forrest gump 1.2
the arena lights were their regular, beaming, fluorescent white they always were.
victor stood near the sideline during warmups, hands tucked into the deep sleeves of his hoodie as if that would make him smaller somehow. the floor gleamed under the overhead lights, polished so smooth it reflected the players moving across it in flashes of orange, blue, black, and white. a big basketball was in the center of the court in its usual setup at madison square garden.
oppositely, jeremy was laughing near the baseline. it was hard to forget that exact pitch of a laugh. he had a quick sprint down the court,and the bright echo of his voice cutting through the noise like it belonged there. victor watched for a second too long before looking away, jaw tight, breath slow and uneven.
some things stayed with you longer than they should, for victor, the cigarettes had been one of them. but jeremy had been another.
the smell always came back first; tobacco, cold night air, the faint sweetness of way-too-expensive champagne still lingering on the teams breath.
it had been late, later than any of them should have been awake.
the hotel hallway outside their room had been loud for hours, teammates drifting in and out, music echoing from somewhere down the floor. someone had dragged a speaker into the elevator earlier, blasting music loud enough to make the walls vibrate. champagne bottles had appeared from nowhere, passed around until the carpet was sticky and everyone’s voices were louder than usual.
it wasn’t even a championship celebration, just a celebration after a big win, the kind the league liked to make a show out of. cameras earlier in the night, handshakes, reporters asking the same questions over and over. after that, the team had spilled back into the hotel.
victor remembered sitting on the edge of the bed in the room he was sharing, long and slender legs stretched out, still half-dressed from the event. the lights were dim, the television playing some sports recap neither of them were actually watching.
his roommate for the night, jeremy, had been pacing.
he was half-drunk, half-restless, champagne bottle hanging loose in his hand. his tie was already gone, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the chain resting against his collarbone. he kept laughing at nothing in particular, that same bright laugh that carried across a room like it was meant to be heard.
“too loud in here,” jeremy had muttered eventually, glancing toward the balcony door.
the night air outside had been cool, the city stretching out below them in quiet flashes of light. traffic somewhere far beneath the hotel, the distant hum of the city below that never really stopped for anything.
jeremy leaned against the railing first, victor stood beside him a moment later, seeming taller even in the dark, shoulders brushing the glass door behind them.
the cigarette came from the inside pocket of victor’s jacket, the habit he never talked about.
he tapped the box lightly against his palm before sliding one out, the motion familiar enough that he barely thought about it. the lighter flicked once, the small flame catching the end in a quiet glow. for a moment, jeremy just watched him.
“didn’t know you smoked,” he said, voice low and hoarse with the leftover warmth of champagne.
victor shrugged, taking a slow drag. the smoke curled up into the cold air above them, “sometimes.”
jeremy held out his hand, “give me a bump.”
victor hesitated for half a second before passing it over. jeremy brought it to his lips like he had done it before, but the moment the smoke hit his lungs he coughed, shoulders shaking as he leaned forward over the railing. the sound bounced softly into the night.
victor chuckled, “not for you,” he said.
jeremy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still grinning. “shut up.”
he took another drag anyway, stubborn enough to try again. this time he didn’t cough as badly. the tip of the cigarette glowed orange between his fingers, lighting up the sharp edge of his smile. they stood there for a while after that.
now, there were no cameras, no teammate, just the city humming below them and the faint smell of smoke drifting between their shoulders.
jeremy talked about nothing in particular, the game earlier, a stupid play someone had made in the third quarter, the way the champagne tasted terrible but everyone kept drinking it anyway.
victor mostly listened, he always did when it was jermey talking.
the moment itself felt small while it was happening, the kind of moment that didn’t seem important at the time. it was just two teammates on a balcony, sharing a cigarette they probably shouldn’t have been smoking for the sake of preserving their precious lungs, until jeremy turned his head.
he was close enough now that victor could see the faint flush in his cheeks from the alcohol, the way his dyed curls had fallen slightly out of place, the laugh was gone from his face, replaced by something quieter.
“you’re staring,” jeremy said softly.
victor blinked because he hadn’t realized he was. the cigarette burned low between jeremy’s fingers. and for a second, neither of them moved. then jeremy leaned forward.
it wasn’t dramatic, just a sudden shift of weight, the small space between them disappearing in one careless motion. his mouth brushed victor’s first like he wasn’t even sure he meant to do it.
the taste of smoke was still there, champagne too, sweet and sharp at the same time. victor froze for half a second before the instinct to pull away flickered through his mind. but, he didn’t. jeremy’s hand came up instead, gripping lightly at the front of victor’s shirt like he needed something to steady himself. the kiss deepened without either of them really deciding it would.
the city lights blinked below them like nothing unusual was happening at all. when they finally pulled apart, the cigarette had burned almost all the way down. jeremy laughed again, softer this time. like he wasn’t sure what had just happened either.
victor remembered the glow of the ember falling over the railing into the dark, he remembered the smell of smoke in jeremy’s hair, he remembered the quiet way neither of them said a word about it when they went back inside.
and now, not even a year later, standing on the sideline at madison square garden, watching jeremy sprint down the court in a jersey that wasn’t theirs anymore, but the memory still tasted the same in vic’s mouth. tobacco, champagne, and something he had never was able to forget.
