And Dawson got up, kicking his stuff under the bench as well, and followed - because of all the things he'd ever felt for Cole his entire life - he'd never, ever, felt indifferent.
*
They ran, hopped the fence, and were immediately soaked to the bone. It was, undoubtedly, a magnificent feeling. The freedom and wildness. Running with your arms out, taking the hammering of the sky-water. It wasn't too cold - a mid-September day in the southern United States - but Cole naturally ran cold while Dawson ran hot. As opposite as the two taps at your kitchen sink.
They headed to the treeline - knowing exactly where they were going. They'd been doing the same thing since they were freshman. Into the woods and between the trees they ran, breathing in water and oxygen - going red in the face but running non-the-less.
When they reached the dip that lead to the Havens River they slowed and Cole dropped to his knees in a thatch of moss then rolled flat on his back, laughing. Dawson dropped down beside him on his knees looking down at Cole. His hair wet and shiny and sticking to his temples. "Holy hell." he coughed and laughed. The rain let up a little but it still pelted against them.
They stayed like that for a moment before Cole began to wrestle his hoodie over his head - wearing nothing underneath.
"Cole you're already turning blue. You're gonna get sick." Dawson said as the other boy tossed the hoodie and laid flat and bare against the moss.
"I don't care." he said laying his arms above his head and closing his eyes. "I wanna feel it." The rain nearly welted his skin as it fell and pooled along his chest and stomach.
Dawson lay down on his stomach, turning his head to watch his friend. To memorize the point of his nose and the curve of his lower lip and the small swell of his chest as he breathed in and out - lost in his own world. The blue of his veins was visible up his arm and his nipples were a cottony-pink in the cold. His hair, which was blackened by the rain, stood stark against the lightness of his skin. It wasn't so much a pale - but a faint livid crystal.
Cole turned and opened his eyes, meeting Dawson's - who at the moment was unashamed to be caught staring. It was a good moment - and the green of the wet moss matched eerily with Cole's eyes which looked liquid enough to drip down the side of his face in grassy gleaming tears. "C'mon." he said, his eyes motioning down towards the slope." he was mischievous and playful. Both moods that once indulged and exposed - could light up countries.
"It's too cold." Dawson said shaking his head, making Cole persuade him.
Cole rolled his eyes and sat up, kicking off his shoes and socks then bracing his hand against Dawson's back as he hoisting himself up. His hands were so cold, that after removed they left the nerves on Dawson's skin tingling.
He was bare except the cargo pants which were plastered to his thighs, but he cared about nothing but the moment. The freedom. The elixir of his existence. "Just one last time before winter really sets in." and he took off.
Dawson stood and yanked off his Polo - his shoes, socks, and jeans all following until he was left in boxer-briefs, hustling to keep up with Cole. They launched themselves into the water, drowning in glassy surface of the river-bend.
*
"What in the world happened?" his mother asked the moment he stepped through the door. He was covered in stains and there was dirt in his hair. "And what took you so long? Practice had to have been canceled today." The rain outside had yet to let up - flooding the football field.
"We went downtown to the Grill after school for a late lunch, fell into some grassy-stuff." He rolled his eyes at his own lame excuse and hung his coat on the doorside stand, stripping out of his shirt and pants in the hall so he wouldn't drip all over the Pottery Barn carpet.
'it's indifference'
Start from the beginning
