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Gary’s eyes were shaking in his head; Ray could visibly see as they vibrated inches away from him. He looked unfocused; his hand on Ray’s shoulder, clawing like a dead branch in the woods. Ray tried to remember a time where Gary looked less washed out; maybe four days ago his hair had shone golden in the sun, maybe he’d had pink in his cheeks. Whatever first impression he’d given was quickly swept away as he chose to run his mouth; the only reason he wasn’t calling Ray a faggot right now was because he was terrified. He was desperately pleading for someone to listen, even if he was taught not to ask for help.
Ray tried to focus on counting his own steps, trying to shake off the weight Gary was putting on him. Ray knew it wasn’t fair to blame Gary for how he was responding to his imminent death. Masks slip away when you haven’t slept in four days. Seeing Olson the night before still had Ray on a hair-trigger; the most traumatized he’d felt since Curley at the start. They were continuous reminders that this was very much real and not a dream. It was funny how it had seemed like some weird hypothetical. It was like when a young person that doesn’t have cancer says ‘That’s never going to happen to me’ while they inhale the toxins. The way they’d sat around before the walk, curiously looking at each other like it was the first day of school; like they hadn’t known.
He heard Gary babble something about needing friends at a time like this and babbled a bit as Ray had to mentally stop dissociating and hear what he was actually talking about as Gary pulled him closer, holding himself up also.
“Listen, that Rank kid..I didn’t want to see him go,” Gary’s hand came up to his face, spoon clutched in his palm. His eyes were pressed together so tightly, looking at it added to Ray’s nausea. “I can’t stop hearin’ and seein’ it in my mind over and over, man. And I can’t feel like it’s my fault…it’s not my fault, right!?” Ray shook his head. “It’s not my fault right,” Gary’s body shook harder next to him. His breathing punched itself out of his mouth and the bags under his eyes were purple. Ray looked into the faded blues that held an unreadable expression that he hadn’t yet seen in them.
“No, it’s not your fault,” the boys looked directly at each other for a long moment. “What are you saying, kid; you want to be part of the deal,” the deal being sharing the winnings with Olson’s wife, Clementine. Fuck, Olson’s wife. Ray felt like throwing up when Gary nodded with enthusiasm, rattling them both.
“Y-Yeah, that’s what I’m sayin.’ I’ll tell that bitch she can have enough bread to stay on fifth ave the rest of her fuckin’ life,” the blonde giggled. Ray noticed Pete walking closer, eyes locked on Barkovitch so he didn’t try anything funny. Collie was also looking at Barkovitch, who quickly evaded his glare. Gary’s manic smile dropped instantly, his eyes flitted to Pete and back to Ray, “Just-if you don’t mind tellin’ your buddies just that I’m a part of it now-”
“Sure,” every time Gary had opened his mouth on the walk had been abrasive and defensive, not to mention homophobic. Ray was comfortable with his sexuality going in (and Pete confirmed it,) but he wasn’t going to let Barkovitch know it. Still, he felt that urge to keep those around him at peace. Ray hazarded a look at Gary’s face and saw someone who’d never known peace, one way or the other. Being here, had any of them? Completely? “Sure, I’ll tell them.”
“Thanks,” Ray could hear Gary’s shaky smile in his voice. “You gotta have a buddy on a fucked up thing like this..gotta have a buddy, that’s what my daddy always used to say-FUCK!” Ray jolted, now fully awake. His heart leapt in his chest as Gary pressed his forehead to his palm again. “I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die..and that’s the fucked up thing: we all gotta go. It just doesn’t have to be like this, though; it doesn’t have to be like this, you know.” Ray nodded, back to counting his steps. He didn’t know what Gary’s mind looked like, probably some blood-soaked crime scene. He also didn’t know if Gary was the type to turn on Ray and decide to shank him when he’s cut his losses; there was no additional penalty to already being dead. “-FUCK!”
“Hey, you okay,” Pete softened his voice like he was talking to a child, and Ray already wished he hadn’t butted it. Gary was now more off-balance. The blonde quickly ripped his hand from Ray’s shoulder.
“The fuck did you say? The fuck did you just say, man!? I DIDN’T MEAN TO KILL THAT KID, MAN! I DIDN’T FUCKING MEAN IT, OKAY!? FUCK!!” Gary’s face was startling; he looked like he was rabid. Pete put his hands up in surrender, also freaked out. Ray rested a hand on Gary’s shoulder to get him to stop yelling if anything.
“Hey..hey, shh it’s okay. We’re just walking now; we’re just friends walking. We’re just gonna keep walking,” Gary whined in the back of his throat. “You’ve got us, you’ve got your pack,” Gary’s eyes met his again and Ray saw his lip turn up. He gave him a friendly shake, and Gary laughed out the tension again. Gary was holding onto the hand that Ray had slung over his shoulder again. Ray mustered an encouraging smile and Gary winked. He now had a subtle pink hue in his cheeks. “Just keep walking, buddy.” Ray went to pull his hand away, but Gary didn’t let go.
“Please,” he whimpered, looking down at his own stumbling feet. Ray bit his lip, trying to decipher what Gary wanted from him. He tried harder to pull his arm away, afraid Gary would throw them both to the ground. And maybe Ray wouldn’t get back up at this point, he didn’t know. Gary clutched it tightly and held it to him. Ray looked to Pete, eyes not leaving Barkovitch. Ray held his other hand up to put Pete at ease, the tension clearly not helping any of them. Gary’s breaths were coming out in small gasps, like he was about to have a full-blown panic attack. “I can’t keep going, I can’t keep going…”
“What do you need from me Gary, I need you to let go-” Ray was cut off when Gary leaned in and pressed their lips together. Despite his shock, Ray’s feet kept their pace. He heard Pete let out a surprised ‘Fuck’ on his other side. He half expected a warning to be shouted, but one didn’t come. After a couple of the longest moments of his life, Ray let his mouth open up. Gary sobbed and moaned into his mouth as they staggered but kept pace. “Fuck,” Ray’s hand found Gary’s hair and he responded with enthusiasm; it had been a long fucking time since Ray’d had this. Gary’s mouth was warm and soft. It was fucking delicious and wet..Ray found his dick waking up with the way Gary was practically keening against him. They were both panting when Pete grabbed Ray’s arm and tugged him away.
“Get the fuck off of him, killer,” Pete’s voice didn’t reach anger, he moreso sounded scared; with the way Barkovitch had been carrying on, this could just be the beginning of some hysterical hate crime. When Ray was pulled out of reach, Gary wrapped his arms around himself and began to cry. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What happened to us being the queers, huh?”
“Pete-”
“No,” Pete’s arm was around Ray now. “This blonde demon has been terrorizing us this entire time. We are out here walking for our lives, and now daddy’s boy wants us to use kid gloves when we pull the doors open for his grand closet escape? No fucking way, not now..” Ray rested his head on Pete’s shoulder, emotionally exhausted. He knew Pete felt what he’d been feeling; the inescapable connection between them. It was a connection that Gary had probably never felt with another person.
“Even if I win,” Gary sobbed. “I can’t go home..” Ray closed his eyes, physically incapable of listening to Barkovitch cry anymore. His heart ached, and he felt pressure to comfort Gary. Gary wasn’t not-pretty, he thought selfishly. Gary also wasn’t not-psycho, he thought realistically. “He beats me, man.”
“Who beats you,” Pete snapped.
“M-my d-daddy,” Gary’s face was all snot and tears, reflecting in the morning light. “Gotta beat the queer outta me before I’d go to school.” Gary slapped himself in the face, even harder than he had when he’d gotten Rank killed. Ray flinched away from Pete’s calming arms and tore Gary’s hand down to his side.
“You wanna hold my hand? Will that make you feel better?” He genuinely wanted this conversation to just end. His thumb caressed the top of Gary’s hand.
“DON’T FUCKING MAKE FUN OF ME!” Gary stopped walking, causing Ray to be jerked back sharply. “LET GO OF ME, QUEER,” Gary squealed like a baby sow.
“WARNING: NUMBER FIVE-”
“YOU KISSED ME,” Ray shouted back, certifiably angry “WHY ARE YOU STILL CALLING ME FUCKING NAMES!? I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU!”
“LET GO OF HIM, MICHELLE PFEIFFER!” Collie called from the other side of Pete. Pete’s fists were clenched, on the edge of turning himself around and ripping Gary off of him like a bad dog. “Gonna kill someone else, huh?”
“WARNING: NUMBER FORTY-SEVEN!” “NUMBER FIVE, SECOND WARNING!”
“Why do you hate me,” Gary was gripping Ray’s one arm with both of his, holding him still. “Daddy knows; he saw! He’s gonna kill me now-don’t let him see me!”
“Come on,” Ray pulled forward with all his strength and broke away, but Gary just fell forward onto his hands and knees and screamed. “WALK!” The blonde cried harder and covered his ears.
“MOMMY! MOMMY!!!” Gary’s voice was high pitched and shrill in panic.
“NUMBER FIVE: THIRD WARNING.”
“Fuck, stop screaming,” Parker winced, fighting back his own tears. They all missed someone; Gary wasn’t special.
“Your dad doesn’t know, Gary. Just get the fuck up,” Ray was too afraid to turn around and face that image. Pete’s hand was back on his shoulder, rubbing circles. It felt soft. It felt like a soft patch of grass, where Gary’s grip could cut.
A couple of seconds went by with no gunshot. Gary had torn himself off the ground out of spite and was booking it, angrily shouldering Pete’s hand off of Ray’s shoulder as he walked ahead of everyone. Ray let out a small sigh of relief. Barkovitch was volatile, but at least this time it might help him stay alive even a little longer; he at least deserved that.
The relief faded as Gary turned around to face them, stern expression on his face:
“I’m gonna be with you whores forever now,” before the gun could deliver the final warning, Gary drove the spoon he had been holding into his neck. He did it again and again with a stoic dutiful expression that quickly turned to terror.
“FUCK,” Ray and Pete both averted their eyes, Ray’s stomach threatening to come up. Gary coughed and squeaked as he collapsed onto the road, blood pouring from his neck and spitting out his mouth. The mouth that had been on Ray’s a minute ago. The mouth that had made his heart leap.Through the gurgled mess, it sounded like Barkovitch was literally drowning in his own blood.
”Wh-why’d he do that?”
Gary’s whimpering stopped when they heard the shot. Ray took a slow heavy breath, leaning (or perhaps falling) back into Pete’s arms. Ray and Pete openly held each other close for whatever was to come.