.:Busted {W A S T E D} Justified:. [Semper]

The only constant thing in Bull’s life is fear. The cold, biting feeling always sits inside him, making itself known with pinpricks and icy shivers, standing the hair up on the back of his neck, giving his stomach a twisting, nauseating feeling. Often it gets to the point where it paralyzes the boy and roots him to the ground and even his fight-or-flight response can’t even get him to react. He’s used to it, though – that vice-like grip it has on him – and he can work well under it until he ends up cornered. Then the fear wins. It takes control and reduces the huge boy to a crumbling mess, fingers clawing at his face and hair, knees buckling under his weight. It breaks him, snapping his composure like a soggy twig, crippling and bending him to its will. Bull tries to not let it take control of him (“Fear is very real, Caspian, but it is only an emotion. Emotions can be controlled.”) and tells himself that he is the one in control, not it, but the shivers and throat-tightening emotion easily overpowers his mind.

It used to be that he wasn’t always such a coward. He used to be carefree, throwing caution to the wind and taking life by both the horns and wrestling it until he won. Even when he first entered the wilderness he was not scared but the days grew longer and his thoughts harsher. Having no one to speak to in the wilderness slowly created a cage in his mind, imprisoning his conscience with scolding thoughts as the strong iron bars. He’s tried breaking down those barriers, comforting himself with the little victories each day holds like finding a patch of berries or hitting a squirrel with a stone, but the barrier mends itself, finding faults and fabricating them when there are none. It keeps him trapped in a constant paranoia; each and every move is marked with precise determination and the fear of failure prompts him to stop many times, even on the important things such as finding food. Second guessing himself had never been a huge thing until the incident; Bull thought he knew what the facts were, thought he knew right from wrong, thought he could read people but I’ve never been so wrong in my life. People are deceitful creatures, spewing hollow words out of their mouth while hiding the truth behind the glint in their eyes – and Bull, naïve Bull, putting faith in the false sincerity of spoken words.

But Kody – Bull believed every word that fell from his mouth. He always left the giant mesmerized, be it by those lively green eyes of his, or how his hair always appeared like he’d just rolled out of bed, or the tempting lure of the crook of his little neck. Oh how Bull had ached to run his fingers along the protrusion of Kody’s collarbone and the curve of his jaw. Before the fear had set in he was subjected to the anguish of not being able to reach out and touch him while girls slipped their hands all over Kody’s body behind closed doors. (“I did it, man. I scored. I got laid.”) At the not-so ripe age of fourteen Kody had unknowingly destroyed Bull. The giant of a boy felt his heart break in his chest, a sharp pain throb behind his ribs and throughout his extremities. Kody was straight, and no matter how badly Bull wished otherwise nothing would change. He never thought he would experience heartbreak at such a young age but it haunted him and still does – the aching in his chest only intensifies whenever he lays eyes upon an attractive male and he’ll try to stop it by balling a fist against his chest and turning to leave quickly. It never helps when the man has some of the same physical traits as Kody. Often times Bull only catches a glimpse of a familiar trait and does a double take, only to find that it’s only a stranger and that they’ve dredged up painful memories. It hurts seeing him everywhere. Every pair of green eyes, every tuft of black or dark brown hair, every lanky figure in the distance, it all does nothing but intensify the pain and force him to remember just how alone he really is.

A part of Bull still feels guilty about how he left Kody without even an explanation. He left to wander and sort out the whirlwind of emotions inside of him but even though years passed he found no solace in the quiet wilderness. Bull’s heart and mind longed for his childhood friend and that innocence they both held as they played around, pretending to be things so much greater than they really were. To me Kody really was great. It hurt to abandon him behind without warning and leave an atmosphere of mystery in his wake but the pain of knowing he was slowly becoming of less meaning to Kody with each girl he took to bed was too much to handle.

So why did I come back?

It has been a while since Bull’s return, perhaps a month or two, but he has never once spoke a word to anyone. No one is aware of the hulking boy’s presence as he stays to the shadows, keeping an eye on only one house in particular. On this night Bull decided to visit late and observe and so he sat in silence, listening to the crickets and fiddling around with a stick. He never does anything dramatic on his observations, only sits and watches, taking note of how the times has changed Kody. The only thing time has altered is how much liquor he can hold down. On this night it doesn’t take long before Kody comes stumbling out of the front door, nearly tripping over his feet with each and every step. Bull snaps the twig between his fingers and drops it, stands up and proceeds to follow his friend, sticking to the shadows.

Kody always was the one to get slobbering drunk, piling up the bottles until Bull was concerned he had drunk himself to death. Tonight is no different: Kody walks with that familiar uneven gait, stumbling around, wandering like any other drunkard. Bull is quiet with his steps, trailing behind at a safe distance, lips pursing together. Honestly he doesn’t like it when his friend gets drunk (he may be a funny drunk but I know it’s not Kody) and there have been a few times where he voiced his opinion on that but each time he was let down as Kody simply popped open another bottle. Bull’s eyes remain on his drunk friend and he pauses as the boy takes a hard fall, landing face first on the pavement.

Why do you do this to yourself? The dull ache begins to throb painfully in his chest as he watches Kody squirm to get up and continue, only to fall many more times. Each trip Bull shakes his head, wishing to but never once stepping out of the shadows to help his incoherent friend. Kody then hobbles up to a door on one of the houses and pauses before slamming his fist against it.

Bull hesitates, his mind quickly trying to sort out whose house he is trying to get into. He doesn’t recognize the street and Kody isn’t calling out a name – perhaps he made a friend, or is trying to “score” again? The thought is enough to propel Bull toward the house; he walks with longer strides up to where Kody is as he’s knocking a second time and simply loops an arm around Kody’s midsection, hauling him up onto his shouler.

The drunkard squirm slowly but it doesn’t stop Bull from walking quickly back the way they had come, retracing his steps in the shadows. His large heart begins to beat faster as he realizes that he’s finally making contact with Kody. Bull swallows hard against the lump forming in his throat and it only makes him circle his arm tighter around Kody’s little body, keeping him from falling.

"Ihem naught ahh sawwk ov poe-tae-toooohs. Dun eeeeat meee."

The corners of his lips curl up into a smile. Despite the situation and Kody’s pathetic attempts at hurting his captor, Bull finds it all amusing. Same old Kody. He carries the drunk back along the road and to Kody’s house but turns and takes the trail he normally travels for his observations. Taking Kody to his house would mean a certain encounter with his father and probably a whore or two and frankly Bull never fancied that idea. The man had always been sketchy and never held a smile on his face and it put off the mute boy, sending chills down his spine. Instead he decides to take Kody to his little makeshift home.

All there is is a rock overhang from a hillside; a tarp is stretched along one side of the overhang to make it just a little wider, and underneath is all of Bull’s supplies all scattered about. Rusty items, collected trinkets, bits of wrapped up food left over, bundles of certain plants, a flask of water, and the single and holey blanket waded up under the overhang. Kody has hardly made any sign that he is still alive but Bull doesn’t take any concern in that. He heads straight for a low-lying long and gently sets his friend on it, draping him over like he does cloth items to dry. This way he won’t choke on his vomit should he have to expel all that alcohol. He gives Kody an awkward pat on the rump before retracting his hand, turning away and heading to his little wood pile in order to start preparing to make a fire.