante puts the phone down, speaker )

DANTE: i said don't laugh!!!!!

( a breath, shy )

DANTE: thanks. for /dealing./

( pause, warm with an idea )

DANTE: hey, man. do you want some company? i'm finishing up here. i could bring a sleeping bag to the woods. i'm not sleeping in your stupid hammock with you.

[danteevers]

CALL 📱 D.

MERRITT: means. ( slightly strained ) she means a lot to me.

MERRITT: we're talking about you. ( soft laughter ) so miles makes you happy... tell me more.

DANTE: means.

( resumes work as he smiles, brightly )

DANTE: i can't stop– don't laugh– i can't stop /thinking/ about him. all day. all the time. it's like... it's like i'm fifteen again. he's just the best person. his smile and his... ah! i don't even know, but... you know?

[danteevers]

CALL 📱 D.

MERRITT: i was. i shouldn't have let that get to me the way it did.

( tiptoes, then settled flat )

MERRITT: happy? ( brief pause ) i'm glad you're happy, d. i really am. you deserve that more than anyone.

DANTE: ( a tsk with his tongue ) she meant a lot to you, bro. you don’t ever have to feel... embarrassed about that. or whatever.

DANTE: thank you.

( quiet. he stops working. throat a bit tight. )

DANTE: i want that for you, too. to be happy.

[danteevers]

m i l e s:

the new information from dante doesn’t quite trigger in miles’s brain until he’s already walking away. it’s not news to him that most bartenders are required to take some sort of course, but the pride emanating from the boy he loves so dearly? it overtakes him, warming him with a satisfaction that he hasn’t felt in ages. school had never been dante’s strength, always finding himself at the edge of an instructor’s sword with his humorous antics and distractibility. ( not that miles was ever much help in these situations ) the drink is almost forgotten when the unwelcomed suitor draws near, but miles distracts himself from the sickeningly sweet words with the perfectly tart gimlet. that pride from before? it surges back, cheeks tinged a light pink at the thought of how many more drinks were to come. gimlets, old fashioneds, sours, martinis… he’d drink anything if sitting at this bar means watching him feel this way, do the thing that makes him happy. the flirtatious male is easy to ignore – not a single piece of miles has seen a soul in his heart eyes since dante happened to be on that boston-bound train. in fact, the alluring words being used nauseate him in such a way that he doesn’t quite know how to get out of the situation. he’s pulled from his thoughts by the dark eyed male, hand slipping onto tattooed skin for just a moment before dante’s presence draws both of their attention. heart drops to stomach, his initial instinct to worry that the bartender might find it in him to take this into his own hands. literally. but miles won’t step into this. not when the discomfort of another person flirting with him mixes with the realization that dante is, in fact, jealous? or so it seems. he steels his jaw, attempting to hold back smiles as he watches the scene play out, the man slinking off in defeat. it would never get old watching the honey-haired boy win. suddenly, he’s much more intoxicated by the man behind the bar than the gin cocktail before him. dizzy and buzzed, miles leans forward against the wooden bar, hovering off of the stool as a hand reaches out to dante. “sir,” he chuckles, waving his hand a little to get his attention. “i know you are… very busy, but could you answer a question for me,” wide grin. “just one - was that… were you just jealous?”

dante works through his previous actions, unable to remember another time when he’s enacted such jealous behavior. in high school, with miles, everyone simply knew they were each other’s; it was as known as a blue day sky, and it would’ve been a mistake to even attempt to get between the tufted haired genius and his soft hearted, fisted boyfriend. with charlie, the same fire did not ignite when another person laid eyes on the young athlete. but, in the getaway, as the two men rebuild something storied and everlasting somehow, a new side of dante reveals itself. he evades the cheeky prodding, knowing that he would have done the same thing again – no one is going to take this, take miles, away. dante abandons his superficial work to seize miles’ waving hand with both sets of his fingers. his elbows propped on the bar, he massages at miles’ palm, fidgety. eyes focus on the activity rather than miles’ knowing and blissfully accusatory hues. “maybe,” he mumbles, glancing up to discover the widened and electrifying grin. dante’s blush deepens, and he throws his head back with an eye roll. “yes, okay? of course i was,” he surrenders, thumbing into miles’ hand a moment again before he sets him free, his own hands flat against the bar top, towel still flipped over his shoulder. he looks at miles. “you’re mine,” he declares, before he lowers his volume again. “only i get to touch those arms.” he fails at concealing his giddy grin, and, when a customer a few stools down requests a vodka cranberry, dante nods to her. he almost travels to begin making the request, but he stops himself, steadying in front of his high school boyfriend, eyes serious, smile ever present, but softer now. “got it?” he poses possessively, running a thumb over miles’ cheek briefly before he departs to do his job. 

[danteevers]

CALL 📱 D.

MERRITT: ah, i was weak back then. things change.

( a sharp breath )

MERRITT: d... don't be like that. ( a beat ) talk to me about it, i'll be a good brother, promise.

DANTE: you weren't weak. don't say that.

( pause, uncertain )

DANTE: it's just that i'm really... happy, mer... [don't take that from me.]

[danteevers]

call ~ sav

S: i should have ... i shouldn't have yelled so i'm sorry about that.

S: but what happened, dante?

D: i get why you did.

D: um...

( a pause, he paces a bit )

D: it's just a lot to see... him, charlie again. kinda lost my... mind for a bit there.

D: but it won't happen again.

[danteevers]

o w e n:

owen forgives and forgets easily, at least when it comes to his friends. he doesn’t know how to hold grudges that don’t come from his childhood memories, the lack of a man that was supposed to be always there for him. ever since he started boxing, he lets go more easily, lets his fists against the heavy punching bag tell him that anger can be let out in a healthy way. he hears the knocks on the door as he’s sleeping his t-shirt on after a shower, so he opened the door after a few seconds, hair still wet. “dante?” he frowns at the sight of his friend and roommate, not entirely sure of what to make of his expression. “you okay, dude? everything okay?”

owen swings open the door, and dante works to meet the eyes under dampened, dark hair. “yeah!” dante tidies quickly. “yes.” he kicks a foot at nothing in particular, shoving hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “i just... i just wanted to apologize. for how i acted in... the fight. i know you were trying to help me, and i was a dick.” he pours through his apology, knowing full well the intimate relationship both he and owen have with anger; perhaps it’s their birthright. nevertheless, with dianna’s dissuasions coursing through him, he seek recourse and a change in pace. he frees a subtle smile from his stony expression. “i appreciate you having my back.” 

[danteevers]

call ~ sav

[ a moment as she balances her phone between her ear and shoulder ]

SAV: hey. i'm glad to see mer hasn't shamed you out of the art of a phone call.

D: never.

D: hey, i just wanted to check in with you.

D: and... apologize. i know i upset you. at the... bonfire. with the... you know. i'm sorry.

[danteevers]

m i l e s:

when you’re young, so much of the world is new and wild and bright. just like the love dante and miles first shared. nothing quite overcomes that feeling of fresh experience, but it almost always ends. fizzles out, is forgotten in lieu of the next new thing, overtaken by another. in cases like this - for oldest hollis and evers - things fall apart because a small voice convinces you it’s the right thing. and yet, the same fresh, all consuming newness of fifteen year old love burns bright. even still. with all that could collapse them, with all that threatened them in between then and now… their paths converge once again. and it feels just like it used to. scarred and battered, their souls heal as they walk side by side. and that makes the in between worth it. no matter how hard it was. “you’re kidding,” miles winks at his bartender. ( yes, his. ) “i had no clue you could like, make drinks. wild,” he gently calls after him as he walks away to begin making the most ridiculous request of a drink. there’s been a set of dark hues boring holes into him ever since he arrived to the bar. digging deeper as though to gain some sense of who the tattooed boy is. most people at this bar are regulars, are people from lake wisteria, but wanderers find themselves here, too. hoping for a brief escape from the atrocities and tragedy in their lives. a much different scenario than the one that finds the brunette’s affinity for the old place. a getaway for most, an oasis for miles hollis. when he is inevitably pulled to look the direction of the patron, a smile is flashed his way. one that’s somewhere on the attractive spectrum but doesn’t quite settle well. a drink is set in front of him, grin on his lips. “my hero,” he coos, chuckling softly as his not boyfriend walks away. it’s but two beats before the intently staring patron sidles up beside miles, complimentary words, charming jokes, and a little too much proximity at the ready. not much of miles has the energy to push back too much, laughing every so often, attempting to put some distance between himself and the other. 

“i had to get certified when i first got home. i learned how to make a lot of drinks,” dante informs, happy to share these details, he hadn’t told much of anyone else, and a tinge of pride tugs at cherry lips. “might’ve been the only class i’ve ever liked taking.” in a wave, the brunette is reminded of affectionately distractible notes passed between young lovers, pencils balanced on noses, and disappointed glances from teachers. he’s grown so much. “hope it’s a good one,” dante parts with miles and his elderflowers. across the bar, he nearly overflows a flight of tequila shots, distractedly eyeing the man who then closes the distance between him and a certain perfectly curled brunette. he’d barely waited for dante to walk away. lips part, pulse enlivens, blazing in his neck. he tidies the shots and hurriedly delivers them, before he scurries back to the scene, catching the end of things. “so, i’m not here for long, but long enough to make some memories...” the stranger’s voice teases, and dante watches a hand outstretch whose path seems to be headed to miles’ forearm, the same skin dante had become mesmerized by, addicted to, that of which the bad student was so flawlessly relearning. he sets his jaw, the playfulness devoid, and he clears his throat, loudly, knuckles cracking against palms. this catches the attention of the man who looks to dante annoyedly. “it’s time for you to go,” dante suggests of the man whose proximity runs against dante’s skin like a scalding shower. “yeah, get lost.” his eyes are intently focused on the dark hues of their infiltrator who considers dante’s stature before lifting hands up in a surrender. “alright, man, whatever,” he mumbles before menacingly, he turns and smirks at miles, winking. “OKAY,” dante exclaims, affronted. "out.” he yells out to the back of the man who he can see is snickering. after a frozen moment, replaying the events in loop, dante cringes, feeling the blush rise to already roused cheeks as he keeps his eyes anywhere but on miles’, busying himself in some fake task behind the bar, flustered. 

[danteevers]

m i l e s:

closed starter for the gentle giant @danteevers​

smooth glass turns in miles’s work worn hands, bottom spinning gently against the wooden bar he sits at. the getaway is a lake wisteria staple – pool tables, booths, long bar to sit at. there’s always something weird happening or something worth taking in. it’s why miles frequents the place… or so he tells himself. eyes gaze over his favorite bartender, the way his jeans are just a bit baggy over his seat, one of the countless getaway tees dante owns clinging perfectly to built biceps. a soft smile tugs at his lips, the bar just slow enough to get a little bit of time with the other man, but even if it wasn’t - he’d still be seated right here. forearms pressed to distressed wood, drinking whatever dante slips him in between customers, watching the man in his element. towel over shoulder. he slides the empty glass toward the inside of the bar, green meeting blue with a grin. “the floral towel suits you better,” he notes, nodding to dante’s shoulder. “speaking of – i still think you should start serving an elderflower gimlet. you’d have at least one consumer,” finger points to himself, chuckling softly. “just a thought.”

it’s no secret that the worn bar has become a haven for the oldest evers, giving him a sense of ambition. he’s grown fond of making light with the customers, sinking roots more deeply into the earth of lake wisteria with every shift. now, with a new goal of staying out of trouble, it’s a curtain regular whose smile could thaw northeast winters that keeps dante focused and contented. whenever there’s a moment free of drink requests or tasks to be done, the bartender is at the counter’s edge, chatting with miles, magnets pulling him towards the boy with which he wishes to rebuild so much. the slightest residual of their challenging night a few back lingers in simple smiles and wringing hands, but miles is here. isn’t that enough to free him of his own regret, even just a touch? “i agree honestly,” dante aligns, taking the towel from his shoulder to twist it in big hands, leaning elbows onto the counter on the bar’s other side. blues flash eagerly at the suggestion. “you know, it might not be on the menu, but i think one of our bartenders knows how to make that.” he mimics miles’ gesture, pointing to himself. “be right back.” pausing before he walks off, dante shapes a small curve to his lips, bashful. “also, i’m glad you’re here.” he moves away to make the cocktail, gin, lime juice, simple syrup, liqueur all combined in a shaker. as he tends, he glances up to find a set of targeted eyes on his..... not boyfriend sat in his stool. dante watches intently, heat rising in his neck with jealously. shaking his head – maybe he’s blowing things out of proportion, he returns to his work, running a citrus slice around a glass’ rim, propping it as garnish. “ta da!” he announces, setting the drink in front of miles. on the bar’s other end, a customer calls out for an order. “be right back,” he drums lightly, heading towards the request. 

[danteevers]

text • dante ✨

CARMEN: it's... surreal to be honest

CARMEN: like i keep finding traces of the life i was supposed to be living by now, but everything is so different

CARMEN: i came back because my mom is sick. so not exactly the welcome home i was expecting. but it's good, being home

DANTE: oh, carmen. i'm so sorry to hear that.

DANTE: is there anything i can do... to help you? or your family? i'm around here always, i'm not going anywhere i mean, if you need anything.

DANTE: but, yeah, yes. i can understand that... the traces of what life could've been and stuff.

DANTE: it's very strange.

[danteevers]

CALL 📱 D.

MERRITT: the last person i need protecting from is lennon.

MERRITT: sorry, you're right, man of so... so many words.

( leaves rustle as he lays back, eyes on the sky above )

MERRITT: i'm sure he made you feel like it was his fault. that's what addicts do, d. come on. you know better than that.

DANTE: she hurt you. i remember. you know i'm just looking out.

DANTE: ( scoff, light ) that's me.

( pause )

( a steadying breath, voice harsher and distanced )

DANTE: forget i brought it up.

[danteevers]

CALL 📱 D.

MERRITT: as nice as lennon is.

MERRITT: something about moonbeams and 3D stars. weird shit you don't say unless the world is like more vibrant than usual or whatever.

( a sigh )

MERRITT: d, what's going on with you? how did your night end?

DANTE: right, right. well, i know you can hold your own.

DANTE: ( a low laugh ) what are you going on about? that's how i always talk about the world.

DANTE: um...

DANTE: it was okay. hard.

( dante presses the phone against his shoulder 'night, man' he says to a coworker before continuing to tidy things )

DANTE: to be honest, miles and i got into a fight. it was awful.

DANTE: but mer, it was me. he didn't do anything.

[danteevers]

CALL 📱 D.

MERRITT: lennon... i think she took something with delia, based on what she said. ( a genuine, breathy laugh ) but yeah, i eventually wasn't alone.

DANTE: lennon, huh? she being nice to you?

DANTE: what did she say?